Firewallers

by Simon Packham

  ‘And you’re really sure you can trust this guy?’ said Campbell.

  I had to smile. It was the one thing I was completely certain of. ‘Yeah, course.’

  ‘You only get one shot at this, Jess. We can’t risk coming back. God knows what my dad would do if he found out.’

  ‘One shot is all I need.’

  ‘Then you’d better go for it,’ said Campbell.

  There was assorted junk mail from my favourite cosmetics firms, seven Amazon recommendations, and even a couple of messages from Ella, who must have been wondering why I wasn’t on Facebook. But all that would have to wait.

  When Brian Simkins handed it to me, it was a miracle I didn’t laugh in his face. But now, as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the index card bearing his disgustingly well-formed handwriting, it seemed like the most precious thing in the world. Selecting New, I tapped in Brian’s e-mail address and started writing.

  Once he knew about Dad’s password and the dodgy IT guy, surely it was only a matter of time. As Dad said himself, Brian is a man you can rely on, he may not be the most imaginative person in the universe, but there’s no one better in a crisis.

  Clicking on Send was probably the happiest moment of my life. Not ‘I just won Power Ballads Week on a TV talent show’ happy, but truly, madly, deliriously joyful. ‘OK, Cam,’ I said. ‘Mission accomplished.’

  ‘Good,’ said Campbell. ‘Now all you have to do is Delete history, and then we can go.’

  He looked much happier when we arrived back at the top of the cliffs. I took his arm and planted a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek. ‘Thanks, Cam. That was brilliant.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said, poking his index finger through a hole in his jumper. ‘The question is: what do we do now?’

  ‘We wait, of course,’ I said, surfing giddily on a tidal wave of excitement. ‘It may not be tomorrow, or even the day after that, but trust me Campbell, we are getting out of here.’

  On the Beach

  Summer became autumn. And still nothing happened. I don’t know what I expected exactly (a police helicopter, perhaps), but as the weeks dragged by, my impatience evolved into full-blown desperation.

  It was the same with Millie. She’d improved so rapidly that, for a while, it was almost like having my sister back. We started taking long walks together. She showed me her favourite places on the island, and listened patiently while I yattered on about Campbell and the others. We’d even planned a menu for our first night back home. Just lately, though, her winning smile was frequently lost in thought. She hadn’t been self-harming again or anything, and we still talked about Dad from time to time, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t just worried about missing college, and I had this terrifying feeling I was in danger of losing her again.

  The Firewallers were suffering too. We hardly ever played the game any more. Imaginary catalogue shopping was no substitute for the real thing, and talking about the old days seemed to make us feel worse. Harry M was developing an unhealthy obsession about having missed the summer blockbuster, Naseeb would have traded whole cities of souls for ten minutes on Facebook and Jack had this delusional fantasy about inventing a new app that would revolutionise the fast food industry.

  But most of all, we missed our old friends. Perhaps it was a form of self-preservation, because we’d all tried not to think about them. Once we started, it was difficult to talk about anything else. Lucy had known Corrine since primary school. They’d even invented a secret language and a special punctuation mark for sarcasm . Ed got all nostalgic about a mate called Emmet who could fart ‘God Save the Queen’, and I couldn’t help wondering what Ella was doing with her hair these days and who the hell she was hanging out with.

  And it wasn’t just the Firewallers. A delegation of senior Dawdlers had failed to persuade Earl that his ‘back to nature initiative’ was a step too far. He’d cancelled the two weekly delivery of extra supplies from the mainland and strict rationing was now in place. Even Sue admitted her beloved leader was ‘not quite himself these days’. His late night saxophone playing (mainly Madness according to Mum, but I think she was talking about the band, not his mental state) meant we were sleep starved as well as hungry, and his shaggy beard gave him the appearance of an exiled dictator who’d been holed up in a cave for six months. Worse still, he was behaving like one. When Harry M’s family said they were thinking about leaving, he bawled them out in front of the whole community and refused to refund their deposit unless they stayed until Christmas.

  Poor Campbell; all he really wanted was to go home. We still wandered up to the cliffs, and even kissed occasionally. But it felt more like a long goodbye. I knew I had to do something; the question was what? When the idea came to me, it sounded so crazy, I spent at least three days in denial. Danger is so not my friend that I would have done almost anything to avoid it. But there was no other way, and as the hours ticked by, it started to seem inevitable.

  The more time that passed, the more I knew exactly what I had to do. It was just a case of finding the courage to go through with it.

  What finally decided me was Mum. A pale, dejected copy of the strong, funny and oh so infuriating woman I’d loved, cried and battled with for over fifteen years, she was sinking faster than the Titanic.

  I couldn’t tell her what I was doing, of course, but I needed someone to break the news when it was too late for her to stop me. And it wasn’t easy. Putting it into words would make it real. That’s why I waited until the night before to share my secret with the two people I knew I could trust.

  Millie said I was a ‘total idiot’, but at least she seemed to understand. Telling Campbell was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

  ‘It’s been weeks now, Cam. Brian obviously didn’t get the message. Or else they don’t believe him. That’s why I have to go myself. If I explain it all carefully, I know I can change their minds.’

  ‘You’ve waited this long, Jess. Why not wait a little longer?’

  ‘You heard what your dad said in the Symposium. Tomorrow’s going to be the first calm day for weeks. If I don’t go now, it could be too late.’

  ‘It’s still dangerous. That fishing boat is far too small. And what about the fog?’

  ‘I’ve made my mind up, Cam. It’s the only way.’

  ‘What are you, mad or something?’ said Campbell, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his manky jumper. ‘Please, Jess. I just don’t want you to . . .’ He grabbed hold of me, pressing his nose into the side of my neck and whispering, ‘I love you so much.’

  And you know what? That was almost as scary as all the other stuff. It’s not like no one had ever said it to me before. It’s just that this time I believed him. And suddenly I kind of got it – the whole love thing. You see, he actually wanted what was best for me, not what was best for him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Cam; I can’t put it off any longer.’

  Early the next morning, I pulled on that horrendous anorak for what I hoped would be the last time. Millie was just stirring as I slipped my Where’s Wally? sports bag over my shoulder and climbed through the entry hatch.

  Any worries I might have had about being spotted vanished in the mist. It was like a plague of white candyfloss that didn’t even give you a sugar rush. I paid a final, nostalgia-free visit to the composting toilets and set off in what I hoped was the direction of the landing stage.

  The distant sound of the Atlantic was fast becoming a full-blooded roar, and the butterflies in my stomach a squawking flock of seagulls. Somewhere near the bottom of the snaky track leading to the beach, I got my first glimpse of the sea.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I whispered, suddenly realising that ‘total idiot’ didn’t even come close.

  Halfway down the beach, tethered to a post, was the little blue fishing boat I remembered from our arrival. I wasn’t even sure I had the strength to launch it, let alone the know-how to get the outboard motor started.

  But none of that mattered. Not for one minute had I lost faith in Dad �
�� nanoseconds maybe, but certainly not minutes. Dad would never have given up on me and I wasn’t about to let him down. Stumbling across the slippery pebbles through a wall of fog, rain and sea-spray, I managed to throw my sports bag into the back of the fishing boat and start untying her.

  Next, the moment of truth. I ran round to the bow, grabbed hold of the towing rope and tried dragging the boat towards the sea.

  She didn’t move.

  ‘Come on. Come on. Move, you stupid . . .’

  You know that thing about parents being able to lift heavy objects off their children? Well, maybe children could summon up the extra strength to rescue their parents, because after a minute or so of fruitless heaving the reluctant vessel began inching forward.

  ‘Yes,yes. Come on.’

  The waves were rushing up the shore to meet me. Another ten metres or so and we’d be in business. But my heart sank when an angry voice rose above the racket of the elements.

  ‘HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!’

  I knew exactly who it belonged to. A moment later, a straggly beard emerged from the mist, attached to a man in a black leather raincoat who was striding across the beach towards me. But it wasn’t the sight of Earl that stopped me dead in my tracks; it was the lonely figure limping along behind him.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jess,’ said Campbell. ‘I had to tell him. I couldn’t let you do it. It’s too dangerous.’

  Earl had positioned himself at the stern. ‘I always thought you’d be trouble.’

  ‘Yeah, and I always thought you were a big fat fake.’

  Earl reached instinctively for his love handles. ‘You heard me. I forbid you to move.’

  ‘You can’t stop me,’ I said. ‘It’s up to me if I want to go.’

  ‘This island is mine,’ roared Earl. ‘I can do what I like.’

  ‘Oh you think so, do you?’

  Perhaps really loathing someone can make you stronger too. One massive tug and the boat started moving again.

  Earl pulled in the opposite direction. ‘Look, I’m warning you, young lady. There’s only one way this is going to end.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  And I was actually winning until another voice pierced the mist with a desperate cry.

  ‘JESS, NO!’

  Mum was flailing down the beach, like a middle-aged fun runner who hadn’t bothered to train for the marathon. Millie was miles ahead, gliding effortlessly, like a true thoroughbred. Even so, I could sense her relief as she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her. ‘Well, you didn’t think I’d let you go through with an idiotic plan like that, did you?’

  It was some time before Mum found the breath to speak. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at, Jess?’

  ‘Lucky for you I got here in time,’ said Earl with a glutinous smile. ‘She was planning to leave us. Of course I’ve explained that it’s quite out of the question.’

  But I wasn’t done yet. ‘Well, that’s a pity, because if you don’t let me go, I’ll have to tell your Dawdler chums that you’re not quite the man they think you are.’

  Earl’s smile slipped swiftly off the side of his face. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about that mobile phone you’ve got hidden away. How do you think they’d feel about their beloved leader if they knew all about his online gambling?’

  ‘Well, you could do that,’ said Earl, his slippery smile slithering back into place, ‘but then I’d probably have to tell them about your poor father’s little weakness.’

  ‘You what?’ said Millie.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Earl. ‘Sue told me all about him. You see, I know exactly why you came here. And I suppose it would be in the public interest for me to share it with everyone.’

  ‘Dad, don’t,’ said Campbell. ‘Jess’s dad is innocent, anyway.’

  ‘Yes, well, they all say that, don’t they, son?’ Earl rounded on me, flashing his smile like a movie villain’s laser device. ‘And the thing is, if you were to tell people about my “emergency telephone”, there’d be nothing to stop me calling a couple of my old journo chums. I’m sure they’d love to know where you are.’

  ‘You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?’ said Mum. ‘How do you sleep at night? Oh that’s right,you don’t. You’re always strangling that bloody saxophone.’

  ‘It’s your call, Jessica,’ said Earl, his lips curling upwards into a self-satisfied smirk. ‘Or rather mine, if you don’t stop all this silliness about mobile telephones and come back to the pods.’

  ‘Dad’s innocent,’ I said. ‘I know he is.’

  ‘Well, it’s a pity no one else seems to think so,’ said Earl. ‘Now, can we get moving, please? Some of us have got communities to run.’

  That was just about the lowest I ever came. Too low even to cry; I stopped fighting, and let the waves of disappointment flood over me. Funny how one of Mr Catchpole’s favourite sayings should pop into my head at a time like that:You’ve let the school down, you’ve let your parents down, but most of all, you’ve let yourself down.

  And I was about to begin the long trek back to the pods when Millie tugged at my arm and whispered, ‘Jess, look!’

  My sister’s eyesight had always been better than mine. But what was she pointing at? And why was she crying and laughing at the same time?

  We both laughed about it afterwards. If I’d have read it in one of the ‘timeless classics’ in the Dawdler library, I would probably have called it the ‘father of all coincidences’. But none of that mattered when the ferry burst from the whiteness, like something out of a 3D movie and headed straight for the shore. At the helm was a bald man in a yellow cagoule. It was such a relief to see him that I almost forgave his crimes against literature and the four-legged detective who sometimes guest-starred in my dreams.

  But the most glorious part of all was when the pale, noticeably thinner figure seated at the bow rose shakily to his feet and waved at us. And if I live to a thousand, I’ll never forget the moment he caught my eye and mouthed the words ‘Thank you’, nor the look of pure joy on Millie’s face as she raced down to the water’s edge and shouted, ‘DADDY!’

  Brave New World

  What more can I tell you? Chelsey never got her dream wedding. Steve the IT guy, on the other hand, got three and a half years for perverting the course of justice. He never really explained why he did it, but there were plenty of people out there who’d have paid serious money to make sure the Russian deal went through quickly. With Dad not around to ask difficult questions, that’s exactly what happened.

  It had taken Brian weeks (‘and about half a furlong of red-tape’) to convince the police they’d got the wrong man. Like Dad said, he wasn’t the fastest worker in the universe, but if you’re ever in real trouble, it’s the Brian Simkinses of this world that you want fighting your corner.

  We left Sloth the next day. A week later, Campbell and his dad followed. Apparently Earl never quite forgave the community for ‘banishing’ him, although he later admitted that under the circumstances it was probably for the best. The Dawdlers quickly disbanded, but Derek, Sue and a few of the others stayed behind to set up an exclusive tourist resort. It actually looks pretty good.

  Revel in the stunning scenery and extravagant range of wildlife on a guided nature dawdle, take climbing lessons with a fully-qualified instructor, learn to meditate in the alternative therapy suite, release your inner J K Rowling under the expert guidance of our new writer in residence, or simply enjoy a smorgasbord of organic delicacies in the Symposium restaurant.

  It’s all on their website if you feel like checking it out.

  I don’t miss the island – well, not much anyway. It was kind of nice being outside all day, and even if the Dawdlers were a bit on the extreme side, some of the stuff they said has started making sense. That’s why I persuaded Dad to install solar panels and why me and a girl called Ariel are setting up a school recycling plant. But most of all, I miss the Firewallers. Luc
kily, Naseeb set up a Sloth Survivors Facebook group so we could all keep in touch. Ed posts links to his highest scores on MW3, Molly’s always blogging about the latest celebrity meltdown, Harry W (or is it Harry M?) is dating a girl called Kathleen and Jack’s still working on his fast food app – which I’m sure you’ll be hearing about very soon .

  Of course, there was someone I wanted to be more than Facebook friends with. I’m not denying that Camden Lock market is amazing, but it turns out we’ve got so much more in common than just shopping. We’re always texting, and even though we’ve agreed to disagree about tea tree oil, Lucy is one of my favourite people. (The highlights really suit her, by the way.)

  Things are different at home too. I can’t remember the last time Mum barged into my bedroom for one of her ‘little chats’. In fact, she even asked for my advice about her and Dad.

  And Millie’s still a brilliant sister; she’s just not the Golden One any more. Mum keeps a close eye on her to make sure she’s not doing anything silly. She wasn’t self-harming for very long, but those scars will be with her for life. The weird thing is, Mills seems to think that ‘having a little wobble’ was probably the best thing that ever happened to her. Apparently it’s not easy when you’re expected to be perfect the whole time. I wouldn’t know, of course. She never talks about the island. But sometimes there’s this funny incense smell coming from her bedroom, and I know she’s sitting cross-legged in front of a scented candle with a look of fierce concentration on her face. What I’m not quite sure about is whether she’s trying to remember or forget.

  Mum and Dad were so awkward around each other after we got back that they were more like strangers. Dad couldn’t understand why she’d shown so little faith in him and Mum kept telling me how frustrating it was trying to second-guess a man who refused to talk about his emotions. But at least he’s not working so hard, and they’ve started seeing that counsellor again. I wasn’t optimistic to start with, but a few days ago I thought I detected a glimmer of hope. You see, when Dad told his talking greyhound joke, Mum laughed like she was hearing it for the very first time.