Piggies

by Nick Gifford

  The others were staring at him. They had stopped arguing and fighting. They were scared.

  “Come on,” said Ben. He waved a hand towards the quarry entrance. “They’re coming.”

  Five or six big cars had stopped at the chained-up gate. Figures had emerged, picked out by the vehicles’ headlights.

  Already, they were scrambling over the gate. Ben saw a sudden glint of dark metal. They were carrying guns.

  “Come on!”

  And then another voice said, “Go on! Do as he says!”

  It was Alik. He was shaking, tears running down his face.

  They took no more persuading. First Walter, then Zeb and the others approached Ben. One by one, they stepped into the shimmering rock face and vanished.

  Ben was the last to go.

  “Go,” hissed Alik. “Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I was only trying to protect them.”

  The beasts were almost upon him.

  Ben stepped through the rock face.

  ~

  Suddenly, the air was sucked from his lungs and he felt powerful forces tugging at his limbs. He twisted and turned, fighting the pressure. He felt as if he was in mid-air, spinning.

  He cried out...

  ~

  ...and landed in a heap on the ground.

  He was confused, muddled, his head spinning.

  Everywhere was wet and he’d landed in the mud. It was raining.

  He rolled over, lay back, let the rain soak him through. It felt good.

  He was home. At last, he had made it back to his own world.

  18 Home again

  It took them a while to gather themselves.

  “It’s a bit hit and miss,” Zeb explained. “The opening’s not predictable: there’s a central focus, the main passageway, but there are other openings, too, spread out. That must be how you stumbled through: wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You sound well practised in these things,” said Walter, still angry.

  Zeb looked away. “We were trying to buy protection, that’s all.”

  Eventually, they found everyone who had made it through the passageway. A good proportion of the woodlanders had made the journey between worlds. What would happen to those left behind? Ben hoped they would be able to hide themselves until the families’ anger had died down. Maybe another rift would open up and they would be able to escape. Maybe Alik would help them, if he managed to evade the beasts.

  The people farmed in the piggeries wouldn’t have that chance, though. They would continue their short lives of suffering. If only he could have done something! But no... What more could he have done on his own? At least the “livestock” smuggling was at an end and he had helped this group of woodlanders to escape.

  “What will you do?” asked Ben. How would they survive in a world they didn’t know?

  “We’ll get by,” said Walter. “We’ve found somewhere new and in any case we’re used to survival.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” said Ben. “I’ll help you learn how things work here. What you have to look out for. You’re in a better place.”

  Walter shook his head. “Ben,” he said. “This is your world. What must your family be thinking? You need to go back to them and show them you’re okay. We’ll be all right, Ben. Just think of us if you ever hear stories of a group of strange travellers who don’t quite fit in, okay?”

  ~

  For some time, he watched out for any reports in the news, but there was nothing. There were so many strange people who didn’t quite fit into the world, though. How do you tell one peculiar story from another?

  Ben was in the news himself, for a time: a boy who had gone missing and then returned again three weeks later.

  He wanted to tell someone, but it was hard to find the words. Words that would not sound stupid, words that would convince grown-ups that there was so much more to reality than they had ever imagined.

  It was easier, at first, to pretend not to remember. He told his parents and the police that all he could recall was blacking out on his way home from Andy’s, and then waking up again in the middle of the woods, wandering aimlessly, lost and confused. He didn’t know what had happened in between those times. At least, he couldn’t tell them anything they’d believe.

  Some days after his return, he tried to tell Andy. He was the one person who might take his claims seriously. Andy listened without interrupting, and when Ben had finished his friend just sat there with that dopy grin on his face.

  “So,” he said, at last. “Let’s get this straight. Another world. Vampires. People farmed like pigs. You’ve been reading those books again, haven’t you?”

  Angrily, Ben said, “Okay: I can prove it.” He pulled at the collar of his football shirt, tugged it downward to reveal his neck. “Look,” he said. “See where McDonnell bit me.”

  Andy leaned forward, then sat back, shaking his head. “Nothing there,” he said.

  Ben put a finger to his neck and felt smooth skin. The marks had been there this morning. He was sure.

  But now they had gone. Healed.

  He slumped back on the sofa, questioning his own sanity. But then he remembered Rachel’s words: You’re the one who’s been through it, whatever “it” is. You need to trust your own judgement, Piggy.

  “Listen,” said Andy. “You sure had me going for a few minutes, though. You and your stories...”

  ~

  It was hard to settle back in to normal life. He couldn’t pass the town’s medical practice without horrible flashbacks to the other world, to the policeman and the doctor whose baby sucked blood from its mother’s neck.

  The strangest things brought up disturbing memories that threatened to swamp him. In the supermarket with his parents, the press of bodies, the mindless noise ... and suddenly he was back in the piggery, surrounded by snuffling and grunting and jostling, naked bodies.

  But they were just tricks, played by his mind. He was safe now. He was back in his own world and all that was behind him.

  Or so he thought.

  ~

  He spotted her in the High Street. It was only the second time he’d been allowed out on his own since his return.

  She was wandering along, just staring. Looking all around in wonderment.

  The spiky blonde hair, the tight jeans and the baggy black jumper she had been wearing that night.

  He shook himself. This couldn’t be happening. It was just someone who looked like Rachel. Or it was some kind of flashback, some kind of illusion.

  It wasn’t happening.

  But it was.

  She saw him, she smiled, she came to join him, standing by the spitting fish fountain.

  “Piggy,” she said, in a small, nervous voice.

  She looked scared, lost.

  “I followed you through,” she said. “In all the confusion, I followed you through. I’ve been here ever since. I didn’t really believe you, Piggy. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t believe you.

  “But it’s true, Piggy. It really is true: a whole world like this!”

  He had been mistaken. At first he had thought she was scared, terrified to find herself in a strange new world.

  But no. That wasn’t fear in her eyes. It was something else.

  Rachel was excited. And Rachel was hungry...