Running Man

by Michael Gerard Bauer

  Joseph waited a moment before speaking. ‘Why did you want me to come?’

  Tom Leyton opened his eyes briefly to look blearily at Joseph then shut them again before speaking. ‘I wanted to tell you that the man in the drawing wasn’t me. But you’re right … I can’t lie to you. It’s me … it is,’ he said, his voice aching with sorrow. ‘I see him every day of my life and I hate him with all my being. But he’s not who you think he is. You don’t know him, Joseph, and if you did … sometimes the truth …’ His face was wrenched with torment. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Joseph,’ he pleaded, and leant forward, reaching out his hand.

  Joseph pulled himself back to the wall, his body tense and rigid.

  Tom Leyton collapsed back into the chair. The soft glow from the fire cast deep blotchy shadows around his eyes. He lifted the glass as if to drink, but then let his hand drop hard on to the arm of the chair. Liquid spilled from the glass and left a dark stain. He slumped like a beaten fighter in his corner.

  Just when Joseph was convinced that he had fallen asleep, Tom Leyton began to speak as if he was continuing a story that had been interrupted. ‘I was in the jungle quite a while before the patrol found me … not sure how long exactly.’ He tilted his head forward and stiffened noticeably. Then he opened his eyes, and when he continued it was as if once again he was seeing the events acted out before him. ‘I kept passing out. My head … it felt like someone had filled it with cement, and there was some huge machine droning in my ears. I remember walking, then the darkness would come to the edges of my eyes and I would wake up later with my face in the dirt. Soon I recognised when I was going to lose consciousness and I would sit down straightaway before I collapsed.’

  Tom Leyton paused to sip deliberately from his glass, but his eyes remained focused in the distance watching a scene that only he could see. ‘I’d collapsed in between a clump of trees. I don’t know how long I was out, but when I came to, it was probably late in the afternoon. I knew from before that it was pointless trying to stand straightaway so I sat and waited for my head to stop spinning … and that’s when he stepped into the clearing in front of me.’

  Joseph watched the muscles in Tom Leyton’s jaw ripple with tension. He hardly dared breathe.

  ‘He hadn’t seen me until it was too late. I knew it was him straightaway. Those same eyes, not sad and pleading now, like they were when he led us into the village, but startled … and frightened. And around his neck he had a chain with a penny on it. It was a 1948 penny. I know, because it was Terry Hoffman’s lucky penny … the year he was born. The same lucky penny he had around his neck when he was slaughtered in the ambush.’

  Tom Leyton frowned. ‘The boy just stood there like he was lost. I wondered why he didn’t just run away. I know now it was because my rifle was pointing at him, but I wasn’t even aware that I had my rifle at the time. So I just looked at him, and I thought of Terry and I thought about Mick and all the rest of the men and then … suddenly … it was like a dream … I couldn’t believe it … but he was dancing … the boy was dancing … and there were roses … blooming on his chest …’ His eyes filled with a crazed wonder and tears began to tumble down his face. ‘… and I heard drumming … I thought maybe that’s why the boy was dancing. Only he wasn’t dancing and there was no drumming … and the roses were made of blood.’

  Joseph watched helplessly as Tom Leyton’s body began to rock and shake and the glass fell from his hand and shattered on the floor. He lurched forward in the chair and struggled for breath. It seemed like some terrible thing was writhing and bucking inside Tom Leyton, struggling to be born. Finally it burst forth in a wounded howl of such unbearable sorrow and suffering that Joseph hardly recognised it as human.

  ‘It was me! It was me!’ Tom Leyton wailed. ‘My rifle … I was firing my rifle … my finger was squeezing the trigger … I was shooting him … shooting the boy … a boy!’ He gagged like a child and gasped for air. ‘I killed him! I killed him … I didn’t mean to … I didn’t know … I’m …’

  Joseph edged forward and placed a hand on Tom Leyton’s shoulder. He felt the man’s arms wrap around him and draw him in. Tom Leyton’s head lay heavy on Joseph’s chest and his tears dampened his shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ he repeated as he choked out the words.

  Joseph linked his arms in an embrace and bent forward so that his cheek rested on the top of the man’s head. Tears spilled from the corner of Joseph’s eyes and dropped gently on Tom Leyton’s forehead. ‘I’m sorry …’

  It was some time before the harsh sobbing subsided and Joseph felt the arms around him loosening their grasp. When one arm finally slid down his back, Joseph carefully moved his weight forward and eased Tom Leyton down into the armchair.

  Joseph stared at him and thought about what he had been told. The terrible secret that he carried with him every day had been uncovered. But it was not what Joseph had imagined when he drew the portrait that now scowled down accusingly from the mantelpiece. In some ways it was worse. He sat back down on the wooden crate. His whole body felt weak and his head ached with confusion. For more than an hour he remained alone before the crumpled form of Tom Leyton, sifting through everything he knew about the man, trying to imagine what it was like to live the journey of his life.

  Finally Joseph stood up and began collecting the scattered silkworm cocoons and returning them to the drawers. Then he cleaned up the broken glass and removed the empty rum bottle before taking the drawers back upstairs. While he was there, he pulled a blanket from the bed, brought it downstairs and draped it over Tom Leyton. When there was nothing left to tidy, he turned and faced the portrait that sat like a gargoyle on the mantelpiece.

  The fierce eyes glared back at him. Joseph stepped closer and reached forward. He lifted the portrait down and laid it on the coals of the dying fire. The flames rose and groped at the paper. The face on it warped and contorted in one last desperate sneer before blackening and disappearing forever in the dancing blaze.

  When the flames had settled and died Joseph took a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was a note that he had written in Tom Leyton’s room after he had returned the drawers. Joseph laid the note on the small table beside the armchair and placed a single silkworm cocoon on top of it so that Tom Leyton would find it when he awoke.

  It simply said,

  Dear Mr Leyton

  I burnt your portrait. It wasn’t any good.

  It looked nothing like you.

  Joseph

  Joseph stayed away from the Leytons until Thursday afternoon.

  Once again Laura Davidson looked at her son uneasily.

  ‘Mum, it’s all right, OK? Caroline is back, and anyway, Mrs Mossop is wrong about Tom Leyton.’

  ‘I know you want to believe that, but how can you be certain?’ Mrs Davidson asked gently.

  ‘Because I know why he’s like he is. I know what happened that day, when he was teaching. He told me. It’s not what you think. And I know he’s telling the truth.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘I can’t, Mum … it wouldn’t be right. You just have to believe me. Tom Leyton would never hurt me … or anyone.’ Joseph left his mother with doubt hanging like a shadow on her face.

  Over at the Leytons’ Caroline was as unaware as Mrs Davidson of Joseph’s clandestine visit two nights before. ‘I’ll just tell Tom you’re here. He’s downstairs – been there since I got back – going through things.’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s been very quiet, even more so than usual, but you know, I don’t mind it. It’s different somehow. I know that sounds ridiculous, and I can’t really explain it, but … it’s better somehow … calmer. And do you know what I think?’ she said, tilting her head slightly and smiling, ‘I think you might have something to do with it.’ Caroline made a face as if to show how impressed she was. ‘Shan’t be long,’ she added brightly, and left Joseph alone in the room.

&
nbsp; Joseph sat on the window seat nervously waiting for Tom Leyton. He wasn’t sure how to act after the trauma of their last meeting or how Tom Leyton would be feeling. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to tell his secret and now he might be dreading this contact. Perhaps he’d been too drunk to remember exactly what he had said. The churning in Joseph’s stomach was that same sickly mix of fear and anticipation that he had felt waiting for his first ride on a roller coaster. The unknown was close and unavoidable.

  When Tom Leyton finally shuffled into the room, he appeared ill at ease, like a jumpy host in the presence of some important dignitary. ‘Joseph … I hope I haven’t … I was downstairs, sorting through … there’s so much I haven’t touched … for such a long time …’ He looked around the room desperately as if searching for a lifeline. ‘I’ve got most of the books in order … the important ones in any case. The others can wait. It’s a start at least … oh, and I’ve taken the silkworm eggs downstairs … in the old fridge, under the house. They need to stay there until next spring. Then you take them out and they hatch … about fourteen days it takes.’

  Tom Leyton stopped and looked helplessly at Joseph, and then he sank slowly to the bed as if the rambling outpour of words had drained all his strength. His large fingers entwined nervously in his lap and he seemed to struggle with his thoughts. Joseph wished he could think of something to say to ease the crushing awkwardness, but the memory of Tom Leyton weeping against his chest made anything that came to mind seem trite and ridiculous.

  At last Tom Leyton broke the silence. ‘Joseph, I’m sorry … the other night. I didn’t think you were going to come. I was drunk. I didn’t intend to … I shouldn’t have … burdened you. Only Caroline knows what I have told you, no one else. That boy … in the classroom … he was Asian. Something happened. I can’t explain it, but the nightmare came back … the awful memories. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was. It must have been terrifying for him.’ He bowed his head and slowly rubbed his hands together. ‘I found your note … I want you to know, it meant more to me than you could possibly imagine. But I understand what you must think of me now so I also want you to know that you don’t have to come here any more. Not ever. I mean … you don’t have to see me again. Of course you will still want to visit Caroline like before, but it will be like I don’t exist … I will stay in my room and my door will stay closed and as far as you are concerned, the room would be empty … just like an old cocoon.’ Tom Leyton glanced up furtively.

  The beginnings of a smile crept to the corners of Joseph’s mouth. ‘It wouldn’t really be like one of those old cocoons though, would it?’ Joseph asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, they’ve got holes in them and you can see inside, so you know that they’re empty.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Tom Leyton, a little flustered.

  ‘And you said your room would be closed, so it would be more like a new cocoon, before the moth comes out.’

  ‘Yes that’s true, but all I meant was …’

  ‘So I’d know you were in there … and I’d be waiting for you to come out … just like when I was waiting for the moths.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m saying that you wouldn’t have to bother waiting, because I wouldn’t come out. I’d be inside, but I’d stay inside,’ Tom Leyton explained carefully, a little annoyed that his analogy with the cocoons had been hijacked.

  ‘But I’d still be waiting anyway.’ Joseph paused until Tom Leyton looked up. When he did, Joseph held his gaze. ‘I’d be waiting, because I’d want you to come out.’

  Tom Leyton showed no movement or expression. Even when the moisture began to shimmer in his eyes he remained still, his face set hard like an ancient rock wall in a rain forest. He stayed that way when the tears spilled like weeping springs over his cheeks and were lost in the thick undergrowth of his beard.

  ‘Besides,’ said Joseph as if the tears did not exist, ‘you promised to help me with my portrait.’

  Tom Leyton pressed his lips hard together and nodded his head. ‘I did.’

  ‘Well, now I have to start again. I thought maybe I could come over early on Saturday morning … if that was all right?’

  ‘That would be … wonderful,’ Tom Leyton whispered, and for a brief moment, his face softened just enough for Joseph to catch a flicker of the young man he had seen in Caroline’s old newspaper clipping.

  The image lasted only a few seconds before Tom Leyton was distracted by voices outside the room. Joseph turned towards the sound. Caroline was speaking to someone, but the tone of her voice seemed strained. Then Joseph recognised the other voice. It was his mother’s. Immediately he thought that she had come to make sure that he was safe, and he felt annoyed and a little embarrassed by her unwanted intrusion.

  The door to Tom Leyton’s room was eased open and Caroline appeared. ‘Joseph, your mother’s here,’ she said tightly.

  Joseph looked past Caroline into the hallway.

  There he saw his mother. She was clutching a newspaper and her face was pallid with fear.

  III

  THAT PANG OF JOY

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  That afternoon Joseph felt an overwhelming dread hardening inside him like ice. At first the headline Three Missing in PNG Landslide failed to make a connection, but then the word Bougainville leapt from the page and he felt as if he had been kicked in the chest.

  His mother sat opposite him at the Leytons’ kitchen table while Caroline made a cup of tea and Tom Leyton loitered silently in the doorway.

  ‘It’s where Peter was working,’ Laura Davidson said miserably as she stared at the newspaper in front of her. ‘He wrote about it in his last letter. They were building the road to a new mine. He said there’d been heavy rain for the last few days. He wasn’t too happy about going there. He must have known it would be dangerous …’ She covered her mouth with her hand as if she were trying to stop her fears from turning into words.

  ‘But you can’t be sure that this is exactly where Peter was,’ suggested Caroline helpfully. ‘There must be plenty of new roads under construction up there.’

  ‘Yes, but only one to Uropi Mine. I checked Peter’s last letter. It’s the same place. He said they were starting work on the Tuesday and he was on one of the big bulldozers. And it says here, Work on the road had only started on the previous day, and the landslide happened yesterday – Wednesday. It even says the men were from Westcom Mining. That’s Peter’s mob.’

  Laura Davidson raised her eyes and saw the alarm in her son’s pale face. ‘Oh Joseph,’ she said as she reached across the table and clutched his hand, ‘I’m sorry – I’m probably just being stupid. It’s just that it gave me such a fright. I’m sure he’ll be all right.’

  Joseph tried to look reassured, but the details of the article lurched around inside his mind. Of the six men who had been working on the site, three were now missing, two were seriously ill and one was said to be in a stable condition but had not regained consciousness. It was not possible for the missing men to have survived. A grader and a crane were lost under tonnes of mud and rubble. Joseph felt his stomach drop. He knew that at best, his father was lying in hospital, perhaps fighting for his life.

  Caroline placed a cup of tea in front of Laura Davidson and spoke with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘Of course you’re worried – who wouldn’t be? But look, you can’t even be sure he was anywhere near there. He wrote that letter last week, didn’t he? Well, who knows what’s happened in the meantime? There might have been a change in plans. For all we know he could be still working back at the old mine … and these details are very sketchy. Nothing’s been confirmed.’

  Laura took a sip of tea and smiled weakly at Caroline. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but I just wish he’d ring. He must know we’d be worried. I got through to the company headquarters in Port Moresby, but they couldn’t tell me anything. Said they’d lost contact with the mine.’

  ‘Well, I imagine it would be really
chaotic up there at the moment,’ Caroline replied slowly, ‘and with the landslides and storms, a lot of power lines would be down, and don’t forget they’re in a pretty remote area. Peter’s probably having just as much difficulty getting through.’

  ‘Yes … yes, that’s probably it,’ Laura Davidson said vaguely before putting her cup down. ‘I really should be home in case someone calls.’

  ‘Yes of course, but finish that off first. It will do you good,’ Caroline replied kindly as she placed her hand on Mrs Davidson’s shoulder. ‘Just remember we’re here. Let us know if there is anything at all we can do to help or if you just want someone to talk to. OK?’

  Joseph’s mother placed her hand over Caroline’s and breathed in deeply.

  ‘It’s going to be all right, Laura. I know it is.’

  Joseph looked up at the strong yet gentle face of Caroline Leyton, a face that knew all about hardship and survival and, in spite of what logic would dictate, the turmoil within him began to subside. Only the shuffling of feet and the movement of a dark form to his left reminded Joseph of another presence in the room. Tom Leyton stood motionless with his head bowed, staring down at the floor. Then, as if sensing that he was being watched, he raised his head and looked back at Joseph. The face that Joseph saw held no hope or promise, but was as impenetrable as a sheer mountain wall. The cruel, inescapable reality reflected in Tom Leyton’s eyes loomed larger and larger, and in an instant all of Caroline’s assurances were swept away.

  As Joseph looked at the thick black letters of the newspaper headline, he felt as if he were being buried alive.

  It was near midnight before Joseph went to bed. The evening had passed slowly, as he and his mother kept their fears to themselves. They watched in silence as the television news showed helicopter footage of huge tracts of mountainside lying crumbled and wasted like a child’s sandcastle. The authorities still had not released the names of the missing or injured men. After the first reports in the paper, further storms and landslides had severed communication links and made access to the area difficult.