Meat

by Joseph D'lacey

  ‘Then they sat down beside a ruined road and cried, holding on to each other because they were so, so sad, so, so hungry and so, so lonely that they didn’t think they could go on.

  ‘It was just then that a strange tiny creature appeared in front of their faces. It was buzzing and flying in little spirals and looked like a tiny person with flashing wings. The boys were so amazed they both stopped crying. And then, even stranger, the hovering little person spoke to them. It had a very loud voice for such a teeny thing. “Why are you crying, silly boys?” it said. “You’ve barely started looking yet. Search for another week just a little further on and I promise you will find something to make you both very happy.” The little flying person zipped and bobbed as though it was very excited. “But,” it said, looking suddenly very serious, “make sure you watch out for the Furry Man. If he catches you, he’ll roast you alive and then eat your ears and your eyes and your noses before he starts munching on your bellies.”

  ‘Peter and James shivered with fear at the sound of it. They were so weak they didn’t think they could search a single step further. And if they met this Furry Man, they didn’t think they had the strength to run away from him.

  ‘Embarrassed because he’d never spoken to a little flying person before and not really sure what to say, Peter said, “Excuse me, but we’re only little and very, very thin. All we eat are weeds and leaves and nuts and old bread, you see. Sometimes we…we…get an apple or two. Look,” he said, pointing at his and James’s arms, “we’re no stronger than old twigs.”

  ‘The little flying person scratched its weeny head. “How much do you want to be happy?”

  “Oh, very much,” said James.

  “Are you hungry?” it asked.

  “We’re starving,” said Peter.

  “Are you lonely?” it asked.

  “We’re the loneliest boys that ever there were.”

  “Well then,” said the little flying person. “Keep in mind all the things you’re looking for and that will make you stronger than old twigs.”

  “Really?” asked Peter.

  “Truly?” asked James.

  “Yes,” said the little flying person. “Much, much stronger.”

  ‘And with that, the little flying person zapped and zoomed in three speedy circles and disappeared.

  ‘Peter and James looked at each other with wide eyes.

  “Did we really see a little flying person?” asked Peter.

  “I think so,” said James. And he added, “Did it really talk to us?”

  “Yes,” said Peter, “I think it really did.”

  ‘Both the boys were smiling because the little flying person had made them feel so much better. It was a strange little creature but it had been kind to them. No one had ever been kind to them before.

  ‘They searched around for some weeds to give them a little strength for the next part of their journey and found a big clump growing nearby. It seemed very fortunate. They ate the bitter weeds but were glad for them. Soon they were searching again.

  ‘They wandered through parts of the broken district they’d never seen before and knew nothing about. After six more days they were exhausted again but the landscape around them had begun to change. There were fewer buildings and the ones they found were not so broken as the ones they’d left behind. Some of them still had roofs and some even had windows and doors. Peter and James searched inside these houses but they never found anything to make them happy, nothing to fill their bellies and no one to talk to.

  ‘They began to think they’d dreamed that little flying person and all its advice. Worse, they started to believe that maybe they’d just got so hungry they’d imagined it.

  ‘Then a mist came down, all swirly and white like the coattails of an army of ghosts. They found themselves in front of what seemed like the very last house in the broken district. Beyond it there was nothing. They saw a large pile of bones by the front door. The bones were smooth and picked absolutely clean. Some of the bones looked like they must have belonged to little boys exactly like Peter and James.

  ‘They both thought that maybe the little flying person was the friend of the Furry Man and that it had told them to come here so that the Furry Man could share two more lost little boys with it.

  ‘They started to back away from the house when the front door opened and a huge figure lumbered out into the mist. He was a giant, much bigger than a normal man and twice as wide too. Long, thick, shaggy red hair covered his hands and feet and face and hung down from his head to his hips. He wore only a pair of ragged trousers that stopped below his knees and a waistcoat with no buttons. It looked like he’d left the same clothes on for a hundred years and just grown out of them.

  ‘Little boys, thought Peter and James, must be very fattening.

  ‘The Furry Man saw them and roared,

  “AAAARRRGGGH! SUPPERTIME!”

  ‘He ran down his garden path with his arms stretched wide ready to grab a boy in each hand.

  “Run,” cried Peter and both the boys turned on their heels and sprinted away as fast as they could. The mist was thick and it was hard to see where they were going. They held hands because they didn’t want to lose each other and it slowed them down. Meanwhile, the Furry Man, running on legs like tree trunks, took steps four times the size of theirs. He caught up with them very quickly. His two enormous arms reached out to grab the skinny boys.

  “Now I’ve got you little morsels. Now I’ve got my SUPPER!”

  “Let go of my hand,” said James. “It’s our only chance.”

  “No,” cried Peter. “What if I never find you again?”

  “Think of all the things we’re looking for and you’ll find me.”

  ‘The Furry Man’s hands came whooshing at them. James let go of Peter’s hand and ran into the fog. The hand missed him. Peter ran the opposite way. The other hand missed him.

  ‘The Furry Man couldn’t decide which one to chase and while he was thinking about it, they both disappeared.

  “ARRRRGGGGHHH!” shouted the Furry Man. “NO SUPPER! AAAAARRRRGGGGH!”

  ‘Well, the Furry Man stood there for a long time sniffing the fog. Then he decided that one trail smelled juicier than the other so he turned and went the way Peter had run, following his big nose through the thick mist.

  ‘Separated now, the two boys could hear the Furry Man’s huge feet stomping over the rubble as he came looking for them. Every step made the ground shake.

  ‘James tiptoed as quietly as he could but he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front and had no idea which direction he was going in. Peter did exactly the same thing. Both of the boys were more lonely now than they’d ever been and certainly more frightened. They were so scared they thought the Furry Man might be able to hear the pounding of their hearts through the mist and that he’d follow the noise until he caught them.

  ‘James stumbled on a broken brick and fell down. His hands met nothing but air as he fell. The ground hit his chest and knocked all the wind out of him. His head and arms were hanging into space. He found himself looking down into a black pit so deep it seemed to have no bottom. One step further and he’d have tumbled into the pit never to see Peter again.

  ‘But the Furry Man heard James fall and he changed direction to follow. Peter heard too. He wanted to call out and see if his brother was all right – to make sure that it hadn’t been the sound of the Furry Man catching hold of him. But Peter dared not make a sound. Instead, he too ran towards the spot where he thought he’d heard the noise.

  ‘Then he heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. Somehow he’d managed to come between the Furry Man and his brother. Now the Furry Man was chasing him as they both ran towards James. Peter risked a glance over his shoulder and saw long red hair in the mist. The Furry Man was right behind him, his huge arms held out in front to catch him.

  ‘There was no need now to be quiet so Peter screamed for his brother, “James! Where are you?”

  “This way!�
�� called James. “Quickly, Peter, I can hear the Furry Man coming!”

  “He’s right behind me!” called Peter. “I don’t think I can get away.”

  “Yes, Peter. Yes, you can. Keep thinking of all the things we’re searching for. I’ll think of them too. When you’re near enough I’m going to tell you to do something and you must do it the very best you can. OK?”

  “I will, James. I’ll do it the very best I can.”

  ‘Peter could hear the Furry Man snorting behind him. He could smell the smell of dead little boys in the Furry Man’s stomach. He thought of all the things that he and his brother had been searching for and ran as fast as he could. But Peter hadn’t eaten anything for a long time and his legs were tired and heavy. He started to believe that he was going to end up eaten by the Furry Man. Just then a crack appeared in the mist and from somewhere very high above a thin shaft of light penetrated. As Peter ran through the light he felt all his strength return. He pushed a little harder and felt the Furry Man’s hand swish through the air behind him. It just missed him.

  ‘And then he heard James’s voice very loud and very near, “Jump, Peter, jump as far and as fast as you can.”

  ‘So Peter jumped with all the strength he had left and he took off into the air.

  ‘He looked down and saw that he was over a black hole that seemed to go on forever. James had told him to jump to his death. But Peter didn’t give up even then. He thought about what it would be like to be with his brother somewhere safe and for them both to be happy. He thought about it as hard as he could.

  ‘The next thing he knew, James had caught him in his arms. He was standing on the other side of the black pit.

  ‘They both looked back and saw the Furry Man rumbling through the mist. He saw them too. Two lovely, tasty little boys ready to roast alive on a spit.

  “AAAARRRRGHH! SUPPER!” shouted the Furry Man as he got closer and closer.

  ‘And then, very suddenly indeed, the Furry Man dropped out of sight.

  ‘They heard him falling for a long, long time because he shouted all the way down.

  “AAAARRRRGHHH…”

  ‘They never heard the Furry Man hit the bottom.

  ‘Well, Peter and James were so pleased to see each other again and know they were safe that they both sat down and cried happy tears. And then they both lay down, snuggled close and fell asleep because they were so, so tired.

  ‘When they woke up the mist was gone and in the distance they could see the house where the Furry Man had lived. They went to have a look at it. Outside, the pile of bones of all the little boys that the Furry Man had eaten was gone.

  ‘They walked into the house and it was dusty and quiet as though no one had lived there for many, many years. All the rooms were empty. They walked all the way through the house and then they found another door at the back. They opened the door and found themselves looking at something that neither of them had ever seen before.

  ‘It was a garden. In the garden were many trees and all the trees were heavy with different kinds of fruit. All around the garden there were wild plants growing with flowers of every colour and even colours the boys had never seen before. Stranger even than that, they saw many little flying people that buzzed and flickered from one flower to another collecting nectar.

  ‘But the best thing they saw were all the little boys the Furry Man had eaten. Not only that, there were little girls too, all restored just the way they’d been before he’d caught them. And now the Furry Man would never chase or eat any of them again and Peter and James would never ever be lonely or hungry or sad. Not then and not forever.’

  Usually his stories put the girls to sleep long before he finished them but tonight he’d glanced at them from time to time. They were intent, wide-eyed and very far from sleep. Telling the story the way he had was a risk. If Maya had been listening she’d have put a stop to it long before the end; the story verged on blasphemy for so many reasons. But the more of it he made up the more sense it seemed to make to him and the more obviously the tale unfolded in his mind. He found a kind of rhythm in the telling of it and the rhythm carried him through to the end.

  Now the girls sat staring at him, each clutching a doll to their chests, their faces intense. He could almost hear the questions before they came. He didn’t know how he was going to answer them.

  ‘Why didn’t the boys have a mama and papa?’ asked Hema.

  ‘I think their mama and papa had died and left them all alone in the world.’

  ‘Does that really happen?’ asked Harsha.

  ‘Yes. Sometimes it happens. When a child is left with no parents or if the parents are too poor to keep the child and have to give it away, the child is called an orphan.’

  ‘Are there orphans in Abyrne?’ asked Hema.

  That was a tough one. He decided to turn it around.

  ‘Have you seen any?’ he asked.

  They shook their heads.

  ‘None in your school?’

  ‘No,’ they both said.

  ‘I guess that’s your answer then.’

  The girls looked at each other and appeared to agree on the next question without exchanging a word. Hema asked it.

  ‘What about the Furry Man and the little flying people, papa? Are they real?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Hema considered.

  ‘Just because we haven’t seen them, it doesn’t mean they aren’t there, does it? Maybe they’re hiding.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Maybe they are.’

  ‘The Furry Man wouldn’t come to our house would he, papa?’ asked Harsha.

  He hadn’t set out to be cruel. That wasn’t the point. At least the idea of the Furry Man took their attention away from the more dangerous themes of the tale.

  ‘I don’t think the Furry Man would ever come here. Too far for him to walk. I wouldn’t worry about it. Now that’s enough chatter for one night. If you’re very good, I might tell you another one tomorrow night. But you’ll have to go to sleep right now with no complaining or there’ll be no stories at all. Come on, into your bunk Harsha.’

  They’d both been on the bottom bunk for the story. Now that it was over it was time for Harsha to get back into her own. Reluctantly, she scooted past her sister and climbed the ladder. Shanti gave her a kiss on the forehead and gave another to Hema.

  ‘I’ll leave the door open a crack for light, but I don’t want to hear a single noise. If I do, no more stories, all right?’

  ‘All right, papa,’ they sang.

  ‘Good. Now you two sleep tight.’

  He left them alone then but an hour later was back to check on them before he went to bed himself. Harsha was back down in the lower bunk and they were snuggled together as tight as two clingy monkeys. He wasn’t about to wake them just to separate them. He watched them sleeping for a few moments and then crept away.

  From his deserted tower block, Collins could signal for his closest aides, Staithe and Vigors. He lit a gas lamp and took it out to the small cold balcony where the changed wind was smearing the town with the rotten smells from Magnus Meat Processing. He placed the lamp on the balustrade for a count of sixty seconds knowing at least one of them would be watching. Then he took the lamp inside and sat down on the cushionless sofa.

  It was less than ten minutes before the gentle series of coded taps came at his front door. He pulled the hinged steel bar back – the only locking mechanism that still worked – and opened the door. Both of them stepped past him. They sat on the floor in front of his sofa. The lamp gave out a feeble yellow light. He hated to use anything that required gas but, whilst he was perfectly capable in the dark, he had to provide something for Staithe and Vigors.

  ‘We didn’t think you’d come back,’ said Staithe. He was a burly man but he had a tissue paper heart. Collins could hear the relief in his voice.

  ‘I didn’t think I would, either. But there’s more to do. I had to.’

  ‘What happened?’ aske
d Vigors.

  ‘Magnus played into my hands. He’s not going to let it go lightly. You’ve got to get word to everyone to hide or prepare for visits from MMP thugs. Anyone connected with me is at risk. Make sure they all know never to go back to the lock-up. I mean ever. We’re past that now.’

  ‘What will we do?’

  ‘First, we’re going to disappear.’ Collins leaned back and looked from Vigors to Staithe. ‘And then we’re going to make life difficult for Magnus.’

  ‘And the Welfare? They won’t be far behind him.’

  Collins nodded.

  ‘I know. They’ll have their part to play.’

  They were silent for a while, Staithe mesmerised by the gas lamp’s hiss and waxy light while he mulled it all over. Vigors’s face was less readable. It was hard enough to guess whether she was male or female in full daylight and here in the gloom her face was a domino blank. She was the first to speak.

  ‘There’s no going back from this.’

  ‘No,’ said Collins. ‘A lot of people are going to get hurt. Make sure everyone that comes does so voluntarily. They must be free to choose.’

  Sixteen

  It was difficult to know how to tell them his plan. Would they still trust him then? Have faith in him?

  He hadn’t seen this far ahead at the start, hadn’t understood what was required until after he’d met Magnus and seen what kind of man he was. It was not enough that he martyr himself at the hands of the Meat Baron for all to see. It would change nothing. All it would achieve was silence; a silence that needed to be filled by Collins’s voice. His was the voice of truth, the voice of sanity.

  He’d brought his followers this far and he had no choice but to tell them exactly what he believed should come next. It wasn’t going to be easy. They waited. He considered. They were used to his silences.

  Collins ran his hands over the smooth dome of his head. It should have been stubbly with new growth but since the last time he’d shaved it, no more hair had come through. The same was true of his face. He ought to have had at least a few days of beard but his cheeks were as smooth as the inside of his wrists. He thought it might be the shock of his interview with Magnus – more apparent in his body than in his mind – but that didn’t fit. He was calmer and more resolved now than he had been during his kidnap and he’d been ready for death even then.