The Disappeared

by C. J. Harper

  I look at Wilson with my mouth wide open. He returns my gaze without blinking. He doesn’t realise the impact of what he is telling me. He is so badly broken that I don’t think he fully understands what swapping jackets with me that day has done to him. I was the owner of that red jacket. It was me they wanted. It should be me with the useless arm and the shattered mind.

  Within minutes Wilson is asleep, but I lie with my eyes closed, asking over and over again why someone wanted to kill me that day.

  And if they still want to.

  I wake up. Outside, something is howling. Fear spreads across my chest. I sit up. It’s an animal. A dog. And there are voices. It’s the Wilderness people coming. They sound angry and close. It’s freezing and my heart is thumping. I turn to look at Wilson. His eyes are wide open and staring into the darkness above him.

  ‘Wilson?’

  He doesn’t answer. He’s completely still, not even blinking.

  I eye the sides of our shelter; it’s trembling in the wind. We’re not safe.

  ‘Wilson, it’s the Wilderness people.’

  He still won’t answer. I shake his good arm. He whimpers and shrinks away from me. The dog is barking now. They’re getting closer. I stand up, keeping my blanket wrapped around me, but the cold night air seeps in anyway. I push aside a flap of plastic and look out into the night. Everything is frost-tinged in the moonlight. The voices and the barking have stopped. My jaw aches from my teeth chattering. A breeze scythes through my hair. I listen hard. There’s nothing but the wind making the shelter rustle and creak. They don’t know we’re here. Maybe they’ll just go away again.

  ‘In the bushes,’ rings out a deep voice.

  My legs go weak. I can see a group of them silhouetted, coming towards the shelter. They’re getting closer. I twist round and lunge back into the shelter. I grab Wilson by the wrist and yank him to his feet.

  ‘Wilson! We’ve got to run.’

  I fight my way out of the back of the shelter, dragging Wilson behind me. My blanket falls to the ground and the cold rushes to cover me like icy water. I drop Wilson’s hand to push through the thicket. ‘Quickly,’ I say and we sprint across the grass.

  ‘There they are,’ shouts one of the voices from behind.

  I hear them running.

  I head for the Academy. Wilson is just behind me. There’s nowhere to hide. Soon we’ll reach the fence next to the Academy walls and we’ll be trapped. An image from the Info flashes into my mind: a boy slit open from chin to waist by Wilderness men. They’re getting closer. My legs feel weak and useless. My left foot lands at an angle. I stumble forwards. My hands hit the ground and I have to scramble upright again. Wilson pulls in front of me. They’re right behind us. I try to move faster, but I can hardly breathe. We’ve almost reached the fence, maybe someone from the Academy will see—

  Smack! One of them grabs my legs from behind and I slam down on the hard earth. He clambers on to my back, jamming his knees into me, making it even harder to gasp for breath.

  ‘You’re dead,’ hisses the deep voice in my ear.

  My mouth is full of dirt. The ground is freezing. My hands are stinging. I try to lift my head, but my attacker slams it back down. I hear the dog barking on my left. It must have gone after Wilson. I hope Wilson found somewhere to hide. A pair of feet walk into my eyeline.

  ‘Use this,’ say the feet to Deep Voice.

  My arms are yanked behind me and they tie my wrists together with some sort of smooth cord. They haul me to my feet.

  When I get my first look at them I stare in amazement.

  They’re boys.

  They’re only boys. One of them is shorter than me. His hair is straggly and he has a scar down the side of his face. He looks me up and down and sniffs. He points to my legs and Deep Voice ties them together, but with enough free cord between my two feet so that I can shuffle along. Shuffle, but not run.

  ‘Walk,’ says Scarface.

  I don’t move. I want to stay close to the Academy. If I make enough noise someone might come out and intervene.

  ‘Help!’ I shout. Before I can draw breath to continue, Scarface kicks my legs out from underneath me. I land awkwardly on my elbow. He grabs me by the hair and ties a gag over my mouth.

  ‘Do the things I say or your friend gets big hurt,’ he says.

  He jams a hand under my arm and I struggle to my feet.

  I look up at the Academy, but there’s not a single light on.

  They walk me all the way to the woods. I strain to work my hands free, but I can’t. I try to work out what they want with me. I’ve got nothing of value. I don’t understand why they haven’t killed me already. Eventually they stop in a clearing and tie me to one of the trees. Scarface pulls off my gag.

  ‘You can shout all you want out here,’ he says.

  There’s no sign of Wilson. I hope he got away. Maybe these Wilderness boys won’t keep looking for him now that they’ve got me.

  Scarface tells Deep Voice to build a fire. That’s good, I tell myself. A fire is good. I’m shaking all over. My bones ache with cold.

  When the fire is lit another boy with a face like a monkey comes crashing through the trees into the clearing.

  ‘Efwurding Special got away and the mutt,’ says Monkey-boy. He stops when he catches sight of me. ‘Nice,’ he says, slapping Scarface on the back.

  I struggle against the cords that are wrapped around my upper body and arms, binding me to the tree. They hold fast. ‘Whatever it is you want from me,’ I say, ‘couldn’t we talk about it? I’m not dangerous . . .’

  ‘Hah!’ barks Scarface and all the Wilderness boys burst out laughing. ‘Oooh hoo hoo hoo! He says he’s not danger.’

  Monkey-boy sneers at me. I drop my gaze down. I can see how filthy and tattered his trousers are in the firelight. And his jacket.

  His Academy jacket.

  I can’t believe it. I squint into the darkness at each of them in turn. They’re all wearing Academy uniforms. They’re not Wilderness. They’re Specials.

  ‘Did you get excluded too?’ I say. ‘I was excluded. I mean, we’re on the same side really, aren’t we?’

  Scarface stares at me.

  ‘How long for?’ I ask. ‘Haven’t they let you back in yet?’ I don’t recognise them, but there are hundreds of Specials at the Academy.

  Scarface wraps his hand around the cool end of one of the branches in the fire.

  ‘They’ve got to let you back in sometime haven’t they?’ I say.

  Scarface pulls out the burning stick and takes a step towards me. Deep Voice settles on his haunches, watching. I swallow.

  ‘You’ve done well,’ I say stupidly. ‘Not many people could survive in the Wilderness.’

  Scarface stops in front of me. He raises the burning branch in front of my face. My eyes sting with the smoke. I press back against the tree. He steps forwards.

  ‘They ought to let you back . . .’ My face is frying. I can feel my eyelashes singeing.

  ‘Permanent,’ he says.

  ‘Sorry?’ A spark flies off the branch and burns my cheek. I suck in my breath.

  ‘Permanent exclusion,’ he says.

  Horrible visions of what you would have to do to be excluded permanently flash into my mind. I turn my face to the left as far from the heat as I can and find myself staring into Scarface’s flame-lit eyes. He bares his teeth in a humourless smile. Now I understand why they’ve brought me all this way just to tie me to a tree.

  They’re enjoying themselves.

  ‘Couldn’t I help you?’ I ask.

  ‘Help? What’s help?’ says Scarface. It makes me think of Kay and suddenly I want to cry because I’m starting to think that I won’t see her again.

  ‘We don’t need your stupid brainer word,’ says Scarface pushing the branch even closer to my cheek.

  ‘Stupid brainer words,’ repeats the Monkey-boy and he spits on the ground. Deep Voice rises to his feet and comes to stand next to Scarface. I’ve go
t to offer them something so they won’t hurt me.

  ‘I can get back into the Academy,’ I say. ‘I could get you supplies, things you need. If you’ll just give me a bit of time . . .’

  ‘Now,’ says Monkey-boy.

  ‘But I’ve got nothing,’ I try straining against the cord again. ‘I haven’t got anything to give you. No water, no clothes. I’ve got no food . . .’

  ‘You’re wrong, you no-ranker,’ says Scarface, passing the burning branch to Deep Voice and wrapping a hand around my throat. ‘You are the food.’

  My mind is whirling. This is what happens to Specials who get excluded? They get thrown out into the Wilderness and they get eaten. By other Specials. I think of Lanc. Is this what happened to him?

  The Academy is evil. It’s sick. My stomach heaves, I’m going to throw up.

  ‘Ahh rah rah rah rah!’ There’s a volley of barking behind the boys.

  Scarface drops the hand at my throat and turns round. ‘Stupid dog. Go and see,’ he says to Deep Voice. Deep Voice makes his way through the trees. I’m afraid that the dog has got Wilson. The barking stops and we listen to Deep Voice ploughing through the trees. ‘It’s efwurding dark,’ he calls back.

  Scarface raises his hands in annoyance. He turns to me. I watch him pull a knife from his pocket. I try to swallow. His eyes zoom in on me like lasers. I thought he’d wait. I feel cheated. He raises the knife and holds the point to my neck. It’s like someone has turned up the volume inside me. I can hear my heart thud and my blood rush and my lungs pump. I can feel every nerve ending tingling and every strand of hair standing on end. And the point of his knife dragging on my skin. Even though I’m about to die, I feel very alive. Scarface’s eyes widen and—

  ‘Aiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee!’ someone behind him screams.

  ‘What the efwurd?’ Scarface lowers the knife and spins round.

  I slump with relief. Only the cords are holding me up.

  ‘Ahhhhhhh!’

  I think it’s Deep Voice. I hope it’s Deep Voice and not Wilson.

  Scarface looks at Monkey-boy. ‘Watch him,’ he says. He grips his knife and runs towards the screaming.

  Monkey-boy stands up. He flexes his fingers, then he wanders a few steps in the direction Scarface took. It’s gone quiet. He peers into the trees. Something tickles my left wrist. I imagine a beetle crawling over my hand so I shake it as much as the cords will allow.

  ‘Nylons are condensation copolymers,’ comes a whisper from behind the tree.

  Wilson.

  Wilson is cutting the cords. Oh wonderful, clever, poor, mad Wilson. He’s trying to cut the cords. I can feel the vibrations as he saws with something. Where did he find something sharp? How did he get away from the dog? And the boys?

  Monkey-boy looks back at me. From this angle Wilson is hidden behind the tree. I keep my face blank and stare into the fire. Monkey-boy goes back to his position, listening out for the others. One of the cords goes slack and drops to my feet. What am I going to do? I’ll have to just make a break for it as soon as Wilson gets through the second cord. We’ll have a slight start on Monkey-boy.

  Then everything happens at once.

  I hear movement through the trees and Scarface calling to Monkey-boy, ‘That efwurding brainer hit him with a big thing! You carry him with me.’

  The second cord drops to the ground.

  I step away from the tree, but Monkey-boy hears me and turns, open-mouthed.

  I wish I had a stone to throw, but I remember that my pockets are full of metal. I take two handfuls of nuts and bolts and fling them at his head. They fall short, but as I turn to run he says, ‘Shrap!’ and falls to his knees to gather it up. I guess even out here Specials value shrap.

  I follow Wilson running through the trees. I half hear Scarface’s strangled rage when he finds I’m gone.

  ‘Get them!’ he shouts at Monkey-boy.

  ‘But I’m getting shrap!’ says Monkey-boy.

  I fix my eyes on the back of Wilson’s head and keep running. Soon I can hear the boys behind us. We come out of the trees and pound back towards our shelter. I wonder if there’s anything there that we could use as weapons. There are only two of them now; maybe we could take them on.

  We run and run. By the time we reach the lip of the rubbish pit, I’m exhausted. Wilson pulls me down into a crouch. I’m panting for breath. The boys are getting closer.

  ‘I propose a tactical diversion,’ Wilson gasps out.

  ‘You want me to divert them?’ I can hardly speak.

  ‘I will lead them off,’ he says.

  ‘No! That’s not fair. Let’s fight them together.’ I stand up, but Wilson lays a hand on my arm.

  ‘In times of emergency the greatest minds must be protected,’ he says. He gives me a smile like the old Wilson used to before he told a joke.

  And then he punches me in the face.

  I’m thrown backwards over the precipice and land on my back on something soft. I hear Wilson running. Then a cry goes up. They’ve seen him. I try to shout, but I’m completely winded. I roll on to my front and retch. I try to get to my feet, but I can’t find my footing. Whatever I’ve fallen on is uneven and slippery. I hear my blood rushing in my ears and the ground seems to be tilting. It swings up and smacks me on the side of the head.

  I wake up. There’s a terrible smell. Like maggoty fish and rotten eggs. I try to turn away from it, but it’s thick around my head. My brain feels like it’s throbbing against my skull. I’m cold and I’m lying on something lumpy. I try to open my eyes, but they’re stuck shut. I lift a hand and rub away a thick crust of what turns out to be blood. When I peel open my eyes, the bright light makes me squint. I’m surrounded by black refuse sacks spilling with garbage. Wilson knocked me into the rubbish pit. Wilson. He whacked me down here to save me while he . . . An awful image of what they will have done to Wilson comes to me and I vomit into the rotting rubbish.

  I slowly scrabble my way out of the pit. My arms and legs are weak and floppy. Finally I roll over the lip of the hollow. The air is fresher up here. And colder. The decomposing rubbish was giving off heat. That stinking pit has kept me alive.

  I’ve got to look for Wilson. Maybe he managed to get away from those boys or maybe they’ve kept him tied up till this morning. Neither seems likely, but I’ve got to hope. I hug my arms around myself and try to rub some warmth into my arms. I’ll start by looking in the woods.

  ‘Blake!’ someone shouts.

  For a moment my heart rises imagining that it’s Wilson, but it’s the wrong voice and the wrong name. I turn back in the direction of the shout. The gate in the fence next to the Academy is open. Enforcer Rice is calling to me. My exclusion is over but I don’t want to go back without Wilson. I start to run towards the woods.

  ‘BLAKE!’

  I risk a look back. He’s following me. And there’s someone else. I try to increase my speed but my breathing is already ragged. I can hear them behind me. I scan the ground ahead for a weapon. I stumble to a halt and pick up a stick. I turn to face Enforcer Rice and one of the impeccables.

  ‘Don’t come any closer,’ I pant. I raise my stick.

  Rice sniffs. ‘Take him,’ he says to the impeccable, already turning away.

  The impeccable eyes my stick and snorts. He steps towards me and I focus all my energy into thrusting the stick into his eye.

  He bats it away like he would a fly and pins my arms behind me. I’m forced on to my knees.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I say. ‘I’ve got to find my friend. He needs help. They were going to . . .’

  ‘We see’d him,’ grins the impeccable.

  ‘Where? Is he all right? He needs a doctor. Show m—’

  ‘Shut up, Blake.’ Rice yanks me up. ‘It’s touching that you’re making “friends” out here in the Wilderness, but there’s not much a doctor could do for him now.’ He leans in so his face is close to mine. ‘Looks like wild dogs got him.’ He smiles. ‘Horrible mess.’ He pushes me in t
he back and smacks me around the head. I don’t feel it. All I can think about is that now Wilson really is dead and everything is my fault.

  The impeccable half drags me back to the Academy, all the time cursing me for the way I stink. Once we’re inside Rice looks at his muddied boots and tuts.

  ‘I don’t like dirt, Blake,’ he says. He makes a fist and punches me in the stomach. I double over. I feel like I’m going to cough up my intestines.

  ‘That’s why I don’t like you,’ he says.

  I can’t speak.

  ‘Should’ve left him,’ says the impeccable.

  ‘As we are approaching a day of scrutiny it doesn’t do to have too much wastage,’ says Rice.

  I look up through my hair. Scrutiny? I suppose that when The Leader arrives for his visit it will be up to Rice to make sure that the Academy appears in a good light. Just you wait, Rice. There are a few things I’d like The Leader to scrutinise.

  ‘Get clean,’ Rice says to me. He does a little jump kick and sends his boot into my shin with a crack. I grasp my hands around my leg, but I manage not to cry out. The impeccable grins as Rice walks away. It’s the jump that makes me hate Rice most.

  I drag myself upstairs. It seems odd to me that the dormitory is still here unchanged. It’s empty; everyone is downstairs in the morning grid session. I sit on my bed. I lean forward and place a hand on Kay’s pillow. I don’t know how long I stay like this but when I hear footsteps on the corridor I hurry into the shower and let the tepid water pour down on my bowed head. I can feel the blood pulsing painfully in my hands and feet as I start to thaw out, but there is a frozen space inside me that I don’t think will ever be warm again.

  I know that I should go downstairs and into the grid, but when I get out of the shower I’m overcome by a wave of tiredness. I get into my bed. If they want me, they can come and get me. And what can they do anyway? Actually, they can do anything they like. But I just don’t care any more.

  When I wake up, someone is stroking my hair. I blink. It’s my mother.