by R. J. Morgan
“That’s the most I’ve heard you say. In years.”
“Well,” I shrugged, “I find it hard, speaking.”
She nodded. “I haven’t been patient with that.”
“You should have helped him,” I said, looking at the blank walls around us. “He was your dad.” I climbed up the stairs. “It wasn’t his fault he was ill.”
“He was ill, and it is a real disease, I know that now.”
“You won’t even say it.”
“Depression. I know it’s real. Chronic depression. Atypical depression…” She shifted. “I bought a book.”
“It’s like being underwater,” I said, “trying to talk, trying to live, underwater.”
“I know that now. I should have helped you. Both of you.” She nodded. “I cleared everything out of the loft,” she said to my back as I turned away from me, “so careful of the dust.”
My stomach contracted. That meant Robin had gone and there was a lifetime of photographs in the skip. I looked at my phone and knew it was useless to try to get hold of her. I would have to go to the only place where I could be sure I would find her. I would have to go back to school.
I took a shower and did a good job of scrubbing myself and washing my hair. Not much hair came out in my hands. I took a second to look at my scars in the mirror. They were no longer a rainbow of colours. They were all the same pink colour and I felt quite proud that I hadn’t added to them since I came out of hospital.
As I got dressed I told myself what I would do: go to the school after dark, sticking to the main roads, scale the fence and wait in the bushes until I saw Robin. I needed just thirty seconds to talk to her. Tell her everything, get out, and it would be done with. I would take my mother’s police scanner in case she didn’t believe me.
I put on clean socks and underwear, my black school trousers, my plain white trainers, a white T-shirt and the grey hoodie Kane had given me. As I pulled it over my head I got the sudden scent of trees. I bunched the material to my nose but the smell had vanished. I put on my dad’s baseball cap.
I took the scanner, my wallet, my phone and shoved them in my rucksack. I dug through Mother’s tools and took her small magnets and electrical charger. I called to her that I was going out to see a friend and left before she could reply.
When I reached the ugly towers of Cattle Rise, the grounds seemed empty. There were just five cars on the lot and I couldn’t see anyone milling about. I waited.
In the distance a man came out of the third tower and climbed into a large red car, one of the two left on the lot.
The red car approached the gates and I pressed myself flat against the fence. The driver leaned out, keyed in the code and waited for the gate to open. He drove out slowly and turned right. I froze as the light licked across my face. The gates hesitated and left gate began to swing back. I dashed through them as they closed, the left gate nicking my ankle. On the other side, I waited in the shadows for the car to come back or for an alarm to sound, but it didn’t.
I was in.
The darkness was shocking. London is never truly dark and never before had I not been able to see my own feet as I walked. I hadn’t brought a torch or any gloves. A master criminal.
The locks on the school windows were so old they could be opened with a magnet. I crouched by the window of the history room and fixed the small magnets to the battery. I had one chance on this battery charge so I took care fixing the wires. I charged the magnets and put one over the barrel of the lock, and the other at the other end of the handle. I waited for the charge to build and held my nerves as I moved the magnet upwards. At first nothing happened, and I cursed quietly at myself, but then the handle jumped a little, and as I eased the magnet slowly upwards it began to lift. I pushed the window and it opened. I took a quick look around to check I was alone and climbed inside.
In the dark hallway, I remembered Kane’s tale of the asylum and jumped at every sound.
I made it to the stairs and felt a cold wind brush my back. I braced. Nothing. I heard someone padding behind me. I turned but there was only darkness. I lightened my tread and kept walking. Another sound. I stopped in the silence until my breath slowed enough to stop the beating in my ears. I took another step forward and was spun and slammed against a soft body with a hand fastened over my mouth. I struggled but kicking my legs only served to help my attacker bundle me into a classroom. I was thrown from the hold and stumbled backwards before falling hopelessly to the floor. I looked at the figure in the darkness.
Robin. She was so angry she could barely speak. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Robin, wait—”
“Nah, nah, nah, you don’t speak.” She looked around and spoke in a hiss. “You promised.”
“No, but Robin—”
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the classroom.
“Robin, wait!” I dug my heels into the floor but it was no use. She dragged me like a child would a doll. “Robin, the police are all over this.” I put my hand over hers to try to prise her grip from my wrists, but it was as if I wasn’t there. She didn’t loosen her grip or slow her pace. “There isn’t a snake. There’s a teacher at school, undercover. That’s how they know everything that’s going on, and they’ll be here any second, so don’t do anything stupid.”
“And where did you hear this?”
I saw a darkness about her eye. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Where did you hear this?”
“What have they done to you? What have you been doing?”
“Negotiating,” she said. “Now where did you hear about this undercover teacher? In one of your night terrors? In an elastic band? In a smoke signal?”
“Nowhere, I worked it out.”
“Well, it must be true.” Robin sped up and I was swept along with her, her grip burning my wrist.
“I’m telling you the truth. It’s my English teacher. She didn’t know where ‘Do Not Go Gentle’ came from.”
“Someone don’t know who? Dylan Thomas?”
I nodded.
“And that makes them a copper?”
“No, wait, Robin, I can prove it.” I pulled my scanner out of the bag. Then I realized I’d have to get a plug and fuss with it to find a frequency.
“We’re bait here,” Robin said.
“No, wait. I’ll find a plug.”
She finally let me go and I crawled around looking for a socket. “James Bond over there. ‘Ah, Dr No, prepare to die … as soon as I find a Wi-Fi signal.”
I scrabbled hopelessly with the wires, trying to fix them into their little sockets. “Just let me find it,” I said. I could feel Robin’s anger. “I have to tune it.”
“We haven’t got time for this, Jake. You’re going to get me killed!”
“Give me one second to find the setting.”
“I should have let you die on my doorstep.”
I caught a frequency and missed it. My massive hands were shaking. “Just let me find it.”
Robin paced the corridor and kicked the wall.
“Come on.” I tried to placate her. “When have I ever been wrong before?” I heard her laugh but only with exasperation.
The scanned crackled.
… 10-4 receiving.
“Oh, well done, Jake, you found a cat up a tree, you stupid cracker.”
Brigley approaching now, over. Vasso with him, looks like.
… Marcus “the Beast” Brigley . . .
Robin stopped.
… The Beast on the approach. Have him in my sight, over.
“Who’s—”
“They’re here,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
10-4 we have the Big Fish walking in now. All units stand by.
“Shit,” Robin hissed. “Come.” She ran down the corridor and I grabbed the scanner and ran a
fter her.
We reached the main door and heard grunting voices. A group of older men was walking towards the yard. We turned on our heels and ran. At the other door we saw torchlight. We turned and ran again.
Trapped.
We ran up the stairs. I concentrated on keeping up with Robin. I noticed she wasn’t carrying anything. “What are you planning on doing, Robin?”
“Burn Baby Burn.”
“Robin, you’re insane.”
She pushed me backwards. She moved so quickly I only saw the lights change. I was in complete darkness when I heard the locks switch. The cleaning cupboard. It stank of bleach and toilet water. I wrestled with the door. It was locked. “You can’t get involved, Jake,” she called from behind the door.
I coughed and panicked. “Robin!” I called. “Robin you’re a prick, you know!” Then it hit me: the strange chemical smell in the attic. “Robin, if you burn this place down with me in it, I will haunt you for ever.” I took my phone out of my pocket and used the light to look around. Rancid buckets and mops and bottles of bleach. On the shelves there were jars. I put the phone in my mouth and began to open them, finding screws and hinges and old locks. I opened a jar of washers and found a length of chicken wire. I bent it into a tiny “S” shape with my weak teeth. I slid it into the casing of my marker pen and fed it into the lock. I found the bite easily, turned it and the door opened to darkness. I grabbed a bottle of bleach from the shelf and stepped out into the corridor, sweating like an idiot.
The empty school was horrifying. I took off my shoes and ran silently up to the top floor. I lay flat on the tiles of the corridor and listened for footsteps. I couldn’t hear anything.
I went to the Conference Centre where Sean had pointed out of the window to the quad where Darscall dealt from. I couldn’t see anything until a small shape shifted in the blackness of the bushes. I prayed that Robin was safe. I saw Darscall, with his unmistakable lumbering walk, shuffle back into the courtyard, flanked by seven question-mark kids, all hunched over cigarettes.
A shadow fell across the window. I closed my eyes and flexed my grip on my bleach bottle. I turned.
“Robin,” I said.
“Why … won’t … you … flush!” she said, throwing her arms above her head. She could hardly speak. “How the … how did you get out?”
I mimed using a key.
“Really?”
“If you knew how useless locks are, you’d never sleep.”
Concern travelled across her face and she pressed her back against the wall. I took the scanner out of my bag. “You could call to them now,” I said. “Warn them. Robin? You could all them right now.”
Robin looked out of the window and spoke after some time. “No. They’ll think it was me anyway.” I saw she had liberated a camcorder from Media Studies. “Good lock, bad hinges,” she said. She nodded at my bottle. “Going to wash them, is it?”
“Bleach.”
“Put it down before you burn your hand off with it.”
I did as I was told.
The quad was busy now. We watched boys, semi-hidden by the bushes, dealing to kids who slouched across the school grounds from the estates nearby or pulled up in their parents’ battered cars.
A black van pulled up outside the quad. Robin switched on the camcorder. Men with hunched shoulders and crooked spines poured from the van. Even from high up I could tell it was the Beast who led them across the quad to where Darscall was standing.
“If they don’t have enough and he gets away,” Robin said, aiming the camcorder, “I am dead. Swear down.”
The gathering in the quad became heated. Robin turned and looked at me but she didn’t say anything. More cars pulled up.
“Two cars,” Robin said, “and six men in there. They’re not taking it seriously.” We watched in silence. “I was trying to help you,” she said. “Darscall’s found out you were lying about being with us and your name’s being passed around like chicken wings. If the Beast finds out he’ll pull the switch. They’ll snack you. You can’t be here.”
My stomach went to water. I couldn’t believe she could care about me at a time like this.
On my command said the scanner.
“God help us,” said Robin.
A truck quietly pulled up and police spilled out of the hatch, armoured with shields and batons. The officer raised his arm, then after a beat flung it down, and they burst into the quad.
A series of piercing cracks whipped the air, the unmistakable sound of guns firing. Pockets of light blinked on as the estates opposite awoke. A gravelling holler of discontent erupted.
Robin covered her mouth.
We’ve got the Big Fish, 10-4. Immediate back-up required.
All units.
Firearms. Firearms, be advised.
Two hulking men were thrown to the ground. Three, four, five … all with beer bellies and tattoos.
The police were dragging a couple of black-suited men from their BMW. A third emerged, his head held high, his grin so wide we could see it from our high window.
Not a hoodie in sight.
“Look!” Robin cried suddenly. “He’s getting away!”
She pointed the camera. A man was making his escape over the fence just as a second riot van screamed into the street. He was stumbling and holding his shoulder.
“No!” she cried. “He can’t!”
“Who is it?”
“The Beast! He’s getting away!”
I watched in horror. I couldn’t believe the swarming police hadn’t seen him and headed him off. Everything would be ruined. I grabbed the scanner, fixed the wires and did something very, very illegal:
“All advised, the Beast headed over fence east, east, suspect on foot Cattle Rise Road.”
“CASTLE!” Robin screamed.
“Shit, Castle Rise Road.”
10-4, who is this? Over.
Robin shook my shoulder. “Say it again.”
“We can’t.”
“Do it!”
“Give them time.” I bit my thumbnail.
“Say it again. He’s getting away.”
I grabbed the scanner. “10-4 he’s a big fat bastard and he’s running down the bloody road, get after him!”
The scanned crackled. State name, over.
“Get after him, for fuck’s sake!”
The beast hobbled surely on, looking into the window of every car. “Bloody coppers,” Robin said, kissing her teeth, “state of them they can’t run after him!” I panicked before I spotted a spritely figure hop over the fence, one leg looping over the other, and landing with such deftness he was able to launch straight into a full-bodied run. He was joined by another, a straight-backed man who ran with his fingers straight, an aerodynamic run; his fingers were so straight you could see the cut of his uniform: police. “Go on, lads,” I said to the policemen as the honed in on the Beast. “Go on, lads.”
The hobbling Beast mounted a motorcycle. The police gained on him. As the motorcycle revved, the officer grabbed the Beast’s shoulder, yelled, and threw him to the ground as the motorcycle screamed off on its own and crashed into a parked car.
“Yes!” we cheered as the scanner buzzed with excitement.
10-4 be alert. Top floor. Open projectile. Two suspects. Code Purple.
It took Robin seconds to blink. “Jake.” Her voice was tiny.
“Yeah?”
“What’s Code Purple?”
“Gang activity,” I said. “If we get caught up here we’re—”
She snatched the camera from my grip, whipped out the chip and threw the casing through the open window. She tipped the scanner over the ledge and we watched it sail to the ground and smash into pieces.
She shot out of the room and started down the five flights of stairs. I felt dizzy as I matched her, leap for
leap. She reached the fire doors and I chased after her. The fire escape dropped us to ground level and we ran. I felt weak at the thought of the fence. Robin cleared it as if it was a child’s safety gate then put her hands through the railings and boosted me up and over the top. We ran down the dimly lit road. “The park,” I yelled, “run for the park!”
“How the hell did they see us?” Robin screamed. Only then did we hear the whump of a helicopter circling overhead. “It must have been the scanner.”
The helicopter dipped and its underside blinked red, as if a missile was attached. “No,” I said. “Body heat.”
We hit the park, scaled the gate and pitched into endless tunnel of darkness. “The lake,” I yelled, sensing Robin behind me. “Quickly!” The helicopter edged closer. “Get your clothes off!”
“Why?” she yelled.
“Get ’em off!”
“It’ll be freezing! You’ve lost your tiny mind!”
“It’s body heat!” I tore at her grey hoodie. “That’s how they can see us. They’ve got thermal scanners. Quickly!”
“I can’t see! I can’t see!” Robin cried.
I fumbled in the dark, grabbed her arm and hurled her into the lake. We both swore as the ice hit our nerves. Robin squealed as something brushed past us.
“Get under the dock,” I gargled.
“What duck?”
“The dock! Get under the dock!”
“Gross,” Robin spluttered.
“We have to time it right.” I heaved us beneath the dock. “We’ve only got seconds before we heat up again. One … two … breathe…” We gulped the pungent air and put our heads under, sinking into black ice, our eyes closed. The cold stilled my limbs. I could feel she was there, and I felt the sudden calm of another world. I told my rabbit heart that if it would just survive this, I’d treat it properly. I stopped struggling against the icy water.
Lightly, Robin’s lips touched mine. She breathed air into my body for seconds until we crashed to the surface.
The helicopter was gone.
“It’s heading back to Southfields,” Robin said.
“We’ll have to go up the hill.”
Robin picked up her clothes and held them in front of her shivering body. “You pulled yourself out of the lake.”