Icarus looked down at his school uniform, and realised,
He hasn’t recognised me. He hasn’t clocked me from the Wanted notice – not yet, anyway…
Icarus moved in front of the wanted notice, blocking it from view.
“Er yes, sorry Officer”, he stuttered. “I was just looking for a… toilet, and I got lost…”
“Come on, son”, said the policeman with a broad smile, “Let’s be getting you back to your pals. Look, there they are in that there tea shop. Hurry up lad, or you’ll miss out on the cream buns!”
Icarus thanked him with a smile, and kept walking towards the tea shop until the copper’s attention moved elsewhere – whereupon he turned and hurried in the opposite direction, working hard to get a plan together. It would be great to get home, collect some belongings, stuff some useful kit in a bag and then… Then what? He was a fugitive on the run…
Calm down, Icarus. First things first. Let’s get home without getting caught, and then you can have a good long think about what to do next…
Then he saw the Military Policemen. One of them was pasting up his hundredth Wanted notice of the day, eyes glazed with boredom, until those eyes fell upon Icarus. And as he shouted, and pointed Icarus out to his companions, Icarus was already running…
Icarus ran through the streets and alleyways of New London, weaving through the traffic, dodging past the market stalls of bracket-bread and toad-potatoes, powdered shroom-gravy and shroom-coffee, and as he ran he saw one wanted notice after another.
Those damn things are everywhere! I could tear them down, but that would only draw more attention to myself…
Icarus looked over his shoulder and saw the MPs giving chase… But now was where all the time spent running wild with Biff and Arla would pay off, all the days and weeks of ducking and diving round every corner and down every back-alley… Icarus knew every main street and side-street, every long-cut and short-cut, every place a fourteen year old could squeeze through but a grown man would struggle… and he was gaining ground on his pursuers…
Minutes later, Icarus was peering down from the service entrance of Amanita’s Laundry, smiling at the MPs on the level below as they bickered and blamed each other for losing their quarry. He took off his St. Chanterelle’s blazer and tie, hung them on a laundry hanger, and took instead a nice anonymous woollen jacket.
That’s enough hide and seek for one day. Now I just want to get home…
Icarus hurried across New London, moving gradually from the shacks and tenement slums of Blackchapel and the Smuts, through the middle class neighbourhoods of the Mazegills, with their rows and rows of spick-and-span semi-detached houses, and towards the grand boulevards of Liberty Square and Earthstar Crescent, where New London’s ruling elite lived, spacious and elegant with their lines of tall ornamental shrooms.
Where’s Dad? he wondered. He’s probably at work now in the War Office… but how can I be sure? He’s the last person I want to bump into when I get home…
That’s when he heard the radio blasting from the open door of the restaurant. It was the news:
<<< … and let us go live to General Willard Earthstar, the Chief of Staff, who is going to read us an important message about War Bonds, and how we can all do our bit for the war effort… >>>
Well that proves Dad’s at work…
The mansions of Earthstar Crescent stood quiet and still but for the occasional gardener at work on their shroom-beds, or the soft purr of a powerful engine as a luxury limousine cruised by. These were the residences of the masters of New London – chiefs of industry, government ministers, generals. Up ahead Icarus saw the colonnaded façade of Earthstar House. Home. And all was quiet. No limos parked in the drive. No signs of life. Keeping an eye out for neighbours, Icarus let himself discreetly in at the side entrance, and paused to listen. Earthstar House was silent. Its grand halls, its sweeping stairways, its plush drawing rooms and stern studies looked, sounded and felt empty. Icarus let out a long breath and allowed himself to relax.
Right, to work, he thought as he hurried up to his bedroom. What do I need? Clothes of course, toiletries, money and plenty of it, identity papers which I’ll need to alter, ration books… What useful things can I pinch from Dad while I’m here?...
His mind was racing with all this as he barged open his bedroom door and saw the two Military Policemen. These were not the MPs Icarus had just given the slip. These MPs looked familiar from somewhere else… Their faces were scarred and bruised, and one wore a surgical dressing on his neck. And then Icarus saw the third figure sitting on his chair, with his back to him. Captain Ethan Earthstar swivelled to face his brother.
“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this, haven’t we, Icarus?”
The officers’ quarters of the Airborne Brigade base had become a courtroom.
“Will the accused please stand”, said the Judge Martial presiding - Captain Ethan Earthstar of the New London Army Military Police.
The MP guarding Icarus tapped him on the shoulder, and he rose shakily to his feet.
I can’t go in the Heater again, said the voice in his head, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t go in the Heater again…
He looked at his brother. Ethan’s face was pale. For a moment their eyes met – then Ethan cleared his throat and looked down at the charge sheet.
“Private Icarus Dwight Earthstar, serial number 1AB-89-01-02-02-441922, you stand accused under the Laws Martial of the New London Army of the crime of Desertion: that is, abandonment of your place of duty with intent to remain away therefrom permanently. I must inform you now that, if found guilty, under the Laws Martial in a time of war, this crime carries the…” Ethan faltered, then made a visible effort to gather himself. “That this crime carries the death penalty…”
Death penalty…
Those two words entered Icarus’s head and pushed all thoughts of the Heater aside. He gasped and looked up at his brother. Ethan wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Private Earthstar, how do you plead?”
Icarus stared at Ethan. He wanted him to look him in the eye, give him some sign, some help, some clue as to how he should plead… But Ethan kept his gaze clenched hard upon the charge sheet.
How do I plead? Well… what else is there to say?...
“I plead… Not guilty.”
At last his brother looked at him. Then he turned to his colleagues.
“Will all present please clear the courtroom. I wish to speak to the accused. Alone.”
5 – Ashes
“You need to plead guilty, Ick.”
“Why, so you can watch me grovel?”
Ethan put a hand to his forehead, squeezing his temples between fingers and thumb. Icarus could see his hands were shaking.
“No, Icarus,” he said at last, “It’s because you are going to be found guilty anyway. The evidence is conclusive…
But Icarus, understand that if you plead not guilty to the charge of desertion, and you are found guilty, I am bound by law to condemn you to death. I have no alternative.
Whereas, if you plead guilty now, you give me some room for manoeuvre. I can do some special pleading with the Council of Law-Lords Martial, pull a few favours – and I know a loophole or two that will get you through this alive. You’re going to be shut away for a long time – but you’re still going to be breathing. Understand?”
Icarus was quiet for a long time. The whole thing seemed like a fever dream: he and his brother, alone together in a large, soulless room, gearing themselves up for yet another flaming row…
I might as well be back at home…
“Okay”, he said at last. “Guilty. Guilty as charged. So no change there then.”
“What do you mean?” said Ethan.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Well Ick, yes, your disciplinary record in the Army so far does give you some room for improvement…”
“I’m not talking about the Army! I’m talking about you, and Dad, treating me al
l my life like a… like a criminal! Like I was found guilty the day I was born!”
“Oh grow up, Ick. Grow up. Do you know how sick I am of your special pleading? Your persecution complex? Ohhh, you don’t like to hear that, do you? Go on then Ick, run away. Do what you always do when life gets a bit unpleasant. Run away. Run away from your responsibilities, from the family that loves you…”
“Ha! HA! You are having a laugh, aren’t you? Biff and Arla – they’re the only family I’ve ever had. I’ve spent my life running towards my family..”
“Why, Ick? Why do you say these things? Why do you do everything you can to hurt your father and me? You seem to… hate us… Why?”
“Because you’ve always hated me.”
“Oh, for - ! Why do you come out with this – drivel? Do you actually believe what you just said?”
“You’ve hated me since the day I was born. Because that was the day I killed your mother.”
Ethan’s face turned white. He stared at Icarus, and in the stillness Icarus could hear his ragged breathing.
“Is that what you think? Seriously, Icarus, do you actually believe that? Do you think we think that? Your father and I? Our mother died in childbirth, and that hurts me every day, but I’ve got news for you, Ick. That happens. People die. We’re not the only ones…”
“I killed her. That’s what you’ve always thought, deep down. And now you’re tricking me into pleading Guilty, so you can finally get what you want. You can finally put me up before a firing squad, and then you can tell Mum’s ghost that her murder has been avenged…”
The punch broke Icarus’s eye socket. The floor lurched up towards him in a blur, sparkling with squibs of silver light, as he waited for the second punch… But the second punch never came. He just heard the door flung open as Ethan stormed out.
“I hope a Neufundland raid gets you!” Icarus called after him, in a thin, wobbly voice. “You and Dad both… I wish you were dead!”
Icarus lay there for a while, until the silver squibs faded away. But a throbbing ache around his eyes, his temples, his whole face, rose up to take their place. Icarus lay there and throbbed, expecting Ethan to return, the court martial to be reconvened, at any moment. But there was a long silence. Then, from outside, the sounds of activity – a sense that a large number of people had arrived and were busy with some task, with shouts and conversations, the marching of boots, the opening and slamming of doors…
Suddenly he was grasped by strong hands. An MP sergeant he had never seen before hauled him to his feet.
“Come on lad, we’re getting you to a cell. And we’ll get a doc to look at that eye.”
“A cell?” said Icarus faintly. “What about the, the court mar…”
“The court martial’s been adjourned, son. Your brother, Captain Earthstar I should say, has got a more pressing matter to attend to. A raid’s just come back, and they’ve got a prisoner. Needs to be interrogated without delay…”
The sergeant guided him out into the corridor, where Icarus came suddenly face to face with the new prisoner. His wrists were cuffed, and he was flanked by one MP and one Shroom Raider, tired and grimy from the raid. With blurred and teary vision Icarus tried to make out the rank on the prisoner’s slate grey uniform – a lieutenant, maybe a captain… But one thing Icarus did see clearly. The look in the prisoner’s eyes. The MP sergeant guided him out of the officers’ quarters and half-carried him to his cell, which was in a detention block a hundred yards away. As he stumbled along as best he could, Icarus’s dizzy brain tried to figure out –
What was it about the prisoner’s eyes?
The cell was bare and basic, with tiles the colour of curdled cream and an overpowering smell of bleach. Some kind of junior medic came to look at Icarus’s eye, applied a dressing and bandage, and gave him painkillers which had no noticeable effect.
Icarus woke with a start, from a dream where his brother and everyone at the court martial had turned into juicy steakshrooms, and he was frying them up in a huge frying pan. He was lying on the bottom bunk, and the coarse blanket was scratching his neck.
How long was I asleep? And what woke me up? Something… a sound, maybe?
Then he smelled it. Smoke. Burning…
He swallowed hard, and suddenly his ears cleared, and what had been distant muffled murmurs became sounds sharp, clear and close. There was shouting, and boots clattering along the corridor outside, at a run this time… but above all was the clanging of the fire alarm.
Fire…
Icarus leapt up, cracking his head against the bunk above. He was immediately sick, and the world lurched like a ship in a storm, and the silver squibs returned… but Icarus leaned against the wall and forced himself to take deep breaths.
Fire…
He heard a voice in the corridor –
“Where are the fire tenders? Get Response on the phone, damn you - where are the fire tenders?”
Icarus looked up. Smoke was pouring in through the small barred window above the bunks. He climbed up, nearly fell, kneeled on the top bunk and looked out…
The officers’ quarters were an inferno. Icarus could feel the heat on his face. Flames were pouring out of every door and window, and a thick black cloud was boiling and roiling up, and out, and drifting back down as a black snow. There were people there, people blackened with smoke and soot, staggering to and fro, or sitting, or lying down, waving for help, and now people from all over the base were rushing to help, Shroom Raiders, medics, admin staff, anyone… And at long last the fire tenders came driving up, bells ding-a-linging, and the crews tumbled out and hooked their hoses onto the nearest water hydrants, and now began pouring water onto the base of the fire.
Then Icarus heard a voice. He peered as far down as the window bars would let him, and saw one of the smoke-blackened survivors there under the wall, with a nurse trying to calm him down.
“The prisoner…” said the voice… “That, that Neufundlander pig, he had some kind of – bomb or something under his clothes, and he grinned and laughed, and then the whole room was ablaze, just like that… And I grabbed a fire extinguisher… I did, I got a fire extinguisher, but, but…
Nurse, the fire extinguisher didn’t work…”
“My brother, have you seen my brother? Captain Earthstar?...”
“Out of the way, kid, stretcher coming through…”
“Captain Earthstar, I’m looking for Ethan Earthstar, please, have you seen him…”
“I’m sorry son, I don’t know, it’s chaos out there. Try the doctors over there, they might know…”
“Please, I’m looking for my brother, Captain Ethan Earthstar…”
“Captain Earthstar, let me see… Earthstar, Earthstar… No, no Earthstar on my list… But wait, that doesn’t prove anything, there are still casualties coming in…”
“I don’t know, I was trying – the damn fire extinguisher wouldn’t work…”
“No, I haven’t seen your brother, sorry…”
“No, I haven’t…”
“No, I didn’t…”
“Sorry…”
“Sorry, lad…”
“Sorry…”
“Captain Earthstar? He was there with that Neufundland animal, right there in the courtroom. And then – the blaze happened so quickly, it’s a miracle almost everyone got out somehow. But your brother… I don’t think he… I don’t think… I’m sorry…”
Icarus floated through his brother’s funeral like a ghost in a dream. Their father, General Earthstar, was there, sitting at the front with all his gleaming medals as the army chaplain droned on, something about duty and honour and loss…
His father was close enough to touch, and a million miles away.
A lot of faces Icarus had never seen before loomed up and expressed their sorrow and condolence. And Icarus squinted with his one good eye, and nodded, until the nodding gave him a headache, and wished they would all go away. Ethan was cremated. His coffin slid slowly out of sight, and minu
tes later Icarus could smell the smoke again, and the smell brought all the memories flooding back.
Suddenly he found himself standing alone with the chaplain, who was handing him a small glazed urn, the plinth inscribed ‘Capt. Ethan Willard Earthstar’. He looked around. He had no idea how much time had passed – but the chapel was almost empty. The congregation had gone. General Earthstar had gone. As far as Icarus knew, he had not spoken a word to him. Not even looked at him. The General had gone – and Icarus was left holding his son, his brother, in his hands.
That night Icarus needed to take Ethan somewhere quiet – and a sympathetic MP sentry let him into the Armoury. It was a vast chamber lined with rows and rows of shroom-shooters – the fungal weapons of the Shroom Raiders, lying there in their soil beds. Icarus was alone with Ethan’s urn, and everything was still and quiet. But the whole place felt alive – a soft, mossy, pulsing sense of life, and growth, that was somehow comforting. Icarus sat there, cradling Ethan in his arms, as the hours passed – sometimes rocking to and fro, sometimes sitting still, sometimes speaking softly to his brother. But all through the night he saw the same images over and over again…
The Neufundlander prisoner being led past him, with that look in his eyes… The look of a prey that knows it is about to become the predator…
His brother, trapped in the inferno, with the Neufundlander laughing as he turned to ash, Ethan, trapped, reaching for the fire extinguisher, to find that it didn’t work…
Reaching for the fire extinguisher, which Icarus had blocked with cement…
Ethan trapped there, with the flames licking all around him, choking on the fumes, trying again and again to get the extinguisher to work, as the Neufundlander laughed and turned to ash…
And that earlier day, when Icarus had squirted the grouting cement into the nozzle of the extinguisher… What jolly fun, what a laugh…
Shroom Raider Page 3