by Ian Chapman
‘I think we’re going to have to leave this for now,’ I said.
Becky shook her head. ‘Not like this.’ Then she walked off and came back with one of the Eblis’ tools, a heavy wire cutter. She set it around the arrow and applied pressure. It resisted so I took over, really leaning on the cutter. The shaft sheared off with a crack, leaving a stub sticking of out his skin. Daniel took Casper’s had as Becky dressed the wound using a first-aid kit.
‘That do?’ I said.
‘It’ll have to for now.’
We carried him back into the Eblis, slow over the uneven ground. Onto the hull that was damp with dew. Daniel slid once and Casper cried out as he bumped onto the metal. I went ahead to ease him into the hatch. Down onto the floor of the tank.
As Becky and Daniel tended to him then I took the torch and went out to check on my bike. There were marks on the side-panels and an arrow stuck between the cooling fins. There were a couple of dents in the tank and a chip off the engine casing but otherwise it seemed all right. I’d look it over properly once we stopped in daylight.
Getting round Edinburgh had been tough but that was it now. We were on our way. I still had to decide what exactly I was doing but I had fuel. There was nothing holding me back. Rather than just go now I’d leave once we were past Stirling. Well away from the reivers. I’d find a town, somewhere small where I could set up a trading post. My own little business run by me and worked by me. I’d collect bits and pieces from the area and sell them. Daniel could hang around or make his own way.
That felt like some kind of plan.
I put the torch off and looked up at the stars. Billions of them that went on forever. I’d have to get used to not having all these gadgets, all the technology that came with the Eblis. But that would we easy enough. I climbed up onto the tank. Slid in and closed the hatch.
Daniel gave a smile and for once I smiled back.
‘Ready?’ said Becky.
‘Ready.’
We set off again. On our way to the highlands
CHAPTER THIRTY
Highlands
THE EBLIS ROLLED ACROSS the moors, rocking us around inside it. This was just about as far north as I’d ever been. Working the borders meant just that. I hadn’t headed beyond Edinburgh and Glasgow. Not as an adult, at least.
There’d been one time I’d gone up to Stirling with Lawson, before we partnered up with Jamie.
But that had been a crazy time. As bad as some of the worst stuff in the borders. Maybe that was how it was everywhere now. The whole country; whole world.
We rattled on for some time. For an hour or two. It was hard to tell. I’d got used to using clocks in Faeston. When I was kid everyone clock-watched. They had wristwatches and phones and computers all with their meetings on. But Collapse had put end to that. Apart from a few towns, the world had gone back to natural time: sunrise and sunset.
Shadows of the landscape passed by on the monitors. The road was empty of traffic. Empty of anything. A sign appeared for Stirling, busted and hanging off its posts. A little further on we past another in a similar condition. We carried on past shadows of trees.
Casper was asleep with Daniel slumped down beside him. Daniel’s face was relaxed, his mouth slack. He took deep breaths and snored. Casper had tight lips, his brow furrowed.
Becky drove on without sign of tiredness. She worked the controls and checked monitors.
‘How are you doing?’ I said.
Her voice crackled back to me. ‘Fine.’
‘When do you fancy a break?’
‘I’m fine for now, thanks.’
Outside light tinted the sky faint blue. Dark outlines marked the hills that hemmed us in. As we carried on the landscape appeared around us, mountains covered in mist that rolled down and filled the glens. The shadows turned to browns then to deep greens.
For the first time in since I’d gone to Faeston I felt excited. Optimistic even. I could leave anytime now. Possibly at our next stop or even a little further on. It wouldn’t be as bad as the borders. Couldn’t be worse.
Casper shifted around, moaning. He was waking, his clothes soaked in blood. Becky hadn’t looked back at him at all, concentrating on the road ahead. Daniel woke and went over to him. Put his hand on Casper’s arm. He rubbed it and whispered something.
We passed a small patch of scraggly woodland and a sign by the road, worn and hanging by one of its two chains. It said Glens Hotel. Becky slowed, turning the Eblis to the right and up a track. We pitched over the rough surface, the woods tight around us, then we came out into an open space of chewed-up tarmac and overgrown lawn. Ahead of us was a three-storey stone building, the windows smashed and the roof specked by saplings that had burst through the slates.
‘So much for the Glen Hotel,’ said Becky.
She parked the tank on the overgrown car park over by the trees and facing the hotel entrance. When she shut the engines down a dull whirr came from behind me but otherwise it was silent. Becky joined Daniel alongside Casper and I opened the hatch, climbing out.
The air was cool and fresh, damp from the mist but not like the heavy moisture of the coastal fog at Faeston. This was lighter, refreshing. Through the low cloud the mountains were visible disappearing up into the heavens. There was a glimpse of a peak, then it was gone.
Becky called from inside the Eblis. ‘Trent. Can you help here?’
I went back in. Casper’s face was flushed and covered in drops of sweat.
‘He looks poorly,’ said Daniel.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘He does.’
I helped raise him up towards the hatch. Becky went ahead to pull him as Daniel and me lifted his legs up. After a few minutes of manhandling we had him half out. We slid him the rest of the way and lay him down on a patch of grass, covering him with a blanket.
‘Shouldn’t we take him in?’ said Becky,
‘We need to check it’s safe,’ I said. There’d been no sounds and there was no sign of recent activity but this looked like the kind of place for neo-reivers. Maybe it was too far north for them but it wasn’t safe to assume that. I slid my pistol out and went over to the building.
The main door hung off its hinges. It led into a hallway of fungi-coated carpet and blackened walls. Wallpaper hanging off. There was a wooden desk with stairs to the left and a lift door to the right. Most of the balustrades had been kicked out of the staircase and empty hooks marked where pictures had once been on the wall. The place smelled of rot and decay.
The ground floor had a lounge off to the right with big old fire place and view of the glen through its cracked windows. There was a settee but everything else had gone. At the opposite side of the hallway was a dining room with no furniture. It led on to a kitchen with all the cupboards opened and emptied: apart from a couple of pans the place had been picked clean. Even the cooker had had its fittings taken. Rats had made a nest in the corner and there was mouse shit on the floor. Beyond that there was a storeroom and office. Whatever might have been in them had long gone as well.
Back in the entranceway I kicked at the staircase to see if it’d take my weight. The bottom one was solid but I eased my feet onto each stair just in case. They creaked but held as I worked my way up.
The first-floor landing’s carpet was damp and rotted. There was a window but this had vegetation growing over it so virtually no daylight got through. What little light there was came from the rooms that lined the passageway. Most of their doors had fallen off making the exploration easy. They were empty aside from stained beds and the odd busted TV sets or smashed kettle. At the far end there was a room with an intact door which was shut and locked. I shoved it hard. It didn’t give so I stepped back, pistol raised and kicked it in.
It thudded open and smacked against the wall. There were empty tins and bottles scattered across the floor. The room stank: really disgusting. I stayed in the doorway for a moment to let the stench out. Then I went back in and stepped over balled up clothes, half-finished meals on plat
es, old-world magazines screwed up. Shoes. Lots of men’s shoes.
The bed was covered in sheets and blankets, layers of them. This was where the smell came from. I should have left the room and shut the door again. Not bothered looking in the bed. But I had to know what was there, whether it was what I expected. I pulled back the sheets. There was a body, hairy and sunken eyed, the skin tight around the face, teeth bared. I flicked the sheet back and went to the window. The lock had jammed so I smashed it off with the gun and opened it as wide as it would go. I took great lungfuls of the fresh air then held my breath and kicked around the stuff lying on the floor. There were food packets: pasta in sauce, by the looks. They were sealed and not too faded. I took several and went out, slamming the door shut.
The rooms on the second floor were all ruined, the wrecked roof having let in enough rain and seeds to turn it into an indoor garden. Firs and ferns dotted the carpets near windows while fungi fanned out in the corners.
I went back down and out to Becky, Daniel and Casper. They sat on the overgrown lawn as the sun came up through the cloud.
‘Any good?’ said Becky.
‘Safe enough.’ I pointed at Casper. ‘How is he?’
‘Still poorly,’ said Daniel. I had to smile at that. He had a way to say it straight.
We carried Casper in and laid him out in the dining room on a section of carpet that didn’t smell too bad. We turned him onto his side and Becky went back out to the Eblis.
‘Is he going to get better?’ said Daniel.
‘I’m not sure,’ I said. There was no point kidding him.
When Becky returned she brought a first aid kit, a candle and some tools. She rolled up Casper’s shirt and used a needle to inject something into his back. Then she lit the candle and heated up the ends of a pair of scissors. Once they had cooled she cut the skin around the arrowhead, peeling it away. He whined as she sliced into his flesh.
‘You done this before?’ I said.
‘Not exactly.’ She held the shaft of the arrow and tugged, cutting some more before sliding it out with a tearing sound. As the blood flowed out she stemmed it with a pad, then several more, taping over the wound. Casper was now white.
I helped her bandage it all up then we left him to rest. She joined me over by the doorway while Daniel prayed beside him.
‘He’s lost blood,’ she said. ‘That was deep. And god knows what was on the tip. Reivers aren’t known to be clean.’
‘You did a good job on him.’
‘Stuff you learn on the road.’ She stared over at Daniel who now held Casper’s hand. ‘Should we get all out gear in?’
‘Yeah, why not.’ I’d not mention moving on. Not yet: not until I had a clear plan.
We brought in bags from the Eblis and dumped them in the lounge. Back in the dining room Casper still lay flat out, his breathing shallow as Daniel sat with him. Becky went off to the kitchen and returned carrying a pan.
‘Might as well do our cooking in here.’ She set out our food on the hearth alongside the two packets I’d found. The fire’s grate was filled with ash and there were a few chunks of unburnt coal. Becky prodded at them with a poker.
‘I’ll get some firewood.’ I was tempted just to kick out the rest of the stairs, instead I went out to the woods. Daniel came with me.
The air was cool and fresh but the sun was as high as it was going to get and had cleared some of the mist. A light breeze blew down the glen and sunlight lit the far hillside. Compared to the towns I’d worked in it was peaceful but there wasn’t much to live on up here. Without becoming a goatherd, it was hard to see how anyone could survive. Maybe that was why it was so quiet.
We gathered up twigs and small branches. I had to work out what I was going to do soon. We were a long way north and there’d be fewer towns and villages to drop off at as we carried on.
It was probably best to wait and see how Casper was getting on before I made a decision. If he died, well that would shift the dynamics. Make it more attractive for me to hang around. But if he pulled through then I’d be off.
We took the wood into the hotel and I prepared a fire before helping Becky cook the food. We added a tin of soup to one packet of pasta and had quite a decent sized meal. She kept some aside uncooked ready for when, or if, Casper was better. Throughout the meal he slept on the floor taking shallow breaths. He had more colour in his face.
Afterwards Daniel helped Becky clean up the pan and cutlery so I went out to gather more fuel.
I picked my way through the trees and after a few minutes I had a good collection of wood. I made my way across the overgrown car park past the Eblis with the Scrambler on the back: the Scrambler I’d not run for some days. It’d be sensible to check it over before leaving.
When I went back inside Daniel was at one side of Casper while Becky sat at the other. He was breathing more steadily. Maybe he’d pull through. I dropped the wood by the fire. It was warm now but it would cool down later. Especially this far north.
‘I might check the Scrambler over,’ I said.
‘Can I come?’ said Daniel.
Becky stayed with Casper and I led Daniel outside.
He was like a puppy at my side. ‘What’s the Scrambler?’
I laughed. ‘My motorbike.’ I led him over to the Eblis. ‘Here, look.’
Daniel touched the bike, running his finger through the dirt. ‘Needs a clean.’
‘It does that.’ There were a few marks on the tank and dust all over the paintwork. When I prodded the back tyre it was soft, low on pressure. ‘You going to help?’
‘Yep,’ he said.
We undid the straps that held it in place and he helped me set it on the ground. There was part of the fuel tank clear of dust and petrol seeped out. An arrow was jammed in the cooling fins and assorted bits of gravel wedged in nooks and crannies.
‘Let’s wash it,’ I said.
Daniel fetched a pan and a tea towel to use as a rag and we wiped the Triumph down.
Once it was clean I got him to hold the bike as I removed the back wheel. There was a piece of shrapnel jammed in the tyre and I patched the inner tube. At each step I explained what I was doing to him. I sealed the hole in the side of the fuel tank with tape as a temporary fix. We put the wheel back on then cleaned and adjusted the brakes. The sump was still full of oil so other than that it was just a case of adjusting and lubricating. Topping up the juice from the jerry can.
By late afternoon the bike was looking reasonable. We gave it a final wash and as it dried out Becky called us over to eat. She’d cooked up the second packet of pasta and added a tin of beans.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Patch Up
WE SAT BY THE fire and had our food. Casper was still rolled up on the floor. He hadn’t moved since we’d removed the arrow but his skin had pinked up and he was breathing better.
‘How is he?’ I said.
‘I think he’s going to be all right,’ said Becky.
‘That arrow was in deep.’
‘There’s a lot of flesh around that part of the back.’ She picked on with her food. ‘It’ll be cold tonight. We’ll have to stack the fire.’
‘There’s one half-decent room upstairs.’
‘We’ll be better off down here. We can’t move Casper.’
‘Fine,’ I said. It wasn’t that bothered.
After we’d eaten I helped clean up then went outside with Daniel. The sun had dipped into the mist that now rolled down the glen. ‘Let’s start the bike,’ I said.
It took a few jabs at the starter but it fired up on the third shot. He jumped back as I revved it up. For couple of minutes I let it run and warm itself. It was all fine apart from a thread of fuel that leaked from the tank. The patch I’d put there had failed. I switched off then used a piece of spare fuel line to siphon the petrol back into the jerry can. Once it was empty I cleaned the hole. It was a good centimetre wide. In my spares I had a collection of bolts, nuts and washers. I found a combination that fit
ted and I tightened it up to plug the hole.
Then I refitted the tank and refilled the fuel. Daniel stood close by me and sucked his teeth as the petrol sloshed around.
Once it was all done we went to gather more branches from the darkening woods.
‘Are we staying here?’ said Daniel.
‘Just for a while.’
‘Where are we going next?’ Animals scurried off as we crunched on the leaf litter.
‘I’m not sure.’
Daniel pursed his lips, didn’t ask anymore but it was clear he wanted a plan. I’d brought him along so now he was my responsibility. I wasn’t going to ride off after sunset so we were going to be here for at least one night.
We took the wood into the hotel. Becky had set out the bedding, hers next to mine and Casper’s over at the far side. Daniel’s was in the other corner. He went straight over to his and moved it around.
‘You sure about us all being in the same room?’ I said.
‘Seems sensible.’
Daniel yanked his shoes off and slid into his bed. ‘I’m tired,’ he said.
‘It’s only early evening,’ I said.
‘I’m tired.’ He lay back and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t long before he was snoring.
Becky laughed. ‘He knows his own mind.’
‘Seems to.’
‘Should we go into the other room? We need to talk.’
‘Right.’ This sounded serious.
She checked on Casper. His breathing had settled down and he was lying stretched out rather than curled up on himself.
We grabbed some of the wood and she took her sleeping bag. We went through to the lounge, made a fire and sat on the settee, the only piece of furniture. Though it smelled damp it was relatively clean.
‘We’ll be okay here for a couple of days,’ she said.