by Thomas Hall
‘Here girl!’ he said, quietly so that he didn’t spook her, and held out the greens.
There was a noise in the bush to his right but he didn’t turn. They had an unspoken agreement - on her part because she couldn’t speak - that he didn’t look at her. If he broke this covenant he knew that she would bolt and he would never see her again.
He placed the green on the floor as near to the bush as he dared go, then he walked away slowly, calmly, there was still a danger that he would spook her and she wouldn’t take the food he had brought. He walked across to the other side of the clearing, still with his back to the bush, and sat down on the floor with his legs crossed.
The agreement between him and Braker was that the bag was just scraps that would otherwise be thrown away. Neither of them wanted to face the wrath of the Master so they never spoke about the other things the bag always had in it.
At the bottom of the bag he felt an object the size of his fist wrapped in paper. He pulled it out and found what might have been meat, or might have been something Braker had invented to serve the same purpose. It tasted like chicken, although Tim could never really be sure what chicken had tasted like as he didn’t know for certain he had ever had it.
When he was down to the bone he turned around and saw that the green thing he had left on the floor behind him was gone. He smiled to himself and stood up.
The bushes moved as if a gust of wind had passed through them and Tim marked her progress around the clearing. He didn’t know what sort of animal she was, the closest he had ever come to seeing her was a patch of mottled brown hair through a gap in the trees. He thought maybe a horse or a donkey, but in his imagination she was a unicorn. He could remember his mother telling him about unicorns, and trolls, and fairies. Tim didn’t really believe that things like that existed, but it was fun to pretend.
He scattered some more of the greens around the clearing near enough to the bushes that she wouldn’t be scared or think that he was trying to trick her, then he turned his back again and smiled to himself when he heard the bushes move and the sound of noisy chomping. When all the food was gone he sat back down. If she was still there she kept quiet, but it didn’t really matter if she’d gone, it was just nice to be away from the bar, away from the demands of the Master and everyone else who thought they could tell him what to do.
‘One day we’ll get out of here,’ he whispered. If she was still there he spoke too quietly for her to hear and she wouldn’t have understood anyway. The forbidden thought had been put into words and that felt good, almost as if he was closer to making it happen just by saying it.
He tipped his head back and yawned loudly. The temperature in the forest was warm and comfortable without the scorching sun trying to cook him alive. He lay on his back and stared up into the canopy of leaves, wondering if he really would ever leave the place. He supposed that, one day, the Master would decide to move on and he would go with him. That wasn’t what he had in mind though and he understood that it wasn’t really the place itself that he wanted to escape from.
Hot metal pressed against the side of his head, it pushed his temple and forced his head to the side. He didn’t move, didn’t even dare open his eyes. He was fairly sure he hadn’t been asleep but it seemed impossible that anyone would have been able to sneak up on him otherwise.
CHAPTER 5
‘GET UP.’ THE VOICE WAS UNFAMILIAR, IT SOUNDED like a throat full of sand. The hard metal object remained pressed against the side of his face as Tim very slowly got to his feet. ‘Hands in the air.’
Tim raised his hands. His chest felt as if it was going to explode with the pounding of his heart. Behind him he heard muttered conversation and he knew that the man speaking wasn’t alone.
‘Who are you?’ the man with gravel in his voice said.
Tim tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. He licked his lips, his tongue felt like sandpaper. ‘Tim,’ he managed to say.
More muttered conversation and then the metal object clicked loudly in his ear. ‘Do you know what this is?’
He couldn’t shake his head. ‘No.’
‘This is a gun Tim,’ he said, speaking very slowly as if he was talking to an idiot. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions and, if I think you’re lying to me, I’m going to pull the trigger and blow your brains out your ear. Do you understand?’
‘I understand,’ Tim said and he also understood that if the man didn’t like the answers he was giving he would pull the trigger as well. Maybe he would pull it anyway.
‘Good,’ the man said.
The bushes rustled in front of him and automatically Tim turned away. He was rewarded with a hard thump on his mouth. He tasted blood but forced himself not to cry out.
‘Don’t move,’ the man with the gun said.
He didn’t move again but turned his eyes away from the bushes so he didn’t have to see her moving around there. He didn’t want her to see him either but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. Behind him the men mumbled between themselves.
‘Sorry about that Tim,’ the man with the gun said. ‘But you understand why you can’t turn around, don’t you?’
‘You don’t want me to see your face?’ Tim said.
‘Clever boy. Now, why don’t you start by telling me what you’re doing here.’
‘I was playing,’ he said.
‘Playing?’ said the man with the gun as if he didn’t believe him. Tim braced himself to be struck again but nothing happened. ‘So you live nearby?’
‘Yes sir,’ he said.
The bush in front of him stopped moving and he hoped that she had gone somewhere safe where she wouldn’t be able to see what happened to him. A brief conversation passed in hushed voices between the two men. ‘Do you live in the bar Tim?’
‘Yes,’ Tim said.
Another click by his ear and he thought for sure that he was about to be shot. He felt his legs go weak. Then the metal was taken away from his head. ‘Sit down Tim,’ the man said, his voice softer now. Tim didn’t move. ‘It’s okay, I’m putting the gun away.’
The ground seemed drier and harder than it had done before. He sat with his legs crossed and continued to look into the bush on the other side of the clearing.
‘Give him something to eat,’ said a different voice, Tim figured it was the person the man with the gun had been talking to before. This new voice was softer but still a male.
‘You hungry boy?’
A shadow fell over him and he shivered. The man with the gun was standing over him but Tim remembered what he had said and didn’t look up. ‘Yes sir,’ he said. Despite the meat, or whatever it had been, he was still hungry. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been.
‘Here,’ said the man with the gun and a parcel of metal fell on the ground in front of him.
The crinkled foil was wrapped around something and he could feel the heat from it against his legs. He didn’t want to touch it.
‘Go ahead,’ said the man with the gun. ‘It’s good.’
A rich earthy smell came off the little package and his stomach rumbled. He wanted to tear off the foil and shove whatever it was into his mouth whole, but what if they were trying to poison him? Tim turned his head away to reduce the temptation.
The man with the gun sighed and crouched down in front of him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and flame tattoos crept out from the short sleeves. ‘Look at me,’ the man said.
It was a trap, now he was sure of it. He hadn’t eaten their poisoned food and now the man was trying to get Tim to look at his face so he could shoot him like he’d said he would. Tim shook his head.
‘It’s alright,’ the man said. He picked up the little hot package and started peeling off the foil. ‘It’s good, see?’
Tim turned his head just enough to see the man reach into the foil, his bitten off nails disappeared inside and came out with something dark brown, almost black on one side and almost white on the other. From the corner of his eye Tim wa
tched him put it in his mouth, chew and swallow.
‘See?’ the man said. Tim said nothing, the man seemed to realise what was going on. ‘You can look at my face Tim.’
The food made him trust them. It just smelled too good to resist. After a further moment of resistance, Tim turned and looked at the man crouching in front of him.
The man was big but it was muscle, not fat. His thick neck was covered in the same tattoos as his arms. His head was shaved clean but covered in the dark shade of a few days growth. The man didn’t look very friendly.
‘Here,’ he said and held out the little parcel of food. Tim reached out for it nervously and when he took it he almost had to put it straight back down because it was so hot.
Inside the foil wrapper there was a hot potato, baked over a fire so that the skin was dark and tough, while the inside was light and fluffy. It hurt when he touched it, but he could no longer fight against his complaining stomach. It tasted even better than it smelled.
The man watched him eat without a word. Tim watched him right back and saw the other person walk out from behind and join them. The other man was slim. His face was long and his limbs hung at his side awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what do to with them.
‘My name’s Scott,’ said the man with the gun and thick arms. ‘This is Matt.’
Matt smiled and placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Tim wasn’t sure what he was seeing but Scott touched the other man’s hand gently, like he had wanted to do with Margaret the night before. Scott stood up and the pair of them watched him eat.
When he was finished he didn’t know what to do. The two men had walked away from him and now stood in secret conference on the other side of the clearing. He supposed he could have made a run for it but the sense of danger seemed to have passed and he found himself wondering what the two men were doing there.
Matt looked over Scott’s head and saw that he had finished eating. He said something to Matt then the two of them walked back over. ‘How did you like it?’ Scott said.
Tim nodded.
‘Matt makes them. There’s still plenty of potatoes out there for anyone willing to dig.’
Tim nodded again, wondered if he was being given advice. He wasn’t sure he had ever been given advice before.
‘So Tim,’ Matt said, his long sinewy arms swaying by his side as if he couldn’t keep still. ‘Have you been living at the bar for long?’
He started to shake his head and then stopped. ‘About a year.’
‘So you know it pretty well?’
He shrugged. ‘Sometimes I have to clean.’
Matt nodded. ‘I bet you get to see quite a lot then, don’t you?’
‘I guess.’
‘Do they treat you well Tim?’
His first instinct was to lie and say that they treated him just fine, but the cuts and bruises on his face showed that to be a lie. Instead he stayed quiet because, even if he did take the occasional beating, they still kept him fed and a roof over his head. If he didn’t have those things he didn’t know what he would do.
‘It’s alright,’ Matt said. ‘I understand. Can you give us a second?’
It seemed strange that they were asking his permission to do anything, but he nodded and watched them walk back to the other side of the clearing. He couldn’t hear what they were saying and there was no sign of her anywhere.
After a few minutes the men walked back over to him. ‘We’re looking for something,’ Matt said. Evidently they had agreed that he was the more sympathetic spokesman. ‘Something we think is being kept in the bar.’
He thought about asking what it was, but if they wanted him to know they would tell him.
‘Have you ever seen anything there that looked valuable?’ Matt said. ‘Anything at all?’
Tim considered the timeliness of the question. Up until that morning he would have had no hesitation in saying no, but what had the Master been doing with his back turned? What had he been so keen to keep a secret?
‘If you help us we can take you away,’ Matt said. He had obviously taken Tim’s silence as reluctance rather than confusion. ‘We come from a place called New Haven. You’d be safe there and there’s lots of other children for you to play with.’
Tim had heard of New Haven. Not always good things.
‘We can take you there,’ Matt said. ‘All you have to do is help us out.’
Tim barely hesitated. ‘The Master’s office.’
‘The Master?’ Matt said. ‘Who’s he?’
‘He’s in charge,’ Tim said, although he didn’t see why it mattered. He barely spared a thought for the warning he had been given that morning. ‘His office is behind the bar. There’s something in the corner by the window.’
‘Thank you Tim,’ Matt said. The two of them turned and started walking away.
‘You said you were going to take me away,’ Tim called out.
Matt put a hand on Scott’s arm and something secret passed between them. While Scott carried on walking away Matt turned back and crouched down in front of him. ‘We are going to take you away,’ he said, ‘when we go.’
‘When will that be?’ Tim said.
‘When we have what we came for.’
Tim didn’t feel like that answered his question at all and continued to look at Matt.
‘Soon,’ Matt said. ‘I promise it won’t be long.’
‘What am I supposed to do until then?’
‘Go home, back to the bar, and don’t tell anyone what we talked about. Don’t even tell them you saw us here.’
‘Where are you going then? Why can’t I come with you?’
‘Because if you don’t go back your master will know that something is wrong. We have to pretend that everything is the same as usual. Do you understand?’
It made a disappointing kind of sense. Tim sighed. It was as if he had been offered a taste of freedom and now found his servitude harder to deal with because of it.
‘I have to go now,’ Matt said. He stood and towered over Tim. ‘But I promise we’ll come back for you.’
Tim nodded.
‘And remember, don’t tell anyone that you saw us here, okay?’
Tim nodded again and watched the tall thin man turn and walk away. He kept looking for a while after that, hoping that they might even change their minds and come back for him, but they didn’t. Eventually the light started to fade from the day and he felt the cold enter the shadows. He turned away himself, the walk back to the bar had never felt so long.
CHAPTER 6
MEN STOOD OUTSIDE THE BAR WITH BIG GLASSES of beer in their hands and big motorbikes by their sides. They spoke loudly and with great animation. Tim paused, momentarily but for long enough to draw attention to himself. He looked at the ground and carried on walking.
‘You boy,’ one of the men said. He turned away from his friends towards Tim.
Tim looked up at the man but didn’t say anything. All he wanted to do was get inside, back to his room where he could be by himself and think about everything that had happened.
‘Get over here boy,’ the man said. His friends turned around now and Tim found himself the centre of unwanted attention.
As instructed Tim walked over to the men, stopped and looked at the big man’s black boots.
‘You got no tongue in your head boy?’
He looked up into the hairy face of a man dressed in cracked leather. ‘I’m sorry sir,’ he said. ‘How can I help?’
The man smiled, turned to his friends and they smiled too. ‘Do you work in the kitchen boy?’
‘No sir.’
‘Do you know who does work in the kitchen?’ The strain of patience was evident in his tone.
‘Yes sir. Is there a problem?’
‘I ordered food,’ he said. He didn’t say what he’d ordered because at the bar you got what you were given and you were grateful for it. ‘It’s not here yet.’
‘Would you like me to go and check for you?’ Tim said, eager to get away from t
he man and pleased for the excuse to see Braker.
‘Yes I want you to go and check for me,’ he said. He raised his hand and Tim flinched instinctively. The man laughed. His friends laughed as well. ‘Get out of here boy,’ he boomed, ‘and don’t come back without my food.’
Tim slunk away without looking at any of the men. Around the side of the building he slowed down and raised his head. There was still an hour, or more, until sunset, but he could already feel a bitter chill in the wind. He couldn’t see any smoke coming from the two chimneys of the big wood burning ovens. The windows were dark and he couldn’t smell anything cooking. It looked as if the kitchen had been shut down, but he couldn’t think why that would be.
A knee high brick wall marked the entrance to the kitchen. The dusty ground was littered with cigarette ends and other pieces of rubbish. The door was closed but it opened when he turned the handle and pushed.
‘Braker?’ Tim said. He stepped into the dark kitchen.
There was no reply. He stopped and looked back out of the door. The kitchen was out of bounds for him and he would be in serious trouble with The Master if he was found there.
‘Braker?’ he called again. There was no reply. He tried the only other name he knew that worked in the kitchen, although it wasn’t one he was on particularly friendly terms with. ‘Tampo?’
No answer. He carried on into the dark kitchen, past the ovens, which were still warm, towards the pair of sinks which were almost big enough to bathe in. The work benches were a dull grey colour. Once they might have been silver but years of cleaning had stripped them of their shine.
The floor squeaked and he froze. He couldn’t tell whether it had been his own feet or somebody else’s. The noise wasn’t repeated and, after a moment, he started to walk again, hyper aware of his surroundings, looking and listening for any sign that there was someone in there with him.
‘Boy?’ Tim jumped at the sound of the voice, weak and vulnerable, it didn’t sound like anyone he knew. ‘Help me boy.’
There was no sense of movement and no sense of danger in the words. His heart beat faster all the same, he felt breathless and scared. Someone could see him, but he couldn’t see them, someone knew he was in the kitchen and he would be in big trouble when the Master found out.