by Sharon Sant
‘Don’t be such a pessimist. I thought that was my job.’
Sky managed a weak smile and took his hand as it began to rain again.
‘I’m sure we’ve been walking for hours. And I swear I’ve seen that funny shrub before.’ Sky stopped and ran her eyes over the surrounding forest.
Elijah halted a few steps ahead and turned round. ‘I don’t think so. The wood isn’t that big. We’re sure to come across the place eventually.’
‘We’re going in circles, Elijah. Face it, we’re lost. In ten years someone will find our skeletons here sitting under a tree.’
Something hit Elijah on the back of his neck.
‘Ouch.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t know, must have got bitten or something.’
He cried out again and rubbed his head as something hit that. He watched a fir cone drop to the floor at his feet. ‘What the hell…’
In the branches above his head, Elijah saw a booted foot dangling.
‘Oi!’ The voice came from the foot. ‘I’m coming down, hang on.’
Rowan’s bottom half appeared, then the rest of him shinned down the trunk, dropping to the ground, catlike, from the lowest branch.
‘How did you get here? Are the others with you? What happened? Where is everyone?’ Sky asked.
‘Whoa!’ Rowan held up a hand. ‘I don’t know where they are now but I know where they’re going to be. I heard some of the men mention the island.’
‘The island? Which island?’ Elijah rubbed a hand through his hair.
‘Don’t know. Probably the Isle of Wight.’
‘No one goes there; it’s been deserted for years.’
‘Exactly, perfect place to put a camp.’
‘Maybe.’ Elijah looked at Rowan thoughtfully. ‘How did you get away?’
Rowan looked sheepish. ‘I was following you two. I saw you go and Sky go after you… I wasn’t peeping or anything,’ he added quickly, seeing Sky blush. ‘I just wondered if there was anything I could do. Anyway, I heard the trouble and got out of the way; nothing else I could do, there were loads of them. Figured the fat gits would never think to look up a tree. I’ve been up there all night. Lucky for you two.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I know how to get back to the place where we were.’
In the small clearing the grass was strewn with clothes, combs, tins and other belongings. A pile of empty backpacks lay at the foot of a tree.
‘All the food’s gone.’ Sky picked at the carnage. ‘Can you believe this? They even took our food? Bet they don’t get arrested for food theft.’
‘CMO do what they want, I suppose. Who’s going to believe a bunch of kids over them?’ Elijah disappeared behind the tree. He emerged with a smile. ‘They missed these though. Yours and mine.’ He tossed a backpack to Rowan and rifled in his own kitbag, for the first time glad of its size. ‘Can’t imagine how they missed this monster.’
‘It was dark; they were in a rush.’ Rowan shrugged and laid out some of the abandoned clothes for them to sit on so they could eat.
‘Biscuit anyone?’ Elijah held up a greaseproof paper parcel.
‘Where did you get those?’ Sky asked taking one.
‘Been saving them for ages, nicking them at dinnertimes. Not stealing,’ he added quickly, ‘they were mine that I didn’t eat.’
‘There’s a time for complaining about where they came from,’ Sky replied, laughing, ‘but this is not it.’
‘So, this island – you think it’s the Isle of Wight?’ Elijah handed Rowan a biscuit.
‘I can’t think of anywhere else.’
‘There’s Brownsea,’ Sky cut in.
‘Too small, I reckon.’
‘It held a monastery once, can’t be that small,’ Sky insisted.
‘No, I think Rowan is right. It has to be the Isle of Wight. It would make sense, big enough and no locals to kick up a stink.’
‘But it’s crumbling. And all that weird weather. Who would want to live on there?’ Sky frowned.
‘I don’t think they have much choice.’
‘No, not the kids. I mean the guards and staff. They wouldn’t stay there.’
‘We only think it’s dangerous because it’s what we’ve always been told. Who really knows?’
‘What do we do then?’
Elijah dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Dad took me to Lymington once. He said the ferries used to go from there. It’s worth a try, if kids are being taken to the island then there’ll be ferries of some description running.’
‘They may not go from there now. I thought they went from Portsmouth.’ Sky reached for another biscuit.
‘I’d rather avoid Portsmouth – too many people. We should go with Lymington first.’ Elijah screwed up the greaseproof paper with a look of regret. ‘That’s the biscuits gone.’ He watched Rowan stifle a yawn. ‘Lymington is a fair way. Rowan, you’d better have a kip, you’re going to need it.’
Their damp breath curled up into the grey morning air.
‘Are we going the right way?’ Sky asked as they followed a mired path, overhung by a tunnel of trees.
‘I’ve no idea.’ Elijah replied, ‘but we have to get back to the main road and then maybe there’ll be some signs. It’s the best we can do.’
‘Can we stop?’ Rowan halted on the path, breathing heavily.
‘No. The quicker we get to the road, the quicker we can work out which way to go. We should at least make it that far before we rest.’
‘Just for a minute?’
Elijah stopped. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. I think maybe I woke up too quickly.’
‘You look a bit red.’ Sky peered closely at Rowan.
‘Five minutes. Then we have to get going.’ Elijah let his kitbag slide from his shoulder.
Rowan threw down his own backpack, sat on it, and closed his eyes.
He opened them to the sound of Elijah giving the instruction to move on.
They walked for an hour or so, talking little. Eventually, a broken tarmac road came into view.
‘Right, now we look for signs,’ Elijah said as they headed for it.
‘My legs are killing me. How far is Lymington again?’ Rowan asked.
‘Days away. Longer if you keep yakking on.’ Elijah stared straight ahead as he walked. An odd and amusing thought occurred to him. For a split second, he had heard himself speak and it reminded him of Xavier. Maybe they weren’t so different after all, he reflected with a small smile. But his thoughts quickly returned to the problem presenting itself right now. Not one road sign had come into view and, whilst he kept his fears to himself, Elijah was beginning to panic.
‘I don’t feel good.’
‘Rowan, shut up. We’ve got miles to go yet.’
Silence fell. They continued to march as the rain seeped into their shoes. Half an hour passed.
There was a dull thud from behind.
‘Elijah!’
He wheeled round to find Sky kneeling beside an unconscious Rowan.
Twenty-One: A Technical Hitch
Grace McKee’s eyes were ringed by dark shadows, her red hair uncharacteristically unkempt. She had spent much of the night feverishly running over the previous day’s events, unable to sleep, galled by the unfairness of the equipment’s sudden failure. This morning, she had thrown on her jeans, skipped breakfast, and sped into work earlier than usual, intent on getting to the truth. She couldn’t get those kids back to ask them anything else and was now armed just with what they had told her. Were they lying? She couldn’t believe their story, but why did the evidence seem so convincing? What did they have to gain by making it up?
Gathering files from the passenger seat of her Mini, she turned to open the car door and found Dr Sethi about to tap on the window, looking equally harassed.
‘Hi, Ash. What’s the matter?’ she asked as she climbed out of the car.
Dr Sethi took her by the arm, his face etched with wo
rry. ‘We got it going again, but… you really need to see these readings before we do anything else.’
‘Ok.’ Grace stretched. ‘But I need coffee.’
Grace and Ash pored over reams of paper and graphs which littered a small desk in their hot, cramped office. Every so often they would compare or comment on something in particular with tense expressions.
‘You see…’ Ash explained earnestly, ‘look at the times. The disturbances seem to coincide with the arrival or, in this case here,’ he indicated a large spike on a graph, ‘the departure, of those kids. Look at the readings… they go wild.’
‘Looks unstable,’ Grace agreed with an anxious expression. She looked steadily at her colleague. ‘It explains the failure. We’ll have to inform the others. But I think…’ she continued reluctantly, ‘I think we’ll have to suspend the research until we get to the bottom of this… it’s too risky to continue. I’m sure the others will agree when we show them the new information.’
Dr Sethi nodded gravely. ‘I think so too. Did you manage to find out where they were from, by the way?’
‘Well, I’m not entirely convinced they were telling me everything.’ She still couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t some well thought out but pointless hoax. And what she hadn’t told her colleague, what she didn’t dare tell him, was that she had attempted to go through the portal with them. And that there was the insane possibility that they had travelled from the future. As far as he was concerned, they had escaped the hut and made it through alone from point A to point B. She knew he would think it irresponsible, crazy, if she told him everything. It was. Her pragmatic, logical self battled with the inexplicable desire to believe these kids, and with the fact that she was prepared to take huge risks, risks which surprised even her. Whatever was at the other side of the channel, she wanted to see it.
‘Of course, you realise that this means we have to suspend the project.’ Ash interrupted her thoughts. ‘It’s far too risky to continue.’
Grace thought about Elijah and Sky. Would she ever see them again? The promise of the information they could give her, the secrets of the future that she could have was almost more than she could bear to lose. It felt like this was the moment she had been waiting for all her life, the reason she had turned to science, and it was all about to be snatched from under her nose. More than anything, she wanted to go through that portal and find them… but then, she knew how huge the consequences of such an action might be.
‘I don’t know what the answer is,’ Grace replied irritably, frustration and fatigue getting the better of her. ‘There’s so much more that we could learn if we could just hang on.’
Dr Sethi shook his head. ‘I have to suspend the research project today; you know that as well as I do. It should be safe enough to close down without dismantling the equipment, though, at least then we have some time to find out more before we make a final decision.’
Grace nodded wearily. ‘I’ll start the ball rolling.’
Twenty-Two: Escape
The gentle rock of the van lulled Jimmy and Rosa to sleep as first light appeared in the sky. Xavier hardly took his eyes from the road, concentrating his efforts on memorising landmarks and signs.
‘You should have a sleep, Xav. You’ve been awake all night.’ Francois glanced at the guard sitting nearby as he spoke. No one told him to shut up.
‘So have you,’ Xavier replied.
Francois shrugged and lapsed into silence again. He watched the guard devour a tin of beans and a packet of rice crackers stolen from their supply. Xavier’s gaze never left the window, his energy seemed unnatural.
‘So where are we going?’ Francois addressed no one in particular. There was no reply; he hadn’t really expected one. ‘Where’s this island then?’
‘Shut up.’ The guard’s fingers caressed the handle of the prod held between his knees. Xavier shot a warning glance at his brother, and then returned his attention to the road.
‘I need a pee,’ Francois told the guard.
The man laughed. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll dry out.’
‘I might electrocute you if I do it on your stick.’ Francois smiled with mock innocence.
‘Not if I get you first.’
Time passed, the van making its monotonous way through barren heathland.
‘I do really need a pee now. And I feel sick.’ Francois held his stomach.
‘Actually,’ Rosa was now awake, ‘I need the toilet too.’
The guard sighed. ‘We’re not stopping.’
‘You’ve got to let us go to the toilet,’ Francois insisted. ‘Listen, Dr Bettencourt is our dad and he’ll be coming for me and my brother soon. When he comes to fetch us we’ll tell him about this treatment and you’ll be in big trouble.’
Xavier tore his gaze away from the window and gave his head a tiny shake at Francois.
‘I don’t believe this dad of yours exists.’ The man looked from one to another.
‘That’s your problem.’ Francois fixed him with a hard stare.
‘John!’ The guard called the driver. ‘John, we need to stop. A little situation back here.’
The van pulled in by a low grass verge, dotted with shrubs. The ridge sloped away on the far side to reveal the carpet of the wild heath, strewn with the russet stubble of brackens and heather. The guard got out first.
‘One at a time. Ladies first.’
Rosa stepped down. Xavier watched her through the window.
‘I can’t do it here. Not in full view of the road. I need to go over there.’ Rosa nodded towards the shrubs.
The guard waved his stick at her. ‘Don’t try anything funny. I’m keeping you at arms length just in case. Bill!’ He called another guard from the front seat. ‘Come and keep an eye on this lot while I escort her ladyship to the bathroom.’
Bill alighted with another prod. He stood across the doorway of the van. Rosa and the first man disappeared from view, but they could still hear her complaining bitterly about her lack of privacy. Xavier couldn’t help smiling.
‘You want to go?’ The man asked Xavier as they returned. Xavier shook his head. Jimmy was still asleep with his cheek pressed against the window of the van.
‘Right then.’ He motioned to Francois. ‘Pee, sick, whatever you want, do it now.’
‘Do I get to go off the road?’ Francois smirked as he leapt down from the van.
‘No. Here.’
‘Seriously, that’s discrimination.’
The guard gritted his teeth. ‘Don’t think you can try any funny business.’
Xavier held his breath and watched Francois ascend the verge, followed by his guard. His worst fears were confirmed when he saw Francois throw himself off the top and disappear behind it. A cry went up from the guard who leapt up after him, prod extended, but Francois was already haring across the heath.
‘Bill, bring the girl,’ the guard roared. Bill dragged a struggling Rosa by the wrist to the top of the verge.
‘Here you go!’ the first guard bellowed. ‘See what you’ve done.’
Francois faltered. He turned and glanced up. Rosa was standing on the verge, held tight between the two men. She gasped, stiffened, then crumpled.
‘If you don’t come back she’ll get a prod every time she comes round, all the way to the island.’
Francois bit his lip and began to walk back.
‘You idiot,’ Xavier hissed when they were all back in the van. He held Rosa’s limp form against his chest.
‘I was trying to help.’
‘Well, you didn’t.’
Rosa let out a pained whimper.
‘Has something happened?’ Jimmy, who had slept through everything, rubbed his eyes and stared at her.
Xavier groaned.
Twenty-Three: The Island
The faded sign read: Welcome to Hayling Island Holiday Park.
‘You have got to be kidding.’ Rosa, now recovered, viewed the board with distaste.
Their van stopped briefly whi
le the driver checked in with the security lodge, before high steel gates swung open to let them in. They were ordered out of the van and marched to a flat-roofed hut, which had once been a holiday reception building but now bore an inconspicuous plaque that read: CMO Detention Centre - Hampshire Division. Behind a desk in a faux wooden-panelled room, and hemmed in by tall, grey filing cabinets, sat a bouffant-haired woman chewing gum. A bulky old computer fizzed on the desk. The air was thick with the odour of cheap perfume and overheating electrical equipment.
‘Name!’ The woman barked to no one in particular over the invasive chug of a nearby generator.
Nobody spoke. She pulled a sheaf of pink forms towards her, removed the top from a pen and spat onto the nib. ‘Name!’ This time she spoke directly to Xavier.
‘Xavier Bettencourt, my dad is Dr Pierre Bettencourt, White Lodge, Hunterbourne –’
‘You live in Hunterbourne?’ The woman smirked.
‘Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have said so, would I? And this is my brother.’ He indicated Francois. ‘Who happens to be seventeen. If you could get in touch with our parents –’
‘Your dad is a doctor, your brother is seventeen, and you live in Hunterbourne?’ The woman turned to the guard. ‘Have you checked?’
‘Yep. No Dr Bettencourt in Hunterbourne. And no birth certificates or ID; the usual story.’
‘What?’ Francois spoke for the first time since his argument with Xavier.
The guard looked at him. ‘Told you not to try any funny stuff.’
‘So,’ the woman began to scribble on the form. ‘Xavier, is it? Surname… Bettencourt, if that is your real name. Can’t spell either of those, but no matter… No fixed abode,’ she said to herself as she wrote.
Francois’ fist curled at his side. ‘He hasn’t checked anything, you have to get in touch with our parents and they can sort everything out.’
Francois stopped talking as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the guard caressing the handle of his prod. Rosa inched away. Xavier caught his brother’s eye and gave his head the tiniest warning shake.
Jimmy stepped forward. ‘I don’t live anywhere. James Hardy, write me down. Just let Xavier and Francois go, they’re telling the truth.’