Survivor

by Tom Hoyle

  The last report I wrote for George was very positive, but we are asked to be as positive as possible.

  To summarize, we didn’t have a problem with George, but children are complicated sometimes, and teachers can only report what they see.

  Thank you.

  CHAPTER 4

  (LATER ON IN THE NINTH DAY BEFORE):

  THE FOURTH PART OF GEORGES’S STATEMENT

  You know when you meet someone and you’re sure that you’re going to get on with them? That’s how I felt about Matt. ‘A babe in a swimsuit!’ he laughed. ‘How old are you? Twelve?’ He loudly, though not entirely seriously, pleaded my case to the security people. ‘Can’t you see that this nice young man is innocent when it comes to such things?’ he joked. I didn’t know whether to act naive or tell Matt to shut up.

  ‘None of it’s mine,’ I mumbled.

  Toby was great. He half implied that it was all my stupid fault, but half suggested that it was an irresponsible prank played on me. I don’t think they quite knew which one to believe. My apologies finally seemed to win them over. The gun was clearly a plastic toy one – the sort that fires foam pellets. It was orange and blue. Fortunately, the supervisor seemed like a nice guy who saw the funny side.

  As we walked away, Toby said to me, ‘I don’t think we’ll have any more of that, OK, mate?’

  I knew that arguing about it would get me nowhere, and might even suggest that I was guilty, so I said that I ‘would be more careful in future’. That hinted to Toby that I had learned my lesson, but meant I didn’t actually lie and admit to more guilt that I really had. And I would be careful – because someone had put that toy gun in my bag on purpose, deliberately trying to get me in trouble. But it had come out of the blue. I had always got on with people before.

  Matt had a peculiar look in his eye, perhaps wondering if the toy gun really was mine.

  ‘For a moment, I thought it was curtains,’ I said. ‘I just can’t work it out.’

  ‘You know – I actually believe you,’ said Matt. ‘You were calm, man. I would have gone totally mad if that was found in my bag. I would have been as mad as a bee. As mad as a bee with a bee up its bum.’

  I laughed and knew we were friends. I want to write friends to the end, but that just makes me feel bad.

  There were three of us, though, who went around the shops on the far side of security. Almost straight after the gun-and-picture incident, Nick walked up to us and introduced himself. ‘I think we’re sitting together on the plane,’ he said in his very deep voice. ‘According to Jason, I’m 41H, and you two are 41J and K.’ For some reason, the team wasn’t in one row on the plane, but separated into two threes and a four. Nick looked a bit older than the rest of us – like he could grow a beard if he wanted to. He was a big guy, but there was no fat on him – I’m a fairly good athlete, but I wouldn’t have wanted to race him.

  There isn’t a massive amount more to tell you about Heathrow. There were no clues as to what was going to happen, though I’ve been through it a million times in my mind. Toby gathered us all together and made us leave our bags in a pile next to him before we went off round the shops. After a brief talk about not getting into trouble again, he nodded at Matt, and said to everyone: ‘And no nuts, remember.’

  We had been warned about this before we left for the airport, and Mum had methodically been through my bag removing Snickers and Peanut M&Ms. Matt, apparently, had a nut allergy.

  ‘I haven’t had any problems for a couple of years,’ Matt said defensively, palms up. ‘Stay calm, people.’

  I stocked up with as many cans of Coke and bags of nut-less sweets as I could reasonably carry. It was a long flight, after all.

  Matt was with me throughout, chattering away about nothing much, telling jokes, putting on funny accents.

  Nick was harder to decipher. He threw in the occasional quip or cynical aside. I wondered if he had more to say but chose not to share it.

  It was when we were airborne and well on our way to Singapore that something important happened.

  Everyone was getting on just fine, I thought. I didn’t know the other boys well at that stage, but was sitting in the middle of a trio of seats with Matt (next to the window) and Nick (next to the aisle, fortunately, as he was really tall), all of us on electronic devices of one sort or another. Airline food had come round, but was left untouched apart from the drink; it didn’t look too bad, but couldn’t compare with thousands of sweets and crisps.

  ‘If I eat another Pringle, I’ll do a Mr Creosote,’ Matt said, before popping another crisp in his mouth and farting. Mr Creosote was, he said, a bloke in a film who exploded from eating too much.

  A warning had gone out over the tannoy about Matt’s nut allergy. By chance, there were two other people on the flight with the same problem, so the captain explained that no one should even open a packets of nuts, instead ‘they could have some in the transfer lounge at Singapore’. Sitting next to Matt, aware of the amount of sharing of sweets going on, I vaguely kept an eye out for nut-infested things, but saw nothing.

  Another packet of Haribos had been slowly passed around. The plane was making a low hum as it came in closer to Singapore, and we had all quietened down, ready for descent. My head was just beginning to feel heavy when Matt nudged me.

  ‘Can you help me find my inhaler?’ He was patting his pockets and looking a bit flustered.

  ‘Where do you keep it?’ I asked.

  ‘Normally-it’s-in-my-bag,’ he panted.

  I dragged his bag up from under the seat and rooted around in the largest section. It was packed with things for the journey, books and magazines and stuff, but no inhaler.

  Matt was soon clutching his chest and his lips were swollen and red. A sort of speckled rash was on his cheeks.

  Nick was on my left. ‘Get Toby!’ I said. ‘Right now.’

  Ever more frantically, I searched in the zipped front section of the rucksack, and there, underneath a yellow pen-like device that I recognized from school, was an inhaler.

  Matt took two puffs immediately, but it was no use. He couldn’t get enough of the stuff in.

  ‘Toby’s not in his seat. I think he might be having a piss,’ said Nick.

  ‘Then get someone else – right now!’ I said.

  It all happened so quickly. Matt was beginning to droop. He was holding his side and his eyes were widening and narrowing. He couldn’t breathe properly. ‘I-need . . .’ He was pointing at the EpiPen.

  ‘Can you get him out from his seat? That’ll help,’ said a man from the row in front.

  ‘Hey! Can someone help? Is there a doctor?’ said a woman from behind who’d noticed the commotion. ‘Can someone do something?’

  This time was different to the fire. This wasn’t a big distant problem that I was drawn towards – it was a horror right next to me. Suddenly panic was flapping around and Jason appeared, saying, ‘What do you think the problem is? What should we do?’

  It was obvious what had happened: one way or another, Matt had eaten something that contained nuts and was in serious trouble. I didn’t say anything, even when I vaguely heard the flight attendant asking me to move. Do things step by step, I thought to myself.

  ‘Is there a doctor on the plane?’ came over the tannoy, more than once, an urgent – no, panicked – voice.

  I snapped the top off the EpiPen, pulled it back a bit from Matt’s leg, and then – just as the picture showed – plunged it down into Matt’s thigh. It said to leave it there for ten seconds.

  I counted out the ten seconds. To be honest, I was surprised at how easily it went through his jeans. People were still talking and shouting for the first three or four, but by the time I reached seven the only thing that could be heard was my voice.

  When I was between eight and nine, though, Matt whispered, ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Nine . . . ten,’ I finished. ‘Now we need to lie him down across the seats.’

  I pulled out the device and clambered out into t
he aisle. Two flight attendants, with Toby looking on, put up the seat arms and laid Matt down.

  The injection had helped Matt almost straight away. His breathing was weak, but steady. He angled his head round towards me and said, ‘Thanks, mate.’

  ‘That was bloody amazing,’ said Jason. A few people clapped. Nearly all of the group clustered round us, talking.

  I also heard, ‘That was great to see.’ At the time, I thought it was a compliment about the way I’d handled things. But now I’m not so sure.

  [Here ends the fourth part of George’s statement]

  THE OTHER CHAPTER 4

  (SAID IN THE HOUR BEFORE):

  HIM

  Matt had nuts. Then he went nuts. Get it?

  I can see you’re wondering how I did it.

  I can see you’re wondering why I did it.

  For a start, I thought he was a FAKER.

  And I couldn’t believe the reason why he was on the trip. What a numbskull. He went up a cliff to save some kid when he could have got him down a lot faster by throwing a few stones at him! All you need is one stone to hit him right there on the head and he’d have fallen like a tenpin.

  SPLAT!

  Having him and me on the same trip is called irony.

  AND, he was falling over himself with love for Georgey. Probably wanted to have your kids.

  I didn’t buy the peanuts in the airport, anyway. I brought them along before – packed them when the warnings were given out. NO – it wasn’t exactly a PLAN. But I thought I’d have them just in case. Just in case I wanted to do an experiment on the FAKER.

  I did it all to perfection. I went to the toilet and opened up the two packets. It was like a scientific investigation. I crushed up the peanuts very small, little more than dust. I tell you, that was the most exciting bit of all. Then I sprinkled some on to the sweets.

  Tasty.

  I AM THE MASTER. I COMMAND LIFE AND DEATH.

  You need to remember that. Just one little twist and you’ll join the others.

  I slid the packet along the row of four. ‘Oh, whose sweets are they?’ I asked about half an hour later. ‘Do you mind if I have one?’ then – ever so innocently – ‘Shall we pass them round?’

  So generous, you see.

  What I STILL don’t understand is why so much fuss was made over a little bit of wheezing and a stab in the leg with that machine.

  I mean, it was all highly entertaining, better than TV, but anyone could have rammed that pen thing into his leg. It just had to be you. So keen to take all the credit – you didn’t even let the stewardess help. Selfish bastard.

  The absolute top thing is that no one suspected I did it. Some bloke at the back got the blame for opening a packet of cashews. HILARIOUS!

  My sides might split with laughter and all my guts fall out.

  I’m getting bored with this. I think we might play a game.

  RECONSTRUCTED FOR PURPOSES OF THIS STATEMENT #4

  MATTHEW (MATT) LOUGH

  SINGAPORE, before leaving for Sydney and then Cairns. Matt Lough, after his anaphylactic shock:

  ‘Mum, can I talk now, please? Let me say something. Like, can I speak? [Silence on the line.] So, I must have eaten something. This geezer at the back, the prat, had some cashews out, and I had gone past to the bogs, and you know it was cashews last time. [Silence on the line.] Are you still there? Earth to mother? Alien visitor calling mother ship? Come in, come in.

  [‘Yes. I’m here.’]

  So, George, who’s with us because he also did something heroic in a fire, was like cool as a cucumber and stabbed me with the EpiPen. By then we were thirty minutes from Singapore, so we came here anyway. And now I’m fine. Absolutely fine. No need to be in hospital at all. Ready to go to Oz. Comprendo?’

  [Matt’s mother expresses disagreement.]

  ‘Are you kidding me? What’s the point of that? The time I needed you was when I was at 35,000 feet and couldn’t breathe. Look, I’m fine – listen. [Matt breathes clearly down the line.] If you agree, I can go on and join the party. Why do you want to punish me? Coming back home would be stupid. You coming here would be even stupider. Me going to Oz and having a sick time would be A star.’

  [Matt’s mother is slowly being won round.]

  ‘I know that Dad agrees with me. I can hear him thinking: good boy, Matt son, you go on to Oz and impress the girls with your muscular muscles.’

  [This argument helps only very slightly.]

  ‘I’ll just be slightly late. Come on, Mum, you know it makes sense!’

  CHAPTER 5

  (EIGHT DAYS BEFORE):

  THE FIFTH PART OF GEORGE’S STATEMENT

  With Matt getting better by the minute and the quick thinking of Toby and the Ultimate Bushcraft people in Australia, the trip wasn’t cancelled, so we continued on to Sydney with only a tiny delay. Later came the good news that Matt would rejoin us fairly soon.

  The seating was rearranged on the second leg of the journey – probably a good thing, because I hadn’t really been able to make a connection with Nick. I was put in another row of three, this time between Lee and Luke. Both were real individuals.

  I suppose it’s simplest to say that Lee was a nerd. At first, I wondered if it was shyness (it wasn’t). He had some unusual facts that I found interesting, but wouldn’t have thought to share if I’d known them. ‘Did you know that Boeing is named after a man called William E. Boeing?’ and ‘QANTAS is a really unusual word because it doesn’t have a U after the Q, and that’s because it is an acronym’, for example. But there was something darker about him: ‘If we crashed, how long do you think it would hurt for? Would it hurt a lot for a fraction of a second? I think so. Would it hurt more than the knowledge that you were about to die?’ Matt’s allergic reaction was taboo for the rest of us, but Lee did mention it, almost as if thinking aloud: ‘I wonder if he thought he was going to die. I wonder what that felt like.’

  I kept on pulling the subject back to everyday things, wondering what was below us out of the window, or suggesting that we had a bit of sleep. I really tried to be nice.

  Luke was – how can I put this – not going to be a rugby player. He was slim and perfectly dressed in a button-down shirt and a really smart dark red jersey. His voice was a bit high-pitched and he used his hands a lot when he was speaking. He couldn’t seem to sit still.

  I remember one conversation in particular.

  ‘Oh my God,’ he said, waking me up. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Luke had spilt some water and some of it had gone on my shirt and trousers. ‘Do you want a tissue?’

  ‘That’s OK,’ I said sleepily. ‘It’s only water. It’ll soon dry.’

  ‘I’m really sorry. I’m just all thumbs when I get tired.’

  ‘That’s OK, Luke.’ I gave him a friendly nudge, just to let him know I didn’t mind, then settled back into my seat and shut my eyes.

  ‘Thanks. Thanks, Georgey,’ were the last words I heard as I drifted off to sleep.

  Georgey – it was the first time I had ever been called that.

  I was blotto as we flew over a chunk of Asia and most of Australia, then the reminder to put your seatbelt on woke me up. Jason and Nick were in the aisle, returning to their seats.

  ‘Welcome to the mother country, mate,’ said Jason.

  ‘Put on your seat belt – like a good boy,’ added Nick.

  Luke was in my ear as well: ‘It’s so exciting. We’re here, Georgey, we’re here!’

  Sydney was hidden by thick cloud until just before we landed. As rain hammered down on the metal and glass of the airport roof, Jason said, ‘The weather’s been put on to make you boys feel at home.’ There were quite a few jokes about other things we thought we knew about Australia not being true: ‘And are we going to find out that you don’t play cricket here?’ and ‘I suppose you don’t drink beer and never have barbecues?’

  Sydney airport was big and felt like another Heathrow. We were all tired after the journey and I had that heavy cotton-wool f
eeling in my head, so was on autopilot most of the time.

  I have to mention one thing that happened in Sydney airport because of the CCTV footage. I can remember exactly what happened, though it sounds stupid and really childish.

  I wanted to sit on my case and shut my eyes, but Luke kept on telling me stupid jokes to keep me awake. It was all light-hearted. You can see Luke laughing on the film. I only pretended to shoot him to shut him up – it was all part of the joke. I can’t see why there’s been so much fuss over it.

  Jason then appears on the CCTV footage. I realize that this bit looks bad, but I was really tired and, I suppose, trying to make the others laugh. The background is that we had been told about why the girls’ group didn’t travel with us from London – Toby had said that there was a mess-up with the booking, so we had gone with QANTAS rather than British Airways, but that we might rendezvous in Sydney.

  Just as I had sat down on my case, Jason (with a tall, thin boy with black hair called Peter) appeared to explain that the slight delay because of Matt meant that rendezvous wouldn’t happen.

  (With his back to the camera) Jason said, ‘Guys, there won’t be any girls until we get to Cairns. Their flight has already gone.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ said Luke, jigging around. ‘I’ll just have to put up with Georgey’s company.’

  It was at that point I closed my eyes. ‘Thanks, mate,’ I said to Jason.

  Jason then said to Luke, presumably because my eyes were closed: ‘I don’t think George is listening to me, so you can make sure he gets the message.’

  When I opened my eyes and saw Jason and Peter walking away, I stood up and gestured one shooting motion towards Jason. It was all in the context of having done the same to Luke.

  It was stupid but innocent. I’m not perfect.