by Tom Hoyle
We more or less floated the last few yards towards the shore, carried by the waves like two corks. It was Peter who stood up first – my own legs crumpled when my feet touched the sand and I let myself sink under the water for a few seconds.
The girls had moved from the rocks along the path into our bay and some were paddling out through the water towards us. Andrea and the other helper in the girls’ group were closest, coming to help us to the shore, and it was Andrea who helped me up.
When I rose, there was shrieking, whooping and cheering from the girls, like an orchestra gone wrong. My face reddened, and not just because of the exertion.
As I strode through the water trying to make it look as if this was the sort of thing I did all the time, one of the girls – I didn’t know her name then, of course, but it was Zara – put her hands behind her head and fell into the shallow water, saying, ‘Save me!’ as she fell. As good as this was in one way, after the previous rescue on the plane, and the stuff with Reg, I knew that the hero worship wouldn’t go down well with the other guys.
Behind me, Toby was steaming in, arms straining powerfully, his canoe slightly raised up at the front, with a now calm Lee clinging on to a short rope that ran from the back of the boat. I had somehow beaten them to the shore. The remaining canoes circled around like sharks. You would think that the other guys would have been pleased and relieved, maybe shocked, but it wasn’t entirely like that. True, Reg applauded and Luke cheered like a little kid – over the top, though probably not to mock – but Nick’s face was like thunder and Alastair’s was expressionless.
Peter was muttering to himself, grandly shrugging away any help, saying that it was all a fuss over nothing and implying, and then actually saying that he would have been fine if only I had left him alone. He never said thanks – not in any way, not ever. He was so aloof. He wouldn’t even look at me properly.
But returning with incredible timing was Matt. He was standing on the shore with a big grin on his face, hands above his head, clapping. A taxi driver was standing next to his luggage.
The scene has stuck in my head, even down to the smallest detail, but I can’t properly recall the next ten or fifteen minutes, probably because of the attention from the girls and my exhaustion. The next thing I remember was sitting on the logs with bikini-clad girls either side of me, with Matt retelling the story of what had happened on the plane. I pretended to be modest – but I have to admit it, I loved the attention, every bit of it.
‘It’s so impressive!’ said Zara. ‘Saving one person is, like, really good, but saving three is, like, triply amazing.’
Her friend, Belle, short for Annabel, sat with her arm draped over my shoulder. ‘Tense your muscles,’ she said, and giggled when I did.
The afternoon drifted into evening and the barbecue was lit. I lapped up the girls’ attention, far more interested in them than the other boys, apart from Matt. And, to be honest, I didn’t feel he was a rival, so I was comfortable sharing the limelight.
To have girls like Zara and Belle interested in you is like a drug. They were pretty and intelligent – any boy would have enjoyed it. If you think I was overwhelmed by having these girls making a fuss over me, you’re right. (I realize now that I should have handled it all better, and brought people like Reg into the conversation.)
The other boys – apart from Matt, who had managed to be next to Belle – were on the outskirts of the action. I think they spoke to some of the other girls, but perhaps that seemed small consolation for someone like Nick, who couldn’t drag his eyes away from Belle, though I’m not sure anyone else noticed.
I remember that Toby was talking to Andrea all the time, while Jason chatted uneasily with Andrea’s helper, and sometimes with Peter and Luke and the others.
Peter kept well away from me. As I said, he didn’t even once say thanks. Not even grudgingly.
Luke chirped away with one or two girls who clearly liked him. But sometimes he gazed into space, dreaming or scheming, I didn’t know.
Lee didn’t seem to know how to talk to girls casually, but was telling one about the currents in the bay. He didn’t speak to me.
And Alastair muttered to Reg in between making nearby girls laugh. But he also didn’t speak to me. And Reg, he seemed so uncomplicated – innocent Reg.
I had no idea that one of them was plotting something terrible.
[Here ends the seventh part of George’s statement]
THE OTHER CHAPTER 7
(SAID IN THE HOUR BEFORE):
HIM
I WAS going to talk about how annoying you were that first night, to get it all in the open, and discuss it man to man, and let my feelings flood out, but seeing your pathetic eyes now – such sad, stupid eyes – I think that JUSTICE has been served.
[Pause]
WHAT WAS THAT? Did I hear you say something? GO ON – I dare you to say it again.
GO ON – say that right into my ear.
I’m listening.
WELL?
. . .
NO. I am not a murderer. I am no more a murderer than a fisherman or a farmer.
I WAS FORCED TO DO THIS BY GEORGEY’S BEHAVIOUR.
GEORGEY’S behaviour.
It was after the first day of training that I knew I was going to HAVE to do something for the good of everyone.
First you saved someone from the warm tongue of a fire – so predictable. Then you forced yourself into the action on the plane – sickening.
And
THEN
to interfere when someone couldn’t swim – there’s no harm in not being able to swim; we don’t all have to be great swimmers, do we?
DO WE? That was just dick-waving in front of the girls. Georgey the dick. Waver.
And I could see that Georgey’s DISEASE was infectious. That BLOODY SICKENING show afterwards – it was like a witch doctor hypnotizing his victims.
The worst bit? When you got out of the water and slithered up the beach with your hands all over those girls. They weren’t interested in you really, Georgey, they were just hypnotized – hyp-no-tized – ooooooh . . .
The idea of a man touching a woman in that way. It’s disgusting.
ZARA. She was corrupted by Georgey’s sickness. And Annabel. Especially Annabel.
Men should leave women alone.
I want you to bloody well agree that I had no choice. I had to cut out the disease. And first you have to start by clearing out the infection. I was nothing more than a good doctor.
The other boys were being corrupted as well, though they pretended to give you the hate you deserved. I sensed them slowly being sucked in. And I know you sensed it too, though you pretended not to. They were sucked in. Sluuuurp.
I had to be the good surgeon. I couldn’t let the virus spread. No way, José.
Yeah, that was when I started to plan. It was when I listened to that bell-end, smarmy Toby, that I knew I’d have to take every opportunity to do a good job. I’ve done well, haven’t I?
And now the job is nearly done. Just YOU to finish with.
Thank you. You bow before me. All hail the king.
BUT
don’t – don’t – never – get me started on Toby. He was the first of Georgey’s followers, the first of his slaves. He probably fancied you.
So I had a slave and you had a slave.
Actually, I had slaves. You never realized that, did you? But you should bear it in mind while you hear my story.
I HOPE YOU ARE PAYING ATTENTION.
Me and my followers.
Yep. I would cut out the disease. And a doctor prescribes medicine. HA! HA! You never knew about my medicine!
It all went so well until you tried to take over, like a slug that springs back into shape after you remove your foot. (But a slug I admire a little bit.)
Then it was a duel of wits. Could Georgey work it out?
And now look at me. I am the winner. I AM THE CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE.
I HAVE THE POWER OF LIFE AND DEATH OV
ER YOU.
EVIDENCE #1
EXTRACTED FROM AN EMAIL SENT BY ZARA NEVES
Hiya girls how much is it raining? Hot hot hot here. Having fun with the mad team. It’s just how you imagine it with sand and sea and sun.
No sex (yet!!!!!!!) but have met this great guy. He’s a real-life hero (saved another guy’s life in front of our eyes!!!) and really nice and funny. Probs a bit too nice to get anywhere with. Has a girlfriend, I think (but doesn’t sound serious............). Faint at the pic!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get this – he lives in Southend, near my cousins.
. . .
Will be in the outback soon, so you’ll have to wait for the next episode of this real-life Neighbours. Keep thinking of me down under.
Lots of love
Zara xxxxxxxxxx
CHAPTER 8
(FIVE DAYS BEFORE):
THE EIGHTH PART OF GEORGE’S STATEMENT
I need to tell the second day of training as it was, but now I understand so much more.
The day was spent at Climbers’ Kingdom. Despite the silly name – weird because there were also things like archery in a sports hall – it was a pretty cool place.
All the awkwardness of the previous evening was lost over breakfast, where everyone (apart from Luke, who always seemed to be full of energy) was levelled by tiredness, and on the minibus, where Jason led us in some chants. This showed a new side to Jason. I had seen him as a slightly annoying sidekick to Toby, but he really got into teaching us the choruses and singing the verses himself.
Toby looked uncomfortable – probably because some of the lyrics were sexist and others rude about people. I didn’t want the guys to think that I was some sort of monk as well as Toby’s pet, so I joined in with some of it. Anyway, some of it was properly funny.
‘We’re really lucky, guys,’ said Toby when we arrived. ‘We’ve got all the best activities.’
He was right. The most ‘high-octane’, as they called it, was probably the first one – a sort of bungee jump that lets you fall down and forward into the air like a swing – called the 4G Swing (it was meant to be the same as experiencing four Gs – ‘As you fall, it feels like four times the usual gravity of the Earth, of course,’ as Lee explained). You then swung back and forth like a pendulum, gradually losing momentum. Two went on at a time. Matt and I both volunteered to go with Reg, who was hassled by Nick and Peter about how he was likely to break the bungee rope. Stupid, since adults had been on it.
In the end, to my amazement, Nick ended up pairing with Reg on the first go, though he made a meal of it, wailing about how afraid he was.
‘A magnificent experiment,’ said Lee, hands behind his back and hair sticking out like a mad scientist. ‘This is better than CERN: larger particles to smash together.’
I went with Lee. We were harnessed and attached to a thick metal strip, then winched up by the other boys pulling on a rope. There were three levels: green, amber and red. But no one opted for anything other than red. The harness tugged in the worst possible place as you were heaved upwards. Most of the cries at this stage were about bruised balls and squeezed sacs and crushed . . . you get the idea.
But Lee was different. As we went higher off the ground, the science-based humour changed to something creepier. ‘Imagine what it would be like to hit the ground,’ he whispered. ‘You would know it was going to happen, but be unable to stop it.’
‘Shut it, man,’ I said. ‘You’re freaking me out.’
‘And then there would be one instant when you tried to go through the ground but couldn’t.’
‘Help, I want to get off!’ I said, half joking.
There was mockery from below. ‘You’re not in the water now,’ someone shouted. ‘Pull them as high as possible,’ said someone else.
‘You’re not in the water now,’ Lee repeated. ‘Oh no – you can’t get off.’ Then, lips brushing my ear, a chill in his voice: ‘If this goes wrong, enjoy the nanosecond between your feet and your head hitting the ground.’
‘Lee, don’t be so—’
But the rest of what I said became a scream. It was brilliant: weightless falling, stomachs left behind; then the bungee line strained as we were guided away from the ground and forward into thin air, to just over 45 degrees, like a playground swing that had gained a lot of speed. As with all the previous riders, we swore loudly.
Then we were pulled backwards, relaxing slightly, shouts coming from below, and then forward and back, calmer and calmer, until after about six or seven swings we stopped near the ground.
A metal trolley was then wheeled out for us to stand on and get off. Luke pushed it forward.
‘Here comes the trolley dolly,’ Nick said.
‘That was awesome,’ whooped Lee. ‘The fear is so exciting. Epic. There’s nothing like it.’
Looking back, I wish I had told someone about his weirdness as we were winched up, but, caught in the moment, I smiled and laughed.
The only person who didn’t make any excited sounds as he went up or down was Luke. While waiting, he seemed nervous, waving his hands even when he wasn’t speaking. But Luke was made of ice when hoisted up. ‘Send us as high as possible,’ he said on his second turn, with Reg. ‘Right to the very top.’
I looked carefully as he fell. His eyebrows were slightly raised and he was half smiling. Completely calm. A different person.
The moment he stepped off, he was energized again, springing around as he said, ‘It was orgasmatronic!’
Luke was exactly the same on the other highlight of the morning: The Vertical Assault Course. We did this after Abseiling and Leap of Faith (a jump to a triangle from the top of a pole).
The Vertical Assault Course was a collection of logs, ladders and walls either built up from the ground or suspended from above by wires. You progressed along it from left to right. Some of it was only just off the ground, but other parts were seriously high. It was all ‘perfectly safe’ because a metal wire ran along the very top, our harnesses attached to it by a safety rope.
It was impossible to do it on your own. One of you had to be the leader and the other the follower, so that the safety wires didn’t get tangled as you moved along.
Nick and Matt were the pair before me. Matt was fairly useless, not very well coordinated and of no help to Nick. Not that Nick needed his help. He raced through the course, even the more difficult bits, including the parts that were meant to be impossible to do on your own. At the top of the final section, he stood tall and showed off his muscles. Matt was barely halfway there.
My partner was Luke. He was slightly smaller than everyone else (Nick had taken to calling him ‘Stick Man’) but his bony appearance was slightly misleading: it was obvious from his showing on Leap of Faith that he could climb like a monkey.
The harness was put on by an instructor called Jake, a tall, tough-looking man with an earring and nose stud. He was helped by a girl whose name I can’t remember and am still trying to find out. It was then checked by Toby and/or Jason – and I’m pretty sure both examined mine, but I was busy looking at the Vertical Assault Course and talking strategy with Luke. We agreed that Luke would be the leader and I would follow.
Before starting on the 45-degree rising log that led to the rest of the assault course, we all gave the participants high fives and bear hugs that were almost a wrestle. ‘You can do it, yeah!’ was the sort of thing that was said.
‘Good luck, man,’ said Peter, who was standing next to Jason. Then, I’m sure, in a mumble: ‘You’re gonna need it.’ I remember it because there was a slightly-too-long pause in the middle: Good luck, man – silence, looking into my eyes – then: you’re gonna need it, as I turned away.
Just as before, Luke was gesticulating energetically, but he stopped the instant he was on the activity. He was definitely the better climber. I remember thinking he could be a free climber, scaling a cliff in a national park. I felt pretty cumbersome and timid by comparison.
With some other pairs, the safet
y ropes were a vital part of the ascent, used to help haul them skyward. But we were too good for that and went up like true climbers, the safety ropes slightly slack.
After the diagonally rising log – which was easily wide enough to walk up – there was a section that was like rock climbing. I didn’t look down. Luke raced ahead.
Next there was a horizontal beam to walk along. This would have been fine a few inches off the ground, but being thirty feet in the air does things to your mind.
All those things were OK.
We then went down a ladder before going up something called Stairway to Heaven. This was seven horizontal logs, suspended by wire at both ends, arranged one on top of the other, about three or four feet apart at first. We clambered and tugged and heaved and pushed, Luke and me, helping one another, again without needing our safety ropes to drag us up.
Soon we only had the very top log to reach. As all the logs were held together by wire through the ends, they moved about like hell. The top log was about five feet from the log below, so I knelt as still as I could, one knee raised for Luke to stand on, then he scrambled off my shoulder on to the log above. That meant he had reached the very top, forty feet off the ground – high enough for the staring faces below to look no bigger than coins. One person was holding up a phone, recording every detail. If his smashed phone is ever repaired you will see this is true.
Without anyone to step on, it was more difficult for me. The plan was for me to swing one leg over and have Luke pull me up. More than once my leg slipped and we had to start again. Eventually, I wrapped both legs round the thick log and Luke manhandled me on to the upper side of the log. He was stronger than he looked.
Then (I feel giddy as I remember):
I stood up on the top log, alongside Luke. Suddenly there was a tug on one of the belt loops of my trousers and the metal hook at the end of the safety rope whacked against my chin. I remember looking down and seeing that a loop on my belt had been ripped. I took a sharp intake of breath and my insides shrank. I couldn’t make sense of it. The safety rope had been attached to a belt loop on my trousers and not to my harness. It didn’t compute. Unbelievable! At the time I said much worse, and loudly.