by Simon Clark
‘What do you want?’
‘I get the feeling you don’t want to talk to me.’
‘I don’t particularly.’
‘Wait. You don’t think I killed Dave, do you?’
‘No … I know you didn’t. Dave told Martin what he was planning the other night. He was irrational and crying. But we didn’t think he’d carry it through.’
I sighed. ‘For the last couple of days I thought you were going round thinking I was a murderer.’
‘What have you been doing with yourself, Nick? From what I hear you and Curt are best buddies.’
‘I’m going out with them on a hunting trip this afternoon.’
‘That will be fun. Have they asked you to join the Crew yet?’
‘No.’
‘They will.’
‘Forget that now …’ I dropped my voice. One of the Crew was swaggering down the hill toward us. ‘Listen. I want to talk to you, Del-Coffey and Kitty. Your house. Eight o’clock tomorrow morning.’
Sarah stared at me, expecting me to say more.
‘Eight o’clock. It’s important.’
The thug walked up, winking when he saw me talking to Sarah. He said, ‘Nick. Have you seen what Curt’s done in the churchyard? Take a look.’
After leaving Sarah, I crossed the bridge and walked up to the church. Slatter sat on the stone wall smoking a cigarette and laughing.
‘Aten. Get your faggot face across here. Take a look at this.’
‘If it makes you laugh, Slatter, it has to be a piss-poor joke.’
It was.
Six people who had carried the can hadn’t made it. Curt had ordered that the bodies be sat on chairs or tied to posts so they appeared to be alive. Most had parts of their bodies missing. Mainly hands, faces, stomachs. But now they looked happy.
They could have been relaxing in the garden, a can or a bottle in the hand they had left. They wore funny hats and someone had painted big clown smiles where their faces had been.
‘Look at Simon,’ Slatter pointed with the cigarette. ‘I’ve drunk so much I’ve been legless. Never like him, though.’ He laughed, his animal eyes glinting between the tattooed blue birds.
I walked away. I felt as if I was being buried in ice.
That evening, as the wind blew cold from the north a seventeen-year-old, Ian, was found guilty of not showing enough respect. Ian never bothered anyone. All he wanted to do was look after the puppies and kittens he collected on his walks around the valley. I think he was a bit simple. If you talked to him he answered in nods, a big smile cracking open his childlike face.
The pipe was chained to him and I stood with Curt on the hotel steps to watch.
I didn’t want to see what happened so I let my eyes range up over the hills. In the distance I saw figures moving on a hill top. They were too far away to identify but the way they moved and watched us I knew who they were. The Creosotes were back.
No one else noticed: they were too busy watching Ian Carry The Can.
It was only the sound of the explosion that brought my attention back. For a while I could see nothing.
Then I saw a figure loping up the driveway, shoulders rocking from side to side.
‘Ian’s made it!’ shouted a girl.
He had. Sort of.
One of his arms was missing, along with most of the shoulder. His stomach was ripped open. With his remaining hand he held his intestines in a bunch against his chest. A piece trailed behind him like the skin of a long grey snake.
‘I’m alive. I’m alive … Look, I’m alive,’ he repeated over and over as he loped up the drive towards us. ‘I’m alive, I’m alive.’ One eye shone like white glass through the red mess. ‘I’m alive. Curt, I’m alive!’
He was ten yards from us when the intestines slipped through his fingers to the ground. They tangled around his feet and he fell face down onto the gravel.
Ian lay and cried and bled there for ten minutes while Curt and Jonathan tossed coins to decide who would put the gun to his head and blow his tears away.
Earlier in the day I had made a decision. Now I knew it was the right one.
Later, I went to bed and counted the hours away until I could go down to Del-Coffey’s house and tell them my plan.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cut and Run
At ten to eight I walked through the gates into Del-Coffey’s garden. The lower windows of his house had been bricked up. Del-Coffey said it was because he was afraid of attacks by Creosotes. I guessed, however, it was to make entry more difficult for Curt and his Crew. Del-Coffey’d already crossed them more than once. There might come a day when they wanted him, too, to Carry The Can.
‘Good morning, Nick.’ Del-Coffey looked down at me from an upper window. ‘You’ll have to use the ladder to climb up here, I’m afraid. I took the precaution of bricking up all the doors as well.’
‘You’ve got yourself a nice little castle,’ I said, climbing the ladder. ‘Is Sarah up?’
‘Yes, she’s waiting.’ He stood back as I climbed in. ‘We’re all interested in what you have to tell us, Nick. Sit down.’ He indicated a table with four chairs. I noticed his broken fingers were still bandaged.
‘Tea?’
I nodded and he poured three cups. Now, he no longer played the superior intellectual. He looked tired and frightened. Sarah walked in. She looked at me, suspicious of my reasons for coming here. She nodded a hello and sat down.
‘Where’s Kitty?’
‘I’ve just put her to bed,’ said Sarah. ‘It was her turn to spend the night with Curt.’
‘Christ. How is she?’
Sarah’s face flushed red with sheer fury. ‘How do you think? I’ve dosed her up with tranquillizers.’
Del-Coffey, hands shaking, rubbed his face; he was on the edge of tears. ‘What a mess … What a – what a fucking, stupid mess. How did we let ourselves get like this? We’re worse than the adults who went mad. We’ve gone mad too, only in a different way … Carrying The Can. Bureaucratic rape. Torture. What next?’
‘Well, before you start, Nick,’ Sarah sounded cold. ‘We’ve been discussing what we should do.’
‘And?’
‘And we’ve decided to pack what we can carry and hike out of here.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘So you think we should stick it out here? Ruled by those sadists?’
‘Sarah, Curt’s asked me to join the Crew.’
Del-Coffey wasn’t saying anything – he just stared at me through his red eyes.
Sarah hissed. ‘So you’re one of the boys now. Congratulations.’
‘Sarah, if you will let me explain. Curt asked me and I accepted … Hey. Listen, Sarah. Hitting me won’t do any good. Listen … I said listen! I told you I disagreed with the plan of walking away from here. Now let me tell you why. Did you hear the commotion up at the hotel this morning?’
‘We heard some cars driving by, that’s all.’
‘Well, at about four this morning Trousers and a couple of others did just what you and Martin are planning. They tried to walk out of here on the quiet. I think someone warned Curt. By seven the Crew had found them and brought them back. Curt is furious that they tried to run away. Treason he calls it, so you can guess what Trousers will be doing this afternoon.’
‘Carrying the Can.’
‘Exactly. And that’s exactly why it’s suicide to try and get away on foot.’
‘But how are we going to escape!’ Martin threw out his arms, his voice breaking. ‘No one has access to the vehicles now.’
I held up my finger. ‘Unless you’re a member of the Crew. So, Sarah, you see why I accepted.’
She squeezed my hand. ‘I don’t know, Nick. Every time I have you down for a bastard you end up surprising me.’
‘I’ll take that as a kind of compliment.’ I turned to Del-Coffey. ‘There’s another reason for quitting this place fast. Have you seen any more Creosotes lately?’
&nbs
p; ‘No. To be honest I’ve been too discouraged to even bother looking.’
‘Well, I saw half a dozen of them last night. They were watching the hotel from the hill across the valley again. And I agree with you, Martin, I think they’re watching us for a purpose. And from what’s been rammed down our throats in the past, that purpose is to kill us.’
‘So how do we get out of here?’
‘This afternoon at two o’clock all those bastards will be watching Trousers. That’s when I’ll drive out of here in the bus. I’ll go the back way so they don’t see me. With luck they’ll have the sound system belting out music so loud they won’t hear the bus either. You two be waiting with Kitty at the white farmhouse at the end of the valley. I’ll pick you up there. Oh, and expect some more passengers. I’ll be having a quiet word with a few others who want out.’
Del-Coffey’s hands began to shake with excitement. Sarah stared at me surprised and pleased.
‘I’m using the bus because it’s built like a tank. The Crew are bound to follow us – and it’ll be easy to now the roads are covered with dirt; these days tyre tracks show up as clearly as if you’ve driven through fresh snow – if they do catch up with us I’ll use that bus to knock them off the damn road and to kingdom come.’
‘Any ideas where we go?’ Del-Coffey was thinking hard now – almost back to his old self. ‘It needs to be far enough away from this place. And somewhere that we can make self-supporting.’
‘Perhaps the coast?’ Sarah’s eyes were bright. ‘We can supplement what food we can scavenge with fresh fish.’
Minutes earlier both Sarah and Del-Coffey had looked as depressed as convicts on death row. Now they looked alive again. Sarah, smiling, kept flicking back her hair and talking quickly, constantly interrupted by Del-Coffey; he seemed to have forgotten his broken fingers and slapped the table every now and again to emphasise a point.
I watched, quiet now, satisfied I’d done the right thing at last.
‘We’ll build a new community …’
‘… this time we’ll be more selective with who we take in. Dave, he was a great guy, but he’d have anybody. He could only see good in people – we ended up with delinquents and jailbirds.’
‘We’ll have a programme of education – and a three-year plan … that’s what we need, forward planning …’
‘Processed fuels are bound to run out. We can build wind turbines to generate electricity.’
‘Or watermills …’
‘It’s October now, but by the Spring we can be planting our own crops …’
I was content to let them talk. The look of hope on their faces made me believe I could pull it off this afternoon.
I’d made it sound easy. There were problems. I’d have to sneak away the keys, then hope the bus would start. The motor hadn’t been run in weeks. And when Curt found out, first he’d piss pure rage; second he’d be tearing after us, guns blazing. I knew full well that if we were caught I’d have to Carry the Can for this.
After we spent another hour running through the plan Del-Coffey went to his room to pack.
Sarah looked at me, her eyes twinkling. ‘You came through for us, Nick. You’re a hero.’
‘Don’t praise me. I should have thought of this before. I suppose I hoped if we stuck it out Curt’s behaviour would improve. The one thing that does bug me is that we’re going to have to leave a lot of kids behind who aren’t going to get the chance of a decent life.’
‘You’re not God, Nick. You can’t do everything.’ She smiled. ‘Do you mind if I sit on your knee?’
‘I don’t mind at all, Miss Hayes.’
It felt good to be close to her again. She sat on my knee and kissed mer softly at first, then suddenly passionately.
‘Oh sweet Jesus, Nick Aten. I’ve missed you.’
As we kissed she pulled the shirt from her jeans, gripped my hand and pushed it up underneath to her bare breasts. They felt firm and tight, her nipples hard. I stroked them feeling my heart beat faster. Christ, I didn’t just want her, I hurt I craved for her so much. I massaged her breasts, hard. And I imagined what it would be like when we found a new place. A hotel on the coast perhaps. In a night or two Sarah and I would be sharing the same bed once more. And, believe me, we had some catching up to do.
‘Sorry.’
‘What for, Nick?’
‘I’m being too rough with you.’
‘Oh, no you’re not. Squeeze harder. I like it … Harder, Nick … Ah … That’s it.’ She breathed out into my ear and it felt like the warm winds of paradise.
And as I held her there on my knee I realised that one of the reasons I was taking them away from Eskdale wasn’t just the regime, or the fact the Creosotes were returning, it was because I was scared Curt would take Sarah from me.
‘Sarah, I’m taking the disks, files and – oh, sorry. I didn’t, eh …’
Del-Coffey backed out of the room, flustered. Sarah and I laughed.
‘It’s all right, Martin,’ I called. ‘We’ll have to break the clinch anyway. I’ve got to get back to the hotel and make a few preparations.’
I climbed out of the window.
‘Take care of yourself, Nick.’ Sarah leaned out to watch me go, looking for all the world like Rapunzel with her long flow of blonde hair hanging down the wall.
‘Don’t worry. I will. Just make sure you lot are in the right place at the right time. There’s a bus coming to take you away from all this.’
I kissed her again, and she hugged me tightly in a way that frightened me. As if she had a premonition she would never see me again.
Waving, I walked away back into the village. I kept looking back. Sarah still watched me; each time I looked back distance had shrunk her. At the school I took the shortcut back through the wood.
I walked thinking about Sarah, about what I would have to do today, and about the new community. I was still thinking hard when a figure appeared in the clearing in front of me. For a second the sun broke the cloud and lit the space in the trees like a spotlight. Half dazzled, I squinted against the brilliant light.
The figure stepped forward and recognition winded me.
‘Mother …’
Mum smiled but it wasn’t mother love. It was the smile of a hunter who’s made the kill.
The first blow came from behind. I fell forward, my skull ringing with pain. I pulled myself to my knees as I saw mum lift the rock above my head. She smiled again. Then swung the rock down. Then all I remember is seeing blood dripping red onto fallen leaves – and nothing more.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cruising Eternity’s Way
What I heard first were the words: ‘It’s about time, Sleeping Beauty. I thought you were never going to wake up.’
My eyes were open but I saw pig all. Total darkness. ‘Trousers? Is that you?’
‘It’s me, Nick Aten. How you feeling?’
‘Sore … Shit, make that agony. Christ … What they done to me, Trousers?’
‘Same as everyone here. Cracked our skulls, tied us in sacks and chucked us down into this hole.’
I felt round in the dark until I found an arm.
‘I know we’re in the shit, Nick, but I’m still not going to sit here in the dark and hold hands with you.’
‘Where are we? Ouch, my bleeding head … How did you get here? You’re Carrying The Can this afternoon.’
‘This afternoon? That was yesterday. They chained me to the can. I ran like hell-fire. Managed to make it to the top of the church tower, unlocked the cuff and tossed the thing ten seconds before it blew. After that I legged it.’ Trousers chuckled; there was no humour though. ‘I got about a mile when wham! The next thing I know I’m lying tied in a sack. There was a hole in it so I could see I was lying on a river bank. The next thing I know I’m carried onto a boat or barge and dropped down into the cargo hold. You were already here, but I couldn’t wake you. They’d given that lump of stone you call a head a sound battering – but I reckon if yo
u can survive being stamped on by Slatter you can take most things.’
I felt around. I was lying on a pile of sacks. The whole place smelt of old, cold piss.
‘Shit,’ I whispered, ‘I wish I could see. Have they left us something to drink?’
‘Yeah. Cans of tonic water and lemonade, if you can find them amongst all the empties. And there’s some potatoes and apples in a sack across there.’
‘Where?’
‘Take it easy, Nick. I’ve left some cans alongside you. And if you give it five minutes you’re eyes will adjust.’
‘Trousers, have you any idea what they’re going to do with us?’
It wasn’t Trousers who answered. The voice sounded as if it belonged to a thirteen-year-old boy. ‘They’re going to kill us, that’s what they’re going to do with us.’
‘No, they’re not,’ said Trousers. ‘If they wanted to do that, they’d have topped us when they caught us. They need us. They’re taking us somewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘Search me … Shh. Do you feel it? Every so often you feel a turning movement as if we’re moving on the current. Sometimes we bump into things, the bank or other boats or something … Then we’re pushed off again. And don’t even think of trying to escape. The walls are smooth as glass, there’s nothing to climb up. We’re like woodlice at the bottom of a glass.’
I opened a can. It was tonic water. Normally I couldn’t stand the stuff. This time I drank it like it had come sparkling fresh from the Holy Grail. I touched my head and felt a crust of scabs near my hair line. Mum had certainly held nothing back when she belted me with the rock.
I shook my head dazed. What were they going to do with us? Why did our parents haunt us like the ghost of Christmas frigging past?
‘I reckon they’re taking us for slaves,’ said the thirteen-year-old solemnly. ‘That’s what they did in wars. We did it in history.’
Another voice came from somewhere behind me. ‘Or maybe they’re taking us for food.’
‘Shut up,’ I snapped. ‘Trying to frighten ourselves won’t help.’
‘He’s doing a good job,’ said Trousers. ‘I’m scared. Hell, Nick, you remember what parents did to their kids six months ago?’