by Walker, Luke
Rod gave a huge sob. He took in a whooping breath and shook from his ankles to his broad shoulders. Still with his eyes firmly shut. Madly, Alex wondered if it would make any difference to Rod whether they were open or not. He wouldn’t see Greenham Place or the growing yellow of the sunlight. He’d see what was in his mind and what had broken his heart for almost his entire life. And there wasn’t a thing she or the others could do to help him because Rod was miles away, lost under a massive sky of grey and buffeted by a steady wind, fierce and sharp. She saw the sky; she felt the snapping, biting gusts and could only shiver as they turned her adopted coat into a cover no more substantial than tissue paper. Any greenhouse effect from the wall of windows died. She walked in the last stages of winter. She breathed in its sharp chill and tasted the promise of a frost overnight out here where the fields spread and the hills grew tall and the cities and roads were their own business, not hers, nor the business of the good land the men worked on and knew and loved and hated when the crops grew like sickly children or the foxes got into the chickens or the rain all night and all day meant there was nothing for children to do but stay inside and press against their faces against the windows and watch fat drops roll down while the dog snuffled at the door because he wanted a walk and when the rain finally wound down you’d put your coat on and open the door to smell the earth and fresh air and oh my God, I am here. I am here with him.
The office had vanished, taking Kelly, Dao, and Simon away with it. Alex lived on spacious grassland in the Welsh countryside, sent back through the years of her life and even further beyond to a world that could have been another planet.
The countless blades of grass waved and danced, none of them green or healthy. All were a flat grey; the unbroken sky had fallen and stained the land. This wasn’t a farm; it was a dead place away from sunlight and any human warmth.
Beside her, the boy walked his dog, the animal straining on the thin lead and sniffing the sharp taste permeating the air. The boy, clad in a thick coat and dark trousers, kept his attention on the squat farmhouse perhaps a mile away. He’d given the dog a good walk today. Over an hour across to the woods and through the trees where the birds chattered angrily, all annoyed by spring’s refusal to warm the world in any decent way. And if he’d spent longer than usual outdoors because he was pig sick of being stuck inside this half term, well, so what of it? The dog was happy; they’d both got some air in their lungs, and maybe, after lunch, he could get his bike out and head up the road into the main village and spend the afternoon with Tom and Barry.
Living inside his thoughts, he didn’t see the man coming to his side until the last second. Even the dog failed to register the approaching figure. The animal gave a quick bark, maybe embarrassed not to have seen the man, then resumed his quick breaths and pulls at his lead.
“Hello, Rod,” the man said. The sound stung Alex’s ears. There was too much life to it, too much forced jollity. It was like being greeted by a boorish drunk at a wedding.
“Hello, Mr Williams,” Rod said.
“Walking the dog?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good lad.”
The man’s big smile fell away. Alex’s fear, a squirming worm in her chest, raced for her mouth, and yet nothing emerged.
The man’s face could have belonged to a corpse. Without the too cheery smile, he was totally lifeless even as he scanned the area. The smooth motion of his head and the tracking of his eyes were robotic, inhuman.
“Are you going home for lunch, Rod?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
The boy Rod might have seen something odd in the man. He remained where he stood, but his body turned a little more in the direction of his home.
Run, Alex screamed in her head. Run for your life, Rod.
The man checked his watch, a chunky device that should have flashed a little but instead remained as grey as the grass and sky.
“It’s only twelve. What time is lunch? One o’clock?”
Rod nodded slowly. His fingers wrapped around the lead, stilling the dog. Again, Alex willed him to sprint for his home and to yell for his dad as he ran.
“It’s cold. Come back to mine for a cup of tea, then we’ll get you home.”
“It’s okay. My mum wants me home—”
“Don’t worry. Come and have a cup of tea in my shed. You can get warm, then I’ll drive you up the road.”
Alex’s shriek echoed around her head but didn’t touch her mouth. It didn’t even come close.
The man seemed to ooze over the grass rather than walk. One wide hand found Rod’s back and pushed with unmistakeable insistence, turning him away from the farmhouse so that he faced another building off in the distance. It sprawled over the field, a thin road on its other side. A tall fence separated it from the grey grass; Alex’s vision landed on a gate in the wood.
That’s where they’d go, through the fence and into the house, and this was so wrong.
His hand still on Rod’s back, the man pushed the boy firmly, and Rod could do nothing but walk alongside him, pulling his dog and keeping his head down.
Helpless, Alex followed. There was no sensation of walking, no sensation of foot on ground. All she had was the sharp wind on her skin and a silent cry inside for Rod to run.
The man chatted, the words coming as if they were in a foreign language. Alex heard him mention Rod’s parents and their farm, the unseasonal chill and whether or not that would have a bad effect on the crops; then on to the boy’s school, and while all the subjects made sense, the one-way conversation became close to meaningless. All through the man’s discussion with himself, Rod kept his head down and held tight to his dog’s lead. The animal was safe, Alex saw. The pet was home and while the farmhouse was still in sight, all the good and comfort of it were miles out of reach and getting further away with every step they took towards the fence.
The man changed their course a little, taking them from the gate and fence to the rear of the property. A bramble hedge lined the garden, with a large shed sitting directly in the centre of the perimeter.
“In there. We can have a sit down and a nice cup of tea.”
Rod spoke and Alex knew it was his last attempt at getting away.
“I really should be getting home, Mr Williams.”
“Don’t worry.” Again with the too loud voice, the statement that left no room for argument. “I’ll get you home soon.”
I’m sorry, Rod, but I can’t see this. I cannot.
Alex tried to turn; she followed the boy and the man to the shed door. Powerless to move away, she closed in on the man’s back as he unlocked the door and clearly pushed Rod inside.
Oh Jesus. No, please. I don’t want to see this. Rod. Rod, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Into the shed, into the gloom that was almost pleasant, and into the shelter from the wind still audible through the small holes in the wood panels. It whistled through them, high-pitched and steady; the sort of sound a small child might find scary in a fun way.
“Have a sit down,” Williams said, pointing to a ledge.
Wordlessly, Rod sat, still holding his dog’s lead. The animal tucked himself under the ledge, curling up. Williams lit a gas light, then a camping stove over which a large kettle sat.
“There. Tea on its way.”
Oozing again rather than stepping, he crossed to the door and pushed it firmly closed. Her back to the wall and touching nothing, Alex tried to close her eyes. They refused to obey. She had no choice but to see what was coming; all the horror ahead—all Rod’s horror—was hers to share.
Williams chatted, not giving Rod chance to answer before moving on to another subject. While the kettle boiled and he tidied away a few small tins of paint on the shelves opposite Rod, he went from the boy’s classmates to the summer that felt like a long way off, to his most recent trip to the town to do a bit of business with Mr Moore, the landlord of The Six Bells. All through the prattle, Rod stayed silent and kept his head down. The door wa
s only two feet away, but he made no move for it. Alex understood perfectly. He was a child; Williams was the adult, and what the adult said was the law. If that law was nothing more unusual than sit in the shed and have a cup of tea, then the law was solid, unbreakable.
“There you go.” Williams placed a chipped mug of steaming tea on a small table and rummaged in a cupboard. He pulled a tin free, turned back to Rod and smiled much too widely.
“Biscuits,” he whispered, taking the lid off the tin. “Help yourself.”
The biscuit tin went next to Rod’s cooling cup of tea. Williams returned to the cupboard. He reached inside and spoke in a softer voice.
“Rod. Can I ask you something?”
The wind sang in the holes and steam drifted from Rod’s tea. Alex had never in her life wanted to be somewhere—anywhere—else as she did then.
Kelly, if you’re there, if you can still see me and Rod, then hit me. Smack me in the face and get me to wake up or come back or something. Get me out of this. Alex drew a mental breath and screamed for her sister. KELLY GET ME OUT OF THIS RIGHT NOW YOU BITCH GET ME OUT.
Nothing at all changed and Alex knew it would not. She’d see what was coming and she’d see it through to the end.
“Rod?” Williams murmured.
“Yes, sir?”
There was fear here, fear and a little boy’s trust in an adult to do whatever was right.
“The girls in your school… do you like them?”
Oh my God.
“Like them?” Rod frowned.
“I mean, are they nice? Are they fun? Do you… ” Williams still had his back to Rod and his forearm remained in the cupboard. He could have been a statue. “Do you feel good when you’re with them?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” The bench below Rod creaked; the small muscles in his legs tensed. Alex willed him to stand and run, to sprint. The bench creaked again and Williams turned.
He held a folded magazine, enough of the front cover visible for Alex to groan without making a sound. She made out one word of the title—WIVES—and a woman’s leg clad in a black stocking before Williams flattened the magazine and placed it beside Rod’s tea.
“It’s a secret,” Williams muttered. “Don’t worry, lad. Your mam doesn’t need to know. Don’t worry about your dad, either. He wouldn’t mind.”
“I… ” Rod whispered. His gaze ran from the woman on the magazine to Williams and back again.
“Nothing wrong with a bit of fun, is there?” Williams sat next to Rod, blocking the door and the steady wail of the wind blowing through the holes in the wall.
You bastard. Alex wanted to scream it into his face, to take hold of the tea and throw it at him so his eyes and cheeks would be a scorched mess and Rod could run. Her legs were as useless as her eyes.
“Here. Have a look.” Williams opened the magazine and turned page after page. Rod stared at the naked women, the letters he couldn’t understand, the adult world laid out and totally exposed before him. Alex watched his wide eyes and the slight tremble in his fingers. She cursed Williams and cursed her useless body. Again, she called to her sister to stop the vision. The only reply was the creak of wood as Williams shifted position. He stopped turning the pages, leaving the magazine open at its centrefold. A smiling woman, cupping her heavy breasts with her legs wide, gazed up at Rod and Rod stared back.
“It’s nice, isn’t it, son? Nice to see ladies like this.”
Rod swallowed.
“I tell you what. There’s something else nice. Something very nice, but it’s one of those things. It’s kind of a secret, you see. Do you want to know what it is?”
Rod managed to speak. “Mr Williams. Sir. I need to go home.”
“Soon, Rod. Soon. Don’t worry about that.” Although the shed was not hot, a distinct layer of sweat covered the man’s forehead. It looked like clear oil. “Here. Let me take that.”
He placed the magazine, still open, on the table, and then slid an arm around Rod’s shoulders.
“Sir, I need to go.”
Rod pulled away and Williams pulled him back, hard. He panted; the sweat shone and a rotten stink of fear and animal-need filled the air. Nothing human remained in the shed; there was only a monster.
Grunting, Williams punched Rod’s crotch. Rod gave a tiny scream and Williams’ squirming fingers found the waist of Rod’s trousers. Under the bench, the dog whimpered and tried to curl into a smaller ball. Trapped in someone else’s hell, Alex could do nothing but see and hear every single second. She called desperately for Kelly, for Jesus, for Rod, and none answered.
Through the now exposed holes in the wooden walls, the whoops of the wind merged with the muffled cries and grunts in the shed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Her hands were her own again. Without making a move, Alex no longer held Rod’s hot fingers and there was no contrast of their respective skins because she was fumbling to get away, mouth closed as tightly as she could, desperate not to vomit.
She managed to rise into a shuffling crouch and turned back to Rod. He regarded her, still pale but no longer bleached. His tired face and slumped shoulders made him look as if he’d moved more heavy furniture from the doors to the office and had strained rarely used muscles.
“Are you okay, love?” he croaked.
“What happened?” Simon asked. “I mean… ” He stared at Dao and Kelly. “Did you see it? It was like they were… faint.”
“You actually saw something. It’s a miracle,” Alex muttered and tried to pretend she didn’t see the look of hurt cross Simon’s face. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t his fault, and if the man didn’t see things as the rest of them did, maybe that was a good thing.
“I saw it,” Kelly said. “Just for a second. You kind of turned see-through.”
“Yeah,” Dao murmured.
Alex stood straight and willed her legs not to give way and her stomach not to reject the little food she’d eaten the night before. It took a good thirty seconds of focus to still the shaking in her mid-section and arms. All the while, the horrific images, in a shed that no longer existed, lived behind her eyes. And all her ears heard was the muffled wail of a boy with his face pressed into a dirty floor.
“Rod?” she said, not sure if she could manage more than his name.
He wiped the flat of his hand over his bristly cheeks and rose, grunting as he moved. “You saw it. The worst thing to happen to me. That shed, that bench.” He faced the others. “He hurt me. When I was a kid, Martin Williams hurt me on the bench in his shed.”
Tears might have been expected. Instead, Rod’s features were still and contained. He couldn’t say he felt good or anywhere close to it. Nor did he feel lighter; there was no letting go of any weight. All he had was the slight sensation of freshness. The closest comparison he could make was the smell of his garden in the middle of a particularly hot summer three years back; the baked earth and wilting flowers refreshed by a fierce downpour that came out of nowhere and brought the scents of green to the cloying air. This was similar, and he’d take that.
He jabbed a finger over the railing. “That bench was the same one. God knows how but it was.”
“This is mental,” Simon said, peering over the railing to the little visible of the wrecked bench. “How the hell can this be happening?”
“You think I’m making this up?” Rod asked. For the first time, the rest of the group heard a dangerous note to the man’s voice. Anything light and calm was made dark by a controlled anger. Dao readied himself to move between the two men, although he didn’t relish the idea of getting in the way of Rod’s fists.
“What?” Simon shook his head. “No. Not at all. I’m just saying it’s impossible.”
Dao stepped forward, his own anger rising seemingly out of nowhere. “You think I’m not hearing and seeing my son being tortured?” he yelled. Keeping the peace was forgotten; the idea might never have existed. “You think I’m imagining it? Or the man shouting at Rod is in his head? O
r Alex’s dad isn’t here? You think we’re making this up?” He didn’t give Simon chance to answer. “What’s wrong with you? These things are real so why can’t you see them?”
“I don’t know,” Simon roared and it was his fists, not Rod’s, bearing down on Dao’s face. And Dao’s racing mind welcomed the blows because it meant it gave him an excuse to let go of his control and give in to the terrible fury swimming in his chest.
Out of nowhere, Alex was between them. Simon’s fists missed the side of her face by a fraction. She flinched but held her ground.
“That’s enough.” Shaking off the image of Rod’s rape for any length of time felt like it might be impossible, but she’d do her best if it meant escape. “Enough,” Alex whispered.
Face flushed, Simon backed away. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m an idiot.”
Trembling, Dao let Kelly lead him a few steps away. He leaned on the railing beside Rod and took a moment to breathe and think of nothing. A moment passed before Rod broke the silence.
“I think I know why Simon doesn’t see and hear what we do… apart from the people down there.” He pointed over the railing.
“Oh, yeah? Fill me in,” Simon replied.
“It’s because you’re not scared. You don’t have specific fears or guilt or an event in your past that defines you now.” He paused, letting this sink in. “Right?”
Simon spoke in a slow, deliberate manner. “I’ve got nothing. Not a thing.”
“Then you’re lucky. I’ve got… ” Rod had to stop for a few seconds. Naming it was one thing. Speaking of what Williams did to him in that shed as if it were a fading childhood memory was another. “I’ve got what that bastard did to me. Dao… mate… ”