Islanders

by John Barlow

  Then the great snake slumped down into the surf, mangled and lifeless.

  “Right,” said Ben. He stared across the sea, then turned towards the cliffs behind them. “Let’s go.”

  PART TWO

  Chapter Nine

  The cliffs were not very high. Bad an’ Worse scrambled up easily, still amazed and wide-eyed at the sight of the enormous black python being devoured by the piranha-stars.

  Behind them came the other three. They stumbled and slipped as they crept up the rocks, with Ben going last, shouting encouragement to Silver and Coby, who he could see were both shaking with fear. The cliffs were not difficult to climb. The problem was what might lay beyond, waiting for them. And now there was no boat. There was no other way. So they climbed, their minds spinning with horrible anticipation.

  Once at the top, they saw green everywhere they looked. Just like on the Island. Bad an’ Worse, who had arrived first, were already standing there, unsure of whether to go on. Silver stooped down and grabbed some grass from the ground. She sniffed it.

  “Just as I thought. It’s the same as Island grass.”

  There was also a covering of bracken and other lowlying bushes and plants, exactly the same as on the Island.

  “The trees over there,” Ben said, pointing to a forest up ahead, “they look normal enough.”

  “And we know what that means,” Silver said, with that annoying tone of voice which made the others wince with rage: because, of course, they had no idea what it meant. She tutted. “Those trees are older than the war. Easily. So...”

  “So they must have survived the war and all the germs,” Bad said, having worked it out, and keen to show Silver he had a brain.

  “That means we can eat the plants!” Worse shouted over his shoulder as he marched forwards towards the forest. “Come on, I’m starving! Let’s find something to eat!”

  “I don’t think it necessarily means...” Silver said.

  But she didn’t finish what she was going to say. She was hungry too, they all were. So they followed Worse.

  They came to the edge of a forest. Worse walked forwards confidently, slashing his way through the branches, his arms flying out ahead of him. He didn’t really need to thrash his arms about, he just liked doing it. The trees were incredibly tall, and their trunks were as thick as three people together. It was a lot bigger than the forest on the Island, and it appeared to stretch far into the distance.

  Worse stopped, looked up at a tree, one that had a lot of low branches.

  “Can you imagine climbing that!” he said to his brother.

  Bad didn’t need any encouragement. He was already rolling up his sleeves, ready to give it a go.

  “Excuse me, Daniel and William!” Silver said.

  The twins spun around, their faces purple with anger. No one ever called them by their real names.

  Silver didn’t care.

  “Perhaps it had slipped you minds,” she said, “but we have no water to drink, no food to eat, and nowhere to sleep. I don’t want to get you all worried or anything, but could we leave tree-climbing for another day, boys?”

  For about the first time in their lives, Bad an’ Worse felt ashamed of themselves. She was right, and they knew it. So all five of them set off again, with the twins out in front. Ben walked at the back of the group. He kept looking behind him, and to each side...

  On and on they went, deeper into the forest. It got gradually darker. None of them spoke now, and the sound of their own breath was heavy in the air. With each step the crackle of twigs underfoot echoed around them, and high above them the enormous oaks and sycamores creaked and groaned, talking to themselves, Ben thought, talking in some strange, whispery tree-language.

  Half an hour, and still nothing but deep, darkening forest. They became more and more jittery. When one of them said anything, the others jumped; they were bunched up closer together now, moving cautiously, the twins still at the front, but not so confident, looking left and right as they went.

  What if this goes on for miles and miles, Ben asked himself? Once or twice Silver turned and glanced back at him, and in her eyes was the same question: what if this goes on for many, many miles? What if there is nothing else?

  Further still. The forest seemed as if it would never end. Ben kept at the back of the group. He imagined his dad striding out through the forest, alone. Was this the way his dad had come? He peered around, searching for a clue, for anything, anything at all to explain why his dad had not come back to the Island.

  It was getting darker, as the forest thickened. On they wandered, more slowly with each passing minute. High above them the leaves in the trees hissed as they moved in the wind. Was the forest laughing at them, Ben asked himself? Was this weird, rotten world laughing at them for being so stupid as to venture into it? The same world that had defeated his dad? Was this what his mum had meant?

  Chapter Ten

  On they went, and gradually the forest thinned out. Sunlight crept down from between the trees, sneaking into their eyes, blinding them at first, and then, as they felt the full effects of the sun on their bodies, warming them through. Between trees there were now patches of grassland, where the air felt fresher. They walked with more hope, free from the overhanging oppression of the forest. Then...

  Food!

  In front of them was about half a dozen apple trees, hung so low with fat, juicy red apples that the tips of the branches touched the ground. And now, with a mountain of sweet, ripe fruit before them, they realize how incredibly hungry they were. Their stomachs were hollow, aching and buzzing with anticipation.

  They rushed forwards—all apart from Silver—and grabbed the first apple they could. They grabbed them with both hands, because they were as big as footballs and bright red. The twins laughed as they ate, taking great big bites, showers of semi-chewed apple falling from their mouths as they staggered about among the heavy branches, grabbing more fruit, their chins covered in sweet juice and slobber.

  Coby tried to swallow too much at once and almost choked, but he carried on, munching, coughing, munching, coughing... unable to resist the fantastic fruit for even a second. Ben, meanwhile, pushed his face deep into the biggest apple he could reach, not bothering to take it from the tree. He felt the cool, soft flesh inside his mouth, the tingle of its powerfully sweet taste mixed with a mind-blowing sharpness, the taste of summer flowers.

  Silver, though, stood right where she was, deep in thought. Summer, she thought. Not even summer. That’s what she was thinking, as she began to feel the pangs of hungry intensify in her guts, the acid juices of her stomach cutting into her insides, making her double-up in agony. It was still only May, but these apples were already ripe. Apples don’t ripen until the end of summer, August at the earliest. At least, they didn’t on the Island. Apples as big as footballs in May?

  Then there was a deafening a squeal. And a drumming, pattering sound. The ground shook with... What was it? The stomp of feet?

  “Silver!” Ben shouted. “Stay where you are!”

  She looked up. The four boys were standing close to the apple trees, frozen, great shiny red apples in their arms. Around them stood half a dozen large pigs, grunting low and menacingly. When Ben shifted his leg just a fraction, one of the pigs dashed right round behind him and stood guard so he couldn’t escape. How could a pig move so fast? No one saw it go; it whooshed past in an instant, far too quick to see.

  The pigs were panting slightly, their mouths open, their big, sharp teeth glistening. There was something strange about them, though.

  “What are they?” Bad said, half out of curiosity, and half in fear, because the animals were tremendously, unbelievably ugly, with large deformed heads. And their heads seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dark bone.

  “I...” Ben said, “I... don’t...” but one of the pigs grunted, staring right at him, and he shut up.

  They were about as high as your knee, a muddy sort of pinky brown color, darker than the pigs they’
d seen in books. And their heads were indeed covered in bone. These were not normal pigs. They were mutants. And now, sensing that they were being looked at, the ugly pigs grunted, a sort of angry rumble of a grunt. These apple trees were quite clearly theirs. No one moved.

  Then, after a few painful, silent seconds, Worse began to laugh. He couldn’t help himself. It was an odd thing to do, in the circumstances. Sometimes, though, the oddest thing is the best thing to do.

  He looked at the strange, bone-headed pigs, which stood there, ready to charge, like miniature, four-legged gladiators. He looked at them, and he couldn’t stop laughing. Being Worse, he reckoned he was a match for any pig in the world, whether it had a bony crash helmet on or not. So, he took a stride towards one of them and waved his arms about.

  “Whoa, whoa!” he shouted, then ran in the opposite direction, looking back over his shoulder. “Come on, pork-chops!”

  The pig lifted its head, puzzled, sniffing the air. Then, without any warning, it set off at a tremendous speed, so fast that Worse hardly had time to jump sideways before the animal whizzed past him at a hundred miles an hour. Worse tumbled to the ground.

  “Get up!” his brother shouted, because they could all see that the pig had now turned, and was about to charge again.

  Worse picked himself up, brushed the bits of soil and grass off his shirt, and stood his ground, legs firm, arms ready:

  “I’ll have ya this time, bacon brains!”

  He stamped his foot twice, and the pig charged. Worse bent down, bracing himself for the impact. The pig galloped fast, even faster than before. But at the very last moment, Worse twisted a quarter turn to his left, and when the pig arrived, ready to smash into his legs, he grabbed the fat porker around the belly and, holding on as best he could, raced along with it, his legs kicking out behind him.

  The pig didn’t like this at all, and started to jump and spin madly, its short legs going like pistons, until Worse had no choice but to let go. By now he was doubled up with laughter, and when the pig came at him again, he tried to grab it again, but was thrown to the ground by the animal’s powerful movement.

  “It’s going to kill him!” Silver whispered, as she watched Worse laying on the ground, laughing helplessly, and the bone-headed pig turning once more for another attack.

  The pig stopped. It watched Worse with suspicion, its eyes half closed, its grunty breathing a little slower and calmer. Then, as Worse held out both his hands, the animal trotted up to him and climbed on his stomach. The two of them rolled over on the grass, Worse howling with joy, the pig squealing and snuffling, its small, curly tail wiggling as it played with this unknown visitor.

  The other pig-mutants now lost interest in the trespassers and began sniffing around for apples on the ground. They took massive, crunching bites with their jaws, and as the pigs got to work, Ben and the others shrugged, licked their lips, and returned to the question of how much apple can be crammed into a human mouth.

  Silver, meanwhile, was rubbing her chin.

  “You know,” she said, as she walked cautiously over to the tree, stepping between the snaffling pigs, who ignored her completely (which, just for a moment, annoyed her), “you know, pigs are mammals. Just like us.”

  Worse snorted with satisfaction as he wiped apple mush from his cheeks and tossed a half-eaten apple to his new porcine friend. He bent down and rubbed it between its piggy ears.

  “You hear that?” he said to the pig. “We’re brothers, ugly pig!”

  “It’s,” Silver said, ignoring Worse, “it’s just that, if they can eat the apples...” she spoke slowly, quietly, but with each word her eyes grew bigger, shinier, and she took small, neat steps towards the tree...

  With one great lunge forwards, Silver launched herself at the reddest apple she could see. She flew into it, her mouth already open, teeth at the ready, and (being clever, even when in a wild rage of apple-lust) she took modest bites, chewing each one quickly and thoroughly, before swallowing and getting another. In this way, she had soon managed to get through more apples than any of the boys. Pure logic. Even at mealtimes.

  Five minutes later, a total of eleven mammals—five humans and six bone-headed porkers—lay on the grass, hardly able to move, their bellies swollen, straining with fresh, sweet apple.

  “Why weren’t there apples like that on the Island?” Coby moaned, as he rubbed his bloated stomach.

  “Because,” Silver said, “because they’re... Oh, no, I hope these apples are all right! You remember the stories about the war? How the germs got into everything...”

  “It’ll be fine!” Worse bawled, already sick of so much worrying. “Look at ugly pig here!” and he slapped his favorite hog on its big, distended stomach. “He’s not suffering. Why should we?”

  “He’s right,” Ben said, standing up and stretching. “Let’s take as many as we can.”

  A minute later they were ready, with armfuls of enormous apples, and no idea which way to go. At that moment Worse felt the bone-headed pig push into his leg hard. He looked down, and saw that the animal was standing close to him. Then it walked off a few paces, stopped, and looked back. Worse followed, and the animal then walked a little further.

  “It’s that way,” Worse said.

  “West,” Silver said, looking up at the sun in the sky then consulting the compass to double-check.

  “Right then, Ugly Pig!” Worse said, slapping the animal on the back good and hard, dropping all his apples in the process. “Let’s go!”

  So off they went, west.

  The group of five had become six.

  Chapter Eleven

  “This is great!” Worse shouted, grinning from ear to ear, and looking down at his new pet pig “Food, as much as we can eat!”

  And the others could only agree. The apples were delicious. They walked through a dense patch of tall trees, arms full of giant apples. Ben was at the back of the group, making sure they all stayed together.

  Then they came to a break in the forest. They squinted in the hot, bright sunlight, and realized that in front of them was a road. A normal, asphalt road. It ran alongside the edge of the forest, and they must have been near the road for a while, since it was going from east to west, just like them. On the other side of the road were fields, stretching into the distance, dotted with trees, and criss-crossed with low stone walls, and beyond that more forest.

  In the middle of the road was a white line, but it was old and worn, and in many places had disappeared entirely. And the edges of the road on both sides were uneven and ragged, covered in cracks. Every so often there was a tall metal pole with what looked like the remains of a streetlight at the top, but each one was either smashed or hanging in pieces, blowing in the wind. It didn’t look as if the road was used much, and anyway, where did it go?

  Ben glanced back behind him. There was another sound. Something was definitely there. But the others were not looking. They were staring down the road, because little way off there was something far more interesting: a car.

  It wasn’t like the cars they’d seen in films, though. It was almost completely round, a big black bubble of a car, with small wheels and a curved windscreen at the front. And getting out of the car was an extraordinarily large man.

  “Stay back!” Ben whispered, as they watched, holding their breath, trying to stay hidden behind the tree.

  The man was so fat that it seemed as if only the blue overalls he was wearing were stopping him from spilling everywhere in a great puddle of liquid blubber. His head was large, and his eyes were big and dark, and incredibly sad. His cheeks drooped down so low that they almost touched his shoulders, and the skin on his forehead was thick and scrunched up, like raw dough.

  He walked heavily, with a stoop, and his enormous belly pushed out through the sides of the overalls in great folds of fatty flesh. His whole body wobbled and shook as he moved, making the sound of a gurgling drain, as if his breakfast was still slopping around inside his guts.

  “What ar
e we going to do?” Coby whispered to Ben.

  “Just stay calm,” Ben said, glancing nervously behind him, back into the forest.

  “Calm?” Worse said. “Calm! I want to drive that!” And without a moment’s thought, he stepped out into the road.

  “Oh, no...” Silver said.

  Ben leapt over to her and put a hand over her mouth.

  “Shut up!” he whispered, as Silver gasped for air through his fingers. Coby, meanwhile, had turned white. Not pale. White.

  “Ehm, hello!” Worse said to the massive man in the overalls. “Are you the driver?”

  Behind the tree Silver groaned: “Isn’t he scared of anything!” she said, under her breath.

  “Shhhh!” Ben said, and put his hand across her mouth again to shut her up. She bit his fingers until he pulled his hand away. Coby was now shaking life a leaf. He pushed himself against the trunk of the tree so hard that he looked as if he had grown there, a big, quivering boy-fungus stuck to the bark.

  The fat man looked at Worse, a confused expression on his face. His wrinkled, flabby skin was the color of old newspaper, and his chin was really three or four chins that hung like sacks of custard under his mouth. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, as if he didn’t know what to say.

  “He-llo!” Worse said again, waving his arms in front of him.

  At that moment Ugly Pig trotted out to join his master. He stood at Worse’s side and grunted, more of a snarl, quite a nasty one, and pointed its bony head at the man.

  It took the man a moment to realize what he was looking at. But then, as he stared down at the pig, his croaky, crackly breaths got heavier and heavier, and his body froze. He was scared stiff.