Islanders

by John Barlow

  Five blank faces stared at him.

  “A bullet pig!” he cried, as if they were stupid. “That!” and he pointed at Ugly Pig, who was lying behind Worse, bloated on potatoes and cheese and snoring contentedly.

  “What’s a bullet pig,” Ben asked.

  With that, Tah struggled to him feet.

  “Here, boy!” Tah said, snapping his fingers. Ugly Pig cocked his head and, looking at Worse then at Tah then at Worse again, slowly lifted himself up and trotted over to the ginger-headed emu-lator.

  “Strange thing is,” Tah said as he patted Ugly Pig on the back, “I’ve never seen a bullet pig act so friendly! You know what they can be like!”

  They all shook their heads.

  “No? I think a little demonstration is called for.”

  With that Tah took hold of Ugly Pig by the shoulders and very firmly yanked the animal around so that it was facing a big pile of rocks out to the back of the wooden cabin. It was a pretty big pile, almost as high as an emu. He slapped the pig’s backside with his hand as hard as he could. It set off at tremendous speed, shoulders down, legs pumping. In half a second it had charged right into the rocks, its bony head completely destroying everything before it: rocks flew left and right, a big spray of stones sent high into the air. It was as if a bomb had exploded.

  They watched, astonished, as rocks pattered to the ground. Ugly Pig had run through a wall of stone! He had simply knocked everything out of his way. Then, as the dust settled, the pig trotted back over to them, picking his way through the disaster zone he’d just created.

  “Awesome!” Worse muttered, under his breath.

  “Bullet pigs,” Tah explained as he retook his seat by the fire, “have such hard heads that you can use them as cannon balls. Do you all realize how dangerous these pigs can be? Everyone is petrified of them. They can snap your legs in two like a twig. And they have such bad tempers! Whoo!”

  Meanwhile, Ugly Pig had returned to Worse’s side, shaking his bony head a little, but otherwise quite unhurt.

  By now the sun was going down behind the trees, casting long shadows across the valley. Tah asked them no more questions, hiding his curiosity behind that big red beard. He showed them the cabin, where they were to sleep. Silver made her bed in a sort of mini hay-loft up near the roof, the others lay on the ground. The emu-lators had plenty of blankets to go round, plus there was a thick layer of straw on the floor. In any case, they were all too tired to worry about that. Coby wrapped his billy can in a blanket and used it as a pillow. I knew it’d come in handy, he told himself as he descended into a deep sleep.

  Ugly Pig slept inside the cabin too, since the emu-lators (who seemed quite happy to sleep under the stars, curled up beneath bushes) said they would prefer not to have a bullet-pig on the loose all night.

  And so they passed their first night on the mainland, dreaming of melted men and bullet pigs, football-sized apples and emu rides. And if the occasional piranha-star crept into their heads, or a giant water python, then it all seemed so long ago that they didn’t know if they had really seen it, or if they were dreaming, or if it was a dream of... or if... or...

  They slept like logs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ben woke up early. Around him he could hear the breathy snores of the others, and in the corner Ugly Pig snuffled and grunted softly to himself, now and then licking the slobber from his chops as he slept. Through tiny cracks in the wooden walls crept bright sunlight, like strands of golden thread strung across the darkness at different angles.

  This was it, Ben told himself. The mainland. I’ve made it this far, and I’m not going back. Not yet. Wherever dad is, I’m going to find him.

  With that he sprung up from the floor, throwing off his the blankets, and stretched. He opened the door.

  What the...

  An inch in front of his face was a wall of dull, leathery jelly.

  He slammed shut the door. Was he dreaming? There was a foul, bitter stink in the air. Was he dreaming?

  He opened the door again. It was no dream. A wall of light brown, translucent jelly oozed and pulsated in front of him, filling the whole doorway, from top to bottom. And it was moving inwards, along with its strong, rancid smell, the smell of slimy decay.

  He pushed the door. But it wouldn’t shut.

  “Bad! Worse!” he said, throwing his shoulder against the door. But the mass on the other side was pushing inwards.

  “What?” Bad said, down on the floor, rubbing his eyes.

  “The door... Quick, help me!” Ben shouted, coughing as the stink hit him even harder, almost singeing his nostrils.

  Bad staggered up and helped. But it was no use. Whatever it was outside was moving in through the door with slow, unstoppable power.

  Coby and Worse shook themselves awake and got to their feet, and Silver looked down from her hay loft, still half asleep, but already holding a hand up to her nose. The door was now open about a foot. It—whatever it was—moved very slowly, with a low, sticky sound, like someone clacking their tongue in their mouth. And the stink was unbearable.

  It had a rough outer skin. But through the skin it was like the flesh of a jelly fish, but slightly brown, the sunlight refracted through its shimmering mass. Ben stared at it. There were things inside it.

  Ugly Pig was now jumping around on the floor, squealing, his jaws open, the skin pulled back to reveal two rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

  They pushed and pushed the door. But it was impossible, even with all four of them. Looking at each other, they SCREAMED!!!

  They hollered at the top of their voices, gasping for breath, the foul stench of decay heavy in the cabin. They abandoned the door and scrambled up to join Silver in the loft, which was definitely not designed to hold five, and creaked as one by one they clambered up onto it. Ugly Pig remained on the ground, snorting so menacingly that he sounded as if he were having a deathly fit.

  The shouted until they were all hoarse, as a mass of tough, semi-transparent jelly bulged through the doorway.

  Then they heard footsteps. Someone was on the roof of the cabin.

  Meanwhile, the blob was already halfway across the floor. Ugly Pig snapped at it, growling and whining, backing up against the ladder. Above them, there was a sudden splintering crack. One of the roof’s wooden planks was prized up. Blinding light flooded in, and three emu-lator faces peeped through the hole in the roof. They were not laughing now. They were looking worried to death.

  Working as fast as they could, the emu-lators dismantled the roof, pulling off the planks one by one, shouting to each other as they worked.

  “Stay calm!” Tah shouted, but he didn’t sound very calm himself.

  Bad an’ Worse, seeing what was necessary, added their shoulders to the effort. Another plank was pulled away, then another.

  “Hurry!” Silver cried. The bitter smell was making her sick, and she watched as the thing approached the ladder with a sticky, squelchy sound...

  “Ugly!” Worse bawled, suddenly seeing that the pig’s front legs were caught up in the mass of jelly. The poor animal threw itself about, struggling hopelessly, and screeching with horrific, blood-curdling desperation. Worse got himself half way down the ladder and grabbed the pig under its ribcage. He strained to lift, pulling with all his mite. But the stuff, whatever it was that Ugly Pig was stuck in, was like glue, and his legs just would not budge.

  “Help!” Worse shouted, a flash of terror running across his face.

  His brother joined him on the ladder, the two of them hanging precariously above the pulsating blob, pulling as hard as they could. Ugly Pig shuddered with pain, breathless and weak, his eyes fluttering.

  Finally they managed to drag the pig to freedom. With a great slurping, sucking noise Ugly rose up into the air, where Worse caught him in his arms.

  At that moment, more planks were lifted off the roof. Fresh air gushed into the cabin. They climbed as fast as they could out onto the rooftop, getting as far away as they could. Then th
ey flew down from the roof, standing on each other’s shoulders, clattering to the ground in a big heap.

  Last down was Worse, a quivering, frightened Ugly Pig in his arms. The pig’s front legs were red and blotchy, the skin swollen and covered in blisters.

  “Sticker-slug!” Tah shouted, as they ran to a safe distance and watched as the cabin bulged with gray-brown matter. They saw an enormous slug’s tail at the front of the cabin, a layer of thick, gooey slime on the grass behind it. Before long, slug-jelly began to seep through cracks in the wooden walls. Then, with a single snapping sound, one side of the cabin crashed to the ground. A bank of slug flesh flopped out where the wall had been. A moment later, the rest of the cabin collapsed. The roof and walls simply disintegrated into shreds of wood, which stuck to the great pulsating mass.

  “A slug?” Ben said, and took another step backwards.

  “Haven’t seen a sticker-slug for ages,” said Tah. “Whatever you do, stay clear of ’em. Nothing but trouble, eugh!” and he turned away, holding his nose, because the smell was wafting across to them, a disgusting, rotten smell that stuck in the back of the throat.

  Ben watched as the massive slug moved slowly around amid the destruction of the cabin. Deep within its flesh were fragments of bone, and other things: rocks, pieces of rotten wood. Then Ben saw it. He looked again, not believing his eyes. But it was there, deep within the softly pulsating slug-mass: a human skull.

  Fifteen minutes later and they were standing a long way off. The slug had decided it liked it there and was lurking, waiting. Across the valley ran its trail, like a shiny road, glistening in the light, plants and grass flattened and soaked in gallons of its thick, transparent slime where the slug had crawled.

  “Sticker-slugs!?” said Tah.

  He was busy munching down his breakfast of cheese and strawberries. No one else was remotely hungry.

  “Are they...?” Ben began to ask.

  “Just you keep clear of ’em,” said Tah. “Once you’re stuck, you’ve had it. They’ll suck the juice out of you until there’s nothing left. You saw it!”

  No one felt much like talking. Their faces were pale, and for the first time even Bad an’ Worse were having second thoughts about the whole trip.

  “Those slugs were the first mutations, after the war,” Tah said, as if he was reminiscing. “No very common now, dying out fast, they are. But there was a time when you could hardly move for ’em, thousands of them, big and small, creeping up on people whilst they slept, smothering them to death. There were a few really enormous ones, crawling around with whole families inside them, leaving a trail of half-digested body parts, bits of gooey innards dribbling onto the ground as they went...”

  “Stop!” Silver shouted, holding her hands to her ears. “Please, I can’t stand it.”

  Tah closed his eyes, as if shutting out the bad memories. “That must be one of the last,” he said. “All that kind of stuff is on the decline. Like this whole place.”

  He paused for a moment, thinking. Then: “Hey, wait a minute. You’ve never seen a sticker-slug, or a bullet pig. You don’t know what melted men are, and when we first met you, you’d just stolen and crashed a police car, without knowing what it was.” He looked at Ben. “So, who are ya!”

  “We’re...” Ben said, but then stopped.

  Perhaps Tah could help him find his dad. Perhaps he should tell Tah everything. He looked at Coby, then at Silver; even the twins were anxious now, waiting on his next word...

  “We’re from far away,” he said, “and we’re looking for somebody.”

  They all relaxed a little. Now they knew the official line.

  Tah sighed, shaking his head just a little.

  “A long, long way away? Somewhere with no sticker-slugs? And I’ll bet that those giant strawberries we’ve just eaten were not something you get at home, am I right, kids?”

  His tone was sarcastic, Ben thought. How much did this little man in a kilt know?

  “Look,” said Silver, almost at a shout. “We’re travelling here, and that’s it. Anyway, who are you!”

  Before Tah could answer, there was a loud cackle of voices. They all looked. Over by the huge sticker-slug a group of emu-lators were laughing uncontrollably. They ran in a circle, and every once in a while one of them leapt right over the slug and poked it with a finger, to shrieks of delight from the others.

  “I thought the slugs were dangerous?” Coby said, confused.

  Tah sighed. “You’ve obviously never met emu-lators before!”

  They watched as the slug-jumping game got more frenetic, two and three of the small, kilted men leaping up into the air at once. Then, suddenly, a great cry of pain echoed across the valley.

  “Here we go!” Tah said, struggling to his feet and running over to the slug.

  One of the emu-lators had got a foot stuck into the slug. He groaned and wailed, arms flying everywhere, as the others tugged and pulled on his little body, trying to get him free. Tah wagged his finger as he marched across to them. Finally, with their leader’s help, the emu-lator was pulled to safety.

  “See?” Tah said, returning a moment later, smiling. “You see what an emu-lator is? Mad. We are the world, the world as it is now. A world gone mad. That’s what an emu-lator is.”

  Ben could think of nothing to say. None of them could.

  “And in a place like this,” Tah added, “it’s the best way to be.” He scanned their empty, uncomprehending faces, and shook his head sadly. “You lot have no idea where you are, do you? You don’t know how bad things got!”

  “Ha!” Worse laughed, tired of Tah’s riddles and mysteries. “And you’ve got no idea where we’ve come from, mister, because it was pretty cruddy back on that Island, I can tell you!”

  “Yo, brother!” chimed in Bad, doing a terrible impression of Eddie Murphy, high-fiving with Worse, just like they’d seen in those old DVDs.

  “An island, was it?” said Tah, as if this information was somehow a relief to know.

  The others scowled hard at Bad an’ Worse, who tried not to look ashamed of themselves for mentioning the Island. But they were ashamed. It was a stupid thing to have said, and they knew it.

  Tah didn’t ask anything else. He closed up like a clam, making polite conversation and every now and then steeling a furtive glance at Ben.

  “You people,” Tah said in the end, standing up and stretching his arms up behind his head, “should be getting on your way. You really want to go on, do you? Further inland?”

  They all looked at Ben. And Ben thought about the map. This was east, but what did the map say? It was impossible, impossible to know. They’d just have to go on. So finally, he nodded.

  Tah waddled off, laughing quietly to himself, and returned a minute later with five emus.

  “Here, take them. Soon as you get there, just let them go. They’ll find their way back all right. They’re homing emus.”

  “But how can they know the way back, when even we don’t know where we’re going?” Silver asked.

  “No, you don’t,” Tah said, “but the birds do! They’ll take you to the one person who can help you. The only one. The very last...”

  But Tah would say nothing more. He kept his secrets like treasure, and wished them luck.

  So, they thanked him for his kindness and prepared to set out. They tried to thank the other emu-lators too. But the small, kilted men were busy playing a game which consisted of throwing a potato in the air and running in a circle before it dropped. They were so engrossed in the game that they ignored Ben and the others completely, as if the visitors had already been forgotten.

  “I don’t know about mad,” Silver said to herself, “but they’ve got no manners, that much is obvious.”

  With that they mounted their emus and walked slowly down the valley, with Ugly Pig at their side.

  At the last minute, Ben told the others he would catch them up. He rode back to Tah, who had sat down to watch them leave. He didn’t look surprised to see
Ben coming back.

  “Tah,” Ben said. “Do you know a man called John Brewer?”

  Tah smiled. “That name is very dangerous, Ben. Be careful.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “He was the great hope for this world, Ben. But,” he shook his head, “sometimes hope is not enough. Do you understand?”

  Ben nodded, although he was not sure that he did understand.

  “Be careful, Ben. There are no rules here, remember that. Only chaos and evil. That’s why we survive.”

  He glanced over at the other emu-lators, who skipped and jumped like giddy infants.

  “Don’t trust anyone. If you do, they’ll betray you. Be careful, Ben.”

  Tah smiled. A sad smile. An emu-lator smile.

  He stood and walked away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The emus took it steady to begin with. Ben and the others hung so hard to the emus’ necks that the poor birds could hardly breathe.

  After a few cautious minutes navigating the side of the valley, the emus picked up the pace a little, their strides getting longer and bouncier.

  “Hey! Look at me!” Ben shouted, leaving go of his emu’s neck with one hand and holding his arm up in the air, rodeo style. At that moment the bird swerved to miss a rock in its path, and he slipped backwards, almost sliding off, just managing to get a handful of the emu’s feathers before it was too late. For a while he was like a flag flapping in the wind, legs out behind him as he was carried forwards at full speed. If you’re gonna mess about, the emu seemed to be saying, then I’m just gonna go faster.

  Ben clung on desperately to the bird’s feathery back, bouncing up and down like a yo-yo on fast-forward, his stomach feeling as if it was in his shoes. His knuckles were as white as snow; it was like riding hell-for-leather up a hurricane, or down one, or... His head was spinning, and before long it felt as if his stomach was on the move, all the way up from his shoes and out of his mouth.