Ways of the Doomed

by McPartlin, Moira;

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, fine now, thanks.’

  • • •

  Despite the guard’s grumblings I insisted we travel back along the south side of the island. I needed time to think about the boat. Had I blown a chance of escape? What a moron. When will I learn that standing still, staring like an idiot, never helped anyone? How could I face Scud? The guard said the beach was mined, what could I have done?

  The guard was deliberately slow. He kept stopping and coughing and taking slugs of water from his bottle. After another hour of tramping he stopped and said, ‘Look, we must go back.’

  A few hundred metres ahead the path rose up and over a shoulder and I knew once we reached that rise the distance to the sea was a short yomp.

  ‘But we’re almost there.’ I pointed. ‘The other shore.’

  ‘Remember my orders. You don’t want to disobey your grandfather, do you?’

  ‘But it’s not fair. You’re too slow. We could have been there if you had hurried.’ I saw his expression shift but he still showed no real emotion.

  ‘I’m not fit. I can’t keep up with a young master like you.’ He could have reminded me of my toilet stop but he didn’t. He walked behind me and herded me back along the path.

  My head hung low as I tried to tell myself I had won something today. A sighting, some hope. Even if I failed to see the passport – next time would be different.

  ‘Can we come again tomorrow?’ I asked.

  His words said, ‘If your grandfather allows.’ His expression said, ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Don’t you think it would be good for you to get out of there too?’

  He ranged round as if checking for surveillance, but there was none. His face brightened. ‘That’s not for me to say. Come, we must go.’

  The landscape shifted as we trudged. Colours changed on the sea water from greens to greys, slate, hammered pewter and back again, depending on how fast the clouds travelled. Bands of rain slashed the sky just off the coast and I calculated that if we weren’t back soon we would be caught in a downpour. Despite this, I deliberately slowed.

  The path climbed and dipped and at one point descended to another cove, which was broader than the one with the boat. Small shingles and broken shells constituted the lower beach progressing to a litter of pebbles, round and smooth along the tide line. I picked a pebble of similar size, shape and colour to the one Ishbel treasured and thought of that incriminating certificate stamped with the crest of the colony where she had been born. She should have had the same life as Ma, but something pretty serious must have happened to make Vanora leave when she was pregnant. I almost placed this new stone in my pocket but turned and threw it far into the sea. Where did I belong? Certainly not here. If I ever escaped this island I wanted no reminder to carry in my pocket, weighing me down. I already had my extra baggage of grief and uncertainty.

  There were larger blocks of stones lying further back from the shore, on the grass. These I had noticed as symmetrical shapes from the path above. I walked over to them and saw among the overgrown bracken and briar a cut out square with a flagstone below. It was where a door had once hung. These must have been dwellings, abandoned decades before by the miserable looking folk in the photos.

  My eyes were drawn to the sea, to the waves slapping the shore, to the small beach and the high cliffs surrounding this cove, now reclaimed by thousands of seabirds. I felt ghosts brush past my shoulders on their way to their boats. And I envied their luxury of taking one last look at the homes they left behind. I had been whisked from my home in the dead of night not realising I would never see it again, but now Ishbel’s urgency was clear – we were both outlaws.

  The rain caught up with us and before I drew my hood over my head I let it soak my upturned face. It had been many months since soft rain touched my skin. The guard negotiated his heavy bulk up the path without waiting and I wondered what I would have done if the small boat came round the headland now. Would I run into the sea, dodging mines to swim for it? The signal from the boat had been clear. I had been meant to see it and yet the boat people had made no attempt to rescue me. What were they there for? How did they even know I would be on that beach?

  I stopped to catch my breath as I breached the cliff above the cove. There was a grand view of the island from here. Then it dawned on me something was wrong. There was the crown and the mound of the penitentiary and the path that led back to the coastline we had just left, but where was the lighthouse? I scanned a three sixty – nope, nothing. The view of the installation looked no different from this angle and yet as I walked towards it I felt the grey imposing walls of the crown begin to close around me even before I stepped into its shadow. For the first time I noticed the guards on top of the walls watching our approach with rifles poised. If they failed to recognise us in our heavy yellow and red jackets what would they do?

  The climb up the stone steps to the door was not as bad as the scary descent. I even braved a pause at the top to take one last gulp of air before re-entering my next period of incarceration. Back inside, the guard waited until I crossed the threshold before bolting the door behind me. That bolt snipping hard into its place sent a shudder through me and I’m sure I felt the guard bristle too – we were both prisoners again.

  He led me down the spiral stairs to the ante-chamber and instructed me to hang my heavy dripping coat on the pegs that ran along the wall. I removed my soaking boots and socks and pulled on the warm pair of slipper-ons that were lying by the inner door. They were my size and seemed to have my name on them.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked the guard as I watched him struggle with the bindings of his boots.

  Judging from the horrified look that passed his face, this was not something he’d been expecting.

  ‘That is not required information, sir.’

  ‘It will be if we’re going out tomorrow. I can’t tramp this island thinking of you as “the guard”. We will be going out tomorrow you know.’

  His face was inscrutable. ‘As I say, that is for you and your grandfather to decide.’

  ‘Well I wish to go out tomorrow and the next day and the next.’

  The guard’s shoulders sagged. ‘Very well sir.’ When he removed his coat it exposed the extent of his rotund shape. Maybe his reluctance to go outside was because of this. It must be difficult for him to breathe carrying that weight. Perhaps a few trips across the island would be good for the man, make him healthier, faster on his feet. I handed him my uneaten snack.

  ‘Here, you take this; you look as though you’re hungry.’ I didn’t want him to be too fast. The man looked at it greedily but shook his head.

  ‘Go on, I want you to have it and I can see you want it.’ He took it and put it in his pocket but I bet he’d have it devoured before he made it back to the main block.

  ‘So if we are to go out together again you’d better tell me your name.’

  ‘Ridgeway, sir.’

  ‘Is that your surname or your first name?’

  ‘That is my only name, sir.’

  ‘OK Ridgeway, when you come back for me tomorrow, come an hour earlier. I want to spend more time out there.’ I pretended to consult my communicator to let him see I had other tasks to be getting on with. ‘And bring more food,’ I snapped. ‘It is not yet dark, we could have stayed out longer.’

  ‘It was raining, sir.’

  ‘When does it not rain? And rain does little damage these days.’ I tapped the communicator. ‘Anyway, MetO says it’ll be fair tomorrow.’ He looked at his own device and nodded.

  ‘Remember, an hour earlier.’

  ‘Very well, sir,’ he said as he cranked the shutter door closed, snapping the lock and rattling it for good measure. He led me down the corridor towards the living quarters. We passed the galley where I looked for Scud but there was no sign of him. The surfaces were cl
ean and free from clutter, his work there done for the day.

  There was no question of going to the library on my return. The thought of facing my grandfather made me feel physically sick. Anyway I was cold even though my heart still raced from the exhilarating walk back along the coast.

  When we reached my quarters I felt an uneasy sense of safety. I wanted to escape this guard who had been with me all afternoon and spend some time with my own thoughts.

  ‘Goodbye Ridgeway.’

  Ridgeway merely nodded and walked away.

  I enjoyed the warmth that enveloped me when the door slid open. Someone had turned the heating on. Even though I had showered the previous day, a green light shone from the wash unit so I wasted no time jumping in before the moment passed. Its hot steam hugged me but my feet stung for the first few seconds. I looked at them and saw that they were rubbed red at the heels. After a couple of minutes the water turned cold then stopped; my allotted time was up. Hot towels hung from the rail. I felt pampered by the conscious effort to make my return as luxurious as possible. Was it Scud’s doing or Grandfather’s?

  When I moved back to my sleep quarters a tray of hot broth and rice stew had materialised. Eating it filled me with joyous warmth I had not experienced since the day Pa drove us to the coast, but that thought was squashed. I spun out the meal as long as I could to savour the joy and tried to ignore the gnawing thoughts of my DNA discovery and my failure to unearth the whole truth. The picture of my grandmother flashed in my brain, her brazen name Vanora MacLeod on Ishbel’s certificate, and my joy evaporated in a double dash of negatives. As I scraped the last grains from the bowl I noticed my right hand. There was a freckle I had never seen before. Had that always been there? I rubbed it to see if it was perhaps a splash of food. It remained. The bowl had a residue smeared on the base and yet the food had tasted normal. My bowels grumbled with fear. What if? No, impossible. I was his grandson after all. I rushed to the mirror and examined my face, but everything was as it should have been. My teeth shone white as I laughed at my idiocy. The fresh air and the boat sighting had gone to my head. I needed to settle down.

  There was still some time before lights out so I picked up the latest library novel from the locker: Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. This was an ancient work and quite fanciful. As I turned the page I became aware of a ragged edge as if one of the pages had come loose. I rifled through and found the culprit. It was not a printed page but one filled with small writing. Scud had left me another note. Was he mad? How could he have been so careless? The paper could have fallen out as soon as I lifted the book. He must be desperate to try such a trick. I crawled into bed and I pulled the covers over my head and could just make out the handwriting:

  did you contact get them in here only you can

  • • •

  Those last few words punched at my conscience and made me feel cold in this overly warm room.

  Only you can

  It was as if my presence on this island had been planned long ago and Scud knew it. But how? He had been locked up in here all of my life and longer, and in that time he would have had no contact with the outside world. How could he know that my parents would be killed and that Ishbel would bring me here after their death?

  Only you can

  • • •

  Grandfather came to my room while I napped. He tossed the cereal bar on the bed from where he stood by the door, almost hitting me with it. When he entered his presence stretched into every corner. He scowled at my licked-clean dinner plates. Thank jupe I’d had the foresight to hide the paper scrap before closing my eyes.

  ‘You would not be so hungry if you did not give your food to the guard.’

  My heart beat faster and I hoped Ridgeway hadn’t been punished.

  ‘Have you now had enough to eat?’

  I picked up the bar. ‘I might need something later, but I am fine just now.’ My laugh sounded forced. ‘Fresh air makes me hungry.’ Maybe he would see how good the walk had been for my health.

  ‘Well don’t get too greedy. I only have a small food ration for this place and the supply boat isn’t due for months. The guards have their own diet,’ he said as he walked to the window. It was almost dark and his reflection in the corner glass showed the tired ancient he was when he didn’t know he was being observed. ‘Did you find the corncrake?’

  ‘No, not yet.’ My face flushed because I had forgotten the excuse for being allowed outside. I hadn’t even bothered to take a decent recorder with me, I had been too absorbed with the passport. The passport. Sakes! My flush must have turned me purple. It was still in the jacket, behind the shutter door.

  Grandfather grunted and waited for me to speak.

  ‘We just walked to the end of the island and back. Stuck to the path. I don’t expect such a shy bird will nest next to the path.’

  Could I retrieve it? There was surveillance in the corridor, so that would only attract more attention. Shit, what a supreme clunk, major tard.

  ‘What are you babbling on about boy? Those paths are overgrown from disuse. There is no one to disturb the prim bird.’

  His naivety comforted me. He must be deluded into thinking his fortress island was impenetrable. Those footprints were fresh and the path was not so overgrown. It told me that he had no idea Scud had passed me notes and he seemed to have no interest in the soaking wet jacket with the incriminating content that hung in the ante-room.

  ‘I feel better though, you’ll be glad to hear, and I want to go out tomorrow again. I’ve told the guard to come earlier.’

  I made my voice perky and assertive as I had been taught in Social Tactic classes.

  There was a look behind Davie’s scowl. Was it approval or recognition? I couldn’t tell. He searched my face then pulled a tab from his waistcoat. ‘Enter your government password in here to request a duplicate passport. If your mother really did destroy it you must apply for another.’ So he had his doubts. He pushed the tab into my hand and signalled me towards the Beastie. ‘Go on, apply now.’

  His brow was sweating. This was important to him.

  ‘I don’t understand why you need this?’ I asked. ‘If you are to keep me here, hidden from the Military, won’t applying for the passport alert them to my whereabouts?’

  His bushy eyebrows sprang up at my impudence and then confusion flooded his face. He grabbed the tab from my grasp, almost wrenching my arm out of its socket, and barged from the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Scud gave me the boak next morning as he shoulder-surfed on my nature project. His skin had the translucency of drinking water. Blue veins pulsed visibly and his bone structure was so pronounced I was convinced if he tapped his nose, which he did often, it would break off like an icicle snapped from an overhang.

  I took him through the fabrication of what I’d found so far and laid out a plan of what we should expect to discover on the island. As well as the book I’d read we had unearthed a good historical record of these islands; records by the long abolished churches had been saved for posterity as had those recorded by old historical environmental quangos set up to look after the province of North West Caledon. These quangos were pretty ineffective due to the usual reasons – men looking out for their own careers and taking their eye off their conflicting end goals. They were eventually disbanded and merged by the Land Reclaimist Party who in the end had no choice but to implement more extreme measures to save the planet. Time would tell the outcome.

  Scud started to yawn as we scrolled through the many old catalogues of animal, bird and plant species. Many of them had been marked as extinct, even then, thirty years ago when the catalogue had been compiled. Goodness knows how many more had disappeared.

  ‘Gowd, this is so boring,’ Scud said.

  ‘How can you say it’s boring? You were the one who suggested this project,’ I snapped then bit my careless tongue.

>   Scud held up his hands. ‘Well now, ah didnae say it wid be boring fur you,’ he said. ‘You’re a lad wi loads o’ energy and enthusiasm and this is the type of stuff wee boys love.’

  ‘I’m not a wee boy!’

  He tapped his nose and I winced, expecting it to fly off his face and onto my lap.

  ‘But men, now,’ he continued and shook his head, ‘full grown men, who dae a hard day’s work fur a hard day’s pay, well they fund this stuff boring, they wid be much happier watching a wolf fight or dealing a game o’ cards.’

  Then I twigged what he was up to, goading the guards to leave their post to have a game of cards rather than sit and watch a boy make lists of flora and fauna. With the exception of Ridgeway the only guard I had seen up close was the one on duty when I arrived on Black Rock and he looked pretty gormless. But Scud was deluding himself if he thought a guard would fall for his manipulation by unsubtle hints. Although by the look of Scud’s smug smirk, it seemed he knew them better.

  He fell silent, so I continued to select the species of this island and drag them to my list.

  ‘There are quite a number of unusual things on this island,’ I whispered.

  He yawned theatrically. ‘Oh yeah, like what?’

  I chewed my lip trying to play the right words in my mouth and glanced at the dot on the wall before speaking again. ‘Well the bracken is quite tall along the paths – mostly overgrown.’

  ‘Mostly overgrown,’ he drawled.

  ‘Yes, mostly. And even though I was there for only a moment, the sea shore was interesting.’

  Yawn. ‘Oh yeah, how so? You see anyone get blown up by mines?’ He gave a peculiar laugh at this.