by Tom Becker
“You going to eat any of that, or you happy stirring it?”
Adam looked up to see Doughnut pointing at his porridge.
“Mmm?”
“Jesus, you’ve been away with the fairies for a day now. Anything you want to talk about?”
Adam looked around the table – at Mouthwash gabbling through another supersonic flight of fancy, and Paintpot doodling something into a notepad, and back to Doughnut, whose face was shadowed with concern – smiled, and then shook his head.
“No thanks,” he said. “It’s all right.”
After his friends had finished their meals, Adam scrawled a message to Major X on a piece of paper – “Sorry, can’t make the show this evening. Good luck” – and passed it to one of the junior Tally-Hoers on his way out. He walked out of the mess hall feeling instantly sunnier.
Adam spent the rest of the day messing about with his friends, watching from the sidelines as a particularly exuberant rumble of Bucketball descended into a mass brawl. That night they joined the crowds milling around outside the theatre. Having only visited the hall during rehearsals, Adam was impressed to see it packed to the rafters with inmates. He didn’t need to count heads to see that the entire population of the Dial had turned out. At the back of the auditorium, a row of chairs had been set out upon a raised platform: guest of honour seating for Mr Cooper and his guards. Even Caiman was present, albeit sitting alone in the corner. Adam was sorely tempted to stand up and let everyone know he was a liar and a collaborator – but since there was no way of doing that without blowing Luca’s cover, Adam had to bite his tongue. He wondered how Luca was getting on in his room above the infirmary. How long would it be before the granary went up in flames, and a small balloon set off on a perilous journey towards the Commandant’s Tower?
Amid a hubbub of excitement, the curtain jerked upwards, revealing a girl standing alone in the centre of the stage. It was Shelley. Adam slid low in his seat, trying to block out the muffled sniggers of his friends as the girl sang “My Heart Will Go On” directly to him. The song seemed to have even more verses than he remembered, and it took an age before Shelley took her bow and an inmate in a magician’s cape walked on to the stage with a flourish.
As choirs followed comedians, and ballet dancers gave way to belly dancers, Adam couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. He swivelled round in his chair, and looked at the row of guards. They were watching a unicyclist career across the stage with undisguised amusement, nudging one another and whispering. Adam frowned as he spotted an empty chair in the middle of their row. Mr Pitt was missing, unsurprisingly, but he wasn’t the only one. . .
Adam nudged Doughnut, who was sucking contentedly on a mint.
“You said that Mr Cooper loves this show, right?” he whispered.
“Yeah – he’s always here.”
“Well, he’s not here now.”
“Maybe he got delayed.”
“The first half’s nearly over!”
“Shh!” someone hissed behind them.
Adam looked again at the empty chair. He stood up.
“Where are you going?” asked Doughnut.
“Need the toilet. Be back in a second.”
Shuffling out of his row to a chorus of tuts and grumbles, Adam stole up the aisle and down the staircase leading to the classrooms. As he passed a window, he stopped and looked out over the empty prison, which looked eerily beautiful bathed in the milky moonlight. His ears picked up a stifled cough; looking down into the darkness below, Adam caught sight of a group of uniformed men gathered by the doorway beneath him. There was a low growl as a German shepherd strained on its leash. At the head of the guards, Mr Cooper checked his watch. There was a polite cough next to him.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to go up now, sir?” asked the man with the German shepherd. “Rex is getting a bit reckless.”
“Not yet,” Mr Cooper replied. “I want to make sure all of the Tally-Ho are in that tunnel before we collar them.”
Adam gasped and drew back from the window. He had to warn Major X! Racing back up the stairs, he re-entered the theatre as the unicyclist tumbled from his bike amid a cascade of juggling balls, to howls of laughter from the audience. As the prisoner picked himself up from the floor, there was a generous burst of applause, and the curtain came down for interval.
Adam forced himself to walk backstage as casually as possible, all the while searching out the Major. The Tally-Ho had congregated in a tight huddle, dressed in mining costumes with plastic pickaxes. In the centre of the huddle a tall woman with flowing black hair and a Show White costume towered over them. To Adam’s consternation, Major X wasn’t among them.
“Hey!” he called out, grabbing Snow White’s arm.
Snow White whirled round angrily, revealing the rather disturbing sight of Corbett in a wig and women’s clothing, thick red lipstick smeared across his face.
“What?” he snapped.
“Where’s the Major?” Adam panted. “I’ve got to speak to him.”
“He’s busy,” Corbett said meaningfully. “You’ll have to wait.”
“This can’t wait!” Adam hissed. “The goons are on to you – you have to call it off!”
Corbett’s face grew grimmer and grimmer as Adam explained. The Tally-Hoer swore under his breath, tapping his foot as he thought.
“Well, that’s blown it,” he said, glancing around pensively. “The Major’s in the tunnel on his own, digging through the last few inches. I’d go and get him, but we’re on stage in a minute.”
“It’s all right,” Adam said. “I’ll go.”
Corbett’s brow furrowed with thought. Eventually he nodded. “OK – but don’t hang about.”
He ushered Adam to the back of the stage and lifted up the wooden panel. Adam got down on to his hands and knees and crawled inside the stage, the panel slotting back into place behind him like a coffin lid. He scrambled over towards the chimney shaft, trying not to sneeze as the dust tickled his nose.
Above Adam’s head, there was a tramp of boots upon the stage and then a roar of laughter from the crowd.
“Why, there’s seven little chairs here!” Corbett said in a falsetto voice, to more laughter. “Must be seven little children!”
The Tally-Ho had set up a complicated system of ropes and pulleys that ran through the hole in the wall down into the chimney shaft. Adam grabbed hold of the rope and began shimmying down it, hand-over-hand. The rope swayed dangerously as he descended, and he was relieved to get to the bottom of the shaft and feel solid ground beneath his feet.
The tunnel began in the left-hand wall of the chimney base, a dark worm winding through the earth. Adam didn’t have time to feel afraid – he clambered inside and began wriggling towards a light flickering up ahead of him. As he crawled, the wooden slats supporting the burrow closed in over his head, and the air became closer. Major X was at the end of the tunnel, working at the earth with a trowel by the light of a candle.
“Major!” Adam called out. “You’ve got to get out of here! The goons are coming!”
The boy awkwardly shifted round. His face was streaked with mud and sweat. “What? They can’t be!”
“Cooper’s on his way!” Adam shouted. “We’ve got to go!”
“Dammit!” cursed the Major, hurling his trowel into the dirt.
They had barely begun their return journey when the wooden slats started to tremble around them. Fragments of earth pattered on Adam’s head like raindrops.
“What’s going on?” Adam hissed.
“Cave-in!” Major X cried. “Move it!”
Adam scrabbled furiously along the tunnel on his hands and knees, the Major right behind him. The earth was coming down on them more heavily now, clouding the way ahead. Back at the tunnel face, the candle winked out, plunging them into darkness. Caught up in the mael
strom of dirt, Adam crawled blindly onwards, trying to fight the rising tide of panic within him. He couldn’t die in this way – buried alive, his body entombed beneath the Dial like some grim fossil.
Then, gloriously, the lip of the tunnel appeared in front of him. The chimney shaft – and safety – was only centimetres away. As the roof of the Tally-Ho’s tunnel came down like a guillotine of earth, Adam turned and grabbed the Major’s shirt, and dived for freedom.
Mr Cooper’s room was a surprisingly homely study on the second floor of the guards’ quarters: the walls covered with bookshelves and black-and-white photographs; the floor muffled in thick carpet; an agreeable clutter of antiques and china plates. The Dial’s Chief Warder was standing behind his desk, looking down at the two boys in front of him with an expression that was half amusement and half peevishness.
“Well?” he said finally.
Adam glanced at Major X. Both of them were covered in a grey coating of dust and rubble, but apart from a few cuts and bruises they were unharmed. It had taken the guards over an hour to haul them out of the chimney and out from under the stage. As Adam emerged back into the theatre, he started at the sight of Mr Pitt standing at the back of the hall, his arms folded in triumph. The Assistant Chief Warder was free again. Mr Pitt made no eye contact with the two inmates, but nodded curtly at a couple of guards as they offered him congratulations.
As Adam and the Major were escorted over the walkway, windows lit up across the prisoners’ quarters, and there was an eruption of cheers and banging. The shouts were still ringing in their ears as they were led up to Mr Cooper’s room and ordered to sit.
Major X cleared his throat. “I take full responsibility for the tunnel, sir. It was my work and my work alone. Adam here must have heard me digging – he didn’t know anything about my escape attempt.”
“You dug that tunnel all on your own?” Mr Cooper raised an eyebrow. “That would be some achievement, even for an inmate of your renowned industriousness.”
“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, sir. As I said, the tunnel was my doing and I am prepared to accept the requisite punishment for the act of escaping.”
“I’m sure you are,” Mr Cooper said wearily. “I’m not surprised to see you here, but I am disappointed to have to speak to you, Wilson. Given your recent experiences, I would have thought that you’d be more careful about observing the prison rules.”
“All due respect, sir,” Major X cut in, “but what Mr Pitt did to Adam was a stain on the reputations of all the Dial’s guards. I can’t believe you’ve let him out.”
“What happened with Mr Pitt was extremely regrettable,” Mr Cooper said firmly. “He has been given a final warning as to his conduct. I would also remind you that had he not informed me of your plans to escape, who knows what might have happened in that tunnel.” His eyes flashed behind his glasses. “And you will speak only when I ask you to, Hawkins.”
Adam wasn’t sure which he found more surprising: the sudden hardness in Mr Cooper’s voice, or the fact Major X had a surname. When the Chief Warder spoke again, his tone was mild once more.
“I can’t allow past events to excuse actions in the present. Wilson, you were apprehended in an illegal tunnel in the act of escaping. Though Hawkins is no doubt labouring under the misconception that he is being somehow honourable, I don’t believe a word of his story. Are you going to try to persuade me?”
Major X kicked Adam in the side of his foot, urging him to stay silent. He needn’t have bothered. Even though Adam hadn’t helped plan or dig the tunnel – and had turned down the chance to escape with the Tally-Ho – there was no way he was going to leave the Major to face the music alone now. When all was said and done, they were both prisoners in the same gruesomely unfair regime. They were on the same team.
“No, sir,” he said firmly. “If you’re going to punish the Major, then you have to punish me too.”
Mr Cooper blew out his cheeks with exasperation. He picked up a photograph of two small children from his desk and examined it thoughtfully.
“My boys,” he said, proudly showing the photograph. “It’s been a long time since I saw them. A couple of hundred years, in fact. But they’ll be waiting for me on Earth when I get back, just like your families will be. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss them both terribly, though. I wouldn’t have spent so much time away if I didn’t truly believe in the Dial, and the vital lessons it teaches. It’s my duty to be here, don’t you see? I’m not just here to punish you. I’m also here to help you, to teach you, to protect you. You play at escaping but you don’t realize that this isn’t a game. Aren’t you aware how close you were to getting killed tonight? Don’t you see that getting caught is the best thing that can happen to you?”
He was greeted with a resounding silence.
“I’ve had enough of both of you,” the Chief Warder said finally, setting down his photograph. “A week each in solitary. And don’t let me see you in here again.”
The punishment cells were housed in a low, reinforced hut on Wing X: ten tiny rooms linked by a single corridor. Each cell was identical, measuring six small paces by six small paces, with a cot, a hand basin and a bucket, and a barred window high up near the ceiling. The walls were covered in scratches – tallies of days previous prisoners had spent locked up. Running his fingers over the indentations, Adam imagined the inmates who had been here before him: their histories of stubborn dissent and daring escape attempts, fights and backchat; brave, unrepentant children who paced and raged their way through their punishment. Inspired, Adam settled down to take his incarceration without complaint.
But as one day crawled silently into the next, Adam’s resolution waned, and he soon found himself wishing that he’d followed the Major’s lead and denied that the tunnel had had anything to do with him. His only human contact came twice a day, when a guard appeared at his door to give him a plate of food and exchange his bucket. No matter how much Adam cajoled or goaded him, the guard remained tight-lipped. Adam wasn’t sure if there was anyone else locked up besides him and the Major, until one night the hut was shaken by a piercing howl from a nearby cell. Adam heard guards hurry down the corridor; bolts were drawn back and voices raised, then the dreadful silence folded back over his head.
Time quickly lost meaning. Adam stopped bothering to wash, preferring to curl up in his cot and watch the shafts of sunlight as they crept up his walls. It was a shock when his cell door finally opened and a guard beckoned him outside. Adam stumbled into the corridor, light-headed with the sudden movement. Three doors down he saw Major X appearing from his cell, stretching airily and shaking hands with his guard. The Tally-Hoer looked like he had spent a restful weekend in a hotel. He nodded at Adam.
“Morning,” he said. “Enjoy your stay at the Chateau Stir?”
Adam stared at him dully, startled by the first words said to him for over a week. He allowed the Major to propel him gently along the corridor and out into the morning sunlight.
“Keep it together,” Major X murmured in his ear. “At least while the goons are watching us. Don’t give them the satisfaction of looking like they’ve got to you.”
“Easy for you to say,” Adam replied. “That was awful. I don’t know how you put up with it.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice. The first time is always the worst – not that it ever becomes a laugh riot, if you get my meaning.” As they passed a guard standing watch at the Wing X walkway gate, the Major laughed loudly and clapped Adam on the back. “Quite right – the food is better in there. We should get caught more often!”
Across the Dial, the rest of the inmates were standing in ranks on the exercise yard for roll call. To Adam’s relief, he was allowed to head straight back to the prisoners’ quarters. He returned to his dormitory to find a piece of paper tucked under his pillow, with a brief message penned in a florid hand:
Chapel. 1500 hrs. Come alone.
<
br /> That afternoon, Adam slipped out of his dormitory and walked across to the chapel, where Luca D’Annunzio was sitting at the right-hand side of the back pew, thoughtfully scratching his neck beneath the bandages. He grinned as Adam approached.
“I hear you’ve been up to mischief again. At this rate you’re going to become as infamous as me.”
Adam shrugged and took a seat beside him. “It’s going to take more than a week in solitary. What’s up?”
“I’ve hit a snag,” said Luca, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I had an accident with one of the gas canisters – dropped it while I was making some last-minute adjustments to my balloon. Unless I can replace the stupid thing, I won’t be flying anywhere, and I’m running out of time before the big day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Luca – but I don’t know what I can do to help. I’ve no idea where the guards keep gas canisters.”
“No, I didn’t think you would,” he replied. “But you know a man who does.”
Adam sat back in the pew. “Ah. I get it.”
“D’you think if we go and have a word with your pal Doughnut, you can persuade him to help me?”
“I’m not sure,” Adam said slowly. “He’s not your biggest fan.”
“Well, I’m all out of options,” Luca replied, rising to his feet. “Let’s hope he’s in a good mood.”
They went to each of Doughnut’s favourite haunts in turn, but the fixer was nowhere to be found. In desperation, Adam led Luca down to the laundry room beneath the prisoners’ quarters, where the air was clouded with steam and soapy suds ebbed across the tiled floor. Two inmates were working away at a mangle, sweat dripping down their foreheads as they fed sheets through the machine. Doughnut was reclining like a Roman emperor across a pile of laundry bags, flicking through a comic.