Escape

by Jeff Povey

I have no idea how to pop a shoulder back into its socket. I think it involves either a sudden yank or maybe some quiet manipulation. It’s one of the two – or both.

  The rumble is growing somewhere in the darkness. Swarming across the fields we just took ages to navigate.

  I won’t let myself believe that Johnson and Non-Ape are lost. They can’t be.

  ‘Give me your arm.’

  He flinches and grits his teeth as he moves his bad arm and I take his wrist as gently as I can.

  ‘Look away.’

  ‘It’s dark, stupid. Nothing to see.’

  ‘I don’t really know what I’m doing so it might take a while.’

  ‘We haven’t got a while.’ He can hear the rumble drawing ever closer, just like I can.

  I take the Ape’s wrist and pull his arm towards me. I’ve seen this on telly before. I think what they do is stretch the arm to the horizontal and then try and pop the shoulder with a sudden, violent yank. Where’s Johnson the doctor when you need him?

  I blow out a few times, fully expecting to make a total hash of this. The Ape stares at me. There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow which means he’s already in great agony so I guess whatever I do won’t make it much worse.

  ‘OK . . . On three.’ I barely take a breath. ‘Three!’ I yell, quickly grabbing his wrist and shoving his arm as hard as I can, pushing it upwards, hoping to find the socket, hoping to drive the shoulder back into its original place. He muffles a scream. But it doesn’t work; his shoulder remains limp and low. I go again, not bothering to count or warn the Ape. I shove the arm, twisting it, manipulating it as I thrust it upwards – until I hear a definite click. I step back, panting, as the Ape turns away and half bends as he swallows the pain into the pit of his belly, holding it there until he’s ready to straighten again.

  He rises to his full height and looks down at me, and even in this dull light I can tell he’s as white as a sheet from the pain. But he takes one breath and nods.

  ‘Nice,’ he says. ‘Feels good.’

  His shoulder is back where it should be and I know it’s still going to be utterly painful for him, but he immediately presents his cupped hands. I step into them and, grimacing hard, he boosts me through the shattered train window.

  I land awkwardly, cutting myself on shards of broken glass but there’s no time to worry about that as I look at the controls and the strange steering stick and start pressing buttons. The train comes alive and starts to move. I don’t know how to stop it and go back to the window.

  ‘Jump!’ The Ape coils his powerful legs and leaps at the slow moving train. His hands land on the edge of the smashed window and as we pick up speed I heave as hard as I can, almost dislocating my own shoulders as I drag and pull and yank the great beast of a boy. His feet scrabble and then find purchase and this helps him as he coils again and thrusts upwards. Half of his body is inside and, as the train continues to gather speed, I drag him by the back of his belt until he falls inside the cabin, landing on top of me. This has happened a few times before as he looks down at me and then grins.

  ‘Tickets, please.’

  I lie there, knowing the train is heading for our hometown, and for now that’s all I care about. The rumble starts to fall away into the distance and for the moment we’re safe. I don’t know why the train doors closed on us like that, but we’ve gathered Non-Lucas, Evil-GG and Carrie and right now that feels like a triumph.

  The Ape gets to his knees and looks round the cabin. I slide out from under him and manage to get into a sitting position in the cramped, confined space. We stare at each other for a moment, but no words are available to either of us. We’re all out of chat.

  The Ape rises to his feet, flicks some more controls and the train headlights spring on, full-beaming the onrushing track and the surrounding bushes and trees that line the railway banks. The train moves steadily.

  Until the headlights pick up a lone figure on the track.

  A figure I recognise immediately.

  ‘Brakes!’ I yell at the Ape, but he’s seen the figure a fraction of a second before me and is already dragging on what I hope is the brake and not the accelerator.

  Because GG is standing on the line.

  DAZZA DON’T DAZZLE

  I’d almost forgotten that my parents, for want of a better word to describe them, would be outside waiting for me. I can see New-Mum sitting behind the driver’s wheel and it’s highly likely that she hasn’t moved from there all day. The car is parked in the exact same spot. My dad is pacing outside the car, smoking an anxious cigarette. They wouldn’t have known about the detention, but skipping out early with Sad-Ape means they haven’t yet sent out a search party and sniffer dogs.

  The sad, hunched apology that is Sad-Ape is about to push through a side exit door when I hold him back. There was no way I was going to walk past reception after what happened this morning with Mr Balder.

  ‘Wait a sec.’

  Sad-Ape immediately does as he’s told.

  I look at him and know that I can’t face this world without a friend.

  ‘Do I look like a liar to you?’ I ask.

  ‘No,’ he replies, but in such a way that he would probably say anything to agree with anyone.

  ‘Like I’m crazy?’ I ask.

  He shakes his great jowly head and I wonder what has happened to him in this world. His glass eye is a real worry to me and when I look closer I can see that the false one doesn’t even match the brown of his original eye; it’s a dark blue.

  ‘There are things that have happened to me that you wouldn’t believe,’ I tell him.

  In the car park my dad finishes his cigarette and goes to light another one straight away, but thinks better of it, instead slipping the cigarette back into its packet. New-Mum is scanning the last of the children leaving school, hoping to see me amid the few who had extra-curricular activities, which would have been extra-curricular non-activities if I’ve got this school right.

  ‘Things that mean I shouldn’t be here,’ I tell Sad-Ape.

  ‘OK,’ he says quietly.

  I don’t know how much he will understand or grasp but at this moment it doesn’t matter, I have to let someone know the hell I’ve been dragged into. I suck in a deep breath, and then before I know it, it spills out of me. ‘I’m from a different world.’

  ‘OK.’ He nods. But without a hint of irony or sarcasm.

  ‘I’m talking a whole different universe.’ The words are racing from me. ‘It’s complicated and I don’t think you’d understand if I explained how and why, but the important thing is that you believe me.’

  ‘OK.’

  I stare into his good eye. ‘You believe that I don’t belong here?’

  ‘Yeah.’ His glass eye stays fixed in his head but his large soft brown eye moves to find me and take me in. ‘Yeah,’ he repeats.

  ‘You also believe me when I say I’m in the wrong world?’ I spell it out again just to make sure he does get what I’m telling him. ‘My earth looks like this; it has the same people in it. There’s a you and a Billie and a Johnson and all the others.’

  I catch my breath. Just saying their names almost folds me in half. I feel tears springing to my eyes and I quickly wipe them away, but can’t stop a sniffle escaping.

  ‘They were all my friends and . . . ’ I trail off. I have lost my momentum. How could anyone understand this, let alone an Ape?

  I see New-Mum climb from the car and join my dad who offers her a panicky cigarette. But the cigarette doesn’t ease her anxieties as she scans the school. I can see them but they can’t see me. New-Mum reaches for her mobile phone.

  I have to be quick. ‘I’m not joking,’ I tell Sad-Ape.

  ‘I know.’

  I’m not sure if Sad-Ape is so desperate that he’ll say anything to make a friend or if he really does believe me.

  ‘I thought it’d take more than that. Some sort of proof, or endless hours of arguing.’

  ‘I get it,’ he tells me.


  ‘You can’t just get it!’ I raise my voice and then immediately wish I hadn’t because my voice carries all the way to my parents. New-Mum puts her phone away and touches my dad on his arm. They both turn and see me standing in the side exit to the school.

  New-Mum waves and calls my name. ‘Reva!’

  ‘Hey, we’re right here,’ Dad adds.

  They can see I’m talking to Sad-Ape so I snatch one last look at him.

  ‘What I’m saying is I’ve been brought here from another earth.’

  ‘And I’m saying I get it.’ Sad-Ape shows a glimmer of the real Ape, that rude beast of a boy. ‘How many times you going to tell me the same thing?’

  And then I realise that he hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about and my heart sinks. ‘You’re useless,’ I say, immediately hating myself for treating him just like the others in detention did. ‘I didn’t mean that. Sorry,’ I tell him hastily. ‘It’s not easy being from another world.’

  ‘You’ll wish you were still there,’ he mumbles, head bowed.

  New-Mum and Dad are hurrying across the car park to meet me.

  My heart freezes. ‘What? What did you say?’

  ‘You’ll wish you never came,’ Sad-Ape repeats.

  I don’t get a chance to say more because my New-Mum takes hold of my arm and pulls me away.

  ‘Dad says we can go out to dinner,’ she tells me.

  He draws alongside me and I’m somehow trapped between them as they walk me to the car. ‘Chinese?’ he says.

  ‘Crispy wontons.’ My New-Mum smiles.

  I arch my head back and try and get a look at Sad-Ape. He stares at me with a glazed look; it might be because of the glass eye, but in every other respect he looks defeated. No Ape in any universe is ever beaten, but this one – whatever has happened to him – has died over and over until he’s little more than a husk.

  We approach the car and New-Mum and Dad flank either side of me. They’re rabbiting on incessantly.

  ‘How was your first day at school?’ she asks.

  ‘I had a great day at work,’ he tells me.

  ‘Did you make a friend?’ New-Mum asks, gesturing back towards Sad-Ape.

  ‘I got so wrapped up in things I don’t know where the day went,’ Dad laughs.

  ‘Is that big boy nice?’ New-Mum quizzes me.

  ‘How come you were late getting out today?’ Dad asks me.

  ‘Got detention,’ I mumble, pulling open the rear car door.

  My dad’s eyes find mine as the September evening encroaches with a chill in the air.

  ‘Detention on your first day?’

  ‘Was no big deal.’ I climb into the back seat and shut the door before my dad can say more. But he stands there, looking at me for a long moment, weighing me up, as if he’s in the middle of a puzzle or an equation he can’t find the answer to.

  I’ve got my own puzzle going on. What is it with this world? I need to talk to someone else.

  Someone with brains.

  As New-Mum climbs in behind the wheel and my dad slides stiffly into the passenger seat I spot the New-Moth squeezing out of the main exit. He’s hunched over, ashamed of either himself or the others in detention, but he looks singularly unhappy.

  Which to me is a good sign.

  New-Mum shifts in her seat as she pulls the seat belt around her shoulder.

  ‘So tell me, what did you learn today?’ she asks me.

  My dad is sitting still and silent directly in front of me. I can almost hear his brain ticking over. Something has got him on edge and I can’t resist adding to it.

  ‘I learned that when a noose goes round a human neck, it very often, if not always, leads to death.’

  New-Mum’s face loses its smile.

  I can see my dad tensing.

  ‘That’s . . . interesting,’ New-Mum eventually says and beams at me. Nothing can wipe that incessant smile off her face.

  Well, we’ll see about that, I think.

  I watch New-Moth trudge past our car. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to become my saviour.

  BLURRED VISION

  Train brakes have a very distinct odour. It’s an acrid, pungent smell that bites at your nostrils, but whatever the Ape has done he has managed to bring the train screeching and whining to a halt.

  Roughly two centimetres from flattening GG.

  I can’t believe it. GG survived falling off the side of a speeding train. He’s standing there, looking battered but unbowed. Maybe he did float and land in a lovely GG heap of powdery cotton gentleness.

  ‘Rev?’ There’s hope in the Ape’s voice.

  ‘It’s him. It’s GG!’ I scream.

  It takes us ten seconds to climb out through the broken window and walk round to the front of the train.

  The Ape draws alongside me and then increases his stride, hurrying to meet GG. He’s more excited than I am, forgetting all about his pain-wracked shoulder. He dips a great hand into the pocket of his giant black overcoat, thoroughly dried out now, but stinking of stale river water. I know what he’s searching for.

  ‘Hey!’ he bellows at GG.

  I join him. ‘GG!’

  ‘Hey!’ The Ape’s voice rises into the night.

  GG waits silently for us which seems odd, but maybe he’s injured and can barely walk?

  The Ape is moving more quickly now, his hand back in his pocket. I’m right behind him, slipping and stumbling on the sleepers. GG watches us approach and then produces the most flamboyant gesture that only one boy in the universe could manage. He adopts a John Travolta pose from Saturday Night Fever, the iconic hand in the air, while the other dangles at his side, one knee bent and pointed, ready to take to the dance floor.

  ‘You should be dancing,’ he sings. I only know the song and the pose because GG came as John Travolta to a prom night and no one knew who he was until he commandeered the DJ’s microphone to explain in great detail.

  I dart past the Ape and reach GG before he does.

  ‘OhmyGodohmyGod!’ I squeal and scream at the same time. I doubt I form an actual word.

  ‘Vroom vroom!’ GG squeals in recognition.

  The Ape lumbers forward and before he knows it GG, injuries not able to slow him down, has leaped into the air and landed in the Ape’s arms. Again the Ape swallows the pain from his shoulder, or maybe he just doesn’t notice it, he’s so overjoyed.

  ‘Oh, my magnificent monkey!’ GG throws his arms round the Ape’s neck and kisses him hard on the cheek. The Ape tries to arc his square head away, but GG is all over him, dotting kisses across his cheeks and forehead. ‘It’s you, it’s really you!’

  The Ape from before detention would have hurled GG away, probably under the wheels of the train, but now he holds on tight to his friend, pretending to put up with his kisses, to suffer and endure them, when we both know he is lapping up every second of them. He awkwardly reaches into his pocket and pulls out GG’s shoe.

  He doesn’t say anything as he brings it up to show GG. He’s kept it with him all this time, through the Black Moth attack, the near drowning in the Thames, through everything, and now he can return it.

  But GG hesitates, his eyes falling to the shoe.

  ‘You shouldn’t have,’ he jokes.

  I don’t understand the hesitation until I look at his feet. At his two pristine shoes. There isn’t one missing, even though the Ape and I both know that he lost one of them when he was ripped from the side of the speeding train.

  ‘And we were getting along so well,’ GG sighs.

  The Ape looks confused, but I already know what’s happened.

  It’s pretty obvious when you think about it.

  Billie’s back.

  YOU HAVE A CALLER ON LINE THREE

  New-Mum and Dad are getting ready to go out to dinner. They go out to dinner every night to the best Chinese restaurant in town. Sometimes I’ve gone with them; sometimes I’ve stayed behind. But they are very keen that I join them tonight.

  ‘C
rispy wontons.’ New-Mum smiles as she pins her hair into a bun that reveals more of her delicate and pretty features.

  My phone rings. ‘Hold that thought,’ I tell New-Mum and quickly disappear into my bedroom. New-Billie has called me, just like she said she would.

  ‘Hey,’ I answer, closing the bedroom door behind me,

  ‘Don’t be long,’ New-Mum calls out, rapping on my door. But I ignore her.

  ‘Hey to you too,’ New-Billie says. ‘So . . . ’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say.

  ‘It’s not the Ape they’re angry at,’ she tells me. ‘It’s really not.’

  ‘What then?’ I ask. Outside my door I can hear my dad asking New-Mum where his best shoes are. He does this every night before leaving for a Chinese meal.

  ‘So where have you been hiding?’ New-Billie asks me.

  ‘Hiding?’

  ‘What I mean is, how can you have stayed indoors all day long, over and over?’

  ‘I didn’t. I only just got here. Two weeks or so ago,’ I say.

  Another silence develops between us as New-Billie processes the information.

  ‘Say that again,’ she asks.

  ‘I’m not from this world. And I know how that sounds.’

  She laughs, but in surprise, not with cynicism. ‘You actually sound like you mean it.’

  ‘I do,’ I summon as much honesty as I can when there’s another hard rap on the door from New-Mum.

  ‘Come on, we want to get a table.’

  We always get a table, the restaurant, and even more so now that the restaurant’s clientele seems to shrink every time I go there. There’s always one less person, or even one less family. They are about the only changes to the mind-numbing repetition.

  ‘I’m not lying,’ I whisper to New-Billie. ‘I swear to you. In another world we’re best friends.’

  Again New-Billie falls into a long deep silence. There’s another harder rap on my bedroom door.

  ‘I’ve got to go, can we talk later?’ I ask New-Billie.

  ‘If you’re not lying, then yeah, we really do need to talk.’

  ‘This is the truth,’ I state. ‘The absolute truth.’

  I hear her suck in a breath. ‘I dunno where you came from, but if there’s a way back then show me.’