by Fiona Shaw
–Ollie, stop. Poacher gripped Ollie by the shoulders. –Sit down, afore yer fall down; and he pushed Ollie down on to the bench beside Martha. Then he turned to Jake. –What happened? Tell it short.
So Jake explained, as quickly as he could. About the seccas, and the scan hub machine and their escape. About how the secca chased them down the escalator and lost his balance, and crashed to the ground. About how they went to see if he could be alive, but how his head was twisted round the wrong way.
–So they think we did it, Jake ended up. –The hubbers, and the seccas. They’re hunting for us up there, masses of them, all round Bond Street Tube, and there’ll be pictures up and descriptions by now, everything. That’s why we can’t get out the same way.
Poacher only took a moment to think, eyes on the ground, hands in his dreads, then he nodded. –Right, let’s go, he said. –All of us. Back ter the others. We gotta find another way outta the tunnels, an’ fast.
They went down Tunnel 64, keeping close, Poacher first, then Ollie, then Jake and Jet, and at the back, Martha. Poacher’s torch lit the path ahead and Martha’s from the back took the edge off the darkness and made shadows on the walls.
–Your dog, Poacher said. –If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t’a come. Yesterday he started up with all this whining an’ pawing, like he could smell you, or hear you, dunno how. An’ we ignored it, but then there’s Cass giving us these sad looks. So we followed Jet, an’ it took us a bit of here and there, few wrong ways, but yer dog was sure every time, an’ here we are.
Jake held Jet’s lead and every so often he would bend and touch Jet’s fur, and every so often Jet would push gently against Jake’s legs.
Down the tunnel went, slanting deeper and deeper into the earth, heading for the river. Alongside them banks of wires snaked. You could just see their colours through the dirt: red, yellow, purple, green, white. The tunnel walls got damper. They glistened green, and from the walls hung white, pencil-long stalactites. They came to a vast chamber hollowed out of the rock, and hammered into a corner a long metal ladder. At the top, a narrow walkway.
–Didn’t spot that when I came down here before, Ollie said.
Poacher stopped and shone his torch down. Below them, a dark river ran. Jake could taste the air.
–Breathe through yer mouth, Poacher said. –Smell kin make yer throw up.
The black water roiled and turned. Something was alive in there.
–Eels, Poacher said. –Big ’uns. Bite you bad an’ taste good. Get a good price for an eel.
Jake didn’t like eels. Teeth that pointed inwards, and too black and slimy. He’d heard stories about eels that could kill you. But they swam for thousands of miles just to lay their eggs, and nobody knew how they did it. Made getting to Scotland look like a vicarage tea party. Jake grinned. That’s what his dad used to say, whatever a vicarage was.
Away from the river the tunnel led upwards. Here, the walls were painted again, and there were working lights that buzzed like bees. Cobwebs hung around them like candyfloss.
–Close now, Martha said, her voice excited.
They got to a riveted metal door with a round metal wheel as a handle.
Using both hands, Poacher turned the wheel, and they stepped over the door rim and out.
A white-tiled hall, brightly lit. Escalators leading upwards. Big faded poster adverts on the walls. Jake looked around, panic flooding through him. What had they done? Why had they come here?
–You mad? You brought us up to the Tube station! he said.
But the escalators weren’t moving, and there were no people. No passengers. And now he looked more carefully, he could see there was dust over everything here too. The place was echoing and empty. It was wrong. Something creaked behind them and he turned, ready to run. A door opened in the wall beneath the escalator and there was Davie, hurtling at them, and behind him Swift with Cass. They were all grinning, even Cass with those blisters on her lips.
Davie did a kind of dance around them, his arms flying about, till Martha told him to stop. So he grabbed Ollie’s arm instead, swung it up and down. –Lost, an’ now you’re found. Dead, an’ now you’re alive. He grabbed Jake’s and did the same. –Din’t reckon to see you again. Not at all. Then he beat a tattoo on Jake’s shoulder with his fingertips. –Got a bit to tell you, Jakey boy. Seen a bit down here last couple o’ days, Jet and me both, ain’t we, Jet?
–Good to see you, Swift said, and she clasped their hands. She was smiling, but Jake saw how pale she was and how tired, her eyes red-rimmed. –Now we can get outta here. Head north. She crouched down, eye-level with Jet, scruffled his neck. –Good one, Jet, she said, which made Jake proud. And Cass, in her too-big parka and her blue wellies, walked up to Jet and patted his head.
Jake buried his face in Jet’s fur. –Clever dog, he whispered.
–So what is this place? Ollie said. –Cos it’s weird. He’d climbed up the escalator steps, and when he spoke, his voice echoed round the hall.
–Guess, Martha said. –Listen. I’ll read out one of the posters. Star Wars the force awakens. Director’s cut in 3D, Real 3D and Imax3D. December 18, 2015.
December 2015! I don’t understand, Ollie said. –Why’ve they got that one up? That movie’s from way olden times. It came out before my mum was born. There’s been six more since then. I can name them for you, and their cast lists, and their directors, and producers, and–
–’S all right, Poacher said. –Think we kin live without it.
–But I don’t get it, Jake said. –Are the posters real?
–Yup, Swift said. –Been there a long time. Ever since things stopped here.
–What d’you mean, stopped?
–It’s a dead station, Davie said. –A ghost station. So cool. They shut it after the Faith Bombings. Dynamited the entrance. Abandoned it. So it doesn’t exist any more, not officially. This ain’t Bond Street, Jakey Boy. It ain’t a station to anywhere, so nobody’s going to come down the escalator.
Another poster caught Jake’s eye. –Listen to this one, he said, and he read it out in a pretend deep voice like the ones on the screen ads. –Experience the wonder of the Channel Tunnel! A dream weekend in Paris. Travel in luxury on Eurostar and visit the romantic capital of the world. Tickets from just £90. Let the adventure begin!
–We got enough adventures already, Davie said. –Don’t need no more.
–Yeah, but a train from England all the way to Europe? Unreal! Ollie put his hands together, like he was doing a prayer. –But it’d solve it for me. I wish! And the others laughed.
–So if this station’s dead, then how come the lights are on? Jake said.
–Because nobody up there knows that they are, and nobody up there knows about us, Swift said. She was pulling on her rucksack.
–About our gang, you mean, Jake said.
–Swiftie, tell him, Poacher said.
–About any of the gangs, Swift said. –It isn’t hub police that are the danger down here.
–There are other Outwalkers down here? Ollie said.
–No, not Outwalkers, Swift said. –You’ll see soon enough. She zipped up Cass’s parka. –Anyway, let’s go. Sooner we’re out of here the better. Sooner we’re out of here an’ out of London, sooner we’ll be on our way north. Scotland. And she dipped a little kiss to the top of Cass’s head, picked her up and walked towards the door that led back to Tunnel 64. –Come on then, she called back.
–Swiftie, Poacher said again. –We can’t. Not that way. They’re hunting for Jake and Ollie up there. They’re saying they murdered a man.
Twenty-four
Swift sat down on the escalator, Cass beside her, parka still zipped to her little chin. She didn’t look at Jake, or Ollie.
–That was our only way out, she said in this dead voice.
And then it felt like a fog that came down over them. Jake could almost smell it, almost taste it. He looked round at Poacher, at the others. They’d all sat down around Swift and C
ass, two steps up, two steps down on the escalator. Martha was shivering, Poacher zipping his jacket higher, though it wasn’t cold. Jet must be feeling it too, because he was pressing against Jake’s legs, and he had his tail tucked under him, like he did when he was scared.
–There must be other ways out, Ollie said. –Up the top of the escalator, or down there; and he pointed to the tunnel that led away beneath the To the Trains sign.
–There ain’t, Poacher said, and he ticked the answers off on his fingers. –Up there is blocked off. Dynamited. Down there is a pile o’ other gangs …
–Why can’t we ask them for directions, then? Jake said. –We don’t want to stay; we want to get out.
Poacher’s laugh echoed round the escalator hall. –Sweet, that is. Ain’t it? We kin just ask nicely an’ they’ll show us the way. Blimey, Jake, ain’t you learned anything yet? We ain’t asking them cos they ain’t offering.
–How come the hub police haven’t rounded them up, if there’s so many? Ollie said. –They must know they’re down here.
–Hub chips don’t work down here, Swift said.
–An’ mebbe they are catching ’em, Poacher said. –Davie’s heard rumours. People disappearing.
–That’s horrible, Jake said.
–Could be the hubbers is picking ’em off, just a one here an’ a one there, or could be they’re killed by other gangs. Mebbe the hubbers reckon it’s easier leaving most of ’em down here, outta the way, long as they ain’t a threat. Long as they ain’t makin’ no secca jump from any escalator.
Even under the dim light, Jake could see the fear on Ollie’s face, and he caught a glance from Swift to Poacher. It wasn’t like Poacher to be sharp like that.
–Anyways … Poacher said, and he put up a third finger. –Third reason we’re stuck here: if yer want ter travel over any gang’s patch, yer gotta trade wiv ’em. Only way we kin ask them fer help is … He rubbed his fingers together. Jake’s dad used to do that with his fingers when something cost a lot of money. –We gotta give ’em passage fees, innit? Cos none of them ain’t Outwalkers. More likely cut yer, soon as look at yer. Else they ain’t gonna help. Gonna do the opposite when they see we’re kids.
–Trade with what? Jake said. –We don’t have mobiles, or pads. No money …
–Most valuable thing is food, Martha said. –Only problem is: we’ve got next to none left, and what we have got: well, you’d need to be hungry to want to eat it.
Ollie had his hand up, tried to say something, but Poacher waved him down, and Jake saw Ollie roll his eyes and do something with his hands that Jake guessed was from his dad. An Italian thing.
–Bought food ain’t the only thing ter pay with, Poacher said, ignoring Ollie like he hadn’t seen it. –Plenty I could poach. Rats, mice, eels. Crabs too, white ones on the walls above the river. I don’t fancy ’em, but they get a good price. Only problem: someone catches you fishing on their patch, hunting on their patch, ain’t no hub police, no anyone to stop ’em … And he ran his finger across his throat. –So, bein’ straight up wiv yer. Our gang ain’t got the strength ter be down here much longer; nodding slightly towards Cass. –No sky, no sun, no proper light. Dunno day from night. An’ cruddy air what fixes in yer lungs, each breath. So once you’ve told us what happened to yer, we gotta make a plan. Ain’t gonna be easy, but it’s got ter be whatever’s best fer the whole gang.
Jake glanced round at Swift. Her face looked blank and she was staring down at the escalator step. He couldn’t tell if she was listening or not. Cass was nestled into her side.
Again Ollie tried to say something, and again Poacher waved him down.
–Tell us what happened when yer got caught, Poacher said quietly.
Jake and Ollie told it between them, from when Jake got Tasered to when they heard Jet barking in the tunnel. It was three days since they’d been in John Lewis and there was a lot to tell. But it was only when Jake told about the food bank that he got interrupted.
–So have you still got some food? Martha said, and the excitement in her voice was like electricity, and it was touching Swift and Poacher: it was there in their faces too, and the fog lifted, just like that, like they could see beyond their knees again.
–That’s what I was trying to tell you, Ollie said.
With the others looking on, Jake and Ollie set two malt loafs, and the Hob-nobs, the box of Mr Kiplings, a chunk of Cathedral Cheddar, the bar of the Fruit & Nut and the tins of fruit down on an escalator step like a shop display.
–Thought we had three malt loafs, Jake said. –And there was another chunk of cheese.
–You were out for two days, Ollie said. –I had to eat something. I stared at the Fruit & Nut for hours. You should congratulate me that it’s still there.
Jake put his hands up. –Respect, Ollie.
But even with the bar of Fruit & Nut, it didn’t look like so much when they got it out. Still, it was high-class stuff for trading, Jake was sure of that. He could’ve scarfed the whole lot, he was so hungry. Hungry and very tired.
He looked up at Poacher, at Swift, waiting for them to say something, but they were looking at Davie.
Davie shook his head. –Ain’t enough. Need a lorryload to cross everybody’s patch.
–Yer sure? Poacher said.
–I just said. Davie got to his feet. –Not a chance.
Jake let Ollie tell the rest of the story. Exhaustion was washing through him like water, sluicing through his mind so that it was difficult to think, difficult to remember clearly.
–But when the seccas look at the CCTV, they’ll see it was an accident, Martha said. –That the secca lost his balance. Just fell.
–It don’t work like that, Martha. Poacher’s voice was angry. –Don’t matter ter the seccas what’s true, do it? Easier ter blame lowlifer kids, cos that’s what they’ll call yer.
–And that’s why we can’t go back up to Bond Street, Ollie said. –Cos that’s where they’ll be looking hardest. We’d walk straight into their arms.
There was silence again, but it wasn’t a nice one. Above him on the escalator Jake heard someone shifting their feet. Someone coughed, and when Jake looked round, he caught a glance from Swift to Poacher, saw Swift give a shake of her head. A tiny shake, but it was there. Martha, sitting above them, was making patterns in the dust. She wasn’t looking at anybody, but her face looked grim, the kind of grim Jake’s mum used to look when she was going to tell him off. The kind of grim she’d looked after he’d grabbed Cass’s wellies. When Jake looked back down towards Ollie, he was looking as worried as Jake felt. Jake wondered if he’d had the same thought: what if Poacher and Swift just saw them as a problem now? What if …
–So in John Lewis … Swift spoke into the silence. –When the seccas came … which of you was on lookout?
Jake’s stomach lurched. He’d hoped no one would ask.
–Which of you? Swift said again.
–Me, Jake said quietly.
Swift looked at him, and it was hard to meet her eyes. –What happened, Jake? The rest of us asleep in the beds, and the whole place quiet as a tomb. How come you didn’t spot them earlier? Warn us earlier?
–They came up from behind— Ollie began, but Poacher put his hand up.
–We wanna hear it from Jake.
Jake stared down between his knees and his eyes swam out of focus. He wished he wasn’t here. He wished his mum and dad weren’t dead, and he wasn’t in this gang, and he was an ordinary boy whose mum told him stories, and who went to school and had a gang of friends to play on the rec with. He wished he was a boy who went home when it got dark, and for whom the scariest thing in his life so far was being frightened of the dark. It was warm down in the dead station, but he felt cold to his bones. He shivered.
–Tell us the rest, Jake. Then we kin decide what we do, Poacher said.
Jake looked up and tried to focus. Their faces were fuzzy, but he knew that everyone was waiting for his answer. It felt like there was a stone in hi
s throat, and he swallowed, but it didn’t go.
–When the seccas came, I was thinking about food, he said finally.
–Food? Martha said. –But you can’t have been hungry, not after the Food Hall.
–It was about stuff I miss.
–Thinking doesn’t explain it, Swift said.
The heat rose to Jake’s cheeks, and he stumbled with his words. –Thinking and … and talking. To Ollie. So I didn’t hear them, didn’t see them till it was too late.
Another pause, and then Swift again. –So because you were talking, you nearly got us all caught. And you got Tasered, and now we’re stuck down here, under thousands and thousands of tons of London, with freaking scary gangs down every tunnel, and we can’t get out …
She hadn’t raised her voice, but he wanted to put his hands over his ears to stop any more of her words getting in.
–But they’re only looking for you, Swift said. –Not for us.
Shock, then silence. Swift’s words cut into Jake like swords. She was right. He looked at Ollie, but Ollie was staring at the wall adverts, though Jake didn’t reckon he was seeing much. Ollie looked like Jake felt: his skin was greeny white and his eyes wide open, like he’d just seen the scariest beast and it was sat there amongst them, ready to open its jaws and destroy him.
Jake remembered Ollie talking about his dad. Best cook in the world, he’d said. All his love, all his longing had been there for Jake to see. All his hope. And now, any minute, the gang might destroy it.
–Jake? Martha’s voice was gentle. –What were you missing?
Martha’s voice was gentle. Maybe she’d understand, Jake thought.
But before he could speak, Swift banged her hand against the side of the escalator.
–Come on, dog boy! What food? What were you missing so much? You nearly got us all caught. You’ve driven us down here. You’ve got the seccas on our backs. You’ve made it a hundred, a thousand times harder for us to get north. To get to Scotland … She glanced at Cass, snuggled in beside her, then went on. –Do you know what a Taser would have done to Cass?