X-Isle

by Steve Augarde

  “OK,” he said. “I heard a lot of things today. First off, the Ecks are going out on a big trip tomorrow – over to Skelmersley. And Isaac wants the boat got ready this evening. He told Luke to make sure that everything was done, so they could be away first thing, yeah? Far as I can see, they got no reason to be messing around with gear tomorrow, or opening that locker again. In fact Isaac told Luke to put a coupla spare cans of fuel in there tonight. Petrol and diesel.”

  “Petrol?” said Gene. “You sure?”

  “That’s what he said. Next thing – get this – Preacher John’s going out with them to work the winch. Yeah, really. And it gets even better. They’re taking Hutchinson too. That means that there’s only gonna be Steiner left here with us. Now when are we ever gonna get another chance like that?”

  “Wow,” said Robbie. “Well, we can deal with Steiner all right, if it’s just him left. He’s half dead on a Monday morning in any case.”

  “What do they want Hutchinson for?” Gene sounded cautious.

  “Preacher John thinks it’s gonna be a big haul. The water’s clear over Skelmersley way, and that’s where they’re going. They want Hutchinson for a tender or something.”

  “A tender?” said Ray. “What’s that?”

  “Dunno. Someone who attends?”

  “I thought a tender had something to do with old railway engines,” said Gene. “But Preacher John... are you sure he’s going too?”

  “Yup. The lot of ’em.” Baz leaned forward, bringing his face into the light so everyone could see him. “The boat’s all made up and ready for the morning, they’re off on a long trip, and Preacher John and Hutchinson are going with them. It’s never gonna get any better than that.”

  “Maybe.” Gene clasped his hands together, brought them up to his chin. “But I dunno. It doesn’t make it any less dangerous if it goes wrong and they all come back.”

  “Well, there’s other reasons why it has to be tonight.” Baz sought for a way of making his next point. “This isn’t just the best chance, it’s the only one. They’re getting rid of us. Some of us, anyway. I’ve heard Isaac say it a coupla times now, and Preacher John too. He wants shot of us ’cos we’re getting too big. Or he just wants new kids so he can get paid more, or maybe he just doesn’t need us anymore. But we’re done. By Tuesday or Wednesday half of us aren’t gonna be here.”

  “God. You mean sent back to the mainland?” Dyson looked across at Baz.

  “Who says you’re ever gonna reach the mainland, Dyse? Did Cookie? Or that Greek kid?” There was silence as this remark sank in.

  “Yeah, I bin thinking about that,” said Robbie. “And I bin wondering about that other kid too. The one that was supposed to have been sent back the same Saturday I came across. Everybody was still talking about it when I got here, this kid Sammy whose arm got broken. But nobody came off the boat on the mainland that day. I know, ’cos I was there.”

  “He coulda been dropped off somewhere else,” said Dyson. “Up the coast.”

  “Funny how it always somewhere else, yeah?” said Jubo. “Funny how every guy land up here, they always from da same place, Linley Top, but nobody ever get off da boat there.”

  A new realization began to spread through the group.

  “So... everyone here’s from the same bit of mainland?” said Ray. “Linley Top?”

  A general nodding of heads.

  “And did anyone ever actually see any kid get off the Cormorant on the day that they got on it?”

  Silence.

  “Hang on,” said Dyson. “They send you back to the mainland as a punishment. That’s what they threaten you with. But now you’re saying nobody ever gets there? Why?”

  Gene said, “Think about it. Anyone who gets back to the mainland, they’re gonna talk about this place, yeah? X-Isle. They’re gonna say what it’s really like. And if people know what it’s really like, who’s gonna come here? Who’s gonna pay to send their kids here if they know the truth? Nobody. And where’s Preacher John gonna get his workers from then?”

  Jubo said, “So once you here, you done, man. No way out alive.”

  “Jesus...”

  “Yeah, and I’ll tell you another thing,” said Baz. “Those girls are never gonna get back alive either. Preacher John’s got plans for next Sunday. He says he’s gonna make the ultimate sacrifice. First it was the rabbits, then it was Old Bill. So what’s next? The ultimate has to be a person, doesn’t it? You know what I thought today... when Luke showed up with the wheelbarrow...” Baz could still hardly bring himself to say it. “I thought it was Nadine in there.” He looked around the circle and knew he’d hit home. “Yeah. And some of you did too. So if we’re gonna save them from... from... what we saw today, then tonight’s our only—”

  “Right. That’s it.” Ray didn’t appear to need any more convincing. “We gotta do it.”

  “Yeah, but hang on a minute,” said Dyson. “We’re talking about serious stuff here. If this plan doesn’t work, they’ll just come sailing back and kill us. I mean, we could probably hide out for a little while, but they’d get us in the end.”

  “Yeah,” said Robbie. “We got no plan B, that’s the trouble. If the bomb goes off, they might be dead. But if it doesn’t, we definitely are.”

  “We’re definitely dead anyway,” said Amit. “Unless we do something about it tonight.”

  “OK,” said Ray. “So we need a plan B. What about the dinghy?”

  “Huh?”

  “Say once the main boat was gone, we pack up the dinghy. We break into the storeroom and get a load of food, yeah? And put it in the dinghy. Then we keep watch. If we see the salvage boat coming back, we get into the dinghy and hop it. Gene? What do you reckon?”

  Baz looked at Ray in wonder. The guy just seemed to be able to pull ideas out of nowhere. And since the mention of Nadine and Steffie, he seemed to have become instantly committed, instantly forceful. He’d made up his mind that this was going to happen.

  “Hey,” said Amit. “That’s not bad. Seeing what you’ve just been through.”

  Ray looked embarrassed, irritated almost.

  “What?” said Baz. He was obviously out of the loop. “What’s he just been through?”

  “Capos got him,” said Gene. “Soon as we came down from the library. We broke the tin-opener.”

  “What the hell’re you on about?” Baz couldn’t make any sense of what Gene was saying.

  “We got back from hiding in the library, yeah? And we were starving. But none of the tins we took were ring-pull, and we broke the bloody tin-opener on the first one. So Ray said he was gonna go back to the kitchen to find you, see if you could get us another opener. I said don’t be daft, but he wouldn’t have it. He was off down the corridor before anyone could stop him. I watched him go – shouted after him. Next thing you know Steiner’s come round the corner and grabbed him.”

  “Christ, Ray!” Baz’s head was reeling. “What did they do to you? They didn’t... put you down the hole?”

  “No! Do I look like I’ve been down the blimmin’ hole? I keep telling everyone that nothing happened! It was nothing. I managed to talk my way out of it, OK? Just leave it.” Ray was obviously exasperated, tired of having to explain. “We got more important things to worry about than stupid capos. So forget about it. Come on, Gene. The dinghy idea – what do you reckon?”

  Ray had deflected attention from himself, and though Baz had a hundred questions he wanted to ask, he could see they would have to wait.

  “Er... well...” Gene blinked. “Yeah, maybe. We got binoculars. We know the Seagull motor works. I suppose if we kept watch and saw that everything had gone pear-shaped, we could make a run for it in the dinghy. There’d be a chance of getting to the mainland without the Ecks catching us – or even seeing us. And being on the mainland’s better’n being dead, I guess. Just about.”

  “OK, then,” said Ray. “We got a plan B. So let’s do it.”

  Robbie said, “Hey, why not just take the
dinghy anyway? We could get away in it right now if we wanted to! Tonight!”

  Gene shook his head. “Engine’s locked in the storeroom now that it’s been fixed. We’ll have to break the door down to get at it, and that’s too risky with everyone around. Better to wait till they’ve gone. Then there’d only be Steiner to deal with...” His voice tailed off, and he sat staring into the lantern light.

  The dinghy was the key. It provided an escape route, and it gave the boys a lot more confidence. They talked for another hour, picking apart this detail and that – what they would do with Steiner once they got him alone, how much petrol they were likely to need in order to get to the mainland. The one real risk was that the bomb would be discovered before the divers left. But even here they figured out that there might be a slim chance of escape. They could keep an eye on the jetty first thing in the morning, watch the divers as they boarded the boat, and if there was any sign of trouble they could run for it. Maybe hide up in the library, then creep down to the shore after nightfall, and still get away in the dinghy. Somehow...

  Finally Ray said, “Too much talk. Come on. Let’s just do it.” He was impatient, pushing for a decision.

  “Well, I’m in,” said Baz. “The bomb’s our only choice, far as I can see. If we wait any longer we’ve had it.”

  “Count me in, man.” Jubo smacked a fist into his palm. “Me get a pop at Steiner, an’ it all be worth it.”

  “Yeah, OK. I’m for it,” said Amit.

  “Me too,” said Robbie.

  They all agreed. Even Dyson, probably the most cautious of all, said, “Ah, screw it. We’re dead anyway. Might as well go down fighting.”

  “Yeah. Well said, Dyse. Let’s have ’em.” Amit was looking belligerent, ready for anything. “Gene?”

  Gene had been quiet for a while. The scheme would never have got this far if it hadn’t been for him, yet now he appeared to be hesitating.

  “I dunno. It’s not just about... whether it’s gonna work or not. Or whether we get caught or don’t get caught. I mean, this is murder, right? We’re talking about murder here.”

  “It’s not murder,” said Amit. “It’s bleedin’ war. It’s whatdyacallit.... freedom fighting. Yeah. Somebody comes at you with a gun, and you know they’re gonna kill you, then you got a right to smack them first. That’s how I see it.”

  “But are we really sure that Preacher John is planning to kill us, that’s the thing. See—”

  “You know what, Gene?” Amit interrupted him. “Wanna hear what I think? You’re starting to back out ’cos you figure you’re better off as you are. Better off than the rest of us. “Cos as long as you just sit tight, you’re gonna be safe.”

  “What do you mean? Why am I better off than the rest of you?”

  “You’re not in any danger, that’s why. Not really. Not like we are. Kids can get killed round here, drowned, dumped in the sea, chucked on an altar... whatever. But it’s never gonna be you, is it? They’ll never touch you, ’cos you’re too smart. Too useful to them. Whatever happens to the rest of us, you’ll always be OK, yeah? Safe, like you’ve always been.”

  Amit had hit on some truth, and it obviously stung. Gene stood up.

  “Safe? You better hope I’m safe, Amit, ’cos if anything happens to me you’ve got no friggin’ chance. Yeah. And if we ever get out of this safe, it’ll be down to me, not you! I gotta try and think of everything. If we left the thinking to you, we’d all be stuffed! Right, then. I’ve had enough. Let’s do it.”

  Gene grabbed the lantern and started off towards the washroom.

  “What, you mean now?” Baz called after him.

  “Yeah, now.”

  Amit looked at Baz and pulled a bug-eyed face. “Result,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The pathway down to the jetty was steep, broken up by shadows from the hazy moon, and the pressure cooker was heavy. There were carrying handles, but Baz and Ray found it difficult to walk in time. The huge receptacle rocked around alarmingly.

  “Hey – try and keep it steady.” Gene was following behind. “I don’t want lighter fuel splashing up onto the plug.”

  “Sorry.”

  Dyson was last man in the chain of lookouts. He remained halfway along the jetty, watching from above as Baz and Ray carefully descended the bank of rubble. They staggered and slithered among the loose lumps of brick and concrete. God, it was awkward. Gene was already standing on the gangplank below, anxiously regarding their progress.

  “Keep it upright! Upright!” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “For Chrissake, Gene. We’re trying...”

  The night was hot and airless, and by the time Baz and Ray reached the gangplank they were both sweating.

  “Let’s just put it down a second.” They stood the pressure cooker on the end of the planks and took a breather. Baz wiped his forehead and glanced back up at Dyson – a shadowy figure, just visible against the night sky. So far, so good.

  The slap of the waves against the jetty seemed amplified in the darkness, everything sharp and clear, as though a thousand sea creatures were feeding down there, sucking and slurping at the island itself. The effect was eerily hypnotic, and Baz jumped as another sound cut through the still air – a high whistling cry... mee... mee... ma-mee-mee...

  A warning signal!

  “What the hell’s that?” Ray’s eyes showed white in the darkness. The boys stood motionless, listening. There it was again, more distant now – mee-mee-mee – fading into the night.

  “Christ,” said Gene. “I think it’s a seagull.”

  A seagull? Baz couldn’t remember when he’d last heard such a thing, or where. Certainly never round here, not even before the floods.

  “Yeah. It’s a gull. Weird. Come on, though – we got no time for that.” Gene wanted to press on. Baz and Ray began to edge their way across the planking, facing each other over the lid of the pressure cooker. It was a short journey but an anxious one, the planks rising and falling unpredictably with the motion of the boat.

  “Stay where you are a minute, Ray,” said Gene. “Come on, Baz. Get in the boat.” Baz let go of the handle he was holding and jumped onto the deck.

  “OK? Let’s lift her down then.” The angle was awkward, but Baz and Gene managed to drag the pressure cooker towards them, tilt it forward and gently lower it on board.

  “Your turn, Ray.”

  Ray hesitated for a moment, then jumped. He landed with a thump and staggered against Baz.

  “Whoa. You OK?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on, then.”

  They picked up the bomb once more, taking a handle apiece.

  Gene was already in the wheelhouse. The confined space smelled of oil and diesel and the familiar sickliness of the grey sludge that had become part of their daily lives. Salvage.

  “Listen,” whispered Gene. “I’ve got the locker open, and I’ve shifted the cans of diesel so I could get the trapdoor open as well. When I switch the torch on, I want you to lift the thing up and over, and then hop in and get it as far down into the trap as you can, yeah? Looks like it might be a tight fit. Ready?”

  The light flashed on – dangerously bright, it seemed – and Baz and Ray immediately hoisted the pressure cooker over the lip and down into the well of the locker. Then they both clambered in and lowered the heavy vessel through the open trap as far as it would go. The base of the cauldron was resting against the inner hull, and only the lid now protruded up into the locker well.

  “Yeah, that’s great,” said Gene. “It’s below the waterline at any rate.”

  He switched off the torch, and the inside of the wheelhouse was as black as ink.

  “Come on. We need to go and wire it up.”

  Outside again, Gene crouched down beside the winch motor. He laid a pair of pliers, two screwdrivers and a roll of thin cabling on the deck. “OK,” he said. “I’ve got to fix this new lead on. It’s gonna take me a few minutes, so here’s what I want you two t
o do. See these grooves in the decking? I want you to scrape all the crap out of one of them, so there’s a clear channel from the motor to the cabin. Use one of these screwdrivers. We’re gonna try and hide the HT lead down in the groove.”

  Gene flashed the torch over towards the wheelhouse door, holding the beam steady.

  “Yeah, start that end,” he said. “Pick the nearest groove to the left-hand corner of the door, and just come this way. Clean it out with the screwdriver. Take the torch, but hide the light as much as you can. And keep an ear out. If we hear a whistle, we’re gonna have to dump everything overboard and run for it.”

  “Don’t you need the torch?” said Baz.

  “Nah. I can see well enough for what I gotta do. It’s easy.”

  So while Ray held the torch close to the decking, Baz cleaned out one of the square-cut grooves, using the screwdriver to lift up the continuous plug of dirt and grime that had been trampled in there.

  By the time Baz and Ray had reached the winch, Gene was finished. He had his roll of cabling ready, and he began to press this down into the groove.

  “Follow on behind,” he said. “See if you can get some of that dust and muck to cover this over. Rub it around a bit. Yeah, that’s right – scuff it in with your feet. Try and make it look like nothing’s changed.”

  It didn’t take long to get the cabling in place. Once inside the wheelhouse, Gene ran the thin black rubber lead around the lower framework of the doorway and along the skirting, pressing it into the gaps wherever he could. Then he brought it up vertically at the back end of the locker, just at the point where the lid was hinged.

  “That’s about as good as we can get it,” Gene said. He measured out another couple of meters of cabling, and snipped off the remainder with his pliers.

  “Nearly done. I’ve just got to strip the end and wire it to the spark plug.”

  “Wanna use my penknife?” said Baz.

  “Nah, it’s OK. These’ll do.” Gene used the pliers again, then climbed into the locker well. Kneeling beside what was visible of the pressure cooker, he unscrewed the little metal cap from the top of the spark plug.