Caught in a Moment (The Alex Trueman Chronicles Book 1)

by Martin Dukes

  “Where are you going?” asked Kelly, Tanya and Will that night, when Alex picked up his jug and crossed to the door. As they often did, Tanya and Kelly were staying overnight. “Just out,” said Alex, feeling defensive. “Can I borrow your jug, Will?” he added.

  You must be thirsty,” said Tanya sleepily.

  “He’s not thirsty. He’s off down to his skip,” muttered Will, propping himself up on one elbow. Will was no fool.

  “Yeah, well. Maybe I am,” conceded Alex. “I’ll make a sight more progress when Morlock’s not got his beady eye fixed on me, and with these instead of that leaky old bucket.”

  “What about Cactus Jack?” asked Tanya, her eyes wide in the darkness. “Aren’t you frightened of seeing him again?”

  “I’m not scared of going out in the dark,” said Alex, with a glance at Kelly. He felt he owed it to her to say this, in view of the fact that she had ventured out every night to visit him in the House of Correction last week.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Kelly, shaking out her hair and sitting up. “I don’t feel sleepy anyway.”

  “You don’t have to,” Alex told her, but he was glad all the same.

  “You both must be mad,” snorted Will, pulling his blankets up over his head.

  It felt like madness, hurrying though the still, shadowed streets, lit unevenly by the false 'Stician moon. Always, in the back of Alex’s mind was the stalking figure of Cactus Jack, patrolling the night like a peripatetic vampire. Mitch was there too, of course, his dead face looming ominously in the darker recesses of skull. Alex knuckled his eyes and shook his head, as he always did when this memory swam up to haunt him. A little thrill of fear, like the after-shock of an earthquake, prickled across his scalp. Kelly didn’t seem to sense it. She chattered happily enough as they found their way down through the industrial estate to Alex’s skip.

  “It’s good that it doesn’t bother you. Coming out at night, I mean” said Alex, as they set to work filling their jugs in the river. Its chuckling waters seemed louder still in the 'Stician night. “Some people won’t go out at all. David was telling me.”

  “I’m pretty much used to it by now,” said Kelly, stooping at his side. ”You should know that.”

  “I bet you see Paulo,” said Alex, straightening up, his heavy burden clenched wetly to his chest. “At night, I mean. You do, don’t you? Come on. You can tell me.”

  “I might,” conceded Kelly with a shy smile. She tapped the side of her nose. “But that’s for me to know and you to wonder, isn’t it.”

  “Yeah, well. I reckon I’m not the only one you’ve been offloading manna to,” said Alex, carefully stepping over the strands of barbed wire and spilling a little of his load down his legs. “I bet Paulo’s been feeling the pinch a bit last week, what with you feeding me too.”

  “Well, there’s gratitude for you,” said Kelly, sounding resentful, but grinning playfully. “What’s it to you anyway?”

  They had both sloshed their cargoes into the skip before Alex had worked out any kind of reply to this.

  “Just curious,” he said lamely at last. “You have though, haven’t you? I know you have. Where is Paulo anyway?”

  They looked at each other for a long moment before Kelly shrugged and gestured towards Micklebury.

  “Up there somewhere,” she said. “Out in the sticks. He comes down to see me up by the post office twice a week…….You won’t tell anybody will you? Ganymede’ll murder him if he ever catches him.” Her eyes were wide, and her pupils great dark wells of cautious trust. “Quite apart from what he’d do to me.”

  “Would I? You think I’d betray someone who introduced me to the delights of Hamlet and King Lear?”

  “No, I guess not,” she said, with a hesitant smile. She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it in a way that made a delicious tingle pass along Alex’s spine.

  Kelly told Alex all about Paulo, as they journeyed to and from the river. He was a ‘free spirit’, according to Kelly, if that’s what you called someone who did exactly as they pleased all the time without bothering about laws or rules. Alex could think of another word to describe him, but kept it to himself for now. Kelly claimed he was good looking in a rugged sort of way. He had boundless self-confidence, she said. He had charisma; that was what it was, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on but made him sort of fascinating. Regardless of this,Ganymede hated him. Paulo hated him back. Alex was beginning to feel that he had known Paulo all his life by the time he and Kelly decided they had done enough. Alex had listened with mixed emotions. On the one hand it was interesting to find out more about an individual who continued to hover on the edge of Alex’s world. On the other, the tone of voice with which Kelly talked about him gave rise to a strangely congested feeling in Alex’s upper chest. He tried hard to convince himself it wasn’t jealousy. By the time Kelly had finished telling Alex all there was to know about Paulo there was at least twice as much water in the skip as there had been before they started.

  “Thanks a lot, Kelly,” said Alex, with feeling, surveying their handiwork, his jug dangling loosely in his hand.

  “That’s okay,” said Kelly, with a grin. “I’m like your fairy godmother aren’t I?” She mopped her forehead with her sleeve. “I’m sooo hot. It’s a pity we can never get our clothes off. I could really fancy a dip in the river.”

  “Mmm, me too,” nodded Alex, his mind working inwardly on this.

  The next day, Alex laboured at a more relaxed pace, watched by Morlock, who had cast what might have been a suspicious eye over the level of water in the skip when he first turned up. Kelly confided to Alex that she had arranged to meet with Paulo that night. She promised to help him again though, before the next Gathering. On the way to what he now thought of as ‘his’ skip he usually met with David Hemmings, doing his morning run. He was in the habit, he explained, of running at least twice around the ring road morning, noon and night. Apart from when he was doing jigsaws David was rarely to be seen still for a moment. Even at Gatherings he jogged on the spot, shaking his hands from the wrist like some victim of the palsy.

  On the day before the Gathering, however, Cactus Jack came for David. Alex knew he was somewhere in the vicinity the night before. On the way back home from his skip, he was assailed by a sudden sensation of dread, this as he turned the corner into Glanville Street. He dodged into a litter strewn passage between two derelict houses, pressing his back hard against the wall, hardly daring to look out into the street. After a few moments the feeling faded and Alex found he was able to control his breathing once more. There was no doubt in his mind, though, that Cactus Jack had been near.

  In the morning, he was methodically hauling his bucket out of the river, when David Hemmings staggered into the yard. He looked awful; ashen faced, and trembling, his few strands of lank grey hair hanging loosely around his face.

  “Alex! Help me!” he gasped, staring imploringly at Alex, and then at Morlock who had just that minute arrived for his day’s scrutiny of Alex’s work.

  Morlock regarded David impassively, as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

  “What?....” said Alex, in confusion. “What’s the matter?”

  David glanced fearfully over his shoulder towards the entrance of the yard and then yelped. His whole body stiffened.

  “That thing!” he gasped. “Cactus Jack! He’s after me.”

  For a moment, he stared wide eyed with terror at Alex. There was pleading in his eyes too, as though he somehow imagined Alex could have a quiet word with Cactus Jack and call the whole thing off. Alex could do nothing except stare back, his mind paralysed with horror. And then David was off, splashing through the river and hauling himself up the far bank. Stumbling and lurching through the undergrowth on the far side, he disappeared amongst the rusting hulks in the scrap yard there. A moment later Alex’s hair stood on end, every hair on his body. Cactus Jack appeared at the top of the track that led to the dual carriageway. At a leisurely, measu
red pace he trudged towards Alex, whilst Alex felt the blood drain from his face. Now it was too late to hide. He was rooted to the spot. His legs simply would not move.

  Seen up close, Cactus Jack was a rather scruffy middle-aged man wearing torn jeans and the famous T Shirt by which he was known. He had close cropped hair and about a week’s worth of greying stubble. Cactus Jack was nothing out of the ordinary to look at except in one respect. Morlock and Minion had eyes like sparrows. Cactus Jack had no eyes at all. Where there should have been eyes there were simply expanses of smooth skin. Morlock raised a hand in vague greeting as Cactus Jack strode past. There was no hesitation in his pace and he showed no sign of having even noticed Alex’s existence. This was fine by Alex. He felt the iron grip on his heart relax as Jack splashed heedlessly through the river and followed David into the scrap yard. Alex had a feeling David would soon be coming back. The scrap yard was surrounded by a high, chain link fence on its further side, and the gate was locked. Sure enough, David tumbled out of bushes into the river a little way downstream. Moments later he was back with Alex, clutching his ribs, his legs torn by thorns and barbed wire. It was clear he was exhausted. Alex wondered how far David had already run with Cactus Jack in pursuit.

  “Got.. to.. hide,” he gasped, his eyes darting about madly until they fastened upon Alex’s skip. This he clambered into, even as Jack reappeared between a stack of gas cylinders and a pile of broken wooden pallets. It was no use. David was doomed. Morlock stood by impassively as Cactus Jack approached the skip. Jack knew exactly where his quarry had taken refuge. He didn’t even hesitate. He simply leant over the rim of the skip, seized David by his arm and hauled him out. There was no roughness or malice in this. It was as though he were simply pulling out a bag of coal. David’s anguished shrieks and pleas made Alex throw up his hands to cover his ears.

  “No..You can’t!” he heard himself gasp, forcing himself to step towards Jack in a feeble gesture of interference.

  It was altogether too late for David. Cactus Jack placed a hand on the back of his victim’s neck and suddenly David went limp. Alex shivered, as Jack slung the body easily over his shoulder. Had he just witnessed murder? Could it actually be described as murder if David was already dead in Reality? Was life in 'Sticia really life anyway? Jack would carry him off and set him up as one of the stiffs somewhere. Alex felt sick, confused, unsteady on his feet. Cactus Jack was already out of sight by the time he felt able to breath normally.

  He found himself meeting Morlock’s sparrow gaze.

  “Dead,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

  So David was dead. It seemed impossible. David was so full of life, more than anyone else appreciative of existence in this world. Perhaps it all made sense. Perhaps David had somehow sensed this was all the life he had left.

  There was alarm in 'Sticia the next day. News had spread quickly about Cactus Jack’s visitation and David Hemming’s removal to Statica. Well before the appointed hour for the Gathering, people were assembling to discuss the news. There was no sign anywhere of David’s stiff. He could be anywhere in Cardenbridge, of course, so no one thought this out of the ordinary. In addition to this, there was rumour of a crime. Ganymede was reputed to be in a towering rage, although no one knew exactly why. Accordingly there was an unusual buzz of excitement amongst the little crowd as they waited for Ganymede to appear. Even Major Trubshaw was there, keeping a watchful eye on the thought bubble above his head.

  “Is it true you saw Cactus Jack take David?” asked Tanya solemnly, when she arrived with Kelly.

  Alex nodded. He looked at Kelly, who seemed strangely troubled that morning. She smiled wanly at him. The smile soon faded when Will caught his elbow and asked him to recount the story of Jack’s visitation for the tenth time. This was for the benefit of Chad, but soon attracted a small group of curious ‘Sticians. Alex hardly had to concentrate on telling his story by now, he glanced at Kelly over Chad’s shoulder as he described David’s last moments. Kelly, he thought, had seen the renegade Paulo again last night. This was confirmed when, after Chad had moved away, she beckoned to him and they both withdrew a little way from the crowd, under the shade of a large horse chestnut tree.

  “Paulo wants to meet you,” she whispered to him, at length, although at this distance she could quite safely have spoken normally without fear of being overheard.

  “Oh..Does he?” Alex wasn’t sure how to feel about this. On one level he supposed it was quite exciting to be summoned into the presence of 'Sticia’s celebrated outlaw. On another he felt anxious about getting into more trouble with Ganymede. He was already worried enough on this score, given that his conscience was troubling him over his cheating with the skip. Kelly seemed to have mixed feelings about his meeting Paulo too, although her motivations were less clear. She shrugged. She was about to say something else when Ganymede appeared in the bandstand and they moved forward to the edge of the small crowd. Tanya took Kelly’s hand and fixed Alex with a wondering stare. Ganymede blew a long clear note on his horn and the populace fell silent. Their attention was particularly focused today. One could have heard a petal drop from the blossom trees, had ‘Sticia allowed such a thing.

  “People of Intersticia,” said Ganymede, sweeping his laser glare around the faces before him. “I regret to say that there has been an episode of criminal damage in recent days. As you know I seek to encourage a spirit of creative endeavour amongst you, and where I see a spark of invention in one of you I nourish that impulse, providing whatever materials I can, so that creativity may be expressed freely. Well…..” Here Ganymede swayed a little, as though groping for words grave enough to describe the crime he was about to recount. “Well, I see now how my generosity is abused, how at least one of you rewards artistic achievement. You will recall Miss DiStefano’s sculptural work at Micklebury Stanton? You were all privileged to witness it a little while ago.” He paused, nodding grimly. “That fine sculpture has been destroyed!” He paused once more, to let the impact of this sink in. “All that remains is a pathetic scatter of sticks. Miss DiStefano cannot be amongst us today. She is too upset, as you may imagine.” There was a low murmur amongst the crowd and then a tense silence even more profound than before, as Ganymede looked from face to face. Alex couldn’t meet his gaze. It was like that time at school when some idiot broke a sink in the boys’ toilets and the whole school had to file past it whilst the headmaster scanned their faces one by one in search of a guilty countenance. Alex’s had surely expressed plain and obvious guilt in every line and contour. So he had been aware. He had never felt so guilty in his life. A similar sensation gripped him now. Surely his face would betray him. He looked at his feet and then suddenly found that he wanted to laugh. It became almost unbearable. The thought of the pompous Sylvia DiStefano’s ridiculous so called sculpture being reduced to a scatter of sticks struck him as screamingly funny. Kelly evidently did too. He nudged her elbow and they exchanged glances through eyes watery with suppressed mirth.

  “I must tell you that I regard this as a very serious matter,” continued Ganymede, before Alex and Kelly could demonstrate their disagreement by dissolving into helpless giggling. “The culprit, when I find them, will be very severely dealt with. If anyone has any information regarding this senseless act of vandalism I urge them to share it with me at once… I am particularly keen to speak to Mr Potts. If anyone has any information regarding his whereabouts I should be very interested to hear it.” He looked hard at Kelly at this point. Two little red spots appeared on her cheeks but she held his gaze steadily.

  Alex wanted to talk to Kelly about Paulo, but before he could do so, Mrs Patterson stepped forward from the crowd.

  “I’m sure we all deplore Miss DiStefano’s loss,” she said. “But there is another serious issue that merits discussion this morning. I wonder if you can confirm that David Hemmings has been taken from amongst us?”

  It was Ganymede’s turn to look uncomfortable for once. “Yes. I can confirm that,” he said, after
a lengthy pause for consideration. “It is not my practice to comment on such matters, but as you say, Mr Hemming’s time here has come to an end. He has been returned to Statica.”

  “The manner of his going, Mr Ganymede…,” continued Mrs Patterson doggedly, as Ganymede turned away. “Is it really necessary that he should be hounded down and then despatched in such patently distressing circumstances?”

  “As I say,” said Ganymede, glowering at her in a way which left no doubt about the consequences of further questioning. “I am not prepared to comment on such matters.”

  Just then Morlock came striding across the lawn. Alex realised uneasily that he was Morlock’s target. The crowd parted to let the creature through and regarded Alex curiously.

  “Ganymede. Now,” he creaked to Alex a moment later, with his usual economy of speech.