Shift #2

by Jeff Povey

But Another-Billie grabs his other wrist and he’s now stuck between us.

  ‘If you really want forgiveness, Johnson, then you can do two things for me. One is difficult – make sure I get home. The other is impossible – you need to make friends with the Ape.’

  ‘GOING TO KILL YOU!’ the monster outside screams as if on cue.

  Other-Johnson hesitates. He lowers his voice. Something else is worrying him. ‘She’s on the floor below.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Rev. And she’s coming straight here.’

  A car door flies through the window. Non-Ape is nothing if not predictably predictable in his destructive habits. The car door short-circuits the electrics in the room and plunges it into darkness.

  Another-Billie wheels my dad’s bed towards the corridor as Other-Johnson edges over to the shattered window and peers out. I don’t know what he’s planning but we can’t have much time.

  ‘I’m coming out,’ he calls down to Non-Ape. ‘There’s a door at the back. I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘You better be there, Johnson.’

  I can hear Non-Ape’s lumbering footsteps crunching towards the rear of the hospital.

  Other-Johnson ushers me towards the window. ‘Jump.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Rev’s right outside.’

  I peer out of the window and it’s got to be at least a six-metre drop. ‘I’ll be squished.’

  ‘Aim for those bushes.’

  ‘Stop her, do your mind thingy.’

  Other-Johnson grabs me and shoves me out of the shattered window. Even as I’m falling I can hear him turning on his charm with Rev Two. ‘Hey, guess who’s awake?’

  I land hard in a bush and even though the foliage is thick and the small branches cushion my drop I still plunge straight through it and hit earth. The branches and twigs tear at my clothes and skin and I get scratched and cut everywhere. But Other-Johnson’s aim was good enough and I somehow survive the fall.

  Other-Johnson and Rev Two’s voices reach me from the window.

  ‘Billie healed you? When?’ she asks, dazed and elated. She has my voice, only it sounds like when you hear yourself on a recording or a home movie. You are a little surprised that you sound so different from the voice you hear in your head.

  ‘About a minute ago,’ he lies.

  ‘My God.’ Her voice sounds muffled and I wonder if she’s hugging him. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you like that.’ Meaning: I didn’t mean to drain the life from you and kill you.

  ‘Well . . . these things happen. Look, I’ve got to go.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ape’s out there,’ he replies, and I imagine him slipping her arms from round him.

  ‘And I’m here,’ she tells him, without the slightest trace of fear in her voice. Rev Two knows how to handle Non-Ape and I realise that back in the church he was definitely worried that I – or she – was going to kill him.

  ‘Rev, protect your dad,’ Other-Johnson tells her. We need to get going and there is urgency in his voice.

  ‘He’s my dad?’

  ‘You were right all along.’ He’s able to lie almost too easily to Rev Two’s face. I know it’s because he’s protecting my dad but he’s still very good at it. ‘But he’s not well enough yet.’ He doesn’t miss a beat. God knows what she’ll do to him when she finds out the truth.

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I lose the Ape,’ he promises her.

  ‘No! I’m coming with you. I can stop him.’

  ‘Rev – listen to me – your dad can take us home. He’s the priority. Protect him. There’s someone in the town who doesn’t like us very much.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘I don’t know but they’ve turned the world to winter.’

  I imagine him taking her hands in his and looking deep into her eyes.

  ‘I can’t let them get you,’ he tells her. ‘So stay hidden and I’ll come back for you.’

  ‘Promise?’ she asks.

  ‘Cross my dark heart.’ Which I’m sure he says with a smile.

  ‘JOHNSON!’ Non-Ape bellows from somewhere round the back of the hospital.

  Before Rev Two can respond he kisses her. I just know he does because the silence goes on too long. ‘I love you,’ he whispers and I wonder if he’s worried that I’ll hear him. But I get it. I get why he has to say that to her. It’s all part of his master plan.

  Isn’t it?

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  There’s another longer silence and I know for sure they’re kissing again.

  ‘JOHNSON!’

  ‘Go,’ she tells him.

  But damn me if there isn’t another silent pause.

  He seems incapable of keeping his hands off her.

  Other-Johnson probably thinks I’ve scurried into the night but he suddenly clicks into my head. ‘I’ve got to make it look good,’ he reassures me.

  Well, you certainly did that, I think.

  It makes perfect sense now. Johnson’s hair wouldn’t have grown and Non-Ape wouldn’t have changed his clothes. Not if we’d only been gone an hour.

  It’s weird the thoughts that come to you when you’re running for your life.

  Rather than emerging from the back door Other-Johnson kicked open an emergency exit door, which set off a wailing alarm. He called to me telepathically and I met him in the car park.

  ‘Stay put, I’m going to draw him away.’

  Other-Johnson races around and starts hitting cars, banging on their roofs and bonnets, setting off alarms to get Non-Ape’s attention. ‘Here! Hey! Here!’

  It takes all of ten seconds for Non-Ape to stomp round to the side of the hospital and find Other-Johnson.

  ‘We need to talk, Ape,’ Other-Johnson tells him. ‘Stop all this running around and fighting.’

  A car comes flying straight towards Other-Johnson and he has to hurl himself to the ground.

  ‘Dazza, c’mon, let’s be civil.’

  There is no civility in Non-Ape as he looms over Other-Johnson, standing at his full massive height.

  Other-Johnson stays calm as he gets to his feet. ‘I need your help, D-Man. Seriously, there’s no one else I’d ask.’

  Non-Ape hesitates.

  ‘I know we’ve hit a rocky patch . . .’ Other-Johnson can’t help himself. He has to put a little ironic spin on his words, and I wish he wouldn’t because he’s badly underestimating Non-Ape. ‘But all of the best friendships do.’

  If Non-Ape was a dog his hackles would be rising now. I’m hiding behind a car, hoping desperately that Non-Ape doesn’t see me. If he does, he’ll think that he’s been led into some sort of trap.

  ‘So how d’you fancy a trip to London?’ Other-Johnson is too confident for his own good. I know he can’t read Non-Ape’s mind because there’s probably nothing in it, but he’s also failing to read the look in his eyes. The car-park lights are picking it out all too clearly for me though – he can sense that Other-Johnson is teasing him.

  ‘The old L-Town,’ Other-Johnson adds. ‘Up for that?’

  Non-Ape’s chest gently swells and deflates with great chunks of air – he could inhale a small room’s worth in one breath.

  He takes a step towards Other-Johnson who thinks this is a good sign and smiles. ‘See, good things happen when we talk.’

  Non-Ape moves, but I move quicker and charge out from behind the car and push Other-Johnson out of the way of a swinging right hook that would have knocked him all the way to the next town.

  I grab Other-Johnson’s hand and drag him towards the darkened woods that surround the hospital.

  ‘That should’ve worked,’ he says half to himself, a little bewildered that his nuanced charm failed so abysmally.

  ‘JOHNSON!’

  I’m getting so tired of hearing that. It’s OTHER-JOHNSON! I want to yell back at him.

  The woods aren’t large, they’re more of a copse, but at least they’re dense and turn the night pitch-black as a result
.

  Other-Johnson labours behind me, still not used to being in Johnson’s human body. He can’t run as fast, he’s not as strong as in his own body and his skin is vulnerable to cuts and scratches. To his credit he plunges onwards, ignoring his limitations.

  Non-Ape’s large body isn’t built to move easily between the sturdy trees of the small wood and he keeps stopping to push them apart, like Samson between the pillars, so he can squeeze through. We’re actually drawing away from him but the copse won’t last for ever and all that lies ahead of us is the large open field. We’ll be sitting ducks out there.

  Other-Johnson is breathing hard. ‘Rev.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Got any ideas?’

  We hear the crack and groan of a tree as it is brutally shouldered to one side.

  ‘Doesn’t he ever stop?’

  ‘Rev, focus, we need an idea.’

  ‘And you’re looking at me?’

  ‘I’m always looking at you.’

  ‘That’s not creepy.’

  We duck under a large overhanging branch and then squeeze between two oak trees that have probably spent millennia getting up close and personal with each other.

  ‘What sort of idea?’ I ask as he follows me between the oaks.

  ‘A good one.’

  Something undignified happens to a tree some fifteen metres behind us and a resounding nature-killing crack pierces the night.

  We are almost at the open field. If we can cross it, we can take a short cut through a new housing estate, which I think leads back towards the railway station on the edge of town. Not knowing this area means the best I can do is make an educated guess. I think we are at the far end of town now, about two miles from its centre.

  ‘Know how to drive a train?’ I ask, hoping we could make it to the station and find the train GG left there.

  ‘Sorry. I’m a biker boy.’

  Behind us a tree is punched. ‘Timber!’ Non-Ape shouts.

  ‘Plan B, Rev?’

  The open expanse affords no cover or protection. And in a cruel trick of nature the full moon seems to be hovering directly above it and has lit it up like a football stadium. This world is determined to get me.

  But I’m determined not to let it.

  ‘Send a message,’ I tell Other-Johnson.

  ‘To who?’

  ‘To Billie.’

  ‘Billie?’

  ‘My Billie. You can do that, right?’

  ‘What do I tell her?’

  Non-Ape tears the smooching oak trees apart.

  ‘I’ve got her a date.’

  We have to run; there is no other choice. Non-Ape is bearing down on us and we have to cross that wide-open field.

  Other-Johnson lets go of my hand. He’s perspiring and looks like he would cough if he didn’t know it would lead Non-Ape straight to us.

  ‘Does your Johnson smoke?’ he pants.

  ‘Um, yes. Sorry.’

  ‘I should swap with him now. Leave this bit to him. That’ll teach him to poison his lungs.’

  ‘But at least you get to spend time with me,’ I try and quip. ‘Racing through dark woods for our lives. Can’t beat it.’

  We burst out from the small copse and race across the lush green field. I go west and Other-Johnson goes east. I don’t realise he’s not behind me until I’ve gone quite a way into the field. Non-Ape crashes out into the field and I’m expecting his heavy thunderous footfalls to be right behind us but if anything they are growing quieter and more distant. I dare to turn round and see that Other-Johnson, like the cavalier he is, has led him away from me.

  ‘Johnson!’ I yell through our mind-link.

  ‘Not now, Rev.’ Even telepathically he is wheezing.

  ‘We had a plan.’

  ‘The plan’s still on.’

  I watch Other-Johnson reach a steep dip in the field and then skid and slide down it, his long slim legs splaying like a drunken spider’s. Non-Ape is about forty metres behind him but gaining all the time. He’s not fast but he is relentless, and it would appear, remorseless. He must have seen that Other-Johnson broke Another-Billie’s heart and is looking to make him pay.

  I’ve already seen Other-Johnson’s charms fail to bewitch Non-Ape as easily as he can a girl so I head after them as fast as my aching legs will take me. Lactic acid is building up and burning through my veins, and my poor muscles are tightening with cramp, but I cannot let Non-Ape catch Other-Johnson.

  Other-Johnson has dipped out of view but I am closing on Non-Ape. He doesn’t realise that there is such a sudden and severe slope in the field and takes a heavy fall, pitching forward into a neck-jarring tumble that sends him rolling head over heels.

  ‘Johnson!’ I transmit.

  Other-Johnson is gasping for air. ‘I’m done, Rev, I’m done. This body.’

  ‘Send that message to Billie.’

  ‘I can’t get my thoughts,’ he pants.

  ‘Send it, Johnson!’

  I reach the crest of the hill, which is more sheer than I had counted on. It’s slippery from the night dew and Non-Ape is now lying at the bottom of it, not really dazed or injured, more struggling to comprehend what just happened.

  Other-Johnson is still trying to reach the housing estate but he is fast running out of puff. He looks heavy-legged and disoriented.

  ‘The message, Johnson, the message,’ I urge him.

  ‘Heard you the first and second time.’

  He won’t be able to keep running. His legs will give up and tell him enough’s enough. He’ll never get away from Non-Ape.

  ‘Hey, stupid!’ I call down the steep slope.

  Non-Ape gets to his feet. He watches Other-Johnson for a moment then turns his great head and looks back up the slippery slope towards me.

  ‘Ha, know your name,’ I say with a swagger that is entirely fake and see-through.

  Non-Ape turns again to watch Other-Johnson, then his great block of cranium turns once more to me.

  I think he’s calculating which one of us he has a better chance of catching.

  He turns his head back to Other-Johnson and I’m starting to think we could be here all night when he turns back to me and frowns.

  At this rate Johnson could be in London before Non-Ape’s startlingly slow attempt at mental arithmetic kicks in.

  Non-Ape settles on an answer and starts back up the hill.

  I’m easily the closest.

  Non-Ape can’t get any purchase on the slope and even if it’s just a few seconds it still equates to a small distance in my desperate bid to make it back to the cover of the trees.

  My torn, skinless hands decide that now is a good time to make their presence felt again and with the blood pumping through me, sending throbs in every direction, they come alive with pain. Where’s the calming snow when I need it?

  Non-Ape reaches the top of the rise and his thunderous footsteps start to pound after me.

  I don’t know how to tell if you’re having a heart attack or not, but as my heart hammers in my chest I feel like I might be having one now. The glow from the hospital to my left is a mocking beacon of health and hope. I could get treated there. They could lay me in a bed, put me on a drip, maybe waft some oxygen my way, and then they’d let me sleep. For days. Only waking me to feed me mouthfuls of specially prepared soups. I wonder if Another-Billie would help or turn a blind eye. ‘Sorry, but I’m all out of healing magic. Shame.’

  The small wood looms before me and the moonlight casts a glow over the arboreal devastation that Non-Ape has wreaked. It makes it easier for me to cut a path back through the trees until I meet a three-metre-high wooden fence that hides who knows what behind it.

  With all my might I leap and catch the top of the wooden fence before heaving myself up it. My skinned hands howl in protest. But the fence is rotten and hasn’t been maintained so the panel I’m clinging to crashes forward under my weight. I go with it, toppling into an overgrown tarmac alleyway and somehow end up under the fence.

/>   Omph! The breath is knocked from me and I don’t know if I have the strength in my arms to raise the rotting soggy panel. But you have to, Rev, I tell myself, you have to.

  Because Non-Ape is almost upon you.

  I wriggle and kick and feel what could be a rusty nail slice deep into my thigh and then rip along it as I yank myself free. I bite down on a girlie whimper and look around me. I’m in an alleyway that seems to run the length of the field. I limp down it with no idea where I’m going. But the alleyway is so dark that I’m assuming if I can’t see more than a metre in front of me then I’m guessing Non-Ape won’t be able to either.

  He crashes into the narrow alleyway and despite every instinct screaming at me to run – I stop.

  I fall as still as I can and crouch, praying my knees don’t crack, which is the only break I get so far. I go as low and small as I can. I need to get my breathing under control but my chest is heaving so I clasp a red raw hand over my mouth and try to cup the noise.

  Non-Ape has also fallen silent. He has stopped to listen.

  We stay that way for well over a minute.

  The silence expands and again I’m amazed by how loud a packed and thriving world usually is. I’ve never heard so much silence.

  My thigh drips blood which lands on a piece of tin foil. It’s the faintest of noises.

  I move my hand from my mouth and try to stop the blood, which is running more freely now, hitting the tin foil with a more regular pitter-pat. I clasp my hand to the wound but the blood seeps between my fingers and I can’t stop it.

  Non-Ape takes a step towards the sound.

  I dare to edge backwards, away from the tin foil.

  The pitter-pat stops.

  Non-Ape stops with it.

  Silence blossoms again.

  I daren’t move but blood loss is starting to make me feel dizzy. I blink a couple of times, shake my head and try to stay focused.

  As I do my damp hair whips against the fence. It makes a dull cushioned slap.

  In a normal world you’d never hear it. But that’s not where I am.

  Non-Ape takes another step in my direction.

  He has heard me.

  The dizziness is bringing on nausea now.

  He starts to advance.