Boy 23

by Jim Carrington

  I follow the faded white line in the middle of the road, dodging the horse dung. The road’s quieter than the forest, cos there’s no bushes for animals to scurry around in and no trees for squawks to sit in and call out from and no river to trickle along beside.

  There’s no more horses or people either. Just me and the stars in the sky above.

  Or at least it’s like that till I hear a noise which sounds like it’s coming from a long way off, up ahead of me, and I look up to see what it is. Only there’s nothing there. Just empty black road and sky and darkness. But the noise is there too – like a bee or a fly or something – buzzing, high-pitched.

  And after a few seconds I see something appear in the distance. Bright yellowy-white light. A couple of seconds more and I realise there are two lights, right next to each other like eyes. All the time they’re getting closer and the sound’s getting louder – sort of like the ‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR’ sound that woke me up the other night.

  Cos it’s a car, isn’t it?

  The lights get brighter and closer and the noise gets louder. I stop walking and gawp dumbly at the lights, not knowing what to do.

  I could stop the car and ask whoever’s inside where I am. Except the thought of seeing another human makes me feel as though I can’t breathe and like I want to be sick.

  So I turn and run in the opposite direction. And all the while I’m running, the noise and the lights don’t stop, they follow me, and I can tell from the way they shine on the road surface ahead of me that the lights are getting closer.

  RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . . .

  And my mind’s so scrambled that I can’t even think straight. So I just concentrate on running, cos that’s easy.

  The sound gets louder and the car gets closer and the lights get brighter until it almost feels like I’m inside the noise.

  And then I hear a screeching behind me, like some monster wailing, and I know it’s the car. It has to be.

  Then THUMP.

  And suddenly I’m in so much pain I can’t even describe it.

  I’m flying through the air, bumping off the front of the car.

  And then I’m SMACKing back to the ground and bouncing off the road and into the air again.

  And THUMP. I land in a heap.

  Broken.

  Every single bit of me screams in agony.

  I lie where I land, stuck to the cold, hard road.

  Only something in my head tells me I should get away from here. I try to get up, to push myself up to sitting. But my body won’t work. I can’t do it. There’s pain everywhere. I can feel blood trickling down my face and I can taste it in my mouth.

  And somewhere the bright lights are still shining, blinding me. The noise is still going too – RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . . .

  – but it’s gentler than before.

  Then there’s another noise, like something opening and shutting again. Then a clacking sound. And I realise it’s a car door and then footsteps, coming towards me. I try to look up to see who it is and what’s happening, but the light’s so bright in my eyes and I have to shield them with the arm that still works.

  There’s someone there. A man. Two men. I see their shiny black boots on the road in front of me. One of them leans down, gawks at me. And I see he has something across his face, covering his mouth and nose, like a mask.

  For a second I wonder whether this is The Voice, come to find me.

  Only as soon as he starts talking, I know it isn’t. Cos his words are like those of the man in the village – nothing more to me than noises, muffled by his mask.

  ‘Was machen Sie den hier? Es ist nach der Sperrstunde.’

  And since I can’t understand his words, I look at his face and try and read that instead. But it’s hard with the mask covering his mouth and nose. I focus on his eyes – angry and small. And I start wondering what he’s going to do to me.

  ‘Haben Sie ihre Personalausweis?’

  In one of his hands he has a long stick and he’s holding it like he’s wondering whether to hit me. I crane my neck to squizz at the other man, see that he has a stick too and he’s gawping at me, his mouth and nose also covered by a mask.

  There’s only one idea in my mind, to get away, to run. Except I don’t think I can do it.

  I try to stand. Pain screams around my body, but slowly and unsteadily I manage to move. I push myself up with my hands until I’m sitting. And the man who leaned in close to me stumbles back, fear on his face, looking almost as scared as I am.

  He shouts something at me, but it’s all words I don’t know.

  I clamber to my feet, uneasy, falling down and then getting back up and then falling down again and getting back up once and for all. And now I’m standing.

  Both the men gawp at me. One of the men makes the sign of the cross in front of himself. And behind them are the lights and the noise, hurting my eyes and my head and my stomach.

  I stand up straighter. I feel the crack of bones inside me and I can feel they’re crunching into place and healing. I catch sight of the men’s faces in the beam of light. They look scared. I feel my skin heal itself, feel the blood seep back inside me. The closer of the two men takes another step away and then he vomits all over the road and his shiny black boots. And as he does it, I notice that the scroll which The Voice gave me lies smashed on the road.

  A million pieces.

  But I don’t have time to just stand here and gawp. I have to get away. So I start running, my whole body screaming in agony with every movement. I run towards the trees, towards the darkness of the forest.

  Except that’s when I feel something THWACK against the back of my head and I collapse to the ground.

  And everything goes dark.

  Blake

  Just as Mr Huber promised, everyone is being watched. Despite this, nobody has any inkling of Boy 23’s whereabouts and panic is starting to take over.

  But just because they’re looking at everyone, it doesn’t mean they see everything. It would be impossible for them to.

  And so, as I leave my quarters and walk into the grounds of Huber, I check about me and I’m certain nobody notices me. I hurry through the trees, out towards the perimeter fence, towards the disused buildings that once contained the boiler, with their faded warning signs and metal boards covering the windows and doorways. The buildings that received nothing but a cursory search.

  The inside of the building is dark – I take a flashlight from my jacket pocket and wind it, before switching it on and shining its beam into the gloom. I head towards the room on the right, where a mess of broken wooden crates is piled untidily against the wall. I place the torch on the floor and move the crates out of the way one by one. Underneath the crates I notice there’s a spilt drop of Jesper’s blood, from the test tube that contained his blood sample. The sample I took and tested, and found he didn’t carry the new strain of Marsh Flu. The bloodstain that proved he could be released into the real world. I spit on it and scrub it away. Next to where the stain was is a small handheld screen stamped with the Huber Corporation logo and the words ‘Eigentum von Huber Corporation’. Property of Huber Corporation.

  I stand one of the crates on its side and sit on it. I swipe my finger across the screen to wake it. Right away it shows me what I want to see – a map. On the map is a single red dot. Jesper is in a village called Schweilszeldorf. I tap the screen and bring up a menu of options. I choose TRACK MOVEMENT and then, when the next set of options pops up, I choose LAST 24 HOURS. The screen refreshes and what I see takes me by surprise. He hasn’t moved in the last twenty-four hours. Whatever is in Schweilszeldorf, he seems to have stayed there. I tap the screen again, and this time I zoom in on the town. I keep zooming until I see the exact building he’s in and then track his movements in the last twenty-four hours again.

  The screen refreshes and I discover he’s been in the s
ame building, in the same room, for the last twenty-four hours. He hasn’t moved a muscle.

  Which could mean a number of things. That he’s been captured. That he’s sick. That he’s sleeping. That he’s found a home. That he’s dead.

  Whatever the reason, I need to do something.

  I type a message on the screen, sending it to the scroll I gave him:

  Keep moving, Jesper. I’m preparing to come and meet you. I’ll be a few days at most. Stay away from other people.

  Jesper

  I dream. And my dreams are filled with My Place. Of the Waking Sound and getting out of bed. Of letting Feathers out of his cage as I walk over to the hatch to collect my provisions. Of completing tasks – survival tasks this time – as Feathers flaps happily around the room. Of receiving a reward and watching a clip on The Screen.

  They’re happy dreams.

  Cos my life is simple and I know what’s going to happen from one minute to the next, don’t I?

  Only something interrupts my dream, cos somewhere in the distance a bell tolls.

  And to begin with I’m not sure whether I’m dreaming any more.

  The bell goes on tolling. DONG. DONG. DONG . . .

  And it isn’t the only sound. There’s a howling sound too. ‘Aaaarrroooooo.’

  My Place dissolves from my imagination and all that replaces it is darkness. And a pain in the back of my head that radiates out all around, making me feel sick.

  And I’m awake. I don’t feel good. When I open my eyes they take a second to focus.

  And what I see isn’t what I was expecting at all.

  I’m not in My Place and I’m not in the forest either.

  I’m in a dingy room. There are two rows of beds along either side of the room. And in all but one of the beds there are boys. Some of the boys lie in bed silently, and others cry or rock backwards and forwards on top of their beds, moaning. The only bed that doesn’t have anyone in it is the one opposite mine. The sheets are on the bed, all made up as though no one’s slept in it. Fastened on to the bars at the end of the bed is a chain that runs underneath it. I can’t see what’s on the other end. I can only hear it: ‘Aaaaaarrrrrrrrooooooo.’ Cos that’s where the howling sound’s coming from.

  I gulp.

  It has to be a hound under there, doesn’t it?

  And that makes me panic, makes me breathe fast.

  I have to get out of here.

  A quick squizz around the room tells me there are just two ways out – a window at one end which has bars across it, and at the other side of the room a door.

  So I do what I have to do. I jump out of bed and I run to the door, ignoring the pounding in my head and the sore feeling in my legs and my back. Cos the only thing that’s important is getting out of here, being on my own again.

  But when I reach the door and try the handle, it’s locked.

  I’m trapped.

  I run back to the bed I woke up in and I hide myself under the covers, as the other boys keep making their noises and the hound howls beneath the bed opposite mine.

  And it’s only when I’m there, beneath the bed, that I start thinking about how I got here. I don’t remember coming here. The last thing I remember is being in the forest – running from the old man and his hound. And then the car. Being hit by it. Lying in the road and staring at the bright lights as the men in masks stood over me. Then running.

  And then nothing.

  Except now I’m here. And I realise suddenly that I don’t have my bag any more, nor my clothes. I’m dressed in pyjamas that I don’t remember putting on, that aren’t even mine.

  Where is this?

  The words The Voice spoke to me as he freed me come back to me. He told me to avoid people, to avoid buildings. And look where I am now.

  I’ve messed up. I don’t even have the scroll.

  The bell stops, the last DONG ringing in the air. It’s soon replaced by the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the door. Then jangling metal. Keys in a lock. And then the footsteps sound like they’re coming into the room.

  Is it the men with masks that knocked me over in their car? Is it The Voice?

  I squizz over the top of the sheets.

  And what I see is two men dressed in long black robes, strips of white cloth on their collars. Priests, aren’t they? Across their faces they wear masks, just like the men on the road. They yomp into the room, pushing a trolley with trays of food on it. Provisions, like in My Place.

  My heart races.

  I pry on them as they take one tray to each bed, leaving it on the end. And what happens is that on most of the beds the boys take the trays right away and start scoffing like they’ve never seen food before. But on one of the beds, right at the end of the room, one where the boy’s rocking back and forth, the boy sticks out his leg and nudges the tray.

  It CRASHES on to the floor.

  And that sets the howling off again. ‘AAAARRRrrrrrrrooooooooo.’

  The boy who kicked the tray places his hands over his ears and rocks faster than ever, humming. ‘MMMMMmmmm.’

  The priests ignore it, go on delivering trays. And in no time they get to the bed opposite mine, the empty one. This time, rather than placing the tray on the bed, the priest leaves the tray in front of the bed, on the floor. ‘Michael,’ he says. ‘Frühstück.’

  Instead of prying at the priests handing out the other trays, I gawp at the tray and the empty bed and the chain. Waiting to see.

  But nothing happens. The priests hand out all the trays (including mine) and then they leave the room, locking the door behind them. The tray on the floor stays where it is, untouched. And in the end I get fed up of waiting and prying so I look at what’s on my tray instead, cos I’m hungry.

  A cup of water. Some bread, some cheese and a couple of slices of something looking like meat. It doesn’t look like the best food I’ve ever eaten, but my guts are gurgling and telling me I’m hungry. So I scoff it. As I’m swilling my food down with the water, I hear a sound that makes me stop what I’m doing.

  It’s the sound of a chain dragging across the floor.

  And I can’t stop myself from gawping across at the empty bed. All of a sudden something comes out from underneath – a head. And it isn’t the head of a hound or anything like that. It’s a boy with long hair and angry, animal eyes. He’s completely naked, crouched on all fours. He moves slowly towards the tray of food, sniffing at it. And then he grabs the meat with his teeth and scoffs it.

  I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know what he is. He doesn’t look like a hound, but he isn’t human either. Is he?

  Suddenly he stops eating. He looks up and across the room and my heart stops. He looks directly at me, a piece of meat still between his jaws. He growls, eyes fixed on me, straining at the chain attached to his neck. The veins in the side of his neck bulge.

  Blake

  The clock ticks round to seven o’clock and my shift ends. I take my coat and bag and leave the control room. As I get out into the corridor, I fall in step with Jarl, who works in the lab.

  ‘Are you finished for the day too?’ I ask him.

  He nods.

  ‘Good day?’

  Jarl shrugs. ‘Not really. Everything’s been strange since Boy 23’s disappearance,’ he says. ‘There’s so much suspicion and paranoia around. It’s difficult to work like that.’ And he buzzes us out of the building.

  I nod, stepping out into the cold evening air. ‘Tell me about it. Try being Boy 23’s voice and donor. I feel like my every move is monitored and analysed right now.’

  Jarl sighs.

  We walk across to the staff quarters. For a while we’re silent.

  ‘What are you up to this evening?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing much,’ he says. ‘I’m exhausted. Eating, washing and sleeping, speaking to the family back home in the Scandi-Countries. You?’

  We reach the quarters. I scan my pass to open the door.

  ‘Pretty much the same, I guess,
’ I say, ‘except for the family. I’ve lost touch.’

  We nod goodbye to each other and then Jarl climbs the stairs to his floor of the building. I watch him go before walking along the corridor to my door.

  And I figure that tonight is the night.

  Jesper

  My body aches and my mind’s filled with questions about where I am and how I got here and what happens next. But there aren’t any answers, are there?

  After leaving the room, the priests don’t come back. They leave us to our own devices. The boys cry or rock backwards and forwards and the hound-boy howls.

  I stay in bed, too scared to move even to go and pee in the smelly bucket at the end of the room where the others do their business.

  I watch the sun make progress across the sky through the barred window at the end of the room and I think about getting out of here. Except how are you meant to get out if the windows are barred and the door’s locked?

  It must be nearly midday (cos the sun is halfway across the sky) when I hear footsteps and keys jangling again. By the time the keys are in the lock, the other kids in the room are going nuts again – howling and humming and rocking and crying. I sit where I am, prying as the priests open the door and walk back in.

  Only this time they’re not pushing a trolley. Instead, one of the priests carries a brown leather bag. And once the door’s been locked, the Father with the bag looks around the room before his eyes rest on me. With horror, I realise he’s heading straight for my bed.

  I panic. I pull the bed sheets higher, trying to hide myself, but it’s useless, isn’t it? He reaches my bed and speaks – sounds that don’t make any words I’ve ever heard.

  I say nothing. I squizz around the room looking for a way out that I already know isn’t there.

  He speaks again. More words that aren’t my words, too fast for me to catch them.

  I look at his eyes – blue and sparkling, looking at me, boring into me. He places his bag on the end of my bed and opens the metal clasp at the top.