Boy 23

by Jim Carrington

  Father Liebling points to where he wants the folded chairs stacked, and we leave them there before going back up for more.

  The three of us work at different speeds, and each time I take a chair down the steps, I end up waiting for either Markus or Jesper to climb the steps before I can go back downstairs. I notice that every time Markus passes Jesper at the top of the steps, he gives him a filthy look and his lips move like he’s saying something, no doubt about Sabine. Jesper looks away and tries to ignore him.

  I grab another chair, fold it and make my way over to the top of the staircase, where Markus is already waiting to go down. I rest the chair against my leg, listening to Jesper’s footsteps climbing up and out of the crypt. As he gets near the top, I hear Markus speak to him in English:

  ‘Get out of my way.’

  And then I see him step into Jesper’s path and shove him with his shoulder. At first there’s no noise, just a look of shock on Jesper’s face as he loses his balance.

  And then there’s a THUMP, followed by another and another and another. Because he’s fallen. And I’m certain Markus did it on purpose.

  Jesper

  My hands go out automatically to break my fall, but there’s nothing to grab on to. I fall backwards, end over end, thumping against steps all the way to the bottom and it’s all so quick I barely even know what’s happening.

  It takes a few seconds for everything to stop moving around me, for me to work out I’ve stopped falling and I’m lying in the crypt, in the dust and the spiders’ webs and bat dung. And that’s when the pain starts – like every single part of me is smashed and hurting and crying out for help.

  I try to move, but I can’t. Nothing works. I know my brain’s sending signals to my neck and my hands and arms and legs and feet, but nothing moves and I just stay there, slumped.

  Broken.

  I hear feet hurrying down the steps and a voice saying words.

  And at first I’m so disorientated I don’t know who it is. But slowly my brain recognises the voice. Markus. He pushed me. And now he’s standing over me with a look on his face like he’s seen something horrible, like he’s seen a ghost or a monster.

  But it’s me he’s looking at, isn’t it? He’s seen me, and he looks like he’s ready to vomit.

  Me, lying in a heap, where I landed. After he pushed me. Me, in so much pain that I can’t even describe.

  Next to him is Carina.

  I hear more footsteps. And another voice.

  ‘What’s happened? What happened here, Markus?’

  It’s Father Liebling.

  I manage to move my neck and my head to see him gawping at me the same way Markus and Carina are – horror on his face.

  ‘Oh, lieber Herr,’ he says, crossing himself. He looks upwards for a moment. His lips move but he makes no sound. He’s praying, talking to God, asking Him to save me. His lips stop moving and he makes the sign of the cross again.

  I move my head and it hurts so much I want to scream – only when I open my mouth no noise comes out. I manage to look at myself and what I see is just a tangle of bits of my body. There’s blood everywhere, mixing with the dust and the bat dung. My leg’s pointing in the wrong direction.

  ‘What happened?’ Father Liebling asks me.

  I say nothing because I’m in too much pain to talk and also my brain is too scrambled.

  ‘It was Markus,’ Carina says. ‘He . . .’

  ‘Jesper fell,’ Markus says quickly. ‘I tried to catch him, but I couldn’t.’

  ‘Run and fetch Father Frei, Markus,’ Father Liebling says. ‘And tell him we need a medic.’

  Markus nods and turns, squizzes at me one more time and then runs back up the steps. I listen to his footsteps echoing as he climbs and my head starts to feel weird, like I’m floating.

  ‘Jesper, where does it hurt?’ Father Liebling asks me, bending down.

  The answer is everywhere. Only when I open my mouth to say it, I find I still can’t even make a noise.

  Father Liebling looks around him and I think he’s trying to work out what to do, how to help.

  ‘We should stop the bleeding. Make a bandage,’ Carina says. ‘Your robe – tear off a strip of material.’

  Father Liebling gawps at her for a second before he pulls his white robes up and over his head and then off. And right away he and Carina start tearing until they’ve ripped them into strips. Carina takes the strips of cloth and she ties them around me, everywhere the skin’s broken. I look at her face, see her wince as she does it, trying not to look at the mess that my legs and arms are in.

  ‘You’ll be OK,’ she says. ‘It should help stop the bleeding.’ And then she strokes my hair.

  ‘Markus has gone to get help,’ Father Liebling says, just sort of standing there and trying not to look at me. ‘Stay still. Don’t move.’

  Only quite suddenly I don’t feel like staying still. My body tells me to move. And I have to do what my body is telling me. I have to try to stand.

  Carina

  He’s completely busted up. Blood everywhere. One leg and one arm bend in directions they shouldn’t. His face contorts in pain. And for the first time since I’ve known him, his eyes have stopped darting around. Instead he stares at us, willing us to help. But all I can do is crouch next to him, stroking his hair, feeling helpless and useless. We’ve bandaged what we can to stop the bleeding, but that’s not going to fix him. What he needs is a medic. Or a miracle.

  He glances at me for a second, but then looks away as an expression of concentration suddenly appears on his face.

  And then there’s a cracking noise – CCCCRRRIIICCCKKK.

  It makes me jump back. I look around into the shadows for where the noise is coming from.

  CCCCCRRRAAAAACCCCCKKKK.

  CCCRRRUUNNNCCCHHHH.

  But I don’t need to look in the shadows for the source of the noise, because it’s right in front of me. It’s Jesper. It sounds like his bones are cracking and crunching together. And I don’t understand. How can his bones be doing that?

  The sound makes me feel sick. I watch as one of his arms, which until now was bent and facing in an impossible direction, starts to move back into place. I watch as the blood that leaked out of him starts to bleed back into him. I watch his skin repair itself, so nothing more than a faint pink mark is left.

  CCCRRRIIICCCKKK.

  CCCCRRRRAAAACCCCKKKK.

  CCCCCRRRRRUUUUUNNNNNCCCCCHHHHH.

  I haven’t seen anything like it in my life. I’ve seen people die, seen people killed and mangled and maimed. But never this. Never.

  ‘Dear Lord,’ Father Liebling mumbles, making the sign of the cross.

  I hear footsteps approaching, clacking and shuffling down the steps behind me. I turn to see Father Frei and Markus. Father Frei makes the sign of the cross as he steps down the last stair.

  ‘Jesper, are you OK?’ he says. He looks at Jesper’s leg, seeing as clear as anything that he’s not OK. ‘Help’s coming. Stay still.’

  But Jesper doesn’t listen. As we watch he pushes himself up to sitting, his leg still a twisted mess.

  And then the CRACKing and the CRUNCHing start again.

  Father Frei jumps back, gasping, crossing himself again as the bones in Jesper’s leg crack back into place, straighten out, realign themselves, as blood seeps back inside him and his skin mends.

  And then Jesper stands.

  This can’t be happening.

  ‘Jesus,’ says Markus, and he bends over and vomits on the floor.

  Everyone stares at Jesper, brains not believing what eyes and ears are saying. Jesper stands a little unsteadily, looks down at his legs and his arms and then at the floor. He takes a step forward. Father Liebling gasps and takes a frightened step back.

  The Fathers cross themselves once more, utter more useless prayers.

  ‘It’s a miracle,’ Father Liebling says. ‘He walks.’

  Father Frei steps forward. The expression of shock on his face slowly
gives way to a smile. ‘Yes. A miracle,’ he says. ‘In front of our eyes.’ He touches Jesper – his arms, his legs, his face – as though he’s checking to see whether they’re real. ‘Truly a miracle. Praise God. We’re blessed.’

  Jesper

  Father Frei leads me away from the church and back into the building. All the while we’re walking, he’s turning to me, checking I’m all right, asking if I’m in pain.

  And I say I’m OK.

  Cos, I am OK, aren’t I? Of course I am. I hurt and I ache and I feel sore. But I’ve healed. I’m OK. I’m walking and everything’s fixed.

  But every so often Father Frei looks up towards heaven, speaking to God in his words, smiling, making the sign of the cross over and over again.

  ‘We’ll give you your own room, Jesper. I’ll arrange for the medic to attend to you there, to check you’re well.’

  And sure enough, we go up the stairs and Father Frei shows me to a small room with a window, a bed, a small table and a wardrobe. Through a door at the end of the room there’s a toilet and a sink. It’s almost like My Place, except there’s no screen and no Feathers.

  ‘Make yourself at home, Jesper,’ Father Frei says. ‘I’ll have food sent up and the medic will come and see you.’

  I nod and Father Frei leaves me alone, closing the door behind him. I hear him locking it before he goes.

  Four walls and no other people.

  I lie down on the bed and close my eyes.

  And for a while there’s nothing but silence and darkness and me.

  The darkness swallows me. Empty and warm and silent. But it doesn’t stay dark forever, nor silent. The darkness gives way to light and I hear a sound – the cock-a-doodle-doo of the Waking Sound. It’s far away and muffled at first. But the longer it goes on, the louder and clearer I hear it. And before I know it, I’m somewhere else.

  I’m in My Place. And it’s the start of the day and I’m back in my own bed. I sit up, look ahead of me and I see The Screen on the far wall.

  ‘Good morning, Jesper,’ The Voice says.

  I mumble a ‘good morning’ back to The Screen and then get out of bed, yomp over towards the door, to the hatch, where my provisions are waiting. Water. Juice. Cereal. Toast. I take the tray over to my table and sit and scoff it all down. And when I’m done I set the empty bowls and plates and glasses back on my tray and take it to the hatch. I open my wardrobe, grab a pile of clothes and go through to the shower room. I take off my pyjamas and put them into the dirty clothes chute. I turn the shower dial and the water comes on – warm and fast and steady.

  When I’m done and I’m dressed, I go back through to the main area of My Place. I let Feathers out of his cage, and while he’s flying around the room, I pull up my seat in front of The Screen, waiting to find out what’s happening today.

  A film. One of my favourites: a meteorite speeding towards Earth. And as it flies through the dark starry deepness of space, bits of it whizz off in all directions. But the main part of it keeps heading towards Earth and eventually it passes into the atmosphere. And it’s moving so fast that in seconds it crashes into the Earth, into some buildings and people and some trees. And in the second it lands, the buildings and the trees disappear and all that’s left is fire and smoke and the meteor. A meteorite.

  It’s showing because of yesterday – because I did all my tasks well yesterday. Top marks, nothing wrong. I earned two rewards, but I only had time for one of them before lights out.

  The film ends.

  ‘Good morning again, Jesper,’ The Voice says, taking me by surprise.

  Pictures appear on The Screen – first a field of grass with a mountain behind it, then a city with tall buildings, then a lake . . .

  ‘Good morning,’ I say again.

  ‘How are you feeling today, Jesper?’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Do you have any problems? Any questions?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘OK. Good.’

  There are new pictures appearing on The Screen all the time. Animals. People. Fields.

  And then something else appears. A picture of a horse with a saddle on and a man on his back. The horse looks like it’s running fast, like it’s racing. It has the number four on it. This picture stays on The Screen.

  ‘We’ll start with some logic puzzles, Jesper.’

  I smile. Logic puzzles are one of my favourite things.

  ‘Here’s a warm-up question. On the screen you’ll see a picture of a horse taking part in a race. Now, have a look at the problem on the screen and think about it.’

  And as soon as The Voice says that, the picture of the horse disappears and words appear on The Screen:

  There were five horses in a race: Jake finished ahead of Rodney.

  Jake finished after Misty.

  Rum beat Misty but finished after Gordon.

  Where did Rum finish?

  Straight away I reach for The Scroll, take out the stylus and use it to try to figure the puzzle out, writing down the names of the horses, putting them in order.

  ‘Second,’ I say aloud.

  The Screen turns green, which means I’m right. My time flashes up on The Screen – 10.32 seconds.

  But I’m feeling kind of peed off with myself, cos that was an easy question and a rubbish time. If I want a reward, I’ve gotta be quicker than that. I squizz down at The Scroll and press the button to clear it. And I make sure I’m concentrating properly before the next puzzle.

  All the letters of the alphabet appear in a long line across The Screen. Black letters on a light yellow background.

  And then a whole load of words appear on The Screen, but before I even get a chance to read them, The Voice is saying them out loud, like:

  ‘This test involves letter sequences. For each question, look at the sequence and work out which of the five letters below it is the next in the sequence. You’ll need to speak your answer aloud. The alphabet is given below to help you.’

  I take a moment to let all the information sink in, read it again to myself, thinking, understanding what I gotta do.

  ‘Are you ready, Jesper?’ The Voice says.

  I finish reading and nod. I gulp, feeling nervous. The timer starts and the first question appears onscreen. My heartbeat quickens.

  A B ? D E

  It takes me less than a second to read it and answer ‘C’, and for The Screen to flash green.

  Immediately the next question is up.

  Z ? X W

  It takes a little longer, but not much, before I have it worked out and I say the letter ‘Y’ out loud. The Screen flashes green once more.

  Right away the next one is there:

  A A Z B B ?

  And this time I panic the first time I read the sequence. So I read it again. The answer is Y, isn’t it? Has to be. So I say it. And I’m rewarded by a green screen.

  The sequences appear on The Screen one after the other, getting more and more difficult every time. And as each one comes up, I get a sinking feeling that it’s too difficult for me and I won’t be able to do it. But each time I calm down and work it out logically, make notes on The Scroll, look at the alphabet on The Screen and then solve it.

  X T C G P L K ?

  I scribble on The Scroll, circling numbers, counting the jumps, and it takes ages and ages. But it has to be O, doesn’t it? It’s the only letter it can be.

  ‘O,’ I say.

  The Screen flashes green. And The Voice speaks back to me. ‘Thank you, Jesper. That’s the last question.’

  My score flashes on to The Screen. Twenty-three out of twenty-four and a total time of five minutes and fourteen seconds. And I know right away that’s a good score, even before The Screen turns green and The Voice says, ‘Excellent, Jesper. You’ve earned a reward of a video clip of your choice.’

  The Screen changes again and this time there are nine little video clips and an arrow at the bottom. I scan the rows of clips: building shelters, firelighting, wild animals, cars, home, wa
r, and so on and so on. I press the arrow and look at the second page too: animals, a cartoon, fighting and loads more. There are so many of them I want to see. Most of my favourites are there.

  ‘Home,’ I say eventually.

  Immediately the rows and rows of little clips disappear and The Screen fills with Home, a grey and black and white picture – kind of grainy just like all the Home clips – and it’s like I’m looking down from the ceiling. It’s set in a room that looks a lot like My Place, only I’m not sure if it is. This one’s a clip I’ve never seen before.

  A woman sits in a chair similar to the one I’m sitting in right now – the same woman that’s always in the Home clips. She has long, dark hair and she’s tall. She’s dressed in plain clothes – a shapeless jumper and a skirt and shoes. And even though I want to see her face, to see who she is, I can’t cos her hair’s kind of falling across it, covering it, as she bends over the little kid who sits on her lap. The kid can’t be older than two. He’s smiling, saying something to the woman, and even though I can’t see her face to prove it, I’m sure she’s smiling back at him. She lifts him above her, so it’s like he’s flying through the air. And just at the moment when I think I’m gonna see her face, she brings the boy through the air towards her, getting in the way of my view.

  There’s movement somewhere else in the room, and I look away from the woman and the boy and see there are other people there. A girl who looks older than the little boy. In her hand she carries a toy – a wooden horse, which she’s making fly through the air as she skips along. And it’s my wooden horse, isn’t it? There’s another boy as well, who looks even older. He walks towards the woman. And I see his face. And it’s familiar. I know the face. Only how can that be?

  ‘Jesper.’

  Everything goes blank. Black. The room and the people in it all disappear.

  But there’s sound. A voice.

  ‘Jesper. Jesper, wake up.’

  And I feel something on my shoulder. A hand?

  I jerk awake. Eyes open. Squizzing around.

  And beside me, crouching down at my level and gawping at me, I see one of the priests, the one who put the needle thing in me the other day. Father Lekmann. And I can see that this time he’s brought another priest with him – Father Liebling, standing over by the door.