‘How could you smash up your own picture?’ said Jeff.
‘I hate . . . everyone always going on about it,’ said Aparna. She was staring at her knees. ‘Going on about art and how clever I am.’
‘You are,’ said Salome.
‘No,’ said Aparna. ‘No. You haven’t met my sister.’ She laughed. ‘You haven’t met my other sister, who’s at medical college and has an offer to train at . . . I don’t even know where, somewhere famous. I’m not clever at all – all I do is . . . remember stuff. I’ve got a good memory. I’m not as clever as Eric. I couldn’t catch a rabbit.’
‘Oh,’ said Eric, ‘rabbits are just dopey—’
‘I can’t be nice, like Jeff. I can be dull. I can be quiet. I can’t say stuff, like Rikki. That speech you made, for the TV: that was so terrible and frightening, and brave. You were so angry – it was my dad who clapped you, by the way – he said you were a genius, which made me hate you even more. And anyway, the other thing about that picture was what someone said about Icarus, after Mr Barlow told the story. About why did it have to be a sad ending, and why was it always about punishment and death? I thought, Why am I doing paintings about death?’ Aparna paused, and everyone waited. ‘So I went into reception late, after my music lesson. And I hated you so much, Rikki. That must have been the main thing. I just smashed it with a stone. And in the morning, I’m so sorry . . . I did that to your locker. But I kept the little plane.’
‘It’s only stuff,’ said Richard. ‘Stuff can be fixed. I wish I still had the wings, though.’
‘They’re here,’ said Eric. ‘They were by your bed.’
Rikki stared.
Eric dug in his pocket, and out they came, damp and forlorn. A piece of sellotape had held them together, but it had come off, and they were in two pieces again. Jeff switched his torch back on, and they looked at the careful embroidery, and the gold thread fraying where Aparna’s scissors had sliced them in half.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. ‘I wish they could be mended.’
‘They can be,’ said Salome.
‘Aparna,’ said Jeff. ‘Are you really sick of yourself?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s so weird. I’m sick of me.’ He laughed.
Mark smiled. ‘You imagine what it’s like being me, then,’ he said. ‘I’d rather be you, or Eric. I mean, look at me! Look. I’m just this bug-eyed zero who never says anything worth saying. I’m just this stupid body, in a bunch of clothes that don’t even fit me—’
‘That’s not true!’ said Rikki.
‘I’m even rubbish at football. I don’t care, most of the time . . . but sometimes you just think how nice it would be to be someone else. And be good at something. And be special.’
‘I don’t get my parents,’ said Jeff. ‘They never have a laugh. They’re so sensible – all the time.’
‘You try living with mine,’ said Salome.
‘Your dad was scary,’ said Richard.
‘He’s not. Not really. Mum’s the scary one. But all I do is train and train, and then I go and lose my temper . . . I nearly lost everything over . . . you know, over Rolo. And Dad won’t let me forget it.’
‘It was a good punch,’ said Rikki. ‘I’d like to box.’
‘I didn’t insult your grandad,’ said Jeff. ‘You told Mr Prowse I’d called him names.’
Eric laughed. ‘I remember your grandad,’ he said. ‘We used to call him Uncle. Everyone did. If you called him “sir” or “mister”, he used to pretend he couldn’t hear you – you remember? He’d put his hand by his ear and say, “What was that? What was that?” And remember him at football practice, shouting his head off! Did he get on your nerves, Mr Barlow?’
‘No.’
‘He had a hell of a loud voice,’ said Salome. ‘He was a boxer too, wasn’t he?’
‘He used to be,’ said Rikki. ‘He was a middleweight. He only got so . . . frail in the last few years – he was always going on about how skinny I am, but he was the one.’ He smiled. ‘He wasn’t active any more – you know, in the last years. He had some kind of arthritis, which slowed him down. Then diabetes, which Mum said he wasn’t really controlling properly. Then . . .’
‘I thought he’d forgotten something at first,’ said Richard.
‘When?’
‘The day he died. When he stopped. It was outside the newsagent – I thought he’d forgotten something. He just stopped. And he looked back behind him, or I thought he did. I thought maybe we’d left something in the shop, but then his face changed. I was holding his hand, and he let it go for a second. I said, “Are you all right?” It was that narrow bit of pavement, where the waste-bin is, and he held the wall for a moment.’
Rikki was nodding. ‘Yes. Then he went down on his knees, really slow. I got hold of his arm, but he kept going down, and his face was so different, like he was thinking really hard about something. Then this terrible . . . jolt. He was trying to breathe then.’
‘You wouldn’t believe how quickly he went cold,’ said Richard.
‘Yes. It was like someone had flicked a switch.’
‘I tried to get his collar open, but I couldn’t. He was half on his side, and there were people around. They called an ambulance, and then nobody knew what to do. Why don’t we learn first aid?’
‘Why don’t we?’ said Rikki. ‘We could have saved him.’
‘It was massive, though,’ said Richard. ‘The heart attack.’
Jeff said, ‘Do you think he felt much?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Richard. ‘I always wonder: what was he feeling and thinking? Did he know that it was all over? Does your life flash past again, or are you just too frightened? Maybe he was asking for help.’
‘He was thinking about us, probably,’ said Rikki. ‘Knowing him. He loved us.’
‘You think so?’
‘God, I miss him so much because . . . I mean, I know people have to die. I know that. We do it all in science: people die. But it was just me and him there, and I didn’t . . . I could’ve . . .’
‘Could’ve what? What should we have done?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We couldn’t do anything.’
‘I know.’
‘What then? What?’
‘I just wish we’d said something he wanted to hear, and now we can’t. I just wish I’d told him I loved him, and said goodbye, because I could have done. Maybe it would have made it better for him, and then maybe I’d feel easier. There’s no heaven – I’m never going to see him again, and he was . . . I still can’t imagine . . . Did I love him enough? Did he know, Richard? Did he know we loved him?’
‘Yes,’ said Richard.
‘God, I hope so. I wish I could believe that.’
Mr Barlow told a story, then – another myth – about a woman who had wept so much in grief that the gods swept her up and turned her into a mountain. The mountain ran with mist and water for ever more.
Mark fed the fire, and after some time they blew the candle out. Then they listened to the weather hammering down, and they dozed. The earth turned, and they crawled into sleeping bags and heard some creature moan, out on the rocks. The moon came close, invisible behind boiling cloud, and pulled at the sea.
After some time, when the earth had turned a little further – Aparna said, ‘They’re coming for you.’
‘Who?’ said Jeff.
‘Wake up. They know where we are.’
‘Who’s coming? What are you talking about?’
She was on her feet, shaking the others. It was still dark, and the wind was tugging at the roof. Eric was in the doorway.
‘Where have you been?’ said Salome. ‘What time is it?’
‘Nowhere,’ Eric said. ‘I just had this feeling. We ought to move higher.’
‘Me too,’ said Aparna. ‘We’re not hidden at all, are we?’
‘I just scouted around,’ said Eric. ‘I didn’t see anyone. But I’ve got this feeling we should get Rikk
i and Richard upwards.’
They didn’t light a fire. They didn’t have breakfast. They struck camp, and did their best to bury all evidence of their stay. They were reluctant to use torches and they hardly spoke. They packed their bags and crawled into the rocks. Then they climbed as quickly as they dared. There was a thin, feeble light in the sky, and they could still hear the muttering of more thunder as it rained and rained and rained.
The top of the mountain was invisible, so they just kept climbing, looking only at their hands and listening to their own breathing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jeff’s glove had been found just after midnight.
A name-tag was neatly sewn into it: ‘Jeff Rawlingson’. It was dry enough to suggest that the children were healthy and fit, and the commandos assumed they were still on the move. The strategy was adjusted and the units called together. They re-deployed, and threw a cordon right around the mountain, following the contour they were on. There would be an advance party of four trackers, backed up by a dozen snipers.
The tranquillizer darts were loaded into the guns. Dr Summersby measured the doses, and checked the hypodermics in her bag.
‘First thing in the morning,’ said Lieutenant Kirby. ‘We’ll have him.’
Inspector Mantz and the lieutenant conferred. The children were presumably sheltering in caves, so they would get the chopper out at dawn, and the search would be over. Mantz placed a call to the Westlake parents, and was surprised to find they’d left the hotel.
‘They were seen at the port, sir,’ said a sergeant.
‘Doing what?’
‘Asking about boats, sir. They used to do quite a lot of sailing, apparently.’
‘Sailing? Now? Get them on their mobiles. Update them. Say we hope to have everyone safe by the end of the day – the doctors are standing by.’
‘Right-o, sir.’
‘What do they want a boat for?’
‘Nobody knows.’
‘Keep them under observation, then. We’re moving as soon as it’s light.’ He put the phone down, and checked his maps again. Then Dr Warren and Dr Summersby were driven to the helicopter station.
At 4.30 a.m. the commandos received their orders. They stowed all gear, and in strict formation started up the sides of the mountain. The trackers would make first contact, and the snipers would be ready with fire.
At 6.10 a.m. a scout spotted a bright red coat.
By 6.13 a.m. all the children had been identified, along with an adult answering the description of Mr Barlow. They were negotiating a difficult rock face, moving steadily upwards – they appeared to be making for the summit. There was now the concern that too swift an assault would cause panic, so the soldiers held back and radioed the chopper. Rikki and Richard were in a blue waterproof, and although two snipers got him in their sights, it would have been fatal to take him. They would move in slowly once the helicopter was close.
‘Keep your eyes on Two-heads,’ said the lieutenant. ‘Strict control, men – but take no chances.’
By 6.20 a.m. the cloud had lifted and the helicopter was thundering in. Dr Warren looked at Dr Summersby, who held the medical bag.
‘This is it,’ she said. ‘Do you want to do it?’
‘Yes.’
‘One dose. He won’t wake up.’
The children heard it coming, and there was simply nowhere to hide.
They were on a flat shoulder of rock, huddled together – and the caves were far too shallow to be useful. Mr Barlow searched, wondering how his memory had deceived him – he was sure there’d been a deep recess. He could remember sheltering in it. They scoured the area, but there was simply no way of disappearing. The wind was hammering at them, for they were so exposed, and it was obvious that the pilot had seen them. Their strategy suddenly seemed absurd. They reconvened in a shallow gulley and it dawned on them that this was their last stand. It might even be their last meeting.
‘Never say die!’ shouted Jeff.
‘We can still go up!’ said Eric. ‘We’re not at the top yet.’
It was hard to hear him, because of the wind and the helicopter’s rotor blades. The aircraft had backed off, but it was keeping them all under observation. Eric led them up another ten metres, and at last they found an opening between two grey slabs. They put their torches on, and crawled in. The tunnel narrowed to nothing, and they had to crawl out again.
Jeff looked down, and mountains fell away beneath him. Behind a crag, he saw the face of a soldier, gazing up at him. He gripped Richard’s arm and pointed, and the man made no move to conceal himself. In fact, he lifted a hand. Then they saw him use his radio.
‘What do we do?’ said Salome. ‘This can’t be it!’
‘Stand and fight,’ said Mark. ‘They can’t take us if we don’t want to go.’
Suddenly there were more soldiers, and they were running. They were on the plateau below, where the children had camped. They were moving in from all visible directions, and the lower part of the mountain was teeming with men.
‘Up,’ said Jeff. ‘Come on. At least get to the top. And we stay together!’
‘Why?’ said Rikki.
‘They’re not taking you! If they try it, they’re dead!’
‘I think we’re done for,’ yelled Richard. ‘But we won’t make it easy!’
Mr Barlow said, ‘The thing we have to remember is that we took a stand. We took action, and that’s something a lot of people never do. You’re safe, Rikki – Richard. If we hadn’t—’
Whatever he said next was lost in another burst of engine noise. The clouds had lifted for a moment, revealing a silvery sky, and the helicopter burst into it, bigger than ever. It was now so close that they could see the pilot’s face – and his mouth as he spoke into his headset. The craft turned, and they saw the wide open doors, and more commandos. They were harnessed at the edge, and one of them was preparing a winch.
‘Oh God,’ said Richard. ‘It’s Doctor Warren.’
Sure enough, he was there, in combat clothing. His eyes were clearly visible and he carried a medical box.
Rikki was pale. He said, ‘He’s come for us, Rich.’
‘I know.’
‘He said he’d be there for us, didn’t he? He said we could trust him, and here he is.’
‘You trust him?’ said Richard.
Rikki smiled. ‘We can’t give up now, you know.’
‘Rikki,’ said Richard, ‘I have no intention of giving up, ever. I will never give up.’
‘So what do we do? Look – they’re going to drop him. And the soldiers are here . . .’
The winch was ready. There was a metallic glint as another rare moment of sunshine caught the harnesses. They could hear a voice, bleating out of a megaphone. ‘Stay exactly where you are,’ it wailed. The sound bounced off the rocks, and was all around them. ‘You are not in danger!’ it cried. ‘We are here to save you!’
There were more words, but a gust of wind tore them to shreds. Then there was a crack of rifle fire – two quick pops, like bangers – and the children all dropped to the ground. A squall of rain hit suddenly, and there was a rush of cloud. The helicopter turned again, and rose upwards.
‘What do we do, sir?’ said Richard to Mr Barlow.
‘I’m not sure, boy,’ said Mr Barlow. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been shot.’
‘What?’
‘Something caught me in the arm – look. My goodness.’ He showed them the back of his arm, and a small dart was sticking out of it, just above the elbow.
‘What are they doing?’ said Jeff.
‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Barlow. ‘But my arm’s going numb. I don’t think I can . . . I’m not sure I’m going to be any help for much longer. You really must go it alone now.’
Aparna looked at Rikki and Richard. ‘You’ll have to fly,’ she said. ‘That’s what you want, isn’t it? For your grandad.’
Eric was there, beside Rikki. ‘Come with me!’ he cried.
‘Where to?’
>
‘Page one-ninety-two!’ screamed Eric. ‘One-ninety-two – it’s the only way! Come on, Mr Barlow – you can do it!’
‘What do you mean?’ shouted Richard.
The rain burst over them then, and a bolt of lightning cracked somewhere so close they smelled burning. Jeff held Richard’s arm, and Salome held Mark. Mr Barlow was gesturing at a group of soldiers some way below, hoping to keep them back – one raised his rifle and Mr Barlow stood in front of Rikki and Richard with his arms outstretched. There was another crack of rifle fire and the old teacher staggered backwards, holding his shoulder this time.
Eric was yelling something. ‘It’s Chapter Twenty! The last chapter!’ His book was in his hand, the pages flapping madly. Even as he held it, the wind snapped it upwards and it was gone. The rubber bands broke and the pages flew, like a hundred birds, in a cloud around their heads. He snatched at one and looked at it. Then he held it to his chest. ‘I’ve got it!’ he shrieked. ‘The page I wanted!’
‘Follow me!’ screamed Aparna. And she was moving, clambering up a channel in the rock. Mr Barlow was on his knees, but they couldn’t stop for him – he waved them on, smiling dizzily. The helicopter had disappeared temporarily, and they found a precious patch of shelter. At last, it was the mouth of a proper cave.
‘You have to go,’ said Aparna. ‘You can’t hide any more. Let me see the diagram.’
The wind hadn’t dropped, but in the cave mouth there was a curious stillness. She had her rucksack on the ground, and was pulling the tent out of it. Eric sorted the poles into different sizes, laying them out in triangles.
Mark found the roll of tape.
Aparna started unfolding the fabric, issuing orders – the precious page they’d caught was weighted under stones, for easy reference. She had Mark’s Lockerman ready, and started to slice the nylon. They created an aluminium cube, and Jeff shook out his rucksack, so that more poles scattered over the ground.
‘We’re insane!’ he shouted. ‘But it’s going to work.’
Mark held the ends, and Eric taped them. Aparna was now working with the edge of the cloth, hooking the eyes and threading them onto the framework. Jeff took the knife back, and hacked the smaller tent in half. Mark held it taut and she continued the delicate threading, as Rikki and Richard watched.