Man vs. Beast

by Robert Muchamore

  *

  It was gone eleven when Ryan and Zara arrived home in Corbyn Copse. Lauren had dozed off in the back, but woke up as Ryan tried carrying her into the cottage.

  ‘Better have a shower before I get into bed,’ Lauren yawned. ‘I stink like an ashtray.’

  As she headed dozily up to the bathroom, Ryan slumped in an armchair and buried his face in his hands.

  ‘That was a total bloody betrayal,’ he said listlessly. ‘Three years in prison. Five votes out of twenty-four. They can stuff their bloody committee. I’m setting up my own thing.’

  ‘Not while this mission’s going on you’re not,’ Zara said firmly.

  Ryan looked up, surprised. ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘We need you inside the Zebra Alliance,’ Zara explained.

  ‘That wasn’t our deal,’ Ryan said indignantly. ‘I wanted the AFM out of the Zebra Alliance, but if I’m not even part of the Alliance, there’s no point.’

  ‘No point for you,’ Zara said. ‘But our mission is to unearth the AFM. I want you inside that committee room feeding us information.’

  ‘How can I go back in there?’ Ryan said. ‘They utterly humiliated me.’

  ‘Swallow your pride and do your job.’

  ‘Or what?’ Ryan sneered.

  ‘Don’t try my patience,’ Zara snapped. ‘I’m dead tired and I’ve been listening to your voice since half-six this morning. Your parole states that you can’t leave the county of Avon. If you want to pick a fight with me, I’ll see you wake up in a London police cell and serve the other three years of your sentence.’

  ‘Now we’re seeing your teeth,’ Ryan yelled. ‘The British government and its crack teams of underage fascists.’

  ‘Ryan, the AFM is out there and people are getting killed,’ Zara yelled back. ‘I’ve put six months’ work into this mission. We’ve got three agents in place, we’ve spent two hundred and fifty grand on a house and a car and I’m missing out on my own kids growing up. Once we’ve got solid information on the AFM, you can set up your own group with no one but your parole officer to worry about. Until then you will stick to our deal.’

  Ryan twisted uncomfortably in his chair, knowing he was beaten. ‘I’ll speak to Madeline tomorrow. I’ll apologise and tell her that I hope we can work well together in future.’

  Zara hadn’t enjoyed laying down the law, but the kids might be in danger if Ryan stepped out of line so she had to be absolutely certain that he knew who was boss.

  ‘I’m going to heat up some cocoa in the microwave,’ Zara said. ‘Would you like a mug?’

  ‘Soya milk?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s the only kind we have,’ Zara nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ryan said, rubbing his eyes. ‘I came out expecting a hero’s welcome, but I guess people forget about you faster than you’d expect.’

  *

  Viv’s car was an ancient Mercedes saloon. He was too drunk to drive so he let Sophie sit behind the wheel. She pulled up sharply at the end of a pedestrian alleyway between two metal-sided superstores.

  ‘Is this it?’ Sophie asked, peering into the darkness.

  ‘It’ll do,’ Viv said, as he flung open the front passenger door. James did the same with the door behind him.

  ‘Keep the engine running,’ Viv said, leaning into the car and looking at Sophie. ‘Give us a shot of that JD.’

  Tom reached around the front passenger seat and his older brother grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and began tipping it down his neck.

  ‘Have a drop for courage,’ Viv said, holding the bottle out to James.

  The whisky burned as it passed down James’ throat and he almost doubled over coughing.

  ‘Jesus,’ James croaked, clutching at his throat.

  While the trio inside the car giggled at James’ discomfort, Viv opened up the boot. It struck James how reckless Viv was as he looked inside at spray cans, tools, bolt croppers, Balaclavas, gloves, Zebra Alliance pamphlets and a video camera. If the police ever searched Viv’s car, they’d have a field day.

  ‘Right,’ Viv said, grabbing a can of spray paint and a cardboard stencil, before pointing at a large triangular lump that had been broken off the edge of a paving slab. ‘You got the strength to carry that, James?’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ James slurred, feeling his muscles tighten as he reached into the boot and grabbed the chunk of stone.

  Viv ran off down the alleyway and promptly tumbled over a pile of black rubbish bags that were made invisible by the darkness. James cracked up laughing, despite the weight straining his arms.

  ‘Goat shaggers,’ Viv screamed, kicking out wildly at the bags and sending one on an arc several metres into the air. It crashed down to the echo of empty tin cans.

  The pair ambled down the rest of the alleyway, and found themselves at the entrance to a supermarket. The sliding doors were locked for the night, but all the lights were on inside. The aisles were blocked up with giant metal trolleys and sour-faced staff stacking the shelves.

  ‘Right,’ Viv said. ‘You ready?’

  James nodded, as a Jack Daniel’s fuelled burp seared up his throat.

  Viv’s stencil was about half a metre across. He checked there were no supermarket staff looking his way, before pressing it up against the glass doors of the main entrance, and spraying paint through the gaps. This technique was much faster than writing graffiti and when he pulled the stencil away the slogan was written immaculately: MEAT IS MURDER.

  ‘Righty ho,’ Viv said. ‘Your turn, cop killer.’

  James took a three-step run-up and lobbed the chunk of paving through a plate-glass window. The shatterproof sheet broke into a million greenish pebbles as the stone sailed on, demolishing a display stand filled with credit card application forms.

  Viv was heading back towards his car even before the glass broke and James only took a brief glance at the astonished shelf stackers before going after him.

  Sophie hit the accelerator as James bundled on to the back seat, squeezing alongside Kyle and Tom. The car was already in second gear by the time he’d slammed the door.

  ‘Yee-haa,’ Viv shouted, giving a two-fingered salute out of the window as his ancient Merc squealed out of the deserted parking lot and on to a main road.

  17. BREAKFAST

  Lauren grinned at her brother across the breakfast table. ‘You look so rough.’

  ‘I feel it,’ James moaned, as he limply stirred the Weetabix floating in his soy milk.

  ‘What time did you get home?’

  ‘About quarter to three.’

  ‘How much did you have to drink?’

  ‘It was mostly halves. Three or four pints altogether I s’pose and we were slugging back bourbon in the car.’

  Kyle staggered through the door in his boxers. His hair was sticking up everywhere and he had dried blood on his earlobe.

  ‘I don’t remember that happening,’ James said.

  ‘Me neither,’ Kyle said. ‘There’s blood all over my pillow. I must have caught my earring on something and been too smashed to notice.’

  ‘Some night,’ James grinned, struggling not to gag as he swallowed a mouthful of cereal.

  ‘I saw you getting off with Tom in the bar,’ Lauren said. ‘Is it just for the mission, or do you really fancy him?’

  Kyle smiled. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘He’s bloody good looking,’ Lauren giggled. ‘Everyone says it’s about time you had a boyfriend.’

  ‘Who’s everyone? Kyle asked, as he poured a huge heap of instant coffee powder into a mug, hoping the caffeine would give his brain the kick-start it desperately needed.

  Lauren didn’t want to name names. ‘You know, Kyle, just campus gossip.’

  ‘Well, well, well,’ Zara said cheerfully as she stepped into the kitchen. ‘This isn’t a pretty sight. You boys had better get your uniforms on sharpish if you expect to catch the bus.’

  She wore heels and a smart brown business suit. James had never seen her with her h
air up before.

  ‘You look nice,’ Lauren said, before breaking into an open-mouthed yawn.

  ‘Yeah,’ James nodded. ‘What are you all done up like a dog’s dinner for?’

  Lauren gave him a kick under the table. Don’t be rude, she mouthed silently.

  ‘I’ve got to attend a senior staff meeting back at campus,’ Zara explained, as she caught her reflection in the window and pushed her hair into shape.

  ‘What about Ryan?’ Kyle asked.

  ‘He’s sulking up in bed. I had to give him a piece of my mind last night. He was talking about quitting the Alliance. I want you three to be extra nice to him for the next couple of days – he needs a boost.’

  ‘I feel sorry for him,’ Lauren said. ‘Coming out of prison and finding that everyone’s stabbed him in the back.’

  ‘You’ve had a few close chats with Ryan, haven’t you?’ Zara smiled.

  ‘He’s not a bad guy,’ Lauren said. ‘The world’s full of people who are all talk. Ryan might be a bit odd, but he’s devoted his whole life to doing what he thinks is right. You’ve got to admire him for that.’

  ‘Pity it’s all a bunch of veggie crap,’ James sneered.

  ‘It’s not crap, James,’ Lauren said bitterly. ‘Maybe if you’d done the background reading you were supposed to do for this mission, instead of playing your Playstation and lusting after anything in a skirt, you’d understand how cruel people are to animals.’

  ‘I understand the issues.’ James smirked. ‘Animals are dumb and they taste delicious.’

  ‘Grow up, James,’ Lauren said, springing out of her chair. ‘Millions of animals suffer in factory farms and experiments every single day and idiots like you don’t even care.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ Zara interrupted. ‘Calm down, you two. James and Kyle, you’ve got less than ten minutes to get ready for school.’

  ‘Actually,’ Kyle said, ‘I was wondering if me and James could stay home today. We’ve only had four hours’ sleep.’

  ‘I’m really tired as well,’ Lauren added.

  ‘She can go to school,’ James tutted. ‘She’s not hung over and she’s always sitting up half the night nattering to Bethany when she’s on campus.’

  ‘Get stuffed, James.’

  Zara glanced anxiously at her watch. ‘I’ve got an important meeting,’ she repeated. ‘And I don’t want to spend my day worrying about you three hanging around the house fighting. You’re going to school, OK?’

  ‘Hey,’ Kyle said indignantly. ‘James and Lauren are arguing, not me.’

  ‘All three of you,’ Zara said. ‘Now I’m running late. I’ll be back this evening and if I find out that any of you didn’t make it to school, there’s going to be trouble.’

  Zara steamed out towards the car, then came running back and grabbed her handbag off the counter top.

  ‘You’re both idiots,’ Kyle said, as he headed out of the room to get dressed. ‘We probably would have got out of school if you two had stopped picking at each other for five minutes.’

  *

  James’ morning was a nightmare. If you’re feeling queasy and you want peace and quiet, Year Nine double art class isn’t the place to be. Kids yelled across the classroom, the teacher yelled at the kids for trashing the still life and there was a game of throw an eraser at another kid’s head as hard as you can going on. The English period before lunch was quieter, but James was horrified when he looked at his timetable and discovered that the whole afternoon was games.

  He’d forgotten his kit, which meant he’d either have to run around in unhygienic rags handed out by the PE teachers, or try and get off by saying he was ill. James hadn’t encountered the PE teachers at this school, but based upon past experience the only way of persuading PE teachers into letting you out of games was if you had a note, or some obvious problem like a missing limb or a pickaxe handle sticking out the back of your head.

  James decided that his only option was to bunk off. As soon as the bell went for lunch, he headed out the main gate towards the small parade of shops with hundreds of other kids and just kept on going. James didn’t know the area well, but the school bus passed through a village with a decent-sized shopping street a couple of kilometres from the school and that’s where he headed.

  It was a narrow road without a pavement. The traffic was light, but it didn’t hang around and you had to keep your wits about you when you walked around a bend. The sun was out and the combo of country air and brisk walking cleared James’ head. He’d only managed a few mouthfuls of cereal at breakfast and by the time he arrived at the shops he’d started to feel properly hungry.

  James’ first thought was to wonder where he could buy vegan food. But as he passed a travel agent’s and a baker’s with gingerbread men and massive cream cakes stacked in the window, he realised that nobody was around and that he could eat whatever he liked. He felt inside his blazer pockets and was relieved to discover a fiver and a couple of quid in change.

  Even better, he spotted a burger bar across the road. It was old school, with laminated menus standing on the Formica tables and ketchup dispensers shaped like giant tomatoes. It was busy, but not packed and the waitress told James to sit wherever he liked.

  Ten minutes later she slid a Coke and an oval plate in front of him. It was stacked up with fries and a massive dual patty cheeseburger filled with cooked mushrooms and grated onion.

  James was still dehydrated from the booze the night before and downed half of his Coke before grabbing the burger and tearing out an enormous bite.

  It was easily the tastiest thing he’d eaten in days and he loved the hot trickle of fat running out of the meat and the sharp, crunchy onions. But as he moved in to take the second bite, he looked at the two slices of ground-up beef and started to wonder.

  He remembered reading that hamburger is made from the tough old meat that comes from dairy cows once they get too old to produce milk. Milk machines, one book called them: kept crammed in tiny metal stalls for most of their lives, pumped with hormones and antibiotics, constantly impregnated to keep the milk flowing. As James looked at his melting cheese, he remembered a picture in a book of a cow with an infected udder, and stories of how the bacteria-filled pus leaks into the milk.

  ‘How’s your food, young man?’ the waitress asked.

  ‘Mmm, good,’ James nodded, finally taking his second bite.

  It was as good as any burger James had ever eaten, but the background reading for the mission and the talk amongst the activists made it hard to separate the images of cruelty from the food he was putting in his mouth.

  James had no intention of going vegetarian, but as he tucked into his lunch he had the uncomfortable realisation that his conscience was going to nag him every time he ate a piece of meat from now on.

  18. DINNER

  James didn’t want to get nabbed sneaking back on to the school bus, but that left him at the mercy of a local bus service that ran once an hour and only got within four kilometres of Corbyn Copse. He walked a couple of kilometres from the adjacent village before he got lucky and was picked up by one of the elderly protestors.

  Even so, it was nearly six when James came through the door and he expected a blasting from Zara. But she wasn’t back from campus and instead he found Ryan and Lauren working on the evening meal in the kitchen. Ryan was telling some of his old Zebra 84 anecdotes and Lauren lapped them up as she chopped onions and dropped them into sizzling oil.

  ‘I called your mobile about six times,’ Lauren said. ‘Miss Hunter came to my class and asked if I knew why you weren’t in PE.’

  The truth was obvious, so James didn’t even attempt a lie. ‘My head was killing me so I bunked it.’

  ‘Zara’s gonna love you. You’re getting a letter home and you’ve got to go to the head of year’s office tomorrow.’

  ‘Fabulous,’ James said wearily, as he slumped at the dining table. ‘Mind you, with a bit of luck I’ll get suspended for a few days.’

  ‘What
about your mobile?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘It was panic stations getting ready this morning,’ James said. ‘I think it’s still upstairs in my jeans from last night.’

  ‘We need to talk to Zara but we can’t get through,’ Lauren explained.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Ryan took over. ‘I got a call from one of my few sympathisers in the Alliance. Anna and I go way back, even before Zebra eighty-four.’

  ‘She’s the one I was helping out with the buffet at the university last night,’ Lauren explained.

  James nodded. ‘I remember – nice friendly lady.’

  ‘So, Anna called me this morning,’ Ryan continued. ‘The vast majority of experiments at Malarek are on mice, rats and rabbits, but they’re still using a couple of hundred dogs per month and the Alliance has spent years looking for where they’re bred. Anna received a tip-off about a kennel down in Trowbridge, thirty miles south of here.’

  ‘Is the information solid?’ James asked.

  Ryan nodded. ‘She’s sent people down there to sniff around and it looks real enough. They have cages and sheds where they breed dogs for pets, but there’s a special kennel where pups are grown in isolation for experimentation.’

  ‘Why in isolation?’ James asked.

  ‘Scientists don’t want puppies that have been rolling around on the grass picking up diseases and parasites that might spoil their experiments. They want dogs that are separated from their mothers at birth and kept in single cages.’

  ‘Anna is leading a mission to rescue as many of the dogs as possible and it’s on for tonight,’ Lauren explained, as she added chopped courgettes to the pan of onions.

  ‘Turn the heat down or they’ll burn,’ Ryan said urgently. ‘The thing is, I’ve been invited along. But I really need Zara’s say-so before I can go along with something like this.’

  ‘Why?’ James asked.

  Ryan suddenly sounded narked. ‘Zara and I had a chat last night and she made it clear that I’d find myself back in prison if I stepped out of line.’

  ‘When did you last ring Zara?’ James asked.