by Simon Mayo
‘What’s the deal with the Pearsons?’ came a shout from under a seat near the front.
‘They didn’t want to escape,’ said Jimmy. ‘I persuaded them to help everyone else. They can say they were threatened, but I saw them run off when the shooting started.’
There was a sudden burst of car horns and the transporter swerved left. Blakely laughed. ‘Everyone’s getting out of our way! We’re heading for Hampstead Heath. Possible exit point in two minutes, ladies and gents. Hope you’re enjoying the ride!’
In the distance they heard a wail of sirens. Through the smashed back window it was difficult to judge numbers, but it was enough to produce a wave of nervous glances.
Ant had moved on from the Durrows. She had unfastened four more straps, hurling them aside, cursing each one as it bounced on the floor.
‘Be ready!’ she shouted. ‘We’ve got no time!’ She was getting quicker at it, but it was a delicate operation. In a few cases a strutter’s skin came away with the strap and Lena had to step in.
Ant was working anti-clockwise around the coach. As the strutters watched her work, and the shifting, rolling collection of straps got bigger, the questioning and shouting died away. Everyone waited for their turn, desperate to lose the cursed strap, but scared too.
Ant had stopped looking at faces. She saw spines and she saw straps.
Insert, twist, release.
Insert, twist, release.
Then she hit trouble.
As soon as she saw them, Ant realized the straps were different. An elderly couple were kneeling on the floor holding onto a seat with one hand, holding up their shirts with the other. The straps were at the base of the spine, but the locking device was different. Instead of being in the middle of the handle, the holes had shifted to the left. Ant had never seen one like this. Two years in Spike, hundreds of straps, all the same.
Her hand hovered above the woman’s strap; then she tentatively inserted the key. The pins went into the handle, but when she tried to twist, nothing moved. She tried again, twisting harder.
‘Get on with it then,’ snapped the woman.
Mattie appeared at Ant’s shoulder. ‘Different strap,’ he said.
Now the woman swivelled round and glared at Mattie, then Ant. ‘What do you mean, different strap?’
Ant shrugged. ‘It doesn’t fit. Sorry. Haven’t seen it before. And your friend has one too – look.’ She inserted the key into the old man’s strap and twisted. Nothing happened.
The woman had grabbed Ant’s arm now. ‘But everyone’s the same, aren’t they? All the others have come off – why are ours different?’
‘No idea,’ said Ant. ‘They just are. You’re going to have to stay on the coach.’
‘But we want to be with our friends,’ said the old man.
Daisy crawled her way over. ‘What’s up?’ she said. ‘Why have you stopped? I need you to get my strap off!’
‘These people have different ones,’ said Mattie. ‘The key doesn’t work on them.’
More people had noticed the hold-up; hearing Mattie’s explanation, they felt instinctively for their strap.
‘Maybe the key is broken?’ shouted one.
‘Are you doing it wrong, Ant?’
‘Let me try!’
Ant grabbed the nearest seat and hauled herself up. ‘OK. I am not doing it wrong!’ she shouted. ‘And the key isn’t broken, it’s the straps – there are different versions and the key doesn’t unlock them. If you have one of those, you can’t escape, and you can’t come with us. They’ll find us all in seconds if you do.’
‘Try me again!’ pleaded the woman, but Ant had moved on. Everyone had suddenly fallen silent. Ant released Daisy, then three women. ‘Thank you,’ they whispered.
Behind them, more sirens had joined the police chorus. Ant had visions of a vast posse streaming up the hill towards the Heath, but despite the noise she couldn’t see a single flashing light.
‘Everything depends on what “evacuation of the prison” means.’
Frail Mary was next in the line and she read Ant’s mind perfectly. ‘If it includes the techies, you might get away with it. If they’re all at their posts and watching us on the radar . . . well, you may not be so lucky.’
‘You may not be lucky?’ queried Ant. ‘Don’t you mean we?’
Mary smiled but shook her head. ‘No I don’t, dear,’ she said. ‘Think I’ll sit this one out. I’m not running anywhere. I’ll just serve my time and annoy them when I can.’ She smiled weakly. ‘Sorry, pet.’ Ant started to protest but Mary waved her away. ‘Get on with your job. You haven’t long. Anyway, it won’t just be me, will it?’
Ant nodded as Amos hurried up to her. ‘Ant!’ he said urgently. ‘Why don’t we throw the straps out of the window? That way we’d slow the police because they would think we were escaping, a few at a time. It might slow them down . . .’
‘I was thinking about that,’ she said. ‘But it wouldn’t slow them for more than a few seconds. And then they’d realize we had a strap-key. I want them to think we are all here, in one place, for as long as possible.’
‘One minute, folks!’ shouted Blakely. ‘There are smaller roads on this part of the Heath. Turning onto the first one we find!’ There was a nervous murmuring around the coach, and some of the freed strutters moved towards the doors. The coach had slowed in heavy traffic and they were eager to jump.
‘Can’t we go now?’ called a red-faced woman with dyed blonde hair.
‘No reason we should wait!’ said the man next to her, nervously feeling his spine. The question was aimed at everybody, but it was Blakely who answered. He punched the door button again and the doors folded open.
‘No reason at all! Jump when it’s safe! God speed!’
Outside, there were now woods on both sides. It was a busy summer afternoon, the pavements and secluded paths bursting with joggers, picnickers and dog walkers. As the coach slowed, the first two strutters jumped. There was no cheering, no applause, just anxious eyes watching them disappear into the crowd.
‘Hurry up, Ant!’ shouted Blakely.
She said nothing. She knew what was at stake. If your strap wasn’t off in the next few minutes, you were going back inside.
‘Mattie, you next,’ she said, pulling up his T-shirt.
‘At least we know ours come off,’ he said.
Insert, twist, release.
‘Nice one,’ he said. ‘I’ll do yours.’
Ant held her stomach as Mattie took the key. She felt the tug, the rotation, and then it was gone. The procedure was almost routine now – but it thrilled her anyway. She smiled at her brother. ‘We might actually make it, you know.’ He held up her strap so she could see the small goose and the graffiti. ‘Nice work by Daisy!’ she said. ‘But throw it with the others.’
Eight more to release. Then Jimmy, then Blakely. The coach was slowing again, and four more strutters jumped, landing awkwardly but then scampering away. Fifty metres further on, another six. Ant saw that the Durrows, Daisy and Amos were hanging back. Daisy anticipated Ant’s question.
‘Because we’re waiting for you, that’s why. We’ll go together.’
Insert, twist, release.
Insert, twist, release.
Insert, twist, release.
‘She means thank you,’ said Mattie.
‘I know,’ said Daisy.
The coach was emptying fast. More thick woodland was appearing on the right, and Blakely pointed through the windscreen. The sirens sounded louder now.
‘That’s the turning! Gonna park this beast up! Ready with that key, Ant!’
More jumpers.
It was Jimmy who replied. ‘You’re next, after me. Take it off, Ant.’ He lifted his shirt and waited. ‘Ant?’ He turned. She had one hand on the key, the other over her mouth.
‘It won’t fit,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve got one of the old ones. Or the new ones. Whatever. It won’t work.’ She pushed the key in and tried to twist.
‘Well, I’ll have to stay then,’ said Jimmy quietly. ‘I’ll be fine. You better go!’ He turned and headed back along the aisle towards Mary.
‘He’s right,’ said Mattie. ‘We’ve only got seconds, Ant—’ Flashing lights appeared through the trees.
‘We go,’ she said, interrupting. ‘Of course we go.’ She put the strap-key back in her pocket, and glanced briefly at the small group they were leaving behind.
‘I’ll watch over him,’ called Mary.
Ant, Mattie, Daisy, Amos, Sam, Tilly and Lena jumped from the coach. Sprinting into the woods they ran along the first pathway they came to. It twisted its way into a shaded, cooler, more densely wooded area. Ant led the way, Amos had Sam, Lena had Tilly, Mattie and Daisy ran together. Anyone who saw them coming dived out of the way; anyone who didn’t ended up sprawling in the dirt.
They ran in silence. Behind them they heard sirens, shouts, radio chatter and then, chillingly, the sound of a helicopter. They struggled through brambles and jumped over fallen trees. The sun-drenched open parkland was only two hundred metres away now, but Ant knew they needed cover: ahead she saw a copse arranged in a rough semicircle. The undergrowth was dense and shielded from the paths.
Behind her Ant could hear rapid breathing and pounding footsteps – the occasional whimper from Tilly, a muttered curse from Amos – but the overwhelming noise was of police cars, police radios, slamming doors and shouted orders.
She led them off the path, crashing in amongst the trees. But they weren’t the first there. Standing between two of the trees, chest heaving and sweat pouring from his face, was Jimmy Noon.
Ant was furious. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she spat. ‘They’ll know precisely where we are now!’
He held up his hand, and she saw that he had a knife.
‘Cut it out,’ he said. ‘Cut my strap out. Do it now.’
There wasn’t time to argue. Lena took the knife from him – a jammer; a crude weapon made from what looked like a ruler and a razor blade. ‘Lie down,’ she said. As he did so, she sat on his legs and reached for a stick. ‘Bite on this,’ she told him. As soon as it was in his mouth, she sliced into his back, and his whole body went rigid. The first cut was angled under the right clamp; blood poured from the wound. The second cut was more difficult – under the handle and meeting the first, completing the V incision.
No one said a word. They could all hear the police, hear the confusion, hear the approaching helicopter, but they were watching Lena cutting into Jimmy. She wiped the pooling blood away with her hand, pushing it down his back and away from the strap. Two more swift cuts under the left clamp, then Lena gripped the handle.
And pulled.
Jimmy bit clean through the stick.
‘Sam, take off your T-shirt.’ Sam pulled it over his head and, bewildered, handed it to his mother. The strap had come away, but there were two deep holes in Jimmy’s back. Lena folded the shirt and held it over the wounds. It turned red almost immediately.
‘Keep it there if you can, Jimmy,’ she said. ‘Though you’ll need a proper dressing.’ She stood up and grabbed Sam and Tilly’s hands. ‘Ant, we love you but we’ll go it alone. It’s best this way.’ She kissed Ant, and they ran. Tilly and Sam looked back briefly, but then they were gone.
‘Right, we split up,’ said Ant. ‘There’s enough people out there for us to vanish. Try and stay in sight if possible.’
They fanned out, taking different paths to the open heath. Ant and Mattie headed left, Daisy straight on, Amos right. Jimmy insisted on going last, clutching his back with both hands. ‘I’m too slow,’ he said. ‘I’ll follow.’
The police chatter was getting louder. The helicopter was definitely closer. At full sprint, they headed for the light.
‘Mattie!’ said Ant. ‘See that football match?’ There was an impromptu game going on about a hundred metres away. A small crowd had stopped to watch.
‘Yes, I see it!’
‘Aim for that!’
The undergrowth and trees were thinning; they could now feel the heat of the sun. Even the damp-earth smell was changing to scorched grass.
In a few steps they’d be out. This is what Ant had dreamed of. Through all the misery of the years in Spike, this was the moment she had hoped for. She counted them into the light. Without thinking, she used a different language.
The language of freedom.
Eins!
Zwei!
Drei!
Vier!
Ant realized she was crying.
Bug safe house, Bath
The messages on Max’s screen finally appeared. His hands were shaking so much he had to put the phone down to read them.
It was carnage in there. So many dead. Saw mainly cons but POs too.
Fire engines still there. I counted at least 10.
Full evac going on!
Anyone else watching these scenes from Spike? Where are the army, for God’s sake?
He read on, swiping the screen for new messages, each one adding to his sense of dread. Three times he had to dry his fingers on his T-shirt.
spotted my sammy and ellie. hope they’re still safe.
Why is the fire still burning? What are they doing in there?
And then something that made him sit up straight.
There are on-the-runs. Escaped from one of the coaches. Police everywhere.
Max scrolled down, scanning the messages for more details. He found this exchange:
man here said the coach was empty when the cops found it.
how many would be on a coach?
dunno. 20 maybe.
There was more to read, but he got paranoid about being online for too long, even if this was a ‘cold’ phone. He hesitated, then typed.
Who’s on for the holiday then? Thanks a million.
The holiday was a reference to his last conversation with Dan; ‘thanks a million’ was a joke family name for Maximilian. Only his parents and Ant would understand it. Memories of their first Christmas together flooded back and his eyes glistened. Ant had read out a label on a present from his aunt. To Maximilian, Happy Christmas, love from Aunty Milly. Ant had mispronounced his name, and Max had fallen about laughing. ‘It’s like “thanks a million”,’ Dan said, and for the next few days, that’s what Max had been called.
Max logged off from the site, shut down the phone and threw it on the end of his bed as though it was infected. He fell back against the pillows, his head spinning. Everyone suddenly seemed a long, long way away. His safe house felt like a coward’s retreat. How could he be lying here when his parents were in such danger? He knew why he had been sent here, but now he felt ashamed of his comfort and safety.
He grabbed his phone, shoving it deep into his bag, and headed out of the room.
Hampstead Heath, London
The shed had been stiflingly hot when they first crammed in. Now, with five people inside, the temperature was unbearable. Mattie, Jimmy and Daisy were crouched amongst garden implements and pots of old paint. Amos and Ant were sitting on a ladder staring skywards through dirty, cracked windows.
‘Let’s at least leave the door open,’ said Daisy, her voice croaky. ‘Just a little bit? Surely the drone won’t see that.’
‘It stays shut,’ said Ant. ‘A locked shed looks normal, not worth investigating. Soon as it moves on, we can too.’
The police drone was hovering over the edge of the Heath, a few houses away. Bright blue, a metre wide and revolving slowly, it had arrived just after they found the shed.
‘Did it see us?’ whispered Mattie.
‘Don’t think so,’ said Amos, rummaging through an old tool box. ‘I think it’s just patrolling. Looking around.’
‘Haven’t seen a pol-drone like that before,’ whispere
d Daisy.
‘You’ve been in prison,’ Ant pointed out.
‘Do we need to whisper?’ said Mattie. ‘Can it hear us?’
‘They’re new,’ muttered Jimmy. ‘They’d just come out when me and Dad got done. They’re just cameras, but very high def.’ He winced, and Ant knelt down beside him, gently lifting his blood-soaked shirt. Lena’s improvised dressing had done its job but was now stuck to his back. ‘Assuming we can find some proper medicine soon, I think we should leave this, Jimmy. I don’t want to start the bleeding again without the right kit. Sorry. Can you last a bit longer?’
‘I’ll be OK,’ said Jimmy, trying to smile. ‘I’m sorry I’m holding you guys up. If—’
‘OK, shut up,’ said Daisy. ‘That’s not helping.’
‘Try these.’ Amos threw a small packet of tablets onto the floor in front of Jimmy. ‘I picked up a sports bag on the Heath. Thought it might help.’
And could have got us caught within minutes, thought Ant, but it wasn’t the moment to protest. Jimmy quickly swallowed the painkillers.
For a moment they were all quiet. Ant could still hear the buzz of the drone and shouts from the Heath, but was mostly aware of her heart hammering in her chest. She looked around at her exhausted, terrified and exhilarated friends.
‘We actually escaped,’ she said quietly.
‘We actually did,’ whispered Jimmy. ‘I hope Dad’s safe. And Dan and Gina. Hope all our folks got out OK.’
‘How do we find out?’ asked Mattie.
‘There are sites we look on which will know,’ said Ant, her eyes still fixed skywards. ‘But while that drone is sitting on top of us, we can’t really do anything.’
