Altitude

by Niel Bushnell

  ‘What’s in there?’ Tam asked.

  ‘Just some stuff off the list, in case you didn’t bring everything. Mum saw me packing it – she thought I was leaving.’ Abigail laughed. ‘She wouldn’t stop asking me about it.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘That I was leaving,’ Abigail said, still smiling.

  ‘Are you serious?’ Tam checked.

  Abigail shrugged the question aside. ‘Did you bring goggles? I couldn’t find any.’

  Tam opened up her bag and pulled out some of the contents until she found her swimming goggles. She held them up for Abigail to see.

  ‘Great. Coat? Hat? Gloves?’

  ‘Yeah, got all of those here.’

  ‘Rope?’

  Tam shook her head. ‘I thought you were joking.’

  ‘We’ll use it to measure your height.’ Abigail opened up her bag and took out a rolled-up length of white rope, black tape strapped to it at intervals. ‘I’ve marked it every metre.’

  Tam laughed. ‘You’ve thought this out, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course. Haven’t you?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Abigail found a small blue notebook and pen. ‘Experiment number one,’ she said as she wrote.

  ‘Oh, we’re doing this straightaway?’

  ‘Why not? I’m not wasting another day,’ Abigail said. ‘Let’s start with the coat.’

  Tam obeyed, pulling on her winter coat. ‘It’s too hot.’

  ‘Too hot at ground level.’ Abigail pulled the rope round Tam’s waist, tying it in place. ‘The air cools higher up. I don’t think you’ll need the goggles for this one but you should take the gloves.’ She picked up the clothing and offered the gloves to Tam.

  ‘This feels stupid,’ Tam said, looking at them.

  ‘Well, yeah, it is stupid,’ Abigail laughed. ‘We’re testing how you can fly. It’s totally stupid.’

  Tam grinned nervously and took the gloves.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Abigail asked. ‘And don’t say hot.’

  ‘I feel OK, I suppose. I haven’t flown for a few weeks and I’m a bit nervous after last time . . .’

  ‘Understandable.’ Abigail began to write in her book.

  ‘You’re putting that down?’

  ‘It’s important. How you feel could affect how you fly. Ready?’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To fly.’

  Tam shook her head. ‘Give me a minute.’

  ‘OK. I’ve got the rope. If you can just lift off slowly and go straight up. I want to see how high you can go.’

  ‘How long is your rope?’

  ‘Thirty metres.’

  Tam tried to picture the length. ‘How long is that?’

  ‘How long’s a piece of string?’ Abigail grinned. ‘The school swimming pool is twenty metres.’

  Tam visualized it in her head. ‘Not so far.’

  ‘It’s pretty high. Thirty metres is like eight . . . ten floors up.’

  ‘What? Really?’

  Abigail nodded as she wrote in her book.

  Tam’s nerves rattled. Thinking about how high she might go sent a shiver of vertigo down her spine. ‘I don’t think I want to—’

  ‘Relax, you’ll be fine.’

  Tam felt sweat form on her brow. ‘No, it’s too high.’

  ‘I’ll shout out the height. Just go up as far as you like, OK? Then come back down.’ Abigail’s voice was laid back, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to do.

  Tam nodded quickly, closing her eyes and blowing out of her mouth. She tried to focus her thoughts, willing herself into the air. After a moment she opened her eyes again.

  ‘Nothing?’ Abigail enquired.

  ‘Not yet.’ Doubts began to creep into Tam’s mind. Maybe her failure last night in the garden had nothing to do with where she was. Perhaps it didn’t matter that she was in the wood now. Maybe she couldn’t fly any more.

  Abigail sat cross-legged on the far side of the bridge, hardly looking up as she began to sketch in her notebook. ‘Just take your time. Do whatever it was you did last time.’ She pulled out an apple from her bag and began to chew noisily on it.

  Tam felt her frustration grow. ‘It’s not that easy.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It just isn’t.’

  Abigail shrugged, her lips slapping. ‘Don’t see why not,’ she muttered.

  ‘For God’s sake, it’s not like I’m going for a run! It’s flying!’

  ‘So fly,’ Abigail shouted, spitting apple. ‘Fly!’

  Tam’s face reddened, her hands forming fists. She wanted to leave here, to get away, to stop feeling trapped and stupid.

  ‘That’s it,’ Abigail laughed. ‘Keep doing that.’

  Tam looked down; she was hovering just above the earth, no more than a few centimetres.

  ‘Higher!’ Abigail ordered.

  Tam began to ascend. Abigail ran over the bridge and grabbed the rope, feeding it out as Tam drifted up into the air.

  ‘Three metres,’ Abigail said excitedly. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Quiet! I’m concentrating.’

  ‘Four metres.’

  ‘I said quiet!’

  Slowly Tam felt her tension turn to joy as the adrenalin rush hit her. Her fears and doubts were left behind on the ground. She was flying and it felt amazing.

  ‘Six metres,’ Abigail whispered.

  ‘Can still hear you,’ Tam replied, but it didn’t seem to matter as much now. She reached out and touched one of the branches as she drifted past it, setting droplets of water free.

  ‘Eight metres.’

  The tree canopy thinned out, the gaps between the branches widened. The morning light found her and a welcome breeze danced through the treetops. To her left a bird fluttered, squawking as she passed its nest.

  ‘I can see eggs,’ she called down to Abigail.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  Abigail shouted, ‘How’s it feel?’

  I feel free, Tam wanted to say. Instead she turned her face to the sun and rose above the treetops. Her last flight had taken her much higher, but this time she was more controlled, more considered. She had time to take it all in, time to enjoy it. But time brought fear as well. There was no logic to her flying. She hated thinking about it too much; it just sent butterflies of dread scratching at her stomach.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she whispered to herself. ‘You’re OK.’ She looked down at the dot of Abigail. ‘How high?’

  ‘Fourteen metres,’ she cried. ‘You feel OK?’

  ‘I’m still too hot,’ she replied. Her body was tense, every muscle focused on her flight, and the familiar ache and fatigue began to creep in. ‘I’m coming down,’ she said.

  Abigail waved her arm. ‘Go higher.’ Her enthusiasm was infectious.

  Tam pulled off the gloves, letting them drop towards Abigail. She looked up again and willed herself skywards. The view was spectacular. The houses of the town were sharp rectangles of light and shade, their windows glinting spots of white at her. Her thoughts slowed. Everything seemed possible – there was nothing to hold her back, just a thin piece of rope between her and heaven.

  The wood was far below her. Abigail continued to shout up to her but her voice was distant, lost amongst the birds and the far-off heartbeat of the town.

  ‘. . . out of rope!’ A barely audible fragment of a sentence found Tam’s ears, half-buried in the breeze. She looked down; the rope was swinging freely below her. She was above thirty metres already.

  Tam laughed to herself, stretching her arms out to either side of her, embracing the moment, her fear forgotten.

  ‘I can fly,’ she said to herself, then again, ‘I can fly.’ Louder this time. ‘I’m flying!’ Tam shouted. ‘I’m really bloody well flying!’

  She heard the distant sound of Abigail’s laughter from far below, and she joined her, laughing at the stupid, illogical brilliance of it all.

  Her amus
ement subsided as something caught her eye at the edge of the wood: two dots of yellow were moving along the path, two men in high-vis vests and hard hats. The men stopped as one of them pointed up in her direction. Tam gasped, and she began to fall down towards the treetops.

  ‘Slow down, slow down,’ she huffed.

  She fell into the trees, the branches snapping as she passed them.

  As Abigail came into view, Tam managed to ease her descent, slowing to a safe speed. ‘There’s men at the edge of the wood!’ she shouted down to Abigail. ‘I think they saw me. I think they’re coming.’

  ‘Shit!’ Abigail said as she reeled in the line.

  Tam landed firmly, undoing the rope and pulling off her coat.

  They worked quickly without speaking, stuffing the clothes and rope into their bags, stashing everything away before they retreated into the undergrowth.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ Tam whispered as she crouched behind Abigail.

  ‘Nothing. You’re sure they were coming?’

  Before Tam could answer the sound of men’s voices came to their ears. Then, through the green of the wood, the vivid yellow of their jackets appeared.

  ‘. . . be kids dickin’ about,’ the first man said. He was broad-shouldered, thick with muscle under fat. His skin was ruddy, bronzed from the sun. He removed his hard hat, rubbing sweat from his bald head. ‘You sure you saw something?’

  ‘You saw it too,’ the second man replied. He was thinner, sinew and bone, and younger than the first man.

  ‘I don’t know what I saw. Need to get my eyes checked.’

  ‘Well, you heard the shouting, didn’t you?’

  Tam grimaced, cursing her stupidity.

  The larger man shrugged, wiping his face with his broad palms. ‘Just kids is all. Bet they’ve got one of them drones. C’mon, we’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Need to make sure the site’s safe, Bob.’

  ‘Bloody health and safety!’ the larger man sighed. He put his hands to his mouth and screamed, ‘If you’re still here you’d better bugger off sharpish! All right?’

  ‘Brilliant.’ The thinner man shook his head. ‘Nice bit of consultation with the public.’

  ‘That’s what the signs are for. Not my fault if people don’t read the signs. Just kids is all,’ Bob repeated, turning back along the path.

  The thinner man hesitated, looking into the dense wall of branches and leaves.

  Bob stopped and turned back to face him. ‘You coming or not?’

  The thinner man scanned the space for the last time then, with a defeated shrug, he turned to join his companion. The two men disappeared along the path leaving Tam and Abigail holding their breath.

  As the wood returned to normal Abigail let out a shallow sigh. ‘What’s that all about?’

  TWENTY-THREE

  Tam and Abigail waited in the bushes until they were certain the two men had gone.

  ‘We should go,’ Tam muttered.

  Abigail stared at her. ‘Where?’

  ‘Home. Away from here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Christ, you ask some stupid questions. They saw me, up in the air, flying.’

  ‘They think they saw a drone, or maybe a balloon, that’s all. And even if they did see you, so what?’

  ‘So what?’ Tam’s eyes widened, glaring at Abigail. ‘So what?’ she repeated as she stood up and walked back towards the path out of the wood.

  ‘Tam, where’re you going?’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘What about the experiments?’

  Tam stopped and whirled round to face Abigail. ‘They saw me, Abigail. They saw me up there, floating at the end of your bloody rope. This is stupid – it’s a waste of time.’

  ‘But you can fly,’ Abigail replied meekly.

  ‘So what?’ Tam’s anger made Abigail jump. ‘So what if I can fly?’

  She turned and walked away. Almost immediately she heard Abigail following her. ‘We shouldn’t just stop . . . just cos of one person.’

  ‘Two people, not one. And there’ll be more.’

  ‘OK, maybe we should come at night. We can test—’

  ‘No more tests! No more experiments. No more flying, OK? It’s a bad idea.’

  Abigail said nothing, padding behind her. Tam could hear her breathing, sense her thinking, trying to come up with something that might convince her to change her mind. Then, ahead, she saw movement at the edge of the wood and she slowed down.

  Abigail bumped into her, peering over her shoulder. ‘Is it those two?’

  Tam could see their bright vests. They were talking and laughing with other men. She couldn’t make out what they were saying but she saw the thinner man pointing up into the sky. The other men laughed, taunting him as they packed tools and equipment in a van. After a moment the men got into the vehicle. It roared into life and sped away. The rumble of the van subsided and Tam continued along the path.

  ‘See, they’ve gone,’ Abigail said with a relieved chuckle.

  ‘So?’

  Abigail didn’t respond.

  As they walked up the gentle slope that led out of the wood something caught Tam’s eye. Pinned to a tree was a sheet of paper inside a plastic sleeve. She focused on the words, aware that Abigail had joined her there.

  ‘Do you understand any of that?’ she asked, gesturing to the official-looking document.

  ‘They’re building here,’ Abigail said, her voice low.

  ‘On the wood?’

  ‘That’s what it says. A new housing development. Forty eight new homes.’

  ‘They’re knocking down the wood?’

  ‘Cutting it down,’ Abigail corrected. ‘Most of it, yeah.’

  ‘That’s bullshit!’ Tam fumed.

  Abigail began to pace up and down. ‘I know. What do we do?’

  Tam turned away from the sign and stared at her. ‘Do? What do you mean?’

  ‘We have to fight it. We can’t let them build here.’

  ‘I don’t think we can stop them.’

  ‘But . . .’ Frustrated, Abigail grimaced. ‘But we can’t let them. This is our place; this is where I come to—’ She shook her head quickly. ‘They can’t cut it down.’

  ‘It’s happening,’ Tam said without emotion.

  Abigail stared at her. ‘Don’t you care?’

  Tam looked down, not wanting to reply.

  ‘Doesn’t it bother you that this place might be gone soon?’

  Tam suppressed her rage, pushing her feelings of frustration deep inside her. Of course it bothered her. ‘It’s just a wood.’

  ‘Just a wood? Are you kidding me?’ Abigail’s emotion took Tam by surprise. ‘This place is special,’ she continued. ‘You of all people must know that. This is where you fly! It’s only here.’

  ‘The wood doesn’t make me fly,’ Tam replied quietly.

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Of course it does. You know it does. It’s special, we’ve both felt it.’ Abigail’s voice became louder. ‘Have you ever flown anywhere else? Have you?’

  Tam had never seen her like this before, so full of anger. She turned away from Abigail, her own fury bubbling up and threatening to consume her.

  Abigail stepped in her way, tears in her eyes. ‘This is where it’s happened! Not at home, not at school. Here, in the wood. Do you want all that to go away?’

  ‘Of course I don’t!’ Tam exploded. ‘But what can I do? What can you do? They’re gonna do it no matter what we say.’ She began to march away. ‘That’s what they do. Nothing we can do to stop it.’

  ‘So that’s it?’ Abigail cried after her. ‘You’re just gonna give up? Walk away?’

  Tam didn’t look back. Her walk became faster, breaking into a run.

  ‘When are you gonna stand up for yourself, Tam? When? When are you going to stand up for something you believe in?’ Abigail’s voice called after her, but Tam refused to turn back.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Abigail marched home, cursing Tam with every ste
p. Already she was making plans in her head. If Tam wasn’t willing to fight this thing then Abigail would just have to do it herself. She’d find out who was going to build on the wood and speak to the council and fight it all the way. They couldn’t destroy her wood.

  She pulled out her phone and began to make some notes, jotting down each new idea as it came to her, her anger fuelling her creativity. She’d use social media and speak to the local paper. What was it called? The Herald. She’d make a banner and hold it up at the entrance to the wood. She’d create a petition, lobby the council, get local businesses on her side. She’d contact conservationists, get them to support her and—

  Abigail tripped and fell onto the path, scuffing the palm of her hand. Cursing, she pulled herself up, brushing the knees of her jeans clean. Then she stood and screamed, letting her rage free until her throat hurt. Birds scattered from the treetops, circling overhead.

  She felt better after that and continued along the path towards home, planning more ideas about how to save the wood. She could speak to the local radio, and maybe even the TV. Were there any rare animals living in the wood? She should really write this down. She reached for her phone.

  Abigail stopped, thinking. Where was it? With a growing sense of dread she turned back along the track and retraced her steps to the spot where she’d tripped.

  But the path was clear. Her phone was nowhere to be seen. She checked under the low foliage on either side of the track, stinging her hands on nettles, but her phone wasn’t there. She sat on the earth, thinking. She heard the gentle trickle of the stream and her heart sank.

  The little line of water ran by the edge of the path, barely a metre wide here, shallow, slow and crystal clear. Its surface danced with sunlight, and just beneath was the dark rectangle of her phone.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  She had the dream again.

  The sheets were damp with sweat, the air clammy and thick. Tam took a moment to slow her breathing then opened her eyes, throwing the quilt off her.

  It was bright outside, the edges of her curtains bleeding yellow sunshine into the room. A cooling breeze from an open window pushed the material back and forth, bringing with it the distant sound of children’s play.

  She reached out and found her phone, its screen hurting her eyes. It was after nine already. A pang of guilt at the wasted morning tried to take hold but she quickly dismissed it. After all, there wasn’t much to get up for.