Hawk's Cross

by David Collenette

  We sat there for maybe twenty minutes and my hands were really starting to ache, suspended by the seat catch.

  Eventually, I started to hear car engines start, including ours, and car doors slamming. We moved off.

  We drove slowly for a short while and then stopped again. I could hear voices outside the car and muffled voices from inside. A few minutes later and we were moving again.

  Suddenly, there was a loud metal clanking noise as the car ran over a large bump and I banged my head on something metal. The car was driving up a slope now, a steep one, and I braced myself against the rear of the car to stop myself sliding backwards.

  Another metal clank and the car levelled out, tyres squeaking on the road. No, not a road, something else that made the tyres squeak: metal or rubber.

  We stopped and the engine died. Around us I could hear other cars cutting their engines again and car doors slamming. The sounds seemed to echo here and I could make out children laughing and parents barking instructions.

  I had no idea where we were. Next, I heard this car’s doors open and I half expected the seat to be pulled forward to release my hands but it didn’t happen.

  Instead I heard Sandrine’s voice, clearer now: “Don’t lock it, he’ll set the alarm off moving around in the boot.” A car door slammed.

  More noises of the same type, slowly getting fewer and fewer until relative silence. I remembered them saying that it could be a while before I got out again and I started to panic. The pain in my arms was getting worse and the thought of having to keep them there for some time was making me more anxious by the minute.

  I tried to pull them free and the plastic dug into my wrists. The pain was bad but I had to try harder. I pulled against the seat with as much force as I could and, just when I was about to give up my hands came away and I punched myself in the face.

  Although the punch hurt, it felt good to lower my hands. I lay there for a while, letting the blood return to my arms and I started to feel pins and needles in my fingers.

  It was then that I realised that it wasn’t totally dark anymore. I looked up and noticed that a small slit of light had appeared above my head. I manoeuvred myself around until I could see and I noticed that it was the seat. Gingerly I pushed against the seat and it moved forward. When I’d pulled the strap out of the catch it had popped the lock on the seat catch and the seat was now able to fold forwards. I shoved harder on it and it folded flat to the base, and light streamed into my compartment.

  Squinting against the light I pushed myself forward and into the passenger area. The rear doors were still child-locked so I wormed my way over the front seat and tugged at the front door handle. The door popped open and, like some farm animal giving birth to its calf, the car gave birth to me, as I slipped off the front seat and onto the floor outside the car.

  I guess I should add to the review, “Although not a great idea at first it did pan out in the end. Maybe.”

  I sat up. I didn’t expect to be inside but I seemed to be in a large warehouse full of cars and trucks but this warehouse was like nothing I’d seen before: metal floors and no windows. Also, we were moving.

  A ship. No, a ferry; a car ferry. I sat up and looked around. Welded and bolted metal walls, girders, painted white and green, surrounded me. Cars, vans, trucks and motorbikes everywhere, the bikes strapped to the floor.

  Our car was near the wall and I had just enough space to pull myself upright and stand. It felt good to stretch my legs and I decided to walk around to see what was here. No one seemed to be on the car deck and doors set into the walls held notices in different languages informing people that these doors were locked and alarmed when at sea.

  I couldn’t get out now but when the boat came closer to where we were going then they’d have to open the doors to let the people back in. Maybe I’d have chance to get out of the car deck and find someone who could help.

  For now though, I decided to go for a walk, stretch my legs and see if there was anything else of interest, maybe something useful.

  I stopped; a noise, different to the drone of the engines and general creaking; these were human noises. I crouched down low in the tight gap between the cars and listened quietly. I heard them again; talking and what sounded like a child shouting, followed by an adult admonishing it to be quiet I’d guess, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  A family, but why were they down here? I crept closer and peered over the bonnet of a car. In front of me there was a van, the size you often see people hiring to move their stuff around when they change houses. It drew my attention as one of its back doors was open. Behind the truck a man stood smoking a cigarette. To his side a woman was bending over a small child, a boy, helping him to urinate into a drain. The woman was talking to the man who was replying with short answers. I couldn’t understand what they were saying but it didn’t sound like French.

  Another child, a girl this time, was trying to turn a tap that was sticking out of the bulkhead. She yanked on the tap and put her mouth underneath to try to drink but the tap was either disconnected or it was stuck fast as the process wasn’t working.

  I was so intent on watching the girl that I didn’t notice the man looking at me. I caught his eye. We stared at each other for a while as I didn’t know what else to do, so eventually I stood up.

  He regarded me for a while and then did an upward nod of recognition. I smiled back and tried to wave. When I did so he could clearly see my tied hands and he frowned.

  Flicking the cigarette across the floor he walked over to me. His dark eyes locked on mine, he looked down at my wrists and back up at me. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a knife, which he flicked open.

  I didn’t know whether he felt threatened or just careful or whatever but I was relieved when he used the knife to cut off my ties.

  I rubbed my wrists to try to ease the pain. He continued to look at me. The little boy had finished peeing and was hoisting up his trousers in a way that only six-year-old boys do. The girl shouted something and her father yelled something back to her, keeping his eyes on me.

  Then I had an idea. I’d underestimated my last idea as it had turned out OK in the end so I felt I should give this one the benefit of the doubt. I held up both hands. “Wait here!” I said. “Wait!” and I ran back to the car.

  Opening the rear door I reached into the boot and dragged out a pack of water bottles I’d noticed earlier. It was the kind of pack you get in supermarkets, with twelve individual sized bottles, wrapped together in plastic.

  I took them back to where I’d found the family and gave them to the father.

  His wife smiled an uncertain smile at me and the man looked at me and nodded. He closed the knife he was holding and handed it to me.

  “Please,” he said. “No speak. No speak,” and he waved his hands to indicate to his family and to the people upstairs.

  I got it; they shouldn’t be there and he was asking for my silence. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up and slipped the gift into my pocket. What was I going to do with a knife? I had no idea but it seemed foolish to not take it.

  I left the water with them and walked away. If they came looking for me I wasn’t going to be responsible for them finding this family. As I walked away I turned back to see the father handing out the water to his family. The girl saw me watching and drew in closer to her mother’s legs. Her mother, noticing the increased clinginess, looked up and followed her daughter’s gaze to me.

  She smiled at me weakly and gave a small wave. I nodded to her and smiled, wondering what sort of dreadful life they were trying to escape from if sucking water drips off an oily tap was a welcome improvement.

  I had nothing more I could offer them so I turned and walked away.

  I wandered around for a while. It was disconcerting to walk around down here, among the cars and trucks with no visual clue
s to what was going on outside. The floor rocked from side to side and I found myself losing my footing a few times so I resorted to walking in the narrow gap between the cars, using their roofs as handrails.

  It was very eerie; groans of metal rubbing against metal and straps straining against their loads. I tried to lie down in the cargo area of a flat-bed truck on top of some loose covers but the swaying of the boat made me feel sick, so for most of the journey I just walked around killing time.

  I have no idea how long I waited and wandered but eventually I heard the noises change. The engines had been slowed down and the rocking of the boat had diminished. I wondered if we’d reached the end of our journey so I headed back to where I’d come from. I walked near to the family I’d seen earlier; they were climbing into the truck and, once inside, the father pulled the door shut. Inside my head, to no god in particular, I wished them well.

  But wait, why was I heading back to the car? I wanted to get as far away from them as I could so why be close to the car or the exit they probably used to get up on deck?

  I walked quickly away from the car and headed to a door on the far side of the car deck. I could hear people talking on the other side of the door, possibly workers on the boat or possibly people waiting to get back to their cars. I stood back and waited.

  The swaying of the vessel had stopped now and the thrum of the engines had gone. Eventually, there was a clank and the door squeaked open. People started pouring through; parents controlling (or not) their kids and others winding their way through the parked traffic back to their own vehicles.

  A speaker announcement came over, first in English, reminding people to make sure they had all their belongings, report any suspicious packages and not to start their engines until they were called forward. Then an announcement in French which I guessed was the same one.

  I tried to peer through the door to see a way up but it was impossible. The steady stream of people coming down the narrow staircase and through the door made it impossible to allow two-way traffic. All I could do was wait until everyone had come down.

  In my mind my captors had got back to the car. They had some time to kill as they waited for the doors to open to allow the cars to leave. What would they do? Surely they’d check on their cargo. They might call to me or pull down the seat to check I was still alive. What then? If they were first down then they could be looking for me now, weaving their way between the cars towards all of the doors to check for me.

  I looked for somewhere to hide but it was impossible. Most of the gaps between the cars were now taken up with people loading bags and changing out of coats and jumpers, preparing for their onward journeys. If I tried to hide behind a car then the owner of the car would wonder what I was doing.

  My mind went into overdrive as I tried to think through other possibilities. I decided to try the only idea that popped into my head that didn’t require the involvement of some act of God or Batman.

  Just inside the doorway there was a person who worked on the boat. He was dressed in black trousers and a white coat with a badge on saying ‘Crew’.

  I tried to grab his attention. “Excuse me!”

  “One second, sir, and I’ll be with you,” he called through the passing bodies.

  “OK, but this is urgent!”

  “Yes sir, just one moment please.”

  I waited, scanning the cars across the bay, looking for people coming in my direction.

  I turned back to the crew member: “I need to see the captain! It’s urgent!”

  The guy frowned at me and sighed. He held up his hand and stopped the flow of people. “Excuse me please,” and stepped across the threshold and towards me as the flow continued behind him.

  “How may I help you, sir?” he asked, clearly annoyed at my interruption.

  “I need to see the captain, it’s very important.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but as I’m sure you can appreciate the captain is very busy with the harbour pilot right now. What seems to be the issue?”

  As I opened my mouth to speak a hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Here you are! Jesus, kid, we’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

  I turned and looked into the eyes of the guy I’d spent most of the journey sitting next to.

  The crew member looked at me, then at the guy and then back to me. “What did you say the issue was?”

  “Excuse my son, buddy, we had a bit of an argument over his intentions about going back to college and he decided to give us a little scare.”

  The crew member raised an annoyed eyebrow at me. “Is there anything else, sir?”

  I paused.

  My captor took up the gap. “Do you really want to involve this nice man in your issues?”

  He and I locked eyes. I knew what that meant and he knew that I knew. The officer, if that’s what his stripe meant, stared at me and I imagined him with a family. An image popped into my head of him lying in a chair with his eyes pointing in different directions and I immediately tried to dismiss it.

  I looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry. I was angry with my father. Sorry.”

  The officer looked at my captor, smiled and said tersely, “No harm done. Please excuse me,” and, with the crowds now diminished, he disappeared inside the door and up the stairs.

  “Wise choice,” said the guy and led me back to the car, his hand clamped firmly on my neck.

  I sat in the back again as we drove off the ferry. We drove down off the boat and onto the concrete dock, following a line of cars. A sign that said ‘Welcome to Portsmouth’ told me we’d arrived in the UK and we lined up with the other cars to get out of the port. Ahead of us, about twenty or so cars in front, I saw the van with the family in the back. We were driving through customs and the officers were pulling a few cars over at random.

  I wondered if they’d pull the van over but it was simply waved through. I hoped this was good news for them but then I started wondering if we’d get pulled over and, if so, would that be good or bad?

  Personally I hoped that they did so I could ask for help but the other part of me wondered how much death and injury I’d bring on by doing so. I was eager to do it. I was desperate to call for help, to shout and yell and beg for help.

  Even the thought of yelling felt good; how welcome would it be to trust myself to something or someone else? How nice to fall backwards into a safety net and sleep the trouble away. But I’ve come to realise that nothing feels as intoxicating as the light to a moth the instant before it flames and dies.

  I sat back and watched the half-bored customs officers as we were waved on by and out of the port.

  21

  Claudia woke to something hitting her face. She sat up and turned to see Terry standing outside the cage, urinating through the bars onto her. The acrid smell caught her in the nostrils and she gagged. She pulled her knees up and scuttled to the other end of the bed.

  Terry, laughing, continued to urinate on her bed, such as it was.

  When he was done and had tucked himself away he squatted down so he was at her level. “Are you an emotional person, nigger?”

  Claudia just watched him.

  “I’m quite an emotional person,” he said, standing up and walking around the three sides of the cage, back and forth. “I like being happy. Do you like being happy?”

  Just staring.

  “No, maybe not. I’m sure being a whore stuck at a shitty strip-club, too old, ugly and black to work, doesn’t make it easy to be happy, eh?”

  Claudia gave away her reaction to the verbal jab by looking down.

  Terry’s smile widened. “Aw, don’t be sad. There are plenty more emotions to enjoy. Do you know which my two favourite ones are?”

  Eye contact again.

  “Fear is the first,” said Terry. “I love fear. No other emotion has such an
overwhelming effect on a person, see? When a person’s scared they can’t eat, they feel ill, they sweat, they can’t think straight. Fear takes over the whole person. It’s the perfect emotion.”

  Staring.

  “I’m not talking about simple fears like being scared of the dark or snakes or spiders and that shit. I’m talking about total fear; the fear that grabs you and shuts down everything else. Just like now. Look at you; stuck to the spot, nothing else matters. Can you imagine a sunny day? I don’t think so.”

  He came closer to the cage and stared deep into her eyes, his foul breath replacing the odour of urine.

  “Fear lasts. Fear changes you and never leaves. But, eventually fear turns into something else. Fear is the first response which, if worked properly, leads to my other favourite: despair.”

  A single tear ran down Claudia’s face.

  “Fear is easy to create; despair needs much more work and skill. That’s why despair is my true favourite. The feeling that nothing will ever be right again; that there is no way out, no hope, nothing. Death loses its grip and the one driving force in people, which is the instinct to survive, is taken over by the need to end the despair. When that comes you will no longer hate me. You will feel nothing for me or anyone else. You’ll ask me to kill you and be grateful I did.”

  Claudia blinked and another tear rolled down her cheek. Terry laughed. “See? Fear and the beginning of acceptance; the road to despair.”

  Claudia blinked again and one more tear rolled down her face but this tear was, like the previous two, a master of disguise. Giving the appearance of anguish, this tear hid its true nature: hate-filled rage.

  ***

  To anyone else it would have been a mundane drive up from Portsmouth but as the miles ticked by I became more and more anxious.

  What next? How long would this go on for? Would Ethan kill me or would he just keep me dangling on a string?

  Then another thought came to me: how implicated am I in this? Am I guilty in the eyes of the law? I didn’t go to the police. I know that I stayed away out of fear of what might happen but more is happening anyway. How much worse can it get?