by Ian Chapman
Noah straightened up. His eyes were rolled up in his head so only the whites showed. He banged his temple and his eyes rolled back into place like they’d been jammed. He grabbed Maddy’s glass and smashed it on the bar. The sound was an explosion and everyone stepped back, away from us. The base of the glass was intact with jagged edges.
He moved towards me and Casper.
‘Don’t,’ said Maddy, ‘don’t Noah.’ She was behind him, on her feet and she held his arm, pulled him back.
Noah shook her off, waved the broken glass around. ‘Get away you, you whore!’ He turned towards me. ‘You could have gone. You could have walked out and left town, but you had to do this.’
‘I think you started this,’ I said.
He touched the blood on his lip and waved the glass. He circled until he was between us and the door.
‘Put it down,’ Casper said. Noah kept waving the glass and Maddy put her hands to her face. Everyone else in the bar watched.
Noah lunged at me and I stepped aside as it sliced through the air. ‘You could have moved on and everyone would have been fine.’ He jabbed the glass at me.
‘Just put it down,’ said Casper and he moved back.
I kept back but watched how Noah moved, which way he went with the glass. It was always to his right away from his body. I kept to his left.
‘You had your chance and well...’ Noah moved around and again lunged towards us. He thrust at Casper, to the right again. As he did so I caught his forearm, grabbed it tight. Noah cried out and I twisted, forced him down.
‘You can’t do this!’ he said.
Then I swung down my free hand and struck him on the side of the jaw, catching him hard. His body went limp and he collapsed onto the floor. The glass thudded onto the floorboards.
Everyone looked at me and Casper. We stared at Noah on the ground. Maddy backed away from him and us. She drifted across the room. Then one man shouted. It wasn’t a word, more some kind of sound.
‘Go,’ said Casper.
As two men went to Noah I dashed outside, Casper close behind me. We joined the crowd in the marketplace and shoved through.
A gang of men piled after us.
‘Run!’ I shouted. We sprinted up the main road, away from the town centre.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lynch Mob
THE GANG CAME AFTER us, as we ran past a car park where old cars were dumped, rusted and door less. I thought about ducking in but we’d easily be spotted. The gang were a few metres back but the road was straight. We were exposed.
Casper was level with me. His breath came out in rasps, his hands knotted as he swung his arms out. My chest was tight and the top of my legs stung. But I couldn't slow. The gang shouted and something clattered on the road beside us.
‘They’ll get us,’ said Casper.
I didn’t answer, conserving my breath, but he was right. We were ahead of them but we’d not outrun everyone in the gang. Not in a town we didn’t know.
We turned a corner, the first one we'd come to and passed an old stone church. There was a churchyard next to it. Leading into it was a track. I swung onto it picking up the pace. I hoped that Casper did the same but didn't wait or look for him. I pushed on over rocky ground between the headstones.
I ducked behind one and knelt down. As I took in great lungfuls of air I looked across at the gravestones, all with names and ages. Some were original carved stone but others were bits of concrete with names scrawled on.
Casper dropped down beside me. ‘What now?’
‘Wait.’
Footsteps thundered past on the road, accompanied by shouts. They’d soon realise we’d ducked out.
I raised up onto my haunches. ‘Let’s head off.’ I led Casper off through the churchyard, past the cockeyed stones. We needed to hide out for a while or find another way back to the tank and bike. Get away from the town.
Across the road was a wooden shack with crates of malformed vegetables set in front. I pushed the rickety door open and went in. There were no windows and it was lit by a couple of tallow candles set upon a shelf. An old man stood behind the counter, his filthy face framed by a grey beard, tangled and knotted. The shelves around the room were dotted with tins and jars. Old-world wood with their labels faded.
‘Is there another way out of here?’ I said.
He didn’t reply, his eyes on me, dark pebbles.
‘We need to get across town.’
He shrugged but didn’t speak.
Casper stepped forward and grabbed him by his shirt. ‘Is there a back door?’
The man’s faced twisted up and he jerked a thumb towards the far corner of the room. There were a couple of panels made into a rough door. A piece of rope held it shut. I opened it and stepped out into a dark lane of greasy flagstones. Sludge oozed out of the blocked drains and lank weeds grew out of the brickwork. At the far end was a steel gate that led to a road.
Casper followed out, dragging the man. The three of us walked along the lane, our feet sliding on the stones. There was no sound of the gang. The gate was locked with a heavy padlock
‘Open it,’ said Casper.
The man he pulled out a key and slid it into the lock, rattling it around until it turned, taking forever. Once it was off I pulled the bolt and rasped the gate open.
There was no one on the road so Casper and me walked out onto a pavement of flaked tarmac. The man slid the gate shut behind us.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
He didn’t answer, just did up the padlock and shuffled off.
‘Which way?’ said Casper.
I pointed off to my left, what I reckoned was the right way, past rows of terraced housing, many with boarded windows. There was still no sign of the gang. Maybe they’d given up and gone back to the pub. Or run off in the wrong direction.
We walked fast but didn’t break into a run. Casper started to skip off but I grabbed his sleeve, slowed him down. We didn’t want to attract attention. The road was empty with only a couple of people on the pavement: an old man sweeping up and a girl sitting on a doorstep. He brushed away and she stared at the clouds of dust. Neither paid any attention to us.
‘What was that about you staying?’ said Casper.
‘Just talk.’
‘You spent the night with that woman?’
‘What do you care?’
He grunted and we carried on.
We had to turn off to the right at some point to get back to the Eblis. With any luck Becky was waiting for us. I’d have to take a chance with fuel. At least we’d have some firepower with the tank.
We came to a junction with a larger road. Several old women stood and chatted and a couple of kids jumped around on the pavement. No sign of the gang.
‘This way,’ I said to Casper, pointing right. It seemed to be the right way.
Halfway down down the road there were several lads hanging around. They stood by some wasteland, the remains of a demolished building. They had an edginess, a rough look to them. Possibly they were from the gang we were on the run from. There were no side roads between us and them so I kept on walking.
Casper nudged me. ‘Are they from the pub?’
‘I’d think so.’
‘What should we do?’
‘Fake it.’
We should have split up and taken different routes. But we hadn’t and here we were. If we ran they’d be right on us, and at best, we’d end up in the wrong part of town. As it was there was a slight chance they’d not recognise us.
‘Make small talk; keep walking,’ I said. It wasn’t much of a plan but it was about all I could come up with. Casper didn’t seem to have any ideas.
The lads stopped milling around and gave us an eyeball. One in particular was keen to look us over. At least Noah and Maddy weren’t with them. That really would have stirred it up.
I walked straight ahead as if in a hurry to get somewhere, which I was really.
A young fella in a checked shirt stepped forward. �
�Where you off to?’
‘Just heading home,’ I said all surprised.
‘Where’s home?’
I pointed ahead. There was no use making up a street name and I couldn’t remember the one we’d parked on.
‘Sussex Drive,’ said Casper.
The lad twisted his mouth up. ‘No one lives there.’
‘We do.’
‘The whole place is dropping apart.’
‘That’s where we live.’
From the across the derelict land more lads appeared and walked into the middle of the road. That was our exit blocked.
For a few seconds we stood there with the gang looking at us.
Then the lad grabbed Casper. He gripped his shirt and pulled it tight. ‘You’re the two from the pub.’
There were mutters from the others. Some picked up bricks and stones from the waste ground. Now we were stuck.
‘Call Noah,’ said a voice.
There was a cheer.
The fella tugged at Casper’s shirt. ‘We don’t like trouble makers.’
Casper opened and closed his mouth saying nothing. There were too many of them to take on and they were winding up. They crowded round us.
‘We’re just on our way home,’ said Casper. It was feeble but it cooled them down a little.
Then they all looked along the road. I expected to see Noah and a lynching mob but instead it was a vehicle.
With a rumble the Eblis thundered towards us. A voice boomed from the tank, electronic and amplified but clearly Becky’s. ‘Step away,’ she said.
The lads didn’t move.
‘Step away. All of you.’
They still didn’t shift.
Then the tank’s gun fired, bullets thudding into the ground near them.
‘Step back,’ she said.
Apart from the man holding Casper they moved away. After a moment he too let go and stepped aside. The Eblis stopped before us. The turret popped open and Casper ran over to it. He wasted no time, jumping up, sliding in. The men glared at me as I followed but no one said a thing. My bike was strapped to the back and the tank’s panels were all closed, hopefully with the engine fixed. As I slid into the turret I saw more men coming up the road to join the gang. Maybe one of them was Noah but I didn’t hang around to see.
I eased myself through the narrow entrance and dropped down inside, closing the hatch behind me.
Inside it smelled of oil, stale air and some kind of chemical. There were no window just lights, cold electric light that left few shadows. Becky was at the front with monitor screens and levers, presumably the driver’s position, where I'd expected Casper to sit. He was at the front of the turret and waved me into a seat at the back. He handed me some headphones, heavy things, not like the ones I’d had as a kid. He had a set for himself and Becky already wore a pair. He plugged them into a socket near him. There was one beside me so I pushed my connector in and a monitor lit beside me. Becky pulled one lever and pushed the other and there was a whirring from behind. The tank pivoted round in the road. It swung through 180 degrees and the scene on the monitor blurred for second, then settled onto an empty road. There were thumps as objects hit the hull, as the crowd regained their courage.
Casper opened a rear compartment and slid out a shell, a massive round of ammunition. He unlocked the breech on the gun and loaded it, pushed up a lever. Then the turret turned with a slow whine, so that it faced backwards. On the monitors I saw the mob behind us, waving planks of wood and holding bricks and stones. One man leant back, flicked his arm and a rock sailed through the air and bounced off the tank’s flank.
Casper raised a cover on a button and pressed it. There was a roar and the Eblis rocked back on its suspension. The screens were dark with smoke. When it cleared the mob were all crouching down. A building behind them was filled with smoke and bricks rained down into its shattered interior. Beside it was a pile of rubble.
Becky hauled on the controls and we moved off and headed out of the town. Her voice crackled over the headphones again. ‘Thought we’d lost you, Trent.’
‘Seems not.’
‘You okay about your bike being tied onto the tank? We were careful strapping it on.’
‘That’s fine.’ It suited me for now, seeing as I was low on juice. ‘Is the Eblis fixed?’
‘Hope so.’
I glanced up at Casper who was watching me, his lips tight. It was only when I kept his gaze he eventually looked away.
We drove out of the town, past the drunks and partiers. By the derelict houses. We turned off to the left at a roundabout, before the spot we’d been attacked, and joined the old by-pass, heading north.
‘So where did you get to?’ Becky said.
‘I got lost,’ I said. I wasn’t going to let on that I’d planned to stay. Hang out with Maddy in Pleasure Town. It hadn’t worked out and maybe it had always been a crazy idea. Now we were back on the road.
And that felt fine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Onwards
THE EBLIS RUMBLED ALONG the empty road. We were surrounded by open moorland with patches of trees, the Border Forest now thinned to occasional copses. Along the roadside there was the odd vehicle, picked so clean it was hard to recognise as a car.
I’d traded up here before but not much further north. Not as far as Becky and Casper were planning to go. To Arcadia or whatever the place was called. I’d be off before then. As soon as I had some juice.
It was difficult to imagine what they described existing, this ideal town. Decent people who welcomed strangers.
The only place that sounded similar was Shangri-La. Gary’s community of peace and tranquillity. Set in woodland in north-east Northumberland with orchards and gardens of soft fruit. Chickens and sheep. Not that they even ate any of the animals. It was like some kind of oasis. A bubble of ideals in an idealess world.
But that was Gary.
In all the time I’d know him he’d never even lost his temper. Not really. There had been one occasion where he’d got annoyed. The time I’d turned up to buy some home-grown.
I’d been in the Lotus then, that great car I’d once had.
I’d driven up past the prayer-flags and wind chimes. Parked in the courtyard with whitewashed buildings. He came out all friendly, dressed in the usual home-knitted thing but he started hopping around when I said I wanted to buy some grass, his big bearded face all creased up.
‘I don’t deal!’ he said, ‘It’s not that kind of place!’
‘All right, Gary. Sorry.’
He walked off shaking his head and I followed him, right the way through the building with its batiks and cushions, all the way to the greenhouses. They grew grapes, peppers and cucumbers alongside a few dope plants. Delicate stuff that needed the warmth. The glass was reclaimed from old shops and offices. Abandoned buildings in towns. It had taken him years to get all together but Shangri-La was his long-term project.
‘Here,’ he said, thrusting a bag of dried grass at me. ‘Have it. I don’t deal but I’m happy to give. To friends.’
So I took it and rolled up, staying around in the evening for one of his impromptu music sessions. There were tables with containers of fruit wine. Cider and pickled walnuts. Several young men and women drummed and danced. Laughed and sang. I smoked and joined in until I was too worn out to move.
Yeah, Gary had good parties.
The next day I’d driven off, through the woods with the scent of wild flowers and chimes ringing in the breeze.
I loved Shangri-La but didn’t really fit it. It was a place for me to visit. No more than that.
Maybe this Arcadia was going to be the same.
Now we’d got away from Faeston, left Round Up, there was nothing holding me to anywhere, anyone. There was no need for me to go all the way into the Highlands.
Becky swung the Eblis round, dropping the speed, half of what we’d been doing. We turned off the track, heading cross-country. The tank crawled across the rough ground. It
pitched and bounced.
‘What’s up?’ I said.
‘Trying to break the route up. Make us harder to track,’ she said.
‘You think Round Up are still after us?’
‘There’s a chance.’
There was a chance but it was getting fairly slim. We’d not seen a sign of them. Even if any of them had survived there was a lot of ground to cover.
If they’d survived.
We were safe enough in the Eblis. It was well armoured and had plenty of firepower.
The engines droned and I rocked from side to side. Side to side. After the adrenalin buzz of being chased I was settling down. I closed my eyes.
Then I was being shaken. Casper had hold of me.
Although the Eblis was moving it had slowed right down. Becky pressed buttons and tapped one of the dials.
‘What’s now?’ I said.
‘We need to stop,’ she said. ‘We’re overheating,’
‘I thought it was fixed?’
‘Seems not,’ said Casper.
‘It’s been creeping up again.’ Becky hauled on the levers and the vehicle stopped. It settled down on its suspension. There were whirrs and clicks from behind me. Swooshing sounds and buzzing.
Casper opened the hatch and climbed out. As Becky flicked switches and took readings I followed Casper. We were on moorland that rolled off in all directions. There were a couple of stunted pines nearby but these were the only trees to be seen. To the far south there were low hills. All other directions looked the same: gorse, heather and rough grass, laid out below creamy grey clouds. There was no one. No sound.
Becky came out and went straight to the rear of the vehicle. Casper joined her. They grabbed hold of the bike. Undid the straps and started to manhandle it off the back off the vehicle. I went and helped, making sure Casper didn’t trash it in his haste to help Becky. We lowered the bike down and Casper jumped back up to the turret, leaning in. There were clicks from several servos under the rear bulkhead and Becky pulled at the handles on the hatches. She lifted up the largest panel and the smell of burning plastic came out.
