Fug and the Thumps

by Malachy Doyle

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1. Runaway

  2. The Island

  3. Break-in

  4. Thump in the Night

  5. Drowning

  6. Who cares?

  7. S.O.S.

  8. Whoosh, Bang!

  9. Arson

  10. Come on, you guys!

  11. The Courage of a Lion

  12. Watch Out, World!

  13. Running

  Copyright

  Fug and the Thumps

  Malachy Doyle

  for Kay and Conor – stay safe!

  1

  Runaway

  It’s 5.30 a.m. I creep downstairs. I feel around in the dark till I find my dad’s jacket. I pull his wallet from the inside pocket. Then I take all the notes and go.

  It’s 6.30. I’m on the first train to the coast. I get off at a tiny village. I find the only shop that’s open, and buy some food. Then I follow a footpath out of town.

  As I climb down to a beach, I see a kayak, hidden in the dunes. I turn it over and there’s a paddle inside.

  As soon as I find it, I know what I’m going to do – I’m going to disappear. Off the face of the map. Off the edge of the known world. Because that’s all that matters right now. Getting the hell out of here.

  There’s no life jacket. I know you’re supposed to wear one – it’s one of the few things I do know about the sea. But it’s flat calm out there. There’s hardly a ripple.

  I drag the thing to the edge of the water and climb in. Then I push off and I’m away. Free at last!

  Because I’m on the run from Fug and the Thumps. From Fug and the freaking Thumps.

  There was no other way to escape them, see. Not at school. Not on the way to school either. The only way to beat them, I soon found out, was to join them. But the only way to join them was to…

  Well, I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it.

  I knew what that meant, though. I knew what would happen today and every day, as soon as I set foot on the bus. The same as before, only worse. Much worse, because I’d tried to stand up to them.

  So I’d no choice. Really, no choice but to get up in the night, to nick eighty-five quid from my dad and go.

  Which is how I ended up here, about fifty miles away, heading out to sea. Because who’s going to find you in the deep dark ocean?

  And don’t tell me that doesn’t make any sense, because I don’t care any more! I need to get away, right?

  Cos they’re doing my head in. Fug and the Thumps. They’re doing my flipping head in!

  I’ve never done this before, to tell you the truth – this kayaking thing. But I’ve seen people do it and it always looked pretty easy. Just stick a paddle in the water and off you go.

  It’s hard to keep the thing straight, though. Especially when the waves keep wanting to send you back where you came from.

  I’m thinking maybe I only ever saw it done on a lake before. It’s a whole different ballgame out here on the open sea. With all this wind. All these waves. Not that they’re big, but…

  When you push the paddle down on one side, the waves turn you sideways before you can get yourself straight by switching it to the other side. And then, because you’re sideways to the sea and it’s crashing into you, the whole thing starts rocking and water splashes in.

  After a while I get a bit of a rhythm going. Left, right. Left, right. More on the left, every now and again, to get the stupid thing facing back out to the ocean. I’m going straight now, most of the time, rather than round and round like a one-legged turtle.

  My bum’s a bit wet, mind you. There’s a load of water sloshing about in the bottom of the kayak. It seems a lot just from the splashing. It’s not leaking, is it?

  Is there a plug somewhere I pull to let it back out? But wouldn’t that just let more in? I don’t know. I just hope the damn thing doesn’t fill up.

  And you’re supposed to have some sort of a cover on it, aren’t you? To pull up tight round your legs and stop the waves coming in over the top?

  It was flat calm when I started, but it’s getting a bit rougher now, the further out I go. I twist around to see how far from shore I’ve got. It’s a heck of a long way! Could I make it all the way back if I needed to? Against the tide?

  Cos I’m beginning to have second thoughts about this ‘needing some space’ thing. I mean, the whole damn boat’s filling with water!

  2

  The Island

  And then, up ahead, I see it! The island! I knew it was out here somewhere, I just wasn’t sure how far.

  I head towards it, but the current seems to want to pull me out and round, rather than into shore. It’s my only chance, though. I’ve got to make it happen.

  There’s a sort of a slipway, so I paddle straight up and onto it. Phew!

  But when I try and get out of the boat, my foot skids on the seaweed. I fall forward and whack my head on the side of the kayak.

  Slipway? You’re damn right, it’s a slipway! I’m slipping and sliding all over the place, trying to drag the stupid thing up out of the water. I can’t even stand, so I end up having to edge round behind it, sit on my bum and try pushing it with my feet.

  It’s heavy, though, especially with all that water in. And every time I try to push it, all I end up doing is skidding back down the slipway on all that slimy green stuff and then having no end of trouble getting back up to the boat.

  I manage to nudge it up a bit and then leave it, crawling up past the seaweed. Who cares? I’ve reached dry land.

  I’m knackered from all that paddling. My arms ache. My back and bum ache. I’ve a massive great lump the size of an egg on my forehead from when I fell. I’m soaked through. And to top it all, my rucksack, with all the food and stuff, is soaking too. I’d pushed it in down behind the seat, to keep it safe, and forgotten all about it. Even when all the water started coming in. What a thicko!

  I check the inside pocket of my coat. At least the money’s safe and dry.

  There’s nothing here. I’ve been all over the island and there’s not a single sign of life. I came across five old cottages, all empty. All falling down.

  I saw two done-up ones, but there’s nobody living in either of them, that’s for sure. They’re holiday cottages, I suppose.

  Weird place for a holiday, if you ask me. I mean, what are you going to do all day? Stare at the empty sea?

  I climb to the highest point of the island, looking back to where I came from. Over there, way in the distance, it’s all going on like it always does. Life. School. Fug and the flipping Thumps.

  I sit on a rock and eat my soggy sandwich. I chew my soggy crisps. And then I realise how thirsty I am. Why didn’t I buy a drink in that stupid shop before I set off? There’s water all around me. But not a drop to drink.

  I head back to the boat then, to decide what to do next.

  But when I get to the slipway, it’s gone! The freaking kayak’s gone!

  I look all around, in case I’m in the wrong place. In case someone somewhere is playing tricks on me.

  And then I notice the seaweed’s gone too. The water’s come up and covered it all. It’s nearly reached the top of the slipway.

  Oh my god! The tide’s come in! It’s taken my flipping kayak! Why didn’t I pull it up further? What a dimwit!

  I look out to sea. There’s no sign of it. And then I spot the paddle, way off in the distance, floating. And I won’t tell you what I said right then, but I said it VERY VERY LOUD!

  So I’m stuck here. On a desert island (except it’s not exactly a desert, but you know what I mean). With no food, no drink. Nowhere to get in out of the cold and rain. And no way to get off.

  At least there’s
no sign of Fug and the Thumps. But well done, Ben Hastings. You’ve really gone and done it now.

  3

  Break-in

  I remember my phone. But it’s in my bag, isn’t it? Is it wet? Is it ruined?

  I wipe it on my shirt and switch it on. It powers up! I ring Mum. But there’s no signal.

  I trudge back to the top of the hill. If it doesn’t work here, it won’t work anywhere.

  It doesn’t connect.

  So what do I do now? I could try and swim back to the mainland, but it’s way too far. I’ve never been much of a swimmer really.

  I could stand on a rock and wave down a passing boat. But I haven’t seen a single one all day.

  I could light a fire, maybe, and hope someone spots it. But the rain’s coming in. The sky’s darkening.

  I’m going to have to get into one of the holiday houses. I try all the doors, then all the windows.

  ‘What’s the point?’ I yell. What’s the point in locking a place when there’s nobody here? I mean, it’s not exactly the sort of area where a gang of teenage hoodlums are going to break in and trash the joint!

  I could try and find some cover in one of the tumble-downs, I suppose. I’m cold and wet. I need food and water. I need to find a phone that works, to let my folks know I’m OK. And if no one can come and get me tonight, I need a bed.

  So there’s nothing else for it – I chuck a stone at one of the windows, pull away the broken glass and climb through.

  I go to put on the lights but I can’t find a switch. I go all round the walls before I realise why. There’s no electricity! What sort of back-of-beyond place is this? I thought everywhere had flipping electricity these days!

  I spot a torch, hanging on a nail. Phew – the battery still works. I rummage around in the drawers till I find some matches and light a few candles. I even manage to get an oil lamp going. Clever kid!

  I look around. There’s no phone. I check the drawers – no mobiles. (Not that they’d work anyway.)

  I run the tap. At least there’s water – though it’s probably just stuff that’s been trickling down the roof, from the look of the giant tank outside. I’m not sure how safe it is – those tiles don’t look like they’ve been cleaned in a long time – but I take a long cold drink. Beggars can’t be choosers. I hope I don’t poison myself, though – that’s the last thing I need.

  Running away sure puts a hunger on you. Never mind paddling for hours (well, it felt like hours). So I look for the fridge. Oh yeah, no fridge. Luckily there’s a load of tins in the cupboard. I grab some beans, manage to light the gas and, wow, they don’t half taste good!

  Now I’ve got all that sorted, it’s time to look at the real problem. How am I going to get off this stupid island? Because it’s all right for a night, maybe, but I can’t stay here forever. Mum and Dad will be up the wall already. Specially Dad, when he checks his wallet.

  And here I am, miles away on a deserted island. With no way of getting off. No way of even getting a message to anyone.

  Because yeah, I’ve got away from Fug and the damn Thumps. Which is good. You can’t imagine how good.

  But you know what they say about out of the frying pan…?

  4

  Thump in the Night

  Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now, in the dark. So sleep on it, kid. Maybe things won’t seem so bad in the morning.

  I try the most comfortable-looking bed. But it’s like in Goldilocks – it’s way too big, and just reminds me how alone I am here.

  I try one of the bunk beds in the other room, but I can’t seem to sleep there either. In the end I drag a duvet through to the sofa and curl up on that.

  At least that way I can keep an eye on the front door. I know there’s no one outside, of course, but it’s so flipping dark out there. And when you break into a house, you just can’t seem to settle. You think some mad axeman owner’s going to turn up at any moment, seeking revenge.

  It’s weird, actually. I don’t want anyone to come, because I know I’ll get the biggest telling-off in my life. For skipping school. For nicking a load of money off my dad. For not telling my folks where I’m going. And then – horror of horrors – staying out overnight.

  For pinching a kayak, too. For risking my neck in the open sea – without a life jacket. For losing the stupid kayak. For breaking into someone’s house. For scoffing all their beans…

  But if anyone does come, I want to make sure they find me. Because how else am I going to get out of this place?

  Unless it’s Fug, of course. He’s the one person I do not want to find me.

  I can’t seem to escape from him, though. I can’t get him out of my brain, even when I do finally sleep. There he is, the boy of my dreams, standing at the end of the bed with that sick-looking smirk on his face. Watching his gang lay into me.

  Not Fug, though. He never lays a finger on anyone. He doesn’t have to.

  ‘Get them off me!’ I’m yelling, as I wake. My head’s throbbing. My back and arms are aching.

  And then I remember whacking my skull on the side of the kayak. And the effort of paddling across an open sea.

  I eventually fall asleep again, but this time it’s more like remembering than dreaming. Remembering my first day at school. There he was, Fug, demanding my dinner money. And what did I do? I gave it to him.

  Day after day. Week after week. If I’d already given it to Miss and didn’t have any for him, he’d set the Thumps on me. At break. Behind the bike shed.

  They said if I yelled, they’d hit me even harder. And if I told anyone … they’d kill me.

  I took to raiding my mum’s purse before school. Sliding up to Fug on the bus and handing him enough to keep him happy. To keep the heavy squad off me.

  And so it went on, month after month. Till the other day.

  ‘You want us to stop, kid? You want us to pick on someone else for a change?’

  I knew I wasn’t the only one. I’m not stupid. But I nodded. There was nothing I wanted more.

  ‘OK,’ said Fug, looking me right between the eyes. ‘From now on you’re one of us – a Thump.’ And he raised his palm, to high-five me.

  But I turned and walked away.

  5

  Drowning

  In the morning, I’m more tired than when I went to bed. Nightmares can do that to you.

  I check every window. There’s no sign of anyone. I go down to the shore. There are no boats. I go back and warm up another can of beans. You could get bored of beans.

  Then I walk the island again, looking for a way to get off.

  At last, at long last, I see a boat off in the distance. It’s a fisherman, checking his pots, by the look of it. I wave. I shout. I jump up and down and scream. But he never once looks my way. Never hears me, over the sound of his engine. And then he’s gone, damn it!

  I keep walking, keep looking. And then I spot it! The kayak! It washed up back on the far side of the island! My luck’s turning, huh?

  It’s wedged between some rocks. There’s a great gash down one side, but I can’t see any water inside, so I suppose it’s OK.

  I drag it off the rocks. I check to see if there’s any more damage. A few bumps and bashes, but nothing too bad by the look of it. Now all I need is a paddle.

  Before I go looking, I remember about the tide. So I haul the thing up onto the grass, well past the seaweed line. High tide line, that’s what it’s called. See, I’m not a complete twit.

  I don’t know if the water level’s going up or down, mind you – how are you supposed to tell? But I’m not taking any risks. Not this time.

  So where am I going to find a paddle? I go back to the slipway and look around. There’s a knackered old rowing boat. All rotten and full of holes. No way that’s going anywhere!

  There’s a hut. I can’t get inside. Outside, round the back, I find an oar. One oar. It’s got a nasty-looking crack in it, and I know it’s meant for a rowing boat, but it’s my best bet.

  I
grab it and head for the kayak. I launch myself into the water and start paddling.

  It’s useless. The oar’s too big, too heavy. I’m trying to swap sides every stroke, like you’re supposed to. But by the time I get the great lumbering thing back in, the tide’s spun me round.

  The current’s pulling me out into deep water – which is what I wanted, I suppose. But there’s no way I can control it. And the kayak’s filling up with water, way faster than it did before. If I don’t do something quick, I’m in real trouble.

  I let go of the stupid oar. It’s useless anyway. I try to paddle with my hands, back to shore. But the sea’s too strong. The boat’s too heavy. The current’s pulling me out, always out, into deeper and deeper water.

  And the waves. They’re really bad on this side of the island. I suppose it’s not sheltered, like it was before. It’s the open sea here. The wide open ocean, with bigger winds, bigger waves…

  There’s only one thing to do. I’ve no choice. I wriggle up, get my legs out, and tip myself over the side.

  Deep down, under the water. Under the water, deep down.

  And then I’m on the surface again, gasping for breath. Somehow the kayak’s still there, next to me. I grab hold of it, sucking in air. But blimey, the water’s freezing!

  I edge round to the back of the kayak and kick out, trying to push the thing back to shore. If I hang onto it, I’ll stay afloat. If I get it back to the island I can try again. Find a better paddle…

  But no. It’s not going to work. The current’s too strong – it’s taking us further and further out. The island’s slipping away. I don’t know if I can swim that far.

  Again, I’ve no choice. I push off from the boat and start swimming. But the current’s crazy. With every pull I make back towards the island, I can feel the tide fighting me. Forcing me further from the shore.

  It’s me against the full force of the sea. I fight it. I fight it. I swim. I swim.

  After a while I’m not even sure where I am any more. What direction I’m going in, forward or back. I’m losing confidence. Losing strength.