by Echo Freer
‘You look kinda fridge in that.’
‘My brother will kill me if he finds out I’ve borrowed his stuff,’ she said.
‘Where is he?’
‘At home. Sally wanted him to stay in tonight.’ Angel’s brother, Alex, was three years younger than her and a fledgling Mooner but, at twelve, he was still under the influence of his nurturer.
‘What about you? What did you tell her?’ Monkey asked.
‘That I’d got extra gym club tonight.’ They both knew that such a clandestine meeting between a pre-breeder and a pre-nurturer would guarantee them both a spell of re-education; Monkey on The Farm and Angel in The Sanctuary.
‘What about curfew? How d’ya get round that?’
‘Told her I’ll be going round to Shanay’s afterwards. It’s only two doors along, so I’d easily get back without being seen.’
‘Any chance she’ll check up?’
Angel shook her head. ‘She’s not that friendly with Shanay’s nurturer. But why would she, anyway?’ She cocked her head on one side, coquettishly. ‘I’m a good girl - remember?’
Monkey felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his abdomen and looked away. ‘Come on, then. We’d better make sure your rep stays intact.’ He indicated for her to cover her face again. ‘Now, if anyone speaks to us, you keep quiet and let me do the talking - OK?’ Angel nodded. ‘Keep your hood as low as possible and your hands in your pockets.’ He pulled at the hips of her loose trousers. ‘These need to be lower.’
‘Hey!’ Angel reprimanded him as the top of her lacy knickers was revealed.
Monkey blushed and swallowed hard. ‘Next time, borrow your brother’s boxers too, all right? Those are a bit of a giveaway,’ he blustered.
‘Next time?’ she queried, hitching up her brother’s trousers. ‘I thought this was a one-off to go and see Tragic.’
‘Yeah, yeah - course!’ Monkey said quickly and began strutting up and down under the loco bridge. ‘You’ll have to walk differently too if you want to get away with this. So, cop the bowl.’
With each step, he pushed his opposite shoulder forward, giving a rolling motion to his gait that was designed to instil intimidation into anyone in his path. Angel tried to imitate him, bouncing along the footpath with more of a skip than a swagger.
‘That’ll do,’ Monkey said unconvincingly. ‘Let’s go.’
It was already past curfew when they arrived at Tragic’s house and it was just the same as when Monkey had been there earlier in the day, not a sign of life anywhere. Monkey led Angel round to the sustenance patch at the back.
‘I thought you said we were coming to see Tragic?’ Angel queried. ‘What’s going on?’
‘That’s what I want to know,’ he said, studying the rear of the lodge for a possible means of entry. ‘OK.’ He pointed to where the shutters were damaged on the window of Tragic’s bedroom. It was just above the lean-to bike house and several of the metal slats were jutting outwards slightly.
Monkey climbed up onto the bike house roof, took the knife from his pocket and, reaching through the rent in the metal, inserted it into the side of the window frame. He moved it carefully backwards and forwards until he felt the resistance of the catch, then gave a sharp flick of the knife and pushed the window inwards away from him. ‘OK, that’s the window open, now let’s work on the shutter. Come on,’ he whispered, beckoning Angel to climb up and follow him. ‘We need to push both sides together...’
She shook her head. ‘No way! You said you wanted me to come with you to talk to Tragic. You didn’t mention the fact that he wasn’t here and we’d have to break into his house. Have you any idea what will happen if we’re caught?’
‘Of course! Now, just come with me and I’ll explain it all later.’
‘No!’ Angel stood her ground. ‘Actually, Mickey, I don’t think you do know what’ll happen to me. It’s fine for you - you’ll go off to The Farm for a while, then straight back to the Breeders’ Zone and carry on with your life as normal. Me? I’ll be sent to The Sanctuary, banned from uni, probably have to live in an artisan zone away from my family and friends. My children will be artisans too and they could even penalise Sal and confiscate her practice. Being caught breaking curfew’s one thing, but breaking and entering? Have you gone insane?’
Monkey hovered uncomfortably. He hadn’t envisaged any protest when he’d asked her to come. He was beginning to wish he’d just done it on his own now. He’d thought it would be exciting when he’d suggested it, a way of getting to know her better; building a bond so that she’d remember him and choose him as her breeder when the time came. But now, it didn’t seem like such a good idea.
‘What’s going on?’ a voice said from the other side of the bike house. Monkey turned quickly.
‘It’s OK, Mov Bailey,’ Monkey reassured Tragic’s neighbour. He’d met her once some time ago when they’d kicked their ball into her sustenance patch. She really should have moved out to The Pastures but Jane kept an eye on her. Monkey doubted if she’d remember him, but he wasn’t going to risk it. ‘It’s me, Marlon Griffiths, Trevor’s friend, remember?’ he lied, looking down from his elevated position.
‘No one’s home. They’ve gone,’ she said solemnly. ‘Young Trevor graduated a week early and Jane left last night, she did.’
Monkey’s eyes flashed down at Angel. He frowned slightly, and moved his eyes towards the wall of the house, warning her to move round the corner and not give away the fact that she was there.
‘Yes, I know,’ the lies flowed easily, ‘but I lent Trevor some of my things and he forgot to give them back before he graduated. I’ve just come to collect them.’
‘Gone off to the rurals, she has,’ Mov Bailey continued in a forlorn voice. ‘Gave me her electrics - till the Assembly finds out...’ She looked up, terrified. ‘You’re not from The Assembly are you? You’ve not come to lock me away?’
‘No, no, don’t worry about that. It’s me, Marlon, Trevor’s friend. Just come to collect some things I lent him.’
‘Gone to stay with an aunt, Jane said, out in the rurals. But she’s never mentioned any aunts before. Just up and left she did, her and her sister. Piled everything into a couple of bags and off they went on their bikes. In the middle of the night! I was watching out of my window. Worried for them I was, what with the hoods and all, roaming the streets after curfew. Should’ve gone in the daylight if you ask me. You won’t tell about the electrics will you?’
‘Of course not - as long as you don’t tell anyone I’ve been round to pick up my stuff,’ he bargained.
Angel stepped out from the corner of the house, looked up at Monkey and folded her arms as though disapproving of the whole business.
‘I can let you in, you know,’ Mov Bailey said. ‘Jane put me on the iris recognition so I can keep an eye on the place.’ She chuckled. ‘Keep an eye on it! I’ve just seen the funny side.’ She was still laughing to herself as she opened the small gate between the two properties and shuffled round. ‘You only had to ask, you know.’
Angel dodged back into the shadows quickly and Monkey slid down the roof as the elderly nurturer reached up on tiptoe, placed her eye against the small scanner on the wall and turned the handle on the door. Monkey did his best to stifle a smile of relief. ‘Mind you shut it firm when you’ve done,’ she said, shuffling back towards her own house. ‘It don’t close proper sometimes.’ Then added, ‘I don’t use all her electrics. Only when I’m cold, like now. Mine’s one of the early turbines. They’re not very efficient, you know. Jane used to let me use hers sometimes when she was at work. It’s not stealing, she used to say, more like sharing.’
Once the elderly neighbour had gone back into her own home, Monkey propped open the door, then sought out Angel and led her towards the house, grinning. ‘It’s not breaking and entering if we’ve been let in officially!�
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‘You’re despicable!’ Angel said as they entered the dark kitchen. ‘I don’t want any part of this.’
Now that they were in the relative safety of the house, Monkey relaxed a little.
‘Look, I’m sorry - OK? I’m really worried about Tradge and I needed someone I trusted to come with me. I should’ve come clean with you from the start but I didn’t think you’d come.’
‘Too right I wouldn’t have come!’ Angel retorted. ‘Anyway, now you know that he’s graduated early, we can get going.’
She turned towards the door to leave but Monkey caught her hand and pulled her to face him.
‘You don’t get it, do you? Tragic hasn’t graduated early. The school would’ve known if he had. And Jane hasn’t got any aunts either - or a sister. Tragic used to moan about the fact that he never got any presents for his birthdays except from his nurturer because she didn’t have any other family - either in town or in the rurals. And anyway, who do you know who lives in the rurals these days? Unless they’re geriatric or been sent to The Farm.’
Angel looked confused. ‘So what’re you saying?’
‘I don’t know what’s going on or why they’ve left but I’m not giving up until I find out where he is and that he’s all right.’ He looked her in the eye as he spoke. ‘But, if you want...’ He stopped mid-sentence.
Flashing along the hallway, through the glass of the front door was the intermittent red searchlights of a stealth. They heard the sigh of the air-brakes as it drew to a halt, then muffled voices and footsteps headed down the path towards the house.
‘Shiltz!’ Monkey whispered urgently.
Suddenly, a loud banging noise echoed down the hallway. He could make out the silhouettes of at least four Security officers through the glazed front door.
A female voice boomed through the mail-slot. ‘Jane Patterson? Security. Open up!’
Secrets, Codes and Hiding Places
‘Quick!’ Monkey grabbed Angel’s hand and pulled her towards a door that opened off the kitchen. There was a padlock near the top, but it was hanging open and the door was slightly ajar. ‘Down here!’
There was a cellar under the house that Monkey remembered from a few years earlier. When he and Tragic had been younger, they’d gone down there once to play hide and seek. It was the only time he recalled Jane being angry with Tragic. ‘Don’t you ever - EVER - go down there again!’ the normally placid Jane had shouted, slamming the door and bolting it firmly. Shortly after that, the bolt had been removed and the padlock had appeared. The cellar had been firmly out of bounds from then on. Jane had told them it was because the rickety old steps were too dangerous. They could have fallen and been injured, she’d said, once more reverting to her gentle, caring self and Tragic never questioned her.
As Monkey and Angel made their way down the wooden steps now, Monkey realised that they were firm and relatively new - certainly not as old as the house. They’d probably been replaced within the last ten years, so would have been quite safe at the time that he and Tragic had played down there. As they descended the steps, Angel’s hood caught on a nail. She stumbled and gasped but Monkey put out a hand to steady her, then raised a finger to his lips warning her to be quiet. A frisson of excitement shot through him at the physical contact but she pulled her hand away from his sharply; irritated.
When his feet touched the floor of the underground room, he narrowed his eyes, scouring the cellar for suitable hiding places. It was pitch-dark apart from the spasmodic red glare that flashed through a ventilation grille at the front. A cobweb caught Monkey in the face and he brushed it away impatiently.
As his eyes became accustomed to the dark he could make out dozens of large canvases lining two of the walls, some covered with cloth, others displaying Jane’s weird paintings. They were abstract and Monkey had never been able to understand them. Shelves laden with pots and paints, tools and tins were along another wall. There were piles of what looked like old clothes and shoes - no doubt Jane’s working clothes, kept down here because they were dirty. But he could see nowhere to hide two people.
‘They’re bound to come down here,’ Angel whispered.
‘Don’t worry,’ Monkey reassured her; although he wished he felt as confident as he was trying to sound. Outside, they could hear the rumble of feet running down the side of the house.
‘The back door’s open!’ a voice called and more feet thundered towards the rear of the house.
Monkey groaned and mentally gave himself a kick for not shutting the door properly as Mov Bailey had advised him to do. He would have expected a patroller to come looking for a school-dodger but was confused as to why there would be this level of security looking for Tragic - or, more to the point, Jane. At least Angel had closed the cellar door after them. Hopefully, that would allow them some time.
Angel tugged at Monkey’s sleeve and pointed to the corner at the back of the cellar. He could just make out two large chest freezers against the back wall. Monkey knew that Jane had always been keen on home-grown food. Tragic had told him she’d even taken on a public sustenance patch to boost their food quota. No wonder she needed two freezers.
They crept over to them and Monkey lifted the lid of the first one. It was full of bags and boxes of food arranged in wire baskets, all going soggy through lack of electricity. Angel opened the second. It also appeared full. Monkey was about to lower the lid despondently, when Angel stopped him.
‘It’s different,’ she whispered. ‘Give me a hand.’ Monkey didn’t know what she meant by different. He looked at her questioningly as she felt round the rim of the freezer. There were none of the baskets and bags of vegetables like the other freezer. As far as he could make out, the food in the second, larger one was mainly pre-packed, manufactured foods stored in what appeared to be five shallow wooden trays. Angel prised her fingers under the lip of one of the trays and raised it up to reveal a totally empty freezer beneath. ‘Come on,’ she said, impatiently, lifting the trays and stacking them on top of one another at one side. Monkey picked up one of the boxes of burgers and shook it. It was empty; a shell. So was the box of chicken pieces - and the fish fillets.
‘Dummies,’ Angel said quietly. ‘Now get in.’
‘We can’t hide in here.’ He was alarmed. ‘We’ll suffocate.’
Angel shrugged. ‘Well, someone’s been hiding in here.’ She pointed to the interior of the freezer. Three of the sides were the metallic casing that Monkey would have expected. The fourth, the one that was up against the wall, had a large rectangle cut out so that the brickwork was showing through.
They could hear footsteps above them, marching purposefully round the house instilling a sense of urgency in them. Carefully, without making a sound, Angel stepped into the huge freezer. She pulled the cord from the hood of her brother’s jacket and tied it round the lock of the lid, then crouched down and began pulling the trays of empty boxes back over her head. ‘Get in,’ she told him.
Monkey followed. He slid two more trays of dummy food into place, leaving a space in the centre so that he could reach up and grab the cord that Angel had attached to the lid. It was a tricky manoeuvre. He had to pull the lid to the point where gravity would finish the job, then remove the cord from the lock, slip his arm down, push the final tray into place and wait for the lid to close itself - all in a matter of seconds; all in the pitch-dark of the cellar. As he pulled the last tray over his head and sank down next to Angel, he had a fleeting moment of satisfaction at how he had acquitted himself, before the freezer top crashed down so loudly, the whole road must have heard it!
Monkey froze. He could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage and throbbing in his ears. His breathing seemed as loud as a loco in the silence of the freezer. He closed his eyes, waiting for the repercussions and swallowed hard, trying to steady the fear that was threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel Ang
el next to him, smell her. She smelt clean; of soap and shampoo. Wonderful! But what if Security had brought dogs with them? Crap! He hadn’t thought of that. He couldn’t bear it if they’d gone through all this just to be sniffed out. Angel’s hair was so close to his face, it brushed against his skin and her breath was warm against his cheek. God, he fancied her! If she didn’t choose him for breeding, he didn’t know what he’d do.
He could hear the footsteps descend the stairs into the cellar through the hole that had been cut in the back of the freezer. He sensed Angel tense; holding her breath. Monkey did the same. In the all-encompassing blackness of the freezer, there was a shadow of grey at the back where the hole was. What if Security had thermal imaging? What if their body heat escaped through the hole and cast a bloom against the wall? What if it picked up their footprints on the cellar floor? What if one of them moved? Or sneezed? All these terrors ran through Monkey’s mind as the footsteps came to a halt at the bottom of the steps.
He heard some shuffling and banging; obviously whoever was down there was going through the paintings.
‘Nothing here,’ he heard one voice say; a male voice. ‘Must have been next door.’
‘Maybe,’ a female replied. Then, ‘Wait! What’s that over there?’
Monkey felt a looseness in his abdomen; a churning. He was going to crap himself. He squeezed his eyes even tighter, as though that could shut out his fear. He’d never felt so scared; not even when he was being chased by the hood. But it wasn’t fear for himself, it was for Angel. He’d got her into this. If he stuffed up now, he’d ruin her life forever.
