RUNNERS

by Sharon Sant

  Xavier shared a frown with Francois. They both knew they weren’t going anywhere.

  ‘Rosa Brown. Same as Jimmy.’ Rosa moved to Jimmy’s side. He gave her a small smile.

  ‘Right.’ The woman spat on the pen again and began to write. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’

  Caravans were stretched across the bald grass, row after row, crammed together so it was easy to imagine that the occupants could hop from door to door without much effort. Every dwelling place was filthy with strips of aluminium trailing from the sides, broken windows, lopsided steps.

  ‘Where are all the kids?’ Xavier commented to Francois in a low voice; the place seemed deserted.

  ‘No idea.’

  Caravan 1961 had no lock on the door. Xavier, Francois and Jimmy were herded up the steps by the prod wielding guard who, by now, had developed a serious vendetta against the brothers.

  ‘Not you.’ The guard stopped Rosa. ‘You’re over the other side with the girls. ‘In you go, boys,’ he sneered as he waved his electrified cane in the direction of Jimmy, who was the last up. ‘Enjoy your stay. Welcome meeting is at five, don’t be late or I’ll come to help you get up.’

  There were two occupants already in the caravan. A dark haired, skinny boy with soft brown eyes rose from his seat as the new arrivals entered. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Xavier gave him a cold stare.

  ‘They got us filled up quick. Thought it was too good to last, all this space.’

  A sandy haired boy, just as skinny but a little taller, came through from the only bedroom. ‘Got some more, then?’ he asked his fellow inmate with a bored air.

  ‘Yep.’

  Xavier went to the window. ‘Kind of cramped,’ he remarked, looking out. He turned back round to face them and surveyed the debris of dirty clothes and blankets.

  ‘That’s the idea.’ The dark haired boy strolled over. ‘This is nothing. We’ve had ten in here at one time.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’ Xavier asked.

  ‘Not sure. Lost count after six months. It’s better if you don’t think about it.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Jimmy spoke with his usual disarming air and the two boys visibly relaxed.

  ‘Well, we’ve got a couple hours to show you around and get you fixed up with the stuff you need from Stores, then we go back to work. But you can’t grumble at a couple of hours off, can you, Adam?’ The dark haired boy grinned at his friend.

  ‘Work? What sort of work?’ Xavier asked.

  ‘All sorts; sometimes outwork, sometimes in the workshops. Mostly fiddly stuff that no one else wants to do. It’s not hard, but usually boring and the days are long.’ Adam added darkly, ‘The worst of it is the food. It’s so bad it makes you long for the days of dustbin scraps.’

  Xavier’s lips were set in a firm line. ‘We won’t be sticking around long enough to find out.’

  The boy shrugged. ‘You think no one’s tried to get out? The fences are twelve feet high. At night there are dogs and alarms. If you get out there’s the road bridge between you and the mainland and there’s always someone posted there. Then there’s the cooler.’

  ‘The cooler?’

  ‘Solitary confinement. That’s the worst. What are you: fourteen, fifteen? You might as well keep your nose clean. That way you avoid broken bones and starvation till you get out.’

  ‘How do you get out?’

  ‘When you’re old enough.’

  ‘How old is that?’

  ‘Sixteen. Then you go to a labouring community, but it’s not so bad there because you can leave if you can find a proper job or a sponsor, and at least you can stick up for yourself without getting a whack.’

  ‘If you’ve got no birth certificate how do they know?’ Francois had turned pale.

  ‘They guess. Their guess is better the more they like you.’

  ‘That figures. They must know that Francois is not under sixteen, but they don’t seem bothered. I knew you’d get in trouble messing them about.’ Xavier frowned.

  ‘At least I was trying to do something,’ Francois pouted. ‘You spent the whole time sulking.’

  ‘I was trying to work out a sensible plan!’ Xavier thundered.

  Jimmy looked between the brothers. ‘Time out. Your dad will come for you. At least you’ve got that to think about.’

  Francois exchanged a look with Xavier. Silently they wondered the same thing. They couldn’t be sure that Jimmy was right.

  The grand tour took in the toilet and shower blocks. ‘Only cold water in the showers and no roof, kinda fun in winter.’ The dark haired boy grinned.

  ‘How old are you two then?’ Francois asked.

  ‘I’m fourteen,’ Adam replied. He motioned toward the other boy. ‘Raj here is younger than me, aren’t you bud?’

  ‘Only by a few months. I’m thirteen but I’m almost fourteen,’ Raj replied quickly.

  ‘Doesn’t seem to make any difference, though, does it?’ Xavier brooded.

  Next, they saw the canteen - a long, low, wooden-clad building with large windows, through which they could see row upon row of tables. The nauseating smell of boiling cabbage drifted from the kitchens. Xavier sniffed the air and grimaced.

  ‘That’s about as good as it gets,’ Raj grinned. ‘A couple of days, though, and you’ll be wolfing it down like the rest of us. If you don’t eat it the rats will.’ He pointed to a collection of tin-roofed sheds just behind the canteen that looked recently built. ‘The workshops.’

  They could now see where most of the children were. From that direction came the clatter of tools and lively chatter. A stern voice rose above the babble and relative silence ensued for a short while, but it didn’t last long and, as the boys walked away, the noise steadily grew again. One shed was set back from the others and stood isolated with a fence of its own.

  ‘What’s that building?’ Jimmy asked.

  Raj lowered his voice. ‘The cooler is in there.’

  They walked on.

  ‘The hospital wing.’ Raj swept his hand in the direction of another long building.

  ‘What’s the other hut behind it? Jimmy asked.

  There was a significant pause. ‘Nobody knows for sure, we’ve never talked to anyone who’s come out. We have ideas, though.’

  Jimmy wanted to ask more, but wasn’t sure he would like the answer.

  ‘We gotta go, Adam.’ Raj glanced at a large ex-railway clock that was suspended outside the nearest building. His friend nodded. ‘You’ll have to find your own way back to the van. We’ll probably see you in the canteen later.’

  ‘What do we do till then?’ Xavier called after him.

  Adam turned with a wry smile. ‘Enjoy your last day of freedom.’

  As they began to make their way back to their van, Xavier spotted Rosa and a much smaller girl being shown around by another girl, presumably, Xavier reasoned, someone she was going to be sharing a caravan with.

  ‘There’s Rosa. Let’s go and have a quick word with her.’

  The three of them jogged across the grass and hailed Rosa. As they approached the girl who was showing them around shook her head in warning.

  ‘Not too loud. They don’t like girls and boys mixing.’

  The boys all stared hard at her. She was undoubtedly filthy, but the healthiest looking girl they had ever seen. Her honey coloured hair and subtle tan gave her a certain radiance. She didn’t look like the usual Runner.

  ‘This is Sadie. I’m in her van. She’s about the pick of them.’ Rosa wrinkled her nose. ‘The rest are a bunch of losers.’

  Sadie gave her head an exaggerated scratch. ‘Don’t come too close if you know what’s good for you, these nits are on steroids.’ She grinned at Jimmy who returned it with his most charming smile.

  ‘I can see why Rosa likes you. I’m James.’

  ‘Hello, James.’ She wound a lock of golden hair around a finger and gave him a flirtatious smile.

  ‘James?’ Rosa raised her ey
ebrows. ‘Since when did we call you James?’

  Jimmy looked confused. ‘I’ve always been named James.’

  Rosa sniggered.

  ‘Never mind that now.’ Xavier turned to Rosa. ‘We need to fix somewhere we can meet to keep tabs on each other.’

  ‘Just come to the van. 641. As long as it’s dark, no one will know,’ Sadie said carelessly. ‘Kids are sneaking around at night all the time; don’t go near the perimeter, stay out of sight, and it’ll be fine. What van you in?’

  ‘1961.’

  ‘Oh, that’s Raj. I know him –’

  ‘OI! YOU LOT GET TO WHERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE.’ The bellow of the guard made them all spin round.

  ‘Better go.’ Sadie pulled the smaller girl by the arm. ‘Come on, Verity.’

  ‘See you later.’ Rosa smiled sadly.

  ‘Look after yourself.’ Francois winked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Xavier’s lips were set firm. ‘Look after yourself. It won’t be for long.’

  Twenty-Four: Call Me Ishmael

  ‘What do we do now?’ Elijah stared down at Rowan.

  ‘I don’t know. He seemed fine earlier. What do you think it is?’

  ‘He hasn’t slept much really. And he spent the night out in the wet up that tree.’

  ‘I hope that’s all it is.’

  ‘So do I. Here,’ Elijah rifled in his bag, ‘let’s try and give him a drink.’ He produced a bottle of water and gave it to Sky as he gently lifted Rowan’s head. ‘Open it for me, will you?’

  Sky unscrewed the lid and handed it back. Elijah held the bottle to Rowan’s lips and tilted it. The water dribbled out from the sides of his mouth. ‘It’s hopeless. We should get him off the road, at least, and under some shelter.’

  ‘What shelter?’ Sky tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she bent over Rowan and felt his forehead.

  ‘I know it’s not dry, but at least under the trees won’t be as bad as here in the open.’

  ‘He’s really hot. I don’t think that’s going to be enough.’

  ‘I don’t know what more we can do, we’re miles away from anywhere.’ Elijah looked up and down the road. Something caught his eye. ‘Wait a minute. There’s someone coming up the road.’

  Sky followed his gaze. ‘What do you think? Think we can ask for help?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He glanced at Rowan, whose cheeks were flushed crimson. ‘I guess we’ll have to take a chance. We don’t have a lot of choice, do we?’ He scrambled to his feet. ‘Let’s get him out of sight first. Help me.’ They dragged Rowan to the cover of the trees and settled him against one. Elijah stood up. ‘I’ll go and flag them down. Wait here. If I yell, run for it, don’t hang around.’

  ‘What about Rowan?’

  ‘Oh… course. Well, stay out of sight till I get back. If I have to run, I’ll come for you, so wait.’

  ‘How long?’

  Elijah shrugged and turned to get help.

  He made his way to meet the vehicle, still a speck on the horizon. At this distance it was hard to see what it was, but the rattle and echoing clop carried on the wind made it easy to guess. As Elijah drew closer he could see the horse drawing an old cart, stacked up with oddments of furniture, old clothes, books and metal workings of machinery. At the head of the debris sat a man wearing an old wax fishing jacket. He was slight; his face was ruddy and weatherworn, hair of black with grey threaded through, a little wild and in need of a trim. His black eyes were almost lost beneath unruly eyebrows. Elijah drew close and walked alongside; the horse ambled like an old man taking a leisurely turn after dinner. The man looked down and gave a brief nod in his direction.

  It was all Elijah needed. ‘My friend is ill. I don’t suppose there is anywhere nearby we could take him.’ His heart banged in his throat but he tried not to show it.

  ‘Whoa, Noodle.’ The man gave the reins a quick jerk back. He quickly looked Elijah up and down. ‘Got any money?’ He had a broad Ringwood accent that somehow made him immediately amiable, despite the starkness of the question. The sound of it made Elijah think of his dad and he suddenly felt a very long way from home.

  ‘No,’ he mumbled, glancing back toward the others. He could imagine Sky watching intently, waiting for his signal. There was no Xavier now, it was down to him. ‘We haven’t got any money for medicine… all we need is somewhere dry to let him sleep.’ He gazed up hopefully. ‘It would be better than nothing.’

  ‘Where’s your home?’

  ‘Not far away.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Um, round here… a few miles down the road.’

  ‘Take him home, then,’ the man said.

  Elijah groped for a reply.

  ‘If it’s a lift you’re wanting, I could take you a few miles, if you don’t mind squeezing in amongst the merchandise.’ The man’s expression was unreadable.

  ‘Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.’ Elijah beckoned the man to follow and broke into a jog, ‘They’re just up here.’

  The man flicked the reins and the horse plodded after.

  Sky watched them return together. She had Rowan’s head on her knee and had tried to cover him with what oddments of clothing were to hand, but the rain was steadily soaking the fabric. Elijah broke through the cover of the trees.

  ‘Come on, I think it’s ok.’

  She nodded. They dragged Rowan out between them.

  ‘Is this your little man?’ the stranger asked.

  Elijah nodded. He turned to Sky. ‘He says he can give us a lift home in his cart.’

  ‘But…’ Sky began. Elijah gave his head a tiny shake in warning.

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do,’ he whispered as the man climbed down from his cart and went to the back to make space for them. ‘At least we can get a bit further on this way. When we see buildings we’ll just have to pretend. We might find a barn or something to stay in for a few hours.’

  The man reappeared. ‘All sorted. You can lift him up, can you? My old bones ain’t what they used to be.’

  Elijah noticed his odd, limping gait. He and Sky hauled Rowan onto the cart. It wasn’t an ideal move; they bumped him about and Rowan didn’t look comfortable laid amongst the junk, but it would have to do. They climbed up with him and the man signalled for the horse to start off. The cart rocked them back and forth in time with every sound of hoof hitting road. Bits of junk kept rolling off the pile. Sky kept a constant guard over Rowan to save him from anything heavy.

  ‘Where did you say you lived?’ The man called over his shoulder.

  ‘Just a bit further along this road.’ Elijah called back. ‘I’ll shout when we’re there.’

  ‘What are you doing out in the wet on your own?’

  ‘We were hiking and my friend suddenly got ill.’

  ‘Hiking? Where you hiking to? Bit of a rum day for hiking.’

  ‘Oh… it’s a school thing, nature project you know.’ Elijah felt the pretence crumbling even as he spoke.

  The man fell silent for a moment. ‘What school is that, then?’

  ‘I don’t think you’d know it.’

  ‘I know most round here. What’s it called?’

  ‘It’s a private school,’ Sky interrupted helpfully.

  Elijah stared at her with an incredulous look. WHAT? he mouthed.

  She blushed and shrugged.

  ‘Oh…’ The man chuckled. ‘I must remember that.’

  What looked like the outskirts of a town loomed on the horizon.

  ‘This will do,’ Elijah whispered to Sky. She nodded. As they drew closer Elijah called out to the man. ‘This is good here. We can carry Rowan the rest of the way.’

  The man halted the cart and turned to them. ‘Here?’

  Elijah nodded and stood up.

  ‘This town right here?’

  ‘Yes,’ Elijah replied, with a squirm in this stomach that told him maybe their lie had been uncovered.

  ‘This place right across this road?’

  Elijah’s heart sank
as he glanced across at the nearest buildings. Deathly quiet, crumbling and in darkness, they were obviously disused.

  The man scratched his head and swivelled to look back at them from his perch at the front of the cart. ‘Well that’s strange, because I happen to know that this town has been deserted for twenty years… on account of the chemical leak, you know.’ He fixed them with a shrewd look. ‘I’ll tell you what I think and you tell me if I’m wrong. I think you’re Runners. I think you ain’t got homes.’ Elijah opened his mouth to protest but the man held up a hand. ‘You look hungry and cold to me and I bet you wouldn’t say no to a nice bowl of potato soup,’ the man continued. ‘And your friend there could do with a warm bed, somewhere dry. I seen enough flu in my time to know that a good rest and a little paracetamol would fix him up good as new. There now,’ he folded his hands emphatically across the reins of the cart, ‘am I wrong?’

  Sky glanced at Elijah, who shook his head ruefully.

  ‘Lucky you ran into me then.’ The man leaned across the cart and stuck out his hand to Elijah. ‘Call me Ishmael.’

  Twenty Five: The Photo

  Rowan was awake, lying on his side and wrapped in an old quilt by a roaring peat fire. The night sky, gaps in the clouds peppered with stars, was framed by a small window. From outside came the steady thwack of turbine blades slicing the air. Candle light revealed random objects piled against the walls: bicycle wheels, old TV parts, glass bottles, blankets, baskets; an endless inventory. Ishmael sat in a high backed chair with faded tapestry design, his shadowed face lit partially by the fire. There were at least five cats, who took it in turns to hop onto his knee for a titbit and a fuss. Elijah and Sky were together on a long, low wooden bench, chatting to him and eating. Sky had a cat curled up on her knee. No one had noticed Rowan was conscious.

  Sky casually glanced in his direction. She tugged Elijah’s sleeve. ‘Rowan’s awake.’

  ‘Alright, mate?’ Elijah smiled. ‘Want some soup?’

  Rowan shook his head in a tiny movement.

  Sky frowned. ‘You have to eat something.’

  ‘Let him alone,’ Ishmael interrupted. ‘I doubt he’ll be hungry yet. Fluid, that’s the job. Give him some water, Sky.’