I turned to her with a smile. ‘Do you like ice cream?’
Her gaze took on a gloomy shade. Perhaps it was not so kind to remind lost refugees of sugary treats.
‘Yes, well, never mind. This Saturday was in – now, let’s see – 1996, if I remember correctly. That’s right. Summer. A hot day, sweltering, in fact. There was an election coming up, campaign posters and such all over the place. One of them had our future prime minister’s face on it, but a strip had been pulled away to reveal demonic eyes. Nasty tactic, I thought. Anyway, we sat with our ice … I mean, we sat on our bench and Sandra asked me if I thought he would get elected, this man on the poster. I told her my brother – his name is Neil – said it would be the death of the country if he did.
‘I remember, all of a sudden she seemed to shrink and I wondered what on earth I had said. Then she turned to me. “But what do you think?” she said. “Me?” I replied. “Yes, Reginald, you.”
‘I could tell I had frustrated her, but quite how I did not know. So I thought about it for a moment and said: “I suppose I don’t trust anyone who smiles that much when they’re close to being put in power.”
‘“That means anyone who’s ever been elected,” was her response. Then she stared into the distance and heaved a sigh. I honestly had no idea what was going on.’
I turned to the girl. Seeing that I still had her attention, I hobbled to the wall and leaned on it, trying to decipher London’s broken skyline through the murk.
‘I used to enjoy watching her, Aisha. I could watch her for hours – the way her eyebrows wiggled during a daydream, or the way her jaw worked when she was concentrating. Sometimes I swore I could even read her mind, but for the life of me I could not tell what she was thinking that day on the bench.’
I straightened up and slapped the wall with my palms.
‘“Let’s get out of here, Reginald,” she said at last. “Let’s get out of London, get away from all these noises, all these streets. Let’s find somewhere quiet to live.”
‘Well this floored me. “But this is where we live,” I told her. “This is where we grew up, it’s where we’re from. Why would you want to leave?”
‘I remember the muscles of her face suddenly tightening at that. Then she said a word I shall not repeat and crossed her arms.
‘“Nothing ever changes with you, does it?” she spat. “Nothing touches you.”
‘“What on earth has gotten into you?”’ I said, and she just replied, “Nothing.”
I turned back to the girl.
‘But something had, Aisha. Something had got into her. And it grew and it grew until there was a big bump and then, nine months later, right around the time that man with the devil eyes stood grinning on the doorstep of Downing Street, it popped out. So yes, I did have a family once. And I understand what it means to miss them.’
I looked down at the envelope still in my hands, and offered it back to her. She pocketed it and her eyes dropped to the ground between us. At our feet was a metal groove that split the concourse.
‘Oh,’ I said, my interest sparked. ‘Now that, young lady, would be the prime meridian.’
She gave me a blank look.
‘The dateline,’ I went on. ‘You know, where the day begins and ends.’
I shuffled around so that our feet were flush against the line. Then I stepped over it.
‘Look, here I am in Yesterday. Hello, Tomorrow.’ She gave a startled look as I waved, then hopped back again on my good leg. ‘Now I am in Today.’
She wobbled and, with a little thrill she jumped, landing neatly on the other side.
‘Today …’ I repeated, and jumped after her. ‘Yesterday.’
She jumped again.
‘Yesterday …’ Another jump. ‘Today. Today … Yesterday.’
We jumped from side to side five more times, quicker and quicker until she caught up with me and we both landed firmly on the right.
‘Now we are both in Today,’ I said.
She giggled.
And that was something I was not prepared for. I felt something drop inside like a great sail collapsing from its mast, and I stared at her, grinning with those fierce eyes and one gold incisor caught in the gleam of the rising sun.
I went to speak but gulped instead. When I tried again her head had already whipped towards the building, and the open door through which Lineker had just darted beneath a volley of barks. She ran after him.
‘Come back,’ I yelled after her, jumping through Yesterday and into the building.
It was dark inside and she was waiting for me at the bottom of a winding staircase, halfway up which I saw Lineker, pausing with one paw raised. Next to the corridor was a room lined with windows, and I could see that a huddle of old desks had been brought together in the centre. Unplugged cables lay everywhere, chairs toppled and papers strewn across the floor, as if whoever had been working in here had left in a hurry. There was a white board on one wall dotted with photographs, map fragments and yellow squares of paper. A network of different-coloured string connected them all in some complex arrangement. Rising Star posters covered the space around them.
‘Hello?’ I called down the empty corridor. ‘Does anyone here know Mira? Mira from … from Collective …’
There was no answer, only the wind banging doors, so I followed the girl upstairs.
Lineker led us into a room full of clocks. There were great shining discs hanging from the walls, ornate grandfathers towering in the corners, and squat table clocks and pocket watches arranged in rows upon shelves. Lineker began sniffing at the skirting boards.
‘Probably a rat,’ I said.
Low sunlight streamed through a curved window and filled the room, brightening the clock faces. The girl walked between them, running her hand over their wood as she passed. Each one was set at a different time, each one stuck in their own moments. The chamber led into a second and, as we entered it, my feet, heart and lungs drew to a united halt. The entire room was filled with telescopes.
Now, Mira’s had been impressive, but these … these were something else. They were old, I could tell that much by their ivory barrels and polished brass fittings. But the size – breathtaking. And taking pride of place upon the central plinth was a monster, black and gold and half the height of the room. It was pointing directly at another window, this one facing west. I looked at the girl, whose face seemed to be suggesting the same idea as me. We found a chair in the corner and positioned it at the lens.
It took a little practice but I worked those dials and levers until I knew what each one did. The parts were well greased and had a heavy quality about them. Marvellous did not do this beauty justice – and I wondered how much effort it might be to lug it three miles south. But if I could do it with a generator …
Finally the picture focussed and I trained the lens on a tree across the common. I zoomed in close until a squirrel’s face filled my vision, and it sat there, motionless, staring at nothing.
Perhaps I could set this up on The Rye. Or the balcony! Just imagine those parakeets at this magnification.
I became aware of the girl beside me and I took my eye from the viewfinder. She looked hungrily up at the telescope.
‘Do you want a go?’ I asked. She nodded eagerly.
‘Come on up then.’
I stepped down and she pulled herself up on the chair, wobbling. At arm’s length I showed her where to look, and she squashed her eye against it.
‘Do you see him?’ I said.
She nodded, eye still down, and then began to turn its wheels.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you …’
The barrel dropped and swept in a slow arc around the room.
‘No, now don’t touch that, it’s very sensitive …’
The barrel stopped and she gasped, standing erect.
‘What is it? Give it here.’
She jumped from the chair and jabbed her finger at the window, hopping from foot to foot.
; ‘I don’t see … hold on …’
Taking her place, I turned the magnifying dial until a wide stretch of grass came into view. Still there was nothing, but then from one corner I saw movement: a set of legs running down a slope. I pulled back and zoomed in on the head of a young woman with spiky peroxide hair and an untold number of piercings. Her face was contorted in fear and her arms cartwheeled as she sprinted down the slope. Behind her was a chubby male in his twenties with black, scruffy hair, a khaki jacket and a pair of thick glasses hanging from his bumfluffed face. He was carrying what appeared to be a battered laptop under one arm, covered with stickers – one of them, I saw, was a palm-covered star. They ran tumbling down the hill towards us, looking back over their shoulders with every few steps.
I jumped down and called for Lineker, beckoning the girl to follow.
We were outside next to the meridian line before they reached the fence, and they didn’t spot us as they swung through the gate, wheezing and panting. The young man tore left, aiming straight for the main building.
‘Where the fuck are you going?’ screamed the girl – an Australian accent, I thought. She was short and skinny, with black combats and a leather jacket pulled tight to her chin. ‘They’re right on top of us!’
Aisha covered her ears at the sudden din.
‘I have to grab the codes!’ yelled the boy as he disappeared down the corridor.
‘Fuck sake, Travis!’
Lineker growled. In a split second the girl had whipped round to face us, pulled a knife from her belt and drawn it back across her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she saw the girl, freezing her instinct to let the blade fly.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ she bellowed. ‘Step back. I’m faster than any gun, you know.’
I held up my hands.
‘Mira …’ I muttered.
‘Who? What are you saying, old man, come on, speak up before I put this through your fat belly.’
The girl hid behind me, hands still on her ears.
‘It’s all right,’ I whispered.
‘What? Talk to me not her, you fat bastard.’
Rather rude, she was. She glanced behind her, through the open gate, then turned back. ‘Hey! You put your hands up.’
‘They are up,’ I replied.
‘All the way up, come on, that’s it. What are you doing here? Who’s she? And call your fucking dog off before I split him in two.’
Lineker’s throat shuddered with another growl.
‘Mira,’ I repeated. ‘Mira sent us here from Collective 17. I fixed their generators.’
‘Mira?’ said the girl.
‘Yes, a sizeable lady, she’s—’
‘I know who fucking Mira is. What do you mean you fixed their generators?’
‘I am an electrician. They had a terrible set-up, accident waiting to happen if you ask me. I told her, I said—’
‘Stop talking. Why did they send you?’
‘We had to leave. They were attacked last night.’
The girl relaxed her grip on the blade for a second, thinking. Then she tightened again and called back to the building.
‘Travis, get your arse out here now, we have to go!’
‘I’m coming!’
The boy tumbled out, now carrying a stack of papers under his other arm. He skidded to a halt when he saw us.
‘Who the fuck … ?’
‘Mira sent them,’ said the girl, knife still trained on me. I didn’t think it would take much for her to flick it.
‘Mira?’ said the boy, struggling to hold the papers together.
‘Why did she send you here?’ said the girl.
‘This is, er, Collective 9, isn’t it?’
‘It was,’ she replied. She turned on the boy, barking. ‘Until lard arse here fucked up the codes.’
‘I didn’t fuck them up, Trudi!’ I sensed a lilt in his accent, somewhere north of the border, I thought. ‘We were hacked!’
‘You fucked them up!’
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
‘Look,’ I broke in, ‘I am sorry, I can see you’re busy, I just need to find Collective 9. Mira said they could help me get this young lady to safety.’
The knife relaxed again as she looked Aisha up and down. Then she shook her head. ‘No, not a chance, sorry. Not after today. Are you serious? Collective 17 were attacked?’
There was a noise from the common and the boy looked back. Lineker’s ears pricked up and he launched into a full-throttle bark.
‘Trudi,’ said the boy, Travis, jumping between his feet. ‘We should really get going.’
‘Who are you running from?’
‘Who do you fucking think?’ said Trudi. ‘And shut that dog up!’
She resheathed the knife and marched to a low gate in the far wall. The sound of voices grew louder from the common behind.
‘But you can’t leave us here,’ I said, walking after her. Aisha followed but Lineker maintained his sentry, barking into the mist beyond the fence.
‘I don’t have a choice, and you should never have come this far north.’
The boy gave me a shrug of apology as he ducked through the gate. I hastened after them. On the other side was an old blue Audi with an open boot, into which Travis was throwing his kit. The girl was already in the front seat, trying to start the engine.
‘Is that an ’80?’ I asked, admiring the car’s boxy lines. The boy turned as he slammed the boot.
‘Aye.’ He stopped and put his hands on his hips. ‘Nineteen eighty-nine, two litre.’
‘V8?’
‘Too right.’
‘You don’t see straight lines like that on motor cars any more,’ I said, running my hand along the sill. The starter motor wheezed and coughed from the front, and Lineker’s bark reached its crescendo beyond the wall. ‘Lovely.’
‘I know, mate,’ he said, with a wince of regret. ‘That’s just the way the design process has gone, evolutionary algorithms running through everything, and—’
‘Travis, get in you sack of shit!’
The boy sprang round and scampered to the passenger side, throwing himself in. I leaned through the open window.
‘You might want to try your choke,’ I said to the girl, who was yanking the key back and forth as the engine failed to start. ‘Before you flood the engine.’
‘There is no choke!’ she yelled, face straining.
‘Automatic,’ said the boy.
‘Really? I thought that was only on the later ones.’
‘No, they brought them in—’
‘Will you two shut the fuck up! And you, call that stupid fucking dog off, it’s leading them right to us!’
I stood up and gave a sharp whistle. ‘Lineker!’
No luck; he was lost in it. I returned to the window. ‘Can you just give us a lift out of here? Oh, there you go, there’s that V8.’
The engine purred into life and I exchanged a look with the boy. ‘Lovely.’
‘Get your hands off the car,’ said the girl. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘Please,’ I said. ‘There’s room in the back.’
‘Come on,’ said the boy. ‘Let them in.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘All right, but call off your damn dog!’
‘Thank you.’
I opened the back door and called Aisha, but she was standing facing the building. Through the open gate I could just make out Lineker’s silhouette, head raised in a furious howl.
‘We need to get in, Aisha, come on. Lineker, get here now!’
Aisha was staring into the mist, working her mouth. A fragile murmur arrived at her lips.
‘What? Linekeeeer!’
Another peep from Aisha.
‘We’re going,’ warned Trudi, revving the engine. ‘Ten seconds.’
I looked between her dead-set face, the girl’s nervous shuffle and the outline of Lineker in the mist. No time … not enough to get to him and back.
‘Aisha, please, come on. Lin-ii-kaaaaaaar!’
&
nbsp; Deep engines rumbled beyond the Audi’s anxious thrum. Then Aisha squeezed her fists and took a breath. ‘Linnka! Linnka!’
Her voice was like a rusty piccolo. I froze in astonishment.
‘Five seconds, I mean it,’ warned Trudi.
There was no time, no time at all. I had to get Aisha inside, but she had taken another breath – deeper this time – and her voice found its strength.
‘Linn-kaaaaa! Lin-kaaaaa! Lin-kaaaaa!’
‘That’s it,’ said Trudi. She wrenched the handbrake. ‘Time’s up.’
I had to make a decision.
It was not my fault.
There was no time.
I leaped for the girl and pulled her back, squealing from the wall. Whatever queasy reel of contact I may have felt was lost in the panic of the moment.
Before I knew it we were rolling back into the seat and the Audi’s tyres were spitting gravel. I pulled the door shut, with my dog’s cries still echoing from the red-brick walls and down the prime meridian, and Aisha screaming through the open window – Linn-kaaa! Linn-kaaa! Linn-kaaa! – as the four of us sped away north.
Alone
LINEKER
It’s like, you think you know someone, and then …
Fair enough, I was a little distracted. My world was split into four slices, if you can imagine that. You probably can’t so let me explain.
There were four layers of urgency, alarm bells, you might say, all going off at the same time and quickly finding their position in the pecking order of my attention – my attention which, I might add, is superlatively fucking sharp, superlatively, but also only capable of being pointed in one direction at a time. It is a quantum, my attention, a unique and unsplittable force. Once I’m locked on, that’s me, there’s no tearing me away from it. Not good multi-taskers, us dogs, not like you with your keys and your fridge magnets and earphones and plastic bags and all that, whatever, so these four alarm bells …
The first was Reg, who had swung way into the background and was occupying a shimmering space somewhere on the fringes of my focus – still there but doing his own thing and not a priority. What was a major fucking priority was the second alarm, which consisted of a whole cascade of threatening noises and smells rolling down from the mist towards us.
The Last Dog on Earth Page 17
