by Manda Benson
“Russia’s too far away. It wouldn’t be able to fly that far.”
“Why not? It’s a machine, sort of. It’s not limited by normal, well, limits.”
“It has to have come from somewhere over here.” Dana covered the other parts of the country with her hands to leave the bulging part of Great Britain’s east coast exposed.
Eric leaned back on the sofa and shovelled noodles into his mouth. “If you say so.”
She still didn’t know how much it was safe to involve Eric, but the idea of going off on her own was daunting. She’d done it before, but that time Jananin had been with her part of the way and given her instructions for much of the rest, and although it was easy to be blasé about it in retrospect, she could still recall how alarming it had been trying to get through the night on Gallan Head, and when she’d managed to strand herself on Roareim. It had worked out, but it could have gone horribly wrong.
Dana took a deep breath. “If I skive off to look there, would you come with me?”
Eric paused to consider this. “You do know it’s a lot bigger than it looks on a map?”
“Of course I know that!”
He shrugged his eyebrows apologetically. “It’s just you don’t always appreciate it, not until you learn to drive and get a feel for the roads and the layout of stuff.”
Dana felt like shouting at him that she had a perfectly good feel for road layouts, due to her having a military-precision GPS system hardwired into her brain and installed in her imagination.
“We can go on my bike, and I’ve got a tent we could take, so we could stay there overnight to look. We could do letters to our parents saying we were going on a school trip, so that would be okay, but I don’t think we would find anything there.”
Dana was sure as soon as she got there, there would be a sign of some sort. She would recognise something from the wyvern’s memory, or things would otherwise be made clear, if only she could get closer to the source of the wyvern. And if Ivor was still alive, he’d have a signal to enable her to find him, just like the beacon he’d built to guide her to the Flannan Isles before.
She stared at the keyboard on the floor, thinking about what Pauline and Graeme would say if they knew she was forging a letter so she could lie to them and avoid going to school, in order to travel miles away on a motorbike, with someone who was legally too young to drive, to investigate something that might be dangerous and potentially meet with someone who was an Information Terrorist and who had put her life at risk when she had last seen him.
And who was also the closest thing she had to a father.
“Let’s do it. Show me how you write the letters.”
-5-
DANA had re-read her forged letter so many times at school the next day it had become grubby at the edges and worn around the creases. Today, the trials and tribulations of school and its unsympathetic wardens and vicious inmates did not seem so significant compared to what might happen at Pauline and Graeme’s house if they could tell from the letter or Dana’s manner that it was a trick.
She had already handed in the fake letter with Pauline’s forged signature claiming that she would be unable to come in the next day because she had a dentist’s appointment. Eric had written a different letter claiming he had to go to a great aunt’s funeral, because he said the form tutors might speak to each other and suspect something if they both needed to go to the dentist on the same day. She was less concerned about this, as Eric reckoned a lot of parents couldn’t write well and did unprofessional sick notes, but what did worry her was that the letter supposedly from the school, a professional organisation, wouldn’t be convincing enough.
She and Eric had started off fooling around and writing silly letters: Dear Mr and Mrs Rose, Dana has been permanently excluded from school on charges of High Treason and plotting to blow up the Houses of Parliament, and Dear Miss Carter, Eric has been found guilty of breaking wind without due care and attention and attempting to Pervert the Course of Justice, and will be duly executed by firing squad at dawn round the back of the PE building.
After this, Eric had come up with the idea of a school Biology trip, because they were both good at science, and Dana had suggested that the form should have a tear-off strip for a parent or guardian to sign giving them permission to go. They had set it out with the tear-off part at the bottom and the school’s letterhead copied off a detention form at the top. After some discussion, they had come up with the following letter:
Dear Parent or Guardian,
...................................... has been selected as a student of particular merit (Dana suggested ‘merit’, because it was meritocratic) for a place in the end-of-year Biology field trip to New Forest (they settled on New Forest by hanging a map of England on Eric’s dart board and throwing a dart at it, and finding the nearest appropriate place to where the dart landed). The coach will depart from the school gates at 9:30 am on Friday 21st and the excursion will involve two nights’ stay in a campsite before return at 5:30 pm on Sunday. Please indicate consent by signing and returning the attached slip via your child’s registration tutor.
Eric had forged the headmaster’s signature underneath.
Dana lay on her bed, holding the letter over her head and staring at the text as she waited for Pauline and Graeme to return from work. Cale’s clanking music drifted in from the next room, and the summer heat beat down on the street outside.
At the sound of the front door opening, she slid off and went downstairs. “Graeme?”
“Hello Dana, did you have an okay day at school?”
When Dana had first come to live with Pauline and Graeme, Graeme had started off asking her if she had a nice day at school. But Dana had told him it was impossible for school ever to be nice, so ever since he’d instead asked if she’d had an okay day, as that was the best she could hope for.
“I’ve got invited to a field trip.” Dana handed the letter to him, trying to sound as sincere as possible and hoping there was nothing in her demeanour or this mysterious ‘body language’ thing that neurotypical people are supposed to use to send each other secret messages that would give her away.
She watched Graeme’s face with bated breath as he read the letter. When he’d finished, he looked at her and grinned. “Not like you to get all excited about something like a school trip, when you don’t like school.”
“I know, but I like science!” Immediately after she’d said it, she wondered if she’d been too quick with the answer.
“That’s all very well, but you do understand there will be other people going on this field trip as well, and you might have to share tents with them?”
“Only nice people, like Mr Kell and Eric!”
Graeme burst out laughing. “I hope the school doesn’t expect you to share a tent with Mr Kell and Eric.”
Pauline had come in through the front door, behind Graeme. She nudged him. “Graeme, stop winding her up. I expect there’s a woman teacher as well, and she’ll be in the tent with the girls.”
“Yes, Miss McCafferty.” Dana picked the name of a female teacher she knew was well respected at the school. Even if this did work, what would happen if next parents’ evening, Pauline and Graeme went up to Kell, or McCafferty, and asked them about the trip? Hopefully they would have forgotten about it by then.
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Graeme said. “I was planning on trailing around a boring old DIY shop this weekend and buying a new shed, and I need you to hold the nails and spare tools for me...”
Pauline interrupted him with a strident exclamation. “Graeme! Stop being so bloody silly!”
And then Pauline had signed the fake letter so Dana could pretend to take it back to school, and the ruse had so far worked in that Pauline and Graeme wouldn’t expect her back until after the weekend.
The following morning, Pauline left to take Cale to school. Dana mumbled a farewell to her in between mouthfuls of her breakfast, and Pauline told her she hoped she would enjoy her trip.
>
Graeme picked up Dana’s bag. He made a noise like he was overexerting himself and dumped it back on the chair. “It weighs a ton! You can’t carry that.”
“It normally weighs that much,” Dana protested. “You try feeling it when I’ve got PE and Physics and Maths!”
Graeme waved a hand dismissively. “Gimme five minutes and I’ll give you a lift in to school and see you off.”
Dana stared in horror at his back as he headed out into the hall. If he gave her a lift, to the school, there wouldn’t be a coach for him to see off, and he would realise, and the school probably would as well. Whatever happened, Graeme would be angry and she’d have to spend today in school, exactly as she’d planned not to do. She forced down the rest of her breakfast cereal without chewing and followed him upstairs. “It doesn’t matter, I can manage.”
Graeme let off a sardonic laugh. “You don’t want me to embarrass you at school?” He rinsed a plastic comb under the bathroom tap and ran it through his hair and sideburns.
Perhaps she should run with that. “Well, nobody else’s dad comes with them at the start of a school trip.”
“I bet they do really.”
Dana was starting to feel the idea was done for and she was going to get caught, but then Graeme’s mobile rang from inside his jacket pocket, and he went into his bedroom to answer it.
From what Dana could hear, the conversation he had was brief, and when he came back out he looked flustered, and walked straight past her to the stairs. “There’s a problem at work and I’m going to have to go straight there. Sorry, Dana. You’ll have to manage without me to embarrass you!”
The door slammed shut behind him, and now Dana was alone, standing still on the landing in the silent house.
Cale would know she was going away. Cale could hear Dana’s thoughts, but he kept it to himself. He didn’t really see any relevance in confiding in other people. He had his own thoughts, and that was enough for him. It was just the way he was, and the way it had always been since farther back than memory could reach, and it had never occurred to Dana to try to shield what she was thinking from him.
The last time she’d gone away like this, it had been when she’d met Jananin outside the hospital, but that had been very different. Leaving things as they were had not really been an option, at least not one that would have been any easier to deal with than the alternative. This time, there was nothing making her take this risk, other than the urge to find something, somewhere that would give her an answer. If she didn’t do it, she’d be safe, and nothing would happen.
If she wanted to, she could send a text to Eric’s phone telling him she couldn’t come, and that would be the end of the matter.
But then she would never know.
Perhaps they would go there and not find anything, but if they did find something, what if it meant something bad? What if the thing she wanted most and the thing she was most afraid of were exactly the same? What if...
If Ivor had sent the wyvern after her...
It must have been a mistake. If it was Ivor behind this, she would be able to find him and stop him, she knew it, and everything would be all right.
She went back downstairs and struggled into her heavy backpack. Pauline had kept Duncan’s post for him, and it was sitting on the placemat where he usually sat at the dining table, waiting for him to open it. Dana had forgotten her adoptive brother was coming home tonight. She wouldn’t see him until after the weekend.
On the way to Eric’s house, she tried to stick to back alleys and little-used routes away from main roads, in case anyone from school saw her. It wasn’t yet nine o’clock, and already the sun beat down hot on the tile roofs, and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. Her shoulders sweltered under Duncan’s heavy metal jacket and the chafing straps of the rucksack.
She couldn’t see Eric at the window this time, but when she approached the back of the house through the alley, the gate was ajar and the door was unlocked.
“Eric?” She poked her head into the catfood-smelling utility room. The internal door to the garage was open, and he appeared in the doorway.
“Come in, quickly.”
Dana shut the door behind her.
Eric stared at the floor where she stood. “What you wearing wellies for?”
Dana glanced at her feet. “I thought you said not to wear impractical things!”
“I didn’t mean that practical. I mean, who rides pillion on a bike wearing wellies? If the police see us, they’re bound to stop us!”
Dana hated it when people seemed to expect her to know something nobody had ever explained was inappropriate as if by some sort of instinct she didn’t have. “How am I supposed to know what the dress code is for riding motorbikes? I mean, we’re not even old enough to ride motorbikes anyway!”
“Oh, never mind. The police will probably all be hanging around near schools, waiting for them to get out and start chucking paint and eggs and vandalising everything on the last day of term.”
Dana threw her bag on the garage floor, sat on Eric’s sofa, and pulled her jeans out of her wellies and rolled them down over the rubber so only the foot was visible. “Is that any better?”
“I suppose so. At least it’s less obvious now.” Eric stuffed Dana’s rucksack into one of the bike’s panniers. “What did you bring?”
“Sleeping bag, lunch. Other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
“You know, underwear and things.”
“Oh, right.” Eric went red in the face. “I suppose we’d better go now. I’ve brought extra food, so we should have enough for this evening as well.”
He went back into the utility room to lock up before opening the garage door and wheeling the moped out. Dana waited for him to shut the garage door and get on before she climbed on behind him.
“The A14 goes due east, more or less,” said Eric. “Unless you’ve got any better suggestions, we could try that as a start.”
Dana could just about visualise the road, a green line snaking east. Nothing was triggering any memories yet. Perhaps something would remind her once they were closer. Perhaps there might even be another beacon, or something like that. “Okay.”
Much of the view ahead was impossible to see from her seat on the back of the bike. Dana tried turning her head to watch the scenery pass, but it made her neck ache. Soon, they were out of the suburbs and tearing along a straight road through the countryside.
Dana began to get stiff from sitting in the same position and hanging on to Eric. The vibrations from the bike’s engine and the asphalt under the tyres made her legs go numb. The biker helmet became suffocatingly hot, and the sides of it grew sweaty and pressed uncomfortably on her cheeks. Dust from the road penetrated her jacket and trousers and made her skin feel gritty and sticky. By half past eleven, hunger had turned into a sickly ache in Dana’s belly, and Eric pulled over into a layby. When Dana dismounted and pulled off her helmet, her hair was plastered to her head with sweat and felt disgusting.
Eric stripped off his jacket and helmet. “I’m starving. You got the map?”
“No. I thought you had it.” Dana didn’t need a map to tell they were in Cambridgeshire. The town of Cambridge itself lay not far to the south, and she could make out the greyish-brown clutter of the city amidst the patchwork of green woodland and fields of crops. Cambridge was where Jananin lived, or at least where she had lived before the Information Terrorism attack on London, and before she became a Spokesman for the Meritocracy. Dana wondered where amongst this city her house might be, what it would be like.
“Bugger. We’d better not have forgotten it.”
Traffic whipped past on the road behind. Beyond the low steel barrier at the edge of the layby, a field of sun-burnished grass going to seed waved very slightly in the still, dusty air, a golden sea tinged with violet. Dana spread her jacket on the shorter grass of the embankment to sit on while Eric rummaged through the panniers.
They sat on the bank with the map
spread in front of them and the food they’d brought. Even though they’d agreed to save some for that night, Dana was so hungry right now it didn’t seem to matter any more, and she ate all the sandwiches Pauline had made for her to take, and the fruit and crisps and chocolate, and Eric didn’t seem to leave much either.
“Where to now?” Eric said.
Dana gazed at the meadow and the hazy air laden with exhaust fumes and pollen. So far, she hadn’t sensed anything. She was tired and aching from being on the bike, and it was starting to look as though this might lead nowhere, and now she couldn’t go back home until the excuse they’d made up finished on Monday morning. The plan wasn’t looking so good now.
“If we go north from here, we could go to the beach. My mum’ll never take me because it’s too far away, and I suppose it’s the weather for it.”
Unable to think of any better suggestion, Dana agreed. The idea of a beach heaving with tourists didn’t seem appealing, but she supposed the beach might not be a stereotypical one, as the ones in Devon where Duncan had promised to take her, where there were fossils and shells, weren’t. After they had finished their food and drunk some water, they put the bags and the map back into the panniers. Dana reluctantly pushed the sticky, constricting helmet back onto her head.
A few hours later, they reached the road GPS reckoned was closest to the sea. However, there was no track leading down to rocky cliffs riddled with faint prints and stains from long-dead sea creatures, nor any shore of shells to hunt through and get painfully stuck to the soles of one’s feet. There was not even a path through dunes leading to a sandy beach concealed beneath sun-reddened flesh hanging out of bikinis and hairy grizzled male bodies in garish swimming trunks. All that was there was a flat expanse of waterlogged muck with low hummocks of scrubby grass on it, stretching away as far as the eye could see, and no flat blue horizon of sea laced with white foam anywhere to be seen.
“Oh,” said Eric. His eyes looked red and wet, and he took off his biker glove to wipe his nose on the back of his hand. “I’m all right. It’s just the pollen.” He pointed to the field behind, full of bright yellow flowers that gave off a strong and not entirely pleasant smell.
