by Jeff Povey
‘You mean school?’ he asks.
‘I mean this world,’ I tell him.
The New-Moth laughs. Which surprises me.
‘Don’t laugh, I know a way.’
He shakes my hands from his biceps. ‘Yeah, sure you do.’
‘Listen to me, my dad is a scientist,’ I tell him as earnestly as I can. ‘He’s got a formula.’
‘Reva. It is Reva, isn’t it?’
I nod.
‘Well, Reva, you need to know there is no escape. D’you think people haven’t tried to figure a way out?’ Which are pretty much the words the school receptionist uttered. Does everyone think the same thing? I presume they must do if so many of them give up and end their lives.
The New-Moth almost looks sorry for me. There’s pity in his eyes. ‘This would’ve been so much easier if you had just wanted to kiss me.’
I’m not giving up. I can’t allow the apathy and torpor to claim me. I grab him by the shoulders.
‘There’s a formula that my dad worked out and, if I can find it for you, then you can put it to work, rearrange the fabric of reality with it, open a portal. I know you can.’ I am not going to let this go, I refuse to. ‘We’ll grab whoever wants to leave and we all go, out of this hell.’
The New-Moth weighs me up.
‘Meet me tonight,’ he says eventually. ‘You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.’ It’s a smart joke considering, but in that quip is a sense of the absolute. This New-Moth knows something I don’t.
WE ALL FALL DOWN
‘I knew you’d be back for me. Knew it. No one can live without a little GG in their lives. Where’s the magic in that? I touch everyone I meet. Not physically, not like that – obvs – but I do touch. I am the magic.’
GG is driving the train back in the direction of the tunnel where Johnson and Non-Ape were fighting the Black Moths. His voice is cutting in and out of the tannoy system while I stand guard over the dead Billie. I mean, she could be faking that as well. But so far she hasn’t moved a muscle.
‘We tried to find you,’ I tell him. ‘We searched but only found a shoe.’
‘And what a shoe,’ he declares proudly.
‘We called out. I even had Other-Johnson try and find you telepathically.’
‘When I floated away, I did hit my head rather hard on the side of the train. Knocked me clean into the land of slumber.’
Which could explain why Other-Johnson couldn’t scan for him. Maybe his powers only work on the conscious.
‘Oh, the dreams I had.’ GG’s trying his best, but I know he’s hurting. The Ape and I could barely wedge him into the driver’s seat without his broken flappy arm getting in the way. I made a makeshift sling to put his arm in, but he grew alarmed that it didn’t match the colours of the rest of his frayed and filthy outfit. ‘In one dream I was riding on the back of a Black Moth, inspecting my kingdom. I was waving a silk monogrammed hanky at faces crowding the streets. Trouble is I got so taken by waving the hanky, making sure I didn’t miss flapping it at one single person that I ended up breaking my arm. That’s how hard I was waving. But that’s me all over. Lord Eager of Eagerland.’
It’s good to hear his voice. But I also know that when Johnson, the Ape and I went looking for GG along the railway track we never ventured this far. We found his shoe over ten miles further back down the line. Which would suggest that GG couldn’t have been unconscious. Or if he had been then he was sleepwalking along the track. I don’t know how he ended up where he did – and more incredibly how he just emerged from the darkness like he did. It’s too weirdly coincidental.
The Ape barges through the interconnecting doors of the train.
‘Everyone’s still dead.’ He slumps in a seat. ‘Couldn’t heal any of them.’
The Ape still believes that he can perform miracles. ‘Johnson is dead as well.’
But I’d already guessed that because I checked Other-Johnson’s body and blood was pooling around his chest and it looked like Billie may have stuck a talon clean through his heart.
‘Got to get this healing thing working.’ The Ape takes a seat beside me, inadvertently crushing me up against the window. He checks his healing hand and then pokes a finger at my forehead. ‘Anything?’
I can’t bring myself to respond. The images of death and dead friends filling the carriage are overpowering.
He jabs his finger repeatedly at my forehead, trying to reignite his non-existent healing power.
‘Anything?’
‘Please stop,’ I say gently, my voice barely above a whisper.
‘Anything?’
‘Seriously. . . ’ I know he thinks we’re in some big video game where people die and then spring back to life – maybe he has a point – but he’s not seeing the reality of it. The harsh and stark horror of bodies piling up all around us.
‘Anything?’
‘Ape, please.’ My voice catches in the back of my throat. Death has never stopped coming for us. From the first moment that Lucas hanged himself I have had to kill. To extinguish life, alien life, doppelganger life, call it what you will, and I never quite took it in because to do so would have stopped me in my tracks. We had to keep running and fighting and there was never much time to allow that stark harshness to bed in. But seeing Billie and Other-Johnson without life – I realise it has bedded in: it’s in my DNA, in all our DNAs now. I want more than ever for an end to this, to make everything right and never, ever encounter death again.
Thankfully GG’s voice interrupts the Ape’s assault on my head.
‘How come there’s another train?’ He’s not expecting a response. ‘And where did it come from?’ He adopts an eerie ghost voice. ‘Answers tonight at eleven.’ Then he executes a horror-movie laugh. ‘If you’re still alive by then.’
GG is evidently staying as far from reality as he possibly can. And who can blame him?
I watch the Ape listening to GG and see his mouth curl up at the edges. He’s smiling at GG and I know he’s glad that he’s back. On GG’s part he was only too happy to let the Ape shove his shoe back on to his foot. GG didn’t say one camp word about the fashion disaster of being without a matching pair of shoes for so long. He was just too happy.
‘Hello, hello, hello,’ GG chirrups into the tannoy. ‘The shopping centre is on your left. And thank the Lord for that because I need some serious retail therapy.’
The Ape and I glance out of the window and see the bright lights of the shopping centre radiating through the darkness. Underneath is the tunnel where a Black Moth battle may or may not still be raging, but the train switches tracks and heads towards the tiny station that is roughly two miles from where we’d ideally like to be. Which means another trek if we’re going to find the Moth and hook up with Johnson and Non-Ape. But it also means we can do it stealthily, that with any luck we can get in and out without detection. The Moth won’t have his wheelchair but Non-Ape, if he’s still alive, can carry him.
The train slows to a stop and the station is silent and still. Shrill beeps signal that we can open the automatic doors. But as I do I see a person in the shadows, sitting on one of the blue metal mesh benches, way down at the bottom of the platform. The shadows cast from the small brick railway office obscure the figure, but I’ve been here before and I know exactly who it is.
‘Wait here,’ I tell the Ape and leap off the train and walk as quickly as I can towards the figure. As I approach, he leans forward and my dad sits there, smiling, handsome, well-groomed, with shiny shoes and a dark grey pinstripe suit. It’s another apparition. And another repeat of something that happened before.
‘Rev,’ he says quietly.
‘Dad,’ I breathe.
‘You’re meant to be in hurry,’ he says with a dry smile.
‘My friends need me.’
‘I need you.’ He leans further forward and his handsome features and soft eyes beguile. ‘And you need me.’
‘I’m working on it, Dad, promise you.’
‘I
f the other Rev finds me . . . ’ he says.
I am anything but ready to hurry and I sit down beside him. Slump would be a better word. I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m scared that if I do he’ll disappear and the illusion will crumble away. I want to be able to smell his aftershave, to ‘feel’ his presence, just for a second, just for old times’ sake, and for the missing years when I never had this opportunity.
‘Dad?’ I ask.
‘You really need to get moving,’ he says with more urgency.
‘I’m tired. I hurt all over. I don’t know how long I can keep going.’ It’s the first time I’ve come close to admitting defeat. But I’m not sure I’ve got anything left in me.
‘And you’re Reva, little Rev, and it’s almost over. I promise you.’ My dad looks like he wants to reach out and touch me, but I know he can’t. ‘All you’ve got to do is get here,’ he says, and starts to fade out.
‘Dad!’ I shout.
His image lingers.
‘How can you do this? Talk to me like this? Contact me?’
My dad looks quietly at me, semi there, semi not there.
People in the world I know and grew up in don’t possess any sort of powers or abilities. But I’ve got some psychic thing going on here. ‘I can sense danger and I can see you even though you’re not there . . . what does that mean?’ I ask him, desperate for an answer.
My dad starts to fade away. ‘Dad, please!’
But he’s gone and all that’s left is the night.
The train horn sounds twice and . . .
. . . I sit up suddenly. I’m back on the train and I must have fallen asleep, with my face crushed up against the Ape’s shoulder. I have been drooling and there’s a wet stain on his T-shirt.
‘Sick,’ the Ape says, trying to brush away the damp patch.
My dad came to me in a dream before, another repeated moment to drive me crazy. I’m beginning to get an ominous feeling that I’ll never be able to break this insane cycle of recurring events.
We pull into the station, again eerily silent, but this time there is no dad sitting waiting for me. I sit upright and gather myself.
‘Let’s find the Moth.’
The Ape clambers from his seat and stands and stretches his battered body. He winces because his ribs ache a whole lot more than he’s ever let on.
‘Once more unto the breach,’ GG’s voice sing-songs across the tannoy.
We’re going to make a fine trio. Me, exhausted, the Ape with his broken ribs, sore shoulder and GG with his arm in a horrifically mismatched sling.
But that’s never stopped us before.
THE APE ON THE EDGE OF TOWN
Getting out of the flat proves easier than I thought.
‘Mum, I’m not going for Chinese tonight. I’m meeting a boy.’
It’s all part of my happiness plan and New-Mum is all over this, grinning and squealing and clapping.
‘Someone’s got a boyfriend,’ she sings, pinning her hair up as Dad waltzes past, looking for his shoes.
‘What’s that?’ he says.
‘Rev’s got a boyfriend.’
‘I’m only meeting him.’ I pretend to look bashful.
‘Who is he?’
‘This kid Timothy asked me out. He’s sweet.’
‘Sweet. Did you hear that? Aw . . . ’ New-Mum is excited to say the least. She claps her hands again. ‘You’d better have a bath first.’
My dad is less enthusiastic and I know he doesn’t fully trust me.
New-Mum picks up his missing shoes. ‘Got them!’ she sings.
He stares at me and I can see that he’s curious. ‘So that happened quickly,’ he says.
‘All the best love stories do,’ I chirp back. He can be as suspicious as he wants, all I care about is finding his formula.
New-Moth meets me at the rec, a scrap of land that is all things to all people. From a pre-schoolers’ rubberised playground to dingy, graffitied public toilets for drug pushers and users. There are fields where people play sport or throw sticks for their dogs, sometimes at the same time, which causes all manner of ill feeling – and head injuries. But this rec is deserted and only two of the tall street lights that illuminate the meandering pathway are working. Under one of them stands the New-Moth. I wonder if he’s planning to try and kiss me again.
‘Hey there,’ he says in a cool, heroic Johnson way that fails miserably. He’s wearing a leather jacket that doesn’t suit him and jeans that billow rather than cling. On his feet are bright white trainers and he’s brushed his hair back and tried to apply hair gel to make it stick up like GG’s quiff. He’s also swapped his glasses for contact lenses, but sadly none of what he’s done has made him any more attractive. All it really does is highlight all the faults he had in the first place.
‘Hey,’ I smile. I’m wearing more new clothes given to me by New-Mum. Black T-shirt, hipster jeans and a three-quarter-length black donkey jacket. I have a wardrobe packed with new stuff, it’s about the only good thing in this world.
‘Hey,’ he repeats and I realise he’s already run out of cool words. He clears his throat. ‘Anyway, shall we?’ He does some sort of half-bow and sweep of his arm like he’s now a knight in shining armour and I step past him. ‘After you, m’lady.’
I think he’s trying all manner of what he thinks are cool or attractive male stereotypes in the vain hope that I will fall for one of them.
‘Smoke?’ He offers me a cigarette from a brand-new packet.
‘I don’t,’ I tell him.
‘Me neither,’ he says and immediately tosses them into the nearest bin.
We follow the serpentine pathway through the rec until we cross a small bridge that spans the skinny, dribbling river that simpers its way through the middle of town. It’s the same river that was frozen over and somehow turned out to be about three metres deep once. As we cross the bridge, the New-Moth clumsily slips his hand into mine.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask. ‘This isn’t a date.’
‘Yeah . . . I know that.’
‘So why hold my hand?’ I don’t like having to keep him at bay in such a cold way, but there’s too much at stake here.
‘I, uh, I . . . I don’t know.’ He lets my hand drop and I can feel him retreating into himself. ‘Sorry.’
The street lamps bounce off his bulging forehead, revealed in all its glory now that he has a stiff quiff. I can smell some sort of middle-aged aftershave on him and I quickly grab his hand and together we take proud strides towards the north side of town. On the way the New-Moth describes the hideous world we are trapped in. I listen, never once interrupting because I want to hear everything. The more the New-Moth talks, the more confident he becomes.
‘Every day is the same. Over and over. It’s pretty much the exact same day. We don’t get any older, or any cleverer or even go anywhere. There’s no ambition; there’s no dreaming, there are no magical, inspired thoughts that light up anyone’s face. No hope. No future. Just this. Played out again and again. You have any idea what it feels like not to move forward? It’s a killer. It kills you slowly though. Some people give up, like Mr Balder, but if you do that, you’re saying there is no chance at all. But the sad truth is that everyone will give in one day, because that’s the only thing you have any power over. So people go through the motions until they can’t take it any more.’ The New-Moth hesitates and then offers a fractured grin. ‘Not the best fairy tale you ever heard, is it?’
‘Is it the same for everyone here?’
He nods. ‘Until they check out.’ He grimaces. ‘One day this world will be empty.’
I tighten my grip on his hand and we keep walking in silence as we head past a row of Victorian two-up, two-downs, cramped together as if there’s safety in numbers. It’s only now that I can feel the fear and despair that lurk within every brick and blade of grass.
‘I think my dad is a part of this,’ I tell the New-Moth. ‘After twelve years away, he’s gone crazy. We could gather e
veryone and march on his flat. Force him to send us all home.’
‘I did wonder where you’d come from. Everyone said that you’d just been home-schooled until now.’
‘My dad probably started that rumour,’ I say.
The New-Moth muses for a moment. We are now beyond the street of Victorian houses and emerge on to the main road that leads out of town. ‘If your dad has a magic formula, then won’t there be thousands of your dads in thousands of other worlds with the same formula?’
‘I guess so,’ I reply. ‘I mean the empty world had a formula, and I think the doppelganger world did as well.’
‘So where are they all? How come it’s only one version of your dad who appears to be doing this? And why?’
I’m starting to like this Moth, despite his clumsy attempts to look cool and sexy. He speaks with a gentle wryness, but everything he says is honest and thoughtful. I doubt he ever lies which sets him on a pedestal in my view.
‘We’re here.’ He stops suddenly.
As far as I can tell, the ‘here’ isn’t really anywhere. We’re halfway down the road and all I can see is it stretching into the darkness of the evening, being swallowed whole by the gloom. There are no street lamps to light the way.
‘This is “here”?’ I ask the New-Moth.
‘This is here,’ he echoes.
I peer into the dimness, trying to make out more of what lies beyond the town, but it’s almost impossible.
‘I’m not seeing anything,’ I tell him.
‘Nothing to see,’ he replies.
I go to step forward, but the New-Moth whips out a hand and drags me back. ‘Nothing is nothing, Reva.’
My shoulders tingle, but I can’t see where the problem or the danger lies. Until the New-Moth points to the sky. It’s littered with sparkling stars.
‘See those stars?’ he asks.
I nod.
‘Look how it all stops.’ He points to the dark maw of space way above us and I see he’s right; it suddenly comes to a lurching halt. It becomes nothing.
‘This is as far as we go,’ he says. ‘This town is all there is. No way in, no way out. It just exists.’
