Autumn 2003

Alex was never put on Guy Fawkes duty- they’d worked out early on that he wasn’t chemically-minded- so he didn’t know what had gone wrong with this particular bomb.  Maybe it was something to do with the way the wires were connected, or maybe there was too much of one ingredient and too little of another, but the only important thing was that it went off before Alex was a safe distance away and sent him hurtling across the car park.

It was just as well that they’d decided to put the explosives down outside the front window of PC World instead of trying to break in or- God forbid- putting them down during the day when there were customers around.  The last thing they wanted to do was hurt anybody.  “It’s not the people who are our enemies,” Pinder always said, “It’s the epidemic of mindlessness.  If they knew what was really going on, they’d thank us for blowing up their TVs and laptops.”  They were heirs to Thomas the Rhymer, poets and artists fighting against cultural degradation wherever they saw it.  Except that this time, the thing that had come off worst in the fight was Alex’s right leg.

The next thing he knew, they were doing ninety in Charity Stobart’s Ford Focus, and Pinder was screaming in his face.  “How could I have made myself more clear?  Put the bomb down, flip the switch, and then fucking get away!  Did you think these were toys?  Did you think this was a fucking game we were playing?”

If Alex had been in a position to think about anything besides the pain in his right thigh, he might have pointed out that the explosive had gone off less than ten seconds after he’d flipped the switch, and that three or four steps was, in fact, a reasonable amount of ground to have covered in that timeframe.  Instead, he just lay on the back seat, stared at the ceiling and tried to keep his leg still.

“If they find DNA evidence at the scene, that’s it, you understand?  The whole camp shut down.  Every single one of us carted off to prison, because of you.  I just hope you can live with that, because I know I couldn’t.”

“It wasn’t his fault!” said Jo, and Alex properly registered, for the first time since getting into the car, the fact that he was lying across her knees.  He felt as if he should apologise, but he was having too hard a time keeping his head together for that.  “You saw it!  The bomb went off before…”

“Don’t tell me what I did and didn’t see, understand?”

 “But it wasn’t…”

“Jo, listen.  Don’t.  Tell.  Me.  What I did and didn’t see.  Understand?”

There was more after that, but Alex didn’t catch most of it.  He just drifted in and out, wondering if it was worth the effort to remain conscious, and if it was even possible not to when his leg felt as if it was burning up from the inside.

He knew better than to ask to be taken to the hospital.  They’d ask how it had happened, and then they’d compare notes with the police.  The Oakmen were just going to have to do the best they could with what they had.  It was what they were used to doing anyway.

*

They got some ice on the burns, made a splint mostly out of yardsticks and duct tape, and put him in his bed.  And that’s where he stayed, day and night, staring up at the same ceiling and desperately trying to distract himself.  At least there were people around at night, but during the day, everyone was out on duty.  The only time Alex wasn’t alone with his own thoughts was when Denny visited.

Later, Alex found out that Denny wasn’t actually supposed to be there- he’d been on cleaning duty, but he’d snuck away when nobody was looking.  When Pinder found out about Denny’s visits, though, he didn’t put a stop to them.  “He might as well make himself useful somehow,” he told the others.

Denny usually brought Alex water, and sometimes food, too.  Sometimes he moved Alex to somebody else’s bed while he changed the sheets.  Sometimes, when Alex really needed him to, he’d help him hobble over to the portable toilets behind the cabins.  But the most important thing he did, as far as Alex was concerned, was tell stories.

Sometimes he’d read from an actual book, one of the battered old paperbacks from the shelves in the big cabin, but usually it was something out of Denny’s own head, something he’d heard, seen or experienced.  Alex laid there, eyes closed, and tried his best to concentrate on Denny’s voice instead of the spiky, splintering pain in his leg.  Just close his eyes and try to float away.

“Did you know I was still at boarding school when I met Pinder?  I snuck out with some of my friends, and…”

“The funny thing was, they really didn’t want us to leave the school grounds in the evenings.  Some of the form tutors would stand along the corridors near the front and back entrances just to try and catch us out.  But what we worked out was, if you acted like you were heading towards the library, and you walked as if you knew what you were doing, you could sort of slip under the radar…”

“The Rhymers were meeting in a café in town, once a week, and then one week, Pinder said it was alright if I didn’t go back.  And I had… there was some English coursework I hadn’t done.  Really!  That was what decided me!  So I went…”

Alex closed his eyes and floated away.

*

Now that Alex thought about it, it had been a long time since Pinder had talked about how insightful and wise beyond his years Denny was.  Lately, it seemed like all he did was make mistakes.

A couple of weeks ago (before the trip to PC World), Denny had said something at one of the morning meetings.  Something about the recycling bins on the corners of the streets in town.  Charity thought they were a great idea, but Pinder didn’t think they went far enough.  He said that the people in town would do the environment a lot more favours if they gave up their sports cars and designer clothes, and started growing their own food like the Oakmen did.  The recycling bins were just a sop to their conscience.

Denny had laughed and said, “Well, baby steps…”

Pinder had gone ballistic. The people in town were not babies, he’d explained to Denny.  They were adults who bore responsibility for their choices.  Did Denny think that the impending destruction of their planet was something to laugh at and shrug off?  Denny might feel he was insulated from any consequences, but there were other people who didn’t have a rich family and a trust fund to hide behind.  Denny had tried to reply, but Pinder had shouted him down at every turn.  “I don’t have time to explain basic human decency to you!” he shouted before leaving the cabin and slamming the door behind him.

Today, though, Denny had brought Alex some painkillers.  Actual, heavy-duty ones, the kind you usually needed a prescription for.  “Basic human decency,” nothing- Alex was just about ready to write to the Pope and have Denny declared a saint.

“How did you get these?” he asked, staring down at the cardboard boxes on the table.

Denny grinned.  Alex had never seen him smile so much- he’d rushed in, practically bouncing up and down with excitement, and yelled, “Check it out!”  He didn’t look as if he’d just staged a smash-and-grab raid on the local pharmacy, but Alex couldn’t rule it out.  “I talked to some guys in town.  They said they could help us.”

That should have alarmed Alex (How did Denny know he could trust these guys?  How did he know these pills were what they’d said they were?), but there wasn’t enough room in his head for that.  He’d been sitting in this sweat-stained bed and doing nothing but feel his leg ache and itch- even if these pills made his liver swell up and kill him, at least it would be a change.  Without even waiting for Denny to pour a glass of water, Alex popped open two of the capsules and swallowed the pills.

They didn’t take long to kick in, and for a while, Alex just… drifted.  Things were a lot lighter without the pain weighing him down.  A lot looser.

After a while -it could have been ten minutes or two hours- Denny asked Alex if he wanted to risk having a shower.  The shower block was about a hundred yards away from the cabin they were in, so they hadn’t even considered it until now.  “I don’t have to come into the stall with you, if you’re worried about that.  I can just turn the water on and wait outside, and you can do everything sat down.”

Alex nodded.  It felt as if he was moving through water instead of air.  “Why not?”

It was amazing how long a short walk could seem when you were limping and hopping, leaning on someone else’s shoulder and worrying that the next twig or stone on the ground would be the one to trip you up and knock you face-first into the mud.  Alex tried to imagine what the walk would have been like without the painkillers, and couldn’t.  He could just about deal with what was in front of him, but hypotheticals were too much for now.

They arrived at the shower block- a little red-brick cube behind a grove of trees- but when Denny tried the door, it was locked.  He tried it again, in case it was just stuck, and got the same result.

Denny looked sideways at Alex, who was still clinging to his shoulder like a baby koala, and grinned apologetically.  “No use turning back now,” he said, and knocked on the door.  “Hey!  Who’s in there!”

There was a moment or two of silence, then an echoing yell of, “What do you want?”  It took Alex a moment to recognise the voice as Pinder’s.

Denny winced.  “Sorry!  I just wanted to know how long you’re going to be?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s just that Alex wanted…”

“I’ll be done when I’m done, alright?  Or am I not even allowed two minutes’ peace anymore?”

Denny looked down at the ground.  “OK.  I’m sorry.”

Pinder didn’t say anything else.  There was the sound of a door slamming inside the shower block, then nothing.

Denny said sorry to Alex, too, as he settled them both down on the ground to wait for a bit.  Alex felt as if he should say something, but he couldn’t think what.  He was tired from the walk down here, and he’d began to drift again.  It was a good feeling.  Light and loose.

When Denny finally nudged him awake, telling him the shower was free, Alex was alert enough to notice that the sky had got a little darker.  But he couldn’t think of anything to say about that, either.

*

Things got worse.  Alex’s leg swelled up until it no longer looked as if it belonged to the same body as the other one.  After a while, he could barely go an hour without throwing up into the basin at the side of the bed.  If Denny hadn’t been there, it would have just overflowed until it spilled out over the floorboards.

He’d suspected it for a while, but now he knew:  He might not get better outside a hospital, and Pinder would never let him go to one.

They’d moved him to the old supply cabin, so that everyone else could sleep at night.  Pinder was here, arguing over him with Denny, Virgil and Bradley.  Arguing over him in more ways than one- they were right at the foot of his bed.  Any closer, and he’d have worried they were about to start a full-on tug-of-war.

“We need to get him some antibiotics.”

“Yeah?  Where from?  Are they going to grow on trees?”

Denny piped up.  “I can talk to…”

Pinder pointed at the door.  “Go.  Just go. I can’t deal with your shit right now, on top of everything else.”

If Alex had had the energy, he’d have sat up and told Denny to stay.  He’d have explained to Pinder that Denny was the only thing preventing him from descending into panic these days, and that was more important than whatever trouble Pinder thought he was causing.  But Alex didn’t have the energy, so he just watched, feeling useless, as Denny slipped out of the door.

“Look,” said Virgil, “What if we break into a pharmacy…”

Pinder laughed in his face.  “You can’t be serious.”

Bradley sighed.  “Then the only other option is to take him to the hospital.”

“Fantastic, guys.  Brilliant.  Let’s take him to the hospital.  Let’s tell the authorities about everything we’ve done.  Let’s get ourselves arrested and ruin everything we’ve worked for.  Why not?”

“Look, Shaun…”

“No, go ahead!  It’s pretty clear you’ve got no respect for anything I’ve got to say.  Why not?”

Within seconds Pinder was gone, with Virgil and Bradley running after him to apologise.  Alex was alone again.

*

Later (he didn’t know how much later), Alex woke up and found himself in the dark.  Trapped alone in the pitch-black cabin that stank of sweat and vomit.  For all he knew, he was already dead.  For all he knew, this was what death was like- an eternity of darkness, dirt and pain, with no hope of anything different.

“Alex?  Are you awake?”

Oh, thank God.  It was Denny.  He’d come back.

He wanted to hug him.  He wanted to burst into tears.  He felt ridiculously tender and vulnerable, skinless, in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a little kid sniffling over a scraped knee or a lost toy.  Back then, the one thing that would always make the tears spill over had been Roxanne leaning down to look at him properly, with a worried, Alex, what’s wrong?

She’d seemed so much older than him, so wise and comforting, that it was strange to remember that she’d have only been six or seven at the time.  It was even stranger to think that he hadn’t seen her in three years.  He should never have let himself fall out of touch with her that easily.  He’d never deserved to have a sister like her.

Alex swallowed, pushing the tears back where they’d come from.  “Yeah.  I didn’t hear you come back in.”  Denny was sat beside his bed, in the plastic chair that looked as if it had been used for twenty years of school assemblies.  Alex wondered if he’d been planning to sleep there, or just sit up all night.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t wake you.”  Denny shifted closer, scraping the chair across the floor.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better for having some company.”  In fact, Alex felt completely wretched, but at least he didn’t feel like throwing up right at this minute.  By the standards of the last few days, that was quite good.

They sat in silence for a little while, only just able to make out each others’ faces in the dark.  Then Denny said, “Do you want to hear about when I first started boarding school?”

“OK.”  Alex patted the side of the bed, and Denny moved so he was sitting next to him.

“When I was twelve, I went to live with my older brother, Jonathan.  And when I say ‘older,’ I mean, like, almost twenty years.  His mum was our dad’s first wife, and mine was his third.   Anyway, Jonathan decided to send me to Gradlon Boys, which was the same school he’d been to as a kid.  You know, family tradition.”  Denny almost stammered on that ‘f’ sound.  “First thing that happened when I got there was, the headmaster invited me to his office and told me what a good student Jonathan had been, and how they were expecting great things from me as his brother.  But I think he kind of knew, even then, that wasn’t going to happen.  There was just something in his face.

“There were just so many rules, you know?  They told you all of them on the first day, but there were too many to keep them all in your head at once.  So, you’d forget to flip your mattress first thing, and they’d give you detention.  And the next day, you’d remember about the mattress, but you’d forget that the older boys were supposed to go first in the breakfast queue.  And the next day, you’d remember that, but you’d forget that you weren’t supposed to talk in the study room.  And the trouble with that was, sometimes the teachers on duty would kind of turn a blind eye if the boys from their class talked, so you’d see them talking and forget that you weren’t supposed to.

“The worst thing was during showers, about two weeks in.  The other guys had been saying I took too long in there, saying I was just spending time on my skincare routine, asking if I needed a few extra minutes to get my makeup on.  You know.  But one day, some of the boys who got out before me hid my clothes and wouldn’t tell me where.  And I was really panicking because I had English in about ten minutes and the teacher was really strict, so I went to ask the Games teacher for help.  It didn’t work.  He just told me to stop being spoilt and babyish and fight my own battles.  So I was stuck in the changing room for ages after the others had left, trying to find my clothes.

“In the end, I found them stuffed behind the bin.  And the English teacher gave me two detentions for being late and looking scruffy.”  Denny laughed.  Alex couldn’t bring himself to join in.

*

“So, at the start of Year Nine- they called it ‘Third Form’ on all the official stuff, but everyone just said ‘Year Nine’ anyway- I made a decision.  I thought, everything bad that happened last year was because I got emotional about stuff, so this year, I wouldn’t have emotions about anything.  Like a robot.  No matter what happened, I’d say, ‘Who cares?’  If I got detention, if someone destroyed my stuff, if I got my head pushed underwater again- ‘Who cares?’

“It wasn’t that hard.  There wasn’t much I did care about then.  I didn’t really enjoy reading and drawing anymore, and it’s not like I missed my brother and sister.”

It was nearly dawn.  Alex had only thrown up once.  The rest of the time, he’d been listening to Denny’s stories.

“So, um, it worked.  The other boys lost interest in me and started picking on someone else.  A boy called Carling.  He was one of the scholarship kids, and he had really bad asthma, so, you know, kind of a soft target.  And one time I joined in making fun of him- he’d said something in French about not knowing that ‘s’il vous plait’ was three separate words, and I said, ‘Oh my God, Carling, you’ve learned French here for three years, and you actually think…’  You know.  Stuff like that.  And the other boys jumped on it and carried on making fun of him throughout the lesson.  He managed not to cry.  That was probably just as well, for him.”

Denny wasn’t laughing anymore.  He wasn’t even looking at Alex.  He was fidgeting with his fingers in his lap, and staring down at them.

“Later that day, I heard the French teacher say to one of the other teachers, ‘You know, I like Lambton a lot more this year.  He’s really grown up.’”  Denny took a deep breath.  “And then I realised that I could still feel things, and what I felt was that I completely hated myself.”

Alex sat up, careful not to jar his swollen leg, and put his arms around Denny’s shoulders.

*

Alex was still sweating, little beads forming on his skin as soon as he wiped away the old ones, but at least he’d managed to keep his food down so far today.  He’d allowed himself a little bit of hope.

At some point, Pinder came in.  Alex saw him open the door and walk across the cabin so he could sit by his bed.  Alex watched him in every step of his journey, and wondered where Denny was.  Had Pinder just waited for him to leave, or had he ordered him out again?

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” Pinder told him.

Alex mumbled his thanks.  He was still nervous of opening his mouth too wide, in case it gave his stomach ideas.

“I hope you understand about the antibiotics.”  Pinder reached out and took his hand (which, Alex knew, was probably unpleasantly damp.)  “It would have been a security breach.  There are so many people just waiting for us to show a chink in our armour…  We just couldn’t risk it.”

Alex made an agreeing noise.  Hopefully Pinder would leave in a moment, and he could go back to sleep.

“But I hope you realise we’re all rooting for you.  We’ve lost sleep with worry.”  Pinder clasped Alex’s hand between both of his.  “You can endure this.  You’re a Rhymer.  Thousands of years of history, running through your veins.  If anyone can get through this, its you.  For the Rhymers.”  Pinder gave Alex’s hand a shake.  “For your family.”

Alex thought, I should ask him now. If he gets angry, I can just blame it on being feverish.  “Pinder?”

“Yes?”  Pinder leaned in, wide-eyed.

“Why do you hate Denny so much?”

Pinder’s hands went still.  For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and when he did, his voice was dripping with disgust.  “It’s not my place to tell.  You’d have to ask him about that.”

*

With a little support, Alex could stand up.  There weren’t any crutches available, but if he leaned on the windowsill, the bookshelves, and Denny’s shoulder, he could finally move around the room.

“Don’t put too much weight on it yet,” warned Denny, glancing down at his bad leg to check that it looked right.

Alex nodded.  “Yep.  Slow and steady.”  Baby steps, he almost added, but that phrase gave him a strange, uncomfortable feeling.  It took her a moment to remember why.

You’d have to ask him about that.

Alex’s stomach felt strange, but he asked anyway.  “Denny?  Can I ask you something personal?”

“Yeah?”

“What went wrong between you and Pinder?”

Denny stiffened.  Alex saw it happen, in a second, as if he’d turned to stone.  There was a gap of a few seconds before he spoke, just long enough for Alex to curse himself for blundering in like that.  “I was afraid you were going to ask that,” he replied dully.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No… No.”  Denny shook his head slowly and mechanically.  “You deserve to know.”

Alex sat back on the side of the bed, and watched Denny fidget, his eyes trained on his hands.  “There was something I should have told Pinder,” he said finally, “About myself.  He’d never have let me join if he’d known, but by the time he found out, it was too late.  He was stuck with me.”

Denny looked back down at his hands again.  Alex waited.

“Um, at my… at my school, about two years before I met Pinder, there was a…  A boy went missing.  A younger boy.  He was only twelve.  And they never found him, not even his body.”  Denny took in a long, shaky breath.  “And I don’t remember what I was doing that evening.”

Alex swallowed.  There was a sense of dread building up inside him, but even as he felt it, he thought, That sounds more like something that would happen in a film than in real life.

“It happens all the time,” whispered Denny, “People disappear around me.  Children disappear around me.”  He choked on his words.  “I swear, I’d slit my wrists if I thought it would help.  I’d go back in time and strangle myself in the womb.”

He looked like he was shaking hard enough to make himself sick.  Alex put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.  “OK, but what makes you think that you had anything to do with him disappearing?  Just because you can’t remember…”

“It’s not just him.”  Denny looked up, tried to meet Alex’s eyes, but flinched away at the last moment.  “Do you remember Amy Kirwan?  From the art shop in town?”

Alex didn’t know if ‘remember’ was the right word- they saw her practically every time they went into town- but he nodded.  Amy’s shop sold the usual landscapes and sunsets, but there were also colourful, surreal dreamscapes that had caught Jo and Pinder’s attention.  As far as Alex knew, none of the Oakmen had ever bought anything from Amy (they couldn’t afford that), but she still greeted them happily every time they came into her shop.  Alex supposed you didn’t become a painter in a tiny seaside town expecting to get rich.

“Well, Amy disappeared just before Easter.  Along with her son.  He… he was two.”  Denny’s face crumpled.  “And I don’t remember where I was that night, either!”

For a moment, Alex almost believed it.  He’d been stuck here for nearly two months now, and he hadn’t seen Amy since the last time he’d been into town.  Plenty of time for her to disappear, and for the police to search for her and come up with nothing.  It might have happened.  Even if it had nothing to do with Denny, Amy might have disappeared.

Except…

“Did you say before Easter?” asked Alex.

Denny nodded.  He couldn’t speak at the moment- his teeth were gritted against sobs.

“Denny, I went into town a few times over the summer, and I saw Amy just about every time I was there.”  It could still have been true.  Denny could have just misremembered the date.  But somehow, Alex didn’t think so.

The dread was still there, but by now, Alex knew it wasn’t Denny he was scared of.

“No,” said Denny, “It couldn’t have been her.”

“It was.  I went into her shop and talked to her.  Ask Virgil- he went with me at least once.  Who told you she’d disappeared?”

“It was in all the papers…”

“I’ve never seen you reading a paper.”  It was so obvious.  It was such a flimsy lie.  And maybe Denny had talked himself into believing it all on his own, with no outside encouragement, but then why would he think it was the reason that Pinder didn’t like him anymore?  If Pinder knew what Denny thought, then why hadn’t he told him there was no truth to it?  “Did Pinder tell you?”

“No!” snapped Denny, finally looking up.

That settled it.  Denny might have been a champion at lying to himself, but he wasn’t any good at lying to anybody else.

Alex sat in the old supply shed where Pinder had moved him.  He felt the leg Pinder hadn’t let him get treated itch and ache.  The leg that had only been broken because one of Pinder’s bombs had gone off too early.  And compared to what had happened to Denny, that all felt insignificant.

We’ve got to get out of here, thought Alex.