The Roar (25 page)

36

STUPID OLD MAN

E
ventually sleep took Mika and luckily it was dreamless, but thousands of miles above him, on the Queen of the North, Mal Gorman was not so fortunate. Caught in a nightmare he saw himself with a television for a head standing in the middle of a concrete car park, the sort that had existed when everyone drove petrol cars with wheels, many years before. He was holding a set of old-fashioned keys in his hand and he turned around as if he’d lost his car and was hunting for it. But there was nothing else in the space, no cars, no people, nothing but concrete marked with worn white parking spaces as far as the eye could see.

Then the ground began to tremble and the Gorman Telly Head looked down and huffed as if he was thinking it had no business behaving that way while he was trying to find his car. Then it began to heave and bend and bow as if a giant was turning over in its sleep beneath it. It happened so quickly,
Gorman only just managed to stop himself falling over by spreading out his arms to keep his balance, and when the giant came to rest again there were hills and valleys beneath the concrete crust, and the car park with its worn white parking spaces looked like an enormous crumpled duvet. The Gorman Telly Head was angry and he started to shout at the ground beneath his feet.

‘How am I supposed to find my car when the car park keeps moving about?’ he yelled. Fine cracks appeared in the concrete crust, spreading quick as lightning over the hill. He jumped as one formed between his feet and skittered backwards in his haste to get away from it. The face flickering on the screen wasn’t quite so angry now, it was beginning to look scared – and for good reason – because out of the hole grew several green vines, quick as the cracks and slithery as snakes, and finding his feet they began to wind up his legs. He kicked at them violently and shouted some more, waving his car keys as if the vines would care that he couldn’t find his car. But it made no difference how much he complained; in less than a minute, his whole body apart from his television head was bound in vines like a mummy wrapped in bandages in a tomb. Then the fearful expression on the screen face transformed into panic as a gush of black and white vines writhed violently around his throat and he began to choke. Then they smashed through the screen and they began to wind around the television set and within seconds he was covered in them from head to toe like a fly cocooned on a spider’s web. Then another crack appeared beneath his feet and the earth ate him with one vast gulp, vines and all, and Gorman was so terrified he woke up with his hands around his throat, gasping.

It was quiet in his bedroom and very dark. He thought he could hear the vines slithering across the floor.

‘Light,’ he gasped, and it came on. ‘Brighter!’ he said. ‘Brighter! Brighter!’ And soon the bedroom was as bright as a supermarket.

Gorman looked at the floor and felt silly. There were no vines,
only normal, daytime carpet and his slippers by the bed.

‘You stupid old man,’ he whispered. ‘And anyway, that thing with a television for a head isn’t even you.’

37

HE’LL BE GOOD, I PROMISE

V
ery early the next morning, the man with the gun entered Ellie’s room. Looking at her, he thought she was asleep, so for a few moments, he stood next to her bed with the gun held softly in his hand, feeling sorry for her. Tucked up in her pyjamas, with her hair spread out on the pillow, she looked like a normal child. Then her eyes opened, making him jump.

No, he thought, there is nothing normal about this child.

He reminded himself what she’d done to Mal Gorman in The Shadows – the incident on the salvage boat had become legend amongst the men. This child’s dark eyes had the power to cause pain, maybe even death. He held his gun with a firmer grip and pointed it at her face.

‘What do you want?’ asked Ellie. She’d seen more guns than any other object in the past few weeks, but it still wasn’t nice to wake up and find one poking up her nose.

For days she’d realized something important was about to happen. There was more activity on the ship, more freighters going to and fro from Earth. But nobody would tell her what was happening, despite her frequent questions, and she was worried about Mika.

‘Get up and get your things,’ the man with the gun said, coldly. ‘You’re moving.’

‘Where?’ she asked.

‘Earth,’ the man replied.

‘Why?’

‘Because Mal Gorman says so.’

‘Really?’ she said, hopefully, leaning up on her elbows. ‘Where on Earth?’

‘Not where you’re thinking,’ the man said, firmly.

‘I’m not stupid enough to think I’m going home,’ she said indignantly, pushing back the covers. ‘Tell me where.’

‘Cape Wrath,’ the man replied.

Ellie had visited Cape Wrath with Mal Gorman, just after it was built. She shrugged.

‘I suppose it’s better than this boring space bin,’ she said. ‘What about Puck? He can’t stay here on his own.’

‘He’s coming,’ the man said.

‘Good,’ she said, relaxing a little.

‘Get your things then,’ the man said impatiently. He looked around the bare, white room.

‘I haven’t got any things,’ she replied, quietly. ‘Just this.’ She picked up the book of poems Mal Gorman had given her and put it on the bed. Despite the fact it was a gift from the man she hated most in the world, she read it every night. Her escort waited outside the door while she dressed and she put on extra layers, a wrap over her uniform and a white padded coat that came down to her knees. She knew how cold it was at Cape Wrath.

‘Ready!’ she shouted.

The man re-entered. ‘Come on then, Trouble,’ he grunted, motioning with the gun towards the door. ‘Grab your poems and
let’s go and get that scallywag of a monkey.’

They walked deeper into the spaceship along corridors that felt like the tunnels of a huge, smooth white worm.

All the staff rooms on the ship were the same size and shape except Mal Gorman’s quarters, with white plastic walls, ceiling and floor and an egg-shaped hollow for a bed. But Puck also had a white plastic tree in his room and this was the only familiar shape around him. When Ellie was away, he cuddled the white plastic tree while he slept, and if he was alarmed by a sudden noise or the appearance of a strange face at his window, he retreated into its plastic branches as if it would protect him. His days had been long, lonely and boring since they’d been caught, and he was never let out. Through the window in his door he could see the staff walk past, and twice a day he was fed a measure of monkey chow. This would be his life if Ellie didn’t come.

A few minutes before she arrived, Puck leaped on to the closest branch to the door and pressed his black palms against it. Then he craned his neck and pressed his cheek to the glass so he could look down the hallway. He could feel her coming.

Ellie began to run.

‘Walk!’ the man with the gun shouted after her. ‘Ellie! I said WALK!’

Ellie stopped running, but walked almost as quickly, forcing the man to do the same to keep up with her. She hadn’t seen Puck for three days because Gorman had been in a bad mood, and she knew how lonely and depressed he would be. She reached his door and he leaped around his white plastic tree for joy. She pressed her hands against the glass and breathed deeply. The monkey dropped to all fours and walked along the branch to the window. Then he put his small, black hands next to hers.

‘Come on then,’ the man with the gun said gruffly. ‘Let’s ask for a carrier to put him in.’

‘We don’t need a carrier,’ Ellie said. ‘I can carry him. He’ll be good, I promise.’

‘I don’t think so,’ the man replied, sceptically. Puck was looking the picture of innocence at that moment, all fluffy and cute and hooting with happiness, but the man had plenty of scars to remind him how this bundle of fluff transformed into a screeching vampire. ‘I’d rather arrive at Cape Wrath with all my fingers,’ he added. ‘If you don’t mind.’

38

THE CRACKLE BECOMES A ROAR

M
ika’s dreamless sleep lasted a couple of hours, then the Telly Heads stood around his bed licking their wrinkly lips. A few times he half awoke and panicked in the windowless room. There was no bunk above him, no Ellie pictures to anchor him in reality, and it was almost a relief to slip back into the nightmare and find himself faced by something familiar. But this time the dream was different, this time it went further than ever before. The Telly Heads were quiet, they had decided how they wanted to eat him, and now they were going to cut him up. The Knife Sharpener stepped forward and placed the blade on the fragile skin of his inner arm and Mika watched, unable to move, as the tip of the blade, like a violin bow, drew the first drop of dark blood. He tried to shake his head to wake himself up, but couldn’t. He opened his mouth to scream, but no noise came out and he
realized that if he didn’t escape the nightmare in the next few moments, he would die of fright.

He was saved by Ellie. The moment her foot touched the ground in the hangar, something coursed through the fabric of Cape Wrath and into Mika’s body through the bed. He awoke, knowing she had arrived with as much certainty as if she’d walked into the room and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Ellie,’ he whispered.

His first impulse was to break out of the glass enclosure and search Cape Wrath for her, but he remembered that even if he did manage to get out, the fortress was the size of a town with thousands of locked doors and guards and he had no idea where she was. He would have to be patient. He sat up in bed feeling rushes of happiness and trepidation. She was so close now and every atom of his being ached for the moment he would see her again.

* * *

Mika washed and ate and waited on his bed for the day to begin. A man came for him and they walked through the fortress past scores of empty rooms that felt, like him, as if they were waiting. Eventually, he found himself in the doorway of an occupied room, a room that contained a table, three chairs and Ruben Snaith. He came to an abrupt halt in the doorway as if he’d hit an invisible wall and cursed his bad luck. He did everything in his power to avoid this boy, but fate kept throwing them together.

‘Nice to see you too,’ Ruben sneered, responding to Mika’s contemptuous look.

‘Go in,’ the man ordered. The door slid shut and Mika faced Ruben across the table. Ruben glared at him, his pale eyes as hard as frozen floodwater.

‘I see you don’t like each other,’ the man said. ‘I hope you don’t let this affect your concentration; you are being watched.’

Mika looked up to see a camera on the wall. He sat down and tried to pretend Ruben wasn’t there.

The man took some things out of a bag and put them on the table – a plastic maze, a few silver balls and a couple of toy cars with old-fashioned wheels. One of the cars started to roll and Mika caught it with his hand as it fell off the edge of the table.

‘Who did that?’ the man asked, sharply.

‘I did,’ replied Ruben, proudly, then he looked at Mika and smirked.

‘I don’t remember asking you to begin,’ the man said icily. ‘I’ll tell you when to start.’

Two patches of colour appeared on Ruben’s cheeks and Mika smiled.

Maybe competing with Ruben won’t be so bad after all, he thought. He could feel his dislike of the boy killing off all other emotion inside him and firing his determination to win. He wouldn’t have felt that way if he’d been sitting opposite Audrey.

Their first task was to race silver balls through a maze. It wasn’t easy; Mika could feel his brain aching with the effort of it and he realized almost immediately that Ruben’s ball was moving faster than his. He started to panic, thinking he would lose, but luckily he found a better route through the maze and finished first. He looked up as his ball rolled out of the maze to see beads of sweat on Ruben’s forehead and it occurred to him what a horrible world Ruben inhabited – a place where nothing mattered more than proving he was better than everyone else. Ruben, the bully, who only had friends because everyone was frightened of him.

‘Good,’ the man said, scribbling on his tablet. ‘Let’s try something else.’

He put the maze aside and took a red plastic ball out of the bag and placed it in the middle of the table. It was about the size of a tennis ball, light and solid.

‘Right,’ the man said. ‘I want you both to concentrate on the ball at the same time and tell me when you can see the light.’

Mika stared at the ball. He found it difficult to concentrate with Ruben there, so he couldn’t focus properly.

‘I can see it,’ Ruben said, smugly.

‘What about you, Mika?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Concentrate.’

Mika stared at the ball and eventually the inside began to glow with a blue light.

‘I can see it,’ he said.

‘Good,’ the man said. ‘Now I want you both to lift the ball into the air.’

The silence was absolute while Mika and Ruben concentrated. Mika felt a pain behind his eyes because although the ball didn’t look heavy, it felt heavy in his head. After a minute Ruben looked away.

‘It’s making my eyes hurt,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry,’ the man reassured him. ‘I think you’re both too tense. Let’s have a break for a minute.’

They both drank a cup of water before trying again. Mika looked up to find Ruben’s pale eyes glittering with real, murderous hatred.

He’s insane, Mika thought. He looks like he wants to kill me.

It occurred to Mika that Ruben’s malice could stop him finding Ellie, and his anger and hatred began to swell.

‘OK,’ the man said. ‘Let’s try again.’

This time they did it; the ball rose from the table and rolled in the air between them.

‘Well done,’ the man said. ‘Don’t lose it. Hold it there for a minute . . . OK, now I want you both to push it away from you. Mika, push it towards Ruben. Ruben, push it towards Mika. Let’s see who’s the strongest.’

The ball stopped rolling and shook in the air as Mika and Ruben tried to push it in opposite directions. Mika was surprised how easy it was now he was angry, and he was aware of a new noise in his head like the crackle of a fire. He felt suddenly strong and tried to propel the ball forward with his hatred, but the force of Ruben’s resistance was powerful and after a few seconds the
ball did something no one was expecting – it melted and warped mid-air and began to flicker with flames. Both boys continued to stare at it, neither willing to give in, so it shuddered between them, filling the room with black smoke.

‘Stop!’ the man shouted, but they couldn’t stop, their eyes felt glued to the ball.

‘STOP!’ the man yelled again, thumping the table. Mika dragged his eyes away and the lump of burning plastic fell. A fire alarm started to go off and their lungs filled with toxic fumes.

‘Get out of the room!’ the man said urgently, waving his tablet around in the air. ‘Wait outside!’

Mika staggered through the door and headed for a row of chairs, coughing desperately, but before he got there, he felt a sharp tug on his collar and he was off his feet and flat on his back. He looked up to see Ruben standing over him.

‘You fool,’ Ruben sneered. ‘You’ll never beat me.’

‘You want to bet?’ Mika snarled.

‘Yes,’ Ruben laughed. ‘And do you want to know why?’

‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me, Ruben,’ Mika said, ‘so get on with it.’

‘Because you’re weak,’ Ruben said.

‘No I’m not,’ Mika replied.

‘You are,’ Ruben snarled, his face contorted by disdain. ‘You’re damaged. I can smell it, Mika. I smell everything you feel, your confusion and your paranoia and fear. My mutation is useful, not like yours, web-foot. Your love for your sister has crippled you.’

‘So you
are
a mutant!’ Mika said, angrily. ‘You nasty, pointy little frag. Poor Lara. How could you spend years teasing Lara about her teeth when you’re just the same yourself. I hate you and so does Audrey. Can you smell that? Can you smell how much Audrey dislikes you? And her pity? She thinks you’re messed up and she doesn’t want anything to do with you.’

The sensible part of Mika knew it was madness to bait Ruben this way, but he had gone beyond the point where he could stop himself. The crackle of a fire in his head had become a roar and
he watched the sinews in Ruben’s face and arms turn rigid and felt glad. Ruben lifted his foot to stamp on Mika’s chest but Mika rolled to the side, and the next few seconds were a blur of floor as Ruben threw himself on top of Mika and tried to hit him in the face. Mika saw red, literally, it was as if his eyes filled with blood as his anger and hatred haemorrhaged into them. He hit Ruben hard on the mouth and his lip split and blood dripped on to Mika’s face. Then Ruben put his hands round Mika’s throat and started to squeeze. Mika pulled his knee up and gave him a sharp jab in the stomach, thinking that would get him off, but it didn’t work, Ruben was still squeezing and his grip felt so strong it was as if his hands had turned to stone. Mika couldn’t breathe and his head felt hot and he began to feel dizzy. He pushed on the side of Ruben’s head, yanked at his uniform, tried to roll to the side to get him off, feeling increasingly panic stricken. Then a hellish fear gripped Mika. He could hear his mother crying, Ellie calling for him, and what he felt was beyond terror. He fought against Ruben with animal ferocity, the roar filling his head, then suddenly their eyes locked and he felt something powerful surge out of his. Ruben immediately screamed as if Mika had stabbed him in the eyes and he fell sideways on to the floor. Feet pounded down the hallway. Mika clutched his throat and sucked in air. A man held out his hand and pulled him up.

‘You OK?’ he asked, pulling Mika to his feet.

‘You psycho!’ Mika panted, glaring at Ruben, who was still lying on the floor. ‘You’ve got a serious problem!’

‘And you haven’t?’ Ruben sneered, without looking up. ‘Don’t pretend you’re so fragging perfect after what you just did.’

Mika saw a hygiene room across the hallway.

‘I want to wash,’ he told the man. He had Ruben’s blood on his face and he wanted to get it off.

‘OK. But don’t be long.’

Mika staggered into the hygiene room with the roar still filling his head. He washed his hands and splashed his face and tried to calm down. He turned to see Awen cowering in the far corner
with his ears back and the tip of his tail wagging nervously against the wall.

‘Come here,’ Mika called softly, crouching down and putting out his hand. But the dog backed further away with his tail between his legs and the fearful whites of his eyes showing. ‘Come, Awen,’ Mika pleaded. ‘Please.’ But Awen turned and disappeared into the wall and Mika leaned against it and cried with shame.

The smoke cleared, a new ball was found, and half an hour later Mika had to sit opposite Ruben again and pretend nothing had happened. It wasn’t easy; in the middle of the table was a hole where the first ball had melted through it and Ruben was looking at him as if he still wanted to strangle him.

For Ellie, Mika thought, breathing deeply. You’re doing this for Ellie.