Breakdown (38 page)

I drop to my knees, roll and drag myself into the thicket.

Careem and Kaylem.

Hide. Escape in the confusion.
The horse. The snarling dogs. The General  … 

Which way to go? Get away from the dogs. With shaking legs I try to stand. Look for a chance.

And there, racing from the far side of Hadrian's Wall, is Tarquin.

Dear God, couldn't you have spared him?

I forget all thought of escaping. I stand up and scream.
‘Get back! Hide! Careem!'

But he already knows. He heard the pans banging, didn't he?
Thank God he's hidden Lenny.
He heard everything.

The rain stops. The moon sails out. Tarquin vaults up onto a long outcrop of Hadrian's Wall. Stands silhouetted. His figure dark against the skyline. My heart contracts.
Tarquin.

‘Come on then, man,' yells Tarquin. ‘Dog's Law. Let's see who's the dog.'

Careem smashes through the trees and bears down on us. In one hand a metal bar, in the other a machete. Long black coat flying.

Tarquin has no weapon, but he doesn't seem afraid. He walks along the top of the wall, as sure-footed as ever. I'd forgotten how tall and slender he was. How broad his shoulders.

Oh, Tarquin.

He stands and waits, his face lit up in moonlight.

Kaylem skulks down the side of the wall, stooping, sly and quiet. I look around for Nailey, but see no one else. Maybe's he's still doing house-to-house searching. In the distance, very faintly, I hear a bugle.

Holy shit
. This is just the advance party, the dogs and the General, Careem and Kaylem. Soldiers are coming, maybe less than half a mile away.

I step back into the thicket, catching my breath, trying desperately to think. Careem vaults onto the wall too. He's not going to give Tarquin the advantage. He swaggers along towards Tarquin, machete in hand.
I must do something
.
Help him.

Kaylem circles round to the back of my patch of thicket. He shuffles about behind the wall. Tries to drive the dogs away from the horse, away from the body of the General. But the dogs are starving. They won't let him near. I can hear him cursing. I peer out, watching. He's looking for something. He doesn't get it. The dogs turn ugly and fly at him. He backs off. I look back at Tarquin.

Tarquin. Dear God, let him be OK.
I search around, looking for any weapon – a loose bit of stone, anything.

Kaylem skirts down the edge of the field, so that he comes out beside Careem. With one easy vault he's on the wall too. Careem passes him the iron bar. The two of them stand there, filling up the two-metre breadth of wall. Tarquin backs off, but there's nowhere to go. The wall ends in a drop down onto rugged terrain. If he gets off the wall, there'll be the dogs to worry about.

Oh God, he's trapped.

‘We got you now,' jeers Kaylem. He winds the iron bar round and round above his head. Careem sways with him as if they've done this manoeuvre many times before.

‘Wanna come quietly?'

Tarquin doesn't answer. Instead he crouches down, steadies himself and then launches forward. His fist flies out.

Careem steps back, lifts up his forearm, his tattooed skin flashing through the moonlight. He blocks the punch. With his other hand he wields the machete. It swishes through the air. The hiss of steel.

Tarquin.

Tarquin twists, dodges sideways, totters on the edge of the wall. The blade passes, misses him.

I taste blood. I've bitten into the inside of my cheek.

‘You can't beat the dog,' sneers Careem. ‘First, I'm gonna cut you into little pieces, then your baby brother next and after that, me and my main man, Kaylem, gonna have a little fun with your ho.'

‘You talk too much,' says Tarquin. ‘Always did.' He lunges forwards, driving his fist into Careem's stomach.

There's a distinct rush of air and a grunt, but Careem only staggers slightly. Before Tarquin can steady himself, Kaylem is on him. He swings his iron bar and it smacks into Tarquin's side.

Dear God, no.

Tarquin staggers back. Misses his footing and falls backwards, spread-eagled on the wall.

Careem gets his breath back.

‘Well,
you
won't be saying anything soon,' sneers Careem. He steps alongside Kaylem.

Tarquin tries to kick out, but Careem stamps on his leg and pins him down while Kaylem raises the iron bar to smash it into Tarquin's head.

I bite down on my lip, scream out.
What can I do? I must do something.

‘No-oo,' shouts Lenny, and suddenly his little figure streaks from its hiding place by the edge of the wall.

Kaylem pauses.

‘Wait,' says Careem. ‘Let's entertain big brother, shall we? Let's slit little Lenny's throat first, and let him watch.'

‘Get back, Lenny,' screams Tarquin, struggling to escape from the boot pinning him. ‘Run!'

But Lenny doesn't listen, he's scrambling up onto the wall, rushing at Kaylem, fists flying.

Careem flicks out his machete
. Oh God, not Lenny.

I shake myself into action. I'm on my feet. I'm moving. No time to think. From the corner of my eye a see a dog bound onto the wall too.

‘Lenny!' I shout. I'm climbing over my end of the wall. Jumping down, landing on rocky stones the other side, scraping my knees. There, on the far side of the wall, the rest of the dogs are gorging themselves on the horse. A few metres off is the General, one dog still tugging at his booted leg, trying to drag him away. His face is half gone, his exposed, still-bandaged arm mauled beyond recognition. He moans
. Holy shit, he's still alive!

But I don't care about blood and gore. I don't care about him.
Bastard
. If I had time I might put him out of his misery. But I haven't. I've realised what Kaylem was after, what he failed to get. I jump, hit the ground running, roll, and suddenly I'm down there, stamping and kicking that dog. I'm going to get the one thing that I need right now.

A gun.

For a split second the dog backs off. Before it rushes back to maul me too, I snatch the gun from the General's belt. I'm rolling over onto my stomach and raising myself up, and smashing that dog in its muzzle with the butt end of the gun. Then I'm on my feet again. I'm racing down the side of the wall towards Lenny. The dog goes back to savaging the body, rips again at the General's face.

Careem sees what I've done. He charges forward, machete in hand. He reaches Lenny, grabs his hair, twists his head back. ‘If you shoot,' he hisses, ‘I'll slit his throat.'

And there's the machete in his hand, glinting silver in the pale light. Pressing right against Lenny's neck.

I take aim.

I hold the gun steady. I've never shot one before. I'm not even sure what to expect, or if I can hit him at this distance and not Lenny. But I don't let any of that show.

Nan always said
,
‘Remember, nobody knows the truth about you, unless you tell them. Make them believe what you want them to believe.'

‘I can take a flea off a dog at this range,' I say. ‘One false move and you're dead.'

‘Shoot and he dies too,' snarls Careem.

I inch forward. From the corner of my eye I see a shadow move.
Don't get distracted.

Careem twists Lenny in front of him.

Don't look at Lenny's face. Don't see the fear there. Look at Careem. Hold your bluff.

‘Drop the machete,' I say.

Tarquin is on his feet, crouching, a look of fury across his face. Kaylem sidles towards the edge of the wall, eases himself away, slides down towards me. There's something else behind him. Can't see it clearly. I don't look.

‘Can't shoot both of us,' Kaylem hisses, and step by step he starts to creep towards me.

Kaylem coming closer. Careem with Lenny at knifepoint.
Oh God what do I do?
I waver.
Help me, Nan. Help me.

But at this moment, Lenny lets out a cry. And from the corner of my eye I see that shadow streak forwards. A dog.

It's the brindled bitch from Games City. The one Lenny fed his little pieces of meat to. The one who rested her scarred and hurt muzzle in his lap.

Like a bullet straight from hell, she streaks past, bounds in airy leaps along the wall, sprints forward, scattering loose stones and, like a demon, flies straight at Careem's throat.

Too late, Careem realises this new danger. He twists Lenny round again. Tries to body shield himself. Swings the machete wide. Shoves Lenny at the dog, hoping the animal will attack him instead.

But the dog doesn't hurt Lenny. She doesn't waver one millimetre.

And Careem's too slow. There's one look of utter surprise. No time to shout, no sound again from Careem's lips. The jaws of the brindled bitch snap to.

The machete clatters to the ground.

Lenny picks himself up, runs towards Tarquin.

Careem struggles.

But pit bulls never let go.

And I wheel round, gun in hand, and shoot.

The gun explodes, jolting my arm.

And like a stone Kaylem drops dead.

On the top of Hadrian's wall, under the waxing moon, with the first streak of daylight in the east, I find them. Tarquin hugging Lenny, the two of them fused together. Their arms open as I scramble up beside them. I'm held in their tight embrace. Lenny's hand slips into mine. He squeezes it under the winter stars.

Tarquin's lips find mine. He kisses me in the fading darkness.

It took us three days to cross Northumberland. We took the dog, the brindle bitch. She was heavy with pups and Lenny said, ‘She ain't going back to no Games City. I don't want them pups being hit and hungry.'

I don't think she would have gone anyway. She stuck to Lenny like glue.

‘Having a dog along ain't such a bad idea, anyways,' said Tarquin.

Of course we didn't wait for the army to find us. We left everything behind, even the gun. We put it near what was left of the General's arm, so it'd look like he shot Kaylem. That's if anyone could work out anything, after the dogs had finished with them.

We wiped out every trace of ourselves.

Lenny said that was a shame seeing as ‘Nobody ain't gonna get the big picture now.'

‘What picture was that again?' said Tarquin.

Lenny tried to explain. ‘How Missa's changed everything,' he said. And how the farm was ‘gonna be different with Harold in charge, 'cos he can do magic,' and how ‘now Careem's gone and that General too, maybe people gonna share out the food, and not just keep it for their own little boys and girls.'

Tarquin hugged him and said maybe that was gonna be true.

And then we set out.

And it looked like Nan was right. The world, when it's left to itself, does recover. Up there by the Scottish borders there's wild rabbit. And where there's one living thing, you can be sure there's another.

We caught enough to eat and Tarquin skinned them. I rolled the pelts up between dry grass, and told Lenny, ‘We got one sleeve of your new coat already.'

I don't think the dog ever had so many bones to crunch on.

When we came down off the moors, it was a clear day, the whole of Scotland stretched ahead. We could see misty mountains rising up to blue skies. A warm wind blew.

I remember it, like it was yesterday.

‘We nearly there yet?' says Lenny
.

I look at Tarquin.

‘Yep, we're nearly there,' he says.

‘Must be just behind them hills,' says Lenny.

He looks at me.

I don't know what to say.

'Cos that's just the place for a secret valley.'

Lenny and the brindle dog run up the hill and disappear round a bend, out of view.

Tarquin takes me in his arms, seizes the chance to kiss me. ‘Spring's coming,' he says.

‘There's nothing there,' I whisper. ‘When're we gonna tell him?'

‘You really should learn to believe in things,' says Tarquin.

I think of Nan. I believed in her. I never gave up, Nan. I got tougher. I fought back. I defeated the underworld. I found my Orpheus.

Tarquin grabs my hand and we run up the track after Lenny. We round the bend and there, stretched before us, is a narrow glen.

It's full of sunshine. A stream runs babbling down to a tiny tarn at the end of the valley. Lenny's rolling over in the long grass, tickling the dog's tummy, playing at counting how many pups are inside.

I sit down on a pile of tumbled rocks that was once a little croft. Tarquin sits beside me. He kisses me again.

‘There's nothing here. I told you.'

He laughs. ‘We better get to work then, innit?'

Tarquin picks up a rock beside us, examines it closely, sets it on another, steadies it.

Then he hands it to me. It's big and very heavy. I nearly drop it.

‘Careful,' he says. He takes the stone off me again. ‘Gotta hold on to that. It's gonna be the cornerstone of our cottage.'

Lenny runs back. He's doing a little dance, all knees and feet and elbows.

‘Look, Missa! Look what I found.'

He throws himself into my arms, twists round, cups his hand over mine and very, very gently, he releases his.

And there, still sleepy from her long winter's rest, is a bee.

Lenny smiles and taps his chest where he keeps the Torch. ‘I told you it was gonna be OK, didn't I?'