Sky Run (11 page)

The man on the shore continued waving as we sailed in, but now there was a big smile on his face.

‘Come in, come in. You're welcome, you're welcome.'

And that was when I noticed the odour.

‘What is that stink?'

‘The skins. That's why they're hung out – to cure them. Takes a while for it to go away.'

‘Well, it smells of –'

‘Rats?' Alain suggested. And he actually smiled. The first one since we'd met him.

‘Come on board, come on board,' the man shouted. We threw him a line and he tied us in. Then we got off the boat and onto the shore.

He was half crazy all right. He didn't just smell like a sky-rat, he'd actually started to look like one. And I'd only ever seen the small ones – not the large variety. He had rodent-like features and his moustache looked more like sky-rat whiskers than anything that normally grew on human upper lips.

‘What can we do for you, friend?' Peggy asked him. ‘You need something? You got some trouble?'

‘I do, I do. Cheese, I need,' he said. ‘Have you got any cheese?'

He wasn't half crazy, I thought. The halves didn't enter into it.

‘Cheese?' Peggy said. ‘Are you serious?'

‘I sure am. I need some. You got some? I'll pay you. Name your price.'

‘I haven't seen cheese, my friend,' Peggy said, ‘in over eighty years. These two kids here have never seen real cheese. I don't know about our cloud-hunting companion –' Alain shook his head. ‘You won't get cheese this side of the Main Drift for crime, love or money. I can give you some soya cheese.'

‘No, no, no. The rats won't go for it. It has to be milk cheese or nothing.'

‘Friend, don't you know your history?'

‘I know I need some cheese.'

‘They brought a few animals from the old world, and that was all. A lot of them didn't survive and the rest – with a few exceptions – only just. And cattle, well, when did you last see an island with grazing on it? There's two islands I know of with cattle on them and that's it. And even there the feed's grown in greenhouses. Cheese is gold dust, friend. Why can't you just have soya?'

‘You don't understand, lady,' the man said. ‘It's the rats.'

And he twitched, in a kind of rodent-like way, wrinkling his nose up as if it was a snout.

‘Can I go and look at the skins?' Martin said.

‘Is that all right?' Peggy asked.

‘Help yourself,' the man said. ‘But are you sure you don't have maybe just a crumb of cheese? There's a big one out there, a big, big one. Been trying to catch it now for two turnings. Wrecks the nets, eats the catches, even killed a shark – I saw it do it. But I just can't catch him. Ignores all the traps. His stomach's too full and he won't be tempted. Doesn't matter what bait I put out, he won't bite.'

Martin and Alain went to inspect the skins. I reached up and felt one of them. They were surprisingly soft – luxurious, even.

‘But he'd take some cheese.'

Peggy looked dubious.

‘How do you know?'

‘Had some once. Bought it off a trader. They love it. Can't resist. Sky-rats and cheese, like catnip. Talking of which, is that a sky-cat you've got there?'

He'd spotted Botcher, peering over the deck rail, wondering if he should risk stepping off the boat and onto land.

‘It is.'

‘He a mouser?' the man said.

‘He's bone idle,' Peggy said. ‘He wouldn't even chase his own tail.'

‘Pity,' the man said. ‘I could do with a good mouser. I had a mouser but he's gone.'

‘What happened?'

‘Rat ate him.'

‘What rat?'

‘The one I'm after catching. Hence I need the cheese.'

‘Well, I'm sorry,' Peggy said. ‘We'd help you if we could –'

‘Wait up,' the Ratter (as I'd started calling him in my head) said. ‘You've got no cheese, but you've got kids. How old's the boy?'

‘What?'

‘The young one?' He was looking at Martin. He and Alain were still wandering among the pegged-out skins. ‘Not the older one, he's no good. He's come of age, hasn't he, or he wouldn't have the scars.'

‘Why are you asking?'

‘Because they like boys.'

Peggy was looking alarmed now.

‘Who do?'

‘The rats. Like boys. Kids. They like the smell of them. How'd the kid there like to make some money?'

‘What was that?'

Martin had big ears when he wanted to have them. You could ask him to do the washing-up and he wouldn't hear you. Mention money and he'd have no problems hearing a pin drop.

‘Oh no,' Peggy said. ‘I really don't think this is a good idea. I really don't think so. I'm these children's guardian. And I really don't think –'

‘Safe, lady,' the Ratter said. ‘Safe as houses. No risk at all. We just leave him out on the far shore there, let the wind carry the scent of him, the big old sky-rat out there gets a sniff, in he comes, we plug him, the boy's fine. No worries.'

‘No, wait a minute,' Peggy said. ‘Just hold on –'

‘I want to do it, Peggy!' Martin was all but hopping up and down. ‘Let me do it. I want to do it. I've never been rat bait before. How much will you give me?'

‘Well … I'll give you fifty ICUs, kid. How's that?'

‘A hundred!' Martin said.

‘Seventy.'

‘Now, just hold on, Martin.'

‘But, Peggy, you said yourself we don't have much money and you don't know how we'll ever manage when we get to City Island, and I can give it to you for when you go back home, to buy some things for your island, or you can even stay too and not need to go back and –'

‘We don't need a hundred ICUs, Martin –'

‘But you had to spend your savings on fixing the solar panels, and that was my fault because of the sky-shark and the leftovers. Oh, let me, I want to do it. I've never been a piece of cheese before!'

Martin might have been my brother but I could never quite figure out if he was brave or stupid. Maybe it was a bit of both.

‘I'll wait with him, if you want –' Alain spoke up.

The Ratter looked at him and at the crossbow in his hand.

‘You good with that?'

‘I can use it.'

‘If you hit it before I do, I'll give you fifty.'

‘We'll see.'

‘See, Peggy. It'll be all right. I'll be the mouse-trap cheese –'

‘Rat-trap cheese, strictly speaking,' the Ratter said.

‘And lure it in, and then Alain and the man'll get it.'

‘No problem, lady. No danger. No dramas.'

‘Please!'

Well, Peggy was never one to play it too safe.

‘We all have to grow up, I guess. If you really want to –'

‘I do!'

‘And it's safe?'

‘Safe as houses. I've caught more rats than you'd believe, lady. Only been bit the once.'

He held up his left hand. I saw he had two fingers missing.

‘Oh, now wait, now –'

‘It's all right, Peggy,' Martin said. ‘It was only a couple of fingers.'

‘I like this boy,' the Ratter said. ‘Like his spirit. Only a couple of fingers, see. You looking for an apprenticeship there, my boy? Rat-skinning, it's a fine life. No two days the same. Fresh air, your own boss –'

‘He's not looking for a career in any rat-skinning,' Peggy said coldly. ‘He's on his way to City Island, like his sister here, and our guest.'

The Ratter looked impressed and thoughtful.

‘Is he? Are you now? That so? You're travelling to City Island? Well now. Is that a fact?'

‘So can I do it, Peggy?'

‘Well … keep your hands out of the way.'

‘We do it now?'

‘No time like it. You all follow me.'

And the rat-skinner turned and set off at a good pace towards the other side of the island, and he led us across some rocks and to a high crag, which stuck out into the sky. It was bare and exposed and you could feel the wind blowing.

‘OK, young fella,' he said. ‘You just stand on the ledge there and think good thoughts and let the breeze carry the smell of you out into the sky.'

‘I don't smell!'

‘Nothing personal, just like natural odours – just you stand there and let that big old sky-rat get the message. Me and the other young fella here will step down behind the rocks so he won't be smelling us. Then when he comes in and starts circling, we'll have him. Young fella's got his crossbow there, and I've got the old harpoon. Can't go wrong, son. Not a worry. This way, if you would, ladies, all got to keep out of the wind. Don't want that old rat there smelling all of us. He'll get his nostrils all jumbled up and won't know what to do with himself. So, if you would –'

So we climbed back down and hid among the rocks, and there Martin was, up on the crag, looked all pleased and proud of himself, like he was the greatest thing since the last greatest thing – whatever that was.

‘Do you think that rat-skinner knows what he's doing?' I asked Peggy.

‘He knows,' Peggy said. ‘But I'm not so sure Martin does. But then there's more to an education than sitting in a classroom.'

The wind was blowing Martin's hair around his eyes.

‘Better get that cut when we get to the island,' Peggy said absently. ‘Or maybe I can do it later …'

The breeze blew; the sky stayed empty. We sat behind the rocks and stayed quiet. My leg started to ache. Then it went to sleep. Then I got cramp.

I was massaging my calf muscle when I heard the sound.

‘Here he comes …'

I peered out from behind the rock.

Martin wasn't smiling any more. He was looking like someone who needed two things – to change his mind in a hurry and to go to the toilet in an even bigger hurry than that.

‘Oh, my –'

It was massive. It looked more like a bat than a rat. Huge, cloth-like wings, a long head with a protruding muzzle, clawed limbs and a rodent's teeth, and two black, bulbous eyes that seemed on the verge of popping out.

The creature fluttered to a halt and stopped on the ledge, a few metres away from where Martin stood.

‘Aren't you going to shoot it?' Peggy hissed.

‘Not yet,' the Ratter said. ‘Only going to get one shot. Miss and he won't be coming back. Let him get in a little closer.'

Alain raised his crossbow and took aim.

‘No firing till I say, young fella,' the Ratter said. Alain nodded slightly, but didn't reply.

The Ratter loaded his harpoon into the gun.

Martin was looking very white. The huge sky-rat was making peculiar clucking noises, and then it began to sniff, long, deep inhalations. And then it hopped, like some great, black rabbit, and it was only about two metres away now.

‘Hadn't you better –?' Peggy whispered.

‘It's OK, ma'am,' the Ratter said. ‘Years of experience. Know what I'm doing.' And he raised the harpoon gun. But the missing two fingers of his left hand did not exactly inspire confidence in you.

There was a whimpering sound. I thought it was the sky-rat at first. But it was Martin. He was standing there with his eyes shut in complete and abject terror.

‘Brave young fella there,' the Ratter said admiringly. ‘Don't often get bait brave as that.'

‘Shoot the –'

The sky-rat leaned forward and sniffed at Martin's neck. It seemed to approve. It tilted its head sideways, opened its jaws, bared its massive, protruding teeth and –

And then it just fell, sprawled to the ground, with a harpoon in its chest and a crossbow bolt in its head.

‘Hope I didn't spoil the skin with that 'poon there,' the Ratter said, getting to his feet. ‘Nice shooting, young fella,' he said to Alain.

‘I'll just get that bolt back,' Alain said.

‘Waste not want not,' the Ratter said. ‘Better get my harpoon.'

We walked to where the sky-rat had fallen. Martin was lying next to it. He'd passed out. Peggy went to him.

‘Martin …'

He opened his eyes.

‘Did we do it?'

‘Hundred ICUs coming your way, young fella. And fifty for the sharpshooter.'

A smile lit up Martin's face.

‘I wasn't scared,' he said. ‘Not at all.'

‘Martin,' I said. ‘You were terrified.'

‘A bit,' he said. ‘But I still did it.'

The Ratter slapped him on the back and nearly sent him flying off the crag.

‘That's the spirit, young fella,' he said. ‘That's the real rat-skinning spirit you've got there. Want to watch me gut him?'

‘Oh, yeah,' Martin said. ‘Can I?'

I left them to it. I'd had enough. I decided to go for a walk.

When I came back, it was all done, and the huge skin was pinioned out with the rest, drying in the sun.

‘Come to the house and get refreshed,' the Ratter said. ‘And I'll pay you what I owe. And there's someone I want you to meet.'

So we followed him back to his house, which was the only one on the island. Rat-skinning was plainly a solitary kind of occupation and not to everyone's taste.

‘Come in and get out of the sun,' he said. ‘We've got water, we've got ice – I make my own, worked out how to do it. Come on in.'

We went inside. The house was small but tidy, and the rooms were shady and cool. He got us drinks and offered us a taste of rat meat, but nobody took him up on it. And then we discovered who he wanted us to meet.

‘Angelica! Come down and say hello. There's some folks here.'

There was silence, then the opening of a door and the sound of steps on a staircase, and then into the room came a girl, about Martin's age. She was extraordinarily pretty behind a pair of big, round glasses, and in her hand she carried a book – one that looked very old and dog-eared, as if it had been read many times.