Islanders Page 2

  “That from the kid?” Bad said, pointing at the sheet of paper.

  Ben nodded, and showed them the large cross with a letter ‘N’ beneath it in a circle.

  “Probably nothing,” Bad said. “Anyway, we’ll never know now.”

  Ben looked at the paper, trying to see how it might be linked to the message about his dad. A cross? A letter ‘N’?

  Then the twins stood up.

  “The boat’s ours now,” Bad said.

  They walked to the door and opened it.

  “Hey! Wait!” Ben said. “The boy? What about him? You remember what he said? About my dad? The mainland? This!” He waved the paper in the air.

  “What do we care about your dad? He’s dead, everyone knows that. Like ours.”

  They made as if to leave. But they didn’t leave. They hung around in the doorway.

  “Why, you gonna go looking for your daddy, are you?” Worse said, over his shoulder. They both had their backs to Ben, but they were standing still, waiting for him to answer. “You gonna go to the mainland, Ben? Ha! That’s a laugh. You?”

  Ben ran to the door. “Tell me where my boat is, you creeps!” he said.

  He punched Worse in the back of the head. It was the first time he had ever punched anybody, and Worse was not a good person to start your boxing career with.

  The twins turned, wide-eyed with surprise, almost smiling. No one ever hit them. Worse scratched the back of his head as if a fly had bitten him. But Ben now had nothing to lose.

  “I saw the boat first,” he said. “It’s mine!”

  “It’s ours,” Worse snarled.

  “What about the boy?” Ben shouted, losing his patience. “Where did he come from? What about the message, you moron!”

  Before Worse could smash his fist into Ben’s mouth, Bad pulled his brother out through the door.

  “It’s ours,” Worse shouted over his shoulder, as the two of them stomped off together into the night.

  Chapter Three

  “You don’t believe a word of it, do you!” Ben said.

  Coby sighed, and shook his head. Not a word.

  They were sitting near to the cliff edge at the top of the Island, miles away from where the boat had been, looking out across the sea.

  “So,” said Coby, as if to humor his best friend. “You buried the boy, and hid the boat? All on your own?”

  “Ehm, yes.”

  “And this mysterious boy, he definitely said your dad was alive?”

  “Definitely. And that he was in danger.”

  It was the following morning, and Ben’s face now looked as if someone had dragged a cheese-grater down one side of it. He had always had a smooth, pale complexion, to go with his thick, dark brown hair and his dark eyes. From now on, though, he would have a scar at the bottom of his right cheek, just above the jaw line. Not a big scar, and not an ugly one. But a scar nonetheless.

  “The boy said my dad was alive,” Ben repeated, pulling a fistful of grass out of the ground. “But he’s in danger, something about sull, whatever that is.”

  The color drained instantly from Colby’s face. “Don’t say that, Ben...”

  “What? Sull? You know what it means?”

  “No...” he mumbled, scratching his head as if ants were running through his short, mousy hair. “But it’s got something to do with the war, on the mainland. And it’s not Sull, it’s Sullivan. That word, it makes my dad crap himself.”

  “But...” said Ben.

  “But nothing!” Coby said. “Forget I ever told you.”

  It wasn’t unusual for people on the Island to talk like this, to dream about the dead, to imagine that somehow, miraculously, all the people who disappeared in the war had somehow managed to survive amid the devastation on the mainland. And it was worse for Ben, because he had never even seen his dad. The years had gone by. No one came to the Island. No one left the Island. If John Brewer was alive, why had he never come back to be with his only son?

  “You know,” said Coby, looking out across the sea, “I’m as sick of this place as you. That snake yesterday? I puked all night.”

  “And there’s something else,” said Ben. “Something about the Island. Something’s not right. The Survivors, all of them. All the adults. The way they look.”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  “They don’t look like normal people. Think about all the DVDs we’ve got.”

  Coby was confused. It was true, they watched lots of movies, stuff the Survivors had brought with them after the war. The Island had been a sort of hippy commune before they arrived, and there were small wind-powered generators all over the place, enough electricity to run TVs and a couple of computers.

  “I mean,” Ben said. “Think of the actors in all those movies. What’s her name, the one with the big...”

  “Jay-Lo.”

  “Yeah, Jay-Lo! Have you noticed that the adults here don’t look the same?”

  Coby laughed. “Yeah, right. You think every woman looks like Jennifer Lopez!”

  But Ben was serious.

  “The Survivors here, they... I don’t know... they look freaked. Lost. And,” he paused, as if he didn’t want to go on, “they’re look older than they should. They’re always ill, they have horrible, sunken eyes and they are all starting to...”

  Coby was frowning. He didn’t want to hear it, but he knew that it was true.

  “...they’re deteriorating,” Ben continued. “We all are. There’s not enough food. They give us the best food, the kids get the best food...”

  “Bill,” Coby said, a blanket of sadness sweeping across his face.

  “What?”

  “Bill Leonard. The Spanish teacher.”

  Bill was a hippie. He’d founded the commune on the Island years ago. When the Survivors arrived, he helped build extra houses and the schoolroom. El Billio they used to call him, because he taught them Spanish at the Settlement school. Spanish! Why do we need to learn Spanish, on an Island, they used to complain.

  A few months ago Bill had died. It had been the first death on the Island since the war. People gathered together to celebrate the memory of Bill. Everyone tried to be brave. But they all cried for Bill.

  “Well,” Coby said, very quietly, “my sister told me that she’d heard Mum and Dad talking. He didn’t get ill. He killed himself.”

  “Why?” Ben said. But he already knew.

  “Because the whole Island’s dying,” Coby said, his voice trembling. “Look, we’re eating sea snakes. There are a few chickens, and goats for the milk. But that’s all. We don’t even have enough seaweed to keep warm. Do you want to go on living like this? To be an islander forever, Ben? Do you?”

  Ben knew Coby was right. “No I don’t!” he said. “I’m sick of this Island. I’m sick of it, and I’m gonna...” But he stopped. There was someone behind them. “Who’s that?” he said, twisting around.

  Two ginger-haired boys stood there, shoulder to shoulder, their arms folded. Their bodies cast a large, dark shadow across Ben and Coby.

  “What do you want!” Ben said, jumping to his feet. He was surprised with himself: no one normally talked to Bad an’ Worse like that.

  Coby got up more cautiously. He still remembered the time that Worse had dangled him over the cliffs by his ears.

  “You been talking about anything interesting, boys?” Bad asked.

  “Mind your own business,” Ben said, now truly amazed at his own nerve.

  “We followed you all the way from the Settlement,” Worse said. He pushed his big, grimy face right into Coby’s, and glared. “Just interested to know what you’ve been telling your little friend here.” He pushed Coby to the ground. “Why don’t we all sit down and have a chat about it?”

  Reluctantly, Ben and Coby sat back down on the grass. The twins followed.

  “We were talking about death,” Ben said, eyeballing Worse. “Death on the Island.”

  Worse looked at Bad. They shrugged.

  “So you’ve t
old him all about it?” Bad said, as if he had been expecting it. “We’ll overlook that,” Worse continued, “since you found the boat in the first place.”

  Coby looked at Ben: “So it’s true? You really found a boat? And they know about it?”

  “Yes, they were with me,” said Ben. Then, to Worse: “He didn’t believe a word of it, idiot! But now he knows it’s true.”

  Worse sprang towards Ben. His brother grabbed one of his legs and pulled him back before he could do any damage. Ben shuffled on the grass, trying not to look intimidated; he might have been growing in confidence, but he knew what a beating from Worse felt like.

  Once he saw that Worse was under control, Ben said:

  “You’d better tell me where that boat is. I’m going to the mainland.”

  Bad let go of his brother’s leg. The two of them stared at Ben in amazement.

  “You?”

  “Yes,” said Ben. “I’m going to the mainland to find my dad.”

  “What, really?” Bad said.

  “I’m warning you,” said Ben. “I need that boat. Tell me where it is.”

  “You’re warning me!” Worse said.

  “Shut up,” his brother said. “Let him speak. Ben, are you serious?”

  “I’m going,” Ben said. “Do you want to live on this island forever? Because I don’t!”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Worse said. “Nobody would!”

  “Just tell me where the boat...”

  “I’m coming with you!” Bad said suddenly.

  “Okay,” said Ben, surprised at Bad, and not knowing what else to say. “What about you,” he said, looking at Worse.

  “Is this for real?” Worse said, screwing his pudgy, unwashed face into a frown.

  Ben and Bad nodded.

  “Right. I’m coming,” said Worse.

  All three of them paused for breath, their heads spinning, shocked at the very idea of going to the mainland. Then they all looked at Coby.

  “I guess... I guess I’m coming too.”

  Chapter Four

  Ben now learnt something that that Bad an’ Worse already knew: if you’re going to do something completely illegal, something that’ll cause no end of trouble, then you’d better do it fast, before you change your mind. And another thing: you had better keep quiet about it.

  Coby didn’t quite manage that last bit...

  *

  The next morning Ben waited outside Coby’s house. It was still dark, and there was a cold, biting wind in the air. Bad an’ Worse had told them to be at the south beach before the sun came up. When Coby emerged from his house, he looked up at the sky, shivered, and almost turned right around to go back inside.

  Both of them were in jeans, thick jerseys, and old bomber jackets (all the clothes on the Island were old). Each of them had a canvas bag, and between them they probably had enough food to last a couple of days, if they didn’t eat much.

  “Are you sure about this?” Coby whispered.

  He stood right where he was, not moving.

  “I’m scared stiff, just like you!” Ben said. “But this is our only chance.” He tugged Coby’s arm. “Come on. When will we ever find another boat? If we don’t go now, we’ll have to stay here forever. Anyway, whatever there is over there, it can’t be much worse than here.”

  They set off for the south of the Island. As they walked away from the Settlement, they felt the heavy rumble of nerves in the bottom of their stomachs. They were going to the mainland, where the war had been. The Survivors wouldn’t even talk about the mainland, and now they were going there...

  They took the old road south out of the Settlement, wondering when they would next see the place where they had grown up. The Settlement was a scruffy, miserable sort of village in the middle of a scruffy, miserable sort of island: the houses were built of rocks and mud and odd bricks, with bits hanging off and holes in the roofs. A real dump. And life there was getting more miserable by the day. But it was the only home they’d ever known, and as they walked silently into the darkness that lay ahead, they tried not to look back.

  Ben had that strange feeling that someone was watching them. He imagined the whole Settlement looking on, encouraging him, hoping that he would find his dad and come back to save the Island, to take everyone away and find somewhere better to live. Coby, meanwhile, was thinking about sea snakes, and about what his mum and dad were going to say.

  It was a long, cold walk, and they hardly spoke. Every now and then Ben felt sure that he heard something, a shuffle of feet nearby, a movement in the undergrowth. But each time, he glanced at Coby, and said nothing about it.

  Eventually they came to the edge of the south beach. Their legs were aching. Light was now beginning to peep though the dark clouds in the sky behind them, but out across the sea to the mainland, which lay westwards, there was only black. Down on the beach there was not a breath of wind, and there was hardly a sound from the sea, which glistened, reflecting the first hints of light in the sky.

  Bad an’ Worse were already down by the water’s edge, the boat beside them. Ben and Coby gave one final sigh, and stepped into the sand.

  The twins watched, hands on hips, as Ben and Coby approached.

  “Didn’t think you’d come!” Bad shouted.

  His brother, just for a second, looked genuinely impressed, but soon began scowling again, as usual. Ben and Coby got up to the boat and threw their canvas bags in. There were two similar bags there already, plus a scattering of other things: a couple of oars, a bundle of cloth, a coil of rope, two big water bottles.

  “Right,” Bad said, “we better get going before...”

  “I think,” came a voice from behind them, “there may be one or two things that you’ve forgotten.”

  The four of them spun around. A girl. The first rays of the morning sun illuminated her long, blond hair. She had four big, bulging canvas bags hanging from her shoulders.

  “Silver,” Coby said. “You promised!”

  Silver was Coby’s sister. A strange name for a girl. It’s because I shine, she used to say, because I’m precious! She was the kind of girl who knew she was the cleverest. The kind of girl who infuriates everybody. And just to make matters worse she was annoyingly beautiful, with long, perfectly blond hair that she normally tied up in a ridiculous bun at the back of her head, as if to say I don’t need to make an effort! Which was true.

  “Coby can’t keep his mouth shut,” Worse sneered. “Perhaps he’d better not come if he goes bleating to his baby sister!”

  “To be honest,” Silver said, dumping the bags in the boat, “he couldn’t not tell me. I worked it out, didn’t I, bro?”

  “You tricked me into telling you,” Coby said, sullenly.

  “Tricked?” Silver laughed. “You were dying to tell me. I couldn’t have stopped you. Anyway, I’ve brought a few things that you’ve no doubt forgotten. You want them or not?”

  “What things,” Bad asked.

  “Got a compass?” she said, almost teasingly. Of course, none of them had thought of bringing a compass. “You’re going to explore and unknown country? Without a compass? Well, well... Perhaps you gentlemen were simply going to draw your own map. You thought to bring a notebook and pencils?”

  They didn’t need to answer.

  “Mmm, now, let me see... Got a magnifying glass? No? Good job I stole one from the schoolroom last night.”

  She waved a hand casually at her bags.

  “There’s bandages, a billy can for cooking, fresh eggs, a sack of potatoes, cheese...”

  It was as if she were a mother talking to her silly children.

  “You did bring weapons, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Bad said, “we thought of that.”

  He and his brother took out their sheaf knives. The blades glinted in the rising sun.

  “And you two?” she said, turning to Ben and Coby.

  They hung their heads in shame.

  “There are other things, of course. Too numerou
s to mention, but I think I’ve thought of everything!”

  She stopped talking and looked at them, one after the other, pleased with herself. Then she sighed:

  “Look,” she said, “you’re going to the mainland, where nobody’s been since the war. The Survivors escaped from there, and now they’re too scared to go back. You need someone who knows about the war. Someone who’s listened to the adults, someone who knows the secret history that they whisper to each other, who’s eavesdropped on hundreds of survivor conversations over the years...”

  “Oh, no... No, no, no...!” Bad said.

  The other three, suddenly understanding what she meant, began to shake their heads too. They shook them until they caused a draft.

  “Okay,” Silver said, without losing her temper. “Supposing you have no choice, and you have to eat a sea snake. Did any of you watch them cut it up the other day? Did you listen to them discussing which bits they thought might be poisonous, and which bits were safe?”

  Ben was now staring at Silver with growing admiration. Who else would think of something like that? They needed Silver. They needed her as much as anyone else. But it all depended on the twins.

  Bad an’ Worse thought for a while. They might have been rough, selfish bullies, but they knew what was good for them. Bad shrugged, and nodded to his brother:

  “Okay,” he said.

  But Worse wasn’t looking. He was squinting back up the beach at a strange, shimmering patch of yellow light that was getting closer.

  “Oh no,” Silver whispered, looking over her shoulder.

  “You told them, didn’t you!” Bad sad, as he and his brother rushed to get the boat into the water.

  “I left mum and dad a note,” she said. “That’s all.”

  About a hundred adults were now running down the beach as fast as they could, lanterns in their hands. It was as if a huge fiery caterpillar was scurrying toward them.

  “What we gonna do?” Coby said, his mouth quivering, his eyes flashing to Ben then to Silver then to Ben again.

  “We’re going!” Bad shouted, as he and Worse strained to push out the boat. The twins were orphans. They hated everyone on the Island. And the feeling was quite mutual. So they didn’t care. They only cared about getting away. And this was their chance.