SIX

Bus Ride

 

There was a time and place for rage and Anthony Shelton was a controlled man. When he had been advised of Alex’s absence, he had been furious, but he had contained himself. Being angry would not bring Alex back and that was the most important thing. He set to work immediately, planning, making ‘phone calls, organising. He was very good at organising. Inevitably, any panic he may have felt on hearing the news had passed. The Organisation was smooth, capable and The Clinic was the finest example of that. The search was on, it would be a while before any news came in, Shelton therefore would now allow himself to express his rage. He would give vent to his pent up frustration, he would explore his anger as a psychologist had told him once. He laughed at the expression. What he was really going to do was have some fun. Rage and recreation were brother and sister in Shelton’s mind and the siblings had an incestuous relationship. He changed out of his expensive suit, donning surgical greens. He left his office, Mr Carter, he thought smiling, the doctor will see you now.

 

The telephone rang. The insistent brrring! finally cut through the red mist of his rage. Shelton straightened up, unsure for a second of where he was, then he crossed the room and snatched up the receiver.

“What is it?” He barked into the mouthpiece.

“It’s Elwes, sir. They’ve found the tarpaulin.”

“The what?”

“The tarpaulin. It covered the rowing boat. They’ve found it.”

“Where?”

“Washed up on the mainland, snagged on some rocks at the mouth of a cove, eight miles north of here.”

“Any trace of Alex?”

“None.”

“What about the boat?”

“The same,” Elwes paused, “the sea was very rough last night, sir, there was a real bad storm. The chopper has been up and down the coastline several times now, there’s no trace whatsoever of the rowing boat.”

“What’s your point, Andrew?”

“The helicopter has seen no trace of him, they don’t see how he could have got this far in such a bad storm, I’m inclined to agree with them, sir.”

“I see,” Shelton’s voice was filled with undisguised disappointment with his aide. “Do you have any proof to back up this believe of yours and the crew of the helicopter?”

“No, Mr. Shelton.”

“No, Mr. Shelton,” Shelton mimicked. “Then he’s still alive, Andrew. Do we understand each other? He’s still alive and he’s somewhere on the mainland. I suggest you concentrate your efforts on finding him. What do you think?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep me informed.” Shelton hung up. A faint whisper of a moan came from the chair in the middle of the room and Shelton looked over at the mess that had once been Dean Carter.

“Now, Mr. Carter,” he said to the semi-conscious man in the chair. “Where were we?”

 

Alex spent the first half hour of the journey constantly checking the road behind the bus, wondering just how much longer his luck could last. It was twelve hours since he’d walked out of The Clinic, and a little over a week since he had discovered the truth. About everything. His father, his mother, his entire life. He was a freak, a product of Anthony Shelton’s sick mind, it was not a pleasant thought. But then, nothing about The Adam Project was pleasant when you got right down to it.

Things happen, it was something he remembered Chazz saying one time. Things happen, not for any reason, not because it was part of God’s game plan, not because of someone or in spite of them, but just because. Call it fate, call it whatever you want, just realise that it’s true. Alex didn’t know if he believed that, he just knew that what had happened was the power cut.

The big storm hit the island on Wednesday. He remembered thinking he was lucky it hadn’t hit the day before, or he would not have been able to go to the mainland Christmas shopping. He did not have many presents to buy, and fewer ideas. He wanted to buy Holly something special, but then he always wanted to do something special for her. He had never been in love before.

They went to the mainland together, Joe had flown them across in the helicopter. They had lunch in a busy steak house, all subdued lighting and loud music on the jukebox, they shared the hickory-smoked ribs and he’d laughed when she’d got barbecue sauce all around her mouth. He could remember thinking as he stared into her eyes that this was the happiest he had ever been. He’d given up wondering how someone as beautiful as Holly could love him like he loved her, but she did and that was all he needed to know.

After lunch, they hit the shops. He bought her diamond earrings from Stanley’s. They were smaller than he had hoped but they took all of his money. He had them gift wrapped and met up again with Holly for the flight home.

The skies were dark when they left, the lights of the city receding into the blackness behind them, looking first like the jewels he had seen when buying the earrings, lying there on black velvet, then shrinking, the world seeming to invert so that the lights became the stars in the night sky and then disappearing altogether as they left the city in their wake and headed for the coast.

That night had been the last time he had seen Holly. She was leaving the island to spend the holidays with her parents. Alex hadn’t wanted her to go. Had almost cried when she had to leave. His would not be much of a Christmas without her. Most of the staff at The Clinic would be gone by Christmas Eve; he had no family, not real family. His mother had died giving birth to him and his father only a few short years after that. Alex was twenty years old and had been an orphan for fifteen of those years. Memories of his father had faded as the years passed. He could still see his face, but now the features had become blurred and one day, he knew, he would stop seeing his father’s image altogether. He had no photographs of his parents to help him remember, or in his mother’s case to stare at and wonder what she would have been like had he known her.

All he had had for most of his life was The Clinic. He hadn’t really understood about the island, probably never would have. To him it had been his home and, having no parents aside, it had for the most part been a happy place for him. There were things that happened there, things he had helped Shelton and the others with and none of it had seemed out of the ordinary to him, but why should it, it was all he knew.

Important work was carried out at The Clinic. They had needed his help, Shelton was always reminding him that his father had worked for The Clinic his whole life, had in fact been much more than just an employee, as was everyone else here. As Alex was. The Clinic was a family, he had heard that said more times than he could remember and it was true in many respects. Indeed, after his father had died in that terrible accident, legal custodianship of Alex had passed to Anthony Shelton.

Alex was the only child on the island and he was pleasant, always polite and respectful and in turn he was treated in the same fashion by everyone else. He was given the best schooling and opportunities that other boys could only dream of. He excelled in sports, revelled in contests of any kind, be they against an opponent or only himself. He was physically fit, it was something Shelton and The Clinic took very seriously, he was always having check-ups, his heart rate and blood pressure monitored all the time; but emotionally he was somewhat withdrawn. A combination of being orphaned and growing up in an environment in which he was the only child.

He had never understood why Holly had taken such a liking to him in the first place. The attraction was obvious from his direction. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

She was a research scientist, but she never got around to explaining, what exactly, she was researching. Alex didn’t care. She had been transferred to The Clinic from another facility on the mainland. She had travelled extensively with her work, all over Europe at one time or another and she regaled him with stories of the exotic places she had been and the things she had seen. She always had time for him, whatever her research was, it seemed to give her plenty of free time and most of that time she spent with him. She was ten years older than he but the difference in age or experience never seemed to bother her. He had asked once why she spent so much time with him. “Because I like you, Alex,” was her simple reply and then she kissed him.

No one had ever kissed him before, not like that. No one had ever laid their hands on him the way Holly did. She gave him the full benefit of her experience, showed him pleasures that he never knew existed. Her body was a map and she took him by the hand and led him on his journey until he was familiar enough to no longer need a guide. He told her he loved her and when she told him she loved him back he gave her his soul.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the sudden appearance of the girl, Louise. She sat down heavily in the seat next to him.

“Why are you following me?” She demanded, her voice harsh but low. Alex realised he had been miles away, anyone could have snuck up on him and he would have been totally unaware. He shook his head, partly in negation of her accusation, partly to clear away the cobwebs of memory. The girl took it for the former.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?”

“I’m not following you,” he looked around. The nearest passenger was three seats away and separated from them by the toilet.

“Then why are you on this bus?” Alex looked into her eyes, saw the haunted look there and wondered if his own had a similar cast.

“I’ve got places to go.” He looked out the window, grey fields sped by behind the glass.

“Yeah, right.” The girl snorted.

“So why are you here?” He turned the question around on her, keeping his eyes on the window.

“That’s my business.” She peered over his shoulder at the dull, winter landscape that was taking his attention.

“So why are you sitting here instead of your own seat?” There was a speck in the sky. Alex peered up at the grey clouds.

Maybe it was nothing.

“How did you know my name?” Anger had receded in the girl’s voice, curiosity taking its place.

Raindrops spattered the window, remnants of the last shower. Some ran in rivulets across the glass, vision was distorted.

“What?” Alex dragged his eyes away from the view, stared at the girl sitting next to him.

“Earlier. You said my name.”

“I did?” He feigned ignorance.

“On the other bus. How did you know?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Lucky guess.”

A smear of dirt. On the inside of the window. He reached up a hand, rubbed at the mark with his finger. Condensation, misting up the window, his finger wiped the water from the patch of glass. A finger mark where the dirt had been. Alex peered intently at the glass.

“I don’t believe you.” Accusation in the girl’s voice.

The speck was still there. Only now it was bigger. Closer.

“I don’t care what you believe.” Alex’s eyes fixed on the growing dot.

The girl leaned over, her body pressing into him as she stared past him up at the sky. Flashes of sepia crashed through his brain. No! This was not the time. He forced the images away.

“Who’s chasing you?” The girl’s voice was filled with excitement. The helicopter was clearly visible now.

Alex forced his eyes away from the window, trying to tell himself that it was nothing, that the helicopter was not looking for him. But he knew it was. He just hoped they did not know he was on the bus, that its appearance in the sky was just a coincidence, this was after all a main route.

“No one’s chasing me, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh,” the girl didn’t believe him. She looked more closely at him, at his clothes, the dirt and mud stains on his jeans, the jacket that didn’t quite fit properly. “You’re a criminal aren’t you? A prisoner or something. That’s why that helicopter is after you.”

Alex quickly glanced back out of the window, the helicopter was still there, hanging in the sky, rotors chopping at the belly of the clouds. It was closer but seemed to be holding its position. They can’t know I’m on the bus, he thought again, they’re just checking every possibility. A thought occurred to him then and he quickly turned his back to the window. Binoculars. Someone in the chopper was bound to have binoculars, what if they had already seen him? Had he already been identified? Would they be waiting for him at the bus depot? His heart cranked up the pace and he felt his stomach roll queasily.

The girl saw the look on his face and a malicious grin twitched at her lipsticked mouth. “I’m right, aren’t I?” There was an excitement in her voice, she seemed totally unperturbed by the thought that she may be sitting next to an escaped prisoner. “What did you do?” She whispered almost conspiratorially, leaning forward.

Alex shook his head, “I didn’t do anything.”

“You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. What did you do? Did you kill someone?” The girl’s eyes shone with excitement, she was leaning closer, he could feel her breath on his face, smell the sickly sweet aroma of bubble gum. He grasped her arms and pushed her back into her seat. As he did so images flickered behind his eyes again and he knew why she was running.

“Leave me alone,” he demanded, keeping his voice low and even, his fingers dug into her arms.

“I told you before not to touch me,” she said. Alex kept his grip on her, staring hard at her.

“I’ll scream,” she threatened. “I’ll scream and the driver will stop the bus. He’ll throw you off and then your friends in the helicopter can come and pick you up.” Alex’s grip tightened again involuntarily and the girl winced. “I mean it,” her voice faltered for the first time.

Alex still didn’t release her. “What if the helicopter is looking for you?” He asked her. “What if daddy is in that helicopter? What then?”

The girl recoiled at his words but Alex did not see her face, not there, not then. He saw a room. Even through the murky tint of his vision he knew the room was dark, a bedroom at night, the curtains drawn and the lights off. The girl was in bed, she lay on her stomach, face pressed into the pillow. He saw, or more precisely felt, the presence of another person in the room, in the bed. The girl was crying. He could not hear her sobs, just see the quiet tremble of her shoulders, her tears would be soaking into the linen pillowcase. He saw an arm reach out and pull back the covers and then lift up the girl’s nightdress, pushing it past her thighs, lifting higher…

Alex let go his grip on her arms, fell back into his seat, felt relief wash over him as the colours of the world flowed back into him, releasing him from the sordid vision his touch had conjured up. He swallowed hard and spoke the words again.

“What if it’s daddy waiting up there in that helicopter for you, waiting to take you home? Is your momma worried about you? Do you think maybe she is? And that daddy told her everything would be alright, that he’d come and find you? Take you home? Or is momma hoping that you don’t come back? Is she sitting at home now, with her fingers crossed that you decide you’re never going back, that daddy will never find you, not ever again and that you’ll take your chances on your own, because no matter where you end up, it’s got to be better than where you’ve been? Is that how it is, Louise?

“Take a look out that window, that’s not a police helicopter. There’s no one looking for me, but is someone looking for you? Does daddy own a helicopter? Or know someone who does? Does he know where it is you’d be heading if you were running away? Think about it, Louise, think good and hard. And if you still want to scream, then go ahead, scream. Scream as loud as you like, scream what you like, rape, if you want, but look around you. This is a bus, not an alleyway somewhere, or a field in the middle of night. It’s not a bedroom with posters on the wall or teddy bears on a chair. This is a bus and there’s plenty of people on it, so you go ahead and scream but remember, it might not be me that gets thrown off the bus, or maybe not just me.” Alex sighed heavily, releasing the pent up tension he felt, tried to look relaxed.

The girl cowered away from him. Her eyes widened with horror and revulsion. How could he know the things he just said? She mumbled under her breath, Alex did not hear the words, did not care what they might be. Louise pushed herself up out of the seat with trembling arms, not taking her eyes off Alex. He said nothing more to her, did not look at her as she stood and backed away from him, choosing a seat at the far end of the bus, as far away from him as possible. She glanced out of the window, staring at the helicopter. How could he know?

 

In the chopper, the passenger shouted over the roar of the rotors, instructing the pilot to get closer. The pilot nodded at the man in the adjacent seat. Even though the sky was grey with late December light, the pilot wore sunglasses. His features obscured by the dark lenses revealed nothing of the thoughts in his head. Thoughts of how much he liked Alex and how much he wished this wasn’t happening. He hoped they never found him, that all the searching would be in vain, that the kid would elude their grasp. But inside, he doubted that would be the case. If Alex had made it to the mainland, if he was still alive, then The Clinic would find him. If not through himself and this helicopter then through someone else, somewhere else. Alex would be found, and then Alex would be hurt. The pilot, like most everyone else, had worked for The Clinic for a long time. He knew nothing about death, not at first hand, he was just a pilot, but he knew enough, details were not important. And so, he hoped. He hoped that Alex got away, or failing that, he hoped he had drowned at sea. He knew how bad the storm had been, knew the chances of someone surviving in that were remote at best. With any luck, Alex would have perished in the freezing water, at least the pain and discomfort would have been minimal.

“Take it down lower,” his passenger shouted again. The pilot did as he was asked, working the sticks expertly. The helicopter dipped and the land rose up in the passenger’s field of vision as the aircraft swooped closer to the earth and the road. The passenger scooped the binoculars from around his neck, finger spinning the focus. The bus loomed large in the glasses. He panned the length of the bus, checking each window, looking for a lone traveller, discounting the few that he could see, too old, the wrong sex. Half of the seats were occupied, mostly by couples. He scanned back and forth twice making sure. Shaking his head, he instructed the pilot to fly overhead, from the current angle only one side of the bus was visible. The pilot leaned back on the stick and the helicopter rose again. Beneath it, the bus continued ahead.

 

Alex risked a glance out the window, the helicopter lifted into the air. Had they seen his face, recognised him? He saw the aircraft change direction, realised it was heading for the opposite side of the bus. He guessed that whoever was in it did not have enough angle to see the whole of the interior. He did not want to give its occupants another chance to spot him, if they hadn’t already. He rose quickly from his seat and moved towards the rear of the bus. His eyes found the girl for an instant, she was watching him warily, before he looked away. The small, cramped toilet was two seats back from where he had been sitting. No engaged light was shining and Alex pushed open the narrow door, swinging it closed just as the helicopter began to dip low on the far side of the bus. Sighing, he slid the bolt across and secured the door, leaning heavily against the thin, weak panel. A pale fluorescent emitted a weak glow that gave his face in the mirror a jaundiced hue.

Joe would be flying the chopper, he was sure. But who else would be in the helicopter? And did it matter? If they knew he was on the bus, they could radio ahead, there could be plenty of people waiting for him once he reached his destination. The bus depot could be crawling with Technicians. Shelton himself could be waiting for him.

His legs felt weak and he dropped the lid on the toilet seat and sat down before his shaking muscles betrayed him. Be calm, he told himself, you don’t know for sure they know where you are. If they were sure, they’d have you by now. The bus would have been stopped, boarded. Or am I just being paranoid? Paranoia can be healthy. His inner self spoke up, silent since the rowing boat, but then, it seemed that since then he’d had little time to think, let alone hold a dialogue with himself. What time there had been had been taken up by the girl. He drew some strange comfort from the vile images he had seen when they had touched. His own predicament was dire, but his brief glimpse into the girl’s mind had brought home to him that he was not the only one who felt trapped, frightened or alone. There were many other situations that could be as bad, if not perhaps life threatening. He pushed away the images of the girl and tried again to clear his mind, to focus on his own problem.

The bus station. What would it be like? He’d never seen it, the times he had been to the city he could count on the fingers of one hand and on those occasions, he’d travelled by car or helicopter. How big would the depot be? Much bigger than the one where he’d boarded the bus that was for sure. How easily could someone find someone else in a large bus station? It would be busy, the holiday over for a lot of people, families leaving to return to their own homes, saying goodbye to distant relatives, promising to write or telephone soon. Others, returning home from trips out of town. Parents and grandparents, children running about, suitcases and presents cluttering up gangways. At least, that was the scenario Alex was hoping for. How hard would it be for someone to find him if that was the scene awaiting him when he arrived? More to the point, how hard would it be for him to avoid being seen? Especially when he probably would not know who it was that was looking out for him.

There was a knock on the door. Alex started at the sudden tapping.

“Hey, you going to be long in there?”

Alex looked at his watch, he’d been in the bathroom for a quarter of an hour. “Uh, no, sorry,” he called back. Standing, he flushed the chain, ran some water into the tiny basin and wet his hands and face, patting himself dry with paper towels. He opened the door and glanced sheepishly at the old man waiting to use the toilet. The old man scowled back as he brushed past him and returned to his seat.

The helicopter was gone. He looked up into the grey skies but could see no trace of his pursuers. Only slightly reassured by the absence of the aircraft, he sank low in his seat and waited out the minutes to his arrival at the bus station.