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The day after Eloise’s hair chopping ceremony, the curator appeared in the village early, well before the village cockerel shouted its daily wake-up call. She knocked on Hector’s, then Maxine’s, and finally Damien and Nancy’s doors without waiting for an answer. Each of them emerged from their huts, somewhat bemused.
Damien laughed. ‘I thought we had gone back to my childhood. Me and my mates used to love playing knock-a-door-run.’ He turned and called for Nancy to come out into the village. ‘The curator obviously wants to speak to us all. Best not keep the boss waiting,’ he said with a wink to his wife.
The curator stood next to the burned circle of ash where the bonfire had been the previous night, the odour of smoke still lingering in the air. Clasping her hands together in front of her chest, she spoke with a sincere expression. ‘Ladies. Gentlemen.’ She looked around the gathered group of friends. ‘Congratulations on standing up for yourselves and staging a rebellion of sorts.’ Damien, Nancy, Hector and Maxine looked at each other with raised eyebrows and a round of shoulder shrugs. The curator continued, ‘Eloise is devastated about her hair, but she’ll get over it. I have decided that it would be better for everyone if I move Eloise elsewhere, far away, so that your paths should never cross again. Therefore, this island is now a training facility, and you shall run it as if it were your kingdom. Decide amongst yourselves what your individual roles shall be. You have proved yourselves to be mentally strong enough to flourish in the SMG.
‘I shall leave you to talk about it and make plans, and I will come back tomorrow after lunch to find out what’s what.’
The curator didn’t stick around to take any questions from the friends. She marched away in the direction of the forbidden zone.
Damien stood with his mouth drooped open. Nancy laughed and said, ‘You catching flies there, love?’
He saw the funny side and smiled. ‘Yeah, no one has been hunting lately, so I have to get my protein from somewhere!’
Hector scuffed the cold ash with the sole of his shoes and watched it billow up and down. He looked into the woodland, in the direction of where they last saw the curator. ‘So, in actuality, we have been played like puppets on strings to make us mentally stronger? I wonder if the bitches knew what we were planning?’
Damien lifted his eyes to meet Hector’s. ‘It would seem so. It feels just like when I first found the village and was pissed off thinking you had lied to me about there being no other people on the island.’
Nancy folded her arms and shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know how you lot put up with those two women. They are unbearable.’
‘But we really had no choice before!’ declared Hector. ‘We weren’t in the SMG then, and they would punish us for the sake of being punished.’
‘Hmm, I guess I can understand that. No more will we be played, no way. You know what though, guys, since we met the vicar and found out that he is a boss, I wouldn’t put it past the curator that she wasn’t trying to build us up at all. Maybe, since we cut Eloise’s hair, she panicked and she’s just trying to appear to be in control.’
The other three exchanged glances and Damien said, ‘Just because we’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re out to get us!’
Groans rolled around, but Hector, as ever the sensible one of the team, said, ‘This feels like a watershed moment. Eloise has gone, it seems, and if the curator is telling the truth, I think that whatever is going to happen next is in the balance and will either be really rather tremendous...or tremendously shit. We must be very prudent now in what actions we take and concentrate hard on the upcoming lessons and whatever it is that she has to say.’
‘You are right, Hector,’ said Damien. ‘If the curator says we are to reconvene tomorrow, I think we should make the most of the early start and go hunting for supplies in case we are sent somewhere else.’
***
THE FOLLOWING DAY DAWNED, and Damien and his great friend Hector had departed to hunt before the daylight was an hour old.
Damien could tell that something was bothering Hector, judging by how he was carrying himself. His shoulders drooped forwards and his usual smile was absent.
‘Hector, what’s up, mate?’ Damien asked, putting a hand up on the taller man’s shoulder.
‘I don’t know, Damien. Something that I can’t quite put my finger on. I’m thinking that the curator is out of her comfort zone now that Eloise has been sent away. They were like, how do you say, bosom buddies. I know Eloise seemed hurt that the curator put her in her place, and it’s a surprise to me that she allowed us to cut Eloise’s hair. That had to happen for them to take us seriously, but it felt like a step too far in what she could deal with. I’m sure she was lying when she said that she knew we had to get to the point of rebellion. I am worried about what’s going to happen next. She seems a bit unstable, not just creepy. Something is going to happen soon, I am sure, and I just hope that we stay safe.’
As the day went on, the men relaxed and made the most of their time together. Hector hooked a huge fish and Damien helped him to land it. The taller man said, ‘This is great, ja, just like when we went around the island exploring. Somehow, that seemed more like simple days.’
Damien sighed happily, thinking back to the exhilaration of dropping over the waterfall into the sea below. ‘They were some good days. Bloody weird at the time but still fun. Do you remember finding those gravestones in The Void?’
Hector looked up and smiled wistfully. ‘Ah, I had forgotten about that—well, not really forgotten, but you’re right, it was fun to explore.’ He surveyed their catch of food with satisfaction. ‘This is enough for today. Let’s go home and then come out again tomorrow.’