We had all been awake since before dawn. It would have been a good night for sleeping, I imagine, because there was far less snoring and sleep-talking in the Big House than normal. But by the time light was breaking, we had all got bored with pretending to sleep. We still lay there, though, because at the same time, I don’t think anybody wanted to start the day. There’s this glorious bit of excitement that you can have before you try anything big. It’s mixed in with nervousness about the fact that you’ll probably fail, of course, but because the two emotions are mixed in together, it’s really hard to tell the difference. There’s maybe a bit of hope thrown in there as well, but, like I said before, that’s not really a feeling I’m very familiar with, so I can’t be sure. I think we all wanted to savour that glorious mix of emotions, before . . . well, you know. . .
The weather had settled, so we could clearly see the coastline, even the far edges of the bay. The sea had calmed too, and we could even make out some of the concealed wrecks of the houses normally covered by the waves. That would be useful, if we made it close to the shore.
It was a ‘raw fish breakfast’ day, which is my least favourite start to the day, but we were low on firewood. So anyway, all of that meant that we were ready far too quickly. If we failed, we’d know about it before people would have even got out of their beds in the old days – back when people used to sleep in beds, that is.
James had his arm round me and was leaning his head on my shoulder. He’d been like that since we woke up (well, pretended to wake up, anyway). Quiet, and clingy, and unusually sweet. I would have been worried about him, or stopped to tease him, but there wasn’t time today.
‘Morning all,’ said Soldier John.
There were polite murmurs in reply. But mostly, people just gathered around John in silence, grim-faced and tense.
‘It’s a good day for a mission. Clear weather, clear coast. Can I have confirmation that the Jellyfish is behaving as normal?’
‘As normal, sir,’ called one of the men.
‘As normal,’ called another.
The Jellyfish gave another low vibration beneath us; a tiny, almost unnoticeable ripple ran across the whole of the creature like it had just woken up and was starting the day with us.
‘And any active movement spotted on the shore?’ said Soldier John.
‘None definite,’ said Staring Crone. ‘Though there might be something in the treeline at the top of the cliffs.’
‘Noted,’ said Soldier John. ‘Keep an eye on that for us, please.’ He turned to the crowd, a serious expression on his face. ‘There is to be no maverick behaviour here. It’s important, if this plan is to be successful, that we all work together. Is that clear?’
There were more murmurs and nods. I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but it was clear there had been some sort of disagreement last night that we hadn’t been aware of.
‘So most of you are creatin’ a distraction. You’re bein’ loud, and you’re movin’ around a lot. Got it?’
We nodded.
‘Pete is goin’ in the boat, and you lot are ’oldin’ the tentacles out of the way so ’e can get through. OK?’
He pointed to the people with the important tasks.
‘Does everyone know what they’re doin’?’ he asked.
Again, everyone nodded. I couldn’t see that he was talking to any one person in particular, but there was an edge to the question which made it look as though he was.
‘Can the boat volunteer step forward, then?’
Pitiful Pete gave a wave as he walked off towards the boat.
We gave him a round of applause, but by this stage you could really feel the excitement, so it was a quick clap, and nobody really looked at him.
‘I’m nervous,’ whispered Kate. She held out her shaking hands to show us.
I gave her a reassuring smile, but I felt strangely distant from it all, like I was looking down at it happening to somebody else. Like I could see a load of people, little specks on a piece of wobbling phlegm, buzzing around pointlessly on a tiny, insignificant corner of the sea.
‘Can I have the tentacle teams up?’
Four others stepped forward. They grabbed the plastic-bag ropes and went off towards the boat.
‘The rest of you. Get to your positions. And good luck to us all.’
‘Good luck.’
‘Good luck.’ We all nodded at each other, and walked slowly towards the centre of the Jellyfish. James still had his arm around my waist, just casually, as though he’d forgotten where he’d left it. Today, right now, I didn’t want to remind him. And I didn’t care if the others made fun of me afterwards. It felt good to be close to somebody.
‘Get ready,’ said Soldier John, looking over towards the boat. He put his hand up in the air. For a moment, all was silent, apart from the wind. We kept our eyes fixed on him.
Then he shouted. ‘Choir, go!’
We started to sing, loudly, and tunelessly.
‘More!’ he shouted again.
We started to scream, and shout. No longer words, just utterances. Lana was red in the face with the effort, and several people were shaking their heads as though it would make the noise come out more loudly. The Jellyfish seemed to stiffen beneath us, as though it was listening to what we were doing.
Then Soldier John dropped his hand.
Immediately, we started walking towards the far side of the Jellyfish, the boat and the shoreline at our backs. We pounded and stamped and jumped towards the other side, as far away from the boat as possible. We screamed and shouted and roared. We waved and spun and swore. Wilder and crazier and louder.
‘Come on!’ shouted Soldier John, his voice somehow booming above everything else.
The water was already starting to pool around my feet, the jelly already starting to tilt.
‘Don’t stop!’ shouted Soldier John.
Louder and louder, we pounded forward, wailing. Slowly, the jelly began to rise behind us, then more rapidly. I could feel the mucus forming around the back of my ankles, the angle of our world starting to change.
‘Keep going!’
We were right on the edge now and shouting louder. The Jellyfish tilted right up behind and then, with a juddering lunge, it suddenly jumped twenty degrees further. All that was holding us on now was the sticky mesoglea, but I could feel even that shifting and liquefying beneath my feet. Three people jumped in, then four more. They started swimming away from the creature.
‘Don’t stop the noise! We need more time!’ shouted Soldier John.
We started screaming again. Next to me, James jumped in, and then Lana, both of them shouting and bellowing with all their might. I jumped in too.
Beneath me in the sudden coldness of the water, I could feel the short tentacles squirming around; so many, like a mass of twisted seaweed or fur. Sometimes they’d catch on my skin and clothes, a moment of stickiness before continuing to move. Moist, smooth flesh forming and adjusting itself around me.
The last of the people jumped in, or fell in, so we were now all in the water. Some of us stayed next to the creature, but others swam wildly out into the open ocean. We all carried on shouting, but our energy was dipping.
Up above us I could no longer see the boat, only the gap in the jelly where it had been. And on either side, four men were hanging off the plastic-bag rope, which they had tied around the tentacles. They were gripping firmly, and the long tentacles were still restrained, their muscles pulling against the rope, the thinner tendrils at the top careening wildly in mid-air.
Kate grabbed my arm and gave me a grin. Her loud song was about ‘being happy’ and ‘this is great’ and ‘we’re doing it!’
But then suddenly there was a shift. With a great groaning roll the jelly mesoglea started to seep backwards, in oozing waves of mucus. The men disappeared from sight as the Jellyfish levelled itself, and Soldier John clambered back up. Behind us, the tentacles started collecting and throwing upwards those people at our end who had swum the furthest away. There was a change in the movements in the shorter, stroking tentacles. More menace, more stickiness, more a sense that you were being pushed back in towards the creature again.
‘Climb back on!’ shouted Soldier John. ‘Climb back on!’ There was a note of desperation in his voice which I’d never heard before, not ever, during any of the other escape attempts. ‘Now!’ he shouted again, his voice cracking in his urgency. He leant over and started pulling people up. Over our heads there was the flying buzz of the large tentacles whipping somebody out of the water.
I swam quickly, reaching up for the hands that pulled me in. And then I looked over, saw what they saw. There, on the other side, was the smashed mess of the shattered, shredded boat; there was the fragmented remains of the plastic-bag rope; there were the angry, waving tentacles. But there were no people.
Of the people who had been holding the ropes in the escape attempt, there was now no sign.