16

There followed a long night.

Mikey and I, in the dirt, on our fronts. The faces of the Church ringing us like flames on a burner. Our ribs and collarbones aching and singing.

‘He is like us yet, brothers and sisters,’ spoke Brother Terry of Mikey. ‘He knows how to suffer as us.’ He was enjoying himself, striding and smiling and tasting the air with his cracked tongue.

‘Pain is an illusion,’ he boomed, later on. ‘The mind creates sensations as ways of coping. If you are scared or are in pain or are angry you are running from God’s word.’

We had not spoken for the entire night but we’d been thrown down with our heads close. I could see the skin around Mikey’s mouth stained dark where the spittle mixed with dirt, brushing his cheeks when he moved his head. As the parishioners mooned around us, nervous and quiet, we listened to the whining trees and rasping wood sounds, straining for any other far off noise.

We were anticipating bombs.

Mikey fish-flopped over to me in a quiet moment. He opened his mouth and I shushed him before he could speak, wriggling sideways on my belly to get closer.

I mouthed, What?

‘They’re going to kill us,’ he hissed.

I shook my head. No. ‘It’ll be the bomb gets us.’

‘Well, anyway!’ he whispered, voice tight with fury.

‘What’s your rope like?’

He stretched himself upwards at the head and feet like a seal. ‘Tight,’ he wheezed.

‘Mine too,’ I said.

I’d been working against my ties the whole night. They had not budged.

And then I saw this wave of hopelessness crash over my brother’s face. He closed his eyes and his mouth and his nostrils flared from heavy exhalation and he looked so young. He looked like the boy he was, tied up on the ground, scared, friendless, in a different part of the world. For the first time in our journey I felt a worm working its way into my breast and it was guilt. It was churning and writhing itself into my flesh, coming from the outside, and I was looking at Mikey and seeing everything the world had taken from him. His adolescence, his pride, his future, his past. And I had been complicit, because I had tried to protect him. That had been my intention and look how it turned out.

Everything you touch, I thought to myself, turns to shit.

 

I suppose I must have slept because one moment it was dark and the next it was light. My spit had trailed down my top lip and were pooling in my nostrils. I woke up snorting and gasping for breath, my first thought that I was being choked or smothered in my sleep.

‘Christ,’ I gagged, spitting and blowing my nose into the dirt before my face. I swivelled round as best I could to get away from the mess. My hair was so long it trailed in the wetness and clung to my jaw.

All I could see of Mikey was the crown of his head, the little wonky spiral of stubble with a heart of white scalp. I rolled over and bumped him. He didn’t rouse.

‘Mikey,’ I hissed.

No response. I rammed my shoulder down on his stuck out elbow and he sprang up with so much force that he slipped onto his back.

‘What’s going on?’ he shouted, his voice ringing out among the birdsong and insect hums of early morning.

‘You were asleep,’ I said.

‘No way.’

‘Aye.’

‘Has anything happened yet? Any explosions or that?’

‘Nothing yet.’

‘I hate this, this waiting.’

He was right. The woods ached with potential. All air was welcoming a blast.

‘We need to do something,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to sit here and wait to get fried.’

‘What then?’

I rolled myself onto my back and then over to my front, grunting. The ties were still strong, especially around the ankles. ‘Fuck knows.’

We lay together for a while, struggling to face the sky, the branches and leaves like spilled ink against the pure white morning. A jet flew over, unzipping the clouds, while I thought.

 

It wasn’t until late in the day that I started to lose it. I’d been on the ground, my limbs tied, for maybe half a day and I started to lose my mind. I couldn’t stop picturing Isaac, over in the base. What was taking him so long? Was that part of the plan, that he would lie low to let suspicions disappear and then…

I kept gasping, thinking I’d heard an oncoming explosion but it only being wind rifling leaves or my own breath, moving in my chest.

It’ll all be over before you know it, I told myself. You won’t even be around to hear the sound. Everything you’ve ever known will be gone, like that, take some comfort from the suddenness of it.

‘Mikey,’ I said.

‘What?’

I couldn’t think of what I meant to say, so I said nothing, and then some time passed, which might have been another half day or a solitary heartbeat.

The camp was melting away, only the steaming fire remaining. I was nowhere. I was within fear. One of the robed figures, smaller than the rest, was coming towards me. I strained my neck to face forward, spine aching. She was getting close, but why was she so blurry? Was it the fire’s smoke or were my eyes giving out from stress?

‘What’s going on?’ I asked and no one answered me.

She squatted in front of me and then I could see her face. She cocked her head at me, her eyes round, wide.

‘Tell me what’s happening,’ I said.

‘You’re losing it, Paul,’ she said.

‘I can’t be.’

‘You are,’ she said, pushing her hair behind her ears as she inspected me. The look she had, it wasn’t pity, it was something else.

‘What’s going to happen to me?’

‘The fire’s going to rip through you. The atoms are going to pierce a million holes in your skin and everything about you’s going to drip out. You’re going to float away.’

‘No,’ I pleaded.

‘It’s true.’

I nodded and let my face drop, into the dirt made damp by my mouth’s leakings. ‘Where have you been all this time?’

‘By myself,’ said the wee lassie.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Why did you let it happen to me, Paul? Why didn’t you stop it?’

‘I… I couldn’t,’ I choked. I was crying. I hadn’t cried since I was a baby.

‘I think you could have. I think you didn’t want to.’

‘No,’ I said, shaking my head, burrowing my lips into the rank earth. I couldn’t face her.

‘I think you liked watching.’

I said nothing. Dirt clung to my teeth like rich cake.

‘I think you got off on it. Are you crying, Paul?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you remember how I cried? Do you remember how I bawled and pleaded for my mummy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to go home? Do you want to go home, where it’s warm?’ She didn’t wait for me to answer. There was no malice or anger in her voice. ‘Do you know how long I was out in the cold for before a dog sniffed me up?’

‘A long time,’ I said, finally bringing my face up again.

‘A long time,’ she said. ‘Come with me.’

There was her face, just like in the papers. Straight, thin hair, a placid look. A school photograph, I think.

‘I don’t want to,’ I sobbed. My lungs burned, from the pressure and from the fear. I could feel my cheeks and eyes fill with hot blood. ‘Just tell me what’s going to happen. Please?’

‘I already did.’

‘But, no,’ I said, jerking myself towards her on my belly. ‘Be honest, tell me the truth. It can’t be the truth. I’m not going to die.’

‘You are. You’re going to die and then it’ll just be me and you, together, forever.’

My mouth was open and my eyes were closed.

‘Do you remember what you said to me?’

I shook my head, eyes full of the blackness of lids.

‘You asked me what I was crying for. You told me it would all be over soon enough.’

‘That was Mikey, not me.’

‘It was both of you.’

I shook my head. No.

‘Well guess what?’ she said and I opened my eyes. She was inches from my face, peering into me like a curious bird. ‘It’ll all be over soon enough.’

I gasped and blinked and she was gone and I was on my back and my hands were crippled from the weight of me. My brother was over me. He was beautiful and real. I saw for the first time that he had heavy eyelashes like a girl’s.

‘Paul? You all right man?’

‘I was dreaming,’ I said.

‘You were shouting.’

‘It was horrible. Mikey, it was her. She was here.’

‘Who was?’

‘The wee lassie. It was the wee lassie Mikey. She told me we were all going to burn.’

His face fell. ‘There’s all dirt on you.’

‘She was here Mikey. I seen her.’

‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ he said, shuffling away and lying down.

A sound appeared in my throat that was both amusement and horror. My blood had been roaring away for hours and I was exhausted.

‘She was here,’ I repeated. ‘She’s all right.’

My brother ignored me.

In the time I’d been out a few more police had arrived. They stood around by the opening of the path, conversing with Brother Terry who was now fully robed. He was wearing an elaborate feathered headdress also.

‘Hey,’ I shouted, twisting my back. ‘What’re yous lot saying?’

They cast annoyed glances in my direction but did not address me.

‘Hoi! Hoi! Look at me. What’s going on? When’s the boom?’

One of the coppers gave me the fingers and I laughed, loud and mad. I no longer feared what they would do to me.

‘Fuck off,’ I shouted. ‘Fucken pigs. They’re going to kill us. Listen, listen! They’re going to blow us the fuck up.’

A few of the campers, loitering by the fire and in the doors of tents, started to show an interest. Their faces went from me to Brother Terry.

‘It’s true,’ I screamed.

Brother Terry pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, before ambling over to address the camp at large.

‘There may be,’ he said, ‘a small explosion or two. It’s nothing to worry about. It’s all part of the grand plan. Don’t listen to this lunatic, who I would remind you is only present because of his brother’s status.’

I saw the big bald guy scowl.

‘That seems sort of maybe dangerous,’ he said, stepping forward.

Brother Terry muttered something beneath his breath before smiling and nodding. ‘It won’t be,’ he confirmed. ‘Now, can we do something about this one?’

The police then proceeded to attack me. I did my best to curl into a ball so as to protect my body but inside I couldn’t even feel them. I was flying above the treetops, the land wide open for miles around. Silver lochs cradled the feet of mountains in their bends, carnivorous birds arced curves of perfect still re-entry, the ice-blue universe pressed against the sky’s dome. I flew until I felt radiation burn my belly and I saw the sprawling base below me.

I could pick out Isaac by the colour of his hair. He looked up at me and waved. I waved back and then he pulled a strap on his rucksack. I was buoyed upwards by the force of the blast, a bowl of hot cloud forcing me to the edge of the sky. All my clothes had been burned away and my dick flapped like a dog’s tail in the rippling wind.

Once the men were done they left me alone to recover. I asked Mikey when it was going to happen and he told me that he didn’t know. He wouldn’t look at me when I sobbed.

 

Then the next night came too and it was obvious even to me that things were starting to unravel. The Church lit the lamps around the camp and had a go at rustling up dinner. They did not do a good job.

People were dishevelled. It was too quiet.

Brother Terry approached us as his followers were hunched over bowls of something foul smelling. Or rather, he approached Mikey. He kneeled in the dirt beside him, the headdress wonky on his slick hair. He sighed.

Mikey gave me a look.

Brother Terry sighed again and blinked and there was moisture in his crow’s feet.

‘Am I doing the right thing?’ he whispered.

Mikey opened his mouth and then closed it again.

‘You’re not,’ I said. ‘Definitely.’

‘I wasn’t asking you, you mad bastard,’ he snapped, and then to Mikey, ‘Well?’

‘It feels a bit much,’ said Mikey.

‘But didn’t you say you were the resurrection, that anyone who believed in you would live after death?’ There was a hint of desperation in his voice, a pleading quality.

‘Maybe,’ said Mikey.

‘So what does it matter if it goes wrong, if my plan doesn’t work? We’ll all be all right, won’t we?’

Mikey looked up at the sky. ‘It’s hard to say exactly.’

Brother Terry nodded, apparently satisfied. As he walked away he checked his watch and muttered, ‘What the fuck’s taking him so long?’

 

Then the first explosion came.

A noise, one slow roll of thunder and everyone stood up, apart from Mikey and me.

I lost it again.

My body convulsed against my will. I screwed my eyes so tight shut that my brain was sore and auras of colour vibrated in the dark. I waited for the end to come, but it didn’t.

Everyone – the Church, the men, Brother Terry – stood at the far end of camp, watching the far off base through the trees. They were whole, their bodies unvaporised.

‘What the fuck?’ I whispered, my mouth gummed with lack of water. I could smell my own breath.

Mikey struggled to his knees and then hopped to his feet. I looked up and his head blocked out the moon. He squatted and helped me to my own feet. It was difficult. My head was full of static and my joints trembled from my weight. We worked in silence, the backs of the group to us, before starting to hop across the camp.

My breath skipped and my nose ran and overhead was the sound of jets roaring, clouds rubbing. We hopped out of the clearing and onto the path. We managed to cut our hands free on sharp branches and then were able to untie our own knees and ankles. I felt weightless, free for the first time. My blood was kicking in harder than ever before. If I’d stumbled upon Brother Terry I could have executed him with even the softest parts of my hands.

On we went, sprinting down the path, over the footbridge, towards the van. There were lights in the trees, lamps left by the protestors, but also torch beams knifing into black spaces. There were shouts following us.

I think I was shouting but all sound was so far away. I might have been screaming but the words were like gentle whispers in the recess of my mouth.

‘Oh fuck,’ I whispered. ‘Oh God. Oh Jesus Christ,’ I screamed.

And then the van loomed out of the trees, huge and pale, and we were in it and Mikey was trying to drive but in my hysteria I fought him off.

‘No,’ I whispered. ‘It has to be me.’

There were hands slapping on the windows of the van, curled fists thumping on the glass, I couldn’t see their faces, just the hands, skin paling against the glass.

‘What are you laughing at?’ asked Mikey.

I didn’t answer him. I wasn’t laughing.

I lurched the van forward and turned out onto the road. The loch was wild with moonlight and I had my foot on the floor and the engine was squealing.

‘Change the fucken gear,’ said Mikey, shaking my arm.

I did as he said and we zoomed away, the dark houses and dark greenery smearing by us while the water and the moon stood solid.

‘We’re going to do it,’ I whispered.

‘Stop shouting,’ pleaded Mikey.

I stole a look at his face. It was horrible.

‘Sorry,’ I whispered.

Bright light shone on the side of Mikey’s face. I checked the rear view. Headlight, full beam. They were after us. Mikey flipped himself off his seat and stumbled into the back.

‘I think it’s them coppers,’ he shouted through.

‘We’ll see about that,’ I whispered, forcing my big toe as hard against the accelerator as I could.

We were approaching the base, its huge concrete structures were manifesting in the black sky. A column of smoke was rising from the inside – the fruit of Isaac’s labour.

Keep going. There was a tankful of petrol. Keep going.

Eighty miles an hour.

‘They’re flooring it,’ shouted Mikey.

I gritted my teeth and kept going. The road was veering beside the base and I was only a few feet away from the wall of nearest building. We’d clear it soon enough and be in open country.

‘C’mon you bastard,’ I whispered to the van, pressed back against my seat from the onwards, onwards, onwards thrust.

‘They’re right behind us,’ said Mikey, and I knew he was right because the van was bathed in white light, and in that white light I saw figures emerging from the woods on the right like angels. I really thought they were ghosts or angels, I believed it. I saw them hold hands to their faces to shield themselves from the brightness of the cars. One of them wore an elaborate feathered headdress.

We were nearly beyond the base when I felt the wheels go out from under me. The van spun.

An eruption of matter blasting across the road.

I think I was smiling. I think my eyes were half-closed. The world was ringing, roaring.

Well, I thought. Here it is at last. Now we’ll see what’s next.

The van spun around and came to a stop and we were facing back the way we’d come. The base’s fence and the wall we’d passed were littered across the road and the coppers’ car was on its back, burning. Smoke was rising from the van’s bonnet, hypnotising me. Fingers forced their way around my neck muscles, forced their way into my mind.

Leave me alone, I said, I’m watching the fire.

‘Paul.’

Just let me be. Let me go.

‘Paul. Fucking move.’

The smell that hit me as the van’s door opened. . . electric smoke and broken rock and something else, something irony. The road was smeared with a glistening substance. It was blood, coming from the coppers’ car.

‘Wow,’ I said.

I looked at the coppers’ car and I looked at the hole blown in the side of the base and then Mikey came into focus, right in front of me. His mouth was moving but my hearing was gone, blown. He was pleading with me, tugging at my clothes, throwing his head back in the direction of the woods.

‘It’s blood,’ I said, as I checked my own body.

I let Mikey drag me across the road, past the upside-down car and the fire warmed my face. The car’s interior looked like a jar of jam – glass and red jelly. I let myself be pulled over the ditch and into the woods and away from the carnage on the road.

 

We ran through the trees and the smell of smoke was still heavy in my lungs.

It doesn’t matter, I tried to tell Mikey, I’m going to die anyway. The wee lassie said.

He didn’t turn back so I kept pace with him, running doubled over, dodging the trees that threw themselves in my path. Where were we going? I didn’t know anymore. This whole time I’d known exactly where we were going and I’d been in charge and no one ever beat me, not once, and now I was following my brother into nothingness and I did not care. I would follow him and I would do what he told me and I would be glad.

There were ghosts in the forest. At first I thought the Church had caught up with us but then I ran through one of them.

I said for Mikey to look at them. There was Duncan and there was the American boy and there was the man whose house we’d taken and there was the cat that I’d locked in an abandoned cellar out by the old Sinclair tile factory. They were watching me from behind trees but I wasn’t scared of them because I knew they wouldn’t do anything until the wee lassie was close.

When we reached higher ground we looked down through the trees and we could see the smoke rising from the base and out on the loch there was a tiny fire. A tiny fire, in the water. You could just make out its flailing limbs and the water reflecting fire around it.

‘Is that Isaac?’ I asked.

Mikey didn’t answer me, so I mustn’t have said it out loud.