“You don’t think you’re going to leave me here when my best friend’s in danger, do you?”
It’s amazing what you can do with a bit of MDF. The Rogers and their fellow fugitives had used the lightweight panels to create a series of rooms within the huge cellars and subways that stretched the entire length of the city. Some said the city had been built on top of an old fort dating back to the middle ages – a town upon a town – but few people had explored it. Now, it provided the ideal shelter for Stewart and Dahlia Rogers, along with others who’d escaped from Elymas’ evil clutches. ‘Dissidents’, he called them, whom he planned to eliminate.
One couple were particularly keen to meet Odi. Richard and Jennifer Hadwin hadn’t been there long. Just two months previously, Uncle Jeff had finally found them and organised their escape with help from a submarine and a few sticks of dynamite. They’d been prisoners on a remote Scottish island with nothing but an airless cell and a well-equipped laboratory where Richard was brought every day to work. His choice was stark – either he came up with a formula that would destroy all vegetation on the earth, or, so he was told, he would never see his children again. Meanwhile, his wife Jennifer had been instructed to put pressure on him and, to this end, was treated to a series of videos showing how the children were faring under the ‘kindly’ attentions of Alazon Smyle. Night after night, she’d watch as Alice swanned around the high spots of the world, becoming more impossible and temperamental. She’d cringe to see her eldest son surrounded by the latest gadgets, bored and angry and increasingly demanding. And she’d weep whenever the children cried for ‘Mum’ knowing she wasn’t there for them.
Perhaps what hurt her most was seeing Joe. Joe, pale and anxious, lying on his bed uninterested in anything. Joe, still and silent, gazing into space. Joe, never smiling. Joe, alone and oh-so vulnerable.
In reality, Joe had smiled a lot, especially when exploring the park with Roots; the others hadn’t been nearly as brattish as all that, nor had any of them suffered too desperately, thanks to Laurel, although Jennifer Hadwin couldn’t have known that; the videos had been carefully edited and all she saw were her children suffering or throwing monstrous tantrums.
Meeting Odi was such a relief. The boy’s account of his adventures with Joe, Miles and Alice did much to set their mother’s mind at rest and she hung onto every word he said. Nothing was too trivial; no detail too small, no snatch of conversation too humdrum.
“Thank goodness they’re alive!” she kept saying.
“Yes, but for how long I just don’t know,” remarked Odi, tactfully. “That Smyle will stop at nothing when he’s mad. In fact, if he decides he doesn’t like somebody, then……”
Uncle Jeff interrupted him firmly: “All the more reason to get going!” he said. Jeff, Richard Hadwin and Odi’s father had been deep in conversation of their own and were now geared up for action.
“We’re going already?” cried Odi, leaping to his feet.
“We? What do you mean, WE?” said Mr. Rogers.
“You don’t think you’re going to leave me here when my best friend’s in danger, do you?” Odi protested.
“I think you’ll do precisely what you’re told, young man,” his father replied, “and no arguments!”
Odi stuck out his bottom lip defiantly. “If it wasn’t for Joe, I wouldn’t be here now!” he argued. “I was in this at the start and I’ll be there at the finish!”
“I’m coming too!” Jennifer announced.
“No!” replied her husband, “It’s too dangerous!”
But Jennifer wouldn’t be dissuaded. Her children were out there.
Eventually, there was a long convoy of vehicles. The Hadwins with Jeff in his Porsche, the Rogers in their People Carrier, and van-loads of fellow dissidents, all heading for Fernilee and the final showdown.
Chapter 36
Joe became aware of another noise, the noise of several engines, and he could feel a stiff breeze swishing through the valley.
“Choppers!” cried Roots. “We need to take cover!”
Huddled under a rock in the shadow of Kinder Scout, Roots sniffed the air. “There’s a storm brewing,” he said, “about two hours away I guess.”
“Do you think Prism’s still looking for us?” asked Joe.
“You know her better than I do, Joe,” his companion replied, “but we’ll be safe here, at least for a while… and look! I’ve got some mushrooms. Picked them fresh this morning while the dew still lay.”
Joe eyed the fungus suspiciously. “Go on, they’re quite safe to eat,” urged Roots. “There’s some’ll give you nightmares, but this one’s fine.” He picked some of the dirt off it and began to nibble.
“We’ll stay put until nightfall” he suggested, “then we’ll head for the canal. Perhaps try and find the Judith Rose again, how would that be?”
Joe nodded wearily. He just wanted a place to rest his head and was content to let Roots make the decisions. If only he could sleep…….
He felt himself drifting and was vaguely aware of Roots putting a fleecy jacket on top of him. After that, he began to dream. He was home again with Mum and Dad and his brothers and sister, sitting in front of the fire with a mug of steaming chocolate and the neighbour’s cat rubbing itself against his leg. It was all so quiet and peaceful…….until Mum switched on the vacuum cleaner!
“Wake up!” she said. “Wake up Joe!” and he opened his eyes to see it wasn’t his mother but Roots, shaking him urgently.
“We’ve got to get out of here, quickly!” Sitting up, Joe became aware of another noise, the noise of several engines, and he could feel a stiff breeze swishing through the valley.
“Choppers!” cried Roots. “We need to take cover!”
“They’re looking for me!” Joe wailed. “Leave me Roots, that way at least you’ll have a chance.”
“Sack that for a headful of nit eggs!” Roots was genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “You and me’s a team, right? We’ll head for the river where it’s narrow. With any luck, they won’t be able to land there.”
They ran towards the river and dived under a shrub just in time to avoid being discovered.
“Which way now?” gasped Joe.
Roots turned to look behind him. From the distance, he spotted specks of light coming towards them from the housing estate. “There’s only one way to go – UP!” he cried. “Follow me!” and they waded knee-deep through icy water as a faint rumble of thunder could be heard.
“Well, this is just the place to be in a storm,” remarked Roots wryly. “Let’s hope we don’t get any lightning.”
The words had hardly left his lips when the sky seemed to split in two, ripped by an astonishing fork of electricity. Joe counted slowly, as Captain Catastrophe had taught him.
“One…two…three….four…..five…..six….sev……” There was an ear-drum-bursting crack of thunder. “Seven miles away,” he reckoned and continued the upward climb, as the sky turned an ominous red and the helicopters swarmed like migrating swallows over the valley. By now, Joe’s teeth were chattering with cold, but he carried on bravely, not complaining.
“Do you think they can see us?” he asked.
“I don’t think they can see us, exactly,” Roots answered, “but they’ve probably got all sorts of equipment, such as infra-red sights, heat-seeking missiles and stuff. Still, if we reach the top of Kinder, I know one or two holes we can hide in.”
It took a painfully long time to ascend the rocky mount, their feet stumbling and skidding on the slippery stones of the river which narrowed as they neared its source.
And all the time, the choppers were circling, their searchlights picking out any hint of movement.
At last, Roots led Joe out of the river and they raced along the ridge of the mountain.
“There they are!” came a cry from one of the helicopters, followed by the voice of a man with a loudspeaker. “You can’t escape! Give up now, stand still and you’ll be unharmed. All we want is the boy.”
“Did you hear that?” Joe yelled. “You can go free, Roots. Roots listen to me, you’ve got no choice!”
“Oh, yes I have!” said Roots “Without choices Joe, there IS no freedom. Not for anybody.”
He would have gone on to explain his latest liberation theory but was virtually stopped in his tracks by the sound of a bullet that whined and whistled past his left ear.
“They’re shooting at us!” Joe screamed.
“Just keep running!” cried Roots. “Head for the peak!”
“It’s dangerous up there!”
Another bullet whizzed over Roots’ shoulder and he yelped with fear. “It’s not exactly barley down here either!” he cried, and he ducked as an explosion of energy flew over his head. “It’s gone nuclear!”
“Freeze! Freeze! Freeze!” belched the voice from the chopper. “We’ve got you surrounded!”
When the prey kept running, bullets and missiles began to hail fast and furiously, all aimed at Roots, and only his nimble footwork prevented him from being obliterated.
“If we can just get to the summit….!” he wheezed, “There’s a cave on the other side that’ll lead us to safety. But we must keep running!”
And run they did. By now, the clouds were black as night and the thunder louder than ever, loud enough to drown the whirring of the choppers which started dipping towards the runaways, making Joe shriek with terror.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m with you!” cried Roots, as he dodged yet another rocket.
“I am with you, I am with you,” Joe breathed to himself.
Now they were scrambling up the steep slope of the main peak, heading for the rocky outcrop that crowned the hill. No one came up here these days, not since the local rangers deemed it unsafe. The rocks had begun to loosen and shift, threatening to cause an avalanche.
Onwards, upwards, so nearly there! Yet the helicopters swooped so low, they nearly gave Roots a crew-cut. Joe was gasping for breath, his young legs buckling!
“Don’t give up now, Joe!” called Roots encouragingly “The cave’s just over the other side, just a few yards away!”
Desperately, the young man and boy limped towards the summit and Roots held up his hand to point….only for it to freeze in mid-air. Over the brow, some 50 yards down the far side of the mountain, was a whole battalion of tanks!
As the leading tank approached, the iron lid opened, and a figure emerged, dressed entirely in purple except for one red rose in his buttonhole. It was Alazon Smyle.
Roots and Joe stared at him, too shocked to speak. And while they were standing, still as statues, shoulder to shoulder, the most horrible thing happened. From one of the hovering helicopters, a single shot ricocheted against a rock, then found its fleshly target. Joe could only watch helplessly as Roots keeled over, lost his footing and disappeared over the edge of the mountain. “Roots!” he mouthed mournfully. “Roots!” He didn’t even get to say ‘Goodbye’.
Yet, from the empty void beyond the crag, a low voice could be heard. “I am with you. I am with you.” Joe had come to know these words so well; the same words he’d read at Babel before Prism threw him into the pit. The same words that seemed to run through his mind whenever he faced danger.
“Help us!” he cried out loud. “I know you can hear me! Please help us, Mr. Big!”
At the same time, Mr. Smyle was striding purposefully towards him. Joe twisted his head from right to left, frantic for a gap through which to flee, but he was completely surrounded; tanks and troops and killing machines with wings closed in on him from every direction. The boy was now standing on the biggest rock, right on the edge where one slip would pitch him to the ground 1,000 feet below. The wind was whipping into a frenzy, and the thunder grew louder with every roll. He was trapped.