Authors: Savita Kalhan
Almost there. Almost there. Then he was through the hole. The man couldn't get through the hole – that's why he'd brought the big shiny silver thing with him. Sam knew exactly what it was, and Sam didn't care. He wasn't going to hang around waiting for him to climb over the fence, not when the hole led to freedom.
'Come on, Lloyd.'
Sam yanked his arm, but Lloyd wouldn't get up. He was paralysed; frozen with the fear that came over him when the man was nearby. Sam began pulling and dragging him across the field. They didn't make much progress. Both their eyes were on the man. Lloyd had been
so
right – the sicko just wasn't going to give up. He'd leaned his ladder up against the fence, and he was smiling at them.
What does he have to smile about, Sam wondered. He was going to have to get over the barbed wire and the sharp spokes at the top of the fence, and then jump down this side of the fence. Even for a big bloke like him that was going to be tough. So why was he smiling?
'Wait for me, Lloyd!' he called out. 'I'm coming to get you.'
Lloyd was a quivering wreck by now, and he was doing just that: waiting for the man, and no amount of pulling and yanking was going to get Lloyd off the ground and running away, and yelling at him had no effect at all. Sam didn't know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do – he wanted to run across the field, and keep running for as long as he could. But he couldn't leave Lloyd sitting there, waiting for the man. The thing was the man was banking on that. He knew Sam wouldn't leave Lloyd behind, and Lloyd knew that, too.
The man was at the top of the ladder now. He took something out of his pocket – wire cutters, or something, and started cutting through the barbed wire.
Sam squatted down on the ground in front of Lloyd and held Lloyd's face in his hands so all Lloyd could see was Sam's face.
'Lloyd, listen to
me,
not to him. He won't be able to get across the fence easily. He's got to jump and it's a long way down. There's no way he can do that without hurting himself. If we leave now and just get across this field, we'll be safe,' he said.
He repeated it several times, and finally it did go in. Lloyd stopped crying, but he hadn't stopped shaking.
'Come on, Lloyd. Let's go.'
'I-I can't move, Sam.'
'I'll help you.'
Lloyd shook his head. 'I'm sorry. I'm scared.'
'Don't be sorry. Don't be scared,' Sam said. 'Be upset, be angry, be anything that helps you get away. That helps us get away!'
The man was leaning over the top of the fence. He'd cut away a section of the barbed wire, but he must have cut himself because his hand was bleeding. He was scowling, and cursing them loudly. They could hear it all clearly. Lloyd cringed and cowered every time he heard the man say his name.
'He's going to kill us,' Sam said quietly.
Lloyd didn't hear him. He was crying hysterically in a huddle on the ground.
Sam dug into his coat pocket, looking for the little potting fork, but he must have put it down when he had finished digging the hole and forgotten to pick it up again. Caught without a weapon again. Then his hand came across the giant glass marble, and he felt its weight. He took it out of his pocket. He'd have to wait until the man was really close before he could use it, but he had no other option. Just one whack, that's all he needed. The weight of the giant marble would do the rest.
Lloyd had started keening now, a horrible sound that sent shudders right through Sam. Sam had never heard anything like it. It was awful. Horrible. A death cry. He couldn't take it. He dropped the heavy marble paperweight on the ground and shook Lloyd's shoulders.
'Stop it! Stop it!' and before he knew what he was doing, he'd slapped his friend hard across the face, and then he did it again. 'I said get angry! Get really, really angry, you stupid, stupid idiot! We could have got away!'
Lloyd went silent and still. Sam wanted to say sorry, but he didn't feel sorry, all he felt was fear now. Then the man's laughter reached their ears. He'd finished cutting through the barbed wire and was standing on the top rung of the ladder watching them. He was ready to come over. It hadn't taken him that long at all. He gripped hold of two railings and stepped off the ladder onto the top horizontal bar that ran the length of the fence. That was the tricky bit.
Sam held his breath. If the man lost his balance now he'd fall, fall all the way down to the ground, and hit the hard earth with a horrible crunch. But he was still laughing and singing Lloyd's name. He was completely mad. Sam willed for him to lose his balance. He was concentrating so hard on it that he didn't notice Lloyd get up and begin walking closer to the man.
Sam ran forwards and grabbed hold of him, but Lloyd shrugged him off easily and continued. Sam grabbed at him again and Lloyd shoved him away hard. He couldn't work out why Lloyd would want to go back through the hole, but that's what he seemed to be doing, and Sam couldn't stop him. Lloyd was stronger and each time Sam tried to grab him, Lloyd threw him off.
The man was still perched on the bar near the top of the fence, leaning forward over the railings, his hands gripping hold of them hard, watching. Lloyd was at the hole now. He ripped his coat off and tossed it on the ground, and quickly squirmed through the hole. Sam made a grab for his legs, but Lloyd kicked out hard, throwing Sam off balance. He hit the ground hard and by the time he got up, Lloyd was on the other side of the hole.
'No! No! No!' Sam screamed again and again, but Lloyd had gone completely deaf.
'Good lad,' the man said to Lloyd. 'I knew I could rely on you.'
Lloyd didn't look up at the man. He took hold of the ladder and knocked it to the ground. Then he went back through the hole and stood by Sam's side. There was an odd glint in Lloyd's good eye. Satisfaction.
The man was as shocked as Sam was.
'You bloody stupid brat! Wait 'til I get down there!' he yelled. He was angry, livid, purple with rage. There was a manic look on his face, and Sam knew if he could have got his hands round their necks right then, they'd both be dead now.
He leaned right over the sharp spiked railings at the top of the iron fence, swearing and cursing. If he lost his balance now he'd be dead, but he didn't. He was coming for them and all Sam could do was stand still and watch him coming. It was too late to run. Too late for anything. And then time slowed down, and Sam saw it all in slow motion. It hit the man square on the forehead. Sam hadn't even seen Lloyd pick the giant glass marble up, but he must have because he'd thrown it and it had smashed into the man's head and come bouncing down to land at their feet. All bloody.
The man wobbled. His arms went slack, and he slumped. He was heavy and the sharp railings did their job. They went right through him.
Sam and Lloyd stood and looked at the man for a long time. Just looking, not speaking. Just making sure.
'Shot, Lloyd,' Sam said quietly, when he found his voice.
'Thanks,' Lloyd said simply.
Sam knew Lloyd played tons of cricket, he just hadn't known what a good bowler he was. He did now, and he'd never forget it.
The boys turned away and headed into the field of weeds and brambles. They walked side by side. At the end of the field was a line of trees and beyond it was an overgrown grassy track. It didn't look well-used, but someone must use it or it wouldn't be there. They could have gone left or right, but Sam took them right. Either direction would have done, though. It wasn't as if they were in the highlands, or on the moors where you could walk for miles and not see a house, or a person, or a car.
'Look!' Sam shouted.
'Where?'
'Over there,' Sam said, pointing down the grassy track.
'What is it?'
Sam began to laugh. He didn't know why it was so funny, but it was. He doubled over with laughter. It wouldn't stop; it kept on going. His eyes began to water from laughing, but he didn't care. He fell to his knees clutching his side. He didn't know laughing so much could give you a stitch. He rolled onto his back, still laughing.
'Tell me! What is it? Sam?' Lloyd said. He was grinning. Sam's laughter was infectious and Lloyd caught it full on.
Finally, Sam found his voice and between fits of laughing, he said, 'It's a blinking lady, walking a blinking dog!'
A nationwide search ended when Samuel Parker and Lloyd Fisher, both aged 11, were found safe and well by Mrs. Rose Connaway while she was out walking her dog in a deserted stretch of woodland in Bridgeford Forest. They have now been reunited with their families. The two boys had been missing since Friday afternoon when they were snatched from outside their school by a man driving a white Mercedes.
The man has since been identified as Thomas Craigly, who was employed by the pop group XX as a driver and caretaker of their country home. He had taken the children to the band's mansion in Hertfordshire where he kept them until they managed to escape. The band are currently on tour in the States and have not yet released a statement.
Thomas Craigly's body was recovered from the grounds of the property where he had suffered a fatal accident. The bodies of three children have also been found in graves around the property. They have not yet been named.
He blew out the candles in one puff. Seventeen was a pretty good age to be, Sam thought, even though his mum still embarrassed him by insisting on baking him a cake. Luckily she had stopped asking if he wanted to invite his friends to his birthday tea when he was fourteen. The birthday tea and the birthday cake were a simple family affair now.
'Did you make a wish?' his mum asked, smiling brightly at him.
'Yes, Mum,' Sam groaned back, in a tone that was resigned to his parents treating him like a kid forever. Then he thought about his wish, and his eyes drifted away, and he forgot he was holding the knife and his family were waiting for him to cut the cake.
'Sam? Sam?'
His dad's voice brought him back to the present. 'Oh yeah, sorry.' He sliced through the cake and set the knife down, grateful that that was over with for another year. It wasn't a big ordeal or anything. It was just that everything was celebrated. Everything. Every tiny little success, or near success, every goal, every run, every wicket he took, or didn't take. Every exam result, good or bad. Everything. And his sister Tab suffered the same indignity, although it was easier on her since she'd gone to Uni. It didn't even matter if Sam failed or didn't do well in an exam because his parents would be kind and understanding and considerate and compassionate – and that was kind of worse than a celebration meal. Actually, it was much worse – especially when he'd gone through that phase of flunking everything on purpose. He'd felt horrible pangs of guilt, and the floods of parental sympathy had almost drowned him.
Anyway, he didn't like to flunk anything any more. He didn't like to fail. So everything was celebrated. And it had been that way ever since . . . that weekend.
'Here you go, Sam.' His dad passed him an envelope.
'What is it?'
'Every kid's dream!'
Sam wished with all his heart that his dad hadn't said it quite like that. He wished he'd used different words. Any words. Just not those particular words. They echoed in Sam's mind, layers of memories and carefully constructed shields and barriers fell away reaching back to a distant time that could still feel like yesterday.
Every kid's dream.
Sam's hands suddenly trembled violently. He dropped the envelope. Lloyd would have turned seventeen a few months ago. In February. Sam hadn't forgotten.
Sam had gone back to school a week after that weekend had happened, but Lloyd hadn't come back.
In counselling,
was all his teacher was prepared to tell him. Lloyd would return when he was ready. Sam understood – he had some of that too, counselling, therapy stuff. He couldn't tell if it had helped, but he guessed it must have on some level. It was a shame that the brain wasn't more like a computer. You could select
weekend in September
and then hit the
Delete file
button. Simple. But the human brain wasn't like that, and Lloyd never came back. Then he had heard that Lloyd had changed schools. Sam understood why. He was probably the only one who did. Which was why he'd tried to contact Lloyd, but Lloyd wouldn't take his calls – apart from once. It was just after Lloyd's birthday when he would have got his new top of the range mobile phone from his parents. But neither of the boys mentioned that when they arranged to meet that once, and Sam never asked Lloyd whether he still needed his iPod.
Sam went to see him alone. He knew his way around. He'd made a point of memorising a map of the whole of the south east of England. He knew most of the bus routes, too, just in case. He carried other emergency stuff too, just in case. You never knew, did you? He took the bus to Lloyd's house that Saturday morning. Lloyd's parents were out, which Sam was relieved about because they had met his mum and dad a few times after . . . after that weekend, and Sam didn't want to have to talk about it. Remember it. And he knew that was what they wanted. They wanted to know everything. They wanted to go over it again and again.
Lloyd answered the door on the third ring. He looked different. The unruly mop of red curls had been replaced by a neat crew cut, but it wasn't that. Lloyd had lost weight – his clothes engulfed him. But at least the baggy style was in. There were dark circles under his eyes that mirrored Sam's. Seemed they both still had trouble sleeping at night.
'Hey,' Sam said.
Lloyd nodded. He opened the door wider to let Sam in, and Sam wondered again whether he was doing the right thing. The house was silent and it made Lloyd's silence feel louder.
'Um, cool house,' Sam said to fill the space. There was a time when Sam would have gawped, but not now. The ultra modern, sleek, minimalism, the huge glass windows and galleries, would have impressed him once. He walked through, following Lloyd's hunched shoulders out into the garden. It was a mild day for March. Spring was almost in the air. They walked down to the end of the garden where most people would have had a swing, or slide, or a tyre hanging off a tree for their kids. Instead, there was a miniature assault course laid out here.
Sam pushed a stone around with his foot and wondered what to say, how to say it. Lloyd was leaning against a tree looking at him. His silence was unnerving. Sam felt like he was looking at a stranger.
'You okay?' Sam asked, unable to bear the silence a moment longer.
'Yeah, great,' was the leaden response.
Sam realised that maybe he shouldn't have come. He should have realised that it was never going to be easy – especially the first time. Maybe it would get better after they'd met up a few times. He shouldn't have brought it with him today though. He should have left it for a while. For a long, long while. Maybe he should have got rid of the stupid thing himself. He didn't have to tell anyone about it and he hadn't. But Lloyd? He had to tell him, didn't he? Or did he? He didn't owe him anything now. They couldn't even be classed as friends any more. The problem was that Lloyd felt like one of his oldest friends.
'Heard you started at a new school. What's it like?'
'Like a school,' Lloyd said abruptly. He must have noticed Sam's discomfort because he relaxed a little when he spoke next. 'Miss the old school though. And the gang.'
'They miss you, too.' Lloyd's old gang were Sam's gang now, but it was different, for them and for Sam. They all felt it. Lloyd's absence had left a big hole, which Sam could never have filled, and didn't even try.
'Still playing loads of footie?'
Sam nodded. 'You?'
'Not so much.'
'We could play at the weekend,' Sam suggested. 'Get everyone together for a game, or something.'
'Don't know about that, Sam.'
'Look, Lloyd, if you want to keep in touch, I'd like that. If you don't, then that's okay too.'
'Dunno, Sam. It's different now, isn't it?'
Sam silently agreed. It was different. It was a bit sad, too, which was why he kept trying. He wanted it to be the same again. The way it had been that first brilliant week of a new school year at the new school, living back in England and knowing that now when you made friends they weren't likely to up and move countries. And when the coolest kid in the class had made friends with him.
'We'll see,' Lloyd finished.
It was weird how grown-up Lloyd sounded. Only six months had gone by. Maybe he'd be okay about Sam giving it to him now. Maybe he'd just throw it in the bin. Still Sam hesitated taking it out of his pocket. He could feel it burning a hole in his trousers. For six months he'd kept it hidden away deep in the back of his wardrobe, wrapped up in a bag within a bag, stuffed inside a sock, in the arm of an old tatty jumper with a whole heap of junk on top of it. Just so no one would find it. And now, suddenly, he was itching to get rid of it. He didn't want it. He didn't really know why he had taken it in the first place. Well, he sort of did know why. He thought he was helping Lloyd. But now, he wasn't so sure whether to give it to him or not. Sam looked away from Lloyd. 'Looks pretty tough,' he said indicating the assault course.
'It is in the beginning. Everything ached. Couple of months of training on it and it's not so bad now.'
Lloyd had been training. Twelve years old and ready for anything. Sam's fingers closed round the little black box in his pocket. Maybe it was the right time to give it to him after all. Lloyd had really toughened up. He was over it.
'Anyway, what was so urgent?' Lloyd asked.
'I've got something,' Sam began, and then he just took it out of his pocket. It was easier than giving it a name. The little black plastic box nestled in his palm. It looked so innocuous. Harmless. It should have contained images of a birthday party with people pulling silly faces at it, or saying daft things. It didn't contain any of those things. Instead . . .
Lloyd's eyes flickered over it briefly. 'What's that?' he asked, and then he stepped back, flinching as though someone had hit him. His face crumpled up, his eyes disappeared. Realisation had dawned. It was a bleak moment. Sam wished he could stuff the video tape back in his pocket. He wished he'd never brought it here. Why hadn't he just got rid of it himself ? Sam's bottom lip began to quiver. He bit down on it. He couldn't look at Lloyd, so he looked at the ground. He could hear Lloyd's breathing had quickened to short rasps, as though he was struggling to find air. Sam willed the ground beneath his feet to open and swallow him up, or to churn up and carry him high into the sky, take him anywhere but here.
'Where did you get it?'
Sam glanced up at the accusing tone. Lloyd didn't understand. Sam should have explained it all properly before he took it out of his pocket and shoved it in his friend's face.
'From the house. You know – before we escaped.'
Lloyd cut him off, firing his questions off quick and fast. He'd found air and it was Sam's turn to struggle. 'Where? Why'd you keep it? Why didn't you hand it over to the police? Why didn't you tell me about it before?'
'I – I . . .,' Sam stammered. Lloyd wasn't waiting for a reply.
'Answer me!' Lloyd growled. His face had gone livid red and blotchy. The anger made it ugly. 'Answer me! Who's seen it? Who've you shown it to? Tell me! Tell me!'
Lloyd bore down on Sam and Sam stepped back quickly, stepped away from the punch. Too late. The right cross connected followed swiftly by a hook across the other cheek. Sam stumbled, stars and black spots danced merrily in front of him, and beyond them Lloyd's fist came at him again. Sam ducked. Too late again. This time he went down and as the sky rushed to meet him, Lloyd loomed over him, fist at the ready again.
Sam had never meant this to happen. He hadn't anticipated this reaction from Lloyd. He thought he might be upset for a while, but grateful to Sam in the end. None of this was supposed to happen.
'Back off, Lloyd, you're hurting me! Just back off.'
The fist halted mid-flight.
Sam explained quickly, the words tumbling out. 'No one's seen it. No one knows about it. I didn't tell a single soul about it. I just kept it safe so no one would find it, or look at it. So no one would know. I promise you, Lloyd. I wouldn't do that. You know I wouldn't.'
Lloyd's fist dropped to his side. His shoulders sagged as the anger drained away. He sat down on the ground beside him. He didn't look at Sam. His eyes were staring into the distance, looking at nothing. He shook his head slowly. 'Too late, Sam. They know. Everything about that weekend.'
Of course they did, Sam thought. They had got him to tell more or less everything as well. Lloyd had had more to tell. 'Sorry, Lloyd.'
'They said it would help. Help me get over it.' Lloyd laughed. It was a hollow, empty sound. 'Anyway, don't know why you're saying sorry. I'm sorry I punched you.'
'Three times.'
Lloyd looked at him with a ghost of a smile. 'Sorry I punched you three times, Sam.'
Sam held the tape out to him and Lloyd shook his head. 'Don't want it.'
'Neither do I.'
'We'll burn it then, shall we?'
Lloyd went back into the house to find matches while Sam waited. He returned with a pile of newspaper and some kindling.
'We'll barbecue it,' he said, and led the way.
It took ages to light because the weather had been damp recently, but once the wood took it built up a nice heat and everything began to burn. In the middle of the wigwam of wood, the tape melted into a charred black puddle, emitting a nasty smell that clung to the back of their throats. Lloyd prodded the fire with the metal tongs, making sure everything was burning properly.
'It stinks,' Sam said, coughing, but he didn't move away.
'Yeah. It's history,' Lloyd said stabbing at the charred remnants. 'I'll chuck it out when it's cooled down. Don't want Dad wondering why his steaks taste funny.'
'I'd better get going,' Sam said. 'Got a bus to catch.'
'Right.'
Lloyd made no move away from the barbecue pit. 'I'll see you then, Lloyd. I'll call you.'
'Yeah. I'd better stay here until it goes out completely.'
'Okay. I'll shut the door behind me. See ya around.' Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and headed back towards the house.
'Sam?'
Sam looked back. 'Yeah?'
'Thanks.'
Sam shrugged. 'It's okay.'
After that there was silence. No more meetings, no more phone calls. Nothing. Sam had had to give up in the end. He probably wouldn't recognise Lloyd now if he passed him in the street, and vice versa probably.
Best friends for one week six years ago. But Sam still missed him. Strange really.
'Open it then, darling,' his mum said, her hands squeezing his shoulders gently. 'Don't you want to know what's in it?'
Sam ripped the envelope open and pulled out a couple of sheets of folded paper. They had enrolled him at a driving school – two lessons a week. He'd be driving in no time. He turned to the last sheet. It was a receipt for a brand new car. Sam's hands shook a little as he folded up the papers and put them back in the envelope.
'Thanks,' he mumbled, overwhelmed. He stood up and gave them a hug. 'This means a lot to me,' he added. And it did. It meant freedom.
Every kid's dream.