Real Monsters Page 16

  And that’s when you decided to say hello.

  It was only the smallest nudge but it literally floored me, sending me sinking to my knees as I clutched my belly. I don’t know why I was so surprised. I’d been carrying you around for nearly twenty weeks, yet for a few days I’d allowed myself to forget about everything. I touched my face, surprised to find I was crying, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it’s because I knew it was over with Dustin. From that second I knew I could never go back. I had other things to think about. Duties. Something I had to nourish and protect. I decided to call him right away.

  ‘Heyyyy, you’ve reached Dustin. You’re talking to a machine… ’

  I decided not to leave a message. Whatever I was going to say, I would say it to his face. I owed him that at least.

  I spent the rest of the day moping around the apartment, occasionally trying to call again but getting nowhere. I drafted a couple of letters to give him instead, but it was no good. I felt stupid every time. Plus my brain didn’t seem to be working, everything thick and foggy and underwater. I wondered if this was what life would be like from now on – whether that was the big secret no one told you about babies. I thought of all the desperate zombie-eyed mums I’d seen shuffling around Save the Animals, clutching their offspring to their grossly distended bosom, barely able to string a sentence together beyond the next nappy. Was that my future? Had the madness already set in?

  I decided I needed to get some air.

  I walked aimlessly for around half an hour, yet somehow I found myself on the same road as Save the Animals. However, when I got closer I saw the shutter was down and the lights were off. I tried Dustin again, the sound of his voicemail ringing in my ear for the hundredth time that day. I found myself growing quietly furious. After all, I was the one doing the dumping here, not the other way round.

  I was halfway down the street before I realised I was on my way to his house.

  After knocking on the door for maybe ten minutes, I started seriously considering climbing onto his balcony to press my face against his bedroom window. In the end though, I decided I was probably overreacting. Knowing Dustin he’d probably bumped into an old friend and gone for a drink. The best thing to do was to go home and wait for him to call – it wasn’t like I was short of things to be getting on with.

  And so, putting Dustin as far as I could out of my mind, I spent the next few days clearing out the spare bedroom, transforming the drab space into a yellow nest of cotton blankets and folded baby grows. I still didn’t have a crib but I figured Danny would be home soon and we could…

  Well, who knew? Maybe things would be better this time.

  Stranger things had happened.

  After I’d finished decorating the nursery I retreated to my bedroom, building a pillow fortress and camping out with a book, trying to read but spending most of my time staring at the ceiling, determined not to look at my phone. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke it was dark. Sitting up, I realised I was ravenous. Racking my brain to recall what supplies I had in the fridge, I checked my phone and saw I had a text message.

  MEET ME AT THE SHOP TONIGHT 9. DUSTIN.

  The message was ten minutes old. I tried calling him back but it went straight to answerphone again. Fucking Dustin. It was already 8.45. There was no way I’d make it in time. Anyway, why should I go? It’s not like he’d made any effort before now. Three days without so much as a word? He could be dead for all I know, and now he was back in touch without so much as a sorry. There was no way I was going meet him. Absolutely no chance…

  I squeezed into my largest pair of jeans and waddled down the hall.

  I opened the front door.

  And started running.

  I was gasping by the time I reached the shop. I’ve never been particularly fit, but the pregnancy seemed to have drained what microscopic reserves of energy I had. I took a second to catch my breath and compose myself, desperately hoping I wasn’t about to get sick. I rehearsed my lines, ready to confront him. I wasn’t even going to get angry. I was just going to lay it down, tell it exactly how it was.

  It’s over.

  I rattled the metal shutter, reaching through the bars to tap the glass. The light that had been on in the back instantly clicked off, shortly followed by a loud crunch as the steel frame slowly started to lift. It seemed to take forever. I pictured myself turning and running down the street. But I didn’t move. Dustin owed me an explanation, if nothing else.

  Finally the shutter disappeared altogether and I heard the rattle of keys in the glass. I tapped my foot impatiently, needing yet another wee. I decided I needed to make this as quick and as painless as possible. In and out.

  The door opened.

  But it wasn’t Dustin standing there.

  It was Jeremy.

  Weeks passed and every day I got stronger. Afa kept fillin the jug with salty water and bringin through the plates of mush and I kept drinkin and eatin until eventually my ribs stopped achin and the cut on my leg stopped weepin and formed a smooth, shiny scab. I slept a lot too – proper sleep, like I hadn’t in years, untroubled by visions or bad dreams. It felt good, like someone throwin their arms around me and holdin me to their chest. Safe, secure. I woke up feelin calm and refreshed.

  One day I was finishin up eatin when I realised I was well enough to get out of bed and take a look around. Settin the plate carefully on the side, I swung my legs tentatively over the side of the bed and limped over to the doorway. The light stung my eyes as I peeled back the curtain and made my way out into a small, dusty courtyard. It was funny; for some reason I’d imagined a large village, sort of a rag-head version of our F.O.B., but as I wandered round the dilapidated square I saw that it wasn’t the case. There were maybe eight buildings in total, arranged in a loose rectangle, though to be honest, callin them buildings was probably pushin it a little. Just like my ‘hospital’, they were little more than corrugated steel shacks, though even for a shanty town they were in a bad state, with rust holes yawnin in the sides of the houses and overlappin sheets of metal patched with duct tape markin out multiple botched repairs. Yup, it was a mess alright.

  As I stood there tryin to figure out which buildin Cal might be stayin in, I heard a noise behind me and turned to see a small, dirty-lookin child chasin after an underinflated football. Sensin somebody watchin, the kid paused mid-kick and looked up at me. He was nervous, but not particularly surprised – the same way you might look if someone’d warned you about rattlesnakes right after one cornered you in your bedroom. Instinctively I raised my hand and waved. All of a sudden the kid jumped to life. Shit, you’d think I’d pulled a gun on him he moved so quick, abandonin his crushed ball and tearin away from me, duckin down behind one of the tin houses and out of sight. I stood there blinkin. The only people I’d seen apart from Afa was Cal and Gita, though I’d guessed from the noises that there must be more. Still, I hadn’t counted on there bein children out here. For some reason it didn’t seem right.

  I was still standin there when Afa came outta one of the houses, laughin brightly with Gita. As she caught sight of me, her expression turned serious, ‘Mr Danny… you need rest.’ I grinned, swattin her away. ‘I’m fine, really. Jus’ stretchin my legs is all.’ Noddin uncertainly, she turned back to Gita and whispered something in her ear before leavin her to come and join me. ‘Then I will stretch your legs as well.’

  We walked in a large circle around the outside of the village, stoppin now and then for Afa to point out various features to me. The place was actually much bigger than I’d first thought. Apart from the central settlement of shacks, there was a large stretch of scrubland that sprawled for maybe a half mile that apparently served as an allotment. Anaemic-lookin plants swooned next to dry irrigation trenches. I didn’t recognise much of what was growin apart from a few species of edible cactus and a handful of shrivelled grapes hangin limply from a splinterin trellis. ‘They need water,’ I said to Afa. She turned to me, a silther of sadness in her smi
le. ‘We all need water.’

  We kept walkin, past the allotment to a small, cracked dust-bowl with a pen containin three or four emaciated goats. ‘This used to be lake. Long time ago. Now we only have well.’ She pointed back towards the village. ‘The water no good. It salty. We have to heat, but it takes a long time.’ I nodded, thinkin about the bottomless jugs of water by the side of my bed. Just then it occurred to me to ask her somethin I’d been ponderin for a while. ‘Hey Afa, how’d you come to speak English so good?’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘Maybe I ask how you come to speak English so bad, huh?’

  I grinned, but before I could answer there was a loud scream as two more children fell out from behind a rock and started runnin back towards the village. Afa yelled somethin after them I didn’t understand. The children ran faster. ‘They were spying on you,’ she explained. ‘They no seen a soldier before. They think you might be a Monster.’ ‘What did you tell them?’ I asked. Afa grinned. ‘I said you’d eat them up if you caught them spying again.’

  As we walked back towards the square Afa told me her story. She’d lived in the village her whole life. Twenty years she said, though I think their calendar is slightly different from ours. Her father had been a member of a nomadic tribe – people who’d lived for centuries trading camels and spices, back when it wasn’t just children who’d never seen a soldier or a Monster. When he met her mother they decided to settle, pickin a spot close to the water and invitin her mother’s extended family to live with them. They grew crops and farmed goats and said their prayers five times a day. They worked hard but were happy; their throats full of laughter and their bellies full of food. They raised a family. Then one day, around five years ago, everythin changed.

  The farm had been strugglin for a while – the lake had been getting shallower with each increasingly hot summer, until now barely a muddy puddle remained, forcin them to drill down to the salty reserves that ran deep beneath. The same crops that’d bloomed only the year before started to wither and die. The goats’ ribs started to show through their skin. Then one summer the harvest failed altogether. Her father couldn’t understand it. He prayed harder and longer each day, lookin to the sky for rain, but the sun just kept on shinin. They ate what little food they had stored until it ran out. Still the sun shone. They began to starve. Afa’s father continued to pray, head bowed in submission, kneelin in the sand from morning until night until his skin blistered and his hair went white, but still there was no rain. Then one day her mother took sick and died and Afa’s father stopped prayin altogether. He decided to make a miracle happen for himself.

  Roundin up four of their remainin six goats, Afa’s father took a ceremonial blade and slaughtered them in the centre of the village, makin a point of not makin a sacrifice. After he had carefully skinned them and stretched the hides out to dry, he called for Afa’s two older brothers to help tie them to the camels. They were to travel with him to the market. Afa cried and begged for them to stay, but her father was adamant – they would all die if he didn’t go. Besides, he would be back in three days.

  I felt sick. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘That was three months ago,’ Afa said. ‘He’s never returned. A week after he left the rains came. It seems God always steps in to save us right when we need it the most.’ ‘And now?’ I asked, thinkin of the brown grapes, the empty lake. ‘Where is God now?’ Afa smiled, her eyes flashin defiantly. ‘Well, He sent you along, didn’t He?’

  More weeks passed, and I began to settle into my new life at the village. I spent the mornin working on the farm and lookin after the goats. I figured after all the help Afa had given me it was a fair exchange. Plus it helped pass the time while I figured out what I was gonna do with Cal.

  There weren’t a whole bunch I could do to fix the lack of water – it took at least an hour of work at the well to fill even a jug – but by diggin the irrigation trenches a little deeper I was at least able to make sure what little water we had went further. Apart from that I spent my time weedin and prunin the crops, snappin off the dead leaves to encourage the smaller green shoots to grow, riggin up a web of linen from wooden plinths to protect the young plants from the harsh mid-day sun. Afa worked alongside me most days, bringin with her an army of little children, who by now had lost all fear of me, climbin on my back or clingin to my legs whenever they got bored of workin. There was eight of them in total, all girls apart from one boy, Basim, Afa’s youngest brother. The kid was only six, a scruffy slip of a thing with these huge brown eyes and this cheeky smile. Monkey I called him, always fightin with his sisters or climbin things. Sorta reminded me of you if I’m honest.

  At midday we would return to the square and eat together, the portions havin become noticeably smaller since I’d left the hospital, before spendin the afternoons helpin the kids at ‘school’ – which basically consisted of singin, tellin stories and chasin after Basim. Afa usually got me to tell the children a story from my life ‘across the sea’ – she said it would help them with their English, but to be honest I’m not convinced they understood a word of what I was sayin. Still, they sat in rapt silence whenever I spoke, eyeballin me like I was some sort of alien high priest, hangin on my every word. In the evenings I would return to my little shack and lie on my bunk, where to my surprise sleep found me without difficulty.

  One night I woke to find Afa had crept into my room and curled up next to me, her bird-boned body pushed up against mine, her hair fallin over my eyes like a thin black curtain. In the mornin she was gone, and when I made it down to the farm I found her there, already hard at work. She didn’t say a word to me about it and the day passed as normal, but that night I woke again to find her next to me. From then on we fell into a pattern, with her silently sneakin into my bed halfway through the night, always careful to leave before first light. All we ever did was lie there, alone together under the roof of my shack. The next day neither of us would utter a word about it. Not once. Still, in its own way it was more intense, more intimate, than all of the fuckin I’d done in my life added up. After a while it got so I wouldn’t bother goin to sleep until she arrived. I’d just lie there in the dark, waitin.

  Jeremy stood in the shadows, waiting.

  ‘Come in and don’t say anything. You may have been followed.’

  I stepped inside the shop and Jeremy locked the door behind me. I waited for a moment for Dustin to leap out from behind the counter and surprise me, but one glance at Jeremy’s face told me this was no joke. ‘Where’s Dustin? He said he’d meet me here.’

  ‘Take a seat Lorna,’

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked, but I sat down anyway, perching on a stool next to a stack of ancient board games. Jeremy hovered by the window for a while, flinching slightly every time a car passed before eventually turning back to face me. ‘There’s been an unforeseen complication... ’

  I glanced up at him. His blond hair was hanging limply over his face, the shadows making him look even thinner and more angular than usual. I saw he was holding something in his hand. A mobile phone. ‘You texted me?’ I asked, panic rushing to close my throat. ‘But it was... Dustin wanted me to... ’

  ‘Dustin asked me to make sure you were safe. I met him and he gave me his phone.’

  ‘Where is he?’ I demanded, standing up to face Jeremy. ‘I’m not scared of you. I’ll call the police.’ Jeremy sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket. ‘Did Dustin ever talk to you about us? About Project Clearwater?’ I shook my head. ‘I know he was involved in... things. The airbase. The boat... ’ ‘I’m not talking about petty acts of vandalism,’ Jeremy snapped. ‘Do you remember the videos we showed you? They were part of a larger strategy. Dustin was a key player in the delivery of that strategy... ’

  ‘Was?’ I asked. ‘As in he isn’t anymore?’

  Outside a car screeched past, its headlights spilling into the room for a second before we were once again plunged into darkness. Jeremy glanced uneasily at the window before continuing. ‘Dustin un
derstood the risks. He knew that Project Clearwater was a vital step in securing peace and stopping this bullshit war for good. He also left specific instructions should anything happen to him in the line of duty... ’ I laughed, cold and hard. ‘In the line of duty? Jesus, do you ever listen to yourself? This is somebody’s life you’re talking about. But you want to turn it into some tawdry little thriller. People don’t just disappear.’

  ‘Lorna I understand you’re upset. But Dustin isn’t coming back. Before he went he asked me to give you something. To help continue his work.’ He paused and reached into his jacket, holding out something for me to take.

  A memory stick.

  ‘Dustin wanted you to have this.’ ‘What’s on it?’ I asked. ‘You know what’s on it. It’s a copy of a copy. I want you to hold onto it just in case... Until the time is right. And then I want you to get it out there. Call the papers, the TV stations. Everyone. Just make sure people know.’ ‘Wait,’ I said, desperately trying to gather my thoughts. ‘Get it out there? Why can’t you get it out there? And how will I know when the time is right?’ Jeremy shrugged, already walking towards the door. ‘Dustin said you’d know.’ And with that he slid back the latch and held the door open for me.

  I didn’t move.

  ‘Jeremy this is ridiculous. I mean, I’m not even part of this. Whatever this is. Dustin was obviously overreacting. If you just call him or something I’m sure...’ Another car passed the shop, this time the headlights illuminating Jeremy’s face. Below his lank fringe I saw the outline of a black eye, a split lip. ‘You need to go Lorna. Now.’ I started towards the door but Jeremy stopped me, holding out the memory stick.

  ‘Please?’

  I took it without a word, turning back as I got to the street. ‘I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this... ’ But already the steel shutter had started to come down.