The Hunted, page 18
‘Deet . . . I don’t want to be a child for the rest of my life . . . I don’t want to be a boy forever and ever. Always having to climb trees and drink lemonade and do what people expect boys to do because they read it once in a book somewhere . . . always to have to act like that, every afternoon, always and always, always moving on from town to town, always looking like a boy on the outside, while inside I get older and older—’
‘You’ll do as you’re told, kid.’
‘But, Deet, please.’
‘You’re making me angry, kid, very angry. When I think what I’ve done for you, the planning, the figuring out, the risks I took, and who for – all for you!’
‘But, Deet—’
‘Don’t you “but” me. Don’t you “but” your uncle Deet, after all he’s done for you.’
‘But you’re not really my uncle, Deet . . .’
‘I said not to “but” me, didn’t I!’
They sat in silence. Tarrin tried to eat but couldn’t. He let the spoon rest in the bowl.
Then suddenly he ran.
Deet was on to him immediately. Tarrin didn’t even make it to the kitchen door.
‘You’re hurting me, Deet . . .’
‘Don’t make me!’
‘You’re twisting my arm!’
‘I never took my hand to you, kid, not once, not ever – but there’s a first time for everything – and you’d better believe it.’
He threw Tarrin back into his seat.
‘Now eat.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Got to stay healthy.’
‘But, Deet . . .’ Tarrin lifted the spoon to his mouth, the cereal fell from it, back into the bowl, the milk dripped. He began to sob and to cry.
‘That’s enough of that.’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘Stop that.’
‘I’m trying to.’
‘Whadda you blubbering for?’
‘I don’t want to be a boy forever . . . I want to grow up, Deet. I want to grow up.’
‘That’s not an option any more. It can’t even be considered.’
‘I wanted to grow up.’
Well, you’re not going to, kid, so stop snivelling. The doc’s going to be here soon and he’s going to do it. He’s a struck-off doc, but don’t let that bother you. He’s good and he’s careful and it ain’t going to hurt.’
‘Deet . . .’ The tears went on falling, the sobs shook his body.
‘He’ll give you an anaesthetic so you don’t feel nothing. Then after you’ll maybe feel low for a couple of days. But it’s nothing you won’t soon get over.’
Tarrin’s voice became a whine. He couldn’t help himself. ‘I wanted to grow up, I always wanted to grow up . . .’
Deet’s voice grew hard and bitter. ‘Maybe you did, kid, but it’s no great shakes, growing up isn’t what it’s made out to be, and I know, so I can tell you. Millions would changes places with you, millions, just to have your chances, but for them it’s too late. Why, if I could have had the PP when I was your age, I’d have taken it like a shot.’
‘I’ll kill myself. If you make me do this I’ll kill myself and then I won’t be worth anything to anyone!’
‘No one’s going to kill themselfs, kid. There’s no reason or need for that. It’s just a small time of adjustment is needed and then you’ll see how well off you are and how you always wanted to be a kid forever after all.’
‘But I don’t, I don’t . . .’
‘I’m not arguing about it any more, kid.’
‘Deet, please, I beg you, please, please . . .’
‘I’m not discussing it, kid. You’re making me angry now. And if we’re going to be long-term partners, that’s not a good idea, making your partner angry.’
Tarrin had a vision of the years and years ahead. Of the motels, the moving on; of being rented out for the afternoon to entertain those who had no children; of Deet spending every penny he made; of another train, another town, another customer, for years and years . . . of himself forever trapped in his own child’s body, never able to grow, to escape from it, while inside, in his head, in his mind . . .
He went slowly but inexorably . . .
Mad.
Tarrin blacked out. He fell to the floor, taking the cereal bowl and the coffee pot with him. Luckily the coffee fell to the side and didn’t scald him. Deet jumped to his feet and cursed, but when he realized that the boy wasn’t faking he squatted down and gently picked Tarrin up in his arms and carried him to his room. He laid him on the bed and, as soon as he saw that he was coming round and that no damage was done, he left him there. Deet returned to the kitchen to clear up the mess, after first making sure that the bedroom door was securely locked behind him.
Tarrin’s eyes finally focused and he looked around the room. How long had he lain there? Minutes or hours? Just moments, surely, and yet the room was dark. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realized the curtains were still drawn. He got unsteadily to his feet and went to open them. But when he did, it was to find that there were locked and bolted heavy wooden shutters behind them.
He was trapped.
Light came in through the folds of the shutters. Tarrin lay on the bed, curled up, facing the shuttered window, watching a sliver of light inch its way towards him across the floor – towards him, towards noon, towards whenever the doctor would come.
Deet occasionally moved around downstairs. Tarrin could hear him opening and closing doors, putting the television on, then silence again when he turned it off.
Then the bell rang.
Tarrin curled up even more upon the bed, into a tighter ball, and he covered his face with his hands.
‘I don’t want to, Deet, I don’t want to . . .’
Be a child.
Forever.
He waited to hear the footsteps on the stairs, but they didn’t come. It didn’t seem to be what he feared. There was joking and laughter and a woman’s voice, complaining that Deet was teasing her and that, ‘You always say the funniest things, Deet. You just make me giggle!’
Then, as if to prove the point, she let out a loud, affected guffaw. Whoever she was, she didn’t sound like a doctor. They seemed to move into another room and there was more muffled laughter, as Deet kept her amused and she told him how funny he was.
Tarrin uncurled, but remained on the bed, watching the finger of sunlight come towards him. Maybe when it touched him, the doctor would come. That would be it, his time would be over.
How would he go?
He’d fight them. He’d kick and he’d bite and he’d scream and he’d kick and bite and spit and . . .
It wouldn’t be any good. But he’d do it. He wouldn’t go like a lamb to slaughter, walking meekly to his own execution.
I’ll never grow up. I’ll never grow up now. I’ll always be a child. For all my life. Never know what it is to be grown up. Never know. Never, never know.
He sniffed, then wiped his tears from his face with the fleshy part of his hand. The finger of light was still reaching for him. It was by the side of the bed now. In a short while it would be upon the cover, then it would touch him.
He reached out, to meet it halfway. He saw how it illuminated his hand, he saw the fine hairs, the delicate veins, the unblemished skin. Deet’s wrists were hairy, his fingers strong and stubby, his arms thick and muscular, and the beard upon his face grew quickly. A few hours after he shaved, his chin had stubble on it again.
I’ll never grow. Never grow to be a man. I’ll always be a boy, always. Always and forever.
It had to be noon now. Maybe a little later. The sliver of light crept towards him.
‘Hey, kid! Y’all right in there?’
Tarrin got to his feet, startled, and backed into a corner. Had the doctor come already after all? Had he not heard him? Was this it? Was it now?
Deet was outside, turning the key in the lock. Tarrin clenched his hands, feeling the sharpness of his fingernails against his own flesh.
He’d go for his eyes. When Deet came for him, he’d go for his eyes.
The door opened slowly.
‘Y’all right in there, kid? You got the blues? You’ve not done nothing stupid, have you? Here – I brought someone to cheer you up.’
He stood aside to let a woman enter. She was blonde and pretty and wore a lot of perfume and lipstick. She was carrying a tray with plate of oven chips, fish fingers and peas upon it.
‘Here you are, honey,’ she said. ‘Brought you a little something to eat. Good, proper home cooking. I warmed it all up myself.’
Then, as she put the tray down, she turned to Deet and said, ‘Isn’t he the cutest thing, Deet?’
‘Just like I said.’
‘Why, he’s a darling!’ she said. And she would have ruffled Tarrin’s hair, only he saw it coming and backed away.
‘Ah – he’s a shy one too. That’s just so cute!’
Deet beamed with approval. He looked like somebody showing off his car, his pride and joy, in an effort to impress a new girlfriend. ‘This here is Miss Lindy Rae, kid,’ he said. ‘She’s a friend of mine. Well – say hello.’
‘Hello,’ Tarrin mumbled.
Miss Lindy Rae wriggled the fingers of her right hand at him by way of reply.
‘After the op, kid, she’ll be coming along with us. She’ll be your new ma. We’ll be like one big happy family! What do you say to that?’
Tarrin said nothing, so Deet turned to Miss Lindy Rae and said, ‘He’s a little nervy, about the forthcoming . . . but once that’s over, we’ll all be getting on like a barn on fire.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ Miss Lindy Rae beamed. ‘Well, you enjoy your meal, honey, and we’ll see each other later.’
She turned to leave. Deet looked at Tarrin and said, ‘Eat up, kid. Be a while before you get another plateful. No more food after this till the PP’s all done.’
Deet glanced around the room, as if to check that Tarrin hadn’t been up to anything, then he nodded and followed Miss Lindy out. Tarrin looked at the food but he left it untouched. He went to examine the shutters, to see if there was some way he could unlock them or break them apart. But they were firmly secured and they were solid, built to pivot on steel bars secured to the stonework.
He went back to lie on the bed. He listened to the sounds of the afternoon and he watched the finger of light move over the bed, then over the carpet and towards the other side of the room. It touched the skirting board, it began to ascend, it crept on, up and up along the wall.
He felt hungry now. He went and ate some of the cold chips and one of the cold fish fingers and he drank from the glass of water he had also been brought.
Sometimes Deet and the lady were silent, sometimes he heard their voices. Sometimes they laughed, sometimes they seemed to be talking confidentially – maybe about him.
Then the sliver of light was going, fading, and the whole room was turning dark.
Tarrin wondered if the Hartingers would be looking for him. Of course they would. They’d have called for the police the moment they had discovered Bradley tied up on the floor. They’d have run up the stairs to see if Tarrin was all right, and they’d have found his room empty and his suitcase gone.
Had Bradley seen that it was Deet? Maybe. Maybe not.
Another sliver of light entered the room now. It was silver, the light from the moon. It began the same journey, inching its way across the floor.
Then Tarrin heard something. A soft, quiet sound. The sound of somebody stealing away and not wanting anyone to know it. It was the front door, being quietly opened and as quietly shut. Then there were footsteps out in the street and then Miss Lindy Rae’s voice laughing and her saying, ‘But you just crack me up, Deet!’
And Deet saying, ‘Keep it down, will ya? We don’t want the kid to hear.’
Then the sounds of car doors being opened and a car being driven away.
He was alone in the house. They’d left him alone. How long for, he had no means of knowing. Maybe for a few minutes, maybe for long hours. But if he wanted to get out, it had to be now.
13
Escape
Kinane hadn’t given up. Not even now that somebody else had beaten him to it. He’d ask around, look around, he’d find him again. He’d find him.
He walked casually along the street, past the squad cars, and engaged one of the officers there in conversation.
‘Something happening here, officer?’
The man was bored and tired. He’d been left outside to stand guard while his superiors sat in the comfort of the Hartingers’ drawing room taking statements from both them and their unfortunate employee.
‘Yeah. Kid gone.’
‘You don’t say?’
‘Yesterday night.’
‘How’d a thing like that happen?’
‘Reckon someone was watching the place, waited till they’d gone out, just the kid and the one guy in there, banged on the door and jumped him.’
‘Well, well . . .’
‘It’s how it goes. With kids like gold dust, what can you expect? If you’ve got food in a world full of starving people . . .’
‘Someone’s going to try and steal it.’
‘Guess they are.’
Kinane knew instinctively who had taken him, the man who had sold him. It wasn’t a new trick. Sell what you had for as much as you could get and then steal it back again.
‘Think you’ll get the kid back?’ he asked the policeman.
‘Who knows,’ the officer shrugged. ‘It’s a big world and a big city and there’s a lot of hiding places in it, and there’s so many people around willing to buy a kid, no questions asked . . .’
‘It’s a sorry state of affairs.’ Kinane looked up at the house.
‘You got any kids yourself?’ he asked the policeman.
‘Me? I wish. You?’
But before Kinane could answer him, the policeman broke into a smile. ‘Hey, tell you what – I saw a baby though,’ he said, mightily pleased with himself.
‘No way!’ Kinane said.
‘Sure did!’
‘When?’
‘Just a day or two ago.’
‘Never!’
‘Oh yeah.’ The incident had turned into the policeman’s favourite topic of conversation.
‘So where was that?’
‘Couple of streets away.’
‘Never!’
‘Yeah. Tell you what else . . .’
‘Yeah?’
‘She gave me a smile . . .’
‘Gave you a smile?’
‘And I got to hold her. Her mother let me hold her. And as we were going along, she reached out from the pram, and put her little hand around my finger and held on to it for a little while, just like that.’
‘Well!’
‘Now that was something. That doesn’t happen every day.’
‘And that was right round here?’
‘Just around the corner there.’
‘Well, I’d have liked to have seen that.’
‘You ever seen a baby?’
‘You mean for real?’
‘Yeah. I don’t mean TV. Everyone’s seen one on TV. I mean for real.’
Kinane took his time to answer, then he nodded and said, ‘Yes, I’ve seen a baby. Yes.’
‘Held one?’ the policeman said, feeling that he was still in the lead.
Kinane nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘held one too . . . but that was a long time ago now . . . a long, long time ago. Well, I guess I’ll be going.’
‘OK. Nice to talk to you.’
‘Hope you find him, officer – the kid that was taken.’
‘Well, he’s got to be somewhere. You take care now.’
The policeman looked after Kinane as he walked away. Had he mentioned to the guy that the missing kid was a boy? He didn’t think so, but maybe he had. Yeah, he must have done. Or how else would the man have known?
*
Tarrin tried the door handle, quietly at first, in case Deet was still in the house after all. He listened and waited, then, no longer caring how much noise he made, he tried with all his strength to break the lock, but it was useless. In a fit of pique and anger he kicked at the door with his foot, but it made little impact, other than to cause him to lose balance and stumble to the floor.
He stayed there, lying on his back, kicking at one of the door panels with the heel of his shoe, trying to break it. But it wouldn’t give. He kicked at it again, over and over, but it was solid and just wouldn’t crack.
Then, as he kicked it one final time, he heard a sound. Not the sound of breaking or splintering, but a sound of metal on wood, a tinkle, a clatter.
He crawled to the door and lay face down, trying to see out through the gap between the base of the door and the floorboards.
It was the key. Deet had left it in the door and Tarrin must have kicked it out of the lock. There it lay, on the other side of the door, glinting in the light of the bulb above the landing.
Tarrin tried to wriggle his fingers under the door to retrieve it, but it had fallen too far away. He stood and looked around the bedroom, then went into the bathroom, took the toilet roll from its holder, unwound all the paper and carefully unravelled the cardboard inside, then he flattened it as best as he could and went back to the door.
He fed the cardboard out under the door, slightly to the right of the key, and then tried to scoop the key in towards him, but he misjudged and only succeeded in pushing it a little further away.
No!
He tried to reach it again, but the cardboard was now an inch or two short. He pulled the cardboard back in, tore and folded it lengthways to make it longer, then pushed it out again – gradually, carefully, no mistakes this time.
There. He hooked the peeled cardboard round the key and pulled it towards him. It moved closer, then the cardboard slid off, so he had to bring it back in, smooth it out, feed it out again and try once more.
Little by little he reeled the key in nearer to the door. Finally there it was, he could almost touch it with his fingers. But not quite.
The gap wasn’t wide enough for him to get it in under the door.
Only it must be, it had to be. He tried to reach it, endeavouring to thrust his fingers under the door, but he only succeeded in skinning his knuckles.
