Humpty's Bones (10 page)

Six Months Later

Eden Page wrote this e-mail:

Dear Heather,

Here are some photographs. I hope you like what I’ve done with the house. You’ll see the kitchen is now in limed oak. The windows are twice the size they were; it’s made the place very bright and airy. The fire didn’t cause as much damage as first thought. I must add, Mr Hezzle and his family have been a great help. They really are wonderful neighbours. They’ve worked miracles.

It’s good to hear that Uncle Curtis is well on the road to recovery. The both of you retiring to Portugal has been very wise. I’m sure the climate suits you perfectly.

Tell me what you think of the photographs of the rooms now they’re finished. I think you’ll be amused by the one entitled ‘The Old Laboratory’. It’s now my study. Dog Star House is a home again. I’m very content here.

Lots of love, Eden.

With the e-mail sent, Eden stepped out into the pleasant sunlight of an Autumn afternoon. A few apples remained on the trees in the orchard. They glowed red with a full ripeness. Beside one tree a slight dip in the ground marked where her aunt had excavated the grave. Now grass had grown over it. From time to time, people would take the old path from the village to stand by it for a while. Each visitor would drop a coin into a narrow cleft that formed something like the opening to a rabbit’s burrow. Often they told Eden how pleased they were that she’d issued an invitation to practice their devotion whenever they wished.

Eden strolled to the back gate. The dyke, a narrow waterway as straight as a ruler, seemed to run through the fields into infinity. In the meadow Mr Hezzle drove his tractor. Cheerfully, he raised a hand in greeting. She waved back.

Content, relaxed, in love with her new life here at Dog Star House, she luxuriated in gazing out across this strangely beautiful, if forgotten realm of England. Eden’s eye focused on the distant horizon where ploughed earth became married to blue sky. Eden wished she could see a certain figure racing through the sunlight toward her. But she knew that wouldn’t happen by day.

He called on her at night. When all the shadows merged into one. When traffic absented itself from the
Via Britannicus
. When villagers closed the doors of their houses. Birds returned to their roosts. Cattle dozed in the pasture. That’s when Eden Page would open the back door to find him standing there, his bright eyes fixed on hers.

Then he’d softly stroke her face and whisper, ‘Eden loves’. In the past, his voice had appeared to emanate from everywhere but his lips. What’s more, it had been a disordered stream of half-memory mixed with raw emotion. However, gradually, over the last few weeks he’d begun to speak to her. Albeit haltingly. Nevertheless: speech meant mind. Mind meant intelligence.

Many a time these lines would run through her head:
All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.

But she had.

A bird singing on the fence drew Eden back to the sunlit present. She smiled. The miracle had happened. For her, the changes in her body were quite plain to see. And her ancestors had provided her with the words to describe just what the result would be.

‘Our child.’

And will that birth mean the end of Mankind as we know it?
she mused.
Well only time, and Darwin’s ghost, could tell...

Introduction

Danger Signs and Other Allurements

Okay. You’re aged twelve, or thereabouts. You’re walking along a path when you see the sign: DANGER! KEEP OUT! Do you keep walking calmly forward, while praising the foresight of that considerate person who planted the sign that warns of untold hazards? Do you heck! If you’re twelve DANGER! KEEP OUT! really means LOTS OF EXCITING STUFF HERE! COME ON IN!

And in you rush, eager for adventure. In English law, such a temptation that induces children to trespass into forbidden areas (where harm lurks) is known as an ‘Allurement’. As you might imagine, lots of rather grim legal cases feature the word aplenty. When I was a child, roaming the fields near where I lived, a danger sign would elicit excited shouts from my friends. For example, we once defied DANGER OF FALLING MASONRY warnings to search for a secret tunnel that linked Rogerthorpe Manor with a hilltop known as Upton Beacon, a distance of two miles. Regrettably, the so-called secret tunnel only extended five paces into the back of some grotty outbuilding. Another foray into a forest that bristled with danger signs seemed quite dull until I heard one of my friends shouting ‘Help! Help!’ in a strangely strangled voice. Thinking he was mucking about, I pushed through thick bushes to find that they suddenly ended. Literally ended in thin air. The bushes formed a dense fringe along the top of a quarry. My friend hung onto a branch, his face distorted in terror, while his feet kicked fresh air some hundred feet above jagged rocks below.

Quickly, I hauled him back from the precipice, and the threat of instant death. On the way home we agreed it was an exciting day out, and we’d visit the quarry again soon.

All these childhood memories were bubbling away in the back of my head when I started to write this story. After all, childhood is a world where the laws of time, logic, perception and behaviour don’t apply in the same way as they do in the adult world. Kids are drawn to derelict buildings (where bricks might fall on heads, or an individual might plunge through a rotten floor); kids love to mess around at the edge of deep ponds; they light campfires, then throw on canned beans to see what happens. Then some bright spark produces an aerosol (marked
highly flammable
) and asks the question, ‘I wonder what’ll happen if we put this on the fire?’ My friend, Victor, emptied out the contents of a handful of fireworks, then applied a lit match to the mound of black granules. At school the next day we marvelled at what a boy looked like without eyebrows or hair (at least on the front half of his head). Most boys hurried home that night determined to repeat the exciting experiment.

So: to the story. What happens if a group of children walk by an old military base? They’ve been this way many times before. There are DANGER SIGNS, of course. High fences. Barbed wire. Sadly, for them, the big old concrete bunkers are securely locked up.

Then, one day, they notice that one of the massive steel doors to a bunker lies open. Beyond this yawning doorway a passageway leads into the mysterious heart of the building. The darkness within oozes excitement, it whispers to their imagination:
secrets lie inside
.

So: When you were twelve what would you do? The sensible option would be to tell yourself it’s too dangerous to go anywhere near that once sealed up bunker.

Or would you take just a little peek inside?

Over the page, four children face that allurement. Just between you and me, I think they’re going to take that little peek through the bunker doorway. First, though, they’re going to climb through the fence that bears a sign.

The one that reads:

CAUTION!

RESTRICTED MILITARY ZONE

DO NOT PASS.

DANGER OF DEATH!

Simon Clark

Yorkshire

14 December, 2009

Danger Signs

Pitt is twelve years old. Pitt is also crazy. Although it still shocked me when he told me what he planned to do.

‘You’re insane,’ I told him. ‘You don’t know what’s in there.’

‘Probably a psycho,’ said Jenny.

‘Or poisonous chemicals.’ Adam looked worried.

‘And missiles full of flesh-eating virus.’ I nodded at a sign on the fence. ‘That’s been put there for a reason.’

On the sign, this warning in big, shouting letters:

CAUTION!

RESTRICTED MILITARY ZONE

DO NOT PASS.

DANGER OF DEATH!

‘That clear enough for you, Pitt? You go in there you’re a dead man.’

He whirled round at me. ‘Hey, Naz. Are you saying I’m scared? Do you think I’m frightened of that?’ He punched the sign so hard it gave a heck of a clatter. Birds flew in panic from the trees. The notice was so old the painted side began to peel away from its wooden backing. The sign, itself, was a thin metal sheet. One still shiny enough to reflect the sunlight like hazard lights - as if to say:
Warning. Peril ahead.

‘No, I’m not saying you’re a coward. But if there are danger signs... ’

‘He’s right,’ Adam said, ‘if you ignore warnings you’re asking for trouble.’

Pitt snarled, ‘I don’t care about any stupid sign. I’m going in.’

With that he left without us. We watched him through the hole in the fence as he strolled in bright sunshine to the military bunker. The size of a house, it was built out of concrete that had been painted in camouflage greens. There were no windows. Only a big steel door. For the first time in our lives we saw the door was open. Wide open. Yawning so big it looked like a monster’s mouth. Beyond the door lay a dark tunnel. Like I said, Pitt’s crazy. But I didn’t want him to go into the bunker. I’d got a bad feeling about that place.

Let me explain something before I go any further. Okay, even though Pitt acts crazy we’ve been friends for years. He’s done things like put wings on his bike, rigged a motor to his skateboard (that got him a week off school with a twisted knee). When he talks about building a rocket we say he’s crazy. Then, deep down, we respect his amazing plans.

Yesterday had been a bad day for Pitt. We’d been walking across the playing field into town. Who should turn up but Adam’s fourteen year old brother, Brian, and his buddies. They’d been riding these illegal dirt bikes, revving the engines like lunatics. They’d ridden them close enough to make us dodge out of the way. Brian had made fun of Pitt for jumping ‘like a frightened little kid’. Then Brian had ridden the bike across the grass like a bullet. He’d swung a sports bag into Pitt’s face. It smacked him hard enough to cut his lip.

Adam had told his big brother to stop being a jerk. Brian laughed it off, saying Pitt shouldn’t act so soft.

So today Pitt had turned up with this bashed mouth. The wound resembled a little red flower on his bottom lip. When he touched the cut with his finger it still oozed blood. It looked really sore. Every so often he flinched as if it stung like it was on fire.

There were four of us - Pitt, Jenny, Adam, and me, Naz. All twelve year olds. We tried to cheer up Pitt as we walked through the woods but you could tell the attack by Brian still bugged him. He’d got real anger in his eye.

When we saw what had happened to the bunker it made us forget everything else.

Pitt had stared in wonder. ‘After all these years. That’s the first time I’ve seen the door open.’

When he realised there was nobody about, that’s when he announced he was going inside. So through the hole in the fence he went - ignoring the danger sign.

And that brings us to now - this very moment when Pitt wanted to prove to us that he was no coward. One second he stood in the open doorway then he vanished inside.

‘His funeral,’ Adam grunted.

‘We can’t just leave him,’ Jenny protested. ‘What happens if he gets hurt?’

I agreed. ‘If he calls for help nobody will hear. It’s a mile to the nearest house.’

Adam gazed at the sign -
DANGER OF DEATH -
like it would grow claws and rip off his head. ‘They put that up for a reason. My uncle used to deliver propane here twenty years ago. He said they had nuclear weapons in underground tunnels.’

Jenny pointed at the bunker. ‘Kids have covered the walls with graffiti. The army wouldn’t have allowed that if it had still been in use.’

‘Oh no. I know what you’re going to do,’ Adam was horror-struck. ‘You’re going in there, aren’t you?’

This stopped me dead because I’d planned to wait here by the fence until Pitt returned.
And surely he’ll come back soon. There’s nothing in the bunker that could hurt him, was there?
Even so, that yawning doorway looked so darkly forbidding. Even the concrete bunker reminded me of a big dinosaur skull. From that grim building came a yell. Or was it a cry of pain?

‘Jenny,’ Adam caught hold of her arm. ‘Wouldn’t it be best to wait here?’

‘Didn’t you hear it? That shout came from Pitt. We’ve got to see if he’s alright.’ She gave us a hard stare. ‘Well, I’m going in if you’re not.’

I groaned. I’d no choice. I couldn’t let her go in there alone. Quickly, I followed her to the bunker. That huge metal door, fully six inches thick, made me have worrying thoughts about the entrance to ancient tombs. A darkly forbidden place.

Jenny regarded it with awe. ‘This door’s huge.’

‘It’s bomb proof!’

‘How could anyone have broken in here?’

Adam checked the entrance more closely. ‘See these gouge marks on the inside of the door? The way it’s scratched all over?’ He gulped. ‘Nobody’s broken in here.
They’ve broken out.’