Becoming (18 page)

‘You OK?’

‘I should be fine. Help me up, will you?’

Gaia helped Aran to his feet, and he hobbled across to gather his rucksack, shaking his head in an attempt to cast off the dizzy haze. Gaia looked across at Freya who was staring up at the ramparts, a worried look on her face. Gaia followed Freya’s eyeline and saw Yann still up there, looking down, ready to jump. Something was wrong. Yann’s body was frozen, his face locked in panic. Freya cupped her hands and hollered, her voice quivering with desperation.

‘Jump Yann. Don’t look, just jump. Come on.’

Gaia could see the rats. Their large, black, hairy bodies were zipping by, a series of flashes as they passed each gap in the ramparts. The creatures were bearing down on Yann, and would be upon him in seconds. He still seemed paralysed with fear, unaware that the rodents were almost upon him. Gaia screamed at Yann.

‘Yann. They’re coming, jump, JUMP!’

For a fraction of a second Yann looked frozen, staring below in a vacant haze. Something stirred and he seemed to hear Gaia’s words. Yann came to, snapped free, and realised the creatures were almost there. He grabbed the sides of the ramparts, and was just about to jump when the first of the rats dived. Gaia saw the rodent’s body thrust through the air like a missile, its jaws open wide, ready to lock onto their target. The creature caught him, its teeth plunged into Yann’s throat. The force of the assault hurled them both over the edge. Man and beast hurtled to the ground, locked together, Yann grabbing at his throat, trying to pull the rat from him as the creature writhed and flailed, its jaws locked in a deadly grip.

Time seemed to slow as Yann and the creature fell. Gaia could see every movement of their macabre dance, every expression of agony on Yann’s face, every frenzied jerk of the rat’s neck and jaws. Blood was gushing from Yann’s wound, and he screamed as they hit the earth and began to roll. The rat was still locked on Yann’s throat ripping and sucking the life from him. Aran and Freya began to run towards him, but stopped. Gaia was frozen in horror. The other rats were staring over the edge of the castle walls, ready to jump, but still tentative, waiting. Gaia knew the creatures would jump. The hesitation was instinctive, but the hunger was stronger, the desire to feed overwhelming. The rats would see and smell the blood, inviting them, urging them on. Time was edging forward, second by second, in a blurred slow motion. The rats would jump and, in an instant be upon the group. The rodents were gathering, the opportunity of escape was slipping away.

Gaia, Freya and Aran looked on in desperation and horror, as Yann was torn apart. Gaia watched as the life was ripped from his face and body. The remaining three knew it was too late. Once the jaws had locked onto Yann’s throat it was when and not if. The moment Yann and the creature hit the earth it was over, the injuries fatal. Yann stopped fighting, every ounce of energy had gone, every last piece of life dissolved. Gaia and the others had to run, preserve themselves. The rats were coming and it was all about survival. It always had been, and always would be. Gaia barked at the others.

‘Leave him. He’s gone. Come on. Run!’

Freya had paused, tempted to attack the rats, exact revenge for the killing. Her killer instinct wrestled with the urge to survive at all costs. Yann and his killer were only metres away, but the rat paid her no attention, still tearing at Yann’s throat. Yann was limp, soaked in a blanket of his own blood. Freya knew it was over. To attack was futile. She could kill the rat, but that would cost time, and time was their only hope now. Freya snapped out of the lust for revenge and grabbed Aran. He too had thoughts of settling scores, had the urge to attack. Freya tugged at Aran’s arm, pleading.

‘It’s no use Aran, we have to save ourselves. Let’s go.’

Aran’s head dropped into his hands. He began to shake and quiver. He was losing his grip, his mind was crumbling, losing all sense of hope. Freya yanked at Aran’s arm again, and began to drag him away. Something in the back of his brain told him there was still a chance. The panic began to dissolve, Aran’s mind regained control. Now was not the time for risks, it was the time to run, to preserve life, to survive. Emotion was weakness. Action was strength.

The rats on the rampart were beginning to make their move. A creature’s long claws and head were over the side, scratching and feeling its way down the stone walls. It fell, flying through the air towards the hillside. This was the trigger for the others, the tumble of the first domino. Another rat followed, then another, and another. The adults dived first, then the young. Even in the throws of their murderous frenzy they had a deference to order and hierarchy. It was programming, instinct, the natural way. Without order there was chaos, and in chaos there was weakness. The rats were the same as Gaia, Freya, Aran, and Yann They were all programmed to survive, hunter or hunted, kill or be killed.

Freya and Aran ran towards Gaia, passing her, as all three sprinted towards the woods. Gaia caught a glimpse over her shoulder. The last of the rats had hurled themselves from the ramparts. The creatures that had landed were huddled around the body of Yann, feasting on flesh, the blood still warm and fresh. Gaia felt sick, the image of Yann’s face flashing through her mind, his smile laid back and carefree. Yann was not made for this world. Chaos was his beauty; innocence the weakness that destroyed him. Yann was for the old world, not here, not this moment.

The group charged on towards the woods, the only urge to survive. They were building a gap, putting as much distance as they could between them and the rats. The creatures were still devouring Yann, locked in a feeding frenzy. At the moment the rats wallowed in the rampant delirium of a fresh kill, but soon that would be gone and the rodents would know more human flesh was waiting, escaping.

15
 

Now there were three, sprinting towards the woods and the church beyond. Legs pumped hard, the grass and heather heavy with morning dew made the going tough. They were tired, but the hunger to live matched the hunger of the rats for blood. The group had a good head start, and the church was near. If they could reach it and lock themselves inside they could sit it out, and wait till the rats grew hungry and moved on. Gaia looked back over her shoulder. The rats had begun their pursuit, but had left it late. They were too overcome by their feasting, the sweet warm flesh and blood. That was gone and the creatures sensed more prey. The rats were faster and better suited for this terrain. The three still had time, precious time, now more precious than ever. Gaia kept pushing forward, Freya and Aran still just ahead. They reached the woods and zig-zagged through the few, sparse trees making it easier to navigate and plot a path. The three were almost there, the stone wall of the churchyard metres away.

Freya and Aran leapt the wall into the graveyard, followed by Gaia. The headstones were broken and neglected, the graves overgrown. The long forgotten relics of the past lay tattered in a garden of buried memories, and love that no longer survived. The group darted in, out and over the graves towards the door of the church. Freya reached it first, hurling herself against it and trying the handle. It was locked. Aran and Gaia reached her,  as all three gasped for air. The rats had not yet entered the churchyard, and still could not be seen for the wall. Soon the creatures would be here and once they leapt the wall Gaia and the others had only seconds.

Freya stepped out from the stone arch of the doorway. She surveyed the roof, and set off around the church, Gaia and Aran close behind. At the head of the church was a tower, at its base a wooden door. Freya tried the handle, but again it was locked. She moved to the side of the tower and clambered up a drainpipe onto the roof.

‘Come on, climb up here.’

Freya reached down and helped Gaia. Aran followed with Gaia’s help. All three crept up the steep, slate tiled roof which was damp and covered in green moss. They hugged the slates, dragging themselves to the pitch of the roof, where they sat and straddled legs either side. Gaia spoke.

‘What now?’

Freya was looking along the line of the roof to the bell tower. Just up from the highest point of the roof was a window. It was not within easy reach, but with some help from the others one of them would be able to get to it. Gaia looked down into the graveyard, could see nothing, but heard scratching and intermittent shrieks. The rats had reached the church and were down below. The creatures would not be able to climb onto the roof, their size made them too heavy and cumbersome to climb these walls. The three were safe for now, but knew they could not stay on the roof too long. They had to get inside.

Freya led the others, shimmying along the roofline to the window. Aran put his back against the wall, remaining seated. He cupped his hands into a cradle and Freya stepped into them and onto his shoulders. The extra height was just enough to allow her to reach the window. Freya used her knife to lift the latch and pulled herself through. Peering out over the ledge she beckoned to Gaia who stepped into the cradle, onto the shoulders, and pulled herself head first through the window. Gaia lunged forward and fell in a heap on the hard stone floor. Freya lowered a blanket. Aran clutched it and walked up the wall, as she pulled him through to safety. Aran and Gaia lay on the floor, exhausted and relieved they had made it. Freya closed the window and sat down beside the others.

The stone chamber echoed with their breathing. Each lay against the wall, perched upright, overcome with emotion. The realisation of what had happened began to seep in and the initial sense of relief was soon replaced by sorrow. Aran put his head in his hands and wept. Gaia wrapped her arms around him, feeling his sobbing against her breast. She gripped Aran’s head, pressed it hard into her chest, longing to take away the pain. She felt the same burning pain, heartache, and desperation. Aran would feel this more than the others. It was his mission and idea, his leadership and responsibility. Aran had approached Yann, handpicked him to join the group. Yann’s loss was Aran’s burden.

‘Just let it out Aran. It’s hard to take in. I can’t believe he’s gone.’

‘It’s my fault. Yann was only here because of me. I should never’ve let him come.’

Gaia rubbed her fingers through Aran’s soft hair, feeling his gentle sobbing between muffled words. Freya sat with her eyes closed, silent. Gaia continued her attempts to comfort Aran.

‘Don’t blame yourself. Yann knew the risks. We all did. We all chose to be here. There’s nothing any of us could have done. Just remember him as he was.’

Gaia stopped. Maybe her words were futile. The truth is she did not really know who Yann was. She had only known him a few days. The group had been thrust together through circumstances, the connection simply a necessity, an unspoken contract. Yet, the intensity of their situation and the time they had spent together had given colour to Yann’s character. The time had been short, but they had already lived a lifetime together. Gaia knew these moments were life-defining, the experiences special. These were the times that memories were formed.

The past few days Gaia had developed a genuine warmth for her companions. Her interactions with people had always been defined by others. There was a wall, but this went beyond that. Gaia’s feelings for Aran were strong and growing, something different again. Even Freya, who Gaia hated at first had shown strength and loyalty. Freya had moved from an enemy to someone Gaia would trust with her life. Gaia had been wrong. Yann had been the quietest of them all, and in many ways the most difficult to understand. His peace and tranquility were humbling to Gaia. Yann saw the joy in life whatever chaos threw at him. His bubble was a protection, but there was a charm and appeal to such free spirit. The world was full of pain and danger, suffering and despair. Yann looked beyond and saw the beauty. Yann and the others had helped to thaw Gaia’s icy heart.

Gaia continued to play with Aran’s hair, the softness comforted her. Her voice was a whisper, cracked and trembling with emotion.

‘Yann saw beauty in everything. He floated through life. Maybe that was his problem, but at least he was happy.’

Freya opened her eyes.

‘He was one of the good guys, a pure soul but he wasn’t meant to be here.’

Aran sat up and wiped his tears.

‘What do you mean?’

Freya shuffled, and looked away, realising she had said the wrong thing.

‘Sorry, that came out badly. I just meant that some of us are different. We’ve been programmed differently. We’re killers. The world is destroying people like Yann, the ones with the good hearts. It’s natural selection. The good won’t survive.’

Freya’s voice faltered, as Gaia reflected on her words. Freya was right. The three of them could run as far as they wanted, but there was no escaping the truth, no escaping themselves. The young all knew what they were, what the community had made of them. Freedom was the chance to be something different, to become who they chose.

Gaia looked at Freya, tears had filled Freya’s eyes and she was biting her lip. Gaia leant forward, and Aran followed. All three wrapped their arms around one another and hugged. They were long reassuring hugs, that told them everything would be alright. Gaia and the others knew the gravity of the situation and felt the pain of Yann’s loss. If they were to get through this the group could not allow the pain to break them. Freya was right. The young were different, killers, but that made them strong and survivors. Yann had been a gift, showing them all something else. He had reminded all three of their humanity, that there was still beauty and good in the world if you cared to look. Where there was no beauty you could create it. The young lived in a world of fear and brutality, but each could make it better. The new world could begin with them.

All three sat for a while, wallowing in the silence, bathing in its calm. A thought swept through Gaia’s mind. She laughed and spoke.

‘He knew his birds and animals, didn’t he?’

Freya grinned, nodding in agreement.

‘I know. Where’d he pick that up? Were you ever taught anything like that?’

‘Nope. Not that I recall.’

Aran shook his head and chuckled.

‘Do you think they were training him to run a farm?’

They all laughed, filled with warmth and affection. The three sat and exchanged memories of Yann. Tender and touching stories filled with the same spirit and humour as Yann. Despite the brief time together, and difficult circumstances there were fleeting moments of laughter and joy. Aran told of when he first met Yann, how Aran had approached him, how it had become apparent that Yann also wanted to escape. Aran seemed uncomfortable in recalling it, as though the memory was too private and it was not right to share. This was the part of Yann’s backstory that had always puzzled Gaia, but had never thought to ask. Why did Aran pick Yann and why did he want to come? Despite his reticence Aran told them.

‘I don’t know, there was always something different about Yann. I thought it was a rebellious streak, but maybe with hindsight I was wrong. We’d spoken occasionally, and I’d sounded him out a bit. Nothing too obvious, ambiguous stuff. One day he whispered to me,
‘Do you want out?’
That was the start. It was a risk on his part, but I guess I’d given him enough signals. Plus he didn’t seem to care. I arranged to meet him one evening and told him that I had plans and if he wanted in. The look on his face when I told him. I’ll never forget it. He was like a child, could barely contain his excitement. Every time we met you could tell he was itching to go. He wasn't interested in the detail, it was just a case of wanting to go.’

Gaia butted in, there was still one question Aran had not answered and puzzled her.

‘Did he ever say why he wanted to leave the island so much? I thought if anyone could cope with the island it would be Yann. He struck me as the type that would just let it all float by.’

‘I did ask him and it was an odd answer. He said he was bored and wanted some adventure. He said the place drove him nuts.’

They all laughed again, but thought about Yann’s words as they sank in. There was a bit of truth in that for Gaia too, maybe for all of them. There were many reasons Gaia wanted to escape. She had always been convinced it was about finding freedom and her own future. But the escape was showing Gaia that it was about other things too. The journey was about adventure and discovery. All three were young and had their lifetime’s ahead. There was something deep inside Gaia, an urge to fight against being put in a box and made to perform. Gaia did not want to be just a cog in a machine, something engineered by the community to fit its needs. Gaia wanted to see what was left of the world, however messed up it might be. After a long silence Gaia spoke.

‘I think Yann nailed it. That’s why I’m here. Aren’t we all? I want to experience life, live it. I don’t mind if I die taking a few risks. I’d rather die doing something I love, something I chose to do than live a dull life shaped by the community. I want something better. I deserve it. We all do.’

Freya nodded.

‘Yes, that’s it for me, definitely. The hope there’s something better. I don’t know, it’s hard to say exactly but I feel this urge to find some answers. I’m sick of being told who I’m meant to be and what my life is all about. The community say they know what’s best. They talk of the greater good, but it’s always their greater good and their best not mine. I’d like a say. That’s all I want, a say in what I become.’

Gaia smiled. Freya and Gaia both looked at Aran who was quiet, staring into space. Gaia thought he looked lost. He remained silent.

‘How about you Aran? What made you decide to escape?’

Aran continued to look away, the same vacant expression on his face, his mind elsewhere. Gaia thought maybe he had not heard, or was not listening, but he had. Every word had stung him. Aran was thinking of a response, knew what he wanted to say, but could not.

‘I escaped because I had to. I had no choice.’

Aran jumped to his feet, and clasped his hands together. The sudden energy and animation took the others by surprise.

‘Let’s check this place out. We need to know we’ll be safe here, or it’ll all be over before we get to the hills.’

Freya and Gaia got up, and gathered the rucksacks. The chamber was small, almost a landing. It was empty, just a stone floor and two doorways, one leading up to the bell tower, the other down to the main part of the church. Aran led the others down the steep narrow staircase. It was dark. At the base of the staircase was a room, with no light. All three entered, as Freya felt her way around the walls until she reached a door. Freya pressed her ear against it and listened. The other two waited, as Freya reached down and eased the handle. A gap appeared, the door creaked open and light flooded in.

Freya stepped through the door and into the main area of the church, Gaia and Aran followed. The room was large and cold, and coloured light streamed in through the bright stained glass windows. On the right was a large stone basin filled with water. Most of the room was filled with two columns lined with rows of wooden benches. Between was a narrow aisle leading to an open area at the back of the church. The floor was raised and covered in dusty old rugs. There was a platform to one side on which stood a lectern. A long table stood in front of the benches and beyond were more tables littered with an assortment of objects. A large silver cross stood in the centre of the table. The windows at the back of the church were vast, magnificent displays, bursting with a kaleidoscope of rainbow colours woven into a picture of a man on a cross and some people kneeling at his feet. The windows were tall and narrow with a pointed arch at the top. Four stone pillars stretched out to the high wooden ceiling above, and around the higher reaches there were strange stone demons, and a weird menagerie of creatures. The chamber was silent and cavernous. There was a peaceful atmosphere, but there was something not quite right. Gaia had a strange feeling.