Dark Eden (11 page)

Anyway when we saw it go down the tube, we backed off for a bit to give it time to turn itself round in there. Meantime we took out some wavyweed string that we had in our bag and made a loop in it. I had a club with me. It was a good one, made of a whitelantern branch with two big stones shoved into the hole at the bigger end and sealed in there with buckfoot glue. I gave it to Met, who was tall and clumsy and not too bright.

‘Don’t
you
want to do for it, John?’ he asked, like it was my right, since I’d done for the leopard, to kill any animal I liked.

Met was one of those many people who look to others to tell him what to do and what to think.

‘No, you saw it, Met, you do for it.’

The flutterbyes had fluttered off when the slinker appeared, but flutterbyes don’t have much memory, and, now the slinker was out of sight, they’d all started coming back again after the candy. And pretty soon there was a bat there too, a tar bat, leopard-black, swooping and diving like a scrap of darkness in the glittery forest, snatching up the flutterbyes as they came up from the tubecandy.

Silly bat didn’t know what was coming.
Snap!
Out shot the head of the slinker and got it with one crunch, along with a couple of flutterbyes.
Click click
, went its feet as it backed down the tube again.

I looked at Met. He’d have preferred me to take charge really, but he could see from my face that I was leaving it up to him.

‘Er … You two ready with that string then, Gerry and Jeff?’ he asked.

The three of them crept forward quietly and Gerry and Jeff stood each side of the tree trunk with the loop dangling over the hole. Met stood in front of them with the club ready.

Another bat came looping down.
Whoosh
, went its wings as it dived through the flutterbyes, snatching up a big fat blue one with its little hands. Then up it swooped again, up through the shining branches, up, up, up, gobbling down the flutterbye as it went. Up, up, up, then round and down it came again, right down, right next to the tube hole.

‘Now!’ yelled Met as the slinker’s head came out. Jeff and Gerry pulled tight. Met brought his club down
smack
. The bat swerved away with a little shriek.

Three things could easily go wrong at this moment. One, the slinker pulls back too quick and you don’t get him. Two, you get him with the club but not the string, so he’s dead but he drops back down the tube to Underworld, to rot or be eaten up by whatever it is that lives down there. Three, you get him with the string but not the club, so he’s still alive and threshing and biting like crazy and you have to hold tight and hope the string doesn’t break or he’ll get you with those vicious spiny teeth. This time, though, they got all of it right. The string caught the slinker round the neck, the club mashed its head so that, if that slinker wasn’t dead straight off, it certainly near enough was, and Gerry and Jeff pulled it out of the hole, its body still twitching and its little claws still waving about and clicking and grabbing at the air.

‘Got yer!’ yelled Met delightedly, giving it another whack with the club.

Gerry ran forward to trample on it. Met hit it again.

But Jeff, he was a strange little boy. He had been part of all this up to that moment, but now suddenly he was standing back from what was going on, like he was looking in from outside.

‘We’re here,’ he said. ‘This is happening. We are really here.’

‘Of course we’re bloody here, you dork!’ exclaimed Met, giving the quivering slinker another whack.

But Gerry regarded his brother with a concerned expression. He was protective of Jeff, and at the same time he looked up to him, even though Jeff was the younger of the two of them. He knew there was something strange and special about Jeff while he, well, he was just Gerry.

Jeff squatted down by the slinker, touched its mangled head as gently as if it was a baby, ran his fingers along its hot scaly body.

‘Poor old thing. Poor old tubeslinker.’

‘What are you talking about?’ snorted Met, looking at me and Gerry to see if we’d have a laugh with him, but we wouldn’t.

‘It’s just a bloody
slinker
!’ Met said.

‘I wonder what it’s
like
to be a slinker?’ Jeff said.

‘What do you mean, what’s it like to be a slinker?’ exclaimed Met, once again looking at me and Gerry. Surely we could see
that
was funny?

‘What does a slinker think about, I mean,’ Jeff persisted.

I think kids like him – I mean clawfeet, batfaces, the ones who are left on the outside of things – can go in different ways. Most of them are desperate to please and to get in with the other kids. Some turn into bullies and try and control people, like David Redlantern. But a few choose just to stay outside and think their own thoughts. Jeff was one of that kind. He was smart smart, much smarter than Gerry. He had
much
much more going on in his head. And he had his own angle, his own way of seeing things that he wasn’t going to set aside to please anyone else. I liked him for that. I was on the outside of things too in my own way. Not that I was a clawfoot or anything but I just felt different.
Different
different. So in a way I felt a connection with Jeff. In some ways we were alike, though in other ways gentle little Jeff wasn’t like me at all.

Met rolled up the dead slinker and tied it up with string while Gerry and Jeff went to the air-tube and pulled out all the candy they could reach. When we got back to Family we found out that our old slinker was the best catch of that waking and everyone told Met what a great hunter he was. Yet time had been – not generations ago, but even just when I was a little kid – when people would kill a slinker and just leave it out in forest for the tree foxes and starbirds because they didn’t think the meat was good enough to be worth carrying back.

When we’d eaten in group, and after I’d let Old Roger beat me at a game of chess, I walked across to Spiketree again and looked for Tina.

‘You two
are
getting on well, aren’t you?’ said the Spiketree people, giving each other knowing looks, like there’s something clever about being able to spot when a boy and a girl fancy each other, like it doesn’t happen all the bloody time.

Tina and me went back up past Brooklyn and London and Blueside – with people in
all
those bloody groups as well looking at us and looking at one another, as if to say ‘Do you see what I see?’ – and we went up over the rocks to Deep Pool, shining down there in its own hiding place, with rocks and bright trees all around it, like a world inside a world inside a world. And we scrambled back down to the place on the bank where we’d been last time. A single jewel bat was swooping low over the water in a series of long runs. A couple of small ducks sat in middle of a mass of lilies and cooed and rattled to one another, smoothing down their wings with their hands and flashing their little green headlights. Far off in forest out Blueside, a female starbird called
Aaaah! Aaaah! Aaaah! …

And suddenly a male starbird answered right up beside us:
Hoom! Hoom! Hoom!
It made us jump because we’d not even noticed it up in the tree there, hidden in a mass of bright whitelanterns. It rustled its golden wings and rattled its blue tail feathers so that the coloured stars glittered. It tipped its head and looked at us with one of its flat black eyes, the little lights glinting inside like secret thoughts, and its black hooked beak opened and closed, as if it was about to say something and then changed its mind. Then its scaly arms came out from under its wings and it touched the tips of its fingers together, so we could just hear the clack of its long black claws.

Tina untied her waistwrap and dived straight down into the warm water.
Whoosh!
Off went the starbird over the water and away into forest with a clatter of wings and whitelantern branches, and a series of loud cries:
Raa! Raa! Raa!
I followed Tina. We didn’t bother with oysters. We’d taken the easy ones last time anyway. Instead we raced across to the far side of the pool and back again, pushing through the floating streamers of the water lanterns when we could, or diving under them when they were too thick. Down there under the surface it felt like we were flying over those pinnacles of rock that went down and down, and over shining water lanterns and wavyweed, with green and red tiger fish and tiny bluefish swimming through it in shoals. Down and down, shoals below shoals: Deep Pool wasn’t like Greatpool or Longpool where you could dive and touch the bottom. In Deep Pool you couldn’t make out where it ended.

‘So have you thought of some more things for us to talk about?’ she asked me, after we’d climbed out again.

She threw me half a bunch of water lantern nuts.

‘We’re
here
,’ I said, after munching for a bit. ‘Have you ever heard our Jeff say that? We’re here. We’re really here.’

Tina didn’t laugh at this like Met did. She narrowed her eyes. She thought carefully about what I might mean. Then she nodded.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard him. We’re here.
And
…?’

‘Most people in Family never think about it. You do your chores, you have something to eat, you have a bit of a gossip and a moan, you have something else to eat, you have a slip, you go to sleep … and they never think once about where they are, or where they might be.’

‘I’d say they dream a lot about where they
might
be.’

‘They wish they were back on Earth, you mean? They wish they were with the Shadow People. They wish a boat would come down from sky and take them away from all their sorrows. Is that what you mean?’

‘Yes. All that.’

‘That’s the same thing as
not
thinking about where they are or where they might be,’ I said. ‘That way they don’t even have to try.’

Tina frowned.

‘But wouldn’t
you
like to be on Earth? With the light in sky and everything?’

How we all longed for that bright light. How we’d always longed for it.

‘Yeah, of course,’ I said. ‘But there’s no point in going on about it, is there? I’m not
on
Earth, am I? I might never get there in my lifetime. I’m in Eden. We’re in Eden. This is what we’ve got.’

I waved my hand at the scene in front of us: that little jewel bat leaving a sparkly trail as it skimmed the surface of the water with the tips of its fingers; that whitelantern branch hanging down over its own reflection; those tiny shimmery little fish nipping in and out of the tangle of roots round the pool’s edge.

Hoom! Hoom!
went the starbird off in forest.

Aaaah! Aaaah!
came back the reply.

‘Yeah,’ said Tina, ‘this is what we’ve got.’

She moved over near me, and looked right up close into my face.

It was different now to last time. Sometimes boys and girls did a slide together just to stop themselves having to talk, and stop themselves having to notice what was happening. Sometimes it was like going to sleep, or stuffing your face with food. Sometimes it was like hiding from the leopard up the bloody tree. That was why I hadn’t wanted to do it before. But right now, if we did it, it would be different. It wouldn’t be like hiding away from the leopard. It would be like facing it. I leaned forward to kiss her sweet cruel funny mouth. I leaned forward. She moved towards me. I …

Paaaaarp! Paaaarp! Paaaarp!

The sound came from Family and echoed round the rocks.
Paaaaarp! Paaaarp! Paaaarp!
An ugly sound on many different notes that didn’t fit together.
Paaaaarp! Paaaarp! Paaaarp!
Up from Circle Clearing.
Paaaaarp! Paaaarp! Paaaarp!

‘Gela’s tits!’ hissed Tina, sitting back up.

We’d heard it many times before. It was the signal for whole Family to come together. It was Any Virsry. Oldest must have finally agreed on their days and their years. They must have decided that this was the moment – this was three hundred and sixty-five days after the last Any Virsry – and called for Caroline and the rest of Council to get out the hollowbranch horns and get hold of all the newhairs and young men they could find to blow them.

Paaaaarp! Paaaarp! Paaaarp!

It was an ugly noise but it carried well. It carried all over the valley, querulous like Oldest themselves. If there were woollybuck hunters up by the snows at Cold Path they’d hear it. If there were people digging out blackglass out by Exit Falls they’d hear it. If there were people up by Dixon Snowslug looking for stumpcandy, they’d hear it and know what it meant.