Authors: Robert Muchamore
Prosperous town, centre of gold and oil industries. Second largest city after the capital. Far away from all rebel activity, so there are very few road blocks and soldiers. The local police can be brutal and should be avoided.
I slid the notes over my lap so Adam could read it as well. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up. It
looked like we’d landed on our feet. ‘What do you do in Nebulae?’ Sami asked. ‘I’m an assistant to a plastic surgeon.’ ‘Nose jobs and breast enlargements?’ I asked. ‘We do a little private work to help make ends meet,’ Maya said. ‘But mostly we help people burned in
the war. Our money comes from a French charity.’ Once she got used to us, Maya let Sami take a shift at the wheel. There were a few roadblocks along the way. Maya kept a stash of twenty dollar bills in the glove compartment. The soldiers grabbed the banknotes and pulled the spikes out of the road. We didn’t get asked for our documents once.
Sami offered to drive on through the night, but Maya said it was too dangerous. Apparently the area was notorious for bandits who hijacked cars and left you for dead. Shortly before sundown, we pulled into a petrol station with a small guest house at the back. The owner and his wife came out and hugged Maya. ‘Nice to see you again,’ the owner said. ‘I see you’ve picked up more strays.’ Maya looked back at us and laughed. The owner had a long dining table in his kitchen. He gave us all beers while his wife ran around like a lunatic cooking up something that smelled great. They had a daughter Adam’s age. Once the two kids got over their shyness, they started lobbing food at each other and messing about. I grabbed Adam as he chased around the table and whispered in his ear. ‘Like your new girlfriend, Adam.’ He thumped my leg and wriggled out of my grip. It was nice seeing him able to act like a normal kid
for a change. The food was amazing. Spicy rice, cooked banana, barbecued chicken and lamb. All the hotel guests ate around the table, about sixteen people in all. When we waddled off to our room, I was a bit drunk and so bloated I could barely move. The room was clean, with sleeping mats and a wash basin. There were communal toilets and showers at the end of a corridor. I cuddled up to Sami, and kissed her neck. ‘I can feel home,’ I said. ‘We’re so close.’ Sami gently stroked my leg. Adam was creeping around in the dark. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked. Adam let out a guilty little giggle. He wasn’t far away. ‘What are you up to?’ Adam cracked a massive fart right in me and Sami’s faces. He ran back to his sleeping mat, shrieking
with laughter. ‘Little sod,’ Sami moaned. ‘That stinks.’ Adam started laughing even harder. ‘You wait until you fall asleep,’ Sami said. ‘Then you’ll be sorry.’ ‘What are you going to do?’ Adam asked. Sami laughed, ‘You’ll know soon enough.’ I whispered in Sami’s ear, ‘What are you planning?’ ‘Nothing,’ She whispered back. ‘I just want to make him paranoid.’ ‘What are you whispering about?’ Adam asked. ‘Evil plans,’ I said. ‘Evil plans.’
We passed a mural at the side of the tarmac road. It depicted an oil derrick, a bag of gold and a row of smiling children, the message read
Welcome to Nebulae, the economic capital
. It was a weird mix of wealth and poverty. There were as many Mercedes and Range Rovers on the roads as in the wealthiest parts of London, but there were also decrepit busses stuffed with passengers and overloaded trucks belching out fumes. Shacks along the side of the highway were broken occasionally by smart business parks containing the local offices of international companies.
There were no soldiers or army traffic. No sense of the civil war at all. The familiar logos of big corporations made me feel comfortable. If they were here, there had to be links to the outside world. Satellite phones, internet, whatever. I didn’t quite know how I would get my hands on it, but it was here for sure.
Maya pulled off the main highway and drove a couple of kilometres on tarmaced roads past rows of large, tired looking, houses. They all had cars parked out front and the grass at the sides of the road was neatly mowed. The little kids in the street were on bikes and wore clean shorts and designer name trainers. The road branched in two. Maya was heading up a steep hill towards her home. ‘There’s no point you going up here with me,’ Maya said. She pulled up at the side of the road. I reached over the rear seat and grabbed our packs. ‘You need to cut through the next road on the left, past all the fancy houses,’ Maya said. ‘Walk until you come to a main road, then turn left and it’s about five kilometres to the city centre. There are plenty of reasonable hotels if you want to get a room and freshen up. Watch out for pickpockets, they’re everywhere in the city centre.’
I opened the door and started throwing our stuff into the road. Sami leaned forward and gave Maya a hug. ‘Thanks for your help,’ Sami said. ‘Are you sure you won’t take some money for the diesel?’ Maya waved her hand in front of her face, ‘I would have used that fuel anyway, don’t worry about it.’ We slung on our packs and slammed the car doors. Maya gave us a quick wave and drove away. We started heading down the road towards the estate. Following Maya’s instructions, we turned left through a set of freshly painted black gates. The houses looked new. They were all detached, with two or three storeys, neatly mowed lawns and expensive looking cars parked on brick driveways. It was quiet, except for the gentle
thrip thrip
of water sprinklers on the lawns. Sami looked impressed. ‘I could live here quite happily,’ Sami said. ‘Our house in England is bigger than these,’ Adam said. We noticed there was a standpipe at the front of one of the houses. We turned on the tap, drank a few
mouthfuls each and splashed water over our faces. ‘You better move on,’ a man shouted. I looked up. A muscular man wearing nothing but a pair of denim shorts was walking towards us. ‘What’s the problem?’ I asked. ‘I’m just having a drink.’ The man smiled, ‘I don’t have a problem. I’m just the gardener, but if the security guards see you,
you’ll get a hard time.’ ‘No worries,’ I said. ‘We’re not hanging around anyway.’ I noticed there were a couple of satellite dishes on top of the house. One dish had a Globeranger logo on it, I recognised it from the faceplate of my Dad’s satellite phone. ‘Is there a satellite phone in the house?’ I asked. ‘I believe so,’ the gardener said. ‘Would you let us inside to use it?’ The gardener laughed, ‘Why would I do that? I’d lose my job if they caught me.’ ‘How much do you earn?’ I asked, pulling some money out of my trousers. ‘Three seventy-five a week,’ I counted out sixteen hundred dollars. ‘That’s a months wages,’ I said. ‘We’ll be inside for less than ten minutes.’ ‘Two thousand,’ the gardener said. I pushed the money back in my pocket, ‘Forget it then.’ ‘OK, OK,’ the gardener grinned. ‘It’s a fair price. Come quickly, before the security car sees us.’ We rushed up the path into the air conditioned house. It was done up with lots of money and no taste. The satellite base station was on a faux antique telephone stand in the hallway. I grabbed the black handset and found the international code for Britain on a laminated card beside the phone. I dialled the number. It started to ring. Adam put his ear next to the receiver. I heard my Mum’s voice:
‘Hello, this is the Amanda Pascal speaking. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone at the moment. If you leave a message I’ll call you back, soon as poss.’
‘Mum, it’s me, Jake. If you’re there pick up the bloody phone. Adam is with me. We’re in a town called Nebulae. At the moment we’re in a street called The Estate on the northern side of the city. I’ll try and contact you again later. I don’t know when.’ I put the receiver down. ‘Bloody answer phone,’ I said. ‘Try her mobile,’ Adam said. ‘Can you remember the number?’ Adam grabbed the handset and dialled it in. It started ringing. ‘This is the voicemail for zero nine five six seven…’ I left another message. ‘Do you know the number for Dad’s office?’ Adam asked. ‘Its zero two seven something,’ I said. ‘I never needed to remember it. I had it programmed in my
mobile.’ I put the phone down. ‘No luck?’ Sami asked. I shook my head, ‘She must be at the hairdressers or something. I’ll have to try again from somewhere
else.’ ‘Are you leaving now?’ The gardener asked. ‘Looks like it,’ I said. ‘She’s not home.’ I picked my pack off the floor and shoved Adam towards the door. We walked down the front path and started on past the houses. We didn’t get far before a police siren
whooped a few metres behind us. A tinny message came out of a loudspeaker between the flashing lights. ‘Stop where you are.’ The car pulled up in front of us. It had the words
Private Security
and a golden shield painted on the
side. A fat man got out of the drivers seat and walked towards us. ‘What do you know about gnomes?’ The guard asked accusingly. ‘What are gnomes?’ Sami asked. Acting all innocent eh?’ The guard laughed. ‘I’ve seen you kids around. I saw you around two days ago,
the night all Mr Tembupo’s gnomes were smashed up.’ ‘We’ve only been in the city an hour,’ Adam said. ‘Show me your identity papers,’ the guard said, drumming his fingers on the holstered pistol in his belt. I reached in my pocket to get the papers. I could have grabbed my pistol as easily, but I wanted to avoid
trouble if I could. ‘Hey,’ the gardener shouted. He was running down the path towards us. The security guard turned his backs to us. He was such an
amateur, he wouldn’t have lasted two seconds against a real criminal. ‘Do you know these three?’ The security guard asked. ‘Yes, they are staying at the house,’ the gardener said. ‘There is a phone call for them.’ The security guard handed me back the papers, ‘You should have said you were residents. Sorry to have
bothered you.’ I ran back towards the house. ‘It’s a lady,’ the gardener said. ‘She seems very upset.’ I ran inside the house and picked up the receiver. ‘Mum?’ ‘Oh my god,’ Mum sobbed. ‘I was in the gym. I got the number on my caller ID. Are you OK?’ ‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘Is your Dad there?’ ‘He stayed on the plane,’ I said. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s dead.’ ‘How’s Adam?’ ‘He’s got a bit of a burn on his head, apart from that he’s OK.’ ‘Can you get to Nebulae airport?’ Mum asked. ‘I expect we can get a taxi.’ ‘I’ll send one of the Air Amanda planes up from the capital. It should be there in three or four hours.
You’re not too scared to fly anymore are you?’ ‘Mum, if it gets us out of here, I’m getting on it.’ ‘I’ll get on the first flight out of London. I should be in the capital by this evening, provided I can get a
seat.’ Adam nudged me, ‘You better tell her about Sami.’ ‘Oh Mum, make sure there’s a third seat on the plane, for my wife.’ ‘Your
what
?’ ‘My wife. I sort of um… got married.’ ‘Only sort of?’ ‘We’re married,’ I stumbled. ‘Her name’s Sami.’ ‘That was your Grandmother’s name,’ Mum said. ‘You don’t mind then?’ Mum laughed, ‘I couldn’t give a shit if you’ve got six wives as long as you’re alive.’ ‘Listen Mum, the guy who’s letting us use this phone could lose his job if he gets caught. So I’ll just let
you say a quick hello to Adam, then I’ll have to go.’ ‘OK Jake,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll see you some time tonight or tomorrow, bye.’ I handed Adam the receiver and gave Sami a kiss. ‘That’s it,’ I said to her. ‘Mum’s sending us a plane. We’re going home.’
I turned sixteen the week after I got home. Sami has an educational visa. She’s allowed to stay in Britain for two years, as long as she attends language school. She can already hold a decent conversation in English. I’ll be eighteen just after she finishes her course. We’ll go down the register office and get married under British law, then she’ll be able to get a passport and stay here forever.
Everyone says I’m too young and it won’t last. If it was some girl I got off with at the school disco I’d take their point, but me and Sami have been through so much our love goes really deep. Some nights I lie awake listening to her breathe and thinking about her. Just watching her sends a shiver down me.
Adam’s gone back to being a kid: playing Gameboy and eating too many sweets. When he talks about Africa in the daytime it’s all very abrupt and matter of fact, but he gets bad dreams at night. They’re mostly about the time his face got burned. He never goes to Mum. He always lifts the bottom of our duvet and crawls up the bed between me and Sami. Sometimes he doesn’t wake us up, you just open your eyes in the morning and he’s wedged between us.
Mum is pretty lax. My uncles told me she was practically suicidal when she thought we were all dead. She was on pills and spent a couple of weeks in a clinic after a breakdown. When we got home, she was so happy she let us get away with murder. She didn’t care that I was sleeping with Sami. Adam got to sit up on his Playstation until midnight; then he’d say he was sick the next morning and Mum would let him off school. She’s got a bit stricter now, but we still get away with stuff we wouldn’t have dared do when Dad was alive.
I don’t feel like the old me. I never had a single detention my first four years at secondary school, now I’m always in trouble. I answer back, I can’t be bothered with homework and I even got suspended for fighting. Some kid asked me how Jungle Girl was doing, meaning Sami. I punched his face until my fists were covered in his blood. It took two teachers to pull me off. I let my bad side out the bottle when I was in the jungle and now I’m home, I can’t go back to being a goody goody schoolboy. Sami’s exactly the same. She head butted some guy who cut the line in Kentucky Fried Chicken. It wasn’t even our line.
I think about Africa all the time. There’s no news about the civil war. Not on television, in the papers, or even on the internet. Nobody cares about a seven year old war in a poor country. There’s no limit to how long these things last. In Angola, the civil war broke out on independence day in 1967 and it’s been going ever since. I’ll probably never know what happened to Captain, Beck and all the others. The law of averages says none of them will last more than a few years.
A few days after I got back, I looked up Billy Mango on the internet. There’s about fifty fan sites out there and I couldn’t resist joining the Club Mango e-mail list. Six months after I got back, they finally sent out a message:
Billy Mango sensationally re-emerged at a press conference in the capital yesterday to announce his return to state television. Billy is back in a new quiz format called Would You Like To Be A Millionaire? He is also in negotiations to write his autobiography, which will include sensational revelations about the last five years, which he has spent being held hostage by rebel brutes in the eastern jungle.
Sami says she’ll slash Billy’s throat if she ever catches up with the traitorous creep. I laugh when she says it. She throws a CD box at my head. We end up on the floor beside our bed, snogging. She’s pulling off my school tie and I’m dragging her jeans down her legs. I can hear Adam running up the stairs and I just know he’s gonna burst in.