Authors: Robert Muchamore
The rebel camp was built around the administrative office of an abandoned copper mine. It was long concrete shed with a corrugated metal roof, surrounded by the shacks where everyone lived. These were made out of scrap: clapboard, wood, plastic sheeting.
I got washed and bandaged by a woman called Amo and her twelve year old son, Beck. They gave me a bowl of hot mashed banana and what looked like white sausages. The cut in my head still killed me and I was covered in insect bites, but it was nothing compared to a few hours earlier. When I closed my eyes the white light wasn’t there. If I fell asleep now, it wouldn’t be forever.
The sun had gone and the only light came from a couple of flickering candles. I’d been dumped on the floor in the concrete building. Everyone who lived on camp sat around me. Nine People, twelve if you included the little ones fighting sleep. The discussion was about if I should be allowed to live.
Leading the no voters were two guys standing against one wall called Don and Amin. Muscular chests, glazed in sweat. Don said I was a security risk. He offered to take me outside and strangle me. He looked hard enough to do it as well. In fact, he looked hard enough to do it, laugh while he was doing it and never have a twinge of conscience for as long as he lived. Every time I looked their way, their eyes were drilling into me. It was like getting touched by death.
Sami, Beck and Amo reckoned I was harmless; even if they didn’t believe I’d jumped out of an aeroplane. Beck was a nice kid, maybe a bit limited in the brains department. He went round with his shoulders slouched and this dippy grin on the end of a skinny neck.
Sami wasn’t so much on my side, she was on her own side. Everyone was digging at her, wanting to know why she’d picked me out of the road. I don’t think she understood herself. I mean, one minute I was licking shit off her boot, then she’s picking me up and feeding me. She had a tough look on her face, but when everyone was having a go at her, she looked close to crying. The others, including Ben, seemed happy to sit back and watch.
It was a lively debate, but this was a fighting unit, not a democracy. The man whose opinion mattered kept his mouth shut. Everyone called him Captain, even Sami who was his daughter. He was the oldest in the room, probably about forty. He was far from the toughest. In fact, he had a few grey hairs and the thick lenses in his black framed glasses made him look like a nerd, but he was smarter than the others and he was a natural leader. You know like in school, all the teachers have the same power to give you detentions and stuff, but some teachers run their class like clockwork and others are kind of a joke; you mess about in class never bother doing their homework. Captain had the same quality as a really tough teacher. When he spoke, it was like everyone took a little breath and had a think about it. I don’t think anyone made him the leader, he was born that way. After half an hour of everyone shouting over each other, Captain got off the floor. The others all shut
up. I had my hands clamped tight under my armpits, jiggling my feet. One word and I was a corpse. ‘I’ll speak to him in my office,’ Captain said. I gasped with relief. Captain’s office was at one end of the building. It looked like the miners had left in a hurry. There was
a chair and filing cabinets, faded pictures of copper products on the wall and even a disconnected telephone. ‘Sit down Jake,’ Captain said. Captain struck a match and lit a gas lamp. He went in his desk drawer and pulled out a cloth pouch; the kind mechanics use to keep spanners in. He unrolled it on the desk in front of me. There were pliers, a scalpel, a bottle of acid, some knives and what looked like a miniature hand drill. He burrowed down into one of the pouch pockets and held up a tooth between his thumb and forefinger.
‘The fellow this tooth belonged to sat where you are right now. He told me lies and died an unpleasant death. So, it will be to your advantage if you tell me the complete truth… Who are you? Start with your name and age.’ I couldn’t get my eyes off the tools, imagining all the ways they could tear me apart. ‘My name is Jake Pascal,’ I stammered. ‘I’m 15.’ ‘Where are you from?’ ‘London, England.’ ‘How did you get here from London?’ ‘By aeroplane, it crashed.’ Captain smiled, ‘Still sticking to the aeroplane story? ‘It’s the truth. I swear.’ I did think about making up a more believable story, but I knew so little about life round here, I’d only
make a fool of myself. ‘So where are all the other passengers?’ ‘My Dad’s bodyguards parachuted out. My brother parachuted with me. My Dad and the pilot must
have crashed in the plane.’ ‘Only five on the plane?’ Captain asked. ‘What kind of plane was that?’ ‘A DC3.’ Captain seemed to think he’d caught me in a lie. He drummed the pliers on the edge of his desk and
smiled. ‘A DC3 all the way from London. That’s a long way for such a little plane,’ he said. ‘No, not all the way.’ ‘So, tell me
exactly
how you got here.’ ‘Air France from London to Paris, then another plane to the capital and then the DC3 from the cargo
terminal.’ ‘What is the time zone difference between London and here?’ ‘There isn’t one,’ I said. Captain furrowed his brow, searching for another way to catch me out. ‘What’s the name of the river that runs through the middle of London?’ ‘The Thames.’ I said. ‘Give me your training shoe.’ I slid my Nike off my foot and handed it over. Captain pulled out the tongue and read the size label. ‘UK size, European size,’ Captain said. ‘Give me your t-shirt.’ I handed the bloody shirt over the table. Captain inspected the label sewn in the neck, then showed it
to me. ‘What is this word Jake?’ ‘Marylebone,’ I said. Captain read part of the label. His English wasn’t bad. ‘Size: small man. Made in Turkey for BHS Limited, 129-137 Marylebone Road London, NW1 5QD,
England.’ He threw the shirt across the desk at me, then rolled up the torture stuff and put it back in his desk. ‘So,’ he said, smiling. ‘You really did fall out of the sky and you’ve not been sent here as a government
spy.’ I smiled with relief, ‘No way.’ ‘So, you want to go home?’ ‘Course. Maybe I should recover here for a day, then you can take me to the police or whatever.’ Captain laughed noisily, ‘You think it’s that simple? We drop you at the local airport and they fly you
home.’ ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘Things don’t work like that here.’ ‘I realise you’re rebels and you don’t want to be caught,’ I said. ‘You can point me in the right direction
and I’ll walk.’ ‘We’re a guerrilla unit operating deep inside government territory. There’s no police force here, just us rebels and the army. The army will ask you for identity papers, which you don’t have. I doubt they’ll believe your aeroplane crashed; everyone without papers makes some sort of excuse. They will assume you’re an antigovernment rebel. If you’re lucky, the army will shoot you on the spot. If you’re unlucky, they’ll beat and torture you until you give the location of this camp away.’ I wasn’t sure how much to trust Captain. ‘So how can I get home?’ I asked. ‘We’re cut off from everyone except a few other rebel units. The only way back to the capital is by road or aeroplane. There are army roadblocks every few kilometres. The nearest landing strip is at an army base 400 kilometres away, but it’s under heavy guard.’ ‘So what can I do?’ ‘You can stay here with us. We’ll feed and protect you. You can do chores around camp. Once we trust
you, you will be expected to fight, the same as everyone else.’ ‘But I don’t want to stay here. Maybe I should take my chances with the army.’ Captain suddenly looked serious, ‘You’ve seen our camp. If the army locates us here, they’ll kill us. We
can’t allow you leave here alive.’ ‘So, what? I’m stuck here forever?’ ‘No,’ Captain said. ‘At the moment were cut off from our allies in the east, but the situation changes all the time. When there is an opportunity for you to leave without endangering our security, I promise not to stop you.’ ‘How long will that be?’ I asked. Captain shrugged, ‘Could be a few weeks or a few years. It could be never.’ ‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘And what about my brother?’ ‘How old is he?’
‘Eight.’ ‘We have allies who might have taken him in, and there are a few civilians who might look after him,
but it’s most likely he was picked up by the army.’ ‘And they’d kill him,’ I said. ‘Perhaps. Although his youth might save his skin. The army often makes captured children do their
dirty work. Portering, cleaning dishes, digging toilets, that sort of thing.’ ‘Can I try and find him?’ Captain shook his head, ‘I’ll put out some feelers to see if anyone knows anything. But the chances of
seeing your brother again are not great... I’m sorry.’ Back in the main room, Captain told everyone his decision. All the neutrals pulled into line, but Don
and Amin still looked unhappy. Captain called them over. ‘Boys,’ Captain said. ‘Take Jake to your hut. Make sure he’s kept busy and if he tries to escape, kill
him.’ Don grabbed my shoulder, ‘With pleasure.’ Don grinned like he’d been given a new toy to play with. ‘Be firm, but don’t’ go mad,’ Captain said. ‘He’s been through a lot and he’s still weak.’ Amin twisted my arm behind my back and pushed me to their hut. It was a small shack with an earth floor, two sleeping mats and a cooking stove. There were empty beer bottles everywhere. They took off their boots and the tiny space filled up with the warm stench of feet. ‘On the floor,’ Don said. Before I had a chance, Don bundled me down and dug his knee in my back. I don’t think he’d washed
in his life. The B.O. was gross. He bound my wrists and ankles with strips of cloth. ‘Try running now,’ Don laughed. They laid on their sleeping mats and fell asleep quickly, leaving me on the bare earth. Cockroaches the size of credit cards clattered around in the dark. If I rested my head on the baked earth, the cut was agony. I managed to wriggle around and find some clothing. I picked it all up with my teeth and made a soft pile. It stank of sweat, but at least I could put my head down.
Dad was on the golf course; it was a hot day. I liked golfing with Dad, even though I sucked. Trouble was, Dad always bumped into his cronies and we had to play as a four. They’d bore the arse off me, going on about mortgages, gardens and wine. The bears were different, the blue one kept hitting the ball into the clubhouse and the yellow one was dancing and complaining that it’s nose was sunburned. There was a red one in the trees, but I don’t remember what it was doing. It was one of those dreams where you wake up and smile a bit as you think about it.
It took a second to remember what was going on: drowning in sweat, the pain in my head, a million insect bites dying to be scratched; cloth tearing into my wrists and ankles. There was a tiny set of lizard eyes glowing a few centimetres from my nose. I moved, trying to get comfortable and it scampered away, feet scratching the earth.
Two days earlier I thought I was something. A bright kid, rich background. I had good mates. Mum gave me plenty of money, so I always had whatever CD’s and games I wanted and cool clothes. If I laid awake at night, it was usually worrying about an exam the next day, or because I’d fallen for some girl. But now, for the first time in my life, I had real problems. If I messed up here, I wasn’t gonna get detention or get shouted at by Dad. I was going to die.
The two slabs of muscle sweating and farting on either side of me didn’t care if I lived. I had no way home. Dad was dead. Mum probably thought I’d been killed in the crash. I was trying not to even think about Adam; but trying not to think about something always makes it worse. He might be fast asleep in a friendly house, or dead; or that very moment some drunk soldier could be slicing lumps out of him.
I couldn’t take it. I felt like a tiny helpless speck. I wanted to cry, but I’d get slapped if I woke up Don or Amin. The same thoughts churned over and over and always led to the same conclusion: I wished I’d stayed on the plane and died quickly like Dad.
It didn’t feel like I’d been back to sleep long. Don jammed his big toe in my ribs. ‘Move it.’
There was no window, but plenty of light came through the gaps between the wooden sides of the hut. Don untied my ankles, then moved up to do my wrists. His face twisted into a wild look. ‘Idiot,’ he bellowed. ‘How dare you?’ Don cracked my cheek with his fat palm, then he pulled the pile of clothes out from under my head. ‘What is this?’ He shouted. As soon as I saw them, I couldn’t believe I’d been so dumb. My head was still bleeding. The clothes were covered in it. Don dragged me outside by my ankle. He kicked my thigh, jammed his heel in my belly and dumped the clothes on my face. ‘Wash them,’ he shouted. He could have hit much harder if he’d wanted, but it was still enough to sting up my face and give me a
dead leg. As he untied my wrists, he spat in my face. ‘You better get clever, or I’ll wait until Captain goes out and slaughter you like a chicken.’ Don pulled down the front of his shorts and started pissing on the ground beside me. Shaking with anger, I bundled up the clothes and limped off. I didn’t know where to wash them. I walked to Beck’s hut. He lived with Amo and his toddler sister, Becky. The front of the hut was a giant wooden flap, propped open with a chunky branch. It made a comfortable space that was shady and caught the breeze on the rare occasion when there was one. Amo had a wood burning stove going. She was cooking dough balls, plantain and tomato. Beck was lying inside with his shirt over his head to keep out the sunlight. ‘I’ve got to wash these for Don,’ I said. ‘Do you know the way to the stream?’ Amo asked. I shook my head. Amo nudged Beck with her elbow. He stirred into life. ‘Help Jake wash those,’ Amo said. Beck sat up and wiped drool onto his t-shirt. He had his usual mile wide grin. It was like his mouth had
been stapled into position. ‘Have breakfast first,’ Amo said. ‘How do you feel?’ ‘A bit weak. I didn’t sleep much.’ Amo took the pan off the stove and everyone dived in with bare fingers. I had to move the food between fingers and blow on it to stop it burning, but I was starving and it tasted good. Don walked by. He caught sight of me and came storming over. ‘I told you to wash my clothes,’ he shouted. ‘When I tell you to do something, you do it
fast
.’ I reckoned I was on for another beating, but as Don reached under the flap to grab me, Amo scorched
his arm with the hot frying slice. He flew backwards, stunned by the pain. Amo reared up to him. ‘Stop trying to hurt him,’ she shouted. ‘You think it makes you look like a big man to hurt a sick boy?
Every woman knows you only act tough because you have a tiny penis.’ Beck collapsed backwards onto his sleeping mat, howling with laughter. I tried to keep a straight face in case Don made trouble later when Amo wasn’t protecting me, but I couldn’t manage. Don stormed off and we finished eating. Amo unwound the bandage on my head. ‘It’s made a scab now,’ she said. ‘Leave the bandage off, it will heal faster if the air gets to it.’ She grabbed my wrist and looked at the marks down my arm. ‘Do you get lumps like this when the insects bite you at home?’ Amo asked. ‘There aren’t many insects in England, it’s too cold.’ ‘Perhaps you’re not used to them. Wash in the stream when you do the clothes. Afterwards I’ll give you
some ointment to stop the itching. And you better take a malaria pill.’ I swallowed a yellow pill and washed it down with water. Amo gave Beck a handful of soap flakes. ‘Give Jake some,’ she said. ‘Help him wash the clothes and clean Becky too.’ Beck gave his little sister a piggyback ride to the stream. It wasn’t far, but it was all over rocks and I’d left my trainers with Don and Amin. I didn’t dare go back without the clean clothes. My feet weren’t tough enough for the ground. I soon had blood pouring out my heel.
It was hard to see the stream through the dense trees, but you could hear water rushing as you got close. The trees broke over the pool and the sun was merciless. It felt like staring into a light bulb. The water dropped five metres off a cliff into a pool about two metres deep. From the pool, it trickled into a shallow channel a few metres wide. Bushes branched over the pool and brightly coloured birds perched in the trees overhead. It looked like something out of a shampoo commercial.
I swam into the middle with my clothes on. Tepid spray from the falling water misted my face. Two days of grease and sweat soaked away. Beck stayed close to the edge, he couldn’t swim. ‘Look out for water snakes,’ Beck shouted. ‘They get crazy when they drop over the waterfall.’ After a minute cooling off, I swam back to the edge. Beck waded in up to his thighs. Becky was
splashing about at the edge. ‘Want to swim?’ I asked. Becky put her arms out for me to pick her up. I swam into the spray with her and she started to giggle. Then she slapped her hand against the water and splashed my face, which she thought was the funniest thing in the world. Beck had started washing the clothes. I couldn’t let him do all my work, so I swam back to the edge. Becky wanted me to carry on playing. She gave me an evil look when I dumped her back on the edge.
I rubbed the soap flakes in and scrubbed the stinking clothes underwater. It was hard getting the blood and filth out. Even when we finished, the clothes looked like stuff my Mum would have thrown in the bin. On the way back to camp we passed Sami. She had two empty plastic cans in her hand. ‘Morning traitor,’ Sami said. ‘Feeling better?’ ‘Head still hurts,’ I said. ‘But nothing like yesterday. Thanks for sticking up for me last night.’ Sami shrugged, ‘If I left you to die, that would make us as bad as the army. Help me carry the water.’ ‘I would,’ I said. ‘But my feet are killing me.’ I showed Sami my bloody heel. ‘I wasn’t asking,’ Sami said nastily. ‘I was ordering you.’ ‘I can help you Sami,’ Beck said. ‘Jake can take Becky and the clothes.’ Sami grabbed my nipple and twisted it hard. I yelped in pain. ‘Traitor will learn to do what he’s told,’ she said. I grabbed an empty can off Sami and started back towards the stream with her. ‘How did the boys treat you last night?’ She asked.
‘Really bad.’ ‘Good,’ Sami said. ‘What’s so good about it?’ ‘Captain has to be a politician,’ Sami said. ‘He keeps his position by making everyone happy. Don didn’t want you here, but he’ll be fine as long as he can bully you. And you’re a soft, rich boy. Don and Amin will make you a man. If you’re not tough, you’ll be like Beck: another useless mouth to feed.’ ‘Great,’ I said. ‘But what if
I’m
not happy?’ ‘Nobody cares about you,’ Sami laughed. ‘If you work hard and become useful, you might start to matter.’ ‘What’s with Amin?’ I asked. ‘He never says a word.’ ‘He’s deaf. He speaks a little, but it comes out weird and only Don can understand him.’ We’d reached the stream. Sami waded into the water in her boots and camouflage. ‘Take drinking water from the middle,’ Sami said. ‘If you get it from the edge it’s all cloudy.’ The can held about twenty litres. Once it was full it weighed a ton. The extra weight made the ground
even more brutal on my feet. We struggled back to camp; at least I was struggling. Sami didn’t even slow down. ‘Move fast,’ Sami shouted. ‘You see what I mean about you being weak? I was going to carry both cans.
You struggle with one.’ I was too out of breath to answer. When we got to camp, we took the water inside the main building
and poured it into a plastic barrel. ‘Do you know your way back to the stream?’ I nodded, ‘Yes.’ Sami dumped her empty can at my feet. The plastic boomed. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘It will take three more cans to fill up the barrel and it’s your job to make sure it’s
always full. If I catch Beck helping you, I’ll drain the barrel and you’ll start from scratch.’ ‘OK,’ I said. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do it, but I wouldn’t win an argument with Sami. ‘Can I ask you one question first?’ ‘If you have to,’ Sami said. ‘You know when we were at the side of the road? Something made you change your mind about killing
me. What was it?’ ‘I already told you, traitor. If I killed you, it would make us no better than the army.’ I shook my head, ‘No, you were going to kill me. The end of your pistol was touching my head and
something changed your mind.’ Sami looked down at her boots, ‘Have you ever seen the Disney movie, The Fox and the Hound?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘When I was little’ I was a bit surprised Sami even knew what a Disney film was. ‘You frown like the cute fox when the big dog gets angry,’ she said. ‘I felt sorry for you.’ I cracked up laughing. Sami looked furious and booted the two empty cans towards me. ‘If that barrel’s not full whenever I come here, I’ll make Don beat you.’ I went back and got my trainers. Don and Amin weren’t around, thank God. My feet hurt, but at least with trainers on I didn’t get any new cuts. I tried carrying two cans together, but I wasn’t used to the heat and I was weak from all the blood I’d lost. Once the barrel was full, I stumbled around to the shady side of the main building and collapsed in a heap. Nobody stayed indoors in the daytime, it was too hot. Beck found me after a bit. ‘I hung Don’s clothes out to dry,’ he said. ‘You better not lay around in here. You’ll get pounded if
Don sees you.’ I sat up, ‘My head hurts.’ ‘You can come hunting with me if you want,’ Beck said. ‘It’s cooler under the trees, but I’ll have to kill
you if you run away.’ I laughed, Beck was about half my size. ‘I wouldn’t know which way to run,’ I said. ‘But just out of interest, how would you plan to kill me?’ Beck pulled a big knife out of a pouch over his shoulder. His eyes scanned a tree about ten meters away. ‘Red parrot,’ Beck said, pointing. ‘Longest branch, second bird from the end. See it?’
‘Yes.’ Beck hurled the knife into the tree. It thudded the wood. A cloud of birds erupted into the air, all
except the dead one pinned to the longest branch by the knife. Beck grabbed branches and clambered into the tree. He twisted and pulled his way deep into the leaves until I couldn’t even see him. He emerged at the thick end of the long branch, shuffled along with his legs wrapped round it and retrieved his knife. Then he dropped about four metres to the ground, landing in a cloud of dust and standing straight up. His grin was even wider than usual.
‘Fancy your chances?’ Beck grinned, holding the knife in my face, before wiping the bird blood onto his shorts.
We walked deep into the trees. It seemed every fly in the world wanted a piece of me. God knows how Beck knew his way amongst thousands of identical looking trees. ‘What are we looking for?’ I asked. ‘Mostly monkey,’ Beck said. ‘Everyone is my friend if I bring back a monkey.’ He stopped by a palm and raised a leaf. The underside was crawling with featureless white blobs, like
giant maggots. ‘Hold the sack open for me.’ Beck snipped off the palm, folded the white blobs inside the leaf and dropped it into the sack. ‘Do you eat those?’ I asked, shocked. ‘What are they?’ ‘Palm grubs,’ Beck laughed, ‘You ate loads last night.’ I made the connection between the white sausages on my plate and the blobs wriggling around inside the sack. I was a bit grossed out, but they’d tasted really good. As we walked, Beck scoffed green caterpillars and a cracked open giant beetles before sucking out the insides. A few yards further on, Beck grabbed a beetle the size of a kids fist off a tree trunk. He held it upside
down with the legs flipping about. ‘Try,’ Beck said, shoving it in my face. ‘These are the best ones.’ I don’t know why I agreed. Curiosity I guess. Beck handed it across to me. ‘Pull the legs off first.’ I plucked out the first hairy leg and the others started flickering like mad. It freaked me out and I dropped it. Beck managed to scoop it up before it ran away. He pulled off the five remaining legs, cracked away the hard black shell and snapped off the head. ‘There,’ Beck said, handing it across to me. It looked like a waxy marshmallow. I stuffed the whole thing in my mouth. The insides were still warm,
and the blood trickled out when I bit into it. I chewed quickly and swallowed, resisting the urge to gag. ‘Good eh?’ Beck said. The white goo was stuck all round my teeth. ‘I suppose you’d get used to it,’ I said. We walked for over an hour, moving slow and quiet; keeping our throats moist with fruit. Beck
searched the trees for monkeys. He had a small bow and arrow specially for killing them. ‘We just hit monkey central,’ Beck said, pointing up in the trees. There were about twenty monkeys messing in the branches around us. Beck strung out his bow. The first arrow silently hit it’s mark. The monkey crashed through the leaves and thumped the ground. The second monkey managed a dying screech, which made all the others scatter. Beck was annoyed that he’d only got two before the other monkeys noticed. He told me a good hunter can pick 3 or 4 monkeys from the edge of a pack before the others realise what’s going on. Beck recovered the bodies and cut their throats to drain off the blood.