ISOF (18 page)

‘Do you really think so?' asked Ben nervously. ‘Don't they usually hang meat to let it mature for a few days, which would mean it's not Trep.'

Mak shook his head in exasperation. ‘No,' he said flatly. ‘It might be one they matured earlier.' He didn't bother looking at Ben for a response but simply nudged Noj to indicate that they should literally follow their noses.

Stumbling over half-hidden tree roots and fending off the clawing brambles, they gradually made their way towards the source of the aroma. Eventually the trees began to move apart for the travellers, until they stood at the edge of a clearing. As they adjusted their eyes to the lighter gloom, the group could just about make out an odd shaped building at the far side of the clearing. A thin wisp of smoke poked its finger upwards from a bright funnel sitting on the roof. The roof itself appeared to be made of a black substance surrounded by silver thread. In support were walls, the colour of the sun, with a stubble surface and circles of coloured glass dotted about at random.

Shielding the building, on either side, were piles of objects, which defied recognition. All shapes and sizes squatted together forming an abstract collage, which might have won a prize if entered in some prestigious art competition. Some of the objects dripped rust as others allowed bits and pieces of themselves to hang like tears.

The fur ball stirred itself and jumped out of Ben's arms. For a moment the fur ball surveyed the scene in front of it, stretched each leg in turn and, sniffing the sir appreciatively, started a slow amble towards the building.

Ben, with one eye on the fur ball's progress, gestured idly at the spread of objects strewn around the clearing.

‘It's a junk yard,' he said in amazement.

‘Now then, lads, let's not be disrespectful.'

Three heads turned sharply to see an old man materialise from behind the building. He appeared to be wearing a blanket, gathered together in the middle by a piece of coloured rope, and wearing slices of curved rubber on his feet, which Ben thought looked suspiciously like bits of old car tyre.

Noj held his stick straight out in front of him.

‘Who...who are you?' he asked hesitantly.

The old man stood and stroked his flowing beard. The fur ball rubbed itself affectionately against the old man's legs. Picking up the fur ball in his arms, the old man smiled at the new arrivals.

‘No-one you need to be afraid of, that's for sure,' he said, calmly scratching at the fur ball's head. ‘Lower your stick lad or do you want me to hang some of my washing on it?'

Noj quickly lowered his stick and straightened his shoulders.

‘We're trying to find our way through the forest,' said Noj warily. ‘Could you point us in the right direction please?'

The old man chuckled and caressed his beard extravagantly with one hand while still holding onto fur ball with the other.

‘It depends,' he replied.

‘Depends upon what precisely?' asked Noj.

‘On whether you're ready,' smiled the old man.

‘If you expect me to reply “ready for what?” then you're mistaken,' sighed Noj heavily. ‘I'm not playing games.'

‘Neither am I.'

The old man stood perfectly still. Silence filled the clearing. The wind nudged the leaves and tugged at the plume of smoke rising from the building. Smiling, the old man patted the fur ball.

‘Thank you for bringing Culpin back from his wanderings,' said the old man stroking the fur ball. ‘He does have a tendency to go exploring and I keep telling him it's not the best thing to do at a time like this.'

‘A time like what?' enquired Mak.

‘Time,' replied the old man thoughtfully, ‘that I returned a favour.' He looked at the three perplexed faces. ‘Hungry lads?' he asked.

The old man let Culpin jump to the floor as he turned suddenly and strode over towards the rear of the building.

Ben looked at both Noj and Mak, their faces reflecting his own confusion. Sniffing the air, Ben nodded in the direction of the old man.

‘Something's cooking,' commented Ben, still sniffing the airborne aroma.

‘You're telling me,' replied Noj. ‘And it's more than what we can smell at the minute.'

The three lads followed after the old man. As they a turned the corner of the building a familiar voice greeted them.

‘Thought you'd never get here,' grinned Trep as he pushed a piece of cooked meat into his mouth. ‘Terrific food,' he mumbled noisily.

‘What?' asked Ben pointing first at Trep and then at a large metallic dish that sizzled aromatically. ‘'If it's not you then…?'

The old man gave a wry chuckle. ‘Rabbit,' he declared. ‘Been a while since I've had visitors,' he said thoughtfully. ‘And they're long gone,' he added with a wink.

Ben swallowed nervously. ‘Long gone as in gone on their way or…' he asked patting his stomach.

The old man exploded with laughter. ‘What do you think?' he replied.

‘I don't know what to think,' answered Ben. He shuffled a few steps sideways and stabbed a finger against Noj's arm. ‘Very tough,' he said firmly. ‘Not recommended for roasting.'

‘Thanks a bunch,' said Noj brushing Ben's hand away. ‘It's times like these you feel like discussing the merits of being a vegetarian.' His eyes flickered between Ben and the old man. ‘It might promote a longer life span.'

Without looking at the group, the old man stabbed the contents of the dish with a long metal rod, causing a grumbling, hissing sound to escape. A few more prods and the rod emerged holding what resembled sausages. Picking a smaller dish from the floor, the old man wiped the sausages onto it and offered them around.

‘Fancy a barbequed sausage lads? My own recipe,' he added with a huge grin.

Hunger overcame caution as they each reached out for a sausage, even Trep managed to secure another sausage, much to the annoyance of Noj. With their jaws preoccupied with chewing, the old man grinned broadly

‘Tasty eh?'

The chewing heads nodded.

‘Good. It's a new invention you know.'

The chewing ground to a halt.

‘No, not the sausage, the barbeque,' laughed the old man. ‘Gas fired you know.'

Trotting over to the large dish, the old man pointed excitedly.

‘Look, look. What do you think?' said the old man, hopping from one foot to the other excitedly. Without waiting for a response he beckoned the lads to follow him as he cantered into the forest muttering and clapping his hands together.

Along the ground ran a ridged pipe leading away from the large dish and snaking its way into the forest. On entering the forest, the pipe appeared to be looped over several branches as it ran deeper into the gloom.

Trotting after the old man, the four lads followed the pipe, which twitched and rumbled alarmingly. Several times the pipe jerked and gurgled so violently, Ben thought that it objected to their presence and would, at any moment, lurch from the branches and attempt to wrap itself around his neck.

After a short journey following the noisy gyrations of the pipe, the lads eventually emerged into a small clearing where the old man stood excitedly pointing at a pond of thick, bubbling mud where tufts of coarse grass appeared to continually tremble.

The pipe, which had been so animated before, now came to rest on top of a large, upside- down funnel. Beneath the funnel a series of erupting bubbles sent flecks of mud in all directions.

‘Careful lads,' cackled the old man, ‘it's a bit marshy here.'

Ben whistled, more out of astonishment than admiration.

‘Thought you'd be impressed,' nodded the old man proudly. ‘Quite straightforward really.' He ran his finger along a piece of the pipe that hung in a gentle arc between two branches. ‘Just needed a bit of ingenuity and there you have it.'

‘Have what?' gulped Mak.

‘Gas, that's what. Look here.'

The old man ran excitedly over towards a part of the pipe that ran through a barrel.

‘Simple see.' He pointed to a lever on the side of the barrel. ‘It can be either full on, off or on just a little bit just by a simple adjustment.'

‘We've got one at home,' smiled Ben. ‘It always rains whenever we light it though.'

The old man stood in silence. He flicked his beard and looked thoughtfully at Ben.

‘Hmm,' he mumbled. ‘Can't say I quite believe you. Still, it can't be anything like this. Fully adjustable, see,' he said pushing the handle to the ‘full on' position.

The barrel vibrated, the pipe wobbled and, a little distance away, a loud explosion split the air as a large dish shot skywards.

‘Blast!' exclaimed the old man.

‘You can say that again,' laughed Ben.

‘What?' asked the old man looking at Ben. ‘Oh, hmm, I see, humour eh?' He sniffed and cleared his throat. ‘Well, just needs a bit of adjustment, that's all,' he muttered over his shoulder as he trotted back towards the building.

Back at the building all that remained of the barbeque was a pile of fallen bricks and ashes. The metallic dish with the now charred meat remains was nowhere to be seen. Without a word, the old man disappeared into the building leaving the bewildered lads not knowing what to do or say next. Resorting to stabbing at small piles of ash with his feet, Ben forced a smile.

‘Another fine mess eh?' he said flatly.

Noj, Trep and Mak simply gave a slight shake of their heads by way of reply and followed Ben's lead by nudging ash into larger heaps. Suddenly, with a sigh and a whisper, the door to the building slid open, and the old man emerged carrying a tray of cheese and pickles.

‘Sorry about that lads,' he grinned. ‘We'll just have to make do with a cold supper tonight. Grab a chair.'

Looking over at the jumble of objects leaning in idle heaps around the building, Ben struggled to identify anything that resembled a chair. Apparently arriving at the same conclusion, Noj began dragging a suitable sized log.

After a few minutes of grunting and groaning, all four of them were almost comfortably seated and began biting into chunks of bread.

During their log hauling efforts, the old man had started a small fire in front of the building. Sitting on what appeared to be the only chair in existence, he held out his hands towards the flames.

‘Ah, that's better,' he said, rubbing his hands together. He looked at the four lads and smiled. ‘Healthy appetites eh? That's what I like to see.'

‘Do many people come this way?' asked Mak raising his eyebrows. ‘Thankfully, no' replied the old man, his eyes rotating in their sockets. ‘That's why I'm here.'

‘You're all alone then,' asked Ben.

‘Best way lad. I know when I'm not wanted.'

‘Not wanted for what?' asked Trep, releasing a mouthful of cheese crumbs into the fire.

The old man's eyes gazed into the distance. He broke a piece of cheese from a large chunk he held in his hand and popped it into his mouth.

‘It's a long story,' he said to the fire.

‘It always is,' grinned Noj. ‘But sometimes worth telling.'

At that moment the slither of light that penetrated the clearing suddenly vanished.

Noj, looking up into the night sky, shivered as darkness began to cloak their bodies like a shroud.

‘It looks like we've got the time to listen,' he said edging closer to the fire. ‘We're not going anywhere at the moment.'

The old man jerked his head at the piles of different objects lining the clearing.

‘What do you think all that is?' he asked.

‘A little tricky to be certain in this light,' replied Ben as he scanned the darkening outlines of the objects. ‘But it looks suspiciously like junk to me.'

‘Wrong,' snapped the old man with a look of injured pride. ‘They're objects with undiscovered potential, that's what they are.'

Mak suddenly began to choke on a mouthful of cheese and bread. His eyes watered as his face swiftly passed through several shades of red. Noj, trying desperately not to laugh, slapped Mak on the back a few times. Swallowing loudly, and coughing noisily, Mak shook his head.

‘Enough,' he wheezed. ‘I don't need the pain.'

Trep, nibbling on his bread and cheese to avoid a similar affliction to Mak, looked around at the faint outlines of the randomly scattered objects.

‘I see what you mean,' he said.

Mak exploded into a fit of giggles and fell off the log. Noj, shaking his head, leaned over to the quivering form and renewed the slapping on Mak's back.

‘It's the strong cheese,' he said grinning. ‘It has a strange affect on him.'

The old man tugged at his straggly beard and resumed eating. Once Mak had regained partial use of his muscles and returned to sitting on the log, the old man sniffed noisily.

‘You see,' he said between chewing. ‘You need vision to see what's locked inside those objects. That's what I am, a man who can see hidden potential.'

Each of the lads nodded politely.

‘I release that potential,' continued the old man. ‘I can see what others fail to see.' He looked directly at Ben. ‘And I can see the potential in animate objects too,' he added cryptically. Prodding the fire with a stick, the flickering flames formed intricate patterns on the old man's face. With sadness in his voice, he turned to the group.

‘You see,' he continued, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the fire. ‘Too many folk consider themselves ordinary and,' he said giving the fire a fierce prod sending sparks dancing into the night. ‘They think they are ineffectual, powerless to make things happen or bring about change.'

Scratching his nose absentmindedly, the old man sighed. ‘You can choose to make a difference or simply ignore what you could be and grow old and bitter.' He threw the stick angrily into the fire. ‘Like far too many people I could mention,' he snarled.