David looked sadly at Kayleb and Cornwall. ‘I can’t let you go back. We need your help to get across the Channel and into London. Rowan will be all right; he can look after himself. He was going to go off anyway. You know that, don’t you?’
Cornwall shook her head. ‘He would be much better off with us. We can help each other. He is mad to leave us. I know he will get into trouble. He is a hothead and does not think sometimes.’
‘Trust me,’ said David. ‘He can take care of himself; he will make it back to London.’
‘Yes, but if he does he will forget all of us; he will not remember anything,’ sighed Cornwall sadly.
‘That’s his choice! He might decide not to go back to London; he might change his mind,’ said Kayleb softly, trying to sound sincere, though in his heart he knew that Rowan couldn’t wait to go home.
Cornwall and Kayleb joined the others and they continued on their way towards the tunnel, its sinister mouth open and waiting, like a living creature, waiting to feed, ready to suck in anything that entered.
The sun was at its highest, the rain clouds had dispersed and it had turned into a beautiful day. Cornwall followed behind Kayleb in deep contemplation. Kayleb wasn’t sure what to say to her. He wanted to comfort her but anything that came into his head sounded like a cliché or insensitive. He had doubts himself. How could David turn his back on one of their group so easily; he had been sorry to see Rowan go but he wasn’t willing to try and find him. How could David be so callous? How could he know that Rowan would survive? Kayleb was sure he couldn’t predict the future. It seemed immoral to turn your back on someone that might be in danger. Kayleb’s thoughts churned over and over.
Rowan’s hands and feet had been tied up and he had been thrown across the back of his donkey like an old sack. The donkey had been caught and brought down-river to Volvo. The wasters had laughed when they saw Rowan bound up and had congratulated Volvo on his hunting skills.
Rowan wondered where he was going. He was pleased that they were travelling down-river but he was worried. Being bound like this wasn’t good, not good at all. Escape would be difficult. He tried to work loose the ropes on his wrists. The donkey wasn’t pleased to have Rowan fidgeting on his back and stopped suddenly, looked around at Rowan and tried to take a bite out of his arm. Rowan stopped what he was doing immediately and cursed the donkey; it definitely had it in for him. The wasters laughed loudly at Rowan’s predicament but luckily did not notice that the rope around his wrist had loosened.
They finally arrived at a camp in a wooded area. It looked like a rubbish dump. A shelter had been made from an assortment of rags and branches and around the shelter was an old pram, half a bicycle, old rusty pipes and a jumble of bric-a-brac in various piles.
Rowan was thrown from the donkey and into a tree, and the bark scratched his face as he slid down to the floor. He could see stars but he wasn’t going to let the wasters see that he was hurt. He turned over and struggled to sit up.
‘You can stay there until we’ve decided what to do with ye and whatever we decide, it ain’t gonna be pleasant,’ said a waster, menacingly stroking the point of his bread-knife spear.
Rowan sat quietly, leaning against the tree. He could feel blood trickling down his face from a gash on his forehead. He was angry with himself for being so careless. These men were hunters and needed to catch food to survive. They were probably able to spot tracks of animals and would have noticed his tracks leading straight into the bush where he’d taken cover. He would have to use his brains if he was going to get away in one piece. The ropes around his wrists were loose and he knew that he would be able to wriggle his hands out of them.
The wasters were busy trying to start a fire. They were skilled at this task and soon had a healthy blaze dancing in front of them. Rowan wondered if they were going to cook something. Volvo was setting up a spit, made from old girders lashed together with rusty wire. The handle had come off a shopping trolley and still had the name of a long-extinct supermarket on it. The spit was placed over the fire. The other wasters were sharpening blades and kept looking across to Rowan and grinned a wicked grin at him. It was at that point that Rowan realised that it was he who was on the menu. Rowan wondered if these men were hungry enough to have turned into cannibals. He was now really frightened. He wriggled his hands free and looked around for a weapon to protect himself. There was nothing within easy reach.
Rowan noticed that Volvo was looking in a chest for something. From the chest Volvo pulled out a large meat cleaver and walked quickly towards Rowan. Frantically Rowan thought of how he was going to stop Volvo from killing him. Fear stopped him from thinking rationally. Volvo noticed Rowan’s anguish and grabbing his clothes pulled him to his feet and held the cleaver to his throat.
‘Bit of human flesh tonight, boys. What do yer reckon?’
The other wasters laughed out loudly and rubbed their hands together.
Rowan shut his eyes, his heart was pounding again and he could feel himself shaking. He couldn’t run, as his feet were still bound. Having his hands free was useless. Volvo’s hand loosened its grasp and he flung Rowan back against the tree. Volvo disappeared behind the tree and cut the throat of the donkey tethered there. Rowan heard the donkey squeal and then heard the thud as it hit the ground. He watched the warm blood flow in rivers around him. He put his head back against the tree with relief; he was still alive.
Indigo looked with disbelief at Kayleb and Cornwall. Everyone had stopped by a tall standing stone to rest.
‘So you’re just going to leave him out there alone?’ Indigo said, pointing to the countryside around him. ‘No friends, no food, just let him walk into the hands of those evil wasters?’
‘Do we have much choice?’ asked Kayleb. ‘David needs us to help him get into London and if we stay with him then he can protect us. We don’t know where Rowan is. If we go looking for him, then we put ourselves in too much danger.’
‘We are meant to be his friends!’ said Indigo exasperated. ‘You don’t just desert a friend when they’re in trouble. That’s just so shallow!’
Kayleb hadn’t really considered Rowan to be a friend. It was funny, really. All this time they had been together, he had considered Rowan as not much more than an inanimate object. But now he felt concerned about Rowan’s fate and realised that perhaps Rowan was a friend after all.
‘If we could help him, where would we look? Have you thought that he might not want to be found?’ suggested Kayleb, flicking a mosquito from his arm. ‘He has been dead set on going it alone for a while.’
‘If he is going back to London, then he is probably heading in the same direction as us. He does have a compass,’ added Cornwall.
‘We need a dog to track him and something that smells of Rowan. Has that rope you’ve been carrying been touched by Rowan?’ Cornwall asked Kayleb.
Kayleb looked at the rope around him. ‘Yes, he did touch this rope. He climbed up it, but I did that too.’
‘That doesn’t matter. The dog will come to you first and then it will find another scent, Rowan’s scent, and then off we go!’ said Cornwall with an excited air.
‘Look, I don’t want to upset this grand plan. There is a bit of a problem. We don’t have a dog, do we?’ Indigo pointed out.
‘Oh,’ said Cornwall, ‘we need to get one then, don’t we? There are plenty of stray ones. I’ll know the right one when I see it.’
Kayleb thought back to the times he had seen packs of dogs. The dogs, all mongrels, were usually in a pack of five or six and seemed vicious. The pigs had grunted when they approached and everyone had managed to climb trees until they had passed. The pigs did not like the dogs and would charge at them until they backed off. It seemed unlikely that Cornwall would be able to pick one out without getting her hand bitten off.
‘I don’t think a dog is a very good idea. We need to think of another way, something we can do now. What will the wasters do to Rowan if they get him?’
Cornwall looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t think they will kill him. He is too valuable to them. He can be exchanged at a wasters’ village for scrap or food. The villages need taskers for the stud pens.’
Indigo looked uneasy at the mention of stud pen. He shifted his weight and looked anxious.
‘What I don’t understand is why you need taskers to produce children when it is likely that the women bearing the children will probably have the AIDS virus anyway. Why do you want to increase the population when there is very little food out here or anything else for that matter?’ Indigo asked Cornwall.
‘I guess it’s because so many die of AIDS now. No matter who you are, you will always fear that your group will die out completely and you are compelled to do all you can to ensure it survives. It’s nature, I guess. A tasker is pure and does not carry AIDS, so there is a chance that his children will be AIDS-free,’ continued Cornwall.
‘So do you think if Rowan is caught he will be taken to a waster settlement for trade?’ Kayleb asked Cornwall.
‘Sure to be.’
‘Do you think he has been caught? He can run quite fast.’ Cornwall laughed. ‘He’s bound to get caught. He is always so wrapped up in himself you can bet he just walked straight into trouble,’ she said. ‘They won’t hurt him. They will take him to a settlement further north as the exchange rate is higher there. We will slip away tonight and find him. I’m sure Rowan isn’t that far away.’
They gathered up their backpacks and untied their donkeys, as David had signalled that they should move on.
The sun was beginning to set and Rowan felt cold and hungry. He had been thrown a portion of meat hewn from the carcass of the donkey. He couldn’t bring himself to eat it. The meat was charred on the outside and raw at the centre. Watery blood oozed from it. Every time he touched it, he had to push the meat away. He couldn’t remember being this miserable. He knew that he was going to die and he felt frustrated; he couldn’t think of a way to escape. There were only five wasters in this group and they had been sleeping for most part of the day but not all at once. There was always one keeping his beady eye on him. They had discovered that his hands were free and had tied him up again. It had been a long day and was going to be an even longer night; he wasn’t going to sleep that night. One of the wasters kept throwing stones at him, grinning wickedly and sending shivers down Rowan’s spine.
Rowan was surprised when Volvo came over and untied his feet. He pulled him up and pushed him towards the track. The others followed. They had weapons with them and Rowan wondered if they were going to take him off to be executed. They walked for some time. It was dark when they reached the edge of a settlement. Clouds scuttled across the moon. Volvo pushed Rowan to the ground and the others lay on their bellies and watched the village silently. Rowan looked towards the village. He could just make out the silhouettes of wasters sitting around an enormous fire drinking and laughing. Smoke and tiny sparks like fire- flies flew up from the fire. Rowan shivered. He was freezing. The fire looked warm and inviting.
Volvo rose and told the others to wait while he went to see Aerial. Rowan wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him but he sensed that it had something to do with Aerial. He might have a chance of escape here. The men in the village were quite drunk. If Volvo and his men joined in, they might be less vigilant and he might have a chance to run. Rowan found a sharp stone and held it tight in his hand. He was going to make it back to London alive, if it was the last thing he did.