Kayleb approached the village cautiously. As he got nearer to the wasters he became self-conscious about the way he was walking. He wasn’t sure how a girl walked; he altered his gait several times but in the end gave up and decided the way he walked would have to do.
The village centre seemed quite deserted now. The fire was still smouldering, and charred bones were scattered amongst the ashes. He hoped that they were animal remains and that this village did not have cannibalistic tendencies. A shiver ran down Kayleb’s spine. He remembered the bones he had found at the bottom of the well; he did not want to get eaten. He looked down and tried not to look conspicuous. Kayleb’s attention was drawn to a small group of people gathered around some baskets; they seemed to be haggling over some fruit and vegetables. There wasn’t much choice and the fruit looked tired and shrivelled.
Kayleb decided that he would slip into the lanes and not stand staring. He was just about to go when a small child of about three years old appeared in front of him. She was crying. Kayleb hesitated. The girl was looking at him to help her. Kayleb looked around for assistance. A large woman wearing a torn and tattered green velvet dress came towards the child with her arms out. She picked her up and tried to comfort her. Kayleb watched. He was surprised how friendly everyone was to each other, despite their humble conditions. The little girl continued to cry but her sobs began to subside as the woman comforted her.
‘She’s just lost her mum, this one,’ the woman said, smiling at Kayleb.
‘I’ll look after you. No need to cry! It’s a shame. I was only talking to her mum yesterday and now she’s dead,’ she continued.
Kayleb was about to speak. He wanted to know why the girl’s mother had died and then he remembered that he was in disguise and he backed away.
He remembered Helen hugging him when he was small, when Conrad had been at work, as he wouldn’t have approved, and he felt suddenly homesick. He just hoped and prayed that she would be there when he finally got to London. With a sense of urgency, he continued to search for Rowan.
The dwellings were arranged in a grid pattern, so he found that he could quite easily look along the rows and see if anyone was sitting outside guarding any of the homes. The shelters he passed were quite dilapidated and not really secure enough to hold back a herd of taskers, desperate to escape. He knew that he had to find a building that had been fortified.
Eventually, Kayleb found himself back in the village centre and he was just about to return to the riverbank when he noticed three girls making their way to an area that had been fenced off. They were being led by an old man with a stick. Kayleb decided that he would follow the girls. They weren’t carrying anything that looked like food but Kayleb thought that the enclosure they were heading for might be where the taskers were being held.
Kayleb joined the end of the line and then wished he hadn’t. The girl in front of him looked over her shoulder at him. There was something odd about her; she had difficulty walking and her face was pale and beaded with sweat.
They all entered the enclosure but, to Kayleb’s dismay, he discovered that it was full of men, women and children lying in rows on the floor of the pen. Some were motionless and others tossed and turned, consumed by some sort of fever.
The girl Kayleb followed began to cry. An old man turned to them. He had a rag tied over his mouth. He pointed with his stick and told them to sit along the back fence. Kayleb wanted to leave but he felt that, if he spoke up and let everyone know he wasn’t ill, he would blow his cover. Instead he sat down quietly, next to a ginger-haired girl who was weeping uncontrollably.
Kayleb surveyed the sick with horror. He knew he was bound to get some sort of disease if he stayed in the enclosure for much longer. When the old man in charge turned his back, he would slip away and find Cornwall and Indigo. The blue sky above looked so clear and fresh; Kayleb wished he could fly upwards, away from the soup of death and decay around him. He thought about the little girl he had met earlier; her mother had probably died of the disease and her death had obviously been very sudden. Kayleb looked around. He couldn’t see Rowan. He longed to be far away from this place of sickness.
Kayleb watched one of the guards envelop a dead man in sack-cloth. The guard put the body over his shoulder and then carried him to the far end of the enclosure to place him on a pile of bodies wrapped in similar shrouds. The guard at the door went over to help the partner of the dead man, who, although very ill herself, was screaming hysterically, distressed by the loss of her companion.
Kayleb realised that this was his chance. He got to his feet and then ran swiftly to the exit. He felt like he was in slow motion again but he knew that he would make it; everyone was too preoccupied to notice him escape.
Kayleb sprinted back to Cornwall and Indigo and collapsed at their feet, gasping for air. Good clean air filled his lungs.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Cornwall. ‘Did you find Rowan?’ Kayleb caught his breath and shook his head.
‘No, I couldn’t find him. See that pen over there,’ Kayleb said, pointing to the enclosure. ‘People are dying of fever in there; it’s not safe to go into the village. I hope I haven’t got it. They’re piling up the dead in there,’ gasped Kayleb.
‘I told you that Rowan would be kept in a stud pen, not an animal enclosure. The stud pen must be in this village somewhere,’ Cornwall said angrily.
‘He might be in another village, further up the river,’ suggested Indigo.
‘I looked everywhere, he’s not there. We might as well go back and find David. At least we’ve tried to find Rowan,’ said Kayleb.
‘We’ll just wait for a few more hours until the sun goes down,’ suggested Cornwall, looking imploringly into Kayleb eyes. ‘Please!’
It was at that moment that Indigo spotted Rowan. Rowan was being pushed along by Volvo. Rowan still had his feet tethered and he was unable to walk as fast as Volvo would have liked. Every now and again Volvo would shove him, causing Rowan to stumble or to fall unceremoniously to the ground. Then Rowan would find himself being heaved up by the scruff of his neck and shoved forward even harder.
‘Looks like Rowan has had a hard time of it,’ said Indigo. ‘I think he will be very grateful when we rescue him.’
Volvo and Rowan turned up a side street and disappeared from view.
‘Did you see where they went, Kayleb?’ Cornwall asked urgently. ‘Quick, follow them and find out where Rowan’s being taken!’
‘I’m not going back in that village again! With all those germs, I’m bound to get the plague or something, if I haven’t already got it,’ replied Kayleb grimly.
‘Oh please, Kayleb,’ urged Cornwall eagerly. ‘If you get anything, then David can cure you. Please!’
Kayleb looked at Cornwall. He really did not want to go back to the village but something inside him wanted to please Cornwall and he found himself running back to find Rowan again.
Kayleb wove his way through the rows of shacks, hoping he was heading in the right direction. He passed Volvo who was wheeling a rusty motorbike towards him, which was obviously what he had traded Rowan for. Volvo looked very pleased with his trade and patted the seat with a contented air. Kayleb kept his head down as they passed and hoped he would find the taskers’ pen soon. The air smelt of death and he could hear coughing coming from many of the dwellings.
Kayleb stopped. He had heard somebody shouting. It was a boy’s voice but not Rowan’s. A boy of about twelve shot out of a house with his mother in hot pursuit. She shouted at him and told him to come in before he caught the fever, but the boy ran undeterred past Kayleb, almost knocking him over. Kayleb nearly followed the boy. He felt contaminated. The wispy fingers of fever clawed at his body and he felt hysteria gripping him. Kayleb shuddered. He needed to find Rowan quickly.
Kayleb looked at the shacks desperately. If he called out Rowan’s name then the waster guarding the stud pen might become suspicious. He needed to find another way to attract Rowan’s attention and then he remembered the verse that Rowan had recited to Cornwall in the sand dunes. Only Rowan would recognise this verse and, if he sang it loud enough in Cornwall’s accent, Rowan was bound to realise that he was going to be rescued and find a way to make contact.
Kayleb began walking around the top of the village, singing out the verse, trying his best to sound like a French girl, though Cornwall’s accent was difficult to reproduce. He was quite pleased with his efforts and an old woman smiled at him from her window.
‘I would get inside, my lovely, until the ague’s passed. It’s a nasty one this time. You don’t want to get it, do you?’
Kayleb shook his head and smiled sweetly and continued on his way, hoping that Rowan would hear him soon. A small brown and white dog came up to Kayleb, wagging his tail. He looked foxlike and was quite fluffy. The dog was desperate for attention, so Kayleb stroked him; it was happy to be petted and jumped up trying to lick Kayleb’s face. Kayleb wondered to whom the dog belonged. The dog seemed to be alone and Kayleb was glad as he really did not want to have to talk to anyone again. The dog had bright black eyes and looked up adoringly at Kayleb. He was quite thin and in need of a meal. Kayleb looked around in the vain hope that there was something lying about that he could give him. He stroked him again and promised he would find him something to eat.
Kayleb stood up and sang the verse again but this only made the dog bark. A small stone scuttled across the ground followed by another one. The dog jumped back alarmed. Kayleb spun round. Behind him was a wooden hut he had not seen before. An old man was sitting in front of it; he was fast asleep. Another stone ricocheted off the ground; the stones were definitely coming from the hut. To the right of the sleeping man was a small high window and peering out of the window was Rowan. Another stone flew out of the window and hit Kayleb on the side of the leg. The top of Rowan’s head appeared again. Kayleb cautiously walked over to the window.
‘There you are,’ whispered Kayleb to Rowan. ‘Found you at last. Are you on your own in there? Have you got anything I can give this dog to eat?’
‘No, there’s no one else in here. Hold on a minute,’ said Rowan.
He disappeared from the window and then pushed through some bread. Kayleb took the bread; it was dry but edible. Kayleb broke a piece off and gave it to the dog. The dog chewed eagerly and wagged his tail for more. Kayleb gave him the last bit.
‘I wasn’t sure who you were at first. Why are you dressed like that, and what are you doing here?’ Rowan asked Kayleb. Rowan looked out at Kayleb. He looked ridiculous. He had felt really cross when he first heard his poem sang out to all and sundry, but he also felt very relieved to see Kayleb.
‘I’ve come to rescue you,’ announced Kayleb proudly, ignoring the comments about his attire. ‘Cornwall had a hunch that you would get caught and that you would be brought to this village. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, yes, just get me out of here!’ said Rowan urgently. Kayleb looked at the old man guarding the door; he was leaning against it. The door only had a latch but the old man would need to be moved before the door could be opened.
‘The door is no use; there’s a man sleeping against it,’ said Kayleb.
Kayleb walked around to the back of the hut. He wished he had his knife with him; it would have been very useful. The boards of the hut were nailed securely down. The window at the back of the hut was as small as the front one and too small to climb through. Kayleb decided to look at the roof. He found he could get his toes on the edges of the planks on the walls of the hut and was able to pull himself up onto the roof quite easily. The roof wasn’t in good condition and Kayleb was able to tear away the disintegrating roofing felt quite easily. Within minutes Kayleb had made a hole big enough to climb through. He could just reach Rowan’s hand but after a couple of failed attempts, Kayleb knew that he did not have the strength to haul Rowan out of the hut.
‘Hold on,’ said Kayleb, now panting from his efforts to pull Rowan out. ‘I’ll go and find some rope, then you can climb out yourself.’ Kayleb was now feeling a bit disappointed; his efforts to get Rowan out of the hut were failing.
Kayleb jumped down off the roof and walked back into the village. He remembered seeing washing lines strung between the houses. If he got one of these lines and doubled it, then maybe it would be strong enough for Rowan to climb up. As he walked he felt anxious that somebody might enter the hut and discover the hole he had made. The little dog trotted along with him, brushing up against his leg and looking expectantly up into Kayleb’s eyes. It was quite pleasant to have the dog with him and for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel quite so alone.
Looking at the dog, Kayleb almost walked into a washing line. The house that it belonged to seemed to be deserted. While Kayleb cautiously untied the line, he realised that the occupants of this house must be dead or dying as a black cross had been painted on the door. Kayleb’s heart pounded as he removed the washing line. He knew that nobody really would have minded, considering the circumstances, but all the same he felt guilty for taking something that did not belong to him. His mentor Conrad would have punished him.
Kayleb made his way back to the stud pen with the washing line and was dismayed to see that the old man who had been asleep by the door had gone. As Kayleb and the dog approached, they could hear voices coming from behind the hut. Obviously the hole he had made had been discovered. Kayleb knew that they would soon be coming around to the front of the hut again. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Kayleb sprang forward and popped up the latch and flung the door open. Rowan seeing Kayleb beckoning to him in the doorway did not hesitate and ran out into the bright sunshine, leaving his dark cell behind him. Kayleb, Rowan and the dog tore down the hill, cutting in and out of houses until they were back in the village square.
‘Thank you,’ said Rowan breathlessly, as they raced out of the village. ‘I owe you one!’
‘That’s OK,’ gasped Kayleb. ‘You would have done the same for me.’ Kayleb looked over his shoulder as he ran. ‘I can’t see anyone chasing us yet but it won’t be long; we’ve got to get out of here. Indigo and Cornwall are waiting for us by the river. Quickly, follow me.’
Kayleb and Rowan were glad to stop running, they were out of breath, the dog was panting too and had its tongue hanging out of the side of its mouth. They were not far from Cornwall and Indigo’s hiding place. Kayleb felt truly pleased with himself. It was really something to be thanked by Rowan. Perhaps the chip he had on his shoulder had now been cured.
‘There’s just one thing,’ Rowan said, smiling. ‘You haven’t gone funny, have you?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Kayleb.
‘What’s with the dress then?’ smirked Rowan.
‘Just a disguise, that’s all!’ Kayleb said, laughing. ‘I don’t plan to wear this outfit for very much longer. Not really my style.’
‘Cool dog. Where did you get him?’ asked Rowan. Kayleb looked down at the dog; he was still with him.
‘I think it was the poetry that did it. Now we’re friends for life!’
‘Oh! ...’ said Rowan, looking embarrassed. ‘So the dog’s got good taste then?’ replied Rowan. He wondered how Kayleb had learnt some of his poetry; it was quite unnerving.
‘Obviously,’ replied Kayleb, trying to keep a straight face. The softer side to Rowan was out in the open now and for this reason Rowan now seemed less threatening.
‘Where’s ... where’s Cornwall and Indigo then?’ asked Rowan, swiftly changing the subject.
‘They’re not far from here,’ said Kayleb.
Cornwall and Indigo were overjoyed when Kayleb, Rowan and the dog arrived. The village was now far behind them and the air by the river smelt sweeter than ever.