Rockall Chapter 9

Chapter 9- Rockall Burning

Kayleigh Ford entered Rockall Port Hospital’s new extension and looked through the window into the room where Jolo and Seenta lay motionless in neighbouring beds. Jolo’s eyes were half open and she squinted at an invisible point on the ceiling. Her mouth gaped and her hands rested corpse-like on the sheet in front of her. Seenta looked almost asleep; wires led from under the blankets to monitors on the shelf showing her heartbeat, breathing and temperature. Arlene was shining a light into their eyes when she noticed Kayleigh looking. She put down her penlight and quietly came over. “No change.” she said. “I’m afraid we’ll have to go IV.”
“Is that really necessary?” asked Kayleigh.
Arlene nodded sadly. “It’s been three days. If they can’t eat then we’ll have to feed them another way.”
“What’s going into the drips?”
“Saline water, dextrose, proteins and vitamins in various solutions. We can keep them going indefinitely on that.”
“But… their brains are alright?”
“The CT scan was clear, yes.”
“So… why are they like this?”
“It may be a reaction to the psychological trauma of their ordeal. Dill tells me they did the same thing when they were forced out of the caves.”
Kayleigh nodded. “But they woke up eventually.”
“And I’m sure Jolo and Seenta will too.” Arlene smiled.
There was a long silence. “Can I see them?” asked Kayleigh.
“OK, just for a few minutes.”
They both entered the bay and stood between the two beds. Kayleigh began to feel bilious as she looked down at the unconscious forms. Jolo and Seenta were from Family A and Family D respectively. They weren’t directly related in three generations, but they’d been as inseparable as twins. Two young Erkdwala women, who’d been best friends since they were babies; cheery, playful, full of life… until they’d both gone to work in the Kissinger pipe plant. “Are they… safe?”
For the first time the nurse flushed and breathed deeply. “As soon as they were admitted we washed them and gave them a morning-after drug.”
“Arly, the men who did this…”
“I know, Love; but let’s not talk about that now.”
Tears brimmed in Kayleigh’s eyes. “Trevor’s right; the Erkdwala are freaks. They’re freaks because they’re not evil like we are!
Arlene put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you free tomorrow?” Kayleigh asked in a firmer voice.
“I’m on an early.”
“Come round to the community hall at Six PM.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk.”
Arlene smiled. “I’ll be there.”
****************************************
The Rockall Port Community Hall was packed shoulder to shoulder. The meeting had to be held in the cavernous sports hall with the committee table under one of the basketball nets. Drinks were passed hand-to-hand among the attendees. About three quarters of the island’s population were there: Erkdwala, crofters, USGS scientists, Commission scientists and staff. Kayleigh, who was sitting at the table beside Zach on Dill’s right, looked round to see Arlene standing by the squash wall with several other nurses. Kayleigh waved and Arlene grinned, raising her glass of beer.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” began Dill. The chatter in the hall died away. “People of Rockall; thank you for coming here tonight. The terrible crime that was committed here on Monday is the last and worst straw in a long and many-sides attack on this island and her people. It has blighted our lives and threatened our future ever since the Twenty first landed three and a half years ago.
“Three days ago, in the oil terminal construction complex on the north coast, two Erkdwala women, Jolo and Seenta went to work as they do every day. Only on this day, these two women were brutally and mercilessly gang-raped by BGC construction workers.”
He had the full attention of everyone in the room; not one so much as fluttered an eyelid.
Dill’s face tightened with emotion as he spoke and he raised his voice. “I think we all feel the same way about what has happened. This was an attack that was opportunistic, sadistic and cowardly! It was carried out against a pair of human beings who were both defenseless and incapable of retaliation! They are part of a culture that cannot comprehend violent crime. The aggression that the rest of our species is so accustomed to is unknown to them… Chief Kerroj.”
The Erkdwala leader was dressed in his full regalia. He rose slowly to his feet. “All people of Rockall, Erkdwala and those from the beyond, I have been explaining to my Erkdwala what has happened. Since Tuesday, no Erkdwala man or woman has been into the oil terminal… and none of them ever will again!”
He paused as a deafening cheer exploded from the audience. They clapped and roared their support for the old man.
“This thing that these men doed to Jolo and Seenta is a very bad thing, but it has also done good to the Erkdwala because it make us… understand what the Black Gold Consortium really think of us: as people for exploitation… Erkdwala are not people for exploitation!”
More zealous applause.
“People from the beyond have been on Rockall for only three years. Erkdwala have been here forever. But in this only-three-years time, everything is changed. The land of Wilontu-Kyantshwer, what you call Roosevelt Skerries, was the home of rock spirits and angels, a gift from Arkdwa Gods for human beings. It was there for a thousand thousand years, now it is gone and we cannot bring it back. Half the Rockall Ponies are dead, many plants and animals are all dead. If things carry on into the future like they are now, all of Rockall will be dead.” He sat down.
“Well.” said Dill quietly. “That says it all. Thanks, Kerroj… What is it, Calum?”
Calum had his hand up. He was standing at the left side of the room next to Carol and a bunch of other crofters. “I have a question for Chief Kerroj; may I ask it now?”
“Of course.” Dill leaned back in his chair.
“Kerroj, when you said that the Erkdwala have been on Rockall for ever and outsiders have only been here three years, did you mean that Rockall should belong solely to the Erkdwala and nobody else?”
Kerroj turned slowly in his seat to look at the man. “Belong? Rockall is not your shoe or your trousers or your house. Arkdwa does not belong to any person; Arkdwa belong to Arkdwa.”
Calum frowned in confusion then seemed to get it. “Ah, I see. No; what I meant was do you believe that outsiders should leave and only the Erkdwala should live on Rockall?”
“No.” said the old man. “All of you people are now Erkdwala.” He moved his hand in a circle to indicate everybody. “’Erkdwala’ in English just mean the same as ‘human beings’. Any person who steps onto Rockall and love Arkdwa and respect Arkdwa and want to be part of Arkdwa is therefore an Erkdwala. It is the futile effort to own a place rather than being a part of it that has caused all your people’s problems, my friend.”
Kayleigh gasped aloud in astonishment. Kerroj had spoken this last sentence in Gaelic. She’d had no idea he’d learned the language. Calum looked equally surprised.
Elaine spoke next. “I think Chief Kerroj is aware that many of the British and American contingents who have settled here in the last few years have an attitude towards Rockall that is similar to his own people’s: We see it as an object of reverence. What he calls the Arkdwa Gods is something a lot of us can sense.”
“Definitely.” Dill nodded vigorously.
“We only found out about the Skerries being demolished when the border was opened. I felt like I’d lost a friend. I cried my eyes out for weeks.”
“So did I.” said Kayleigh.
“I think we’re getting slightly away from the point here.” interjected Professor Laird. “We were talking about Jolo and Seenta…”
Zach leaned close to Kayleigh and whispered: “Do you think he feels bad?”
“Yeah.” she replied. “It was the USGS who found the oil field. Dill tried to persuade him to keep quiet and he refused; something that he regrets now I think.”
“OK.” said Dill. “We attempted to put in a complaint with the British Governorship, but Trevor refuses to grant us an interview. He replied to our letter earlier today, but he is still trying to convince us that this is nothing to do with the BGC.”
“I saw him driving into the construction site on the afternoon it happened.” said Kayleigh.
“He gave the game away there.” added Zach. “Anyway, I gave Dack Peterson a ring and he denied all knowledge of the incident. He claims all the Erkdwala workers went home at the end of the day fit and well.”
The audience hissed and muttered angrily.
“Let’s take it higher!” said Audrey, an American biochemist. “Call the BGC head office, or even the White House!”
“I’ve tried that.” said Zach. “I even sent an email to the UN Secretary-General and got sweet FA back.”
There was a silence. “That’s the situation we’re in, Ladies and Gentlemen.” said Dill. “The authorities and governments have shown us their true colours. We mean nothing to them! Rockall means nothing to them! All they care about is the oil under our feet!” He stamped the ground.
“Basically, we’re squatters.” said Kayleigh. “Even the Erkdwala who made this island their home many millennia before history began. Rockall is now a giant oil rig and it’s clear that we’re not welcome on it.”
“So what’s next?” asked Elaine. “Are they going to make our lives so unbearable that we up and go?”
“That may be part of their plan.” said Dill.
“Our crofts!” cried out Calum’s brother. “We’re going to lose them!”
“Calm down, Guys.” said Laird. “It’s not happened yet. Let’s wait and see if we can do something.”
“Do what!?” said Calum. “The government, the US president, even the UN won’t back us up! What can we do when all the powers-that-be are against us!?”
Others voiced their accord.
“The powers-that-be have no real power.” said Dill. “In actual fact they play a passive role and wield the power that we have given to them. Remember what Barry Gervaise said about the shepherd and the sheep. They only control us because we concede our individual sovereignty and fall into line. The Rockall Governorship consists of Trevor, his Deputy, his three aides and the twenty Guardsmen. The BGC contingent is made up of just forty construction contract mangers. They are the shepherd, we are the sheep. What are we going to do?”
“Dill, what are you proposing?” Laird looked worried as he spoke.
“I propose that we say ‘enough!’ I propose that we announce that we will not allow them to control our lives and our island any more! I propose that we take back and exercise the power that we have given away!”
“How?”
Dill stood up, his eyes shining, his voice wild and valiant. “Revolution!”
“What!?” What the…!?” “What the fuck…!?” everybody yelled at once.
“We take over our island, declare our independence and implement the Free Rockall constitution!”
“Dill!” Laird stood up to face him. “Don’t talk crazy! That was just a hypothetical exercise; a bit of fun!”
“Then it’s high time we put it into practice!”
“We can’t do that!?”
“Why not!?”
“Well… er… if we’re going to protest then we should protest through the correct channels.”
“The correct channels are the problem, Jack; not the solution.”
“But this is nuts, Dill!”
“No! What’s nuts is that we never suggested it before!”
Laird held up his hands. “Dill, perhaps the committee should discuss this in private.”
“No! Let’s all decide now!” He looked at the crowd. “What do you all think?”
Their response was a mixture of laughs, catcalls and worried silence.
Laird rolled his eyes. “Dill, you’re being disruptive; for Chrissake sit down!”
The younger man capitulated, but his face was still glowing with excitement. “Let’s at least think about it!” he said. “Indulge me for a few minutes and imagine we are independent; neither British nor American, just Rockallian.”
“Well…” Laird frowned. “I imagine it would be pretty lonely. Without a subsidized economy behind us we’d probably starve to death. We’d have no access to the benefits of British and American lifestyle, no citizenship, no legal protection. You realize that to live here we’d have to relinquish our passports and become like asylum-seekers? I personally value my American nationality more than anything else I have. One look at some countries makes me thank God I was born an American.”
The other USGS staff murmured their assent. “And I thank God I’m British!” said Jennie.
“Being independent doesn’t mean that you’d have to give up your current citizenship.” said Dill. “You could hold dual nationalities. Personally I regard myself as a citizen of Planet Earth.”
“This island couldn’t support an autonomous population, Dill.” said Claire. “Much as I like the idea.”
“Rockall has supported a thriving human population for fifty thousand years.” he countered.
“Only three hundred; we’re two and a half thousand.”
“But remember we have the crofts. St Kilda is roughly the size of Rockall and its crofts not only fed the islanders, but also produced a surplus which gave them a healthy living.”
“I knew he’d bring up St Kilda at some point.” whispered Kayleigh to Zach.
“If necessary some of us would have to leave.” continued Dill.
There was a burst of raucous protests from the audience.
“Alright, alright!” Dill showed his palms. “Scratch that… It’s encouraging to see that you’re taking the idea seriously.” he added with a half-smile.
“How will we go about it?” asked Elaine. She was the only person who’d been listening to Dill with a straight face. She was also the first, Kayleigh noticed, to refer to the subject in the future rather than conditional tense.
“We just walk up to Trevor and tell him that he’s out of a job; and the same goes for you, Jack, with all due respect.”
Laird chuckled and winked.
“What if he doesn’t want to go?” asked Elaine.
Dill shrugged. “Tough titty! There’s two K of us saying that he’s out and just him and his handful of staff saying otherwise.”
“I’d love to see that!” said Zach.
“Yes.” said Laird. “But some of that handful are the Rockall Guard and they’re armed.”
“Well…” Dill paused for thought. “Obviously we don’t want to get into a firefight, that’s essential… The revolution must be peaceful.”
“A peaceful revolution? Sounds like a contradiction in terms.” said Laird.
“Not so long as we are adult and restrained about it.” responded Dill.
The American professor scowled. “So if the Guardsmen form a square around Trevor, point their guns at us and tell us to go home and have a cup of coffee, what do we do?”
“We try to reason with them.”
“Reason with them!? These guys are former special forces!”
“We must try, Jack.”
“And if, God forbid, it doesn’t work? What then?”
“We go home and have a cup of coffee.”
Laird snorted and threw his hands in the air.
“What’s the matter, Jack?” teased Dill. “It’s just a hypothetical exercise, remember?”
“Dill.” said Audrey. “If we decide to go ahead with this revolution, we must be willing to fight for it; otherwise we’ll be wasting our time.”
“We will fight for it, Audrey; with all our hearts.”
“And our fists.”
“No; this must be about ideas not brute force!”
“But brute force can hold us back from presenting our ideas!”
“Nothing can hold back a good idea.”
Laird returned to the debate. “With respect, Dill; I think you’re talking in a very idealistic and naive way.”
“’Idealistic’ and ‘naive’ are words used to describe anyone who’s trying to avoid the mistakes made by previous generations. Stone cold reality in this case is doing things the traditional doomed, useless way!”
“Come on, Man! You’re talking about the removal of an established government that has no intentions of being removed! Of course we’ll have to use brute force!”
“Hold on!” said Kayleigh, recalling her experience of being in Glasgow during the Rockall Missile Crisis. “What will the people back home think? How they see us will have a big effect on the success of our independence.”
Everybody turned and looked at her. “In what way?” asked Claire.
“If the newspapers fill their pages with lurid colour photos of dead Rockall Guardsmen and BGC security officers, what will the public reaction be? We all know how easy it is to diddle them with news stories; every time I ‘phone home, people still ask me what happened to the missiles. The US and UK governments will not be impressed when we take power, especially when we stop oil production. They will try to take the island back and the only chance we have of preventing that is if we break through their propaganda and get the people on our side.” There followed a long silence. She expected Laird to challenge her, but he just sat still like everyone else and gazed at her.
“That’s a very good point, Kayleigh.” said Dill. “If we use violence against the Governorship then we give Weller and Selby the justification to use violence against us.”
“So that’s it?” said Calum. “A Catch-22 situation. We can’t take over without using violence, but if we do it’ll give the government the excuse they need to stop us taking over.”
“I don’t think so…” began Dill.
“Yes! Calum’s right!” butted in Zach. “What’s more, even if we did what Dill says and took over peacefully then it wouldn’t matter a jot! Weller and Selby can fabricate an excuse; they’ve done it before. We’ve all seen it.”
Kayleigh nodded with a sigh.
“So let’s quit this baloney and get back to business!” snapped Laird. “We came here to talk about Jolo and Seenta.”
“And we are.” insisted Kayleigh. “What happened to Jolo and Seenta is a product of the regime we want to get rid of!”
“You can’t get rid of it! ‘It’ is the military might of the world’s two most powerful countries! The economic might of the global industrial community!” Laird thumped the table. “This is an exercise in pure fantasy!”
“I’m sure someone said that to George Washington.” riposted Dill.
The American glowered at him and the crofters laughed and applauded.
“Remember William Wallace?” said Alasdair. “He’d be right behind us!”
“Shut up, you Lowland twerp!” yelled Calum.
A dozen people intervened and a slanging match broke out.
“Let’s have some order, please!” shouted Dill, but his voice was drowned in the bickering.
Kayleigh then noticed that Kerroj’s lips were moving. The Erkdwala chieftain had sat quietly listening throughout the debate; now he was talking, sitting still and speaking softly, not attempting to raise his voice above the argument. “Quiet, you lot!” yelled Kayleigh. “Shut up, will you!?… SHUT UP!”
One by one they caught on, stopped what they were saying and turned their eyes towards the old man. Once more there was silence in the hall.
“Sorry, Kerroj.” said Kayleigh. “Could you start again?”
Kerroj smiled a little shyly. “Sorry if I stop you talking… I want only to say that what Dill and others say about… revulsion?”
“Revolution.” Kayleigh corrected.
“Revolution, yes! It is a good thing that you say this. It makes Rockall happy when you think and say things like that. Arkdwa is ill; and she is feeling sad and lonely. So many men are now here who know nothing of her; men like Trevor and BGC who want only money. She is crying with pain and sadness. When you think of things like revolution, it is because you can hear Rockall crying and you give her a cuddle. She knows that you all still love her and it gives her happiness and hope.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Kerroj; but thoughts can’t change anything.” said Laird.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Kerroj nodded resolutely. “Yes, they can! Rockall can hear your thoughts. She can see every picture of your mind. When you love Rockall and you want to set her free the power of your thoughts comes out of your head and flies around Rockall like a puffin. It goes into earth and rocks like water from rain. Your thoughts are making Rockall strong!”
“Well, that’s nice to know, Mr Kerroj.” said Calum. Kayleigh found his tone teasing and patronizing. “But it won’t change the outcome of the revolution. Thought can’t stop a bullet from a gun.”
“Why not? Who holds the gun? A man with a mind presses the trigger. The mind fires the bullet, not the gun.”
Calum tittered sardonically. “Right! Let’s keep thinking about freedom and go home to bed, eh?”
“No, no, no!” The old chieftain shook his head like a wet dog. “Thoughts must be real, not imagined!”
“’Thoughts must be real, not imagined’!? What is this drivel!?”
“He means that we must have real intent.” put in Kayleigh. “Thinking freedom must be more than saying: ‘Well, it would be nice, but we just can’t have it.’ We have to actually strive for it! Give it a try!”
“Yes, yes, Kayleigh!” said Kerroj. “Trying is more important than doing! If we try then our thought will be powerful and even if we fail we will still succeed. Winning is not success; winning is effort! If you succeed without effort then you have lost.”
There was a long pause then Dill cleared his throat. “I understand what you mean, Kerroj.” he said.
“Remember Jolo and Seenta.” said Kayleigh. “We owe it to them, we owe it to ourselves… and we owe it to Rockall!”
There was absolute hush in the room for several minutes. The occupants were as motionless as statues. Then Laird reached forward and picked up his beer glass. “Alright, I’m in.”
Kayleigh, Dill, Kerroj, Elaine, Zach and Claire all copied his action. The USGS and Commission staff followed. There was a pause then the younger crofters did the same. Calum looked around at the forest of raised glasses. “Very well.” he said. “I will submit to the majority.”
Dill stood up. “To Rockall!... And freedom!”
****************************************
“How the hell did that happen?” Zach asked no one in particular. “I was expecting us to organize a demo or a lobby or something… and we come out of that meeting with a plot to bring down the Governorship!”
“It seemed to make sense though… somehow.” said Kayleigh. “The moment Dill suggested it, something in my head went ‘Click!’. It’s as if we’re scientists who’ve been slogging away for years at some formula and then we discover one short, simple equation that makes all the others fit.”
Zach pushed his pillow back and raised himself up onto his elbow. He looked down on her, his eyes reflecting the moonlight from the window. “It was Kerroj that spun it. That feller’s amazing!”
“Kerroj is the most incredible person I’ve ever met.” said Kayleigh, sticking her leg out from under the blankets to cool herself.
“Yeah; until a few years ago, he didn’t know the outside world existed, and now he’s sussed it better than most of the folk who live in it.”
“And we should congratulate Dill; it was his idea in the first place.”
“Yeah, Dill can be very persuasive.” Zach got out of bed and walked to the sideboard. His skin glowed as if luminous in the moonlight as he poured a glass of water. “I’ll never forget Trevor’s ballot back in the tents! His face when the votes were tied! He was so sure that the ‘Go’s had it in the bag! But he hadn’t counted on Dill’s silver tongue.”
“Dill says February the Fifth is the day.”
“Why February the fifth?”
“That’s when the BGC change crews. Their supply ship will be in dock so we can use it to offload both crews from the island.”
“If there are any left alive.” said Zach with a frown. “There was a look in Audrey’s eyes that scared me. I think she’s after blood for what they did to Jolo and Seenta.”
“Well, she can’t have it. I agree with Dill, the revolution must be bloodless.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause. “I hope you’re right.”
****************************************
At midnight the Free Rockall Union met by The Devil’s Tea Cosy. There was nowhere big enough for them all to meet indoors without attracting attention and surprise was essential in these last few hours. Dill climbed up onto the top of the Cosy so that he could address the crowd. “My fellow Rockallians!” he boomed. “This is the last time we will meet under corporate colonial occupation! The next time we see each other, we shall be seeing free Rockallians!”
The party cheered and raised their fists in the air. Kayleigh felt Zach’s arm encircle her; his hand rested on her hip. She nestled into his armpit and rested her head on his chest.
“We all know what we’re supposed to be doing. Audrey? Is your team ready?”
“Sure is!”
“Remember, we must strike together, simultaneously. Nine AM, on the dot. My team will be waiting in Rockall Port at our homes; your team shall be ensconced in the USGS centre in Green Port. If there are any problems, call me on my mobile.” He paused for a few seconds. “We stand at the brink of a new age! The American Governor has openly joined our cause, and the British governor will soon be deposed…”
“He’s in good form tonight.” whispered Zach.
“On a roll, I’d say.” responded Kayleigh.
“You know, when he talks about things like this with such passion, I can almost believe it’ll come true.”
“That’s what Kerroj reckons is most important.”
“…so let us go!” yelled Dill. “Go and take the freedom that is our birthright! Take back our island home from the greedy and oppressive! The Rockall Ponies shall roam free again! The birds shall fly high above the plateau! Their nests safe from harm! Onward!”
They left in high spirits to take up their positions, becoming grave and apprehensive as they split up to go their separate ways. It was feeling more real now.
****************************************
“But I want to help!” said Kayleigh, stamping her foot.
“You have helped.” replied Zach.
“Then let me help some more! Bring me along with you!”
“Kayleigh.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “These guys have guns; it could be dangerous. I’m worried you’ll get hurt.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a little girl!” she yelled.
“Sorry… sorry.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. “Look, I care about you, Kay.”
“And I care about you!”
Dill interjected. “Are you ready, Zach; we’re leaving?”
“Yeah… Kay, please stay here!” He swung round and was out of the front door before she could reply, leaving her and Dill alone.
Dill smiled shyly. “What will you do?”
“Stay here, I guess.” She shrugged. “Look after him, Dill.”
“I will, Kayleigh; he’s a good friend to me.”
“And yourself too.”
“Oh, I’ll be alright!” he chuckled.
She stepped up to him and they embraced. “Freedom.” she whispered.
“Freedom.” He stood up straight, zipped his parka up to his chin and turned for the front door to follow Zach. Jack Laird was just outside. He winked cheerily at her then the door shut and they were gone.
Kayleigh was not alone in First Landing. Kerroj and several other Erkdwala elders had remained behind to take care of the children. The old folk sat and conversed softly in their native tongue while the youngsters played with toys and computer games. Peen squatted on the bed in one of the spare rooms with Gareth and Jennie’s youngster, Nina, who was showing Karsk her collection of teddy bears. The woman had a mixing bowl full of water in her hands. She looked up and smiled as Kayleigh approached. “Hi, Kayleigh.”
“Hi, Peen; what are you doing?”
“I talk to Elkika.”
“The water-goddess? What does she say?”
“She say: ‘Splish-splash-splosh!” Peen laughed.
Kayleigh laughed too. “You people are amazing! You even take the piss out of yourselves!”
“We are funny… Anyway, Elkika say good news. Revolution is full of good blessings. The heart of Arkdwa warms and her wounds can start to heal.”
“Well, that is good news. Thank you.” Kayleigh took a pair of binoculars out of the wardrobe then went to Zach’s bedroom and focused out over Rockall Port Bay.
The masses had reached The Rotunda. They had surged through the main gate and were pouring into the courtyard like a human wave. Their voices were easily audible like the roaring of the crowd at a football match. The vanguard was sprinting up to the front doors of Trevor’s private apartments. A posse of alarmed Rockall Guardsmen hastened inside and shut the door. There’s Dill! His figure in its distinctive blue parka was the first to reach the door and try the handle. He was swamped by dozens of others, some carrying sledgehammers. They all brought them down simultaneously and the door gave way with a single strike. Dill disappeared inside the building, the rest bundling in behind him.
Something caught Kayleigh’s attention at the edge of the lens. She panned left to see that a small group had peeled off from the main throng and were caucusing in a corner of the yard. One of them was Jack Laird. Zev Kahar, another USGS scientist, emerged from the loose tail of the crowd and joined them carrying a pair of rolled-up linen sheets under his arm. They all kept furtively looking over their shoulder as Zev unrolled the sheets. Inside were a stack of thick-barreled military rifles, hand grenades and ammunition pouches. Laird and his companions began loading magazines into the weapons and methodically working the breeches.
“Jack!” Kayleigh mumbled aloud. “What are you doing!?” She put down the binoculars, took out her mobile ‘phone and called Dill. As he answered she was almost deafened by the background clamour. “Hello!?” Dill yelled.
“Dill, it’s Kayleigh! Jack’s up to no good! I’m watching him from here! He’s got…”
“What was that!?”
“Jack’s got guns, Dill!”
“I can’t hear you, Kay!”
“Be careful! Jack’s… got… guns!”
The call cut off. Kayleigh dropped the device in frustration, wiped the condensation of her breath off the window and returned to her vigil. Laird and the other USGS crew were pushing their way into The Rotunda, brandishing their weapons.
Meanwhile the portion of the crowd that couldn’t fit inside the building was clustered around the flagpoles. They lowered the Rockall Triumvirate, there was a flicker of combustion and the three standards burst into flame. The crowd cheered and blazing cinders were kicked into the snow.
When her attention returned to the house itself, Kayleigh saw to her disbelief that two figures were climbing up the drainpipe on the west corner. When they reached the upper floor level they began inching along the horizontal drainpipe that ran all the way around the building, using the eaves of the roof as a handhold. Moving one step at a time, the two climbers circuited The Rotunda until they’d turned the corner and were on the south wall which leaned directly over the edge of the cliffs. The two men’s heels hung over a five hundred foot drop. Kayleigh put her free hand into her mouth and bit her nails in terror.
As the first climber reached the side of the facade’s biggest window, he produced a hammer from his inside pocket and proceeded to smash the pane with it. POP! POP! POP! A series of three, quick explosions echoed around the bay and the man who’d shattered the window let go his perch and fell. He plummeted noiselessly down the cliff face, rolling in the air like a film-maker’s dummy. He bounced off the rocks and hit the sea with a puff of spume. His hammer landed a split-second later, copying his death in miniature.
Kayleigh screamed. Her heart throbbed and her vision pulsated, but some hypnotic fixation riveted her to the scene. Her hands were shaking feverishly, but she continued to stare through the binoculars.
The second climber froze like a fly caught in a spider’s web. He made no plea or attempt to escape as a Rockall Guardsman leaned out of the window, leveled his pistol at him and fired. The climber collapsed on the drainpipe, clung on for a few seconds with his fingers and toes then succumbed to gravity and hurtled downwards, following his companion into the jaws of the ocean.
Peen opened the bedroom door. “Kayleigh, I hear your voice. What’s wrong?”
She pointed a quivering finger at The Rotunda.
“Oh, Kayleigh; don’t watch! We can do no help! Come to me and wait until this thing is over.”
Peen led her to the bed and laid her down; the room rolled around her head like a fairground ride. The Erkdwala woman gave her a glass of redcurrant juice laced with a herbal tonic and Kayleigh became relaxed and drowsy. Soon she fell asleep.
She awoke to the sound of shouting and yelling outside the house. She went to a landward window and saw a crowd outside First Landing. The Rotunda was burning and smoke filled the air. The front door opened and she heard excited voices downstairs. She put on her shoes and left the bedroom.
The kitchen, lounge and hallway were swarming with people all talking at once. Kayleigh almost fainted with relief as she saw Zach and Dill. She came down the stairs and pushed her way through the mob. “What happened?” she asked Zach.
“We did it.” he answered flatly. His face was drained and blank. “We won.”
In light of this news, she wondered why nobody seemed happy. Everyone appeared to be involved in a huge argument or a hundred different ones. Fingers jabbed at faces, mouths were red and wide, profanities popped up above the background hubbub. A brawl erupted in the hall between two groups of crofters. The hatstand was knocked over and the mirror fell from the wall and shattered. Then Laird arrived; his white beard was ruffled and dirty. He still held his rifle in his left hand. Dill turned on him in fury. “You stupid, stupid bastard!”
“Fuck you, Dill!” the professor retorted. “I just won you your goddamn revolution!”
“You just got a dozen men killed!”
“Horseshit! If it weren’t for me we’d all have been killed!”
“We fucked up ‘cos of you!”
“How dare you say that!? How dare you, you dumb-ass little motherfucker! We depose Trevor and set these people free and you chew my ass out for it!? Damn your hide, Dill!”
“Who the fuck do you think you are going behind everyone’s back!? We made plans together and…”
“No, goddammit! You did! You made all the plans and expected us just to fall in behind you!”
“We agreed on our methods!””
“No, I did not! Why the hell should I sit quietly and let you lead us all on some suicide mission like goddamn, fucking lemmings!? The Guards were armed! You gonna outtalk a nine-millimetre slug!?”
“We had the bloody place in our hands, Jack! We had Trevor cornered like a weasel! We could have starved him out if you hadn’t gone in blazing away like Arnold Schwarzenegger!”
Laird snorted contemptuously and shook his head. “My God! What a stupid little kid you are! When are you gonna grow up!?”
One of the USGS staff interrupted. “Heads up, Guys; prisoners coming through!”
The crowd herded the prisoners into the house with a gust of boo’s and cat-calls. First came Royston Keen, Trevor’s butler; and then John Patterfield, his chauffeur; and then the five, surviving Rockall Guardsmen looking wide-eyed and fearful. They were frogmarched down into the empty cellar and the door was locked. Ibux, one of the Erkdwala, stood outside to guard it. Finally, amid a crescendo of derisive howls, the Ace of the Pack was dragged in, wearing only dressing gown and slippers; and was thrown to the floor. His shoulders were stooped and trembling, his hair and clothes caked in mud and snow. As Dill and Zach stepped up to him, he made a palpable effort to compose himself. He tottered to his feet and pulled his dressing gown girdle tight. He said something inaudible above the noise.
“Shut up, you lot!” said Dill and the racket died down. “Do you have anything to say, Trevor?”
“Dill!... Kayleigh!...” he croaked hoarsely. As he looked at his erstwhile Deputy, his angry expression was mixed with pain. “Zach!... Not you too!”
Kayleigh looked at Zach, but her lover’s face remained unmoved.
The ex-Governor rotated in a circle, taking in his predicament. “HOW… DARE… YOU!” he hissed.
Dill’s face took on an uncharacteristic sneer of satisfaction. “Put him on ice!”
****************************************
The cellars of First Landing had been prepared in advance for their inmates. Dill had insisted on basic humanitarian conditions: A mattress on the floor, a slop-bucket and a bottle of clean water. Some had protested at this. “Let him lie in his own shit!” Audrey had put in, but eventually Dill had had his way. The staff and Guardsmen had been bundled in together in the main chamber, but Trevor was kept in solitary confinement in the wine cellar opposite.
As morning became afternoon, the rabble headed off over the moors to Mount Clow and Green Port to reinforce the other lines while Dill became very busy, sending text messages and making calls as he tried to coordinate everything like a general in his headquarters bunker. He asked Kayleigh to relieve Ibux from his guard duty. “The Erkdwala are trustworthy, but they aren’t accustomed to this sort of thing.” he said. “I’d rather have someone down there I can rely on.” She reluctantly agreed.
Laird was waiting for her at the top of the cellar steps, out of sight from Dill. “What’s up, Jack?”
He said nothing until Ibux was gone then produced an automatic pistol wrapped in a leather holster. “Take this, Kayleigh.” he said. “Just in case.”
“In case of what? Both doors are locked.”
“Then why even post a guard?... Look, Kayleigh; I’ll worry about you down there. I can’t stay; I’ve got to shoot off to Green Port. There’ll be less than ten people in the house this evening; I dread to think what’ll happen to you and those kids upstairs if these guys find a way to escape… Please take it.”
Kayleigh slowly reached out and took the weapon. It was heavier than she’d expected. “I watched you this morning, Jack.” she said. “I was by a window with binoculars. I don’t like the way you went behind our backs.”
“I’m sorry about that, Kayleigh; but I had no other choice. I knew I could make this venture succeed if we were armed, but I knew Dill would never agree.” He grinned. “Every good revolution has its cabals. And it worked didn’t it?”
“In the short term, but in the long term I still think Dill’s right; it’s going to cost us dearly.”
Laird sighed. “Dill is a decent, courageous, kind young man and I love him like a son… but he’s an obsessive idealist! He needs to wake up and smell the blood!” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Think about the things he says before agreeing to them and take care of yourself.” He turned and walked away.
Kayleigh descended the narrow, stone steps to the cellar, her fingers running along the breezeblock walls. There was a landing at the bottom just three feet square with a door on each side and a blank wall ahead. It was lit by a single bulb in a cage on the ceiling. The doors were made of heavy beechwood with bronze jambs and latches. Each door had a ventilation grille, just seven inches by two, installed at eye-level. She could hear the murmur of conversation from the chamber on the left, but from the wine cellar to the right there was silence.
She leaned against the cold wall to begin her vigil, but then caught a glint of light from behind the grille of the wine cellar; just a ping of reflection off a cornea. She was being watched. “Is that you, Trevor?” There was a long pause. The hush was creepy and she felt a twinge of claustrophobia. She suddenly became very aware of her vulnerability; just a couple of inches of wood separated her from her prisoners. She undid the pop-stud on the pistol’s holster.
“Who else would it be, Kayleigh?” Trevor’s voice was hoarse and muffled from behind the grille as if he were being smothered.
“Are you OK in there?”
“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean.”
“Good; that’s all that matters.”
There was a long silence. “What are you planning on doing with me?”
“I don’t know yet; that’s for Dill to decide.”
“Dill!” His voice dripped with contempt. “Dill is using you, Kayleigh.”
“No! Dill doesn’t use people! That’s your forte! Dill loves and cares for people! Something I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
There was another pause then Trevor coughed. “Would you consider letting me out of here?”
Kayleigh snorted. “What did you say!?”
“Just unlock the door and look the other way; I’ll be gone, no strings attached.”
“You’re crazy!”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“What; you’ll pay me, Trevor? A few million in petrodollars?”
“How about some BGC shares? Ten billion dollars worth of them! And their value is going to skyrocket! Just think about it, Kayleigh! You could buy anything you want!”
She was sweating despite the basement being damp and chilly. She wiped her brow. “Forget it!”
“You’re a fool!” he hissed.
“Do you know I feel sorry for you, Trevor? You can only think in pounds and pence.”
“And you’re a sentimental, little trollop! Living in the pockets of your mentor Dill!... Do you honestly think you’ll get away with this!? You really have no idea what you’ve done; or what’s going to happen to you for doing it!”
“I’m not scared, Trevor!”
“Well, you should be!... You’re all as good as dead! Even if you surrender you’ll be shown no mercy! They’ll save the women for last! You’ll be raped and mutilated until you beg for the final bullet!”
“Shut up, Trevor!” Kayleigh drew the gun from its holster. Her hands shook and the weapon slipped in her clammy grip.
“Why don’t you use that now, Kayleigh; on yourself! You’ll be better off!”
“I said shut up!” She kicked the door.
“It doesn’t have to be like that.” he persisted in a gentler voice. “I can protect you if you cooperate with me. Unlock the door and let me out. We can escape together and I’ll get you off the island to safety.”
Then she understood. She composed her self and said: “Trevor, I wasn’t born yesterday! Bribery then threats? Very original!” She chuckled.
There was a pause then Trevor struck the door with a resounding thump. “LET ME OUT!... LET ME OUT!” he shouted, beating on the door with his fists and feet. “I’m the Governor of Rockall! Let me out, by God! NOW!”
“What’s going on?” Calum appeared at the top of the steps. Then he laughed heartily and jogged down. “Is our guest not satisfied with his accommodation?... Hey, Trevor! Has luncheon not been served on time? Is the caviar too cold?” He turned to Kayleigh. “I’ve come to relieve you. Dill wants a word.”
Kayleigh pattered up the stairs back into the world of warmth and light. Calum was her saviour; his laughter and jibes dissolved the fear that Trevor had dragged her into, but the best news was yet to come.
Dill’s face was pale and his jowls hung limp with exhaustion. He smiled weakly as he flicked through his text messages. “It’s over, Kayleigh; Green Port has fallen.”
“What about Mount Clow?”
“Elaine’s negotiating a surrender as we speak.”
She ran forward and embraced him with tears in her eyes; there were some in his too.
****************************************
Heavy rain fell as they drove northwards on the Trans-Rockall Highway. The temperature had risen ten degrees in the last half hour and the snow was already turning to slushy rain. Dill gripped the steering wheel of the Landrover with both hands, swerving to avoid the most slippery areas of the road. To his left in the distance, crowds could be seen dancing with elation up on the ridge between themselves and Mount Clow. The terraces outside the domes of Green port were alive with revelers despite the weather. Jack Laird waved to them as they drove past on their way to the oil works.
The tower cranes and machinery was still and silent for the first time ever. The yellow-painted supply ship was tied up at the wharf. There was not a single face in sight as they stepped out onto the rain-spattered ground. The force that had captured the works had been led by Audrey. “Where’s Audrey’s gang?” asked Dill, voicing her own thoughts.
They walked forward a few steps and saw the first corpse. “Shit!” Dill ran over and rolled the figure out of the puddle where he’d been lying face down. He was clearly dead; his head had been bludgeoned. Kayleigh noticed that he was wearing a BGC boiler suit before turning away in revulsion.
From then on, they found bodies wherever they looked; all were BGC employees. Some had been beaten, some stabbed. One or two had fatal bullet wounds. The drainage ditches on the building site were tinted pink with blood. “Audrey! What have you done!?” Dill growled. “Come on, Kayleigh; we’d better get down to the ship and have a word.”
As they got close to the wharf, the sound of gunfire broke out from the moored supply ship. “DOWN!” yelled Dill and dragged Kayleigh to the floor behind a stack of oil barrels. More shots rang out and Kayleigh peeked through the gap between two barrels. The huge, yellow wall of the ship loomed over the quay; brown smoke poured from its funnel and the BGC motif was ramped across its beams. There were faces at the brightly-lit windows and a number of men on deck with rifles, but they weren’t aiming at her. “Dill.” She tapped his shoulder. “They’re not trying to shoot us. Look; they’re trying to shoot the mooring cables. They just want to get away.”
The gunman took aim again and fired. The bullets missed, ricocheting off the concrete dock with a flash of sparks. Dill got up and ran to the dockers’ hut. He came out moments later with a megaphone. “AHOY THERE!” he called, standing in full view of the ship.
Kayleigh watched as the shapes of the men on deck turned and stared at him. They all lifted their rifles again, this time training them towards Dill. She heard herself scream. Shots cracked past her, exploding on the girders behind them with ear-splitting pings. She pushed her face against the wet concrete. Dill landed beside her, panting hard. “I’m OK; they didn’t hit me!” He raised the megaphone and spoke from where he lay: “DON’T SHOOT! WE MEAN YOU NO HARM! WE WANT TO HELP YOU!”
There was a shriek of feedback from the ship then an amplified voice replied: “BULLSHIT! YOU WANT TO KILL THE REST OF US!” The speaker sounded close to tears with anger and fear.
“NO!” countered Dill. “THERE WILL BE NO MORE DEATHS ON ROCKALL! PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND WE WILL CAST OFF YOUR SHIP’S LINES FOR YOU SO YOU CAN SAIL HOME!...”
BANG! BANG! BANG! A hail of bullets snapped past their hiding place.
“PLEASE!” said Dill. “THE HARMING OF B.G.C. EMPLOYEES WAS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY THE FREE ROCKALL UNION! THE MURDER OF YOUR COLLEAGUES WAS AN UNAUTHORIZED ACT! ALL WE PLANNED TO DO WAS PUT YOU ALL ON YOUR SHIP AND DEPORT YOU!...”
“THEY DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” screamed the reply from the ship.
“WHAT?”
“THOSE GUYS YOU WASTED! THEY WERE INNOCENT! YOU WANTED REVENGE!? IT WAS THE TUNNEL-BORE CREW THAT RAPED THOSE TWO GALS! THEY WERE MOVED OUT LAST WEEK!... YOU’VE MURDERED INNOCENT MEN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”
Dill closed his eyes and wiped his face with his hands; rainwater squeezed from between his fingers. “I’M SORRY, I HAD NO PART IN IT, I PROMISE. LET ME…”
“FUCK YOU, GIBSON, YOU ASSHOLE! YOU SHOW YOUR FACE IN THE OPEN WE’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!”
He lifted his megaphone to reply, but Kayleigh stopped him. “Dill, leave it. It’s too late.”
They leopard-crawled out from the dock area until they were far enough away to stand and look back. The flicker of a welder’s torch glowed on the foredeck of the supply ship. The BGC crew had found another way to cut the lines. Twenty minutes later, all their moorings were severed and the ship backed away from the quay, switched her engines ahead and sailed for the open sea.
There was nothing more they could do at the oil works so they left the bodies where they lay and drove off.
****************************************
They rejoined the Trans-Rockall Highway and after a few miles, hit the stone track that led westwards into the excavated basin of RAF Mount Clow.
Almost everyone who’d taken part in the action that morning at Rockall Port was now there, surrounding the base. Trapped inside was the island’s military garrison. The Royal and US Marines had taken up defensive positions around the airbase buildings. They crouched in the grass with their rifles leveled at the insurgents. Dill and Kayleigh parked the Landrover at the edge of the crowd and wormed their way through to where Zach was standing. The former Deputy-Governor had his mobile ‘phone to his ear. “Yup… yup… OK, let me talk to my friends. He lowered the ‘phone and turned to Dill. “I’m on the blower to Major Stankowski inside the base. He says that all he wants is to get all his men aboard the aircraft and into the air.”
“They’re evacuating!” said Claire who was standing nearby. “It’s a retreat!”
The word spread out like a ripple and the whole throng gave a roar of victory.
Dill pondered for a moment. “Tell him that he can proceed and we will not hinder him, but first ask him if he has room for a few more passengers.”
“Who?” said Zach.
“The prisoners down at First Landing.”
“Wait up! We’re not letting Trevor go!”
“Trevor? Christ no! We’re keeping him alright! I was thinking of his servants and the Rockall Guardsmen.”
Zach passed on the message and Stankowski agreed. Dill and Claire went back to Rockall Port with a posse of crofters in their lorry and returned an hour later. They halted right in front of the base gates while a squad of marines jogged up and drew the sliding gate open a few feet. Dill and the crofters decamped from the lorry and goaded down from the rear a group of men with their hands tied behind their backs. The prisoners walked one at a time over to the gate where the marines ushered them inside and slammed it shut.
Half an hour later the engines on the three Hercules transporters on the apron began to whine; their props slowly spun up. The revolutionaries gave a deafening jeer as the column of military personnel exited the hangers in a row and boarded the three aircraft with their eyes fixed ahead, not speaking. The crowd laughed and whistled; and began chanting: Goodbye, Scumbags! It’s nice to see you go! over and over. Dill looked at them with a disparaging frown. “I do wish they wouldn’t gloat!”
“You can’t blame them after what’s happened.” said Kayleigh.
The airbase was empty and the aircraft's navigation lights started flicking. They trundled slowly in single file onto the runway then, one at a time, they lumbered down the airstrip, building up speed until they levitated into the air. As the last aeroplane’s wheels lost contact with the tarmac, the assembly gave another roar.
“That’s it.” said Dill. “Foreign occupation of Rockall has officially ended after just seven hours. Who said it was impossible!?”
The three planes rose higher and higher in the darkening afternoon sky and banked southeastwards as they entered the low cloud cover. The racket of their engines ebbed away beneath the rush of the wind and the squawks of the seabirds.
The mob surged forward with a thunder of voices. They rammed the gates with the crofter’s lorry and accelerated up to the nearest hanger. The men inside leaped out and pelted over to the building’s doors, racing each other to be the first to capture the base. The winner was seventeen-year-old Ewan MacLeod, the youngest of Calum’s sons. He reached the door and began to fiddle with the latch…
Both hangers expanded like balloons and burst into yellow-white blobs of fire. Kayleigh put up her hands to shield her face. KA-BOOOOOOOM! The blast hit her like a dozen fists and she sprawled onto the heather. When she looked up again, the airbase had dissolved into a volcanic lake of liquid fire, roaring and crackling, belching solid, tar-black smoke into the air. Some of the crofters had been caught at the edge of the deluge. They thrashed about, screaming like pigs, their voices shrilled and warped by agony, their figures wreathed in flame like salamanders. They were mercifully overcome within seconds and collapsed onto the infernal carpet. Their flesh melted, combusted and added fuel to the blaze.
Kayleigh had got to her feet and was running, though she didn’t remember doing it. Her ears were battered numb by the shockwave of the explosion. The others were either fleeing like she was, or gawping at the scene in horrified disbelief. The stench of burning smothered her lungs.
****************************************
They all stayed downstairs in First Landing that night; Dill, Kayleigh, Zach, Claire, Kerroj, Elaine, Laird and a few others. They huddled close for comfort, sleeping or weeping intermittently. Nobody spoke.
The noise of the ‘phone ringing was like a church bell; they all started. Dill leaped to his feet. Kayleigh instinctively picked it up. “Hello?” she croaked.
“Hi, Kayleigh.” Arlene’s voice came on the room’s speakerphones.
She cleared her throat. “How’s it going, Arly?”
“It’s bad news. Terry, Neil and Finn have just died. We did all we could, but their burns were too deep and extensive.”
“How’s Calum?”
“I think he’s going to be alright, but he’ll need a lot of plastic surgery… Oh!” Her voice cracked and she squealed. “Oh… Kay…” She sobbed uncontrollably.
“Thanks, Arly.” Kayleigh replaced the handset.
Thirty minutes passed in Trappist silence. Zach’s grandfather clock struck five AM. Then Laird stirred. “Someone should have contacted us by now.”
“Perhaps they’re just letting us stew for a bit.” said Zach.
Kayleigh eventually succumbed to mental exhaustion and fell into a dreamless sleep. She awoke in her seat, tingling with pins and needles. It was getting light outside and the clock said eight-forty AM. Nobody ate breakfast, but a few took tea and coffee. At one minute to nine the netphone beeped and the words Incoming call flashed up on the computer wall screen. Everyone froze and stared. “Answer it, Dill!” Laird’s face flushed as he spoke. “This one’s yours, Pal.”
Dill stood up. “I’ll connect it to the room cam, OK?” He stepped up to the console and hit a key.
A double window appeared on the screen. One showed Craig Weller sitting in his armchair; the other, Glenmar Selby hunched behind his desk in the Oval Office, the Stars and Stripes on a pole behind him. “Good morning.” said Weller.
“Good morning, Prime Minister… Mr President.” said Dill.
“Do you know why we’re calling, Mr Gibson?” asked Selby.
“It must be someone’s birthday.” said Dill with a half-smile.
Selby frowned. “Is this a big joke to you, Gibson? Eighteen American civilians were massacred on Rockall yesterday by your guerillas and you think it’s a joke!?”
“We don’t know anything about any massacre.” put in Laird.
“Yes, we do.” said Dill.
“No, we don’t!” Laird leaned close and whispered: “For Pete’s sake, they’ve got no proof!”
“No more lies, Jack!”
“Shit!” Laird fell backwards in his seat with a huff of exasperation.
“Mr President, I regret deeply the actions of the force that captured the oil terminal works. The killing was unauthorized and the perpetrators will be dealt with.”
“Damn right you will be!” exclaimed Selby.
“Mr President, Prime Minister, when your forces withdrew yesterday, they rigged a booby trap bomb to the RAF Mount Clow airbase. It ignited a fuel dump and killed nine people. A dozen more are in hospital with third degree burns.”
“I know.” said Weller. “By killing innocent bystanders at the oil terminal you committed an act of war. Our forces were preventing the base from falling into enemy hands; I wholeheartedly support their actions and do not apologize for the deaths and injuries caused.”
Dill ran a hand across his face. “Gentlemen…”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Mr Gibson.” interrupted the Prime Minister. “We didn’t call to negotiate; we called to deliver an ultimatum. Forces are at this moment on their way to recapture the island of Rockall. You must surrender to them immediately and place yourselves under arrest. If you fail to do so we will retake the island by force. If you attempt to damage the oil-drilling infrastructure in any way; we will wipe out every man, woman and child on Rockall.”
Dill’s face was as white as icing. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple. “There will be no surrender, Gentlemen… Zach, Jack, bring Trevor here!”
The two men headed for the cellar, Laird had his pistol drawn. A few minutes later they came back up with the ex-Governor between them. He was still in his dressing gown, tousled and unshaven, blinking in the light. His face was deadpan and he made no attempt to resist as they marched him into the lounge and forced him to his knees in front of the webcam.
“Take a look at this, Weller!” Laird pointed a pistol at the side of Trevor’s head. “Here’s your Governor! If you attack us we’ll kill him!”
“No, we won’t!” snapped Dill. “We’re not murderers, Jack!”
“Goddammit, Dill; whose side are you on!?”
“Ours…”
They both cut off as they noticed that the two men on the screen were both laughing scornfully. “So that’s your bargaining chip, is it?” said Weller, drying his eyes with a handkerchief.
“I’m… Trevor… McCain!” Trevor rasped, his voice tight and dry. “Governor of Rockall… British Sector… dependency!”
“You’re nothing, McCain!” spat Weller. “Just a shriveled bollock! There’s plenty more where you came from! When we take back the island we’ll put a man in your place who’ll do his bloody job properly… Kill him if you want, Laird! Do whatever you like with him!... Gibson! The deal is closed! You have until March the First; then we send in the troops!” Weller touched a button on his own keypad and the screen went blank.
****************************************
Kayleigh slept soundly until about midday then woke up. She looked out of the window and saw that The Rotunda had been reduced to charred walls with empty holes where the windows used to be. Smoke still wisped from the ruins and some red spots still glowed on the pile of carbonized timber within. She wandered around the bedrooms which were still being used as a secure nursery for the children during the troubles. She went over to Karsk’s cot and looked down at him. The little eighteen-month-old was lying on his side asleep next to Nina. His chubby legs were tucked up and his hand grasped the ear of his teddy bear. He smiled briefly as if hearing a joke in his dreams. Kayleigh leaned down into the cot until she could hear his quiet breathing; then she reached down and gently stroked his curly hair. She heard a noise behind her and straightened up. Dill was standing in the doorway watching her. “Everything alright, Kay?”
She walked over to him before replying so as not to wake up the babies. “No, Dill; I’m scared.”
“Me too.”
She hesitated. “Dill, don’t hate me for saying this, but I think we should surrender.” Dill’s face didn’t flinch so she quickly followed up: “This was always going to be a gesture; you know that. We can’t fight off superpowers! We’ve made our point; the world will sit up and take notice. Let’s quit while we still can. I don’t want to see any more people hurt.”
He sighed. “Me neither, Kay; but will surrendering make that any less likely? If we wave a white flag they might just kill us anyway… We always knew this was going to be dangerous.”
Kayleigh trembled. “Oh, Dill! I wish this wasn’t happening! I want it to be over!”
He put his arms around her and caressed her shoulders. “So do I… Remember the Rockall Spirit is with us. She’s worked her magic on us and I’m sure she will on any soldiers who land here.”
****************************************
The following morning, Kayleigh switched on her laptop and called up the front page of The Sun:
SLAUGHTER!
Eighteen American oil-workers hacked to death on Rockall by a gang of bloodthirsty thugs.
The lonely island of Rockall descended into hell-on-earth on Tuesday as a riot broke out among the population of three thousand people. Protesters on both American and British sides who have been demanding unity and independence, as well as an end to oil extraction, resorted to violence and murder to put their point across.
The uprising, on the site of the decommissioned missile launching base, began at dawn as two gangs of rebels carried out a synchronized attack on the island’s infrastructure. One stormed the British Governor’s mansion, shooting dead fifteen security guards and taking Governor Trevor McCain hostage. The other descended on the oil station with what one survivor describes as: “Psychopathic fury”. “There were thousands of them and they came at us with axes, knifes and baseball bats.” said Dack Peterson, manager of Pickard Security Services, part of the Black Gold Consortium. “We had no choice but to run for the supply ship and jump aboard.” The four hundred surviving oil workers are now sailing for New York on their ship, along with the relief crew who were going to take over from them. Reports have come in that the Governor of the American Sector, Professor John Laird, has defected and joined the ranks of the rabble that perpetrated the attack.
The servicemen at the island’s RAF station were forced to retreat as the rioters turned their attention on the Mount Clow airbase. All the personnel, including the 42 Commando Royal Marines, used the base’s own aircraft to evacuate to the mainland. They all arrived safely at RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire and are at home with their families.
The mob, who call themselves the “Free Rockall Union”, are currently in control of the island and are holding the Governor hostage. Both President Selby and Prime Minister Craig Weller are united in their condemnation of the incident. “This brutal, frenzied attack on innocent Americans will not go unanswered.” Mr Selby announced on US national television last night. Mr Weller called it “A vicious and animalistic assault on the sanctity of human life. The people of Britain and America want an active response and we promise to deliver…”
The story continued for five or six pages with comments and photographs. One had a picture of Dill and an accompanying column:
This is believed to be the mastermind behind the Rockall rebellion: Twenty-five year old Dill Gibson, a former psychology student from Beckhampton in Wiltshire. He is one of the “Rockall Twenty”, the original Rockall Commission colonists who were sent to explore the island in 2009. He has always been openly critical of government policy towards the island and instrumental in sabotaging the attempts to rehabilitate the island’s native Erkdwala people, a head-hunting culture left over from the Stone Age. He had a reputation at school and Bristol University as a raving inciter of disobedience. He is a member of several New Age movements and used to attend hippy festivals at Stonehenge…
The article rambled on for a few more paragraphs, portraying Dill as an antisocial drop-out, a deranged conspiracy theorist and a “failed guru” or “frustrated world-saver.” Kayleigh switched off in disgust and dialed Audrey’s landline, punching the buttons with her fingers.
The videolink showed the American sitting at her kitchen table in Green Port. She was munching cereal in her dressing gown. “Hello?” she mumbled with her mouth full.
“Have you seen today’s papers?” Kayleigh asked.
“Yeah.”
“So, what have you got to say for yourself!?”
“Hey, come on, Kayleigh! You can’t blame me for all this!”
“I blame all of your section!”
She put down her spoon. “Those guys were fucking rapists! They got less than they deserved!”
“They didn’t do it, Audrey! You murdered innocent men!”
“Huh! There’s a contradiction in terms!”
“The blokes who did it had been moved off the island! The ones you killed were no more responsible for raping Jolo and Seenta than you are!”
“What did you expect us to do!? Give these creeps a slap on the wrist and let them go!?”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said!?”
“Yeah, so?”
“What? If you can’t get the guilty then the innocent will do!”
“Men are all guilty, Kayleigh. When you grow up, you’ll realize that.”
Kayleigh groaned and cut the connection.
****************************************
Trevor wore a detached, blase expression on his face as he walked. Laird, as usual, was acting as his security guard. He walked to his right, while Sean, a big, burly crofter, walked on his left. Kayleigh strolled a few feet behind and, on Laird’s instructions; she had a pistol tucked into her right grip. The former Governor strained at the bond that secured his wrists behind his back. “Is this prison yard routine really necessary?” he asked.
“Yes.” replied Laird.
“Why? Where am I going to run to if I escape? It’s a long swim home!”
“I don’t know, Trevor; but I do know what a devious, resourceful little sonofabitch you are. If you want exercise and fresh air, fair play; just don’t expect us to let you wander free on your own.”
“Suit yourself, Professor.”
They topped a shallow rise which loomed over Lookback Point and froze simultaneously. A trickle of fear ran over Kayleigh’s skin. It was a clear, bright day and on the horizon sat the hazy, grey silhouette of a warship. Laird got out his mobile ‘phone and called Dill urgently. “Dill, there’s a ship out to the south!... It must be ten miles away!... It’s a destroyer or something, I don’t know! Shit!”
The prisoner was roaring with glee. “Take a good look, Boys! That’s your Nemesis and my saviour! There’ll be more where that came from too! The Rockall pirates are about to be fished from their lair!”
“Alright, Trevor; that’s enough!” Laird propelled him roughly away from the vista. “You’ve had your hour outside; let’s go!”
****************************************
“There’s nothing I can do, Mum.” Kayleigh was holding back tears as she looked at her mother’s face on the laptop screen. Her father was standing behind her and in the background was the kitchen of her house in Glasgow.
“God, I wish you’d never got involved in all this!”
“Well, I have. I can’t turn the clock back so I’ll just have to make the best of it.” She longed to be with them in her house on the other side of the screen.
“But, Kay… Isn’t there a boat you can jump into and just get the hell out?”
She shook her head. “The island’s being blockaded by the Navy. Nobody goes out or comes in alive.”
Her mother put a tissue to her mouth and sniffed; her father put a hand on her shoulder.
“Mum, I know you don’t believe everything you read in the papers, but…”
“It’s alright, Sweetie; we’re both just worried for you if it comes to fighting.”
“I’ll keep my head down and…” The screen suddenly went blank.
“Mum!... Dad!” She tapped the keyboard, but nothing happened. Then a message appeared on the screen: Error. Cellular modem connection terminated. Contact internet service provider for further advice. “Shit!... Dill!”
At the moment she called his name he burst in through the door. “Kayleigh, are you cut off too?”
“Yeah.”
“They’ve struck us off the Net!”
“How!?... What!?”
Dill studied the error message on the blank screen. “It’s not like it used to be in the old days. A TV set was once something that functioned on its own and was operated independently by the user. It picked up radio waves that were broadcast freely and in the clear, available for anybody with the right receiver. Anyone with a TV set had free access to those radio waves and could view them at will, unmonitored and for no extra charge. These days a TV set is merely part of a centralized network. Those who control the network alone decide what you watch, when and where you watch it; and in our case… whether you watch at all.
****************************************
They took the island’s six, surviving Landrovers and headed out onto the Trans-Rockall Highway. It was a clear, windy day, just above freezing and they were all clad in Gore-Tex and wool. Laird tapped his pneumatic drill. They turned onto the track for Mount Clow and drove down into the artificial valley that had replaced Rockall’s highest hill. It was as if a lake of tar had formed over the land. Kayleigh climbed out of the vehicle and trudged over to where the blackness began. The grass and heather had all burned away and the ground had lost its body and consistency. Mixed with rainwater it was just loose, charcoaled mud and Kayleigh sank in almost to the tops of her Wellingtons. “My hope and glory!” cursed Claire. “Look at the soil, or what’s left of it!”
“I’ve never seen mud like this on Rockall.” said Kayleigh.
“The fire killed off the biomass.” said the biologist. “Normally it’s a very high percentage being natural and uncultivated.”
“Where are the… you know?”
“Bodies? All gone! You won’t find a cinder. The heat of burning aviation fuel is hotter than any crematorium.”
“So we can’t even give them a decent funeral.” muttered Zach shaking his head.
Even the steel hangers had been reduced to a few blackened, distorted girders sticking out of the ground like a surrealist sculpture. “OK, let’s roll!” said Laird and walked eastwards down the runway, towing his handcart and compressor behind him. The runway at Mount Clow was a simple affair of leveled topsoil overlaid with Portland cement. “Here’s a good place to start.” said the American. He used the pneumatic drill to break open the cement and then dug with a spade down to about three feet. He carefully measured out a charge of dynamite, dropped it into the hole and shoveled the earth back on top of it. A few crofters drove up in another Landrover and dumped a boulder on the spot. Laird then walked eastwards, trailing a wire out behind him from a reel. “Where did you learn to do this?” asked Kayleigh.
“I’m a geologist; I’m used to blowing things up.”
Fifty yards further along they repeated the process; then they walked another fifty yards to lay their third charge.
A sound came from behind the southern ridge. It rose so quickly that Kayleigh didn’t have time to identify it before a fast-moving, bird-like silhouette crested the ridge and stooped into the basin, speeding towards them. Kayleigh put her hands in her ears as the noise rose to a deafening peak. The small, stubby fighter aircraft skimmed the ground at fifty feet; she watched as the crofters dived for cover. She half-expected it to start shooting and was relieved when it banked into a sharp turn and vanished behind the northern berm. Its din quickly faded.
“That was a Sea Harrier!” said Laird. “Royal Navy!”
“Why didn’t it attack?” asked Zach.
“I guess it was just doing a reconnaissance; keeping an eye on us… Come on! Let’s get this over with!” He marched on with renewed urgency.
By mid-afternoon, they had laid twenty charges on the two mile long runway. Laird looped the wire to a spot behind the berm and connected it to the detonator. He put a key in the lock at the side of the box and turned it. The small, square button glowed red. “Who wants to do the honours?”
Everyone looked at each other.
“Kayleigh?”
“OK.” She took the box.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” Laird yelled at the top of his voice and quickly looked up to make sure that everyone had taken cover.
Kayleigh pushed the button. BOOM! She felt the explosion more than heard it. Everyone was standing up and cheering. When the smoke cleared she saw that twenty neat cavities had been poked in the runway and the whole area was surrounded by black ejecta.
“That’s it!” bubbled Laird. “The runway’s gone! Nobody’s going to land an airplane here and there’s nowhere else on Rockall where they can!”
“Will this stop the invasion?” asked Zach.
“It’ll make it a hell of a lot more difficult.”
“Why? They can always come in helicopters; they don’t need a runway.”
“Yeah, but helicopters can’t carry tanks, artillery and heavy infantry.”
“They’re hardly going to need those though, are they?” Zach shrugged.
Laird swung round to face him, his cheeks ruddy. “Goddammit, Zach! Did you bury your balls in one of those holes!? Why don’t you just fuck off Rockall and surrender now!?”
“I was just…”
“Just being a defeatist asshole; that’s what you were being!”
“Jack.” Kayleigh put a hand on his shoulder. “Zach didn’t mean it, did you, Zach?” But Zach was stomping away with his hands in his pockets.
****************************************
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Zach.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Kayleigh.”
They kissed each other and made love. There were no parties to go to, no cards to send; everyone was crouching in their home with their partner, if they had one. Four other ships had arrived during the day and were casing the island, popping up and down on the horizon. More and more aircraft were overflying. It seemed an intimidation tactic rather than anything else. Once a Harrier flew so low over the rooftops of Rockall Port that the windows buzzed. When this happened, Trevor kicked his prison door and screamed with laughter.
There was still a total communications blackout; not a single cellular telephone or internet connection on Rockall worked. The TV was also down. For a week now, the Rockallians had been isolated from the rest of the world. It was chilling for Kayleigh. As she looked at her blank laptop screen, she could easily imagine that the outside world had vanished, leaving them alone, as the Erkdwala had once believed they were; a tiny island in an infinite cosmic ocean.
Kayleigh and Zach slept soundly and awoke at nine AM feeling relaxed. She’d just finished showering when the landline rang. She went down the stairs and took it in the hall. “Kayleigh! It’s Arlene!” The nurse’s voice sounded shrill and far away. “Jolo and Seenta have woken up!”
Kayleigh ran the mile between First Landing and the hospital in athletic time. A huge mass of people had already gathered, mostly Erkdwala. Jolo and Seenta were sitting up in bed eating a cooked breakfast and chattering away in rapid Erkdwala to Kerroj, Yonnax and Queylie. “Kayleigh!” Jolo yelled and spread her arms. They all spent about ten minutes in a group hug and the nurses looked on dabbing their eyes.
The two Erkdwala women were thin and pale, but their eyes were bright and their smiles broad. “We know what happens now, Kayleigh.” said Seenta in her broken English. “Kerroj tells us things. Bad men from outside are coming to Rockall.”
“Not if I’ve got anything to do with it!” said a new voice.
Everyone looked up to see a figure on crutches, swathed in bandages like an Egyptian mummy.
“Calum!” scolded Arlene. “You’re not supposed to be out of bed!”
“Sod that, Woman! If there’s going to be a battle then you’re going to need all the hands you can get! Ewan wouldn’t want me to lie about all day and miss the fun!”
****************************************
As February aged, the people of Rockall prepared for war. This time, the nursery was set up in a basement under one of the Green Port domes after Zach voiced his concerns that First Landing would probably be a prime target for the invaders. There was plenty of food because the crofters had kept their market goods frozen. Medical supplies were also sufficient for many months; Arlene had raided the infirmary at the oil works and found tons of drugs, equipment and dressings. If it came to an extended blockade, they would have an ample breathing space.
More importantly, according to most, there was also a plentiful stock of beer in The Pissed Gannet. On the evening of the twenty-fifth, Kayleigh and her friends met there to reduce it a little. “They won’t blockade.” said Dill. “They’ll attack.”
“What makes you so sure?” asked Kayleigh.
“A blockade’ll take to long. It’d mean committing half the Royal and US navies to sail around in circles for months on end; and seeing that we’re such a soft target, it’d be a waste of time. And don’t forget the oil. The Government wants to get production started up ASAP.”
“So what can we do about it, Dill?”
“You know what one of my earliest memories is?” said Dill. “Sitting on my mum’s lap watching TV and seeing a column of tanks rolling down a street. Then suddenly this little bloke jumps out in front of them. I expected him to get run over, but no! The column stops and the driver of the leading tank sticks his head out to talk to the bloke standing in the road.”
“I’ve seen that too.” said Zach. “It happened in China in Nineteen-eighty-nine. The student protests.”
“And I think it holds a lesson for us.” continued Dill. “The might of the world’s biggest army was stopped short by one little feller with an idea and the guts to get out there and say it.”
“You got a point.” said Troyman. “In the Vietnam War, both sides agreed that the most dangerous thing an enemy plane could drop was not a bomb, but leaflets.”
“But look what happened in China in Eighty-nine.” said Audrey. “The army still went ahead and massacred hundreds.”
“But even still.” said Dill. “Everyone remembers that little feller stopping a convoy of tanks by talking to them. Our situation is just like that.”
“So in the end we get massacred too!” Audrey slapped her thighs. “Great idea, Dill!”
“Actually half the first unit of the Chinese army sent into Tiananmen Square mutinied.” riposted Dill. “Supposing that happens again. Maybe all of them will mutiny this time.”
“How do we know?”
“We don’t. We have to risk it.”
“Hmm.” said Laird. The former American Governor had been uncharacteristically taciturn all evening.
“Are you OK, Jack?” asked Kayleigh.
“Yeah… I’ve been thinking.” he replied.
“What about?”
He paused. “I’ve had an idea.”
“Not more ideas, please!” groaned Audrey.
“No, I’ve thought of a way that might stop the troops invading.”
Everyone stared, astonished at this announcement. “Well, what is it?” asked Dill urgently.
He explained.
There was an astounded silence. “That’s impossible! It’ll never work!” said Zach.
“It will!” insisted Laird. “We have everything we need: equipment, raw materials and the nous to put it together. It’s so simple it’s genius!”
“But something like this has never been tried before.” said Audrey. “Not with crude.”
“So let’s be the first.”
“No, no, no!” exploded Dill. “What are you suggesting!? It could kill us all and destroy the island!”
“The island will be destroyed anyway.” said Zach, who seemed to have been converted. “I know it sound nuts, but we’ve nothing to lose by giving it a go.”
Everybody began talking at once. Dill leaned forwards with his hands on the table. He said something just above a whisper.
They all stopped. “What?” said Zach.
“I said alright!” he stood up quickly, knocking over his stool and stomped out of the room.
“Ah, he’s facing reality for once in his life!” sneered Audrey.
“Shut up!” snapped Kayleigh and got up to follow him.
****************************************
They called it “Project Firewall” and started work on it at dawn the next day. There were only three more days until Weller’s deadline and ships were everywhere, completely surrounding the island. As she stood on the cliffs at Green Port with her binoculars, she saw that one was an enormous, wedge-shaped aircraft carrier. “Those ships don’t need to come in so close to Rockall.” said Jack Laird who was standing next to her.
“Why’s that?”
“They’ve got radar, sonar, recon aircraft; normally they’d be a good fifty miles out to sea. The reason they’ve come so close is so we can see them.”
“Ah, I thought so!”
“Yeah; they’re showing off their muscle.”
“In Britain, we call people who do that ‘posers’.”
“In America they’re called ‘Jocks’.”
“Well whatever you call them they’re not going to scare me!”
Just beyond the bay, boats were bobbing in the surf. The USGS technicians were installing the double row of inflatable barrages. “Do you have enough of those barrages?” asked Kayleigh.
“Hell, yes! BGC’s got over a hundred miles of them in storage; it’s regulations in case there’s a spill.”
“Won’t they get burnt?”
“No, they don’t actually float on the water, but hover about three inches beneath it. They’re specially designed to deal with a burning slick.”
“Then how come the oil doesn’t just float over the top?”
“Well, a little of it does, that’s inevitable, but not enough to ignite. These barrages aren’t meant to be a total containment barrier; they’re only meant to prevent the spread of fire.”
“So… some of the oil will seep through and pollute the shore?”
Laird sighed. “Yes. That can’t be helped I’m afraid.”
Kayleigh watched a flock of gannets circle in the air and plunge into the sea.
“It won’t be a lot of oil.” stressed Laird. “There’ll be no scenes like you see on TV when an oil tanker sinks. We’re talking about a hundred barrels, tops. It’ll be washed away in no time.”
“What if the barrage fails?”
“It won’t.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Hmm; well, pollution won’t be a worry.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’ll all be roasted alive in the inferno.”
She gulped and put a hand to her mouth.
“We’ve come this far, Kayleigh. Do you want to live on a free Rockall or not?”
****************************************
At the first test well, a mile beyond Green Port Bay, the USGS crews were swarming all over the oil rig. A US Navy helicopter hovered nearby watching them. There was no way to prevent that so the two work parties pressed ahead, trying to ignore it. The second team was sailing westwards in two boats, laying out the double barrage and anchoring it to the seabed. A helicopter also accompanied them. Kayleigh wanted to help, but Laird wouldn’t let her, explaining that Project Firewall required engineering expertise that only the USGS could provide; so she stayed in Green Port and watched, feeling helpless.
The navy was increasing its pressure on the free Rockallians. The island was now being overflown at least once a minute by Sea Harriers and also by the bigger, noisier twin-tailed American aircraft. The clamour was relentless and Kayleigh was forced to fill her ears with cotton wool in order to sleep that night. The lack of cellular systems meant that the work parties could only communicate using shortwave walkie-talkies. Kayleigh spent much of the night sitting awake and listening to their conversations on her own receiver: “Hey, slow down, Man! You’ll break the anchor chain!” “Can you give me a little more slack on the six-line?” “Bring the inner wall ten degrees east.” “Damn that chopper! I can’t hear myself think!” “Number Two pump’s failed. What are we gonna do now, Jack?” “How deep are we here?” “No, the right clasp!... That’s it.” “Shit, I’m tired!” “Let’s pray to God this works!” “Oh, dear!”
****************************************
By the evening of the Twenty-seventh the work was complete. Rockall was encircled by two lines of barrages five hundred yards apart. Thousands of neutrally buoyant, inflatable sausages had been blown up and dropped into the sea to make a track thirty miles in circumference. At six PM the boats pulled into the Green Port jetty and the crews disembarked. They stumbled from exhaustion as they entered the lift. Their hands were blistered and their eyes red from lack of sleep. They collapsed into the canteen, had a quick meal then went to bed.
The next morning was the last day of February, Two thousand and thirteen and less than twenty-four hours before the deadline. Nearly everybody was on the cliffs of Green Port staring out at Test Well One; binoculars were handed from person to person. Kayleigh focused on the bottom deck of the rig as Jack Laird began ceremoniously turning the wheel of the first valve cock. A trickle of thick, black oil spurted from the disconnected scupper pipe and landed in the sea. The trickle became a stream, the stream became a torrent. Audrey and the others opened the other three valve cocks. Four great, python-like columns of oil shot out over the sea in the four directions of the compass. They then clambered speedily down into their boat and zoomed back to Green Port Bay.
A black stain began to spread out over the sea, muffling the waves into rolling, creamy humps. Soon the stain began to form a distinctly east-west shape as it was squeezed between the barrages.
“The ignition charge is primed.” said Laird as he came out of the lift. “I’ve got the transmitter here.” He tapped his pocket.
“When’s lighting-up time?” asked Gareth with a half-smile.
“Midnight.” he said. “Right on the deadline.”
The crowd began to disperse. Kayleigh looked around for her friends; they were all there except Dill. She scanned the cliff tops back and forth, but couldn’t spot him. Then when she looked over the precipice, down onto the jetty below, she saw the solitary figure of a man. She descended the lift down the cliff and walked over to join him. “Dill, are you alright?”
He didn’t reply, but just pointed.
The water around the jetty was covered in black, oleaginous scum. It was already beginning to accumulate on the cliff walls and nearby rocks as a black, sticky slime. As she watched it was soaking into the seaweed and dripping off the limpets. A fulmar paddled past, its feathers streaked and matted with oil. It floated low in the water, ruffling and preening itself frantically. “Do you think this whole thing is a bad idea, Dill?”
The young man nodded. “I think we’re doing Weller and Selby’s job for them.” he said.
****************************************
At eight PM, everyone began leaving their houses and assembling outside First Landing. When they were all together they began walking northwards along the Trans-Rockall Highway towards the heart of the island. It was a freezing cold, moonlit night with stars poking through the streaky cloud. Kayleigh trudged along beside Zach, Claire and Dill while Laird walked at the head of the procession, holding hands with Elaine. The narrow tarmac road was slick with frost and the icy air stung Kayleigh’s lungs as she inhaled it.
It took them two hours to reach the first of the crofts. The population spread out up the road and mingled with the procession from Green Port. The crofters handed out hot drinks and as many snacks as could go round and they waited.
It was decided to move the lighting time forward to eleven PM Rockall Time, GMT minus one, because though the deadline was midnight, Weller hadn’t specified which time zone. “Better an hour early than an hour late.” Laird had said.
At five minutes to eleven Professor Laird took the detonator out of his pocket. “Is everybody here!?” he called. “Are all of you accounted for!?”
During the general replies of affirmation Dill suddenly shouted “No!”
“Who’s missing?”
“Trevor!”
There was a long pause. “Where is he!?” demanded Kayleigh.
“Still locked in the cellar back at First Landing.”
Laird shrugged. “That’s too bad.”
“What!? We must go back for him!” said Dill.
“Don’t be stupid, it’d take to long!”
“I’ll use a crofter’s Landrover!”
“No! The deadline is in two minutes!”
“But it’s our fault we forgot him!”
“NO!” Laird opened the trigger guard on the detonator, pulled out the aerial and pressed the button.
There was a silent flash of white to the north, silhouetting the ridges around Green Port. It settled down into a steady glow that reflected off the clouds. “Sorry, Dill; Trevor will just have to take his chances.”
The glow spread like melting butter along the northern skyline. With remarkable speed, the wavefront of flame shot out in both directions to encompass the whole island. It took about five minutes for the two waves to join again on the southern horizon. A ring of fire now surrounded Rockall. The light was so bright that it was possible to read by it. Occasionally an extra large gobbet of flame rose above the landscape like a dragon. There were exclamations of wonder and astonishment from the gathering. “Wow!” said Kayleigh. “It’s like standing in the middle of a solar eclipse!”
“We’re safe now.” said Zach. “No fucker’s going to get past that!”
“Just one thing.” said Dill. “How do we put it out?”
“Oh.” said Laird after a lengthy pause. “I hadn’t thought of that. Er… I don’t know. I… guess we just shut off the oil flow from the well and the blaze will burn itself out.”
“How do we shut it off? The rig is in the heart of the blaze.”
“Well…” Laird scratched his head. “Er… Audrey!?”
“Yeah?” The woman called from the other side of the road.
“How do we put out the fire when we’ve finished with it?”
“Well, we… I don’t know… One moment.”
It took about ten minutes to locate someone who could answer Dill’s question; a USGS diver called Brad. “There’s a second set of cocks on the seabed.” he said. “They operate the well-head valve. You have to swim under the burning slick to get to these cocks and shut them. After that you just gotta wait for the residual oil to burn away, which will probably take a few hours.”
“There! That’s your answer.” Laird smiled and spread his arms wide.
“Thanks.” Dill mumbled dryly.
****************************************
At two AM the Rockallians began to return to their homes. As Kayleigh trudged with her friends back to Rockall Port, the light on the horizon became brighter and brighter.. The air started warming up and melted frost dribbled along the edge of the tarmac. A thick, heavy fog enveloped them and her nostrils filled with an acrid, tarry smell; as if there were roadworks nearby. “It’s not fog; it’s smoke.” She coughed.
By the time they reached the settlement, visibility was below thirty feet. Everyone was coughing and guttering uncontrollably. The entire seaward side of the town shone with a lurid, fuzzy, white glow. Kayleigh approached the edge of the cliff to try and see the conflagration, but the heat was too intense. A thunderous, crackling, blazing roar came from the fume-choked sea. It was as if Rockall Port had been moved to the edge of a volcano caldera.
Kayleigh and Zach entered First Landing, gave Trevor some food and water and went to bed. They both slept badly. The oil blaze shone in through the window many times more brightly than a full moon. Despite Zach turning off the central heating, the house grew stiflingly hot. It was like a summer night. Kayleigh kicked off her bedclothes, stripped naked and lay on her sodden bedsheet. Sweat trickled down her temples into her hair.
She woke just after nine AM in a fit of coughing. She ran to the bathroom, choking and retched sputum into the toilet. She knew that it was after dawn, but the light beyond the windows remained the same. She dressed and went outside with a wet dishcloth over her mouth. The air temperature was thirty-five Celsius, according to the meteorologists’ box; the hottest ever recorded on Rockall. The sky was invisible and she couldn’t even see to the end of the driveway. The sun must have been shining, but it was totally hidden; the only light came from the great fire out to sea. She turned to go inside and winced as she touched the doorhandle. It was covered in a gluey, grey substance. She went to one of the downstairs windows and ran her finger along it; it left a trail of clean glass on the pane. She looked at her fingertip and rubbed it together with her thumb. It was a kind of soot and it covered everything in a sticky, greasy film; the house, the Landrover, the rocks, the grass.
She was washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the ‘phone rang. It was Laird. “Hi, Kayleigh; what do you think?”
“Well done, Jack. Dante couldn’t have done a better job himself!”
“Hopefully it won’t be for long; just till we can get Selby to the negotiating table.”
She coughed. “But I’m suffocating! You can’t even tell if it’s day or night out there!”
“It’s day. St David’s Day, actually. Happy St David’s Day!”
“I’m Scottish, not Welsh.”
Laird paused. “Tell you what. Why don’t you drive up to Green Port? We’ve found some painter’s masks in the BGC stores; they might help you breathe more easily.”
It was the most difficult drive she’d ever had to do on Rockall. The Landrover’s headlights were completely absorbed by the fumes and she had to crawl along at five miles-per-hour. A drove of horror-struck ponies stumbled across the road. Poor things. she thought. They must think it’s the end of the world. She had to stop several times to wipe the windscreen and lights clear of soot. All in all, the five mile journey took over and hour. Once her nose and mouth were covered by the painter’s mask, she found things a lot easier. Her airways cleared, her coughing stopped and her irritated lungs were soothed. She took a box of six hundred back to Rockall Port and spent the day distributing them among the residents. By the time she got back to First Landing, her body felt like she’d been bathing in treacle. She threw her greasy clothes into the washing machine and went upstairs for a shower. The water that came off her was as black as ink.
The temperature outside was now forty-three degrees Celsius, more than a hundred Fahrenheit. The pitch black of day slowly became the pitch black of night and Kayleigh wore her painters mask in bed to ensure a good sleep.
****************************************
When she stepped outside the next morning, Kayleigh noted immediately that something was different. The landward sky was brighter and when she turned eastwards, she saw a small, yellow disc painted on the roiling fumes. The sun! She dashed to the edge of the cliff. This time she could easily withstand the radiated heat of the inferno. The flames had definitely abated during the night. She darted to the driveway, jumped into the Landrover and sped off to Green Port.
“Jack!” she ran up to him on the cliff tops. “What’s happening!?”
“The firewall’s fading.” he responded grimly.
“Why!? How!?”
“Something must have blocked the oil supply.”
They descended in the lift to the jetty. Audrey dressed up in a scuba kit and clambered down into one of the boats. Kayleigh and Laird joined her and they headed out into the smog-covered sea. The water was thick with oil and there were hardly any waves. The outboard motor strained as if the propeller were being entangled or choked with something. Every few feet a dead fish floated by and the occasional oil-stained bird. “Good job Dill can’t see this!” muttered Laird.
“Poor Dill!” said Kayleigh.
The fire was close now; flames could be seen writhing and crackling a few dozen yards ahead. Laird cut the motor. “Are you ready Audrey?”
“Yup.” She spat into her mask and wiped it with her finger.
“Now remember! You can’t surface! Once you’re under the oil, you got to stay deep, OK?”
“Yeah, OK, Jack. I know what I’m doing.”
“If anything fucks up, turn around and hot-tail it back here. If you come up too soon, you’ll be cooked.”
“Nothing’s going to fuck up, Jack.” She took off her spectacles and pulled down her mask. Then she popped in her mouthpiece and tested her air supply; her regulator hissed. She rolled backwards into the buttery sea, upended with the flick of her fins and vanished.
Laird leaned over the gunwale, staring at the spot where she’d dived.
Kayleigh touched his arm. “She’ll be alright, Jack.”
“Damn it! It’s dangerous!”
“She volunteered… What do you think’s causing this?”
“There’s something in the well that’s throttled the oil flow. Perhaps the valves have fallen shut or maybe the heat of the fire’s caused the rig to collapse and dam the well head; we’ll see.”
“Can Audrey do anything to get it going again?”
“Depends. She should have no trouble in reopening any shut cocks, but if the whole rig is lying on top of the outflow pipe then there’s nothing anyone can do to move it; it weights over a thousand tons.”
“So the firewall will go out.”
“I guess so.” The professor shifted his weight to the middle of the boat and leaned back. “The residual oil will be exhausted by midday.”
Half an hour passed in silence. The only sound was the roaring of combustion and the slop of oil against the hull of the boat.
SPLOOSH! Something broke the surface with an explosion of water. Kayleigh and Laird dashed to the gunwale to see Audrey floundering on her side about fifty feet away. She spat out her mouthpiece and screamed. “HELP ME!”
“Fuck!” shouted Laird. “Kayleigh! Start the engine!”
As Kayleigh swung the boat around towards Audrey her heart was fibrillating. Had Audrey been attacked by a shark; if so, how badly? Would she have lost any limbs?
Laird clutched Audrey by the armpits and heaved her into the boat in one movement. She was weeping and moaning. Her wetsuit and scuba gear were smeared with oil and blood. Kayleigh took a few moments to locate the source of her injuries: a puncture wound on the side of her chest, just below her armpit. It was bleeding steadily and there was a thin, metal rod sticking out of it. “Fuck me!” gasped Laird. “It’s a harpoon!”
“They shot me!” panted Audrey. “They shot me as soon as they saw me!”
“Goddamn, fucking Seals!” shouted Laird.
“Seals!?” said Kayleigh.
“Navy Seals, special forces, amphibious soldiers! Quick, let’s go, Kayleigh! We need to get Audrey to the hospital!”
As Kayleigh opened the throttle and pointed the boat towards Green Port blood was filling the bilges. “Come on, Audrey! Hang on!” Laird opened up the first aid kit and squeezed rolls of gauze and bandages into the wound around the shaft of the harpoon. He pressed hard, but Audrey’s blood seeped through his fingers.
Audrey’s face was ashen. Her eyes rolled deliriously. “I wish we hadn’t killed those guys!... Innocent!... I’m sorry!”
Kayleigh called Green Port on the radio and told them to prepare transport to rush Audrey to hospital. Then she called the hospital direct and warned them to stand by. On the jetty, there were a dozen people waiting to help. They lifted her out of the boat and carried her over to the lift. She was unconscious by now and a trail of blood dripped behind her.
Kayleigh and Laird got the second ride up. By the time they reached the plateau, Audrey was on her way to Green Port hospital in an ambulance. They waited for ten minutes until the radio squawked to announce that Audrey had died from blood loss a few minutes after being admitted.
****************************************
Kayleigh was allowed to lie down in one of Green Port guest rooms until she felt better. She stood up an hour later feeling alert and alive. She was not possessed by anger over Audrey’s murder, nor did she suffer any grief. A mysterious energy filled her body making her feel strong and light on her feet. She left the bedroom and headed for Cheers Rockall where everyone else was sitting. Laird was ashen and trembling; he didn’t say a word.
Dill looked up from his beer. “Kayleigh; are you better now?”
“I’m fine. So, what do we do?”
Zach stood up to address the packed bar of tight, hurt faces. “The firewall has failed.” he began. “The well head has been captured by a Seal team. The Seals have obviously shut the valves and are guarding it. They’re clearly ordered to shoot anyone who comes near it on sight.”
“How did they get there?” asked Elaine.
“They were probably dropped off by a helicopter or submarine and swam under the burning oil. The fleet has been watching our every move, so they must have worked out how to stop us… I’m afraid I’m out of ideas.” He shook his head and looked at the floor. “I know Audrey wouldn’t want us to quit, so I’m open to suggestions.”
No one spoke.
“Very well; meeting adjourned.”
Kayleigh went outside for a walk. The firewall was no more than a few puddles of flame on a sea that was beginning to look cleaner and fresher. The waves were once more pounding the cliffs as they had done for a million years before their two-day break. It was colder too and she needed her usual winter jacket. The smoke had all gone and vanilla clouds blew in from the southwest. It began to rain solidly and the rivulets of water trickling off the cliff were grey with displaced soot. She smiled to herself. It heartened her to see the grime wash away. Underneath, Rockall was still her same old self.
Bleep! A noise came from her trouser pocket. She reached in and, to her surprise, pulled out her mobile ‘phone. Like everyone else, hers had been cut off after the revolution and it was so long since she’d used it that she’d forgotten about it. But now it was working; the display showed the logo of her network. She was staring in bemusement at the instrument when suddenly it rang again with the SMS alert and the text message symbol appeared on the screen. It was immediately followed by an electronic fart and the logo vanished. Kayleigh hesitated then opened the text.
DO NOT ATTEMPT ANY MORE ACTS OF RESISTANCE 2 MILITARY OPERATIONS. WILL CALL @ 10AM-RST 2MORO 2 XEPT UR UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER. CW+GS.
****************************************
The cellular lines had been reopened for just five seconds then closed again. In that short time, an identical text message had been sent to the mobile ‘phones of every single person on Rockall.
At nine-forty-five the following morning Zach and Kayleigh opened the front door. The Free Rockall Union committee walked up the path towards First Landing. Their heads were bare despite the rain and their brows were firm. They swung their arms and they walked with their fists clenched. They entered the house without a word and went to sit in the lounge, facing the wall screen. Zach booted up the PC.
At ten AM on the dot, the words: Incoming call scrolled across the screen. The frame flicked up and a picture of Craig Weller appeared, sitting at his office desk exactly as he had done when he’d last called almost a month ago. He smiled. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” replied Dill.
“How are you all?”
“We’re tired, lonely and fed up… Where’s Selby?”
“President Selby is indisposed at the moment.”
Dill raised one eyebrow. “Flu?”
Weller chuckled then said: “That was a good idea of yours; laying out that oil fire to act as a shield. We never expected that one.”
“Well, you soon put a dampener on it, as well as killing one of our divers.”
“Was someone killed? I hadn’t heard about that.”
“Why should you? Her name was Audrey Tanner; a biochemist with the USGS. She was shot by the navy divers who took the well. She was only thirty-one.”
“I’m sorry.” Weller seemed genuine as he said so.
Dill nodded slightly.
“What about the oil works? Any harm done?”
“I was wondering when you’d bring that up. Test Well One was damaged by the fire. Apart from that everything has been left well alone. We took some medical supplies from the infirmary; we’ll need them to treat the potential victims of your impending attack.”
“Fair enough I suppose.”
“We haven’t touched the bodies. I imagine by now that they’ve been consumed by scavenging birds.”
There was a long pause. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Apart from leaving us in peace?”
“Naturally.”
He hesitated. “Could you leave the ‘phone lines open so we can talk to our families?”
“I’m afraid not, but we will download you some messages from them before we sign off.”
“Thanks.”
There was a minute’s silence. “So…” Weller began twiddling his thumbs. “I take it you comprehend the seriousness of your position.”
“Yes.”
“And are you ready to surrender?”
“No.”
The Prime Minister sighed through his nose. “That’s unfortunate… and very unwise.”
“I’ll make a note.”
He leaned forward. “Don’t be a fool, Gibson! You know you can’t win!... This is absurd!”
“Was it Winston Churchill who said: ‘A game is never lost until it’s won.’?”
“Actually it was Don Bradman, the cricketer… For pity’s sake, Gibson; give yourself up!”
“There’s no pity here to have a sake.”
“Do you want to die!?”
“No, but I want even less to live in slavery.”
“It’s not slavery!”
“Yes it is! Our shackles may be made of money not iron, but we’re still well and truly in chains!”
“One last chance to change your mind, Gibson!” said Weller between gritted teeth.
He shrugged. “It’s out of my hands. Even if I did change my mind, I’d be outvoted… The Rockallian people have decided unanimously to oppose any foreign occupation of our homeland! We will stand by that until we are cut down.”
Weller glowered at him. “Have it your own way!” He cut the connection and the screen went blank. Kayleigh felt oddly calm as she sat in the lounge next to her dearest friends.
Just twenty minutes after the end of Weller’s call, Kayleigh first heard the inevitable sound of juddering helicopter rotors. It grew louder and louder until she could work out its direction. They all slowly got up and went out into the driveway. Four, huge double-rotor helicopters were gliding in over the plateau like vultures from the northeast.
“AAAHHHRRRGGGHHH!” A guttural, bellowing cry came from the doorway behind them. Kayleigh jerked herself round in time to see Jack Laird explode out of the front door and dash past them before anyone could stop him. He was clutching an assault rifle. He sprinted over the road and capered up onto the heath to meet the helicopters.
“JACK! NO!” screamed Kayleigh and took after him.
The helicopters were now hovering in an arc formation about forty feet above the ground as if searching for a good place to land. The downdraft of their rotors rippled out across the grass as if it were water. It ruffled and flapped the white mane of Professor Laird as he pelted towards them. When he was almost underneath the nearest aircraft he stopped, leveled the rifle at it and fired. The muzzle flash was clearly visible, but the report was drowned out by the scream of engines.
The target helicopter heeled up vertically to open the range, but appeared to be undamaged. Laird continued to spray rounds at it, his legs firm on the ground, his broad shoulders absorbing the powerful recoil. One of the other helicopters was turning to face him; the cannon under its cockpit was moving.
“JACK!” screamed Elaine.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! Fire spat from the muzzle of the aircraft’s cannon. Jack Laird was hurled six feet above the ground; the rifle flew from his grip and pirouetted in the air above him. He came to rest on the heath in a cloud of smoke. Elaine shrieked in horror and they all dashed forward. Kayleigh fell to her knees a dozen feet from where he lay. The two, huge, ragged wounds on his chest had already ceased bleeding. A wide pool of blood covered the ground around him, soaking into his hair and beard. His face was turned to the zenith, his eyes closed peacefully.
Elaine sobbed as she collapsed onto the heath, bent over and embraced her lover.
The four helicopters had come to rest half a mile away to the east. Kayleigh got to her feet and stared at them. Her face glowed and her vision pulsed. Electric sparks coursed around her body. Ramps had lowered at the rear of the aircraft and ground troops were disembarking and taking up positions on the plateau. They crouched behind tussocks and leveled their weapons at the Rockallians. They were all composed and pragmatic, totally unperturbed by what they had just done. For the first time in her life, Kayleigh felt pure hate. The very light that entered her eyes seemed to turn black. She spotted Laird’s rifle lying in the grass, ran over and picked it up.
“Drop it, Kayleigh!” Dill shouted at her.
She turned to see him jogging up the slope towards her with a megaphone in his hands.
“For God’s sake drop it before they shoot you as well!”
The fire drained out of her as she let the weapon fall to the grass. Misery and exhaustion took its place.
The soldiers were now all on the ground, spread out across the moor in a line, their weapons at the ready. One of them, presumably the commanding officer, shouted an order. The rest of the force leaped up and jogged forward about eight paces then resumed their squatting position.
“GENTLEMEN!” Dill’s voice reverberated from the megaphone. He was standing out in front. There were only a couple of hundred yards between himself and the line of troops. “MY FELLOW HUMAN BEINGS! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!? WE ARE YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS, YET YOU SEE US AS AN ENEMY! WHY?”
“Bastards!” grated Claire. “Murdering bastards!”
Dill motioned at her to keep quiet. “GENTLEMEN, DO YOU WANT TO DESTROY US OR ARE YOU JUST OBEYING ORDERS? BLINDLY SAYING’ YES, SIR’ AND DOING IT WITHOUT QUESTION! WE DO NOT DESERVE THIS! WE ARE SIMPLY TRYING TO PROTECT OUR ISLAND AND LIVE THE WAY WE WANT TO LIVE! DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THE NEWS ABOUT US!?... THE GOVERNMENT IS USING YOU! AND BY CARRYING OUT YOUR ORDERS WITHOUT QUESTION YOU ARE TURNING YOURSELF INTO THEIR PUPPETS! THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU! THEY HAVE SACRIFICED MILLIONS OF YOUR COLLEAGUES IN WAR WITHOUT A QUARM! YOU MEAN NOTHING TO THEM BUT CANNON-FODDER!”
The troops ran forward a few more yards.
“GENTLEMEN! THINK TWICE! YOU ARE NOT LIBERATING ROCKALL FROM PIRATES! YOU ARE IMPRISONING ROCKALL FOR THE OIL GIANTS! KILLING PEOPLE SO THEY CAN RULE US ALL AS WELL AS MAKE PERSONAL FORTUNES!”
The line advanced again. Now they were just a hundred yards from where Dill was preaching.
“MY FELLOW HUMANS, DON’T DO THIS! REFUSE! MUTINY!”
They advanced again. This time, when they stopped they were only fifty yards away. There they crouched; three or four hundred of them in a single echelon. Their faces were dehumanized, devoid of all character or individuality. Features were disguised by camouflage makeup, eyes hidden behind rifle sights.
Dill didn’t move. He continued speaking, eyeballing them all over the rim of his megaphone horn. “ SO WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO!? KILL US!? GO AHEAD, WE’RE UNARMED! YOU CAN WIPE US OUT WITH IMPUNITY AND GO HOME TO A HERO’S WELCOME! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO BE!? MASS-MURDERERS OF DEFENSLESS CIVILIANS!? COWARDLY BARBARIANS!?”
Then one of the troops stood up and leveled his rifle directly at Dill. Kayleigh wanted to scream and run forward to protect him, but her voice was petrified and her feet rooted to the spot.
Dill took a pace forward and addressed his assailant personally. “GO ON THEN MATE; SHOOT ME! PULL THAT TRIGGER LIKE A GOOD LITTLE ROBOT! CARRY OUT YOUR MASTER’S ORDERS! I PITY YOU! EVEN IF I DIE RIGHT NOW, I WOULDN’T WANT TO SWAP PLACES!... BUT YOU DON’T HAVE TO, MATE! YOU CAN MAKE A STAND! TURN BACK NOW AND LIVE YOUR OWN LIFE!... IF YOU KILL ME THEN YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE AND SAYING ‘IT WAS JUST ORDERS’ IS NO EXCUSE! BUT IF YOU DECIDE NOT TO KILL ME AND WALK AWAY, YOUR LIFE WILL BEGIN ANEW AND YOU’LL DISCOVER THE WONDER AND FREEDOM THAT IS ALL AROUND YOU!” He pointed at him. “CHOOSE!”
The commanding officer stood up and yelled something. All at once, the entire company, turned and ran back to the helicopters as fast as they could. The aircraft themselves powered up their engines. It took less than two minutes for all the soldiers to climb aboard. The giant helicopters soared into the air, yawed around to the east and juddered away at full speed.
The Rockallians gaped at each other as if waking from a trance. “I don’t believe it!” shrilled Claire. “What happened there!?”
Dill hadn’t moved. He stood in the same spot, megaphone hanging at his side.
Kayleigh ran up to him. “Well done, Dill!” but as she touched his shoulders, he fell to his knees, his body quivering like a ramshackle lift. His face was blanched and his eyes were wet with terror.
They buried Professor Jack Laird at sea, Erkdwala style. The people gathered in a small fleet of boats which drifted in the waves as Zach and Dill released the weighted sack containing Laird's body into the deeps off Guestine Point. Nobody spoke and there was no formal service. Even Elaine was stoic as she watched the sack disappear beneath the surface. As they slowly paddled back to shore, Kayleigh looked over her shoulder to see Kerroj and a few other Erkdwala approach the spot in their canoes holding out their hands and chanting. The ceremony would last for several hours until Jack Laird’s soul was well on its way to Atloi, Realm of the Ancestors.
****************************************
Everyone gathered that evening in the community hall to drown the day’s events in beer. They all praised the valour of Dill, especially Broadway: “He was amazing!” she exclaimed between hasty gulps from her glass. “He stood is ground bravely and spoke right to their hearts! And they heard them, those squaddies! The things he said really struck home!”
“Yeah.” said Jennie. “He’s always had the gift of the gab.”
“They could have shot him just like that!” Broadway babbled on. “But no! He reached something deep in their conscience that made them turn back!... He has such a deep and powerful soul! What a guy!”
Kayleigh didn’t interrupt as the women prattled away. She didn’t want to tell them what she was thinking as she had no wish to disillusion the Rockallians’ already battered morale. That morning she had watched the soldiers carefully, and throughout their brief visit to Rockall they had been flawlessly decisive and professional. Dill’s words had had no visible effect. There had been no faltering, no hesitation or signs of internal conflict. When they had turned back at the last minute it had been a manoeuvre, not a mutiny. An order must have come through on their radio headsets at that very moment. Also, if one unit had deserted then the force commander would simply have sent in another. Why didn’t he? It seemed unlikely that the entire fleet would mutiny at the same time. Something strange was going on, and Kayleigh was certain that events on Rockall were about to take another twist.
****************************************
A second circular text message arrived the following morning:
@ 12.00-RST SINGLE UNARMED H’C’TER WILL LAND 1 MILE N OF R’PORT. PEACE NEGOTI8R ON BOARD. REQUEST U ALLOW HIM 2 DISEMBARK UNMOLESTED. THIS WILL B IN UR OWN BEST INTERESTS AS HE MEANS U NO HARM AND WANTS 2 PROPOSE AN AGREEMENT THAT I THINK U WILL FIND FAVOURABLE. CW.
“What does that mean?” Kayleigh asked.
****************************************
Dill did not object to Troyman accompanying them to the parley with a rifle. After the previous morning it would have been tactless if nothing else. He stood on the heath with Zach and Kayleigh at his side. Many more were watching from a distance. Zach looked at his watch. “They’re late.”
“Only five minutes.” said Kayleigh.
“No, there they are!” Dill pointed. “Look!”
A tiny speck crept like an ant along the cloudy sky to the south. As it came nearer they saw that it was a helicopter. “It’s a Royal Navy Sea King.” said Zach from behind his binoculars. Soon they could hear the sound of its engines as it swooped over the rooftops of Rockall Port. Dill lit a flare to help it judge the wind and then it hovered and landed, its wheels sinking into the heather.
Troyman lifted his rifle, but kept it pointing away.
The pilot cut the engines completely and the rotors wound down until they were revolving slowly, drooping like the spokes of an umbrella. A sliding door opened on the flank of the aircraft and a small, thin man stepped out onto the ground. He was wearing a life jacket, flight suit and helmet, but gave the impression of being clumsy and unaccustomed to that mode of transport. “Thank God I’m here!” he muttered. “What a confounded rattletrap! I never thought I’d make it!” He took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He was an elderly, stiff-bodied man with greying hair and thick, bushy eyebrows. He looked around with the mien of a tourist. “So this is Rockall. Impressive.” He approached and shook their hands; his grip was firm and his hands warm. “Hello, hello! You must be Zach, Dill and er… Kayleigh. How do you do?”
The Rockallians responded with perplexed smiles.
“Who’s John Wayne over there?”
“That’s Professor Ray Troyman of the USGS.” said Kayleigh.
“You’re not planning on using that blunderbuss, are you, Ray?” the newcomer called with a chuckle.
The American shrugged and slung the rifle over his shoulder.
“Now then.” he continued. “My name is Lord August McCain. I’ve come here to propose a new initiative for ending this crisis…”
“McCain?” said Kayleigh. “Any relation to…”
“Yes, I’m his father… As I was saying, this contretemps has gone on long enough. I’m sure you’re all as sick and tired of it as I am, so I’ve come to offer you a deal.”
“No deals!” said Dill. “We’re Rockallians and we’re free! We won’t compromise an inch of that!”
“Please give me a chance to speak, Mr Gibson.” said McCain. “Uncompromised freedom is what’s on offer, if you’re willing to listen.”
Zach frowned suspiciously.
Dill gazed intently at McCain. “Go on.”
The British and American governments, as well as the whole international community is willing to recognize Rockall as an autonomous, self-governing nation state with diplomatic and territorial rights under international law, and a seat on the United Nations.”
“What!?” shrilled Zach.
“It’s yours if you want it.” McCain smiled and shrugged.
Zach gave a cynical laugh. “Oh, yeah! We get out independence so long as we allow the BGC back onto the island!”
“No, the BGC has been liquidated. Instead we plan to begin afresh with a new strategy: to access the oilfield from a spot twelve miles south on the edge of the shoals. We’ll need to build a set of submarine rigs. It’s new and untested technology, it will take longer and cost one heck of a lot more money, but the authorities have been told… have agreed to do it.”
“Why would they agree to that?”
McCain smirked. “Let’s just say that a higher power intervened.”
The Rockallians all looked at each other. “And what do you want from us in exchange?” asked Dill.
McCain paused. “My son.”
“What? Trevor?” said Dill.
“You’re holding him here as a hostage, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if he’s on the chopper with me when I leave, you get your freedom.”
“And what else do you want?”
“Nothing else.”
“Hold on, Mr McCain… If we give you Trevor, you give us our freedom; no oil works, no blockade, no invasion, nothing?”
“That’s the deal!” He grinned widely and the corners of his eyes crinkled under his brows.
Dill shook his head “Why?”
“Does it matter? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Mr Gibson.”
“Is this some sort of ruse?”
“No; no ruse. I just want my son.”
Dill closed his eyes for a moment then turned to Zach. “Zach, go with Ray to First Landing and bring Trevor here.”
Zach did a double-take. “Wh… What!? You don’t trust this old Fagin, do you!?”
“Please, Zach!”
He sighed then winked at Troyman. The pair set off back towards Rockall Port.
“Thank you.” said McCain.
There was a long silence then Dill coughed. “So, Mr McCain… Weller was lying. Trevor does mean a lot to him after all… I’m sure he’ll be flattered.”
“Trevor doesn’t mean a lot to Weller, but he does to me.”
“So then how did you persuade him?”
“How did I persuade him?” McCain grinned and undid a few inches of his flight suit zip. Underneath he was wearing a black suit jacket.
Dill gasped. “Gordon Bennett! You’re… But…”
“Don’t ask, Mr Gibson.” He held up his palm. “Just be grateful and glad… How is my son?”
“We’ve been treating him humanely.” said Kayleigh. “Feeding him properly, taking him out for exercise, that sort of thing.”
“Thank you for that.” said the old man earnestly.
“It’s perfectly natural; we’re not the brutal monsters that we’re portrayed as by the media.”
“I know.”
A few minutes later, Zach and Troyman could be seen walking back towards them from Rockall Port. Between them was Trevor. After a month of captivity he was pallid and dirty. His hair was greasy and his dressing gown stained. A patchy beard grew on his chin. He smiled sardonically as he caught sight of his father.
“Hello, Trevor.” said McCain.
They stopped three feet away then Zach untied the cords around his wrists and pushed him forward. The ex-Governor slowly stepped across the grass to face his father. “Hello… Dad.”
“I’ve come to take you home, Son.” He put a hand around his shoulders and guided him over to the aircraft. One of the flight crew helped Trevor don a life jacket and helmet and showed him into the door of the helicopter.
“Thank you, once again.” said Lord McCain. “I’m glad we could do business.”
“So what happens now?” asked Zach.
“Isn't that obvious? You enjoy your freedom… Good luck!” He climbed aboard the helicopter beside his son muttering: “Hope this bloody thing holds together until we’re back on the carrier!”
The aircraft lifted off and flew out to sea. Soon it was once more a speck on the face of the clouds.

(Go back to Chapter 8: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/08/rockall-chapter-8.html
Go on to Chapter 10, the final chapter: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/03/rockall-chapter-10.html)

Rockall Chapter 8

Chapter Eight- For Love nor Money

Trevor McCain breathed a sigh of relief as he shut Zach’s hotel room door in the Kensington Hilton and leaned the back of his head against the corridor wall. He headed for the lift and descended to the bar where he had a few stiff Sherries before returning to his own room and picking up the ‘phone. “Hello; Arthur Foxwell.” came the Home Secretary’s voice.
“Arthur, it’s Trevor.”
“Ah, Trevor; how are you? Enjoying the summit?”
“Not really; in fact it’s been hanging by a thread until now.”
“How come?”
“Neelum’s become mutinous. Ford and Gibson have been on to him again. He wanted to change Commission policy on rehabilitating the savages. He even had a new speech written out.”
“Shit! Now he has to start growing a conscience!”
“Actually, I think it’s been building up for a few months, Arthur.”
“You should have sacked him, Trevor.”
“I know, and I will as soon as this summit’s over, but for now we have to keep him sweet. He’ll be dangerous if he thinks he’s got nothing to lose. I’ve given him another speech that I’ve written myself and I’ve read him the riot act.”
“Good, but do you think he’ll do it?”
“Oh, yes. Zach’s not an idealistic crusader like Gibson. He’ll want to say anything that’ll get him into Ford’s bloomers, but at the end of the day he’ll put his career before everything.”
“Let’s hope so. If he does do a Judas then we have a trump card to play, but I’d rather not. If possible we have to let them think they're in a democracy… By the way, did you know that Gibson is here?”
“What!? No!”
“Yes. He’s an observer for the Christian Union of Scotland. He came along with that savage leader; the old cove with the beard.”
“He doesn’t have a vote, does he!?”
“No, no; don’t worry.”
“Thank goodness for that! The savages must be converted, Arthur. After our cover-up plan failed it was the only way I could think of to deal with them.”
“And it was good spur-of-the-moment thinking, Trevor.”
“Thank you.”
“Rockall must become what we need it to be: an uninhabited rock which makes a convenient place to park a petroleum works.”
“It will be, Arthur; one way or another. Don’t fret. No culture vulture is going to get their hands on my nice, new model citizens!”
There was a long pause. “What is it with fellows like Gibson? I don’t understand. Why would he put so much effort into holding back everything that is good? He’s set on stifling progress, productivity and cultural and economic growth! I mean, if he directed all that energy towards something worthwhile, there’s nowhere he couldn’t go! He’d be a billionaire by now!”
“Gibson is dangerous, Arthur; far more so than Neelum. That’s why he must be stopped and, like I said, it’ll be taken care of one way or another.”
“Are you talking about the Councillors?”
“Naturally; I’m not as naive as I used to be… I saw them in there today.”
“What did Neelum do?”
“He asked me who they were.”
“You didn’t…!?”
“No, Arthur; of course not! I’m not stupid. I’ve experienced the receiving end, remember?”
“Oh yes; sorry.”
There was a long silence. “So.” said Trevor. “What will the Councillors do?”
“Ensure that the Treaty renewal goes in our favour by overruling any vote that says otherwise.”
“That’s reassuring to know, but hopefully it won’t be necessary.”
“Right, well I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
They ended the conversation and Trevor hung up. He sat down on his bed and inhaled deeply. Only tomorrow to get through then I’ll be on the home straight.
His mobile ‘phone rang. He answered it. “Hello?”
“Good evening, Trevor.”
“Father!” He leaped back to his feet.
“I hear that you’ve come home again.”
“Yes, Father; I’m attending the Rockall Summit in London.”
“And once again, I’m the last to know.”
Trevor hesitated. “I’ve been busy, Father… Have you heard, I’m about to become very rich?” He made no attempt to keep the relish out of his voice.
“Oh, really; like you did Twenty-ten?”
“No! This time it’s going to work! It’s all legal and above board. I’ve bought up some BGC stock. They’ve already tripled in price and that’s just the start! This time next year I’ll be richer than Malcolm Tustian!”
“Considering he’s now a road-sweeper that’s not saying much.”
“You know what I mean, Father.”
“Yes, Trevor.” He said nothing for a few moments. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Working. There are some crucial votes that need to be passed.”
“Why don’t we meet up tomorrow evening and have a talk?”
“Sorry, Father; I’ve got far too much work on.”
“But I haven’t spent quality time with my son in over five years.”
“Well, that’s never bothered you before!” bit Trevor.
“Do you know St Albans?”
“Yes, it’s off the M-Twenty-Five, a few miles north of London.”
“There’s a Holiday Inn just off the end of the M-Ten. If you change your mind, meet me in the bar at seven-thirty.” Click!
****************************************
Trevor bent down and picked up the coins that Zach had just cast onto the floor. He stood still, looking at them in the palm of his hand; three ten pence pieces and two twenties. The Millennium Institute staff carried on working around him quietly, pretending to pay no attention. Trevor pocketed the coins and left the room, stepping out through an airlock onto the icy, windswept balcony. He stared out over the sunlit river. Are you sacking me, Trevor?... Well, I don’t care! That was not Zach talking! A shiver ran through Trevor’s body and it had nothing to do with the cold. "My power! What’s happened to my power!?"
****************************************
Trevor drove up through Hampstead onto the M-One. The air was filled with freezing fog that hung in muffled globes around the streetlamps and flickered through the cones of his headlights. He crossed the border into Hertfordshire, turned right onto the M-Ten and, at the end of the short stretch of motorway, saw a glowing, backlit sign for the Holiday Inn. He parked in the reception area and a valet came and drove his car to the VIP lot. Trevor was escorted into the hotel lobby and a waiter fetched him a drink from the bar. Lord McCain sat on one of the settees in the lounge with his legs crossed smiling at him. He was dressed in his casual garb: grey cords and tweed jacket with an Arran sweater and hunting boots. Trevor approached him slowly and with trepidation. “Hello, Father.”
“Hello, Trevor.” He hadn’t changed at all in the last three years. His eyes were still almost invisible behind his bushy brows. His hair was greying heavily and his chin was clean shaven. “I knew you’d come in the end.”
Trevor nodded. “I’ve got an hour or two to spare and this will pass the time.”
He raised his left arm and looked at his Rolex. “You’re ten minutes early.”
“So are you.”
He paused. “I’ve been tasting at Woburn. They’ve a new Mosel just arrived; a Nineteen-eighty-four.”
“Was it nice?”
“A bit too acidic for my palate.”
There was a long silence and Trevor’s drink arrived.
“Won’t you sit down, Son?” Lord McCain gestured at an empty seat.
Trevor lowered himself onto the soft settee opposite.
“I suppose congratulations are in order. You’re now a petrodollar billionaire.”
“Not just yet.” said Trevor. “I’ll have to wait for production to commence before my shares really fly.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“It hasn’t sunk in yet… The Councillors were at work today.”
“I know; they were forced to reject the vote. Very messy!”
“It was Neelum’s fault. He swapped benches at the last minute and refused to read out his speech.”
“Never mind; at least the delegates had the sense to keep their mouths shut and sit still.”
Trevor chuckled with a shrug. “I can imagine what Dill and his camp are saying right now… By the way; how’s your heart?”
“Ah, you remembered. It’s fine. I’ve got to take about a hundred pills a day; if I jumped up and down I would rattle, but I’m not allowed to. Doctor says I must keep exertion to a minimum.”
“So, you’re going to be well again?”
“Yes, Trevor; I’ll live to see you a rich man.” Lord McCain gave a sardonic half-smile.
Trevor was speechless; could his father read his mind? “Right… er… that’s good.”
“So just think what you’ve got to look forward to, eh?”
“Indeed; I won’t need to marry Leticia Spires-Carnegie now.”
His father laughed. “Oh, you haven’t heard have you?”
“What?”
“She’s straddling Prince Alexis of Norway. They’re engaged, so I’m told.”
“Oh! Poor man!”
“I should say! I’ll send a condolence card to the wedding.”
Trevor hesitated. “Father! You were trying to splice her to me a few years ago!”
“She’d have been no good for you, Son.”
“What about your grandson and heir?”
He nodded calmly. “When the time’s right, it’ll happen.”
“Well… you’ve changed your tack a bit, Father.”
“One does when one is forced to confront one’s own mortality. I’ve been seeing things differently since my heart attack, Trevor; a lot of things differently.”
“I am too, I think.”
“Hm, I can tell… You know, Trevor; you’re not talking like a man who’s just become more loaded than God. Is anything wrong?”
“Yes.” he sighed. “But I don’t know what it is. I’ve spent most of the previous year worrying about this summit, wondering how I was going to secure the votes and what I would do if I couldn’t… and now it’s over; I’ve done it. All policy’s been passed, oil production’s going ahead full steam, but I feel… as if it’s somehow an anticlimax. Why?”
“When did you start feeling like this?”
“This afternoon when I sacked Neelum.”
“I heard you’d been trying to get rid of him for a long time.”
“I have, but… when I did it, something happened.” Trevor took a sip from his drink. “I’m an important man, Father; a member of the elite. People respect and fear me; and I enjoy that.”
“Don’t we all.” said his father.
“When I knock someone down I expect them to stay down! Today I exerted the full force of my authority on Zach… but he just stood and looked at me. He smiled! With a few words I reduced him to nothing! I took away his job, his career, his position and his chances of any future success! Everything! And he didn’t flinch!... Why didn’t he cry!? Why didn’t he drop to his knees and beg me to spare him!?... God, it was awful! I felt impotent, ineffectual! If he’d only got angry and hurled abuse, it would have given me some satisfaction, but no! He kept himself upright, his eyes on my eyes, calm, polite, confident!... It was so humiliating! I never want to feel like that again! Never!”
“Really?” Lord McCain leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. He raised his hands sideways in front of his face; fingers outstretched, tips touching.
“Yes, damn it!”
“You want power?”
“Yes!”
“You want control over others?”
“Yes!”
“You want to rule?”
“Yes!”
“Then maybe I can help you.”
Trevor looked up alerted to his strange tone. “How?”
He paused. “Before I tell you, I should mention that congratulations are in order for me too.”
“Why?”
“I’ve become a Foreman.”
“What’s that?”
“Of course, you don’t know, do you?... You remember when you managed to invade the Council Chamber after your arrest?”
He shuddered. “I try not to.”
“But you remember the things the Councillors said and how it all came true during the following days?”
Trevor nodded.
“Well, believe it or not, the Council of Three Hundred is not the supreme power in the world today; it is subordinate to The Council of Thirteen. They are known as ‘Foremen’ and they ultimately decide on everything deliberated by the Council of Three Hundred. The only way to become a Foreman is to serve twenty or more years on the Council of Three Hundred and be selected by the Chairman…”
“Wait, Father.” Trevor shook his head and clutched his temples. “This is too much too soon! I’m still trying to get my head round the fact that there even is a Council of Three Hundred!”
“It’s a bit of a shock when you first find out, I know.”
“A shock!? I used to laugh at conspiracy theories, but…”
“Trevor, Trevor, Trevor.” soothed his father. “Even some of the Councillors are kept in the dark about some things; only the Thirteen know the whole truth.”
“Like you?”
“Yes; and let me tell you that these conspiracy theorists have got it all wrong. We’re not some evil, Orwellian ‘Illuminati’ hell bent on imprisoning the people under a fascist tyranny. We care about the people. We care about the world. That’s why we do what we do. Our goal is to create, not to destroy; create a new, happy, peaceful Planet Earth. But we can’t just come out and offer our agenda openly; the people of today are too crass and decadent to accept it. We must slowly and cautiously ease it into their lives without them knowing. To do so is easier than you might think. All we need to do is control all a country’s major political parties, the larger industries and the media. Once you’ve achieved that then the rest is a piece of cake.”
“But, Father… You say you control all the major political institutions in the world?”
“Yes. We have done for almost five thousand years.”
“Then you must have controlled both sides in the Second World War. The British, Americans, Japanese, Russians… and the NAZI party in Germany.”
“We did, yes; all of them.”
Trevor paused. “But the Nazi’s slaughtered millions of people in their concentration camps; so did the Soviets.”
Lord McCain bowed his head and sighed. “I know and it fills me with pain whenever I think of it.”
“But you did it! Your men Hitler, Stalin, whom you controlled, deliberately killed them!”
“Trevor, you must realize that short-term suffering is outweighed by long-term benefits. Among other reasons for those massacres was a mutant genotype that had to be exterminated. If it hadn’t then the human population stock would have become polluted and weakened.”
“You speak of them as if they’re farm animals!”
His father paused then said more severely: “You sound like Dill Gibson. I never realized you were the type to have scruples… Shame, I was going to offer you a job.”
“What!?”
“I’m a Foreman; and I wanted to bring my son into the family business. That’s what I meant when I said I could help you. You’ve just told me that you wanted power; to control others, to rule?”
“I do!”
“Well, I’m offering you the ultimate power: A seat in the Three Hundred. The power to deal out life and death to millions at the touch of a button, the power to set mighty armies in motion with a snap of your fingers, the power to force presidents and premiers to publicly worship you. To become as a God!... We’re even able to control the weather and trigger earthquakes to a certain degree.”
Trevor stood up and gaped.
“But you’ve failed your test; you could never be committed to the Great Work. You’re too sentimental.”
It took a lot of effort to turn his body and walk away. He felt flustered and confused.
“See you soon then, Trevor!” called his father across the lobby. “When shall I tell your mother that you’ll be in touch with her?”
****************************************
The third day of the Rockall Summit was just a case of tying up loose ends for Trevor. The important policy was already in place and all that was left from his point of view were a few minor details. He felt even more relaxed when Dill took a call during afternoon coffee and dashed out of the Institute. In the evening, Trevor attended a banquet at the US embassy and danced with Heidrun, the president’s wife. Then he went back to the Kensington Hilton and fell asleep. He was woken by the ‘phone ringing. He picked it up. “Hello; McCain.”
“Good morning, Trevor; sorry to wake you early yet again.” It was the Home Secretary.
Trevor glanced at his alarm clock: Six-fifteen. It was still pitch dark outside. “What is it, Arthur?”
“We’ve had a problem.” He paused for effect. “Your erstwhile companions have been sniffing round the Councillors.”
“Who? Neelum?”
“Yes; him and that plump, little secretary of yours. During yesterday’s conference, Neelum and Ford were spotted spying on the venue from a car on the Wapping docks. I’ll be surprised if Gibson didn’t have a hand in it; we’re going through his ‘phonecalls at the moment.”
“What did they find out?”
“Nothing. The Councillors arrived by a secret tunnel and door in the basement.”
“A tunnel!? From where?”
“A long way away; many miles. That’s all I can tell you… The point is that those three are getting nosy about the Councillors so they’re going to bring them in for interrogation.”
“No!” Trevor shouted before he knew he was doing so.
“What did you say?”
“Er… I said that they shouldn’t, Arthur. There’s no need; let me handle it.”
Foxwell paused. “This isn’t like you, Trevor. I’d have thought you’d have been tickled pink to see them getting a good fry-up. They’re not planning on doing them any permanent harm, you know. They just want to discourage them from any further curiosity. A couple of hundred volts down the old Frankfurter, or the equivalent region in Ford’s case, and then they’ll set ‘em free.”
“Don’t let them do it, Arthur! Please!”
There was another pause. “Trevor, are you feeling alright?”
“Let me have a word with them.”
“This is Zach Neelum, Trevor! Him, Dill Gibson and Kayleigh Ford! The three worst thorns in your life! Besides they’re back on Rockall now where they could cause even more grief. The savage got ill yesterday and had to be flown home.”
“Well, I’ll call them, Arthur!” He lowered his voice. “We don’t want to overdo it now, eh? I know how to handle Neelum and the others. A word from me will shut them up; I promise.”
Foxwell sighed. “Well, I’ll pass that on to the Council and I’m fairly sure they’ll follow your advice. But one more peep out of them and…”
“Sure, Arthur; trust me.”
As soon as he was off the ‘phone to the Home Secretary he dialled Zach’s mobile, but it was switched off. He tried the landline at First Landing and it was picked up straight away by Kayleigh. “Yes?” Her voice was loud and she sounded upset. “Trevor!?... What do you want!?... Zach, it’s Trevor!”
“What the hell is he doing ‘phoning here!?” Trevor heard in the background. The atmosphere was tense as if they’d just had an argument. When Zach came to the ‘phone, Trevor explained as well as he could in three or four sentences. At the end there was a long silence. Then Zach asked: “Why are you warning us?”
“To be honest, Zach; I don’t know.” replied Trevor. “Pass the message on to Dill, will you?” He put down the ‘phone. As he looked up, he caught his reflection in the hotel room mirror. “Why did I do that?” he asked himself aloud.
****************************************
Trevor’s desk ‘phone rang. He picked it up. “McCain.”
“A Mr Peterson is on the line for you, Your Excellency.”
“Who’s he, Margarite?”
“BGC security manager.” answered his secretary.
“Very well, put him on… Hello?”
“Hello, Your Excellency; Dack Peterson here.” He spoke in a crusty American accent.
“What can I do for you, Mr Peterson?”
“Please call me Dack.” he chuckled.
“Very well, Dack. And you please call me Your Excellency.”
He paused. “Sure… We got a problem up here at the Kissinger pipe works; two of our female staff were raped this morning.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Have you called the police in Green Port?”
“Hey, we’d love to, Your Excellency; but we thought we’d better let you know first. It’s a kinda sensitive situation; you see… they’re both natives.”
“What? Savages?”
“Yeah. Perhaps it’d be more prudent for you to plug this ruptured gusher yourself.”
“I see.” Trevor cringed inwardly. “I haven’t really got time, Dack. The Rockall Summit’s just finished, it’s my turn to be Senior Governor and I’ve got a hundred and one things to do…”
“Your Excellency, I really think this needs your personal touch there’s someone hanging around from the Free Rockall Union. The victims have been reported missing.”
“The what Union?”
“Free Rockall Union; that’s who she said she represented.”
Trevor sat up. “She? It’s a woman?”
“Yeah, a real loud-mouthed gal called…”
“Kayleigh Ford?”
“That’s right.”
“Dack, don’t let her in! She’s big trouble!”
“’Course not, Your Excellency; I’m not stupid.”
“Good! I’ll be right over.”
Trevor cursed aloud as Patterfield drove him up the Trans-Rockall Highway. He called his new Deputy-Governor, Greg Slydes and explained the situation. “Well, that’s a right bummer, if you’ll excuse my language, Sir.” Slydes replied.
“It certainly is, Greg. I’ll get this over with as quickly as I can and come straight back to the office. Until then I’ll need you to hold the fort.”
“I’d be happy to, Sir.”
“Could you be a gem and whip through the CAF remittance advices?”
“With pleasure, Sir.”
“That would be a great help.”
“You can count on me, Sir.”
“I know I can, Greg. See you later.”
“See you later, Sir; and have a nice day, Sir.”
Trevor put down his carphone with a smile. That was a relief; at least some of his paperwork would be dealt with while he was away. Trevor wondered why he hadn’t made Greg Slydes his deputy years ago. He was everything Zach wasn’t: professional, polite, loyal, obedient, dedicated, diligent, reverent… and sober.”
Trevor passed through the now open border into the American Sector and reached Green Port. He turned west and came across the largest building site he’d ever seen. Huge pantheons of pressed steel and concrete stood proudly as far as the eye could see, enveloped in scaffolding like spiders webs. Construction gangs swarmed over them like bees in a hive. The noise was deafening; the screech of metal, the rattle of pneumatic drills, the thud of pile drivers. Welding torches flickered from dark recesses, and huge heaps of rubble and slag sprawled along the perimeter like long, low hills.
Dack Peterson was a broad-shouldered, globular man with red cheeks, missing teeth and a broad Deep South accent. “Howdy, Your Excellency; thanks for coming.” He shook Trevor’s hand in a crushing grip and handed him a white hard hat to wear with the BGC logo on the front. “Sorry, Your Excellency, it’s regulations. The director would be none too happy if a falling brick knocked out the brains of the BritSec Governor!... Would you like me to give you a tour of the site?”
“Thank you, Dack; but as I said on the ‘phone, I’m a little pushed. Could we get down to business?”
“Sure thing.” He motioned Trevor across the site yard zigzagging around concrete blocks and parked bulldozers. Everywhere men were hard at work, pushing wheelbarrows, carrying hods and digging with spades. “These guys come over from the States on two-year contracts.” explained Peterson. “They’re employed by construction companies under licence to the Consortium, but when the place is finished, crews from the oil extraction companies will man it directly.”
“It can’t be an easy job.” Trevor stepped over an air hose that was snaking along the ground.
“Hell, no! These men are the best though. They’re being paid well and looked after, but they’re expected to put their hands into it.”
“How about the savages?”
“Keen, but they lack discipline. The fact they can’t talk English is a big handicap; still, they’re cheap. We tend to put them on simple cleaning and tidying tasks.” He pointed to a group of Erkdwala men who were busy scraping gravel off a collection of spades. “The regular guys don’t get on with them too good. I guess they find them a bit freaky.”
“How many women work here?”
“A dozen in the administration staff.” He gestured to a row of terrapin offices. “And of course, since the summit, we got the native dames.”
They followed a narrow gravel alley between two bare walls. Trevor smelled cement powder and coughed. Bright sunlight appeared in the gap ahead and he just had time to jerk to a halt before the alley ended at the edge of a precipice. He noted the guard rail to prevent people falling off, but nevertheless, his head reeled as he took in the vista. He tried not to show his fear as Peterson led him along a catwalk grating, wind whistling between the aluminium struts. The excavated rock face was hundreds of feet tall and at the bottom was a smooth, grey concrete deck stretching out for over a mile to meet the sea. “Incredible, ain’t it, Your Excellency?” Peterson exclaimed proudly. “Over a trillion tons of rock had to be blasted out to make this! There’s enough concrete down there to rebuild New York City! It’s gonna be the biggest oil terminal on God’s Earth. We got a special fleet of supertankers being built to serve it; the biggest ships in the world!”
Trevor nodded, not trusting his voice to conceal his terror. When the catwalk ended in a treacherous, metal ladder as steep as a fire-escape, he could hold it in no longer. “Dack! I can’t get down that! I really can’t!”
“Hey, steady on, Your Excellency; it’s perfectly safe. I climb it six times a day. Just grab a hold of this safety rail and don’t look down. I tell you, it’s physically impossible to fall off this.”
Trevor gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut and took the descent one trembling step at a time. When his feet thankfully touched solid ground, he saw that he was standing in the mouth of a perfectly cylindrical tunnel bored into the hewn wall. It was about a hundred feet in diameter and as dark as a well. An icy breeze blew along it, carrying the stench of burning tar. “Oh, Dack; isn’t there another way back to the surface?”
“Sure; at the far end.”
“So why didn’t you bring me down that way?”
“I thought you’d enjoy the scenic route more.” He set off up the tunnel and beckoned him.
Trevor sighed and followed. “Right, so what happened this morning?”
“Well, a bunch of guys came down here as usual with the two native broads to act as labour. Everything was fine till lunchtime. When they came back up to eat, the gals weren’t with them. The duty time-keeper asked them about it and the supervisor said: ‘They’re just finishing up some rusty bolts; they’ll be up later.’ Anyway the time-keeper was a bit suspicious; these guys were acting funny. They kept whispering and laughing amongst themselves like they had some secret. He came down here to check it out and found… this.” Peterson gestured with the flat of his hand.
In the half-light of the inner tunnel, where it began curving up to meet the ceiling, sat a pair of naked women hunched up together with their arms wrapped around their knees. Despite the fact that their faces were hidden, Trevor could tell by their wiry, blonde hair that they were savages. The torn remains of their clothing lay a few feet away. Their bodies were caked with the sites omnipresent dust and bloody bruises and grazes that looked like the products of violence. Their skin was also stained by patches of a white, scaly substance that looked like dried semen. Some of it was matted into their hair too. “Good gracious!” muttered Trevor.
“You’re damn right!” The security officer tutted, shaking his head and folding his arms.
“How long have they been like this?”
“At least three hours; that’s when the guys came up for lunch… Frankly I don’t know what to do with them.”
“Have you tried moving them?”
“Yeah, watch.” Peterson approached the woman on the right. “Come on, Baby; time to go!”
The moment his hand made contact with her shoulder, her body stiffened and she let out a piercing shriek that reverberated around the tunnel. Trevor held his ears.
“See?”
“How many people know about this?”
“Nobody off site except you. It’s bound to get out eventually though.”
“It mustn’t! The Treaty has only just been renewed! The future of Rockall is at stake! We have to deal with this quietly, Dack! I mean it!”
“So what are we going to do with these two chicks?”
“Can you get some of your guards down here with handcuffs to immobilize them and drag them out?”
“Hey, that’s going too far! I mean, if these gals die then we’ll be in ten times the shit we are now!”
“Well, what do you suggest then? Going to Laird?”
“No way, Man! We got fifty billion dollars in the balance with this project! I won’t jeopardize a cent of it! I got a duty to the BGC! We gotta sort this out internally!”
“Then you have no choice! Get a team of guards down here, shackle their arms and legs and carry them out feet first. I know it’s dangerous, but if you leave them down here all night without food or clothes they might die anyway.”
“And then what?”
“Wait until dark, then drive them out and dump them on the streets of Green Port. The police will find them and think some local ruffians did it.”
“What if they talk?”
“Talk!? Be serious, Dack; they’re catatonic! Even if they get their wits back there’s no one around who speaks their language.”
Peterson’s face brightened. “Hey thanks, Trevor! That’s a swell idea!”
****************************************
The following day, Trevor picked up the office ‘phone on its third ring. “Your Excellency!” Margarite blurted. “There’s a riot down here! Help me!”
Trevor jumped up and ran to the circular windows. There was a mob of about a dozen people in The Rotunda forecourt, shouting inaudibly through the soundproof glass of the office. Among them were Kayleigh and Jack Laird. One of them looked up, spotted him and pointed. Trevor just had time to duck before another man hurled a stone. The missile struck the glass with a penetrating thump, but the strengthened triple-glazing was undamaged. He picked up the ‘phone. “Margarite! Have you locked the doors!?”
“Yes, Your Excellency, but they’re trying to break them down!”
“Stop panicking, Woman! They’re made from armoured Perspex with solid steel bolts, they can’t break them down!”
“But… but…”
“I’ll order the Guardsmen to open fire if they breach the building’s defences. Will that do?”
“Yes… Your… Excellency.” she stammered.
Trevor returned the receiver to its cradle and reclined in his chair. He leaned forward on his desk, resting his chin on his hands, and let his eyes pan around his office. The great flags, the picture of the Queen on the wall, his smooth, polished desk. He got up and walked round to the front of his desk to stand in the middle of the circular room, directly under the domed ceiling. He put his hands in his pockets and listened to the sounds around him. The wind was just audible outside. The clock ticked on the wall.
BOOM! Another stone smashed harmlessly against the window, waking Trevor out of his trance. He went back to his desk and pressed his intercom. “Greg, could you come into my office, please?”
“On my way, Sir.” Greg Slydes entered the room and walked formally up to the front of the desk. “What would you like me to do, Sir?”
Trevor looked him up and down. His new Deputy-Governor had been the only guest at The Rotunda’s opening party and Trevor had instantly liked him. He was very good at his job. No, he was perfect at it. He carried out his duties with robotic precision, reporting back to his boss in a logical, concise monotone. God had created Trevor’s ultimate ideal of a Deputy-Governor and incarnated him into Greg Slydes. “Good morning, Greg.” Trevor smiled at him.
“Good morning, Sir.” He smiled back like a reflection.
“Kayleigh Ford is outside with a gang of hoodlums.”
“Kayleigh Ford? She used to be your secretary, didn’t she, Sir?”
“Yes. She once told me that I’m not a very good liar. What do you think?”
Slydes’ mouth opened and closed in confusion and his face blanched. His brain appeared to have short-circuited like a sci-fi robot that’s been given contradictory instructions.
“You don’t know what to say, do you?”
He finally relaxed and shook his head.
Trevor felt the rumblings of annoyance grow in his mind. “You don’t know how to reply to my question because you want to give me the answer that will please me. My question was a two-pronged one.” He leaned back in his seat and put his hands behind his head. “The answer: ‘No, you’re not a good liar,’ could be received as either a compliment or an insult, but so too could the answer: ‘Yes, you are a good liar,’ and you, Greg, only like to tell me things that I want to hear, so you were unsure of which answer to give.”
“Er… Sir, I…”
“Stop blathering, Man! Don’t you have a mind of your own!?”
“Yes, Sir; of course I do.” he forced the words out past a knot in his throat. He was as pale as a ghost and shaking.
“Good! Because I want a Deputy-Governor who has a mind of his own.” Trevor jumped out of his seat and turned his back on Slydes. “Just leave! I want to be on my own!”
“Yes, Sir.”
He heard the door click behind his back. He stood stiffly for a few minutes then left the office and strode swiftly through the neat, carpeted halls of The Rotunda, past Accounts, Personnel, Health and Welfare, Commerce Support to his private apartment. As his hand touched the ornate, crystal doorknob, Royston, his butler, pulled the door open and bowed. “Good morning, Sir.”
Trevor ignored him as he entered the Great Hall of his official residence. He climbed the southern staircase and jogged along the oak-panelled passageway to the upper drawing room. He stared through the huge windows at the cliffs and rocks below. The Rotunda was built right on the edge of Cartwright Head giving him a superb view. He opened the drinks cabinet and pulled the stopper out of a decanter of sherry. He poured a large glassful and gulped it down, hardly tasting it. Zach had a mind of his own alright! Trevor pulled up short as he realized what he’d been thinking since his conversation with Slydes. “Surely not! I can’t believe it!... I’m missing Zach!”
But it was true. That’s why he’d started to find Slydes irritating. His new Deputy was so very good that he was boring. He carried out every one of Trevor’s instructions to the letter, never voicing his own opinions (if he even had any) or questioning his master’s will and Trevor had begun to crave the stimulus of spirited dissent. Zach had been untrustworthy, envious, backstabbing, deceitful, unprofessional, rebellious, too much under the influence of Kayleigh, alcoholic and downright lazy. Working with him had been an immense challenge and now that that challenge was gone, Trevor’s life had lost a lot of its texture.
Trevor had a few more glasses of sherry then took the rest of the day off.
****************************************
The following day Trevor received a letter from this clandestine organization that he’d never heard of before: the Free Rockall Union; it was signed by Kayleigh, Dill, Jack Laird and Calum MacLeod. He read it quickly and decided that it would be only statesmanlike to compose a brief reply:
Dear Sirs and Madam, Thank you for your letter. Indeed I totally share your shock and anger at the appalling crime that was committed on Monday. I’m very sorry to hear that the two ladies involved still require hospital treatment. I and the Rockall Guard, working with the Green Port Police Department, will do everything within our power to bring the perpetrators to justice. However I must categorically refute the personal allegations made against me. (I do not take offence and dismiss your attack, as I can tell that you are under immense emotional strain at the moment.) Let me assure you that I am in no way attempting to cover up any details of this atrocity. This crime was not committed by any Black Gold Consortium employees, nor was it carried out on any of their premises. Yours Faithfully, TAWAJ McCain, Governor of Rockall (British Sector).
Trevor grinned to himself as he folded the letter and slid it into an envelope. “There’s you answer, Greg.” he said to himself. “’Yes’.”
****************************************
Trevor awoke in the full flow of morning. The weather had shifted a few days ago and wind-driven snow blasted against the window. He got to his feet, stretched and walked over to look out. The sea in Rockall Port Bay was churning like a caldron and the sky was bulging with bruise-coloured clouds. He pressed the call-button. “Royston, I’ll take breakfast in my study this morning.”
“Very good, Sir.”
Trevor put on his dressing gown and slippers, padded through to his private study and booted up his desktop. Royston brought him his toast and marmalade and he began whittling away at his correspondence. He was writing out a reply to an email from the US Secretary to the Treasury when something made him stop and look up. His gaze roved around the study; everything looked normal. There was no noise except the light sigh of the air-conditioning and the tiniest whisper of wind which succeeded in passing through the thick, armoured windows. He returned to his work, but his sense of unease wouldn’t go away.
His ‘phone rang. Ah! First call of the day. “Hello, McCain?”
“Help us!... Help us! Oh, God!” someone yelled at him.
“Who is this?”
“Oh, God!... What the fuck…!?” The voice sounded like Dack Peterson’s. It was broken and indistinct as if the speaker was on a mobile outside in the wind.
“Dack, is that you?”
“…couldn’t stop them!... Killed like deer… running like hell… supply ship… all over the site… thousands of them… fuck!... total shit… stood a chance!”
“Dack, calm down and speak slowly! Now what’s going on!?... Dack!?” The line had gone dead.
Trevor put down the receiver and stood up, his gut-feeling of dread redoubled. He pressed the call button. “Royston, find Patterfield and tell him to get the Bentley ready. I need to go out. Hurry now!” There was a few seconds of silence. “Royston, did you get that?... Are you there, Royston?... Royston!” He switched off the intercom and jogged down the stairs to the Great Hall. He was just a few yards from the front door when it flew open and a dozen Rockall Guardsmen dashed inside, shoving him back. They all had their pistols drawn. “What the…!?”
“Get back upstairs, Your Excellency! Now!” yelled the watch-commander. He slammed the door and shot all the bolts.
The guards propelled him up the stairway. As they did so, Trevor heard a resounding crash and the crack of splintering wood. He was shoved into his bedchamber and the door was shut. One member of the Guard stayed with him, standing in the middle of the room facing the door; the others had taken up positions outside on the landing. “Lie down on the floor, Your Excellency!” commanded the Guard, a youth of about eighteen. Trevor obeyed, his arms shaking as he lowered himself to the carpet.
The bedside ‘phone buzzed obtrusively, making Trevor start. The Guardsman yelped and levelled his sidearm. “What shall I do!?” whimpered Trevor. “Answer it!?” The young man just looked at him, his lip trembling. It struck Trevor that the Guard was as scared as he was. The ‘phone continued ringing. Eventually Trevor lifted a quivering hand and picked up the instrument. “Hello?” he coughed dryly.
“Trevor, it’s Dill here. We have captured The Rotunda. Surrender now and I promise you will come to no harm.”
“Dill! What’s going on!?”
“Give it up, Trevor! There are a thousand of us out here…”
“Eek!” Trevor screamed involuntarily in falsetto as something shattered his bedroom window. Pieces of glass rained down onto the carpet a few feet from him. These windows overlooked the sheer drop of the cliffs and were considered inaccessible so had been made with ordinary panes. A human silhouette carrying a hammer filled the window frame.
BANG! BANG! BANG! The room exploded with ear-splitting noise and the flicker of muzzle-flash as the Guard turned and fired his pistol. The figure at the window vanished. The bedroom door burst open and several more Guardsmen ran in. “Fuckin’ hell!” exclaimed the watch-commander. “What was that!?” The room blew up with cold, moist air as the gale came in through the broken window clearing the tang of gunpowder.
“They’re coming in through the window, Sir!” yelled the young man.
“They must have climbed round on the drainpipe.”
“But it’s a five hundred foot drop!” said another Guard approaching the window and peeping out. “Shit!” He leaned through the jagged shards and fired his weapon.
More shots rang out on the landing. “Quick!” bellowed the commander, and they all ran outside leaving Trevor alone with the youth once more. The lock clicked.
The gunfire continued, interspersed with shouting and screaming, clearly audible through the walls. The young Guard was now crying with fear. He backed away, crouching down, clasping his pistol in both quivering arms and trained it at the door. After an indefinite time, the commotion on the landing stopped and there was sudden silence. Trevor could hear his own heart beating and he sweated from every pore. “TREVOR!” Dill’s voice sounded through a megaphone. “OPEN THE DOOR AND PUT YOURSELF INTO OUR CUSTODY! YOU HAVE NO FOOD OR WATER! YOU WILL HAVE TO…” BOOM! Trevor was struck hard by a shockwave of pressure. The explosion deafened him and the room filled with smoke. BANG! “Yaargh!” “Fuckin’…” BANG! BANG! BA-BA-BANG!
Trevor tried to crawl under his bed as shooting and yelling attacked his senses from all sides, but hands pinched him and grasped his limbs brusquely. He was rolled onto his back then forced against the wall. Angry faces filled his vision as he was hoisted to his feet and pounded by fists and boots. The back of his head struck the wall, making him see stars. Dozens of hands dug into his flesh like steel pincers; one seized his chin, forcing him to look ahead.
A figure emerged like a ghost from the miasma of gunsmoke. It was Dill. “Are you alright, Trevor?” His face was ambivalent; angry, yet concerned. His voice was distorted by Trevor’s battered ears.
“Dill!... Let me go!” he hissed past the fingers contorting his mouth.
“Governor McCain.” said Dill formally. “I hereby relieve you of your office. Consider yourself a prisoner of the Free Republic of Rockall.”
The next few minutes were a nightmare of horror and confusion. Trevor was dragged; sometimes upright, sometimes horizontally. He was outside in the cold and a massive throng of hollering people closed on him, screaming, punching him, spitting on him. Everywhere he looked was a wall of blazing eyes and clenched teeth. On the snow-covered grass beneath the bare flagpoles a group of crofters were stamping on the charred remains of the Rockall Triumvirate. He was forced to kneel down and a space was cleared in front of him as if the horde wanted to show him something. He saw naked flames flickering inside The Rotunda. People were running out of the house, chattering excitedly. All the windows were open; smoke wafted out and fire was licking the stonework. He was on the move again, but this time he was allowed to walk. They directed him with pokes, punches, kicks and verbal abuse. A fist buried itself in his groin and he fell to the ground in agony, gasping for breath. He was wrenched roughly to his feet and paraded on through Rockall Port towards First Landing. Calum and Jack Laird stood by the front door.
Before Trevor was dragged inside, he managed to get one last look over his shoulder. The Rotunda was burning like a bonfire; flames rose a hundred feet into the air and he could feel the heat on his skin even from this distance. A great, solid column of black smoke flowed up into the sky to be whipped and folded like dough in the high winds that carried it northeast over the heart of Rockall.

(Go back to Chapter 7: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/07/rockall-chapter-7.html
Go on to Chapter 9: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/08/rockall-chapter-9.html )

Rockall Chapter 7

Chapter Seven-To Turn and Turn Again

An Extract from the bestselling book: Erkdwala- Children of Earth by Professor Marcus Lowenstein (Oxford University Press. August 2012):

…Oddly enough, there are over seven hundred words in the Erkdwala tongue which resemble equivalent words in six modern languages: Basque, Japanese, Tungus, Yakut, Mongol and Inuit; this is indicative of a one hundred percent non-Indo-European ethnic origin. Kayleigh Ford, the woman who first discovered the Erkdwala claimed to have achieved basic fluency within the two weeks of her intensive immersion. As a Gaelic-speaking Scot, she may have a predisposition or talent for learning languages. It is unlikely that she could have mastered some of the more extrinsic grammatical structures such as the Loni tense or subject-object dualism.
The reported relationship to Basque most excited the early anthropologists. Betty Godsmith of the University of Maine was one of the first to tour Rockall in November of 2011. She held many interviews with members of the Erkdwala and Kayleigh Ford. Of course, the Basque Region of southern France and northern Spain is well-known as the site of one of the world’s richest and most advanced Palaeolithic cultures. It includes the beautiful and astounding cave paintings at places like Lascaux and Niaux. (Pablo Picasso visited these prehistoric galleries and came out at the end of his tour saying: “We have invented nothing!”) Many were disappointed to find that the Erkdwala appear to have no notion of the visual arts. Though their mythology appears to be very rich, judging by the small proportion of their legends that have so far been translated, when it comes to actually creating visual images they are totally stumped. When Ford first showed an Erkdwala man a photograph of a gannet, he ran his fingers over it and asked: “What are all these colours for?” Ford told him that it was a gannet and he replied: “That’s not true. This is a just sheet of coloured material.” The Erkdwala’s brains cannot actually interpret two-dimensional pictures and convert them into three-dimensional mental images, something that the rest of humanity takes for granted. If you show one a three-D sculpture of a gannet he will instantly recognize it, but show him a flat picture of a gannet and all he will see is a shapeless pattern. Many have taken this as an indication that the Erkdwala are a backward culture and even carry an endemic, hereditary, mentally-retarding gene. My own opinion is that this is nonsense. If anything, their lack of a visual medium of expression is a sign of a sophisticated imagination and an exceptional ability to fantasize. Their vast collection of stories is proof of that. Who needs pictures when you can see it in your head!
My own impression of the Erkdwala is one of deep wisdom and razor-sharp intelligence. I saw one man playing with a puzzle-block game and completing it first time, faster than I’ve ever seen anyone do so before. They are a very gentle, sensitive people who form the most profound loving bonds with each other and their surroundings. For them there is no distinction between living creatures and inanimate objects. In their mindset, rocks and boulders are as much alive as ponies and fish. They never seem to argue or show any hostility to anyone. They are extremely talkative and will sit around debating this and that for hours on end, but I’ve never once heard them resort to bluster. In fact aggression seems to be another unknown concept to them. (It pains me to think how they’ll feel as they learn more and more about our world, a place where aggression and violence are all too familiar.)
As is so often the case, it is the youngest members of the community who are the most inquisitive and flexible…

Zachary Neelum put down the book and yawned. It was a good book; probably the best of the four so far written in the seventeen months since the Erkdwala’s discovery. Lowenstein had been a sensible and fun scientist to work with. He was professional and objective, yet passionate about the Erkdwala cause. The other scientific author had been rather aloof and detached. The third author was Lauren Pearce, a veteran of the Battle of Mount Clow and one of Gervaise’s crowd. Her book was entitled: Empire Reborn- Eyewitness on Rockall and had a much more general theme, rather than concentrating on just the Erkdwala issue alone. Of all four writers, Pearce was the most negative and scathing towards Zach’s role in the affair. As far as she was concerned he was a Machiavellian, money-hungry blackguard who’d exploited his relationship with Kayleigh to line his own pockets. A remarkable conclusion to reach seeing as she’d never interviewed or even met him. Zach had considered suing her for libel, but had decided not to bother; he’d have a lot of trouble finding witnesses willing to back him up.
The most unusual book was written by a famous alternative-science researcher and it broached a subject that was something of a taboo in the island’s scientific circles. The Devil’s Tea Cosy had recently ignited yet another Rockall enigma: It was man made. Underneath its covering of grass and soil it was constructed of over two thousand perfectly-shaped stone blocks. Nobody could begin to guess at its purpose, but one thing was certain; it hadn’t been built by the Erkdwala. So then who had built it? The author had postulated that it was in fact an artefact left over from a prehistoric civilization; in other words, during the Ice Age, Rockall had been a mountain peak of Atlantis. Another author had claimed in a magazine article that the monument had been created by aliens in flying saucers armed with rock-cutting lasers. The few archaeologists who’d commented vehemently denied both these theories, but admitted that they were as yet unable to provide another explanation.
Zach switched on the TV and put on a film. He went to pour himself another glass of wine, but the bottle was empty. He groaned and stood up. He was halfway down the steps to the First Landing’s wine cellar when he remembered that he’d rationed himself to three bottles a day, and he’d just finished his third. He opened the heavy door and looked at the rows of horizontal bottles on the shelves. He paused for a moment then entered the cellar and took down a dry Bordeaux. One more wouldn’t hurt.
****************************************
The alarm clock rang at eight o’clock the following morning and Zach dragged himself out of a sleep like quicksand. The noise rattled painfully in his ears. He reached out an arm to silence the device and knocked it off the bedside table onto the floor. It continued to jangle on the carpet. He put his pillow over his ears until the spring ran down. His head soon made its presence felt; his skull pounded and squeezed his brain. He got out of bed and could hardly stand; the room orbited around him. His body felt heavy as he stumbled to the bathroom and downed a couple of aspirin. He tripped over an empty wine bottle as he staggered back to his bedroom. Crumbs! I don’t remember leaving that there! He belly-flopped onto his bed and was asleep before he touched the sheets.
The bedside ‘phone rang and this time Zach sat up like a catapult. He could tell by the light outside that it was much later. He looked at the clock: Half-past eleven. He picked up the receiver. “Good morning, Deputy-Governor Neelum speaking.”
“Good evening, Zach; I hope I haven’t woken you too early,”
“Trevor!” Zach leaped to his feet. “Bloody hell, no! I’ve been up since eight, working on those figures you wanted for the amendments. I’ve got them right here.” He tapped the folder of blank paper lying on the dressing table.
“Good. Can you get them into the office by five?”
“Er…”
Trevor guffawed in disgust. “Alright, Zach. First thing tomorrow before we leave; but you must have done them by then, OK? If you haven’t then we lose our whole stake in this Treaty renewal. You got that?”
“Yes, Trevor.”
There was a pause. “Now I want you to book us seats on the Glasgow sleeper for tomorrow night.”
“I thought we were flying down.”
“Not this time.”
“But it’ll take ages on the train!”
“I know; enough time to sober you up if I have to… Don’t blow it, Zach! This summit is the most important day in either of our careers.”
“I won’t, Trevor.”
Another pause. “I’d also like you to check up on our savage friends this afternoon; see if there’s anything they want to add to proceedings.”
“Will do, Trevor.”
“Glad to hear it.” As usual, he cut the line without waiting for a reply.
Zach grinned in the mirror. His tongue and teeth were stained tar-black by the wine and he had to brush them hard. He’d lost count of how many extra bottles he’d finished off last night. There was a bruise on his elbow where he’d fallen down the cellar steps; too drunk to walk. He washed himself thoroughly, trying to cleanse himself of the stench of stale alcohol, and dressed in a clean suit. No amount of bathing could remove the purple bags under his eyes or the bloodshot in his whites. “No more drinking, Zach!” he told his reflection. “Not a drop till after the summit.”
In the cabinet beside the mirror were a few of Kayleigh’s toiletries that she’d left behind when she’d last walked out of his house A toothbrush, deodorant, and a can of hairspray. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them away and they remained there like holiday souvenirs. Christ! How long ago was it?... August Twenty-eleven. What is it now? We’ve just had New Year… Twenty-thirteen. Shit! A year and five months! Since that day he’d hardly exchanged more than a few words with her. The last time they’d touched was when she’d tried to scratch out his eyes on the Eastern Capes. Of course, you can’t avoid someone on Rockall. He saw her most days, walking around town or rambling in-country. She greeted him briefly every time: “Hi, Zach.” she’d say and looked swiftly away. Her animosity was still there under the surface. Could he blame her?
Of course the Erkdwala had survived, thankfully; but the possibility wouldn’t stop tormenting him. Sometimes thoughts of what might have been can be as disturbing as those of what actually had been.
Zach went online and booked the train tickets on the Commission’s account then he went to the garage and drove eastwards to Hasselwood. The savages had all been housed in a plexus of twisty, new cul-de-sacs. The houses were proper brick constructions like his own home, not Bower-casts. The roads were covered in black, new tarmac with square white lines. Hasselwood had doubled in size until it was almost as big as Rockall Port, partly thanks to the Erkdwala, and there was even a bus service between the two towns. Every home on the estate was virtually identical so Zach had to read the door numbers carefully. He pulled up outside one of the semi-detached houses; he couldn’t use the drive because it contained a blue Volvo. He walked up the garden path, past the finely-trimmed lawn and neat rockery, and rang the doorbell. Bing-bong! A woman answered wearing jeans, slippers and pink blouse. A feather duster was in her right hand. “Hi, Keesa.” said Zach. “How are you this afternoon?”
She shook her head and pointed to herself with a smile.
“Sorry!” he chuckled. “Kerry! I’d forgotten; you’re called Kerry now.”
She laughed and beckoned him into her house. The kitchen was white and a little bare. The taps and sink shone and the place smelled as if someone had cleaned it with too much disinfectant. The baby boy, who had been born in a cave during Zach’s visit, was sitting in a plastic high chair with a Teletubbies bib around his neck. Food stained his chin and he was playing with his plastic cutlery. Keesa scooped a spoonful up herself and pushed it into his mouth. He looked up as Zach entered the room, studying him with his big, black eyes.
Zach patted his head. “Hiya, Karsk! You’re a big lad now, aren’t you?”
“No!” Keesa raised a scolding finger. “Him Kevin.”
“Sorry; Kevin. I have trouble remembering all your new names. What’s Grayvin called these days?”
“Graham.”
“Graham; right! Graham, Kerry and Kevin… Sounds like a family of yuppies!”
Keesa/Kerry frowned. “I don’t understand. Please speak more slowly.” she articulated clumsily in her strong Erkdwala accent.
“It doesn’t matter. How are you anyway… Kerry?”
“Me good!” she smiled very broadly. There was an odd, detached look in her eye and she swayed unsteadily on her feet. “Me have maked food for Kevin… and now me make food for Graham.” She staggered over to the freezer and produced a packet of chicken curry which she popped into the microwave. She fumbled slightly with the control buttons.
“Kee… Kerry, are you feeling alright? You look a bit woozy.”
“Yes, Zach. Me very good.” She belched.
He caught her smell as she turned back towards him. “Kerry, have you been drinking?”
She looked nonplussed. “Drink… ing?”
“Yes, drinking.” He mimed lifting a glass to his open mouth. “You smell like you’ve been on the booze.”
“Oh.” She seemed to catch on and took two glasses out of the cupboard. Then, to Zach’s astonishment, she filled both glasses to the brim with Scotch from a bottle that was standing in the window sill. She took a deep gulp from one and handed the other to him.
“Bloody Norah!”
“You drink.” She pointed at his glass.
“Kerry! How many of these have you had!?”
She looked at him with a confused grin. “You not like?”
“There must be eight or nine shots in here! Yes, I like! I like only too bleedin’ well! But not at half-one in the afternoon when I’ve got to look after a baby!”
“Me like!” she giggled and downed another mouthful. “Me happy when me drink whiskey!”
“You won’t be happy when your hangover hits, Sweetheart; believe me!... What are we going to do with you!? You’re supposed to pick Yonnax and Queylie’s kids up from school today, aren’t you!?”
“Caroline and Tracey.” she corrected.
“Never mind that now! Well, are you!?”
She nodded.
“Shit! There’s no way you’ll be able to make it in your state! You’ll have to let me do it for you while… Bollocks! The baby! Oh, come here!” He snatched the glass from her hand and poured it down the sink. Then he switched on the kettle and made her a strong, black coffee. “Drink this!” he ordered.
Kerry looked frightened and subdued as she sipped.
“Now don’t have any more whiskey! You understand!?”
She nodded.
Zach used Graham and Kerry’s blue Volvo to drive to the school in Rockall Port. Flippin’ heck! he mused as he negotiated the tight roads of Hasselwood. Are the savages all driving!? Even if they’ve learned alright…
More and more of the scientists were bringing their families with them to Rockall and there were now enough children in the British Sector to justify the opening of the island’s first school. It was divided into two classes one for juniors and one for secondary pupils and consisted of a pair of low, single-storey Bower-casts with a playground in between. Mrs Bottomley, the headmistress stood up as Zach entered and her eyes bugged. “Mr Deputy-Governor!” she exclaimed. “Goodness me! We weren’t expecting you!”
“Sorry to drop by unannounced.” said Zach. “I’ve come to pick up a friend’s children.”
“Oh, I see… well, let me show you through to the classroom. The lessons don’t finish for ten minutes.”
The headmistress ran ahead, presumably to warn the teacher that the Governorship was making a surprise inspection. Zach walked down the hallway covered in paintings and shelves of brightly-coloured children’s books to the junior classroom where the head was holding the door for him.
The teacher was on dry old woman with an Edinburgh accent. She clapped her hands and with a scraping of chairs, the children stood up behind their double row of desks. “This is Mr Neelum.” she said to her class. “Mr Neelum is the Deputy-Governor; that means he’s the second most important person on the island after the Governor. Say good afternoon to him.”
“Good-af-ter-noon, Mis-ter Nee-lum.” the children all recited in monotone unison.
“Good afternoon.” Zach replied.
“Patrick, step forward.” said the teacher.
One of the youngsters, a boy of about eight, left his place and marched to the front of the room where he turned to one side so that he could address both Zach and his classmates. Zach recognized him as one of Queylie’s children. A year and a half ago, this boy had slept beside him in a cave on a bed of heather and horsehide; now he was a cute, British schoolboy in a stripy tie and a jumper with the school crest on it. “My name is Patrick MacRocail.” he said. The savages didn’t have surnames in their native life, so when they were registered they were all given the name of MacRocail. “I am eight years old and I live on Rockall with my mummy and daddy. My daddy works for the Black Gold Consortium and my mummy looks after our house. My favourite lesson is art and design and my hobby is computer games, football and riding my bike.”
As he sat down the other children applauded. Now Zach had spotted him, he also picked out the other savage youngsters as well; their racial differences were more apparent when they sitting alongside their peers: The pallid skin, those incredibly big, dark eyes; the fleshy lower face; the blond hair, thick and wiry like a black person’s. For the first time, Zach appreciated that the Erkdwala were in fact very beautiful people.
There were nine Erkdwala children in that class, distributed evenly, not sitting together in gangs. The savage youths had adjusted to civilized life much better and more quickly than their elders. Patrick’s English was very fluent and even his accent had almost disappeared. One of the girls was said to have learned French.
“Now then, Children.” said the teacher. “It’s home-time now, so why don’t we show Mr Neelum how quietly and sensibly we can tidy up and leave the classroom.”
The youths marched out calmly and broke into a run as soon as they were in the playground where their parents were all waiting. The teacher handed over care of Patrick to Zach. “Mr Neelum!” he piped. “Can I go to Macaulay’s house? I want to play his Ex-Fist-Four.”
“Not today, Mate; sorry. I’ve got to get you home to your mum and dad… Where’s Bryan?”
Patrick looked behind him. “He was here a minute ago.”
Zach scanned the entire playground, but there was no sign of Queylie’s younger son. “Shit!”
The teacher panicked. “Megan! Sheila! Shut the front gate! Don’t let anyone out!”
A half minute of terror followed; staff and parents scattered like ants; then a younger teacher from the secondary class called out from a clump of bushes in the corner of the school grounds. “It’s OK! I’ve found him! He’s here!”
Bryan MacRocail was curled up in a ball on the teacher’s lap snivelling. His school uniform was crumpled and stained with mud. A rivulet of blood dripped from his nose. A group of smirking secondary boys were standing to one side. “What the hell happened here!?” Zach demanded.
Patrick came running up and clasped his younger brother in a protective embrace, jabbering at him in the Erkdwala language. Bryan tearfully replied and pointed at the gang of older boys.
The teacher stood up and confronted them “What did you do to him!?”
“Nothing, Miss.” said one. “He just fell over.”
There was a long silence. Patrick looked at the older boys, at his brother and then up at Zach. “Will you take us home now please, Mr Neelum?”
As they walked away, Zach heard the older youths snigger and one muttered: “Little freak!”
Along with Patrick and Bryan, Zach also collected Yonnax’s three daughters: Charlotte, Charmaine and Charlene. As soon as they were back at Kerry’s house the girls ran upstairs to where they’d left their collection of Barbie dolls and Queylie’s two boys switched on their Playstation; the noise of bings, bleeps and booms came from the lounge and occasionally Patrick and Bryan would cheer and call out: “Gotcha!” and “Take that, Punk!”
Kerry appeared to have sobered up somewhat. The meal she had microwaved was burnt and she hastily boiled some eggs and toasted some crumpets. Kerry’s family had been living in that house for six months, but she still seemed to have little idea of how to use most of the kitchen appliances, so Zach helped her with the food. While she was doing so she chatted on her mobile ‘phone in rapid Erkdwala. Zach waited patiently for her to finish. “Graham?” he asked, pointing at her Nokia Ninety-two-ten.
“Yes. Graham come home.”
“How’s he getting on at work?”
“Work?... He good. He like.”
Zach hesitated. “Listen, Kerry; Bryan had a bit of bother at school today.”
“Bryan what?”
“Bryan…” Zach tried to think of a way to paraphrase this unpleasant news for the savage woman. “Some bigger, older boys at the school… have been violent to Bryan.”
“Be what to Bryan?”
“Violent. Bullying, hitting him.”
“Vio...lent? What is violent?”
“Hitting, punching, kicking. Bang!” He pushed his fist against his cheek.
Kerry shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Damn! I don’t know how to explain it… Is there anyone around here apart from Kayleigh who speaks your language?”
“I can speak English.” She grinned like a model on the cover of a phrasebook.
“Yeah, sure.”
By the time Graham, formerly Grayvin, Kerry’s husband, had arrived home the eggs and crumpets were done.
Graham had shaved, making him look totally different. His hair was cut short and he’d put a drop of Brylcream on top of it. He, like all the savage males, was working in the unskilled labour pool at the half-built oil terminal on the north coast. His grey boiler suit was grimy and stank of ammonia and ozone. On his chest was the motif of the Black Gold Consortium: A royal blue rectangle with a white puffin perched atop an Egyptian pyramid.
The doorbell rang about three minutes later and old Kerroj the chieftain came in. He nodded at Zach and began a long conversation with Graham and Kerry in the savage tongue while the couple ate. After about twenty minutes he got up and turned to Zach. “Come with me, Mr Neelum.” he said in his croaky voice. “We must leave these people now. They sleep soon.”
“It’s only half past four.”
“When the sun go to bed, we go to bed. When the sun wake up, we wake up… Come, I will show you a thing.”
Kerroj spoke better English than any other adult savage that Zach had met, but in other ways he had changed much less since their rescue. The Commission had returned all the Erkdwala’s belongings as part of Trevor’s amnesty, but only Kerroj still wore his horsehide suit, wooden crown and cloak of gull feathers. The only concession he had made to civilized dress were his stout brogues. “I need them.” he said as he and Zach walked along the pavements of Hasselwood. “This rock you walk on is bad for feet. You cover over real earth with this?” He kicked the paving stones. “Why do you walk on this? Why do you not walk on real earth?”
Zach paused. “Dunno. I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Look!” Kerroj pointed at a patch of broken glass. “This cut feet so bad you die! And you walk on this!?”
“That’s just kids messing about; breaking bottles.”
Kerroj shook his head. “Crazy! If I fall on real earth or grass or heather, I get up and walk again. If I fall over on this… pavement, I am broken! My blood come out!”
Zach laughed. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it, Mr Kerroj.”
Kerroj smiled thinly and glanced up at the afternoon sky. “Are you happy here, Mr Neelum?”
“Happy where?”
“Here…” He shrugged and uttered an unpronounceable word from his own language.
“Well… I’m alright, I suppose. Why?”
Kerroj stopped walking and turned towards him, looking him hard in the eye and said: “You are not happy. You are sad.”
“You what?”
“You are a sad man… Trevor is a very sad man. He is very very sad! More sad than you.”
“Bullshit, Kerroj! Trevor is the happiest man on Rockall! He’s got it all, has Trevor! Bastard!”
“Trevor has nothing!” said the old man emphatically. “I feel very sorry for him. We must help him.”
“Help him!?... I’ll help him alright! Head first down a flight of stairs!”
Kerroj smiled and walked on, beckoning. “Come.”
“Where are we going anyway?”
“Come, Mr Neelum.”
Zach sighed and joined him.
The savage chieftain led him along the labyrinthine streets of the estate and out along the road to Rockall Port; a journey of two miles. Zach became tired, but Kerroj was untouched by the exertion, despite his age and his complaints about the footpaths. “We’re nearly there.” he said as if sensing his companion’s fatigue.
“Kerroj, why do you walk about so much? There’s an excellent public transport system between the two southern settlements. Why don’t you just take the bus or learn to drive a car like the others have done?”
“If you go to a place you must walk there. If you don’t walk there, you cannot really be there.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Mr Kerroj… How is it that although you’ve learnt better English than the others I understand you less than them?”
“Do you need to understand everything?”
Zach stopped and stared at his receding back. His feathered robe rustled in the breeze.
They eventually reached their destination: All Saints Church of Rockall; a low, modern, pleasantly-shaped building with stained glass windows. There was a single grave in the grassy grounds, an oblong mound of brown loam with a bunch of flowers laid on top of it. Kerroj stopped beside the grave and looked down.
Zach crouched and examined the bouquet. There was a little card stapled to the paper in which they were wrapped; on it was written a message in Erkdwala. The handwriting was Kayleigh’s and he recognized one word: Zhadek. He screwed up his eyes and gritted his teeth. Then he straightened up and turned to Kerroj. “Alright! I feel guilty! I detest myself for what happened, OK!? That’s why you brought me here, wasn’t it!? To rub it in! Well, it worked! Are you satisfied!?”
The old man returned his gaze steadily during this speech. “I am not angry with you, Mr Neelum. I don’t want you to be sad.”
“Then you’re about the only one who doesn’t!”
“Zhadek is died, but it is not a thing that you did.”
Zach didn’t reply.
“Erkdwala are not angry with Mr Neelum; Mr Neelum must not be angry with Mr Neelum.”
“I caused all this, Kerroj. I got your son killed.” he said quietly. “I betrayed you all.”
“All the time, everybody do a thing that make a lot of bad happen. They say: ‘I wish I have not done that because it make bad happen.’ You see? Everybody do this, Mr Neelum. Everybody. But not everybody wish they have not. It is that wish which makes a man good.”
“But I caused Zhadek’s death!”
Kerroj laughed. “And if Mr Neelum do not make Zhadek dead then will Zhadek live forever?”
“Well no; of course not, but…”
“Everybody will be dead one day. Everybody! You, me, all people. If Mr Neelum do not make Zhadek dead then another time somebody else will. Or maybe he will get ill or walk in front of a bus, as you say.”
“That’s not the point, Kerroj! Zhadek was only forty-eight! He died young when he could have lived to be as old as you!”
“Old as me! Yes!” He laughed again. “I am old and I live! But mans die old and young; and womans and childs. How long you live mean nothing.” He raised his head slightly and looked at the southern skyline. “It’s just a piece of forever. One day is the same as a hundred years next to forever… How can I tell you about this so you understand?”
“I don’t know, Kerroj. As far as I can see it, I’m still the bad guy.”
“Listen! You see dolphins?”
“Dolphins?”
“Yes; you know this persons?”
“Dolphins? Yes, of course. They’re creatures that live in the sea.”
“You see them?”
“Yes, sometimes. They’re quite common”
“Dolphin likes to jump out of the sea.” Kerroj mimed the action with his hand. “She go up, up, up. Then she fall back down. Coosh! Fall back into sea.”
Zach paused. “Is there a point in this somewhere?”
“You are a dolphin! You are born; that is dolphin jumping out of sea. You live; that is dolphin in the air; but then you always die, like dolphin always fall back into sea… Does a dolphin ever stay in the air and fly around like a bird?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then you not stay alive and live forever. You jump up into life and you always fall back into death… It is the normal thing in the world!”
“Is it?”
“Yes! Dolphins swim in sea, jump up again, fall down again, swim in sea more; and on and on and on.”
There was a long pause and Kerroj walked over to a bench by the church wall and sat down. “Oh, I am tired now.”
Zach felt a sudden amity for the old man. He smiled at him. “Aha! Even you get tired eventually.”
“Yes, I am seventy-four years born. I get tired more now than before.” He pulled a notebook and pen out of a pouch in his tunic and began jotting.
“Kerroj! You can write!”
“Yes. I learn; Kayleigh teached me.”
“Blimey! I didn’t realize.” Zach sat down beside him and peered at the notebook.
Kerroj’s handwriting was angular and child-like, but the letters were legible. He was writing something in Erkdwala and had already filled many pages.
“What are you writing, Kerroj?”
“I make a story.”
“What about?”
“Barbara.”
“Who?”
“Barbara. The woman who make air-plane broken, who stop bad men from taking Erkdwala away from Rockall.”
“Oh, I see.” said Zach soberly. “That’s right. Her name was Barbara Kelsoe; she was only twenty-three.”
“She is Jesus.”
“What did you say?”
“I think Barbara is Jesus.”
“What do you know about Jesus?”
“Reverend Hamilton tell me about Jesus. He is a great man who give His life away for other people’s lifes. Then He come back and live in Barbara. Bad men want to take Erkdwala away from Rockall, but she stop them by hitting air-plane with her car, but that maked her dead. She knowed she will be dead before she did this! She gave her life for Erkdwala’s lifes… She is Jesus of Erkdwala.”
Zach nodded slowly. “Yes. She was a very very brave young lady.”
For a moment Kerroj looked mournful then he chuckled “I think Barbara is with Zhadek now in the other place, Atloi.”
“You reckon? What's Atloi? In Heaven you mean?”
Kerroj frowned. “I still not sure what that place is… Yes! I think they will fall in love and be married; then they will do lots of sex!” He roared with laughter.
“Kerroj, this is a church! You’re not supposed to talk like that here!”
“Why not?”
“Er… I don’t know.”
“If you don’t know then why you do it?” He laughed again.
Zach was silent for a moment as he digested these words.
Kerroj recovered and wiped his eyes on his cuff. “Do you talk to Jesus, Mr Neelum?”
“No; I was brought up a Catholic, but I’m afraid I don’t believe in Him any more.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not religious, Kerroj. I don’t think Jesus is real. I don’t think religion is real.”
“Rel…igion? I don’t know this word.”
“God, Jesus, Allah, you name it. None of it is true.”
“But… this thing is true, of course. You have eyes! Cannot you see it?”
“No, I can’t see it; and neither can you!”
“But I can.”
“OK.” Zach jumped to his feet. “Show me where God is! Point to Him!”
“But I can’t point to God. God is everywhere.”
“And you can see Him?”
“Yes. He is real.”
Zach snorted and shook his head. “Kerroj, this is real!” He slapped the wall of the church. “This is real!” He bent down and brushed the grass. “What your eyes see, your ears hear, your hands touch; that is real! Nothing else!”
Kerroj gazed at him with a concerned frown. “You are an ill man like Trevor. You need help.”
“I do not need help!... And Trevor certainly doesn’t! Trevor is the Governor of Rockall! He has a massive salary, The Rotunda to live in! He has more money and power than everyone else on this island put together!”
“Money.” Kerroj reached into his pouch and produced a handful of coins and a screwed-up five-pound note. “This? Trevor has a lot of it?”
“Yes! One heck of a lot of it!”
“And you want a lot of it too?”
“My God, yes! What I could do if I was Governor! The world would be my oyster!”
Kerroj looked at the contents of his hand. “But money is just this things.” He held up a two-pound coin. “This is pretty; like a sea-stone, but I can find sea-stones in all places. And this is strange.” He smoothed out the fiver. “Like dry seaweed… I don’t understand why you like it so much and want a lot of it. All you can do with it is go in a shop and give it to the man there and he give you food and drink and other things.”
“But the more you have of it, the more things he’ll give you.”
“I have ninety-seventy… no, seventy-nine pound for seven days; Rockall Commission give me that. That is enough for everything I will need. Why want more?”
“Kerroj, you’re going to find that the world you’re in today is very different to the world you used to live in. You’re a civilized man now. You need to start thinking in a civilized way if you’re going to fit in with us. Your people were given the choice of staying in your caves or moving into the settlements. You chose to move into the settlements; every single one of you.”
“Not me!” replied Kerroj. “I did not! I want to live in caves and keep on with our own lifeway.”
“Well you were outvoted two hundred and ninety-nine to one.”
“Yes, I know; but I am their leader. Where Erkdwala choose to go, I must go too.” He looked down at his notebook, closed it and put it carefully back into his pouch. “Story is finished. Kayleigh will turn it into English for me then you and all others can read it.”
As if on cue, she then appeared, walking out of the church door with Reverend Hamilton and a bunch of scientists. Zach’s throat knotted and his stomach lurched. Before Zach could stop him, Kerroj had raised his hand in greeting and called out: “Hello, Reverend Hamilton and Kayleigh!”
They both turned and saw the two men sitting on the bench. Zach involuntarily shrank back. Kayleigh’s eyes met his and she remained totally composed. The young minister waved back and came walking over towards them with Kayleigh beside him. “Good evening, Kerroj. How are you today?”
“Very well, thank you. And you?”
“I’ve just been holding a party for the Advent readers. Are you having a chat with Zhadek?”
“No, he not want to talk today. I think he is busy.”
“A quiet chappie. Is he still happy with his grave?”
“It is strange for him.” said Kerroj.
“The Erkdwala traditionally don’t bury their dead on land.” said Kayleigh, looking at Zach. “They commit them to the sea in the deeps off Anderson Bay. That’s where they believe the portal lies to Atloi, Realm of the Ancestors.”
“Right; thanks.” he answered. Her voice lanced through his head like a hot needle. She hadn’t changed. Her hair had been cut and she had on a new winter jacket, but that was all.
“That’s why I wondered.” said Reverend Hamilton, smoothing down his white, cotton surplice. “Kerroj, do you think we should exhume his body and carry out another burial at sea?”
The old man shook his head. “No. It isn’t necessary now. Zhadek does not need; he is already in Atloi, good and safe.”
“Great. I’m glad he’s happy.” said Hamilton. He turned to Zach. “Hello again, Mr Neelum. Good to see you. Kerroj told me you’d be coming here today.”
“Did he?” Zach looked to the old chieftain, but Kerroj kept his gaze ahead of him.
“That’s right. He said you wanted to have a word with Kayleigh.”
“What!? I…” Kerroj had a half-smile on his face. “Right you are.” said Zach with an embarrassed grin. He looked and saw that Kayleigh wore the same expression.
Kerroj swiftly stood up and he and Reverend Hamilton began walking away. “Well, we have some business to sort out.” said the latter. “So we’ll be off now.” They entered the church, leaving Kayleigh and Zach alone. They both smiled at each other self-consciously. “So…” Kayleigh put her hands in her pockets and scuffed the ground with her feet. “How’s things?”
“I’m coping.”
“Me too.”
There was a long pause then Zach laughed and pointed to the church door. “Have those two set us up!?”
Kayleigh laughed too. “It does seem like it. Kerroj brought you here, didn’t he; and the chaplain just happened to ask me to meet him here at the same time.”
“I knew Kerroj was up to something! That sly, old fox!”
She hesitated. “Can I sit down?”
“Of course.” He shifted along the bench to make room for her. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You too.” She sat beside him and tucked her feet under the bench, rocking back and forth on her thighs.”
“I never imagined you’d say that after everything that’s happened.”
“I’ve been meaning to give you a call, Zach. I even went as far as picking up the ‘phone.”
“So you don’t hate me any more?”
“No. And the reason I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you was because I felt guilty for attacking you.”
“Guilty, Kayleigh!? I deserved it!”
“No, Zach. I was too hard on you that day; and the days after that.” It was you that persuaded Trevor to give up on his idea of abducting the Erkdwala to America.”
“Partly, but the real credit must go to you, Dill and the opposition. We had no idea it could be so strong, especially when Barbara did that kamikaze with the Range Rover.”
“I was the last person to see her alive, you know.” said Kayleigh half to herself. “She asked me to give her love to her friends.”
Zach bowed his head respectfully.
“You prevented a bloodbath the following morning, Zach.” she continued. “Barry and his mates had guns that they’d stolen from the plane. They wouldn’t have given the Erkdwala up without a fight.”
Zach raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “And now everything’s OK? The Erkdwala are back in their caves hunting ponies and eating seaweed like they have done for the last forty millennia?”
She smiled at his sarcasm. “No. That’s why I’ve formed an Erkdwala support group with Dill, Kerroj and Reverend Hamilton.”
“He’s a nice guy, the chaplain; he could almost have me born-again!”
“He is a very good guy. He’s a Christian with a tolerant, open mind and respect for other beliefs.”
There was a pause. “I went to see Keesa, Grayvin and little Karsk today.” said Zach. “Only they’ve changed their names to Kerry, Graham and Kevin!”
Kayleigh screwed up her face with distaste. “So I hear. They’re all doing it!”
“Grayvin’s working for a pittance on Trevor’s BGC labour initiative, Keesa’s become an alcoholic and the kids are being bullied at school.”
“Some of them won’t let me speak to them in their own language any more; they insist on using English. They’re obsessed with this new life in the settlements. I’m scared they’ll forget all their old ways and become totally absorbed into it.”
“This is deliberate!” said Zach, clicking his fingers. “I knew Trevor had a trick up his sleeve the night he came up with the idea. His amnesty stated that the Erkdwala would be allowed to return to their native residence and culture, if they chose to. We all assumed that they would and played right into Trevor’s hands! He made sure that before they went back, they were shown all the glories and comforts of modern civilization and, as he hoped, they were hypnotized by them. ‘You can go back to your hard, old, primitive life if you wish.’” He parodied Trevor’s voice. “’Or you can stay here and all these wonders can be yours!’ And it worked a treat! Look at them now!”
“I should have seen through it!” said Kayleigh. “We should never have trusted him!”
“We can’t blame ourselves, Kay. Trevor’s cunning knows no bounds.”
“What can we do?”
“Nothing, unless the Erkdwala come to their senses. At least old Kerroj wasn’t taken in.”
“Indeed.” Kayleigh kissed the air. “Thank God for Kerroj! He’s their only hope! The single remaining bond with their culture.”
“We’ve got a great opportunity coming up with the Rockall Summit.” stressed Zach. “We’re leaving tomorrow. It’s going to be hard work, but it’ll be very productive. I intend to put a word in for the Erkdwala.”
“I’m going down there with Kerroj to lobby.” said Kayleigh. “We must be careful to make sure Trevor doesn’t stitch the whole thing up.”
“Huh! He’ll have a job!”
“Yeah, Zach; but remember, you said it yourself, his cunning knows no bounds.”
Zach caught his breath as Kayleigh put her hand on his and squeezed it; her eyes melted into his brain.
“Take care, Zach.”
“You too.” he whispered back.
****************************************
Zach awoke suddenly when someone pulled back the curtains of his couchette with a rasp. The train had stopped and a metallic light filled the compartment from the window. Trevor’s head was half-lit like a planet in space. “Are we there yet?” asked Zach.
“No, this is Leicester. I’ve come to give you your first wake-up call. Here.” He held out a plastic cup of coffee.”
“I only need one wake-up call, thanks.” Zach glared at him and sat up, taking the coffee.
“When you’re compus mentis you can join me in the buffet and we’ll have a Q-and-A session.” He left without another word.
Zach looked out at the station platform. The clock said three-thirty-six AM. A cleaner was sweeping the concourse with a wire broom and a poster loomed over him advertising a newly-released film. The only sound was the snoring of his fellow passengers coming from behind the curtains of the other couchettes. With a jerk, the train began to move.
Trevor was the only other person in the train’s buffet car. As Zach sat down, Trevor offered him a hip flask. “Hair of the dog, Zach?”
“Not for me, ta.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trevor, I’m off the juice, OK?”
“What!? Don’t fool with me!”
“I am; I’ve decided. From now on, I’m a mineral water man.”
“Well, Zach… I’m impressed; surprised and impressed.”
“Shall we get on?”
“Alright.” Trevor picked up a sheet of A-four. “I’ll be the chair… Mr Neelum, I believe that several of our delegates are concerned by the amount of Commission capital you plan to invest in the Black Gold Consortium. The US Federal Reserve has already brought up eighteen or nineteen million dollars in shares; more than twice that of any British institution.”
“Well, Mr Chairman; the BGC has, is and always will be a viable and welcome asset to the Rockallian economy, don’t get me wrong here. I’m of the opinion that the Rockall Commission should always be in a position to sanctify a large proportion of its capital purely for the purchase of high-value stock. That proportion, however, has to be sized very carefully. We are a public organization, after all; set up by the UK government to administer all social and economic activity in the British Sector of the island, which is by definition time-consuming and expensive; but I think it necessary, considering that the market is so new. Rockall is still finding its economic feet, so to speak, and it needs the Commission nanny to guide it.”
“Mr Neelum, I’m aware of the obligation that the Commission holds towards the people of Rockall, and such an undertaking is commendable; however, I must insist that many of our delegates are concerned by the apparent priority slant your organization holds. Rockall is in effect the world’s biggest trade orchard. The fruit is ripe, but it seems that you only want to pick off two or three of the trees and spend the rest of the time powdering the feet of the other pickers. Why?”
“Without the pickers there would be no fruit. The Commission is a social organization…”
“But the fruit still must be collected before it falls and the Commission seems lethargic in its attitude towards getting out there and taking it. An awful lot of trade is going to waste. All our delegates are aware that the Commission holds the reins of the British contingent. It’s a very powerful organization; our investors must be reassured that it’s on their side.”
“Sir, please tell your investors that they need not be worried. The Rockall Commission champions the economic concerns of all. But we are talking about a virgin market. Rockall has potential; I’d swear to that! But it must be handled delicately; if not, long term prosperity may be destroyed in favour of short term gain.”
“What potential, if the Rockall Commission is setting this kind of example?”
“Mr Chairman, the island’s potential lies in what is being developed at the moment. Buildings, shops and industrial plants are still being constructed. There is also a lucrative niche for traditional highland industries like fisheries, crofting, and tweed. Along with this there is the promise of high productivity from the island’s indigenous people, the Erkdwala. I have prepared a statement…”
“What was that!?” Trevor snapped, slamming the paper down on the table.
“The Erkdwala, Mr Chairman. They…”
“Forget all that now, Zach; role-play over!... What did you say about the Erkdwala?”
Zach hesitated. “I’ve written a document about…”
“Bin it!”
“Now hang on, Trevor…”
“I said bin it!”
His sharp tone attracted the attention of the buffet server. “Trevor, will you listen…?”
“NO!... I’m the Governor of Rockall! I’m in charge and I say BIN IT!... For the duration of this summit, the savages do not exist! Is that clear!?”
Zach’s face tingled and his limbs trembled.
“I said is that clear!?”
“Yes.” he whimpered.
Trevor paused then smiled. “Good.”
****************************************
The train slowly pulled into London's St Pancras station at six AM and the tousled passengers disembarked onto the dark, freezing platform. Trevor and Zach walked side by side up the concourse, dragging their suitcases behind them. Trevor wore a poker-face.
They took a cab to the Kensington Hilton. The streets of London looked strange to Zach, having not left Rockall in over two years. The tall buildings fascinated him, their facades sprinkled with frost and glowing a hellish orange in the streetlight. The taxi queued behind lorries and delivery vans, huge clouds issuing from their exhaust pipes. A cluster of newsmen were waiting outside the hotel and as the taxi drew up they mobbed it. Flashbulbs flickered in Zach’s eyes and reporters bombarded them with questions as he and Trevor fought their way into the lobby. “No comment! No comment!” he yelled at them, unable to hear his own voice above their clamour. As the doors closed, shutting them out Trevor said: “If we’d flown it would have been a lot worse. Most of them are at the airport.” It was the first time he had spoken since their conversation in the buffet car.
Zach’s en suite bedroom was large and sumptuous. He shaved, had a shower and pinned his delegate’s name badge to his left breast pocket. He smiled at himself in the mirror and read the decorated writing on the gold-plated badge: TIMMUS LLAKCOR – MULEEN YRAHCAZ.
At nine o’clock, Trevor and Zach boarded a Rolls Royce in the hotel car park, thus avoiding the press scrummage outside. A few camera lenses bumped against the windows as the car drove out, but the tinted glass shielded the interior from view. A police motorcade escorted them to North Greenwich and the site of the Rockall Summit. Security was incredibly tight. A legion of armed police had sealed off several square miles of East London and the car had to stop at a checkpoint before being allowed through. Helicopters chattered overhead and the river beyond was patrolled by naval torpedo boats. There was a horde of several hundred protesters assembled at the edge of the no-go zone. Zach couldn’t hear their chants from inside the soundproof car, but he looked round to read their placards:
FREEDOM FOR ROCKALL!
HUMAN LIFE- NOT GREED!
LET THE ERKDWALA LIVE!
B.G.C. OUT!- CAPITALISM OUT!- ROCKALL FOR THE PEOPLE!
ROCKALL IS THE ERKDWALA HOMELAND! A row of riot police, hunched shoulder-to-shoulder, held them back behind a junction. “Damn women!” snapped Trevor. “They should go out and get a job!”
Zach scanned the faces of the multitude as the car passed through the security shield and thought he caught a glimpse of Kayleigh.
The Millennium Institute stood on a finger of land girdled by the river Thames. The dome that used to stand there had been replaced by a series of low, white-tile, black-glass buildings. The grounds were dotted with lawns and surrealist sculptures. In summer the flowerbeds would be a blaze of colour, but today they were just mounds of black, frosted soil. Policemen and soldiers lined the river wall like a terracotta army. Trevor and Zach got out of the car and looked across the river at the skyscraper-riddled horizon of the docklands. The sky was cloudless and porcelain-blue, but the air stung with cold. “Look.” Trevor pointed to the west and Zach saw another helicopter flying in low over the river, escorted by two US Army gunships, their rotors slicing the morning air, their racket reverberating off the tile walls. “What’s that?” asked Zach.
The Governor grinned tight-lipped. “Selby.”
“The US president is attending!?”
“Yes.”
“I never heard anything about that.”
“No one has yet.”
“Blooming heck! They really take our little island seriously, don’t they?”
“Our little island?” Trevor tittered and patted Zach’s shoulder.
The warmth inside the heated building was like an oven after being outdoors. The delegates were all shown to a lounge furnished with velvet settees where white-suited butlers and maids served them with coffee. There were a couple of amusing thematic touches to the room on a sideboard: A stuffed puffin, fulmar and juvenile gannet or guga; various lumps of mineral and photographs, including one of Trevor and Zach at First Landing. Zach was pleased to see the Rockall Triumvirate hanging on the wall.
Trevor left Zach’s side at this point and seemed to come into his own, taking on a completely different demeanour. He circulated around the clusters of suited men and women, chatting and laughing genially. When President Selby walked in with the Prime Minister and Ross Quentin, Trevor was one of the first at his side.
“Our Great Leader! Quite the little politician, isn’t he?”
Zach turned to see Dill standing beside him. “Dill!”
“Hiya, Zach.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Hitched a ride with Ross.” He smiled and pointed to his gold badge.
“I didn’t know you’d been invited.”
“I’m not here with the Commission. I came as an independent observer for the Christian Union of Scotland; Reverend Hamilton wangled me in.”
“Well, don’t tell Trevor that!” Zach giggled.
“I know! He’s going to be well pissed off to see me here! I won’t let on I’m just a silent observer.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not silent with me anymore.”
“Kayleigh told me you’ve got something planned for the Erkdwala.”
“Er… yes, I have.”
“Besides, I owe you one for helping save them; we all do.”
Zach only half-heard him, remembering what Trevor had said on the train.
“Did you see Kayleigh just now outside?”
“I think so.”
“Kerroj is here too! I wonder what he thinks of London!... They’re both here to lobby the delegates to support the Erkdwala; but your position should make their actions superfluous!” He slapped Zach’s shoulder. “Slay ‘em in there, Zach!” He walked away to rejoin Quentin.
Zach wished fervently that he could vanish into thin air.
At around ten the conference was called to order and the delegates diffused into the central chamber for the first session. A lone bagpiper played on the stage as they took their seats in the converted theatre. There were about a thousand guests and name cards on the backs of seats dictated where everyone sat. There was a speaker’s podium on the stage and a long table for the chairman and VIP delegates which was turned to face the audience like an altar in a church. Above the stage hung four, backlit black-and-white photographs of Rockall panoramas: The Eastern Capes, Rockall Port harbour, the Green Port domes and the departed Roosevelt Skerries. There were no photographers or reporters present; the entire two-week conference was to be held in camera.
Most of the other delegates were unknown to Zach; government and senior civil-service people mostly, but a few were in military uniform. Zach took his place on the front row and looked over his shoulder. There was no sign of Trevor. The seats were almost full now except for a three block row at the front in the centre which was labelled “Reserved”, presumably for the British cabinet and senior American officials.
At last the Governor of Rockall made his entrance, walking down the aisle between President Selby and Craig Weller, the British Prime Minister. The president said something which must have been extremely funny because Trevor threw back his head, laughed loudly and clapped him on the shoulder in a chummy kind of way. He shook both their hands warmly then left as they took their seats on the stage.
“How’s your backache?” asked Zach as Trevor sat down next to him.
“Backache? I don’t have backache.”
“That’s surprising ‘cos you’ve spent the last hour bent double kissing arse.”
Trevor chuckled in the back of his throat. “Zach, when you’ve learnt more about statesmanship you’ll realize that the real action goes on outside the hall, in the cafeteria and bar between sessions and at social evenings. I was merely exercising a little diplomacy.”
“You looked ridiculous! Do you realize how transparent you are?”
“To you perhaps, but you know me. Weller and Selby are strangers to all and never have any genuine discourse to compare with strategic inducement. I think I’ve got those two under my thumb.”
Zach snorted and shook his head.
The last people to arrive were some of the UK cabinet ministers, US Vice-President and various other second-row officials. Zach expected them to sit in the “Reserved” seating, but they didn’t. The piper stopped playing and left. “Trevor?”
“What?” He looked up from his notes
“Who are those seats reserved for?”
He turned back to his briefcase. “You’ll see.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” called the chairman over the loudspeaker. “Welcome to the Rockall Summit of Twenty-thirteen. Greetings to Mr Craig Weller, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom; and to Mr Glenmar Selby, President of the United States.” A young woman interpreted his sentences into Gaelic, reminiscent of the Eurovision Song Contest. “Before we begin, let us rise and sing the national anthems of our two great countries.” They had God Save The Queen first then The Star-Spangled Banner. (The programme stated that at the end of the conference the order would be reversed.) Afterwards they all sat down again and Zach turned to Page One of the agenda, expecting the summit to begin, but nothing happened. There was absolute stillness and silence in the room. He panned his eyes around, but the delegates were like a tableau. “What’s going on, Trevor?”
“Shh!” The Governor waved him down.
“But, Trevor…”
“Shut up, Zach! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep quiet!”
Selby and Weller rose from their seats and stood petrified facing the front. Something about the look on their faces induced a shiver of dread in Zach. More people began to enter the chamber from the side. They were clad in identical black suits like a team of undertakers. They walked across the front of the stage and took their places in the “reserved” section; there were the exact number of seats in the block for all of them. After they’d taken their seats, the two heads-of-government sat down. The chair came up to the podium to make his introductory speech and the session then began as normal.
The late-arrivers never spoke to conference or to each other and just sat impassively like a theatre audience. They all wore dark glasses and were a nondescript group of all ages; mostly men, but with one or two women. Three or four were black and one Chinese or Japanese. After the peculiar ceremony of their arrival most of the delegation seemed strangely unaware of them, treating them as if they were part of the furniture. Zach couldn’t concentrate on any of the proceedings for the whole two-hour session. At the end there was another minute of respectful silence as the black-suited people rose and left the hall through the same side door.
Zach ate quietly at a table with a bunch of Americans who talked amongst themselves about fishery taxes. Trevor was grooming the VIP’s again and never came near him. Dill was nowhere to be seen. It was only during the afternoon coffee break that Zach met up with him again in the toilets. Zach was urinating when Dill popped up beside him. “Oh.” said Zach. “There you are.”
“Shh! Just keep pissing!”
“Bloody hell! Everybody’s shushing me today!”
“Who are they!?” Dill whispered. His jaw was tight and his eyes darted from side to side.
“Who are who?”
“Those Mafiosi!”
“No idea. I asked Trevor and he wouldn’t tell me. I hoped you might know.”
“Zach! We just witnessed two men, who are supposed to be the most powerful in the world, stand to attention like lackeys and kiss their boots!”
“I know; I don’t get it either…” He broke off as someone entered the toilets and vanished into a cubicle. “I’ll see if I can get anything out of Trevor.”
“Zach.” Dill visibly trembled. “We shouldn’t have come here! It’s dangerous!”
“Get away, Dill! We’re delegates. We were invited.”
The younger man breathed deeply.
“Look; wait until Trevor makes his speech. If you can sit through that then you can endure anything!”
Dill smiled tensely. “OK, but… be careful, Zach.”
****************************************
Maybe he’s forgotten what he told me on the train. Zach put down his notes and turned on the TV. A news reporter was interviewing Kerroj. “So what’s it like to be in a big city, Mr Kerroj?”
Kerroj didn’t reply and turned to take in the busy street behind him. “Wonder… wonder…” he murmured.
“The wonders of technology? Yes; I suppose it must be very different to the kind of lifestyle you’re used to.”
“Very different.” the old chieftain affirmed with a scowl.
Zach saw Kayleigh standing in the background looking irritated.
There was a loud knock on his bedroom door. “Zach?” It was Trevor’s voice. Zach snapped off the TV and opened the door. The Governor of Rockall pushed past him. “Right, Zach; I just came over to check that things are going swimmingly.”
“Fine, Trevor, fine. I’m just rehearsing my speech for tomorrow.”
“Have you?” he chuckled; there was a tense and forced tone to his voice that alerted Zach. “Silly! You shouldn’t have bothered. I’ve written your speech; here it is.” He handed Zach a sheaf of papers.
Zach flicked through them. “Hang on. What’s this?”
“It’s the speech you’re going to make at conference tomorrow.”
“This isn’t what I want to say!”
“Yes, it is.”
There was a pause. “Trevor, I gave you the stuff I’d written and told you that’s what I was going to table; about the Erkdwala’s decline…”
“I read it, Zach; I reviewed it thoroughly and I don’t feel comfortable with you presenting it.”
“But… the Erkdwala need to maintain elements of their traditional culture if they’re going to survive in society!”
“Rubbish! They need to completely break with their past and embrace the modern world in order to thrive in it! That’s what’s been happening and it’s been very successful!”
“It hasn’t! The adults have hit the bottle and the kids are having the shit kicked out of them at school!”
“The savages are being successfully rehabilitated!” said Trevor firmly. “Rehabilitated under my programme, one that is going to give them a much better life!”
“I disagree!”
“No you don’t! You agree and you support this effort; and furthermore, tomorrow you’re going to stand up, smile and tell everyone at the summit that you do! Understand!?”
“Why can’t I read my own statement and encourage a debate on the subject?”
“This is your own statement!” Trevor pointed at the pile of papers that he’d just given him. “And what debate? There is nothing to debate! Everyone is unanimously agreed that the savages are coming along fine and dandy!”
“I’m not agreed!”
“Yes, you are!” Trevor poked a finger at his face. “You are because I say you are! I am the Governor of Rockall and Head-in-situ of the Rockall Commission! You will do what I tell you, say what I tell you and think what I tell you!... And I’m telling you that if you don’t want me to call Greg Slydes, you will present this information positively and enthusiastically at the Rockall Summit tomorrow!..." He paused, panting and flushed with arousal "...‘Yes, Your Excellency'!”
Zach’s face broiled as he stared into Trevor’s eyes.
“SAY IT!” he screamed, so loudly that the china teacups rattled on the sideboard.
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Zach growled.
There was a long silence. The anger slowly subsided from Trevor’s countenance and he smiled. “Jolly good.” He patted his Deputy-Governor on the shoulder like a dog and left the room.
Zach sat down on the bed and stared at the wall, fighting back tears. A few minutes later, the ‘phone rang making him jump. He picked it up. “Hel…” He coughed. “Hello?”
“Hi, Zach! It’s Dill. You all set for tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too! I’m looking forward to it! It’ll be great when you get on that podium, break through all that bureaucratic gloss and put the world to rights!”
“Yeah.”
“The Erkdwala deserve our respect and protection. Conference will have to face the issue.”
“Yeah.”
Dill paused. “Are you OK, Zach? You sound a bit poorly.”
"I’m fine, Dill. See you tomorrow.” He put down the ‘phone and picked up Trevor’s speech. He stood up and looked at his own face in the mantle mirror for a moment then began rehearsing aloud: “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve come before you today to talk about one of the Rockall Commission’s greatest achievements: The successful integration into modern society of a degenerate race of prehistoric savages…”
****************************************
Zach only slept for about two hours that night. His light slumber washed through with surreal nightmares of dungeons and torture; his limbs mutilated or set on fire. He gave up in the early hours and went to stand by his bedroom window looking down on the sleeping streets. Drunk, laughing youths staggered along the pavement and police sirens echoed around the canyons of the city. He fell into a kind of stupor where he stood and it seemed the next minute when his alarm clock bleeped. A spasm of rage coursed through his head and he lashed out at the device with his foot. It flew against the wall and shattered.
Zach couldn’t bear the sight of his own face as he shaved; he looked away from the mirror and ended up cutting himself; he dug the razor in harder, relishing the pain. Blood plopped into the washbasin. At breakfast he just sat and stared at his plate, feeling nauseous.
Time seemed to be running faster than usual; the next thing he knew he was in the back seat of the Rolls, being driven through the streets of London. He stared at the protesters, straining through the chanting mob for a glimpse of Kayleigh. He saw her and misery filled him like poison. My lovely Kayleigh. Please forgive me.
“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Trevor from the seat next to him.
“Nothing; I’m fine.”
“Well you don’t look it. Get a damn grip, Zach! We must present a confident and vigorous image to our fellow representatives. You are a confident and vigorous man, are you not?”
“Hm.” He nodded.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Trevor.”
“Good. Now when the PM walks in, sit up straight and smile.”
For the morning session, the conference was broken up into smaller workshops which met in many of the little meeting rooms that lined the gallery; each one dealing with a specific issue concerning Rockall. Trevor attended a workshop on reassessing the amount of land divided between the British and Americans, (a matter that was always being hotly debated. Both countries believed that the borderline was out of place from anything between a mile and sixteen inches.) There were a series of industrial workshops on crofting, fishing, tweed manufacture and of course the oil wells. There was a caucus for the military and security delegates, a Gaelic language workshop, an education and employment workshop, a healthcare workshop and one on the Erkdwala to which Trevor deployed Zach.
Dill sat opposite him at the table; as an observer he wasn’t allowed to contribute. Zach gazed down at the teak tabletop not raising his head, afraid to meet Dill’s eyes. He could guess what he was thinking: Come on, Zach! Say something! Aren’t you going to contest that motion!? What’s wrong!? Why don’t you speak!? One of the men from the “Reserved” seats stood in the corner looking on; motionless and disregarded by everyone, he could have been a statue. “So, shall we take a vote?” said the chair at the end of the session. “Those in favour of continuing the current McCain Rehabilitation Programme…”
Zach had to summon up all his energy to raise his hand, sickness flooding his system. He heard Dill snort in shock and disgust.
“And those against… So that’s carried then. This committee recommends that existing policy remains in place; approved by thirty-three votes to four.”
The moment the chair announced the end of the workshop Zach leaped out of his seat and fled from the room. He wasn’t fast enough; a hand roughly seized his shoulder, spun him round and jammed him against the wall. “Right! Start talking!” Dill’s face looked more hurt than angry.
“I… had to, Dill.” he whined. “Trevor made me do it.”
“How!? By holding a gun to your head!?”
“If I don’t support the McCain Rehab he’ll… he’ll sack me.”
Dill hesitated. “The fate of Europe’s most ancient culture is in your hands, Zach! Only you have the power to veto Trevor! You can’t do this!”
“I have to! My job’s on the line here! I won’t jeopardize my future!... Don't worry, the Erkdwala will be OK.”
Dill released his hold and stepped back; a bitter sneer creased his features. “You weasel! You double-crossing, little turd! I should have guessed you’d wimp out as soon as your precious, bloody career was threatened! Kayleigh was right about you!”
“K… Kayleigh?”
“Trevor’s got you eight inches up his arse! Always has, always will!... The Erkdwala culture is doomed, but who cares!? You’ll still be Governor one day! You’re pathetic!” He strutted off.
“Yes.” choked Zach to himself as the other delegates walked off to lunch. “I am.”
Zach spent most of his lunch hour vomiting into the toilet as if his self-loathing could be retched from his body. The bell rang, making him jump. This was it; the afternoon session was about to begin. Time to do what he had to do. He felt numb and dizzy as he made his way to his seat. Trevor was already there and greeted him with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, Zach; are you alright?”
He nodded.
“You look a trifle queasy.”
“I’ll be OK.”
“Zach, listen.” He paused. “I think I was a bit hard on you last night. I shouldn’t have sounded off so sharply. I know this whole issue is important to you and your friends, but… my plan is for the best. You’ll see in the long run that we’re actually doing the savages a good turn. You understand what I’m saying?”
He nodded.
“Good man! You’ve got the speech?”
He nodded.
“Wonderful!” He tapped his shoulder. “Do me proud, Zach!”
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” called the chairman. “Please turn to item six on your agenda: Management of the indigenous culture on Rockall. The lead-off will be read by Zachary Neelum, Deputy-Governor of Rockall (British Sector.)”
There was a light round of applause as Zach walked up to the podium. His head spun and his limbs tingled; his mouth was dry and numb. He placed the speech on the lectern and adjusted the microphone. “Erm…” His voice echoed around the concrete chamber. “La… Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve come before you today to talk about… about… about…” His mind churned and his tongue and lips seized up. The crowd started muttering. “I can’t do it!” Zach faltered. “I’m sorry, Trevor; but it’s not fair! Rockall’s indigenous culture is going to be destroyed unless we end the McCain Rehabilitation Programme!”
There was an explosion of astonished chatter from the audience.
“Order! Order! Quiet please!” demanded the chair. “Proceed, Mr Neelum.”
“I’ve been working with the Erkdwala and I’ve seen the state they’re in. The adults have fallen into alcoholism and the children can’t integrate at school. They are withering, both physically and psychologically. Latest estimates date the landing on Rockall by the Erkdwala at fifty thousand years BC; the world’s oldest nation. This makes them a unique and immensely precious people whom the rest of humanity can learn so much from.
“I propose a motion that we shelve the McCain programme and replace it with a modified policy that respects and upholds the value of this ancient and noble race and actively promotes an interest among the Erkdwala in preserving their own way of life, rather than inducing them to cast it aside in favour of our own. Erkdwala adults should not be forced into slave-labour employment with the Black Gold Consortium…”
There was a roar of derision from the BGC delegation and the chair had to once again bring them to order.
“Instead these people should be allowed to provide for themselves in their traditional ways and barter their surplus for modern commodities only if they choose. Erkdwala children should not be forced into mainstream education and should be permitted home-teaching from their own elders in their own fashion. Their former residence in the Eastern Capes should be reopened and the people encouraged to return and live there.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Erkdwala’s interaction with western civilization is inevitable and not an inherently bad thing, so long as it is carefully controlled and the needs of the recipients made a top priority. Let this interaction with modern culture be on a one-to-one basis instead of an exercise in aggressive conformism. The fate suffered by the natives of America, Africa and Australia should have taught us a tragic and invaluable lesson. Now is the time to employ what we’ve learned. I second!”
There was total and complete uproar. Zach was deafened by a thousand voices resonating around the chamber; some booing in protest, some cheering in support. Paper missiles arced through the air. He puffed and panted; everything seemed far away as his consciousness waned. He collapsed to a sitting position on the floor. Half a dozen people clustered round him to help. Arms lifted him onto a chair. The last thing he heard before blacking out was the chairman’s shout through the microphone. “Order! Order!”
When Zach woke up he was lying on a settee in the deserted lounge, sipping water from a cup held out to him by a first-aider, one of the waiters. He tried to get up, but the man stopped him. “Easy, Mate, easy! Just lie still and relax, yeah? You took cold in the hall; some of your pals helped you through.”
Zach looked around him and saw a dozen people standing in a circle; one of them was the Governor of Rockall. “I’m sorry, Trevor.” he croaked.
“Leave us!” he barked.
Everybody turned and padded obediently away as if they’d been waiting for his cue. The first-aider stood up and carried on collecting dirty cups.
Trevor strode backwards and forwards across the carpet for a minute with his hands behind his back. He stopped by one of the large windows overlooking the river. “How long have we known each other, Zach?”
“Dunno.”
“I do; twelve years. We met on June the Sixteenth, Twenty-oh-one at twelve-fifteen PM. You were in the queue at the cafeteria in the MAFF in Oxford. I was standing behind you. You didn’t have enough money for your sausage and beans so I lent you seventy pence. Since that day, I don’t think a week has past when we’ve been apart… That’s a far better record than my parents; I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father twice in the same month!”
Zach rolled upright and put his feet on the floor. “Trevor…”
He held up his finger to cut him off. “Do you remember the night we first came up with the idea of a Rockall landing? It was October the Twenty-fifth that same year. We were in the Black Swan in Basildon at a CPSA social. We were so excited we wrote down our plans on a beer mat. I’ve still got it, you know, in the second drawer of my office desk. We took our idea to old Hollander and he approved it with the Government. Project Rockall was born and we were allowed to work on it full time. After six years of non-stop work we stepped onto the shores of Rockall. Our island.”
“So we thought.”
“So we knew!” He swung round to face him. “Have you really forgotten the dreams we shared!? Our plans blossoming into reality! Our life’s work… which you’ve just thrown away!”
“But back then we didn’t know!”
“Know what!? About the savages!?”
“Rockall has a native human population! We couldn’t just continue oblivious to that!”
“Why not!? The Erkdwala are an aberration! The last hiding place of barbarism! It was a glitch that we could have contained and erased! Their ways will not survive whatever anyone does! You know that, Zach!”
“I couldn’t do that speech, Trevor!”
“You could, but you chose not to, because you’re a mindless do-gooder like Dill! Strung along by Kayleigh with the promise of a grope in the dark!”
“That’s not true! It was my decision! I’ve got no regrets!”
“You will have.” said Trevor quietly.
“Why? Are you sacking me?”
“Yes.” There was a long pause. “We’ve been up to this point several times in our relationship, but never past it until now… You’ve betrayed the project, you’ve betrayed the people it represents… and you’ve betrayed me! Your career in the Commission is over, Zach. I’ve already been on the ‘phone to Greg Slydes. He is now the new Deputy-Governor of Rockall (British Sector).”
It was a moment Zach would remember for the rest of his life. His worst nightmare had finally come true; and it wasn’t a nightmare at all. “I don’t care.” he said.
Trevor gaped at him. “What did you say!?”
“I said I don’t care, Trevor.”
“You don’t mean that! You’re bluffing!”
“No, I’m not.” He took out his wallet, fingered off a few coins and dropped them onto the carpet at Trevor’s feet. “There. That’s the seventy P’ I borrowed when we first met; I never paid you back, did I?” He walked out of the room without looking back. Dill was waiting for him outside.
***************************************
Along with his dismissal, Zach was barred from the remainder of the Rockall Summit and booted out of the Kensington Hilton. Dill managed to book him a room at the guest house in Hammersmith where Kayleigh and Kerroj were staying. He drove Zach down there and when he pulled up, Kayleigh was waiting for him outside the door. She came over and hugged him. “Thank you, Zach!”
“Trevor’s given me the bullet.”
“I know. Zach’s ‘phoned me and told me everything. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be; I’m not. It’s surprising really, but I’m almost glad. I feel quite liberated in a way.”
“Well, I respect you for sticking up for us.”
Dill stuck his head out of the car window. “I’m going back to the conference so I can hear the result of the vote.” He drove away.
Kayleigh took Zach to a nearby pub where Kerroj, Calum and Carol were waiting. They all greeted him very warmly and brought him drinks and a meal. “We’ve got to keep you fed until your first dole cheque comes through!” laughed Kayleigh.
“I just hope my speech made a difference to the vote.” said Zach. “I can't take full credit for it you know. I’m afraid I nicked some of Dill’s best lines!”
“I don’t suppose he’ll mind under the circumstances!” chuckled Kayleigh. “What was the summit like?”
“A music-hall farce!” he replied. “Everything’s already been decided by the Governorship! The summit is nothing but a stage-play to make us all think we’re part of the decision-making process! That’s why Trevor fired me; ‘cos I refused to stick to the prearranged outcome!”
“You deviated from the script.” said Carol.
“Exactly!”
“Are you alright, Kerroj?” asked Kayleigh.
The old Erkdwala chieftain was sitting at the head of the table with a vacant, feverish look in his eyes. He had been coughing loudly during the conversation.
“Kayleigh!” said Zach. “You haven’t put him on the beer have you?”
“God, no! He’s drunk pineapple juice all night… Kerroj!?”
“I am… well, Kayleigh.” the old man finally responded. “A bit… what is the word?... I want to go back to Arkdwa… Rockall.”
“You’re homesick?”
“Yes, yes! Homesick. This place called London is bad for me. The air is dirty to breathe; like fire-smoke in the cave.”
“We call it ‘pollution’.” said Zach.
“There is too much loud sound here. Cars, busses and air-planes flying up there.” Kerroj pointed at the ceiling. “And noise that comes from this thing.” He gestured at the pub juke box.
“But that’s music.” said Zach. “It’s meant to be enjoyable to listen to.”
“No! Not to me, Mr Neelum! It makes my ears have pain.”
“I’ll ask the landlord to turn it down.” said Carol.
“The worst thing is that in London the cheaxan is weak.”
“The which?”
“The cheaxan. There is not an English word for this thing.”
“Cheaxan.” Kayleigh repeated to herself. “I’ve heard you mention this before, but I’ve never understood what it meant.”
“Cheaxan is…” Kerroj picked up Kayleigh’s mobile ‘phone. “This lives because it has… elec...”
“Electricity. It’s the energy we use to make our machines work.”
“Electricity, yes! Cheaxan is electricity for people and animals and plants, and land and sea, and Earth and universe.”
“Do you mean spirit energy, like what Dill talks about? Some people call it Orgone.”
“Yes. Dill knows!”
“Look, Kerroj; you’ll be fine.” said Zach. “All you need is a cup of tea, a bite to eat and a good night’s sleep. There’s no such thing as spirit energy.”
“I’m not so sure, Zach.” said Kayleigh. Her ‘phone began ringing and Kerroj handed it back to her. “Hello?... Yes, Dill…Hold up, what’s happened?” Her face fell. “Oh, shit no!... Didn’t anyone say anything!?... OK, we’re in the pub.” She ended the call and put the ‘phone down on the table with a trembling hand. Her face was white.
“What’s up, Kay?” asked Zach.
“That was Dill; he’s on his way back.”
When Dill walked red-faced into the bar, the first thing he did was order a large spirit and gulp it down.
“What happened, Dill?” asked Zach. “Was it the vote?”
He shook his head. “The whole thing’s a swizz! Your effort was a waste of time!”
“So we lost the vote?”
“No; we won the vote!”
“I don’t understand.”
Zach gulped down another short. “The chair read out the results and declared that the McCain programme was to be scrapped. The delegates had voted six hundred and seventy-six to five hundred and twelve… Then one of those Men-in-Black from the reserved seating stood up and went like this.” He held his fist out with the thumb downwards. “The chair saw him and said: ‘Oh, sorry; I made a mistake. I meant to say six hundred and seventy-six against the shelving of the McCain programme and five hundred and twelve in favour. The existing programme will continue.’! And no bugger batted an eyelid! I went up to an official afterwards and requested to see the ballot papers; he said they’d been thrown away! I made a formal objection to the chair and he asked me what I was talking about!”
“Bloody hell! So those Men-in-Black…”
“Yes! They overruled a democratic decision by simply sticking out a thumb! And none of the delegates gave a toss!”
There was a long pause then Kayleigh said: “I think it’s time we found out who these Men-in-Black really are.”
****************************************
Freezing fog hung over London, slurring the tangerine streetlamps. A car calmly negotiated the early morning traffic, threading its way eastwards through Westminster and The City. It sped up when it hit the East India Dock Road; the murk twisted into vortices around its wing mirrors. It reached the bridge crossing the river Lea at its confluence with the Thames and disappeared down a narrow street between two concrete warehouses. The street ended at a river wall. The prow of a moored container ship sheltered the lane. It was here that the car parked and stopped its engine. The roadside window rolled down and a pair of hands appeared holding binoculars.
“Do we have to have the window open; it’s bloody freezing!” moaned Zach.
“It’s too icy to see through the glass.” said Kayleigh.
“I know! Some of it’s forming on my eyeballs!”
“It’ll warm up in a couple of hours; do your jacket up tight.”
“Thanks for the advice!” He looked past her profile, the car, the wall and the ship, across the river to the Millennium Institute complex. A few specks were visible like crawling mites: Police and security staff on patrol. A police boat cruised back and forth on the river beside the far bank.
“This is quite exciting, isn’t it?” said Kayleigh.
“Yeah; it reminds me of The Professionals.”
“Eh?”
“It was a TV series on when I was a kid. Bodie and Doyle were these two detectives who used to drive cars through upstairs windows and shoot bad guys and stuff. Martin Shaw was in it.”
“What, that old feller? Judge John Deed?... Ah, yes! I remember the programme you mean now. I watched it once on UK Gold.” She chuckled. “Showing your age now, Zach!”
He fought back a cringe, but Kayleigh picked it up.
“Sorry, Zach; didn’t mean to say you were…”
“Old? Well, I am I suppose. I’m forty-one.”
“Well, I’m not much younger: I’m thirty now; blimey!”
“That’s a lot younger, believe me!... How old is Dill?”
“Dunno. Twenty-four, twenty-five; something like that. Why?”
“No reason; I just wondered.”
She shrugged and looked away.
The sky brightened, the stars faded and eventually the crimson haze of the sun dyed the eastern horizon. Activity increased over the institute; more police showed up. By nine AM the sun was blinding, making it difficult for Zach and Kayleigh to pick out the first delegates as they arrived. “There’s Dill.” Kayleigh refocused her binoculars. “I can see him getting out of a car.”
“Right.” Zach folded his arms and sighed.
The summit attendees were all inside by nine-thirty and the activity died down again. “So what time do these guys show up?” asked Kayleigh.
“About ten, just when the morning session’s about to start.”
“So we’re looking for a coach or bus or something.”
“Probably; there’s at least thirty of them… Perhaps they’ll arrive by chopper or boat.”
“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. I wish we could speak to Dill and find out what’s going on inside!”
There was a long silence. “You like Dill, don’t you?” said Zach.
“Yes, of course I like him. Don’t you?”
“Not in the same way you do.”
She lowered her binoculars and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Kay. He’s young, brave, handsome, bright. He’s been a bosom buddy to you over this Erkdwala business. Besides which he’s absolutely smitten by you!”
She smiled thinly and blushed. “Dill’s a friend.”
“Like me?”
“Yes, Zach. Why are we talking like this?”
“Because…” He ran a hand over his embarrassed face. He’d started so he might as well finish. “Kay… this is the first time I’ve sat with you for any length of time and spoken to you alone since this whole affair began. When we split up.”
She sighed. “Zach, we might well have split up anyway, even if we hadn’t fallen out.”
“Might we?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why ask why? I don’t know!” She sounded irritated. “It wasn’t working out.”
“But why?”
“Sometimes it doesn’t, Zach; that’s just the way things are.”
Zach paused for a long time. “Well, I’m an oldie now, aren’t I? Getting a bit flabby and grey! You’ll be looking to trade me in for a younger model!”
“That’s got nothing to do with it! I enjoyed the time we were together.”
“Yeah! All three months of it!”
Zach… I’m not suggesting that you’re unattractive or that I wanted something better… I just wasn’t cut out for a relationship then; or now... Maybe I never will be again.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Not for me. I’m happier that way.”
“And what about Dill?”
“What about him?” She raised her binoculars again.
“From the second you met him on the Kenneth McAlpin, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you! Talk about Cupid’s arrow!”
She sighed from behind the double lenses. “I can’t help the way Dill feels and neither can he. I’m not enjoying his attention you know, Zach!... I hope he’ll meet someone one day who’ll feel the same way about him.”
“You once told me that nobody will ever have him ‘cos he’s too nice.”
“What!? When did I say that!?”
“Years ago; when we were in the tents.”
She began to retort then stopped herself and began again. “I’ve changed a bit since then, Zach.”
“You mean you fancy him?”
“No; I don’t fancy him! I just don’t… not-fancy him in the same way I used to… There’s no such thing as ‘too nice’. Being caring and sensitive doesn’t turn me off the way it used to. It’s not unmasculine to treat a woman with affection and respect.”
“Most girls think it is.”
“I know; I used to be one of them, but like I said, I’ve changed. A lot’s happened to me since then. It’s made me see things differently.”
“So then why aren’t you shagging Dill?”
“Do you have to put it like that!?”
“Sorry. I meant to say: Why aren’t you in a relationship with my esteemed ex-colleague?”
“I’ve told you; I’m happy being single.”
He paused. “Right.”
****************************************
It was half past eleven; Kayleigh and Zach had kept the Millennium Institute under close observation for two and a half hours, but the men-in-black hadn’t shown up. They drove back to Hammersmith and met up with Carol and Calum in the pub. “Where’s Kerroj?” asked Kayleigh.
“Still in bed.” said Carol. “Said he wasn’t feeling very well. He skipped breakfast this morning too.”
“He’s not himself, you know. The sooner we get him home the better.”
“Aye.”
Zach’s ‘phone rang and he answered to Dill. “Did you see them?” asked the latter.
“The Men-in-Black? No; they’re not there.”
He heard Dill huff. “Sorry?”
“No one arrived after you lot. We waited till half-eleven.”
“But, Zach; they did! They’re here! They came in at the usual time; you must have missed them.”
“We did not, Dill! We never took our eyes off the place; I swear!”
“Then… how did they get past you!?”
“Maybe Scotty beamed them down.”
“This is serious, Zach!”
“Well, how else could they have slipped inside?”
Dill sighed. “The Men-in-Black are here; fact! You didn’t see them arrive; fact!”
“Maybe there’s a tunnel.”
“Leading where?”
“I don’t know.”
He paused. “Me neither, but we must do something soon! They’ve just quashed two more resolutions! Erkdwala women are now going to have to work on the oil field as well!”
“Shit! OK, Dill; I’ll find out what I can.” He ended the call and looked up to see the others staring at him. “We’d better go and have a word with Kerroj. Somehow the Men-in-Black got past me and Kayleigh and they’re raising merry Hell in there!”
They went to the guest house, climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of Kerroj’s room. There was no answer. “Kerroj! Open the door!” She rapped on it with her fist. “Kerroj!” She pushed the door and entered the room. The old Erkdwala chieftain was lying on his back, his eyes closed and motionless; his face was white and drawn. “Oh, God!” Kayleigh gasped and dashed to his side. “Kerroj! Wake up! Please!” She grasped his throat. “He’s still got a pulse! Thank you, God! Call an ambulance, Zach; quickly!”
The ambulance arrived ten minutes later and a pair of paramedics got straight to work attaching monitor lines and an oxygen mask, fitting it onto his bearded face with elastic cords. Kayleigh and Zach rode with him in the ambulance as it threaded its way through the traffic, its siren muted inside the vehicle. Once they’d arrived at hospital the staff wheeled the inert Kerroj away and ushered his two companions to a softly-furnished lounge. Kayleigh was devastated and wept bitterly onto Zach’s shoulder. “It’s my fault! I should never have brought him here!”
“He asked to come with us, Kay. Remember?”
“I should have stopped him!”
Ten minutes later a young man in a doctor’s coat came into the room. “We need your help.” he said with a tense expression. “Mr Kerroj has dangerously low blood pressure and a weak, irregular heart beat. We’re giving him oxygen, but his breathing is getting shallower and shallower.” He put his hands to his temples. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I can’t find anything! Has he been in the presence of anything unusual or poisonous…?”
Kayleigh sat up sharply. “Yes!”
“What’s that?”
“Doctor! We must take Kerroj back to Rockall!”
“Pardon?”
“We’ve got to get him back to Rockall! Now!”
“Kay, what are you talking about?” asked Zach.
“What are you talking about?” The doctor stared at her incredulously.
Kayleigh leaped up and seized his hands. “Doctor, please! I know what’s wrong with him! He’s run out of cheaxan and the only way to cure him is to get him home!”
“He’s run out of what?”
“Cheaxan! Our living electricity! It’s too weak for him here! He said so!”
The doctor stepped back and scowled. “I can’t possibly allow this man to travel! He’s much too sick!”
“Doctor, I’m begging you!”
“Absolutely not!” He turned to leave the room.
Kayleigh grabbed his arm. “If you don’t send him back to Rockall he’ll die!” she yelled. Her eyes were wide and desperate. “I’ll take full responsibility! I’ll sign any form you want! Please, please, please! Let me take him home!”
The doctor gawped at her in surprise then straightened himself up. “Very well; I can’t stop you.”
****************************************
The RAF nurse went up to Kayleigh’s side and put a hand on her shoulder. “Madam.” he said. “We’re coming in to land at Benbecula; we need you to return to your seat and put on your seatbelt.
Kayleigh looked up as if waking from sleep then came over to sit in her seat beside Zach. The plane took on a steep downward angle.
“How is he?” asked Zach.
“He’s lapsed into a coma.” she replied. “Do you think we’ll be too late?”
Zach shrugged.
There was a gale blowing across the runway at Benbecula aerodrome. As the jet came to a halt, another smaller plane was waiting on the runway to take Kerroj on the last stage of his trip home to Arkdwa. The RAF medical team wheeled the old man through the driving rain carrying drip bags in the air and holding a plastic sheet over him to keep him dry. They loaded him aboard the second aircraft and Kayleigh and Zach joined him. Its propellers spun up and it ambled down the runway into the air. “So what exactly has happened to Kerroj?” asked Zach, gripping the arms of his seat as the aircraft was buffeted about in the wind.
“Remember he was telling us about cheaxan, the living electricity? He told us that London was lower in cheaxan than Rockall. It looks like he’s experiencing some sort of deficiency.”
“But why should he need this cheaxan stuff to survive?”
“Dunno, but he can’t stay alive without it for long. Maybe our power lines and mobile ‘phone masts and stuff interfere with this living energy field. We’re used to low intensity cheaxan so it doesn’t bother us, but he’s never been off Rockall before so he’s not. It was so stupid of me to bring him!”
“Come off it, Kay! Once we get him into the Port hospital, he’ll either recover or not, but the deciding factor will be the skill of Arlene and Dr Forbes, not some mythological ether.”
“No; you’ll see. As soon as we reach the island, Kerroj’s condition will improve… if we can get there in time.” She rocked back and forth in her seat as if trying to push the aircraft along with her body. “Come on!”
Zach looked at his watch. “We’re about halfway across; one more hour and we’ll be there.”
It was just over half an hour later that the doctor came out from behind the screened-off part of the cabin that held the patient and walked up to their seats, her neutral face giving nothing away. Kayleigh gripped Zach’s hand in terror.
“Mr Neelum, Miss Ford…”
“He’s died, hasn’t he!?” Kayleigh choked.
“No, no; not at all. In fact I’d say his condition has improved slightly. His heart and respiration have picked up and are now stable. It’s early days yet, but we have reason to be optimistic. I think he might have turned the corner.”
“Thank you.” She breathed a tremulous sigh of relief and rubbed her face with her hands. “We must have entered the high-density cheaxan belt around Rockall.”
By the time the plane landed at Mount Clow, Kerroj was fully conscious and talking, his observations normal. He was still quite weak however and was carried by RAF ambulance to Rockall Port hospital.
Kayleigh turned to Zach and hugged him. “My hero! You came good in the end!”
“Twenty-four hours ago I was working for Trevor.”
“Just shows what a long time twenty-four hours can be; and how much can change.”
It was impossible to say how it happened. Zach invited her back to First Landing for a cup of tea. He was lamenting that he might have to sell his house now that he’d lost his job. She said she’d be willing to pay his mortgage after what he’d done at the summit. He thanked her by kissing her; she kissed him back. The next moment they were rolling in each others arms on the settee; half an hour later they were in Zach’s bed making love.
Zach awoke at around six the next morning. The wind crooned on the eaves and rain pattered on the roof. Kayleigh lay prone beside him, snoring gutturally. One of her arms rested on his chest and her large, tightly-cloven bottom stuck in the air. He stretched out in the body-warmed bed and smiled.
The doorbell rang and he started. “Damn!” He got up and put on his dressing gown.
Kayleigh lifted her head and groaned.
“Shh! Go back to sleep, Kay; it’s probably the postman.” The caller rang a second time, just before Zach switched on the downstairs light. He reached the front door and opened it a crack. The wind caught it and rammed it against its stopper. Cold early morning darkness flooded in and Dill was caught in its current. “Whoa! It’s cats, dogs and brass-monkeys out there! Cheers, Zach.”
“Dill!”
“I came back as soon as I heard.” Dill’s hair and face were drenched with raindrops. “Is Kerroj OK now?” He shut the door behind him.
“Er… yeah; he’s great.”
“I got a text off Calum as soon as I came out of conference. By the time I reached Glasgow he called to say he was out of danger.”
Well… yeah; he’s as right as ninepence… Now, Dill; I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get off home now.”
“Aw, come on, Zach; put the kettle on! I’ve been travelling all night.”
“Er… it’s a bit inconvenient at the moment.”
“Oh-ho!” He grinned. “Got yourself a girl up there, have you!?”
“Well, yes as it happens, so…”
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
“No one you know.”
“Is that so? Well…” It was too late. Zach heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and Kayleigh appeared wearing a dressing gown. “Kayleigh…” A look of misery and horror that he’d never seen before crossed Dill’s face as he stared at her.
“Dill!” She drew in her breath and clutched the dressing gown tight to her body.
There was a few seconds of terrible silence.
Dill coughed. “I’d… better be… going then.”
“Dill!” Kayleigh took a step towards him, but he drew back from her.
“No, no! It’s alright!... I’m off.”
Zach tried to meet his eye. “Look, Mate. I never meant for you to find out like this.”
“That’s no problem, Zach.” he replied thickly, turning his face away. “None of my business really. I’m… very happy for both of you. You… make a lovely couple. I’ll catch up with you later… I’ll see myself out.” He virtually fled from the house.
“Fuck it!” seethed Kayleigh. She sat down on the stairs with her hands in her hair.
Zach went outside into the chilled rain and watched Dill running away towards the town until the darkness had swallowed him up.
Behind him in the house, Zach could hear the telephone ringing.

(Go back to Chapter 6: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/05/rockall-chapter-6-spanner-vs-works.html Go on to Chapter 8: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/08/rockall-chapter-8.html)

Rockall Chapter 6- The Spanner vs The Works

Chapter 6- The Spanner vs The Works

“I knew it! I always felt that…” Dill Gibson cut off as Broadway walked past the kitchen on her way to bed. She swiftly glanced in and smiled inquisitively then climbed up the stairs. Dill stood up and shut the door. Then he went to the sideboard and poured out a second cup of tea. “I saw them once.”
“What!? Really!?” Kayleigh exclaimed.
“From a distance at night. It was during the first week, up on Mount Clow. Remember me telling you?”
She nodded.
“Erkdwala.” he said, partly to himself. “What a beautiful name. I recognise it. It’s an echo of our own lost memory; the secret past that deep down we all yearn for. We’ve forgotten it; and we’ve forgotten that we’ve forgotten it, but we can feel it every day as a hole in our spirit… And you were chosen to bring them to us, Kayleigh!”
“Chosen? What do you mean? It was a coincidence. I just bumped into them by accident. I happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“No; there are no such things as accidents. No coincidences. The Rockall Spirit chose you to reveal her greatest secret. The hardships you faced last year may well have been part of your preparation for this moment. You’re a very special person, Kayleigh! A unique soul whom the Rockall Spirit loves especially!”
She paused with an impatient frown. “That’s all very well, Dill; but these people are in grave jeopardy. We’ve got to something before the rest of the island finds them.”
Dill had been drifting off into a daydream state, but Kayleigh’s words brought him back down to Earth. “Yes; of course…Gordon Bennett, you’re right! Our true ancestry is about to collide head-on with our Twenty-first century collective mind! How many others know?”
“Only Zach.”
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Yeah; he’s promised. He’ll be a useful ally in the months to come.”
“Right. Can you take me to them? We need to set up a line of communication and present the Erkdwala a positive and reassuring image. If they know that at least a few of us are on their side…”
“What about outside help?”
“There’s a charity called ‘Disappearing World’ that I’ll contact. They’re dedicated to preserving minority cultures against the onslaught of the global one. They’ll bring a working party over here to handle the publicity… I’ll send them an email now.” He got up. “Go home and get some rest, Kayleigh. We better leave early if we’re going to get there at dawn.”
He went up to his bedroom, booted up his laptop and went online, after half an hour he went to bed and slept for a few hours until his alarm woke him at three AM.
The morning was black, chilly and damp. Dill and Kayleigh quietly slipped into the garage and drove out in the Range Rover. Kayleigh had faked a special permit that allowed her to cross the border, but when they arrived at the checkpoint they found it deserted. “Strange.” said Kayleigh. “I wonder why that is.” Dill frowned, feeling an intuitive unease. They headed deep into the American Sector and parked on the coast just half a mile from Cape Nelson and walked. It was staring to get light by then. Kayleigh led him to a point where the plateau had fractured into a series of slopes and climbed down to the shoreline. “Let’s get a move on, Kayleigh.” said Dill.
“Why the rush?”
“I’m picking up some bad vibes.”
There was a ledge running along the cliff foot where Dill was fascinated to see his first Erkdwala artefact. A rope woven from leather thongs and wrapped around recessed cleats. “Amazing!” he observed. “These fittings were hand-carved into the rock. It must have taken years to do it; maybe even several generations.”
“Come on, Dill.” said Kayleigh. “You get me all worried and then stop to check out the sights… What was that!?”
“What was what?”
“That noise!...We’ve got to get there! RUN!”
They made their way along the precarious ledge as fast as they dared. Dill strained his ears and soon began to hear another sound over the orchestra of the sea: A steady, metallic whine with a warbling base undertone. As they got closer it rose to a deafening shriek. They rounded a promontory and Dill saw a military helicopter hovering above the wave crests in the shelter of the bay. Its downdraft was scattering seaspray like sand grains. It was a small, single-rotor attack craft painted in bi-chrome camouflage. Wicked-looking cannon and missile launchers protruded from its hull. The footpath he was walking along ended in a broad natural terrace with a row of caves behind it. There was a flurry of activity ahead.
Kayleigh was way in front, fairly jumping along the treacherous ledge and holding on to the rope with one hand. The group of people on the terrace were too preoccupied to notice her.
“Take care, Kayleigh!” shouted Dill, but his voice was washed away in the ear-splitting racket of the helicopter. The wind it produced whipped round him, forcing him to crouch and grip the safety line tight.
Kayleigh reached the end of the walkway, dashed onto the terrace and was quickly lost in the melee of bodies. It was hard to see through the spray, but Dill could just make out what was going on. A platoon of troops was spread out in a line, trying to contain a gang of frightened-looking people. The men all had long hair and beards; the women were crying, some clutching babies. The soldiers seemed to be herding the people up against the far wall of the cove, taking slow, coordinated steps forward. They held their rifles out in front of them, bayonets pointing at the bodies of the civilians.
Dill leapt down onto the terrace and drove through the stinging spray; he never saw Kayleigh until he was twenty feet away. His friend was knelt beside a man lying flat on the ground, hair and beard soaked. His body was totally still and his eyes were shut. Dill then saw that the chest of his pale leather tunic was drenched in blood. “ZHADEK!” he heard Kayleigh scream, almost inaudibly through the whopping of rotor blades. She cradled the man’s head in her arms, weeping with grief. A few feet away an old man knelt with his head bowed, as if in prayer. His long, white beard and hair undulated around his head and shoulders.
One of the soldiers approached the cave, took a small, cylindrical object from his kit belt and pitched it into the entrance. White smoke began leaking out, dispersing quickly in the tumbling air. People burst out of the cave into the open; dozens and dozens, gasping and choking with their hands clamped over their eyes in pain. Several older folk were being carried by their younger companions who braved the tear gas; their eyes were watering copiously. Eventually, several hundred people lay squirming on the terrace; blind, incapacitated, panting to clear their lungs. The soldiers began calmly and methodically walking among them, shackling their wrists and ankles with steel cuffs.
A trooper approached Dill’s shoulder. He was very young, maybe still a teenager, and the bayonet mounted on his rifle barrel was bloody. “Is he dead?” Dill had to yell above the noise.
The youngster nodded, his face shameful. “I couldn’t help it, Mr Gibson.” he shouted back. “He came at with me with a spear. It was either him or me.”
The troops set about evacuating the area. They roped the civilians together and forced them along the walkway like a chain-gang. The people followed numbly and semiconsciously as they were pushed and prodded. Several still had bloodshot eyes from the effects of the gas. Mothers were allowed free hands to carry small children. The gunship soared away and for the first time in over an hour there was silence in the cove.
Dill’s mind had switched to a new gear; he was unable to comprehend what he’d just witnessed. His feelings were frozen and logic prevailed. Kayleigh was still kneeling in the middle of the terrace, her locks damp and flat from the spray; her eyes were narrowed and trembling. Water dripped from the hem of her jacket. Dill put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Kayleigh; let’s get you home.”
She didn’t move or speak; a statue.
“We can’t stay here, you know.”
Slowly she climbed to her feet, pushing Dill away when he tried to help her, and plodded towards the ledge with her head facing her toes.
When they reached the spot where the slopes led up to the plateau, a handful of people passed them, heading back the way they’d come towards the caves. These were civilians, dressed in white oilskins and carrying rucksacks with the Rockall Commission motif on them. Dill recognized a few of them as members of the in-house science department. He never left Kayleigh’s side as they ascended the natural stairway to the cliff top. When they arrived he saw that the soldiers were loading the cave folk into two large, double-rotor helicopters. The Erkdwala allowed themselves to be ushered with the indifference of sheep being dipped. Their faces were blank and pale; not one of them spoke or even looked up as they mounted the rampways to the dark interiors of the aircraft.
Trevor and Zach were there, standing to one side, supervising the operation. Kayleigh let out a blood-chilling scream of rage and before Dill could stop her she’d thrown herself at Zach like a mad dog; punching, kicking, scratching. Several soldiers stepped forward and pulled her off him. She writhed in their arms and a field medic came up to attend to her.
“Sedate her!” ordered Trevor. “And make sure she gets home safely.”
They escorted Kayleigh away to a nearby parked Landrover. Trevor turned away to talk to an army officer.
Zach was flushed and tight-lipped. He trembled as he stared at the ground. Blood welled from scratches on his cheek caused by Kayleigh’s fingernails. “Zach.” said Dill. “Why did you tell him?”
Zach looked close to tears. “I… had to.” he faltered. “It was the only way.”
“The only way for what?”
“To get my job back.”
Dill groaned. “Your job!?... Do you know what you’ve done!?”
He nodded. “I wish I hadn’t now.”
“Where’s he taking them?”
“Mount Clow; and then on to somewhere else by air.”
“Where else?”
Zach shrugged. “Only Trevor knows that. He’s arranging the flight for as soon as possible… Oh, God; If only I could put back the clock!”
Dill paused. “Everyone wishes that at some point in their lives, but it’s impossible… There might be something we can do, though.”
“There’s nothing we can do!” Zach shouted. “Trevor’s in charge!”
“Well, there’s a way round that, but we’re going to have to work together. Listen…”
****************************************
“One step at a time, Gibson.” Dill told himself as he arrived back in Rockall Port. He ran to his house and, headed straight upstairs and called a friend on his laptop. Then he went to Kayleigh’s house, fielding Broadway’s questions. Trish ushered him inside. “Thank God you’re here, Dill!” she said. “These two army blokes brought her back an hour ago; they almost had to carry her! She went right up to her room and locked the door; I haven’t heard a peep out of her since!”
Dill climbed the stairs and hammered on the bedroom door. “Kayleigh!”
There was no reply.
“Kayleigh, if you don’t answer me, I’m going to have to assume your sick; then I’ll have to bash the door in.”
“I’m OK.” came a croaky voice that hardly sounded like Kayleigh’s.
“Then let me in so we can talk.”
“Leave me alone, Dill!”
He sighed. “Look, Kayleigh; I’ve thought of a scheme to save the Erkdwala, but I need your help!”
There was a long silence; then the latch turned and Kayleigh’s tearful, straggly head poked out.
****************************************
“Zach feels very bad about all this.” said Dill as they drove along in the Range Rover.
“I never want to hear that name again!” hissed Kayleigh.
They turned off the Trans-Rockall Highway onto a narrow lane that headed westwards towards RAF Mount Clow.
“Who’s this mate of yours then?” Kayleigh asked.
“His name’s Barry; he runs an organization called the Wiltshire Union Flying Squad. They’re a kind of New Age emergency service. He travels all over the world responding to events like this one; drawing attention to covert government operations, leaking secrets to the public. He’s going to get out to Rockall as soon as he can.”
“Events like this one? There can’t be many of those!”
“Don’t you believe it! Back in Two thousand and five a flying saucer crash-landed in the middle of a park in Peterborough. The Government tried to hush it up. They sealed off the city with the military and police; and banned TV, radio and newspapers from reporting it. Yet thousands of people saw the bugger parked next to the duck pond; and luckily one of them had the sense to call the WUFS. Barry and his colleagues went up there and camped outside the cordon until they’d persuaded the authorities to give it a single mention in the county rag.”
Kayleigh laughed. “Dill, there are no such things as flying saucers!”
He raised his eyebrows. “Of course there ain’t!” he said in a false-cockney accent. “If there was then we’d have read about it in The Sun!”
She laughed again; it was a welcome sound.
RAF Mount Clow came into sight over the next hill. “OK.” said Kayleigh. “What do we tell them?”
“The truth.”
She sighed tremulously. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be! We have the Rockall Spirit on our side; we can’t fail!”
“Can I have that in writing?”
As they approached the airbase and stepped out of the car it was just starting to rain. They showed their Commission ID’s to the gate guard and he directed them to a holding area inside the fire cone of the guard towers while he made inquiries. Over by the hangers, a C-One-thirty Hercules transport plane was taxiing, its propellers feathering idly. “Let’s pray we’re not too late!” muttered Dill.
Kayleigh nodded, her jaw tightening.
A young RAF officer came out from the hanger and approached them. “Good morning, Mr Gibson; I’m Squadron Leader Justin Knight. I believe you’ve been appointed by Governor McCain to take care of the… um… classified operation that took place yesterday.”
“Yes, though I was actually given this task by Deputy-Governor Neelum.”
He shrugged and smiled. “Same thing.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at Kayleigh. “Is this lady cleared?”
“Yes; this is Kayleigh Ford. She’s the only one who speaks the language so she’ll be acting as interpreter… Where are they being housed?”
“Follow me.” The airman led them towards one of the hangers. It was about two hundred yards long by one hundred. Around it was a human chain of Royal Marines, standing evenly-spaced, their weapons at the ready.
“Wait up!” exclaimed Dill. “You can’t keep three hundred people in that!”
“There was nowhere else we could put them, Sir; considering the need for security.” said Knight. “Besides, they don’t seem to mind; and we’re not keeping them there much longer.”
“Two hundred and ninety-nine.” said Kayleigh quietly.
“I beg your pardon.”
“Two hundred and ninety-nine, not three hundred.” Her voice was low and bitter. “Zhadek was killed by one of your men.”
Knight coughed and turned away. “Shall we go inside?”
Their ID’s were thoroughly vetted by another guard before they were allowed into the hanger. A marine unlocked a little side door and they stepped through. It was dark; only a row of small bulbs broke the gloom with a sticky, yellow radiance. There were no windows. The next thing Dill noticed was the appalling stench. The chamber stank like an open sewer. He held his nose and blew out his cheeks. The floor of the hanger was encircled by a band of eight-foot high, white canvas screens, as if to hide something from the sight of anyone who happened to get a glimpse inside the open doorway. It left a narrow space around the walls to walk. There were several other people in view; some civilian, others in military uniforms. One of them, a man wearing a white lab coat, came up to greet them with his hand outstretched. “Mr Gibson, how do you do? I’m Dr Jeff Bryant, Ministry of Defence. I flew over here from Whitehall last night.” He wore a friendly smile, but his face was rather ghoulish. His features were pointed and his head completely bald except for long, grey locks at the back and sides which fell to his shoulders. “It’s good to meet you.” He shook Dill’s hand then proffered it to Kayleigh. “And you must be Miss Ford. I understand you’ve learnt a bit of their language. How fascinating! I’m looking forward to…”
Kayleigh looked at Bryant’s hand then up at his face, her eyes like marble.
Bryant grinned tightly and withdrew his hand. “Right, let’s get down to business. This way.” He showed them to where there was a gap in the screen and they passed through into the interior. The corrugated metal floor of the hanger was completely covered by people lying as if asleep in no particular formation. They were totally still and silent, their eyes half-closed. Despite them all wearing white hospital gowns, Dill recognized them as the Erkdwala.
“They’ve been like this since we brought them here twenty-four hours ago.” said Bryant. “They won’t eat, sleep or even use the loo.”
That made Dill realize why the place reeked so badly; each one of the Erkdwala sat in a puddle of urine and excrement. “Bloody hell! What are your people doing about this!?”
“There’s nothing we can do. They won’t respond to any verbal or physical communication. We’re caring for the babies at the base infirmary, but the older children have fallen into the same trance as their parents.”
“Why don’t you bring some nurses over to clean them up?”
“Sorry, no can do. They’re not cleared for Top Secret material.”
Kayleigh walked out into the middle of the floor crouching down by one of the petrified bodies. “Queylie!... Queylie!...” She moved to another, looking distressed. “Keesa!... Keesa!...” She gently slapped the face of the woman she was addressing.
“It’s incredible!” Bryant folded his arms. “Absolutely incredible! Real life Palaeolithic hunter-gatherers! A living time-capsule! The rest of the world changes and these chaps were left behind, shut away on this island. Amazing! I wonder how they got here… How long did this girl spend with them?”
“Just over two weeks.” said Dill. “She discovered them while she was out hiking.”
“And she learnt some of their language; that’s very useful.”
“Where are their clothes and possessions?”
“Being studied by my colleagues in the storeroom next door. Their cave has been sealed off by the Commission.”
“Everything must be left as it is!” said Dill sharply. “Nothing in the cave must be disturbed!”
“Of course not.” Bryant grinned slyly. “It’ll be treated with the respect of an archaeological site; the Governor has given me his assurances.”
“The Governor hands out assurances like sweeties…”
“Dr Bryant!” Kayleigh called from the other side of the room. She’d been trying to rouse the old man whom Dill had seen praying the day before. “These people are in shock! They need help!”
“They’ve been given all the medical attention…”
“No; you don’t understand!” She walked quickly back to where Dill and Bryant were standing, careful to avoid treading on the prostrate Erkdwala. “These people aren’t like some drunk in a police cell! Their whole concept of existence has been turned upside down by what the Governorship has done here! It’s as if their whole universe has cracked open! We can’t even begin to imagine what’s going through their heads! It’s quite possible they believe they… they’ve died… We’ve got to return them to the caves and leave them alone.”
“I’m sorry!?”
“We have to, Dr Bryant! If we don’t they could really die!”
“Don’t be silly, Miss Ford! If necessary we’ll give them intravenous fluids and nutrients.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said!? You must take them home! All the nutrients in the world won’t save them if their minds decay!”
“Calm down, Kayleigh!” Dill held up his hands. “Dr Bryant, Miss Ford has spent a lot of time with the Erkdwala in their natural environment; much more time than anyone else. She is the nearest thing we have to an expert on their culture; and as manager of this project I have to sustain her suggestion.”
Bryant scowled and shook his head. “That would be a most unscientific move to make as well as counter-productive to their integration with the rest of society.”
“I think not. Miss Ford is correct, after all, in noting that these people are in shock and her experience of their mindset leads me to believe that they would be better off with a gentler and more progressive introduction to the civilized world, rather than being grabbed by the hair and wrenched into it, which has been the case. It would also be better for the collection of anthropological data to study this unique human phenomenon in their everyday environment… now I’d like to speak to the base commander to arrange helicopters to fly them back to the eastern plateau.”
“Impossible, I’m afraid.”
Dill frowned and said in a low voice: “I’m in charge here so make it possible.”
“You don’t understand, Mr Gibson. We are flying these chaps out of here, but not to the eastern plateau. They’re being shipped off Rockall in a Hercules to a… facility that can better cater for their needs.”
“What facility? Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dr Bryant, you can’t fly these people away from Rockall!”
“Yes we can. Orders direct from the Prime Minister.”
“But a trip like that might kill them! As manager of this operation and officer of the Rockall Commission, I forbid you to remove the Erkdwala from this island!”
“The Rockall Commission has been given jurisdiction over the Erkdwala caves and habitat as well as their belongings.” Bryant spoke loudly and slowly. “But the people themselves remain the property… the responsibility of the MoD.”
Dill grinned. “Well, I’m afraid that’s not the case. If you take a look at Paragraph Six, Subsection One, Clause ninety-four slash fifteen of the Rockall Act of Two thousand and ten, you’ll find that the Governor of the island and his associates have the power to decide whether a mentally or physically ill citizen can be evacuated or not. The Erkdwala are all Rockall citizens, fulfilling the definition as a person who has had an abode on the island for more than eight months. I am a representative of the Governor in this situation… and I say get those choppers and take them back to the caves; OK?” He walked away before the flushed Dr Bryant could respond. He went to the doorway and asked to be let out. Once back in the fresh air, he ran a hand across his face and sighed. “How in God’s name did I do that!?”
****************************************
The operation to repatriate the Erkdwala began at one PM. Straight away; it became obvious that it was going to be extremely difficult. Kayleigh spoke to them in their own language, consulting her handwritten vocabulary, informing them as best she could that they were about to be taken home to safety, but the Erkdwala remained in a comatose state. Dill decided that there was nothing for it but to stretcher them. A party of ten junior airmen were drafted in for this job. They set to work, rolling the inert bodies onto ambulance trolleys and wheeling them out to the waiting helicopters. A group of RAF medics accompanied them to monitor their condition. It took until two PM just to load the aircraft. At last the engines were started, the rotor blades spooled up and the huge helicopters heaved themselves into the air. Kayleigh and Dill sat on the floor of one which was covered with motionless bodies wrapped in thermal blankets, pale as if dead. Only the minute rising and falling of their chests indicated that they were still breathing. Kayleigh was holding the hand of the young woman named Keesa. “What about the infants?” she asked.
“They’ll have to stay on the base for now until the parents have recovered enough to look after them.” replied Bryant.
The spot on the eastern coast that gave access to the Erkdwala domain was easy to see because the Commission scientists had erected an orange tent by the cliff. The helicopter landed and the passengers were hefted out. Getting the Erkdwala down from the plateau and along the walkway to the terrace was a treacherous undertaking. Kayleigh chewed the collar of her jacket as the airmen inched their way down the grassy slopes and along the narrow ledge. The pony leather clothes followed, wrapped in plastic sacks. When the Erkdwala were all finally laid out on their beds of heather in the cave complex, everybody breathed an enormous sigh of relief and exhaustion. It was five PM. “So what happens now, Miss Ford?” asked Dr Bryant. They were all standing in the cave’s communal area.
“Er… well now they’re home in familiar surroundings, presumably they’ll wake up.”
“Are you sure?” asked one of the RAF doctors. “They could be so traumatized that their senses have shut down.
“It must get through to them eventually that their ordeal is over.”
Everyone else looked sceptical.
Dill spoke up. “Perhaps we should go away and leave them be.”
“No, Sir; we can’t do that.” said the medic. “If they didn’t regain consciousness they might stay like this and die.”
An hour later they made a round of the complex, checking every individual Erkdwala. There was no change in their condition. They met up in the communal area by the cold, black hearth and there was a along silence. “Well, Mr Gibson.” Bryant raised his eyebrows at Dill accusingly. “What do we do now?”
Dill hesitated. “This isn’t going to work. We’ll have to get them out of here and into hospital.”
The other men groaned and stamped their feet. Kayleigh hung her head.
“There’s not enough room at the base infirmary.” said the doctor.
“I know; they’ll have to go to the Green Port med centre.”
“Now hold it right there!” said Bryant, stepping towards him. “You’re not taking these chaps to a public hospital where everyone can see them! This is a Top Secret MoD operation!”
“I don’t care if it’s the Queen’s surprise birthday party!” retorted Dill. “If these people die then we won’t be guilty of murder, we’ll be guilty of genocide!”
There was a stunned silence.
“Now get on the radio and call the porters back!”
“The Governor won’t like this when I report it to him.” muttered Bryant.
“The Governor can take a running jump!”
****************************************
Trevor McCain was beginning to have doubts. He looked down at his desk and around his office. He was now Governor of Rockall, exactly where he’d aspired to be on the day he, Zach and Ross Quentin had founded the Commission. Unfortunately the power and status that he’d expected to enjoy tasted a little sour at that moment. Perhaps he should give his father a call and ask to join…
The ‘phone rang and he picked it up. It was the receptionist. “Your Excellency, the Home Secretary is on the line.”
“Very well, Margarite; put him through. Has Kayleigh arrived yet?”
“I haven’t seen her, Your Excellency.”
“Damnation! She’s supposed to be back today. When she turns up, tell her to come and see me straight away.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” She transferred the call.
“Hello, Arthur.”
“Trevor.” Arthur Foxwell’s voice was low and gruff; it sounded tinny from the coded satellite beam.
“I suppose you’ll want a progress report on the savages.”
“Not me, Trevor; the PM. He’s getting itchy. He wants to know why they’re still on the island.”
Trevor screwed up his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “We’re going as quickly as we can, Arthur.”
“Well, it’s not quickly enough. What’s the hold up?”
“We went to their caves and took them into custody, just as you instructed; but when we got them to the holding area they fell into some kind of stupor.”
“What do you mean?”
“They collapsed on the floor and just laid there. Some trance or coma, the doctors think. Gibson says they’re in no state to fly.”
“Gibson!?” A pause. “You’ve given Dill Gibson a hand in this!?”
“Yes, on Neelum’s recommendation. “I’ve put him in charge of their healthcare and transportation.”
“Do you think that’s prudent? He’s hardly reliable.”
“He’s sensible and methodical; he’ll do his job.”
“Are you sure? He’s also something of an idealist; and rumour has it he’s got a soft spot for that secretary of yours. Together they might cause problems for us. Can’t you deal with the savages yourself?”
“Well, not really, Arthur. In fact until Neelum and my secretary turn up for work I can’t deal with anything myself. I don’t have the time!... Dill Gibson knows when he’s outgunned. He’ll have no choice but to obey my orders and get them in the air as soon as they’re out of the hospital.”
“Hospital!?” snapped Foxwell. “The infirmary at Mount Clow, you mean?”
“No; there are so many of them, we’ve had to admit them into the civilian hospital at Green Port.”
“What!? Are you crazy!? You’ve actually put these creatures into an ordinary hospital, in full view of all-comers!?... Damn you, Trevor! What the hell do you think you’re playing at!?”
“Arthur, with respect, they’re being held on a secure ward and the US Marine Corps are guarding them.”
“You might as well have put an announcement in the papers!”
“It was Gibson’s idea. He’s been conferring with the doctors and Kayleigh Ford. They’re in the know on these matters.”
“So this whole outfit is being run by a bloody hippy and a Shorthand-Shirley!... Fuck it! I should have ordered you to dispose of the savages there and then!”
“Dispose? What do you mean?”
“Well, why not? If no one had known they were there then no one would have missed them. We could have taken DNA specimens for the scientists and dumped the bodies out at sea… Damn!”
Trevor hesitated; confusing thoughts popped into his mind. He speedily shut them down. “Well, we have to deal with the situation as it is.”
“I quite agree. Get those bloody savages onto a Hercules and get them off that island!”
“Arthur!...”
“I want them in the air by noon tomorrow! Relieve Gibson now and handle the operation yourself!”
“What shall I do with my other pair of hands!?... Arthur, I can do what you ask, but only when Ford and Neelum show up for work! I’m juggling here!”
There was a silence and Foxwell softened. “Very well, Trevor; but I cannot overstress the importance of getting those creatures safely away from Rockall to a place where they can be… processed.”
“Where are you taking the savages when you get them off Rockall?… Just out of interest.”
“I don’t know to tell you the truth. The PM alone has that information. I think the Americans are handling it. They have a special secure facility on a military compound that’s going to receive them. A scientific team is flying over to pick them up… There’s another problem, Trevor.”
“What’s that?”
“Barry Gervaise is on his way to you. Somehow he managed to find out about this business.”
“Barry Gervaise?”
“Yes. We managed to stall him and his rabble at Oban; cancelled tickets; but now they’ve headed down to Liverpool and chartered their own car ferry.”
“Hang on, Arthur! Barry Gervaise is a loony! Dill knows him.”
“That figures! And now we know who tipped him off! But this bloke’s trouble with a capital ‘T’. He’s an expert at stirring up crap and filling people’s heads with it.”
“He’s a freak! I’ve seen him on TV. Doesn’t he believe in fairies or something?”
“Don’t underestimate him! He may be nuts, but he’s an established, proficient firebrand. He came close to blowing open a classified operation in Peterborough a few years ago. That’s another good reason for making sure the savages are gone by the time he arrives.”
“I’ll do what I can, Arthur.”
“You do that, Trevor. I like a Governor who makes things happen when we ask and I’d very much like to think that you were one of them. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Arthur.” Trevor frowned as he put down the ‘phone. Foxwell’s last sentence was a veiled threat.
Trevor now understood the cause of his discontent. His power and status were not the absolutes that he’d always dreamed of. They were purely relative. He might be superior to Kayleigh or Margarite or the cleaning woman, but he was as much a gopher as they were. When his own superiors spoke, he had to jump just as high as Kayleigh and Margarite did when he spoke.
The receptionist rang again a few minutes later to report that Kayleigh was in the building. He waited for her knock on the door. “Come in.”
She slowly entered the office, examining the tubular walls and domed ceiling as if seeing them for the first time; her expression was indifferent. She wasn’t dressed in office wear, but Trevor decided to let it pass just this once. “Kayleigh, thank goodness you’ve arrived! It’s bedlam here! Now I need you to hold the fort for a while so I can visit our prehistoric friends in hospital and…”
Kayleigh pulled an envelope out of her pocket and dropped it onto the desk in front of him. “I’ve only come here to give you this.” she said with a sneer of contempt. “It’s my resignation.”
He picked it up between two fingers. “Kayleigh, is this really necessary?”
“Yes.”
“But…”
“I’ve always felt uncomfortable working for you and I put up with that; but this time you’ve gone too far. I can’t in good conscience continue to work for you or anyone else on the Commission: An organization that treats vulnerable human beings like slabs of meat and destroys lives and cultures just because they’re different to our own!” Her voice rose in volume and feeling towards the second half of this speech.
“Kayleigh, listen to me.” He leaned forward and looked up at her. “It may not seem like it at the moment, but we’ve actually done the Erkdwala a favour. One day they’ll thank us for it, and so will you.”
“Don’t count on it!”
“For God’s sake, they were living like rats in a hole! Eating filthy, raw meat! Bring up babies in rock burrows!”
“You think that just ‘cos they don’t have mobile ‘phones, semi-detached houses and Volvos that their culture is inferior to ours!?”
“No, I think that because they don’t have health care, clean water, proper food and education that their culture is inferior to ours.”
She snorted and turned towards the door.
“You’re secretary to the Governor of Rockall, Kayleigh. It’s a position of prestige. You won’t throw that away.”
“Yes, I will.”
“And what will you do?”
“Maybe I’ll clean the toilets like my ex-fiancee. It’d be more honourable than what I’m doing now.” Kayleigh turned back and faced the desk. “I never want to have anything to do with you or Zach again!... But before I go, I want to claim Zhadek’s body on behalf of the Erkdwala Nation.”
“Whose body? Ah, yes; that fellow who died.”
“Was murdered.” corrected Kayleigh.
“It was self-defence.”
“Whatever... I think he should have a proper funeral.”
“He’ll get one. I’ve been in touch with Revered Hamilton.”
“No!” she cut in. “He must be treated in accordance with the customs of his own people!”
“But, Kayleigh…”
“Are you suggesting that the Erkdwala are Orthodox Church of Scotland!?”
“No, I meant to say that no one knows what the Erkdwala death rites are. We can’t ask them, can we?”
“We can when they come round.”
“And when will that be?”
Kayleigh sighed and looked at the carpet, shuffling her feet on its thin pile. “Can’t we… keep him on ice at the hospital or something until they’re better?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.” She once again moved to the door.
“Kayleigh, there’s something you should know.”
She stopped in the doorway. “What?”
“I want you to remember that, now you’ve resigned as my secretary, you’ve lost your one chance to find success in life. You’re going to be a nobody until the day you die.”
She chuckled scornfully. “I can live with that!”
Trevor listened to the echo of the slamming door reverberate grotesquely around the cylindrical office. He stood up, went over to the door and opened it. Kayleigh was strutting down the corridor in a confident, liberated fashion. She pattered down the stairs and was gone. He was about to return to his desk when he heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner starting up at the other end of the corridor. He looked and saw Seonaidh hoovering the immaculate Rotunda carpet. She was smiling to herself and whistling. Her face was carefree and content. Seonaidh, you’re a loser! You’re a cleaning woman, the lowest of the low, society’s garbage. Zero money, zero status, zero power! A nothing!... But you’re happy!
I’ve given everything I ever had to get where I am today! I’ve fought, struggled and sweated blood my entire life to rise as far above you as possible! I’m way above you on the ladder of achievement... But I’m NOT happy!... It doesn’t add up! And it isn’t fair!
****************************************
Trevor rung Zach’s home number. He gave it fifty rings before giving up. “I’ve had enough of this!” he growled. He put his voicemail on and headed for the garage where his Bentley was parked. He ordered Patterfield, his chauffeur, to drive him to First Landing. As he parked outside the house, he saw one of the downstairs curtains twitch. “Aha! I’ve got you now!” he muttered. He got out and gave the doorbell a good five-second clatter. “Zach! Open the door! I know you’re in there; I saw you from the car!”
There was a pause and he heard feet shuffling behind the door. “Go away, Trevor!” said Zach in a sullen voice.
“No, Zach; I shall not go away! I need to talk to you now, so open up!”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you!”
“I never supposed for a moment that did, but I’ve got a lot to say to you! I’m the Governor of this island and I’m your superior... so open the damn door NOW!”
The latch clicked and the door swung wide. Zach stood there dressed only in a T-shirt and boxers. His cheeks were sallow and unshaven. Trevor pushed past him into the studio lounge. The kitchen, sideboard and coffee table were covered in dirty plates, glasses and cutlery. A row of empty wine bottles stood on the floor by the armchair. “What’s up; is the butler on strike?”
Zach followed behind him, walking like an old man, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging. “I’ve not been feeling very well these last few days.”
“I can see that. Perhaps you need a bit of fresh air. I’ll open the car windows while I give you a lift to the office.”
“Oh; sorry, Trevor; I’m not up to coming back to work yet.” His breath reeked of alcohol.
“You’ve been off for six days; what’s wrong?”
“Flu, I think.”
“Flu, my sainted aunt! Acute pissitis, that’s all that’s wrong with you! Come on, get yourself cleaned up and dressed.”
Zach walked into the kitchen alcove. He poured himself a glass of red wine from an open bottle with a shaky hand. “No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
He took a gulp from the glass. “I mean no!... Non, Nein, Ni tha, No se, Niet; take your pick!”
Trevor felt himself flush with affront. “Who am I!?”
“You’re Trevor.”
“I am Trevor McCain! Governor of the Island of Rockall (British Sector)!... Now I’ll ask you again: Would you please clean yourself up, dress yourself and come to work!?”
Zach raised his glass and smiled. “And I shall reply to you again: No.”
Trevor rose to the verge of explosion; everything throbbed red in his vision. His power was slipping away! He caught it just in time and stamped upon his rage. “OK, Zach. Let’s sort this out, shall we?... Just tell me all your grievances and we’ll deal with them one at a time.”
Zach held up his index finger. “Grievance Number One: My boss, the Governor of Rockall, is a cheating, manipulative, two-faced wanker. Grievance Number Two:…” He raised his middle finger beside the index, made and inverted Churchillian “V” and gestured obscenely at Trevor.
The Governor groaned and put a hand to his forehead. “I’m obviously wasting my time.” He turned to go. “I’ll leave you to your booze and self-pity trip.”
“Trevor?”
“What?”
His face fell and he shivered. “Have you seen Kayleigh?”
“Yes, she came into the office an hour ago to hand in her resignation.”
“Did she mention me?”
“Yes, she said she never wants to have anything to do with you again; or with me for that matter.”
Zach put down his wine glass and ran both hands across his face.
Trevor smiled and sat down on the settee. “So that’s what all this is about.”
“There’s no point blaming just you; I’m equally guilty. Kayleigh’s right to hate me. I don’t deserve her. I’m a worthless, cowardly waste of space!”
Trevor shrugged. “I hope you don’t expect me to argue with that.”
Zach glared at him. “We’re both scumbags, Trevor! We might as well stick together. The only friends we have right now are each other.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I grassed to you about the Erkdwala to get my job back, but I’d never have done it if I’d known this would happen! I thought you’d go public with it; get the media involved, scientists, the UN. The presence of a native population here could change the world! No more bickering with the Yanks, but international protection; World Heritage status!... But you used my information to sweep the whole thing under the carpet!”
“It’s for the best, Zach.”
“No it isn’t! The people of the world have a right to know! The people of this island have a right to know about the wonders that it holds! Why not tell everyone!? Why keep it a secret!?”
“It’s not like that, Zach.” said Trevor, dodging the question. “The savages are going to get help. They’re being shipped to a special scientific and medical facility in America where they will be cared for. And in a few months when that work is done, the news about them will be announced for all of humanity to hear; and then they will be returned to their homes on Rockall to live in peace and prosperity.”
Zach tittered ironically. “Do you really believe that, Trevor?”
He paused for a moment then laughed. “Well, not entirely, but it sounds good!... And who knows, it might be true!”
“So you admit it.”
“I admit nothing. How do you know that letting the savages run free on the plateau would be any better for them? Nobody does! Anyway…” He walked over and put a hand on Zach’s stooped shoulders. “What does it matter? This island is ours now, Zach! It doesn’t belong to Britain or America, or to some lost tribe of cavemen… It’s ours!” He raised his arms and made a circle in the air.
Zach looked at him out of the corner of his eyes and grinned weakly.
“That’s the spirit.” He took his hand away and walked to the door. “I want you at the office in an hour.” he said over his shoulder.
“Eh?”
He looked at his watch. “I’ll call you on your desk line in precisely one hour from now. If you don’t answer, I’ll appoint Greg Slydes as my new Deputy-Governor.” He left the house before Zach had time to reply.
****************************************
The border was unmanned. The apprehending and protection of the savages was eating Rockall’s military manpower. Trevor crossed into the American Sector and ordered Patterfield to drive straight to Green Port.
The George W. Bush Medical Centre was built into the side of the cliff. It had an entrance on its top floor and a panoramic view over the harbour and bay from its windows. Patterfield parked outside the Accident and Emergency department and Trevor took out his mobile ‘phone. He waited, looking at his watch, and then dialled. “Hello, Zach; it’s exactly eleven-fifty-six AM. Are you there?”
“Yes.” came the sulky reply.
“Then I’m pleased to say that you’ve successfully renewed your contract of employment.”
“Anything else? Perhaps you’d like me to serve you afternoon tea!”
“If I do, I’ll let you know.” He ended the call and got out of his car.
The hospital was modern and stylish. Like many of Green Port’s buildings, it was still in a state of construction. Some corridors led to working wards and clinics, others to bare, dusty caverns where excavators were still drilling away at the rock. Trevor was escorted by a US Marine Corps gunnery-sergeant to a lift which dropped downwards like a pit-car until it pulled up on a floor that was half finished. The passageway was lit by miners’ lamps. Patches of bare granite showed through gaps in the chipboard panelling and the place smelled of sawdust. The builders must have been halfway through their work when the area was sealed off by the military. Trevor showed his ID to a pair of tough sentries. They saluted him and pulled aside a polythene curtain.
The room beyond was brightly sunlit by a row of wide windows on the far wall; each pane still had the glazier’s sticker on it. All sounds echoed loudly off the naked, plaster walls. Electric wires and water pipes were exposed through gaps in the falsework. The chamber had been jury-rigged as a ward with hospital beds and monitoring systems standing isolated on the dusty floor. Wires trailed to makeshift transformers and sockets. A number of jumpy, tense-looking nurses bustled about, tending the patients in the beds. They ignored Trevor and concentrated on their jobs.
Jeff Bryant was sitting in a corner, chatting to a gaggle of doctors as Trevor approached him. “…I hope therefore you realize that neither you nor these nurses may discuss anything that takes place inside the cordon; not even with your colleagues. I’ll have to ask you to sign the Official Secrets Act…” He looked up and saw Trevor. “Excuse me.” He smiled ingratiatingly as he walked up. “Your Excellency, how do you do!?” He shook Trevor’s hand. “If I’d known you were coming I’d have organized a welcoming committee…”
“No excuses please, Dr Bryant! Just make sure I get one next time! Where’s Gibson?”
“Popped to the loo, I think.”
“Right.” He walked up to the nearest bed and looked down at the man lying in it. He was as still as a cadaver, his eyes half-open. Yellow and orange wires led from stickers on his chest, some obscured by his beard. A nurse was busy inflating a blood-pressure cuff on his arm. He was covered by bedclothes up to his waist and a transparent bag of urine stood on a holder beside the bed. Fluids ran from bags hanging on dripstands down clear tubes to patches on his arm.
“They’re all the same.” said Bryant. “All except the little kiddies. It’s been nearly a week now and their condition hasn’t changed.”
“How odd.” said Trevor.
“Isn’t it just? The doc’s say they’ve never seen anything like it before.”
He moved to the next bed. It contained a teenage girl with small breasts. Like all her compatriots she had coarse, blonde hair. Her face was very homely and untypical. The nose was large and fleshy and her mouth thick-lipped and pouted. Her skin was almost paper white. “Not exactly an oil painting, is she?” said Trevor.
“She’ll never be Miss World; none of them will.” concurred Bryant. “Remarkable racial features, though. They’ve been breeding independently for thousands of years and it shows. Perhaps all our ancestors looked like that once!”
“Apart from the skin and hair-colour they could be Negroid.”
“Yes; give her a coat of black paint and you’d have Aretha Franklin lying there! I wonder, Your Excellency, if there might be a bit of Neanderthal in them.”
“It’s a pity no anthropologists will get to see them.”
“Not official ones anyway.”
Trevor reached out a hand and gently raised the girl’s eyelid. Her eyeball gleamed in the light like a marble. Her iris was large and jet black. “Are you sure you can’t just carry them aboard a plane and fly them out of here? What harm will it do?”
“My thoughts exactly, Your Excellency.”
Trevor whipped down the bedsheet to scrutinize the rest of her body. Her pubic hair was thick and dark brown, almost black. “I see they’re natural blondes. Either that or they’re the first culture on Earth to invent peroxide before the wheel!”
Bryant roared with laughter.
Dill and Kayleigh appeared in the doorway. They were walking in a carefree manner, but as soon as they saw The Governor, they pulled up short. “Trevor!” said Dill.
“Hello, Dill. Just thought I’d pop by and see how things were going. How are these chaps getting on?”
Dill strode up to the bed and pulled the sheet back up over the girl. “They… They’ve made no progress unfortunately; still comatose. The medical team has been checking them and keeping them clean…”
“Excellent, Dill! Splendid work! I’m so glad Zach chose you to take care of them! Now all that remains is to get them onto a plane and off this island.”
“Out of the question at the moment, Trevor.” Dill said quickly, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t think they’d survive the trauma of air travel.”
“Trauma? What do you mean? They’ll be in a heated, pressurized cabin being pampered by medics. It’ll only be for seven or eight hours anyway. They’re human beings, not renaissance paintings.”
“I… still don’t think it’s prudent to…”
“Then let’s take a handful of the younger ones first and see how they get on. If they can handle it we’ll ship the rest of them.”
“No, Trevor. You see… I believe their condition is caused by the psychological shock of being evicted from their natural home…”
“But you returned them to their natural home and it had no effect on them.”
“No, but… we’re dealing with a culture and psyche that we don’t understand. Any experience we put them through may have a dire effect that we can’t predict.”
“Dill, you’re a good fellow and a good worker; you’ve done a great job. You must be sick and tired of being cooped up in this little hole with these stiffs. Why don’t you let me take it from here? Go back to the Port and turn your attention to something more interesting and profitable.”
“No thank you, Trevor; I’m fine here.”
“No, no! I insist!”
He paused. “Are you kicking me out?”
“Call it ‘redeploying’.”
Dill glowed red in the face. He looked as if he were about to say something, but Kayleigh beat him to it. “No!” she yelled. “You mustn’t, Trevor! You can’t take the Erkdwala away from Rockall! I won’t let you!”
“Keep out of this, Kayleigh!” shouted Trevor. “You resigned, remember!”
“Trevor!” Dill stammered. “Don’t do this! You’re about to make a terrible mistake! These people are not fit to travel; you’ll kill them!”
“You have no evidence to support that claim!”
“They belong here!” yelled Kayleigh.
“Yes! This is the Erkdwala ancestral homeland!” said Dill. “It would be a crime to take them away!”
“Rubbish!...” He broke off, for a commotion had started at the far end of the chamber. A group of doctors and nurses burst in through the door chattering excitedly. “Dill!” called a nurse. “One of them has woken up!”
The throng of tightly-packed medics were crowded around one of the beds, four deep, bubbling like children. “Let me through!” commanded Trevor. They respectfully moved to one side and allowed him to approach the bed. The patient was an elderly man with long, white hair and a beard. He was fully conscious and sitting up. He looked around himself in wonder with his watery, black eyes. “Kerroj!” whooped Kayleigh.
Trevor looked at Dill’s deflated face and felt a wonderful rush of victory. He stared into Dill’s eyes, drinking up his defeat like wine. “Dill, call the airbase and tell them to prepare a Hercules for immediate take off.” Then he turned away dismissively and walked off with a snigger. It was moments like this that he lived for. Utter power, authority and self-importance! You don’t know what you’re missing, Seonaidh!
****************************************
Kayleigh Ford knelt down on her bedroom floor and prayed for the first time since her grandmother’s death. “Thank you, God! Thank you, God!” she muttered fervently. The ‘phone call she’d just received from Dill confirmed it. This wasn’t just a one-night blow-out; it was the worst gale to hit the British Isles in years. All flights in and out of Rockall were cancelled until further notice. It had struck just as Trevor was preparing to move the Erkdwala to Mount Clow.
Kayleigh put on oilskins and left the house to meet up with Dill. The wind chilled her to the bone and buffeted her violently. The rain soaked through the seams of her jacket. Her boots were leaking and her socks soaked up icy water from every puddle. She lifted her head and let the water run down her nose into her mouth. “Whee!” She yelped for joy. “I love you, wind and rain!”
****************************************
Kayleigh’s spirits were falling. She shivered as another drenching gust rolled along the Trans-Rockall Highway, slamming into her and penetrating her jacket. She staggered to the garden gate of the next croft and fumbled the latch open. She clumped up the garden path, water dripping from her eyebrows, and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a squat, black-haired crofter whose name she didn’t recall. “Hello.” said Kayleigh, speaking in Gaelic. She handed him a leaflet from a plastic bag she was carrying under her arm. Despite its protection, the paper was still damp. “I’m calling to ask if you’d be interested in attending a public meeting tonight in Rockall Port Community Hall.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke.
“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?”
“A few days ago, a walker on the eastern plateau discovered a colony of ancient, Stone Age people who’ve lived on Rockall since prehistoric times. When she reported her findings to the Governorship, they immediately abducted these people and are right now attempting to cover up the fact that they even existed…”
The man’s face collapse into a scornful frown as she recited her litany. “Excuse me; I really don’t have time for this garbage!”
“But it’s true! I swear! We are being denied knowledge of the most incredible discovery of the century! The greatest wonder Rockall could ever give the world is being destroyed!”
The man shook his head and began to close the door; Kayleigh blocked it with her foot. “Please! You must believe me! They’re being held in secret in Green Port hospital! If we don’t help them they’ll be flown away from here forever!”
The man kicked her foot away from his threshold. “Get out of here, you fruitcake!” Slam!
Kayleigh sighed and slumped back to the street. Dill was waiting for her. “How’s it going?”
“It’s not. All I’ve had so far are piss takes and abuse.”
“Well, that’s all the crofts done. Did anyone take a flyer?”
“A few.”
“That’s something. They might just fall into the hands of someone a little more broad-minded… Anyway; there’s one more to do: Calum’s; do you want it?”
She laughed. “You’re too kind!”
Carol, a tired-looking crofter’s wife in a wax jacket answered. “Hello, Kayleigh. What can I do for you?”
Kayleigh spoke quickly as had become her habit since everyone that day had shut her up before she’d been able to finish.
“Lord in Heaven, Kayleigh! That’s incredible!” Carol eventually replied. “So, let me get this straight. These people were living here before First Landing?”
“Yes; thousands of years before.”
“So, they’re… cave men?”
“Yes; and now the Governorship has taken every one of them prisoner and they’re going to be exiled to America and no one will ever know they even existed! We’ve got until the storm lets up to save them!”
“Hell’s Teeth! What are we going to do!?”
“That’s what we’re going to discuss at the meeting tonight.”
“Well, count me in, Kayleigh! Calum and I will be there!”
“Great!” Despite her wet feet, Kayleigh skipped a little as she walked down the path.
****************************************
That afternoon the cavalry arrived. The chartered car ferry carrying every single member of Barry Gervaise’s Wiltshire Union Flying Squad came in sight on the western horizon. They tried to land at Green Port, but harbour master refused them permission, claiming that the ship’s draught was too deep for the inshore waters. “A likely story!” scoffed Dill.
“Can’t we get them ashore somewhere else?” asked Kayleigh. They can use the ship’s lifeboats.”
“Not in this weather; they’d drown.” said Dill. “And then there’d be the cliffs to climb.”
“The wind’s a north-westerly. There must be somewhere on the south coast where they are sheltered and can get up to the plateau without…” She saw Dill’s face change and realized that they’d both had the same idea at the same time.
****************************************
Kayleigh parked the car outside her house. “We’d better approach First Landing on foot in case Zach hears the engine.”
“Even if he does he’s not going to shop us to Trevor.”
“Don’t you believe it! He doesn’t like Trevor any more than I do, but he’s a weak, selfish, career-obsessed idiot who’d eat his own shit to stay in the Governor’s good books."
They got out of the car, bracing themselves against the gale, and walked along the path towards the big, white house. They tiptoed hastily past it, Kayleigh glancing nervously up at its facade, but the curtains were drawn on every window. The wind eased as they descended the slope to the beach.
The car ferry was already at anchor about two miles off Rockall Port Bay. Kayleigh could see a row of distant figures crowded along the promenade deck. The orange blob of a lifeboat was slowly inching its way down the ship’s flank as it was lowered from the davits.
Kayleigh and Dill clambered down the foot of the rocky slope and landed on the muddy beach. A cairn stood to mark the spot where they’d first stepped ashore two and a half years ago and the Union Jack that they’d planted was still flying. The boat was schooning across the water towards the shore, bouncing over the breakers and spitting foam from its prow. It was packed to the gunwales by people wearing brightly-coloured, thickset oilskins and immersion suits. A few of them waved and Dill waved back.
The people in the boat waved again; now they were pointing and calling out words that were drowned by the distance.
“Something’s wrong.” said Kayleigh.
The boat’s crew were now yelling, cupping their hands over their mouths to amplify their voices.
“What’s the matter!?” hollered Kayleigh.
“Well, well, well! What have we here?” said a new voice from behind them.
They all leapt in shock and swung round. Trevor was standing about ten yards away, beside the foot of the slope. They’d been so engrossed in watching the approaching launch that they hadn’t noticed him sneaking up behind them. On each side of him, stretched out in a row, was a squad of stone-faced soldiers. “Dill and Kayleigh.” said the Governor. “I had a feeling I’d find you here.” He laughed coldly.
“Did you follow us from town?” asked Dill.
“No need.”
“Zach called you, didn’t he?” said Kayleigh.
“Zach? Goodness, no! Zach’s in his office, sniffing coffee and trying to get over the latest instalment of his long-term hangover. We’ve been following the ship; never heard of radar?”
“Trevor.” said Dill. “We are not breaking any laws, nor carrying out any activities that warrant your attention…”
“You are assisting the passengers of that ship to land on this island when they have no permit! That is illegal!”
“What’s wrong with you, Trevor!?” shrilled Kayleigh.
There was a loud thump as the lifeboat rode up onto the sand. The crew began jumping out. “What’s going on!?” demanded a bespectacled man with a beard.
“Good morning, Mr Gervaise.” smiled Trevor. “I’d have thought, now that whale-hunting is banned, that you fellows would be out of a job… Get back in your boat and return to your ship!”
“Now hold on a minute, Mate…”
Trevor lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. The soldiers raised their rifles and fired a shot into the air simultaneously, as if at a funeral. “That’s the only warning shot I’ll give.” said Trevor. “Now return to your ship and leave these waters! A naval vessel will escort you to open sea.”
The bearded man lunged forward with his teeth bared, but two of his companions held him back. “I’m sorry, Dill.” said one of them. They pushed the boat back into the surf and climbed aboard. Then they turned and began chugging back to the ship. The crew looked astern at the beach, their heads hung in sadness. Kayleigh felt like crying, but no tears would come out. Trevor’s smug expression raised a cold loathing for him inside her. A pair of warm hands closed on her shoulders. She looked up and saw Dill’s face, grey in the shadow of the cove.
The soldiers stayed to guard the beach while Trevor climbed back up the slope. Dill and Kayleigh followed him at a distance. There was nothing else to do; without the WUFS they were helpless. Kayleigh was semi-conscious with shock, only vaguely aware of what was going on. She stared at her feet moving over the rocks as if they belonged to someone else. The grief and sadness of their defeat and loss was just starting to bite.
There were more troops on the cliff top, clustered around a row of army lorries parked outside First Landing. “Right, you two!” barked Trevor. “That’s quite enough of this nonsense for one day! Dill, I want you back in town now! Kayleigh, if you don’t want to be arrested I’d advise…”
TOOT! The sound of a ship's whistle interrupted him. It came from the direction of the car ferry.
“Ah.” said Trevor. “They’re weighing anchor already. Good.”
TOOT! It sounded again, reverberating and warbling around the inlet. TOOT! TOOT! TOOT! TOOT!
“What are they doing?”
TOOT! TOOOOOOOT!
“It’s the distress signal!” said Dill. “What the… Gordon Bennett!”
Kayleigh looked up and turned round.
A pall of black smoke rose from the top of the ship’s deck, just abaft of the funnel. Orange flames flickered beneath it. There was a whoosh and a rocket ripped up into the sky from the bridge and exploded into a blinding magnesium flare.
“The ship’s on fire!” yelled Dill. “Call for help!”
One of the soldiers began speaking into his radio. “Casualty! Casualty! Rockall Ambulance control! Merchant vessel is Code Red, vicinity of First Landing!”
Trevor snatched the instrument out of his hands. “What are you doing, Corporal!? Stop that now!”
“Give me that back, Your Excellency!”
“Can’t you see that this is a trick!? There’s nothing wrong with that ship!”
The trooper wrenched his radio out of Trevor’s hands. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency; but that ship has just given out a correctly-formatted distress signal. I have to assume it’s genuine and report it.” He turned back to his radio. “Repeat! Casualty…”
Loaded lifeboats were already beginning to drop from the davits into the sea as if they were on the Titanic. The decks were packed with passengers waiting their turn to escape the inferno. Dill was roaring with laughter; Trevor’s face was bright purple with frustration. “I’ll fix you, Gibson!” he screamed, spitting with fury. “This island’s mine! You hear me!? MINE!” He stormed off to his car.
Three boats were by now in the water, skipping over the ocean towards the shore. Dill and Kayleigh capered back down the slope to meet them. The first one to hit the beach carried the same bearded man. As he jumped into the shallows and waded up onto dry land, Dill ran forward and embraced him. The two men shrilled with mirth. “I’d never have thought of that one, Baz!” said Dill.
“It was easy! Just a pile of mattresses from the cabin bunks with a bottle of paraffin poured over it. Did it look real?”
“Very! For a moment I thought it was!”
“So long as it blew out that twat of a Governor!”
More boats ran up to the shoreline, and the beach at First Landing soon became very crowded. By the time the first of the passengers had reached the top of the slope the ambulance from Rockall Port hospital was approaching, siren wailing. The ship’s captain then reported that the fire was under control and nobody was injured, but unfortunately his vessel would be unable to sail… probably for a good few days.
****************************************
Dill’s friends from the ship numbered around a thousand and when they set up their tents on the edge of town it looked like a refugee camp. They were an assortment from various backgrounds and organizations, all under the banner of the WUFS. There were environmental activists, New Age and oriental spiritual persuasions, conspiracy theorists and those with an interest in native cultures. One of them was a very well-known presenter of historical TV documentaries whom Kayleigh recognized at once. With their help the canvassing was finished quickly and a leaflet was on the doormat of every home on Rockall.
It was seven PM and the community hall was a flurry of activity. Barry Gervaise and his roadies were busy setting up loudspeakers and microphones, unreeling wires and setting up lighting decks. Spotlights flickered on and off and the words “Testing, testing!” echoed around the room, often accompanied by the screech of feedback. Kayleigh and Dill pulled stacks of plastic chairs out of the cupboards and began laying them out and straightening them into rows on the parquet floor. When they’d finished they went and had a cup of coffee to calm their nerves. They both new that one way or another tonight was going to be make-or-break night.
At seven-thirty people began arriving and filling the two hundred-or-so chairs. Carol and Calum were one of the first to arrive and took a seat at the front row with Ewan, Seonaidh and their other children. They waved hello to Kayleigh who was clearing the stage of unnecessary furniture. Another group arrived, scientists this time; then some more crofters.
“Right.” said Barry. “I’m going to make a start now.” He jumped up on the stage and took the microphone. “Hello there! Can everyone hear me OK?”
There was a mumble of affirmation from the crowd.
“Great. I’m not sure if anyone else is going to turn up, but we’re running to rather a tight schedule so I’m going to lead off… Oh, no; here’s one more. OK. Good evening, Mate.”
The door to the chamber had opened and a dark-haired man had entered. He was dressed in a parka with the collars turned up and a dark blue, woollen hat. Despite his attempts to hide his face, Kayleigh recognized him. She jumped to her feet with a gasp before she could stop herself.
“What is it?” whispered Dill.
“Zach!”
“Eh?”
“That man over there.”
Zach had taken an isolated seat by the door in the very back row.
“Well, so it is!” said Dill. “What does he want?”
“He’s got a bloody nerve showing his face here!” growled Kayleigh.
“Today is a unique day.” said Barry. “A major turning point in the history of the planet! A beacon of hope in a world that has almost lost hope.
“One day, twenty to thirty thousand years ago or maybe even earlier, a boat or raft landed on this island carrying a handful of men and women. They may have been fishermen from the mainland who got carried out to sea. Perhaps they were explorers, trying to find new lands with a cargo of live horses. They might have been refugees from a tribal war or conflict with Neanderthal men. Whatever the reason they decided or were forced to stay here.
“They created a new community, living off the sea and land as was their way. They had children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren; the tribe grew bigger and bigger with each successive generation. Ice ages came and went; Rockall must have got a lot smaller as the sea levels rose, maybe causing famine.
“In the rest of the world, history progressed. The Neolithic Age began and people produced monuments like Stonehenge. The civilizations of Mesopotamia and Egypt rose and fell. The Greeks and Romans came and went. The Normans invaded all the other British Isles. World wars raged and rockets flew into space… All the time these things were happening, Rockall was left unnoticed and ignored. The people here continued to live their lives as they always had done, unaware of the forces and changes that were going on just over the horizon.
“Then, just two years ago, in the last percent of a percent of Erkdwala history…” He held up his thumb and forefinger almost touching. “…humans from the outside world landed here.”
Barry Gervaise was a very cogent and enthralling speaker. His lead-off lasted over an hour and not one of the audience stirred, even those members who later on professed to be sceptics.
“If all this is true then what I don’t understand is: why the cover-up?” asked Calum during the discussion that followed. “What reason could the Governorship have for keeping the existence of this lost race a secret?”
“There could be several reasons.” replied Barry. “Firstly, the presence of an indigenous culture on Rockall would knock the political situation on its arse. The biggest oil well in history is about to open and powerful people and organizations are preparing to exploit it… But there may be a deeper more fundamental reason. I’ve found, in my experience, that governments seem to have an almost knee-jerk aversion to all the things that you might describe as ‘paranormal’ or ‘out-of-the-ordinary.’ Things like ghosts or UFO’s, or events like this one, which rock the boat of conventional worldviews. They will attempt to deny, reject and suppress information on any phenomenon that could lead people to question the reality of the banal, three-up-two-down existence which we live in. I think they need us to be quiet, subservient and bored in order to rule us. Take a shepherd; he can control a flock of fifty sheep with the help of just a whistle and a dog. How? Because those sheep see nothing, think of nothing and follow nothing except the arse of the sheep in front. We’re like those sheep; we outnumber our leaders a thousand-to-one. They can’t control us by force, so they manipulate the things we see and feel in order to keep us in line.”
“Where are they taking these people and what will they do to them?” asked Carol.
Barry answered dispassionately. “They’ll probably be flown to a sealed, military installation in the USA where they’ll be studied by initiated scientists and then probably killed. Their bodies will be either preserved for further experimentation or incinerated along with their personal belongings.”
A sick chill flooded Kayleigh’s chest.
The meeting closed at half past ten and the audience filed out; Zach was nowhere to be seen. Kayleigh and Dill hung around the community hall to help Barry and his team pack up their equipment. “I lead a bit of a nomadic lifestyle.” said Barry. “Going from town to town, country to country, investigating, protesting. I’ve got two kids back in Wiltshire; I don’t half miss them!” They carried the boxes of gear outside to the Range Rover. They’d walked a dozen yards before Kayleigh noticed that something was amiss. “Stop!” she cried.
“What?” They turned and looked at her.
“Haven’t you noticed!?”
“Noticed what?”
“Listen!”
The lamplit community centre forecourt was quiet and echoic. The building was reflected in the puddles. “Oh, shit!” exclaimed Dill. “The wind’s stopped!... The storm’s over!”
Everyone dropped their load on the pavement and sprinted for the car. Barry stabbed manically at his mobile ‘phone while Kayleigh unlocked the doors.
****************************************
They parked the car on the ridge above Green Port and hiked along it to a point where they could overlook the hospital entrance. They crouched down behind a boulder and took out their binoculars.
It was immediately apparent that something underhand was going on. All the lights around the hospital had been switched off. In the tiny amount of glow that leaked from Dome One, Kayleigh could see that military personnel and vehicles were all over the A-and-E admission ramps. Most sinister of all was a double row of parked lorries. “Oh, no!” said Dill. “That’s what they’re going to use to transport them to Mount Clow!... Look!” He pointed.
One group of soldiers had lined up in two rows, creating a path between the hospital doorway and the trucks. Along this path, the nurses and doctors were escorting the Erkdwala in pairs like schoolchildren. They were completely docile and subordinate as they had been when they’d first been herded from their caves the previous week, walking slowly with their heads down. They were all clad in identical velvet anoraks with the hoods up. Some of them were carrying babies. They stepped aboard the lorries and ducked under the canvas tenting on the back without a hint of protest.
Dill took Kayleigh’s hand in an iron grip. “There’s not a moment to lose! We must go to Mount Clow!”
“What are we going to do!?” she whimpered.
“Anything we have to!”
****************************************
Kayleigh sat in the middle of the back seat, leaning forward between the two front seats. The road was white and glowing in the car headlights. Dill seemed to telepathically sense her unease. He reached his hand over his shoulder and laid it on top of hers where she gripped his headrest. They turned right off the Trans-Rockall Highway onto the track that led to RAF Mount Clow.
The entrance to the airbase was blocked by a huge throng of people, mostly Barry’s associates whom he’d just scrambled by mobile ‘phone. They turned to face the Range Rover as it approached and their eyes glinted like cats’ in the light. The crowd closed round as she, Dill and Barry jumped out. Kayleigh, being shorter than the other two, was hemmed in by chests. “I’m sorry, Barry!” said one of them, a man she recognized from the lifeboats. “We bundled up here as soon as we got your call but we were too late. The lorries are all inside and they’ve shut the gates.”
“They must have come down the west track.” said Dill, his face in shadow.
“Can’t we cut the fence?” asked Barry.
The man shook his head mournfully. “No good; they’ve got squaddies guarding the runway.”
Barry groaned and put a hand to his forehead. “This is my fault. We should have come straight here and not bothered with the hospital.”
Kayleigh left them and began worming her way through the crowd. She gently pushed and manoeuvred; people squeezed aside to let her past, until she hit the high fence, topped with a spool of barbed wire, which marked the perimeter of RAF Mount Clow. She put her fingers through the gaps in the wire and looked.
The airbase was floodlit like a sports ground. Every shadow stood out as sharply as if it had been cut with scissors. The rough heather stretched away from the foot of the fence to the apron several hundred yards away. The parked aircraft were dark and inert like roosting swans except one, a C-One-thirty Hercules transporter, which showed lights in its cockpit. Its engines were shrilling and one of its propellers was turning slowly like a windmill. The aeroplane’s huge back doors were open and its ramp lowered. There were people everywhere on the ground, looking small beside the giant aircraft and a dozen army lorries were parked in a line under its wing. Kayleigh strained her eyes and saw the soldiers and aircrew goading the Erkdwala into the maw of the Hercules.
The huge crowd of former-protesters gave a great wail of misery as the Erkdwala appeared. Even if the fence hadn’t been there it would have been pointless. The whole area was surrounded by a curtain of Royal Marines. A hundred or more of them strolled up and down on the heather beside the hangers and runway, pointing their rifles at the herd of activists. More troops sat at the top of the guard towers, hands resting on the breeches of machine guns. It was over.
Kayleigh subconsciously pushed against the fence, wanting to go to them; Kerroj, Keesa, Grayvin, Peen and her “sister” Queylie, remembering the wonderful fortnight she’d spent living among them, sharing their sweet, peaceful lives. She would never see them again; few people would. They would soon be gone forever, Rockall would be “back to normal” and the Governorship could breathe a huge sigh of relief. Her heart burned with anger, guilt, regret and longing. The terrible way in which fate taunted her, by letting her see them one last time when they were already lost, tore into her. She leaned her forehead on the barrier and cried. Several others in the crowd were doing the same.
“Excuse me.” Someone tapped Kayleigh’s shoulder.
“Yes?” she sniffed and raised her head, blinking away her tears.
“You’re Kayleigh, aren’t you?” The speaker was a woman who was so small that at first Kayleigh mistook her for a child. She was at least an inch shorter than Kayleigh and as slender as a fairy. Her accent was Glaswegian like her own.
“Yeah.”
“Listen, I’ve got an idea of how to get inside the base, but I need your help.”
“Get inside? How?”
“I’ll show you.” Her eyes were large and bright brown above a pointed nose. Her hair was straight and black and she wore a leather jacket studded with flowers, Krishnas, and various other New Age and peace symbols. “Have you got the keys to your car?”
“I’ve got a set in my pocket, yeah; but the car’s not mine.”
“That’s fine; let’s go! We’ve not got much time.”
They made their way back through the crowd to where the Range Rover was parked. “I’m Barbara, by the way.” called the girl as they snaked through the mass.
“Hi, Barbara.”
Behind her, Kayleigh heard the scream of the aircraft’s engines rise. The Erkdwala must have all been stowed aboard and the Hercules was preparing for takeoff. Barbara snatched the car keys out of Kayleigh’s hand and opened the vehicle’s door. Kayleigh got into the front passenger seat beside her.
Barbara started the engine and stomped on the accelerator. She looked like a little girl as she drove, clutching a steering wheel that seemed much too big for her tiny hands. They left the road and bumped across open moorland. People at the edges of the crowd pranced out of the way as they picked up speed. “Where are we going, Barbara?” asked Kayleigh, reaching behind her for the seatbelt.
“You’ll see in a sec’.” She shoved the Range Rover down a gear and started mounting one of the ridges that bordered the RAF base. As they bounced and jarred up the hill, their view improved. Everything lay spread beneath them, glowing in the melange of the hazy moon and the base floodlights. The seething mass of protesters clumped against the fence, howling and booing. The airbase hangers and buildings looked small in the distance. The aeroplane with the world’s only remaining Erkdwala inside it was like a toy as it crawled across the tarmac. It turned onto the runway and began picking up speed. Red and white navigation lights blinked from its tail and wingtips.
Barbara swung the car around to face the panorama and ground to a halt. “You’d better get out now, Kayleigh.” she said.
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“Never mind that, just get out! I can’t take you with me!”
“But…”
“NOW!”
She released her seatbelt, opened the door and stepped out onto the heather.
“Kayleigh?”
“Yes?”
Barbara’s face was in shadow; only her eyes were visible, shimmering in the light. “Find my friends and tell them I love them.” She didn’t even wait for Kayleigh to close the door. The tyres rasped and the car leaped forward as if on a released spring. As it built up speed on the uneven ground it rocked and jarred so much that it looked as if it would overturn. It tore down the hill like a rolling rock. Barbara thumped the horn repeatedly and the crowd parted, shouting and pushing to get out of her way.
“Bloody heck!” muttered Kayleigh.
As the vehicle reached the flat ground it accelerated even harder. Aiming square, it hit the fence with a metallic smack and the taut wire flopped to the ground, dragging a couple of posts and thirty yards of fencing with it. The mob cheered and surged towards the break like a released flood.
But the car carried on, a coil of barbed wire entangled in its rear bumper. If anything, Barbara was driving faster. She was heading towards the runway, skilfully leading the moving aircraft, aiming for the point where it would be when she arrived rather than where it was now. The marines stopped strutting and stared at her.
“Barbara! Are you crazy!?” said Kayleigh aloud, and then screamed as she saw the flicker of muzzle flashes coming from the guards’ rifles. “BARBARA!” A second later she heard the rat-a-tat of gunfire.
The range was very short. There was a loud popping sound which must have been the tyres bursting and the windscreen shattered, but the vehicle carried on. It passed the line of the cordon and the marines continued to pump bullets into it from behind. The nearest guard tower joined in and yellow tracer fell onto the Range Rover like sparks from a furnace. It was only a hundred yards from the plane which was by now doing about fifty knots, almost enough for flight.
Kayleigh then understood what was about to happen and heard herself shriek like a banshee. “NO!”
The aircraft’s pilot had by now spotted the Range Rover and guessed what it was about to do. A puff of smoke wafted from the plane’s wheels as he applied the brakes. A parachute popped out from the tail and snapped open in the slipstream. Barbara must have been still alive at this point because she altered her track slightly to account for the Hercules’ change of speed. She carefully selected the nosecone as her target, knowing the passengers would be in the rear compartment.
The delicate airframe crumpled like cardboard as the perforated Range Rover rammed it. There was an ear-splitting shriek of rending metal; the nosewheel collapsed and the Hercules tipped onto its foresection. Sparks flew and friction with the tarmac dragged pieces of fuselage under the aircraft’s belly. The mangled remains of the Range Rover jammed underneath one of the rear wheels and the plane veered violently off the runway. One of its propellers touched the ground with a clatter and its blades snapped off and flew away into the darkness outside the pools of floodlight. The marines threw themselves out of the way, but one wasn’t quick enough and was crushed beneath the speeding mass of torn metal like a beetle beneath a lawnmower.
The wrecked plane gouged a brown track through the heather as its inertia carried it onwards; through the fence as if it were a spider’s web. It slowed gradually and eventually came to rest against a gentle rise at the foot of one of the berms that made up the remains of old Mount Clow hill. Sirens moaned across the compound.
Kayleigh was running. She pelted down the hill and was absorbed into the tail end of the stampede. The next few minutes were very confusing. She ran like she’d never run before, carrying on, ignoring her breathlessness and aching body. She was deafened by the roars and shouts of people around her. Wide faces flashed at her, elbows and knees knocked against her.
Then came the sound of popping gunfire from the guard towers. The throng gave a scream of terror. Glowing tracer-bullets rained down like biblical brimstone. Lead slapped against flesh and bone; blood flew into the air to fall like warm drizzle. Kayleigh was hardly even conscious; adrenalin washed through her system. People were falling all around her, some obscenely mutilated by gaping head wounds. She tripped over a body and almost fell. There was a crunching, crackling noise and one of the guard towers leaned over and crashed to the ground like a felled tree.
The shots eventually ceased. The crowd grew closer and closer until Kayleigh felt herself being crushed. She shoved the backs and bellies of the enflamed activists, their voices filling her ears. Someone pushed her hard against a wall; then she saw that it wasn’t a wall, but the skin of the crashed Hercules. There was a whooping of ambulance sirens and blue, flickering lights bathed the pandemonium. A hand roughly seized her arm and yelled inaudibly in her ear. She looked up and saw Barry Gervaise. He embraced her with both arms and they began running. The whole mass of people were now fleeing the scene. It became darker as they left the floodlights behind them. “We got ‘em out!” Barry panted.
“Wh… What?” Kayleigh breathed.
“The Erkdwala! We got ‘em out of the plane!”
“Where’s Dill?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
****************************************
They watched the giant TV screen in silence, listening to the base commandant’s telephone report on the speakerphone. The picture was being filmed from a helicopter hovering over RAF Mount Clow. “…As you can see, Your Excellency, the whole operation’s gone to pot! The aircraft is totally fucked! The rabble have stormed the wreckage and kidnapped the passengers! We believe they also took weapons! We couldn’t stop them, Sir; there were too many!”
“What!?” scoffed Trevor. “You’ve still got guns, haven’t you!? Why didn’t you carry on shooting!?”
“But, Sir; they brought down one of the guard towers with a chain saw! The foot-patrols were lucky to escape being flattened…”
“I’m not interested in hearing you excuses, Wing Commander! You should have carried on shooting until they were all dead!... Where are they now!?”
“They’ve scattered into the countryside, Your Excellency. Most have gone northwards; I think that’s where they’re taking the passengers. Kayleigh Ford was with them. We’ve captured Dill Gibson; he’s been shot in the shoulder.”
“Very well. Maintain air patrols until further notice; if you locate them notify me immediately… And, Wing commander; don’t fail me again!” Trevor punched his finger down on his keyboard, cutting the connection. The screen went blank.
Zachary Neelum approached the desk. “Let’s face it, Trevor; we’ve just come home from a bank holiday weekend break in Cock-Up Land.”
“I will not be defied by a bunch of malodorous, subhuman tree-huggers!” Trevor spoke in a low, taut voice. His face glowed, his cheek twitched and his arms were crossed on the shiny desk.
“What do you suggest we do then?”
“We find them, we arrest them, we kill them if they so much as lift a finger to resist; then we take the savages, put them onto another plane and deliver them to the Americans as promised!”
“How!? Any attempt at secrecy has been blown wide open! The whole of Rockall must know what’s been going on! The Erk… the savages could be anywhere and you can’t find them without making it obvious what’s been going on! The islanders will no longer trust you!” As if they did anyway! Zach added silently in his mind.
“Zach! I pay you to assist and advise! Not to preach cowardice and defeatism!”
“I’m being realistic, Trevor!”
The Governor got to his feet and began shaking as if having an epileptic fit.
“Trevor? Are you alright?”
“AAAAHHHHHRRRRRGGGGHHH!” He let forth an explosive bellow of pure rage and hatred. He picked up his half-empty bottle of red wine and dashed it against the curved wall of his office. Zach shrank back as Merlot sprinkled onto the pristine carpet. Trevor sank to his knees, his right arm resting on the side of the desk.
“Hey, Trevor; take it easy, Mate.” said Zach cautiously.
“Get out of my sight!” he growled between gritted teeth.
Zach walked along the corridor to his office. Once inside he locked the door and helped himself to another Scotch to calm his nerves. Along with the relief he felt at the news that Kayleigh had survived the battle were generally very mixed feelings about the whole affair. A part of him was glad that the Erkdwala had escaped their fate. A weight had lifted off his shoulders. Perhaps he wasn’t being as realistic in his counsel to the Governor as he claimed. Maybe he should do something positive now while the opportunity was ripe. If he did then Kayleigh might forgive him.
He telephoned Trevor’s office, not daring to visit in person. The voicemail was on so he left a message. After that he went down to the courtyard and drove back to First Landing. All the lights were on in the Bower-casts; nobody was sleeping that night.
He made himself a sandwich before bed. As soon as he’d finished eating it, the ‘phone rang. “Hello, Zach.” said Trevor in a genial voice. “Thank you for your message; do you want to pop back over here to discuss it?”
“Er… yeah, no problems.” he answered suspiciously.
Trevor was smiling as Zach entered his office in The Rotunda. The night-maid was busy washing the carpet of the wine stains. “Thank you for coming back, Zach.” said Trevor. His demeanour had totally changed. His expression was calm, his eyes were clear and he’d put on a fresh suit. “That’s an excellent idea of yours.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s a stroke of genius.”
Zach paused. “You mean you’re going to offer them my plan?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t get it. Half an hour ago you were dead against…”
Trevor tittered melodiously. “I saw the error of my ways.”
“You saw the error of your ways!? How much of that wine have you drunk? You've never backtracked on anything in your life!”
“Even Homer nods, Zach.”
****************************************
The word came though at dawn that the Erkdwala had been located. They were holed up in the McDonald’s burger bar at Green Port with several hundred of the surviving insurgents. The security forces had surrounded the position and were waiting for further instructions. Trevor had Patterfield prepare the Bentley and drove there with Zach.
It was a damp, cold morning. Thin, aubergine clouds partly concealed a dark, early morning sky. The blast of the sun forced its way through the bushes at the far side of the car park. The soldiers and marines were crouching fifty yards away behind rocks or in hollows in the ground. “They’re armed, Your Excellency.” said the officer commanding the stake-out. “We definitely saw them carrying rifles. They must have swiped them from the plane.”
Zach looked towards the McDonalds. The windows were smashed and the doors forced; furniture had been torn up and piled around the walls to create a crude barricade. He spotted a flutter of movement from within.
Trevor took a megaphone from an army Landrover. “ATTENTION!” he called. “WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! THE BUILDING IS SURROUNDED!... DO NOT BE AFRAID; WE DO NOT INTEND TO ATTACK! ALL WE WANT TO DO IS TALK!... WOULD KAYLEIGH FORD PLEASE STEP OUTSIDE AND NEGOTIATE WITH US!?” He paused for half a minute. There was no sound except the breeze and the cawing of the seabirds. “KAYLEIGH, IT’S TREVOR! IF YOU’RE IN THERE, PLEASE COME OUT AND SPEAK WITH ME!” There was another pause then Zach saw a shadow in the doorway. There was a noise as a table was dragged aside and Kayleigh stepped out into the open air. “Alright, Trevor!” Her voice echoed like a bell in the hush. “I’m here! The Erkdwala are here! What are you waiting for, you piece of crud!? Come and get us!”
Trevor handed the megaphone to a soldier who took it wordlessly. He then stood up and walked forward into the car park to meet her. Zach followed at his shoulder. Kayleigh didn't acknowledge his presence and addressed Trevor as if he were alone. The Governor smiled at her. “How is everyone in there?”
Kayleigh laughed scornfully. “You really sound as if you care!” There was a long pause and she relented slightly. “There are about two hundred of us in there, plus all the Erkdwala. We’ve got twenty-seven hurt; five are serious.”
“I have ambulances on standby ready to take them all to the Green Port and Rockall Port med centres.”
“Do you really think we’d be happy to put them into your hands!?”
“Why not? We won’t harm them?”
“How can you say that after last night!?”
“Kayleigh the events of last night were a tragedy, but everyone on all sides feels equally upset about it and wants to close the door on it… Five Royal Marines were killed as well you know.”
“So now they’ll want their revenge!”
“Don’t be silly! Everyone realizes that this whole thing should never have happened. We just want the hurt in hospital, the damage repaired and everyone safely back at home.”
“How many?” asked Kayleigh.
“How many what?”
“How many were killed?”
Trevor huffed deeply and looked at the sky. “Two hundred and forty-five. We also have another three hundred and seven in hospital, including Dill. He took a bullet through the shoulder. He’s got a broken collarbone, but he’s going to be alright.”
Kayleigh was visibly affected by the news of Dill. Her mouth opened and she tottered slightly.
“How are the savages?”
“The Erkdwala are fine. None of them were badly hurt. Tell the Yanks that their secret lab specimens are undamaged!”
“Kayleigh…”
“What are you standing around nattering for, Trevor!? You have the men and the guns! Why don’t you click your fingers and send them in to get us! We know that’s what you’re going to do!... You can chase me up afterwards if you want to gloat!”
Trevor smiled slightly. He raised his hands in the air and snapped his fingers. With a rumble of boots all the troops stood up, made safe their weapons, about-turned and began marching away in double-file. Their vehicles followed and they headed off south down the Trans-Rockall Highway. Within five minutes, the sound of the withdrawing force had faded away into the distance and Trevor, Zach and Kayleigh were alone in the car park.
Kayleigh was slack-jawed. “What’s your game!?”
“No game.” replied Trevor. “I just came here to tell you the score: The savages will not be deported from Rockall. They have the freedom of the island and my guarantee that they will not be molested. If they choose, they may return to their former abode on the eastern plateau; otherwise accommodation and employment will be provided for them by the Governorship… I am also granting an amnesty to everyone involved in the incident at RAF Mount Clow last night. Nobody will be prosecuted for anything that happened there, Kayleigh.”
She didn’t reply.
“Thank Zach for all this!” Trevor jerked his thumb over his shoulder with a chuckle. “It was his idea.”
For the first time, Kayleigh looked at Zach. “Is that true?”
“Yeah.” Zach nodded.
“Why should I trust you, Trevor?” she put her arms akimbo.
“You shouldn’t if you don’t want to.” the Governor responded. “Sit around in that McDonalds for the next month if you chose! It’s no skin off my nose… But if you decide to believe me, give me a call.” He turned and walked away.
Zach glanced once more at Kayleigh and then followed. He was overjoyed to see that she looked at him with a very different expression; one devoid of resentment and contempt. “I think I love you, Kayleigh.” he muttered. He wasn’t sure if he spoke loudly enough for her to hear him.

(Previous Chapter:
Chapter 5- Aliens: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/04/chapter-five-aliens-phone-rang-while.html
Next Chapter:
Chapter 7- To Turn and Turn Again: http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/07/rockall-chapter-7.html)

Rockall Chapter 5- Aliens

Chapter Five- Aliens

The ‘phone rang while Zachary Neelum was on the toilet. He leaped off the seat and tumbled forward with his trousers round his ankles. He ran like a shackled convict, not bothering to pull them up. He fell again and crawled the rest of the way. He snatched up the receiver. “Hello!?”
“Good morning, Zach. I hope I haven’t woken you too early.”
“Trevor! What do you want!?”
“I was just wondering if you were planning on doing any work today. It’s eleven thirty and you’re not in your office.”
“Get off the line, Trevor! I’m waiting for the Guard to call!”
“The Guard can call you on your mobile; now please make an effort and drag yourself across the Port; I’ve got some Home Office releases for you to countersign.”
Zach went down to his garage, got into his new Jaguar and drove the single mile across the settlement to The Rotunda. He parked in the forecourt and made his way up to Trevor’s office, keeping his eyes averted from the empty secretary’s desk. Trevor was on the ‘phone as he walked in. “Sorry, I’m late…” Zach began.
The Governor waved him silent. “Yes… Yes… Very well; let me know as soon as she’s available. Thank you.” He put down the receiver. “Damn!”
“Trouble?”
“I’ve spent the last hour trying to find a temp to cover Kayleigh. Ross says he won’t be able to get anyone out here for a week. Blast and botheration!”
“I’m touched by your concern!” Zach spat sarcastically.
“Oh, come on, Zach! Life goes on. We still have an island to run, Kayleigh or no Kayleigh.”
“Trevor! She’s been missing for nearly two days! The last people to see her were those bird-watchers! They said she wandered off on her own! Don’t you realize what that could mean!? She might have fallen and broken her leg or caught hypothermia or something!”
“Kayleigh’s never stuck me as the reckless, mountaineering type.”
“So what if a gang of thugs have got hold of her!?”
“Then how’s your worrying going to help her?... Look, I’ve posted every off-duty Guardsman to the search. If she were still on Rockall, they’d find her.”
“What do you mean ‘if she were still on Rockall’?”
“Well… Have you ever considered that the reason she’s missing is that she doesn’t want to be found?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Perhaps she’s gone away… to think.”
Zach shook his head in bemusement. “Eh?”
“Well, I know that you and she have been having a little… liaison. It might have left her somewhat confused and uncertain about her feelings. She’d probably needs some space.”
“A little liaison!? How did you find out?”
“How did you expect anyone not to find out? We’ve all decided to keep it from Dill for the time being.”
Zach paused. “But… it doesn’t fit.”
“It fits perfectly. Now why don’t you just put her out of your head and wait. In a while she’ll turn up as happy as Larry and you can go off to bed and carry on where you left off.”
“But the bird-watchers found the car where she’d left it. Why didn’t she go back to it and drive home?”
“She probably walked down the coast to Hasselwood. It would only take a few hours. If she’s clever enough to sneak across the border into the US Sector I’m sure she’s clever enough to sneak back… It beats me how she managed to do it. I wish I knew.”
Zach put his hands in his pocket and shifted on his feet. He cleared his throat. “Er… So where do you think she is now?”
“Staying with friends in Hasselwood; or perhaps she’s gone back to the mainland. She could easily have stowed away on that Edinburgh Uni flight yesterday.”
“Back to the mainland!?”
“Yes; to her parents’ place.” The Governor leaned back in his chair. “Zach, have you checked your emails lately?”
“No, I’ve been too busy worrying about Kayleigh.”
He tilted his screen towards Zach. “Well, why don’t you do it now?”
Zach typed in his password and called up his inbox. “My God! There’s one from her! It came in last night!”
“Read it.”
He opened the email. DEAR ZACH. MUM ILL. GOT 2 GO HOME 2 GLASGOW. WILL B BACK IN A FEW DAYS. KAYLEIGH X. Zach straightened up and smiled. “It’s an I-fone message. She sent it from her mobile.”
Trevor grinned. “There you are; told you so.”
Relief turned to suspicious anger. “You knew!”
Trevor didn’t reply.
“You knew and you never said a word! You let me go on worrying!”
“I received a similar message at around the same time, yes. I’ve ordered the Guard to call off the search.”
“Why didn’t you tell me!?”
“Because I didn’t want you doing anything rash. I thought I’d wait until I could break the news to you in person.”
Zach picked up the ‘phone. “Well, I’m calling her.”
Trevor cut off the line with the edge of his hand. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Why not!? I want to talk to her!”
“Zach, that’s why I wanted to tell you face-to-face; in case you tried something like this. Don’t you see? She’s got cold feet. Let her work it out in peace for a while. She’ll come back to you; just be patient.”
“What do you know about women, Trevor?” he asked sulkily.
“What, do you think I’m a monk or something?... Come on, let’s get these releases signed. We’ve got the Rockall Summit coming up in just over a year.”
****************************************
Zach treated himself to a medicinal whisky from a bottle that he kept in the top drawer of his desk. He reclined in his chair and sighed deeply. The relief! Terrible images had been haunting his mind for the past forty-eight hours: Kayleigh’s body lying at the foot of a cliff while the sea washed over her. Kayleigh being tied up by a gang of soldiers and screaming as they dragged her away. It made him realize that she meant a lot more to him than he’d previously thought. Maybe Trevor was right; she’d been a bit thrown by his suggestion that they went official with their relationship and decided to ease off the throttle for a while. But was Trevor right to advise him not to contact her? All he wanted to do was talk; that wouldn’t do any harm, would it? He picked up the ‘phone and dialled her number.
“The Tetralink ‘phone you have called is not responding. It may be switched off. Please try again later.”
“Damn!” He deliberated for a few minutes then called up Kayleigh’s parents’ number from her file. It rang loudly in his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is that Mrs Ford?”
“Yes.”
“This is Zach Neelum here on Rockall. Could I speak to Kayleigh please?”
“Kayleigh? She doesn’t live here any more. She’s on Rockall with you, isn’t she?”
Zach hesitated. “Did you just say she’s on Rockall?”
“Aye; haven’t you seen her?”
“No; she sent me an email saying she was with you.”
Kayleigh’s mother chuckled. “Don’t worry; she does this thing from time to time. But if she shows up, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”
“Thanks, Mrs Ford. Goodbye.” Zach got up from his desk and jogged along the corridor to Trevor’s office. “Trevor! Trevor! Kayleigh’s not with her parents! She’s…” As he ran up to Trevor’s desk he noticed something strange about the Governor’s expression: he was frowning furiously. His face was flushed and his brow knotted. “What’s wrong, Trevor?”
He hissed through his nose. “How could you!?”
“How could I what?”
“Did you really think you’d get away with it!?”
“Are you feeling alright, Trevor?”
The Governor slowly got to his feet. “You’re sacked, Mr Deputy-Governor!”
“What!?”
“I said you’re sacked!”
Zach chuckled. “Very amusing, Trevor. Not a bad joke for a beginner.”
“Do you hear me laughing?”
There was an icy silence. “But… what’s all this about?”
“This!” Trevor held up a printout of the Emergency Access Order that he’d forged for Kayleigh.
Zach teetered backwards and nearly fell over.
“Oh, so you feel shocked, do you!?... Well, so do I! Shocked, betrayed and deceived!”
“How… how…?”
“How did I find out?... Though you went to great lengths to delete the file you created on my personal system, you forgot to also delete the backup file on the Rotunda mainframe! The one with your user name on it!... Now I know how Kayleigh breached border security!... GET OUT!”
“Come on, Trevor! There’s no need for…”
“Yes there is!... Sergeant!”
A uniformed member of the Rockall Guard entered the room immediately as if he’d been standing by just outside. “Your Excellency?”
“Escort ex-Deputy-Governor Neelum to his home address.”
Zach felt an abyss open up in front of him. “Trevor! Please don’t do this! We’ve been through so much together! You’d never have got here if it hadn’t been for me!”
“Just go, Zach.”
Zach began to weep. “Please don’t sack me, Trevor! I’m sorry! Give me one more chance! This job is all I’ve got!”
The Governor looked down on him with an expression that was totally drenched in contempt. “Huh! Did you think that if you hung on long enough you could be back in my shoes one day!? Well, now you can forget it! Rot in despair, Zach!... Sergeant! Get this snivelling wretch out of my sight!”
The Guardsman put a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “Come along now, Mr Neelum. Let’s not have any trouble.”
****************************************
Three days later, Zach received his P-Forty-five through Rockall's internal postal service. The envelope was addressed in Trevor’s hand. There was no note; the document was the only thing inside.
He hadn’t left First Landing once since the Rockall Guardsman had dropped him off. He’d spent the following days lolling about the place, eating, drinking and watching TV; his brain out of gear. Since his dismissal, Zach saw no reason why he should get up early, so he’d been lying in every morning, sometimes till well after midday. He’d had no visitors or ‘phone calls, so when the doorbell woke him up just after nine AM two weeks later, he assumed it had been a dream and closed his eyes again. It sounded again. He propped himself up on his elbow. “Shit! Who’s that?” he muttered. “Go away!” The doorbell rang yet again, as if the caller had heard these words. Zach cursed and rolled out of bed, snatched his bathrobe off the back of the door and plodded down the stairs. He opened the front door to a bright, cool morning and a shabbily-dressed young woman standing on his doorstep. “Yes?” he said. “What is it?”
She smiled. “Good morning to you too, Zach.”
Her familiar voice sparked violently in his clotted brain and it took a moment or two to register who she was. “Kayleigh!”
“Well, it’s nice to see you remember me.”
“How long have you been back?”
“I haven’t been away… Look, are you going to invite me in; ‘cos if not I’ll go and have a bath somewhere else.”
“Er… yeah. Of course, Kayleigh. Come on in.”
She headed straight to his kitchen and made herself a strong cup of coffee. Zach watched her as she gulped. He’d never seen her like this before. Her clothes were creased and covered in mud; her hands were grey with dirt and her hair was tousled and stained. “So… How have you been keeping?” asked Zach.
She dropped the empty coffee mug into the sink. “Ah! That was good! I needed it!”
“Kayleigh, where have you been for the last two weeks?”
She smiled at him, and it struck Zach that her face looked different too. There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before; a curl of the lips when she grinned. “Wait a mo’, Zach. I’ll have a bath first, if you don’t mind. I’ll be able to think straighter when I’m clean.” She then proceeded to undress completely where she stood, tossing her clothes into a pile on the floor. “You couldn’t run these through your machine while I have a wash, could you?”
“No problem.”
“Great.” She headed for the stairs, skipping and humming to herself as she walked.
A putrid odour rose from Kayleigh’s clothes as he pushed them into his washing machine. They were the same ones that she’d worn when she’d left Rockall Port on the day that she’d disappeared more than a fortnight ago.
“Zach?” she called down the stairs.
“Yeah?”
“Can I use your toothbrush?”
“Sure.” He looked upstairs with his arms akimbo and sighed. Then he went up quietly and knocked on the bathroom door.
“Come in, Zach.”
Kayleigh was sitting in deep tub of water that was nearly black with grime. She was shaving her legs with Zach’s razor and whistling. Her wet hair drooped over her shoulders.
He sat down on the toilet and rested his elbows on his knees. “Kayleigh, what’s up? Where have you been? Your email said you’d gone to Glasgow.”
“I lied; sorry.”
“I know; I called your mum and dad. Why lie?”
“I had to. I couldn’t tell you where I really was and if I’d simply gone missing you’d have had the police over here looking for me.”
He paused. “So then, Kayleigh; please tell me where you’ve really been.”
Kayleigh stood up and let the water sluice off her body. She stepped out of the bath and put on a dressing gown then she wrapped her hair in a towel and arranged it around her head like a huge turban. “Zach, I’ve found something out about Rockall that you wouldn’t believe. I’ve made a discovery that you could never have imagined in your wildest dreams.”
“What?”
She hesitated. “If I tell you... then you must swear that you’ll tell nobody else; absolutely nobody! Not a soul! Not until I decide when and how. I mean it! This is more important than you can comprehend!”
“Alright.”
“Swear it to me, Zach!”
“OK, OK; I swear it; now spill the beans, Kayleigh; before I die of curiosity.”
She breathed hard and looked down. “No, I can’t tell you; you’d think I was nuts. I’ll have to show you.” She beckoned. “Follow me.”
Kayleigh dressed and led Zach down to the garage. She insisted on driving herself. She did so quickly with both hands on the wheel. Her face was noncommittal, but every so often she’d grin to herself. They turned onto the Trans-Rockall Highway and headed north. Kayleigh used her access order again to penetrate the US Sector and they carried on towards Green Port.
The American base had been expanded into a futuristic-looking city since the Treaty, but Kayleigh didn’t drive into it; she turned right at a McDonald’s burger bar and headed towards Anderson Bay and the uninhabited highlands of the east. The road became a pair of wheel ruts branded into the moor like a scar. Much to Zach’s distress, his Jaguar was soon spattered with mud. She parked and got out. “This way.”
“But, Kayleigh; this is the eastern coast! There’s nothing here!”
“Looks can be deceptive.”
“As deceptive as a woman?”
She laughed. “Come on, let’s go.”
They hiked through the morning, setting a pace that soon made Zach out of breath. The eastern cliffs were more empty and desolate than anything he’d ever seen before on Rockall. It felt forbidden and intimidating. “Kayleigh!”
She stopped walking and looked at him. “What?”
“I’m getting a little weary of this! Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you content to just lead me like a donkey?”
“I’m content to just lead you like a donkey.” She turned and carried on walking.
“I’ve a good mind to turn round and go home!” he called.
“That’d be a shame ‘cos we’re nearly there.”
Zach hesitated then continued in her footsteps. “This had better be worth it, Kay!”
Half an hour later, Kayleigh stopped beside the edge of the precipice where a series of precarious-looking, grassy slopes led down to the shoreline. Without waiting for him, she jumped down onto the first slope and began crawling. Zach’s head swam as he stood on the brink. “Wait a sec’, Kay! I don’t think I can do this!”
“It’s perfectly safe, Zach!” she sang out and leaped down onto the next stage of the descent.
Zach screwed up his eyes and followed, gripping the grass as tightly as he could, moving one foot or hand at a time.
“Mind the last bit; some of it’s a bit loose.” Kayleigh was standing on the beach below, waiting for him.
Zach slid down the scree berm and picked himself up to stand beside her.
She laughed at him. “Your face looks like a beetroot! Come on; we’ve a little way to go yet.”
The next part of the journey was even harder. Kayleigh and Zach followed the shoreline south along the foot of the cliff by clambering over green, slimy rocks and ledges, covered with limpets and seaweed. The surf thundered violently against the land just a few feet beneath them. The noise was deafening and the air misty with spray, making Zach’s eyes sting. “Don’t fall in here, whatever you do!” yelled Kayleigh.
“Thanks for reminding me! I was just about to!” His heart pounded against his ribs as he stared down at the churning, white spume of the sea.
“It gets easier here!” called Kayleigh an hour later. They mounted a narrow, but flat ledge; almost a pathway. It was smooth and dry and a rope had been attached to the cliff face at waist level, making a convenient handhold. Zach was so relieved that it was ten minutes until the obvious struck him like a thunderclap. Where does this rope come from and who put it here? It was an unusual rope too, made from plaited strips of leather. It was made fast to the escarpment by being lashed around recessed cleats that had been carved from the bare rock. “Kayleigh!” he shouted, but she was too far away to hear over the din of the surf. She was almost out of sight behind the obscuring curve of the cliff. A hundred yards further the ledge ended in a deep, narrow cove with overhanging cliffs and opened out onto a dry terrace of flat rock. To his astonishment there were people standing on it. Kayleigh was talking to a group of slender, long-haired figures, gesticulating broadly as if they were foreigners. As Zach got closer he noticed that the strangers were all wearing the most unusual clothes: tan leather trousers and jerkins. Despite the chilly conditions, they wore nothing on their feet but sandals or moccasins with no socks. One of them spotted Zach approaching and gaped at him in awe. He tapped the shoulder of one of his companions and the next moment they were all backing away from him. They huddled tightly against the cliff face, their arms up in a defensive posture. “What are you staring at me like that for!?” demanded Zach.
“It’s alright.” said Kayleigh to the strangers. “He’s a friend.” She turned to Zach and smiled. “Zach, this is Zhadek, Queylie, Peen, Yonax, Ibul, Tapuss and G’hog… And this is Zach…” She then spoke a few words of a foreign language that didn’t sound like Gaelic.
“What was that?” muttered Zach.
“They’re just a bit shy, that’s all.”
“Shy?”
“They’re not used to strangers. It took them a while to accept to me.”
One of the women in the group began slowly edging towards Zach. One of the men protested and groped at her shoulder, but she shook his hand away. She closed the distance cautiously, her face wide and inquisitive.
Kayleigh encouraged her in that strange language.
The woman had long, wavy, golden hair and the blackest eyes Zach had ever seen. Her leathers were stitched neatly and evenly, but the thread used was very thick, almost like cord. Small seashells decorated her clothes in a complex pattern.
“This is Queylie. They’ve started calling me her sister ‘cos her name sounds so much like mine.” Kayleigh seemed exuberant and joyous.
Queylie reached out a callused hand and ran her fingers over Zach’s red, Gore-tex jacket. She crouched down and examined his boots then straightened up and gently touched his cheek.
“Kay?” said Zach between stiff lips like a ventriloquist. “What’s she doing?”
“You’ll have to excuse her. She’s never seen a shaven man before. All Erkdwala males grow beards.” She pointed at one of the men. “That big feller’s Zhadek. He’s the first one I met. Gave you a bit of a shock, didn’t I, Zhadek? I almost fell into your lap! Zhadek is married to Peen.” She indicated another woman, taller and older than Queylie. Grey streaked her blonde hair and wrinkles lined her face. “She’s a doctor.”
Zach grinned wryly. “Of course she is.”
“I was quite badly hurt when Zhadek brought me here; I’d fallen down the slope, you see. Anyway, Peen fixed me up. She put some sort of herb on my cuts and look! There’s not a mark on me! Same with my sprained ankle. Peen wrapped it in a poultice and it was as right as rain in two days! No disrespect to Dr Forbes and Arlene, but if I’d gone to the hospital in the Port, I’d still be on crutches now…”
“Kayleigh.” interrupted Zhadek and began jabbering away in the strange language.
She replied briefly and nodded. “Zach, we’ve got to go and meet Kerroj.”
“Who?”
“He’s their leader; a lovely old man. Come on.”
The strangers directed them towards a deeper part of the bay where the rock cracked into the jagged, yawning mouths of caves. Zach’s apprehension redoubled. “Kay! Where are they taking us!?”
“Into their home. It’ll be OK; it’s very pleasant in there actually.”
A few yards inside, the cavern was blocked by a leather curtain. Zhadek held open an access flap to let them all pass inside. Zach’s brain could scarcely take in what his senses bombarded it with. Beyond the curtain, the cavern widened into a huge chamber where a hundred or more people stood or sat, all dressed in a similar attire to Zhadek, Peen and Queylie. Naked children gambolled about and babies cried. The air was dense and warm; powerful scents flooded Zach’s nostrils: wood smoke, charcoal, roasting meat, heather, grass and flowers. All the heat and light came from three open fires in the centre of the room. The occupants stared at him and gasped, fingers pointed and excited chatter orbited the cave.
Only one of them remained composed; a lean, elderly man who stood directly opposite the cave entrance. Even without his brushwood crown and elaborately-designed cloak of gull-feathers it was instantly apparent that he was in charge of this gang of odd-balls. He was by far the oldest person present and his dark eyes were hard and intelligent. He looked at Zach differently to the others; his gaze communicated regal wisdom, pride and understanding. His white hair and beard fell almost to his waist. Zach imagined that with a pointed hat he’d have made a great wizard. He spoke a few words in that bizarre language of theirs and held out his hand to Zach, making a strange gesture in the air that felt like a greeting. “Zach, this is Kerroj; he’s the Erkdwala chief. These people respect him deeply. Zhadek is his son.”
“I see; so what happens now?”
“I’m not sure. I think they’re inviting us to share their dinner, but we’re the first guests they’ve ever had and I didn’t catch what they just said.”
One of the women pointed to a pair of round, flat rocks topped with heather sprigs. “Thank you, Shalah.” said Kayleigh. “Sit down, Zach.”
The heather tickled the base of his back where his skin was exposed, but he soon made himself comfortable. Kerroj pointed at the fire and some of the men, using knives made of sharpened bone, began slicing steaks off some joints of meat that were roasting there. The smell was delicious and the note of the conversation rose. People smiled and licked their lips. Zach was feeling hungry after his long walk and climb, but as soon as he saw the manner in which they were about to eat, his appetite left him. The steaks were served on flat animal bones, probably shoulder blades, which acted as plates. There was no cutlery and the platters were passed around by dirty hands.
Kayleigh didn’t appear to mind and began tucking in as soon as she was served, grinning as she chewed. Queylie handed Zach his meal and he looked down at it in disgust. The steak was rare and raggedly cut; a pile of redcurrants and some wild radishes, uncooked and covered in soil, completed the “dish.” Queylie looked nonplussed at Zach’s expression, inquiring in her incomprehensible tongue.
“I’m not very hungry.” he told her.
She pointed into her open mouth and nodded.
“Yes, I’m aware that it’s food; I just don’t feel like eating it… And could you speak in English when you address me, please!?”
She sensed the irritation in his tone and backed away.
“Zach.” said Kayleigh reproachfully. “Don’t be so tetchy. Eat it; it’s very nice… And she doesn’t speak English. None of them do.”
“What? Come on; of course they do.” He picked up the steak and took a bite. “Must be full of germs; being cooked in the open. What meat is this?”
“Chevaline.”
“What’s that?”
“Roast Rockall Pony.”
He gasped, barely resisting the urge to spit out his mouthful. “What did you say!?”
“It’s a pony. Don’t worry; it’s fresh. The hunters caught it last night. These are the people who’ve been carrying out the mysterious pony-killings. They have to; it’s part of their way of life.”
Zach leapt to his feet. “What the hell’s going on here!? Who do you think you people are!? You can’t go hunting Rockall Ponies! They’re a protected species!”
The strangers stared at him in silence. Kerroj smiled; partly embarrassed, partly amused.
“Sit down and shut up, Zach!” spat Kayleigh. “You’re making a prat out of yourself!”
“I just think that if your Mr Kellogg’s is going to bring his disciples here then he needs to be informed of the law of this island!”
Kayleigh hid her face in her hands and sighed.
After everyone had finished eating, water was passed round in a bladder then one of the women stood up and started talking intensely, mining as she spoke. Everyone else watched her. “Ooh’s” and “Ah’s” or riotous laughter broke out every now and again from the audience.
“They do this every mealtime.” said Kayleigh. “I think she’s telling a story. It’s the only form of entertainment they have.” She looked wistfully at the orator. “I wish I could understand it.”
“I thought you’d learned to speak their language.” said Zach.
“I’ve only picked up a few phrases; look.” She took a notebook out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. Zach flicked through it. She’d filled a few pages with vocabulary:
Gwecka = Pony
Assi = Sea
Ard = Man
Bley = Woman
Libbi = Baby
Pumpoo = Sky
Alcock = Boat
Shiosh = Fish
Hellia = Redcurrant
Keekma = Blackberry
Peynaploo = Pony leather
Chayn = Cave
Arkdwa = Rockall, or something bigger?
“I try to talk to them and sometimes they understand me.” said Kayleigh.
“Isn’t it a Gaelic dialect or something?”
“No; nothing like it.”
“Why don’t you speak to them in English?”
“I’ve told you; they can’t speak English.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”
The man sitting on his left muttered something to him.
“I think he wants you to keep your voice down.” said Kayleigh.
When the story-teller had finished, she sat down and everyone in the cavern began swaying and chanting. It was a sound beyond description; totally unlike anything Zach had heard in his life. “what’s this?” he asked.
Kayleigh was enraptured. “I think it’s some kind of prayer. They do this every evening. Isn’t it beautiful!?”
“Sounds weird to me.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Zach paused. “Kayleigh, who are these guys?”
“They call themselves Erkdwala.”
“What’s that in English?”
“It isn’t.”
The gathering broke up and their hosts slowly filed out of the cave, chatting quietly. None of them paid Kayleigh or Zach any further attention.
“Where do they come from, Kayleigh?”
“Here. They’re native Rockallians.”
“I don’t understand.”
She turned to face him. “Don’t you? Zach, Jesse Curtis wasn’t the First Man on Rockall and neither were the Americans. The Erkdwala were; they live here!”
“Kayleigh, that’s absurd! Rockall has always been uninhabited! These folks are hippies on some sort of retreat…”
“How do you know Rockall has always been uninhabited?” she challenged.
“Well… it just was! Everyone knows that! Before the Yanks arrived there was nothing here but rocks and grass…”
“How does everyone know if no one’s ever been here before?”
“Because… we just do! Everyone does! Rockall was completely unexplored before May Twenty-oh-nine. That’s an established fact!”
She groaned. “Zach, when you and Trevor and the Yanks set foot here, you were stepping onto a shore which already has a native population.”
“Impossible! How could anyone live here without us knowing?”
“Because no one else has ever been here! What did you expect them to do; send you a fax? The Erkdwala have lived her for a long time, cut off from the rest of the world; maybe thousands of years. They look quite Stone Age to me.”
“So why didn’t they come down onto the beach at First Landing and say hello when we arrived.”
“I expect they were shit-scared. They don’t seem to have any knowledge of the outside world, so it must have been a bit of a shock. And surely you must realize that we look a bit weird to them. Our languages, our customs, our clothes, our technology… Yesterday a helicopter flew overhead and they bolted for cover screaming.”
“So they know we’re here?”
She chuckled bitterly. “They could hardly miss us, could they? They’ve kept themselves out of our way; that’s why we’ve never discovered them until now… Except they had to carry on hunting to survive, hence the pony-slaughtering and rumours of the ‘Rockall demons’. Remember your confusion over that campfire you and Trevor found on the second day? An Erkdwala hunting team lit it.”
“Well, they appear to be friendly enough.”
“They are now, but it took a few days for them to accept me. The notion of an ‘outsider’ or ‘visitor’ is unthinkable to them.”
Like Kayleigh, Zach was soon absorbed into the Erkdwala tribe. He was given accommodation in a smaller, residential cave that led off from the big, communal one where they’d eaten. They retired early and by eight PM everyone was asleep. Zach lay in a claustrophobic alcove with a family of five who were snoring on a dried heather mattress. They made him a space on the floor on which to spread his parka. The fires were kept burning all night and the cave was warm. He lay awake, staring at the gleam of firelight on the rock ceiling, his mind trying hard to assimilate everything that had happened that day.
At eleven PM, the family’s youngest child, a baby of about nine months, started to cry. The mother awoke and comforted the squawking infant, breathing lullabies and sweet nothings until the youngster dropped back off to sleep. For half an hour the mother chatted quietly with her husband; then they kissed a few times and, to Zach’s extreme abashment, began to make love; right next to their three children, less than six feet from where he lay. They panted and groaned, quite oblivious to his presence; the stench of their bodies filled the air. Zach pulled his parka hood over his face and put his fingers in his ears.
****************************************
He was woken by another Erkdwala woman. He rolled over, coughing in the foul air of the cave. “What do you want?” he asked.
She didn’t reply and handed him a bone platter.
“Oh, thanks.” Breakfast was a raw cod fillet with limpets and various other shellfish, garnished with redcurrants and seaweed. The whole tribe was awake and wandering out of the cave. Zach followed them, longing to breath the outside air. The orange arc of the sun was peeking above the horizon and the skin of the Erkdwala glowed in its rays. They were lying about on the rocks like seals, munching their food. Zach took a sniff at his and his stomach contorted with hunger. He forgot his worries about hygiene and ate.
After breakfast, the whole tribe stood and faced the sun, closing their eyes, stretching out their hands and chanting another prayer. “Good God!” muttered Zach. “I’ve got to get out of here.” He found his mobile ‘phone at the bottom of his jacket pocket and called Trevor’s number. The signal was poor and he had to try a couple of times before he heard it ring.
Someone snatched the instrument out of his hand. He turned to see Kayleigh standing beside him. She jabbed the cancel button. “Don’t even think about it!” she hissed; her face was a tight ball of fury.
“But…”
“You promised!” she shouted. “You swore!”
The mobile rang and its Land of Hope and Glory ringtone penetrated the rumble of the surf, making the Erkdwala stare. “It’s Trevor.” said Zach. “He must have picked up my missed call.”
Kayleigh flung the device as hard as she could; it struck the face of a green roller with a plop.
“That cost me a hundred and fifty quid!” shrilled Zach.
“I should never have brought you here! I should have known better than to trust you!”
“You should have known better!?” He stood up and faced her. “I should have known better than to let you drag me out to this shit-hole! I mean… what the fuck am I doing here!? I’ve had people trying to poison me! I’m black and friggin’ blue from lying on bare stone! I’ve had to watch Fred and Wilma Flintstone bonking away right under my nose! I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m dirty… and I’m scared; OK!?”
Kayleigh relented. “Alright, Zach; I’m sorry, OK? You just mustn’t tell Trevor about this place! Please! Not yet!”
“Well, I can’t now, can I!? You’ve chucked my mobile in the sea!”
She held up her hands. “OK, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I'll buy you a new one.” She took his hand. “Come on; let’s go and watch the fishermen.”
The Erkdwala had a dozen fishing boats, each about ten feet long. They were pony leather coracles with outriggers. The crews carried them from the cave down over the seaweed-covered boulders into the sea. They rode the breakers with the acumen of surfers, fearlessly attacking every crest, paddles digging deep. Within a few minutes, they were out of sight among the waves. “Maybe I’ve misjudged these folk.” said Zach. “In many ways they’re quite clever. I mean, they have no shops or supermarkets; they just pluck everything they need off the land or sea.”
“But our stuff comes from the same place as theirs.” said Kayleigh. “Tesco’s strawberries don’t grow in those plastic cartons, you know. The difference is that we’ve become divorced from the real source of our food. The Erkdwala live right inside it… Isn’t it amazing how they’re lifestyle is linked to their surroundings. There are no trees on Rockall, so the things we’d make out of wood they make out of pony-bones.”
“I still can’t get my head round it.” said Zach. “People; native people, living here! Incredible!... It must be Rollosson.”
“Rollosson?”
“Yeah, he must have landed here and left more than the ponies; he established this colony.”
She shook her head. “Nah, these folk don’t look like Vikings. I think they go back much further.”
“Kayleigh! Kayleigh!” A woman was running towards them. She let fly with a stream of rapid Erkdwala. Zach picked up the word “Libbi,” which, he remembered from Kayleigh’s vocabulary, meant “Baby.”
“My God!” Kayleigh gasped. “Keesa’s gone into labour!... Come on!” She jogged after the woman.
“Kayleigh! Where are you going!?”
“Keesa’s baby’s about to be born! I want to see it!”
“Are you crazy!?”
There was a lot of commotion in the central cave. The Erkdwala were packed in shoulder-to-shoulder. A young, naked woman was crouching near the hearth. She was puffing hard and her skin glistened with sweat. Her swollen belly bulged over the tops of her thighs. Peen was kneeling opposite, palpating Keesa’s womb with an air of expertise. Her immediate family stood nearby with concerned looks while a young man, presumably her husband, crouched beside her holding her hand.
“I hope it’s not twins.” said Kayleigh as she and Zach edged closer for a better view.
“Don’t you think we should get her to the hospital?” whispered Zach.
She looked back at him with a scornful frown. “Don’t be a tosser your entire life, Zach! Take an hour off!”
“But she needs proper medical care!”
“She’s got it: Peen!... Zach, we have to let these people live in their own culture .”
Keesa’s body tensed and she screamed.
Zach felt a prick of nausea. He backed off and slipped outside. He walked out along the ledge until the noise of the ocean drowned out Keesa’s agony. He stared up at the solid, impassive cliffs, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. The sky had clouded over and the wind was up, breaking the wave crests into feathers of vapour. “Zach!”
He looked back to see Kayleigh waving to him from the terrace.
“Zach! She’s had it! It’s a boy!”
The Erkdwala were emotionally saturated by the delivery of Keesa’s son. The cavern reverberated to their sobs of joy. The little boy was passed from person to person, almost in the form of a ritual. They looked at him in adoration, tears of rapture staining their cheeks, even those of old Chief Kerroj. Eventually the screaming baby was wrapped in a leather swaddle and returned to the arms of his proud parents. his face was beetroot-red, his eyes clenched and his toothless mouth gaped wide as he vented his fury at being evicted from Keesa’s warm, safe womb.
Zach watched for a few minutes then noticed that Kayleigh had gone. He looked back at the cave entrance in time to see her pass through the curtain. He followed.
She stood at the edge of the terrace, her arms wrapped round her body, gazing out to sea. He approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you OK?”
She nodded mournfully.
“It’s great when a baby’s born, isn’t it? I’ve often wondered what it’d be like to have a kid.”
“Yeah.” she sighed. “It’s always been the same for them, you know. Everyone’s been born and raised in that cave the same way; even Old Kerroj’s great-granddad’s great-granddad. I bet it hasn’t changed for thousands of years.”
“I suppose not. Why does that make you sad?”
She swung round and looked at him. “I’m just wondering what things will be like for Keesa’s baby when he’s old enough to become a father himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Their world is about to meet ours, Zach. We can’t stop it. The next generation of Erkdwala will have to contend with that; and I’m afraid for them.”
****************************************
The new addition to the tribe was named Karsk. The two proud parents, Keesa and Grayvin, were still sitting on the spot where he’d been born. His mother rested on a heather couch, tucking into her own roasted placenta while Karsk guzzled from her breast. Kayleigh went over to talk to Chief Kerroj then returned to where Zach was waiting, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. “Let’s go home.” she said; there was a mournful tone to her voice.
They made their way back along the roped ledge that they’d traversed the previous afternoon; it seemed like weeks ago to Zach. Kayleigh led the way, never speaking to him or even looking at him, alone with her thoughts. The sun was getting low by the time they arrived at the beach and crawled up the slopes to the plateau; and it was dark when they reached Zach’s car. They collapsed into the seats, exhausted. “So, what happens now?” asked Zach as he started the engine and put the Jaguar into gear.
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? We have to tell people about this.”
“No we don’t; and we’re not going to.”
“But the world has a right to know!”
“The world has no such right! Our modern society is built upon the broken lives of people like the Erkdwala! Dill told me!”
“That was centuries ago! And Dill’s a crank! Kayleigh, we can’t keep this a secret! You said it yourself; their world will eventually meet ours.”
“We can keep it a secret and we will! You will because you swore an oath to me that you would!” She rubbed her eyes and took on a calmer tone. “We will let the world know, eventually; but you’ve got to leave that to me. I’m going to let Dill in on it. I’ve got a feeling he suspects anyway; he knows the in-country better than anyone. We’ll contact someone who can help; maybe the United Nations.”
“Kayleigh, those people live in a filthy hole in the ground, even little kids! Nobody should have to endure that in this day and age! Why don’t we just go back there now and lead them all to the Port, to civilization?”
She shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you?... To them we’re like aliens who’ve just landed from another planet. Until a couple of years ago they didn’t even know we existed. For them there is no outside world! This island and the sea as far as the horizon is all they know! They call it ‘Arkdwa’, but that word translates as ‘Rockall’, ‘World’ or ‘Universe’.”
“That’s all the more reason to widen their view of life; show them the rest of the world.”
“Show them what? A skyscraper hundreds of feet tall? An aeroplane? A computer? An ocean liner big enough to carry the entire Erkdwala population ten times over? Cities of a million people? Continents of a billion?... The technology, scale and diversity of the planet Earth would overwhelm them! The culture-shock would mentally destroy them!... Zach, these people must be protected!”
There was a long silence as they drove south and eventually the lights of Rockall Port appeared in the windscreen. “So.” said Zach when they arrived back at first Landing. “Do you want to come in for a coffee?”
“Not tonight.” she said. “I’ve got to go and see Dill. We’ve got work to do.”
He hesitated. “Kayleigh, I still think we ought to tell Trevor.”
“NO!” she almost screamed at him. “Don’t you dare!”
“But…”
“If you breathe a word to Trevor, I’ll kill you! I mean it!” Her eyes flashed and her teeth clenched like a vice. She got out of the car, slammed the door and stomped off towards her Bower-cast.
He wiped his brow. “Whew! You’re life hung by a thread there, Zach old chum.”
****************************************
Zach couldn’t sleep that night. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. He pictured the Erkdwala crawling around their bare rock cave in the dirt, eating slurry from bone dishes and going to the toilet in the sea. Then he thought about the ordinary British and American islanders going about their daily business just a few miles away. Two totally different worlds, living on top of each other, the latter completely unaware of the former’s presence. “Good God! I’m sitting on dynamite here!” he muttered. “When this story breaks…” He could see it as clearly as if it had already happened: Fame, fortune, Rockall again the centre of world attention, this time for a different reason. Anthropologists,politicians, reporters from New Scientist descending on the island in droves. Unconsciously, he rolled over and reached for his bedside ‘phone to call Trevor.
No! It was no good; he’d promised Kayleigh that he wouldn’t talk about it. Damn! What did he have to do that for? Kayleigh! You stupid girl! Can’t you see what we’ve got here!? Don’t you see how much prestige we could gain from the Erkdwala? No! You’re all drugged up on some idealistic crusade!
He turned his head and looked at the telephone. Why shouldn’t I? My oath to Kayleigh is not valid if she’s so obviously misguided. I’m merely correcting her in her foolishness. In fact I’m doing her a favour. He picked up the receiver then put it straight down again. What about the Erkdwala themselves? Kayleigh said they’d never survive contact with the rest of the world… But how does she know? She’s no expert. She’s only a bleeding secretary!
His hand hung above the ‘phone quivering as his conscience and willpower battled away; but his willpower had a secret weapon: And of course, as well as the money and fame that would flood onto Rockall, I’d be sure to get reinstated as Deputy-Governor. The battle was won; he picked up the ‘phone and dialled.
****************************************
Trevor sat down hard in his armchair and gazed vacantly at the table. Zach walked over to the drinks cabinet in the Governor’s private apartment and poured them both a large Scotch. In the courtyard below, the Rockall Guard night-watch stood at attention. He placed the whiskey tumblers on the table. “I’ve a feeling you could do with this.”
Trevor reached out a hand, clenched like a hawk’s talon and picked up the glass. He sipped deeply. “You promise this isn’t a ruse?”
“Go and look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
He paused. “Is that why you called yesterday morning?”
“Yeah, but when you tried to ring back Kayleigh threw my ‘phone in the sea.”
He chuckled. “I take it she doesn’t approve of you bringing this information to me.”
“She doesn’t know.” He took a gulp of the spirit, letting it flood over his tongue.
“Right, so how many of them are there?”
“Around three hundred.”
“Three hundred!? Why has no one spotted them before?”
“The colony is well-concealed and they’ve been keeping out of our way since we landed here. Kayleigh only bumped into them by accident.”
“Are they armed?”
“Only with the bone and flint spears they use for taking out ponies. They’re unbelievably primitive! How these folk have survived for so long without modern technology is beyond me!”
“Well, they won’t have to for much longer.” Trevor emptied his glass and got up to pour another. “What do you suggest we do?”
“Get the press onto it of course; and then go out and rescue these poor people. They’re going to need extensive rehabilitation. They’ll have to be taught to speak English to begin with.”
“My goodness! Real Stone Age savages, alive in today’s world!... Only Kayleigh and Dill know, you say? Fine; keep it that way… You’ll have to come along and show us where this place is.”
“Whoa! Not so fast!”
“Pardon?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“How do you mean?”
“If I’m going to lead you to the Erkdwala, it’ll cost you.”
Trevor frowned. “Don’t bother trying to do deals with me! I don’t need your help, you know! Now you’ve told me there’s something there, it won’t take me long to find it.”
“You’ll need a few days to search the entire eastern coast. In that time, Kayleigh and Dill will have assembled a legion of bleeding-heart civil-liberties solicitors to defend the Erkdwala’s right to live like pigs… But if you count me in, I can take you to the cave right now.”
Trevor sighed and folded his arms. “What do you want?”
Zach took his P-Forty-five out of his pocket and tossed it onto the Governor’s table.
Trevor picked it up and looked at it for a moment. “Welcome back, Deputy-Governor Neelum.”
Zach grinned. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you again, Trev'.”

(Previous Chapter:
Chapter 4- Rendezvous http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/03/rockall-chapter-4.html

Next Chapter:
Chapter 6- The Spanner vs The Works http://hpanwo-bb.blogspot.com/2009/05/rockall-chapter-6-spanner-vs-works.html)

Rockall Chapter 10

(This is the final chapter of Rockall)

Chapter Ten- The Foreman

Constitution of The Rockall Republic (Draft 1)

Part 1. Directives

Directive 1.
The Island of Rockall is sovereign to itself alone. It belongs to nobody except Arkdwa. Its environment, physical and biological structure, humans, animals, plants, visiting birds and microbes that live on it are to be regarded as sacred objects. Their defence and protection are the absolute first priority of the state.
Directive 2.
The people of Rockall are each sovereign to themselves. Every individual citizen has the following rights:
A: To live in whichever way they choose, so long as it does not cause a detriment to the Island or another citizen.
B: To solely possess the product of their own labour.
C: To exist free from exploitation, violence and oppression; both from within or without the territory of The Rockall Republic.
D: To have an equal and adequate share of all industrial produce.
Directive 3.
The people of Rockall are also stewards and guardians of the island and therefore every individual citizen has the following duties:
A: To honour Right A of every other citizen.
B: To defend Right C of every other citizen, and themselves also.
C: To protect, preserve and heal, when necessary, the environmental, physical and biological structure of the Island and those who live on it; whether human, animal, vegetable or microbiological.

Part 2. The structure of Human Society

1. Political
A: Parishes:
The Government of Rockall is to be founded on the Gibson-Ford-Laird Model first proposed in September 2010. It is based on the “Parliament” of St Kilda. The population is to be divided into small groups taking into account geographical location (e.g. Rockall Port), occupation (e.g. crofting) and ethnic group (e.g. The Erkdwala colony). These groups called “parishes” will decide all affairs within their own interest.
B: The Rockall Assembly:
The Rockall Assembly will discuss all affairs concerning the whole Island. Each parish will elect one person to sit on the Assembly and these people will consist of its members. The Assembly shall elect its own chairman. It will be subordinate to the parishes on local matters and supreme on Island matters. The members will be unpaid and subject to immediate recall on the authority of their parish.
C: The President:
The President will be elected by a single pool vote and subject to immediate recall by his/her own choice; or by order from the Assembly or plebiscite. In such instances another President will be elected in the same way. The role of the President shall be to deal with emergency matters when there is no time to consult the Assembly or parishes.

2. Economic
The currency of Rockall is to be non-exchangeable with other national currencies. It is to be publicly owned and administered by The Bank of Rockall and the Rockall Assembly. Citizens may take out interest-free loans on their authority.

3. Industrial
Employed citizens are to be encouraged to form workers’ cooperatives for their particular industry. This is where all the employees are also equal shareholders of the company. Supervisors and managers are elected from the board or hired from specialist management agencies and all capital is disposed of according to their decision.

4. Legal
Law is to be administered by the Legal Committee of the Rockall Assembly which will appoint counsel to any plaintiff or defendant. Trial, verdict and sentence for any person, parish or cooperative that breaches the Directives will be by selected jury.

5. Social
A: Education: All citizens are entitled to raise their children in accordance with their cultural values so long as this does not contravene the Directives.
B: Religion: The Rockall Republic shall have no established state religion. Citizens are entitled to believe in any faith they wish so long as they do not practice aggressive conversion or contravene any of the Directives.
C: Language: The Rockall Republic shall have three official languages: English, Scots Gaelic and Erkdwala. All documents, minutes of Assembly meetings and notices must be freely available in all three tongues.

6. Health
The Rockall Port Hospital and the Ross Quentin Hospital in Green Port will be run by the health workers cooperative cartel which will be entitled to claim a Health Fund grant from The Bank of Rockall where necessary. The Legal Committee shall also have the power to bill a citizen for treatment if a trial decides that he/she is to blame for another’s illness. Medical licences will be granted to all qualified members of the health workers cooperative and the Erkdwala native physicians.

7. Taxation
It should not be necessary for the state to impose a tax, so long as the Health Fund functions effectively. All other services will be provided by private cooperatives.

Dill Gibson leaned back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. He’d been hard at work all morning. The little wooden chair he was sitting on had made his legs and bottom ache. His bedroom measured ten feet by eight and his desk only just fitted between his bookshelf and bed. Had any other Founding Fathers worked in such austerity?
He stared out of the window of the little Bower-cast in Rockall Port that he shared with Broadway, Perry, Duncan and Morag. Spring was coming and the dark green, wintry heath, stretching out from the foot of his house down the slope to the exchange warehouse, was dotted with blossom. It was five days since Trevor’s departure and it was only just beginning to sink in for Dill. The naval taskforce was gone now and the horizon was clear. Correspondence was arriving by the ton from various governments and the UN; the Nation of Rockall was about to be born. The document he was writing was no longer just a theoretical whim, it was to be a true, living social blueprint that would rule their very lives.
Dill went online to reply to an email from his brother. When communications had been restored three hours after Trevor had left, the islanders had a backlog of thousands of worried messages from parents, spouses, children and friends; advice from Ross Quentin; encouragement from supporters and a few abusive tirades which Dill deleted unread. Another good thing about being back on the Net was that they could catch up on news. During their month of electronic isolation events in the outside world had been progressing at their usual pace. On February the Twelfth, southern California had experienced its worst earthquake in living memory. Almost all the buildings in the city of Los Angeles had been damaged and many had been reduced to rubble. Eighteen thousand people were dead; it was a disaster that had shocked the world. Every person on Earth had heard about it… except the rebels on Rockall.
One thing that particularly interested Dill was way in which the Rockall incident itself had been portrayed. There were the predictable, blustering rants in the tabloid headlines: “GO IN AND GET ‘EM!” “ROCKALL PIRATES” etc, etc, etc, but he was pleasantly surprised at how many people were on their side. It was very different to the group hysteria of the Rockall Missile Crisis. There were heated debates on Question Time and Newsnight. Half a million people had marched through London in their support and protest at the Government’s policy on Rockall. Humans across the globe, he sensed, were waking up, thinking for themselves and becoming much more sceptical of the authorities and their hype.
Dill lifted his eyes back to the window and saw Kayleigh and Zach walking along the path from the community hall. They were holding hands. Dill quickly turned away. Come on, Gibson; don’t be so wet! he scolded himself. He looked up; they were kissing.
The sound of the doorbell took a few seconds to permeate through to his consciousness. He jerked out of his trance when he heard Kayleigh and Morag chatting in the hallway. Footsteps were coming up the stairs; he turned to his laptop and acted like he was in the middle of working. “Come in.” he said deadpan when he heard the knock on the door.
“Hiya, Dill!” Kayleigh bubbled cheerily as she entered. “How’s things?”
“OK.” He shifted round in his seat to face her.
“Have you finished?” She sat on the edge of the bed, knees together, clasping the verge of his duvet.
“Nowhere near! But here’s what I’ve done so far.” He pressed a key on his laptop and the document slid out of the printer.
She picked it up and scanned it, her eyes moving back and forth like a typewriter. “It’s very simple.”
“It’s only a draft; I based it on that thing we did with Jack a couple of years ago… And what do you mean by ‘simple’?”
“I expected it to be more complicated. Government papers usually are.”
“Maybe that’s because politicians use complexity to wield power. They launder their duplicity behind long paragraphs and bureaucratic small print. An honest government should be simple. Simplicity is used by those who have nothing to hide.”
Kayleigh nodded with her eyes on the page. “I like Directive One.” She grinned, meeting his gaze for a moment. “Directives Two-B and Two-D look a bit contradictory. How can you posses the product of your own labour and have an equal and adequate share of all produce? Supposing all the crofters chose to hang on to everything they grew and let the rest of us starve. According to B that’s within their rights, but at the same time they’d be countering D.”
Dill looked at the laptop screen. “I see what you mean… We’ll have to think about that one. Let’s see what the others have got to say.”
Kayleigh read on. “What happens if Assembly and parish legislation come into conflict?”
“If it’s a local matter then the parish’s decision is final.”
“How do you define local?”
“Erm… Anything that affects that parish alone is local.”
“But some things can be both. I’ll give you an example: Er… Supposing a crofting parish decides to husbandize a few ponies; this might come into conflict with the Erkdwala hunting parish. This will in turn affect the island as a whole if the biologists’ parish believe it will endanger the pony population. What do we do?”
Dill nodded. “You’re right; it’s a bit of a paradox, isn’t it?”
“I can see another problem; some parishes are going to be bigger than others. The Port health’ parish will consist of just Arlene, Michelle, Broadway, Dr Forbes, Billy the porter and Sharon the housekeeper. That’s just six people; and one of them will be an Assembly representative. But the Erkdwala will probably want to form just one, big parish; that’s over three hundred people, yet they will still only be allowed a single representative to sit on the Assembly. That’s not fair.”
“True again, Kay. Australia had this problem when it first became independent because most people live in the south-eastern extremity of the continent. The population of some states is a couple of million, in others it’s just a hundred thousand.”
“How did they solve it?”
“They have two assemblies. One is called the House of Representatives and it’s manned by MP’s elected by constituencies of equal numbers of people; the other is called The Senate and it’s more like the Rockall Assembly, representing particular states or territories of varying population sizes. Having the two together was the only way to stop Victoria and New South Wales from ruling the whole federation.”
“Two Assemblies?”
“Yes; every bill has to be passed by both houses. That makes it fairer.”
“Does it? How?”
Dill laughed. “I don’t know, but I’m told it does!”
She read on. “What shall we call our currency?”
“The ‘Rockall Dollar’?”
“Oh, no! It must be something uniquely Rockallian; maybe an Erkdwala word.”
“The crofters will never have that. It must be a translatable word though.”
She looked pensive for a few seconds. “How about naming it after Jack Laird’?”
“The ‘Laird’?”
“I can’t think of a better memorial.”
Dill paused. “We’ll run it past the others. Maybe it should be the first decision of the Assembly.”
“I like the idea of workers’ cooperatives.” said Kayleigh after she’d read a bit further. “But cooperatives only work if everyone gets involved. If too many employees cash in their shares, the company becomes a regular top-down-ruled organization. I think that’s what happened to the supermarket.”
“We’ll make sure everyone is aware of that.” said Dill. “If we instil an urge in ourselves to want to control our own destiny then that won’t be a problem. It’s apathy and despondency that cause cooperatives to break down; and Rockall is going to be a despondency-free zone!” He watched her eyelids flicker as she carried on reading.
“This bit about law is less positive, Dill.” she said with a half-smile. “Could it be something of an itchy subject for you?”
“Dealing with crime is a negative issue, Kayleigh. If someone commits an offence, I see it as a failure of their society.”
“But sometimes people do; that’s an unavoidable fact.”
“And how do we deal with those people effectively, but fairly?”
She pondered for a few seconds. “Good question.”
“Do you know what the St Kildans used to do with their criminals?”
“What?”
“Nothing. There was no crime on St Kilda; not a single recorded case in a thousand years of history. I’m hoping Rockallians will become like that as well.”
“Me too, but until then we need a judicial system. Perhaps we could bring Trevor back to organize it; flogging, hanging and stocks!”
They both laughed.
“Let’s put that one on the back burner for now.” She lowered her eyes to the paper. “Will we need to keep the school going?”
“I expect so; St Kilda had one for a while. We’ve got a hundred-odd children on the island; about twenty of those are Erkdwala. For now it seems a good idea to have the school, so long as Mrs Bottomley and Mrs Figgis are willing to stay on.”
Kayleigh nodded. “This bit about language availability makes sense for the Assembly stuff, but do parishes need to do everything in all three languages? A parish of American scientists in Green Port having to produce a Gaelic translation for material that only they will read is unnecessary and a waste of time. To force them to do so is impractical. It’s not discrimination; it’s just about what that one parish needs.”
Dill nodded. “Fair comment.”
“And this ‘Health Fund’; who will be entitled to it and how will it work?”
“If you’re taken badly ill and need a lot of expensive treatment… like Calum with his burns; it could bankrupt him. So we just ask The Bank of Rockall to let him off some of his bills and make up the difference from the parishes and coop’s donation. There wouldn’t be a fixed rate; it could be an as-and-when requirement charge.”
“I like that; all for one and one for all… And you’re sure there’ll be no other tax required?”
“Yes, based on this model.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?” asked Dill. “The members of the Assembly won’t be paid, nor will The Bank of Rockall or legal committee. We have no police, no armed forces, no system of formal education; what would we spend it on?”
“Blimey!” she exclaimed. “You’ve broken one of the three Certainties of the Universe! There’s only birth and death left!”
Dill laughed. “Could you knock out a Gaelic translation of this draft? Include your notes if you like.”
“Sure.”
“I’ve had a word with Kerroj; he’s going to do an Erkdwala one.”
“Most of them still can’t read.”
“I know; they don’t need to in their culture.”
“It’d be nice if they learned to though.”
“Yes, but only if they want to.”
Kayleigh stood up. “OK, Dill; I’ll get back to you when I’m finished… See ya!” She brushed his shoulder lightly as she left the room.
Dill watched her from the window as she strolled away from the house, her arms swinging, her head bobbing from side to side within her parka hood. He could still feel the afterglow of her fingers on his shoulder where she’d touched him.
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A few weeks later the Erkdwala held a conference and decided unanimously to return to their colony on the Eastern Capes. They dressed in their horseleathers, gathered their spears and bone tools and left their houses empty. Not one single member of the tribe stayed behind. “We want to turn back the clock.” said Kerroj. “We will feel happier if we are living as Erkdwala. We don’t need whiskey and mattresses and TV. You might, but you are different. It’s nice that people are so different.”
A big crowd gathered to see them off. The three hundred and fifty-two Erkdwala in Rockall Port and Hasselwood congregated on the South Road to begin the hike back to their old universe. It was a wet, cold morning and the misty rain glistened on their tunics. Dill recognized the look in their eyes; it was the one they used to have when he’d first met them. It had been dulled for so long, but now it was back, shining out of the faces of every individual, as bright as ever. He realized that even the ones who’d become outwardly very westernized had all that time been secretly nursing a spark of their true selves deep within their hearts. Despite their “successful rehabilitation,” all attempts to extinguish it had ultimately failed.
Kerroj approached his friends and warmly shook each one’s hand. “I will not say goodbye.” said the old chieftain. “Because there can be no goodbyes on Rockall.”
“The place is too bloody small!” replied Zach. “We’ll be bumping into each other all the time.”
He chuckled. “Your world and our world will always be partners. Please come and visit us in the caves sometime; you will be very welcome.”
“We will, thanks.” said Dill.
“And we will visit you too.” said Kerroj. “At least one of us will sit on the Assembly.”
“That’ll be great.”
Kerroj looked over his shoulder at his people. “You know something, my friends; there was a time when I began to think that this stubbornness with which I was keeping our old lifeway going was hurting my Erkdwala. I began to think that the best thing to do is tell my Erkdwala to leave it behind and change like Trevor wanted us to as fast as possible.”
“Thank God you didn’t!” said Dill emphatically.
“Yes indeed!” he laughed.
“I’m sure you’ll go down in Erkdwala history as a great leader.” said Zach.
The old man looked pensive and appeared not to hear. “Well, it’s time to go home.” he said.
The Erkdwala picked up their belongings and started walking northwards towards the eastern plateau. It would take them two or three hours to reach the site of their old home. They waved to the islanders as they departed.
Everyone waved back. Some were in tears and Kayleigh was sobbing.
As they hiked further and further into distance, the caravan of Erkdwala spread out and decanted into different groups. Kerroj was easily recognizable in his gull-feather cloak. At the very back of the procession walked two young women, skipping joyfully like lambs; they were Jolo and Seenta. Beside them toddled little Karsk, whose birth Kayleigh and Zach had witnessed two years ago.
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With the departure of the Erkdwala there was suddenly much more room in the two southern towns and the inhabitants began to diffuse into the empty spaces. Duncan and Morag decided to occupy Queylie, Ibux and Ibul’s old house in Hasselwood while Perry moved out to go and live with Alasdair a few doors along. Dill’s home seemed very empty and echoic with only Broadway and himself living there. Broadway offered him Duncan and Morag’s old room in the attic which was by far the biggest and had its own toilet, but Dill declined. He’d become quite fond of his cosy, little broom cupboard and insisted on Broadway occupying the master bedroom.
One day someone in Green Port ‘phoned to say that a ship was approaching from the west, the first to come within sight of Rockall since the lifting of the blockade. It signalled as it came inshore asking for permission to dock. Dill called a hasty conference with Kayleigh and Zach. In the end they called Ross Quentin who told them that the ship was ARS Janice on charter to the Loise Valley Construction Co. They had come to dismantle and offload the half-finished oil terminal. Dill called the ship personally and granted them a landing permit. The next day he drove up north to see what was going on.
The first thing the crew had done was repair the barbed wire fence around the complex; they were taking no chances this time. Instead of the handful of security guards manning the gate, the workmen had brought along a veritable army of helmeted mercenaries armed with submachine guns and fierce dogs. When Dill came close to the gate, one of them warned him off. He got out of the car to talk to the man, but the guard wouldn’t allow him within ten feet. When Dill disobeyed, the guard shouted and pointed a gun at him. Dill hastily backed off and returned to Rockall Port. He called Quentin who informed him that the demolition operatives were under company orders to remain behind the cordon and have no contact whatsoever with the Rockallians; they were to eat and sleep on board the moored ship.
The decommissioning of the oil terminal would take eight months. The workers would remove the buildings, metalwork and machinery, but of course nothing could be done about the rock borings. Like an unfilled cavity in a tooth, they would be left as they were. It wouldn’t be forever, Dill reassured himself. Wind and wave would continue to take their toll. During the centuries to come, the smooth, flat walls and round tunnels would be eroded into more natural shapes. In a few hundred thousand years, there might even be a new set of Roosevelt Skerries. When he arrived home, a mouth-watering aroma filled the house. A beaming Broadway came out of the kitchen in a pair of oven gloves to announce that she was cooking a special dinner for the two of them. When it arrived it was delicious and Dill was very grateful. He insisted on washing up himself.
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The elation that Dill felt over Rockall’s independence was being drowned in work. The following week there was a meeting at the community hall at which he’d have to present the draft constitution to everyone. There would be amendments and additions suggested and debated; and in the end, he fervently hoped, the constitution would be inaugurated. The meeting began at five PM, scheduled by Zach. “I’m sure we’ll have it all over within a few hours.” he said optimistically. Dill didn’t reply.
Discontent began almost straight away from a very predictable source. Calum had returned from England a few days earlier and his