Black Tide (9 page)

Toby slid back to Tash and motioned for her to retreat further down the hill. He waited until they were well out of sight of the depot before saying,

“Seems like they’re going somewhere. Perhaps to this place called New Caledonia, wherever that is.
The only chance we’ve got of finding out is to follow them, but how?”

Tash shook her head; she was clean out of plans as well. The two of them lay there with cold creeping into their bones and a sense of hopelessness washing over them.

I have no idea what to do. How could I have been so stupid to think I could rescue Dad and Sylvie from a bunch of hardened crooks like these? We don’t even know if they are here, and we’ve got no way of getting in there without being caught ourselves. It’s hopeless! Totally hopeless! I’m SO sorry, Dad – I’ve let you down. We’ve come all this way and there’s nothing we can do.

Toby nudged Tash with his heel and started to crawl back towards the yard where the men were working under the lights. He could hear her chattering teeth as she slowly pulled herself through the grassy mush behind him. Then he became aware of another sound: a vehicle coming at speed up the track. He lifted his head tentatively above the scrubby undergrowth and saw a Range Rover, lights blazing and horn blaring, storming through the gates. Snow spat across the feet of the men as it braked hard and slewed across the busy yard. Some of the men swore at its hasty arrival.

A dark, squat raider with scars on his cheeks stepped out of the car and yelled orders at them. Toby recognised the Captain, and caught some of what he was shouting:

“Listen up men! We’re leaving NOW! The General wants us back in New Caledonia immediately in case the dogs attack here, too. He’s not taking any chances. Our work’s more or less finished here anyway. So, get going! Let’s have these trucks on the road…”

“Tash,” whispered Toby, “they’re leaving. What shall we do? We can’t just stay here; we need to go with them. Perhaps we can try and get into the back of one of the trucks when they’re not looking?”

“We can try,” rasped Tash, rubbing her cold arms and legs under the wolf skin.

“Right, let’s go for it!” Toby stood up but his legs were numb and he fell back to the ground.

No, don’t let me down now legs. Get up and work
.

He grabbed hold of a nearby gorse bush and pulled himself to standing. The men were far too busy to notice what was going on outside the compound; they were throwing kit into the cabs of the lorries and vans. The compound was chaotic with men running hither and thither and screaming at each other in panic. But as Toby watched, he noticed that the uniformed superior raiders kept out of the general chaos, calmly loading their bags into a van then jumping into the seats. Their driver turned the vehicle around and sped out of the yard leaving the manic workers behind.

“Come on Tash,” cried Toby, above the fracas. “We can use this stramash in our favour.” He grabbed her hand. They reached the gates and slunk through them, passing into the shadows behind one of the portacabins. Here they collapsed to the ground, out of breath.

“That was easier than I expected,” whispered Toby. Tash nodded. The two of them lay slumped for a while and listened to the hurrying and scurrying of the men. One by one the big trucks revved up their engines and manoeuvred out, spitting snow and mud from under their tyres. Toby moved to peer around the side of the building. He could see only two vehicles left in the yard. One was a white van, the other a battered old Land Rover. Out of this stepped a small
stocky raider looking like a lumberjack in a checked shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show his bulbous arms blue with sea serpent and mermaid tattoos. Toby stared at his wrists; there was no sign of the NC that the Captain had shown him.

The bitter driving wind and snow didn’t seem to bother the man at all, as he turned to the driver of the van and bellowed through the drifting whiteness,

“I’d better go look for that tool box. It must be in there somewhere. It’s the Captain’s pride and joy is that. I’ll be in right trouble if I go without it!”

“You’d better get a move on, Carl. We’re supposed to be travelling in convoy for safety; I’m not hanging around. See you there!” the driver bawled out of the open window before skidding and swerving the van out through the gates. Toby watched as Carl strode back to the portacabin and disappeared inside.

“Tash! This is our chance!”

“What? Are you going to hit that man on the head? And take his car?”

“No, I don’t think anyone could hit
him
hard enough to make any difference. Looks a bit of a toughie to me. There must be an easier way…”

Toby slunk round the corner of the portacabin and immediately knew what to do. There, hanging in the lock of the cabin door, was a bunch of keys. He ran forwards and smashed the door shut, turning the key in the lock, then raced to the Land Rover and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“What you waiting for?” he cried to Tash, who was standing outside the cabin, her mouth agape. She took
one look at Toby revving up the Land Rover, then ran round the other side and jumped into the passenger seat. As they drove jerkily away, Toby heard Carl banging on the cabin door and screaming:

“Eh? Hey! What you think you’re doing? Let me out!”

Toby struggled to remember how to drive the car. It was a long time since his dad had let him drive their battered old Land Rover round the field at the back of their cottage. He knew there was a clutch he had to press down with his left foot to be able to change gear. He stretched down for it but his foot couldn’t reach.

Ah, Dad used to operate the clutch for me, with his right foot! What I need is to pull the seat forward and be higher up
.

“See if there’s anything to sit on,” he yelled at Tash, who rummaged in the back and pulled out a mouldy old blanket that smelt of wet dog. She stuffed this underneath him making him taller in the seat.

“That’s a bit better,” Toby cried, pulling at a lever under his seat. The seat slid forward abruptly, knocking his nose on the steering wheel and forcing his right foot harder onto the accelerator. The Land Rover jumped erratically in a kangaroo bounce. He jammed the gear stick forwards, and they took off at speed through the gates and out onto the track.

“Watch out!” yelled Tash, as the truck tipped perilously close to the edge of the hillside and the tyres bit the snow and mud on a corner. “Slow down!”

“I’m trying to!”

This isn’t as simple as I thought it was! Got to steer, use the accelerator, gears, clutch AND brakes all at the same time! Sailing a boat is so much easier.

The Land Rover bounced crazily down the track back into Fort William, swerving round bends and skidding through drifts of slushy snow.

“Put your seat belt on!” warned Toby, feeling the two right wheels of the car lifting off the road as he took one corner too fast. Every time he tried to slow down, the brakes locked and threw the back end of the vehicle to the side.

Whoa! Steady, got to catch up with that white van but I don’t want to go trashing this into a ditch.

“What’s the plan now?” asked Tash anxiously, gripping onto the dashboard with white knuckles.

“We catch up with the convoy and pretend to be one of them so that we can follow them to this New Caledonia. I hope they’re not too far ahead.”

As the road came down into the town centre, Toby caught sight of red tail-lights ahead.

“Ha! Got you!” he yelled triumphantly, and drove up behind the white van. The driver must have seen the Land Rover coming in his mirror because he flashed his hazard warning lights twice, which Toby took to be some sort of signal. He flashed his headlights twice back; he didn’t want to arouse any suspicions.

“We can relax now,” Toby told Tash. “We’ve got to follow this van, that’s all.”

“This isn’t very relaxing, Toby,” cried Tash. “Now we’re in the raiders’ convoy. If they discover us, we’ll be in big trouble. And I’m not so sure about your driving either!”

“Really? I thought I was doing pretty well. Bit different to my computer games! It’s better than lying
in the snow, not knowing what to do, eh?” Toby grinned. He was beginning to enjoy driving. It was all coming back to him. As the van in front slowed and manoeuvred round roundabouts and over bridges, he managed to change gear smoothly and stay behind it. The road was wide and not too bendy, so he had time to eat the handfuls of food that Tash pushed at him.

“Yum, what’s that?” he asked, sucking a sticky bar with dried fruit and nuts in.

“I found them on the boat. Must have been cereal bars once – they’re a bit soggy now,” she said, turning up the heater to dry their sodden clothes.

It began to get hot and muggy in the cab of the Land Rover. When Toby glanced to the side he saw that Tash had fallen asleep, her wolf mask skewed sideways over her face. He struggled to keep his eyes open, too. The dunk, dunk, dunk of the wipers clearing the snow and slush from the windscreen lulled him to sleep.

Stay awake! I’ve got to stay awake – if I crash now they’ll get us for sure.

He tried to think of what he was going to do when the convoy reached its destination.

New Caledonia? What could that be? Like a new Scotland run by the General?

Toby rubbed his steamed-up side window and peered out. He hoped he wouldn’t see the lithe dark bodies of dogs running in the shadows.

Through the clumps of silver birch trees at the side of the road, he caught glimpses of a large body of dark water, and he tried to work out where they were
going from his memory of the map he had studied on the boat.

That could be Loch Linnhe. Wish I’d brought that map now. That was silly of me. Watch the road!

Toby’s heart jumped as the van ahead suddenly braked when the road swung through a series of sharp bends and then started to climb. He had to concentrate hard; shouting and sweating as he crunched the gears up and down, sometimes having to stand up to press the clutch down fully and force the gear stick up.

Toby decided to sing to keep awake. He tried to remember the words to songs his mum used to sing with him, but “Five Fat Sausages” was the only one that came into his head.

“Five fat sausages sizzling in the pan,” he sang loudly, trying to compete with the noisy, shaking Land Rover. Tash slept on.

As they drove, Toby became aware of towering mountains either side of the road.

I think this might be Glencoe.

Toby’s mind searched for the memory of a history lesson with Mrs MacClusky, when she had talked about the warriors of the Scottish clans fighting each other way back in the seventeen hundreds.

Outside, Toby could make out rocky outcrops smattered with ice and snow hanging out over the road’s edge, and swathes of black heather, dead in the winter’s frost, crusted with white. It looked very inhospitable.

Please don’t let us break down here. This is the last place I’d want to be stuck on a snowy night. Don’t suppose the dogs will make it up here
.

Toby tried not to think of what would happen if the men came back and found he and Tash driving at the back of the convoy instead of their mate Carl. And what if Carl had managed to contact the raiders on some sort of radio? As if on cue, a loud crackling burst out of a black box sitting on the dashboard.

“Come in Carl! Carl? How’s it going at the back there?” asked a gruff voice.

Oh no! What shall I do? If I don’t reply they’ll know something is wrong. But if I do reply they’ll know it’s not Carl.

“Carl? You asleep or something?” There was a loud guffaw from the end of the line. “Carl? You still with us?” The voice was starting to sound agitated.

They’re getting suspicious. Better answer it. And better make a good job of sounding like Carl or else they’ll come after u
s.

Toby picked up the mouthpiece with his left hand. It was similar to the radio on the
Lucky Lady
. His stomach tightened into a hard ball as he flipped the reply button to ON and spoke, lowering his voice into a gruff mumble.

“Hi! Course I’m here – where d’you think I was?” He flipped the button back to OFF.

“Ok, keep your hair on, you old wifey! See you at —” but then there was another loud crackling and the line went dead.

Toby sighed with relief. The reception seemed to have died completely now, so maybe the other raiders wouldn’t expect any more calls from Carl.

Phew
.

The road now seemed to be descending slowly into a wide flat-bottomed valley. Toby could see only snowy grass on either side of the road as the dark mountains receded into the night. He rubbed his tired gritty eyes and tried to remember another song, but his brain had gone numb. His head was growing heavy and his eyelids felt like they had weights tied to them. He struggled to keep them open, but the warm fuggy air in the cab filled his senses with mugginess. Toby drifted off to sleep.

CRUNCH!

Toby woke with a heart-wrenching start as the Land Rover left the road, smashed into a snow post and crashed to the bottom of a ditch.

BHISH!

The air bag exploded in his face.

He screamed, fighting off the white balloon-like inflatable. He looked at Tash, who was slumped with her wolf-mask face down in her air bag. He reached over and pulled it off her, throwing the white powdery nylon bags to the floor.

Oh! I’ve killed her! What have I done?

“Tash!” Toby cried, “Tash! Speak to me! Are you all right?”

From within the wolf mask a strange groan came that grew into a growl.

“GRRRrrr… What’s happened? My head’s throbbing.”

“You’re alive!” yelled Toby with relief. “I thought that I had… well, I thought that you were…”

“I’m not dead, you banana. But I am bashed! What have you done?” Tash pulled the mask slowly off her face to reveal a bloody nose and lip.

“I’m so sorry; I must have fallen asleep at the
wheel. I was so tired I couldn’t keep awake and I tried singing songs and then I couldn’t remember any more, and then…” Toby babbled on.

“Shut up,” whispered Tash. “My head hurts.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Toby sobbed. “We’ve crashed into a ditch. I’ll take a look.”

He got out of the Land Rover unsteadily and walked to the front. The headlights were still on but shone at a crazy angle because the truck sat half in and half out of a deep ditch at the side of the road. There was steam pouring out from under the crumpled bonnet and a pink liquid was dripping onto the white snow.

“Looks like the radiator’s a goner,” Toby said aloud to himself, putting his hand to his forehead where a large egg of a bump was appearing. “Oh no! What if the van driver saw the crash and is coming back?”

He wiped away the snowflakes that were drifting across his face, sticking to his eyebrows and tickling his nose. Staring across the landscape he searched for the red rear lights of the van, but as far as he could see there was only blackness filled with sheets of snow falling and falling.

Toby dragged himself round to the passenger door. His legs felt funny, as if they weren’t listening to the commands his brain was sending them.

“Tash, let’s have a look at those cuts,” he opened the door. “There’s probably a first aid kit somewhere in here.” He reached into the glove compartment.

“Stop fussing; I’ve got my own kit,” snapped Tash as she pulled a small glass pot out of her rucksack.
She opened it and smeared some pink paste onto her nose and lips. “It’ll be ok now,” she told him.

“Fine, as long as you’re ok,” said Toby staring at the pink goo. “We’d better get moving. The van driver might come back to look for Carl. We’d better not be here if he does. Trouble is, I’m not sure where we should head to… I think we might have just left Glencoe but I can’t remember from the map what’s next. I wish I’d brought that flipping map!”

“You mean this flipping map?” asked Tash, pulling it from her rucksack.

“You’re a hero, Tash! I’m so glad you’re here! I don’t know what…”

“Yes, yes, you’re sorry now for the hard time you gave me when I was packing my rucksack, eh?”

Toby nodded. He leant over and turned off the headlights and the ignition, and spread the map over the dashboard.

“Here,” he pointed. “I think we might be somewhere about here. We went through the village of Glencoe and the pass and then the road was flattening out so maybe we’re near this place called Kingshouse, though I’m not sure what that is exactly.”

“Where are the raiders going, you think?” Tash asked, poring over the whole map.

“Well, this road we’re on goes down to Crianlarich and then splits. One way goes west towards… well, the biggest place is Glasgow. If they go east they’ll come to Perth. But how can we know?”

“Do you need specs to read?” cried Tash.

“What do you mean? That looks like Glasgow to me, and east is — Oh no!… where’s my torch?”

The light in the cab had grown weaker and died, leaving them sitting in the dark and cold. They both rummaged around, found their torches and wound them up. Toby shone his on the map.

“Look,” said Tash, pointing with a grubby finger to a faint red circle drawn round Stirling.

“How do you know that means they’re going there?” quizzed Toby, a bit put out by her find.

“Because if you look very carefully, next to it, written in pencil, are the letters NC,” she said, exasperatedly.

“Ah, you’re right. Look at that! I’ve stared at this map for ages and I never noticed that!”

I’m such a twit sometimes! Wow! New Caledonia. We know where we have to go at last. But we’ve got no way of getting there.

“Because of me we’ve no transport and no shelter either,” Toby moaned, rubbing at his sore face where the air bag had hit him. “We can’t trek across these mountains in this weather.” He glanced at Tash. Would she be able to walk anywhere? “I think we should head towards this Kingshouse place. There may be shelter there. We can’t stay here.”

Tash nodded and climbed stiffly out of the truck. She looked awful. There was blood and pink gunge splodged all over her face, which was swollen and puffy.

I hope she’s going to be ok.

Reluctantly Toby and Tash left the Land Rover and set off into the wintry night, clutching whatever they could
carry. Toby had discovered a box of custard creams, a pile of plastic bags and some tins of cola, while Tash had stuffed her rucksack with bags of Haribo sweets she had found under the seat, and the smelly dog blanket. Most of the stuff was too heavy: boxes of spanners, wrenches, bags of nails, nuts, bolts and washers.

“Looks like Carl was planning to build something,” observed Toby, poking about in the back of the Land Rover. “See all these tools, and there’s even some electrical equipment: drills, a chainsaw and a wood planer. They must have electricity in this New Caledonia, though I’m surprised they didn’t take that generator with them.”

“Maybe they didn’t have time.”

“They were certainly in a hurry. The dogs seem to have upset the General – that’s for sure.”

The two of them huddled together for warmth as they set off across the snowy heather, branching out to the left, hoping to come across the place known as Kingshouse. Toby was thankful for the new boots: they were dry and warm and comfy. The thing he had hated most about living on the
Lucky Lady
was that everything was always clammy and cold. Even his clothes in the mornings had been heavy with the damp, and there never seemed to be time to dry anything out in front of their little stove.

I’d love to be cuddled up in front of that stove right now. Me and Sylvie and Henry would be all cosy, wrapped up together in a big blanket, toasting our toes
.

Toby thought about Sylvie. Was she at this place near Stirling now? Or was she in one of the big trucks
motoring through the snow to get there? He tried to concentrate on putting one tired foot in front of the other through the thick crispy heather. Tash plodded on silently beside him, the wolf skin tied tightly round her.

She’s brave – a lot of girls I knew wouldn’t have managed to get this far, even without me almost killing them in a car crash. Mind you, a lot of the boys wouldn’t have been so uncomplaining either.

He remembered some of the girls he used to play with in the village as being very sporty and playing football with the boys on the green near the playground, so maybe it was unfair of him to think girls were softies.

Toby was so tired he began to meander in his tracks, wobbling this way and that. But just as he thought he couldn’t go further, he heard Tash cry out:

“See! Something ahead…” The wind snatched at her words.

Toby lifted his head and saw a cluster of buildings huddled to the right of the track. If Tash hadn’t spotted them in the dark he would have walked straight by them.

“Well done, you.” He hardly had the strength to speak.

They trudged into a muddy yard and saw a sign hanging down in front of a neglected-looking building:

“Great!” cried Toby, “I wonder if they have room service?” He fought his way through the drifts of snow
up to the front door and pushed it open. It swung creakily on its hinges to reveal a glass porch, the door of which was locked. Tash staggered in beside him. Toby took one look at her drooping shoulders and half-closed eyes and sprang into action.

“Move,” he ordered. “We need to get inside quick.” He picked up a stone from the yard and smashed a pane of glass then put his hand through the jagged hole and unlocked the door from the inside. It opened and Tash fell into the hallway, to land on a thick red carpet.

“Mmm… Smells so nice and clean. Can we stay here forever?”

“We’ve got to get you warmed up.”

“It’s comfy here,” she mumbled drowsily.

Toby was so glad to have stopped walking in the snow and cold. He, too, wanted to drop asleep, snuggling into the comfy carpet. He would sleep and sleep until the spring came with its warm days again and then he would wake up to sunshine.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. He had to get Tash warmed up fast. If she went to sleep now she might not wake up again.