The Savages (12 page)

As soon as he saw Sasha, sitting on the skate ramp with her mates, Jack stopped and waved the lunchbox. He was pleased to see her climb off and make her way across the field. Sasha was his sole interest just then. Her friends were just a pain.

‘You're going to love this,' he said, having wrapped his arm around her and led her further from the skate ramp. ‘That's if you haven't changed your mind?'

‘I'm ready,' she said. ‘I can see this is important to you—'

‘Not just to me,' Jack cut in. ‘Think of the animals.'

‘Oh, OK! That, too!'

Smiling, Jack held her gaze for a moment. Sasha was engaging and smart, he thought to himself, and her willingness to give this a shot was flattering. It was just a shame that she hadn't let him go all the way at the weekend. After all the work he had put into that meal, she'd hardly repaid the gesture. In the past, other girls had given in before he'd even served dessert. Jack hoped he wouldn't get bored of her. He'd give it a month, he decided. At a push.

‘Promise me you won't go back to your old ways over the next four weeks,' he asked Sasha. ‘If you do, I'll know.'

‘How?' Sasha looked puzzled.

‘Your skin,' he said, matter-of-factly. ‘A vegetarian diet is so cleansing, as you're about to find out for yourself. Think of it as a detox.'

Sasha touched her fingers to her face. Her complexion had always been clear and trouble-free, which her mother put down to their diet, but Jack certainly sounded like he would recognise any change.

‘You don't have to worry,' she said. ‘Day one has already begun.'

A lock of hair had come loose from her grip. Jack brushed it behind her ear.

‘So, what did you have for breakfast?' he asked.

‘A kind of last supper,' said Sasha.' Muesli. Toast.
Steak
.' She waited for Jack to look truly horrified, before her earnest expression melted away. ‘I'm kidding,' she said. ‘We carnivores know how to eat a balanced diet.'

Jack presented her with the Tupperware box.

‘This is what I call balanced
and
ethically sound,' he said. ‘I hope it's going to make a life-changing impression on you.'

‘That reminds me,' she said, accepting the box. ‘All of a sudden my dad is really keen to meet you.'

‘Cool,' said Jack. ‘I'm sure they want to know who's showing their daughter the light when it comes to meat-free living.'

Sasha peered at the box, wincing slightly at what he'd just said.

‘I'm pleased you'd like to come round,' she told him, ‘but it might be best to steer clear of the subject of food. My parents have strong views, too, and I'm keen that everyone gets along.'

Jack considered this for a moment, before gently clasping Sasha by the sides of her head and drawing her close to kiss her forehead.

‘I promise to be on my best behaviour,' he said, and slipped her arm around her waist. ‘Now, why don't we go find my car so you can start the transformation?'

‘You make it sound so permanent,' said Sasha, as they turned and headed for the sixth form car park. ‘I only agreed to go veggie for a month.'

‘Let's see how you feel then,' said Jack. ‘I'm confident that you won't look back.'

That evening, Oleg Fedor Savadski reached the foot of the stairs from the upper floor, and wondered where he was. He looked around, his dressing-gown sash hanging loose around his pyjamas.

‘Goddammit,' he muttered to himself. ‘They must've moved the bathroom again.'

Oleg knew that his mind was beginning to falter. Little things in his daily life had become a test for him, such as the whereabouts of his spectacles or the name of the thing that hung from the ceiling which glowed when he hit the switch. Of course, he knew it was the light bulb. Like the location of the bathroom, it would quickly come back to him. Even so, as he shuffled along the landing, Oleg wished he could do something to restore his wits.

It was the sound of gunfire and explosions that prompted him to stop outside Ivan's bedroom. Despite his forgetfulness, Oleg's memory of the Siege was vivid. Just hearing the crackle of a weapon transported him to the ruins of Leningrad in a blink. Without knocking, he opened the door and looked in on his grandson. Ivan was sitting on the edge of his bed with a videogame controller in his hands. His eyes were locked on the screen across the room. It showed some frenzied military skirmish, and was the source of all the noise.

‘Hi, Grandpa,' he said, without looking around. At the same time, he squeezed a trigger on the controller. The sound of bullets spitting from a clip filled the room for a moment. ‘Are you looking for the loo again?'

‘It can wait,' said Grandpa, watching the action on the screen. ‘Good game?'

‘
Great
game,' said Ivan, who had yet to blink. ‘I love this level. If I can take out every mercenary I'll get a weapons upgrade and then I'm practically unbeatable.'

‘Can I play?'

Ivan hit the pause button. The noise gave way to silence. Ivan faced his grandfather, surprised by the request.

‘Really?'

‘Got to keep my reflexes sharp somehow.' Oleg closed the door behind him. ‘Now make room for an old man and pass me the other controller.'

It took a little while for Oleg to get to grips with the game. Thrilled that his grandfather should show an interest, Ivan patiently explained what to do, and even suggested that they fight on the same side.

‘I'll be your wingman,' he said. ‘Lock and load, Grandpa!'

‘The action is a little over the top,' said Oleg, who was leaning forward to focus on the split screen in front of them. ‘But it reminds me of the old days, that's for sure.'

For a moment, the pair focused on taking out an incoming wave of mercenaries.

‘What was it like?' asked Ivan next. ‘During the war?'

‘Grim,' said Oleg. ‘Like hell on earth, with just a taste of Heaven every now and then.'

‘Sniper on the tower,' warned Ivan, and promptly took out the target with a headshot. The body dropped from its position, hitting the floor like all the bones had left its body. ‘See ya, sucker!'

‘God rest his soul,' said Oleg quietly, but it was enough to draw a glance from his grandson. ‘So, what happens to the corpse now?' he asked.

‘Nothing,' said Ivan with a shrug.

Oleg looked back at the screen. Smoke drifted across the battleground, which shook as a nearby airstrike hit a building. With a sigh, he set the controller down beside him.

‘There is a lot of death in this game,' he said. ‘With no respect shown to the fallen.'

Finding himself without a partner, Ivan mashed the controller buttons in a bid to stay alive.

‘What do you suggest?' he asked. ‘We bury him while the bullets fly?'

‘No,' said Oleg. ‘We should eat him.'

For the second time since his grandfather joined him, Ivan paused the game.

‘This isn't real,' said the boy. ‘It's fun.'

Oleg clasped his hands in his lap. He stared at his thumbs, turning them over and over.

‘No death should be taken in vain, as we all hope you've learned after what happened at the weekend.' He watched the boy press his lips together, nodding at the same time. Then he waited for Ivan to meet his eyes once more. ‘Ivan, if a life must come to an end then the body should be treated with ceremony. Your father wasn't unaffected by the disposal of the model. He was forced to take that action for the sake of his son, but it moved him deeply.'

‘I know,' said Ivan quietly. ‘He hugged us all a lot the next day.'

‘It's a shame we weren't able to consume her,' said Oleg, ‘In the early history of mankind, a friend or a foe would be feasted upon as a mark of respect. Long before burial and cremation became popular, that's just how things were done.' He stopped there for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. ‘Of course, I had no choice but to revive the ritual as a means of survival, but after the Siege it grew to mean so much more to me, and to my family.'

‘How was it?' asked Ivan, who had been listening closely. ‘The first time?'

Oleg chuckled to himself.

‘Awful, tortuous,
unbearable
,' he said. ‘Your grandmother and I were close to death ourselves. We were gaunt, weak, beyond hope, and struggling to stay alive in a city with more bodies than the living. All the food had gone. There was nothing left we could eat. Nothing but …' He paused to reflect for a moment. ‘Slowly, it became something that many people considered, but only a few put into practice. Some say it was mostly young mothers desperate to feed their children, but I didn't see that for myself. We had thought about it for some time, of course, but always dismissed it as going beyond the limits of humanity.'

‘So what changed your mind?'

‘A neighbour,' said Oleg. ‘She lived in the apartment next to ours, and had seen every member of her family perish. She was a sweet, quiet soul who had endured just so much misery. The trauma of our existence left her vulnerable. Your grandmother helped her wherever possible, and once even shared a dead pigeon with her that we'd managed to find in the rubble. But, Ivan, her heart was broken. She had no will to survive. Weak beyond reason, it was a small mercy that her heart gave out in her sleep. We couldn't just leave her corpse in the apartment. We had to do something, but at the same time we were desperate people. That morning we had forced down pebbles just to give our bellies something, so you can understand what led us to look at her body in a different light.'

‘Was it your idea?' asked Ivan, who had been listening intently. ‘Or Granny's?'

‘I could read her mind and she could read mine,' answered Oleg, nodding at the same time. ‘It was as if an inner voice had awoken in us both, and it spoke so loud and clear that neither of us could ignore it. So, we made a joint decision. Your grandmother folded back the bed sheet and with my penknife we peeled off the thinnest layer of flesh from her thigh. Oh, Ivan, the moment moved me to tears. What I was doing felt so wrong and yet so necessary. The slither wasn't enough to sustain either of us. We halved it, and on the count of three each placed what we had in our mouths. Several times we spat it out, and both of us wretched before we finally succeeded in washing it down our gullets with rain water. But once it settled in the stomach we soon went back for more. We were starving to death, Ivan, you have to remember that, so to be nourished at that time was to feel as if God Himself had fed us. I'll never forget it. We were rejuvenated and elated, as if born again! My boy, there is something so special about human flesh that drives a man to devour until nothing more is left. Ever since, I look forward to that feeling each time we sit to feast.'

Ivan toyed with his controller.

‘When Granny died,' he said finally. ‘Did you?'

‘A little.' Oleg nodded. ‘Your father was only small at the time, but we both did so in her honour.'

‘I was too young to remember my first mouthful,' he said. ‘But I wouldn't give it up now.'

‘Just be careful,' warned his grandfather. ‘One careless kill could mark the end of a family tradition that I hope outlives us all.'

Of all the suppers her mother could've cooked, on what was Sasha's first meat-free day, it had to be pork chops. She could smell them from her bedroom, even with the door shut. Compared to human flesh, this was the next best thing. Her father often reminded them that pigs share ninety-eight per cent of the human genetic make-up, which explained why her mouth was so moist. Still, with exams looming, Sasha had revision to get through. It was a struggle, however. Just thinking about those prime cuts crackling and popping in the griddle pan wasn't only a distraction. In view of her oath, it was torture.

‘When will we be eating?' she asked, having drifted downstairs to the kitchen.

Angelica was at the hob, with little Katya in the high chair at a safe distance from the spitting oil. The toddler looked delighted to see her big sister, and gurgled when Sasha crossed to pet her.

‘Any time soon,' said Angelica, and flipped a chop with her spatula. ‘The mash is ready. So, as soon as the peas come to the boil.'

‘Do we have any nuts?' asked Sasha. ‘Cashews, perhaps. Or almonds?'

Her mother turned, spatula in hand, as if to check she had heard her correctly. ‘Nuts. You want nuts to go with the chops?'

‘Actually, I was thinking instead of the chops.'

Angelica turned the gas ring down by a notch.

‘What's wrong? Are you ill? Something you've eaten?'

‘I'm fine,' Sasha insisted, and focused her attention on playing with Katya's curly locks. ‘I just thought nuts would be good.'

Angelica looked at how uncomfortable her daughter appeared and knew that there was more to this.

‘Sasha,' she said calmly. ‘Your father isn't home from work yet. You can talk to me. If there's anything on your mind, I'm here.'

‘I know that.' Sasha offered her finger for Katya to chew on. At the same time, the pan of peas on the hob came to the boil. The water frothed over the sides, which drew Angelica's attention for a moment. Once she'd dealt with it, she turned back to Sasha, who knew she'd have to offer her something.

‘It's just for a short time,' she said to begin. ‘Mum, don't freak out on me or anything, but I'm skipping meat for a little while. It's for Jack. He asked me. We made a pact.'

Sasha held her mother's gaze for what felt like an age. It only came to an end when Katya bit down on her finger a little too hard.

‘Be careful,' Angelica said to her youngest daughter, but kept her eyes pinned on Sasha. ‘Your father thinks she's ready, you know? The last of her teeth are coming through. We're thinking soon it'll be time for a welcoming feast.'