Tower of Silence (11 page)

Vultures. Huge, clawed birds who ate the dead bodies brought out here, and left only the bones. At Selina’s side, Douglas said, ‘Don’t look at them. They won’t come down here; they don’t attack people who are alive.’

But his face had the white, scared look again, and with the idea of trying to take it away, Selina said, ‘Why do they bring dead people here? Why don’t they just–well, bury them, like we do?’

‘My father says it’s because their religion won’t let them–um, what’s the word?–when you foul up something?’

‘Defile? Corrupt?’ Christy liked words and was good at them.

‘Yes. If they bury people it defiles the ground, and if they burn them, like we cremate people, the smoke defiles the air. So they let the birds take them.’

‘You mean
eat
them?’

‘It’s quite a–a
pure
thing to happen when you’re dead,’ said Douglas, trying to sound as if he believed this.

The armed men were glancing along the road, consulting the large wristwatch belonging to their leader every few minutes. Several times they shaded their eyes to look into the sinking sun, pointing and nodding to one another. There was still a thin crescent of the bright orange sun showing over the far horizon, but Selina understood that the men were waiting for the exact hour of sunset. They were giving the children’s parents until the very last minute to release their friends from prison. Once that brilliant rim of sun went down below the dark horizon they would shoot all the children, exactly as they had said.

Selina’s heart was pounding so hard she thought it would burst out of her chest. She felt for Christy’s hand. It was cold and it felt small, but it held on to Selina’s hand firmly. Selina stood there and thought: I will never forget this. If we escape from this, I will never, ever forget how it felt to stand in front of this giant’s tower, holding Christy’s hand, watching the sun go down and down into darkness.

With the hunched-over shapes of the ogre-birds watching from the tower’s topmost rim, waiting until they could swoop on the bodies…

But the men won’t shoot us, she thought. I don’t believe that they’ll do it, I really, absolutely don’t—

And then one of the men gave a shout, and pointed down the road, along the way they had just come, and Selina’s stomach did a flip-flop of hope, and she turned round–everyone else turned round as well–and saw a jeep being driven along the road at a furious rate.

Douglas said in sudden anguish, ‘But I can’t see who’s in it—’

‘It might not be anyone,’ said Christy. ‘It might be some more of the plotters.’ In a whisper, almost to herself, she said, ‘Oh don’t let it be that, please don’t let it be that—’

‘It’ll be our parents,’ said the smallest of the girls. ‘I’ve been asking God to send them, and my daddy says God never lets you down.’

The jeep was coming towards them, and whoever was driving it was doing so very fast indeed. It bounced and bucketed over the road’s dry surface, and even at this
distance Selina could smell the hot red dust that its wheels were churning up; she could feel it stinging the back of her throat and scratching her eyes, but none of that mattered because it had to be some of their parents in the jeep–she did not care whose parents they were, as long as they got here in time.

The jeep slewed to an abrupt halt on the side of the road, and two people got out and came running towards them. The man had dark crinkly hair and he carried a gun. The woman was sobbing as she came, holding out her arms.

Selina said, in a queer tight little voice, ‘It’s my mother and father. They’ve found us.’ She made to run forward but one of the men snatched her arm and jerked her back. A second man grabbed Christy and put the muzzle of the gun to her head. ‘Englishman, you throw gun down,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘You throw gun down, or I shoot this one and then all the others.’

Selina’s father stopped dead, his eyes going from the gun-men to the children. Selina wanted to call out to him to please do what the man asked, because they were evil and bad, these plotters, and they meant it about shooting everyone. And now there was only a small piece of sun left, like the top of a blood-orange…

‘We not talk to you if you have gun,’ said the leader. ‘We shoot. Put gun down.’

John March looked at the children again, and Selina thought that a kind of angry helplessness showed in his face. She said, ‘Do what he says–you must—’ and her father made an angry gesture as if he would like to punch
the man and kill everybody. Then he nodded and the small gun he had been holding fell to the ground. Selina’s mother gave a sob, and clutched his arm.

‘Better,’ said the leader. ‘You are sensible man. Now you tell me if you bring what we want. You bring freedom for our people that British government imprison?’

This time Selina did not just see her father’s hesitation, she felt it. She felt his thoughts in the way she occasionally did when he read a story to her and put his own bits in, and she knew before he spoke that there was no pardon for the imprisoned men. She was not sure if her father was here because he had been told to bring the message about not freeing the gaoled men, or if he was here simply because he had somehow managed to find out where the children had been taken and had driven out here to get to them. It did not matter. She loved him for coming here–and her mother, of course–with a huge hurting love. But if he told these men a lie they would know it, and they would shoot everybody.

John March did not lie, but Selina did not think he told the complete truth. He said, ‘They’re still talking. Trying to arrange things. You haven’t given us enough time. That’s why I’m here–to ask for another twenty-four hours.’

‘Let us take the children back,’ said Selina’s mother. Selina could see now that her mother was crying and that she had probably been crying for hours. She was usually so neat and pretty, her hair always combed nicely into a shiny shape, but now she looked as if she had dragged on the nearest clothes she had, and her hair was streaming
over her shoulders. Her face was swollen and streaked with tears and dust, and she was holding out her hands imploringly as if she could reach Selina and snatch her up and keep her safe.

‘You not have children back,’ said the man sharply. ‘If you not do what we ask, we carry out our promise. Then you see–your country and your government see–that we are people of our word.’

‘But you can’t murder children,’ began Selina’s father, and at his side Selina’s mother gave a cry of pain, and half sank to the ground.

‘We do what we have to do,’ said the leader, and as if these words were a signal, the last thin orange-paring piece of the sun went below the horizon.

The darkness surrounding the dreadful tower was not a complete darkness; Selina could still see the faces of the other children, and she could see her parents’ faces as well. She could see that the plotters were lighting chunks of wood and sticking them in the ground to give some light, and this was almost worse than the darkness would have been, because the twisty flames cast moving shadows everywhere. When the gun-men moved, their shadows moved with them, but they were huge shadows, ugly and misshapen, and they did not quite match the men. You could easily think the shadows might suddenly take on a life of their own, and come prowling towards the children. You could even more easily imagine the ogre-birds unfolding their cloak-wings and swooping down to snatch them up.

Selina had been trying very hard not to cry because when all this was over she wanted her parents to say she had been brave: to say they had been so proud of her for being brave. But the shadows were frightening her very much and the watchful birds were frightening her even more. She thought she might start crying quite hard at any minute, and she swallowed hard to force the crying down.

Four of the men had surrounded Selina’s parents, and pushed them forward so that they were standing with their backs to the tower, only a little way along from the children, but not close enough to reach them. Selina’s mother had thrust her clenched fist into her mouth to try to force the tears back, and her father had his arm round her shoulders.

‘They won’t do it, Selina,’ shouted John March. ‘I promise you it’ll be all right.’

‘Hold on, darling,’ cried her mother. ‘All of you must hold on–Christabel, Douglas–everyone.’ She sank to her knees, as if her legs would not hold her upright any longer. ‘We’ll get you out of this.’

‘Keep on being brave,’ said Selina’s father.

‘No more time left,’ said the leader suddenly, and he swung round and levelled the gun at her parents. ‘And because you two have lied to us, you die as well.’ There was a click of something within the mechanism–the gun being set to fire! thought Selina in terror, and the fire-streaked darkness began to spin around her, making her feel sick.

‘We love you, Selina,’ cried her father, and her mother
shouted with him, ‘We love you more than anything in the world, Selina,’ and through the sick dizziness Selina felt the hurting tears coming up from her throat, because she loved them so much and they were going to die, and she would not be able to bear it. She thought she said, ‘I love you,’ but her throat had closed up with the crying and the being afraid, and she did not think they heard her.

Two shots rang out, one after the other, splitting the quiet night, and John and Elspeth March fell to the ground.

For a moment there was absolute silence around the tower. The children pressed close together, their eyes huge and scared, all of them staring in horror and disbelief at the two prone bodies.

Christy threw her arms round Selina and hugged her so tightly that Selina could hardly breathe. ‘I hate them!’ she said into Selina’s ear. ‘I hate them, those men, and I’ll kill them if I can!’

The smaller children were crying with fright, their wails echoing around Selina’s head. She felt peculiar and unreal, as if none of this was really happening. Perhaps it was not. Perhaps it was a horrid dream, and she would wake up in a minute and find that everything was all right. But there on the ground were the crumpled bodies of her parents, looking somehow much smaller than they used to. Selina’s father had an expression of frozen surprise on
his face, and it was nearly possible to believe he was still alive. But his eyes are open, thought Selina, cramming her clenched fist into her mouth in case she began to scream. I didn’t know that people had their eyes open after they died. She could not see her mother’s face, because her hair had tumbled over it. She’s untidy, thought Selina. She’d hate that, looking untidy. Perhaps they’d let me go and smooth down her frock and put her legs straight. But when she looked back at the gun-men she knew they would not let her do anything of the kind.

The six children were pushed into line again. Douglas was at the far end, and Christy was standing next to Selina. This is it, thought Selina. We’re going to die. We really are. She heard Douglas say, valiantly, ‘Don’t worry, any of you. Remember Peter Pan? “To die will be an awfully big adventure”,’ and she saw the little ones’ faces turn to him.

‘It’s true,’ said Christy. ‘It’ll be the biggest adventure of all, and listen, Selina’s mummy and daddy are waiting for us. They’ll meet us, and they’ll help us, won’t they, Selina?’

‘Yes,’ whispered Selina. ‘Yes, they’ll be there. They’re probably waiting now. And they’re wonderful–my daddy tells the best stories in the world. You’ll all like him so much. And we’ll all be together, that’s good, isn’t it?’

‘We’ll always be together,’ said Douglas defiantly, and Selina stared at him, and thought: yes. That’s what I’ve got to hold on to. Always being together. Whatever happens, wherever we all go, we’ll be together. That’s what matters.

She thought Douglas started to say something else, but before he could do so a gunshot rang out again, and he gave a half-cry and fell forward, and Selina heard Christy scream. The second shot came then–the little girl who had thought God would send their parents to save them. She did not fall forward, she fell back, her body tumbling onto Douglas’s. I’m going to be last, thought Selina wildly. They’re going down the line. I’ll be last–I’ll have to watch everyone else be shot—

Third shot. Fourth–that was the other boy: he and Douglas had been good friends, they had played football together. Christy would be next—And then it will be me. I can’t bear it, thought Selina. She tightened her hold on Christy’s hand.

It was at that instant that the torches that had been sending the fantastical shadows dancing halfway up the tower’s sides flickered wildly, and went out.

Darkness, velvety and thick, closed down, and the fifth shot–Christy’s shot–rang out.

If there had been time for Selina to think she would not have done what she did. She would have seen the stupidity of trying to run away, and she would have stayed where she was, fixing her mind on the image of her parents waiting for her on the other side of death.

But the heavy darkness closed around her like a stifling curtain: it smelt of fear and the mad excitement of the gun-men, and Selina dodged back instinctively. The gun-men were stamping around and you could tell they were cursing each other even though they did not speak
in English, and at any second they would relight the torches and finish off the shooting. Christy, if that last shot had not hit her, was next, and then it would be Selina’s turn.

Christy’s hand was no longer holding Selina’s, but that did not mean anything. The shot might have missed Christy by yards, and Christy could now be trying to escape, just as Selina was.

Escape
…Could she do that? How? I can’t run, thought Selina, because there’s nowhere to run
to
, and once they’ve relit the pieces of wood they’ll see me. But I might be able to hide. Yes, but where?

She had been moving cautiously back from the group, feeling her way round the base of the tower. It was horrid to have to keep one hand on the harsh stones, but at least it stopped her from getting lost. It was what her father had called a point of reference. Would he have a point of reference to help him get to heaven with mother? Would they have waited for Douglas and the others, and Christy? They’ll all be together by this time, thought Selina. But Christy might still be alive–yes, I’ll keep thinking that she’s alive and that I’ll find her.

She thought she was about halfway round the tower–if you regarded the plotters as being at the front, she was about at the back–when the smeary lights of the burning torches flared up again. Selina crouched fearfully against the tower’s sides but there was no sound of running feet, or shouts of men looking for her. Don’t let Christy be dead, she prayed. Oh, please,
please
let her not be shot, and let her have got away.

It was just as she reached the end of this scrappy prayer that she saw the dark outline cut into the side of the tower, and realised with a mixture of horror and hope that it was not the doorless tower of the nightmare after all. The dark patch was where a bit of the wall went inwards–Selina thought it was what you called an alcove–and set into it was an iron gate, a bit like the gates in stories that opened onto secret gardens. Beyond the gate she could make out a small door. It’ll be locked, said Selina to herself. The gate will be locked and the door will be locked as well.
Of course
they will. People won’t be allowed to just walk into this place. But if they aren’t locked—

She glanced behind her but there was no one to be seen anywhere, and then stepped into the alcove. It was cold and dank, and there was a faint smell that made you think of meat when it had been left out of the cool marble-slabbed larder by mistake, and had gone bad. Selina was not conscious of reaching for the gate’s latch, but although it was very dark she could just make out her own hands reaching up to it. She saw the latch lift and the gate swing open. There was no creaking sound, only the whisper of the hinges.

The door had a huge iron ring for a handle, and at first Selina thought it was not going to turn. She tried twisting it to the left and then to the right, and she was about to give up when she heard the men shouting, and the sound of running feet. Her heart began to pound with terror. They’ve found out that someone’s missing! thought Selina. They’ve counted the bodies and they’ve only found five–or maybe even four–and they know
that one’s missing! And they’re coming to find me! And whether it was sheer panic that lent strength to her hands, or whether she had suddenly fathomed the trick of the handle, she did not know, but whichever it was she jerked the handle one last time, and this time it yielded, and there was the faint
click
of a lock’s being released. The door moved back.

Selina took a deep breath and stepped inside the tower, and the door swung gently into place after her.

The stench inside the tower was dreadful. It rose up to meet her like a solid wall and it was the absolute worst thing she had ever known. It was like rotting meat and decaying vegetables, and pulpy fruit with wriggling maggots. Selina gasped, and put a hand over her mouth, but the stench had already reached her stomach. She retched and was violently sick on the ground. Terrible! She shuddered and gulped, and after a moment managed to find her handkerchief to wipe her lips. Better now. And if hiding in here meant she would escape being shot, she would manage to do it.

It was very quiet in the tower, a thick smothering quiet. She could hear the men’s voices outside but they were very faint, as if they were coming from a long way away. It’s as if I’ve crossed some kind of line into a different world, thought Selina, trying not to breathe in too deeply, trying not to notice the smell. Like in a story where you stumble across a magic doorway without realising it. Only I don’t think this is a doorway that’s taken me into a good place; I think this is a very bad place indeed.

She could not decide if the darkness was a good thing or not. On the one hand she would have liked to see what was in here with her, but on the other she would prefer not to see all the half-eaten dead bodies. But the trouble with the dark was that you did not know what might be creeping towards you…

I can’t stay here, thought Selina. I really can’t. But then she remembered that the men outside had guns, and that they had shot the other children and her own parents, and that if she went back outside they would shoot her as well. And it was worth hiding here for as long as possible, because if her parents had come out here to find her, it meant that people knew where the children had been brought. It meant that other people would come to find them.

She had absolutely no idea whether the gun-men would come into the tower or not. Douglas had said this was a holy place, and so it might be that the men would not dare to enter. She stayed where she was, just inside the door, afraid that if she moved away from it she would get lost.

Little by little her eyes were adjusting. The tower might not have been the doorless tower after all, but as far as Selina could tell it was certainly a windowless one. But far above her head, higher than the highest house, the tower was open, and a faint grey light trickled down. It showed up a black iron stair at the centre: it was very wide, and it twisted all the way up to the top. Selina could see its outline quite plainly at the top, although nearer the ground, where the faint light did not reach, it was smothered in darkness.

The tower had to have that staircase, of course, and if you thought about it it had to be open at the top as well. The dead bodies had to be carried up those stairs so that they could be arranged on the ledge at the top. The ledge was where the vultures came: it was where they ate the dead bodies, dropping pieces of them down the insides of the stone walls—

A hand came out of the darkness and touched her face.

Selina did not quite scream, but she nearly did. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge that the gun-men were outside the tower, and that if she screamed they would probably hear and come running.

She pressed back against the door, fumbling behind her for the handle, so absolutely panic-stricken that for several endless seconds her hands would not obey her brain. Find the door handle, said Selina’s mind in panic to her hands.
Find it!
Find it and get out—

It was about ten nightmare seconds before she realised that there was no handle on this side of the door, and it was another ten before she understood that there was no need for a handle on the inside, because once alone in here you would never need to get out again, because you would be dead…

And the door itself fitted so snugly that Selina could barely even feel the edges. She would certainly not be able to open it again. I’m trapped! she thought in rising horror. I’m shut inside this place with all the eaten-up bodies–bones and nails and arms and eyes—There’re probably
huge mounds of them, all piled up on the ground. Only something isn’t quite dead, because it’s crawled through the darkness, and it’s found me: it’s patting my face and if only I could
see
what it is…

She had just clenched her fists, preparing to hit out at whatever it was, when the hand came again, and this time it touched her hair and a whispery voice said, ‘Selina?’

Selina felt a huge rush of relief. She said, ‘Christy? You’re
safe
!’ and Christy said, between a sob and a laugh, ‘The torches went out, didn’t they? Just as they were going to shoot me.’

‘I thought you got shot. I really did.’ Selina could not believe how wonderful it was to find Christy here.

‘I thought I did, as well. I heard the shot, but I ran round the side of the tower and came in here.’ Her voice, which had sounded thin and weak to start with, sounded a bit stronger now. ‘I think they must have missed me in the dark,’ she said.

‘I ran away as well.’ Selina felt dizzy with relief at not being on her own any more. She loved Christy hugely for being alive, but she also felt as if she had been running for ten miles without stopping, or as if somebody had been beating her arms and legs until they quivered like jelly. She put her hands out and after a moment she felt Christy’s arms come round her and hug her. Christy felt cold, and she felt somehow thinner than Selina had expected. She drew back a bit. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, but it’s horrid in here. I don’t like it.’

‘I was sick when I came in,’ said Selina. ‘On account of the smell.’

‘I know, I heard you. But I wasn’t sure who it was, so I didn’t say anything until now. It doesn’t matter about being sick. You got away from the plotters. Will we have to stay here until they stop looking for us?’

It was not like Christy to sound so unsure. Selina said firmly, ‘Yes, we’ll have to. But it’s better with two of us.’

‘Yes, but, um, wouldn’t you have thought they’d have come in here by this time? I mean–they’ll know by now that we got away, and they’ll know there’s only one place we could be. Why don’t they come inside and get us?’

‘I thought of that.’ Selina was pleased that she could offer a solution. ‘Douglas said this was where the dead have to be brought.’ She felt Christy’s sudden shiver at Douglas’s name, and hurried on. ‘So I expect it’s forbidden for people to come in here. Like church at home, only even more important.’

Christy said, slowly, ‘But would those men care about that? They’re
evil
. They shot Douglas and the others. They shot your mum and dad as well.’

‘I know. I can’t think about that yet.’ If Selina had started to really think about her parents’ being dead, she would have cried until she was ill. So she said, ‘The plotters haven’t come in here at all. And if my parents knew we were here, other people must know it as well. So what we could do is wait until we hear another car come, and then go outside.’ She stopped, suddenly remembering that Christy might not know about not being able to open the tower door from this side, or about the walls being so thick that it might blot out the sound of a car.