Forgotness: Book 1: 200m

“Yes sir.”

That’s what finally woke us up, not the beery breath and general windiness inside the hammock but Jane sleep-talking. There had been a bit of muttering earlier which we had managed to ignore but this was loud and clear.

“Who’s sir?”

“What?” asked Jane opening an eye.

“Who’s sir?” we asked again.

“What?” she replied again and then rolled over and went back to sleep.

We got up, went down to the water’s edge for a quick clean and searched around for a bit of breakfast.

We had had quite a party last night and left little for breakfast: some sliced bread seemed to be the sum of it. We got the fire going and began toasting. I found some butter as well and put a tin of water on to boil.

We reckoned that it was about six in the morning, hopefully the folk at the farm were not too bothered by our music and singing last night. We had got quite drunk. That was a bit careless considering.

We took the handbrake off the van and let it roll down the lane and into the sea. A few seconds later it was gone.

About twenty minutes after that Jane woke again and sat up.

“What time is it?” she asked, “hang on, where’s the van?”

We pointed to the sea.

“We hid it. Don’t want to give them too much of a clue where we are.”

“Oh, I liked that van,” she shrugged, “Ah well. Oh God we’re doing this crazy fucking swim today aren’t we.”

“Yes,” we nodded, “we think we’ve seen the first island we can swim to.”

We both tried looking for it but the mist was getting thick again.

“It was sort of in that direction.” We waved an arm. Jane squinted trying to see through the clouds.

“Oh fuck. I’m going to die cold and wet. Can’t I wrap up in your hammock and you just kind of push me?”

“Well, I was thinking about that actually.” We answered “There are some planks from the van that we can tie together. We were going to put our stuff on it, but maybe you could lie on it a bit if it gets too tiring? Kick a bit? That would help.”

“You’re going to tow me? How many miles?”

“It looked about three kilometres to the first island.”

“What’s that in miles? Two? I don’t think I’ve ever swum two hundred yards let alone two miles. What about currents?” She paused. “And your eels! Fuck!”

“It won’t be too bad, honestly.” We tried not to emphasise the ‘too’. “And currents don’t happen so much this far inland.”

Again a bit of a lie but we thought it was getting close to high tide so if we set off soon, it might not be too much of a problem. There was that ‘too’ again.

We got the planks together and found some twine in amongst all the van junk and tied the hammock on and wrapped what little food we had left inside it to keep dry. We took most of our clothes off and persuaded Jane to take off some as well and put that inside the hammock too.

Then, as we stood shivering at the water’s edge we gave Jane a hug.

“What the fuck’s that for? Are we going to die?” Asked Jane.

“No! You just looked very worried and we thought you might like a hug.”

Jane relented and we hugged again, properly.

“Let’s do this then, motherfuckers.” Muttered Jane and we walked together down into the sea.

Jane kept the swearing going until long after she had started to breaststroke her way through the water. We swam behind, towing the little raft and giving encouragement.

After a few minutes Jane stopped swearing and called back:

“Hang on, you never answered about the eels.”

“What?”

“Eels! What about the fucking eels!”

“Too far north,” we shouted back, another lie. We could hear Jane swearing again with every stroke.

We were not swimming very fast. When we had seen the island, as we made breakfast, we had thought that it would take about forty minutes at our normal pace. But Jane was not fast. It could take an hour and a half, easily.

Now we were in the water we weren’t able to see anything really, just mist and cloud so we were relying on instinct to keep us swimming in the right direction.

We noticed Jane has stopped swearing so we swam up alongside.

“How’s it going?” We asked.

“Jesus, this is,” she took a breath, spitting out water, “fucking hell and fucking Baltic too.”

“We’ll get there soon.”

“Get fucking where? We could be,” pause, “swimming anywhere.”

“No, we’re OK.”

“Because,” breath, “you’re a fucking,” breath, “mutant,” breath. “with bat sense.”

“Yeah,” we replied, “basically.”

She tried to laugh.

“Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Calling you a,” breath, “you know,” breath, “the M word.”

“That’s OK,” we replied, “guess we are. We are the freaks.”

We swam on for a bit until Jane asked:

“Can-I-have-a-break?” She said it very fast between breaths.

“Course. Climb on board.” We trod water as Jane struggled onto the planks .

“Kicking would be good, or paddling, it all helps.” We said and started swimming again. We could really feel the weight now. Jane was doing a bit to help but it was mainly just to keep warm.

“Fuck it’s cold.”

“Nearly there.”

“How much further?”

“Ten minutes,” we said. We weren’t sure, but then suddenly we felt the sea get fractionally warmer. It meant the water was getting shallower. We looked down and sure enough: ground. A few seconds later and we were able to tiptoe along the bottom and soon after that, walk. Jane slid off the plank and walked beside us. Perhaps the valleys were not as steep as we had thought.

We probably walked for another twenty minutes before finally stepping out of the water onto a low island of grass about a kilometre long running north/south.

It was a narrow strip of land with no sign of human life. Off to the north west about another two hundred metres away we could make out another island. We walked towards it, only having to swim for a few strokes before finding the ground rise up beneath us again.

This island was the same size as the last and we got to walk its length before getting back into the water to reach the following island.

The fourth was larger still, in a C shape, and for the next couple of kilometres we hardly got wet at all.

At the end of the longest island we had been on, we stopped for a break and to eat what little food we had left. We sat shoulder to shoulder under the hammock eating plain bread looking out across the sea to the next island. It was far enough away to come and go in the mist.

“How far do you reckon then?” Asked Jane.

“To that island?” We nodded towards it.

“Yeah. But to the mainland as well.”

“’S’pose that’s four, five hundred metres away. The map had a couple of islands beyond that one. It’s another kilometre or so to the mainland after that.”

“So, we’re going to do it?” Asked Jane.

We looked round at Jane.

“Did you really think we weren’t?”

“Dunno, tried not to think about it.”

“OK, but...” we stopped, “lie down!”

We were flat on the ground but Jane hadn’t moved.

“Now!”

Grudgingly Jane lay down beside us in the long reedy grass.

“What?” Then Jane heard it too: an engine. A boat was coming, fast. “Fuck.”

Out of the mist, barely thirty metres away, came the bow of a military looking boat. Grey and purposeful with a large machine gun at the front. It skidded round the head of our island and sped down the channel between our’s and the next. In a matter of seconds it was gone.

“That was the Priest!” There was panicky note to Jane’s whisper. “How did he find us? How’s he here?”

“That farmer must have seen the van. We did make a bit of noise last night.” We whispered back, though there was no need, the boat was gone, even the noise from its engine was fading away. “Must really hate you though.”

We tried to make a joke of it but it was frightening that they had found us so easily.

“Fuck,” said Jane.

“What?”

“I phoned my mum when I was in Worsthorne. They must have been listening.” We thought about that for a bit.

“But everyone’s got a phone haven’t they?” We asked.

“Yeah, but they can listen to everything. Fuck, even when it’s off.”

“Freak. Bin it!”

“Bit late now. Anyway, I want to phone my mum later.”

“What?” we looked at Jane, “we’re...”

Jane looked back at us.

“I like to phone my mum. She might be bat-shit crazy and bang on about how they used to own half of Bradford and be somebody and now Dad’s a bitter old man, but I still want to speak to them.”

“Fine,” we said, “whatever. Let’s not phone them now though hey? And maybe we’d better get moving. If they see us we’re freaked.”

“Are we swimming there?” Jane pointed to the next island.

“Yes. Ready?” Jane stared at the sky, a vaguely blue tint above us through the mist and sighed.

“OK, come on, let’s go.”

We walked down to the water and waded out to sea dragging the planks.

We were half way across when we heard the boat returning. We tried to swim faster but it sounded like it was going to burst out of the mist at any second.

At the last moment we tipped the planks over and dragged Jane underwater with barely a warning to take a breath.

Then the boat shot past. We felt the pressure of the bow wave against us and saw the churn of the propellers as it passed. Jane fought against us, broke free and went up for air.

Spluttering and coughing Jane splashed about and then sped for the next shore. We followed after, dragging the little raft. We hoped our stuff had managed to stay dry.

Jane ran in a wide-legged fashion up the shore and out of the water, turned and shouted after the boat.

“Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you? Just leave me a-fucking-lone!” Jane sank to the ground. “Why is he still fucking after me? What did I do? I didn’t do anything? I just lifted a few amps and turned a few knobs. What’s he... why?”

We came over and put an arm round Jane’s shoulders.

“We don’t know. Religious folk are strange. They seem to hate everything in this world. Desperate for everyone to be in the next.”

“If they’re so keen on the next world why can’t they just kill themselves and fuck off? Leave us alone.”

“Don’t know. They think they’re right. And they think they’ve got to bring everyone round to their way of thinking.”

“Too many people think like that.”

“Oh yeah, far too many.” We picked up the planks and headed north, along the latest island.

“Look,” we said, pointing, “it’s the mainland.”

Sure enough through a break in the mist we could see a couple more small islands and beyond that the rising hills of the mainland.

“Almost there.”

“How far do you reckon?” Asked Jane.

“Couple of kilometres.”

“Which is what in real distances?”

“A couple of kilometres?”

“Fine, come on.”

We walked over the island. We made sure we kept to cover, the dips in the ground and close to the reeds and bushes as much as possible. We couldn’t hear the boat but we could feel it nearby, looking for us.

“Ready?” we asked.

Jane took a deep breath.

“Come on, let’s go.”

And we were in the water again, swimming for the next island. It was quite a long swim, ten minutes at least before we felt the ground underneath us and were able to wade ashore. We had dipped our head under the water occasionally to listen out for the boat and we could hear it, but it seemed a fairly safe distance away so we never mentioned it to Jane.

This island was only a few hundred metres long. Beyond that was another ten minute swim to the next but it never got deep enough for that and we were able to wade the whole way. We wondered if the draught of the Priest’s boat would manage in this depth. Thankfully we didn’t have to find out.

“One more island by the looks of it,” said Jane. We could see the mainland clearly now.

“Two swims, then a nice warm fire and some quality free food.” We said. “OK maybe we’ll have to head inland a bit before we risk a fire, but: fire, food.”

Jane didn’t say anything and started into the water. We followed, dragging our little raft of belongings.

This time we swam for a bit first, then it got shallow and we walked and then it was deeper again. This happened a couple of times. We wondered if, from a distance it looked like we were walking on water. Now that would have impressed the Priest.

Then suddenly the boat was there again. We pulled Jane down into the water but it was very shallow, we couldn’t get fully submerged. Surely they would see us?

The boat slowed, some distance away and almost stopped, then it sped up and was gone again.

“Think it’s time to run.” We pulled Jane up and started to run as best we could for the next island.

We got to it.

We heard the boat, this time behind us and to our left. We lay low on the island and as the boat came round the top of it we crept over to the opposite side. Then it disappeared off to our right.

“Why didn’t they come ashore and grab us?” Jane asked.

“Maybe they didn’t see us, or perhaps they saw something else. Dunno, let’s just get on. One more swim.”

“We should stay here,” said Jane suddenly, “we shouldn’t swim out there, they’ll run us down.”

“They won’t, they can’t,” we replied, “we can keep you safe, it’ll be OK. The sooner we get ashore the sooner we’ll be away from them.”

It was the last stretch of water. We waded out.

It was knee deep for the first hundred metres but then it started dropping away until half way across when we had to swim.

We were swimming underwater a lot so we could listen to the movements of the boat. We heard its engine change tone and then it started to get louder and louder. We came up for air and called to Jane.

“Jane! Just swim as fast as you can now for the shore. They’re coming.” We had about four hundred metres left to cross. We expected to see the boat at any second.

“I can hear it.” Panted Jane between breaths, front-crawling towards the shore. “It’s coming.”

The boat appeared. Its bow angled up high with the speed it was coming at, cutting a white V of froth and foam. A man, in black, obviously the Priest, stood at the bow rail. He raised an arm to point at us and shouted something back to the crew. The boat turned more towards us. In seconds it would be on us.

We let go of the raft, grabbed Jane and dragged us both down deep into the water. The boat ran over us forcing us even deeper. We felt the churn and push of the propellers as they sliced their way past our feet.

We spun round and pulled Jane up again in time to see that the boat was already half way round its wide turn and was going to come at us again. The raft had survived. We tried to pull it and Jane along in the water, hoping that every metre closer to the shore was worth it.

We went down again. The boat went over us. We came up and swam on again watching the boat as it arked round.

It came at us a third time but, just before we dived, it twitched suddenly, the engines screamed and the boat changed direction. The Priest rolled over the bow rail, hanging on with only one hand, feet dragging in the water as the boat turned away from us. The engine died and the boat settled down into the water and slowed, drifting away.

We could hear the Priest shouting for help.

We called to Jane to swim. We both swum as fast as we could for the shore.

When we looked back we could see that the Priest was back on board and ordering the boat’s dinghy into the water. At the same time a second, bigger, faster boat came out of the mist.

We felt the ground beneath our feet but kept swimming until it was shallow enough to run. We ran up onto the shore and straight into a small wood.

Behind us we could hear the outboard motor of the dinghy starting up, a much higher note than the roar of the the second boat’s engine.

We dropped the raft and cut the string that held it together and freed the hammock, scooping it all up as we ran on.

The wood was not large and soon we were out of it. Beyond were open fields with stone walls marking the boundaries. Further away and higher up, the fields gave way to moors. We climbed the fence and started running across the first field, then ducked behind the wall of the next.

We could hear shouts and what sounded like an argument. We pulled at Jane to keep moving and ran low behind the wall, through a gate and then up the next wall, hoping they couldn’t see us.

The noise of the dinghy engine stopped. They must have reached the shore. We got to the end of the second field.

There was a shout and a shot was fired, it hit the wall some metres from us. Jane squeaked and we swore.

Ahead we could see a farmhouse.

“Head for the house.” We shouted to Jane who was in front of now.

“What fucking good will that do?” Shouted back Jane as we ran through the last gate.

“Dunno. We’ll stay in the house. You run out the back and keep going. We’ll hold them off for a bit.”

“They’ll kill you.” Jane cried, almost in tears.

“They’ll kill you.” We replied. More shots were fired and there was more shouting.

We reached the farmhouse gardens, ran though a side gate and across the grass. The shooting stopped as we slapped the door handle down and ran inside, into a kitchen.

An elderly couple backed away from us, clutching each other.

“Don’t hurt us!” Screamed one.

“Please don’t hurt us!” Pleaded the other and started choking.

“Dan!” shouted the first and turned to a bag hanging up behind the door. We dropped the hammock and pushed them away, put our hand in the bag and pulled out a tiny green gun with the feel of an old water pistol. We pointed it at the couple.

“Don’t move!” We shouted. “Jane, get out of here.”

Jane moved towards the door.

“Go! Now!” Jane turned and ran out the door. I moved over to watch Jane run down a passageway to a big half glass door, open it and leave. We turned to the couple who were edging away from us, one still choking and gasping.

“Please,” they held out a hand towards the gun. We looked down and at that moment the one choking fell against us. We pulled the trigger. There was no noise but they both collapsed to the floor.

The door behind us burst open and soldiers filled the room, all carried guns, all pointed at us, all shouting. The Priest came in with them.

There was nowhere to go, to hide, we shrank back away from the guns, until we felt the wall behind use. So many guns, all pointed at us. We sank to our knees and then slid under the table and hid our face.

When we looked out from behind our hands we saw that the couple had both been helped out of the kitchen and an argument was going on, mainly about whether to kill us or ask us questions. Questions about raids and troops, about Jane and assassins. It was all very loud and angry sounding.

Then there was a shot, sharp and loud in the confines of the kitchen and we heard Jane shout.

“Everybody down!”

No one got down. We could see their legs all turn round and face away from us. We stuck our head out from under the table. No one was looking at us, they all had their guns pointed at Jane.

“Now Jane,” said the Priest, in that quiet, reasonable, priestly voice. “Put the gun down. You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“That’s not actually fucking true.” Screamed Jane. “I really want the fuck to shoot you, you creepy fucking shit.”

We noticed at least one of the soldiers raise an eyebrow and nod approval. We stood back up and Jane saw us.

“Are you OK Felix, has anyone hurt you?”

The soldiers turned their guns back to us and then back to Jane, unsure which way to point. The Priest stayed looking at Jane.

“We’re fine Jane, still breathing but you were supposed to run away.” We said, though we were also wondering: how’s Jane got a gun?

“Sorry, I couldn’t.” Jane replied.

“Ma’am, who do we shoot?” Asked one of the soldiers.

We noticed a smell of flowers.

“I don’t think there’s any need to shoot anyone is there?” Said a very calm voice over our shoulder. Everyone turned to see who had spoken.

It was the whitest dress we had ever seen. Like untouched snow, so fresh and clean looking. It made everyone else in the room look filthy, sweaty, scruffy.

“Sorry I’m late. I thought you were coming ashore slightly to the west of here, more Hellifield than Otterburn. Just goes to show doesn’t it?”

“Lady Linux,” started the Priest.

“No, call me Mint, or if you prefer a longer name Mint Ubu. I like them both.”

One of the soldiers stepped forward, there was something familiar about them. When the soldier spoke we recognised the voice. It was the commander who had tracked us from Hulland Gate, they had managed to follow us here too!

“Lady Linux,” said the voice we recognised so well. “Do you know these two?”

“Yes I do Commander Colme.” Lady Linux replied, and pointed at us. “This is Felix and over there by the door with Father Jacob’s gun, is Jane Dray. Tell me, are Priest’s allowed to carry guns?”

“I don’t know what you are doing here.” Said Father Jacob, “and I don’t care what happens to the mutant, but this young woman here is coming with me. She desperately needs to find the grace of God.”

“I totally fucking do not. God and you can fuck right off. You’re both wankers.” Shouted Jane, almost hysterical.

“Commander you can see for yourself that this mutant has kidnapped this poor girl and destroyed her mind. I suggest you shoot him now and let me save this girl.” Said Father Jacob.

“If I may,” said the Lady Linux, “I have a pass here signed by Prince John specifically for one Wetlander called Felix to enter Toplands and carry out a delivery, as is the job of a courier.”

Someone behind Lady Linux produced a sheet of paper which was passed on to Commander Colme.

“As you can see it is all in order and,” Linux continued, “I have another letter here for Jane Dray who is employed by the Linux family as an assistant. She is currently working with an outreach art project of ours called The Sisters of Mersey, from where she was kidnapped not by Felix here but by Father Jacob who tried to take her overseas to the Moors against her will.”

“This is ridiculous,” spluttered Father Jacob, “you can’t believe this nonsense. Commander, did you not hear about the four innocent men this mutant murdered, just outside Woodhead?”

“They weren’t innocent, they were going to fucking rape us!” Countered Jane. “If it wasn’t for Felix I’d be dead.”

“It is true that Felix here did have to defend himself against four attackers paid by Father Jacob to intercept our courier. But luckily he is well trained in defending himself.”

“He was hiding under the table, just a minute ago!” Shouted Father Jacob finally losing his temper.

“You paid them?” screamed Jane. She pointed the gun at the Priest and pulled the trigger. At the same time Father Gerard brushed the gun aside and reached for Jane’s neck.

There was a shot. We felt something. We put a hand up to our head and touched blood. It was dripping down into our eye. We felt very weak and then we were on our knees and then everyone was standing at the wrong angle and we realised we were lying on the ground. There was lot more noise and shouting.

Then Jane was holding us. She was crying. We tried to move our hands to brush away the hair from Jane’s face and to smile but we couldn’t do either.

“We think we’ve been shot in the head.” We said. “We’re dying.”

“You’ll be OK, just hold on, you’ll be fine.” Sobbed Jane.

“But there’s a hole in our head.” We whispered back. “That’s got to be a problem?”

“Maybe... .” answered Jane.

“Everyone’s very angry here aren’t they.”

We could feel ourself fading.

“Is it the eyes?”

“No,” whispered Jane cradling our head, “they’re all just fucking crazy.”

And that was the last thing we heard.