Blinded by the Light Read online

  Laban, who was watching me closely, took my arm and got me to a corner of the room where I was sick. He handed me a handkerchief and I wiped my mouth.

  “I won’t leave you,” he said.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I told him. “I don’t want to do it.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I shouted. Rendall and Jacob turned.

  “I’m not a Perfect. Let me go, OK?”

  “They all did this,” Rendall remarked to Jacob.

  I began to babble. “Let me go. Look, I won’t say anything. I just want to go. The whole thing’s been a mistake. I’m scared, OK? Let me go. You won’t get away with it.”

  “You know what to do,” Rendall said to Jacob. Jacob went over to a table and got a syringe. I realised it must contain some kind of sedative, and if it did, bang goes my chance of escape. I’d be out cold. I knew I had to get hold of myself and seem to submit of my own free will.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m OK now. It was the antimatter. But I’m back in control. I won’t need that.” I pointed to the syringe. Jacob questioned Rendall with his eyes. Rendall shook his head and Jacob replaced the syringe on the table.

  “You must now divest yourself of your clothing,” they said. Jacob handed me a large towel, and I was glad to see they all turned away from me. I did as they said. Once undressed, I wrapped the towel round me. I was naked except for the shell Bea had given me, that I still wore round my neck.

  Then Rendall put on a white cloak with a hood, like a figure of Death. He read some more prayers. As he did so Jacob and Laban led me to the vat. There were steps by the side and I climbed them. The vat was filled with water. I passed them the towel and stepped inside. At least the water was warm. I stood there up to my chest while Rendall concluded the prayers. Now I wanted to laugh. Maybe it was hysteria, I don’t know. Then Rendall gave a signal, Laban told me to immerse and I did so, holding my breath as I did on my initiation, counting, eyes screwed shut, twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen-sixteen, as long as I could manage. Then I rose out of the water choking and spluttering. Jacob passed me the towel and I rubbed myself dry, dressing as quickly as I could.

  My fear had gone. I was completely blank. A sort of numbing fatalism settled on me. I had no choice. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. And so far, Laban had not let me down. Since he was my only hope, I had to give him all my trust.

  They led me to the bed. First they plugged my ears with something solid, far more effective than the wax we used at Lower Fold. Then they blindfolded me, tying the blindfold with a tight knot at the back of my head. I could feel the knot against my scalp. With the blindfold over my ears too I could make out no sound at all. Next they inserted cotton wool in my nostrils. All this I had experienced before.

  Then they guided me on to the bed, and made me lie down. They took the ropes and bound my arms to my body and tied my legs together. The terror came back, accompanied by more nausea, and I wet myself. I hoped they didn’t notice. Stupid thought, at a time like this. Next came the sheet, which they wrapped tightly round me. I could feel my heart thumping in my body and I was scared I was going to be sick again.

  But the worst was yet to come. It was this.

  Nothingness.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. I didn’t know if Rendall, Jacob and Laban had gone, or not. I didn’t know if one second had passed, or one minute, or an hour. It was like I was dead, but fully conscious.

  The panic came in spasms. There were moments when I thought I was going to stop breathing and pass out. Then they receded and I was able to think very calmly. I told myself that it was too early for Laban to rescue me. Or that I would survive this anyway. Then I thought of the other two, of Khatri and McConnell, and of Nick, and the panic came again. I tried moving my limbs, but I was tightly bound. I tried jackknifing my body, but realised I was tied down to the table. I sobbed, but couldn’t hear my own sobs.

  Then I calmed again and told myself I mustn’t lose it. I mustn’t panic, mustn’t lose consciousness either. I had to think of something that would keep me sane. I tried visualising Bea again and as I did so I felt her love and concern wash over me. But it didn’t work for me, it made me feel sorry for myself. A voice inside me said, you mustn’t feel sorry for yourself. If you’re going to survive you must stay cool and calm. Detach yourself.

  I thought I’d give myself a memory test. So I tried going through the stuff I’d learned for my A2s. Amazing how much of it was still there. The British Constitution. The American Constitution. Never thought it would come in useful, but there you go. Congress. House of Representatives. I wanted to laugh as the absurdity struck me. But I couldn’t move my mouth, my throat had seized up, and my left leg was itching and I couldn’t scratch.

  And I thought, I’m going to die here, but a voice inside me said, you’re not.

  I tried to count inside my head to help regulate my breathing. In two three four. Out two three four. In two three four. Out two three four. In, out. In, out. No, I didn’t think I would make it.

  Another wave of panic hit me and I blacked out.

  26.

  Bea’s Story

  Joe’s dad insisted we stop in Kirkwall to have something to eat, as we needed the energy. I knew he was right but I resented every minute we weren’t on the move. We quizzed the owners of the restaurant we ate in, but they didn’t know the side of the island we were bound for. They recommended we wait until the morning when we could buy an ordnance survey map – they didn’t have one.

  For ten minutes or so we decided we would do that. Then Joe’s mum said, “I don’t feel at all tired.”

  Joe’s dad said, “Nor do I. I haven’t done that much driving today.”

  “I could help you,” Joe’s mum added.

  They looked at me and I smiled at them. We could all read each other’s minds. We wanted to find Joe, and tomorrow was too late. They paid the bill, we got back in the car, and found the road to Tingwall.

  We were on the road for what seemed like ages. Ten miles or so from Tingwall we slowed down to read the names on the farms and cottages we passed. We had already learned there were few towns and villages. There was hardly any street lighting either. And it was late. I hadn’t wanted to check my watch to see how late it was, or even look at the clock in the car. When I did, I discovered it was midnight. I mentioned that fact.

  “I know,” said Joe’s dad. “We can’t go on like this all night. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  The fact we all three knew we were being foolish united us. It made us even more reluctant to give up. I noticed a road on our right.

  “That must lead somewhere,” I said.

  “If only there was someone to ask,” Joe’s mum said, not for the first time.

  Joe’s dad took the right turning and we drove for ten minutes or so, encountering no buildings whatsoever. The road curved, climbed, then descended. There in front of us was a bungalow with a white roof, surrounded by other, lower buildings and some Portakabins. It was because the place reminded me of Lower Fold that I knew we were in the right place.

  “This will be Carbister,” I said.

  We pulled up in front of the gate. It was locked. Around the building was a wall with barbed wire on the top. Joe’s dad noticed a panel by the gate with metal buttons. He pressed one and tried speaking into the grille by its side.

  “Hello? Is this Carbister? Is anyone there?”

  There was no indication that the button was working. He tried pressing every one in turn. Either the entryphone was inactive or they’d all gone to bed. Or we were being ignored.

  After ten minutes or so of this we tried walking round the perimeter of the building. The wall extended right down to what looked like some rocks that led down to the sea. Carbister was cut off from the world. I was more and more sure that this was where Joe was, and I made sure Joe’s parents believed me. They did. But this didn’t change
the fact there was absolutely no way of getting in.

  “What shall we do?” Joe’s mum asked.

  “We could drive back to Kirkwall and come again in the morning, now we know where it is.” But Joe’s dad’s voice didn’t have any conviction in it.

  “You can,” I told him. “But I’ll stay here.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Joe’s mum said. “You’ll freeze to death.”

  “I’m not going,” I said. “Joe’s in there somewhere and I’m not leaving him.”

  Joe’s parents exchanged glances. I wasn’t going to give in. I was staying put.

  “It’s quarter to one,” Joe’s dad said. “I think I’d better ring the hotel on my mobile and tell them we’re not coming back until tomorrow. We can stay in the car until the morning.”

  I breathed a sight of relief.

  “I think everyone is asleep,” he said, his voice level. “But people wake up early here. A lot of them are probably fishermen,” he said.

  I could tell he was tired. We all settled in the car, Joe’s parents insisting I stretch out on the back seat. I refused and said they ought to get in the back – I was smaller than them and would be better off in the front. After a while they agreed. It was a little uncomfortable lying out over the two seats because of the gear stick, but I could cope. Joe’s mum covered me with her coat, then she cuddled up to Joe’s dad, who had his arm around her.

  I never thought I’d get to sleep, but eventually I did.

  And then I woke with a start because I knew something was dreadfully, dreadfully wrong.

  27.

  The next thing I knew, someone was shaking me.

  There was a moment of sheer terror as I tried to work out where the hell I was. I thought, I’m suffocating, they’re killing me. Then I remembered what was going on – this was full SD – but I was still alive, and I could feel the pressure of someone’s hands – was it Laban’s? I guessed and hoped I was being untied. Then the shroud I was wrapped in was loosened and I could breathe better. I sat up and removed my earplugs while my blindfold was taken off.

  “You’ve got to get out of here as quickly as you can,” Laban whispered.

  “OK,” I said.

  “Follow me to the front door. I’ll let you out. Remember – go straight to the jetty. Everything you need is there.”

  Still in my white garb I ran barefoot across the stone cellar floor. We climbed the steps into the darkened hall of the bungalow. I saw Laban pause and listen. Then his eyes did a quick survey and I saw him frown.

  “There’s a light coming from Rendall’s room,” he said. “And the door’s ajar. Go now. I’ll have to raise an alarm and say you’ve escaped. You want to get away well before they send out a search party”

  “Thanks for this,” I said, helping myself to some boots I found by the door. They were way too big. Someone’s parka was hanging on a coatstand and I took that too.

  “Strange,” Laban said. “The door’s not locked from the inside.” He laughed. “I daresay Rendall’s drunk again. Good luck.”

  Next thing I knew, I was out in the freezing cold. It was less dark than I imagined it would be. I reckoned it must be nearly dawn – I had obviously been asleep. That was good. I would have the strength I needed for my flight.

  I darted silently through the Portakabins, noticing that in mine the light was off. I was at the back of Carbister, running down the track towards the shore. Every part of my concentration was focused on escape. What Laban had said about the search party worried me. There was no time to lose. I realised I would have to untie the boat from the moorings and hoped that wouldn’t take too long. I also trusted that Laban had remembered the money. I would need that. Dimly at the back of mind I thought, I’ve survived SD. The worst is over. And I was filled with a wild exhilaration. I was nearly there. Nearly free.

  The landing place came into view. There were three boats, two larger ones, as yesterday and the smaller one on the right, which was mine. All was going according to plan. I moved carefully along the jetty as it was still dark and I didn’t want to lose my footing. There was my boat, and – yes ( I could see the dark shape of a rucksack lying in it. Good old Laban! I stepped inside and the boat rocked gently. The oars were lying on the bottom of the boat. So far, so good. I saw the rucksack was open, so I checked its contents. Immediately I found the torch. There were also some clothes, a sandwich, a flask of something, and an envelope. I didn’t have time to check if that was my cash, but guessed that it must be.

  I switched on the torch and was glad to see it was pretty powerful. I used it to see where the boat was tied to the moorings. I knelt in the boat so I felt secure, and leaned over to unhitch it. It was simply a matter of lifting a loop of rope over the post. I got a firm hold of the rope and eased it up.

  That was when I saw him. He must have been hiding in the boat opposite. At first I didn’t know who he was and I thought, it’s the search party, but that didn’t make sense, because I would have heard and seen a search party coming. As he approached me, I did recognise him, all too well.

  “Joe,” Fletcher said, “I’m coming with you.” And before I had a chance to react, he jumped into the boat and was facing me.

  Now what? I couldn’t go back. But I couldn’t take Fletcher with me either. Only I had to do one of them. My mind raced through the possible outcomes of whatever decision I made, and I reckoned there was just a chance I could talk Fletcher into submission and escape with him. Anything but go back, anything but face more SD.

  I continued unhitching the boat, and when I had finished, took the oars. Fletcher settled opposite, his eyes on me. The torch was lying on the bottom of the boat, and as the boat rocked, the light swung from side to side.

  “They tried to keep me away from you,” Fletcher said.

  “Did they?” I tried to make my voice sound as normal as possible.

  “I got out. I went to the cellar to find you but I heard Laban talking to you. So I decided to get here first.”

  “OK,” I said. Although Fletcher scared me, his explanation seemed innocent enough. If he was being kept prisoner too, he’d also want to escape. As long as he didn’t prevent me from getting home, it wasn’t a problem having him on board. In fact, he might even be useful, if I got tired, say, or—

  “I’ll never leave you again, Joe. As long as I live.”

  I rowed gently, keeping fairly close to the shoreline. Fletcher picked up the torch and pointed it at me.

  “I’m never going back there, Joe. Laban is a false prophet. antimatter incarnate. He wouldn’t let you complete your SD because he knew you were a Perfect. He wanted to stop you being revealed. Any action you take against such a man is justified by the Light.”

  I said nothing, just carried on rowing.

  “We can go wherever you want, Joe. Anywhere. We can go to another country. Look what I have here.”

  He put down the torch and took two large Jiffy bags from the pockets of his parka. I was curious.

  “What’s in those?”

  “Good quality junk.”

  “Junk?” My brain wouldn’t engage. Junk. Did he mean what I thought he meant? “Junk. Like, heroin?”

  The rolling torch lit Fletcher’s face up momentarily. It illuminated his grin. “That’s right. For years Laban’s been trading in it. We have to have an income, Joe. I did my bit. I passed the stuff on at Lower Fold. I owed Laban my duty because he saved my life. But in trying to separate me from you, he’s lost my loyalty. We can sell these and start over.”

  I was trying to piece this together. Laban had been using Carbister for drug dealing? Impossible. But maybe not so impossible. The place was on the coast, quite cut off, and all the inmates would have been labelled by the locals as religious freaks. Then there were cells all over the country where the stuff could be sold on – I remembered Will and the shop in Hebden Bridge. No wonder Laban wanted me out of it as quickly as possible. Using Carbister as the hub of a drug dealing empire was his revenge on Rendall, w
ho I know he loathed. Everything was far, far worse than I could have ever imagined. The boat began to move further out to sea as I had stopped rowing. The immensity of all of this was dawning on me. And I was implicated in it.

  “Did Rendall know?” I asked Fletcher. “About the drugs?”

  “He will never know,” Fletcher said. “He has finally been Elevated. He is with the Light. O Light, that shines on us all, glory in your new child, Colin Rendall, and beatify his soul so that He is one with the Light, so that He is the Light, and the Light is Him.”

  “Fletcher, what are you on about? Is Rendall dead?”

  “I had to do it, Joe. For your sake. He kept us apart and we have to be together. He fell asleep and I untied myself. Then he woke. I had no choice. I used the blindfold. I tied it tight around his neck. I’m sure he felt no pain. There is only joy in Elevation. Rendall himself taught us not to fear it. I am the Servant and my job is to clear the path to Perfection.”

  What was this? He had killed Rendall? The pieces rapidly fell into place. Rendall had him under double SD. Say Rendall had fallen into a whisky-assisted sleep. Then Fletcher freed himself, Rendall woke, Fletcher killed him then went in search of me. He heard Laban talking to me and ran ahead – which was why the light was on in Rendall’s room and why the door was unbolted. My heart was knocking at my ribs with fear. Should I just jump overboard to get away? Or what? What should I do? Fletcher was a psychopath, and still believed every word of Rendall’s cult.

  The voice in my head, the sensible one, which had been telling me what to do, came to my aid now.

  Just carry on rowing, it said. Keep him calm. Get to the shore near a house. Get help as soon as possible. It’s your only chance.

  So I carried on rowing.

  “Where are we going, Joe?” Fletcher asked me.

  “To the shore,” I said. My mouth was dry and sticky. My voice rasped with fear.