Cloud Cuckoo Land Read online

Leonard turned and started to walk away.

  ‘Oi, Gopaul, manners maketh the man, bid me farewell!’

  Leonard waved at Warden but without looking back.

  ‘Wait, listen you can do something for me, you can make sure that Ian Marble doesn’t get anywhere near the survival programme!’

  Leonard walked back to Warden and stood at his bedside.

  ‘I think I might be able to arrange that.’

  ‘Good lad.’

  Leonard turned and walked out of the boiler room. Warden called out after him.

  ‘Anybody that doesn’t want to see the score, turn away now!’

  Leonard made it back up to reception. He jumped over the desk, his trousers skidding easily across the polished counter. Harry had his nose in a book and he was drinking black tea. He looked surprised to see Leonard in the office, it was staff only this side of the desk. Leonard shot him in the mouth and Harry shouted, well, yelped.

  ‘Fuck! Is that what I think it is?’

  Leonard nodded and backed out of the office.

  ◊

  The streets were brightly lit, shadows deeply cast, the city set on high contrast. There was a yellow glow in the sky and although it was seven o’clock in the evening and the sun was low, it was shining harshly. The eastern sky was dark and against this backdrop, the high rise buildings stood out in stark relief. Rain began to pour from a ridge of cumulus clouds; it fell onto the rooftops and worked its way down to the streets. Leonard felt the first drops hit his face. He was driving along the kerb but his heart wasn’t really in it, he was tired and hungry and unsure of his next move.

  The shower stopped after wetting down the streets. As he drove down Mundania Street, he passed into shadow. The shop windows, if they weren’t kicked in, showed his own reflection, his flopping head and hell’s angel posture.

  The road was shining oil-black and the sun was dawdling in the bright kerbside puddles, picking out the yellow kerb markings. He had that eye corner feeling, that cash machine sensation of heightened visual awareness. He’d seen a white van turn onto the street and he was pretty sure that he’d seen rifles sticking out the windows and they were being waved indiscriminately. He didn’t think about trying to outrun the van, he just dropped the bike and stepped through one of the smashed up shop windows and found cover. He jumped down onto a flight of stairs and took the steps three at a time. He lost his footing and tumbled through a thin, makeshift door into a dark basement. Someone grabbed hold of him by the neck and squeezed.

  ‘No noise!’

  Leonard tried to speak.

  ‘Shut up!’

  Leonard stayed where he was, sitting down on the ground, a few moments of even pressure on his neck passed, then the tension eased off.

  ‘Who the fuck are you, man? This is our dive!’

  ‘My name’s Leonard.’

  Leonard looked around the candle lit room and picked out five or six figures bent close around a table. It was a crack-house, with fluids bubbling in spoons and hypodermics circulating. A couple of thin, black dogs sniffed and licked at Leonard’s pockets. One bare female arm was being tattooed very badly with a compass needle and biro ink.

  ‘Hey, I know you, you picked me up when I was hitching a ride one time. He’s OK, Ned man, he did me a favour one time, let him be.’

  Leonard couldn’t remember.

  ‘Like I said, I owe you, I even gave you a credit note for one free trip.’

  Leonard saw that the syringe was loaded and circulating, but it didn’t go past him like he expected because this guy that owed him a favour had jabbed the needle hard and he was emptying it into Leonard’s thigh.

  ‘This’ll open up your heart, man.’

  Bad to worse, this whole thing now, it was going from bad to even worse.

  Gradually at first it came, and then for a while he had this weird point of view, like he was hovering out in space, still and silent with an even drape of stars all around. He felt good though, really good, like he could hang there forever not knowing anything at all and just smiling freely. But then there was this tipping forward feeling and a sensation of gathering speed, tremendous speed, until one star centred and became the target. He closed on the planet at what he knew to be the speed of light, until it grew larger and larger. The ocean blue and the cyclonic white of an atmosphere spread out beneath his free fall, the land masses expanded and he just kept on accelerating.

  Beneath him now, though, were millions of tiny maggot-like worms which, as he got closer, grew into huge snakelike dragons with wide open mouths. One mouth so large it swallowed him whole and put an end to his descent.

  In the back of the snake was an escalator which rolled him out onto a dead planet. A half submerged landscape under a black sky. Flooded mud-flats and a still, quiet, undulating plain, dotted with fire. He felt a light wind in his back; it blew across the road that led up and over a hill. He fell into a march and started to climb. When he made it to the top, he left the barren lands behind him. Instead, the sky lifted and he was walking a bright corniche bordered with pine trees. He cut through an olive grove and stumbled across the fertile soil; he was walking in between the mountains and the sea, and up ahead he knew there would be a house with fruit trees in the garden. And there would be a welcome from a woman and child he had learned to love.

  ◊

  There were ‘pinking’ sounds in his head, fluid underwater ‘chinks’ like glass beakers being tapped with a hammer.

  They’d moved the body from the scene, his body, probably dumped him down here unceremoniously because his lip was cut and his tooth was loose. He was lying out in the open, on the pavement. He looked dead enough and that was some kind of camouflage. He picked himself up and tried to remember where he’d left the bike.

  ◊

  He had this idea that he should head out to the farm and see how Reggie and Dave were doing. He didn’t want to spend another night in town and he needed to get off the street and find shelter.

  Ian, though, where was the bastard? Leonard would have to track him down pretty soon, within the next few days in fact, because that’s all there were, just a few more days. Leonard remembered the milk-churn he’d seen back in Ian’s apartment, the connection between Marble and the farm set an alarm bell off in the back of his head.

  On the way back to the bike he passed more bodies lying in the street with their mouths lacerated, more signs that tagging was now common knowledge. Leonard wiggled his loose tooth with his tongue and decided that he’d better get the hell out of town.

  He drove out along the main route to the north, he felt so exposed astride the roaring engine, it drew attention to his whereabouts. He had to use his headlamp in the failing light and another thing was that he still didn’t have a firearm.

  He picked up speed through the suburbs and started to climb around the coast road. He felt better with the city laid out behind, and pushed his speed up along the long, clear stretches. He hogged the middle of the road because there were woods either side and it would be easy enough for someone to jump out and knock him off. He remembered how motorbikes were usually brought down by trip wires, which were set low for the bike, or high for the riders head. The idea of taking a wire across the throat made him bend forward and lie across the petrol tank.

  A long, left-handed bend opened out and Leonard wound the throttle all the way open. The engine responded, and as the revs increased, he accelerated up the incline. The road sort of brimmed out ahead and as he went over the crest, the wheels left the ground and for a moment he was flying forward at about eighty miles an hour.

  He came off the accelerator and let the speed die right back as the track leading to the farm was coming up on the right. He could make out the position of the farmhouse because he could see the roofline of the barn, and the pale yellow light coming through the trees was probably the kitchen window.

  There was something else, though; a dark shadow moving through the field to his right, maybe a horse or something, he coul
dn’t tell from this side of the trees. The woods thinned out and the creature tried to keep pace with the motorbike. Leonard realised it was Reggie’s bull running and shaking its head. He had the ridiculous urge to call out and tell the thing it was running at exactly twenty seven miles an hour.

  The bull had to pull up and stop at the edge of the field and that made him steaming mad. Mad enough to do a fair impersonation of some kind of fiery dragon with a flailing head and a rasping, pink tongue.

  Leonard turned off the track which led up to the farmhouse. If Ian was inside and if he had lost his mind, he’d better be cautious. He had to wrestle with the handlebars because the ground was soft mud, with water lying in tractor tracks. He pulled the bike onto its main stand and the sharp points of steel sunk into the soil. Leonard made his way around the back of the house and stayed low. He approached the kitchen door along a line of bushes and then he watched and waited. The chimney was smoking and there was a light on in the kitchen. The place looked peaceful enough so he crept forward to get a look in through the window.

  He had a cold pain in his back and his immediate reflex was to put his hand there. He found himself gripping a shotgun barrel, and turned to see Ian’s big mouth grinning wide; he was so happy to see Leonard.

  ‘So very good to see you, Leonard, your appearance is the stuff dreams are made of. And that, if I may say so, is a very nice shirt.’

  He waved Leonard forward, all the while aiming the barrels of the shotgun into his guts. Leonard was for the moment at a loss for words.

  ‘I know what a busy man you are so it’s really very considerate of you to work us into your schedule.’

  ‘Where’s Adeline?’

  ‘I’ll be doing the questions, Leonard.’

  He pushed the shotgun into Leonard’s guts.

  ‘You’re looking somewhat the worse for wear, dear boy.’

  Leonard stayed silent.

  ‘Cat got it, eh? Your tongue?’

  He still didn’t reply. He studied Ian; he looked gouty and fanatical, his eyes were both zealous and fearful. Leonard felt very uncomfortable. Even in the soft, flattering light, Ian’s face was all wrong.

  The two zeros of the shotgun aimed into his guts were making him sick to the stomach. He imagined the damage and his skin actually tingled with anticipation. Ian grinned.

  ‘Don’t you want to know the state of play? Where all the pieces are? Don’t you want to come up with a fiendish escape plan?’

  Ian laughed but Leonard stayed silent, he didn’t want to give him anything to go on, no clues to how he was feeling. The voice gives it away, lets the opponent know your strength, your reserves, your resolve.

  Ian was losing patience; he made the childish gesture of breathing on his nails and polishing his fingers on his chest. This was supposed to be a self-contented gesture, but it was pathetic in these circumstances and Ian saw that Leonard was making him look a bit ridiculous.

  ‘All fucking right then, boy scout! What happens now is, I take you on a little tour and then you do exactly as I ask.’

  Ian jabbed him with the shotgun and pushed him forward.

  ‘Off we go then, nice and easy, toward the barn.’

  They trudged across the wet ground and stopped outside the barn door.

  ‘Kneel down, Leo.’

  Again, Leonard did as he was told; he kneeled and put his hands behind his head. He couldn’t see what Ian was up to, but he worked out that he was moving around behind his back and off to the right. There was a tinkering mechanical noise, metal or hard plastic hitting something hollow. Then a generator started, it revved then idled. Leonard inhaled the petrol fumes and a strip of light switched on and seeped out from beneath the door.

  ‘Get up.’

  Ian pushed Leonard through the door, allowing the full glory of the interior to unfold. For a few moments, Leonard was numbed by the spectacle in front of him. The scale of it forced him to reassess the man behind his back! Just who the hell was Ian Marble?

  You just can’t tell from appearances, because it’s what people do that defines who they are. It’s difficult to know who you are dealing with, until they show you what they are capable of. And what Ian had prepared for Leonard was a thorough exercise in revealing the true workings of the inner man.

  Leonard moved forward a couple of steps, into the floodlight. There was a straight-backed chair on the left with Reggie sitting in it and one off to the right for Dave. Both were tied up with their heads facing forward, towards the centre-piece. At the far end of the barn, Adeline was strung up above the ground, spread-eagled in the middle of a manmade web of rope. Leonard moved towards her and as he passed the first chair, he put a reassuring hand onto Reggie’s shoulders. He felt solid but there was something wrong, he didn’t move, and when Leonard searched his face, he saw that Reggie was dead, his head was pitched forward and there was no life left in him at all. He spun around to where Dave was sitting and his heart sank there, too.

  Ian was getting fed up; he wanted some sounds now, some noises to show an appreciation of his handiwork. He felt like shit too, his balance was fucked and the earth kept tipping up at the edges. Whenever he moved, he felt like he was walking through the duty free on a rough ferry crossing. He’d been falling over a lot, falling to the ground just like that. He ripped the plastic off a pre-packed syringe and he jabbed some adrenaline into his blood, to keep his eyes bright. It probably wouldn’t help much, he was becoming immune to the stuff. He stomped over to Reggie’s chair and mumbled a few words of condolence.

  ‘Poor old Reggie, eh? Didn’t see it coming, did he? Too rural hearted to work it all out, see! And Davey boy, another of life’s dawdlers, I’m afraid. I gave them both something to think about, they haven’t answered me yet, in fact they’ve both been very quiet.’

  Leonard looked towards Adeline and went deaf to Ian’s taunts. The thing was that Ian did not realise what he had started. Yes, the spectacle was a shock to Leonard’s system, but it was also blood-boiling. As he walked toward Adeline, Leonard had that feeling of arriving before the altar. She was supported by ropes running from her arms up onto the overhead timbers. Her legs were pointed down into the bottom corners of the barn. She was wrapped in rope coils and tied back against a spiral rigging that looped through the supports, all the way out to the edge of the barn.

  Adeline was beautiful, even gagged and bound; her long, horizontal eyebrows gave her a level headedness. Her face, without make-up, looked even more vulnerable and the dark circles under her eyes made her even more fragile. It was embarrassing for her, the nudity, hanging in the position, her limbs parcelled so tight that her skin bulged in between the cord.

  ‘Rare specimen, isn’t she? Nice bit of rope-work, eh? That knot there is called a Zeppelin bend. The Americans developed it in the second world war, to tie down their airships.’

  Leonard turned and took a few steps back down the barn. Ian looked pretty pleased with himself.

  ‘Is enough, enough then? What do you think?’

  Ian raised the shotgun up to Leonard’s chest.

  ‘OK, so now you’ve seen the floorshow, you can probably guess the rest. You know what I’m after, so shall we get on with it?’

  ‘The tagging pistol is outside.’

  ‘Where outside?’

  ‘On the bike, in the saddlebag.’

  Ian stepped away from the door.

  ‘Go on then, you lead the way.’

  It was difficult for Leonard to leave her like that, now that he was linked to her flesh and blood. She was not separate from him anymore; the child hooked into her placenta joined him to her and when he moved away, the distance seemed to double.

  As Leonard moved back into the dark, he figured that Ian’s eyes would be adjusting to the low light with each step. Leonard decided he had to take his chance; he dropped to the ground and rolled away to the right. The shotgun went off twice and missed, so now Ian would have to reload. Leonard stood and ran for cover, jumped a fence and sprinted i
nto the dark. He ran carefully, though, he didn’t want to break a leg over a rusted axle or a piece of abandoned machinery. He made it to the far side of the field and looked for a way over a high stone wall. He ran along beside it, going uphill, but it was all the same height and he couldn’t find a way over.

  ‘That’ll do! Stop where you are right now! Not one fucking foot further!’

  Leonard stopped in his tracks and turned, he was out of breath, his chest rising and falling. Ian approached, raised the shotgun and hit Leonard hard across the side of his face.

  ‘There now, how does that feel? Not something it was designed for, I know, but it clobbers pretty well, all the same! Now, is it so hard for you to just do as you’re told? Give me the pistol.’

  Leonard was down on one knee and up close to the wall, holding his hand over the cut along his jaw. Ian was standing a few metres away with the gun raised again.

  ‘Why so sad, Leonard?’

  ‘You know why!’

  ‘Just do as you are told, I know you have the pistol.’

  ‘I told you it’s back at the bike.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. You have it on you.’

  Leonard was not doing well, his options were running out.

  ‘Why are you doing this, Ian? You’ve become a cold-blooded man, a murderer!’

  ‘What do you mean, I’ve become? These are difficult times and besides, you don’t know me, you don’t know my history. I’ve always been a murderous kind of maniac! As a kid I was fantastically nasty, and the interesting thing for me was that I was always forgiven. Every single time I created havoc, I was eventually forgiven and forgiven so warm and lovingly that I carried on being the bastard. It’s the way I grew up see, I love the whole vicious circle of compulsive behaviour. It’s so infectious, so enjoyable, it takes all the decision-making out of one’s life. As for now, of course I want a ticket for the survival programme and then there’s this medical problem of mine which needs expert attention.’

  Leonard laughed. He was trying to stifle it but it was welling up from deep in the gut.

  ‘I’ve never heard anything so pathetic, so weakly reasoned in all my life!’