Faar.
Following him along the sewer’s walkway, they passed small
fires and oil lamps, the flames illuminating haunted young faces and prone
figures.
“ Shemkara ?” Mohamed whispered. “Glue children?”
“Yes,” Faar muttered. “Here is my place.”
They sat down on dirty bedding insulated from the cold stone
by sheets of cardboard. Faar retrieved an empty tuna can from his shoulder bag.
He levered up the lid and dripped oil from a plastic drinks bottle onto the
wadding packed inside it, pulling a short length of the fabric through a hole
spiked in the top of the can to serve as a wick. He lit it with a cigarette
lighter and waited for the flame to take hold. Ahmed noticed Faar kept the bag
strapped over his shoulder.
“Tonight you can share my blanket, but tomorrow you must
find your own space. It gets cold down here.”
Faar pulled a half-eaten flatbread from his bag and ripped
it into three pieces.
Their eyes attuned to the darkness, the boys could make out
the sewer’s ancient brickwork conduit, the platform they were on set off to one
side. Sewage trickled along the bottom of the pipe a few feet beneath them.
In the light of the fires, Mohamed could only see male
faces. He was about to ask Faar why there were no girls when – “ Urrhk !”
– a bark shattered the subdued atmosphere, and their friend rushed to blow out
the lamp.
“Shh!” Faar flattened himself against the wall. “Rat Boy!”
Sensing the fear in his voice, Ahmed and Mohamed did
likewise, knowing better than to ask questions. Huddling in the shadows, they
made out the silhouette of an older teenager staggering down the walkway,
grunting and kicking sleeping children.
Close to Faar’s bed space, two shemkara had fallen
asleep with their lamp still burning. Mohamed lurched to extinguish it, but a
terrified Faar gripped his arm.
“No!”
Taking Faar’s lead, Ahmed and Mohamed buried their faces, as
if in slumber, but whoever this frightening character was, it didn’t fool him.
“ Urrhk !”
He booted Faar’s head, cracking it against the brickwork. The
kid stifled a yelp.
In the same instant Ahmed and Mohamed went for their knives
but froze at the sight that met them – a hideously disfigured head, bald with
burn tissue, face melted and shriveled like a mummified corpse.
“ Sssssssss ,” the creature hissed, like a snake
weighing up its prey, a sole lock of hair fluttering in the subterranean
breeze. Despite having no discernible features, Rat Boy appeared to give a
jeering smile, pulling a knife of his own and drawing it slowly across his
throat in mock slaughter.
“ Urrhk !”
He stumbled off down the walkway and disappeared into the
gloom.
- 15 -
F uture carved out into the bay, responding to the slightest command like an obedient
mare. For Hans it was a relief to get under way, a homecoming in every sense.
Penny stood relaxed at the helm, wearing white three-quarter-length pants, Reef
sandals and a blue crop top, her bronzed face glistening with sea spray. Jessica
occupied herself by teaching Bear everything a stuffed toy should know about
seamanship, particularly the drills her father drummed into her around safety.
With sunlight dancing in the wave crests, the ocean was a delightful place to
be, and at a speed of six knots Penny estimated they would reach France in
twenty-two hours.
Hans settled on the cockpit cushions and opened their
guidebook. He learned that Brest was the twin city of Plymouth, the siblings
having a great deal in common – large universities, a strong maritime
connection and a challenging vernacular. Both underwent extensive
reconstruction after the Second World War, resulting in a similar conflict of
architecture, although in their attempts to bomb an enemy submarine base, it
was the Allies, not the Germans, who had reduced Brest’s skyline to rubble.
Sailing Future into port in the morning, Hans mused
on the likeness, as new buildings clashed with the remnants of
Following him along the sewer’s walkway, they passed small
fires and oil lamps, the flames illuminating haunted young faces and prone
figures.
“ Shemkara ?” Mohamed whispered. “Glue children?”
“Yes,” Faar muttered. “Here is my place.”
They sat down on dirty bedding insulated from the cold stone
by sheets of cardboard. Faar retrieved an empty tuna can from his shoulder bag.
He levered up the lid and dripped oil from a plastic drinks bottle onto the
wadding packed inside it, pulling a short length of the fabric through a hole
spiked in the top of the can to serve as a wick. He lit it with a cigarette
lighter and waited for the flame to take hold. Ahmed noticed Faar kept the bag
strapped over his shoulder.
“Tonight you can share my blanket, but tomorrow you must
find your own space. It gets cold down here.”
Faar pulled a half-eaten flatbread from his bag and ripped
it into three pieces.
Their eyes attuned to the darkness, the boys could make out
the sewer’s ancient brickwork conduit, the platform they were on set off to one
side. Sewage trickled along the bottom of the pipe a few feet beneath them.
In the light of the fires, Mohamed could only see male
faces. He was about to ask Faar why there were no girls when – “ Urrhk !”
– a bark shattered the subdued atmosphere, and their friend rushed to blow out
the lamp.
“Shh!” Faar flattened himself against the wall. “Rat Boy!”
Sensing the fear in his voice, Ahmed and Mohamed did
likewise, knowing better than to ask questions. Huddling in the shadows, they
made out the silhouette of an older teenager staggering down the walkway,
grunting and kicking sleeping children.
Close to Faar’s bed space, two shemkara had fallen
asleep with their lamp still burning. Mohamed lurched to extinguish it, but a
terrified Faar gripped his arm.
“No!”
Taking Faar’s lead, Ahmed and Mohamed buried their faces, as
if in slumber, but whoever this frightening character was, it didn’t fool him.
“ Urrhk !”
He booted Faar’s head, cracking it against the brickwork. The
kid stifled a yelp.
In the same instant Ahmed and Mohamed went for their knives
but froze at the sight that met them – a hideously disfigured head, bald with
burn tissue, face melted and shriveled like a mummified corpse.
“ Sssssssss ,” the creature hissed, like a snake
weighing up its prey, a sole lock of hair fluttering in the subterranean
breeze. Despite having no discernible features, Rat Boy appeared to give a
jeering smile, pulling a knife of his own and drawing it slowly across his
throat in mock slaughter.
“ Urrhk !”
He stumbled off down the walkway and disappeared into the
gloom.
- 15 -
F uture carved out into the bay, responding to the slightest command like an obedient
mare. For Hans it was a relief to get under way, a homecoming in every sense.
Penny stood relaxed at the helm, wearing white three-quarter-length pants, Reef
sandals and a blue crop top, her bronzed face glistening with sea spray. Jessica
occupied herself by teaching Bear everything a stuffed toy should know about
seamanship, particularly the drills her father drummed into her around safety.
With sunlight dancing in the wave crests, the ocean was a delightful place to
be, and at a speed of six knots Penny estimated they would reach France in
twenty-two hours.
Hans settled on the cockpit cushions and opened their
guidebook. He learned that Brest was the twin city of Plymouth, the siblings
having a great deal in common – large universities, a strong maritime
connection and a challenging vernacular. Both underwent extensive
reconstruction after the Second World War, resulting in a similar conflict of
architecture, although in their attempts to bomb an enemy submarine base, it
was the Allies, not the Germans, who had reduced Brest’s skyline to rubble.
Sailing Future into port in the morning, Hans mused
on the likeness, as new buildings clashed with the remnants of
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