The Rescue Read online

  ‘Thanks for the warning, Tommy,’ I said.

  ‘Hey, Tommy, why don’t you tell Mat and Mig here that I murdered an entire roomful of people,’ Nico said.

  ‘No, Tommy, don’t.’ I shot Nico an irritated glance before launching into our cover stories. ‘Tell them we’re both here ‘cause our parents sent us. We went to the same school but I dropped out because, let’s face it, smoking weed is more fun. Nico stole his dad’s credit card and used it to buy computer games that he sold to other people for a profit.’

  I held my breath, hoping that Tommy would accept our stories without asking for more details. I didn’t want to lie any more than was necessary.

  Tommy nodded slowly. He turned to Mat and Mig and gabbled something I didn’t understand.

  Mat looked over at me. ‘We no fight,’ he said, firmly.

  ‘No . . . I mean, yes,’ I said. ‘We no fight.’

  Mat nodded. Relaxing, he turned to his brother and said something I couldn’t hear. A moment later Mat and Mig wandered over to one of the beds. A jigsaw puzzle was laid out on the cover. They sat down beside it and started examining the pieces.

  I turned back to Tommy. ‘You speak Spanish well,’ I said.

  Tommy shrugged. ‘My family live in Madrid.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Nico asked.

  Tommy shrugged again. ‘Getting into fights, but only because I was picked on. It wasn’t fair.’

  ‘So what’s it like here?’ Nico said.

  ‘Rubbish,’ Tommy said. ‘Chores all day. No TV. No internet.’

  ‘What?’ Nico said.

  ‘Do they hit you?’ I said, thinking of how I’d seen that man strike Luz.

  ‘No,’ Tommy acknowledged. ‘It’s just really strict. Most of the time we’re working. This hour is the only free time we get. Fernandez is mean. He says everything’s designed to break us down, make us fit for “parental consumption”. That’s how he puts it.’

  I looked round the room again. It really was incredibly bare. The floor was completely empty, while the only sign of bed ownership was the creased edge of a photo peeking out from under the pillow of the bed nearest the window.

  ‘That bed’s mine,’ Tommy said, following my gaze.

  ‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll take this one . . . is that okay?’ I pointed to the bed on the left, nearest the door. It was covered, like the others, with a plain navy sheet. A blanket was rolled up at the end of the bed.

  Tommy nodded. ‘Your stuff’s over there.’ He pointed behind the door. The small bags Nico and I had brought with us were propped against the wall. ‘We didn’t touch anything,’ he added.

  ‘How many people are in the camp?’ Nico asked.

  ‘This is all the boys.’ Tommy made a face. ‘There are a few girls too – mostly Spanish.’

  I thought of Luz again.

  ‘We met a Spanish girl earlier,’ I said. ‘Luz. I don’t think she’d been here long. She was with some other kids, getting on a bus out the back. D’you know her . . . them?’

  ‘I saw them.’ Tommy sat down on his bed. ‘They arrived here in a police van earlier. That happens a lot. Kids arrive. They’re kept separate from us, in the barn. Then after a while a bus or a car turns up to take them somewhere else.’

  ‘Where do they go?’ I asked, as Nico picked up our bags. He chucked mine on the bed I’d picked and took his to the bed opposite.

  ‘Dunno.’ Tommy lay back on his bed, hands under his head. ‘Like I said, we’re not allowed to speak to the police van kids.’

  I frowned. Senor Fernandez had said Luz and the others were juvenile criminals, brought here by accident. But if their transition through Camp Felicidad was really a mistake, then why did it happen on a regular basis?

  ‘Most people here come from rich families,’ Tommy went on. ‘Or at least families that can afford to send them. Average stay is about a month. I’ve been here six weeks.’

  ‘Yeah?’ I looked round. Mat and Mig were still sitting on one of the other beds now, completely absorbed in their jigsaw puzzle. ‘What about them?’

  ‘They’ve been here a fortnight so far,’ Tommy explained. ‘Sent down for persistent truanting.’

  ‘I was about six the last time I did a jigsaw,’ Nico muttered.

  ‘Don’t knock it,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t sound like there’s much else to do.’

  Nico grunted. ‘D’you think Ketty and Dylan are okay?’

  ‘Who are they?’ Tommy asked.

  I quickly explained, giving the girls’ cover stories. Ketty was supposedly in trouble for petty thieving; Dylan for constant disobedience.

  ‘Let’s go and find them.’ Nico sat up.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed. It was hard as rock, but at that moment I didn’t care. The weariness from the long, punishing run I’d just done was creeping up my legs now. I wasn’t at all sure I could have stood up again.

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Tommy said. ‘If Cindy or Fernandez catch you – and they will – you’ll get a demerit.’

  ‘What are demerits?’ Nico demanded.

  ‘Black marks against your name,’ Tommy explained. ‘Everytime you do something wrong – break a rule . . . answer back . . . you get a demerit. That run they made you do earlier – that was because of a demerit, wasn’t it?’

  I nodded. ‘So a demerit means a punishment?’

  ‘Yup.’ Tommy sighed. ‘Five demerits in a week and you go into solitary. No one’s allowed to speak to you for a whole day and you’re not allowed to speak to them.’

  The door opened. Cindy appeared with a tray covered with a cloth. She set it on the floor.

  ‘Bread and cheese for Nico and Ed,’ she said.

  ‘Permission to speak.’ Tommy sprang off his bed.

  ‘Yes?’ Cindy turned her mean little eyes on the boy.

  ‘Instead of chores tomorrow morning, could I show Ed and Nico around?’ he said. ‘Explain how everything works?’

  ‘No,’ Cindy snapped. ‘They’ll learn fast enough without any special treatment.’ She glanced from me to Nico. ‘Lights out in forty-five minutes. Make the most of them. They’ll be all the free time you get for twenty-four hours.’ She left, shutting the door.

  ‘Lights out at nine?’ Nico sounded disgusted. ‘I can’t go to sleep that early, even after that frigging run.’

  I let myself sink into the bed. I was starving hungry but it was suddenly too much effort to even make it from the bed to the tray. I closed my eyes. A few seconds later sleep took over – a hot, troubled sleep in which visions of Ketty and Luz swirled in my mind.

  I woke, disorientated, to the sound of Spanish chatter. The sun was creeping brightly round the edges of the blind. Mat and Mig were already up and dressed. I got a change of clothes from my bag and went into the bathroom. It was basic. Just a sink, a toilet and a shower set into the wall behind a grubby shower curtain. I crossed the chipped white tiles and took a lukewarm shower, then dressed in fresh clothes.

  Nico emerged, bleary-eyed, from the dorm as I left the bathroom.

  ‘It’s almost 6 a.m.’ He yawned. ‘Which means “chores”, remember?’

  I nodded. ‘What d’you think we’ll have to do?’

  I found out a few minutes later, when Cindy arrived, with Ketty, Dylan and four other girls in tow. Outside, the sun was already beating down, baking the earth. I glanced at Ketty, catching her eye.

  You okay? I thought-spoke, keeping my tone light.

  I guess. Ketty’s thought-speech felt anxious. The other girls seem all right, though Dylan’s managed to piss them off already. But that Cindy’s a bitch and this place is unbelievable. You know we only get one hour of free time all day?

  I know.

  I broke the connection as Cindy started explaining our early-morning chores.

  ‘Tommy, take Nico and Ed to the barn and fetch spades and forks for everyone.’ Cindy pointed to the field. ‘Outdoor chores this morning are either digging soil for potatoes or working on the irrigation ditch.
You three . . .’ she indicated Ketty, Mig and one of the other girls, ‘you’re on kitchen duty. Follow me.’

  With a despairing look at Nico, Ketty followed Cindy indoors.

  The barn was the building on the other side of the main house from the one the boys’ dorm was in. Large and ramshackle, it was a lot less well kept than the rest of the camp, with peeling paint on the walls and windows, and piles of machinery and equipment heaped haphazardly inside.

  ‘Watch out for rats,’ Tommy muttered, as we crossed the makeshift path towards a collection of tools leaning against the wall.

  I glanced into the gloomy corners of the barn. A couple of bales of straw were stacked against the far wall beside a generator. We gathered an assortment of spades and digging forks and took them outside.

  Mat led the way over to the field. ‘You . . . here,’ Mat said, pointing from me and Nico to a large, dry earth bowl that I guessed must be the irrigation ditch Cindy had mentioned.

  Dylan and Camila – a small Asian-looking girl with a round face – joined us as we started digging. Camila smiled shyly at us.

  ‘Hi, there.’ She spoke with a strong Spanish accent.

  ‘Hi.’ Nico and I smiled back.

  We worked for a few moments. Camila started chatting to Nico. I could hear him giving her a basic outline of all of our cover stories.

  I turned away and whispered to Dylan: ‘How’re you doing? How’s Ketty?’

  ‘I’m horrible,’ she snapped back, leaning on her spade. ‘This work sucks and the whole place is a total sty. My bed might as well be made of stone, the shower is lukewarm and I saw two cockroaches on the way out here.’

  ‘Get on with it!’ Cindy yelled from the main house.

  Swearing, Dylan took up her spade again and dug. Nico had already shifted a fair bit of earth. I positioned myself next to him, trying to copy the way he put his weight behind the movement. Was he using a little telekinesis? I couldn’t be sure.

  The earth was dry and hard. Even making a dent in it was back-breaking. I looked round. Mat, Tommy and three of the girls were busy digging up rows of earth across the field. In our ditch, Camila was surprisingly effective with her spade, considering how tiny she was. Next to her, Dylan was working at half the speed. She kept up a steady flow of complaints.

  ‘Jesus, this is ridiculous . . . Oh, great, my ring’s covered in mud and I’ve broken two freakin’ nails now . . . this patch of earth is as hard as that Cindy’s ass . . .’

  We worked for nearly two hours, stopping only once when Cindy brought out bottles of water for us.

  Still stiff from yesterday, by the time we stopped I was completely exhausted again – and starving. We trooped inside for breakfast, down a series of corridors I hadn’t see before. Doors led off on either side. As we passed, I caught glimpses of a large kitchen, and Senor Fernandez in another room that looked like an office. He was on the phone and didn’t look up as we passed.

  I devoured my breakfast of bacon and rolls. It was surprisingly good, though I was so hungry I’d have eaten anything. I glugged down two glasses of milk, then looked round for Ketty. She was at the other end of the table, next to Nico. They were deep in conversation, their heads close together.

  I felt a familiar stab of jealousy, but tried to shake it off. Boot camp was going to be hard enough, without letting myself get annoyed about Nico and Ketty. I chatted a little to Camila and Tommy. It was obvious straight away that little Tommy was developing a bit of a thing for Ketty, while Camila kept throwing longing glances in Nico’s direction.

  I sighed. Why did no one ever have a crush on me?

  After breakfast we were taken to another new room and sat around a large table. Maths and history papers were brought in by a young black guy called Don who I hadn’t seen before. Don sat at the front of the room and explained in a heavy Spanish accent that we were to work through the maths – there were Spanish copies for Mat, Mig and the Spanish girls; English for the rest of us – then copy the history information into workbooks.

  I looked at the papers. The maths was stuff I’d done over a year ago. Easy. The history was all about Africa and the way the different countries had achieved independence in the last century. Reading it was quite interesting. Copying it out was really dull.

  I worked steadily for about half an hour, then looked up. Tommy was still struggling on the first page of the maths paper. Poor kid. What were they doing giving him the same work as the rest of us? He was at least three years younger than anyone else here. The Spanish kids were all bent over their papers, though I could see Mig and one of the girls passing each other notes when Don wasn’t looking.

  Ketty and Dylan both appeared to be working too. So was Nico. No, wait, he wasn’t really looking at the history information at all. He was staring into space, gently nodding his head. I peered under the table. A trailing wire led from a tiny MP3 player on his lap, into his shirt.

  I prodded his arm and caught his eye.

  What are you doing?

  Camila lent me her player. Dunno how she managed to hang on to it, but some of it’s cool.

  How typical was that? I rolled my eyes and broke the connection before Dom noticed us staring at each other. He’d already given Dylan a demerit for complaining about having to do maths.

  Eventually the session ended. As we left the room I caught up with Ketty.

  ‘Have you ever done anything more boring in your life?’ I said.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered.

  We headed to the kitchen where Cindy organised us into a sandwich-making line. We ate outside in the shade. Except for Dylan, whose demerit punishment, it turned out, was to spend her lunch break sorting out some of the junk in the barn.

  It was blisteringly hot – with virtually no breeze. My shirt was soaked with sweat in minutes. I only had one T-shirt left.

  ‘Permission to speak,’ I said.

  ‘Granted,’ Cindy barked.

  ‘How do we clean our clothes?’ I asked.

  Behind me, Nico sniggered. ‘Go, Chino Boy,’ he whispered too quietly for Cindy to hear.

  ‘You and Camila are on laundry duty this afternoon,’ she said. ‘You’ll see how it works then.’

  After lunch we did two more hours of ultra-boring lessons, then went on to afternoon chores. This time Dylan and Nico were both included in kitchen duty, while Ketty was sent to the barn to sand and paint some old chairs with Mig, Mat and Tommy.

  ‘It’s one of the things the camp does,’ Tommy explained. ‘Fixing up furniture then selling it on to junk shops.’

  I trudged off to the laundry area – next to the kitchen – with Camila, who kept asking annoying questions about Nico such as where he was from and what kind of music he liked and if he had a girlfriend. I told her I hardly knew him and worked on in silence.

  Water was heavily rationed, so we were limited to one bowl of soapy lukewarm water for washing everyone’s clothes and one bowl for rinsing.

  It was yet more tiring work. I was relieved to finish and eat dinner – a meat stew with potatoes. After dinner there were more chores. This time I was in the kitchen, washing up all the plates and bowls and pans from the meal. By the time I’d finished, my hands were red and raw from the water – and my whole body ached.

  We were in our dorms at 8 p.m. and Senor Fernandez came to switch off the light at 9 p.m. I could hear the others whispering as I fell into another troubled half-sleep – where images of Luz mingled with worries about Mum and Dad. Sandra’s really my stepmum, but I call her Mum. Dad married her after my real mum died when I was four and my sister, Amy, was just a year old. Dad and Sandra went on and had another girl, Kim, so I guess we’re quite a big family now.

  Anyway, camp had been so busy during the day I hadn’t had time to think about any of my family, but as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered how they were and whether they were thinking about me. If only I could have spoken to them, but the only phone was in Senor Fernandez’ office and we were forbidden from using it. For t
he first time I wondered if it might be possible to mind-read at a distance – real telepathy – but I had no idea how to even start to do that.

  The next day passed in a similar way. And the one after that – a constant sucession of physically demanding labour and mentally unstimulating schoolwork where thoughts of Luz crept, regularly, into my mind. Like Ketty, I did my best to stay out of trouble.

  It wasn’t hard. As Tommy had said, the camp was very strict but, once you knew the rules, it was easy enough to follow them. Nico, of course, pushed things – he even sneaked out after lights out to visit Ketty on the second night, though he came back within five minutes, declaring Fernandez was on the prowl. Dylan seemed to have annoyed everyone. Cindy particularly seemed to hate her, giving her demerits at the drop of a hat.

  Apart from at mealtimes – when he sat apart from the rest of us – and when he came to switch lights out at the end of the day, we hardly ever saw Senor Fernandez. And then, at the end of the third day, Nico came up to me just before lights out. The dorm was fairly quiet. Mat and Mig were doing another jigsaw. A piece was missing and both of them were convinced Tommy had taken it. Tommy, meanwhile, was arguing, loudly, that he hadn’t.

  ‘We can’t stay here, man,’ Nico muttered. ‘This dorm’s like a frigging youth club and Fergus would go ballistic if he knew what Fernandez was making us do – all that hard labour in the field.’

  It was always strange hearing Nico talk about Mr Fox in such a familiar way. Sometimes I forgot Fergus Fox was his stepfather, as well as our head teacher. I wondered if Nico missed him as much as I missed my dad and stepmum.

  I sighed. ‘Mr Fox doesn’t have a choice about us being here. Geri’s the only one who can get us out and I don’t think she’s going to be all that bothered about us having to dig ditches – she’ll think it’s good discipline. I mean, Fernandez is hardly in the same league as . . .’ I paused, remembering the names of the bad guys we’d been up against, ‘. . . as, say, Blake Carson . . .’

  ‘I know, but —’ Nico started

  ‘Anyway, what can we do? There’s desert everywhere you look. We wouldn’t last five minutes if we ran away – and even if we could drive, we don’t know where the keys to Fernandez’s car are.’