Home © 2003 Robert Muchamore.

The right of Robert Muchamore to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988

This online version of Home has been made available for download on the website www.muchamore.com it is not to be reposted on other web sites or reproduced for any purpose execpt for non commercial publishing use.

Authors Note:

This is a draft of a complete novel. It has not been copy edited and so contains many small errors and mistakes. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

1. Maps

On a map, central Africa seems the same as anywhere else. Countries, rivers, cities, railway lines and roads. But these countries barely even exist. Governments are powerless. Roads are grown over. The cities are sewers and the railway tracks all got stolen and melted for scrap.

Only two things really matter: guns and food. There are plenty of guns and not much food. If you don’t have both, you won’t live long.

2. Corruption.

The heat whacks you in the tunnel between the plane and the terminal. Fifty miles off the equator, your lungs need a few breaths to get used to it. My little brother, Adam, had himself in a state thinking he’d left his Gameboy on the plane. Half his stuff fell out of his pack when he unzipped it to check. All the other passengers had to step over him while he scooted around picking everything off the floor. Dad was way ahead. You always got the sense he’d be miles in front before he missed you.

‘It’s in there,’ Adam said, standing back up.

He’d checked a thousand times already. He was more worried about losing the Gameboy than about all the injections before we left. Truth told, I was the one scared of injections, even though I was fifteen and Adam was only eight.

The airport was in a right state. It smelled like rotting food and piss. The carpet was all threads and crumbling black rubber. There were a few broken chairs and the TVs that showed flight information were either busted or stolen. All the shops were boarded up, but a woman in a headscarf sold fizzy drinks off a stall built from plastic crates.

We caught Dad up. He was smiling, shaking the hand of an airport guide.

‘Mr Leconte, we meet again,’ Dad said. ‘These are my sons: Jake and Adam.’

‘Ah Haaaa,’ Mr Leconte beamed. ‘Two handsome fellows.’

Mr Leconte shook our hands. His gut hung over his belt and his peach coloured shirt was covered with dark sweat patches. I’d learned the language from my parents, but the city dialect was a bit different. Mr Leconte rattled off words faster than my brain could grab them.

‘You’re almost as big as your Father,’ Mr Leconte said, looking at me.

It was only true if almost as tall meant thirty centimetres shorter. My Dad was massive. When I was little Dad told me he could have been a heavyweight boxing champion if he’d wanted to. I believed him until Mum heard about it; she practically fell off her chair laughing at the thought.

‘Boys, luck is on our side today,’ Dad said. ‘Mr Leconte is the man I always hope to meet when I get off the plane.’

Dad had warned us that getting out of the airport with your luggage and dignity intact was tricky. There were soldiers, police, customs and military police, plus the people working for the airline and the baggage handlers. Most of them were trying to steal your stuff or get a bribe. If you got the bribes wrong you ended up paying a fortune, or you didn’t pay enough and got put in a five hour queue waiting to be strip searched. An airport guide knows who to pay and how much to pay them. With a bit of luck, you’re through customs and out the door in a few minutes.

Nobody bothered to hide the fact they were taking bribes. Mr Leconte’s first trick was five dollars in the palm of an airline employee. This got us access to a small staircase, which led onto the tarmac where the bags were being taken off our plane. The jet engines turned gently, wafting the sickly smell of aviation fuel through the boiling air.

Once our bags emerged, Me, Dad and Mr Leconte grabbed two each. Mr Leconte gave a few bank notes to the baggage handlers. We crossed the tarmac, passing under the tails of three more jets, before going onto another staircase. By the time we made it up, my arms felt like they were coming out of their sockets.

Two government soldiers stood at the top of the stairs. Soldiers were everywhere in the city, wearing identical green uniforms, with cheap rubber boots and sunglasses. These two had M16 assault rifles slung across their chests. One soldier put our bags on a trolley. The other one palmed fifty dollars from Mr Leconte.

This part of the airport was deserted. It was built specially for the President and VIPs. There was air conditioning, fancy halogen lamps and TV’s showing a dubbed episode of Friends. Adam jumped on top of the luggage cart. Dad wheeled him towards the customs gate.

Mr Leconte waved money at a man standing in front of an x-ray machine. Judging by the braids and stripes on his uniform, he was someone important. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it started getting heated.

‘What’s the problem?’ Dad asked.

‘I always pay him a hundred dollars,’ Leconte said. ‘Today he wants a hundred, for each of you.’

‘You can have one twenty-five,’ Dad said angrily. ‘And that’s daylight robbery.’

The customs man looked at Dad as if he was something he’d scraped off his shoe.

‘There’s a four hour queue to get out of the main exit,’ the customs man said, casually. ‘Pay me three hundred, or go back and stand in line.’

‘I know the Minister of the Interior,’ Dad said. ‘I could make life very difficult for you.’

The customs man gave Dad a giant smile, ‘I also know the Interior Minister very well. I am even better acquainted with my Brother in Law, the President of this country.’

Dad couldn’t trump that. He looked furious.

‘What about two hundred gentleman?’ Mr Leconte suggested, trying to smooth things over.

The customs man eyeballed Dad:

‘No. This man dared threaten me. Now he must pay four-hundred dollars, or we will begin carefully inspecting his luggage.’

‘Two fifty,’ Dad said.

The customs man clicked his fingers. A soldier sitting behind the x-ray machine stood up and pointed his gun at Dad. Adam looked frightened and started sniffling.

‘OK, OK.’ Dad said. Four-hundred dollars,’

Dad reached in his pocket and handed over the cash. I told Adam to stop balling and pushed the trolley through the gate.

‘I think the customs man is drunk,’ Mr Leconte said. ‘Normally he’s very reliable. You’re a good client Mr Pascal. Forget my fee this time and I’m sorry for the unpleasantness.’

‘Not your fault,’ Dad grinned.

Dad patted Mr Leconte’s shoulder and tucked a roll of banknotes into his shirt pocket. Then he looked at his Rolex.

‘Twenty-one minutes to get out of the airport,’ Dad smiled. ‘Not a bad way to spend six-hundred dollars.’

Six-hundred dollars local currency was about forty pounds.

We piled our luggage into a battered Toyota taxi for the short drive to the cargo terminal. Dad let me sit up front next to the driver. He put his arm around Adam in the back.

‘What are you upset for, little soldier?’ Dad asked.

‘I thought that man was gonna shoot you.’ Adam sniffled.

‘Bullets bounce off me,’ Dad said. ‘I’m made of steel.’

Dad thumped his chest. Adam broke out in a little smile.

‘We should have gone to Disneyworld again,’ Adam said. ‘They never try and shoot you there.’

Dad’s huge laugh boomed around the inside of the cab.

‘Bloody Disneyworld. Never again,’ Dad laughed. ‘Forty bloody minutes in a queue for a ride that lasts thirty seconds. That place made me absolutely insane.’

Dad squeezed Adam and kissed his cheek.

‘Don’t you want to see your Grandma? And play with all your cousins?’

Adam smiled for Dad, but neither of us wanted to be here. Mum said she’d never go to Africa again. The last time she came, her wedding ring got stolen from the hotel room and some guy attacked her in the street. I don’t remember the trip, I was only a baby. Adam wasn’t even born.

. . .

Dad was in the import-export business. His company bought up empty space on container ships and sent junk to Africa. Poor man’s gold, Dad called it: worn tyres, used shoes, clothes, old fridges and microwaves, date expired tins of food.

You might throw away your hair drier, food mixer or whatever. It’s too much bother to get them repaired. But in Africa, there are men who strip all this stuff down and make it work again. Fill a container up with the right kind of junk, send it to Africa and you can make serious money.

Dad got rich off junk. He got a different Mercedes every year. Mum drove a big Range Rover. Me and Adam went to public school and we were always going abroad on holiday.

The business worked out of a semi-derelict warehouse at the back of Kings Cross station, in London. When I was little, I used to love running around inside. The roof leaked and I had to wear wellies because the floor was all muddy. People turned up all day long; from dustmen with collections of small electricals they’d found on their route, to huge lorries filled with cans of food.

The woman who drove the forklift used to let me sit on her lap as she picked the pallets out of the trucks. At one time my biggest ambition was to be allowed to touch all the levers and drive the forklift myself.

Course, by the time I was old enough to drive it, playing in a cold, muddy warehouse wasn’t my idea of fun anymore. At fifteen I had this big fantasy about how my life would go. I’d pass all my A-levels, study business and economics at university, then get a job at a merchant bank that paid big bucks. I’d wear handmade £1,500 suits, have my own executive box at the Arsenal and be married to a stunning babe who was resident DJ in a nightclub. I’d give Adam my share of the junk business when Dad retired; I wouldn’t need the money.

. . .

The tails of the cargo planes poked over the opposite side of the terminal building. The taxi driver piled our luggage on the pavement. It was a single storey building a couple of hundred meters long, but one end had burned out in a fire. A few families lived amongst the wreckage, in homes built from charred scraps. Two raggedy kids sat against the terminal wall, begging.

‘Why can’t they live in houses?’ Adam asked.

‘Probably farmers,’ Dad explained. ‘There’s a war between the government and rebels from the east. Soldiers destroy farms and steal all the food. The farmers that don’t get killed run away to the city, but there’s no work here and nowhere for them to live.’

Dad went in his trousers, peeled a five dollar note off his roll of cash and handed it to Adam.

‘See if that cheers them up.’

The beggars were about Adam’s age, but he probably weighed more than the pair of them. Adam was scared to go near them for some reason, he tugged my hand.

‘Come with us, Jake.’

The beggars looked worried as we approached. Loads of people must have given them a hard time. Adam reached out with the note and the bony little faces lit up like it was Christmas, Easter and pancake Tuesday rolled into one. One kid swept the note from Adam’s fingers and ran away. The other one scratched around on the concrete, picking up about fifteen cents in coins that people had dropped around him. When the boys were about ten metres away, they stopped running and waved at us.

‘Thank you Sirs.’

Then they disappeared into one of the little shacks.

‘How much is five dollars in English money?’ Adam asked.

‘About forty pence,’ Dad said. ‘It’s enough to buy half a sack of rice. They’ll eat well for the next few days.’

‘Then what?’ Adam asked.

Dad didn’t answer.

People rushed up to Dad as soon as he stepped inside the cargo terminal. A couple of guys grabbed our luggage. Before I knew it, half a dozen sweaty men were shaking my hand and patting my shoulder. Adam got it even worse. One guy picked him up and started carrying him around to some office women who gave him kisses. The look on Adam’s face was priceless. In England, Dad was a wealthy businessman and people respected him, but here it was like he was a pop star.

Once things settled down we got taken through to Dad’s office. Two guys sat at one end with their heavy boots on a glass topped coffee table. They both held glasses of scotch. Dad introduced us.

‘My bodyguards, Tim and Banky,’ Dad explained. ‘They’ll keep us safe while we’re staying at Grandma’s.’

The two guys crushed my hand as they shook it. They looked like absolute nutters. They both wore black fatigues, and had machine guns, hunting knives, pistols, ammo belts and grenades hanging off every place you could think of and probably a few you couldn’t. Adam was in love. He squeezed between Tim and Banky on the sofa and started pointing at all the weapons asking what they were called and what they did.

Dad got a satellite phone out of his desk. It was about 3 times the size of a normal mobile, and would work anywhere on the planet. You could get normal telephones in the city, but they were so unreliable you used a satellite phone if you were rich enough to have one.

Dad threw me the handset.

‘Call your Mum. It’s five quid a minute, so cut down on the rabbit.’

The number was in the speed dial. Mum picked up after a couple of rings.

‘Hey Mum, it’s me, we’re here.’

‘At Grandma’s?’

‘No, were still in the city. The flight from Paris was delayed five hours.’

‘How’s Adam?’

‘He slept most of the way. He’s hanging off my waist wanting to talk to you. I’ll put him on.’

‘OK Jake. See you in three weeks. Keep safe.’

‘No worries Mum. Love you... Here’s Adam.’

3. Flight

Dad’s company had three small cargo aeroplanes. They were Douglas DC3s; mirror finished, with Air Amanda logos and beautiful women with giant afros airbrushed on the sides. Amanda was my Mum’s first name. The planes were over sixty years old, with a propeller engine under each wing. Dad could have afforded newer planes, but he was a complete DC3 nerd. He had loads of books on them at home, there was a mahogany model of one on the desk in our study and he even belonged to the DC3 owners club.

It was a buzz standing on the tarmac looking at Dad’s planes. I’d only seen pictures before. They were probably the cleanest, best maintained things I saw my whole time in Africa.

Our plane was packed with cargo, waiting to leave. The pilot was this old white guy with a beard. Dad sat next to him in the front with Adam on his lap. I got into a battered jump seat behind the pilot. All the ancient switches and dials were lit up, and there was this great smell of old leather and oil. Banky and Tim had to make the best of it amongst the pallets in the cargo bay.

Outside, someone pulled the blocks out from under the wheels. The pilot started the engines. After a few metres taxiing, he turned onto the runway and opened up the throttles. The runway was full of cracks. The plane juddered over every one. I put my hands over my ears to cut out the noise.

It got smoother once we were off the ground. We had to stay low, to avoid the jets coming in and out of the main terminal. The city beneath us was a desperate place. Millions of shacks built out of timber and plastic sheets, open sewers and mountains of rubbish everywhere. Within a few minutes, the city was gone and all that lay ahead were thousands of miles of jungle, broken occasionally by farming villages and giant square holes cut out by logging companies.

The little plane stayed well below the clouds. The scenery was amazing: huge birds circling over the canopy of trees, mountains with giant waterfalls spewing into rivers. It was so beautiful it did my head in. I was finally starting to like the idea of Africa; experiencing a different way of life and meeting Dad’s family. Most people would never get a chance to see stuff like this. I felt guilty that all I’d done was moan that we weren’t going to Spain or Florida.

‘I need to go,’ Adam said.

There was no toilet on the plane. Dad had brought an empty plastic Coke bottle. Adam stood in the corner behind Dad and peed into it. He was shaking himself off when there was a grinding noise, like a car missing a gear. I looked out the side of the plane in time to see the right propeller shatter and a ball of flame blasting back under the wing. My guts shot into my mouth. About ten buzzers and alarms started going off.

‘Extinguishers,’ the pilot shouted.

Dad pulled on a lever above his head. A sea of white foam squirted out around the engine, quenching the flames almost instantly.

‘Shit,’ Dad laughed, holding his hand over his chest. ‘My old heart can do without too many of those.’

‘Think we hit a bird or something,’ the pilot said. ‘Are you boys OK?’

We were a both shaken up. Adam got back on Dad’s lap and gave him a hug.

‘Can we fly on one engine?’ I asked.

‘We can even take off with one engine with a long enough runway,’ the pilot said. ‘Although we’re much slower. It’s safest if we put down at the nearest airstrip and get one of the other planes to fly up with a mechanic.’

‘How do we know if it’s safe when we land?’ Dad asked. ‘There’s a bloody war going on down there. If the rebels are controlling that area, they’ll steal the plane and probably kill us as well.’

‘You’ve got Banky and Tim, and It’s mostly government controlled until you get much further east,’ the pilot said.

‘I’ve heard stories about DC3’s flying thousands of miles on one engine,’ Dad said.

The pilot weighed it all up:

‘I suppose the chances of rebels ambushing us at an airstrip are a lot greater than the chances of the other engine failing; besides your sons look tired. Lets finish the journey and sort out the aeroplane in the morning.’

With one engine the plane was quieter. It felt skittish, like it was fighting against the wind. The pilot calculated the journey would take an extra hour on one engine, two hours altogether.

The sunset over the jungle was about the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Deep oranges and purples flooding over the scenery, but the transition from bright sunlight to blackness only took a few minutes. We’d been travelling for twenty hours, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I was woken up by Dad shouting. There was no engine noise, just air rushing against the outside of the plane.

‘I’m trying to restart it,’ the pilot said.

Dad hammered a gauge with his knuckle, hoping it wasn’t telling the truth.

‘There’s no pressure in the fuel system,’ Dad said.

The pilot was franticly rocking switches and pulling levers. Banky’s head came in through the cockpit door.

‘Is that the other engine gone?’

‘We’re working on it,’ the pilot shouted. ‘No need to panic yet.’

‘Adam, I need you out of the way,’ Dad said ‘Go and sit with Jake.’

Adam scrambled onto my lap and put his arm round my neck.

‘How long can we stay up without engines?’ I asked.

‘We’re not that high. Ten, maybe twelve minutes,’ the pilot said. ‘I don’t think we’ll be able to restart. There’s three parachutes in the back. If anyone wants to jump, they’ve got to do it in the next four minutes or we’ll be too low.’

‘But there’s six of us,’ I said. ‘Why only three parachutes?’

‘It’s a cargo plane,’ Dad said. ‘Two crew, one passenger.’

‘There’s a chute for the two boys,’ the pilot said. ‘Third chute is between you and the two bodyguards. You’ll have to draw lots.’

Adam’s fingers dug into my back. I don’t know why it took so long, but it only hit me now that most of us were going to die. I had this image in my head of my class coming back after summer holidays. My desk is empty and my form teacher is telling everyone that I’m dead. I started to shake all over.

‘What about you?’ Dad asked.

The pilot smiled, ‘The Captain always goes down with his ship. I’ll keep this crate up for as long as I can; try and ditch somewhere flat. You never know, we might get a miracle.’

We heard this rushing noise from the back of the plane. Dad opened the door into the cargo bay. Banky and Tim had put on parachutes and opened the rear passenger door.

Banky jumped out. Tim gave my Dad an arrogant wave and followed him into the blackness. Me and Adam were standing behind Dad. We both worked it out instantly: Dad had to pick one of us to get the last parachute.

‘Jake, come here.’ Dad shouted.

Dad grabbed the parachute. I couldn’t look back at Adam. I put my arms though the shoulder straps and Dad fastened the harness around my stomach. I wondered why he’d picked me, Adam was the littlest.

‘Don’t pull the cord straight away.’ Dad said, placing it in my hand. ‘If you don’t build a bit of speed first, the parachute will tangle up. But don’t leave it too long. Count to about six seconds after you jump, then pull.’

‘OK,’ I said.

It was hard to speak. There were tears round my eyes, but I was too shocked to sob.

‘Adam, come here,’ Dad shouted.

Dad had a plan. He got Adam to jump onto me, wrap his arms around my shoulders and lock his feet together behind my thighs. Our noses were almost touching. Dad stripped his belt out of his trousers. It was big enough to go around both our tummies. Dad strapped us together so tight we could hardly breathe.

‘Grip each other as tight as you can. If the rush of air gets between your bodies, it will tear you apart.’

I nodded.

‘Have you still got the cord in you hand?’

‘Yes Dad,’ I said.

‘How many seconds Jake?’

‘Six seconds,’ I said

‘Try and bend your knees when you hit the ground.’

‘What about all the trees?’ I asked.

‘You’ve just got to hope for the best.’

I couldn’t see where I was going because Adam’s head was in the way, and I could hardly stand with all the weight strapped to me. Dad shoved his Swiss army knife in the back of my shorts.

‘You might need that,’ Dad said.

The pilot shouted in from the cockpit, ‘Going below safe parachute height in about fifteen seconds.’

Below a certain height, you smash into the ground before the parachute has time to slow you down. I stood in the open doorway, the air was pushing me back inside.

‘Good luck boys.’

I saw Dad’s face for the last time as he kissed us both on the cheek.

‘Look after each other. I love you.’

‘I love you Dad,’ I shouted over the wind

‘Five seconds to go,’ the pilot shouted. ‘Get them out of here, now.’

It was pitch black. I’d die if I stayed on the plane, but I still didn’t have the guts to jump. Dad gave me an almighty shove and I started to fall.

I was absolutely shitting myself. It was dark, the wind blasted my ears. Then I realised, I’d forgotten to count. How long had it been? Were we going fast enough?

‘Pull it now you idiot,’ Adam shouted, ‘It’s already eight seconds.’

I yanked the cord. It seemed to take forever, but the silk spilled out behind my head. It felt like we were being jerked upwards, but that was the chute slowing our rate of descent.

Now all I could think about was the ground. I’d seen loads of war movies and people who parachuted into trees always seem to end up getting strangled. I couldn’t see what was below me, but in the middle of the jungle, crashing into trees seemed like a good bet.

I felt my trainer hit something, then it was like we were getting sucked into tunnel of leaves. Adam was screaming in my ear. I felt this sharp pain like someone had torn off the back of my head. I was out cold.

4. Trees

It was light when I came around. Adam must have hit the release. The parachute was trapped in the leaves about ten metres above. The back of my head surged with the most unbelievable pain. I ran my hand around. There was a flap of loose flesh hanging off the back of my head and dried blood soaked through my t-shirt. I’d also got burns across my back where Dad’s belt snapped.

I turned my head a bit. I was about two metres off the ground, suspended awkwardly between branches. There was no sign of Adam, but the trees cut out most of the light and it was tough to see. I grabbed one branch with both hands, then pulled my legs off the other one so I was dangling by my fingers. I let go and tried to land upright, but I’d lost loads of blood and there was no strength in me. I rolled up on the ground, coughing.

My legs and arms started tickling. Hundreds of insects crawled onto me. Spiders, beetles, flies, giant millipedes, ants. I was desperate to get up, but I was too weak to move. Then they started getting in places. In my ears, up my shorts, down my back.

I don’t now how long I was out for. Adam pinched my cheek to wake me up.

‘Are you dead Jake?’

I could hear him, but everything looked blurry and my mouth wouldn’t move.

‘Jake.’

‘Jake… Please wake up.’

Adam sounded really desperate.

‘Please wake up Jake.’

I moved my lips and croaked.

‘Aaaa.’

Adam smiled a bit.

‘You look terrible.’ Adam said. ‘I tried to find the plane.’

‘It’s not near here,’ I said.

The plane was going at nearly two hundred kilometres an hour. If it crashed five minutes after we jumped out, it would be fifteen kilometres away.

Adam gave me a bit of help to sit up. He started flicking all the bugs off me.

‘What’s around here?’ I asked. ‘Did you find any water?’

‘Nothing,’ Adam said, ‘There’s trees wherever you go. There’s this massive yellow snake up in the branches.’

I leant against a tree trunk and tried to stand. It was roasting and I felt all light headed. I wouldn’t last long without something to drink. I dug Dad’s knife out of my shorts. It had a tiny compass in the side, as well as a little saw and a blade.

‘Pick one direction and try going in a straight line,’ I said. ‘Hopefully we’ll find a path or something.’

‘Downhill is easier,’ Adam said. ‘And it usually leads to water.’

‘Who says it leads to water?’

‘I learned it at Beavers,’ Adam said.

‘We’ll move as fast as we can. I’m not gonna last long in this state.’

‘But what if they’re coming to rescue us? Adam asked. ‘Shouldn’t we stay here?’

‘Nobody will come looking out here. Even if they did, how would they spot us under the trees?’

In mature jungle, the giant trees suck all the light and goodness from the soil. Only a few mosses and fungi grow in the creepy spaces between trunks. Adam had to help me move. I found a walking stick, but I was still all over the place. I started wondering if Adam’s best chance would be if he went on his own. He’d cover loads more ground without me.

I was so out if it, I don’t know how long we walked. I gave up flicking off flies and tics, there were too many of them. Everything looked like green and orange blurs. My muscles all felt tight and hard. The only thing in my mind was the pain and thirst. Every step was a fight with part of myself that didn’t want to carry on and it seemed to keep getting bigger.

There was no water and no sign of rain. More earth, more wood, more steps. Adams voice begging me to keep going. The jungle went for thousands of kilometres. It felt hopeless: we could be days away from human contact.

Late afternoon we finally reached a dirt road. It was about a truck’s width and it was all the excuse my body needed to give up. I collapsed. I ran my hand over my hair and it was dry. My body was too dehydrated to sweat and my skull was hot to touch. I looked for Adam, he was all blurry.

‘I’m gonna pass out.’

I rolled on my side and heaved like I was throwing up, but I only managed a dry rasp.

‘You better go along the road,’ I said. ‘Try and find someone before it gets dark.’

‘There’s tire tracks in the dust,’ Adam said. ‘We could stay together. Cars must go down here.’

‘There’s no point me holding you up any more,’ I said. ‘You’ll be as sick as me if you don’t get some water soon.’

Adam stood in front of me and put out his hand. I couldn’t work out what he wanted.

‘Shake hands,’ Adam said.

So I did. It seemed weird, I’d never shaken his hand before. Occasionally we hugged, but mostly we got on each others nerves. I was in such a state, Adam was sure I’d be dead before he found help. He thought shaking hands was a proper, grown up, way to say goodbye.

I crawled to the edge of the road and watched until he disappeared around a bend. The last few steps, all I could see was his arm swinging. Once he was gone I slumped into the dust.

When I closed my eyes everything turned white. It felt like all my energy was getting sucked into a hole. I’d seen it on TV; like when people come out of a coma and they describe death as this white light that’s calling them. I thought dying would come as a relief, but once I saw the light I was desperate to fight it.

I sat back up and opened my eyes. Every time I felt myself start to drift out of consciousness, I jammed my finger into the cut on my head and the pain and nausea sparked me up. I tried to keep my mind occupied. I started humming a tune. I couldn’t work out what it was for ages, then I realised it was the music from the Thomas the Tank Engine video Adam had when he was about three. He’d put the damn video on and watch it over and over, until it made me want to scream. I hated that music, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Then I started imagining I had bottle of Sprite in my hand. Really cold, with all condensation dribbling down the side. Twisting off the plastic lid. Tiny bubbles hitting my top lip and gulping the fizz down my throat.

That’s when I heard an engine. I was half convinced it was my head playing tricks. I tried to stand up but I couldn’t, so I crawled into the middle of the road and laid on my belly. They either had to stop or run me over.

It was a Subaru pickup. Dents, cracked glass in the windscreen, a sprinkling of bullet holes and bald tyres with repair patches everywhere. The driver was going at about 30 kilometres an hour, which doesn’t sound fast, but looks it when you’re spraying up dust and jamming into a pothole every few seconds. I thought they were gonna run me over. There was only a couple of meters between me and the radiator when it stopped moving.

A man got out the drivers side of the cab. He looked about seventeen. I found out later he was called Ben. He had army boots, a rifle on his back, camouflage trousers and a filthy Madonna t-shirt full of rips and holes. The passenger was smaller, wearing full camouflage with a pistol drawn. They both looked around, suspecting an ambush. It was only when the smaller one spoke that I realised it was a girl.

‘Where did you crawl out from?’ The girl asked.

‘Water,’ I croaked.

‘He’s worthless Sami,’ Ben said. ‘I should have squished him. Lets roll.’

Sami walked up. She put her boot on my head, rocked it to one side and inspected the cut.

‘He wont last long in that state,’ she said. ‘Might be kinder if we finish him.’

‘Who gives a shit?’ Ben laughed, ‘Waste of a bullet. Someone’s left him out here to die for a reason. He’s probably a government traitor.’

Sami crouched down low and pressed the pistol against my temple. She looked about a year older than me. She had big round eyes with curled lashes. It was tough to believe she was about to kill me.

‘Looks like the end of the line Mr Traitor,’ she said.

‘Don’t,’ I begged. ‘Give us some water.’

She got a plastic bottle out of her jacket and rattled the water inside.

‘How bad do you want it?’ She asked.

‘Please,’ I gasped.

She unscrewed the lid and tipped some of the water into the dust. I’d have cried if there’d been enough liquid in me to make a tear.

‘Spilled some,’ she giggled. ‘What will you do for me?’

‘Anything.’

‘Come on Sami,’ Ben shouted. ‘Were vulnerable out here. Stop messing.’

Sami smiled at me, ‘Lick my boot, traitor.’

I crawled forward and ran my tongue up Sami’s boot. It was all dusty and smelled like she’d stepped in animal shit or something. She laughed, then handed me the plastic bottle. I drank the whole lot down in three massive gulps. I needed a lot more.

‘Screw it,’ Sami said. ‘Help me load him on the back.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Ben said. ‘He’s worthless. What can we do with him?’

‘I don’t know. He’s only a kid. I can’t kill him and leaving him here to die is even worse.’

‘Fine, give us the pistol and I’ll do it,’ Ben said. ‘We’ve got to get out of here, we’re a sitting target if the army turns up.’

‘No. Help us lift him on the back.’

Sami put her hands under my armpits and started dragging me. Ben dashed over and grabbed me by the ankles. I got tossed onto the open rear platform of the pickup, amongst cans of petrol and sacks of food.

They got in the cab, stuck the pickup in gear and tore off. Every bump in the road threw me off the dusty metal floor. Sami slid through the back window of the cab while Ben was still driving and sat near my head.

‘So who are you mystery man?’ She asked, not expecting an answer.

She undid my G-Shock watch and put it on her arm. Then she went in my shorts and found the knife. She picked out all the different blades and looked impressed.

‘That must have cost some serious dollars, traitor,’ she said. ‘It was worth picking you up just for that.’

She pocketed the knife. Then she cradled my head and tipped more water in my mouth. Half of it missed, because the pickup was jerking everywhere. I coughed a couple of times. She found a piece of fruit in one of the sacks, crushed it in her hand and dribbled the pieces into my mouth. I hadn’t eaten for a whole day, it tasted amazing. Then she got a plastic tub out of her jacket and let me suck grains of cooked rice off her fingers.

‘My plane crashed,’ I gasped.

‘I didn’t see any plane,’ Sami laughed. ‘You must think I’m soft in the head.’

The pain was still hell, but my mind felt clearer after a drop of liquid. I knew I had a chance.

‘I lost my brother,’ I said. ‘He walked the way you came. Did you see him?’

Sami shrugged, ‘I saw a little guy.’

‘He’s eight,’ I said. ‘In a green striped shirt.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Can we go back for him?’

‘I should have already killed you,’ Sami said. ‘Don’t push your luck.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to our camp. You’re gonna be asked a lot of questions, so you better drop that dumb aeroplane story and start making some sense.’

We turned off the main road into a clearing not much wider than the car. Sami jumped out the back. She moved loads of branches and swung a giant log out the way, revealing another road. I doubt I could have lifted the log, she had biceps like Popeye. Ben drove the car a few meters, then they both got out and replaced the log and everything so the road was hidden again. Sami got back in the cab.

The road was steep; a thirty degree slope. A couple of times the Subaru lost it’s grip and slid downwards. Ben had to roll back and attack the path at speed. I grabbed the sides of the pickup, frightened I’d get flung out. A can of petrol fell on my guts and my back slammed the metal a couple of times. When the road got too narrow, there was a spot for the pickup to park under trees alongside a truck and a Nissan 4WD. Ben and Sami picked up palms and branches and covered the car with them.

They loaded themselves up with food sacks from the pickup.

‘It’s a kilometre to camp,’ Sami said. ‘Mostly uphill. You up to it?’

‘I’ll try,’ I said.

‘We’ll I’m not carrying you,’ Ben said. ‘And now you know where our camp is, we can’t let you escape. So if you don’t make it…’

Ben made a gun with his fingers and pointed it at my head.

‘Bang.’

5. Captain.

The rebel camp was built around the administrative office of an abandoned copper mine. It was long concrete shed with a corrugated metal roof, surrounded by the shacks where everyone lived. These were made out of scrap: clapboard, wood, plastic sheeting.

I got washed and bandaged by a woman called Amo and her twelve year old son, Beck. They gave me a bowl of hot mashed banana and what looked like white sausages. The cut in my head still killed me and I was covered in insect bites, but it was nothing compared to a few hours earlier. When I closed my eyes the white light wasn’t there. If I fell asleep now, it wouldn’t be forever.

The sun had gone and the only light came from a couple of flickering candles. I’d been dumped on the floor in the concrete building. Everyone who lived on camp sat around me. Nine People, twelve if you included the little ones fighting sleep. The discussion was about if I should be allowed to live.

Leading the no voters were two guys standing against one wall called Don and Amin. Muscular chests, glazed in sweat. Don said I was a security risk. He offered to take me outside and strangle me. He looked hard enough to do it as well. In fact, he looked hard enough to do it, laugh while he was doing it and never have a twinge of conscience for as long as he lived. Every time I looked their way, their eyes were drilling into me. It was like getting touched by death.

Sami, Beck and Amo reckoned I was harmless; even if they didn’t believe I’d jumped out of an aeroplane. Beck was a nice kid, maybe a bit limited in the brains department. He went round with his shoulders slouched and this dippy grin on the end of a skinny neck.

Sami wasn’t so much on my side, she was on her own side. Everyone was digging at her, wanting to know why she’d picked me out of the road. I don’t think she understood herself. I mean, one minute I was licking shit off her boot, then she’s picking me up and feeding me. She had a tough look on her face, but when everyone was having a go at her, she looked close to crying. The others, including Ben, seemed happy to sit back and watch.

It was a lively debate, but this was a fighting unit, not a democracy. The man whose opinion mattered kept his mouth shut. Everyone called him Captain, even Sami who was his daughter. He was the oldest in the room, probably about forty. He was far from the toughest. In fact, he had a few grey hairs and the thick lenses in his black framed glasses made him look like a nerd, but he was smarter than the others and he was a natural leader. You know like in school, all the teachers have the same power to give you detentions and stuff, but some teachers run their class like clockwork and others are kind of a joke; you mess about in class never bother doing their homework. Captain had the same quality as a really tough teacher. When he spoke, it was like everyone took a little breath and had a think about it. I don’t think anyone made him the leader, he was born that way.

After half an hour of everyone shouting over each other, Captain got off the floor. The others all shut up. I had my hands clamped tight under my armpits, jiggling my feet. One word and I was a corpse.

‘I’ll speak to him in my office,’ Captain said.

I gasped with relief.

Captain’s office was at one end of the building. It looked like the miners had left in a hurry. There was a chair and filing cabinets, faded pictures of copper products on the wall and even a disconnected telephone.

‘Sit down Jake,’ Captain said.

Captain struck a match and lit a gas lamp. He went in his desk drawer and pulled out a cloth pouch; the kind mechanics use to keep spanners in. He unrolled it on the desk in front of me. There were pliers, a scalpel, a bottle of acid, some knives and what looked like a miniature hand drill. He burrowed down into one of the pouch pockets and held up a tooth between his thumb and forefinger.

‘The fellow this tooth belonged to sat where you are right now. He told me lies and died an unpleasant death. So, it will be to your advantage if you tell me the complete truth… Who are you? Start with your name and age.’

I couldn’t get my eyes off the tools, imagining all the ways they could tear me apart.

‘My name is Jake Pascal,’ I stammered. ‘I’m 15.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘London, England.’

‘How did you get here from London?’

‘By aeroplane, it crashed.’

Captain smiled, ‘Still sticking to the aeroplane story?

‘It’s the truth. I swear.’

I did think about making up a more believable story, but I knew so little about life round here, I’d only make a fool of myself.

‘So where are all the other passengers?’

‘My Dad’s bodyguards parachuted out. My brother parachuted with me. My Dad and the pilot must have crashed in the plane.’

‘Only five on the plane?’ Captain asked. ‘What kind of plane was that?’

‘A DC3.’

Captain seemed to think he’d caught me in a lie. He drummed the pliers on the edge of his desk and smiled.

‘A DC3 all the way from London. That’s a long way for such a little plane,’ he said.

‘No, not all the way.’

‘So, tell me exactly how you got here.’

‘Air France from London to Paris, then another plane to the capital and then the DC3 from the cargo terminal.’

‘What is the time zone difference between London and here?’

‘There isn’t one,’ I said.

Captain furrowed his brow, searching for another way to catch me out.

‘What’s the name of the river that runs through the middle of London?’

‘The Thames.’ I said.

‘Give me your training shoe.’

I slid my Nike off my foot and handed it over. Captain pulled out the tongue and read the size label.

‘UK size, European size,’ Captain said. ‘Give me your t-shirt.’

I handed the bloody shirt over the table. Captain inspected the label sewn in the neck, then showed it to me.

‘What is this word Jake?’

‘Marylebone,’ I said.

Captain read part of the label. His English wasn’t bad.

‘Size: small man. Made in Turkey for BHS Limited, 129-137 Marylebone Road London, NW1 5QD, England.’

He threw the shirt across the desk at me, then rolled up the torture stuff and put it back in his desk.

‘So,’ he said, smiling. ‘You really did fall out of the sky and you’ve not been sent here as a government spy.’

I smiled with relief, ‘No way.’

‘So, you want to go home?’

‘Course. Maybe I should recover here for a day, then you can take me to the police or whatever.’

Captain laughed noisily, ‘You think it’s that simple? We drop you at the local airport and they fly you home.’

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘Things don’t work like that here.’

‘I realise you’re rebels and you don’t want to be caught,’ I said. ‘You can point me in the right direction and I’ll walk.’

‘We’re a guerrilla unit operating deep inside government territory. There’s no police force here, just us rebels and the army. The army will ask you for identity papers, which you don’t have. I doubt they’ll believe your aeroplane crashed; everyone without papers makes some sort of excuse. They will assume you’re an anti-government rebel. If you’re lucky, the army will shoot you on the spot. If you’re unlucky, they’ll beat and torture you until you give the location of this camp away.’

I wasn’t sure how much to trust Captain.

‘So how can I get home?’ I asked.

‘We’re cut off from everyone except a few other rebel units. The only way back to the capital is by road or aeroplane. There are army roadblocks every few kilometres. The nearest landing strip is at an army base 400 kilometres away, but it’s under heavy guard.’

‘So what can I do?’

‘You can stay here with us. We’ll feed and protect you. You can do chores around camp. Once we trust you, you will be expected to fight, the same as everyone else.’

‘But I don’t want to stay here. Maybe I should take my chances with the army.’

Captain suddenly looked serious, ‘You’ve seen our camp. If the army locates us here, they’ll kill us. We can’t allow you leave here alive.’

‘So, what? I’m stuck here forever?’

‘No,’ Captain said. ‘At the moment were cut off from our allies in the east, but the situation changes all the time. When there is an opportunity for you to leave without endangering our security, I promise not to stop you.’

‘How long will that be?’ I asked.

Captain shrugged, ‘Could be a few weeks or a few years. It could be never.’

‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘And what about my brother?’

‘How old is he?’

‘Eight.’

‘We have allies who might have taken him in, and there are a few civilians who might look after him, but it’s most likely he was picked up by the army.’

‘And they’d kill him,’ I said.

‘Perhaps. Although his youth might save his skin. The army often makes captured children do their dirty work. Portering, cleaning dishes, digging toilets, that sort of thing.’

‘Can I try and find him?’

Captain shook his head, ‘I’ll put out some feelers to see if anyone knows anything. But the chances of seeing your brother again are not great... I’m sorry.’

Back in the main room, Captain told everyone his decision. All the neutrals pulled into line, but Don and Amin still looked unhappy. Captain called them over.

‘Boys,’ Captain said. ‘Take Jake to your hut. Make sure he’s kept busy and if he tries to escape, kill him.’

Don grabbed my shoulder, ‘With pleasure.’

Don grinned like he’d been given a new toy to play with.

‘Be firm, but don’t’ go mad,’ Captain said. ‘He’s been through a lot and he’s still weak.’

Amin twisted my arm behind my back and pushed me to their hut. It was a small shack with an earth floor, two sleeping mats and a cooking stove. There were empty beer bottles everywhere. They took off their boots and the tiny space filled up with the warm stench of feet.

‘On the floor,’ Don said.

Before I had a chance, Don bundled me down and dug his knee in my back. I don’t think he’d washed in his life. The B.O. was gross. He bound my wrists and ankles with strips of cloth.

‘Try running now,’ Don laughed.

They laid on their sleeping mats and fell asleep quickly, leaving me on the bare earth. Cockroaches the size of credit cards clattered around in the dark. If I rested my head on the baked earth, the cut was agony. I managed to wriggle around and find some clothing. I picked it all up with my teeth and made a soft pile. It stank of sweat, but at least I could put my head down.

6. Lessons

Dad was on the golf course; it was a hot day. I liked golfing with Dad, even though I sucked. Trouble was, Dad always bumped into his cronies and we had to play as a four. They’d bore the arse off me, going on about mortgages, gardens and wine. The bears were different, the blue one kept hitting the ball into the clubhouse and the yellow one was dancing and complaining that it’s nose was sunburned. There was a red one in the trees, but I don’t remember what it was doing. It was one of those dreams where you wake up and smile a bit as you think about it.

It took a second to remember what was going on: drowning in sweat, the pain in my head, a million insect bites dying to be scratched; cloth tearing into my wrists and ankles. There was a tiny set of lizard eyes glowing a few centimetres from my nose. I moved, trying to get comfortable and it scampered away, feet scratching the earth.

Two days earlier I thought I was something. A bright kid, rich background. I had good mates. Mum gave me plenty of money, so I always had whatever CD’s and games I wanted and cool clothes. If I laid awake at night, it was usually worrying about an exam the next day, or because I’d fallen for some girl. But now, for the first time in my life, I had real problems. If I messed up here, I wasn’t gonna get detention or get shouted at by Dad. I was going to die.

The two slabs of muscle sweating and farting on either side of me didn’t care if I lived. I had no way home. Dad was dead. Mum probably thought I’d been killed in the crash. I was trying not to even think about Adam; but trying not to think about something always makes it worse. He might be fast asleep in a friendly house, or dead; or that very moment some drunk soldier could be slicing lumps out of him.

I couldn’t take it. I felt like a tiny helpless speck. I wanted to cry, but I’d get slapped if I woke up Don or Amin. The same thoughts churned over and over and always led to the same conclusion: I wished I’d stayed on the plane and died quickly like Dad.

. . .

It didn’t feel like I’d been back to sleep long. Don jammed his big toe in my ribs.

‘Move it.’

There was no window, but plenty of light came through the gaps between the wooden sides of the hut. Don untied my ankles, then moved up to do my wrists. His face twisted into a wild look.

‘Idiot,’ he bellowed. ‘How dare you?’

Don cracked my cheek with his fat palm, then he pulled the pile of clothes out from under my head.

‘What is this?’ He shouted.

As soon as I saw them, I couldn’t believe I’d been so dumb. My head was still bleeding. The clothes were covered in it. Don dragged me outside by my ankle. He kicked my thigh, jammed his heel in my belly and dumped the clothes on my face.

‘Wash them,’ he shouted.

He could have hit much harder if he’d wanted, but it was still enough to sting up my face and give me a dead leg. As he untied my wrists, he spat in my face.

‘You better get clever, or I’ll wait until Captain goes out and slaughter you like a chicken.’

Don pulled down the front of his shorts and started pissing on the ground beside me. Shaking with anger, I bundled up the clothes and limped off. I didn’t know where to wash them. I walked to Beck’s hut. He lived with Amo and his toddler sister, Becky. The front of the hut was a giant wooden flap, propped open with a chunky branch. It made a comfortable space that was shady and caught the breeze on the rare occasion when there was one. Amo had a wood burning stove going. She was cooking dough balls, plantain and tomato. Beck was lying inside with his shirt over his head to keep out the sunlight.

‘I’ve got to wash these for Don,’ I said.

‘Do you know the way to the stream?’ Amo asked.

I shook my head. Amo nudged Beck with her elbow. He stirred into life.

‘Help Jake wash those,’ Amo said.

Beck sat up and wiped drool onto his t-shirt. He had his usual mile wide grin. It was like his mouth had been stapled into position.

‘Have breakfast first,’ Amo said. ‘How do you feel?’

‘A bit weak. I didn’t sleep much.’

Amo took the pan off the stove and everyone dived in with bare fingers. I had to move the food between fingers and blow on it to stop it burning, but I was starving and it tasted good. Don walked by. He caught sight of me and came storming over.

‘I told you to wash my clothes,’ he shouted. ‘When I tell you to do something, you do it fast.’

I reckoned I was on for another beating, but as Don reached under the flap to grab me, Amo scorched his arm with the hot frying slice. He flew backwards, stunned by the pain. Amo reared up to him.

‘Stop trying to hurt him,’ she shouted. ‘You think it makes you look like a big man to hurt a sick boy? Every woman knows you only act tough because you have a tiny penis.’

Beck collapsed backwards onto his sleeping mat, howling with laughter. I tried to keep a straight face in case Don made trouble later when Amo wasn’t protecting me, but I couldn’t manage. Don stormed off and we finished eating. Amo unwound the bandage on my head.

‘It’s made a scab now,’ she said. ‘Leave the bandage off, it will heal faster if the air gets to it.’

She grabbed my wrist and looked at the marks down my arm.

‘Do you get lumps like this when the insects bite you at home?’ Amo asked.

‘There aren’t many insects in England, it’s too cold.’

‘Perhaps you’re not used to them. Wash in the stream when you do the clothes. Afterwards I’ll give you some ointment to stop the itching. And you better take a malaria pill.’

I swallowed a yellow pill and washed it down with water. Amo gave Beck a handful of soap flakes.

‘Give Jake some,’ she said. ‘Help him wash the clothes and clean Becky too.’

Beck gave his little sister a piggyback ride to the stream. It wasn’t far, but it was all over rocks and I’d left my trainers with Don and Amin. I didn’t dare go back without the clean clothes. My feet weren’t tough enough for the ground. I soon had blood pouring out my heel.

It was hard to see the stream through the dense trees, but you could hear water rushing as you got close. The trees broke over the pool and the sun was merciless. It felt like staring into a light bulb. The water dropped five metres off a cliff into a pool about two metres deep. From the pool, it trickled into a shallow channel a few metres wide. Bushes branched over the pool and brightly coloured birds perched in the trees overhead. It looked like something out of a shampoo commercial.

I swam into the middle with my clothes on. Tepid spray from the falling water misted my face. Two days of grease and sweat soaked away. Beck stayed close to the edge, he couldn’t swim.

‘Look out for water snakes,’ Beck shouted. ‘They get crazy when they drop over the waterfall.’

After a minute cooling off, I swam back to the edge. Beck waded in up to his thighs. Becky was splashing about at the edge.

‘Want to swim?’ I asked.

Becky put her arms out for me to pick her up. I swam into the spray with her and she started to giggle. Then she slapped her hand against the water and splashed my face, which she thought was the funniest thing in the world. Beck had started washing the clothes. I couldn’t let him do all my work, so I swam back to the edge. Becky wanted me to carry on playing. She gave me an evil look when I dumped her back on the edge.

I rubbed the soap flakes in and scrubbed the stinking clothes underwater. It was hard getting the blood and filth out. Even when we finished, the clothes looked like stuff my Mum would have thrown in the bin. On the way back to camp we passed Sami. She had two empty plastic cans in her hand.

‘Morning traitor,’ Sami said. ‘Feeling better?’

‘Head still hurts,’ I said. ‘But nothing like yesterday. Thanks for sticking up for me last night.’

Sami shrugged, ‘If I left you to die, that would make us as bad as the army. Help me carry the water.’

‘I would,’ I said. ‘But my feet are killing me.’

I showed Sami my bloody heel.

‘I wasn’t asking,’ Sami said nastily. ‘I was ordering you.’

‘I can help you Sami,’ Beck said. ‘Jake can take Becky and the clothes.’

Sami grabbed my nipple and twisted it hard. I yelped in pain.

‘Traitor will learn to do what he’s told,’ she said.

I grabbed an empty can off Sami and started back towards the stream with her.

‘How did the boys treat you last night?’ She asked.

‘Really bad.’

‘Good,’ Sami said.

‘What’s so good about it?’

‘Captain has to be a politician,’ Sami said. ‘He keeps his position by making everyone happy. Don didn’t want you here, but he’ll be fine as long as he can bully you. And you’re a soft, rich boy. Don and Amin will make you a man. If you’re not tough, you’ll be like Beck: another useless mouth to feed.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘But what if I’m not happy?’

‘Nobody cares about you,’ Sami laughed. ‘If you work hard and become useful, you might start to matter.’

‘What’s with Amin?’ I asked. ‘He never says a word.’

‘He’s deaf. He speaks a little, but it comes out weird and only Don can understand him.’

We’d reached the stream. Sami waded into the water in her boots and camouflage.

‘Take drinking water from the middle,’ Sami said. ‘If you get it from the edge it’s all cloudy.’

The can held about twenty litres. Once it was full it weighed a ton. The extra weight made the ground even more brutal on my feet. We struggled back to camp; at least I was struggling. Sami didn’t even slow down.

‘Move fast,’ Sami shouted. ‘You see what I mean about you being weak? I was going to carry both cans. You struggle with one.’

I was too out of breath to answer. When we got to camp, we took the water inside the main building and poured it into a plastic barrel.

‘Do you know your way back to the stream?’

I nodded, ‘Yes.’

Sami dumped her empty can at my feet. The plastic boomed.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘It will take three more cans to fill up the barrel and it’s your job to make sure it’s always full. If I catch Beck helping you, I’ll drain the barrel and you’ll start from scratch.’

‘OK,’ I said.

I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do it, but I wouldn’t win an argument with Sami.

‘Can I ask you one question first?’

‘If you have to,’ Sami said.

‘You know when we were at the side of the road? Something made you change your mind about killing me. What was it?’

‘I already told you, traitor. If I killed you, it would make us no better than the army.’

I shook my head, ‘No, you were going to kill me. The end of your pistol was touching my head and something changed your mind.’

Sami looked down at her boots, ‘Have you ever seen the Disney movie, The Fox and the Hound?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘When I was little’

I was a bit surprised Sami even knew what a Disney film was.

‘You frown like the cute fox when the big dog gets angry,’ she said. ‘I felt sorry for you.’

I cracked up laughing. Sami looked furious and booted the two empty cans towards me.

‘If that barrel’s not full whenever I come here, I’ll make Don beat you.’

I went back and got my trainers. Don and Amin weren’t around, thank God. My feet hurt, but at least with trainers on I didn’t get any new cuts. I tried carrying two cans together, but I wasn’t used to the heat and I was weak from all the blood I’d lost. Once the barrel was full, I stumbled around to the shady side of the main building and collapsed in a heap. Nobody stayed indoors in the daytime, it was too hot.

Beck found me after a bit.

‘I hung Don’s clothes out to dry,’ he said. ‘You better not lay around in here. You’ll get pounded if Don sees you.’

I sat up, ‘My head hurts.’

‘You can come hunting with me if you want,’ Beck said. ‘It’s cooler under the trees, but I’ll have to kill you if you run away.’

I laughed, Beck was about half my size.

‘I wouldn’t know which way to run,’ I said. ‘But just out of interest, how would you plan to kill me?’

Beck pulled a big knife out of a pouch over his shoulder. His eyes scanned a tree about ten meters away.

‘Red parrot,’ Beck said, pointing. ‘Longest branch, second bird from the end. See it?’

‘Yes.’

Beck hurled the knife into the tree. It thudded the wood. A cloud of birds erupted into the air, all except the dead one pinned to the longest branch by the knife.

Beck grabbed branches and clambered into the tree. He twisted and pulled his way deep into the leaves until I couldn’t even see him. He emerged at the thick end of the long branch, shuffled along with his legs wrapped round it and retrieved his knife. Then he dropped about four metres to the ground, landing in a cloud of dust and standing straight up. His grin was even wider than usual.

‘Fancy your chances?’ Beck grinned, holding the knife in my face, before wiping the bird blood onto his shorts.

We walked deep into the trees. It seemed every fly in the world wanted a piece of me. God knows how Beck knew his way amongst thousands of identical looking trees.

‘What are we looking for?’ I asked.

‘Mostly monkey,’ Beck said. ‘Everyone is my friend if I bring back a monkey.’

He stopped by a palm and raised a leaf. The underside was crawling with featureless white blobs, like giant maggots.

‘Hold the sack open for me.’

Beck snipped off the palm, folded the white blobs inside the leaf and dropped it into the sack.

‘Do you eat those?’ I asked, shocked. ‘What are they?’

‘Palm grubs,’ Beck laughed, ‘You ate loads last night.’

I made the connection between the white sausages on my plate and the blobs wriggling around inside the sack. I was a bit grossed out, but they’d tasted really good. As we walked, Beck scoffed green caterpillars and a cracked open giant beetles before sucking out the insides.

A few yards further on, Beck grabbed a beetle the size of a kids fist off a tree trunk. He held it upside down with the legs flipping about.

‘Try,’ Beck said, shoving it in my face. ‘These are the best ones.’

I don’t know why I agreed. Curiosity I guess. Beck handed it across to me.

‘Pull the legs off first.’

I plucked out the first hairy leg and the others started flickering like mad. It freaked me out and I dropped it. Beck managed to scoop it up before it ran away. He pulled off the five remaining legs, cracked away the hard black shell and snapped off the head.

‘There,’ Beck said, handing it across to me.

It looked like a waxy marshmallow. I stuffed the whole thing in my mouth. The insides were still warm, and the blood trickled out when I bit into it. I chewed quickly and swallowed, resisting the urge to gag.

‘Good eh?’ Beck said.

The white goo was stuck all round my teeth.

‘I suppose you’d get used to it,’ I said.

We walked for over an hour, moving slow and quiet; keeping our throats moist with fruit. Beck searched the trees for monkeys. He had a small bow and arrow specially for killing them.

‘We just hit monkey central,’ Beck said, pointing up in the trees.

There were about twenty monkeys messing in the branches around us. Beck strung out his bow. The first arrow silently hit it’s mark. The monkey crashed through the leaves and thumped the ground. The second monkey managed a dying screech, which made all the others scatter. Beck was annoyed that he’d only got two before the other monkeys noticed. He told me a good hunter can pick 3 or 4 monkeys from the edge of a pack before the others realise what’s going on. Beck recovered the bodies and cut their throats to drain off the blood.

We headed back to camp. The sack was full of grubs and fruit. Beck had the dripping monkeys tied on a pole over his shoulder.

‘Sami told me you’re useless,’ I said. ‘But we’ve got all this stuff.’

Beck looked a bit offended, ‘Sami doesn’t like me much. I’m not a soldier like she is.’

‘But you’re providing all this food. Isn’t that as important?’

‘We don’t need to hunt,’ Beck said. ‘We steal all the food we need on raids and ambushes. I just pick up luxury stuff like grubs and monkeys. Everyone would be happier if I was a fighter.’

I laughed, ‘But you’re only 12.’

‘That’s old enough. They took me on my first raid a year ago. I was supposed to be covering Sami and her brother while they unloaded an army truck. A soldier came up behind them. I hesitated and Sami’s brother got shot in the back.’

‘How old was Sami’s brother?’

‘Edo was thirteen. He was my best friend. Captain went crazy. He whipped me until I passed out and said I wasn’t to fight again.’

‘That’s so bad… Does Captain whip people all the time?’

‘Only if they really deserve it,’ Beck said. ‘It was my fault Edo died. I think I got less than what I deserved. Captain’s OK about it now, but Sami still hates me.’

‘That’s Captain’s fault really though,’ I said ‘Twelve is too young to fight in a war.’

‘This is a rebel army,’ Beck said. ‘If you’re old enough to carry a gun, you fight.’

7. Death

The second night a massive thunderstorm broke just after dark. Don tied me up again. He’d found some nylon cord and pulled it hard so it tore into me. Amo had made me a pillow by sewing an old scrap of cloth and stuffing it with rice. Don grabbed it off me, just for the sake of being mean; so I ended up on the bare earth, listening to the rain and watching blue lightening flashes through the cracks in the walls.

. . .

Everyone washed in the pool. Waded in with mud on their boots. The little kids peed in it and so did half the local wildlife. Then they drank the water. Over a lifetime you build up resistance to the parasites and bacteria in untreated water, but I’d only ever drank out of a tap; so when the polluted water hit my stomach, my body wasn’t trained to fight the nasties.

Halfway through the night I started feeling cramps, like my guts were squashed down to a tiny ball. I was afraid to wake Don up, but I’d never needed to crap so badly my whole life. There was no way I could hold myself until morning.

‘Don.’

He never budged. The second time I shouted.

‘Don.’

I ended up having to wriggle over the floor and nudge into him. Don’s eyes rolled open; angry white balls.

‘I need to go to the toilet.’

Don shoved me away, ‘If you wake me again, I’ll gag your mouth.’

‘You’ve got to untie me. I can’t hold it.’

‘Maybe this will persuade you,’ Don said, bunching his fist in my face.

I let out a massive fart. It had the worst smell ever. Don jumped off his sleeping mat.

‘Dirty, dirty animal,’ He screamed.

‘I told you,’ I said. ‘It’s gonna be all over the floor in a minute.’

He rummaged in the dark for his knife and cut the bindings. I ran out into the trees, pulled down my shorts and let out a blast of diarrhoea that practically launched me off the ground. It was the most unbelievable relief. I stumbled back to the hut, but Don shoved me out.

‘Stay out there,’ he shouted. ‘You’re not coming in here with that foul arse.’

It was an awful night. The rain gushed over the baked earth. I sheltered under the trees as best as I could. Every few minutes the cramps returned and I had to crap again. Morning took forever to come. When it finally started getting light, I stumbled to Amo’s hut. As soon as Amo saw me, she wrapped me up in her arms. I rested my face on her sweaty neck and broke into tears.

. . .

I spent two days curled up on the ground, moving only when I crawled into the trees to shit or puke. I had fits of the shivers, even though it was 40C. Amo purified water for me by boiling it over a wood fire, then she added sugar and salt to make rehydration solution. The cramps left my stomach muscles in agony. My legs quivered when I tried to walk. I could only manage a few steps at a time.

Whenever I woke up, it seemed to be from some nightmare about Adam. Watching him choke on a walnut. Trapped in a burning barn. Getting hit by a red London bus. The worst dreams were the ones where I couldn’t find him but his voice called out for me. Dad kept telling me to go back and look properly.

Little Becky was sweet. She’d sit beside me, patting my arm and saying she wanted me to take her swimming when I got better. Amo gave me bits of whatever she cooked. I usually managed a few bites and puked them up soon afterwards. I got really depressed. How can your life get any worse than laying on bare earth, covered in flies and your own dry puke?

The third morning I felt slightly better. I drank two cups of water and kept down a couple of fried banana slices. I wasn’t so tired and the sun felt hot again. Amo helped me down to the pool. I sat in the shallow run off and lathered up with soap flakes. Amo perched on a rock bathing her feet. She asked me loads of questions about London, and told me a bit of her life story.

She’d worked in a clinic run by a French charity and was studying for nursing qualifications. Seven years earlier, when the civil war started, the clinic treated injured soldiers from both sides. The government didn’t like them helping the rebels, so their soldiers smashed up the hospital, killed the rebel patients and sent the nurses and doctors back to France. Beck’s Dad and older brother went to fight for the rebels. Amo reckoned they were dead, but there was no way to be sure.

A couple of small rocks tumbled down the embankment. Sami yelled out:

‘Amo, we need you.’

Sami had bloody hands and face. Her camouflage glistened with red stains.

‘Who is it?’ Amo asked.

‘Ben.’

‘I’ll come back for you,’ Amo said, looking at me.

The women dashed over the rocks towards camp. I laid back and let the water dribble through my hair and rush over my shoulders. After fifteen minutes, my curiosity got the better of me. I still felt shaky, but I reckoned I’d get back to camp if I took it slow.

Amo had washed my only set of clothes and laid them on the rocks. The sun had already baked them dry. The cloth was warm to touch. I had to stop a couple of times, leaning against a tree while I caught my breath.

Camp was dead quiet. Everyone crouched in a semi-circle around the flap at the front of Amo’s hut. Beck realised I was a bit unsteady and ran over to help me walk the last few meters.

‘How is he?’ I asked.

‘He’ll die soon,’ Beck said. ‘The bullets almost cut him in two.’

I didn’t want to see it, but sometimes you can’t not look at something. Ben’s eyes were like pools of milk, staring at nothing. Amo had stuffed him with morphine to kill the pain. The empty syringes laid around him on the earth. You could hardly see his wounds for the mass of flies feasting on the blood.

The only time I’d heard Ben speak was the first day, when he offered to take Sami’s pistol and kill me, but he stopped the pickup, so there must have been part of him that cared. The thing that hit me hard, was that Ben was only a bit older than me. If he was born in England, he’d have been learning to drive and doing his A-levels.

I crawled into Amo’s hut and drank some of the purified water. Captain told Don, Amin and a couple of others to get shovels and start digging Ben’s grave. He wasn’t even dead yet, but in the tropics it doesn’t take long for a body to start rotting.

. . .

‘This bloody watch!’ Sami said. ‘It wakes me up before the sun comes up. Diddle de dee, diddle de dee.’

Her camouflage was drying on a stick standing in the ground outside her hut. All she had on was a t-shirt and a set of men’s boxers.

‘That’s what it does,’ I said. ‘I’ll have it back if you don’t want it.’

‘You think I’m stupid, traitor?’ Sami asked. ‘Do you see me walking around with a clay pot on my head? I’m not a bloody peasant. Just tell me what button I press to switch off the alarm.’

She unbuckled the watch and put it in my hand. While I fiddled with the buttons, she scratched her leg with her foot.

‘Top left button,’ I said, handing back my watch. ‘Hold it for five seconds to turn the alarm on or off.’

‘It’s a good watch,’ Sami said. ‘I can press the light and see the time in the night.’

‘I know it’s a good watch,’ I said bitterly. ‘That’s why I bought it.’

Sami smiled, ‘So how are you feeling anyway?’

‘I started eating this morning. So far I’ve kept everything down.’

‘What about your head?’

‘It’s mostly better,’ I said. ‘It’s still a bit sore and it breaks open sometimes.’

She was still scratching her legs and her tits were jigging up and down in time with the scratching. I was getting quite turned on watching them. It never occurred that Sami might have something going on underneath the baggy camouflage.

‘It’s good you’re better,’ Sami said. ‘You’ll be ready to fight soon.’

‘I don’t want to fight,’ I said. ‘I want to go home.’

Sami laughed, ‘You’re living in our camp and you’re eating our food. You’re going to fight if you like it or not.’

‘Beck doesn’t fight.’

Sami raised her hand between us.

‘Don’t mention his name around me. My brother died because he’s got no guts.’

‘What if I refuse to fight? Will you kill me?’

‘In two seconds flat,’ Sami shrugged, ‘I’ll kill you myself. We all fight.’

‘What about you and Ben, were you close?’

‘We weren’t humping, if that’s what you mean.’

I laughed, ‘No, I mean… Were you friends?’

‘He joined us about a year ago. He was a good guy to be alongside. I liked him a lot.’

‘So, what happened out there?’

‘Mercenaries,’ Sami said.

‘What?’

‘The government soldiers are crap. They’re conscripts who don’t want to be in a war. They’re usually drunk. They never get paid their wages and half the time they have to steal food because they don’t get enough to eat. So, the government started sending in some real soldiers to catch us rebels: mercenaries.’

‘So who are the mercenaries exactly?’

‘Foreigners,’ Sami said. ‘Serbians, Israelis, Yanks. Trained to fight in their own countries armies and tough as hell. They don’t care what they fight for or who they kill, as long as they get a nice fat wad of dollars for their trouble.’

‘So what are you fighting for?’ I asked.

‘The rebels control the east of the country, the government controls the west and in-between there’s this.’

Sami spread her arms out wide.

‘Jungle,’ I said.

Sami nodded, ‘Exactly. Half a million square kilometres of trees to fight over. Whoever controls the river and the roads through the jungle can send an army into the other part of the country.’

‘So who’s winning?’

‘Nobody really. The war reached a stalemate after a few months. Ever since, we’ve been fighting each other in the jungle and not really got anywhere.’

‘Sounds pointless.’

‘It is,’ Sami said. ‘Except the government has ten times as many men as us, and they’ve got artillery, helicopters and tanks. If they can get an army through the jungle, they won’t have any problem retaking the east of the country.’

‘So, what actually happened to Ben?’

‘We ambushed a truck,’ Sami said. ‘Me Ben and Desi. You know Desi?’

I nodded. I’d never spoken to Desi, but I’d seen him around. He was 16 year old beanpole, way taller than anyone else at camp.

‘Well normally, you put a log or something in the road to stop a truck getting through. There’s two or three soldiers up front. They get out to move the log, we kill the soldiers and either steal the truck or blow it up so it blocks the road. But this time it was a trap. We shot up the driver, but there were about six mercenaries hiding in the back. They all jumped out and started blasting at us. I’ve never seen so many bullets. We ran into the trees, shot a couple of the mercenaries, then walked about ten kilometres and made camp for the night.

‘It seemed safe, but two of the bastards tracked us the whole way. They tried to take us alive. They wanted information before they killed us. It was pure good luck that Ben’s gun jammed. He’d just fixed it and had it in his hand when we spotted them. If it wasn’t for that, I’d be dead or getting tortured right now. Ben killed one of the mercenaries, but the other one shot him. It gave me and Desi enough time to grab our guns. I doubled back behind the mercenary, came out of the bushes and shot him from behind.’

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ I said. ‘I’d be so scared.’

‘I thought the same once. But if the other guy is pointing a gun at you, your survival instinct kicks in. Oh, I’ve got something you can have if you want.’

Sami went in her hut and came out with a watch.

‘It came off that mercenary I killed,’ Sami said.

The watch was an Omega chronometer. It must have cost a couple of grand, but Sami had no idea.

‘Don’t you want this one?’ I asked.

‘I’m keeping yours,’ Sami said. ‘The blue light is cool.’

8. Motivation.

The grave was shallow. Amin rolled Ben’s body into the hole with his boot and stepped back quickly to avoid the cloud of dust and insects. Captain told everyone how Ben a good fighter and would be missed, but nobody seemed that upset. I’d never seen a body before, but it wasn’t a huge deal to the others. Death is like anything else, you get numb if you see enough of it.

Amo had found a couple of photos and a bible in Ben’s hut. She chucked them in the hole, then everyone took a turn throwing a shovel load of earth onto the body. Captain was the last one. When he finished, he handed the shovel to me. I don’t know if he meant it as a gesture, but it felt like a signal of acceptance: I was one of them now.

Captain walked back to camp with me. He offered one of his little brown cigars. I shook my head and he lit one for himself.

‘How do you feel, Jake?’

‘I’m getting stronger, but I’m still a bit shaky.’

‘You’ve been sleeping in Amo’s hut the last few nights?’

I nodded, ‘I suppose I’ll have to go back with Don and Amin now.’

‘We have an empty hut now,’ Captain said. ‘You might as well have it.’

‘Ben’s?’

Captain nodded, ‘You should have your strength back in a few days. When you do, I want you to come and see me.’

. . .

All Ben had to show for his life was a sleeping mat, a few candles, a wood burning stove, some ragged clothes and a hunting knife. I felt like a grave robber and stood uncertainly in the entrance of the hut, breathing the stink of a man who no longer existed. I picked some of the clothes off the floor. My instinct was to chuck them away, but I only had the clothes I stood up in. So I’d be wearing Ben’s clothes, cutting with his knife and cooking on his stove. It spooked me out: it was like I was his replacement.

‘Hey,’ Beck said.

I turned around and saw his grinning face in the entrance.

‘Nice hut,’ Beck said. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Feels sad,’ I said. ‘I’ll have to wash all his stuff tomorrow.’

‘There’s room for two,’ Beck said. ‘And it’s getting cramped with Becky growing up. So I was wondering if you fancied a roommate?’

I didn’t want to spend a night in Ben’s hut on my own.

. . .

The next few days I got a routine. Get up with the sun, go down to the stream and wash off the night’s sweat. Fill the water barrel, then start a fire and boil my drinking water for the day. I was determined not to get sick again. Amo usually made our food; it was one of the perks of having Beck as a roommate.

After eating, me and Beck would set off into the trees to go hunting. I had a few goes at shooting birds with the bow and arrow, but they only managed to crack Beck up with laughter; so I stuck at picking fruit and carrying the sack. Once I got over my squeamishness, I started to quite like the taste of grubs and beetles.

Beck was a walking encyclopaedia. He knew all what was safe to eat, what snakes were poisonous, where to avoid scorpions, what times of day you were most likely to find animals drinking at the bank of the stream. I asked him how he always knew where we were. To me, every tree looked the same, but to Beck the shapes of the trunks and the size of the branches were like road signs.

Nobody could cope with the heat in the middle of the day. We’d go back to camp and sit in the shade. Beck and the others usually managed to sleep, but I was too hot to relax. I’d rest against a trunk and see how long I could go without having to wipe the beads of sweat tickling down my face.

When it cooled, I went down to the stream with Beck. Becky tagged along and by the third day she was splashing clumsily from one side of the pool to the other. I offered to teach Beck to swim as well, but he stood on the edge and stubbornly refused to even try.

. . .

I rested up against a trunk with my eyes shut. Captain grabbed my cheek and pinched it.

‘Oww. What was that for?’

‘Full belly?’ Captain asked angrily.

‘What?’

‘I asked if you have a full belly.’

‘Yes I do.’

‘Feeling healthy?’

I nodded, ‘Yes.’

‘Would you like to live with Don again? This time I won’t tell him to go easy.’

‘No… What did I do? Why are you pissed off?’

‘What did I tell you to do when you got your strength back?’ Captain asked.

‘Come and see you,’ I said.

‘So why didn’t you?’

I’d been putting it off. I knew I had to fight and I knew that’s what Captain wanted to talk about.

‘I forgot,’ I lied.

The metal roof over Captain’s office had baked all day in the sun. The windows were closed to keep out the flies. It was the hottest place I’d ever been. The first time I went in the office it was dark. This time I could see the dots of blood soaked into the concrete floor.

‘Sit down.’

The chair creaked as I sank onto the plastic cushion. Captain paced around to his side of the desk, with the conceit of a man who wouldn’t have to answer to anyone if he killed me.

‘Twenty-two,’ Captain said.

‘What?’

‘That’s the number of people who’ve died in that chair. Eighteen men, four women. Three of them were younger than you.’

I took my hand’s off the arms and shuddered. Captain was pleased that he’d had the desired effect.

‘You must think I’m some kind of animal, Jake.’

I shook my head, ‘No.’

‘Remember what I told you before, about being honest when you speak to me?’

I nodded.

‘So, do you think killing all those people makes me an animal?’

‘I guess.’

‘And you’d be correct,’ Captain said. ‘If you asked me ten years ago if I could I kill a man, I would have said no. I was a university professor in the capital. I studied in Paris and got my doctorate in politics. Then the war started.

‘I was born in the east. I wrote a letter to a newspaper saying the east should be allowed to break away and become a separate country if the people there wanted it. I was dismissed from my job. Then government soldiers came to my house. They killed my wife and four of my children. Sami and her brother only survived because they were at a piano lesson.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘My Mum always says the worst thing that can happen to a person is if they outlive their child.’

‘I grabbed Sami and Edo and bribed an army truck driver. He sold me a gun and drove us deep into the jungle. I managed to find a rebel group and I became a soldier. Six years later, here I am. I’m not proud of who I am, or the things I’ve done to people. But I’m still angry about my family and I want my people to win this war.’

‘So, you’re a complicated animal,’ I said.

Captain laughed, ‘Exactly. In the heart of every ordinary man lies a killer, and in every killer lies the heart of an ordinary man.’

‘Who said that?’ I asked. ‘Someone famous?’

Captain rubbed his cheek, ‘I’m pretty sure I just made it up… The point I’m trying to get across, Jake, is that any person can become a soldier if they are motivated. Do you know there are more than ten government soldiers for every rebel?’

‘Sami mentioned it.’

‘But we hold the government at bay. All the government soldiers think about is drinking and sex. They keep their heads down and count the days until they get sent home. The rebels are different. We want to stop the government sending tanks through the jungle, destroying our homes and killing our families. This motivation makes our men worth ten of theirs. Do you understand?’

I nodded.

‘I want you to fight with us, but sticking a gun in your hand doesn’t make you a soldier. I need to motivate you. So I’ll give you a choice. If you don’t fight, you can’t leave here, you’ll work around camp and you’ll only eat what you find for yourself in the jungle. In a few months, when security is compromised and we abandon this camp, I’ll set you free and you’ll have to look after yourself. If you agree to fight, I’ll pass messages on to all the other rebel groups to look out for your brother and I give you my word that when the opportunity comes, I’ll do all I can to get you back home.’

‘Do you think there’s a chance I’ll find my brother?’

Captain shrugged, ‘I’d be a liar if I said the odds were good, but there is a chance and if you fight with us, I promise to make that chance as big as I can.’

. . .

I said I’d fight to save Adam. It makes me sound like a hero, but the reasons were more complex. There was part of me that was into being a soldier. I was nothing: I ate and slept, people bossed me around and I had no control over my life. By joining the fight, I raised myself off the bottom of the pile. Most important though, it’s human nature to want to fit in and it’s what everyone wanted me to do.

. . .

Sami gave me a big hug.

‘So you’re a man after all, traitor.’

I felt a weird mix of elation and dread.

‘You scared?’ Desi asked.

I shrugged, ‘A bit.’

I was terrified, of course.

‘Not to worry,’ Sami said. ‘It’s only men who are fitter and stronger than you, firing chunks of metal at you at a thousand kilometres an hour.’

‘Great,’ I said.

‘Unless they get up close and slice you up with their knives,’ Desi said.

Sami laughed, ‘Or they catch you and zap your balls with a car battery.’

‘You look really pale all of a sudden, Jake.’

It was all a big joke to them.

‘I’ll get you some kit,’ Sami said. ‘We’re going out on a mission tonight. Dad said to take you with us.’

‘Tonight,’ I said, shocked. ‘What about training? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.’

‘You’ll pick it up fast enough.’

Desi smiled, ‘Or you’ll get you head blown off.’

Me and Sami went inside a lock up underneath the main building. Sami pried the lid off a wooden crate. The guns inside were Czech made AK47’s, brand new, sealed in air tight plastic so that they didn’t rust.

‘Merry Christmas,’ Sami said, handing me one. ‘What else should you have?’

She started rummaging through the boxes and handed me a tatty revolver.

‘Needs a good clean, but it’s handy if the AK jams,’ Sami explained. ‘Short range only, but revolvers never go wrong. You want one?’

I shrugged, ‘Why would I not want one if they’re so useful?’

‘Weight,’ Sami said. ‘Everything you take, you’ve got to carry twenty or thirty kilometres a day, along with all the food and water you need. And we don’t hang around… Backpack, essential.’

Sami threw me a lightweight pack.

‘Did you want the revolver?’

‘Might as well.’

‘Grenades, take two or three.’

The way the grenades were packed in boxes of a dozen reminded me of my Dad’s golf balls

‘You’ve got Ben’s knife and his spare camouflage haven’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

Take some boots, you’ll see those white trainers a mile off. Water bottle. Last and most important: ammunition.’

Sami handed me a few clips for the AK and a box of bullets for the revolver. The ammunition weighed a ton.

‘You think it’s heavy now,’ Sami grinned. ‘Add water and food, and imagine how it feels after a thirty kilometre hike. I wont slow down if you start whining. You’re a security risk, so I’ll have to kill you if you pass out.’

We stepped back into the sun. Sami put the padlock on the storage room.

‘Where do all the weapons come from?’ I asked.

‘There’s never been a shortage of weapons,’ Sami said. ‘It’s people that don’t last long.’

9. Shopping.

Sami sat beside me on a rock and showed how to fit the magazine and switch the AK47 between safety, single-shot and automatic fire. She split it in pieces and showed how to use the cleaning kit to keep the weapon lubricated and rust free.

‘Always fire in short bursts, otherwise the gun gets hot and jams up.’

I nodded, ‘Can I try shooting it?’

‘We never shoot around camp,’ Sami said. ‘The noise echoes and you never know who might be out there snooping around.’

I looked like a soldier in the boots and camouflage. Grenades in my jacket pocket, knife and revolver tucked into my trousers, but I was crapping myself. I felt like a total fraud.

‘What’s the mission?’ I asked.

‘Shopping,’ Sami said. ‘We’re going to a government base about ten kilometres away. Amo needs medical supplies, we’re short of grenades, rice and some other stuff.’

‘How will we get it all back?’

‘By stealing a truck and driving out the front gate.’

‘Won’t they notice?’ I asked.

‘There’s three hundred armed men in the camp, so we better hope not.’

. . .

The government enforced a curfew on the roads between sunset and sunrise. Me, Sami and Desi ran into the scrub every time we heard a jeep or truck. The army didn’t do prisons or trials. If they caught you, the only question was if you got beaten and tortured before they killed you.

It was a full moon, so there was quite a bit of light. The sky was clear and full of stars. Sami and Desi kept a steady pace and didn’t even seem to sweat. The breeze whipped up a layer of dirt that stung my eyes and lined my throat. The pack rubbed my back raw and the mosquitoes were eating me alive.

‘Keep up,’ Sami whispered, looking back at me. ‘You’re like an old man.’

‘I need some water.’

‘Well drink some then,’ Sami said.

‘I’ve drunk it already.’

Sami stopped for me to catch up.

‘We’re not even halfway,’ she said angrily. ‘You’ll have to tough it out.’

‘It’s the dust,’ I said. ‘Can I have a sip of yours?’

‘Give us your pack, traitor.’

Sami took some of the ammunition out of my pack and put it in hers. She handed me her water bottle. It was unboiled and might make me sick again, but I had grit crunching between my teeth and I could hardly breathe.

There was an army checkpoint about a kilometre outside the base. We cut deep into the jungle, to avoid it. The trees were low and the undergrowth dense. Every step was a battle with a creeper or a barbed branch. My face and hands got all slashed up and I was bleeding in a couple of places.

The jungle ended at the perimeter of the base. Between us and the wire fence was about ten metres of cleared land. There was an observation tower twenty metres away, but it was impossible to tell if anyone was up there. The camp was in darkness and you couldn’t see a soul, but there was plenty of shouting and singing going on.

My heart drummed, but at least the fear stopped me thinking about my thirst and my aching legs.

Sami looked over at me, ‘Scared?’

I nodded.

‘Take deep breaths and try not to screw up.’

The three of us crouched low and sprinted across the clearing to the fence. Sami rattled the wire, looking for a gap.

‘Are we in the right place?’ Sami asked.

‘They’ve repaired the hole,’ Desi said. ‘What the hell now?’

‘Have you got wire cutters?’ Sami asked

‘Nope,’ Desi said.

‘What kind of arse goes on a mission like this without wire cutters?’ Sami asked.

Desi sounded angry, ‘You never got any either.’

‘What about the knife you stole off me?’ I asked. ‘There’s a pair in there.’

‘Is there?’ Sami asked

She pulled the Swiss army knife out of her pocket and started going through the blades.

A light came on in the watch tower. We crashed onto our bellies. Some guys leaned over the side of the tower and started shouting.

‘This army is shit. I want to go home to my wife.’

The soldier threw his metal helmet into the jungle like a Frisbee.

‘Joseph’s wife is sexy,’ another soldier shouted. ‘I want to go home to her as well.’

The soldiers all started laughing. A couple of bottles got thrown off the tower and smashed into the ground. They weren’t paying any attention to us.

Desi whispered to me, ‘Doesn’t look so bad when you see we’re fighting against a bunch of horny drunks.’

I smiled anxiously. They might be horny drunks, but they still had assault rifles slung around their waists.

‘Where are these bloody wire cutters, traitor?’

I snatched the Swiss army knife out of Sami’s hand and found them straight away.

‘Smartass,’ Sami said.

The cutters were a bit on the small side, but Desi managed to snip a few links and tear up a corner of the mesh.

‘Act casual, traitor,’ Sami whispered, as we crawled through. ‘Only use your gun if you really have to.’

We walked across the camp. Most of the troops were asleep in tents; except a few who were stumbling around raising all kinds of hell.

‘I’ll find us a truck and fuel it up,’ Desi said. ‘You two deal with the store room.’

Soldiers noticed us, a few even said hello. You couldn’t tell rebels from government soldiers, which wasn’t surprising when you consider most of our stuff was stolen off them.

The store room was about twenty metres long, built out of corrugated metal sheets. Sami opened the door. The inside was lit with fluorescent tubes that had half a dozen moths frantically slamming their bodies against them. A fat soldier sat behind a counter picking his nose.

‘What the heck do you want at this time of night?’

‘I came for you,’ Sami said, blowing the soldier a kiss. ‘For $200 you can do whatever you want to me.’

The guard laughed, ‘You’re no $200’s worth.’

Sami undid the top buttons of her camouflage and gave the guard a flash of her breasts.

‘How about a nice kiss?’ Sami said. ‘And we’ll see how things go from there.’

The soldier squashed his gut against the counter and leaned over. As Sami pecked his cheek, she slid a twenty centimetre hunting knife out of a sheath behind her back. Time seemed to freeze as I watched it happen. The soldier noticed the light reflecting on the blade and jerked backwards, but he was too late. Sami punched the knife into the side of his neck and ripped out his throat. Blood spewed over the counter and dribbled down the sides onto the floor.

Sami turned to me, ‘Lock the door.’

She still had the knife in her had. I was so stunned I didn’t move. She walked past me and bolted the door herself.

‘Anybody in there?’ Sami asked, waving her hand in my face.

‘Uh?’

Sami grabbed my nipple and twisted it really hard. The pain brought me back to planet Earth.

‘It’s only a bit of blood,’ Sami said. ‘Get your head together before you get us killed.’

Sami looked so cool about it. She stepped behind the counter and kicked the soldiers legs away, sending his corpse crashing onto the floor.

‘Couldn’t you just tie him up?’ I asked.

‘Tying people up is for the movies,’ Sami said. ‘It takes ages.’

She got a shopping list out of her pocket, tore it in half and handed one bit to me.

‘Put everything we need by the door,’ Sami said. ‘Desi shouldn’t be long with the truck.’

The racks of wooden shelving were well stocked. I learned later that Captain had a spy inside the base who informed him whenever the supply convoy arrived.

I scanned the list: bandages, morphine, engine oil, rice, cigarettes, grenades. I couldn’t find any medical supplies, but I got hold of the other stuff and added a few luxuries like a tray of cokes, bottles of vodka and some tins of meat. We trod the soldiers blood everywhere we walked. Ben hammered on the door.

‘What took you so long?’ Sami asked.

We each made about ten trips back and forward, piling everything inside the truck. A few soldiers went by, but we never even got a second glance off them.

‘We need the medical supplies,’ Desi said. ‘Amo’s got almost nothing left.’

Sami looked at me, ‘Stick your face in the blood.’

‘What?’ I said.

Sami pointed at the red puddle on the counter.

‘We need to find the medical hut. Stick your face in the blood so it looks like you’re injured.’

I was too chicken to answer Sami back. I lightly dipped my cheek in the warm blood.

‘More than that,’ Sami said.

She dunked my head right in, so the warm blood poured through my hair and down my face.

‘Get in the truck and keep the engine running,’ she said, looking at Desi.

Sami put her arm around my shoulder. We ran outside and she started shouting for directions.

‘This might get hairy. Keep one hand on your pistol.’

There was a bunch of guys sitting on wooden crates playing poker. One of them pointed out the medical tent. It was pitch dark inside, but you could hear a couple of patients snoring. It smelled of cigarettes and disinfectant.

‘He’s been shot,’ Sami shouted. ‘Is anyone in here? Can someone help us?’

An electric lamp came on over a wooden desk. A tiny old nun sat there. Sami pointed her AK47.

‘I want drugs and bandages,’ Sami shouted. ‘Fast.’

The nun got a set of keys out of her pocket and crept towards a wooden cabinet. She looked calm. You got the impression she’d had guns pointed at her a hundred times before.

‘Some time this month would be nice,’ Sami shouted.

The nun unlocked the cabinet. Sami shoved her out of the way and started cramming all the medicine into her backpack. It was too dark to see what anything was.

The nun stumbled back to her chair. I met her eyes, and she smiled at me. All her teeth were gone, except two brown tombstones in her lower jaw. I got this weird feeling off her, like my soul was being x-rayed. It felt as if the nun could see my fear and actually felt sorry for me.

‘I’ll pray for both of you,’ the nun whispered.

She made the sign of the cross on her chest.

Sami gave her a scornful look, ‘Shut your bloody hole.’

There was a massive bang and a flash of orange light. My ear howled with pain. The bullet can’t have missed me by much. I spun around. Shadows of giant fingers and a gun were projected onto the inside of the tent. It was one of the patients. I hit the floor as the second bullet ripped a hole in the canvas.

My AK47 was trapped under my body, so I grabbed the revolver out of my trousers. I was actually laying across the legs of the man shooting at me. God knows how he missed from such close range. I squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered the base of his jaw and exploded out the top of his head attached to a hairy clump of his skull. The other patient was behind me. I thought he might have a gun as well, so I rolled over and fired once into his chest and once into his head. He’d slept through the whole thing, but the bullets were out of my gun before I gave it a second thought.

Sami zipped up her pack and grabbed my arm.

‘Lets get out of here, traitor; before you wake up the other half of the camp.’

I could barely hear over the whistling in my ear.

We ran back towards the store. The truck cab was open and the engine was turning. Sami climbed in first. Desi drove away while I was still on the step. Sami helped pull me inside and slammed the door. We pulled up at the main gate. A guard approached.

Any second, someone could sound the alarm and we’d be getting killed from ten different directions. I tucked my hands under my arse to stop them shaking. The guard shone his torch into the cab. Sami gave him her sweetest smile.

‘Just taking this young lady back to her village,’ Desi said, passing the guard a few dollars.

‘What have you been up to?’ The guard laughed, ‘Naughty boy.’

The guard walked over to open the gate. He probably wasn’t going that slow, but it felt like every step lasted a thousand years. Desi rolled us through the gate and started to accelerate away. He kept the speed down to avoid suspicion. Sami looked back in the mirror to see if anything was coming after us.

‘Looks OK,’ Sami said

Desi laughed, ‘It should do. I slashed about twenty tyres.’

It took a couple of minutes to drive up to the checkpoint. There was a row of metal spikes blocking the road and a heavy machine gun behind a wall of sandbags. One of the guards wandered out of a wooden hut and stood on the step leading into the cab.

‘Destination?’ the driver asked.

‘Taking this young lady home,’ Desi said, handing over a few more dollars.

A telephone started ringing inside the guard hut.

‘Hold on. I better see what that is before I let you through.’

‘This is bad,’ Sami said. ‘Can we go over the spikes?’

‘We won’t get fifty yards. They’ll shred the tyres,’ Desi said.

‘I could creep out and move them,’ Sami said.

‘The metal makes a hell of a noise when you drag it,’ Desi said. ‘They’ll gun you down.’

‘So what do we do?’ I asked.

‘I say we should abandon the truck and run for it,’ Desi said.

‘No way,’ Sami said, ‘Not after going through all this. It could be nothing.’

She pulled her AK47 off her shoulder and laid it across her lap with her finger on the trigger.

‘Don’t let them take you alive, Jake’ Sami said. ‘Unless you enjoy being tortured.’

I couldn’t take the fear. I think I was about to pass out, but the chain of spikes started clattering out of our path. A smiling guard emerged from the side of the road.

‘Sorry about the wait,’ he shouted, ‘Sounds like a couple of drunks went a bit crazy up at the base and shot someone in the hospital.’

Desi shook his head, ‘Too much banana beer, I expect.’

The guard thumped the side of the cab, ‘Probably… Drive safe now.’

‘Thanks,’ Desi said. ‘Have a good night.’

The hydraulic brakes hissed and we pulled off down the road.

9. Adrenalin

Desi drove fast and kept the headlights off. Christ knows how he saw where we were going. I kept thinking we were about to crash. Sami was looking back in the mirror all the time, but once we were away from the base we were just another army truck without markings or number plates. Even if we got stopped, we could pass ourselves off as government troops.

You can’t believe the buzz. I shouted my head off with pure relief. Sami wrapped her arms around me. Desi was grinning. People chuck themselves off cliffs, go white water rafting and ride roller coasters to get a bit of excitement in their lives. But this was the real stuff, no safety line, no life jacket. I’d done something that would get me twenty years in maximum security prison if I did it in Britain.

‘You should have seen him, Desi,’ Sami beamed. ‘Drops down, cool as ice. Wastes the guy shooting at him, then flips over and shoots the guy behind him. I mean, one guy was paralytic and the other one was asleep, but it was still classy.’

‘Nice one,’ Desi said.

‘Why did you kill the second patient?’ Sami asked.

I shrugged, ‘He looked dangerous.’

‘He was asleep.’

I shrugged, ‘I don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to do.’

‘Even Sami doesn’t kill people when they’re asleep,’ Desi said.

‘Mind you,’ Sami said. ‘That’s only because I like to see the look on their faces when they wake up with a gun in their face.’

Desi floored the brake. The tyres squealed. I flew forward and hit my head on the dashboard. It killed my head, but I just burst out laughing.

‘Sorry,’ Desi said. ‘Didn’t see that corner.’

He dunked the accelerator again.

‘You’re not traitor anymore,’ Sami said. ‘I’ve got you a new name.’

I grinned, ‘What am I?’

‘Killer.’

‘I want to go back,’ I said. ‘Get the biggest gun. Sneak up the watch tower with it and blast everyone in their tents.’

Desi laughed, ‘One raid and you’re a certified psycho. Wait until you get pinned down with a few Army shooting at you, then we’ll see what you’re made of.’

‘Titanium,’ I said. ‘I can take it. I’m so hard, they’ll take one look at me and shit their pants.’

‘Killing machine,’ Sami shouted.

‘Kill,’ I shouted back, right in her ear.

She slapped my face.

‘You dare slap my face?’ I giggled. ‘I’ll mash you up.’

‘I’ll kill you,’ Sami snorted.

I wrapped my arm around her head and pinched her nose. She went straight for my nipple. It was still sore from earlier.

‘Jesus… Let go of my nipple.’

‘Not until you let go of my nose.’

‘I’ll kill you.’

‘I’ll kill you, dog breath.’

Sami bundled me off the seat onto the floor of the cab and pinned me down with her boots.

‘Will you two stop acting like idiots,’ Desi shouted. ‘It’s hard enough driving without all that going on.’

‘Let us up Sami.’

I wriggled. Sami smiled down at me.

‘Come on.’

‘No,’ Sami said. ‘You’re a naughty boy. You’re staying down there until we arrive.’

It was a three hour walk on the way out. The drive back took about 25 minutes. Desi pulled into the clearing. Me and Sami moved the stuff camouflaging the road into camp. The truck was too wide to go up the hill and it wasn’t four wheel drive, so it probably wouldn’t have made it anyway. We were too knackered to unload, we just grabbed our packs and weapons and stuffed our pockets with bottles of banana beer.

We started drinking as we struggled up the hill to camp. It was thick and slightly bitter tasting. You wouldn’t have known it was made out of bananas unless someone told you. I was thirsty; the first bottle went down in a few seconds. I lobbed it in the bushes and unscrewed the cap on another. Some places the path was steep; you had to grab onto a branch or something to pull yourself up.

A guy called Jesus was at the top of the path, under an open sided shelter about a hundred yards short of camp. He was supposed to be on guard duty, but he’d fallen asleep. Desi tipped beer over him to wake him up.

‘This isn’t good enough,’ Sami said, struggling to keep a straight face. ‘Fifty dollars each or we’ll tell Captain.’

‘Give us a beer,’ Jesus said.

Sami handed him a bottle, ‘Cough up.’

‘Shove it up your arse,’ Jesus said.

Sami smiled and cuffed him around the head. We wandered into the middle of camp. The beer was starting to work on me. After all the action, I needed something to take the edge off. Desi said goodnight and went off to his hut. I looked at Sami.

‘See you in the morning,’ I said.

‘Come with me first,’ Sami said. ‘I’ll wash the blood off your face.’

Sami took me into her hut. She lit a kerosene lamp with her pocket lighter.

‘You want another beer?’ Sami asked.

I didn’t want a beer, but I realised it was an invitation to stick around for a while, so I said yes. It was the middle of the night, but there was no way I could calm down and go to sleep after what had happened.

I sat on the floor. Sami damped a piece of rag and started dabbing off the blood. It reminded me of Mum wiping ice cream off my face when I was little.

‘How many people do you reckon you’ve killed?’ I asked.

Sami shrugged, ‘I remember the first couple; after that it goes into a blur. Thirty, maybe.’

‘So who was the first one?’ I asked.

‘I’ve got him in a jar on the shelf,’ Sami said.

I looked on the shelf. She had a few books and cuddly toys from her childhood and there was a framed picture: Captain stood in front of a white painted house, with a big lawn and a satellite dish on the roof. He was a bit younger and fatter, but not so different you couldn’t recognise him. His wife stood beside him, with a baby boy in her arms and five other kids standing on the grass.

‘Which one are you?’

Sami pointed at a little girl with platted hair, wearing nothing but a disposable nappy.

‘You were cute,’ I said.

Sami smiled, ‘Thanks killer. And this is the first man I killed.’

She picked a jar off the shelf and handed it to me. It was empty, except for what looked like a shrivelled blob of wax in the bottom.

‘He was one of us,’ Sami said. ‘A rebel. I was only eleven. He came in the middle of the night and ripped my vest and knickers off. Dad warned me someone might try to rape me while he was away fighting, so he gave me a knife. The man had his thingy waving about over me. I grabbed the knife and chopped it off.’

‘So what’s in the jar?’

Sami looked at me like I was stupid; which I guess I was.

‘That’s his penis. They managed to stop the bleeding, but he got an infection and died of blood poisoning.’

I reached over and put the jar back on the shelf.

‘You’re nothing like the girls at home,’ I said.

Sami laughed, ‘You’re not like the boys round here… There, you’re face is all clean now.’

She threw the bloody rag out of the hut and drained the last drop of her beer. Then she started unlacing her boots.

‘I better go,’ I said.

‘Sleep here if you want,’ Sami said. ‘Saves you from waking Beck up.’

Even though I was half drunk, I remembered that Sami hated Beck.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to piss first. Too much beer’

I crawled outside. I tried to get my head straight while I sprayed the ground. It was obvious Sami liked me, but I was scared of girls and Sami was the scariest girl ever. I told all my mates I shagged a girl when I was on holiday in Portugal, but it was a lie. All I’d ever managed was a couple of quick snogs and a hand up a girls shirt on sports day. A girl like Sami had probably shagged loads of guys. I almost hoped she didn’t want to have sex. I was sure I’d make a complete tit of myself.

When I got back inside, Sami had turned out the lamp and pulled out her sleeping mat so there was enough room for me. I took off my boots and camouflage. I smelled pretty bad, but Sami wasn’t exactly fresh either. I laid right on the edge of the mat so I wasn’t touching her and wondered if I should make some sort of move; or if part of me would end up in a jar if I did.

Sami rolled over, so our legs were touching and her tits were pressing against my chest. Sami put her arm around my shoulder. As she breathed her whole body shuddered.

‘All the things I’ve done,’ Sami sobbed. ‘I’ll be dead soon…I’m going straight to hell.’

It was the last thing I expected. She’d cut a guy’s throat out as casually as I’d scratch my arse. I thought she was rock hard. Her arm crept around my back and she started sobbing out of control.

‘You’ll be OK,’ I said.

‘I see all their faces in my dreams. All crying and stuff…’

I pulled her as tight as I could.

‘You won’t die Sami. The war can’t last forever.’

‘Mum and Edo and the others are dead. I’m never going to see them. Me and Dad are going to hell.’

‘After what I did tonight, I’ll be there with you,’ I said, rubbing her neck.

Sami laughed a tiny bit, ‘That frown you gave me when I was going to kill you. I knew I’d see it in my nightmares, over and over again. That’s why I couldn’t shoot the gun.’

I was starting to cry a bit as well; thinking about Dad and Adam and the two guys I killed. The one shooting at me seemed fair enough, but I didn’t even see the other one’s face. What would happen when his wife or his Mum found out? Maybe he had a kid. I’m not sure if I felt sorry for myself, or for the dead guys; it just felt right to cry with Sami.

Our sobs shook each other. I ran my nail over Sami’s sweaty back, tickling gently.

‘That feels nice,’ she said.

‘We can live together in hell,’ I said. ‘We’ll have a big red house with a giant fire in every room.’

Sami smiled, ‘It’s not funny Jake.’

‘Twenty red babies with long tails and forked tongues.’

‘Don’t you believe in hell?’ Sami asked.

‘Not really.’

‘What do you believe in, Jake?’

‘Nothing, I guess.’

Sami kissed my cheek and rolled away, ‘You’re crazy.’

I reached across and rested my hand on her bum. She nudged it away.

‘Not now,’ She said softly. ‘I’m so tired.’

I watched her outline gently rise and fall with each breath. It was ages before I fell asleep.

. . .

A half drunk beer bottle laid on the floor with ants crawling around the opening. I’d slept after sunup, something you could only do if you were exhausted: the heat inside is unbearable and the huts did a rotten job keeping out the sunlight. Sami hadn’t been up long. Her part of the mat was still warm. I rolled into her sweat, breathed her smell and wondered where she was.

As soon as you start asking yourself where a girl is when she’s not around, you’re in trouble. I was always falling in love with girls. Red tracksuit girl was a classic example of how stupid I was. She didn’t go to my school, but she went out with a guy in our football team. She’d come to matches on Saturday mornings and stand on the touchline, stamping her feet to keep warm. She usually wore a denim jacket and red Adidas tracksuit bottoms with a rip over the knee.

I never spoke to her, but I started thinking how great it must be to have someone who cared enough about you to come and watch you play football in the cold. I started looking forward to seeing her. Then I found myself awake in the middle of the night thinking about her. Friday nights, I’d be counting down the hours until I saw her. I tried to think up some way to start a conversation. I killed myself with envy, imagining my team mate snogging her and touching her up. It was pathetic, but I was nuts about her.

‘Didn’t see your girlfriend today,’ I said, in the shower one Saturday after a match.

‘Dumped her,’ the boyfriend shrugged. ‘She drove me crazy, followed me everywhere I went.’

I knew it was a stupid crush, but it ripped my heart out knowing I’d never see red tracksuit girl again. I stood in a corner of the shower, facing the tiles and trying not to cry.

It had been the same ever since I started getting into girls. Dumb infatuations, clumsy snogs, striking out in front of all my mates. I never seemed to get it right. The girls in my class rated all the boys out of ten and I finished third out of eleven guys. So I knew I wasn’t a freak; but I was still paranoid that I’d end up some lonely old guy doddering back from Sainsburys carrying cans of dog food and frozen meals for one.

The thought of going through it all again over Sami filled me with dread. Then I’d think about her. Some little detail, like the shape or her eyes, or how great it was when she had her arm around me and I’d get a twinge of happiness. I’d got it so bad it wasn’t funny.

. . .

I crawled out of bed and wandered down to the pool. Amin was there fetching water, he gave me a thumbs up sign and a smile. He muttered something, but you could never understand a word he said. I nodded and returned the thumbs up. Don was now the only one left who hadn’t accepted me.

As soon as Amo saw me, she slapped a fish in her pan and started cooking it for me with some tomato and banana slices.

‘Sami and Desi said you did a good job. You should be proud of yourself’

‘Thanks,’ I nodded. ‘Did you get the medicine?’

‘I’ve got all I need. Replaced the morphine I used on Ben. Loads of bandages, antiseptic and dressings. There’s even some antibiotics.’

‘Where did Sami go?’ I asked.

‘Same as everyone else I expect: helping to unload the truck.’

‘I should go and help.’

I stood up to leave.

‘I’m making your breakfast, Jake.’

‘Oh, right,’ I said, sitting back down. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Beck was looking for you to go hunting. He said you didn’t sleep in Ben’s hut last night.’

‘No, I stayed with Sami.’

‘Did you now?’ Amo said, grinning from ear to ear.

‘We didn’t do anything. Just had a few beers and went to sleep.’

Amo scraped my food onto a metal plate. I started eating with my fingers. Amo’s cooking was pretty basic, but it always tasted good.

‘Sami’s got a soft spot for you,’ Amo said. ‘But you want to be careful. Captain is very protective towards her and if you upset him, it’ll be you that comes off worst.’

I walked down the hill to help the others unload the truck. I passed a few people carrying stuff on the path. They all smiled and told me I did a good job.

Sami was down by the truck, helping some of the others chop off branches and cut a clearing to hide the truck in. She went up on tiptoes and kissed my cheek.

‘Morning Killer.’

Jesus started singing, ‘Love is in the air.’

Sami gave him a filthy look, ‘Go stick your head down a toilet.’

Don loaded me up with three sacks of rice. By the time I got them up to camp, my camouflage was drowned in sweat. I threw my top off and headed back down the hill for a second load. I lost my footing and slipped. The dirt stuck to my wet skin, like breadcrumbs on a piece of fish.

There wasn’t much left to carry. The truck had been driven as deep into the trees as possible. Palms and branches were laid all over it. Don and Jesus headed off with the last sacks slung over their backs, leaving me and Sami to carry four catering sized cans of beans.

‘Race you,’ Sami said.

She stuck a giant can under each arm and started off running up the hill. Before I’d even had time to pick my cans up, Sami stumbled and hit the dirt. I burst out laughing, then started running with my cans. Sami stuck her leg out and tripped me up. One of my cans rolled off down the hill. I was too tired to go after it. We sat there and watched it crash through the bushes while we brushed dust off ourselves.

‘Cheat,’ Sami said.

‘You tripped me up.’

Sami went for my nipple again.

‘Stop doing that, it’s bloody agony.’

‘Make me Killer.’

I jumped on top of her and wrestled her fingers off me. She tried to tickle my ribs, but I managed to pin both of her wrists to the ground. She relaxed all her muscles and smiled at me. I stared into her eyes.

‘Am I gonna lay here like this all day, or are you going to kiss me?’ Sami asked.

10. Raids

The first few days, me and Sami just kissed and cuddled. The forth morning we started messing about, wrestling on the sleeping mat. We both got really horny and ended up having sex. I felt like climbing up the highest tree and shouting to the whole world that I’d lost my virginity to a hot African chic. I reconsidered when I remembered that the hot African chic’s Dad had an office with dried blood on the floor and a tendency to pull out people’s teeth.

To start with we were at it every half hour; but Sami was scared of getting pregnant. There wasn’t any contraception around, so we had to give up except for special occasions. We were always looking for excuses: a successful mission, a nice sunset, Sami bending over in front of me. What was the point being sensible? We could be dead in a few hours.

. . .

The rebels didn’t have the muscle to fight the army head on. Our job was to cut off supplies of fuel, food and weapons being sent to government troops on the front line further east. Most missions were ambushes. We walked fifteen or twenty kilometres, chopped down a few trees to block a road and waited. As soon as the truck drivers saw the blockade, they knew it was an ambush and tried to escape. You had to shoot out the back tyres to stop them reversing away. Once the tyres were gone, they usually tried to escape into the bushes. A few put up a fight, but they never got more than a couple of shots off before they died.

What happened next depended on who was in charge. Don and Jesus killed the soldiers even when they put their hands up to surrender. Desi and some of the others took their weapons and boots and let them go. If Sami was in charge, it depended on what mood she was in.

Killing was easy. When it’s pitch dark, steaming hot, your heart is banging in your ears and any second someone could waste you, whatever kind of morality you have goes out the window. I had a driver beg for his life on his knees in front of me. Maybe he was a nice guy. Maybe the money he sent home to the city was all that stopped his kids from starving. But all I could think about was that I’d be in a bit less danger if he was dead. So one tiny pull on the AK47 and a line of bullets blew him to pieces. I’ve watched him die a thousand times in my head. I can hear the little groan he made as his chest exploded. Sometimes I hate myself for doing it, but put me back there and I’d do it again.

Single truck ambushes were most common and easiest to handle. Convoys of two and three were OK. You threw a few grenades and made a big mess, then picked off as many soldiers as you could before burning out the trucks.

Big convoys were a nightmare: ten or more trucks, all with at least two men on board. You wanted to run away, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. There were usually three or four of us on a raid. One would drop back and shoot at anyone who touched the roadblock. The rest ran through the bushes, throwing grenades into the back of the trucks. The trucks at the back didn’t know what the hold up was at the front, so they wouldn’t try and reverse out. The bad thing was, a big convoy was always guarded by mercenaries or a group of special guards. They were good shooters, fast runners and they were paid a special bounty if they caught one of us alive. If you got chased, you had to stay in the jungle for a couple of days in case you were being tracked.

Back at camp, you were too stressed to live a normal life. I took Becky swimming and went hunting a few times, but my heart wasn’t in it. All the fighters were the same. We’d wake up, often with a hangover, then sit about camp all day, spoiling for a row and bored off our heads. We were usually tired, but it was too hot to sleep.

The ultimate nightmare was having your rifle jam. I spent an hour every day, cleaning, lubricating and polishing off specks of rust. Guns were sacred objects. We each had our own ritual of checking and double checking for faults. There were as many opinions about guns as there were soldiers. Some reckoned new guns were best and got a fresh one whenever they could. Sami, used a decrepit Chinese AK47. She swore it hadn’t jammed in the five years she’d had it and wouldn’t give it up for anything. Don reckoned Chinese made AK47s were rubbish. He went around with two short stocked M16s in holsters, like a gunslinger. Desi reckoned short guns were stupid, because you couldn’t hold them to aim. I heard the same crap every day, but I always tuned in, hoping for the little gem of advice that might save my life.

Sometimes there was wood to chop or a building to repair, but it was never much. Mid-afternoon, Captain always called us into a circle for a briefing. He told us who was going where that night, what intelligence reports he’d had on where convoys were heading and which of the local bases had supplies worth stealing.

Unless it was more than twenty kilometres, we usually set off just after sundown. It was the peak time for mosquitoes and there was a sense of dread about the walk. My thighs and ankles never stopped hurting. Once my feet hardened off I stopped getting blisters, but they still ached the whole time. The back of my camouflage was permanently stained with blood where my pack scoured off my skin.

We walked four hours on average, followed by several hours waiting if it was an ambush. As you got closer, the adrenalin kicked in and time started to move slow. The raids themselves never lasted long. Ambushes were over in five minutes. If you raided an army base, you were rarely inside more than twenty. These flashes of excitement seemed like my whole life. The rest of the time was like being in suspended animation, wondering if you’d be alive this time the next day.

If you had to walk back to camp, it would be at least 3AM before you arrived. A lot of the time, it took a few beers to numb the pain in my shoulders and legs, and calm down enough to sleep. Half the time you’d keep waking up with nightmares. By 7AM the sun was blasting your hut. If you got five hours a night, you were lucky.

. . .

Sami was laughing her head off.

‘I’m never gonna be able to do this,’ I moaned.

‘Calm down killer. Push down the clutch and turn the engine back on.’

The engine of the pickup choked a few times before it started to turn. A blue plume rose out of the exhaust. I lifted the clutch as gently as I could and the Subaru started to roll.

‘That was excellent,’ Sami said. ‘Now, change up to second… Keep looking where you’re going, not down at the gears.’

We started to get up a bit of speed. There were so many bumps, it was like I was doing ten rounds with the steering wheel.

‘Put it into third gear.’

I flicked it neatly into third and finally started to feel I was getting the hang of driving. I had to squint to avoid the sun. The inside of the cab was about 50C and the air conditioning had a piece of tape over it saying Do Not Use. Every piece of trim rattled and you got the impression that the whole shebang would disintegrate on the next bump.

‘This is cool,’ I said. ‘So how come we can drive down here in daylight?’

‘No road is totally safe, but the army always travels east to west, this is a dead end heading south. The only way they’d ever come down here is if they’re lost, or hunting for the likes of us.’

‘Turn left here,’ Sami said. ‘Start slowing down and drop into second gear.’

We pulled up at a village of abandoned wooden huts. They looked more solid than the makeshift affairs we lived in, although the land was overgrown with weeds. We parked the Subaru out of sight of the road.

‘I remember when about a hundred people lived here,’ Sami said.

‘What happened to them?’

‘Same as every other village. The men and boys either ran into the hills and joined the rebels, or got forced into the army. We stole all the food. When they got hungry, most of the women tried to go west towards the capital, but they had little kids and stuff. Not many of them made it. The only civilians left in these parts were a few old timers. Most of them are dead now.’

‘Why did you steal their food?’

‘We were too busy fighting to hunt. If we didn’t steal the food, the army burned it to stop us getting it. In the west, we burned food so the army couldn’t feed it’s troops. People think weapons are the most important thing in a war, but you’re nothing without a bit of food in your belly.’

‘Some people must have starved.’

‘Dad saw a newspaper,’ Sami said. ‘It claimed forty thousand people died fighting in the first year of the war, but over a million starved. Half of them were children.’

‘Fucking hell.’

‘Yeah, hell,’ Sami shrugged. ‘That’s where everyone in this country is heading.’

‘You were only a kid,’ I said. ‘You can hardly blame yourself.’

‘My very first raid, we went into a village like this one. Threatened everyone with guns and took their food. I was only eleven, but they needed an extra set of hands to carry everything away. All the women were crying and begging. A couple of them got slapped around.’

‘I thought I was fighting for the good guys,’ I said.

‘It’s a war, Killer. There aren’t any good guys, just people doing what they can to stay alive.’

We wandered around the village, looking inside the huts. The villagers had only taken what they could carry. In one musty hut I picked a cockroach nibbled book off the floor. I opened the page to a cartoon of Noah’s ark, with penguins on the deck and two giraffes heads poking through the roof. I couldn’t read the text, it was all in French, but I could imagine a bunch of kids sitting under a tree listening to an old woman reading the bible stories. A postcard of the Eiffel tower slid out from between the pages. I showed it to Sami.

‘That’s where I’m taking you when this is over.’

‘Yeah right,’ Sami laughed, ‘It’s in Paris isn’t it?’

‘They say it’s the most romantic city on earth.’

‘Have you been there?’ Sami asked.

‘Once. I thought it was really boring, but I was only a kid.’

‘I’ll miss you if you go home, Jake.’

I’d realised I might have to choose between Sami and going home. It was something I tried not to think about, but Sami mentioning it choked me up. She looked a upset as well. We went outside and sat in the sun with our arms around each other’s backs.

. . .

Rebel groups met on neutral ground, so if the army caught you, you only knew the location of your own camp. Meetings between units were a complicated business. Everyone suspected everyone else, and was terrified of being ambushed by mercenaries or followed by spies.

We were in the village to meet two soldiers from Casino’s unit. His was supposed to be the largest and most active rebel group in our area, with sixty fighters and three separate camps; but nobody knew anything for sure. We had an envelope of written messages from Captain. The back of the pickup was full with grenades and flour, which we were exchanging for some lightweight pistols and ammunition.

Our contacts were over an hour late. Sami was getting nervous. If they’d been captured by the army and given our location away, we were in deep shit.

‘Ten minutes,’ Sami said, looking at my watch. ‘It’s dodgy to wait any longer.’

Right after she said it, we heard something on the road. We clicked our rifles onto automatic fire and hid in the bushes near the pickup. An army jeep pulled up on the other side of the village. Sami fired a single revolver shot into the air. One of the women in the jeep fired two shots back. If she’d returned a single shot, it would have been a signal to bail.

‘Showtime, killer.’

We climbed out of the bushes. The jeep drove between the huts and pulled up beside our pickup. The two women were nearly as tall as me, with giant arses bulking up their camouflage. They jumped down and started hugging Sami.

‘Hey Sami. How’s business up your way?’

Sami nodded, ‘Not bad. Plenty of supplies, but we’ve lost a few men lately.’

‘Same for us,’ one or the women said. ‘According to Rebel Radio, we’re mounting a big push. We might not be cut off from the east for much longer.’

‘I miss the radio,’ Sami said. ‘Ours got broke the last time we moved camp.’

‘And who is the handsome young stranger?’

Sami smiled, ‘We call him Killer. He fell out of the sky.’

‘He’s lovely, can I give him a kiss?’

‘Feel free,’ Sami giggled.

One of the fat women smothered me and sucked my face. As she did it, she cupped her hand between my legs and rubbed it against my balls.

‘What a lovely boy,’ she howled.

Sami was killing herself laughing.

‘What he really likes,’ Sami said. ‘Is if you twist his nipple really hard, like this.’

I dived backwards, but Sami was too fast. I screamed in pain and the three women laughed for about ten minutes. I was steaming, but I knew I’d only make it worse if I got angry.

. . .

‘Stop sulking and grow up for god’s sake,’ Sami said. ‘It was only a bit of fun.’

Sami was driving. She went about twice as fast as me and made it look easy.

‘My nipple’s really sore. If you carry on twisting it, it’s gonna drop off.’

‘If you say so, Killer.’

‘It’s not funny.’

She started laughing so bad you could hardly understand what she was saying.

‘The look on your face when she grabbed your balls. Your eyebrows went up so high, I thought they were gonna shoot right off your head.’

I stared at my lap, sulking.

‘Tell you what, misery guts, lets do a quick detour.’

‘Where?’

‘We’re only a few kilometres from where me and Ben first found you. We could drive up there and see where your brother ended up.’

11. Adam

We stopped the car briefly at the exact spot where I was found. It seemed weird to think that the kid who’d been laying in the road was alive and the fit rebel who stepped out of the pickup was dead.

We drove a couple of kilometres, seeing nothing except trees. Sami kept it fairly slow, looking out for any buildings or turnings that Adam might have ventured into. I could imagine Adam, taking his little steps with his arms swinging, getting more and more desperate and probably sobbing for Mum. Maybe he crawled into the trees, curled himself in a ball and died. It was a sad thought, but it was almost comforting compared to some of the stuff I could imagine.

The road went left and down a steep hill.

‘We’ll go another kilometre,’ Sami said. ‘We’ll have to turn back then.’

I looked out the window and tried not to get upset.

‘There,’ Sami shouted.

She backed up and drove through an overgrown opening between the trees. There was a big house on two floors, built out of stone with a tin roof. It must have been the home of a wealthy European, back in colonial days. Half the roof was missing. The statues and windows were smashed and creepers covered the stone.

The front door wasn’t locked. I stepped through with my gun drawn. My boot crunched some broken glass and a dank smell hit my nose. The floor was covered in fruit skins and chocolate bar wrappers.

‘Adam?’ I shouted.

I walked into the kitchen, half expecting to find his body. We checked all the rooms on the ground floor. As I turned to go up the stairs, I saw a skinny old woman with no teeth on the landing. Her hands were trembling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve been a good girl today.’

She started creeping down the stairs.

‘Did you bring me food?’

I reached out to grab her arm and help her walk, but she flinched and burst into tears.

‘Please don’t hit me any more.’

I put my arm on her shoulder.

‘Nobody is going to hurt you,’ I said, as gently as I could. ‘Don’t be frightened of us.’

I walked her to a table in the kitchen. Her whole body was shaking. She was so weak, I felt like my hand would go right through her. I helped her sit on the only unbroken chair at the dining table. Sami brought some fruit and cooked rice out of the pickup. The old lady smiled when she saw it.

‘This looks so nice,’ She said.

She dug her grubby fingers in the rice and turned to Sami.

‘You’re a girl soldier. You don’t usually come here.’

Sami smiled at her, ‘I’ve never been here before. Do soldiers come here very often?’

‘They hit me,’ the lady said. ‘And make me eat horrible food. It’s a big joke for them.’

‘I’m looking for my brother,’ I said. ‘Did a little boy come in here? He was wearing a green shirt.’

The lady looked up brightly, ‘You mean Adam?’

I gasped with relief, ‘That’s right. I’m Adam’s brother, Jake.’

‘He got water for you,’ the lady said brightly. ‘But he couldn’t find you when he went back. He was crying. I hid him from the soldiers. Then the fish soldier took him.’

‘Who’s the fish soldier?’ I asked.

‘He comes sometimes and brings me fish. He’s not horrible like the others.’

I heard a car engine. Sami ran to the window. A big Nissan 4x4 was rolling into the driveway.

‘Oh shit,’ Sami shouted. ‘Army. We’re so screwed.’

‘Don’t let them hurt me,’ the old lady sobbed. ‘They push me around. It’s a big joke to them.’

Four soldiers piled out of the Nissan and started shouting.

‘Hey Grandma. I hear you’ve been a naughty girl today.’

‘Time for some punishment,’ another one said.

They were all laughing, right until they noticed the pickup. There was no way we could get back on the road, the Nissan was in our way. We ran out of the kitchen into the corridor, just as a soldier burst through the back door. He bundled the old lady off her seat and pointed his gun at her head.

‘Where’s your visitors Grandma?’ he shouted.

We were on the other side of a thin wall. Sami spun around the doorway and fired her AK47 at the soldier, practically cutting him in half. Two more soldiers burst through the front door. I blasted them before they even saw me. Outside, there was a massive explosion.

The last soldier had thrown a grenade inside our pickup. The back was full up with the pistols and ammunition. The bullets cracked off one after another, like a firework display.

‘Did you see where the last soldier went?’ Sami asked.

I shook my head, ‘No.’

‘Don’t let him get back to their car, Killer. We’re sixty kilometres from camp. I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy walking home.’

I ran out the front door, shielding my face from the heat off the burning pickup. There was no key in the ignition of the Nissan, and no sign of the soldier either. Me and Sami walked around the building in opposite directions, fingers on triggers, looking for him. The heat got so bad, the exposed roof timbers of the house started burning. Flames flashed across the whole roof in about thirty seconds. I sprinted into he hallway and searched the pockets of the two soldiers I killed for the ignition key.

The smoke was getting bad. The ceiling was starting to crack and looked like it could collapse on us any second.

‘Got the key,’ Sami screamed from the kitchen.

I ran into the kitchen. Our eyes met over the old lady. She’d managed to crawl across the floor and prop herself against one wall. I don’t think she’d even realised there was a fire.

‘Grab her legs,’ Sami said.

We carried her out of the building. I opened the back door of the Nissan and we slung her across the seat. She can’t have weighed more than thirty kilos. Sami climbed in the drivers side and started the engine. A burst of automatic fire ripped off as we reversed onto the road. I fired back at nothing in particular. The roof timbers of the house collapsed, crashing through the first floor and sending clouds of dust out of every window.

The tyres screeched as Sami accelerated off down the road. The Nissan had a lot of grunt and the giant wheels gave a much smoother ride than the pickup. I leaned over the centre console and switched on the air conditioning.

‘This is a much better car,’ I said.

Sami practically bit my head off. ‘Do you think this is good, you idiot?’

‘We’re alive, that’s all I know.’

‘For now, Killer. But everyone within twenty kilometres will have heard that blast. We could have army coming towards us from all directions.’

‘Oh,’ I said.

Sami grimaced, ‘That’s all you’ve got to say? And we’ve lost the pick-up.’

‘It was a piece of crap; and we lost the guns in the back, but there’s hundreds of guns in the store room at camp.’

‘Captain’s messages from Casino’s group.’ Sami said. ‘What about them?’

‘Were they that important?’ I asked

‘You can ask Captain yourself, right before he gets Don to whip your arse.’

As soon as she mentioned Don, I started to get nervous.

‘It was intelligence,’ Sami said. ‘Details of who’s raiding what and where. Information about other parts of the war and what supplies are coming through. And on top of all that, there’s Grandma in the back there.’

‘What are we gonna do with her?’ I asked.

‘What we should do is chuck her out of the car and let the leopards eat her. But my conscience isn’t up to it. Do you want to do it?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Besides, she might know more about what happened to my brother.’

‘She might,’ Sami said. ‘But Captain isn’t exactly going to welcome her with open arms.’

‘Can’t you sweet talk him? He is your Dad.’

‘That counts for something,’ Sami said. ‘But it’s not gonna get us off the hook.’

. . .

Kids usually exaggerate: I’m in so much trouble, my Dad is gonna kill me, so I thought Sami was probably laying it on a bit. Was she hell.

As soon as he found out what happened, Captain made us sit in his office in the darkness. The sun had only just gone down. It felt like there was no air and the heat was unbearable. He made us sit dead still, with our backs straight, ankles crossed and our palms flat on the table in front of us. Don sat behind, breathing right in my ear.

Captain placed a gas lamp on his desk. As he spoke, he heated a metal teaspoon over the flame.

‘The explosion must have been very loud,’ Captain said. ‘Are you sure nobody tracked you back here?’

‘I drove really fast,’ Sami said.

Captain pressed the hot spoon against the back of Sami’s hand. She gritted her teeth as her skin sizzled.

‘Daddy, please, let me explain.’

‘Don’t you dare call me Daddy. When you take command of a mission, all our lives depend on you. When you make a mistake, I cannot allow my affection to get in the way. You must be treated the same as all the others or I will lose their respect. Do you understand?’

‘Yes Captain.’ Sami sobbed.

Captain looked at me, ‘You said the pickup was burned and that there was no way my documents could survive.’

‘Yes,’ I said.

Captain moved the hot spoon over my hand, so I could feel the heat. I was shaking so bad I couldn’t breathe.

‘Is there a chance that the papers were removed before the car was detonated?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Captain pressed the spoon against my hand. I could have moved my hand away, but I’d have got something even worse if I had.

‘Answer my question accurately. Could you see the pickup from the moment the soldiers arrived until the vehicle exploded?’

I shook my head, ‘No.’

‘So my documents could have fallen into enemy hands?’

‘Yes, I suppose’

Captain looked at Sami, ‘Why didn’t you go back and try to kill the fourth soldier, when he might have the documents?’

‘I made a judgement,’ Sami said. ‘I don’t think he got the documents and we could have both been killed if we’d gone hunting for him. I think it was the right decision under the circumstances.’

Captain nodded, ‘On balance, I agree. It seems unlikely the documents were stolen… Now Sami, I want you to think carefully and tell me everything you did wrong. ’

‘I should have obeyed your orders and driven straight back to camp,’ Sami said. ‘I should have taken your documents with me when I left the car. I shouldn’t have brought the old lady back with us. I should have gone into hiding overnight in case anyone was tracking us.’

Captain nodded, ‘Do you think you deserve to be punished for this?’

‘Yes,’ Sami said quietly. ‘Of course I do.’

‘What about you Jake?’ Captain asked. ‘What did you do wrong?’

I couldn’t think what to say. The end of the spoon was getting so hot the metal was turning orange.

‘Sami was in command,’ Captain said. ‘Did you disobey any of her orders?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘Was it your idea to go and look for your brother?’

‘Partly,’ I said.

‘It wasn’t,’ Sami said. ‘Jake didn’t even know we were near to where we found him.’

Captain quickly dabbed the back of my hand with the spoon. Don laughed in my ear as the smell of my burned skin wafted upwards.

‘Never lie to me,’ Captain shouted. ‘Mistakes are understandable and will be punished lightly, but I cannot tolerate liars.’

‘No,’ I sniffled. ‘It was Sami’s idea.’

I felt really bad that all the blame was getting put on Sami.

‘So,’ Captain said, looking back at his daughter. ‘Am I correct in saying that Jake did nothing wrong that wasn’t because of an order from you?’

‘Yes,’ Sami said.

Captain flicked me away with his hand.

‘In that case Jake, you’d better go.’

‘It’s not fair for Sami to get all the blame,’ I said. ‘It’s at least partly my fault.’

Captain looked at me coldly, ‘It’s very noble of you to defend my daughter. But the matter is closed and I want you to leave.’

I walked to Amo’s hut, to get the burns on my hands treated. Amo had washed and fed Grandma and dressed her in a set of clean camouflage that was way too big for her. She was sleeping in the back of the hut with Becky curled up beside her.

‘Did you get any beats?’ Beck asked.

‘No. Captain says it’s all Sami’s fault.’

Beck laughed, ‘I hope she gets whipped.’

I dived inside the hut and grabbed Beck by his t-shirt.

‘Do you want a punch in the mouth?’

Amo pulled me off him, ‘Cool it boys. Beck, that’s not a nice thing to say.’

Beck shrugged, ‘I got beaten when Edo died. Sami laughed.’

‘Show me your hands,’ Amo said.

She looked at the oval marks under her gas lamp.

‘It’s nothing much,’ Amo said. ‘It’ll sting for a couple of days. Stick your hands in cold water if it starts to hurt.’

. . .

Sami was in with Captain for another hour. I walked to the water barrel and listened at the office door. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but Sami was definitely crying. I went back to our hut and waited in the darkness.

When Sami came in she was all stiff shouldered. She sat on our sleeping mat and pulled off her boots, without saying a word.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘For what?’

I shrugged, ‘Everything.’

She unbuttoned her jacket, threw it on the floor and laid face down on the mat. Her back glistened with blood. There were six deep welts where she’d been whipped. I reached for my gun.

‘I’ll kill him,’ I shouted.

Sami grabbed my arm, ‘Don’t be a moron.’

‘What kind of Father does that to his daughter?’

‘Don’t you get it?’ Sami shouted. ‘He’s right. We broke orders and took a stupid risk. We could have been tracked back here. They could have killed everyone. Not just the fighters, but Amo and Beck and all the little kids as well.’

‘But what good does whipping you do?’

‘If you’re stupid, you get punished,’ Sami said. ‘It’s called discipline. The commander we had before Dad took over this unit would have smashed all our fingers for a stunt like that. If Dad wasn’t here, Don would run the unit. Do you think you would have walked out with a couple of little burns if he was in charge?

‘You’re right, I suppose. It just doesn’t seem fair. You tried to do something nice for me and you got punished.’

Sami smiled, ‘Don’t worry about it. I stopped expecting anything in life to be fair the day I came home from a piano lesson and found my Mum’s head cut off and stuffed in the kitchen sink.’

. . .

Sami kept sobbing from the pain. Neither of us could really sleep that night.

‘I’m not going without you,’ I said.

Sami had been dozing off, ‘What?’

‘You know earlier, in the village? You said you’d be sad if I left.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to find Adam. Then I’m going to find a way out of here and you’re coming with me.’

‘OK,’ Sami said, but I could tell she didn’t believe me.

‘I swear on my life. I won’t go without you.’

Her hand glided gently over my thigh.

‘Maybe none of us will ever get out of here,’ Sami yawned. ‘Try and go to sleep. I’m sick of thinking about stuff.’

12. Fish

All the rebel leaders had code names. Captain, Blink, Dickens, Sunflower and Casino were the ones I’d heard of. Messages went back an forth all the time. When someone went off to meet with another group, gossip always travelled with the messages: who’d been killed, where the mercenaries were, who was shagging who. I’d never met any of the people they spoke about, but I’d heard so much about them, it felt like I did.

At afternoon briefing, Captain announced he was having a face to face meeting with Casino and Sunflower in a few days time. It almost certainly meant a big raid was going down. Everyone reckoned it was linked to the rebel push we kept hearing about.

Everyone sat in their normal spots under the trees, tossing around theories about what the mission might be. Nobody would admit to being scared, but you could sense it in people’s voices.

. . .

Grandma spent all day sitting under a tree watching the world pass by. The baggy camouflage with rolled up cuffs and ankles hung off her like a clown suit. She’d been motionless for hours, with an insect covered orange resting in her lap. She seemed happy and I was proud we’d rescued her. It was the one decent thing I’d done since I got here.

I crouched in front of her.

‘Do you mind if we talk now?’ I asked.

She smiled, but didn’t open her eyes.

‘It’s a big joke to them,’ she mumbled. ‘They spat in my food.’

Sometimes Grandma made sense. Other times she mumbled out of control, trapped in her own nightmares.

‘The man who took my brother,’ I said. ‘What was it you called him?’

‘The fish soldier,’ Grandma said. ‘The most beautiful silver fish.’

‘Why didn’t you hide Adam from him?’

‘I couldn’t keep Adam safe. Fish soldier could.’

‘Do you know what base he would have taken my brother to?’

‘He came to see me with fish. He didn’t hurt me like the others. It’s a big joke to them.’

Grandma started to cry. She slumped forward and I put my arm around her.

‘I asked them not to hurt me,’ she sobbed. ‘It made them laugh when I cried.’

‘We won’t hurt you here. You’re safe now.’

‘You and Adam are nice boys. You wont hit me, will you?’

I took the half eaten orange out of Grandma’s lap and replaced it with a fresh one, then I wandered into the trees to Sami. She was depressed and didn’t want to sit with the others. Her cuts had scabbed over, but she was still in pain and ashamed that she’d lost the messages.

‘Got you an orange,’ I said, kissing her on the cheek.

‘Fantastic,’ Sami said sarcastically. ‘All my problems are solved.’

‘Does your Dad have a map?’ I asked.

‘What of?’

‘Around here; like where all the military bases are. I want to work out what base the soldier who took Adam came from.’

‘Sure he’s got a map. But there’s loads of roadblocks and bases.’

‘It’s a start though,’ I said. ‘Will you help us look for Adam?’

‘Why not?’ Sami said. ‘It’s only everyone’s life you’ll be putting at risk. Plus Grandma’s half off her rocker. This whole fish thing is probably just in her imagination.’

‘She remembered Adam’s name.’

‘I suppose.’

‘I’ve got to try and find him. I bet you’d keep looking if it was Edo.’

‘See Captain,’ Sami said. ‘He might have some ideas.’

. . .

I waited until Captain went off to smoke a cigar. I stood in front of him, not sure if I was going to get yelled at.

‘How’s Sami?’ Captain asked.

‘Pretty upset.’

‘I don’t like being a tough guy, Jake. But I’m in charge of a bunch of kids with guns and grenades. You need strong discipline or we end up fighting ourselves and getting killed.’

‘Sami knows that,’ I said. ‘I feel guilty she got punished when she was helping me.’

‘She’s got it for you, big time,’ Captain said. ‘I suspected as much the first day she dragged you back here.’

I smiled uneasily, ‘She’s beautiful.’

‘My wife was sixteen when I married her. Sami looks a lot like her.’

‘That’s young,’ I said.

‘It’s not like in Europe. A lot of girls out here get married at fourteen or fifteen and have a litter of kids by the time they’re twenty.’

Captain took a long drag on his cigar and stared up at the sky.

‘Sami was such a sweet kid before the war. Very feminine: dolls, prams, all the girly stuff. I remember her going to her first party. I got her one of those dresses with angel wings on the back. You couldn’t get her to wear anything else. Her Mum had to wash and dry it after she went to bed, so she could put it back on when she got up the next morning.’

‘I can’t imagine her like that.’

‘Anyway,’ Captain said. ‘They say nostalgia is a refuge for the weak minded. What is it you want?’

‘What makes you think I want something?’

‘Because you can’t look me in the eye, you’ve got your hands in your pockets and your trainers scuffing in the dirt. It’s common knowledge that if you want to ask me for something, I’m always in the most relaxed mood when I’m sitting on this rock smoking.’

Captain might have had a psycho thing going on, but you couldn’t help admiring his intelligence. I told him what Grandma said about the fish soldier.

‘Soldiers don’t go fishing,’ Captain said. ‘And they never travel alone.’

‘You think Grandma’s lost the plot?’

‘Not necessarily. I’d bet a few dollars that the man who took your brother away is a deserter.’

‘What’s that?’

‘There’s a lot of bullying and cruelty in the army. Some soldiers can’t hack it and run away. Most deserters try and find their way home and end up getting caught, but a few go native. They hide in the jungle and live by hunting.’

‘So you think Adam’s probably safe?’

‘The soldier was regularly bringing fish to Grandma, so it sounds like he’s a caring person who’s not short of food. He’s probably built himself a decent shelter. It’s not an easy life out there, but tribes have survived in the jungle for hundreds of thousands of years.’

‘Do you think we’d be able to find them?’ I asked.

‘We know he brought her fish, which doesn’t stay fresh long in the heat. He probably lives near to the water, or spends most of his time there. If you looked on the map, found the nearest decent sized river or lake to where Grandma lived and spent some time poking around, there’s a chance you’d either find where he lives or see him by the water fishing.’

‘Can I go and look for him?’

‘After the explosion and the house burning down, that area will be crawling with army for the next few days. But I did promise that if you fought for us, I’d help you find Adam. Every report I’ve had says you’ve shown courage and done good work. We’ll give it a week for things to calm down, then I’ll let you and Sami go up there and take a look.’

13. Money

The rumour was, Casino lived in grand style in a secret camp that had electricity and running water. Some claimed he received deliveries of weapons and luxury goods by helicopter, paid for out of a personal fortune stashed in an overseas bank. It’s hard to say what was true and what was tenth hand myth passed around on hot afternoons. One thing was for sure, Casino got good information from his network of spies and all the other rebel groups relied on it.

Every so often, the government sent a convoy of money up to the front lines to pay the troops. It was the hardest convoy of the lot: loads of trucks, supposedly guarded by heavy weapons, mercenaries and the President’s elite guard. Casino had found out when the money was coming and even what route it was taking, but his fifty men wouldn’t be enough to take it down. He needed Captain and Sunflower’s fighters to stand a chance.

It wasn’t just that we could use the money. The government hadn’t bothered paying its troops for a couple of months and there had been rioting in army bases near the front line. If we stole their wages, the government troops would probably riot again, giving the rebels a perfect opportunity to launch an attack from the east.

If the government troops rioted, then the rebels broke through and advanced about a hundred kilometres, we wouldn’t be isolated behind government lines anymore. The women and kids would be able to move east, away from the fighting and I’d probably be able to get across the border into Uganda and fly home. There was a big chain of ifs and lot of danger between me and Heathrow airport, but I could finally see a way out of the jungle.

. . .

‘We’ve all got to fight this one,’ Captain said. ‘No excuses.’

Amo and Beck got guns. So did a couple of other women who usually stayed in camp. Grandma and a woman called Ghina who had a dodgy leg stayed behind with the kids.

We left camp in a big group. Amo hugged a tearful Becky, who couldn’t understand why she couldn’t come along. Everyone was a bit emotional. It was unlikely all of us would make it back, but there was also a feeling that it was worth the risk. All our lives might get better if we succeeded.

The truck we stole from headquarters was loaded up with sandbags, heavy weapons, food and ammunition. Don and Amin sat in the cab. Jesus and a few others made themselves as comfortable as they could in the back.

The other six of us were in the big Nissan. Desi drove, Captain rode beside him. Me and Sami were in the back with Beck sandwiched between us. Amo was squashed in the boot, legs astride a heavy machine gun mounted on a tripod. We kept all the windows open, so nothing would delay our fire if we encountered an army truck or unexpected roadblock. The dust billowed inside and the mosquitoes were drinking our blood like it was on special offer. Everyone was tense and quiet. There was nothing that hadn’t been discussed a hundred times already.

. . .

It was an hours drive. We met an army truck half way out. The soldiers looked at our guns, we looked at theirs. Captain smiled at them and after a couple of tense moments, everyone decided it would be best if they didn’t start shooting at each other.

The ambush site was a few hundred metres past the brow of a hill, so that the enemy had the least possible time to sight us. Apart from that, it was like any other overgrown section of dirt road. With the convoy not expected for another day, there was a party atmosphere. I met all the people from Sunshine and Casino’s units; learning names and putting faces to the stories I’d heard.

I was the star of the show. Everyone wanted to shake hands with the English kid who dropped out of an aeroplane. Quite a bit of beer was flowing and the leaders kept warning us to stay sober and keep the noise down. A couple of people in Casino’s unit even had radios. I wondered what was happening in the world, but the radios were set on stations playing African pop music.

. . .

After two days stuck at the side of the road, the novelty started to wear off. The tension got so bad I wanted to thump my head against a tree and knock myself out. All anyone ever spoke about was the convoy. Why was it delayed? Did it alter it’s route? Did we have the correct dates? Did the convoy even exist? Had it already been ambushed by units further behind enemy lines? Was the whole thing a trap?

When a storm broke, the ground got tramped into brown slush. We made the best shelter we could, using plastic sheets and branches. People were going to the toilet everywhere and there was nowhere to wash. We had to sit and sleep in the filth. It soaked through our camouflage, mixed with our sweat and itched like crazy.

Captain wanted to clear out before the unsanitary conditions made us ill. The three unit leaders spent an hour screaming at each other. Eventually they agreed to stick it out for another six hours. I showed Sami how to set my G-Shock to do a countdown. We sat together watching the minutes disappear; dreaming of soap flakes and getting some decent sleep.

There was less than an hour left on the countdown when it finally turned up. As soon as the first vehicle rolled over the hill, I realised we were in trouble. We’d been expecting trucks, which are made of thin steel, with cloth canopies over the back. What we got was a fleet of six APCs: armoured personnel carriers. They were enclosed in armour, with four solid rubber tyres down each side. There was a small bullet proof windscreen for the driver to see through and a twin barrelled, 25mm machine gun on the roof.

Captain ran along the road, telling everyone to stay calm and go for the tyres. We had a few logs and a turned up truck blocking the road. The roof cannon on the first APC started ripping the logs to shreds. You could tell just from looking that the APCs were tough enough to ride the logs and barge away the truck.

Some idiot ran into the road and shot at the bullet proof windscreen. The double cannon didn’t so much kill the gunman, as annihilate any suggestion that he ever existed. We all started blasting the tyres. Don fired our heavy machine from behind a wall of sandbags, ripping out great chunks of rubber. It’s a good job Captain knew what to do: any stray bullets hitting the armoured metal pinged off without making a dent. When the first APC drew level, the troops inside began firing out the sides at us through narrow slits.

I kept flat to the ground. The trees around us were disintegrating. Splinters of smoking wood hurtled in a thousand different directions. Beck screamed as a beefy chunk speared the back of his leg. The APC’s cannon blew away the sand bags and destroyed our machine gun.

One of Sunshine’s soldiers showed a bit of initiative and started up a truck. It ploughed out of the bushes, smashing into the side of the first APC. The momentum pushed the APC off the road, and rolled it onto it’s side against a tree. It was pretty helpless with most of its weapons pointing at the earth or sky. The bullet proof screen at the front gave way after being pounded by dozens of rounds. Grenades were tossed through the hole. The heavy back door of the APC clanked open and the troops inside got shot to pieces as they tried get out.

Seeing the first APC destroyed was a massive boost. We felt like we had a chance.

I don’t know how the woman in the truck didn’t get shot when she t-boned the first APC, but she managed to reverse and smash head on into the second one. While it was immobile, and I guess all the soldiers inside were finding their feet and rubbing bumps on their heads, Beck limped into the road and wedged a grenade under the wheel arch. I’d have bet anything he’d get shot, but he found a bit of speed and crashed into the bushes beside me, just before the troops inside started firing again.

The grenade knocked out two of the tyres, disabling APC number two. With all the noise, we hadn’t noticed that an APC from further back had pulled off road and was almost on top of us. Beck was fighting the pain in his leg, so I grabbed him and yanked him out of the way. There wasn’t time to get clear. I dived flat to the ground, pinning Beck underneath me. My pack got crushed, but the tyres rolled by on either side of us, with the metal bottom clearing me by a few centimetres

Once the APC was past us, we crawled a few metres into the undergrowth. We grabbed our breath and clipped fresh magazines on our AK47s. It was my last one. All the rest got crushed inside my backpack.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked, looking at Beck’s blood drenched leg.

Beck managed a bit of a smile, ‘No.’

‘Me neither,’ I giggled.

I’m not sure what made me laugh. I guess it was relief at still being alive.

The APC’s at the back of the convoy had been immobilised, but they’d each managed to unload some mercenaries. The ones that didn’t get shot straight away cut deep into the jungle and attacked our rear. A couple of them were running towards me and Beck. We rolled behind a tree. I heard this loud Australian shouting in English:

‘Come out and get blasted, little blackies.’

I thought he was shouting at us, but the cocky idiot didn’t have the sense to shut his trap and use his ears. I poked my head out from the side of the tree and shot him between the eyes with the revolver. His mate pumped a few nervous shots into the tree and ran off. Beck fired a burst at him, but missed. I took the rifle and backpack off the dead Aussie. It was pretty heavy and I had no idea what was in it, but I’d lost mine and would need equipment if the battle lasted much longer.

The two of us moved from tree to tree, keeping low to the ground and ducking down behind each one. I don’t know if it’s good soldiering or not, but it’s what they always did in Vietnam war movies. Back at the roadside, things seemed to be working out. Four APCs were burned out. One was disabled, with the troops still holding up inside and one - probably the one that rolled over my head - had escaped. It was most likely heading to the nearest base to bring reinforcements, so our next task was to grab the money and clear out fast.

A grenade went off inside the last APC, followed by a few short bursts of rebel gunfire. Then it went shockingly quiet. The air smelled of gunpowder and burned rubber. I could hear birds and crickets again, with my ringing eardrums providing a backing track.

I put my arm round Beck.

‘You’re one of us now.’

‘Tell that girlfriend of yours what I did,’ Beck said.

He was smiling, but looked slightly horrified at the bit of wood sticking out of his leg.

‘Mum,’ Beck shouted, looking around for Amo.

It made me sad hearing the high pitched shout. Beck still had a little boy’s voice and there was a good chance he wouldn’t live long enough for it to break.

Amo was down the front end of the convoy. The dead and injured were being lined up in the road. Out of our unit, Don died when the machine gun got blown up and a guy called Claude was squished under the APC that went over me and Beck. Desi had some fingertips in a grenade blast. Most people had shards of wood stuck in them. I had a few little ones in my face and chest. I don’t think there was a single person who didn’t have some kind of minor injury.

Amo was directing medical treatment for a few people who were badly injured. She pulled the wood out of Beck and tied on a bandage.

‘Not too much pain?’ Amo asked.

Beck winced, ‘Quite a bit.’

‘You’ll live,’ she said. ‘Desi might not if we don’t stop the bleeding. Go and help him.’

Amo had taught Beck some of her medical skills, but I was in the way. I spotted Captain and sprinted off towards him.

‘Did we get the money?’ I asked.

Captain nodded, ‘Five sixths of it anyway. As far as we can tell, they split the cash evenly between the six APCs.’

‘Have you seen Sami?’

‘No,’ Captain said. ‘She’s not among the dead or injured, but she could be stuck out in the trees.’

‘Shall I look for her?’

‘No. Casino is organising search parties. I want you to get the bullet proof jackets and helmets off the dead mercenaries. Most of those guys have loads of kit that’s worth grabbing. Then I want you to put the injured and our share of the money and equipment in the Nissan and head back to camp. There’s a risk you’ll be followed. If I don’t make it back before dark, I want you to organise two men to stay awake and guard the camp. I don’t care how tired people are. We must have a proper guard tonight.’

‘OK. What about Don and Claude?’

‘No point carrying dead people back to camp.’

‘And Sami?’

‘Try not to worry about her, Jake. Hopefully she’ll turn up before too long, but I don’t want you hanging about waiting for her. You’ve got your orders.’

‘I think our truck’s blown up. How will