Thursday's Child, page 15
‘Sometimes, it feels a bit like the world’s fading away.’
‘It already did. A while ago. We’re just… I don’t know, living in an echo of what it used to be like, I guess. Except we’re too young to have even seen what it was like.’ Arlo’s voice sounded harsher than he meant it to. He pointed up at the sky. ‘Up there. That’s all that’s left for us. That’s our home.’
‘Maybe.’
Arlo looked at George. The big guy didn’t look like he was saying everything on his mind.
‘Why do you want to be a nomad, George? I mean… no offence, but you don’t seem like you care too much about leaving. But then you’re building a ship at the airfield and… I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like you care that much.’
George twisted his lip and looked at the tractor. He didn’t say anything for a while, long enough for Arlo to wonder if he’d even been listening.
‘I do care,’ he sounded like he was choosing his words carefully. ‘I care about finding a new home and I want to help. But I care about our home here too. I don’t think we should just abandon it.’
‘Huh, you’re starting to sound like my Pa,’ took hold of the wrench and gave it another pull. The knut held tight.
‘You really do think it’s hopeless don’t you?’
‘Turning this? Yeah, it’s a pain,’ Arlo grinned.
‘The world. You think it’s done.’ George didn’t sound like he was smiling.
‘We know it’s done. It’s been over for decades. Why do you think the scientists were the first in line to get on the Evac ships? The summers are getting hotter, the winters are getting colder, the rain’s burning more, the sea’s rising, the sheep are dying, the crops aren’t taking. It’s over. Everyone’s leaving or left already. We’re the ones they forgot about.’
Arlo pulled at the wrench again. Nothing. He tried again and again. Nothing.
‘We saved the bees,’ George said in a quiet voice.
Arlo snorted.
‘Everyone said the bees would go extinct but we saved them. Didn’t need any spaceships to do that.’
‘We’re not talking about some stupid insects, George. We’re talking about a whole planet. Millions of species, all dying out. We haven’t got the resources, the people, or the time to do anything about it. All those things got neatly packed into bunk beds and storage crates and jetted off into space.’
Arlo wiped a sleeve across his face. He was trying not to let his voice get shaky.
‘Generations and generations of people screwed us. Everyone just pushed their problems onto their kids who pushed them onto their kids until suddenly it was all too much, then they left. And who gets left to deal with it? Me. Some farm kid who’s too stupid to ever be useful on a ship like that. Who gets kicked out of school because he can’t even keep track of what day’s when. Who can’t even undo a knut on a stupid tractor.’
Arlo kicked the wrench, stood, and walked away. George didn’t follow him. Arlo stopped after a few paces. He took in a deep breath.
‘Sorry George,’ he shook his head and turned to his friend. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s just that I look at you and you’ve got a ship. You’ve got Beth. You’re smart and hard-working. You guys have got a real shot. And there’s nothing I want more than to run away, but I… I’m just never gonna be good enough.’
‘That’s not true.’
Arlo scoffed.
‘It’s not, Arlo. You’re the hardest-working person I know. You’re smarter than me by a long shot. I’ve just been lucky, that’s all.’
‘Sure.’
‘You’ve got a shot too, you know. You own two ships and an AI. That beats me.’
Arlo smiled wearily. ‘Thanks, but you’re just humouring me at this point.’
‘I’m not.’ George closed the gap to Arlo and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s get this knut loosened then we’re going to work on your ship.’
‘George, we’ve got a mountain of stuff to get through and you’ve got uni tonight.’
‘I don’t care. Spring doesn’t come around for months. Uni can miss me for a day.’
‘George.’
‘I’m serious, let’s get to work building you a ship.’ George squeezed his shoulder and turned back to the tractor. He beckoned Arlo over. ‘I’ll pull and you push. Ready?’
Arlo stood up the slope from George, hands on the end of the wrench. George braced himself under it, leaning back. On the count of three, the pair threw themselves against it. A metallic bang filled the air, the wrench swung freely and the both of them overbalanced and landed in the mud.
*
Arlo had to throw his shoulder at the garage door to get it open. At this point, he wasn’t sure if his joints would still be connected in the morning. It smelled damp inside. The makeshift roof had most definitely leaked in the Autumn rain.
Arlo flipped the light switch and stepped inside. He wasn’t going to let himself have a ‘moment’ in the doorway. Felt like he was doing enough of those for a lifetime these days. Besides, George seemed keen to get inside, so keen he bumped his forehead on the low door frame.
‘Careful,’ Arlo laughed. He felt a little giddy. He wasn’t sure if it was an excited giddiness or a nervous giddiness. Either way, he grinned as the lights finally sputtered on.
George shuffled to Arlo’s side and the pair of them looked at the hulking tarp-shrouded ship. He whistled softly at the size.
‘It’s small,’ George said.
‘Is it? I thought it was massive. It fills up most of the garage.’
‘Think about mine and Beth’s ships in the hangar. This is dinky in comparison.’
‘Oh,’ Arlo tried not to let too much dejection into his voice.
‘No, no. That’s a good thing. Think about it. Our ships are mostly using repurposed Evac parts. They’re huge heavy components. A lot of drag, a lot of weight. Less space on board. You might have to be living in your ship for weeks, months, maybe years on end. Every inch of personal space counts. This…’ George walked up the tarp in awe. He put a hesitant hand out and grasped the material, not daring yet to pull it off. ‘This was a fully-fledged nomad ship?’
‘Yeah, never actually made it into space-space, but did a bunch of low orbit tests.’
‘Can I?’ George tugged gently at the tarp.
‘Sure, lemme help.’
The pair of them pulled the cover off the ship. Unlike the Spitfire sheet which billowed and rippled, this one scrunched and crumpled but it came off easily enough. The Thursday always caught Arlo off guard to look at. In his head, he only ever pictured it as it had looked zipping between horizons with his Ma at the stick. It looked broken and small now.
‘Arlo, this…’
‘Yeah, she’s in bad shape,’ Arlo sighed. ‘I don’t know how much we’ll be able to-’
‘This is incredible.’
Arlo turned to his friend, George had eyes only for the Thursday.
‘What model is it?’
‘It isn’t,’ Arlo walked up to the Thursday and ran a hand along her wing. ‘It didn’t officially exist, that’s what Ma told me anyway. The body was originally a Rafale fighter jet bought from France when they discontinued them. The programme had no budget at all in the beginning. Internals are all custom so every penny had to go to developing those. It was a small team, AI-assisted of course. Back when that was legal. They called themselves The 4th Division but that wasn’t an official title.’
‘Wow,’ George’s face was practically glowing with amazement. He just kept staring at the Thursday. ‘Wow.’
‘My Ma was their test pilot. They created a few iterations of the ships, each codenamed as a day of the week. It was her job to take it up in the sky. Started with the Monday, tested it, tore it apart, built the Tuesday. Kept going, you get the idea.’
‘Until the Thursday.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What happened?’ George breathed.
Arlo gestured at the broken ship. ‘I mean, it’s kind of obvious isn’t it?’
‘Sorry,’ George tore his eyes away from the ship and looked at Arlo. He came back to himself a bit and concern flashed across his face. ‘Sorry, that was stupid. Of course, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry,’ Arlo smiled to let his friend know he meant it. ‘You think she can fly again?’
‘We won’t know until we look inside, but...’ George looked around the garage. ‘We might need a bigger workshop for that.’
Arlo folded his arms and followed George’s gaze. His friend was right. There was no way they’d be able to do more than unscrew a couple of bolts in here. George seemed to have learned to read Arlo’s mind.
‘We wouldn’t even be able to unscrew the bolts with what’s in here. They’re all non-standard sizes.’
Arlo grinned, but his smile quickly faded. ‘Have you talked to Beth? About me coming and using the airfield?’
‘Um, no. Not yet.’ George shifted on his feet.
‘If you don’t want me there you can say.’
‘No, no. It’s not like that honestly,’ George said. ‘I want you there. Beth probably will too when she gets to know you a bit. She might not seem like it but she’s nice. It’s just complicated…’
‘Are you guys… going out or…?’
George laughed. Not an awkward embarrassed laugh, but the laugh of someone who’d been asked that question plenty of times before.
‘No, Arlo. It’s not that, no. I um... I’m not really interested in that kinda thing.’
‘Oh. Okay, right.’ Arlo wasn’t quite sure what you were normally supposed to say in these situations. ‘So then, why is it complicated?’
‘It’s just that we want privacy,’ George sighed. ‘Look, people get life in prison for this kind of thing. It’s Evac tech that we’re using.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask, where are you getting these parts from? They don’t leave stuff like that just lying around.’
‘That’s… well that’s what’s complicated.’
Arlo waited for George to elaborate but he didn’t. It wasn’t like George to keep secrets. Arlo waited a moment longer, then gave up. They both just stood there in the garage looking at the Thursday.
‘Alright,’ Arlo finally said. ‘Where are we taking it then?’
George turned to him, looked back at the Thursday, then back at Arlo. He grimaced.
‘At the airfield, Beth spends most of her time in the bunker with our ships. Hangar 1 has an Evac engine inside that we’re stripping for parts so she’s in there a lot. The council will probably come and claim that soon so we need to move quick. Hangar 2 is where we keep spares and run the presses. Hangar 3…’
‘That’s all old stuff, isn’t it? That’s where the Spitfire is.’
‘It would have to be there,’ George’s lip twisted. ‘She would say no.’
‘If we told her.’
‘Mm.’
‘Oh come on, George. One second you’re telling me something’s complicated and the next you suddenly have a problem with lying.’
Arlo meant to sound joking but even he could hear there was a bit of a barb in his voice. George nodded slowly. Some rainwater started to drip in somewhere in the corner of the garage.
‘George, please. You said it yourself, we can’t work on her here. If you’re going to help me build this ship, we need the airfield.’
‘Okay then,’ George said. ‘Let’s take it to the airfield. We’ll keep it covered when we’re not working on it and I’ll try and find out when Beth’s going to be around so we can avoid her. But I don’t like it.’
‘Then talk to her. Convince her to let me join,’ Arlo could feel his patience waning. ‘Or I’ll do it. I’ll tell her I’ve got Red to help me and she’ll come around.’
‘Don’t tell her about Red,’ George’s voice had switched. The distant thoughtfulness was gone. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea at all, Arlo.’
Arlo bit back his reply and walked over to the Thursday. He put out a hand and felt the cool metal, ran a finger over the chipped paint. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the distant echo of her engine shrieking overhead. A warm shiver darted down his spine.
‘Alright,’ he patted the wing and turned back around. ‘Okay. We take the Thursday to Hangar 3. We don’t tell Beth anything. We’ll keep it by the Spitfire in the back corner and cover them up when we’re gone.’
George gave Arlo a little smile. ‘I’m sorry for not telling you everything. I want to, it’s just… well I just can’t.’
‘Whatever,’ Arlo turned and headed for the door. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
And he walked straight back out into the rain, not checking to see if George was behind him.
*
The seaweed churned and writhed under his feet. A swell rushed up onto the rocks and swirled around his toes. Arlo jumped and hopped from the cold. The water splashed with each step, leaping up to meet his fingertips. He skipped once, twice, three times. His foot found sand.
He turned, staring back up the beach. Slimy green rocks gave way to boulders, which gave way to cliffs with fuzzy green stubble. Above those, sky. Sky. Sky all the way up and over. Arlo craned his neck further and further until he had to spin around and found his eyes drifting down to the other horizon.
There stood just one straight line separating blue from blue. Perfectly straight, infinitely far away. The waves that looked so big crashing around his feet, looked flatter the further he stared until they disappeared altogether into one perfect blue. One perfect blue sitting under another.
‘Arlo, sweetie?’
He twizzled and grinned. Ma was there too, looking down at him with a smile that made the cold swirling around his toes fade away completely.
‘Do you want to go in, darling?’
He shook his head. No way. Nu-uh. Too cold. Too too too cold. No.
‘Arlo…’
He shook his head again so hard the world swam and blurred around him. The perfect line between the blues was wonky now.
‘Arlo you need to take a step out okay? I’ll come with you. Follow me.’
He kept shaking his head. Colours bled into one another. The green from the cliff tops slid into the ocean and tainted it. Ugly green streaks smeared across the water.
The ocean sucked away from his toes so hard it almost toppled him over. He took a step back and the sand swallowed up his ankle.
He looked up but Ma wasn’t next to him anymore. She was standing in the sea and the sea was a long way away from him. The green streaks snaked their way onto the sand, creeping closer and closer to him.
‘Arlo, you need to come with me now!’
Her voice sounded quiet and far away. A wind whipped up and stole her next words completely. A gust of sand flew into Arlo’s eyes and now he really did topple over. The sand clutched at his waist now and held him down.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to squint at his Ma but she was just a speck amongst the waves now. He cried out but sand filled his mouth, green and wet.
There was something in the water. Something ancient and enormous, its booming voice reverberated all around him, making the sand tremble. It was calling him in.
His eyes felt heavier and heavier. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t open them.
Everything just looked black.
An empty void.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Just a few stars.
Arlo let out a deep breath and opened his eyes fully. The night sky looked back down at him quietly. The roof tiles were digging into his back. His back was cold.
With a groan, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat upright.
‘I did not want to disturb your sleep.’
The little tennis ball was lying in the gutter on the edge of the roof, its red blinking light the only contrast to the stars over their heads.
‘Was it a bad dream?’
‘Don’t remember it,’ Arlo grunted. He hunched forward and looked at his hands for a moment, then up at the sky again. ‘Will it be cold Red?’
‘I do not follow.’
‘In space. I know it’s cold. But I meant my ship. I don’t want to be cold up there.’
‘We can account for that in the building process.’
‘Mhm.’
Arlo cleared his throat, stretched, and cleared his throat again for good measure. It was cold up here on the roof. They’d had their first clear, dry night in weeks. Even though they were deep into Autumn, Arlo’d had the urge to come up onto the roof again. He could feel the shivers coming on.
‘If I may ask, why has this thought suddenly come to you, Arlo?’
Arlo stared up at the sky. Not at the stars, but at the emptiness between them. All the blank spaces. The brushstrokes that the universe hadn’t painted.
‘There’s a whole lot of nothing up there Red. If I’m out there on my own, I want to feel like I’m not on my own. It’s cold when you’re on your own.’
‘I would not understand that.’
‘No, I guess you wouldn’t.’
‘But it is very poetic of you Arlo.’
Arlo scoffed and shrugged it off.
‘Just thinking practically. Got to look after myself out there.’
Red didn’t respond. Arlo had grown so used to the hammering of the rain for weeks on end that the silence of the farm caught him off guard. No bleating sheep, no George, just the empty night of a world without people.
‘Arlo, may I ask another question?’
‘Sure, I guess.’
‘Do you fear being alone?’
‘No,’ Arlo said instinctively. ‘I wish I was alone more. I just… I don’t want to feel lonely. I can be alone just fine, I like it. It’s better that way. I just don’t want to miss anything when I’m there.’
‘You mean when you’re in space?’
Arlo didn’t reply.
‘You want nothing holding you back. Nothing to pull you back down to Earth.’
‘You wouldn’t get it. You’re not a person.’
‘Then explain it to me poetically.’
Arlo laughed. He got up and stretched. He didn’t want to explain to Red. The more time he’d been spending with George, the less he’d been talking to Red. The little computer felt cold. Arlo gazed out over the farm, in the direction of the ocean. The direction of the airfield.
