chapter twenty‑two

He awoke to the sound of squealing pigs. "Bloody goats," he muttered dragging a pillow over his head. The pillow was dragged off his head moments later. Andrew rolled over and could just make out the silhouette of Fred's aquiline nose against the moonlit window.

"Quick, get up," hissed Fred urgently.

"It's just the goats," mumbled Andrew.

"The goats have their own pen now, don't you remember?"

"Well where are the others? Wake them up, they'll know what to do."

"Come on, wake up, they're all at the Fair, Lewis is getting the guns," whispered Fred, tugging impatiently at Andrew's arm.

"Guns!"

"Yes, someone is stealing the pigs."

"Oh shit," Andrew sat up, now fully awake, "what can we do?"

"I don't know, but getting out of bed would be a good start."

"Yeah, okay," Andrew got out of bed, grabbed his trousers from the floor, and wriggled into them.

"Let's go," whispered Lewis from the darkened doorway. "Here, take these."

Andrew and Fred took a rifle each and followed Lewis out to the front door. Outside, the pigs were still making high pitched squeals and grunts. The three men crouched, below window level, at the door.

"They're bound to hear us opening the door," whispered Lewis, "so we're going to have to rush them. We'll wait for the moon to go behind a cloud then all run out. Andrew, you run to the barn and cover the pig‑pen from there. Fred, you go and hide behind the pile of timber on the right. Get ready, when I say 'Now'."

"Wait," said Andrew. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll stay here in the doorway."

"Great," said Fred.

"Well, it's my plan. Are you ready? Now!" Lewis drew back the bolt on the door and pulled it open.

Fred looked at Andrew, Andrew looked at Lewis, Lewis glowered at Andrew, Andrew looked at Fred, Fred looked at Lewis, Lewis glowered at Fred. This may have continued for some time, had it not been for three events which happened in close succession. Out in the darkness there was a bright flash of light, close to Andrew's hand, which rested on the door‑frame, came the sound of splintering wood, back out in the inky blackness there was a loud bang. These events gave rise to three other events which also happened almost simultaneously. Fred leapt out of the doorway and ran to the right, Andrew leapt out of the doorway and ran to the left and Lewis leapt behind the door and slammed it shut.

Before Andrew had a chance to think; 'My God it's pitch black out here - I'd better stop before I run into something', he ran into something. It caught him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and helping him to execute an elegant half‑somersault. He landed, less elegantly, flat on his back. The sound of a second shot was all the motivation he needed to get him back on his feet and sprinting for the now moonlit barn.

The shot which Andrew had, rather egotistically, assumed was fired at him by the pig‑rustlers, had actually been fired by Fred at nothing in particular. Fred, suffering the same lack of light problem as Andrew, had reached the wood pile sooner than he had expected and instead of hiding behind it had tripped over it, and in the process pulled the trigger of his rifle. Seconds later, when the clouds thinned to reveal the moon, Fred made the embarrassing discovery that he was sitting in front of the pile with his gun trained on the house. He quickly jumped back over the top and sat panting with his back against the timber.

"Throw down your weapons and come out into the open."

Andrew was about to comply, when he realized it was Lewis's voice, strangely muffled as if it were coming through a layer of door, wardrobe and dining table. Instead he remained inside the barn, his back pressed up against the hard wooden wall just inside the doorway, not daring to look outside, he concentrated on breathing silently.

The only answer was another shot from beyond the pig‑pen and a shattered window.

"All right you asked for it," shouted Lewis manoeuvring two chairs to prop against the back door, "Andrew, Fred, let them have it."

Silence, even the pigs were holding their breath.

"Fred? Andrew? Are you okay?" shouted the anxious muffled voice.

"No sense in wasting good bullets, it'll be dawn soon, then we can pick them off like apples in a barrel," shouted Fred, having just realized that whilst Lewis had given him a gun, he had not supplied any ammunition. "Hey, Andrew why don't you squeeze one off, just to keep them on their toes?"

Andrew reaching around the barn door‑frame without exposing any of his head or body, pointed the gun vaguely towards the pig‑pen, and pulled the trigger. His action was followed by two high pitched screams; one from the darkness beyond the pig‑pen which was accompanied by a heavy thump, the other came from the darkness within the barn. Or, to be more precise, the darkness within Andrew's mouth. The unsupported rifle had jerked out of his hand and broken his finger.

A bright shaft of moonlight now separated Andrew, on one side of the doorway, from his gun which lay on the other. Andrew waited fretfully for the clouds to cover the moon again, but the clouds had tired of that particular area of the heavens, and the moon continued its illumination until the sun took over and began its daily twelve‑hour shift.

Fred grew increasingly worried and bewildered by the curious double scream. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him and he peered cautiously over the top of the wood pile. The casualties were not what he had anticipated; a dead pig lay, still bleeding, beyond the fence of its pen, and just in front of the house a woman sprawled on the ground. A second peek confirmed that there was no one else in the area, so he stood up and ran across to the barn shouting; "Andrew, are you okay?"

Andrew stepped out of the barn clutching his broken finger. "Oh my god, I shot one of them ... shit ... is she dead?"

They both ran over to the woman's body which lay awkwardly in the dirt. Fred grabbed her wrist to check for a pulse but, as he did so, she groaned, causing him to let go again in surprise.

"It's okay, boys, I managed to defend the house by myself," said Lewis strolling, over‑casually, across from the house.

"Oh well done!" said Fred sarcastically. "Perhaps next time you send us off as cannon fodder, you might remember to give us some bullets."

"Oh Jesus, I didn't realize!" said Andrew, horrified.

"Um, yeah, sorry about that chaps - heat of the moment. You understand," said Lewis. "Still we got one of them eh?"

"Ooooh, my head," groaned the woman.

"You won't have to worry about that for very long, after we've strung you up; you won't feel a thing," said Lewis bending down to pick up the woman's rifle.

"Strung up? What are we going to do tie her to a tree or something?" asked Andrew.

"Yeah, we're going to tie her to a tree all right - by her neck!" said Lewis grinning.

"You mean; hang her?" asked Fred in disbelief.

"What else? Can't let the word get around that this is a soft commune, we'd be over‑run with these thieving murderous ... um ... desperadoes."

"Now hold on," said Andrew. "We can't just kill her in cold blood."

"She would have killed us in our sleep, if she'd had the chance," said Lewis watching the woman warily.

"Jesus, what the hell did you hit me with?" asked the woman sitting up and gingerly feeling the back of her head.

Andrew studied the woman as she rose unsteadily to her feet. She was tall, taller than Fred, and rather gaunt, her hair was light brown and cut very short; like a man's. Her boots, trousers and waistcoat were made of leather which had become scratched, scuffed and stained with age. Under the waistcoat was a thick cotton shirt died in a red and blue checkered pattern. Her fingers were long slim and weather‑beaten, they looked ten years older than her face. Andrew would have guessed that she was anything from her late twenties to middle thirties, though it was hard to tell since she was so dirty. She stank so badly of sweat and wood‑smoke that Andrew was forced to back away.

"Hey what have you bastards done with Mike and Nick?" said the woman, now alert enough to take in her surroundings.

"So there were three of you, eh?" said Lewis.

"It's okay; they must have got away," said Andrew.

"You mean the shit‑heads ran off and left me? I should have known they couldn't be trusted!"

"Since we've just caught you stealing our pigs, I don't think you're in any position to preach about trust," said Fred haughtily.

"Piss‑off," snapped the woman.

"Look," said Andrew patiently, "this guy," pointing at Lewis, "wants to hang you. Now, I know you're upset, but I really think you could try to be a little more pleasant. Remember, hostages should always try to strike up a good relationship with their captors."

"You mean I shouldn't struggle when you try to rape me?" said the woman bitterly.

"We're not going to rape you," said Andrew.

"Not likely - she stinks," said Lewis.

"Even if you didn't ... um ... smell quite so bad, we wouldn't dream of it," said Andrew reassuringly.

"Why, what's wrong with me? Aren't I good enough for you commune creeps?"

Andrew shook his head in despair; the woman was impossible to please; he looked at Fred for advice.

"If we let her go, she may come back with more of her friends. Hanging is out. So I think we should keep her here, that way her friends will think she's been killed, and we can put her to work. We can treat it like a kind of jail sentence - ten years' hard labour, or something like that," said Fred.

"Ten years seems too stiff for just trying to steal a pig," said Andrew.

"Armed robbery, don't forget," argued Fred.

"If you want to keep her here; you'll have to ask the rest of the group when they get back, and I know what they'll say," said Lewis peevishly.

"Hey, don't I get any say in this?" asked the woman.

"The evidence against you is pretty damning, and if you're going to make up some story about having two kids to look after; you can just forget it," said Andrew and then added less certainly, "you don't have any children do you?"

"Of course she doesn't," said Lewis before the woman could answer, "even the low‑down scum she hangs around with wouldn't go near a woman smelling like that!"

"All right then, it's settled, we'll keep her until the others get back and see what they say should be done with her," said Fred.

"Do I really smell so bad?" said the woman sniffing her armpit. "I suppose I've grown used to it."

"Come on then," said Andrew pointing towards the house with his gun. "Let's get you cleaned up, and don't try anything stupid. Lewis why don't you look after the pig."

"I thought you were doing that," laughed Lewis.

"Am I jumping to conclusions," said the woman as she walked towards the house, "or doesn't he like me?"

Fred made a splint for Andrew's finger out of some bandages and two sticks while Andrew practiced holding the rifle with his left hand. They heated up two large cauldrons of water for the bath‑tub and then shut the woman in the bathroom. Andrew stood guard outside the door and Fred went outside to make sure she didn't escape through the window.

"Hey boys, how about some more hot water? This stuff is black already, and there's another two inches of dirt to go," shouted the woman happily.

"Okay, I'll put some more on, but remember; I can still see the door," replied Andrew.

"I'm enjoying this bath too much to make a break for it ... yet. Anyway, what's your name?"

"I'm Andrew, the little guy with the nose is Fred, and the president of your fan club is Lewis."

"Pleased to meet you, my name is Alice - thought I'd take your advice about sucking up to my kidnappers," she explained, laughing.

Ten minutes later Andrew was standing outside the bathroom door with a bucket of steaming water. "What shall I do with the water?"

"You can bring it in, I'm not shy."

Andrew opened the door and stepped into the room with the bucket in one hand and the rifle held awkwardly in his left. As he stood in the doorway trying to peer through the steam a hand reached out from behind the door and snatched the gun.

"Sorry about this," said Alice as she stepped out, fully dressed, from behind the door with the rifle pointed at Andrew's chest. "But I'm not going to wait around for your friends to come back and hang me. Now just put the bucket down ... nice and slowly."

Andrew carefully lowered the bucket to the ground. Straightening up again he stared deep into the woman's eyes and took a step towards her, then before she could say anything he calmly took back the rifle.

"You bastard! How did you know I wouldn't shoot you."

"It's not loaded," said Andrew, quickly slipping a shell into the chamber and redirecting the gun at the woman. "I just can't get the hang of these things, I always forget that you have to keep putting in bullets."

"I suppose I might as well get back in the bath then - pity to waste all that hot water."

"Yeah, and for god's sake wash your clothes too, I'll get you some of Kate's things to wear while they dry. And quit worrying about being hanged, Fred and I will look after you - though it would be easier to argue your case if you didn't keep trying to escape." Andrew stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door. "By the way."

"Yes?"

"Thanks for not trying to shoot me."

"Don't let it go to your head - I never make the same mistake twice."

That evening they all sat around the large dining table, Alice was at one end, furthest from the door, and the three men were at the other with their rifles lying in front of them. They had just finished dinner, which had consisted largely of pork, and were now washing it down with a cup of tea.

"You guys just haven't thought this thing through, have you?" said Lewis. "What the hell are we going to do with her tonight? We can't shut her in a room because they've all got windows. We could tie her up, but I wouldn't like to trust my life to a few knots, and what happens when her friends come looking for her? If we'd hung her up on a tree outside the house that would have scared those weasels away, and we wouldn't have to waste our time guarding her."

"Hanged her up," corrected Alice.

"Shut up," growled Lewis.

"If we'd hanged or hung or what‑evered her up; there's no telling what her friends would have done in revenge, at least with her on the inside we can be sure they won't try to burn the place down, and we'll have some bargaining power. Andrew and I will take it in turns to watch her tonight, then tomorrow we can make the spare room escape proof. So you needn't worry about a thing," said Fred.

"Yeah, well, the others will be back tomorrow and then we'll see," said Lewis sulkily.

"It's unlike you to be so aggressive, Lewis, you're usually very compassionate," said Andrew.

"You don't understand do you? It's people like her," said Lewis angrily jerking his thumb in Alice's direction, "who could destroy all that we've built here, I don't just mean this commune, if this kind of murderous anarchy is allowed to spread, all the communes will be affected. Everyone knows that the penalty for stealing is death and no matter how distasteful it may be we must administer the punishment. Otherwise there is no deterrent, and at the first sign of weakness the communes will be over‑run by thieves and bandits."

"But," argued Fred, "the deterrent is obviously not working. Something is driving these people to steal, and whatever their motive it's stronger than the threat of death. Perhaps if we gave them a chance to live we could find out what drives them, or better still, how to convert them to our ways."

"Well said!" said Andrew.

"Bravo!" said Alice.

"Bullshit!" said Lewis, "I'm not going to sit here and listen to this liberal nonsense, I'm going to bed."

Lewis left the table and strode irately into his bedroom.

"Hey," said Fred. "It was his turn to do the washing up!"

"You were the one that upset him, I think you should do it," said Andrew.

"Bugger that, let's leave it; he can do it in the morning."

"We could force our prisoner to do it," suggested Andrew.

"Frankly, I'd rather force Lewis to do it. After his heroic exploits of last night the best place for him is in the kitchen."

"If I might be permitted to interrupt," said Alice, "I would like to make a couple of points. One, that comment about the Lewis in the kitchen was highly sexist. And two, though I hate to question your priorities, don't you think that the problem of how to stop me being hanged is more important than who should do the washing up."

"Ooooh, I don't know," said Fred thoughtfully. "There are an awful lot of dirty dishes."

"He's just kidding," said Andrew, "the commune won't hang you; apart from Lewis they're all really nice people."

"I hope you're right," said Alice.

"So, who takes the first watch?" asked Fred turning to Andrew and yawning.

"All right I will, since I was the first one to run into her. I'll wake you at two, okay?"

"Good enough, but remember don't trust her, and if she tries to seduce you, tie her up first."

"Hah! He should be so lucky, I'd rather be hanged," laughed Alice.

"Good night," said Fred as he disappeared into his room.

"Care for a night‑cap?" said Alice pulling a small bottle from the inside of her waistcoat.

"Oh boy! I'm just not cut out for this kind of thing."

"Whisky?" said Alice unscrewing the top of the bottle.

"No, I mean taking prisoners and that kind of stuff. The first thing I should have done was search you. Now you've had four hours to hide another gun or a knife somewhere. I didn't even have the sense to look in your clothes while they were drying, and now you've got them on again."

"Tut tut, most unprofessional."

"You're bound to have a knife, why don't you just hand it over?"

"Oh ... all right," she said grudgingly. She pulled a large knife from her boot and slid it across the table towards Andrew. "But I want you to know one thing, and I'm serious about this," she said staring earnestly into Andrew's eyes, "I'm trusting my life to you ... don't screw up."

Bang! Andrew was back in a world where awful things could happen, and could hurt. If the other members of the commune felt the same way as Lewis then this woman was going to die. Something about the vitality of this woman had stolen the dream‑like quality of Andrew's life. He hadn't realized before this moment, but ever since Henry's grief‑removing handshake Andrew had felt reassured; as if a voice in the back of his mind was saying; 'Don't worry - it isn't real. It's just a dream - it can't hurt you'. Now, this woman and her dependence upon him had abruptly stripped him of his invisible armour and silenced the reassuring voice. He was left feeling scared and vulnerable.

He examined the woman thoughtfully, not daring to speak in case his voice betrayed his sudden loss of confidence. What was it that made her seem so much more real than Lewis or Kate? Alice appeared three dimensional, whereas the others were like cardboard cut‑outs in comparison. That was it! Alice was quirky, unpredictable. Lewis was like an actor forced to stay within his stereotype, looking back on it; Graham's character had been a complete joke, no self‑respecting actor would have hammed it up as much as he did.

Andrew's mind had reasoned itself back to the safety of a fantasy world, it didn't care that its logic left a lot to be desired, the feeling of invulnerability had returned and that was all that mattered.

"Relax," said Andrew smiling, "you're not going to be hung - hanged. Now what happened to that drink you offered me?"

Alice took a long swig at the bottle. "Just to prove it's not poisoned," she said screwing the lid back on. She slid the bottle, on its side, down the table following the path of the knife.

"I didn't know they had alcohol h- ... I mean I didn't know you outlaws had alcohol," he said taking a mouthful from the bottle, but keeping one eye on the woman.

"You were going to say, here, weren't you? Where are you from?" said Alice, regarding Andrew with suspicion.

"Oh, Fred and I are from the far south, a little commune I don't suppose you would have heard of it."

"How long have you been here?"

"Just a few weeks, Fred got here a week before me."

"It must have been a long trip; how did you get here?"

"Hey, what's with the third degree? I should be interrogating you."

"I'm just interested - just making conversation. Now, how did you get all the way up here?" persisted Alice.

"By horse, of course," Andrew was surprised to see the effect that simple statement had on the girl; suddenly she was excited and alert. Andrew felt she was watching every movement and expression he made.

"I come from the far south too," said Alice adding extra emphasis to each word.

"Yeah, well, it's a big place isn't it? I actually came from an area which was really, really far south. In fact it was so far south, some people used to say it was in the north."

"Really? I had a friend down that way."

"Well I don't think we knew him, Fred and I kept ourselves very much to ourselves."

"His name was Henry - a bit of a devil with the girls," said Alice, still studying Andrew closely.

"No, I ... What! ... What did you say?" said Andrew his eyes goggling at Alice.

"I said; Henry was a bit of a devil but he had a lot of soul," she said, grinning broadly.

Andrew took a long drink of whisky. And then another. Alice leapt up and ran to the end of the table. She threw her arms around Andrew and kissed him on the cheek. Andrew was too startled to move, let alone pick up the gun and defend himself.

"Then you-" stuttered Andrew.

"Yes!" she laughed.

"And the orange room?"

"That too."

"Jesus!"

"No, I don't think I've met him yet. But you come close, you've no idea what a relief it is to meet someone else."

"But how did you-"

"The horse, have you seen any here?"

Andrew woke Fred, and the three of them spent the rest of the night comparing experiences. Alice had reached the same conclusion as Fred: that the whole thing was some kind of intelligence test. Fred quickly quelled any conversations that seemed to be leading in a dangerous direction. Finally they all fell asleep at the table.

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