Ignorance (BEING REWRITTEN. SEE 'THE REVOLT')

Chapter Twenty Five

“It’s not too far now.” I say to the boy that I am supporting half the weight of – Puck is on the other side – even though I know that we haven’t even gone back into the vent yet. This is going to be a long day. We move as fast as we can, the three of us as one single form, because we need to get back underground before it gets too light. I have no idea how we’re going to cope with the rush-hour crowds on the trains if that’s when we finally get there, people are going to notice us now that we are carrying a half-unconscious teenager between our shoulders. “We’ll get you back and May can fix you up, she’s brilliant at that.”. The straps of my bag have really started to dig into my shoulders, cutting into my skin, muscle, bone. “And we can dope you up on those painkillers that Tim got and you can sleep it off. You’ll be fine, Josh.” I don’t even know if he can hear me. “We-” I’m starting to get out of breathe now that we’ve been walking up this hill for a good ten minutes, “just–have–to–keep–moving.” All I can hear in the silence between my words is the wind whistling through the gaps amongst the buildings and the squelching sound that my wet shoes make on the tarmac; the previously heavy rain has now subsided to a gentle drizzles creating rivers in the faults in the road.

“How are we going to get him down there?” Puck and I stand staring at the grill which she has moved off the entrance to the vent again. 

“Er, I’m not sure.”

In the end we decide that I’ll go in first and then she’ll lower him down into it. He looks worse than he did before and as I step into the vent and feel the metal sag under my weight, he throws up to the side of the entrance and Puck looks like she’s struggling to hold him up. She slides his body over the top of the grill and together, with me holding his weight from below, we lower him down. I think he’s completely passed out now. 

We used a similar technique to get out of the vent once we’d spent a much longer time than on the way out in the enclosed space, it was much more difficult than we anticipated to slide and drag Josh along the ridged metal. Now, after a five minute break in the space below the ventilation system, Josh has started to stir he manages, with help from us, to stand. Thank God for that, now we might look a little less conspicuous. 

Once we’re on the train it’s okay because we manage to get Josh a seat and Puck and I stand in front of him, hands clamped to the handles that hang from the roof, swaying with the movement of the train to shield him from any random passerby. At least he doesn’t look like he’s going to throw up anymore, I dread to think how long it will take someone to find and clean up that puddle of vomit. 

Now we’re back up-top and we’re on our way back to the old station with the terrifying tunnels. I’m glad to be out of the ventilation shafts, I was so scared that it was going to collapse under our combined weight and I have no idea what sort of abyss we would’ve found ourselves falling into. I haven’t slept in over thirty hours now; I couldn’t sleep the night before we left. I was nervous and when I’m really nervous I don’t sleep – it’s quite annoying really. I think it’s the adrenaline that has replaced my blood, coursing through my veins, that is keeping me awake. 

We stopped to rest once we’d slowly manoeuvred Josh down both flights of stairs, taking a seat on the bottom step of the metal ones. I forced some water down Josh’s throat, making sure that he stays hydrated, and then I myself took a drink and had some bread. I would kill for another one of those hot drinks that Puck’s contact gave us. I’m not sure that Josh actually knows where he is; his eyes are open now but he’s staring blankly at the white-tiled curving wall in front of us. Soon we have to force ourselves to stand again and continue the trek, almost wishing we had never started it but at the same time knowing that we had to do it. It will be worth it when we have Artie back.

“L-Luca?” Puck breaks the silence that we have held taut since the vents. She’s stopped walking and is staring at the wall. I gulp, knowing what she’s looking at. “It wasn’t just weird writing you saw was it? It was-” she doesn’t know how to describe what we’re both looking at with the light of our torches dimmer than they were on the way out. You could so easily lose track of time in these tunnels with their constant darkness.

“Yeah.” I say in a voice so calm and matter-of-factly that it surprises even me. She nods at me in the strayed rays of light from the torches and again, we keep moving. 

We don’t have the map anymore – it was destroyed by the rain – but I think we’re going in the right direction, I recognise the occasional faded poster stuck to the wall.

“Puck!” May calls out when she sees us and for a second she looks relieved but then she notices the limp body which we’re carrying between us. “Josh.” She whispers his name before running over and with the aid of Liam and Tim, they lower him down onto the floor and lay him out. “What happened to him?” She asks us briskly as she pulls off his jacket “He’s boiling.” Neither me nor Puck speak at first but after she asks us again: “What happened to him?” and orders Oscar to run upstairs to the balcony and grab her first aid supplies I explain:

“He was getting worse and we left him in this abandoned building while we went to speak to Puck’s contact. It was only for a few hours but he couldn’t walk anymore and he needed to rest but we needed to get the information and when we came back he was almost unconscious and I’m so sorry we shouldn’t’ve left him.”

Tim stands up and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Slow down, Luca. Take some deep breathes. Josh is going to be fine. It looks like he might have a small infection but I can get the drugs to treat that. He’ll be fine. You did the right thing in letting him rest.” Tim keeps his hands on my shoulders as he drives me into a sitting position. “Stay there, okay. He’ll be fine.” 

I watch as the three of them – May, Tim, Liam – work on Josh. Puck comes and sits down next to me and I can sense her staring at him too although I don’t look at her so I don’t know for certain. She shifts in her position and I hear her wince and then I remember:

“Your ribs?” I do turn to look at her this time.

“They’re fine. You definitely need to work on your pain threshold, if I can carry a teenage boy with a set of smashed ribs then you should be able to walk up a hill with him without getting out of breath.” She says it in good humour, she must’ve heard my wheezed breaths earlier. “Get some sleep, Luca.” She sounds like Artie. “You look exhausted.”

“I don’t feel tired.”

“That’s the adrenaline, you’ll be exhausted in a few hours if you don’t get some sleep now.” I know that she’s right and I don't dare argue with Pucky so I let myself drift off into the comforting darkness.

“Night Pucky.” I mumble.

“It’s daytime you idiot.” She mumbles back and for the first time, she doesn't seem to resent my use of her nickname. Maybe she's getting used to it.