Then I heard more quiet footsteps. He was going deep into the cellar. I found myself hoping he would fall — plop! — into some hole. There were supposed to be open drains back there, and huge rats. If you didn’t have a candle or a torch they could finish you off. Commander Vyžlata wasn’t afraid, but the Bandits wouldn’t have ventured that far. Then the steps came very close. I yelped and the steps came my way.
The new boy, Margash, was out of puff as he sat down. He looked at me and said, ‘I’m glad it’s you.’ Then he said, ‘Yeah, I’ve been looking for you for ages. I didn’t know you were here.’
‘In the cellar?’
‘That you’re Czech and in Bohemia. It’s a good thing the Commander didn’t find you in the cellar. He hasn’t much time to worry about us right now.’ Margash tapped at the bars. ‘Me and the Commander mended this on the first night.’
He raised an arm and grabbed the bars. I remembered Dýha and how he had ranted through them. The grille glinted in the half-light. I was happy there were puddles of underground water all around. If anyone came, we’d hear them. We spoke in low voices.
‘I’ve been looking for you all this time,’ said Margash. ‘Everywhere.’
I was glad he had been looking for me, but it was a bit strange.
‘I wanted to talk to you, too,’ I told him. ‘We’re alike. We might come from the same country. Why do you hang around with the Commander?’
‘That’s just it,’ said Margash.
I thought about Margash’s dad.
‘Did he really snatch you… from those horrible people? Did he? Why do you travel together?’
I liked us sitting there, looking at one another as if we had known each other for ages.
‘That’s not how it was,’ said Margash. ‘My dad’s a wolf.’
‘What?’
‘Me and the Commander go everywhere together. And now we’re here. I’m glad you’re here too!’
‘Right,’ I said, already looking forward to showing him around all the hiding places in the Home from Home. I’d tell him everything there was. I’d always lived at the Home from Home.
‘Kill the Commander,’ said Margash
‘You what?’
‘You have to kill the Commander.’ I must have stared at him, because he frowned and asked, ‘Wasn’t your dad a wolf, then?’
It crossed my mind he might have got some Czech words mixed up, so I said, ‘I never knew him. I was very small.’
‘I’ve often dreamed about you,’ said Margash. ‘I’ve often dreamed of meeting a boy who would be like me. You’re that boy. Kill the Commander.’
I was lost for words. Margash pulled a long face. Now he was angry. It looked like he was cramming his eyes into slits. But he wasn’t a Chinky like some of the other boys. Now he looked more like some animal. I’d never heard of any wolves at Siřem, but there could have been some in Chapman Forest. I rolled my eyes a bit like Margash and thrust my chin down.
‘Right,’ he laughed, ‘you kept turning up in my dreams.’
‘What did you say about my dad?’ I asked him.
‘Was he a wolf? Because mine was. We might have the same dad, since you look like me.’
‘Is it possible to have dads that are… not people?’
‘Wolves we can.’
‘Where are you from?’ Again I remembered what Commander Vyžlata had said about Margash’s mum and dad, and I had to laugh.
‘I come from a wonderful country,’ he said. ‘No forests, grass everywhere, you can go wherever you like, on and on. Do you fancy coming home with me? I’ve got lots of brothers. Would you like to live with us?’
‘You bet!’
‘So kill him.’
‘You want me to kill the Commander? You really do?’
‘It’s nice where we live, honest,’ said Margash.
‘But the Commander’s really strong,’ I objected, ‘and he’s got a gun.’
‘So what?’
‘Why don’t you do it?’
‘I can’t,’ said Margash. ‘I dreamed that you would.’
‘Couldn’t someone else do it?’ I was thinking of Karel. Margash shook his head.
‘No. It wasn’t anyone else in my dream.’
‘I see.’
I remembered how Commander Vyžlata had cuffed the little choirboys. How he had sloshed quietly through the cellar water. And how he was in all places at all times.
‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I’ve never killed anyone before.’ As I said it, I suddenly felt sick. If Commander Vyžlata could find the choirboys, he might also find the grave. I got up and went straight to it, and Margash followed.
It would be nice to go around together.
In the cubicle there were papers tossed everywhere and the kneeler was in smithereens. Commander Vyžlata must have smashed it against the wall. I did everything in one quick movement, like when you whip off a plaster. I shifted the papers, lifted the half-rotten board and tossed it aside. I raised the cover and there was the drain, very noisy, down below, and the stench and the cold rose up at me.
Margash watched as I told him everything. I also said that if Monkeyface was still alive and got cured, there’d be three of us.
‘That’s not gonna happen,’ said Margash. ‘But our little brother ought to be buried in our wonderful country!’
‘Dead right!’ I said. I looked around that squalid cellar in the gloom, and I dearly wished that Monkeyface could be out of there.
‘We can do it, once my dream comes true. Shall we?’ asked Margash.
‘We’ll move him, won’t we?’
I was so glad to see Margash nodding. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking how awful it would be if Commander Vyžlata found Monkeyface.
‘Yep, we’ll move him together,’ said Margash. ‘But you’ll kill the Commander. If you don’t kill him, I’m going to run away.’
‘You can’t run away now! You’d freeze to death in the forest. Or starve. And there are wild animals.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Okay.’ I put the cover back and we left.
And the Home from Home was in uproar.
7: The Choirboys. New things. Knife, salt, matches. Team commander!
The kitchen was full of crying longshirts begging for bread and tea. Margash went into the command post, which Commander Vyžlata had created in Sister Leontina’s office.
Silva nudged me. He’d been chatting with the other longshirts.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘They’ve locked us in here.’
I said, ‘Job assignments!’ and Silva muttered, ‘Bollocks!’ But the other longshirts stood to attention, then Silva took his place in line as well… ‘Quiet!’ I shouted. ‘Form a queue for bread issue! Form a queue for tea issue!’
The boys I’d picked out hopped into position behind the bread counter and next to the huge copper full of tea, complete with ladle, and the youngsters started pushing and shoving, but when I bellowed at them, they formed queues, and the bread was unbuttered and the tea was cold, but that didn’t matter. I’d noticed long ago that when they were afraid or there was any kind of confusion, it was always best to shout at them. Then they were less afraid, and the one doing the shouting also became less afraid. I sat down on a bench.