“No way, man,” I said, putting the vodka back in the bag. “I don’t think this would help right now.”
“I am thirsty, though. Anything else to drink in there?”
I rummaged about. “Nah.”
“Slim pickings,” Spider said, and snorted with laughter.
“What?”
“It’s just something you say, isn’t it, when you haven’t got nothing? It’s just funny.”
For some reason, those words tickled him and he started laughing flat out. It was infectious. I didn’t even really know what he was going on about, but I started laughing, too. We sat there like a pair of idiots, helpless for a while.
When we stopped, it was like all the energy had gone out of us; we’d laughed it away. It was silent in the car. Reality was seeping in, like when you drink something really cold and can feel it making its way down your throat and inside you. Doubts about the whole thing were crowding in on me. We didn’t know where we were going, we’d got nothing useful with us, everyone would be looking for us. I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Maybe we should go back,” I said. “They might be easier on us if we went back and gave ourselves up.”
Spider shook his head. “I ain’t never going back. I can’t, Jem.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? Alright, yeah, it’ll be bad for a bit. They’ll question us about earlier on, and we’ve taken the car now, but what’s the worst they can do? Lock us up?”
“No, Jem, not the police – though they will lock me up this time, they’ve been waiting for an excuse. But it’s not them. Look.” And he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a brown envelope, a big one, folded over, and handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Have a look.” I unfolded the end and peered in. There were bills inside, a dense wedge of notes. I put my hand in and pulled them out. I had honestly never seen or held so much money in my life.
“That’s our future, Jem. Well, the next few weeks, anyway.”
I held the wad in one hand and flicked through the other end with my thumb, like you’d flick through a book. There must have been hundreds of used fivers and tenners. Thousands of pounds. “What have you done, robbed a bank?”
He chewed on a hangnail, looked at me without answering.
“What have you done, Spider?” I asked quietly.
He looked down, ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t make my last drop-off.”
“It’s Baz’s money? You robbed Baz? Oh, my God, Spider, they’ll kill you!”
He was back to chewing the edge of his finger. “Not if they don’t find me. That’s why I can’t go back. It’s you and me now, Jem. We’ve got to do this. We’ve got to find somewhere new. Start again.”
I closed my eyes. There really was no going back. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“You alright?” I didn’t answer, didn’t know what to say. “I could drop you off somewhere, if you like. I can’t go back, but you can. You could go back, Jem.”
I let his words sink in. He really meant it – he’d go on without me. But what did I have to go back to? The police, the foster system, Karen? I opened my eyes, and he was staring right at me, really looking at me. How many people in my life saw anything more than an odd, quiet little kid in a hoodie? How many people had really bothered with me? Spider was different: He was funny, crazy, restless, reckless. He was alright.
“No,” I said. “It’s OK. I’ll stay for the ride. Wouldn’t mind having a look at Weston-Super-Wotsit.”
He grinned and nodded. “Let’s carry on down this road, find a petrol station and get some proper food, buy a map, make a plan.”
“OK,” I said, “let’s do it.”
We did a U-turn in our side road and joined the main drag again. After about ten minutes, we found a gas station and drew up beside one of the self-service pumps. After a bit of messing about, Spider found the catch to unlock the cap to the tank, and took care of business. We both went into the shop, and I used the toilet while Spider gathered armfuls of stuff – Coke, potato chips, candy bars, some sandwiches. Enough to keep us going for a few days. People were looking at us a bit funny. Shit, I thought, they’d remember two kids loaded down with stuff.
The queue was achingly slow.
The guy behind the counter had the radio on. The music cut to a news report. “London is reeling after a massive blast ripped apart the London Eye…seven dead and many more injured…police are looking for two youths: one black and very tall, the other shorter and slightly built.”
My skin was prickling all over. I felt like there was a big neon sign over my head, an arrow pointing down: HERE THEY ARE. I knew Spider had heard it, too. He was looking down, shuffling from foot to foot, and chewing at his lip. I was waiting for someone to say something, to grab one of us. It was agony. Every part of me wanted to dump the stuff and take off, but I fought it. Stay cool, stay cool. We inched forward. The news finished and the music came back on as we reached the register. The guy didn’t even look at us, just asked for the pump number and scanned the stuff. Spider paid in cash and we ducked out.
As we made for the door, I spotted a camera high up in the corner. Just for a second I looked straight at it, and it looked back at me, an unblinking eye. That’s it, I thought. They’ve got a picture of me now. In Val’s stupid mint parka, with my new short hair. Before I got back in the car, I took off the vile coat and chucked it on the backseat. Spider was already starting the engine.
“OK, let’s go. Here, you look at the map, see if you can work out where we are.” He plonked a big map book on my lap.
I started to protest, but he cut in. “Jem, we’ve got to get out of here. This is life or death. I need you to do this.”
I flicked through the pages until I found a big map of the south of England. I concentrated hard, trying to see a pattern in the web of lines on the map, then found London, and looked to the left. I felt a twinge of triumph when I spotted Bristol. There were loads of roads between the two, we just needed to find one of them.
“Just drive until we find a sign, Spider. I’ll be able to tell when there’s a sign.”
And so, haltingly, we found our way out of the city, stopping every now and then to check, turning ’round when we’d gone wrong. All the time I was listening out for sirens, checking in the sideview mirror for cars behind. When I finally figured out where we were on the map, I held my finger there, moving it along as we traveled.
In Basingstoke, we pulled off the main road and found a quiet street. Spider got out and took a leak, and then we had a sort of picnic in the car: sandwiches, chips, Coke.
“I guess we should ditch this car. It’s too hot. Every pig in the country’s going to be looking for it,” Spider said through a mouthful of food, little bits of potato chips spraying all around him.
I felt a twinge of regret. “I kind of like it.”
“Yeah, I know, but they’ll pick us up tonight or tomorrow unless we switch. Why don’t we find somewhere really quiet and get some kip, then swap cars early in the morning. I’m done in.”
We drove around until we found a country lane, without streetlights. We pulled into a sort of rest stop, turned off the engine, and killed the lights. It was pitch-black, unnatural.
“I don’t like this, Spider. It’s too bloody dark. Let’s find somewhere with some streetlights. This is too weird.”
“No, man. If it’s light, people will see. We won’t last five minutes. You won’t notice the difference when you’ve got your eyes shut. Look, climb in the back and lie down. You’ll be alright there.”