'Chasing Charlie' by Richard Henderson : Chapter 15 Into the Dark

'So you're saying, there are other worlds lurking behind our own?'

'Physics is pointing that way, suggesting the universe may exist even more, in higher dimensions.'

'Where's the proof?' Gordon cut in.

'The problem is we have a promising theory, that could spring from too many premisses... millions of them.'

'Perturbing - like places that could hide our treasure.'

'It's a bit like knowing the answer to a sum, but not its component parts. Like a maths test where you're given the answer, but you don't know the question that was set.'

In the early morning sunlight, Glen Brittle is still, and distantly over the meadows, cuckoo, cuckoo... sounds plaintive, haunting; at ease and perfect rest in the ancient woodland.

The valley is settled as the first light bestows a sheen and glory on it all : the sun breaking loose above the Ridge. A sense of stillness and calm, a sense of wholeness and collection.

Among the tents, few people stir. The smell of summer grass and dew is simple, lovely. A gangly man stands by his tent, and surveys it all. Hilliard, his hair swept back, sputters across from his forlorn bike and limps up to him. At the far end of the site, a couple are slowly dismantling their tent and preparing to leave.

Otherwise, no movement.

The old man's eyes twinkle and glare, with the kindliness of old-world courtesy.

'You said you were partial to lemon-curd. Well...' he produces a jar from a bag... 'Take it all! Take it all, old man! It's yours!'

'Marvellous' Franky declares. 'You're a gent.'

He offers the elderly teacher some tea, and they stand together, and take in the scene.

'When you're on manoeuvres,' Franky reflects, 'you don't often get the time for moments like this. But it's a great life in the army, I'll tell you.'

The teacher demurs.

'I was in the forces myself in the last war - but it wasn't so glorious, y'know... I prefer to forget all that...'

'Put it this way' the youth continues, oblivious. 'I see us as guardians of the people.' Franky exhales from his cigarette, and stares vacantly at the glen again : trying to take something in, to elicit some meaning that he can't express. Around him the scattered tents, disordered, fragments of a community, seeking fragments of meaning.

Suddenly the primeval quiet is shattered as his radio hisses and bursts into life. He grabs it urgently and listens, astonished, to the fractured confusion at the other end.

'Pweep! Yuurk... Emergency! Help... tchook... emergency! Request immediate intervention. Regal Rover observed here wheeee Port Sgaile. Lurg onngge your support hweeee soon as can hunnng sgrrrrr streeeeh have located Irish iiazzgerrr hostage ecfleur youngsters excaping roovechwarll and heir all running everywhere. Ooova eichchch what training was all about. I've detected ship raapleeehg explosives round side... drronnge... is an absolute emerge... elppihwsh nomisss reahrr. Repeat, an emergency. Everyone is eurrgh encircled around Regal Rover now. Mayday! Let's go... eeeb eeeb... in danger. Regal Rover rungge do I eeeek erection gove. Over. Eeaacnnggepwee.'

'Farkin nell!' groans Franky wearily. 'Farkin nell!'

Hilliard stares at him expectantly. 'Well? What's up?' he spits excitedly.

'The balloon's gone up!' the lad exclaims, shaking. 'That's what's farkin' up!' He fumbles nervously at his controls, cigarette hanging from his lips.

'A-Come in, Martin. A-Come in Martin. Please A-confirm message : missing person codename Regal Rover. You have located and the three - 3 - zero children. Over.'

'Aren't you supposed to press that knob?'

'Don't worry mate. You're dealing with perfessionals now! And we've got a prob-'

'Lurrg... you please... eep... acknowledge. Enemy are everywhere. Am expecting pweeoooshor to leave. Urgent y... eeek help them lanleeenargghh. I'll hip shit harboured in lochchch... Have... ensplurgeee ...emy ship. Exercise caution and especially paarpwh eeee if they innj errggh prince eeggrorrr and children. Enemy ship has yuuuurrggh you immedi leeuuumphwee if they irrn loob do you yong hruurgh lonnge. Urgent : extreme caution and errid pleiee to attack. Tell parent eddiescurr and children eee Look out! Low wabe hoongwankkerrrooo or hide-and-seek down to distant eye-sight. Okay. Have weapon loaded. Over.'

'He's going in' gasps Franky grimly. 'He's going to take out the boat!'

'By thunder! The children! Tremendous news! We must find their father at once! He was looking for them only yesterday...'

Franky cringes.

'Listen mister. This could be dangerous. We need more information.' But the stream of conscious and unconscious information is pouring in...

'Mayday!... Leeuum errichdt children and erraid paadreeek terrorists proceeding east around Coruisk : estimated lungge rhorh what sronggchoingg yeee you should do. I'll loob ly destroy ship. Y... E... S... Roger! Aargh! Mayday! Six have evacuated and eechdarrahha rurgee eastwards. Another enemy has started moving about. Oh, oh, Franky! I didn't imagine arrg huurrr anschtag inngggg dgzdgzdgz inform father. Over. Cnnge...'

'He wants us to inform the father' the teacher splutters. 'And they're heading along Coruisk. By Jupiter! You know what this means?'

Franky looks blankly at him.

'They're going for the summit, laddie! They're going for the pinnacle!'

'Then they're dead' Franky replies with a groan. 'They're not on a Sunday-school outing, you know. We're dealing with desperate men here, mate.' He tries to re-light his cigarette.

'Splurrge. A-Come in, Martin. Confirm direction of enemy : proceeding east along Coruisk. A-Check. Are they heading for the A-Ridge? Please confirm with E.T.A. A-Roger, Over.'

Despite his panic, towards the end of this message, he remembers to press the knob - but is answered by a storm of interference. He shakes his radio angrily.

The situation is disintegrating rapidly in every way.

'Huuurk... unfriendly enemy closing at eeegsplurge yorb o'clock yuurrr enemy approaching, commencing entry undercover... dunngge... Wake the youngsters dad immediately. Let him eeergh his looob is dooove yiimreee three children. Shammeedisshhh! Help!... eeebaa eeebaa eeep Problem on right! Other person eeeargh eeee entered his ship. Having shifty. Eeeurg utensils lying round. England Awake! Emergency! aarggee looks unfriendly eeurrb... Shit! He's entering yacht. God! eeehze plasulgweee... Others have all headed oongzefleur pinnacle. Eurrr God! Yuuuur... 'e's entering yacht... uchderflunkgrobblesplurr... Rescue him! Climb Cuillin Ridge! Christ! Climb Cuillin Ridge... urggh! Yeeow eeeh xxxxxxxxxx glunge yyyyxxxx yyx neeep eeurrg xxxxxyy gaaskgaan yyyyxxx eeeooob nuurk yyy yxxxxxxx graackkenphweee x teeeeeee...'

'He's been cut off' moans Franky, shaking. 'The line's gone dead. Faarck! Faarck!' Fists clenched.

'Well, no need to worry old chum. Don't panic. We'll catch them up on the bally ridge.'

'The Ridge? Are you mad? We're not going up there.'

'It's the only way...' the teacher hurrahs. 'It's the only way...'

'I'm going to find their dad. They're his kids, after all...'

But at that very moment, they see him crossing the sunlit field toward them. Fraser looks rough and unshaven : stiff and still sleepy; all round him, the calm and quiet of the morning, reflecting peace.

Franky strides up importantly and tries to impact his latest army intelligence.

Fraser almost has to shake the fragments of information from the youth.

'And Rover too!' spews the teacher. 'They've picked up a pooch!'

'They have not got a dog, grandad!' Franky complains.

'But I heard him. He distinctly said they'd picked up a dog.'

Fraser, however, is no longer listening : his eyes are clear now, and he has them fixed on the Ridge above, scouring the skyline for movement and life.

'Come on, let's go' he is murmuring to himself.

'You've got to be joking! You're mad! You're mad!'

The old man is dancing a jig of delight, all alive and eagerly talking to the heavens.

'God of battles!' he cries. 'I made a rule never to climb again above seven hundred and fifty feet. But I tell you what! I'll make an exception for this!... Hoo! Hoo! It's time to leave base-camp once more! It's time for a final assault on the summit! Hoo-hoo! Death or Glory! Death or Glory! Bring me my chariots of fire!'

As they start towards Coire Lagan, the radio buzzes again, and the distorted voice of a stranger crackles over the set : distant, strange...

'Crnnge... phwurp... Ah've ousted yon wee bugger bluurp frae off mah boat... pheeeooo con juurrk... locking him up i' the hut, the windie's barred... phaaarp twoeeee... but as fer me seeeooo comphlar... am overcome wi' a deep longing... ssshhh ssshhh... tae see the Isle o' Skye agin in a' its weathers... craist mo chridhe... hrarr hrarr here laddie cnnnge' and Martin's voice in shattered fragments, everything going to pieces now... 'mu-mu mu chweeek mu-mu mu blaarb mu-mum mu scheeb I'm a good boy really mu phwoo-schark tweee um a good boy really... aaaargh... haaargh... aagh hooo xxyxxxx yxyyxxyyx xxxxx xyxx...'

Martin looks nervously towards the old man.

'Psychological warfare' he mutters, shaking his head. 'They're trying to break him... but they won't succeed. He's putting it on. Isn't he? He's putting it on...'

'Nemo repente fuit turpissimus' Hilliard replies, his mouth all froth, his eyes a-shine.

Franky stares back with blank disdain.

And Fraser is now some distance away. Even if all the world has gone mad, himself as well, yet he will find his children, keep their faith : their love a little gateway toward sanity. Whatever has snapped, whatever has broken or frayed, has opened his heart to that, at least.

Hilliard goes limping after him. All the day beautiful and full of loveliness : the ridges beckoning above.

The youth in an old man refuses to surrender. 'Do or Die!' he shouts with joy to the skies. 'Do or Die!'

And the whole world seems to belong to the ever-young.