(Prologue: Headmaster Hand)
Life before the war was different.
When I looked out my bedroom window, the streets were alive with chaos. Horses and carts barraged past civilians, while housewives scurried to get the shopping. Barrels and stands lined the bustling roads, conmen and traders preying on unsuspecting tourists. But now, Onett is deserted. Grey concrete stretches for miles, scattered with debris and drifting litter. Nothing else remains.
Even the poor are gone. Every beggar, every desperate child, has been scooped up by the hope of salvation. New Pork City's fraudulent beacon took them in, leaving a barren city in their wake.
It's a testament to the hope of the people that the house we found is empty. There are no possessions, only a few bright yellow garments in the master bedroom. Whoever lived here must truly have believed they were going to safety. They had faith in Porky's freedom. They believed in happiness.
And now, they're dead.
But there's no time for sombre thinking. Our situation is good; we've got shelter and facilities, and we've escaped the Onett First Brigade. There's a kitchen with a spacious larder, a bathroom with running water, and even a pair of well-furnished bedrooms. Pusher's family take one, while Caroline and friends take the other, leaving the rest of us in the drawing room. It doubles as an office, and I've already set up a desk with all the elaborate mahogany trimmings. It's been covered with maps, newspapers, job applications, and plans for taking down Porky.
The others settle in quickly, going about themselves as normal. On day two, Ollie finds a box of Roman coins in the attic, which he promptly sells for a hundred pounds. It's a spell of good fortune and exactly what we need, which is why a row breaks out when Elmore spends it all on a new handbag.
"You filled my old one with stew!" Elmore complains. "How else was I going to transport my belongings?"
"We need the money for food!" Tessie protests. "You don't need a handbag, you need a new brain!"
"Don't tell me what I do and don't need!"
But the arguing is interrupted by a knock on the door.
We fall silent.
"Everyone, hide in the parlour," I command. There's a lot of hustle as everyone pushes into the room. I walk down the hall, feeling uncertainty swelling. Were we Seen? Has Porky found us? What if it's Jehovah's Witnesses? Either way, this can't be good.
Putting on my best smile, I open the door. Two policemen are standing behind it.
"Hello," I say, silently cursing. "How can I help you?"
"Well, well, well," says the tallest policeman, nodding as he speaks. "Good evening, sir. We're looking for a criminal."
"A criminal?"
"That is correct," says the other policeman. His build is alarmingly rake-like, but his biceps are almost thicker than tree trunks.
There's a slightly awkward pause.
"So, who's the criminal?" I ask, crossing my fingers.
"Well, well, well," the nodding policeman says, thrusting a poster into my face. "This one. He's wanted for arson and murder."
"Oh," I say, somewhat relieved. Given I've done neither, they're probably looking for someone else. "I haven't seen him, sorry."
"A shame," the rake-like policeman says. "We're also looking for a man called Headmaster Hand, have you seen him?"
"No," I say, trying to keep my expression neutral. "What's he wanted for?"
"Stealing a house," the nodding policeman declares. "Has your house recently been stolen?"
"Not the last time I checked."
"Shame," the rake-like policeman says. "Y'know, fat lot of good it is, being told to find a criminal, but not being told what they look like... I'm sure we'll find him, though!" He cracks his knuckles, and I wince.
"I'll let you know if I see anything," I say.
"You'd better." The nodding policeman gives me a curt nod. "And remember, you wouldn't steal a horse and cart. Literature piracy is a crime. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," I say. The two men bumble off to the neighbour's house, and I hastily shut the door behind them. The poster they gave me is on the floor, and I pick it up, wondering who this other criminal could be. There's a police sketch on it, a rough one, but I think I recognise their expression. Has another one of my cousins committed tax fraud? But I notice writing on the other side, and I turn it over.
Wanted Dead or Alive, blares the poster. Charged with Killing Dr Andonuts.
Ness and Lucas.
£1000 reward.
I look up.
Suddenly, things are getting interesting.
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~~o00o~~
Chapter 46: A One-Track Mind
(Lucas)
~~o00o~~
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We sit outside Ness's doorway in silence.
We've been kicked out. It's over. Ness just stares at the floor, turning his cap in his hands. Claus has been repeatedly prodding him with a stick for the last ten minutes, but Ness doesn't seem to have noticed.
But suddenly, Ness stands, putting his hands together. "Your house, then? Let's go. I've always wanted to see it up close."
I blink.
"And this old place?" Ness looks at his house as though it's not even there. "I never liked it anyway. I'm sure your place is nicer."
"...Are you okay?" I ask.
"Of course!" Ness says, his voice far too bright for me to believe it. "It's like I said, I don't need Father anymore. I'm fine without him. Let's go!"
I know better than to question him.
So, we start navigating Onett's barren streets, aiming for the bleak First Residential District. Claus is excited when I tell him we're going to see Father, but his face falls when the roads get filthier, and we're soon avoiding piles of sewage and waste. I'm sure to look out for any rogue members of The Sharks as we plunge deeper into the warren of crooked alleyways, but there's not even a whisper in the air. The haphazardly stacked houses start casting darker and darker shadows, and soon, we're on my street.
The real problems begin when we reach the doorway. Everything seems alarmingly decrepit, more so than usual. It was dismal enough in its dark enclave, but now moss coats the walls, ivy spilling out of the guttering, the wooden foundations cracked. What once was just another house, another brick in the tower of buildings, has become an eyesore. I'm hit with momentary shame. If Mother had seen our home like this, I think she'd have burst into tears.
"Are you alright?" Ness asks quietly. He must've seen my expression.
"Always," I lie.
He grimaces.
I knock, and a noise comes from inside. It's a promising start, given Father doesn't always answer the door, but silence returns a moment later. So, I knock again, and this time, a raspy voice echoes, "Porky Minch! I've told you enough times, I'm not paying your debt!"
The voice brings me a little optimism. "It's Lucas!" I call, and everything goes quiet. There's another scuffle, and then silence deafens.
"Dad?" Claus says questioningly, and I remember our biggest asset.
"Claus is here!" I say. "He came back! Don't you want to see him?"
At once, something clatters from within. It sounds as if someone's just stood up. I clench my fist in silent victory, hearing rough footsteps hurrying down the hall. A lock clicks, the door swings open, and a thin man sticks his head out. I'm instantly hit with the smell of beer.
"Father?" I say, unnerved. That smell is wrong, out of place in our house. But I get no reply. Flint's too busy looking at Claus, his expression vacant.
"Dad," Claus says. "Hello."
"Claus..." Flint says, staring. His eyes dart to me, then to Ness. Unkempt hair covers his head, going down almost to his shoulders. A belt hangs loosely around his trousers, his shirt not even tucked in. He fidgets nervously with his hands, and then he beckons us inside. "Come on in. I'll light the fire."
We follow, though Flint's hesitant gait reminds me disturbingly of Dr Andonuts. There's a thick pile of letters on the doorway, trampled over with footprints. Dust and dirt fly up from the filthy carpet, and I feel myself worrying. Last term, I came back to a similar situation. How bad have things gotten?
Worse than ever. We enter the main room, and the first thing I notice is the bottles. They're piled high in one corner, stacked alongside empty food packaging and old newspapers. Streaks of rot and mould run up the walls, bin bags and my old paintings strewn across the carpet. It's not like Dr Andonuts' lab, which was cold and ordered in its ruin — this is a cluttered kind of decrepitness. It's distinctly human, and that almost fills me with hope, but the sight of it all makes me despair. Everything's destroyed.
"Dad," I croak. "What the hell have you done?"
"I knew you'd come home," Flint says vaguely, moving over to the grimy fireplace. He lights it with ease, sweeping crumpled papers out of the way. "I knew you couldn't be dead..."
"Father?" Claus says. He wades through the mess, scarcely recognising it. The mantlepiece is the only thing that's clean: no more ornaments remain, not even Mother's wedding ring.
"Sorry," Flint says, jolting himself to attention. "Do sit down... it's been a bit messy, lately."
"Very messy," I mumble, very aware of Ness's horrified expression. Flint draws up an old chair, sitting on it without removing the blackened cushion. I sit on the sofa, looking at the carpet with disgust.
"Sorry," Flint says again.
"Were you robbed?" Ness asks. "What happened?"
Flint gives a sort of half-shrug, looking at the piles of rubbish like he's seeing them for the first time. I recognise his expression — shame.
"Are you okay?" I ask. Flint doesn't answer, biting his lip. "I heard you got fired," I say, determined to get him to speak. "What have you been doing?"
"Not... much," Flint says. He turns to look at Claus again. "He's... is he real?" He sounds a lot less lucid than when he let us in. "I thought Claus ran away?"
"Porky took him," I say. "Dad, where's Mother's wedding ring? What happened to all the things on the mantlepiece?"
"Porky took them," Flint says. He blinks, realising he's echoed me. I can sense the lie in his words, but it doesn't matter. Wherever they are, we don't have them anymore.
Silence falls, and I study Flint a little closer. He's difficult to talk to at the best of times, but now he looks utterly despairing. A little bit of responsibility hits me; if I'd known it was this bad, I'd have made a greater effort to check on him. But the fear of rejection was crippling. I didn't want to send a letter, in case it went unanswered. I decide that means I need to help, or at least do something before we leave. Maybe I owe him that.
"Has Porky been chasing you for debt again?" I ask. "I saw the bills on the doorstep."
"Yes," Flint says, and I see a little bit of colour returning to his cheeks. "He is a wretch, and I send him off."
"That's good," I say. I almost mention the letter he sent to me, but I decide that's a problem for later. Right now, we need security, not conflict. "Look," I say. "We need to stay for a bit — me, Ness, and Claus. Would that be okay?"
"I suppose," Flint says.
"We can help clean up," I say. "We can make the house nice again. It's going to be okay," I add, not sure who I'm trying to convince. "I promise."
Flint only nods. I look at him, feeling a little hopeless, and Ness shifts closer to me. How far has he fallen?
"And I can make us all dinner," I continue, trying not to sound desperate. "Have you had dinner yet?"
Flint shakes his head.
"Then I'll get started. You and Claus can catch up in the meantime. Does that sound nice?"
Claus looks down at the floor. Flint gives a faint nod.
"Ness, you can help me out," I say, suddenly feeling the horrible urge to run away. "Please."
"Of course," Ness says, and I grip his hand tight.
The two of us hurry into the kitchen area. But it's even worse than the lounge — broken glass is scattered across the windowsill, a bitter draft rushing in through the window. Cupboard doors hang off their hinges, and the surfaces are covered in debris: old food, piles of dirty kitchenware, even mouse droppings. The smell of it is the worst part, like sewage and decay and death. Panic rises, and I have to swallow my vomit.
"This'll take us so long to clean up," Ness murmurs, plugging his nose. "It's everywhere, literally everywhere."
"I'm sorry," I say, and I feel that wave of shame returning. "It's disgusting. You don't have to help."
Ness elbows me. "Of course I'll help. You can't deal with all this alone, it'd take forever. Besides, we've got a week until we go back to school. If the others chip in, we'll manage it."
"You think they'll want to?" I say, pushing my way toward an overflowing surface. "And what about the future? We have no idea what to do back at school, we don't even know how to take down Porky-"
Ness lays a hand on my shoulder. I exhale, falling short.
"They care about you, Lucas," he says. "Worry about that other stuff later. Come on, let's cook something."
"Thanks," I murmur.
We march toward the pantry, avoiding the rat droppings on the carpet. A pile of bottles blocks the door, and I shove them out the way, grimacing. It's as if Flint has forgotten how to clean, or forgotten how to take things outside. Maybe he's been lonely. But why doesn't he let people in? Doesn't he have friends from the mines, ones that might have checked on him?
Ness kicks the pantry door open. But my face falls when I look inside.
The shelves are barren. Something scurries in the inky pool of darkness, and I shrink back, afraid. The only thing I can see is a lump of bread, smothered in a white fuzz of mould. I quickly shut the door.
"How did this happen so quickly?" Ness asks sadly. "You were here over Christmas, right?"
"Uh, no," I admit. Father hadn't let me in. Perhaps this was why.
"Then where were you?"
"The streets. But it was fine," I say, hearing Ness's horrified gasp. "Nothing terrible happened. No Geldegarde. Only Porky, and I've already told you about that."
"You could've stayed with me," Ness says weakly, but he looks down under my expression. "I wish you looked after yourself better, Lucas."
"So do I. But maybe me and Father have that in common."
We start to look through the cupboards, seeking out any scraps of food. Most of them are destroyed, filled with old packaging or abandoned mouse nests. The only functional cupboard contains a few bottles of beer.
"He never used to drink," I murmur. "What the hell happened to him?"
"Coping mechanism," Ness says. "He probably let the mess build up over time, and now it's overwhelming. If we tidy it away, maybe he'll get better."
"I don't think that's how it works. What the hell has he been eating, even? What the hell are we going to eat?"
Ness pulls out a mouldy potato. "I think this is the best we've got."
"That's not even edible."
"No, it's fine," Ness says, and he turns it over to reveal a mass of ants. "Agh! EW!"
I cover my face with my hands.
Ness kicks away the potato, coming over to me with a hug. The sight of everything is overwhelming — this must be how Flint feels. Where the hell do we start? How can we even fix this? What's to say it won't happen again? I hold Ness tight, grateful that he smells clean. I take a deep breath.
"We'll go out shopping tomorrow," Ness says optimistically. "I've got a bit of money I stole from Father, it's been in my pocket all day. We can get some nice food, cook everyone a meal, and then we can get to work."
"And Porky?"
"Can wait. Screw him, because right now, we need to help your dad. Our plan is off anyway, it's no good going to New Pork City when he's not even there. We're just waiting to go back to school."
"I guess so," I say, clinging to that idea. It's a relief that Ness, at least, can still be rational. I take another deep breath, coming away from the hug. "Alright, let's do it. Thanks."
He smiles. "No problem."
We head back into the lounge, empty-handed. Claus and Flint jolt to attention at once, as if they'd been awaiting my return. I can't tell if they spoke or not, but there's a heaviness to Claus's eyes that wasn't there before.
"So, there's no food," I explain. "But we've got some money. Tomorrow, Ness and I will go out and buy something nice at the market. Then, we'll start cleaning the house. How does that sound?"
"Money?" Flint murmurs. "From where?"
"Ness's dad," I say. I watch Flint's eyes move to Ness, looking him up and down. It must've been years since they last met, but Flint's memory was always good. There's a little contempt in his eyes.
"Sorry about my dad," Ness blurts suddenly. "Sorry he, uh, gave you the sack. I hate him too."
Flint nods. His shoulders relax slightly. Ness bites his lip.
Silence descends over us like smog. It's late, far too late to start cleaning, but if we want to sleep somewhere other than the floor... perhaps we should. Guilt for dragging Ness to this place clings to my shoulders — I never would've dreamt of it had I known it was this bad. But there's nothing else to be done.
"I got your letter," I say, deciding I might as well get this out of the way. "About Porky. And Mother."
Flint nods again, and I see regret in his eyes.
"We've been trying to track him down."
He grimaces.
"We've not had much luck."
"Give it up," he says, and I look up at him, surprised. "There's no point," he says. "I should never have asked."
"I'm sorry," I say.
"No. I'm sorry."
You should be, I want to retort, but I'm quiet. In a twisted way, his letter has come true: here we are, trying to defeat Porky. But it's more than just revenge, because the world is at stake. Every time I want to quit, I remind myself that it's my fault, and my responsibility to finish him. I should've died in Crazy Hand's bunker.
"Tired," Claus murmurs.
Flint nods towards the bedroom door. "It's nicer in there."
"Bedtime story?" Claus asks, and Father moves to stand. But I stand first, grateful for an escape route.
"I can read you a story. Will you be okay in here, Ness?"
Ness nods. Claus quickly enters the bedroom, almost as if he's trying to run away. I give Flint a last look, and I follow.
Flint's right, the bedroom isn't as bad. But it's still not great. The bed isn't made. The wardrobe is probably rotting. The carpet is grubby in places, littered with piles of clothes and the lingering smell of damp.
"You can have the bed," I say, and I arrange the covers for him, ignoring the mould on the sheet. Claus rolls onto it, and I place the duvet over him. It's a surreal image, and it feels unnerving to put my role model to bed. But I steel myself. It's okay.
"Dad is different," Claus says, once the door is shut. "He is sad."
"Yeah," I say, and I sit on the floor beside him. "He's been sad for a while."
"Why?"
"He misses Mother." I don't know why the words roll out, but I know they're true.
Claus frowns. "So do I."
"Me too. Do you ever wonder if she still watches over us? Did you think about her much in Porky's tower?"
Claus looks down. He doesn't answer. Whether he's embarrassed, ashamed, or anything else, it's impossible to know. But he looks sad.
"I think about her a lot," I continue. "I think she'd be proud of us. At least, I hope so."
There's a pause, and Claus closes his eyes. I almost think he's gone to sleep, but he speaks again.
"Why was the man angry?" he asks. It's clear he's trying to change the subject, grasping it with both hands.
"The man? Oh, Ness's dad?"
"Yes."
"Well, he was angry at Ness," I explain. "He's not very nice. He sent us all away and told us we couldn't stay there anymore. We're going to be living here until it's time for school."
"But I liked Ness's house."
"So did I," I say, and I stretch my legs, knocking down a pile of clothes. It tumbles, revealing a moth-bitten rag.
"I don't like this house," Claus says. "It isn't nice."
"We'll make it nice," I promise. "Our friends will come round tomorrow, and then we can clear out all the rubbish. We can paint the walls and get some tasty food. It'll all be okay."
Claus makes an inquisitive noise. "Will there be Toon Link? Toon Link was funny. I like Toon Link."
"Yes, he'll be there," I say, heartened that he remembered Toon Link's name. I didn't think they'd spoken, but I'm glad. It's a promising sign. "Now, how about that bedtime story? What do you want it to be about?"
"About you," Claus says at once. "About big school."
"Big school? What do you want to know?"
"Everything!"
I smile at his childish excitement. "How about I tell you about the professors?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Well, there's Professor Rosalina. She's really nice, and she teaches science, which is a subject about the world around us. Ness and I are her favourite students."
"I like her," Claus says.
"I like her too. Her lessons are great, but I'm a lot better than Ness in them. There was this one time when we were doing an experiment, and Ness accidentally heated his magnesium too much. It created an incredibly bright light, and we almost went blind. He got detention for that…"
"Silly Ness," Claus laughs.
"He's the silliest person I know. But he's very kind, and he makes me happy. You know, he used to love science when we were younger. He wanted to be the first person to land on the sun. I told him that would be impossible because the sun is far too hot to land on. So, he said he was going to do it at night."
"But the sun is still there are night!" Claus exclaims. "It's just... hidden."
I smile. "And that's proof you're cleverer than Ness."
Claus beams, pleased with the praise. "Tell me more funny stories about him."
I think. I want a good one. Ness has had some moments of incredible goofiness in his time. "There's the one with the blackberries," I say, laughing in spite of myself.
"The blackberries?"
"Yeah. We were at school, and it was dinner time. Ness didn't eat the blackberries in his fruit salad, so Toon Link and Villager snuck into the kitchens and stole as many as they could carry. I took some, and I chased Ness around the school with them. Meanwhile, Toon Link swapped all his clothes for blackberries, and Villager hid even more around our bedroom. Can you believe that? Ah, the look on Ness's face when he saw…"
"That's mean… but also funny," Claus decides. "You have lots of fun at big school."
"Oh, we do. When we're not being attacked by monsters."
"Monsters?"
"Monsters," I repeat, smiling.
Claus looks up at me with a grin, all blue eyes and red hair, and for a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of him. I really think I do. Being home, maybe it's good for his sense of self. But maybe he just likes talking about me.
"Can I go to big school?" Claus asks.
I stop. I hadn't thought of that, would he be allowed? Would it be safe? I think we could keep him in the dorms... but I don't know. Porky could get to him.
I just have to shrug. "I hope so. We'll try to work it out so you can."
"I want to do lessons, just like you. I want to learn loads and loads and loads." He looks dreamy, overflowing with optimism for what looks like the first time in ages. "It's going to be so much fun."
"Yeah, it is," I say.
Claus gives a big yawn. "I am excited... but I sleep now. Am tired."
"Goodnight," I say. "Sleep well, Claus."
"Goodnight, Lucas," Claus says. "Love you lots and lots."
"I love you too," I say, my heart tugging with emotion.
He smiles as he closes his eyes. Within seconds, he's snoring, wrapped snugly in the covers. Seeing him there brings me back to fields of sunflowers and a farmyard full of sheep. In the air, I can almost taste freshly sizzling omelettes. But they're replaced with the smell of mould, and I hurriedly make my way back into the living room.
Ness and Father are sitting there in an awkward ambience. Both look up when they see me, and I join Ness, collapsing down next to a pile of paper.
"Is he asleep?" Ness asks.
"Yeah."
"Took you some time, you must've told a gripping story."
"I told him about the blackberries," I say, and I laugh when Ness's face contorts in horror.
"You traitor!"
"We could buy some tomorrow," I suggest, and Ness pouts.
"You're mean to me."
Flint gives a mournful sigh, interrupting the moment. "Look at you, Lucas. You've grown up so fast."
My smile fades as I look back at him. I fully take in his crumpled appearance. Drinking has won him over, leaving his hair unbrushed and his eyes sunken. He always made an effort to be neat, before. He'd always wear his hat. His shirt would be tucked in. He'd come home filthy from the mines, but he'd wash off at once.
Now, there's none of that. No drive. The scary man who pushed me down Giant's Mine has vanished completely.
"Lucas..." Flint murmurs. He meets my eyes for a second, but he quickly looks back at the floor. "What really happened to him — to Claus?"
Lately, it feels like I've been asked that a lot. I sigh. "He found out what happened to Mother, and ran away to seek revenge. But Porky captured him and used him as an experiment. Somebody freed him, and we found him in the forest."
"He speaks like a little kid," Flint says. "He still acts like a little kid."
"Yeah," I murmur.
Father gives a long groan before burying his face in his calloused hands. "I failed him. I failed him, just like I failed you."
"You didn't-"
"I've ignored you for years. I've moped around while you slaved away, making money, making dinner. I made you grow up so fast."
My chest hurts. I want to tell him he didn't. But I can't, not when everything he's saying is true. It's so true it hurts, and hearing him admit it makes me want to cry.
Ness nudges against me, soft arms slipping around my middle.
"And you," Flint croaks, looking up at him. "You've done a much better job of raising him than I have. You must hate me so much. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," Ness says weakly. "He deserved looking after. I was happy to."
But Flint looks at the carpet, despairing. "What must Hinawa think of me now?"
I don't have an answer for him. Ness holds me a little tighter.
"I'm sorry," Flint murmurs again.
"Dad-"
Father buries his head in his hands. "I'm so, so sorry."
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Eventually, there's nothing more to be done except rest. It's no good waiting for something to happen, especially given we need to be well-rested for tomorrow. And so, I bid Flint a quick goodnight, and Ness and I creep into the bedroom.
"Where do we sleep?" Ness whispers.
"We'll have to clear a space on the floor," I whisper back. "Sorry."
"It's okay."
In quiet unison, Ness and I bundle up clothes from the nicest area of the carpet, clearing some kind of space. I find a rather dirty and moth-bitten blanket in the wardrobe, and I lie on it, Ness lying next to me. There isn't much to be said.
At least I'm not alone. At least I'm not fighting this by myself. I have friends and a place in the world. I'm needed. That makes me feel better, in a sick, twisted way — Father needs me, for once. Perhaps if I sort this out, I'll finally be good enough for his attention.
'I failed you…'
He didn't seem too excited by Claus's return. Sure, it made him open the door, but he mellowed out almost instantly. It's as if this isn't the Claus he held in high regard, but then again, I suppose it isn't. Father always talked about how good Claus would've been at sport, or how much more of a man he would've been. Now, he's neither of those things. But, that doesn't explain the state of the house.
I feel another pang of guilt. I didn't check on him — I was nowhere near persistent enough over Christmas. If he'd let me in, I could've helped sooner, but I'd selfishly told myself, convinced myself it was my fault. I thought I was the one who wasn't good enough. It was an excuse not to try again, not to be disappointed, but I was wrong.
He was just ashamed.
Seeing my stricken expression, Ness pulls me close. He's warm, and he smells like honey. He lets me rest my head on his chest, and he runs his hand through my hair.
I know I can't rely on him for comfort, but so far, that's what's happened. Since we got together, the world has been throwing hell at us, and I almost wonder if that's not a coincidence. But I remind myself how good this feels, how right Ness's hand feels in mine. I don't believe in fate, and I don't believe in the devil. After all, if the devil exists, he's far too busy fucking my life up in other ways to care that I'm gay.
It's society that makes our relationship their business. We're the only ones who know what we have, and I don't think anyone else could understand us this deeply. And we've had so little time to just be boyfriends, to spend time together, that when Ness kisses me on the cheek, I'm almost taken by surprise. But I welcome it gladly.
"I wish I'd known about this sooner," Ness murmurs in his characteristically concerned tone. "I could've stolen some money from Father, could've snuck you into my house…"
"It's okay," I say. "It's not usually this bad, I promise."
"We have to make him care again," Ness says. "We need to give him a reason to take care of himself."
"I know."
Ness presses his chin into my forehead. "He needs a new job, or a new hobby. And a friend."
"But everyone's gone to New Porky City to be killed."
"Not everyone," Ness says optimistically. "Toon Link's family are still here, right? There are others, too. Not everyone will have fallen for the trap."
"And shouldn't he be at war?" I ask, my stomach sinking. "He's no longer a key worker. He's eligible for conscription."
"Nobody keeps track of the poor," Ness says. "The politicians don't think it's worth the effort. Besides, the house looks abandoned."
"I guess so," I say.
"It'll be okay," Ness promises, as though he's reading my thoughts. "Cleaning will be good practice for when we own a house together."
I laugh, blushing a little. Ness settles with his back to the window, taking me in his grip like a cocoon. He's right, I suppose, and it's always simpler to believe in hopeful thoughts when we're snuggled up together. I yawn, finally allowing exhaustion to overcome me. The room falls into silence, and after a while, it dissolves into black.
.
.
.
.
.
I find myself floating.
Nothing surrounds me. I don't feel anything at my fingertips. It's hollow, but surprisingly comfortable.
Something about this space is pleasantly easy. Down here, nothing can hurt me. I don't have to worry about anything, so long as I can stay in the darkness forever. Even though it's lonely, even though it's empty, it's okay.
Suddenly, above me, a little fissure forms. A little crack of white appears, and as light streaks in, I tear my eyes away. Behind me, the light silhouettes a monstrous peak, black and huge, towering enormously over my abyss. It scares me, for some reason. It's so immense and dominant, and there is no way to get rid of it. I cannot find the strength to wish it away, and I am deeply troubled.
I try swimming deeper into the abyss, but the peak doesn't get any further away. Silently, I wish for the light would disappear, so I won't have to look at it anymore. I don't want to face it, even if the light may be better, even if the light is where other people reside. The peak is too enormous.
But a tendril of light grabs me by the hand, and it forces me to turn around. The abyss brightens, and the peak begins, very slowly at first, to shrink. Beams of light race toward it like gunfire, and they take it away, destroying a little patch here, a little patch there. They wear it away ever so slowly, and behind it, I start to make out something green. As more of the darkness vanishes, the green becomes brighter, and then it's dotted with colour, too. It's a garden.
I can't help but watch. Suddenly, the abyss seems terrible — huge, lonely, and neverending. And as the peak is vanquished, I can't help but swim towards the garden, where kind figures stand, a river of gold flows, and a rainbow paints the sky.
At once, I'm at ease. Here, it's so much better. I sit down, and at last, I smile.
.
.
.
.
.
When I wake, the sunlight is trying and failing to stream through the grimy window. Little rays sneak through holes, casting a shadowed pattern over the carpet, but it's not enough to light the room.
Filled with confidence, I stand. We'll fix that first.
Ness is left sprawled out on the floor, his hair a mess, drool trailing down his chin. I grin at the sight — I suppose not even he can be beautiful all the time. Claus is sound asleep as well, nestled under the bedcovers. I can get a better look at the bed in the daylight, browned with age, and covered in moth-bitten holes. I put a hand to my head, perhaps considering the magnitude of this job for the first time. Will we be able to finish it before school comes back? Will we be able to find builders in time? What will stop Father from relapsing?
I push those thoughts back. Those are worries for later. For now, we need to go out, get food, and get started.
Ness reaches for something, and he brings his arms close as though he's trying to hug the air. He murmurs something, and he blearily opens one eye.
"Hey," I say.
He hastily wipes the drool from his chin. "Hey."
"Hey," Claus says suddenly, sitting up. "Is it the morning?"
"Yep," I reply. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very, very well. Thank you, Lucas."
"Great. Let's see if Father is awake."
We head into the lounge, where Father is lying on the sofa. He's asleep, but he doesn't look particularly comfortable. I add it to my mental list of things to fix.
I turn to the others. "Okay, here's the plan. Ness, you go and get the others from their houses. I'll go out to the shops and buy all the food we need. Claus, will you be alright to stay here and look after dad?"
"Okay!" Claus exclaims, pleased to have such an important role in proceedings. So, Ness and I put on our shoes, and we step out into the morning.
The air is crisp, smelling faintly of smoke and lilies. The ivy is glistening with frost, making the house's walls glisten. The sun is golden and rising, and sleepy morning birdsong mixes with the distant sound of silence. It's almost beautiful.
We walk. Ness catches my eye with a flicker of a smile.
"What do you think you're going to buy?"
"Steak," I decide. "Just for you."
Ness tosses me the money. "What do you think Father's going to do with my possessions? Burn them in the garden?"
"I hope not," I say, suddenly worried. Ness has some of my most precious paintings. I wouldn't mind keeping the letters I sent him, too.
"Tracy won't let him," Ness says, though he doesn't sound certain. "I'll ask her to send some stuff here. I'll give her a letter."
We reach the Westside soon enough, the warm lights of shops beginning to get more frequent. Ness turns away in search of Montague Avenue, not before agreeing to meet by the big statue of B.H. Pirkle. I can't help but watch him bounce off, and it occurs to me that we've hardly been apart since all of this began. It'll be weird to do something alone for once.
I study the money Ness gave me. It's more than I've ever had to spend at once. Thinking we might as well treat ourselves, I head into the Onett bakery.
"Oi!" an old woman shouts. She looks almost furious to see me, bashing at some dough. "You'd better not be here to steal, kid."
"Of course not," I say, unnerved. "I'm just here to buy some bread-"
"Some bread? FELICITY! CUSTOMER! C'MERE!"
A harassed-looking woman hurries out of the back. "Yes, Mother-"
"Quickly, see what he wants. The gods forbid you let him touch nothin', hm?
"Yes, of course-"
The older woman disappears into the back, and Felicity takes her place, painting on a smile. "Hello dear, what can I do for you today?"
"I'd like to buy some bread," I say, still nervous. "Do you sell any?"
"Certainly." Felicity nods toward a mound of loaves behind her. "Twelve pence for a roll, twenty for a loaf."
"Two rolls and a loaf, please."
"Certainly. May I interest you in a cookie? Just 7 pence each?"
I suppose it'd be a nice treat for the others. "I'll take four."
Felicity nods, withdrawing four warm cookies from the woodstove. She dexterously wraps them in paper, slotting the bread into a paper bag. Peculiarly, she takes an extra roll and throws it into the flames, where it begins to blacken.
She hands everything over in a big bundle. "There you go, dear."
"Thanks. Why did you throw a roll in the fire?"
"For the gods, love." She smiles politely. "With every order we receive, we must give a roll to the gods."
"Oh, right."
"It's Mother's idea," Felicity continues. "And she wonders why business isn't booming! Half of our produce gets thrown into that thing, with nothing to show for it..." There's a shout from the back, and she stops herself quickly. "Sorry, I have said too much. Enjoy your day."
"You too," I say, handing over sixty pence. But as our eyes meet, I notice her expression furrowing. My insides crawl — did I do something wrong? I remember Porky's threat with a gulp. Yet, as soon as I see it, her expression returns to normal.
"Thank you, dear. Come again soon."
"Thank you," I say.
Her eyes trail me as I leave. They're almost curious, almost recognising. But when I step out into pouring rain, my thoughts are immediately diverted.
I buy some vegetables from the greengrocers and some cheap pollock from the fishmongers. In the butchers, I get the usual: lard, and a dozen eggs, but I figure we have enough money to treat ourselves, so I pick up four plump beef steaks. The rain picks up dramatically as I buy everything else: oil, cleaning supplies, and even a few coats, shirts and trousers from a second-hand shop. Replacements for our clothes that burnt, I figure.
My arms ache with carrying the load, though my pockets feel significantly lighter as I make my way to the statue. "Come up with a quote to put on the statue? That's too much responsibility!" reads the inscription, and I quietly laugh to myself. B.H Pirkle is a strange man.
Thanks to the virus, nobody comes to steal from me, even though I look particularly vulnerable on my own. Perhaps Porky luring everyone to their deaths has finally had a positive. Soon enough, Ness is coming back around the corner, flanked by the others.
"Hey, Lucas!" Toon Link says, running over first. "I heard about your dad's troubles — my parents say you can stay at ours while you sort everything out."
"Oh, really?" I feel my cheeks colouring. "You don't have to."
"Nope, I insist!" Toon Link waves away my politeness. "Ness said you had to sleep on the floor. We've got loads of spare beds."
"Ah, thanks-"
"And look at all those heavy things!" Toon Link instantly takes away my shopping, giving it out to everyone else. "There we go, that's much better."
"I-"
He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay, Lucas? You haven't inhaled any mould spores? Any insects burrowed into your ears? Any spiders?"
"I'm alright," I say, laughing slightly. "You're more paranoid than Ness, and that's saying something."
"Good! Because Ness was saying you didn't eat, didn't sleep-"
I cast Ness a look. He knows I hate people worrying. "I'm fine."
"You'd better be," Toon Link says. "Well, in that case, gang, are we ready to clean?"
"You'll help?" I mumble, not sure why I'm so surprised.
"Of course," Red says. "We are friends, after all."
"Yeah," Pit chimes in. "Besides, we owe you. You've saved our lives about a million times."
I smile, genuinely touched. But suddenly, a bell rings out. The few shoppers scatter, practically running into the alleyways. Ness grabs my hand, and fear prickles through me.
It's the police.
"Lucas!" the lead constable declares, pointing a truncheon at my head. "You are hereby under arrest for the murder of Dr Andonuts."
"I didn't murder him!" I exclaim, but it's no good. The police convoy expands, revealing several men on horses, all armed with weapons and shields.
"A likely story," the constable says. "Surrender yourselves in the name of Onett City!"
But I have no intention of giving up now, especially not to a load of policemen. And so, I draw a parsnip from my array of shopping, pointing it at the constable's heart.
We're not going down without a fight.