Dirtier, part 11
Dec. 6th, 2008 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanA boat!
Any idea he might have had about clearing off on his own fell away under a sudden flash of memory. His hands moving a stone back into place in a wall lit by reflections of off water, the smell of the river in his nose, and gentle movement under his feet. There'd been a boat.
He stared at the boy in front of him. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know you need help."
And that echoed too, that earnest voice wanting to help. Choosing to help, whether the help was wanted or not, and at least half aware that helping would neither be easy nor safe. It hadn't been that long since he was Sam's age... well, alright it had, but he could remember anyway, how much kids saw and knew and could do if only they had the chance. Would risk, if they thought they should. Even if he turned down the offer, tried to leave by himself, he knew that Sam would follow along.
"It's not just the Watcher," he said, wanting these unexpected allies to understand the danger. "There's another man, and a woman, likely to come looking for me. They were in the hospital when I woke up. They seem friendly, but I don't know..." He tried to find words for the way Purdey and Steed struck him as dangerous too -- gave up after a moment. "I need to know more. I need to figure out what it is I'm being followed for, what Steed's after from me. What it is I've forgotten. Who I can trust."
"You can trust us," Sam said. "I promise."
"Even if we can't get you to the boat, we ought to get you inside for a while. You're shivering." One of the other boys -- Peter, he thought Sam had called him -- pushed his glasses back into place. "I could give you something to eat while you warmed up."
His stomach growled, and he gave over arguing with himself. He wanted -- needed -- a chance to think, and perhaps a chance to let Sam ask more of his questions. And food sounded like a wonderful idea. "As long as it's not rice pudding," he sighed and nodded his acquiescence. "What do you want me to do?"
***
It wasn't as easy as it ought to have been, but Sam was used to that. First Florrie insisted on putting the rest of Gumby's things into her own school satchel, which had flowers on it, but a shoulder strap which none of the boys' satchels did, and when she and Orly had finished arguing about that (Florrie won, because Gumby just took the satchel and put the strap over his head without a qualm) and she'd gone off to plot with Peanut while the rest of them went down to the far end of the schoolyard, Toad was perched on the coal door, with his arms crossed and his lower lip sticking out. Sam wasn't on Toad's good side, and hadn't been since Toad had decided that school was boring and pretending was stupid. But he was big, and had muscles. Especially the one between his ears.
"What is it, Shirley?" Toad sneered. "Another adventure?" He drew out the word to make it sound as juvenile as possible.
Sam swallowed a sigh. "Just a favor. I need someone strong and you're the strongest boy in the school." It wasn't an admission he liked to make, but it was some comfort to see that saying it had put Toad off balance.
"What's it worth to you?" Toad asked warily.
"My football." Sam heard the gasps behind him.
"What the old one?" Toad ought to have known better than to ask, since he'd punctured Sam's old football himself by kicking it with running spikes on. Still, if he hadn't, Sam wouldn't have a decent bribe now.
"No, the new one. But it means do as you're told for ten minutes and no questions or telling ever."
"Even to grown ups?" Toad asked slyly.
"Especially to grownups."
"Please, Tad?" Annie added her two cents, but Sam waited. Toad wasn't nearly as stupid as he thought he was, and he was honorable in his own way. If he made the deal he'd keep it, but he'd enjoy trying to get things out of Sam on the basis of knowing that there was a secret. That was okay. Once Gumby was safely home it wouldn't matter, whether Toad knew that or not.
"Depends on what you want me to do."
"Help get this man down the chute without getting hurt." That didn't count as a question, really.
Toad looked over Gumby thoughtfully, but then spat in his hand and held it out. "Deal."
Sam spat in his own hand and they shook on it.
"Okay," Sam said. "Gumby, come over here so I can look like I'm telling you how to get over to the plantation. Orly, you get ready to open the door. Toad, when I tell you, you and me will slide down first to catch Gumby when he comes."
"That's dumb," Toad objected. "You want your strongest man on top, to slow things down. Ain't you never moved something heavy down stairs?"
"Question," Orly objected.
"That's all right," Sam said. "It was rigoric... rhomboida... it wasn't the kind of question I meant. Just do it my way -- Gumby's strong enough, but I need someone tall with me, so he doesn't have to land on his bad leg."
"Rhetorical," Gumby supplied the word Sam couldn't remember. "How far down is it?"
"Maybe ten feet, and there's a slide most of the way. Annie, you be ready to pass the crutches down." Sam waved his hand past Gumby, pointing up the road. If the Watcher was only fooled into thinking that Gumby'd gone on, everything would work out perfectly. "Here come the teachers... now all we have to wait for is..."
"HELP!" Florrie's shriek sent chills right up Sam's spine and it was all he could do not to turn and run towards her. "MRS POTTS! LOOK!"
"Orly!" Sam hissed, and Orly startled guiltily and pulled open the coal chute door. Sam jumped in, banging his funnybone on the way down and having to dodge quickly to avoid being hit by Toad's boots. He remembered that he wanted to be on the side where Gumby's bad leg would be and bumped Toad to the other side just in time. Gumby, who couldn't possibly jump down the way that Sam had, was lowering himself to the ground at the edge of the coal chute and starting down, using both hands braced against the walls as brakes, but he was still coming down pretty fast. Luckily, Toad had reached up and caught Gumby's good foot and sort of hand over handed up the leg as the man came down. Sam, whose left arm was tingling and numb from elbow to fingers, did his best, which wasn't nearly as good, and he ended up with Gumby's hand hitting him in the face and an elbow catching his ear and his own hand tangling in the strap of the satchel and the three of them nearly falling over as Gumby fell the last two feet and his good foot hit the ground and his bad foot hit it a moment later. It was even odds which one of them came out with the worst word, but they managed to stay upright, and Peter appeared out of what Sam hoped Toad would think was nowhere to help them get the man to a wall he could lean against for more certain support.
"Crutches!" Peter said, taking them as Annie handed them down and practically putting them under Gumby's arms for him. "Sam, you better get up there."
"Help me give Toad a boost up first," Sam said. "I don't think I even want to know what Peanut's thought up. Gumby, are you okay on your own?"
"MMm." Gumby made a noise, but he nodded too, and pushed Sam forward a little.
Between Peter and Sam they managed to give Toad a boost up, and Orly caught his collar and hauled him the rest of the way out. Then it was Sam's turn, and Orly and Toad hauling from above and his sore elbow making him want to swear all over again. "Close the door!" he heard Peter call up.
Orly didn't wait for instructions from Sam, he just closed the door while Annie and Toad and Tinpot helped Sam scramble around the corner of the building and started dusting off the worst of the dirt. "Mrs. Potts is looking for you," Tinpot warned. "Better get over there."
"Right." Sam wiped at his face, hoping he could look normal in spite of the panic he was feeling. "Toad. Thanks."
"Get on," Toad said with a momentarily friendly grin. "Just remember I want that football by teatime."
Sam nodded and headed back around the corner into the schoolyard, hoping that to the Watcher, it would seem as if he'd been summoned back after walking a ways east with Gumby. All the teachers, most of the kids, and half a dozen of the mums were crowded by the fence, near the ancient chestnut tree that had been there so long it had rails stuck through the bole. He trotted forward, looking for the principal. "Tinpot said you wanted me, Mrs. Potts," he panted as he reached her.
"I do." Mrs. Potts was about a million years old, and built like a shortbread tin, small and square and flat, but she had a grip like a gorilla and when she caught hold of your shoulder there was nothing to do but go where she took you. She took Sam right up to the fence. "Look up there."
Sam looked up and saw a flash of pink legs and dirty knees near the top of the tree just before something small and dark fell and bounced off his forehead.
"Ow!" he exclaimed, clapping a hand over the injury.
"Now aren't you meant to be minding your brother?" Mrs. Potts asked.
"Peanut! Get down here!" Sam yelled, obligingly.
"I'm not Peanut!" came the blithe answer. "I'm Rocky the Flying Squirrel!" More chestnuts fell, scattering teachers and kids and parents left and right. Mrs. Potts took the bombardment without flinching, but Sam -- trapped in her grasp -- couldn't do the same.
"I'll Rocky the Flying Squirrel you!" he shouted, adding a bruise on his wrist to the score. "Let me go, Mrs. Potts. I'll get him down."
"Indeed you will," she said. "I am not going to summon the Fire Brigade again this term. Do you understand?"
"Oh, please don't say that, Mrs. Potts. He's sure to accidentally set fire to something if you do."
"Then you'd best start planning on carrying a fire extinguisher!"
Any idea he might have had about clearing off on his own fell away under a sudden flash of memory. His hands moving a stone back into place in a wall lit by reflections of off water, the smell of the river in his nose, and gentle movement under his feet. There'd been a boat.
He stared at the boy in front of him. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know you need help."
And that echoed too, that earnest voice wanting to help. Choosing to help, whether the help was wanted or not, and at least half aware that helping would neither be easy nor safe. It hadn't been that long since he was Sam's age... well, alright it had, but he could remember anyway, how much kids saw and knew and could do if only they had the chance. Would risk, if they thought they should. Even if he turned down the offer, tried to leave by himself, he knew that Sam would follow along.
"It's not just the Watcher," he said, wanting these unexpected allies to understand the danger. "There's another man, and a woman, likely to come looking for me. They were in the hospital when I woke up. They seem friendly, but I don't know..." He tried to find words for the way Purdey and Steed struck him as dangerous too -- gave up after a moment. "I need to know more. I need to figure out what it is I'm being followed for, what Steed's after from me. What it is I've forgotten. Who I can trust."
"You can trust us," Sam said. "I promise."
"Even if we can't get you to the boat, we ought to get you inside for a while. You're shivering." One of the other boys -- Peter, he thought Sam had called him -- pushed his glasses back into place. "I could give you something to eat while you warmed up."
His stomach growled, and he gave over arguing with himself. He wanted -- needed -- a chance to think, and perhaps a chance to let Sam ask more of his questions. And food sounded like a wonderful idea. "As long as it's not rice pudding," he sighed and nodded his acquiescence. "What do you want me to do?"
***
It wasn't as easy as it ought to have been, but Sam was used to that. First Florrie insisted on putting the rest of Gumby's things into her own school satchel, which had flowers on it, but a shoulder strap which none of the boys' satchels did, and when she and Orly had finished arguing about that (Florrie won, because Gumby just took the satchel and put the strap over his head without a qualm) and she'd gone off to plot with Peanut while the rest of them went down to the far end of the schoolyard, Toad was perched on the coal door, with his arms crossed and his lower lip sticking out. Sam wasn't on Toad's good side, and hadn't been since Toad had decided that school was boring and pretending was stupid. But he was big, and had muscles. Especially the one between his ears.
"What is it, Shirley?" Toad sneered. "Another adventure?" He drew out the word to make it sound as juvenile as possible.
Sam swallowed a sigh. "Just a favor. I need someone strong and you're the strongest boy in the school." It wasn't an admission he liked to make, but it was some comfort to see that saying it had put Toad off balance.
"What's it worth to you?" Toad asked warily.
"My football." Sam heard the gasps behind him.
"What the old one?" Toad ought to have known better than to ask, since he'd punctured Sam's old football himself by kicking it with running spikes on. Still, if he hadn't, Sam wouldn't have a decent bribe now.
"No, the new one. But it means do as you're told for ten minutes and no questions or telling ever."
"Even to grown ups?" Toad asked slyly.
"Especially to grownups."
"Please, Tad?" Annie added her two cents, but Sam waited. Toad wasn't nearly as stupid as he thought he was, and he was honorable in his own way. If he made the deal he'd keep it, but he'd enjoy trying to get things out of Sam on the basis of knowing that there was a secret. That was okay. Once Gumby was safely home it wouldn't matter, whether Toad knew that or not.
"Depends on what you want me to do."
"Help get this man down the chute without getting hurt." That didn't count as a question, really.
Toad looked over Gumby thoughtfully, but then spat in his hand and held it out. "Deal."
Sam spat in his own hand and they shook on it.
"Okay," Sam said. "Gumby, come over here so I can look like I'm telling you how to get over to the plantation. Orly, you get ready to open the door. Toad, when I tell you, you and me will slide down first to catch Gumby when he comes."
"That's dumb," Toad objected. "You want your strongest man on top, to slow things down. Ain't you never moved something heavy down stairs?"
"Question," Orly objected.
"That's all right," Sam said. "It was rigoric... rhomboida... it wasn't the kind of question I meant. Just do it my way -- Gumby's strong enough, but I need someone tall with me, so he doesn't have to land on his bad leg."
"Rhetorical," Gumby supplied the word Sam couldn't remember. "How far down is it?"
"Maybe ten feet, and there's a slide most of the way. Annie, you be ready to pass the crutches down." Sam waved his hand past Gumby, pointing up the road. If the Watcher was only fooled into thinking that Gumby'd gone on, everything would work out perfectly. "Here come the teachers... now all we have to wait for is..."
"HELP!" Florrie's shriek sent chills right up Sam's spine and it was all he could do not to turn and run towards her. "MRS POTTS! LOOK!"
"Orly!" Sam hissed, and Orly startled guiltily and pulled open the coal chute door. Sam jumped in, banging his funnybone on the way down and having to dodge quickly to avoid being hit by Toad's boots. He remembered that he wanted to be on the side where Gumby's bad leg would be and bumped Toad to the other side just in time. Gumby, who couldn't possibly jump down the way that Sam had, was lowering himself to the ground at the edge of the coal chute and starting down, using both hands braced against the walls as brakes, but he was still coming down pretty fast. Luckily, Toad had reached up and caught Gumby's good foot and sort of hand over handed up the leg as the man came down. Sam, whose left arm was tingling and numb from elbow to fingers, did his best, which wasn't nearly as good, and he ended up with Gumby's hand hitting him in the face and an elbow catching his ear and his own hand tangling in the strap of the satchel and the three of them nearly falling over as Gumby fell the last two feet and his good foot hit the ground and his bad foot hit it a moment later. It was even odds which one of them came out with the worst word, but they managed to stay upright, and Peter appeared out of what Sam hoped Toad would think was nowhere to help them get the man to a wall he could lean against for more certain support.
"Crutches!" Peter said, taking them as Annie handed them down and practically putting them under Gumby's arms for him. "Sam, you better get up there."
"Help me give Toad a boost up first," Sam said. "I don't think I even want to know what Peanut's thought up. Gumby, are you okay on your own?"
"MMm." Gumby made a noise, but he nodded too, and pushed Sam forward a little.
Between Peter and Sam they managed to give Toad a boost up, and Orly caught his collar and hauled him the rest of the way out. Then it was Sam's turn, and Orly and Toad hauling from above and his sore elbow making him want to swear all over again. "Close the door!" he heard Peter call up.
Orly didn't wait for instructions from Sam, he just closed the door while Annie and Toad and Tinpot helped Sam scramble around the corner of the building and started dusting off the worst of the dirt. "Mrs. Potts is looking for you," Tinpot warned. "Better get over there."
"Right." Sam wiped at his face, hoping he could look normal in spite of the panic he was feeling. "Toad. Thanks."
"Get on," Toad said with a momentarily friendly grin. "Just remember I want that football by teatime."
Sam nodded and headed back around the corner into the schoolyard, hoping that to the Watcher, it would seem as if he'd been summoned back after walking a ways east with Gumby. All the teachers, most of the kids, and half a dozen of the mums were crowded by the fence, near the ancient chestnut tree that had been there so long it had rails stuck through the bole. He trotted forward, looking for the principal. "Tinpot said you wanted me, Mrs. Potts," he panted as he reached her.
"I do." Mrs. Potts was about a million years old, and built like a shortbread tin, small and square and flat, but she had a grip like a gorilla and when she caught hold of your shoulder there was nothing to do but go where she took you. She took Sam right up to the fence. "Look up there."
Sam looked up and saw a flash of pink legs and dirty knees near the top of the tree just before something small and dark fell and bounced off his forehead.
"Ow!" he exclaimed, clapping a hand over the injury.
"Now aren't you meant to be minding your brother?" Mrs. Potts asked.
"Peanut! Get down here!" Sam yelled, obligingly.
"I'm not Peanut!" came the blithe answer. "I'm Rocky the Flying Squirrel!" More chestnuts fell, scattering teachers and kids and parents left and right. Mrs. Potts took the bombardment without flinching, but Sam -- trapped in her grasp -- couldn't do the same.
"I'll Rocky the Flying Squirrel you!" he shouted, adding a bruise on his wrist to the score. "Let me go, Mrs. Potts. I'll get him down."
"Indeed you will," she said. "I am not going to summon the Fire Brigade again this term. Do you understand?"
"Oh, please don't say that, Mrs. Potts. He's sure to accidentally set fire to something if you do."
"Then you'd best start planning on carrying a fire extinguisher!"
