Rob Ewing - The Last of Us

Nobody says teamwork.

We get our rucksacks, and pack clothes, water, small toys. Calum Ian shouts instructions at everyone: saying we have to try harder because Elizabeth is sick.

She sits on the sand, looking away for trying to forget, until Calum Ian orders Duncan to the swimming pool to look for floats or armbands for the passengers.

When he’s not watching, Elizabeth pulls me close and whispers fierce and quiet: ‘Go after him. Go where Duncan goes.’

‘Why?’

‘You need to get him to walk with you. Instead of his brother. Go after him, go now.’

I don’t need to ask why. And then I can’t ask anyway, or find out if even she’s scared to be in the boat with him, because Calum Ian is there with us, taking out the heavy things he says we shouldn’t’ve packed.

Duncan goes too far ahead. I run to catch him up – and just spy him going through the big school doors.

Inside, there are three ways to go: to the library, to the assembly hall, to the rest of the school.

The swimming pool’s empty. Floats, goggles on the floor from the last time we came. He didn’t come here.

The sign over the assembly hall door says TRIAGE; that one over the school door says QUARANTINE. Only the library door says what it truly is: LIBRARY.

It’s dark in the library, because there’s only skylights, no windows.

‘Hullo? Anybody in?’ The room doesn’t answer, just stays smelling of old stale air.

When I go between the shelves of Spaceand ExplorersI find Duncan.

He’s crouched down, hiding, like he didn’t want me to find him. My heart goes fast with fright.

‘Thought you were a creature,’ I say.

He’s got books on the floor which he’s covering up. I think he’s going to be angry, just like his brother, so I get ready to defend myself, or run away – but instead he just gathers what he has and goes to sit at one of the tables.

‘Humans are creatures,’ he says.

There’s a gap on the shelf next to where he was crouched.

The name for this shelf is: Seafaring.

He puts the books on his lap and tries to read the topmost one with his arm still covering.

Pretending not to notice I go and look around the shelves. In the Sciencesection, next to Volcanoes, I find a book we looked at before, when it was dark and cold in winter. The title is Electricity: Turn it on!

For a peace offering I show it to Duncan.

‘Sure, that one was useless,’ he says, keeping a watch on me. ‘Loads of crap about how electricity makes your hair stand on end. Nothing about how to get it back.’

We stare at one another. Duncan’s scars look deep in the dark. I suppose mine must do as well.

‘You followed me here.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I wanted to ask if you’d come with us on the walk, instead of…’

He knows why. Right away he knows why I’m asking: and for the look he gives me it feels unloyal.

‘My brother is not as bad as you think.’

‘I wasn’t—’

‘His bark’s worse than his bite. Truly. I should know, I live beside him. That’s what brothers are for.’

‘If Calum Ian would burn a body – like in the headmaster’s house – could that not mean he could do it to other people? If he made a mistake, I mean. Or got a wrong idea in his head.’

‘Like the wrong idea you had – of dirtying our house, of killing the pictures of our family? Are you meaning that sort of mistake?’

But Duncan doesn’t really want to rub in the bad of what I did: because he adds in a kinder voice, ‘I don’t know why he did what he did. I wasn’t expecting it, either. But if you need the truth: he’s on our side. He’s not as bad as you imagine, so you shouldn’t be bothered or even scared. Want to know how I know you shouldn’t worry?’

He unzips the front pocket of his rucksack and takes out an envelope.

I know what this is right away; I try to grab it.

He makes me take it nice.

The letter inside is dirty, and it’s been torn into lots of pieces. I look at Duncan, unsure if this is a trick.

‘You dropped it on the road,’ he says. ‘Beside the fifteen tree forest. It got torn up… by me.’

I put the pieces back inside the envelope. Then I take a book from one of the nearby shelves and unpeel its plastic cover, to keep the envelope safe inside.

‘Go on. Why don’t you put the pieces back together?’

‘It might not go…’

‘You won’t know if you don’t try.’

I hold it: ready to show him that I could: but then I can’t. I’m too scared to find out what Mum wrote.

He doesn’t push to know.

‘Calum Ian saw the letter. Saw your name on it. It was me that tore it up. Because you took the knife out on him. So you know what he did? He picked up the pieces. Made me promise I would give them all back to you. He said: She’s sad… You can cheer her up with it later. Just don’t tell her I said so.’

Duncan gives me a thumbs-up.

‘See? My brother’s not bad, he’s all right. You just have to give him the benefit and not the doubt.’

We both look down at the book he’s hiding.

It’s called More Scottish Fishing Craft.

Duncan frowns at me like he’s worried I’ll say something.

‘I just want to do my best, for the boat trip.’ He reaches for my hand and makes me shake.

‘So don’t tell. Specially not Calum Ian. Because he’s my big brother. He knows I can do it. You never want to let the big ones down. You’ve got to be a winner.’

I promise not to say anything.

‘I made Mairi a bag of clothes plus toys,’ Alex is saying. ‘She had to begin hers from the start.’

When I get back Elizabeth gives me a keen look: asking if I managed to persuade Duncan.

‘It’s all right,’ I tell her. ‘He convinced me it’s all right. You shouldn’t be worrying so much.’

She nods, mouth pressed firm: then holds out her hands for a hug, which I give her, and which she uses to whisper in my ear: ‘Keep your eyes peeled. If anything bad happens: run. Head towards the sea and wave your hands. Get the others to run in different directions if it comes to it. I’ll get Duncan to follow the shore around.’

Then she’s hugging Alex, still looking at me.

We pull the boat down to the water’s edge, until it starts to float. Then Elizabeth and Duncan get in.

They stand at both ends to get the balance right, then we put their bags in – only already there’s a problem. The weight of everything makes the boat sag through its middle so much it’s like it got cut in half.

‘Lighten your bags,’ Calum Ian orders, pulling jumpers and clothes out of Duncan’s. ‘Less weight the better.’

Duncan’s fiddle and family pictures are left on the pier. Elizabeth, still in the boat, begins to ask a lot of questions: about the tides, what if it rains, what if it gets dark, what if the outboard stops working. She even asks about whales or sharks. Duncan tells her not to be so dumb.

‘I’m the son of a sailor, I can do it,’ he says.

For the last packing he takes an extra plastic milk carton of petrol for the engine, plus a spare canister.

Finally, he ties on Elizabeth’s lifejacket, then Calum Ian ties up Duncan’s. We put a packed lunch for both of them under the seat: chocolate mints, baby cans of tonic water.

‘Wave to the captain!’ Duncan shouts.

He turns the engine on, and we cheer loud as it roars.

For a moment the boat moves like a see-saw: but soon they get the balance right, and it flattens out.

‘You lot better get ready to run,’ Calum Ian hisses.