Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,45
we need to be in a building, so the helicopter can’t see us. They use those cameras, don’t they? Pick up on your body warmth, but I don’t think it works through buildings. Here—” He picked up my bags. “I’ll take these. Are you OK to carry on for a bit?”
“Yeah, s’pose.”
He set off and I stuck close to him this time. It was taking ages to get light, because it was cloudy. I glanced behind me, but the top of the hill was blocking the view back. Stupid, anyway. Did I really want to see the people following us? I caught up with Spider again, and we trudged across the fields.
If I’d felt exposed the day before, it was ten times worse today. If the helicopter came our way before we found somewhere to hide, we’d had it. The skin on the back of my neck was pricking, anticipating the thudding of the chopper blades getting closer and closer. We walked solidly all morning, sweating in our thick coats despite the icy wind, not speaking — there was nothing to say. We came across a couple of farms, but the buildings were all together: house, barns, sheds. Wouldn’t take anyone long to search them. We needed something more remote.
It took us several hours to find a barn. It stood in the corner of a field and was made of metal — great tall legs, a crinkly metal roof, and no sides. It was on its own, beside another little knot of trees, no houses for miles. There were piles of hay stacked up like hairy yellow bricks forming walls along two sides. Once we got nearer, we saw something else under there — a ramshackle metal fence with cows inside. They raised their heads as we approached, snorting and snuffling. I’d never been close to a cow before, only seen them on TV — no joke, they were massive.
“No way,” I said to Spider. “Not here. Not with those things.”
“They’re behind a fence,” he said doubtfully. I could tell he was as wary as me.
“Yeah, but look at it. It’s only held together with string.”
The cows were still watching us, like they were expecting something. Then, without warning, one of them suddenly went berserk and butted into the one next to it, sending shock waves through the lot of them as they scattered and then regrouped.
That was it. “We can’t stay here. We’ll get trampled.”
“There’s nowhere else, is there, Jem? At least there’s some shelter here. Look, if they get out we can climb up the hay, can’t we? Cows can’t climb, can they?”
“I dunno.”
We sat down on a hay bale and looked at the cows. A couple of them were still eyeballing us, but most of them had gone back to nibbling the hay. One of them lifted its tail, still eating, and a stream of brown liquid poured out. I have never seen anything so gross in my life. Instinctively, I held my hand up to cover my mouth, as my empty stomach heaved. I looked away, but Spider’s jaw had dropped, and he was staring at it in horror, completely mesmerized.
“That is one sick cow,” he said, eyes still on it. “Either that or someone’s been feeding it curry. Last time I had curry, bloody hell…”
“Shut up!” I managed to say before the dry heaves silenced me again. Hunched up, I staggered out of the barn and stood a few feet away, bent over with my hands on my legs, trying to calm my stomach down and suck in some fresh air. After a bit, I could hear Spider walking over toward me.
“You alright?”
“No.” I felt his hand on my back. It rested there for a second, then moved gently up and down, soothing me. I focused on his hand, where it touched me, and my stomach muscles gradually unwound. Even though I was feeling better, I stayed bent over for a while, not wanting to dislodge his hand. I’d never been one for physical contact, but this was comforting, warm. When I straightened up, Spider was just standing there, not looking at me but staring into the distance. He let his hand fall off my back. The wind was whipping across the fields, with a bit of an edge to it now.
“Better?” he asked, without turning his head.
“No, well, yeah.” I wanted to say thank you to him, for calming me down, making me feel better, but that would have been too soft. Instead, I