Bunker Read Online Free PDF Page A

hitting me again, get it?’ I can imagine his swollen face, his skin wet with sweat and flushed. He’ll look at me, terrified, out of little slits of eyes. Begging for mercy.
    He stands up. Goes to the trapdoor, opens it, climbs down. Ignoring me. The trapdoor closes. I’m in here alone, I hesitated too long, I’m still standing in front of the wardrobe, its door half open behind my back, both arms held protectively over my body. I let my arms fall. Go over to the bed and drop on it. I pull the quilt over me and close my eyes, stabs of pain rising from the nape of my neck to my head.
    There he is again, the child behind the tree. I see the little boy before me, a skinny little boy materializing out of nothing. I go up to him, I don’t know him, yet he’s as familiar to me as the woodland where I find myself now. I know him by his bloodstained ear. The boy’s face changes, I can’t see it properly. There’s something I don’t like about him, it scares me. The child avoids my eyes, won’t look at me, stupid brat! He waves his arms about. Making signals. What does he want? The movements calm down, begin to make more sense, lines, circles, letters. Yes, he’s tracing letters in the air with one finger. Writing in the air. Secret conversations, the kind we used to have as children. Painting letters in the air, or writing them on each other’s backs and then asking, ‘Go on, what was that word? Guess!’ OK, I’ll play along. I try to concentrate. I recognize a letter Y. And then a letter C. Or is it? He shakes his head energetically, starts again. An O? He nods. Then a U. He nods again. ‘YOU.’ Good, on we go. He writes in the air again, fast, much too fast. I can’t decipher it. He writes more letters. I can’t make out the word. He loses interest in the game, turns away, runs off into the woods. Wait, wait for me! I run after him, try to follow. But there’s no one to be seen in the woods any more.

The bus moves slowly towards the stop. I am the only passenger. I get up from my seat while the bus is still moving. I go down the central aisle to the front door, holding on to the pole for support. I stop by the driver, lean my back against the perspex pane. The driver doesn’t see me, he’s looking straight ahead, keeping his eyes on the road. The bus stops. The door opens, I get out. I’m not even outside yet, my foot is still on the last step, when the first school kids push their way in. They storm in noisily, satchels on their backs, bags of PE kit in their hands. Pushing, shoving, shouting. Everyone’s trying to get to a seat first. The doors close behind me. I stand by the side of the road, looking in the direction of the bus. The driver is sitting there behind his steering wheel, still looking straight ahead. Thebus starts, passes me very close. I cross the road and on the other side I go on along the pavement. There’s no one around except for me, I’m on my own. The echo of my footsteps bothers me
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    It’s not daylight yet, the buildings on the housing estate are only vaguely outlined. There are lights on in some of the apartments – the windows are bright patches in the grey façades of the buildings. The street lighting is still switched on but it hardly lights up its surroundings at all. I go along the tarmac path to the apartment block where I live. Stop at the glazed front door. Put my right hand in my jacket pocket and take my key ring out. I open the door, close it again; the lock latches with a click behind me
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    I take the lift, go up from the ground floor to the mezzanine floor leading to the fourth storey. From there I go up the steps to my apartment. Still with the key in my hand, I open the door of my apartment and go down the corridor to the kitchen. I keep my jacket and shoes on, as I always do – I take my jacket off only when I’m in the kitchen, then I hang it over the back of the