Flood by Ian Rankin Page A

long green tendrils of weed in the water below. Once over, he leapt from the pipe on to crumbly brown earth. It was a good feeling. They jogged the rest of the way through the field to a pool of algae covered water. Immediately one of them, Clark, stripped, and penis waving like a comedian's wand ran into the pond.
    He shrieked, but no one told him to be quiet. They were truly in the wilds here. No one would hear them shout or laugh or scream. Clark splashed out of the pool, green tapioca clinging to his white body. He scratched it away with a look of disgust.

    'It's freezing in there,' he said. 'Dare you.' He looked around, but the rest of them were busy opening cans and catching the foam in their mouths. He wiped himself with his T-shirt. 'Fair shares/ he said, walking towards them.

    They lay in the long grass and stared at the sky as if it were a picture-show. They had blades of grass in their mouths. It was a time for lazing. They had spent their energy fighting in the pool.

    'The dole in eight weeks,' said Clark. 'I can't believe it.'

    'It would be better if we all had jobs, though,' said Colin.

    'Ach, we'll get jobs eventually,' said Mark. We've deserved our rest.
    Complete rest and relaxation. No early rises except when you've to sign on. It's just what the doctor ordered.'

    'Oh aye?' said Sandy. 'Seeing the doctor, are you, Mark? I wonder what for?'

    The clap if I know him.'

    'Now, now, lads. Let's not be too hasty in condemning the poor sod. Let's condemn him slowly.'

    'Ha fucking ha,' said Mark.

    'Any advance on that?' said Sandy.

    'But seriously, guys. No more school! It's like being let out of jail after doing thirty years' hard labour.'

    'Now, now, Mark. Remember one of us has to go back.'

    'Oh yes. Sorry, Witchy. I forgot.'

    'I don't like being called Witchy, Marcus.'

    'I don't like being called Marcus, Witchy.'

    Sandy stuck a hand up into the air and Mark clasped it.
    They shook. Then there was silence for a time. Sandy lay with his shirt crumpled over his genitalia. They had to be protected, he had told his friends, as you never knew when they would come in handy. Sandy worked hard at every utterance he made in this group. His jokes were his defence in a way, and were also what had first gained him entrance to the gang. He did not want to lose his privilege.

    'Freedom,' said Clark. 'It's okay, Sandy. You don't have any exams when you go back. No work to do. Just sit it out, like you were in jail in Monopoly.' Everyone chuckled, grass still wedged between teeth. The sun was too bright. It made Sandy's eyes dizzy to look at it. He watched the blood red of a foetus form whenever he closed his eyelids.

    That little shit Belly Martin. It's about time somebody got him. And good, too. Give him something as a souvenir.'

    "You're right, Colin. But how?' They thought for a few moments.

    'Bring him down here,' said Sandy, savouring the words as they formed inside his aching head, 'and throw him in the pond. Then leave him, naked, wet, lost in the dark, and just go home.' Somebody sat up. Their shadow blocked the sun.
    Sandy peered up but could not see who it was.

    'That's brilliant, Sandy. But how do we capture him?' said Colin.

    'Kidnap him some evening when he leaves the chip shop,'
    said Sandy, closing his eyes again.

    'It's a fine plan,' Clark said lazily.

    'A great plan,' said Colin. Everybody agreed. 'So great that I think we should have a trial run!' Colin was on Sandy immediately. Sandy gasped, nearly choking on his blade of grass. He clung with one hand to his shirt while the other clawed at the earth. Colin was dragging him by the feet towards the pond. Too late, Sandy released his grip on the shirt and grabbed for Colin. With a splash, he had been thrown in a semi-circle right into the pond. He was going down. It seemed incredibly deep, and certainly much deeper than it had been twenty minutes before. It was like being tossed into the sea from a helicopter. Sandy turned and turned. He