Read Online The Bunker Diary by Kevin Brooks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kevin Brooks
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day.
Nothing happens.
We eat, we drink, we stay calm, we get
organized. We all look terrible. Pale, drained, haunted. Anja is developing an
unbalanced stare. When she’s not in her room she walks around looking busy all the
time, but her eyes are permanently unfocused, like a caged bear at the zoo. Bird
can’t keep his eyes off her. He keeps scratching his groin and rubbing his face.
Although he’s only been here a short while he’s already got a thick growth
of stubble on his chin. All over his face, in fact. He’s a hairy man is Mr Bird.
Fred’s beard is longer but stragglier, a bit like Shaggy’s beard. You know,
Shaggy from
Scooby-Doo
. Not that Fred looks anything like Shaggy. He’s
more like Desperate Dan. Imagine Desperate Dan with Shaggy’s beard and junkie eyes
and tattoos all over his body – that’s what Fred looks like.
I don’t know what I look like. I
don’t really care. You don’t get any points for looking good down here. I
feel
pretty scummy though, and that’s not nice. No matter how many
times I wash, my skin still feels dirty and clammy, like the dirt is underneath the
skin. My head itches too.
The whole thing stinks.
I haven’t had a chance to talk to Bird
about what day it was when he was abducted. Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve had
plenty of chances to talk to him, I just don’t want to. As you’ve probably
guessed, I don’t like him. He creeps me out. And anyway, it doesn’t really
matter what day it was. If he’s lying, he’s lying. There’s nothing I
can do about that. And if he’s not lying, and I’ve lost a
day … well, so what? Who cares what day it is?
6.30 p.m.
Time for tea.
Yippee.
10.30 p.m.
We’ve just had our first evening
meeting. As it was my suggestion, I had the pleasure of collecting everyone’s
notebooks and reading their escape ideas. Jenny was asleep, so there were only the four
of us. Four people. Four pages.
Apart from a neat little heading – ESCAPE – Anja’s page was blank.
Bird had written –
Dig??? Communicate
Fred had suggested –
Fire, note down
bog
And I’d written –
Distraction.
Distract him, hide someone in lift. How? Who?
‘Dig?’ I said to Bird.
‘We’re in a bloody basement. We’re underground. Where the hell are we
going to dig to?’
‘
Shhh!
’ he hissed,
pointing at the ceiling.
‘Dig,’ I muttered, shaking my
head.
‘It was only a thought,’ Bird
said defensively. ‘I was only, you know, brainstorming.’
‘You call that a
brainstorm
?’
Fred laughed.
Bird blushed. ‘All right, maybe
it’s not such a good idea. But what about the other one? Communication. Why
don’t we try talking to him?’
‘You think he’ll listen?’
I said.
‘We won’t know unless we
try.’
‘I already have. I didn’t get
very far.’
‘Maybe you didn’t do it
properly. Communication is a delicate business. It’s not just a question of
sending a message, you have to think about
how
the message is sent.’
‘Oh, right,’ I said, pretending
to think about it.
‘Content needs context,’ he
said.
‘Of course it does.’
He squinted at me. ‘Are you taking the
piss?’
‘No, I was just thinking. Maybe we
could ask him for a laptop and then send him an email. Or better still, a text. Ask him
for a mobile phone, ask him for his number, then text him a message. Do you think that
might do it?’
Bird gave me an exasperated look.
‘What’s the matter with you? Can’t you take
anything
seriously?’
‘You started it.’
He sighed and shook his head, tutting at me
like I was an idiot child. I don’t blame him really. It was a pretty childish
thing to say. But I am a child, remember. I’m allowed to say childish things.
It’s my job. And anyway, he
did
start it.
He was sulking now.
I shuffled through the rest of the notebooks
and picked out Fred’s. I wasn’t sure what he meant by
fire
, but the
other idea sounded promising. I wrote down –
Fire’s too dangerous, but work on
the
Nothing happens.
We eat, we drink, we stay calm, we get
organized. We all look terrible. Pale, drained, haunted. Anja is developing an
unbalanced stare. When she’s not in her room she walks around looking busy all the
time, but her eyes are permanently unfocused, like a caged bear at the zoo. Bird
can’t keep his eyes off her. He keeps scratching his groin and rubbing his face.
Although he’s only been here a short while he’s already got a thick growth
of stubble on his chin. All over his face, in fact. He’s a hairy man is Mr Bird.
Fred’s beard is longer but stragglier, a bit like Shaggy’s beard. You know,
Shaggy from
Scooby-Doo
. Not that Fred looks anything like Shaggy. He’s
more like Desperate Dan. Imagine Desperate Dan with Shaggy’s beard and junkie eyes
and tattoos all over his body – that’s what Fred looks like.
I don’t know what I look like. I
don’t really care. You don’t get any points for looking good down here. I
feel
pretty scummy though, and that’s not nice. No matter how many
times I wash, my skin still feels dirty and clammy, like the dirt is underneath the
skin. My head itches too.
The whole thing stinks.
I haven’t had a chance to talk to Bird
about what day it was when he was abducted. Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve had
plenty of chances to talk to him, I just don’t want to. As you’ve probably
guessed, I don’t like him. He creeps me out. And anyway, it doesn’t really
matter what day it was. If he’s lying, he’s lying. There’s nothing I
can do about that. And if he’s not lying, and I’ve lost a
day … well, so what? Who cares what day it is?
6.30 p.m.
Time for tea.
Yippee.
10.30 p.m.
We’ve just had our first evening
meeting. As it was my suggestion, I had the pleasure of collecting everyone’s
notebooks and reading their escape ideas. Jenny was asleep, so there were only the four
of us. Four people. Four pages.
Apart from a neat little heading – ESCAPE – Anja’s page was blank.
Bird had written –
Dig??? Communicate
Fred had suggested –
Fire, note down
bog
And I’d written –
Distraction.
Distract him, hide someone in lift. How? Who?
‘Dig?’ I said to Bird.
‘We’re in a bloody basement. We’re underground. Where the hell are we
going to dig to?’
‘
Shhh!
’ he hissed,
pointing at the ceiling.
‘Dig,’ I muttered, shaking my
head.
‘It was only a thought,’ Bird
said defensively. ‘I was only, you know, brainstorming.’
‘You call that a
brainstorm
?’
Fred laughed.
Bird blushed. ‘All right, maybe
it’s not such a good idea. But what about the other one? Communication. Why
don’t we try talking to him?’
‘You think he’ll listen?’
I said.
‘We won’t know unless we
try.’
‘I already have. I didn’t get
very far.’
‘Maybe you didn’t do it
properly. Communication is a delicate business. It’s not just a question of
sending a message, you have to think about
how
the message is sent.’
‘Oh, right,’ I said, pretending
to think about it.
‘Content needs context,’ he
said.
‘Of course it does.’
He squinted at me. ‘Are you taking the
piss?’
‘No, I was just thinking. Maybe we
could ask him for a laptop and then send him an email. Or better still, a text. Ask him
for a mobile phone, ask him for his number, then text him a message. Do you think that
might do it?’
Bird gave me an exasperated look.
‘What’s the matter with you? Can’t you take
anything
seriously?’
‘You started it.’
He sighed and shook his head, tutting at me
like I was an idiot child. I don’t blame him really. It was a pretty childish
thing to say. But I am a child, remember. I’m allowed to say childish things.
It’s my job. And anyway, he
did
start it.
He was sulking now.
I shuffled through the rest of the notebooks
and picked out Fred’s. I wasn’t sure what he meant by
fire
, but the
other idea sounded promising. I wrote down –
Fire’s too dangerous, but work on
the
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