Bone Jack by Sara Crowe Read Free Book Online

or I won’t.’
    ‘Do you need anything? Food or blankets or something?’ Ash stood up. His jaw throbbed where Mark had hit him. He felt light-headed, delirious.
    As if from a long way off he heard Mark say, ‘Thanks, but I’ve got everything I need.’
    Mark stretched out on the ground next to the fire. Closed his eyes.
    Ash walked away. In his mind he heard Mark’s voice again, saying, ‘I don’t want to kill you … let some other boy be the stag.’ It would be easy, so easy to let it go, to walk away from the Stag Chase and whatever madness Mark was spinning around it. Let some other boy be the stag. Let everything be that other boy’s problem.
    But he couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t about to throw away months of training just because a few strange things had happened and Mark was making wild threats.
    He walked on, into a darkness that stretched from horizon to horizon. A night dusted with stars, crowded with ghosts.

NINE
    The light was on in the hallway when he got home. He crept upstairs. Darkness under the door of the spare room, where Dad was sleeping. A crack of yellowy light under Mum’s door. He knocked softly and went in.
    She was sitting up in bed, reading a book. She looked tired and sad, eyes puffy as if she’d been crying. But she smiled and patted the edge of the bed so he sat there.
    ‘So did you find Mark?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘How did it go? Was it OK?’
    ‘I suppose. I don’t know. It was weird. He said a lot of mad stuff. He’s mucking around out there, eating road kill and shooting rooks and rabbits and living off the land and stuff.’
    ‘Eating road kill?’ She pulled a face. ‘And rooks? Yuck. So he’s camping out, is he?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Maybe that’s what he needs to do right now. It’ll pass. When autumn comes and it’s raining and cold, he’ll soon go back to his grandpa’s house.’
    ‘Yeah, I suppose. How’s Dad been?’
    ‘Sleeping. That’s all he seems to have done since he got home. I took him up some soup earlier. He hadn’t touched his lunch.’
    ‘What’s wrong with him, Mum? Why did he go off drinking for two days instead of coming straight home like he usually does? He looks ill, really ill. And now he’s shutting himself up in that room and acting crazy.’
    ‘He’s been through a lot. He just needs to get his bearings and settle back into civilian life. It’s hard but he’ll be OK.’
    ‘Callie thinks he’s got shell shock.’
    ‘She’s a smart girl. It’s crossed my mind too.’
    ‘Right. So shouldn’t we do something? Call a doctor or something?’
    ‘It’s not that simple,’ she said. ‘There’s already an army counsellor waiting to see him, but he won’t go and he won’t have the counsellor come to the house either. He’s not ready yet, I suppose.’
    ‘When will he be ready?’
    ‘I don’t know. Anyway, he’s only been back a couple of days. Maybe once he’s adjusted to being home again, he’ll be all right.’
    ‘What if he isn’t? What if Callie’s right and he’s got shell shock?’
    ‘We call it post-traumatic stress disorder these days.’
    ‘Post-traumatic stress then. What if he’s got that?’
    ‘Then we’ll deal with it.’
    ‘What if we can’t?’
    ‘We will.’
    ‘Yeah, but what if we can’t? What’s the back-up plan? What if we’re not enough?’
    ‘It might take some time but we’ll get through this,’ she said. ‘He’s still your dad, the same dad who taught you how to ride a bike and pitch a tent and abseil down a mountain. Don’t forget that. He’s just a bit lost right now.’
    ‘Suppose he stays lost for ever? He might …’ He couldn’t say it. ‘You know, like Mark’s dad.’
    ‘He won’t,’ she said sharply. So sharply that he knew she’d had the same thought. Then she changed the subject. ‘Not long now until the Stag Chase.’
    ‘Yeah, twelve more days.’
    ‘Are you ready for it?’
    ‘I think so. I hope so, anyway.’
    ‘You’ll be