The Five Gates of Hell by Rupert Thomson Page B

clash and sneeze of a truck as it shifted gears on the causeway. He wasn’t thinking of the danger, of the sharks. He was too preoccupied with how strange it felt to be standing at the edge of the harbour in the middle of the night with nothing on. The world had never felt so big.
    The water rose past his knees. Another couple of feet and he’d be able to push himself forwards and begin. Over his shoulder he could see the Womb Boys fanned out on the rocks. Silent now, just watching. This was their evening’s entertainment. A small red light glowed. Vasco’s cigarette. Like the light that shows on a machine when the power’s on. No use delaying this. He faced the container terminal again and pushed himself forwards, into the harbour.
    He swam breaststroke, that way he could keep his head out of the water. It also meant he couldn’t cut through the water as efficiently, it meant he was slower. The waves were small, but they came in quicksuccession, they kept slapping him in the face, always on the same cheek. He tasted oil on his lips.
    Halfway across he heard Dad’s voice. Wrap up warm, Dad was saying. Don’t forget to wrap up warm.
    Nathan began to laugh. He drank the harbour, one mouthful, then another. He was choking now. He had to stop, tread water, he had to fight for breath. And that was when the fear took hold, in that moment, when he was upright in the water, when his legs were dangling, he pictured what might be lying on the bottom, there’d be bodies, there’d be people who’d turned blue with cold down there, and what if one of them reached up and seized him by the ankle, and then he remembered the sharks, their teeth sinking into him, their grip like ice, just cold where a piece of you’s gone, and he began to swim as fast as he could, he switched to freestyle, swam the way he swam when he was swimming for the city, he was back in the pool on Sunset Drive, he tasted chlorine now instead of oil, he even heard the cheering, that tinny rushing sound, and the next time he looked up he was only twenty-five yards out, and he still had his legs, and he could see the Womb Boys sitting on a parapet, they must’ve run round by the highway, or else Vasco had stolen a car again, he was always doing that, apparently, that was why he’d been expelled.
    He lowered his legs, but his feet sank into sludge, so he swam as close to the island as he could and then crawled the last few yards on hands and knees, through the shallows, over cans and bottles and plastic bags, and up on to the towpath, and it wasn’t until then that he heard the voices:
    â€˜Guil-ty, guil-ty, guil-ty.’
    Vasco stepped forwards. ‘Sharks must be busy someplace else tonight,’ he said, and everybody laughed.
    Nathan wanted to join in, but it was hard to laugh, his teeth were chattering too much. He was beginning to shiver again, and the wind made his skin feel like metal.
    â€˜Where are my clothes?’
    Tip threw him his clothes. Nathan wrapped himself in his sweater, and stood hunched, his hands clasped under his chin. Tip handed him the bottle, almost empty now. He took a mouthful, swilled it round, and spat it on the concrete.
    â€˜That water,’ Vasco said, ‘bet that water tastes real bad.’
    PS pushed his phones away from his ears. ‘Swallowed about half of it myself,’ he said. ‘Never been the same since.’ And slid his phones back over his ears again. Tss-Tss-Tss.
    The gang howled. PS and his jokes.
    Jed came over. ‘Bet you were shit-scared.’
    â€˜Anyone would’ve been,’ Nathan said. ‘You would’ve been too.’
    Jed pushed his thin lips out and shook his head.
    â€˜Yeah, you would,’ Nathan said.
    â€˜No, I wouldn’t,’ Jed said and, reaching behind him, he produced the sign that said DANGER SHARKS. ‘There’s no sharks out there.’
    Nathan was staring at the sign.
    â€˜Yeah, it’s