‘I don’t know, Cat,’ he said, as the cat came and curled up next to him on the bed. ‘Don’t you think it’s really kind of strange that the government needs my help? I mean, it can do almost anything, right? Build nuclear missiles, space weapons, cool tanks and stuff. I don’t get why they can’t figure out how to open it themselves.’
The cat stretched out a paw and rested it on his arm.
‘I really wish we could still talk,’ he sighed, tickling him behind his ears.
The following day, Arthur decided to try and find out more about the T8 facility and what he could expect to find when he got there. Curiously however, not only did it not appear on any maps but after searching for hours, all he’d been able to come up with were a few broken links and occasional references to it being a government facility, location unknown. One link though, which he had been able to open, was to a conspiracy theory blog in which the writer had said that whilst knowledge of the existence of T8 wasn’t exactly a secret per se, it was rather strange that it couldn’t be located on any satellite photographs, especially given their general availability these days. The writer had also gone on to say that, in his opinion, it had to mean that there was more to it than it just being a UK government facility and questioned whether it was even in the UK at all.
The afternoon of their departure, the general had arrived with his father at the appointed time.
‘Papa!’ shouted Arthur, rushing to greet him as Sasha opened the door for them.
‘Hellooo, you!’ cried his father, hugging him. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Fine!’
‘So, I hear we’re being sent somewhere, but no one wants to say exactly where that somewhere is. What did we do to deserve that, I wonder?’
‘Ha ha, very funny. It’s a restricted facility called T8. But it doesn’t exist on any maps—I checked!’
‘Did you now? Well, don’t you worry yourself, I’m sure they know how to find it.’ He winked. ‘And anyway, a few days off from school is never a bad thing, right? Are you all set?’
Arthur nodded and pointed to the bulging backpack at the foot of the bed and grinned.
‘Your mum packed that, did she? I bet there’s enough food in there to keep you going for weeks.’
‘And you’ll thank me later for it,’ she replied, appearing out of the kitchen. ‘I’ve heard enough stories about the standard of army food.’’