The Disappearances

by Gemma Malley

  They were leaving the Settlement and something terrible was happening. And all Raffy cared about was keeping pace with her, making sure that he was right beside her, making sure that she wasn’t out of his sight, even though he’d been quite willing to keep her in the Settlement in spite of Linus telling him their lives were in danger.

  Because it wasn’t her that he was thinking of.

  It was himself.

  Always himself.

  Evie felt her heart thudding in her chest in indignation, frustration at herself for not seeing it before. Even Raffy’s anger with Lucas was self-sustaining, self-imposed. It wasn’t about the kiss; he’d despised Lucas long before that. Even when he discovered how much Lucas had suffered to protect him. He should be grateful. He should let Lucas speak, let him explain, give him the benefit of the doubt for once.

  He should grow up.

  Evie thrust her left hand into her pocket and allowed it to wrap around the cool, metallic object that she’d hidden there, that she’d hidden for nearly a year, secreted about her person, buried at the bottom of drawers, continually moved to make sure it was never found. It had been the first thing Evie had put into her bag, the only item she’d known she couldn’t leave the Settlement without. Before leaving the room she shared with Raffy, she’d transferred it to her coat pocket, just in case she lost the bag, just in case Raffy opened it.

  It was Lucas’s watch, the watch she’d worked so hard to get back after Raffy traded it; the watch she had hidden for so long with no real idea of what she was going to do with it.

  Now, holding it in her hand, she felt herself getting stronger, felt her old energies returning. She wouldn’t put up with it any more. She wouldn’t allow Raffy to get his way.

  She allowed her gaze to rest on Lucas, who was walking a few feet in front of her. He was about the same height as Raffy, maybe an inch or so taller, but even compared to Raffy’s new muscular frame, Lucas was still broader. He walked tall, too, his eyes looking straight ahead but his entire body on alert; Evie could see it, even though she wasn’t quite sure how, or even what it was she was seeing. She just knew that he was watching, listening, just like he used to in the City.

  She wondered what he’d been doing since they last saw each other. She wondered if he had anyone to talk to or whether he’d retreated back into his shell. In the City he’d always been so impenetrable, as though he had no heart, no soul. She had hated him; had seen him as the epitome of everything she despised about the City. And then … then she’d seen the real Lucas. When he’d confided in her, told her the truth so that she would convince Raffy to leave the City and escape certain death, she’d seen how hard it was for him; not the telling, but the stopping up of his emotions. It was like the pipe was full to bursting of water and he’d had to turn on the tap just enough to let out a trickle before closing it again.

  Lucas stopped, turned and spoke to Linus, to Benjamin. She looked around and saw that there was a large rocky hill in front of them; she’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed her surroundings.

  ‘Okay,’ Lucas said. ‘We stop here. Linus is going into the cave ahead to get his car.’

  Linus disappeared into the darkness; Raffy shuffled towards Evie. ‘Linus has a car?’ His eyebrow arched upwards as he regarded Lucas, his tone of voice was one of insolent disbelief.

  Lucas turned to him, his eyes steely. ‘Yes, Raffy, he has a car. Any other questions?’

  Raffy shrugged as though to demonstrate his lack of interest. ‘Come on, Evie,’ he said. ‘Let’s wait over here.’

  He moved towards a rock and sat down; Evie looked at him but didn’t move. Raffy glared at her, but still she stayed where she was. Finally she turned to Lucas. ‘When did he get a car?’

  Lucas caught her eye and she felt herself getting hot. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking away quickly. ‘I think he might have always had it. Trying to get an answer out of him is impossible.’

  He looked down at the ground.

  ‘Trying to get anything out of him is like that,’ Evie laughed awkwardly. Her voice was shaking slightly, her whole body coursing with adrenalin, but Lucas had already turned, and was inspecting a stone on the floor; their conversation was over.

  She felt a lump appear in her throat and found herself walking over to Raffy. He moved so that she could sit facing him, but she faced the other way instead; away from Raffy, away from Lucas. Then she folded her arms and looked up at the sky.

  She didn’t know how long they remained like that, the three of them together but entirely separate, lost in their own thoughts. But eventually she looked back down again, and when she did she saw that two lights had appeared on the horizon, far away at first but nearer and nearer until the glare made Evie reach her hands up over her eyes. The car stopped and Linus jumped out. ‘What do you think?’ he beamed.

  Evie, relieved to have him break the intolerable silence, jumped down off the rock. ‘Looks great,’ she said, trying to muster some genuine enthusiasm.

  ‘Then get in. You’ll love the inside.’

  Evie nodded and walked towards the car.

  ‘Get in the back,’ Linus said. ‘Lucas gets car sick; he needs the front seat. Don’t you, Lucas?’

  Lucas walked up behind her and opened the door for her. She felt his hand brush against hers for a second and her heart missed a beat. ‘Not car sick,’ he said. ‘I just … don’t like cars very much.’

  She caught his eye and that’s when she saw something she never expected to see on Lucas, on the man who was so contained she’d often wondered if he had any emotions at all. What she saw was a boyish expression of embarrassment, sheepishness. Because he didn’t want her to see his weakness. Because he didn’t get that his weakness made him suddenly so human, so vulnerable, it made Evie catch her breath.

  37

  ‘Okay, slow down. You’re going to have to speak more clearly,’ the policeman said as he rummaged around for a pencil. ‘You’re saying the explosion an hour ago was you? That you let off a bomb?’

  Devil nodded. He was sweating; he’d run all the way here, had waited impatiently in line and was now finally at the front desk of the police station, a grey squat building in the middle of the high street. ‘Yeah. This bloke got me to do it. His name’s Thomas. I need to talk to someone. Someone in charge. This is big, man. Really big. He’s crazy.’

  The policeman nodded carefully. ‘Just one minute.’

  He left the desk, leaving Devil to catch his breath. He’d never willingly been in a police station before; had only been here a few times, late at night, dragged here by coppers to account for his whereabouts during some crime or other. Usually he’d been as uncooperative as possible, his expression sullen, his eyes full of hate.

  But not now. His breath was still laboured; he gripped the counter in front of him to steady himself.

  A policeman appeared next to him. He was wearing a suit; he was senior, Devil could tell from the tone of his voice. Relief flooded through him. They knew about the explosion. They were taking him seriously. ‘Would you like to come with me?’ he asked.

  Devil nodded, followed him around the back, into an interview room.

  The man sat down; motioned for Devil to do the same. Devil sat down on the metal chair, took a deep breath, looked up at the policeman, waiting for the question, for the ‘So …’ that would get him started.

  But no ‘So’ was forthcoming. Instead the policeman just stared at him. Devil stared back, his instinctive response, eyes fixed, mouth set, his entire face a challenge. Then he checked himself and looked away; he wasn’t squaring up for a fight – he was here to tell them about Thomas. He had to make them see they could trust him, that he was telling the truth.

  He looked around the room. There were usually two coppers in interviews. Maybe that was only when you were under arrest, he found himself thinking. Maybe one senior cop counted as two regular ones.

  ‘You going to tape this?’ he asked, looking a
round for a tape recorder but not seeing one.

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ the policeman said, a half-smile on his face.

  Devil considered this. ‘I think you should,’ he ventured. ‘Get every word. Because what I’m going to tell you … The guy behind this is a nutter. He’s dangerous. You’ve got to stop him, man. But he’s got friends. Works for a big company. In town.’

  He drummed his fingers on the table. The policeman opposite him had a nondescript face, with dark hair growing out of his nose. Long ears. ‘So you going to ask me questions, or what?’ Devil asked impatiently.

  The policeman shook his head. ‘Like I said, that won’t be necessary.’

  ‘So … what then?’ Devil asked suspiciously. He looked over at the door. Was it locked, he wondered. His heart started to beat more rapidly. ‘Didn’t you hear why I came here? What I’ve got to tell you?’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ the policeman said. ‘But the thing is, Mr …’ He looked down at his notes. ‘Mr Jones, is there hasn’t been a bomb.’

  Devil shook his head. ‘Hasn’t been a bomb? Nah, man. Of course there’s been a bomb. There are people dead, man. People injured.’

  ‘There was an explosion,’ the policeman said. ‘But it was caused by a gas leak. Forensics have been there with the fire brigade.’

  Devil shook his head. ‘Are you kidding me?’ he asked incredulously. ‘It was a bomb. I had it. In a case. It went off. It was a bomb.’

  The policeman smiled tightly. ‘So, if there’s nothing else?’

  He stood up, and as he did so, Devil saw something, a little pin on his shirt. With an ‘I’ on it.

  He felt the blood drain from his face.

  ‘There’s nothing else,’ he said, his voice shaking slightly.

  ‘Good. And we won’t worry about paperwork, shall we?’ the policeman said. ‘Don’t want you charged for wasting police time. The explosion probably just confused you. Made you think things were happening that weren’t happening. Do I make myself clear? If I were you, I’d lay low. I wouldn’t go bothering people, stirring things up. Do you understand? We wouldn’t want anything happening to you, after all.’ He leant closer. ‘You screwed up, you little prick,’ he hissed. ‘Months of work ruined because of you. So I’d run away now before Thomas gets really angry. Before he decides to come after you. Okay?’

  He was looking right into Devil’s eyes. Devil knew a threat when he heard one. He’d given enough of them in his time.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, man. Whatever. I don’t want no hassle,’ he muttered.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ the policeman said and opened the door, showing Devil into the corridor, through another door, out into the front of the station. Feeling dazed, Devil walked out into the road. It was the same road as before but somehow it felt different now, like a switch had been flicked that changed the atmosphere, changed everything. He started to walk, but he felt like he was being followed; he turned, there was no one there, just an old woman grunting as she heaved her shopping down the road, another younger woman having a screaming row with a toddler. Were they working for Thomas too? Did they have one of those pins on? No, of course they didn’t. Don’t be stupid. Just keep walking.

  He put his head down, walked faster, back towards the estate. No bomb. A gas explosion. How many people did Thomas have working for him anyway? Why hadn’t they just killed him instead of all this?

  Because Thomas wanted to show Devil who was boss, he realised with a thud. Because Devil had turned the tables, turned himself in. Because Thomas didn’t like to lose, because he wanted Devil to be scared, every day, wondering what was coming, when it would come.

  The estate was barely recognisable. Half the building was missing; the whole area was covered in police tape, loads of signs up saying ‘Danger’. Ambulances were treating people; outside the tape women were screaming, children standing around wide-eyed. Two buses pulled up. Coaches. A man got out, started shouting. Residents were being taken away somewhere else, he said. No one could stay here. Devil walked towards the tape, towards the estate. Several security men stood in his way, preventing access. ‘Sorry, mate, too dangerous,’ one said to Devil.

  ‘I live here, man,’ he said, trying to get past.

  The man pulled him back. ‘Fill in a form,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s moving to temporary accommodation. You can collect your stuff later. What’s left of it. There’s going to be compensation, though. You know it was a gas leak? Hold on to that form. You might make some money.’

  Devil took the form. ‘A gas leak?’ He looked down at the form, but couldn’t focus enough to read it properly. A gas leak. People were really buying this shit.

  ‘That’s right. Apparently they knew about the dodgy pipes a year ago, council should have fixed it and didn’t. There’s a bus leaving in half an hour, over there. You wait for it. And remember to fill in the form.’

  Devil walked in a daze towards the large group of people waiting for the bus. His mum was standing next to a man Devil recognised, a man she was friendly with. She was looking drained, confused. The girl was there with her mum, Nelson too. He shuffled over to Devil. ‘Fuck, man,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Devil said, his mind racing. ‘Yeah.’

  Then he put his hand in his pocket, took out the money that Thomas had given him. A grand to blow up his estate, to kill all these people. He walked over to his mum. ‘Here,’ he said, pressing the money into her hands. ‘Look after yourself.’

  His mother stared at him uncertainly, then nodded.

  ‘You look after her for me,’ he said to the man.

  Devil walked back to Nelson. ‘You keep an eye on them,’ he said. ‘Make sure no one takes her money. You get me?’

  Nelson looked at him in surprise, then shrugged. ‘Yeah, man. Whatever.’ Then he frowned. ‘Where you going then? Why don’t you make sure no one takes it?’

  Devil didn’t say anything. He didn’t know. Not yet. He watched as the bus doors opened and people started to get on. Most of them were covered in dust. And that’s when Devil saw him, the man driving the bus, as he got down to help an old man on; that’s when Devil saw the ring on his finger, the ring with an ‘I’ on it.

  ‘You get the bus, man,’ he said to Nelson. ‘I’ll catch you later, okay?’

  ‘Later? But––’ Nelson started to say, but Devil was already walking away, already running. And as he ran, he took the pin off his hoodie, the one that he’d worn all this time, and he threw it onto the ground, treading it in with his shoe. He wasn’t one of Thomas’s gang. Not any more. He paused a moment, stared at the pin with loathing, with shame, with fear. Then he started running again.

  And as he ran, he realised that he would always be running. Running, or doing whatever Thomas asked of him. Because men like Thomas didn’t give up. Men like Thomas didn’t let people like Devil slip through their fingers. He could look over his shoulder all his life but it wouldn’t be enough; there would always be someone, something he missed.

  He was never going to be free because he knew too much.

  And right then, Devil knew what he had do to. The only thing he could do. The only thing he wanted to do. Because he didn’t want to run from Thomas, but he didn’t want to run from himself any more either.

  And so he ran back into town, back into the police station, pushed past the queue, stood at the desk and banged his hand down.

  ‘I want to turn myself in,’ he shouted.

  The man at the desk pressed a button; immediately the policeman, the one with the ‘I’ badge came out of a door, walked towards him.

  ‘You again,’ he said, his face cold. ‘I told you not to waste police time. There was no bomb. There was no …’

  ‘Not that,’ Devil said quickly. ‘I want to speak to the ginger policeman.’

  ‘Pete?’ the man at the desk said. ‘You want DC Wainright?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ the policeman said. ‘You can talk to me.’

  ‘I want Pete,’ Devil said despera
tely. ‘Please,’ he begged the guy at the desk. He shrugged, picked up the phone. The door opened and the ginger-haired policeman appeared. He looked at Devil uncertainly.

  ‘He’s wasting police time,’ the senior policeman with the hair growing out of his nose said. ‘I’m handling it.’

  ‘Right you are,’ PC Wainright shrugged and turned to go.

  ‘Wait,’ Devil cried out. ‘Wait.’ He looked PC Wainright up and down; there was no pin, no ring.

  ‘What is it?’ the PC said.

  ‘I want to turn myself in,’ Devil said.

  ‘For something that didn’t happen,’ the thin-lipped policeman said.

  ‘For the Green Lanes Massive murder,’ Devil said, banging his hand down on the desk. ‘For drug dealing. Running a gang. You know all about it. You were there. You spoke to people. You know it happened. I want to confess. I want to confess …’

  38

  They had been walking for forty minutes and had already made good progress; by daybreak they would be safe, hidden. It had been Linus who had taught Benjamin about the safety of caves, about nature’s gift to those seeking to survive. It had come up the first time they’d met: Linus had quizzed him on the Settlement, on how it was run, on how it provided for its people. So many questions that Benjamin had grown suspicious, had threatened to have Linus removed if he didn’t come clean about his reasons for being there. But Linus hadn’t seemed fazed, not in the slightest; he had just continued to talk, to notice, to ask, to make suggestions. He told Benjamin that his Settlement was vulnerable, that he was vulnerable as leader. ‘Always have a fallback position,’ he’d told him. ‘Always have somewhere to run to. Trust me, you’ll thank me one day.’

  ‘You think we’ll be all right?’ he said.

  Stern looked at him strangely; Benjamin didn’t often ask for reassurance. Perhaps twice in twenty years. Then he nodded. ‘We’re all alive. We’ve got food and water. The caves are ready and waiting,’ he said. ‘Of course we’ll be all right.’