Now, I’m on my own.
Get up, Ketty. Get dressed, and get to work. This is on you, now.
Everything looks different. Simple. Clear. Jackson isn’t coming back. Franks is the most powerful person in this organisation, so Franks is the person I need to please – and Bracken is my ticket to doing that.
I have to work with Conrad, but I don’t have to make it easy. I have to work with Lee, but while Franks is on my side, Lee can’t touch my job.
I push myself to stand, to ignore the pain in my knee.
Wash your face. Get dressed. Show up. Do your job.
There’s a way out of this situation. Out of the politics and the secrets of the Terrorism Committee.
I need Franks to promote me, and I need to leave this mess behind.
And if I see a way to have revenge, to make Conrad feel what I feel, I’ll take it.
*****
After work, I make myself run. I’m not going to beat any records today, and I’d love to crawl under the covers and catch up with the sleep I missed last night, but I refuse to go on feeling sorry for myself.
It’s raining when I step onto the street, and my T-shirt is soaked through by the time I reach the end of the road. It’s cold and dark, and the rain washes the warmth from my skin.
It’s invigorating.
I let the cold water stream down my face and neck, washing away the memory of Conrad’s touch. Washing away the tears and the puffy eyes I’ve been hiding in my office all day. My feet splash through ice-cold puddles and the dirty water streaks my legs. I slam my feet into this city’s pavements, and the city paints my skin.
You belong here, Ketty. With or without Jackson.
There are people on the grey streets, even in the rain. People walking, people hurrying to concerts and films and theatres. People behind the fogged, glowing windows of the passing buses. I love the energy of this city, the bravery of the people who live here. Their refusal to let the terrorists change their lives.
I think about what Franks said, about stopping large-scale attacks. Preventing the destruction of the city – the trains, the roads, the services that make a place as big as this work. Even with the false flag attacks, I can see that she’s protecting people. By channelling the resistance towards targets we choose, we’re stopping another Crossrail. Another disaster.
I shake my head.
Can you do this, Ketty? Can you be the bad guy?
I hate the idea of using resistance cells to bomb our own people. The idea of Conrad calling another group, offering them another tempting target – that makes me shiver in the cold air. The Home Forces are using the people who oppose them to keep themselves in power. They’re not catching terrorists – they’re making them. They’re using fear and manipulation to keep themselves in charge.
I look around me as I run, and I don’t see fear. I see resilience, and determination. I see people defying the terrorist threats.
Maybe this gives them something to focus on. Something to rally around. Maybe this defiance brings ordinary people together.
And maybe that’s what they need.
The false flag attacks are Franks’ idea, and right or wrong, it’s Franks I need to impress.
But this isn’t about right and wrong. This is about using my skills to survive.
Fight your way out, Ketty. Leave Conrad and Lee and Bracken behind.
This is about you.
Complications
BEX
I go to bed straight after dinner, and I sleep for twelve hours. It’s as if, now that we’ve made our decision, there’s nothing else for me to do. Nothing else for me to worry about. I don’t wait to watch the news from PIN, and I don’t sit around talking. I’m too tired, and I’m too close to tears. I don’t want the others to know what I’m dealing with. This is my job, and my responsibility, and I can’t tell them anything, no matter how much I want to.
I wake up feeling refreshed. Weak winter sunshine is pushing through my curtains, and I’m smiling before I remember what happened. What we decided. What I voted for.
My smile fades, and I can feel the weight of the decision on my shoulders again.
I make myself get up and pull on some clothes. I don’t want to talk to anyone, but I’m too hungry to skip breakfast. With my hand on the door handle, I close my eyes for a moment and lean my head against the door. I can’t share this with my tribe, but I can’t afford to push them away. I need to be positive.
I need to be brave.
When I walk into the dining room, the others are finishing their breakfasts.
“Bex!” Dan jumps to his feet. “Sit down. I’ll fetch you some coffee.”
I walk past, waving him away. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll grab some myself.”
I pick up a plate, and pile it with the last of the cooked breakfast options. Sausages, bacon, eggs, and toast. I take a mug and one of the coffee jugs, and bring everything back to the table.
I feel better, sitting with my friends.
Charlie raises her eyebrows. “Hungry?”
I nod, pouring my coffee. “Starving.”
“Did you sleep for all that time?” Amy reaches for the coffee pot as I put it down.
“I did. Twelve hours. I feel amazing.”
Dan shakes his head. “You’ve got to stop doing this, Bex. Staying up all night.”
Amy nods. “He’s right. It’s not good for you.”
“Leaving us alone.” Dan keeps talking, sounding wistful. “Crashing out, just when we have the chance to see you after all your committee hobnobbing.”
I do my best to look outraged, round a mouthful of bacon. “I thought for a moment that you were worried about me, but it turns out you just want more of my time! I’ll make a note: don’t leave Dan on his own in the evening. He gets all sad and sulky.”
He grins. “Glad to see you’re awake. What’s in store for Miss Committee Member today, then?”
My good mood darkens. I shake my head, trying not to think about what happens next.
“I’m not sure. Something big happened yesterday. I think we’re going over the details today.”
I do my best to sound unconcerned, but Charlie catches the edge in my voice.
“You OK, Bex?”
I nod, suddenly aware that this isn’t over. That I have to face this decision every day, and deal with the consequences forever.
My hunger fades, and I push my plate away.
“I’m fine Charlie.” I meet her eyes. “I’m being brave. This is what being on the committee, and being brave, looks like.”
I pick up my coffee and cradle the mug in my hands.
“Be careful, Bex,” she says. “Don’t let them wear you out. You’re doing this for you, remember?”
I nod. I wish I could tell my friends what we’re doing, but part of me doesn’t want them to know.
*****
“Bex.” Fiona catches up with me in the corridor outside the conference room. “I’ve just heard from Caroline. Jake arrived safely. The Dutch immigration people kept him in a cell at the airport until this morning, but they’ve processed his paperwork now, and he’s at the camp.”
“He has asylum in the Netherlands?”
Fiona nods, and smiles, and I have to reach out a hand to steady myself against the wall.
Jake’s safe. No one can change their minds and send him to London.
“Thank you, Fiona. That’s fantastic news.” I make myself smile, but what hits me is exhaustion, and relief. Putting down something heavy, and knowing I don’t need to carry it again.
Jake is out of my hands.
Fiona watches me. “You did this, Bex. Don’t forget that. This was your idea, and you held us to it. Thank you, for making us do the right thing.”
I nod, and make myself stand up and walk towards the conference room. This feels like the end of a long fight, not the beginning of Jake’s freedom. I should be happy, but all I have is a dull feeling of acceptance, as if I’m pleased he’s gone.
Fiona opens the door and waves me inside. Most of the committee members are at the table already, waiting for us, and the last couple of people arrive as I’m sitting down. I take a moment to breathe, bowing my head and resting my hands on the edge of the table. Barbara sits down next to me, and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“Miss Ellman?”
I look up, and force a smile. She hands me another briefing pack, and I thank her.
“I heard about your friend. I’m glad we could get him to safety.” I nod. “We’ve tried to keep it quiet, but the UK is going to find out where he is. You need to be ready for that.”
“Do they know about the training camp?”
“We don’t think so. But Jake has just spent two nights in a cell at the airport. He’s come into contact with airport personnel and airline staff. Someone’s going to talk.”
“What can they do about it?”
“London? Nothing. Jake is safe. But they’ll probably make some noise. Try to rattle the rest of you.”
There’s a lump in my throat. “Mum …”
She nods, and puts her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I hope they don’t …”
“Yeah.” I nod, slumping back in my seat. “Yeah. So do I.”
*****
“We’ve been in contact with the cell by satellite phone, and we’ve let them know our decision.” Fiona looks round the table, and then back to her notes. “They have confirmed that changing the target is within their capability, but I’m proposing that we send a couple of advisers to help them with the planning. People we know from other cells, and other organisations.”
“What will they be helping with?”
Fiona consults her notes again. “One is a structural engineer, and the other was a demolition expert, before he retired.” The man who asked the question nods, and writes something in his notebook.
I feel dizzy. We’re not just launching an attack on innocent people. We’re using demolition experts and engineers to make sure we cause maximum damage. This is wrong.
“Is that really necessary?” Someone else asks. “Won’t we just be putting more cells in danger, bringing people in from elsewhere?”
“This is our chance,” Fiona says. “If we want the coalition to sit up and take notice, if we want this to be our trigger event, we need all the expertise we can get.”
I don’t mean to speak, but I can’t stop myself. “Do we need to be this destructive? Demolishing buildings?”
Fiona gives me a long look, as if she’s seeing me for the first time. As if she’s having second thoughts about putting me on the committee.
“Do you think the government isn’t using demolition experts when it sets up these attacks, Miss Ellman? Whoever is providing the weapons, whoever is picking the targets – they’re not sticking pins in a map. They’re giving precise instructions. We’re only doing what the government is already doing.” She looks around the table. “Can we have a show of hands in support of contacting the experts?”
Every other hand goes up.
I don’t want this. I don’t want to cause this sort of damage.
But I do want a trigger event. I want twenty armies, marching on London.
I close my eyes, and slowly raise my hand.
*****
I’ve done the right thing.
I’ve voted to give us an advantage.
Fiona is talking us through what happens next, but I’m not listening. I can’t hear what she’s saying.
I’m thinking about Mum.
Barbara said the government would make some noise. That they’d try to make us feel bad for rescuing Jake.
And that means watching Mum get hurt again. It means being afraid, every time we watch the news on PIN.
It means I’ve put her in danger.
I close my eyes. My fists are clenched in my lap.
I’ve done this. I sent Jake to the Netherlands, and now Mum’s going to suffer because I did the right thing for my friend.
Whenever I get involved, there’s a price. Whatever I do, someone gets hurt.
I tighten my fists under the table. I don’t want to plant bombs, but I can’t go on watching the trials – watching the executions – if there’s something I can do to stop them.
The only way to protect Mum, the only way to keep her safe, is to make sure this bombing makes a difference. We need to make sure everyone sees what we’ve done. We need to make sure the coalition acts, and the government can’t hide what we do.
We need everyone to take notice. We need something no one can ignore.
We need an unforgettable target.
Last time a bombing changed everything, the target was the Crossrail tunnels in London. Hundreds of people died, and the damage is still there. Still visible. Reminding people every day that they were targets – that this could happen again.
My nails dig into my palms. My hands are shaking.
I think about our plans. The government weapons we’ve been offered. The damage we could do if we use them in the right place.
And I think about Mum, facing Ketty in the interrogation room.
If we’re doing this, if we’re hurting people and killing people, we need to make it count.
Fiona looks up, waiting for questions. I don’t know what she’s been saying, and I don’t care. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest.
I’m angry. I don’t want to be here, making these decisions, and I’m scared about what happens if we get this wrong. I want to know that our bombs will matter.
I want to know that they’ll change things.
I need to make sure we succeed.
I sit forward in my chair.
“Miss Ellman?” Fiona waits for me to speak, and I know this is it. This is the most important thing I’ve said to the committee.
I need to make sure they hear me.
“We should plant the bombs in London.” Fiona raises her eyebrows.
“Bex, we’re not discussing …”
I shake my head, tightening my fists.
“I don’t care what we’re discussing. We need to talk about this.” I look round the table, at everyone watching me. I need to make them understand.
“Bex …”
My hands are shaking as I look across the table at Fiona. I can feel the blood rising in my cheeks. I told them I would be the Voice of the Resistance. I told them I would make them listen.
This is my chance.
“We need to make sure everyone understands. We need to make sure the coalition sees what we’ve done, and we need to make sure the government sees it, too.”
We need to stop them. We need something big enough to scare the government and inspire an invasion.
I think of Mum, in her cell. Her orange jumpsuit and the cast on her arm.
If we’re planting bombs, I want to hurt them. I want to hurt Ketty and Bracken and the people who destroyed Leominster. I want to hurt the people who’ve hurt Mum. I want to hurt the people who’ve been hunting me and my friends.
And this is our opportunity.
“We need another Crossrail. We need something no one can miss.”
“But there are plenty of cities …”
I close my eyes. She’s not listening. She’s not hearing what I’m saying.
I’m banging my fist on the table before I realise what I’m doing.
“And the government is in London, Fiona. The people we’re trying to scare? The people we’re trying to defeat? They’re in London.”
Fiona holds up one hand to stop me, but I’m shouting now.
“You said we only get one shot at this. You said this is our last chance.” She nods. “Then we need to make it count.”
The room is silent. My pulse pounds in my ears. Everyone is staring at me.
Fiona shakes her head.
“You’re right, Bex,” she says, quietly. “You’re right.” She looks up at me. “Thank you for making us listen, again.”
She looks round the table. “Any comments? Any
questions?”
No one speaks.
“Then I propose a vote. A show of hands for directing the bombers to a target in London.”
My hand is up first, and I watch as the rest of the committee votes.
Thirteen hands are raised.
I let out a breath. They listened. I spoke, and they listened, and we’re going to make a difference.
We’re going to make this count.
My hands are still shaking as I sink back in my chair. I’m relieved, and I’m horrified.
I’m not sure what I’ve done.
Enemy
KETTY
The office door opens, and crashes back against the wall. Lee storms in, and he’s at Bracken’s door before I can stand up. He looks back.
“In here, Corporal. Now.”
I follow him into the office, and stand inside the door as Lee crosses the room and smacks his fist into Bracken’s desk. Bracken jumps to his feet, and Lee waits until we’re both standing at attention. Bracken and I exchange a questioning glance, and I shake my head behind Lee’s back.
“Perhaps one of you can explain to me what’s happening.” Lee glares at me, and I try to hold his gaze. “Corporal?”
“Sir?”
He shakes his head.
“You’re supposed to be tracking terrorists. Keeping Ellman and her friends in your sights.” He glances at Bracken. “Bringing Jake Taylor to Belmarsh.”
“Yes, Sir.”
What have we done this time? How much trouble are we in?
“So maybe you can explain to me how Jake Taylor is currently enjoying the hospitality of the government of the Netherlands?”
“I’m sorry, Sir.” I close my eyes for a moment, trying to follow Lee’s accusation. “I thought he was in Scotland.”
Lee gives me a cold stare.
“It turns out that what you think, and what actually happens, are two different things, Corporal.” He turns to Bracken. “You were talking to Scotland. Can you explain this sudden change of plan?”
Bracken’s hands are shaking. “No, Sir.”
“I thought you were making progress, Colonel.”
Fighting Back (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 4) Page 18