And I’ve walked out on Mum.
Maz takes my arm. “Bex? You OK?”
I shake my head.
“Do you want to go back inside?”
I stare at him. “Why …?”
He nods. “Back to the hotel, then?”
I nod, slowly, shivering as the anger starts to fade. He puts his arm round my shoulders, and hails a taxi.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you home.”
*****
We sit in the taxi, Maz watching me as I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling.
“So, what’s your plan?”
I can’t help laughing. “I don’t have one. I just … I couldn’t stay there.”
“You did the right thing, Bex,” he says, quietly.
I sit up and look at him. “How can you say that? I just left Mum in the studio with Ketty. I just left Dan and Margie and Amy behind. We left Charlie.” I brush tears from my eyes, and my hands come away smeared with makeup. “I gave up, Maz. I quit. I left them all behind.”
“Good.” He says.
I shake my head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you did the right thing.” He smiles. “It’s about time, Bex.”
I’m staring, and I can’t think of anything to say.
“I’ve worked for the OIE for long enough to know how Fiona works. She’s been using you – all of you – for months. She used you to get her coalition. She used you to make your speech, when you should have been saving Margie. You had to fight to get her to agree to make Margie a priority.”
“But she saved us …”
He waves a hand, dismissively. “Sure. And she’s been collecting on that debt ever since.”
“We owe her …”
“You owe her nothing. She saved you. As the Chairman of the OIE, that should have been her job. She should have been saving everyone she could, and getting them to Scotland. She should have been sending lines of refugees to the Scottish government. But she didn’t.”
“So why did she save us?”
“Because you’re useful. You’re young, and you’ve done some pretty incredible things. You come with your own ready-made inspiring story.” He shrugs. “You’re photogenic, and there’s just enough heroism, and just enough tragedy in your story to catch people’s imaginations.”
“But the hotel … the clothes …”
“Her choice. You needed somewhere to stay, and she needed you to look good for her photo shoots. She could have put you up anywhere, but she chose the Royal Hotel. Why do you think she did that?”
I shake my head. “Because it’s close to all the TV studios?”
He grins. “There’s that. But she chose it because it’s nice. She chose it to make sure you feel special, and grateful, and that you’ll do what she wants you to do.”
I think about it. He’s right. We don’t need to be staying at the Royal. Dan could be at home, with his parents. Margie could be with her family. After everything we’ve done, we don’t need luxury. We need a roof over our heads.
But we’re enjoying the luxury.
“So I’m paying for the hotel, every time I do what Fiona needs me to do?” He nods. “Every time I go on TV, or talk to a journalist, I’m paying for my rescue. I’m paying for being alive.”
He nods again. “All of you. You’re all playing Fiona’s game, and she’s going to win the election, because of you.”
I stare at him, trying to make sense of everything he’s saying.
“Why are you telling me this? Isn’t she using you, too?”
He shrugs. “Fiona’s stuck with me, because I volunteered to come to London and fight with the rest of you. Charlie’s the one she needs.”
“And Charlie’s OK with this?”
He smiles. “Charlie cares about you, Rugrat. She’s not going anywhere until she’s sure you’re OK.”
“So I’m keeping Charlie here.” I can hear the defeat in my voice.
I look at Maz. I can feel the tears on my face, but I don’t care.
“I have to get out. I have to get away.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Anywhere in particular?”
I think about the places I’ve lived. I can’t go back to school. I have no idea whether Mum has any money left, or whether she can go back to the nursing home. I can’t go back to Camp Bishop, or the safe houses.
I have nowhere to go.
Response
Ketty
Fiona sits back in her chair and turns to the interviewer. One of the cameras moves closer to the table to catch her reaction. I sit up straight and watch as she speaks.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry that we can’t have a calm conversation about what’s happened to our country.” She waves her hand at the empty seats in front of her. “I think this shows what we’re dealing with.”
I glance at Amy and Charlotte, and they’re both staring at Fiona.
“You see, Bex is right. We have been through a war. And war is hard on everyone.” She folds her hands on the table. “People suffer. People choose sides. We turn against each other.” The interviewer nods.
Where are you going with this, Fiona?
And what do you want from me?
“But we need to end this. We need to put this – all these experiences, all this hurt – we need to put them behind us.” She smiles. “We need to work together. We need to build a better country.”
She turns to the camera. “This is what I want for the UK. I want peace. I want safety and security. And I want us to build these things together.” She points again at the empty seats. “These amazing young people have been through so much. They inspired us and they showed us what we can do if we work together.” She shakes her head, her smile fading. “But they should never have been sent to Camp Bishop in the first place. We don’t need child soldiers to keep us safe. We don’t need bullying and conscription in this country. We need schools and hospitals and freedom.”
I force myself to stay calm. I’m sitting next to Fiona, on live TV, and she’s condemning me. She’s telling everyone that what I did was wrong. That people like me have no place in her new country.
Don’t react, Ketty. Don’t screw up.
I make myself watch as she delivers her speech.
“That’s what I want. That’s what I promise to deliver. My opponents are the party who introduced conscription. They allowed this to happen. They made these kids into fighters and refugees.” She pauses, smiling. “I will abolish the Recruit Training Service. I will not allow any more school children to be sent to fight. I will make sure that this can’t happen to anyone else in this country, ever again.”
She’s using the RTS to score political points. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“Thank you, Fiona. I’m sure our audience is interested to hear your plans for government. But can we talk for a moment about how this unity will come about? People have been divided by recent events. How do you propose to bring them together?”
Fiona’s smile falters, but she composes herself.
“I think that has to be down to individuals. Don’t you?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can command people to work together. I don’t think anything short of real change, and real forgiveness, will help to fix our country. But hopefully people will see that working together is better than breaking apart. Hopefully we can find ways to work alongside our neighbours, whichever side they were on.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder, and I have to force myself not to pull away. I have no idea what she’s going to say next.
Stay calm. Keep Fiona happy.
“This is why Katrina, who was a Corporal in the Home Forces, is working with me. People like Katrina, and people like Bex, need to use their skills to build a better country for all of us. We need to move past being angry and blaming each other. We need to stop pointing fingers, and we need to start asking what we can do to help.”
Amy’s fist hits the table, and everyone turns to look at her. Sh
e lifts a finger, and points at me.
“You want me to forgive her? You want me to say it doesn’t matter that she killed my friend?”
Careful, Ketty. This is live. Everyone’s watching.
Fiona shakes her head. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy.”
“Easy?” Amy shakes her head. “It’s not as if she shot a stranger in self-defence. Ketty killed my friend – one of her own recruits from Camp Bishop – because he refused to let her open the bunker and arrest us.” She’s crying now, tears blurring her makeup. “She shot one of the kindest, bravest people I’ve ever met, because she could. Because she had a gun, and he didn’t.” She looks at me again, and I can see the anger in her eyes. “Isn’t that right, Ketty?”
I stare at her. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what Fiona is expecting from me.
I’m here. I’m alive. Fiona needs me, for now. But if I say the wrong thing?
Prison. Crutches. Interrogations. Jumpsuit.
Don’t screw this up, Ketty.
I think about Colonel Ryan, asking me whether I’m proud of my decisions. I think about Brigadier Lee, using me at the bunker to undermine Bracken. I think about the pressure to arrest the missing recruits.
Every decision I’ve made was made for good reasons. I kept myself safe. I earned my rank, and my authority. I did what needed to be done.
I glance at Fiona. She’s watching me, carefully.
What do you want? Forgiveness? Or another story?
I turn back to Amy and take a breath.
Stay calm. State the facts.
“I had no choice. Just like you, at Horse Guards Parade. You stormed the stage. You shot the soldiers. You did what you had to do to rescue your friends.” I shrug. “I did what I had to do.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” She spits the words across the table at me. Charlotte puts a hand on her shoulder.
“No.” I shake my head. “But it doesn’t make it wrong, either.”
I think about Saunders, sitting in the gatehouse, refusing to open the door.
He challenged me. He told me he’d die before he let me through.
Simple. What did he expect?
Amy glares at me for a moment. Her voice is quiet, but when she speaks, she makes herself heard.
“Jackson was calling your name, you know. In the road.”
No one speaks. The studio is silent. My pulse hammers in my ears.
Stay calm. Breathe.
I shake my head. I’m sure I’ve misheard her. My hands are shaking. My voice is a whisper and my heart is pounding, but I make myself respond.
“What did you say?”
“After Dan shot him. He could hardly breathe, but he was calling for you.”
And I can feel myself falling, backwards, into the footwell of the coach, pain flaring in my knee.
I remember shouting for Jackson. Screaming his name.
And he was calling for me. He was calling for me, and I didn’t know.
I’m not ready for tears. Not here. I push them away with the back of my hand.
Amy watches me, a sad smile on her face.
Charlotte leans across the table.
“Do you get it now, Ketty? Do you understand what you did?”
But I can’t speak. I can’t say anything.
All I can think about is Jackson.
Packing
Bex
“Do you know where you’re going yet?”
I shake my head. Maz is passing me handfuls of clothes from the wardrobe, and I’m stuffing them into my rucksack.
“I’m getting out of here.”
He nods. “OK. Good plan.”
He hands me a pair of smart shoes, and there’s a smile on his face.
“What?”
“I see what Dan means.”
“About …?”
“About you, Bex.” He kneels down and pulls two more pairs of shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe. “You’re always going to do something brave, or something stupid.”
I can’t help laughing. This doesn’t feel brave. It doesn’t feel stupid, either. It’s just something I have to do.
“And he’s right. You keep people guessing. I don’t know whether to help you, or stop you.”
“You’re helping me, Maz.” I take the shoes, and push them into the top of the bag.
He glances round the room. “It does look that way.”
I give him a smile, and pull the bag shut.
“I think I need another bag. There’s more stuff in the drawers.” I look around. “Is there a carrier bag anywhere? A bin bag?”
He stands up, and looks at me. “You’re really leaving.” He gestures at the empty wardrobe. “This isn’t just a tantrum? You’re not going to calm down later and unpack?”
“I’m really leaving.”
“OK then. Wait here.” And he walks out of the room.
*****
There are piles of clothes on the bed when he comes back, holding a black rucksack in his hands.
“Is that big enough?”
“Yeah. Where did you get it?”
“It’s mine.” He shrugs. “I figure you’re not going to disappear. You can give it back to me when you’ve unpacked. Wherever it is that you’re going.”
I give him a smile. “Thanks, Maz. That’s really kind.”
“About that …” he says, watching me stuff clothes into his bag. “I can’t let you go if I don’t know where you’re going.” He runs his hands over his hair, and looks at me.
“I thought you were helping. I thought you wanted me to get out.”
“I do, Bex. I just … what am I supposed to say to your mother, if I let you walk out without a plan?” He makes a face. “What am I supposed to say to Charlie?”
I can’t help laughing. I’m not sure who he’s more afraid of – Mum, or Charlie.
“I see your point. You should probably go into hiding, after I leave.”
“I mean it, Bex. Figure out where you’re going, and I’ll take you there myself. But if you don’t know …” He shrugs. “What is it that Dan always threatens you with? Wrestling you into a chair?” I nod. “Well, I guess I’ll have to do that.”
I want to laugh. I want him to stop being serious. I want him to let me leave.
But he’s right. I don’t know where I’m going.
I sit down on the bed and put my head in my hands.
I don’t have any money. I don’t have a home to go to. Everyone I know in London is staying here, at the hotel.
And I’m safe, here. There are guards on the door. Mum has carers to look after her. My friends are all here.
Dan is here.
Dan is here … and his parents are in London.
I remember Dan’s dad, inviting me to stay. His mum, repeating the invitation.
I check my watch. They’ll be home from work.
I stand up, and throw the last few items into the bag. I take Saunders’ sketch from the drawer, and slide it carefully into a book before packing it.
“I know where I’m going. Are you coming?”
Maz grins. “I’m right behind you.”
Taxi
Ketty
“Well, that could have been better.”
Fiona sits next to me in the taxi, her voice clipped and angry. I keep quiet. I don’t want to know what she thinks about me.
I’ve washed my face, but the smeared eyeliner is still on my cheeks. And I’m still fighting back tears.
Now I know. I know that the last thing Jackson said was my name.
He could hardly breathe, with Dan’s bullets in his lungs, but he was calling out to me.
And I couldn’t get to him.
And now Amy knows what I did at the gatehouse. Dan knows, Bex knows.
I killed a member of their tribe, and they killed mine.
And Fiona wants us all to forgive each other.
“I think we rescued it, though. Don’t you?” She looks at me, waiting for an answer.
Give her what she wants, Ketty. Keep her happy.
I nod.
“You did well.” She smiles. “Playing the victim. You gave me something to work with. Thank you.”
Victim?
“I think the gatehouse stuff was really helpful. Playing up the fact that you had your orders, and they had theirs.” She nods to herself. “I think that made my point, about healing from a war. That we all have to come to terms with what happened, whatever side we were on.”
I look at her, and I can’t help myself.
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
She gives me a surprised look. “Get what?”
“That this is all real. That people really died. People really got killed.” I can’t believe I’m talking back to Fiona.
Careful, Ketty.
“We’re not just stories, Fiona. We’re real people. We’ve hurt each other, and we’ve been hurt. We can’t just fix everything overnight.”
“I know that …”
I shake my head. “I don’t think you do. Not really.”
Shut up, Ketty. Stop talking.
She stares at me. “OK, Katrina. What if you’re right? What if this is all too complicated to fix? What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to tell people?”
I close my eyes. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be helping Fiona win the election. I don’t want to be on her front line, on TV, making her look good.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Tell people whatever you need to tell them. Tell them what they need to hear.”
She gives me a tight smile. “Exactly, Katrina. Exactly.”
Refuge
Bex
“Bex! Is everything OK?”
Dan’s mother stands at the door, staring out at me. She looks over my shoulder at Maz.
“What’s happened? Is Dan OK?”
I nod. “Dan’s fine. I’m sorry, Mrs Pearce. I was wondering – could I take you up on your invitation?”
She takes in my suit, and the rucksacks. She nods and steps back, holding the door open. “Yes. Yes, of course. Come in.”
I take the rucksacks from Maz and put them down in the porch, then pull him into a hug.
Victory Day (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 5) Page 22