by Teri Terry
CHAPTER 18
CALLIE
KAI’S HAD HIS THUMB OUT FOR A WHILE NOW. What would Mum say if she could see him? Of course, she doesn’t know I’m here. If anyone tries anything with Kai—well, they’ll wish they hadn’t, once I’ve made them burn.
Cars and trucks zoom past. Finally a truck slows, then stops up ahead.
Kai jogs up to where it’s pulled in.
The trucker leans across and opens the passenger-side door. “Where you heading?”
“London, or that direction, anyhow.”
“Get in.”
Kai climbs in, and the truck pulls back out onto the frontage road. Soon we’re on the highway. The driver introduces himself as Mork—that’s his handle, he says, for the radio, and everyone calls him that. He’s a talker. That must be why he stopped and picked up Kai, to have someone to listen. Within fifty miles Mork has told Kai all about his three daughters and six grandkids, what the government has done wrong for the last twenty years, and his theory of the Aberdeen flu being caused by an invading race of aliens. Then his radio crackles.
Mork turns a dial and it gets louder. “Attention, all. There are suspected cases of Aberdeen flu in Glasgow, and all roads in and out of the city are being sealed off.”
He whistles. “That was lucky. We just made it out, didn’t we?”
“I thought the zones were holding?”
“They were for a while. Anyhow, I’ve got one of these,” Mork says, and holds out his hand—an I for immune is tattooed on it. “They’d have let me out eventually, but it might have taken a while.”
Kai holds up his hand, shows his identical tattoo.
“Worth gold, that is.”
“How so?”
“Truckers are disappearing; no one wants to risk travel in case the zone boundaries shift and trap them. If you’re immune, you can get in and out of the zones, and with so few who can, we get paid like crazy in bonuses.”
So it sounds like it has breached the zone and gone into Glasgow. Of course it has—I was there.
I tried to keep away from people when we first left the zone; I really did. I don’t want to make people sick—not unless they deserve it. But then those uniforms came for Kai, and I had no choice: I had to listen in to find out what they were doing; I had to act to save him. The only way to do that was to get up close. Since then I’ve stayed by Kai’s side, afraid to let him out of my sight in case anyone else is after him.
And now we’re going to London.
It’s a city; it’ll be crowded with people, won’t it? So many people. I’m sunk down on the floor of the truck, hiding—even though no one can see me.
I’m disaster. Death. If people knew, they’d hate me, wouldn’t they?
I hate me.
Kai hopes we’ll find Freja, that she’ll prove that survivors aren’t carriers. How long will it be until somebody makes the connection and realizes it’s me?
Then Kai will hate me. If we find Shay, she’ll hate me too.
It’s not fair!
I didn’t ask to be like this; it’s all Dr. 1’s fault. I have to stay strong, stay focused: find Dr. 1 and make him suffer. If Kai finds Freja and I can talk to her, then I can make sure he remembers that this is what we must do. Then I’ll make sure we leave London as fast as we can, before either of them notices the epidemic is following us again—following me.
I slide off of the floor of the cab and back onto the seat next to Kai, watching the countryside zip past as Mork prattles on about alien abduction.
I slip my hand over Kai’s. Me and my big brother: we’re in this together.
CHAPTER 19
KAI
WE DON’T STOP FOR AGES in case the zones are extended. When Mork finally pulls into a café on the M6, I’m starving.
“I’ll buy you some lunch?” I offer, knowing I should but wondering how long the money Bobby gave me will last.
We load our trays up, I pay, and we sit down. The food is so good even Mork stops talking for a while.
And there is Wi-Fi. Iona and her friend must be thinking the worst about what has happened to me. I log on, but can’t stop myself from first searching for the latest version of “It’s all lies.”
Freja’s face fills the screen.
“Yes, I’m still on the loose, and London is still clear.” Behind her is Westminster Abbey. She grins at the camera.
Mork looks over my shoulder. “What a stunner. Is that why you’re heading for London?”
“Yes.” And it is, of course—not the way he means, but it is.
“Pie is on me,” Mork says. While he goes to get it, I log on to JIT.
What I see there makes my full stomach twist, and I feel sick.
There’s a new post, a title only with no content: JIT is compromised.
And that’s it; everything else has been deleted. It was posted hours ago. What’s happened?
Is Iona all right? Her friend? Has being in touch with me done this? I’m aware that Mork has returned with two plates of pie and has polished his off, and I’m still just staring at the screen.
“If you’re not eating that pie, then I will,” he says. I push the plate over to him. “Is something wrong?” he asks.
“I’m just worried about some friends in Scotland,” I answer truthfully.
“Things are getting worse,” he says, and nods to the TV screen I haven’t been watching. Aberdeen flu has been confirmed to be in Glasgow now. The quarantine zones are being repositioned. “We better get going before the roads go even crazier. Everyone’ll be heading south now, scared the zone will race past them.”
Mork was right. It starts as heavy traffic at a good pace, but bit by bit we’re going slower and slower until we’re crawling.
He’s on his radio, then swears. “They’ve put a block up ahead at Birmingham, turning people around who haven’t got a good reason to go farther south.”
“Who decides?”
“Bah. Army, most likely.”
“I reckon I could walk to London faster than this,” I say nervously. I’m wondering if I should get out in case it is army and they are looking for me.
“There’s a priority lane set up—transport qualifies. We’ll get around it.”
We crawl toward Birmingham. Mork is chattering on about the pros and cons of the EU now, but his voice has become a drone that doesn’t register. What do I do? Stay in the truck and risk it? Get out? But then how do I get to London?
I’m undecided and stay where I am, my tension increasing, as we inch toward the checkpoint. As we get closer, I strain to see what is happening, who is there.
I breathe easier as we approach. Not army after all; it looks like ordinary police.
Of course I’m probably wanted by them too.
But Mork was right: in a truck with transport papers, they barely bother to glance at our immune tattoos before waving us on. I allow myself to relax as the checkpoint is left behind us.
“Traffic should be all right now,” Mork says, and he’s right again: it gradually thins out to a fraction of what it would normally be, with everyone held up behind us at the checkpoint. We race toward London.
CHAPTER 20
CALLIE
KAI WALKS UP THE ROAD, Mork giving a toot-toot behind. Kai waves with one hand, doesn’t turn around.
Mork’s last words as Kai climbed out of the cab of the truck were “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” and his laugh had to do with the blonde girl he saw on the screen. That might be something Kai has difficulty with, but not the way Mork means. Trouble seems to follow close to Kai’s footsteps, much like I do. Maybe we’re the same thing.
Have I ever been to London before? I don’t remember anything about where we are; we could be anywhere as we walk up streets with parked cars, shops, cafés, and bars. There’s nothing of the London I’ve seen on TV.
The sun is setting and still Kai trudges up the road. His face is drawn, and I wish I could tell him I’m here, that I’m looking out for him.
Finally he slows and hesitates outside a pub. He pulls the door open and goes in.
CHAPTER 21
KAI
I CHECK THERE IS WI-FI before ordering something to drink, suddenly parched.
I’m even more desperate to log on to JIT again to check—maybe I imagined that post title before. Maybe everything is okay?
But I know I didn’t.
I remember Iona’s mobile number from when she was helping me find Shay in Killin, and I want to call her. But if her website is compromised, could they be monitoring her phone?
If she’s still all right, calling her might be the thing that gets her into serious trouble.
But maybe there is another way.
I look around the room. A few drinkers sit in groups here and there, and one woman, forty or so, is at the bar, alone, making serious inroads into a very large glass of wine. A nearly empty bottle is beside her.
I walk over to her and smile. “Listen, could you do me a favor?” She looks at me suspiciously. “Could you call a number and ask for somebody, and then hang up if she answers?”
“Why?”
“I’ll buy you a drink.” I give what I hope is a winning smile.
“You’re checking up on your girlfriend, aren’t you, and don’t want her to know.”
“You’ve got me. Will you do it?”
“Oh sure, make it a large one and then why not. Name and number?”
“Iona,” I say, then tell her the digits as she hits the keys on her phone.
It must be ringing. Is there no answer? How many rings is that?
But then she nods at me. “Hello? Can I speak to Iona?” she says. And then she hangs up.
“She answered?”
“She did.”
“How did she sound?”
She shrugs. “We didn’t have that much of a chat.” She raises an eyebrow. “You know something, trust is very important in a relationship.”
“I know. You’re right. And…?”
“She just said, this is Iona. She sounded normal apart from being Scottish. That’s all I can report, unless you want me to call her again and ask for more information?”
“No, no thanks. That’s good.”
So JIT is compromised, but Iona is still answering her phone. Either they’re watching her or they’re not, but in any case, hopefully she’s all right and will stay that way. I can’t think of any way to tell her I’m okay without putting her into even more trouble if she is being monitored—but maybe, just maybe, she’ll work out that was from me.
Sorry, Iona.
I buy the woman at the bar her large glass of wine and hope for her sake that random hung-up calls aren’t being traced. And that if they are, her wine goggles are on enough that she won’t remember what I look like. Then I leave the bar, just in case.
CHAPTER 22
CALLIE
AFTER A LONG, RAMBLING WALK, Kai finds another pub with Wi-Fi, one with a room upstairs. This one looks even dodgier than the one in Glasgow: what would Mum think of Kai staying in places like this?
Once he locks himself into his room, he’s on Bobby’s tablet again searching for Freja. He finds her at last under another post: “Lies, lies, lies.”
But this time when she stares back from the screen, she looks a mess, like she hasn’t slept.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Think I might have to skip town. But here is a last look at London for you.” She moves a little and then you see she is on a bridge with the big wheel of the London Eye lit up behind her. It’s dusk, so it was maybe a few hours ago.
The screen goes dark.
Kai closes the tablet, sits back, and ruffles his hair.
“Callie? Are you there? Listen up. I won’t be able to find Freja on my own. I need your help. I’ll stay here until the morning. See if you can trace her from where she was last and try to convince her to come to me. If that doesn’t work, then ask her to email me.” He repeats an email address several times for me to remember, saying it is one he set up earlier for this purpose.
“I’ll set an alarm to check it every hour.”
Sure, Kai. I’ll just dash off around London, where I’ve never been before, find the London Eye, and then find somebody I don’t know, based on where she was hours ago. No problem.
Well, if I can’t do it, then who can?
Though maybe showing me a map would have been useful.
I head out and roam up and down dark streets until I find a busier road. There are people walking around, and I try to keep my distance. Some are wearing masks.
There’s a bus stop, and inside a bus shelter is a map.
I stare at it but still have no idea where I am. None of the street names or anything on the map is familiar. I could wander around for hours like this and find nothing.
Instead, I zoom up into the night sky, higher and higher, until the city is laid out below me. That’s better.
Freja was on a bridge—there was a river. That’d be the Thames, right? Below me a dark shape of water snakes around. It doesn’t flow very straight. I follow it along until there it is, lit up like a big wheel of fire: the London Eye.
It can’t be too busy with tourists, what with the country being quarantined, but it’s still turning at night. People still sit in the pods and take photos and look at the view. How late does it run?
There are a lot of police around, though. Are they looking for Freja?
Where could she be? Somebody must be helping her, hiding her. At least they have been, but the way she said she might have to skip town, maybe not anymore.
With Shay, if she was anywhere near me I could sense her, but I knew Shay.
Can I sense another survivor’s mind in the same way?
Like when I was hunting for Shay on the island, in Shetland, I start at the London Eye and cast out in ever-widening circles—listening, feeling, calling out her name. Would Freja have to answer for me to find her? I don’t know. I don’t know if she can even hear me.
Once I think I sense somebody and drop down low only to find a cat. I sit next to it on top of a stone wall. It hisses, tail fluffed out, and slinks away.
This isn’t working. What else can I do?
I go back to where I started. The London Eye isn’t running anymore. It’s late, but there are still people walking around everywhere.
I go close enough to listen in on snatches of conversations around me for anything useful, but all I get are people planning drinks, deciding where to go, a few kissing. Everyone seems sort of manic—a bit hyped up and crazy. Like they think the end of the world is on its way, and they are determined to have some fun first.
Maybe it is.
But there is nothing to help me find Freja.
How about the police? I could listen in and follow them. Maybe they have an idea where she is?
There are still loads of them in the area. I watch them: they’re not walking around randomly. They’re checking every face, every corner; going into businesses that are open and doing the same.
Are they searching for Freja? She’s not going to be around here still, is she?
I didn’t really search this area close to the Eye properly; I figured even on foot she’d have been miles away by now.
They don’t seem to think so, though, so maybe they know something I don’t.
I sit on the top of the London Eye and cast out, for something, anything.
There is a place not far away, by the river, where something sort of vibrates; there is some concentration of feeling. It’s probably another cat.
I probe and prod to try to localize it better, and then—it’s gone. That’s odd. I focus in on the place I thought
it came from. There are some boats tied to a pier on the river, and I go to the pier. I cast my senses around: no cats hiss back, but was there something—some flicker of energy?
I go to the boat I think it came from and stand on the deck.
Hello, Freja? Are you there? I want to help you. Please answer me.
Nothing.
At least, there is no answer, no presence I can feel now, but did I hear something—a slight noise—behind me?
It’s probably a rat.
I’m getting creeped out now, and I don’t know why. Even the world’s biggest killer zombie rat couldn’t do anything to me, could it? But I’m scared. If I had skin, it would be crawling. There’s something terrifying on this boat, I’m sure of it, and I’m about to fly up into the sky to get away from it when…I feel a slight nudge. Something—someone—is making me scared, to make me go away.
I give a push back. That’s enough of that fooling around now, Freja.
There’s a sense of puzzlement, uncertainty.
Fine, she says—not out loud, but in my head. A bit of tarp on the deck moves and she peeks out.
CHAPTER 23
KAI
BZZZ, BZZZ.
I struggle to push sleep away, and turn off the alarm. I switch the tablet back on again; still no email.
It’s been four hours since Callie left.
At least, it’s been four hours since I thought she was here and listening to me, and then went off. Maybe she’s found something more interesting to do by now, and I was just talking to myself.
I’m feeling anxious and wired now, and more and more awake. I do a search, just in case, for any new versions of Freja’s channel: nothing.
I told Callie I’d be here until morning, but I can’t stay still, inside, waiting; not anymore. I have to move.
I find some paper and a pen in a drawer and write a note: I’ll be back. And then head out into the night.