by Teri Terry
I start walking, eventually find a night bus heading in the right direction, and get on.
CHAPTER 24
CALLIE
“WHOA. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?” Freja says it out loud, forgetting to be quiet.
I was a survivor, like you.
“What happened?”
She’s radiating a mixture of curiosity and horror.
It’s kind of a long story. How about we concentrate on getting you away from here and the police first?
“Sure. Now why didn’t I think of that?” she says, and there’s some pain mixed in with her thoughts.
What’s wrong?
“I massively sprained my ankle.” She holds her foot out, and it really is impressively swollen.
So fix it.
She laughs. “How?”
You’re a survivor; you can do that sort of thing. Like this.
I try to show her in my mind what I’d felt Shay do when she healed herself—reaching in instead of out, finding waves of healing inside.
“Wow. That’ll work?”
It should.
“Okay, I’ll try.” Her pale gray eyes swirl into darkness and like with Shay before, I can half sense what she is trying to do. She seems to get lost inside herself, and I have to make myself be patient, to not interrupt.
Finally her eyes and thoughts return to normal, and she stands tentatively. Then hops on her previously sprained foot.
“That’s a helluva trick, thank you! And goodbye.”
Where are you going to go?
She shrugs like she’s not bothered, but she’s hiding fear. “I’ll work something out.”
There are police everywhere. I describe the scene above.
She swears.
Let me help you.
“Why?”
Again, it’s a long story.
“I’m not going anywhere with you without some idea what the hell is going on and why you’re here. Whatever you are.”
Okay. My brother’s girlfriend is a survivor; she turned herself in to the air force and told them that she’s a carrier.
She snorts. “Idiot.”
Well, she was sure she was right, and I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time. And now Kai—that’s my brother—needs to find her. But then he saw your stuff online that survivors aren’t carriers and wants to know if it’s true.
“It is. And…?”
He’d like it if you could help him with all that.
“What’s in it for me?”
I sigh. Has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, really annoying?
“Yes.” She laughs inside again, but it’s bravado—is that the right word? She’s scared, but she’s even more scared to accept help from anybody.
Well, for a start I can look and see where the police are so you don’t walk into any of them by mistake.
“That could be useful.”
Kai is somewhat good at beating people up when they deserve it.
“Also potentially useful.”
Plus, we want to get the word out, like you do—tell everybody the truth about survivors.
She’s silent a moment. Then nods. “Okay, let’s say you’ve convinced me, at least for now. Let’s get out of here.”
We can either go to Kai or I’ve got an email address for him, and he can meet us somewhere.
“I haven’t got a phone; I dumped the last one I used in the river. I’m pretty sure they’d have been tracking it by now.”
Okay, sounds like it’s just you and me that need to figure this out. Wait here: I’ll check what’s going on.
I flit up into the night. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it looks like there are even more police in the area now. They seem to be searching in a circle that is getting smaller as they go, so they’re getting closer to each other—and we’re right in the middle of them all. Maybe, like me, they started farther away, thinking she’d be long gone, but then when they couldn’t find her they started to pull back in.
And now a few of them are approaching the end of the pier where Freja’s boat is tied.
I go back to Freja.
We’re in some trouble. I tell her what I saw.
“I think we’re going to have to play dominos.”
What do you mean?
“If we run into one of them, hit him hard so he crashes into the other one, then run.”
Sure. Easy. Though maybe we should try to avoid that. It might be noisy, and more police may come.
“Spoil my fun, why don’t you?”
Let me check where they are now, I say, and once I have, I rush back. Two policemen are on this pier, between us and the shore. One is going on boats and checking them one at a time; the other is staying on the pier and keeping watch. He’s scanning back and forth, but slowly. So when I say “Now,” climb out of the boat fast and then duck down.
“Okay, sounds like a plan.”
I watch the policeman closely. He scans this way, then turns. Go now!
Freja climbs quickly out of the boat, then ducks down in the darkness.
This might be easier if you can see too, I say, and then show her what I can see in her mind.
She’s startled. Cool trick, she says, in her thoughts this time instead of out loud.
The officer is looking this way again. When his head turns away, she scuttles up to the shadow of the next boat.
But at some point we’re going to have to get past them—how do we do that? she says.
I give a mental shrug.
We go up to another boat, then another.
They’re very close now.
She’s uncertain what to do; she wants to run very fast and hope they can’t catch her.
No! Shrink down when they go past you.
I’m not invisible.
Think yourself invisible, I say, and I show her something I’ve seen Shay do.
You can’t see me, nothing here, you can’t see me, nothing here…She visualizes empty deck and repeats it over and over again.
The other policeman climbs off the boat he was checking, nods to his companion. The two of them step forward; one step, then another.
You can’t see me, nothing here, you can’t see me, nothing here…
They walk right past us.
They’re checking the boat Freja was hiding in now; I tell her to wait to move until they’re farther along.
Again, I project the images to her.
When the officer on the deck is looking the other way, she goes a few steps forward, then freezes. Repeats.
This is actually working! she thinks.
Yes.
We’re nearly at the end of the pier when a bright light shines in our eyes.
CHAPTER 25
KAI
THERE ARE POLICE EVERYWHERE, heading for the river. Have they got Freja?
Somehow I don’t think so. They look far too intent to have caught anyone yet; more likely they’re on the chase.
There’s a bright light shining down below, near the water.
“Get down and put your hands up,” someone shouts.
But there are other dark figures—they’re not with the police?—creeping down the slope.
A gunshot rings out, loud in the night.
Seconds later a girl runs off the pier and straight for me, fair hair shimmering in the dim light. She grabs my hand.
“Kai?” she says.
“Freja?”
“Run!”
We bolt up the road.
“This way,” she gasps, again and again dodging between and around cars, hiding, then jumping out again, just managing to evade the police who are swarming around the area.
Who was shot? Who did it?
But there is no breath for speaking. It’s all for running.
>
CHAPTER 26
CALLIE
MILES LATER THEY SLOW DOWN TO A WALK. They’re on back streets, far from where they started. It’s quiet.
They wander into a cemetery and find a bench; I tell Freja I’ll keep watch, and I shield my thoughts. I’m nervous, jumpy. There were so many people last night that I couldn’t help but get close to them to help Freja and Kai get away. It will be in London soon; we need to leave.
They sit there next to each other, not saying anything, watching the sun come up. Are they both too exhausted to speak?
Finally, Freja stirs and breaks the silence.
“What now?” she says.
“Good question,” Kai says. “How about we go back to the beginning? I’m Kai.”
“Hi, Kai, I’m Freja. Pleased to meet you,” she says, and shakes his hand as if they were at a garden party. “Your sister, Callie, I met earlier.”
“Can you tell me what happened just before we ran? Somebody shot somebody, but who?”
“It wasn’t me. I haven’t got a gun. Callie found me, and we were actually doing a very good job of getting away from the police without firearms or other deadly means.”
“And then?”
“There was another policeman at the end of the pier who we didn’t spot.”
Sorry about that.
“Callie’s apologizing, but she had been pretty busy keeping tabs on the others.” She pauses, swallows. “So, they had me: there was nothing I could do. But then—somebody shot the policeman right in front of us.”
There is such horror in her words, on her face, but if that hadn’t happened, I would have made him burn. Watching him scream as he went up in flames might have been worse for Freja. I try to hide that thought where she won’t see it, but she’s focusing too intently on Kai to notice anyhow.
“But who pulled the trigger?” Kai asks.
“We don’t know who they were or why they did it, but Callie said a woman and a man in dark clothes were hiding down at the side of the pier, and the woman stood up and just shot him.”
“What did they look like? Did they look like army?”
No. He had long hair, and she wasn’t the type either.
Freja relays what I said.
“It’s hard not to be glad I got away, but how…” She shudders. “Who could it have been?”
“I saw a few dark figures creeping down the slope; it must have been them. They obviously weren’t with the police, since they shot one of them. Going by Callie’s description, they’re unlikely to be army either. And they killed somebody so you could get away.”
That’s not all they were doing.
“What’s that, Callie?” Freja says.
They were trying to chase you too, when you ran away; it wasn’t just the police. And they seemed to be tracking where the police would be; they were good at avoiding them.
Freja repeats what I said, then shakes her head. “If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have gotten away. But why did she do it? What do they want? Even if it was just to help me, I don’t want anything to do with someone who shoots people like that.”
We need to get out of London. The police are after you; they probably think you shot that policeman too.
Freja relays what I said, then frowns. “We need to get out of London? I don’t know about any we.” She turns to Kai. “Callie’s told me a little of why you were trying to find me, but I want to hear it from you.”
“To start with, I want to thank you.”
“What for?”
“For proving something I never dared hope could be true. Survivors aren’t carriers.”
“You believe me?”
“Of course. Not just anyone can hear and see Callie. It proves you’re a survivor. And you’ve been all over London, and where’s the outbreak? Nowhere.”
There are tears in Freja’s eyes, but she blinks them back. “Now we just have to convince the rest of the world.”
“Yes. That’s the first priority.”
“Even over finding your girlfriend?”
He hesitates.
“Save the world, then save the girl,” he says, and I’m sure he’s not lying, not exactly—he means what he says. Maybe because he knows Shay will never be safe otherwise? But I bet that if she were standing there, and he could save her but only if he turned his back on all the rest, he’d do it. “You said on your channel that you were going to leave London. Where were you planning to go?”
She sighs. “There is a group of survivors who contacted me because of my channel and want me to join them. But I’m not really sure I want to.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think they know what they’re doing. Are they just hiding? Are they going to try to do something, like I was? They say they want the truth to get out about survivors, but all they seem to actually be doing is hiding.” She shrugs, and there is a sense of distaste and unease inside her.
She doesn’t like the thought of being part of a group that decides what all of them will do. She likes to make decisions for herself, alone.
Too right, Freja says to me, catching my thoughts.
“Maybe we should check them out,” Kai says. “Perhaps they need somebody to tell them what to do.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“Me? Ha! No, I was thinking of you. I have a feeling you can be bossy.”
She snorts. “Only when people aren’t doing what they should.”
“It makes sense, don’t you think? To find them and see what they’re about—see if we can help each other. Got any other ideas?”
She shakes her head. “I suppose not. I’m not convinced, but you’re right: we should check them out.”
“We?”
“For now, yes. But there is a problem. I promised I wouldn’t tell anybody where this group can be found, so how can I tell you?”
“Did you promise you wouldn’t show anybody?”
“I suppose not.”
She’s uncomfortable, though. She wasn’t supposed to tell anybody anything about them at all, was she?
Shush, you, she says to me.
“So you can take me there. Is it a deal?” Kai holds out his hand, but there is somebody they’ve forgotten who is part of this, and I’m tired of being unheard.
Wait a minute. There’s something I want too.
Freja tells him what I said.
“What is it, Callie?” Kai says.
Dr. 1: the one who started it all. We have to find him.
Freja repeats what I said, then frowns. “I don’t understand. Who is Dr. 1?”
“He’s the doctor responsible for the epidemic,” Kai answers. “It was engineered in a lab, and it escaped.”
Freja’s shock is extreme. “What? Are you serious?”
“I’m afraid so.” And Kai tells her all about Shetland and what happened there, with me chipping in bits alongside.
“So Callie wants to find this Dr. 1. And then what? What happens to him if you find him?”
Neither of us answers her. I hide my thoughts, deep down, so she won’t see them: I’ll make him ill and watch him die. But maybe I’ll let Kai have a go at him first—see if we can learn anything useful.
But I’m sure Freja can guess that whatever happens to him, it’ll be nothing good. Is she about to argue, with this thing she seems to have against violence, like shooting that policeman so she could get away? Even if it is somebody who is responsible for so much death?
But Kai shakes his head before she can say anything. “It has to be part of the pact between the three of us; Callie wants to find him, and so do I. He may know a way to stop the epidemic,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. Kai holds out his hand. “Is it a deal?”
Freja hesitates. Then she puts her hand in his, and I put mine on both of theirs. We all shake hands together.
“It’s a deal,” she says. “We’re like the Three Musketeers.”
“They don’t know who they’ve messed with!” Kai says and stands, one hand on his hip behind, the other waving around a pretend sword. Freja clutches her chest, pretends to be stabbed, and falls to the ground.
All for one and one for all.
PART 3
EXAMINATION
The animal pack instinct is also human. Early survival required it. But this drive to be part of a group—to identify what is like me, what is not—has consequences for those who are different.
—Xander, Multiverse Manifesto
CHAPTER 1
TIME HAS GOTTEN LOST. The usual reference points for it are gone. Sometimes I’m awake, sometimes asleep. Sometimes neither, but in a drugged state where there are no dreams—just vague memories of pain when I finally come to again, alone.
There is no sun, no moon; no night or day.
No life to reach to; nothing to feel or touch or taste.
Always alone.
CHAPTER 2
THEN, ONE DAY, I HEAR A VOICE.
I just listen to the sound it makes at first, without focusing on the words, and only realize they have meaning when they repeat: “Good morning, Shay.”
It’s a man’s voice. It has a certain, I don’t know, quality to it: something warm and familiar, yet alien at the same time.
I sit up. I’m in my usual place—small room, no doors, no windows—and in my usual haute-couture outfit: hospital gown. But something is different. My head feels clearer, and some clothes are folded neatly on the end of the bed.
“Good morning,” I say, and I’m as surprised to hear my voice as I was his. “Is it morning?”
“It is, and a sunny one.”
As he speaks this time I reach for his voice, but I can’t feel his presence—only hear his words.
“Get dressed and we’ll have a chat.”
I hesitate.