Anywhere

by Jon Robinson

  Ryan gently brushed away the snow from the side of her face. ‘We’re out of that place, if that’s what you mean.’

  Henry tore frenziedly at the snow, soon revealing a circular metal cover. He dug his fingers round the sides and, with some effort, levered it away. He took Jes from Ryan’s arms and gently placed her over his shoulder. Jes whimpered and gritted her teeth.

  ‘Pull the lid over behind you,’ Henry said to Ryan, making his way down precariously.

  Ryan swivelled on to the first rung, lowered himself down, then reached up and hoisted the cover back above them.

  If I never have to climb another ladder again, it’ll be too soon, he thought, remembering the tunnel that had led them into the yard. It was a wonder they’d ever escaped from the prison; something had been on their side, but luck seemed too strong a word.

  Henry soon reached the bottom, and a solitary light flickered on.

  Ryan followed him down a narrow passageway, every step echoing noisily.

  ‘What is this place?’ Ryan asked, and felt himself turning a little queasy at the thought that Henry could be leading them right back to where they’d started.

  ‘This is my home,’ Henry said.

  The three arrived at a door on the left. Henry nudged it with his boot, and slipped into a small room sideways with Jes in his arms.

  Inside, a single bulb hung from the ceiling. There was a table in the centre, and one against the far wall. A sleeping bag was crumpled in the corner, beside a small pile of books, wilted with damp. Henry carried Jes over to the table and gently lowered her on to her back, then went over to a cabinet on the wall.

  ‘I’m Ryan. This is Jes.’

  Henry nodded.

  ‘You even know what you’re doing, mate?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘Not really, no. But if you have any better ideas I’d love to hear them.’

  Ryan shook his head and brushed some matted, damp strands of hair from Jes’s forehead. ‘So why did you save us?’

  ‘Because you were in trouble.’ Henry opened a first-aid box and removed a pair of scissors. ‘And I’d say you still are.’

  ‘But why were you –’

  ‘I need to concentrate,’ Henry said, interrupting him.

  And I need answers, Ryan thought, but held his tongue as Henry pinched the blood-soaked material of Jes’s grey uniform with his forefinger and thumb and began cutting.

  Henry unscrewed a bottle from the box and dribbled clear fluid on to the wound. Jes writhed and cried out. When Ryan glanced across at Henry, he noticed his hands were trembling as he reached for a pair of forceps.

  ‘She’ll try to resist, Ryan. But I need to get that bullet out.’

  Henry took a deep breath and lowered the forceps to the wound in Jes’s side. Ryan watched with half-closed eyes.

  Jes screamed and kicked her legs frantically.

  ‘Ryan, keep her still –’

  ‘Jes, you’ve got to keep still, you’ve got to keep still,’ Ryan said, watching with horror as the forceps turned red. ‘It’s OK,’ Ryan said, wincing. ‘Everything’s OK.’

  She squeezed Ryan’s hand with such force he felt his fingers going cold. And then she was still.

  ‘She’s passed out,’ Henry said, noticing Ryan’s concern. ‘It’s for the best.’

  He delved further with the forceps and then he paused. ‘I think I’ve found it.’ He removed them gently. Pinched in their grip was a dripping bullet.

  3

  As he sprinted through the forest, tears filled Alyn’s eyes, dissolving the landscape around him until he could no longer see where he was running.

  ‘Murderer!’ he’d heard Ryan cry through the radio, and he had listened in disbelief.

  He stopped, bent double and leant against a tree, his black fringe hanging into his eyes.

  Ryan. It was his fault. He’d got Jes involved, and fed her these stupid ideas that he could free them.

  Breathing hoarsely, Alyn knelt down and fumbled in the snow for the heaviest branch he could find. The branch murmured as he lashed it through the air, imagining swinging it at Ryan’s face.

  ‘Hey!’

  It took Alyn a moment to realize that a voice had called out to him, among the whistling wind and rustling leaves.

  He turned to find himself faced with a girl in her early twenties, with black spiky hair. She wore a leather jacket and torn jeans and her eyes were dark with mascara.

  ‘Who – who are you?’ he said, lowering the branch.

  The girl took a step towards him. ‘My name’s Pyra. We’ve been looking for you. I’m part of a very special group. We’re –’

  ‘You’re with them?’

  ‘Look, I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ she went on. ‘But we need to take you with us.’

  ‘I’m not going with you,’ Alyn said. ‘My friends need me.’

  ‘So do we,’ Pyra said, removing a taser and pointing it at him with both hands. ‘I can’t let you leave.’

  Alyn looked at the weapon and raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re threatening me?’

  ‘Yep. Now drop the branch and get over here.’

  Alyn loosened his grip on the branch. ‘Here,’ he said, feigning dropping it while launching it at her hand. Pyra dropped the taser with a yelp as the branch struck her wrist.

  Alyn charged at her and tackled her into the snow. He crawled towards the taser, grabbed it and pointed it at her.

  ‘All right, kid.’ She sighed, raising her palms in defeat. ‘You win. Just chill.’

  ‘You want to take me back there?’ Alyn panted, staring at her.

  ‘No.’

  In his time at the prison Alyn had come across many liars and wasn’t about to be fooled so easily. He moved his finger round the taser, searching for a trigger.

  ‘Prove it,’ he said. ‘Prove you are who you say you are.’

  ‘I can’t prove anything,’ Pyra said, lowering her hands. ‘Besides, you’ve already made your mind up.’

  Alyn thrust the taser in her direction. ‘I swear I’ll –’

  Pyra met his eyes with some reluctance. ‘You don’t have any idea why you’re here, do you?’

  Alyn lowered his eyes. ‘No. But I’ve got a feeling you do. And that’s what I’m about to find out,’ he said.

  Pyra smiled coolly.

  ‘I said, that’s what I’m about to –’

  Alyn’s words were cut short by something landing across the back of his head, and everything went black.

  4

  Jes’s eyes flickered open and swept around the dark little room. ‘Where are we?’ she croaked, and her eyes filled with alarm at the stone walls. ‘Are we back in Nowhere?’

  Ryan sprang to his feet and ran across to the table, grinning at her. ‘We’re not,’ he said. ‘We’re never going back there.’

  Jes turned her head, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

  ‘We’re in an underground bunker. It’s miles from Nowhere,’ Ryan said, sparing her further confusion. ‘You all right?’

  ‘You tell me,’ she said, bringing a hand to her brow. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘You want the truth or –’

  ‘When a girl asks that, she never wants the truth.’ She smiled, and wearily closed her eyes. ‘I remember a man with a white beard saving us, I think …’

  ‘Henry.’

  ‘So I wasn’t dreaming. Who is he?’

  Some crazy old man living in the forest by the look of things, Ryan almost said, but was interrupted by the door opening. ‘He can tell you himself,’ he said, and stood up straight as Henry appeared.

  Jes felt her side. She grimaced as her fingers fell on the dressing. ‘Thanks for saving us,’ she said.

  ‘My pleasure. Though I’ve never been good at sewing. You’re going to have quite a scar.’

  ‘A small price to pay, I guess.’

  Henry nodded and carried over a can of water and helped her tilt her head to drink. When she had taken a mouthful, he handed her a small
tablet.

  ‘For the pain,’ he said. ‘So you were both prisoners in there. How did that happen?’

  ‘We were kidnapped,’ Ryan said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

  ‘They told us we were criminals,’ Jes added. ‘And that it was a detention centre.’

  ‘I need to know exactly what happened to you both in that place,’ said Henry.

  ‘Chores, jobs,’ said Jes, pushing the can back towards him. ‘And these weird lessons …’

  Henry looked intrigued by this. ‘Go on,’ he urged.

  ‘It was this woman. Susannah. She said she was a teacher, but we knew she wasn’t. She made us watch these weird education films. They looked like they were from the seventies.’

  ‘They were supposed to make us better people,’ Ryan agreed.

  ‘And?’

  Jes shrugged. ‘And that was it,’ she said, then paused. ‘Wait a minute, there was something else too – a few of us noticed split-second flashes of random things in the films.’

  ‘What kind of things?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Just pictures,’ Jes said, wincing with a spasm of pain. ‘I don’t know. I can’t really remember.’

  ‘Try,’ Henry said. ‘It might give us some idea of what the Pledge has been doing.’

  ‘The Pledge?’ Ryan looked at Jes, then back at Henry. ‘You mean you’ve heard of it too?’

  ‘The name has been whispered around for a long time. We weren’t even sure it existed. We thought it was just another conspiracy theory. But the Pledge is real. It just keeps itself well hidden.’

  ‘ “We” being …’

  ‘My people,’ Henry said, walking back to the door. ‘You’ll get to meet them soon enough. Until then, you need some rest.’ He looked at Ryan. ‘And, you, stay put. The forest is still too dangerous.’

  Ryan and Jes stayed silent until Henry’s footsteps faded.

  ‘So,’ Ryan said, turning to Jes but keeping a watchful eye on the door, ‘what do you think of Santa back there?’

  ‘Well, he saved us, so I don’t want to speak too badly …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But he sounds like one of those people who have spent too long by themselves,’ Jes murmured, and looked up at Ryan. ‘We should be careful.’

  5

  Julian had been walking through the night when he stumbled upon the hut.

  He removed a lighter he had stolen from the guards and pressed the flint. The flame illuminated the ground, enough for him to see a pair of boot prints carved into the snow.

  Clutching the ibis with his other hand, Julian moved quietly to the door. He gave it a gentle tap, but it wouldn’t budge; something was blocking it.

  There was a soft crack from the undergrowth: a twig, perhaps a branch. Julian released his finger from the flame and the light melted quickly into darkness.

  Maybe I should’ve stayed with the others, he thought as he walked on, but quickly admonished himself. Elsa was too young, too slow – a liability. Ryan was too brash and loud and careless. Harlan lacked common sense and favoured intuition over reason. The only one who might prove worthy of his company was Jes. But she and Alyn were an item and the thought of forging a relationship, no matter how platonic, seemed like a tremendous waste of time and effort when her energies were inevitably directed elsewhere.

  Within an hour, the trees parted and Julian found himself shivering at the foot of a field. Wincing as snow rose over his boots and seeped into his already damp trousers, he stomped towards the harder ground. Up ahead, something caught his eye. A signpost.

  He trotted towards it and felt around in his pocket for the lighter. The signpost read:

  RAILWAY STATION 3 MILES

  6

  All but one of the Pledge were gathered round a table on the top floor of Pillar, the tallest skyscraper in London’s financial district. James Felix, the group’s leader, shared a look with the other present members, Antonia and Blythe, then turned his eyes to the clock.

  ‘Stephen will be here soon,’ said Antonia, noticing his restlessness.

  Antonia was forty-seven, and the heir to one of the largest banking families in Europe. She wore her hair in a short black bob, while years of cosmetic surgery gave her a blank, almost geisha-like expression.

  ‘I don’t think he’s coming,’ Felix muttered, resting a hand on the mahogany table. ‘And time isn’t on our side.’

  ‘Felix is right,’ said Blythe, a fifty-year-old aristocrat. His grey moustache wiggled as he spoke. ‘We should at least get something in place before that little devil interferes! Speaking of interfering, where is this adviser of yours, Felix? I expected to see him poking his nose in.’

  ‘Emmanuel’s around,’ said Felix. ‘But the Prime Minister isn’t. I’ve left three messages with him now.’

  ‘A little birdie tells me he’s taken a holiday,’ said Blythe, cramming a sandwich in his mouth. ‘To Italy. Not that he has any power anyway.’

  ‘But he knows,’ said Antonia.

  Felix considered this silently and left the table, gliding over to the glass wall. As he did so, the door opened and twenty-one-year-old Stephen Nover, the second-wealthiest man in the country, appeared. Slender and composed, Stephen gently checked his blond parting with a careful pale hand before walking in.

  ‘There he is!’ Blythe announced with a stuffed mouth, slapping the table. ‘What time do you call this, boy?’

  Stephen walked past Blythe and Antonia and dropped into a chair, putting his feet defiantly on the tabletop. A life of privilege had left him with little to show except a smug, entitled pout.

  ‘There’s a reason I called this emergency meeting,’ Felix said, moving back to the group. ‘As you all know, one of our subjects escaped. He wasn’t alone. Since then, five more have joined him. It’s likely they’re all part of the same group. Stephen, are you even listening to me?’

  Stephen was staring out of the window, as though rapt. ‘A hunt …’ he murmured softly, not looking away. ‘We hunt them.’

  ‘That is the sensible thing to do,’ Blythe added, fiddling thoughtfully with his moustache. ‘Still in the woods, are they? Good luck to them making it out of there alive!’

  ‘But we don’t want deaths on our hands,’ said a sombre Antonia.

  Stephen began giggling. The rest of the Pledge looked at him.

  ‘Is something funny?’ Felix asked.

  Stephen shook his head. He lowered into his chair, making his silk tie dance with a playful forefinger.

  Blythe stroked his moustache. ‘We’ll employ some … gentlemen to deal with the situation at once. Mercenaries, like the ones we used for the kidnapping. The sort of men who’ll do anything if the price is high enough.’

  ‘All men will do anything if the price is high enough,’ Stephen sneered. ‘I don’t see what the problem is. I say it’ll be good fun.’

  ‘Fun?’ Felix looked at the others for verification that he was not hearing things. ‘Six escaped subjects on the loose and you think it might be fun?’

  ‘Yes. Fun. What’s wrong? I take it you’ve never been hunting.’

  Antonia crossed her arms. ‘That’s what you see this as? A hunt? A game? Whoever decided to get you involved in this –’

  ‘Enough.’ Felix slammed his hand down on the table. A couple of the glasses rattled. ‘Listen to you, bickering like schoolchildren!’

  ‘As far as I can see, the schoolboy is the problem,’ said Antonia.

  In the reflection of the window Felix noticed Emmanuel had entered the room. Wearing his usual dark grey suit, with his black hair parted conservatively to the side, he stood eerily still.

  ‘He’s right,’ Emmanuel said, and every pair of eyes turned to him. ‘With them free, there is a chance that everything we have worked for will be lost. We need to find them. And, out of all of you, he –’ Emmanuel indicated Stephen – ‘is most suitable to manage this.’

  For all the wrong reasons, Felix very nearly said, glancing across the table. Rumours of St
ephen’s cruelty from former employees were curiously persistent, and from what he had seen of the boy, Felix was prepared to accept it not merely as hearsay.

  ‘I’m glad one of you has some sense,’ Stephen said with a smirk. ‘I’ll gather up a little hunting party. The escaped subjects have no money, no shelter, no transport. With the guards on their tails and our own men closing in on them, they’ll be surrounded!’

  ‘I want it made clear that they are to be returned to the prison unharmed,’ Felix said.

  ‘I have a better idea,’ Stephen went on excitedly. ‘Perhaps we should take one as a sacrifice.’

  ‘A sacrifice? What the devil are you talking about?’

  ‘A warning,’ Stephen clarified, his eyes wide. ‘That’s what I mean. It’ll be a message for the others to stay put. I think it should be that Alyn Hart fellow. They see him as some kind of hero, and there’s no better symbol to slay.’

  ‘Now, now, you little rogue, I too draw the line at murder,’ Blythe said, brushing crumbs from his trousers. ‘But, regardless, let us cross that line if and when we come to it.’

  Felix looked around the room. ‘Unless anyone has anything else to add, I declare this meeting over.’ He tapped the table with his knuckle. ‘Semper ad meliora.’

  ‘Semper ad meliora,’ the others repeated in unison, except Emmanuel, who was watching Felix intently.

  7

  After a barely conscious Alyn had had his wrists bound and was dragged into the back of the silver sports car, Pyra wilted into the passenger seat.

  ‘The police will still be looking for us, Anton,’ Alyn heard her mutter. ‘Guess we should find somewhere to stay for the night. There’s a bed and breakfast a few miles south.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ replied the driver, Anton, pulling his phone out of his pocket. ‘I’m gonna call the others.’

  ‘Don’t say too much just yet.’ She made eyes at their captive on the back seat. ‘He’s not ready to know.’

  ‘Not surprised, with what he’s been through. I just hope he don’t try anything.’

  ‘I’m not gonna try anything,’ Alyn answered. Not yet. He tugged at the cord round his wrist with his thumb.