by Sarah Dalton
Mum didn’t answer. Instead, she swung open another set of double doors and led me into a huge room spanning the length of the entire floor. We’d moved up to the fourteenth floor now, and as far as I’d noticed on the way to the strange room, it was unoccupied. Light streamed through the large windows, and the landscape of the city caught my eye. My first real glimpse of London. My first view of the sky-scraping, neck-craning buildings of glass and brick. I walked forwards and placed my hands on the window pane. It stretched from floor to ceiling – making me feel as though I stood on the edge of the GEM building itself. My heart fluttered with fear as I stared down at the terrifying drop below. Tiny cars, people and bikes travelled up and down the roads, winding around the pavements, or standing by traffic lights.
Mum cleared her throat. “Sweetheart, I didn’t bring you here for the view.”
I faced her and followed her gesture to the rest of the room, including the strange objects I’d been too distracted to notice.
“Why is there a boulder?” I mumbled, moving away from the window. “And cars? This is weird. What’s going on?”
Aside from the boulder and old, beat-up cars there was a gym fitted out with punching bags, dummies, and weapons. It was a training ground. No, it was more than that. It was a training ground especially designed for me.
“Oh,” I said.
“The floors and walls are steel reinforced and the window is bullet proof, although I think if you throw the boulder at it with enough force you might break it. So be careful.”
I moved further into the room, and my shoes sank into the soft floor. It’d been covered with squidgy material like the mats they put down for the GEM kids doing PE in the sports hall. “When did you make this?” I wrapped my arms around my body, holding myself together. It was a cold room and yet I felt a film of sweat form over my forehead.
“When you were born, sweetheart.”
“So it wasn’t just Dad who wanted me to train? You did too?” I clenched my fists. Why did my parents want to control my future? What was it they wanted from me?
“You were born for this, Mina. You’re the strongest human being on the planet, and it’s time you started realising that.” She spoke with a forceful tone. Much louder than her natural voice. “I’m not playing games and I’m not going to keep you in the dark like a little girl who needs protecting. That is your father. Not me. I’m telling you straight – this is your destiny and you need to train for it.”
“But train for what? I don’t understand what’s coming.”
Mum sighed and relaxed her shoulders. The easy smile returned, and the tight feeling in my chest slowly dissipated. “Let’s have some tea and then talk about it.”
She disappeared into an open plan kitchen in the corner. While the cupboard doors banged and the kettle hissed, I settled into an expensive leather sofa, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of me. Both Mum and Dad wanted me to use my gift – what for? I felt like a warm piece of clay being passed around, each person trying to mould me one way, and then the other stretching me in the opposite direction. I glanced down at my fingers to see they were shaking again. What was wrong with me?
The tea tray rattled as she placed it on the table. “I’m not sure you understand me, Mina,” she said, her words flowing as slowly as the tea from the pot to my cup, “when I tell you about your destiny. It’s something that is inevitable and unstoppable. I’m going to be right here for you – all the way. Drink your tea.” She held it in front of me.
I took the cup. “Okay, but you have to tell me what my destiny is.”
“Drink your tea.” She nodded to me. “You look pale. I don’t think you’re over the flu just yet. I think you need more medicine.”
I sipped the sweet liquid. It was warm rather than hot so I drank it quickly. Mum watched in silence.
“Good girl,” she said.
“I didn’t realise how thirsty I was,” I said, replacing the cup into its saucer. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and leaned back into the sofa.
“Do you feel better?”
“Yeah, I do.” I glanced at my hands. “My fingers have stopped shaking.”
“You felt weak today?” she asked.
“It was weird. My legs and hands kept shaking. Do you think there’s something really wrong with me?” My voice sounded far away and a sense of peace spread through my body.
“No, sweetheart. It’s just the flu.” She stood and circled my sofa, talking slowly. “Do you feel strong now?”
“I feel floaty.” I giggled. “Light as air.”
“Pull yourself together,” she snapped. “Channel your energy.”
I sat up straight and concentrated hard. The room sharpened. I heard blood pumping – like a rush of waves – in my ears. With a blink and a shake of my head, I composed myself, and took a long, cleansing breath, using Dad’s meditation skills. “Okay.”
“Now I want you to think of your father,” she said.
“Why?”
“Don’t ask – think. Think of everything he’s done to you, and all the secrets he’s kept from you.” Mum continued to step around me, her shoes sinking into the soft mats. “He betrayed you, Mina. He kept you from me. He lied to you, told you I was dead.”
I clenched my fists and pulled my knees up to my chest, burying my head in my legs, wanting to forget all about my dad. “I know.”
“Feel it,” she hissed. “Feel the anger he’s caused you.” She spoke in a harsh, sneering voice. “Feel the rage from deep within. No parent who loves his daughter would ever leave her to chase after other people’s kids. Remember how he left you fighting your way out of Area 14 on your own? You had to watch as the Enforcers dragged your uncle away. Someone else he kept from you.”
“Stop it,” I whispered. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes.
“No, I won’t stop,” she mimicked. “Are you going to cry little girl? Are you going to whine about your mean Daddy and your boyfriend being so far away? I’ve not seen either of them coming to your rescue, chasing us down the motorway – have you? Well maybe they’re not coming. They’ve probably moved on. Who wouldn’t want to move on when it’s you? A Freak.”
“Why are you saying these things?”
“Do you hate me now? Because you’ve been nothing but a little suck-up, trying to get Mummy’s attention.” She raised her voice to a near shout. “Maybe if I’d known I had a whiney little mummy’s girl for a daughter I wouldn’t have bothered trying to find you.”
“NO!” I yelled.
The boulder lifted and swayed in the air. The cars bounced up and down, dancing as though they were on strings. Mum laughed.
“That’s better. That’s my girl.”
“Is this funny to you?” I shouted. Tears streamed down my face.
“Maybe,” she said, her eyes flashing. “If I have a joke for a daughter.”
The boulder smashed up against the ceiling, denting the plaster. Debris sprinkled down, coating the floor in dust. Mum watched me with a smirk on her face.
“So, now do you want to know what your destiny is?” she said.
I nodded, wiping away my tears. I’d lifted my chin so I could meet her eyes.
“You’re my weapon,” she said. “You fight for me in the war.”
21 ~ Angela ~
The stink of urine and dirt roiled Angela’s stomach. She leaned back against the cold, damp walls and wondered what to do next. Vincent Cole had always seemed a cruel and unethical man, but she had never imagined that he would lock up his own son. Not after the way he sacrificed himself to save Sebastian at the farm. She didn’t understand why he’d asked for Sebastian to come to Area 14 if only to capture him. Was it part of a game? Did Vincent want to trick the GEM somehow?
Sebastian sprang up from the floor and banged his fists against the bars. “I want to see my father! Bring him to me!” He shouted, his voice verging on arrogance. After a brief silence he spoke in a more defeated, unsure tone. “This is all just
a mistake. It has to be. What about my mum? She must be here somewhere. Please find her.”
Angela knew the guards were around the corner from the cells. She sometimes heard them shuffling around with jangling keys. This time they stayed silent. She climbed to her feet and put her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.
“They aren’t coming,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Sebastian shook her off, and Angela moved away, realising he wanted to be alone so no one saw his tears. She sat down at the back of the cell and wrapped her arms around her body.
It was a small room, with a small bowl for a toilet, and a tiny raised bed – room for one person only. White concrete walls enclosed them, covered in the kind of filth that builds up over years. Angela heard the sounds of other prisoners moving in the cells around them. Sometimes they shouted for so long that the guards beat them with their batons.
Then the screams came. It made Angela shudder.
Cam took her hand. “It’s gunnae be all right,” he said. His monotone voice lacked any indication of hope, and it chilled her to the bone.
She squeezed his hand tight. “Yes,” she said firmly, “it will. It will be okay.”
“Who are you kidding?” Sebastian said in a bitter voice.
“I’m not kidding anyone,” Angela retorted. “But I refuse to give up.”
“Look around you,” he insisted. “Do you see a way out? What do you think is going to happen? We escape through these bolted metal doors and run away into the sunset?” He paced up and down the cell.
“Dunnae speak te her like that,” Cam said in a low, threatening voice.
“Why what are you going to do? Cry?”
Cam leapt to his feet, but Angela kept hold of his hand. She tried to pull him back. “Don’t, Cam. He’s just upset.”
The two boys squared up to each other until a frustrated Ginge took Cam’s other hand and pulled him to the cold, stone floor. “Och, ye both bein’ idiots. Just sit doon an’ shut up.”
Hours dragged on until Angela drifted off to sleep with her back propped against the dirty wall. At least in slumber she could forget about the sores on her ankles and wrists, or Cam’s peeling sunburn. Her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed of her mother standing in the kitchen of their home in Area 14, making mint tea and humming a tune. She woke sharply, to the sounds of shouts and the rattling of bars – completely disorientated until the past few days came flooding back. They brought with them a familiar heavy feeling in her stomach.
She felt as though she was being watched, and twisted her body to see Cam staring at her. A smile played on his lips. She tried to meet his eyes, but his cheeks reddened, and he looked away. How long had he been watching her sleep? Angela opened her mouth to talk to him, when she heard footsteps, and the jangling of the guard’s keys approaching the cell. Vincent Cole appeared from the shadows on the other side of the bars.
“Dad!” Sebastian leapt to his feet and dashed over to the bars. It was the first time Angela had seen him this happy in days. He seemed elated; his eyes wide and glassy, his cheeks flushed and excited, and his eyebrows raised and hopeful. He gripped the bars so tight his knuckles paled. “I knew you’d come for us. I knew you wouldn’t leave me in here. How’s Mum? Can I see her?”
Vincent Cole wasn’t alone. Alongside the guard came a shorter man with beady black eyes and grey hair. He walked with a stiff, yet swift, gait and his chin up in the air as though to compensate for his lack of stature. Angela noted his straight, thin lips and low eyebrows; somehow she didn’t expect any good news to come.
“Well?” asked Sebastian. “Where’s Mum?”
A flash of emotion flickered on Vincent’s face before it changed back to a blank mask. “Your mother is dead, Sebastian. She died in the farmhouse the night you left with the deserters.” He pointed directly at Angela, who shuddered against his gaze.
Sebastian’s body sagged forward at the terrible news; the hopeful expression dissipated in an instant. Ginge pulled him into her arms, cradling him, like a child.
It surprised Angela that she struggled to hold back tears. She’d known Mrs Cole for only a brief time, and during that time she’d thought of her as a sort of surrogate Mum. She bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions in check, but the memories came back: collecting eggs, cooking, and ironing together on Sebastian’s farm. Her heart panged.
Angela shook her head in disbelief. How could Vincent be so heartless? Why would any father do that to their only son? Cam reached across and took Angela’s hand in his. She remembered the night they left for the Compound. She would never forget the desperation in Cam’s voice as he told her he needed to get out of Area 14 to stop the face of his betraying father haunting him. Somehow she’d brought him closer to that memory; brought him to see yet another parent betray their child. What kind of world did they live in?
“She’s dead?” Sebastian said. His voice rasped with grief. “No. No, she can’t be.” He let out a loud sob, his shoulders slumping so that he almost folded in two. “No.” Ginge wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, and Sebastian sobbed against her chest.
Vincent moved towards him with a hand outstretched and an expression of shock in his widened eyes. Next to him, the smaller man glared and shook his head. Vincent obeyed, moving away from Sebastian. His face changed back to the emotionless mask.
Angela wiped away her tears, and focussed her attention on the short man with beady eyes. Who was he? He had a lot of influence over Vincent Cole. Enough influence to make him capture his own son? Yes, probably. If there was one thing she knew about Sebastian’s father, it was that he made deals with those higher than him: he made a deal with the GEM to leave London and keep his life; he made another deal with the GEM to betray Mina so he could keep the farm. There had to be something motivating him to treat his family this way. She just didn’t know what it was.
“You just came here to tell me that?” said Sebastian. He sniffed and wiped his red raw eyes. “You lock me away like an animal, and then you tell me my mother is dead? Who are you?”
Vincent seemed taken aback by that. His mouth opened and closed as he stared at his son.
“You’re not my father,” Sebastian said with venom in his voice. His fists clenched by his sides. Ginge stood next to him with her arms folded, glaring at Vincent through a curtain of hair.
“Tell him, Vincent,” said the short man.
“There’s a reason I gave Matthew Hart a message,” Vincent said, speaking slowly. He cleared his throat and continued. “The Ministry take desertion very seriously and have been attempting to track you and Angela down for quite some time.” His eyes narrowed as the examined every face in the cell. “I see that the boy isn’t here? I believe that Mina is being taken care of by her mother anyway, so I was never going to get her.” He faltered.
“Go on,” said the mean little man.
Vincent sighed. “You broke the law, Sebastian. And you Angela. I sentence you to death for deserting a Ministry controlled Area––”
“No!” Sebastian screamed.
“––the others are guilty of infiltrating a Ministry controlled Area, and living outside Ministry control. I also sentence you to death––”
“Like hell ye will,” Ginge shouted. She lunged through the bars, reaching for Vincent’s shirt. The guard advanced with his baton, hitting her on the forearm. Cam pulled her back.
“––at a time arranged by the Border Security panel in Area 14. Until then you will remain incarcerated in the prison cells.”
Sebastian shook his head slowly in total disbelief. “How can you do this?” he whispered.
Vincent backed away.
“You coward!” Sebastian screamed. “You coward.” He collapsed to the floor as Vincent left.
The short man remained for a second longer, staring at the four faces in the prison. He laughed once and disappeared into the shadows. Angela watched him leave with a tight knot of contempt building in her chest. She’d never hated anyone as much as that
man. Never.
22 ~ Daniel ~
The long basement of the church had been split into a living quarter, with a dining table, computer area and bunk beds stacked against the walls. Children played with chipped and battered toys in a carpeted area next to the beds. Whilst it was dank and dark, they had all the facilities they needed, including a functioning bathroom, electricity and running water. They even had a small kitchen area with counter space and an oven. It was a very different picture than the one painted to him in Area 14. The Resistance still had some resources left.
Daniel followed the main room around a corner and came to something much more disturbing – a prison cell. Why would the Resistance need to lock people away?
“We hardly ever use that thing.”
Daniel spun around to find Des behind him, leaning casually against the basement wall. “What does hardly ever mean?” He remembered Hiro’s warning. There was no way he’d trust Des until he earned it.
“You know, if you continue through that archway,” Des pointed to the dark corridor a few feet away from the cell, “you reach the catacombs of the church. The priest tells me there are dozens of bodies down there; hundreds of years of entombed priests buried in their church.” He stepped out of the shadows, grinning to reveal large white teeth. “I hope you’re not afraid of the dead, Daniel.”
Des laughed as he walked away. His footsteps faded until Daniel stood alone in the eerie silence. Goosebumps formed up and down his arms as the cold spread through his body. He’d never felt so alone. A large spider scuttled across the floor, and even though he’d never been afraid of spiders, he backed away from the prison cell and hurried around the corner to the living quarters. Des watched him from the other side of the room with a triumphant expression on his face.
Daniel gritted his teeth and tried to ignore him, whilst at the same time trying to ignore the way his nerves jangled with new adrenaline. He caught Jonathon by the arm as he crossed the room carrying fresh bandages for Ali.