Her vision whirled as she was tugged upright, and she leant for a second against Harris’ chest, breathing him in. “Thank you,” she gasped. Her brow furrowed, and she pulled back, slamming her fists into Harris’ plain blue shirt. “Where the hell were you?”
Wincing against her metal fist barrelling into him, Harris rubbed at the sore point on his chest, nodding back over her shoulder. “Busy.” Freda turned to see what he was looking at, but a shot rang out from his weapon, whistling over her ear as she moved. The guard who had been stood behind her, reaching out to grab her again, jolted back at the shot sank into his arm. He turned accusing eyes to Freda, but she simply gave an angry cry and kicked him hard in the stomach. He doubled over with a wheeze, clutching at his arm as blood began to flow steadily out.
It was only then that Freda registered the tens of people milling around them, all kicking and fighting the guards. A myriad of bright colours and shouts swirled around her, and she turned back to Harris with a wide grin. Her chest constricted as she realised Gareth might be amongst them. “You did it. You got them out?”
Harris took a moment to swing his shotgun into the back of another guard’s leg as three performers leapt on him, punching hard. He straightened up again, giving a proud nod. “Certainly did.” A siren went off somewhere in the distance, and he lifted his chin just enough to look down the street. Freda followed suit, peering over her shoulder with wide eyes, taking in the dark figures running at the far end of the road, close enough to make out that they were the Elites’ police. Harris snatched her hand up into his own, yanking her over to the alleyway across the road, scooping up her coat and throwing it at her. “Time to go.” He gestured towards a short woman stood in the centre of the combat with a blue hairdo, cut into a mohawk. “Katrina! We need to get out of here.” He jerked his head towards the oncoming police.
“Got’cha!” She placed her fingers in her mouth, giving a shrill whistle for attention. The road by now was a mass of bodies, the five guards lying still—but breathing—under the scrambled punches and kicks the performers delivered to them, but they all paused and looked up towards the woman as she held their gazes. Freda had no doubt they hadn’t been treated any kindlier by the guards than she had. Katrina waved a hand in the air in a wide circle, as though gathering the troupe up. “We’re out of here, people!”
The performers all moved as one, filtering away in a long train of figures towards the wall, only a short distance away at the other end of the road. Freda and Harris both broke into a run beside them, still tightly holding hands. Holding onto her coat for dear life, taking a second to glance at her rifle still safely stored across Harris’ broad back, Freda let the adrenaline in her body fire her forwards with the others. Their feet echoed in the night air, thudding against the asphalt. Her heart pounded inside her skull, but she forced her tired limbs to piston faster. The great wall loomed above them, daring them to try and pass.
Both Harris and Freda glanced at one another before taking a stare over their shoulders. The police behind were closing in, sprinting towards the escapees. Freda could almost sense the brutality approaching. The pair turned back, only to see two of the performers nimbly leaping to the top of the wall like cats. The graceful pair both latched their feet under the small lip of stone at the top, leaning down and grabbing two pairs of outstretched arms. The two performers—who looked like twins, with matching blond hair cut short and blue outfits—easily pulled over their two comrades, seeing them over the other side before reaching for two more people.
She was pulled along with Harris as the group got smaller, and she looked up nervously at the two gymnasts reaching down for them both. The ordered shouts from behind got louder. But something about trusting someone unknown to yank her halfway up a wall and over the other side made her stumble, and she almost took a step back, despite the logical part of her mind willing her forwards. “I don’t know if I can—”
Two strong hands reached around her waist, cutting her words off as Harris thrust her up towards the female gymnast. The blond woman gave her a quick but reassuring smile, as though to let her know she wouldn’t be dropped, and Freda felt herself being dragged upwards breathlessly fast. The two lithe performers were stronger than their delicate forms might have suggested, and she swung her leg over quickly as she reached the top. The rough stone grazed the flesh beneath her thin jeans, but she took a deep breath and leapt, plummeting over to the other side. She landed hard, grunting as the air was knocked from her body by the sudden drop in height, but her fall was broken by several people reaching out to catch her as she came down.
“See, you were fine,” Harris quipped as he leapt down behind her, landing more elegantly as the gymnastic performers finally swung themselves down from the wall with unerring grace. His boots thumped against the hard ground of the street as he wrapped an arm around Freda’s shoulders, pulling her in close and kissing the top of her head.
“Excuse me for having a moment of doubt. I’m not used to replying on people,” Freda grumbled, but she let Harris’ arm stay, noticing how his kiss lingered for a few seconds more than she expected.
The blue-haired woman shoved her way through the throng of people, pausing in front of the pair. She jabbed a finger back towards the wall, her neon-pink sweatshirt riding up, revealing a thin tear in it that had been repaired carefully with yellow thread. “We’re not out of the woods, yet. No part of the city will be safe now they know we’ve escaped. We have to get to our transport.” She raised her eyebrows, darting her shining grey eyes between them both. “I recommend you come with us.”
“Absolutely,” Freda answered for both of them, craning her neck to peer over Katrina’s shoulder. But there were too many performers, and it was too dark even in the moonlight, for her to recognise Gareth amongst them. Her heart squeezed. I hope he’s here. He must be, they wouldn’t leave anyone behind.
At her words, Katrina gave a swift nod, pushing her way back to the front of the group and waving her arms high in the air, the multi-coloured bracelets on her arms jangling. “Our welcome has run out in Leeds, everyone. Time to get the hell out of here.”
The group turned as one, chattering excitedly with each other as they moved out into the wide street. The shanty-houses built randomly around the road were dark now, not a single light in any of them, and only the few flickering solar lamps and the moon lit their way. The ruinous buildings still standing between the houses were boarded up like before, dark and looming as everyone clattered past. The central square came into view, thankfully empty and devoid of people. Freda took a moment to gaze across at the wooden stage from earlier that day, her heart sinking as she took in the sight of two forms laid still on its surface. She recognised one of them as being the man she had seen shouting from the stage to the rioters below. Knowing the bomb hadn’t killed him, that only left the police force. She swallowed back the bile that rose as she was running, telling herself it was acid from her tired body protesting against the sudden strain.
The troupe turned the corner to the main road leading out of the city, passing below the many arches built over it. They were constructed from bits of metal and old furniture, large letters taken from shop signs proclaiming ‘Leeds – Lowers’ in various shapes and sizes. The crumbled road shook as they passed along it, the only sound now behind them the yowling of a distant cat as it cried out to the moon. Freda chanced a quick look over her shoulder, her eyes searching the area. There was no one behind them, but a string of brilliant lights wavering near the entrance to the Elites’ section of the city revealed the police chasing them, now armed with torches. The sight gave her the fresh burst of energy she needed, her lungs burning like wildfire, and she sprinted against the agony ripping through her legs to keep up with the others. How are they going so fast? Do they do this often?
The main road petered out into the dryness of the countryside beyond, the wall of the Lowers’ section finally passing them by and revealing the end of the city. The large group passed bene
ath the last archway and raced across to a long trail of vans and lorries parked up by the side of the road. They were parked in a wide grass verge, the dried trees on one side protecting them as Freda’s eyes narrowed at the sight. She hadn’t seen a working vehicle since the Vigilants picked her and Reilly up, and it wasn’t used very often. Seeing several at once was odd. “How…are you all…using these?” she gasped between each lungful of air, to no one in particular.
A middle-aged man running by her side, with several rings pierced through each nostril, nodded towards the vans, his dreadlocked-hair bouncing with his strides. “Converted them,” he explained in a half-yell so she could hear. “Made them run on alcohol, instead.” He gave a toothy grin.
The performers leapt into the vehicles with whoops and shouts, filing into them with a practiced ease that confirmed they had at least prepared this escape plan, if not done it before. As Katrina pulled herself smoothly up into the cab of the last van, she pointed at the rear doors swinging wide open, gesturing towards Harris and Freda. “Get in! There’s room in the back.”
Both Freda and Harris leapt for the doors of the van as it rumbled into life, wheezing for breath as their feet found the rubbery guard to help them up. Harris’ hand pinched around Freda’s arm as he jumped in first, yanking her after him as the last of the troupe leapt in with them, slamming the doors shut. The van shook from side to side, its engine shuddering to life as it pulled off the soft verge. Freda put her arm out to stop herself sliding into more people as it moved, unused to the strange sensation of something moving beneath her as she tried to find her balance.
She found herself tugged into the corner of the metal van as Harris sat down, holding her arm as he pulled her down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her close to his chest and breathing in her hair. He let out a deep sigh, as though relieved to have her so close. “I’m sorry I…didn’t get…outside faster,” he breathed into her hair. Freda could hear his heart hammering next to her ear. He pressed another kiss against her forehead, holding her tightly.
“That’s okay,” she murmured in reply, her hand sinking against his shirt. She closed her eyes for a second as the van shook from side to side, hitting the bumps in the road as it rumbled on its way. The fabric felt good under her fingers, grounding her for a moment as she tried to let her thoughts settle. The idea that she had come so close to being raped shook her. Not even in the Badlands had she felt so terrified, so useless to defend herself. Shaking her head to rid herself of the darkness collecting in her mind, Freda unfurled her coat, still grasped tightly in her arms in a death-grip. Spreading it around both Harris and herself, she allowed herself to relax against him, her head pounding as her legs trembled from their sprint. “Guess I owe you now.” She grinned weakly.
Harris managed to give a chuckle, coughing lightly against his dry throat. “Yeah. You do. No more adventures without my say-so,” he joked, leaning his head back against the wall of the van and closing his eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down his nose, and he reached up to swipe at it lazily, letting his hand flop back down heavily.
Yawning wide, Freda took a second to glance around the semi-darkness at their fellow passengers. There were at least five other performers in the van with them, all nodding off quietly, but none of them looked like Gareth. Swallowing back her panic, Freda hugged herself into Harris’ warm torso, burying her nose in his neck and breathing in his scent to calm herself, letting the deep waves of sleep pushing at the back of her mind to overtake her. All that mattered was that Gareth was probably travelling with them, in another van, and she and Harris were both safe. She fully intended to keep her promise to Reilly.
Chapter Twenty
September 19th, 2063 – the Present
The scent of fried meat and eggs woke Freda from her slumber, and she stirred against the warmth of the body she cradled against. She froze for a moment, her eyes snapping open and filling with the sight of blue fabric. As she slowly traced the fibres, memories of the previous night fell into place, and the tension left her body again as she remembered falling asleep in Harris’ arms. Most comfortable sleep I’ve had in years, she wryly though to herself, stretching out her arms luxuriously. Her coat slid off a little as she moved, and the chill of fresh morning air hit her skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. Harris was still asleep as she looked up towards him, her lips twitching into a smile at the serenity on his face. A memory of Reilly looking that peaceful unwelcomingly edged its way in, and she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to wake him. Curling her fingers into his shirt, Freda shook Harris gently. “Hey, wake up.”
Harris groaned against her tugs, swiping at her hand as he gave a loud sniff. Fluttering his eyelids open, he blinked a few times to focus on her face, his lips stretching into a lazy grin. “Morning, sweetheart.”
“Morning.” Freda couldn’t help smiling back. She shivered against the cool breeze floating into the back of the van, her senses coming back to life as she looked around for the others. “Where are the others, do you think?” She narrowed her eyes to stare out the open doors of the van, taking in several figures hurrying back and forth around crackling flames. The sight answered her own question, and the scent of salted meat hit her again. Her stomach rumbled loudly. “That smell is making my stomach eat itself. I need breakfast.”
“After you,” Harris rumbled, gesturing for her to get off his lap. His eyes twinkled as she ungracefully pushed herself to her feet, being careful not to fall backwards as she stretched her stiff legs. She didn’t miss the way he hovered an arm out to help her up if she needed it, but she balanced herself neatly as she shrugged her coat on. No matter how much walking they did, sprinting never ceased to make her muscles turn into lead.
Sifting her fingers through her knotted hair as best she could, Freda turned and made her way to the doors of the van, using one hand to support herself as she leapt down onto the ground below. It was covered in sparse grass, a few trees dotting the landscape at the edges, and a great mound rose to one side, at least half the size of the great hall in the bunker. The van gave a bouncing squeak as Harris jumped down beside her, breathing in deeply. Hugging her arms around herself to keep the cold air out, the rope from her waist now gone from the coat, she took a moment to soak in their surroundings. The air was thick with morning mist, but the colourful clothes of the performers gave it a surreal atmosphere, their voices rising to one another as they called out and laughed at jokes. The campfire looked invitingly warm, the flames spitting out orange sparks and licking hungrily at the few pots arranged over it on metal tripods, fat bubbling loudly in them.
Turning to Harris, Freda jerked her head towards the fire. “We should give them some of our supplies. To say thanks for putting us up last night.”
Looking bashful, Harris gave a cough, swiping the toe of his boot through the dirt. “Er…we don’t have any. Remember when I thought you would be waiting for me in the alleyway back there?”
“Yeah?”
“I left my rucksack next to your coat. I, er…I forgot to pick it up when we were running.” Harris wiped a hand through his hair, ruffling it as he fixed Freda with an apologetic gaze. “I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Everything was such a rush.”
A sigh tumbled from Freda’s lips, but it was more disappointment at their situation than annoyance at Harris. She reached over to stroke her hand along his arm, not missing the way it tensed under her touch. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got us, and we’ve got our weapons. It’s not the first time I’ve started with nothing.” She gave a weak shrug. The pair of them walked across to the fire in silence, the thin pieces of grass shushing beneath their feet as they passed. Freda couldn’t help being drawn by the strange mound to the side, her eyes travelling over it as they sauntered past. What is this place? I don’t recognise it.
Katrina was sat beside the campfire as they drew near, and she looked up sharply, her face breaking into a brilliant smile. She rose up, raising her hands in the air and clapping loud
ly. “Our heroes of the hour!” Bending at the waist to give an over-dramatic bow, she gestured next to two seats by the fire. The performers either side quickly shuffled over to give them room, one of them reaching over to grab a plate, piling food onto it from the metal pots. Easing herself back down into the folding deck chair she had sat on, its fabric faded and worn, Katrina gave them both a nod. “Seriously, thank you. If we had known performing that play would get us in so much trouble, we never would have done it.”
Taking the plate offered to her with a murmur of thanks, Freda caught Katrina’s eye, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, got to say…doing a play about the lower orders rising up against their masters? How exactly was that going to go down in a place like Leeds?”
The blue-haired woman gave a shrug, snorting. “I suppose we didn’t think about it like that. We just wanted people to do what was right. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. We won’t be going back for a while.” Reaching an arm out, she used a long spatula to push the scrambled eggs—powdered eggs, at least—around the flat saucepan before her. The fat hissed and spat as she flipped it over, some of it popping out onto the ground below. “What’s important is that you guys rescued us. We are forever in your debt.”
Using a fork to slice some of the egg, Freda stabbed it hungrily as her stomach gave another gurgle, pushing it into her mouth as though she was starving. In fairness, the last time we ate was yesterday at the pub. Chewing with a moan of appreciation, Freda closed her eyes to savour the salty flavour of the egg. Feeling Katrina’s stare still on her, she snapped her eyes open. “Well,” she started, swallowing the egg so quickly that it almost formed a hard lump in her throat, “we were looking for someone in your troupe, actually. We think maybe my brother might have joined you guys in York. I…I’ve been searching for him for six months.”
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