by Lari Don
The little girl burst into tears, prompting a wave of guilt from Lucy that I’d never sensed when she made me cry.
I shouted, “Look, this wee girl’s crying. Let’s get her chocolate back from the sweetie thief…”
And three streets worth of guisers started to march towards Malcolm. The robot and tiger had been joined by more tall boys in onesies, including a kangaroo and a white rabbit.
I sensed my uncle’s struggle to control his fury.
The fat tiger and tall kangaroo barged right up to Malcolm. “Is that true? Are you nicking the kids’ sweeties? Are you a mad dentist? Show us what’s in your box!”
As Malcolm tipped the box of newspapers on the ground, saying reassuringly, “I’m not a dentist and I don’t have any sweeties,” the whole army of guisers blocked the narrow entrance to the colonies. I could sense increasing confusion from the spooks.
Now there was a bottleneck at the junction. The rest of the family couldn’t get in past the guisers, and the spooks were temporarily watching dozens of other kids.
So I ran. Away from the only way in and out. Lucy, stifling guilty laughter, ran with me.
Malclom was backing off, retreating from a fight he didn’t need, trying to work out what I was doing. It wouldn’t take him long. We had to be fast.
We sprinted up the narrow road towards the last terrace, turned right, ran to the end and through the gate of the last house.
A couple with a baby stood in the doorway, being entertained by zombies singing the fat goose song. I waved as we ran past and in the surprised silence I used a trellis to clamber onto their garden shed.
I sensed a shift in everyone’s emotions. The guisers, who presumably hadn’t found stolen sweeties, were losing confidence in their crusade. Malcolm was focussed on giving new orders. The spooks were regrouping too. I heard car doors slam and sensed the start of a search. Perhaps they’d finally worked out that the teenagers running away might be the teenagers they were looking for.
“Keep going!” I yelled at Lucy as I scrambled from the roof of the shed onto the high wall separating these terraces from newer houses on the other side.
I leant down for Lucy, but she climbed up without help, though her gloves were off by now and her mask was squint.
“Keep your mask on. MI5 will be checking any CCTV camera signals they can access.”
The kids on the doorstep started singing again, as we balanced along the wall. We turned a corner to walk along the back of the terrace, looking for a safe place to jump down.
In the light from house windows I couldn’t see any sheds on the other side. Not even any soft compost heaps. Just hard winter ground or decking.
And I knew all the hunters were coming for us now. The spooks through the colonies, the family round the outside. We only had minutes to get clear of these narrow streets before they became a trap.
The wall was no longer above gardens on both sides. We were balancing along above a road on our right, and there was a blue van parked up on the pavement. I jumped off the wall onto its roof and Lucy followed me, rocking the van on its wheels.
We slid down the windscreen to the bonnet, then onto the road, and we kept running. “As fast as you can!” I called. “If we can get clear of these streets, then the spooks will never find us again.”
“What about your family?” she gasped, her first question in five minutes.
“They will track us down eventually, but if I’m right about what’s in that urn, we have something to bargain with.”
As we ran through the maze of small streets, Lucy felt safe enough to ask more questions. “Where are we going?”
I didn’t answer. We were still moving at top speed.
The chaos behind us was dying away. The family were calmer. Malcolm must have escaped the guiser army, because he was concentrating entirely on hunting us down. The spooks were still confused but starting to follow familiar routines.
We had to keep ahead of any attempt, from either side, to find us again. Before I wanted them to, anyway.
As we ran across the park, Lucy asked again, “Where are we going?”
“The docks.”
“The docks? Why? Why not the city centre, where we can get lost in the crowds?”
“Because I need witnesses for what we do next, witnesses who can’t stop us or attack us. And I can find that in the docks.” I didn’t explain any more. She kept pace with me, as we ran past warehouses, building sites, scrapyards, then into Leith docks.
I slowed down, at last.
Lucy was nearly out of breath, but she wasn’t going to follow me unquestioningly any longer. “Don’t shut me out, Bain! Why do you need witnesses, what are you planning to do now?”
I was about to answer, when suddenly it was too late. There was no time to explain the whole plan.
Because we were no longer alone.
I’d sensed what I’d been hoping for, but what I’d also been dreading. The approach of a hunter.
I started running again. I had to find the right location, before they found us. “Now,” I called behind me, “now I’m going to destroy the flash drive.”
She ran after me. “But I thought we were going to use the flash drive to bargain for my life. Why do you want to destroy it?”
“The spooks are still too close. If they find us again and grab the flash drive, my whole family is in danger.”
“Hold on, Bain. You can’t change plans like that.”
I kept running. I could argue with her later.
She chased after me, but I stretched out into a burst of serious speed and she couldn’t keep up. She stopped to catch her breath, which was the opportunity I needed. I stopped, took off the rucksack, crouched in the tangled shadow of a crane and pulled out the urn.
Would I find anything inside at all, apart from Ivy Shaw’s remains? Had the last two days been worth it?
I could sense the hunter getting closer. I twisted the lid off the urn and, with Vivien’s gritty fingers scratching the inside of my mind, I put my hand in the ashes.
Yes! I felt it. The long smooth shape of that flash drive. My guess had been right all along. Vivien had led me to the right place.
Lucy kicked me in the ribs. “You bastard, leave my nana alone.”
I pulled my hand out of the ashes and twisted the lid back on. “Calm down, Lucy, and help me find two things: moving water and a camera.”
“Why would I help you, when you’re clearly not trying to save me?”
“It might still work out for both of us, if we hurry. Come on!”
Then I sensed the hunter again. Far too close. Far too fast. Far too much like Daniel.
CHAPTER 33
Lucy Shaw, 31st October
Bain was running towards the water with my nana’s ashes. My sister had died because of what was hidden in there. I was not letting him destroy it.
So I ran after him.
We reached a concrete-banked river flowing into the deep water of the docks. Bain ran onto an old railway bridge. The rails were covered over with boards, and the sides of the bridge were a complex pattern of rusty blue girders, framing the dark oily water.
He stopped right in the middle of the bridge. He looked down at the water, then up and round at various lampposts on the bridge, and at the roofs of nearby buildings.
I crashed into him and grabbed the backpack. “No, you bloody don’t, not without a better explanation.”
“I thought she wanted to be scattered in the sea, Lucy.”
“The open sea, not this ditch.” I had a tight grip of one of the backpack straps.
“Let go, Lucy. I have to destroy the copy now or it will be too late.”
“But if you do, it will be too late for me.”
“I’m sorry, Lucy, but it was probably too late the minute you saw my face.”
I couldn’t believe it. I thought I could trust him. Not completely, not with my bank card details and stuff. But I thought I could trust him with my life. I had believed he wa
s sorry for killing Viv. I had believed he didn’t want my death in his head.
I must have been wrong. I should have concentrated on getting revenge and not tried to understand my sister’s killer.
But if he was going to betray me to his family, why hadn’t he just handed me and the flash drive over to Malcolm back at the colonies? And why was he so keen to find water and cameras?
“Lucy, let go!” He hauled on the backpack, but I held on. I saw panic in his eyes. I looked behind me.
In the dim industrial light of the docks, I saw the cousin who’d chased the taxi. He was wearing a black-and-white Scream mask, but I recognised the long hair underneath and the confident stride as he walked towards us.
Ciaran Bain, 31st October
I let go of the rucksack without warning Lucy, because it’s easy to forget how little the mindblind know, and she fell backwards.
I jumped over her and took three steps towards Daniel. Keeping myself between him and the urn, between him and Lucy.
We both kept our masks on. I’d counted at least 3 CCTV cameras aimed at or around the bridge, so it was safer to keep our faces hidden. Especially on the one night of the year when masks aren’t immediately suspicious.
I could sense his anticipation and he could definitely sense my fear.
But my plan could still work. I still had the witnesses I needed.
“Lucy, open the urn and tip the whole lot in the water.”
“No.”
“Please! I’ll explain later, if I’m still breathing later.”
“No, I’m not tipping Nana’s ashes into that filthy water.”
“Lucy, I don’t have time to argue. Please do as I say, before Daniel rips both of us apart…”
“Why? Can’t you kick him to death too?”
I didn’t answer.
“You can beat him, can’t you?” Lucy asked. “I’ve seen you knock down everyone else who’s stood in your way in the last couple of days.”
I sensed Daniel’s satisfaction at the way this conversation was going. There must have been a massive smirk under that mask.
“You can beat him, can’t you?” Lucy repeated.
“I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
Lucy was confused. She no longer trusted me, she didn’t want to do what I asked with the ashes, but she didn’t want to see Daniel pulverise me either.
I had never managed to beat Daniel in a straight fight. But I could probably keep him busy for a few minutes. So if I could persuade Lucy to ditch the urn while I held Daniel off, we might both make it out of this. “Lucy. If you have any desire to keep us both alive, please pour the contents of the urn into the water. Now!”
Daniel interrupted, “I want that urn and whatever is in it. Don’t you dare pour it out, little girl…”
Oh good. If Daniel told her not to, she might do it simply to annoy him.
“No,” she said. “I’m not destroying anything of my nana’s, on the orders of either of you. Beat each other to death if you like, but this urn is staying on dry land.”
I sighed. If Lucy wouldn’t dump the ashes, I’d have to do it myself. I’d have to knock Daniel to the ground and keep him there while I poured the ashes out. I’d have to fight him and win. I took another step forward.
Daniel hadn’t told the rest of the family he’d found us. I could sense no desire to delay until an audience got here. I couldn’t sense any other family nearby either. He’d want the credit for getting the copy, once they finally found us. But in the meantime, he could have fun kicking people weaker than himself, even without his gang of cousins cheering him on.
Daniel was loving my demands and her refusals, our matching fear and anxiety. But even though he was enjoying the ads and the trailers, he was keen to get to the main feature.
So he crouched.
And I braced myself.
Lucy Shaw, 31st October
Bain didn’t even look like he was going to defend himself.
I knew he could do this stuff. I’d felt the strength of his kick on my wrist. I’d seen him knock down his uncle on the run. I’d seen him kill an armed man.
But he wasn’t even squaring up to his cousin. He was just standing there. Was this a double-cross? Was this a bit of theatre before they grabbed the urn and got rid of me?
I stood up, slowly. Should I try to get away? Should I let them have their family tiff, and save myself and these ashes? Decide what to do with the secret once I was safe?
But I’d no idea how to get out of the docks. It was dark, there was deep water everywhere and Bain had the map.
Then I saw Daniel leap at Bain. Was this for real? I watched.
As Daniel leapt, Bain fell. Before Daniel could hit him, he just fell to the ground. Daniel stumbled, then turned round to find Bain.
Bain was up again. Still looking casual, not defending himself.
Daniel attacked again, with a high kick at Bain’s head. Bain fell away again, but this time Daniel was expecting it, so he pulled the kick short and landed hard on Bain. Stomping on him, two-footed, like a red card foul.
Bain rolled out from under, but I’d heard the smash as Daniel’s boots hit his chest. That must have hurt.
They were both up again.
Daniel leapt once more, but Bain didn’t fall this time, he whirled away, and got behind Daniel, his hand reaching out for the ponytail.
But Daniel was too fast, and he ducked and turned, got his arms round Bain’s chest and started to squeeze. Bain’s elbows jabbed back, he stamped down at his cousin’s feet, but Daniel held on. He shifted one arm up to Bain’s bare throat.
Shit. Maybe Daniel really was better at this. Maybe he was going to kill Bain.
Daniel said quietly, “I can feel your fear, Bain. You know I’m going to kill you. And you know no one will care that you’re gone. Not even your mum.”
Bain was kicking at Daniel’s knees, pulling on Daniel’s sleeves. But pressed hard up against Daniel, reading his murderous thoughts, Bain must be losing his mind as well as his breath.
Daniel laughed. “Little Lucy knows you’re dying and she doesn’t care either.”
How dare he lie about how I felt?
Before I could think, before he could be warned, I stepped forward, swung the urn-filled backpack and crashed it into the side of Daniel’s head.
He dropped Bain and turned on me.
Bain just lay there, no help whatsoever, as the tall boy with the screaming face picked me up and flung me against the girders…
Ciaran Bain, 31st October
I sat up in time to see Lucy crash into the side of the bridge, fall hard and awkward on her left leg, then collapse. The rucksack landed on the wooden planks and the urn rolled out to bump against her feet.
I scrambled up, pulling my mask straight. To hide my face from the cameras, and to keep my eyes hidden from Daniel. But I hoped the cameras were catching this: these masked teenagers fighting over an urn. Because those cameras were our witnesses.
Lucy didn’t move. I couldn’t sense anything from her. But it wasn’t the nothing of death, more the blur of sleep. He’d knocked her out.
I owed her a lot for that whack on the head. But she couldn’t help again and I wasn’t helping myself much either.
My first tactic had been to annoy him by refusing to engage, hoping he’d make a mistake. But Daniel didn’t make mistakes. My next tactic had been to go for that stupid ponytail to get control of his head, but he’d guessed what I was doing, let me get close, and nearly strangled me for it.
I needed to try something else. But I couldn’t use flashy high kicks. Not because I was wary of them since I’d killed William Borthwick, but because they’re positively dangerous against a better opponent. Daniel could get under a kick, grab my leg and use my own momentum to tip me off balance.
I had to aim low. And I had to get him on the ground. The first one to hit the ground and stay there for more than a heartbeat was going to lose this fight.
We were walking slowly round each other. Then he came at me with a punch to the head, a kick to the stomach, a spin and kick to the thigh. They didn’t connect, but they drove me back.
He was too fast. I could only keep backing away. Soon he’d have me up against the girders and he could take me apart. I wasn’t ducking out now to annoy him, I was retreating because I couldn’t get the space or time or angle to fight back.
And our emotions were exploding out at each other.
When mindreaders fight, it’s like fights in films where actors talk all the time. People don’t do that in real life. They’re thinking about defence and attack, not quick one-liners.
But my family communicate with each other even if we don’t want to. Daniel’s pleasure and confidence were overwhelming me, my fear and frustration were giving him even more confidence.
If I wasn’t careful, we could read each other’s intentions too. In a fight no one could concentrate on covering their thoughts. He could read me if we made eye contact and I could read him if we touched. But if he read me, he got lots of information. If I read him, I got lots of information plus added overload and nausea.
So I didn’t want to read him and I didn’t want him to read me. Which meant I couldn’t look him in the face. I had to fight him looking down, like a submissive dog. But then, my eyes down, I saw an opportunity.
I acted before he could react to my spike of hope. I launched forward and stamped on the end of the loose board I’d noticed. It lifted his left foot suddenly into the air, and as he lost his perfect balance I kicked low and knocked his right foot away too.
For a split second neither of Daniel’s feet were on the bridge. He was in the air, unsupported, crashing to the ground on his back.
As he fell, I kicked at his head. I connected, but only with the side of the mask, because he’d turned away just far enough to protect himself. He was too fast for me.
I flung myself down, to pin him to the ground before he could recover. But he had his long left leg bent and his foot in the air already, and as I crashed towards him, he kicked me in the chest and pushed me up and away.