To tell the truth, I was glad to stay. A hot meal and a warm room to sleep in? I’ll take that any day. Though it felt strange to share a room with Trey, even if I was on the bed and he was on a thin mattress on the floor. It took us both a while to fall asleep.
I dress then crawl back over the bed and leave the room. There’s no noise from behind Abby’s door and only a duet of snoring from the front room downstairs. The man with the stomach wound had been in too bad a condition to send away last night. I can’t see him surviving unless Abby can work some miracle. I’ve seen wounds like that before and they usually mean a slow, painful death.
I slip out the back door and pad silently down the alleyway. But there are no Metz around and the streets of Area Five are quiet as I weave through them and cross the unmarked boundary into Four.
My hand moves automatically to the knife pocket in my trousers before I remember that I’d lost both of them last night in the fight with the Metz. Without my knives, I feel almost naked. Area Four is a dangerous place, and while I can defend myself hand to hand, my size and weight work against me. I need to find a blade, preferably more than one, soon.
But knives mean money. Chits. Which is why I duck into a narrow alley opposite a row of boarded-up shops to wait for the city to awake.
After half an hour, a light goes on in an apartment above a disused kebab shop. I know that apartment well. Lived there for most of the past two years, until a few weeks ago. My belly twists and I feel the smouldering fire within me, so quick to leap into flames. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal.
I lean back against the rough wall.
Calm down. This isn’t helping.
But the more I tell myself to calm down, the stronger the fire burns.
Two silhouettes appear at the bedroom window. They move into the other room and I lose sight of them in the dim light. I hesitate, wondering if I should go now or wait until she’s gone. I’d rather not have to see her, but if they both leave, then I’m screwed. And I really do need those chits. They’ll still be there – even Jay didn’t know about my secret stash under the floor.
I wait until the bedroom light goes off and my emotions are once again under control. But as I step out from the shelter of the alleyway, the sight of a figure walking up the road makes me freeze.
Him.
I pull back, my heart racing. He’s a big man, as tall and muscular as the biggest Insider, but he moves smoothly, almost gliding up the street. His black clothing is standard. The dark dreadlocks that hang to his waist are anything but.
Samson.
Part of me still wonders if I’d imagined his presence in the President’s room. Perhaps it was a hallucination. I’d been pretty beaten up by the guards, after all. But the smell that lingered in the room was so distinctive. And when Trey had told me that the President seemed to know that he had been in the building, despite not being caught on any of the cameras, I had been sure. Because who else could have told the President but Samson?
Which begs the question, why was the Brotherhood, the most feared of all Outsider gangs, doing business with the government?
The man pauses at the door leading into the apartment block. His body blocks the keypad entry system, but a moment later he pushes the door open and steps inside. I lean back against the wall. More waiting.
Ten minutes later, the door opens again, and Samson walks out. He doesn’t even glance in my direction but heads off down the street.
Checking up on Jay, huh?
I wait another five minutes and am about to move out when a rustling behind me makes me instinctively duck to one side. A heavy hand lands on my shoulder and spins me around.
“Aleesha. Fancy meeting you here.”
The whites of his eyes are bright, locking me in his gaze. I feel like a rat in the flashlight of a hungry hobie. That smell again – sweet wood and needled trees – tickles my nostrils.
He glances around, checking we’re not being watched. “Come. I need to speak with you.”
His hand clamps around my arm. I stumble unwillingly after him.
If only I had a knife. Then I’d show him that just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t bite.
He drags me down the trash-filled alley until we reach a warped metal door. He kicks it in and pushes me in front of him into a dark room. It’s empty apart from a water container and a pile of rags, and stinks of urine. The only light that filters in is from the door.
Samson releases my arm but remains standing between me and the door.
“Why are you working for the government?” The words spill from my lips.
Samson raises an eyebrow. “With, not for. Why do you think?”
His response throws me. I thought he was dragging me in here to beat me up, or to question me some more about the Chain.
“Because you’re one of them?” I hazard a guess. “An Insider.”
He chuckles. “I may have been once but not anymore.” We stand in silence for a moment, and I sense he’s weighing up how much to tell me. Finally, he continues. “As you seem to have worked out, we – the Brotherhood, that is – are working with the government. For the benefit of Outsiders.” He holds up a hand to forestall my protests. “Just listen to me. I know this divide in the city isn’t right. The Wall, Outsiders being treated as second-class citizens, it’s all wrong. But the Chain are going about it the wrong way. If they manage to take down the government then all they’ll replace it with is another dictatorship. Or they’ll create a war, pitting Insiders against Outsiders. Do you really want that?”
“So what do you want?”
“I want what’s best for everyone. Insiders and Outsiders. And at the moment that means stopping Outsiders killing each other.”
“Says the man who’s killed half the gang leaders in this part of the city.” I fold my arms. “For someone who’s trying to save Outsiders, you’re doing a pretty good job of bumping them off.”
He tenses and takes a step forward, his bulk silhouetted against the pale grey light. “I thought you would understand. But if you’re not even going to let me speak, then—”
I flinch and take a step backward. “No, go on.”
There’s a moment of silence. “The death of some of the gang leaders was unavoidable. They were so focused on fighting each other that they didn’t realize who the real enemy was. Besides, the number of deaths from gang-related fights across Area Four has halved in the past month. The death of a few idiots can save many.”
Is he right? I’ve got no way of knowing. I don’t know of anyone who keeps track of deaths. Probably only the government, and I doubt they know half of what goes on Outside. Most bodies end up in the river rather than the official crematorium.
“We need a long-term solution, Aleesha. The government is open to change, but they need to see that Outsiders can work together – that they’re capable of more than just fighting each other. All their attempts to improve education and healthcare have failed. The facilities have been attacked and people are now too scared to work there. The government want a solution to this as much as you or me, and they’re willing to put some resources forward if we show we’re willing to help them.”
He sounds confident. Passionate even. I shake my head. “You’re wrong. If the government want to stop fighting and killing, then why are there so many more Metz patrols now? The number of gang murders may have fallen but more people are dying at their hands.”
“Because the Chain have been inciting rebellion. They’re not bringing Outsiders together, they’re spreading dissent. They don’t care how many Outsider deaths it takes to win, and believe me, if you try to take on the Metz, it will take a lot!”
“So you think we should just lie down and let them walk all over us?” My voice echoes in the empty space. I take a deep breath, trying to control my rising anger.
Samson walks forward and grips my shoulders. His closeness suffocates me, and I feel lightheaded.
“No, I don’t,” he says tightly. “But if you – if we
– attack them, they’ll only attack back. And they have the bigger army. They’re always going to win. We need to make them see that Outsiders aren’t the stupid, violent people they believe them to be. That they can be valuable to society rather than being a burden.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” I whisper. His fingers dig into the thin layer of flesh on my bones and his scent fills my nostrils, making my head spin.
White teeth flash. “If they don’t take us seriously? Well, that would be their mistake. When you invite a viper into your home, you’d better treat it nicely. Because the viper watches and listens and learns. And if you don’t play fair, the viper will bite.” His teeth snap shut and my heart jumps.
“So why are you telling me this?” My voice trembles and I wish, I really wish, he’d let go of me. His strength radiates through his hands and I feel as if he could just pick me up and crush me in an instant.
“Because you care about what happens to these people. The Chain say they’re working for Outsiders, but they don’t know what it’s like to be right at the bottom of the food chain.” He takes a deep breath. “And, unlike many Outsiders, I don’t believe you want to harm Insiders. You lied to the President to save the boy.”
“That doesn’t mean I like Insiders,” I mutter under my breath.
“I can protect you. I can get the government off your back. If you help me take down the Chain. You may think they’re doing the right thing. I’m sure their lies are pretty convincing. But their motives are twisted – right at the top. They aren’t seeking justice. They’re seeking revenge.”
He lets go of me and I stumble backward. I can still feel the imprint of his fingers on my skin.
“What do you mean?”
“Figure it out, Aleesha. You have all the pieces of the puzzle. You just need to put them together.”
“But …”
But he is gone. Disappeared out of the door as silently as he’d snuck up on me. Leaving me wondering what the hell just happened.
I pace the rooftop. Forty paces by thirty. The corrugated iron roof of the small building in the centre rattles in the wind. Lily had thought it a monster the first night she’d spent up here. The things kids dream up.
Lily.
I scowl at the building and flex my fingers. What I would give to have my throwing knives back. At least then I’d have something to focus on. The wooden beam that runs along the side of the building is notched from years of practice. I can hit it from twenty paces, right in the centre.
Dropping to the floor, I start doing press-ups. Ten full ones. Then sit-ups. Twenty of those. Ten press-ups. Twenty sit-ups. I switch between the two methodically. Grey dust on the rooftop. Grey clouds in the sky.
My breath comes in gasps and my arms begin to weaken. Come on, two more. The muscles on the backs of my arms tremble. I lower down so my nose almost touches the ground then push up again. I make it half way before my arms buckle.
Panting, I roll over and stare up at the sky. Where can I get a knife? I’ve used up all the favours I was owed. Snakes’ headquarters? There are always some spares lying around there. I sit up and lean forward, resting my chin on my knees. I could go to the gang headquarters. I’m sure someone would let me in, even though I don’t know this week’s password.
But I know I won’t. I don’t want to see the thoughts written so clearly on their faces.
Jay’s reject.
My stomach spasms. I look down and realize I’m grinding my knuckles into the ground.
I guess they know now I’m illegal. Even Jay. Now my face is on the screens, branded as a criminal, he can’t have missed it. I wonder how he feels about having sheltered me for the past two years. The penalty for sheltering an illegal person is almost as harsh as the penalty for being one.
My gut twists again, and there’s a bitter taste at the back of my mouth. A raindrop hits my forehead, trickling down to the end of my snub nose. It’s followed by another and a gentle patter starts up.
I push myself up and walk over to the sheltered side of the building where the roof juts out. Even the strongest rains don’t reach to the back, but my few possessions are wrapped in a waterproof cloth, just in case. I slump down beside them and unlace my boots, pulling them off to let my feet breathe.
You have all the pieces of the puzzle.
What had Samson meant? I frown, trying to remember what else he’d said. That the Chain weren’t seeking justice, but revenge. But aren’t they the same thing?
What does he expect me to be? A mind reader?
Perhaps I should have told him about what Trey and I had found in the government papers. That the government had caused all this; that they were still poisoning Outsiders. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be so keen to take their side. But I’m not sure I trust him that much.
I lean my head back against the rough brick wall. There’s just too much to think about. And my survival depends on figuring out who’s telling the truth. If any of them are.
Is that all you want? To survive?
I swirl my finger, making patterns in the dust at my feet. A couple of weeks ago survival would have been enough. But now? Now, I’m not so sure.
You’re just like your mother. So passionate.
That’s what he’d said. I can still scarcely believe it. The President of Britannia – the most powerful man in the country – knew my mother. Went to school with her. Friends, perhaps … It must have been an expensive school, for the President to have been there.
How she had fallen. From a rich Insider to struggling with a young child in a mouldy one-room basement apartment in Area Four. All because of me. Because for some reason, she couldn’t register my birth and make me a legal citizen.
Because of him.
That’s what the President had said. He had blamed my father for her death. And he knew who he was. He knew!
And still, I don’t. My father is a mystery to me. A codename on a file. LC100.
I untie the thin cord that’s fastened around my ankle and hold it up to the light. The amulet hangs down. Green glass with an outlined pattern in a bronze coloured metal. I try to remember what Trey had called it. There was a special name for it. A tri … triquetra, that was it. Apparently, it was some kind of religious symbol. Is my father a religious man? I struggle to believe it.
I twist it over and over in my fingers. It is the only part of him I have. And the only part of her. A gift from my father to my mother before I was born. She had given it to me on the day she left the flat. The day she’d gone to meet him. The day she’d died.
Why did you leave me, Mama? Why not take me with you to see him?
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find out the truth about what happened that day. The truth about him.
I turn to the brick wall and gently ease out the loose block to retrieve the lockbox hidden inside. It rattles as I pull it out and I quickly open it. A single chit. I sigh. One chit won’t get me very far.
I run my finger around the inside of the box. It picks up a white residue. Before I can stop myself, I bring my finger to my lips and lick it off.
Ah. The trace of tronk is barely enough for a glimpse of the happiness it brings. Like a flicker of a beautiful bird at the edge of your vision, so fast that by the time you turn to look, it has gone.
I wipe at the saliva pooling at the corners of my mouth and rummage inside the hole in the wall. Perhaps I’d stashed some away somewhere for this very occasion. But all I find is brick dust and rubble.
The voice in my head starts up again. The annoying little voice I thought I’d got rid of.
It would be so nice just to have a few hours of peace. To escape the world.
I curl my knees up to my chest and bang my head back against the wall. I am stronger than this. Tronk is bad. Besides, I made a promise. And I don’t have any. There’s no point in wanting something I don’t have.
But every fibre in me wants it. Craves it. My fingers curl into claws and the three points of the triquetra dig into my palm.r />
Abby. Abby has tronk. For medical use.
I could take some. She wouldn’t know.
No. I made a promise. A promise to Lily.
But Lily isn’t here anymore.
A sharp pain shoots up my arm and I realize I’ve been clawing at the brick wall. Another broken nail. A drop of blood wells up and I suck on it, my mouth twisting at the sour metallic tang.
I must be strong. I’d seen the look of disappointment that Trey had given me last night. Like I was going to let him down again, that I would be too weak to resist the temptation.
I can be strong. For him. And for Lily.
I force myself to stand and walk over to the crumbling parapet. The rain on my face provides a little distraction. Enough to think of something else. I open my hand and look down at the amulet.
I’d always hoped he was a rich Insider, that he’d make me a legal citizen and give me a better life. A normal life.
“Who are you?”
But of course, the amulet doesn’t answer.
It’s a cruel thing, hope. It keeps you going, until one day it crumbles. And all you’re left with is despair.
4
Trey
Aleesha turns up at Abby’s just in time for lunch. She doesn’t offer any explanation for where she’s been or why she felt the need to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night. Lunch is a thin soup using the last of the winter greens from the garden. Four small flatbreads sit on a plate in the centre of the table beside an empty bag of flour.
Abby smiles apologetically as she sets the bowls in front of us. “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got left.”
I bite my lip as she turns away and dip my spoon into the thin liquid. It’s tasty but more like a herbal drink than a filling meal. I use the bread to wipe the bowl clean and chew it slowly, trying to convince myself that I’m full. My grumbling stomach betrays me.
Infiltrators (The Wall Series Book 2) Page 3