The man with the dreadlocks bends down to speak to Aleesha. “We need somewhere safer to put them,” he says quietly. “Once people realize they’re not going to wake up, it won’t be long before they start trying to take them apart. I can’t protect them out here.”
Aleesha nods. She turns to Jay. “What about the headquarters? It’s the only place I can think of that’s big enough.”
Jay looks in an even worse state than Aleesha, a far cry from the cocky man we’d bumped into on the street. Blood leaks through the dressings plastered over his body and he holds his right leg awkwardly. He runs a hand unsteadily over his stubble and gives a hoarse laugh. “Sure, I guess so. It’s not as if there are many of us left to use it.” He looks uncertain. “Not for long though, right?”
“Wait.” Katya steps forward. She smiles at the tall black man and holds out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“We haven’t.” The man ignores her outstretched hand. “Though I may have run across some of your colleagues.” His eyes flick briefly to Murdoch. He inclines his head slightly. “My name is Samson.”
Oh. So, this is the leader of the Brotherhood. The man who betrayed me to the President.
And yet, Aleesha now seems to trust him. More than Katya and the Chain anyway. I wonder why.
“I’m Katya.”
“I know.”
They stare at each other like kids daring each other not to blink.
Aleesha brings up a display above the box. It’s an outline image of the square, every figure sketched in detail. She zooms in on an area of flashing dots and begins tapping on them. It takes me a minute to figure out what they are. “The dots are the officers’ implants?”
She nods but otherwise ignores me. When all the dots are selected, a command box appears. She murmurs something into it. A few seconds later there’s a panicked shout from the far end of the square followed by a dull thumping sound.
The Metz are moving.
The display vanishes. “I told them to follow Jay to a large warehouse and line up inside.” She frowns. “I tried to keep it as simple as possible, but perhaps I should go with them. I can pick up more of them on the way.”
“Yes, you should.” Jay’s copper skin visibly pales at the thought of a hundred Metz officers trailing him along the street.
I don’t blame him.
Katya turns and holds out her hand. “I think you should give that device to me, Aleesha. You’ve done a good job. Thank you. But it’s time for us to take over.”
Aleesha tucks the box inside her jacket. “No can do. It only works for me. Besides, what would you do with them?”
Katya’s eyes narrow. “We can use them against the government. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”
“And then? If you do take the government down? What next?”
“I don’t think I quite understand you.” Katya’s voice is like ice.
“What happens? Who takes charge? Who decides what happens to them?” Aleesha gestures toward the officers who have lined up in a trail leading halfway across the square.
Katya steps forward and lowers her voice. “We can discuss that later. Now just give me the box.”
She reaches out but Aleesha takes a step back and folds her arms across her chest. “No. I … I’m not going to let you treat them as machines. They’re people.”
Katya gives her a strange look. “You’re protecting them? After what they’ve done to you? They killed your mother, remember? All your life they’ve hunted you.” Her voice is low and intense. She gently places a hand on Aleesha’s arm, and this time Aleesha doesn’t pull away. “You need closure. You need to face your demons.”
Something passes between them – something I don’t understand, and I don’t think anyone else does either. Then Katya’s face falls and she lets her arm drop.
“I will face my demons in my own way,” Aleesha says quietly. “Not by killing. There’s been enough death here today.”
Katya straightens. “Then I need to take that device off you. I’m sorry, Aleesha, but you don’t understand the stakes here. It is too valuable a weapon.”
Aleesha shifts slightly on her feet. I recognize her posture from our training sessions on the roof. She’s getting ready to fight. “No,” she says calmly.
Katya’s eyes narrow. “Murdoch.”
Murdoch gives Aleesha a sympathetic shrug and moves to grab her. Instead, he runs straight into Samson, who’s somehow inserted himself in front of Aleesha. He moves fast for a big guy.
Murdoch sidesteps, but Samson blocks his path again. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you try anything.” His voice is deep and menacing. It sends a shiver down my spine. Murdoch looks torn.
“It is a valuable weapon.” Samson turns to Katya. “And whoever designed it has entrusted it to Aleesha. We should respect that.”
Jay clears his throat. “Um, can we sort this out and go? They, err … seem to be waitin’ for us.” He waves to the Metz officers.
“Fine,” Katya says through gritted teeth. “We’ve got enough to do today clearing this mess up. But we will meet to discuss this tomorrow.” She glances at Aleesha. “I expect you to be there.”
“I’ll call the gang leaders together. We’ll lay out the dead and do our best for the wounded.” Samson’s eyes are heavy and his shoulders slightly hunched, as if he’s carrying a great weight. “Jay, I’ll come and find you at your headquarters later. Don’t leave anyone else in charge of the Metz.”
Katya looks around and seems to notice me for the first time. “Ah, Trey. Have you seen Bryn?”
“He’s over with the wounded. With Abby …” My throat constricts, and I think if I say anything more I will start to cry so I clamp my teeth together. My eyes start to brim with tears, and I close them and breathe deeply through my nose.
When I open my eyes, Aleesha’s staring at me, her face stricken. “Is she …?”
I shrug, unable to speak. Part of me wants to run over to them now. But another part of me doesn’t want to face what I’ll find.
A young boy runs up and skids to a halt in front of Samson. He glances suspiciously at the rest of us. “They’re pullin’ back, boss. The rest of the Metz are headin’ back up to the East Gate.”
I close my eyes and the tension in my throat and chest eases slightly. It really is over then.
“And there’s a man called Bryn and a dark-haired woman askin’ for you,” the boy continues. My eyes snap open. He’s looking straight at me. “Yer Trey, right?”
I nod. “She … she’s alive?”
The boy shrugs. “Looked like it. Never seen dead people talk.”
“Thank you,” says Samson. “Now, I’ve got another job for you.” He pulls the boy to one side and lowers his voice. The boy gives a couple of nods and runs off again.
I hesitate for a moment and a hand squeezes my shoulder. “Go on, lad, you’re not needed here,” Murdoch says gently.
I stumble away. The square is littered with bodies, most of them Outsiders, but there are Metz officers too. Sightless eyes stare into the milky grey sky. I’ve never seen so much death. So much destruction.
Is fighting for equality really worth this? If everyone dies, who is there left to fight for?
I find Bryn and Abby trying to treat the wounded. I throw my arms around Abby but pull back when she sways. “Sorry. I just thought …” My words get choked up.
She blinks and shakes her head slightly, then smiles. “I know. I was out for a good few minutes, I think?”
“Five,” growls Bryn. He’s trying to secure a bandage around another man’s leg with one arm and his teeth. I drop down to take it from him. “Thanks, Trey.” He spits the bandage from his mouth. “Five minutes. I counted them.”
I look at him and then back to Abby, who’s still swaying. “I know you want to help, but …”
“You look about to fall on your faces and add to the problem,” a friendly voice says. A woman of about thirty with curly auburn hair s
tands with her hands on her hips. She wears a long overcoat with bandages and dressings stuffed in every pocket. “I’ll take over here. Go and get some rest.”
Abby smiles weakly at her. “Thanks, Amber.”
The woman purses her lips. “You alright?”
Abby nods and winces. “Just one hell of a headache. I’ve got more supplies at home.”
“Great. Now get home.” The woman smiles.
Bryn gets to his feet. His left hand is tucked up in his jacket and blood seeps through the bandage across his shoulder. His eyes flick behind my shoulder and his forehead creases in a frown. “Aleesha.”
I turn around slowly. She stands five metres away, uncertainty clouding her face. Her hands twist in front of her and she seems to be debating whether to come closer or run away.
Abby pushes past me, walks unsteadily over and pulls her into a hug.
“I’m sorry, I thought you w—” Aleesha’s voice breaks and she squeezes her eyes shut, but not before a tear falls to Abby’s shoulder. For a moment they cling to each other, then Abby gently pulls back. “I didn’t know if …” Aleesha’s voice trails off and she looks at me. “I’m sorry.”
I nod. “I know.”
The familiar lance of pain strikes me again. But I don’t feel the same anger I did before. Perhaps it’s exhaustion. Or just that there has already been too much violence and anger today.
“Come back home?” Abby asks.
“I need to go to the Snakes’ headquarters. They’re taking the Metz officers there for now. To keep them safe.” She hesitates.
“Come over after that,” Bryn says, limping forward. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Aleesha nods and turns to go.
I scramble after her. “Wait! Can … can you give me a hand with something on the way?”
She looks puzzled but nods.
I turn to Bryn. “I’ll catch you guys up.”
We walk in silence across the square and down the alleyway.
He’s still there. Lying alongside the wall, hands crossed on his chest.
“He saved me,” I say, kneeling down and pressing the back of my hand to his cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, his jaw already stiffening in death. He looks so young. Just a boy. “I didn’t even know his name.”
A tear leaks from the corner of my eye and runs down my cheek. It drips off my chin and onto the boy’s forehead. I wipe it off with my thumb.
“Shall we carry him up?” Aleesha asks quietly.
I nod.
He’s heavy, but between the two of us we manage to carry him up the street and into the square. There’s already a row of bodies lined up for identification. We put the boy down at the end and step back.
Aleesha moves along the line. She pauses, kneels beside a man and gently brings his hands up to rest on his chest. Bending over, she presses her forehead briefly to his clasped hands.
I walk over to her. The man’s body is dotted with bullet wounds, but I recognize the snake tattoo and the unique half-braided hairstyle. “Jonas?”
She nods. “He died protecting me. He held his shield in front of me. And I … I wasn’t quick enough to save him.” She stands and looks down the row of bodies. “Wasn’t quick enough to save them.”
“No one could.” I reach out and touch her arm. “And you did save us. You and whoever created that box.”
She shrugs me off and turns, wiping her sleeve across her eyes. “I’d better be going. Don’t want to leave Jay alone with that lot. I-I’ll see you in a bit.”
“See you in a bit,” I echo, but she’s already running off across the square.
A few hours later, the three of us sit at Abby’s kitchen table. One of her neighbours had come over shortly after we’d got back with pails of hot water. There was enough for us all to have a decent wash and for Abby to clean and dress Bryn’s gunshot wound. I had to leave the room at that point, but I could still hear his shouts of pain, muffled by the piece of wood she’d given him to bite down on.
Why does it have to be like that? He should be able to go to a medic, like anyone else.
Like any Insider, I correct myself.
I stare down at the green herbs floating in the mug in front of me. I still catch myself thinking that way sometimes, though I feel more Outsider than Insider now. Perhaps I am both. Or neither.
Another neighbour donated us some food. From the shifty look in his eyes, I suspect it was stolen, but Abby thanked him anyway. Her eyes lit up when she unwrapped the parcel. “Chicken!”
Not real chicken, obviously. But in a stew with some freeze-dried vegetables and homemade dumplings, even I had to admit that it was hard to tell the difference.
Good food, clean clothes and a hot drink. Things I used to take for granted have become a rare treat.
The last portion of stew waits in the pot on the hotplate.
Abby yawns and pushes her hair back from her face. Bryn gives her a worried glance and she smiles. “It’s okay, I’m just tired.”
He frowns. “You shouldn’t sleep yet. Not with that bang to your head. Any memories come back?”
Abby shakes her head and freezes, wincing. “I must stop doing that. No, I just remember leaving the house to go and help … everything after that’s a blank until I woke up.”
The wind’s picking up outside. The back gate slams. I glance out the window and catch sight of a dark figure. A moment later, there’s a tentative knock on the door.
“Come in!” Abby calls.
The door opens. Aleesha stands on the step. Her clothing is torn and filthy, but the box still bulges under her jacket. She sways and reaches for the door frame to steady herself.
“Well don’t just stand there, you’re letting the cold in,” Bryn says gruffly.
She stumbles inside and pushes the door shut. Leaning back on it, she glances around uncertainly.
“I saved you some dinner,” Abby says, pushing her chair back. She ladles the remainder of the stew into a bowl and places it on the table. “It’s still warm.”
Aleesha’s nostrils flare but she doesn’t move. I look more closely at her face. Under the dirt and blood, a dark bruise stands out on her jaw.
I did that.
My hands clench around my mug.
Abby walks over to Aleesha and gently manoeuvres her into the spare chair next to Bryn. She places a spoon in her hand. “Eat. Then we talk.”
Aleesha gulps the food down, barely swallowing. She scrapes the bowl with her spoon. “What was that? It was … amazing.”
“Stew. “Abby smiles and takes the bowl from her, replacing it with a steaming mug. “Drink this. It has chamomile and lavender, and a little sweetener.”
Aleesha gives it a suspicious look.
“It’s good for you,” Abby soothes.
She takes a tentative sip and gives Abby a weak smile. Then she glances over at me and the smile falls from her face.
“I … I wanted to explain. About your father.”
I stare down into my mug. A spark of anger flashes in my belly but I’m too tired to fuel it. I don’t want to be angry. But I do need to understand. “You wanted answers?”
She nods. “Yes. I wanted to know why he did it. And I wanted him to feel how she felt, facing her death.” She shakes her head. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I just felt that finally, after all these years, perhaps I could move on.”
“By killing him?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“Yes. Except then I realized that wouldn’t help. That killing him would make me feel worse, not better. That it wouldn’t bring her back … It would just make me lose …” She swallows and scrubs a sleeve across her eye. “A friend. And I … I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I didn’t want you to go through that.”
I stare down at the table.
Aleesha takes a sip from her mug. “When I let him go, I didn’t realize Katya and the Chain were out there. They caught him. And Katya … she said I needed to aven
ge my mother’s death. But I couldn’t do it. So, she did it for me.”
Still, I can’t bring myself to look at her.
Bryn breaks the silence with a deep sigh. “Aleesha, whatever Katya said … She would have killed him anyway.”
I jerk my head up and look at him. Of course, he’d mentioned something yesterday, when we were at the headquarters. It feels so long ago now.
“You said the Leader ordered it?” I say slowly, trying to remember. “He wanted to set an example or something stupid.”
Bryn nods. “That’s what I told you. But it wasn’t the full truth.”
“What do you mean?” Aleesha asks.
He takes a deep breath and turns to look at her. “Andrew Goldsmith’s death wasn’t your fault. As soon as you reported back his name as being the authorizing officer for Operation Nightshade, his fate was sealed.” He glances back at me. “You’re right. The Leader did feel that having a government figure brought in front of the crowd would help rile them up and make them more likely to join us. But it couldn’t just be any government figure. It had to be your father.”
“But why him?” Aleesha whispers.
Bryn turns back to her. “Because for the Leader, this was never just about the city. London is personal. This was personal.” He takes a deep breath. “He wanted revenge for your mother’s death as much as you did.
Aleesha stares at him, and the colour drains from her face. Her eyes speak the question she can’t voice.
Bryn nods. “Yes, he’s Ricus Meyer. He’s your father.”
31
Aleesha
Bryn’s still talking but his words pass me by.
The Leader. My father.
His picture appears in my head as clear as the day I’d stared at it on the file in the Metz compound, determined to memorize every feature, in case one day I found him.
A hand shakes my arm, jolting me out of my stupor. I look up into Bryn’s eyes. “You know him?”
“Yes.” He pulls back and winces, his hand flying to his shoulder. “He doesn’t go by that name now, but when you mentioned your mother’s name, I suspected. When he briefed me on this job, he mentioned a woman called Maria Ramos. Said that if I ever heard the name mentioned, I was to find out everything I could and report back. When you described him, I was sure.” He shakes his head. “That scar is pretty distinctive.”
Infiltrators (The Wall Series Book 2) Page 31