Elites

by Natasha Ngan

  ‘Maybe something’s happened,’ he said. ‘We should’ve waited at the Limpets’ entrance instead, the delivery might’ve been held up –’

  Neve groaned. ‘Oh, will you just –’

  A sudden noise stopped her; low rumbling accompan--ied by a high-pitched squeaking. It was the rickshaw.

  They scrambled to their feet and edged to the side of crates, crouched to stay hidden. Akhezo drew out a knife from his pocket.

  Neve’s eyes widened. ‘What –’

  He raised a finger to his lips. He peered round the side of the crates. The sound of the rickshaw was growing louder, and maybe he was imagining it, but he thought even from this distance he could hear Domino’s asthmatic wheeze.

  ‘What is that for!’ hissed Neve. It was more of an accusation than a question. He knew she meant the knife. ‘I thought we just wanted to find out what the delivery was. I thought we’d try and work round Domino being here.’

  Akhezo whipped round, making her flinch. ‘Shut it!’ he snarled. ‘Just follow my lead.’ As he turned away, he felt a thrill of excitement. This is what being a man feels like, he thought. I don’t need Cambridge. I don’t need Domino. I can take what I want – including the life I want to have. No more waiting round for others to give it to me.

  The rumbling of the bike was loud now. It couldn’t be more than a few metres from the tunnel entrance.

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t do this,’ said Neve. ‘I mean, why do we care what’s in the delivery? Domino told us to never ask questions.’

  ‘Yeah?’ snapped Akhezo, not bothering to look round at her. ‘Well, I’m fed up of doing what Domino says. Look where that got me – drowning in the river like a dying fish. I’m sick of it, always getting told what to do.’

  She touched his shoulder. ‘Please, I don’t wanna have to leave the Pigeons and the skylung. I can’t go back to before –’

  ‘Don’t you get it?’ he said, twisting round and grabbing her hand. ‘We can have anything we want, Neve! We don’t need the Pigeons, Domino, Cambridge. None of that. We can have anything in the whole city. I’ll get it for us.’

  But she just blinked and pulled out of his grasp. There was a screech and clatter as the rickshaw pulled into the stairwell, the driver breaking too late and crashing into something.

  ‘Imbecile!’ wheezed Domino.

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  ‘Just get on and unload the boxes.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  In the shadow of the crate-stack, Neve was staring at Akhezo with wide, pleading eyes. He hated her then. The feeling welled inside him like a cloud swelling across the sky, until he felt like reaching out a hand and slapping her to get that look off her face. Why can’t she understand that kids like us can’t afford to be nice? he thought angrily.

  He turned his back on her and slinked into the slip of darkness to the side of the crates. He peered around the stairwell. Its sickly yellow light made it hard to see, and the crates obstructed his view, but he could tell Domino and the rickshaw driver stood just a metre or so away. Their elongated shadows slid across the floor like spilt water. There was the sound of thuds as things were lifted out of the rickshaw and placed on the ground.

  ‘Gently!’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  There was the metallic clink of coins as Domino paid the driver, then squeaking tyres as the rickshaw returned down the tunnel.

  ‘Stupid Red,’ Domino grumbled. ‘The way he was going, he’d have got us all blown up, manhandling these explosives like a bunch of rotten vegetables.’

  Akhezo’s whole body tensed. Did Domino just say explosives? He felt a chill run through this body, half fear, half excitement. Explosives. Even the word sounded dangerous; the kind of word you had to whisper or it would burst apart in your mouth and burn your tongue. He shrank back from the edge of the crates.

  ‘Did he say …?’ Neve whispered.

  Akhezo nodded.

  ‘Oh,’ she breathed.

  They could hear what sounded like Domino moving the boxes of explosives along the floor of the stairwell. Akhezo listened, unsure of what to do. He’d not banked on the delivery being something like this. Not that he’d really thought about what it might be. He’d just wanted to get one up on Cambridge and Domino. Now he was here he felt a little embarrassed. He slipped the knife back in his pocket.

  The dragging sounds stopped. Shuffling footsteps, then the creak and dull ringing as the old man started up the metal staircase. They waited until the hatch at the top of the stairs slammed loudly shut before moving out from behind the stack of crates.

  There were six boxes at the foot of the stairs. There were no markings on them, but Akhezo could almost feel the power of the explosives inside radiating out of them.

  ‘What I don’t get,’ he said, ‘is why the Council would just hand these out. I mean, Cambridge was going under his fake identity as a Limpets’ gang-leader and all, but there’s still no way the Council would just hand him a bunch of explosives.’

  ‘You’re right about that.’

  They both jumped as a young man stepped out of the shadows of the Limpets’ tunnel entrance. He wore slim black trousers, a long-sleeved grey top and black boots. As he walked, his head was dipped low. Light from the neon strips glanced across his shaven head.

  Akhezo recognised him immediately. ‘You’re that Council member from the shisha boat!’

  The man nodded. His dark eyes darted around, skittering across Akhezo and Neve as though they were painful to look at. He craned his head upwards to follow the arc of the staircase. ‘This is underneath one of the skylungs, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Incredible. We never knew.’

  While the man wasn’t looking, Akhezo slipped the knife out of his shorts and tucked his arm behind his back.

  ‘Who is this?’ Neve asked him in a whisper.

  ‘The Council member who did the information exchange with Cambridge on the shisha boat,’ replied Akhezo, not bothering to keep his voice down.

  ‘Scum,’ she hissed.

  ‘I can hear you, you know,’ said the Council member, turning to them.

  Neve spat at his feet. ‘I don’t care.’

  Akhezo almost laughed. There was the strong, fearless girl he knew. He stepped forward, all of a sudden filled with confidence. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked.

  The Council member ran a hand over his shaved head. ‘I need you to do something for me.’

  ‘And why would we do anything for you, Council snob?’

  ‘Because otherwise, I’ll tell the Council where your hideout is.’

  Akhezo shrugged. ‘You’re gonna do that anyway, aren’t you? We don’t owe you anything.’

  ‘I mean it,’ said the man. He opened his palms out in a sincere gesture. ‘I won’t tell them if you do me this one favour. I just thought, after seeing how you snuck up on us in the Temple of the Fat Wives, that you’d be perfect for the job. But if you’re not up to it –’

  Akhezo made a scoffing noise. ‘Oh, I am,’ he said quickly. He shrugged. ‘Go on, then. What d’you want done?’

  The man took a step closer. ‘What did you overhear on the boat?’

  ‘This and that.’

  ‘Well, your friend on board the boat –’

  ‘He’s not my friend.’

  A smile flickered across the man’s face. ‘Well, he told me you’re tracking two Council members. I need you to block their tracking for me.’

  Akhezo stared at him. ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘Well, they’ve already left.’

  The man nodded. ‘I know. They have birthchip blockers with them. I need you to turn them on.’

  Akhezo blinked. ‘You want me to turn their birthchip blockers on? What, so they can’t be tracked any more?’

  ‘That is what they are for,’ said the Council member. ‘If you do that for me, I won’t tell my seniors about your group’s hideout.’

  Akhezo sensed something shifting i
n the air, the power balance tilting in his direction. This is it, he thought. This is the moment it all starts. This is my chance.

  ‘Will you do it?’ asked the man.

  After a pause, Akhezo nodded.

  The man smiled, relief dancing behind his teeth. ‘Good. I’ll meet you here again this time tomorrow. Have it done by then. Come alone, and don’t tell anyone about our deal.’ He nodded towards Akhezo’s right hand. ‘And don’t even think about using that, or I’ll have to use this.’ He pulled up his shirt, revealing a gun tucked into the waistband of this trousers.

  Akhezo felt his throat go dry, but he tried to look calm.

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ said the man. ‘And what’s your name? Just in case you go back on our deal and do tell the Council about what I said, I’ll have to know who to punish –’

  ‘It’s Akhezo,’ he scowled. ‘And you are?’

  The Council member turned to leave. ‘Don’t push it.’

  The moment he was gone, Neve started towards the staircase. ‘Come on! We’ve gotta tell Domino and Cambridge.’

  ‘What?’ Akhezo lunged forward and grabbed her arm. ‘We don’t have to tell ’em anything.’

  Neve stared at him. ‘Yeah, we do. A Council member knows our location. He’s obviously lying – he’s gonna tell the Council. And then …’ She struggled out of his grip. ‘We’ve got to tell them.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Akhezo sneered, his top lip curling. ‘And tell ’em what? Oh, Domino, Cambridge, while we were hiding down here to find out what your top-secret delivery was – which, by the way, is explosives, wanna tell us what that’s for …’

  ‘I don’t care. This is bigger than that.’

  ‘Fine,’ he snapped, pushing her away. ‘Do what you want. But don’t come crying to me when they kick you out for spying on them.’

  Neve ignored him. After one last angry look, she started up the stairs. When she was halfway up, Akhezo turned and broke into a run, heading in the opposite direction down the tunnel to the Limpets. He spotted the Council member up ahead. A dark, slinking figure slipping along the shadows, yellowy light glancing off his head.

  ‘Hey!’

  The man stopped, turning. ‘Changed your mind already?’

  Akhezo jogged to meet him. ‘Nah, I’ll still do it. But I want something else in exchange.’

  ‘Something else?’ The man’s eyes narrowed. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers, watching Akhezo carefully. ‘You don’t want me to keep the location of your group’s hideout from the Council?’

  Akhezo shook his head. ‘You can tell ’em,’ he said. ‘I don’t care. I want … I want money instead.’

  He hadn’t planned on saying it; hadn’t known what he would say. But now it was out of his mouth, it seemed right. After all, that was where everything started, wasn’t it? And where everything went? Money, and violence. From what he’d seen, those were the two laws of the world. He couldn’t turn down the chance at having one of them. He thought of lying on the deck of the junk-boat, soaked and choked half to death in river-water, thinking over and over how Cambridge didn’t save him. No one’ll save you, Akhezo had realised. You’ve just gotta save yourself.

  ‘How much do you want?’ the Council member asked.

  ‘Ten thousand.’

  ‘Forget it,’ the man laughed, and he turned to go.

  ‘Wait!’ Akhezo cried. He cast around for a more realistic number. He’d never had any money of his own to be sure of its scale. Eventually, he ventured, ‘A thousand.’

  The Council member stared at him for a moment before nodding. ‘One thousand, then. You’re sure about this?’

  ‘Definitely.’ Akhezo grinned.

  The truth was, he’d never been surer about anything in his life. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the man would tell the Council about the Pigeons living in the skylung. He knew it was all over for them. But now he had a way to make it without them. When it all came crashing down, he’d still be standing.

  No more Domino, no more Cambridge, no more Pigeons, Akhezo thought as he walked back to the stairwell. With that amount of money, he’d be set. An image of Neve flashed into his mind, sunlight half obscuring her face, glinting off her silver and pink hair. They would be set, he corrected himself. He saw the smile that’d break across her face when he told her of his fortune. No more useless adults, he thought. Just me and Neve at the top of the world.

  21

  The Kiss Before the Storm

  After saying goodbye to Yasir, Silver went back to Leanor and Emeli’s house to pack her things. The sun was rising. Despite the clear skies, there was the soft smell before rain in the air, and beyond the clearing a bank of clouds gathered. She packed quietly; the last thing she wanted was to wake the others in Leanor’s room. But, just as she stepped out of the front door onto the porch, a voice behind her made her stomach drop.

  ‘Silver?’

  Butterfly emerged from the house, wearing his white top, now grey with dirt, and blue trousers. His birthchip blocker hung from his neck. Silver looked at it with fresh eyes, seeing it for the first time for the thing it was; their rejection of the Council. Everything Yasir had told her might have made her believe that the Council had done – was doing – awful things, but somehow she had already known that when she and Butterfly had chosen to use the birthchip blockers to stop their own people from finding them.

  Butterfly froze, his eyes hardening as he noticed the backpack slung across her shoulders. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  Silver didn’t answer.

  He stared at her. ‘You’re leaving.’

  ‘I have to,’ she said, avoiding his eyes. ‘I need to find my parents. Please, just let me go.’

  Before he could reply, she spun round, half tripped down the porch steps, and ran across the clearing towards the forest beyond, her long ponytail whipping behind her.

  ‘Silver!’ she heard Butterfly call at her back.

  She ran on, ignoring him. She knew that if she stopped, he’d offer to go with her, and she couldn’t let that happen. Soon she was in the cool shadows of the forest. Sunlight trickled through the dense canopy above like golden snow filtering down into narrow streets. She darted between the trees, concentrating on running; the crush of leaves beneath her feet, her quick, shallow breaths. Her heartbeat thudding in time with her footsteps.

  They were deep into the forest when Butterfly finally caught up with Silver, grabbing her arm and yanking her round so hard she stumbled. They rolled, crashing to the floor. Twigs snapped under their bodies. She pushed him off her and got to her feet, but he caught her leg and pulled her back down, pinning her to the floor.

  ‘You were just going to leave?’ Butterfly said, a hurt expression on his face. ‘Without telling anyone? Without telling me?’

  Silver stopped struggling. She sighed. ‘I told Yasir. He said he’d tell you for me. I knew if I told you, you’d come with me. I couldn’t let you do that.’

  Butterfly stared at her for a few more seconds before rolling off her. He sat up, one hand holding his head, his fingers tangled in his messy sweep of hair. Silver wanted to go to him, but the words his mother spoke the night before ran again through her mind.

  Just don’t forget her blood runs Red.

  She felt as though her very touch was contagious now. As though her Red body was a diseased one, all the things people hated about them hidden under her skin like ink, waiting to stain anyone she touched. She sat up beside Butterfly, their bodies just an inch apart. It was hard to ignore the electric pull between them that made her fingertips twitch in his direction. Silver couldn’t believe she’d spent her life touching him without even thinking about it. Curling up beside his body at night. Hands clasping together. The sides of their legs pressing together under a table. Touches as frequent and as natural as breathing. Touches that she’d thought had always meant nothing more than friendship, but now she knew how wrong she’d been. A light rain began to fall, filling the air with a soft pattering. She
imagined it washing her clean, running away all her dirty Red blood from her skin like mud.

  ‘Of course I wanted to tell you,’ Silver said eventually. ‘But I couldn’t take you away from Leanor and Emeli so soon after finding them.’

  Butterfly shook his head. ‘That was my decision to make.’ He reached out to take her hand.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said, standing up quickly and turning away.

  ‘Silver –’

  ‘I heard what Leanor said last night.’

  There was a pause. ‘I wish you hadn’t.’

  Leaves crinkled beneath Butterfly’s weight as he pushed himself up. A second later Silver felt his hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn’t shrug him off. The rain was falling faster now, thicker, drumming a beat like a thousand tiny hearts suddenly coming to life. She barely noticed it. His hand on her shoulder was hot, his touch seeming to swallow her.

  ‘She’s right,’ Silver whispered, turning round. ‘I am a Red. And you deserve more than that.’

  ‘No,’ said Butterfly. His voice was surprisingly hard. Rain ran down his face but he barely blinked, his eyes glaring fiercely into hers.

  ‘But –’

  ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘I’m not going to let you be like this.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like this!’ He gestured angrily at her. ‘Sorry for yourself.’

  Silver flinched. ‘Sorry for myself?’ she whispered. Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘That’s not fair.’

  Butterfly shook his head. ‘I don’t care. Come on, Silver. You know I don’t care that you’re a Red. That word means nothing to me. You’re my best friend, you always have been, and you should respect me well enough not to act like this.’

  The rain was roaring now, filling the forest with an ocean sound.