The Rogue Watcher
Page 5
‘It doesn’t have to be today, this year. Tell him. Please. I know you’re Chosen too.’ The woman’s clothes were wet through, her hair matted to her face. ‘Tell him!’ she said.
The Watcher took a step closer to the young man and the woman lunged at him, thumping his chest. ‘Stay away!’
Scott walked towards the edge of the roof and the young man, who held up his hand to show Scott his date: 23.04. He’d had no idea the young man was Chosen too, but the fleeting, knowing glances he had given him … they made sense now.
Scott’s watch read a minute after midnight. He walked closer to the edge of the roof. ‘Jason, isn’t it?’ he asked.
The young man glanced at Scott’s hand. ‘I thought he might be here for you,’ he said, his eyes flicking to the Watcher. ‘But you have another year.’
‘I know how difficult it is,’ Scott said. ‘Getting through the day, knowing it can happen.’
Jason scoffed, then peered over the edge.
Scott paused. ‘More than difficult.’
‘Mum made us move here, knowing your date was the day before mine. She had this idea that if they came for me, the Watchers might take you instead.’
Scott processed what Jason was saying; it was illogical, but made sense in some desperate way.
‘I’m done,’ Jason said. ‘I can’t do it any more. I was ten when I found out. Every year, waiting for it to happen. Why don’t they tell us the year? At least then…’
Scott leaned over the edge. He didn’t have an answer to Jason’s question – not an answer that would help, anyway.
‘You can’t,’ Scott said. ‘Not like this.’
Jason wrapped his arms around his chest, holding himself.
‘Jason!’ the woman shouted.
‘Your mum?’ Scott asked.
‘She has no idea what it’s like,’ Jason said, his voice calm, his stare fixed on the road below. ‘And I’m glad.’
His mother stood next to the Watcher.
‘No,’ Scott said, ‘they have no idea.’
Jason unfurled his arms and took a deep breath.
He was right there, beside him. It would take a moment to reach out and pull him away from the edge of the roof. But Scott didn’t move. There was a coldness in the young man’s eyes, an expression Scott had seen in the mirror over the past few years.
The rain smacked into the puddles on the roof. Scott’s chest was cold and still. His feet fixed, his arms motionless; he’d been here before, except then he had been waiting for a train at Piccadilly Station, with Rebecca, watching, waiting.
Jason nodded. Without thinking, Scott nodded too. It was going to happen, whatever Scott wanted to do or say. He knew it. It was certain. Jason leaned forward and stepped off. In time with the rain, he disappeared over the edge.
Above the swell of wind and rain there was a deep thud.
Jason’s mother ran to the stairwell, flung open the door and disappeared, her cries echoing.
Scott peered down. Jason was stretched out, half on the pavement, half on the road.
The Watcher adjusted his collar. ‘I wish it—’
‘Don’t,’ Scott said.
The Watcher edged closer.
Jason’s mum leapt out of the door below and onto the street. She wailed, falling to her knees on the pavement next to Jason’s body.
‘You chose not to stop him?’ the Watcher said.
The woman buried her face in her son’s chest and sobbed.
‘Chose?’ Scott said. ‘You saw his date. I know how this works.’
The Watcher cleared his throat. ‘We are here to watch. That is all.’
Scott huffed. ‘That’s all? You really expect me to believe that?’
The Watcher shifted uncomfortably. ‘Some of them find it difficult to live with.’
‘Difficult? He’s just a kid,’ Scott said.
‘He is with God now.’
Scott clenched his fists. ‘I saw you on the street. You made it look as though you were here for me.’
The Watcher pushed his wet hair away from his face, his eyes fixed on the body below.
‘I am here for you.’
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