by Fiona Shaw
–Swallow it, Ollie! Jake kept his voice to a whisper. –We do this, or everyone gets caught. When I say it, run. You go that way, he pointed, –and I’ll go this. Jet stays with the others. We make some noise so that the men chase us. Duck and dive as much as you can. But don’t head for the emergency exit, cos that’s the way the others’ll go. Try for the escalator.
–Have we got a chance? Ollie said.
Jake shrugged. He’d got no idea. –Long as we’re running, we’re free. He hitched Jet’s lead round the bedpost. –Stay, boy, he whispered. Then he got hold of Ollie’s arm, pulled him to his feet. –Go!
Ollie stumbled off, then Jake was up and running the other way, taking no care now to be quiet, and the men were after them, shouting to each other, crashing through the displays.
Jake ran to the far side, cutting between dressing gowns and slippers, swerving and switch-backing round stands of coloured towels. Behind him the thud of a secca’s boots. Maybe he could cut back and get down to the floor below. That would keep his secca busy. Diving under a rack of nighties, he crouched low for a moment, tried to catch his breath. Flowers swirled around his head.
–Stop where you are! Get down on the floor.
The shout came from the other side of the shop. Jake looked over to see Ollie shoved to the ground, a Taser pressed to his neck. Turning back, he saw a flash of moving colour in the far corner: Poacher’s beanie, disappearing through the stairs door. The others had got to the stairs unseen. They had got away.
Jake set off again. The others had got away and he felt like he could run for ever. Like he was quicker and smarter than anyone. He’d get to the escalator and slide the rail down to the next floor, and from there to the next, and all the way to the ground floor and be out through an emergency exit and then he’d find the others, cos they wouldn’t have gone far, and they’d have Jet with them – wouldn’t they? – and they could plan how to rescue Ollie.
He didn’t see the man till too late. Didn’t see the Taser raised. The slug struck him in the shoulder, piercing through jacket, sweater and shirt, piercing through to his skin. He was on fire. His shoulders, arms, legs, all of him. He fell to the ground, muscles spasming. Pain rushing through him.
–Hello, sonny! a man’s voice said, then everything went dark.
Eighteen
His head hurt, and his arms and his legs, but his head worst of all. It felt chopped up.
Jake opened his eyes. He was lying on a floor. It smelled of old breath and smelly shoes. Flicks of dust, bits of Pringles, a Haribo wrapper.
He wanted the pain to stop and he wanted to sleep. He just wanted to go back to sleep. His fingers felt fizzy, and he realized he was lying with one arm beneath him. Slowly he tried to turn over, to get more comfortable, but his body didn’t seem to be working properly.
–Jake! Ollie’s voice, scared.
Jake shut his eyes again. Something had happened. He’d been running, and there’d been a voice, and then what? Ollie was scared, and he was on the floor.
–I thought they’d killed you, Ollie’s voice said. –Till you started groaning. I thought you were dead.
–What’s happened? Jake said, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work properly and his words came out slurred and quiet.
–They caught us. They locked us in here.
–What’s happened to me? Jake said.
–They zapped you. Fired a Taser at you and you just dropped. So they dragged you in here, and me after you. Locked us in. Two seccas.
It was coming back to Jake now. The chase, the running, the escalator just out of reach, Ollie getting caught. Then pain. Like a hundred forks jabbing, twisting into him, taking him out at the knees.
–Just us? Jake said.
–Dunno. It’s just us locked in here. The seccas, they were asking me what was my name. They searched our rucksacks, took all the food. Took my dad’s scarf too. Only thing of his I had. I didn’t tell them anything, but they’ve gone to get a scan hub. And they’re gonna put it to our necks, and then what?
Ollie was panicking, Jake could hear it in his voice.
–Cos they’ll get no reading, Ollie said, his voice rising, –and then they’ll pull down our collars and see. Our scars. See we’ve got no chip. See the Outwalker sign.
Jake needed to get up. He couldn’t think, lying flat out on the carpet and Ollie’s voice yabbering on. –Gimme a hand, he said. He felt weak as a baby, and his legs and arms were like jelly. Ollie pulled him up and he managed to stand.
They were in a poky little room. No windows. Just the desk and two chairs and an ancient-looking laptop, like the one his dad kept in a box in the loft. Feeling steadier, he walked across the room. He tried the door handle, but it was locked top and bottom.
–I’ve done all that already, Ollie said. –And checked for grilles, loose floorboards.
–Not like the movies, Jake said. He thought about Jet. Surely someone, surely Swift, would’ve grabbed his lead and got him out? –The seccas didn’t say anything about the others? he said.
Ollie shook his head.
–Then Poacher will have got them out, Jake said. He’ll have got them to the Tube, I bet. So if we find the Tube, we’ll find the others. Jet will be safe too.
–Shut up! Ollie said. –Shut it about the others. He was white as a sheet, his eyes opened wide. They were like pieces of blue glass; they were holes of fear. He banged his hand down on the desk. –And shut it about your dog. We’re locked in this room and we’re not going to find the others, or your dog. They’re gonna come back with a scan hub and they’re going to send us back to a Home Academy and we’ll be locked in isolation for weeks and be in the Home Academy till we’re grown-ups and then we’ll have to work off our tariff till we’re old, and—
–Ollie, stop! Jake shouted, as loud as he dared. And then, more quietly: –Get a grip. They mustn’t see we’re scared.
–Scared. Ollie’s voice was quiet and flat. –You ever been in isolation?
Jake shook his head.
–I did two weeks, Ollie said.
–What happened?
–Nothing. Nobody shouts. Nobody touches you. They put you in this room and leave you there. Everything’s soft. Soft walls, soft floor. Soft food, soft voices. No dark. And at first you think it’s OK. Nice even, after being shouted at and ordered around. But it’s terrible, and you don’t know if it’s day or night, and then you don’t even know which way is up or down. I begged them to let me out. Said I’d do anything. And after that … He looked at Jake with that wide, scared look. –You scream, but the walls eat the sound.
Jake didn’t really understand why it was so terrible, but he could see Ollie’s fear. He tried to think. They must still be in the shop, and still on the top floor too, because Ollie said they dragged him straight in here. He reckoned that once they’d been hubbed, the seccas would get rid of them to the hub police quick as possible. And that would be their chance, he reckoned. Make a break for it when they were in the shop maybe; or before they got put in the van.
–We’ve gotta make a plan, he said.
But Ollie wasn’t listening to him. He was staring at the door.
The seccas barged in like they were ready for war. Body armour, helmets, loads of stuff hanging off their belts. One of them locked the door and the other put a red and blue box on the table.
Jake’s heart sank. He knew what it was. They used to bring a portable scan hub box in for Citizenship classes, and you’d all line up and the teacher would put the chip reader to the back of your neck and scan your hub disc. When the scan light glowed green, you could look at the screen and see the infopage about you. Only this time, when the secca did it, there’d be no green light and the infopage would show a blank.
Next to him, Ollie was breathing in quick, shallow breaths.
Jake watched the secca lift the scanner hub out of the box and turn it on. A few seconds and it was live.
–Gonna get you two back where you belong, the secca said. He
lifted the chip reader out of its padded compartment and rummaged in the box for a cable.
Jake couldn’t watch. He looked down at the scratty carpet. –Get on with it, he muttered.
The secca was still searching, opening different compartments, unzipping side pockets. –Cable’s not here, Jimmy, he said. –Go get the spare. You’ll be quicker than me.
–You watch these two then, Jimmy said, and he gave the boys a hard-eyed stare. –Any funny business, you’ll be goners. Specially you, he said, pointing at Jake, –cos twice in a day, it kills people. Heart attack. And he tapped his Taser holster in case they weren’t completely clear about what he meant.
The other secca made the boys sit on the floor. He pulled out a chair and sat down astride it, one hand on his Taser. Reaching into his pocket with his other hand, he took out a packet of Wrigleys, folded a couple into his mouth. The spearmint smell made Jake shut his eyes against the knot of memory: his mum hunched over the computer. She always chewed Wrigleys when she worked, and in the last weeks before the accident, when she never stopped working, that’s what he could smell when he came home from school, and went up to bed, and came down in the morning.
–So come on, the secca said, –what you doing anyway, holed up in here? How come you didn’t get picked up by the scan hubs?
Jake stayed silent, but Ollie started making a noise, like he was clearing his throat. Jake looked round at him.
–Shut up! he mouthed, but then Ollie began to cough, a rasping, hacking cough, and he went red in the face.
The secca picked at his teeth. –Pat him on the back, he said. –I won’t shoot.
Jake patted Ollie on the back, but the cough got worse and now Ollie was gasping for breath.
–Can’t … breathe. The words seemed squeezed from Ollie’s lungs. His face had gone purple, and his body heaved, as if he was trying to drag the air in.
–Shit, the secca said, and now he was bending over Ollie, banging him on the back.
–Water, Ollie gasped, and he fell forward.
–Lie him down, the secca said. –Keep his airway clear. Pull him over, come on.
Jake was pulling as hard as he could, but Ollie was unconscious. A dead weight. The secca took Ollie’s arm and yanked him over and Ollie lay slumped on the floor.
Jake’s heart was racing. He slapped Ollie’s face, listened to his chest. Nothing. He slapped his face again. –Come on! he said. –Come on! He didn’t want to say Ollie’s name aloud. Then he turned, furious, to the secca. –He’s not breathing. You’ve killed him.
The secca was on his feet and shaking his head. –I ain’t taking the rap for this, he said. –Just doing my job. Not me that Tasered a kid.
And he took a last look at Ollie on the floor, and was gone. The door swung open behind him.
In the silence of the room Jake could hear the sound of his blood beating in his ears. Ollie was lying dead on the floor. His eyes filled with tears. –Wake up, he whispered to Ollie. –Please. Wake up! Come on!
Ollie opened his eyes. –Sweet, he said in a normal voice. –You really care!
Jake stared, open-mouthed. –You faker, he said, and he laughed then, relief flooding him like sweat. –You bloody brilliant faker! he said.
–Told you I was a good actor, Ollie said. –Just came to me.
Jake clatted Ollie round the head, and got to his feet. –I owe you, he said. –Now let’s get out of here.
Slinging his rucksack on his shoulders, he went to listen at the door. It was quiet outside. Everything in him wanted just to run for it, out the emergency exit and into the green of that park. But his brain was working fast now, and he reckoned the seccas would be using the stairs.
–Head for the escalator, he said. –Keep down.
He inched the door open and peered out. Rows and rows of school uniforms hung up like ghosts: grey pinafores and white shirts and grey trousers. But no sign of anybody.
–Let’s go, he said.
They were nearly down the first flight when they heard the secca. He was roaring with anger, boots clattering on the escalator steps. Jake glanced back. The man looked deadly angry, Taser out ready, and he was gaining on them.
–Gotta go faster, he called to Ollie.
–Yeah, we could fly, Ollie called back, and that’s when Jake had it. Of course. The handrail. Top to bottom of the tall building, a straight stretch at the side of each escalator, the well in the middle plunging all the way down to the ground. His mum had banned him from sliding banisters after he’d smashed into the hall table and knocked out a tooth. But now he could hear her voice in his head and it was telling him: Slide! Go!
It was like flying, and he could smell the friction burn on his jacket sleeves and feel the heat on the inside of his legs. Everything in him was braced to stay balanced. If he lost it, he’d be done for.
There was no way he could slow down at the bottom, and when the handrail dropped away he tumbled backward on to the ground, and Ollie on top of him. Scrambling to their feet, they made for the next rail down. Ollie went first this time and Jake was about to follow him when a movement caught his eye. Two floors above him, the secca had copied them. He looked like a rhinoceros astride the narrow rail, and he was going faster than them. Fast enough to catch them up.
The secca was already down to the next landing. He’d got his Taser in one hand now, ready to fire, fingers round the trigger. Jake had to do something or the secca would be there.
There wasn’t time to think.
–Watch out! he yelled.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. The secca looked round. Then he stuck out his Taser arm and lost his balance, windmilling with his arms. And then … then his body tipped sideways, over the sheer drop on the escalator’s edge, and he fell. Down. Down the well, down past Ollie still sliding, down and down and down to hit the ground with a dull thud and the shrill sound of a hundred bottles breaking as his body smashed against a perfume stand.
By the time Jake got down, Ollie was kneeling by the secca. He had his fingers held to the man’s neck – checking for a pulse, Jake guessed. Then he saw Ollie give the man a little shake, like Jake’s dad used to do in the morning to wake him up. But this man wasn’t going to wake up. Ollie must know that really, because nobody could lie with their head twisted round like that, and be alive.
This man was dead.
Jake gagged. Perfume bottles were smashed all around the secca and their scents were so thick in the air Jake could almost see them. They stuck in his throat and made it feel sore, just from breathing.
He watched Ollie stand up and turn away from the body. He was white as a sheet again. Then Ollie leaned forward.
It must have been everything he’d eaten in the Food Hall, the whole lot. Jake had never seen anyone be that sick, and when there was nothing left to throw up, still Ollie was heaving. But there wasn’t time for Ollie to sit down, or even for Jake to find some water for him. They had to get out of there.
–We gotta go, Jake said. –Come on. He put a hand on Ollie’s shoulder, but Ollie was shivering and grey-skinned. He needed to sit down, away from the dead secca and the perfumes and the glass, and he needed someone to put a blanket round his shoulders and make him something warm to drink. Jake had seen his mum do that. But he couldn’t do that for Ollie now.
–We killed him, Ollie said. –If we hadn’t …
–We’ve gotta go, Jake said again. –Now. The secca’s dead, nothing we can do. They’ll be here any second, and they’ll blame us for his death, doesn’t matter what happened. Doesn’t matter that it wasn’t our fault. They’ll lock us up.
He pulled at Ollie’s arm, but Ollie shook him off and turned back to the secca, put his hands together, closed his eyes and began muttering under his breath.
–What are you doing? Jake said. Then he understood. He hadn’t seen anyone pray before, except onscreen.
When Ollie stopped, he still looked a grey colour, but his eyes were brighter. –Let’s get out of here, he said.
>
The boys ran headlong down the short flight of stairs towards the emergency exit.
–Been here before, Jake said. He looked through the glass: no hub police this time. He could see a park across the road, entrance right across from the shop. That’s where the lorry driver had told them to go: the park, and the Tube. Behind them, he could hear voices shouting – muffled now, but in a few minutes, maybe sooner, someone would come charging through that door, hunting for them.
He pushed down the Exit bar. He heard a bell go off behind him, but the door swung open and they were out.
Nineteen
Jake hit the pavement running. It was busy with people. Men in smart suits, women in high heels carrying pad cases, all on their way to work – Jake could smell their cleanness. The men had slicked hair and the women wafted perfume.
At least we smell like them! he thought.
Their faces were closed in, most of them plugged into their mobiles, or wearing i-glasses. Some were invisible beneath umbrellas, though it was barely raining. None of them looked at the two boys who’d tumbled out of the John Lewis emergency exit. Weaving between them, ducking the umbrella spokes, Jake reached the kerb with Ollie close behind. Get across the road and into the gardens fast, before the seccas tracked them out of the shop – that was his one thought for now.
He looked round at Ollie. He was still pale, and wobbly on his feet, and Jake could see that if he didn’t sit down very soon, he’d fall down.
–Come on, Ollie, Jake said, and he grabbed Ollie’s hand and ran straight into the traffic.
Cars braked and a cyclist yelled, –Out my way! You want the hubbers?
But Jake didn’t stop running. They were across and into the park, except it wasn’t very big. He glanced at a sign: Cavendish Square Gardens. There were a few trees, some benches, clipped hedges, neat flower beds. A statue of a man on a horse. But the gardens were too small, there was nowhere to hide. He glanced back towards the department store.