Infiltrators

by Alison Ingleby

The niggling thought comes back to me. He may not even be alive. But I banish it quickly. He is alive. He just lives in the world outside this city. Of course he’s alive.

  Because if he isn’t, what do I have to keep me going?

  Inside me, emotions strain at their cage. As a child, I pictured it like a birdcage. With strong bars. A place for me to hide the unpleasant feelings and memories; those that make me angry or sad. I mentally pushed them inside and locked them away until I feel ready to deal with them.

  But the cage is getting full. The emotions are leaking out through the wrought iron bars, pushing against the locked door.

  The market stall covers blowing in the wind. A stale smell. Shouts. Screams. The thud of a baton. The crack of a shot. Mama.

  I couldn’t warn her. Couldn’t save her.

  They weren’t even after her. So why kill her? But the Metz didn’t think for themselves, did they? It must have been in their orders. The orders from the government. Did she know they would be waiting for her? Is that why she didn’t take me to meet my father? Why she gave me the amulet before she left?

  But she had been happy when she left. Not like someone who thought they could be going to their death.

  My thoughts turn to Andrew Goldsmith. Why did he do it? The man Trey has spoken about doesn’t fit the model of someone who’d give the order to murder an innocent woman. But it was a long time ago. People change.

  That doesn’t bring her back. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have been forced onto the streets. Forced to do all the things that Trey despises me for. I’d have had a normal life.

  I slam my fist into the wall, feeling my knuckles crack.

  No men. No tronk.

  Just the word sends a wave of dizziness through me. Saliva builds in my mouth. My nerves tingle and my fingers twitch with an unexpected urgency.

  Need it. Where is it?

  My feet carry me halfway up the street before I force them to stop. I put my hand out and lean into the wall, gulping in air, as if by doing so I can flush this desire from my body.

  This is his fault. He ordered her death. He killed her.

  I focus on the anger, letting it flow through me. Anything to get rid of this craving. Thank god I’m Inside. Because if there was tronk in front of me now, I wouldn’t be able to resist. And I promised her. I promised Lily.

  They took her away too. The only two people I have ever loved and they took them away. Murdered them. Trey talks about justice, but who brings the people in power to justice? Who holds the government to account?

  I rest my forehead against a window to stop my head spinning. The Plexiglas is cool under my skin. The anger runs its course, leaching the strength from my body. It leaves behind clarity.

  The only one who cares about them is me. I promised Lily I’d avenge her death. Now I make the same promise to my mother.

  You will have justice, Mama.

  Andrew Goldsmith may think he is safe from justice Inside the Wall.

  He is wrong.

  I slip back through the Wall and into Area Four close to the place where Jay had pushed me off the rooftop, the first time I fell through the Wall. I’d thought that I was about to die. No one survives contact with the Wall. Except me and Trey. Surely, we can’t be the only ones?

  The thought niggles at me, as much as I try to push it toward the back of my head.

  If we could figure that out, there would be no barrier.

  “Aleesha.”

  A deep, booming voice stops me in my tracks. Damn.

  I take a deep breath and turn around. “Samson.”

  He steps out from the narrow passageway he’d been hiding in and looks me up and down. I don’t think it’s coincidence that he’s here. Nothing is coincidental where Samson’s concerned.

  “What do you want?”

  “Who says I want anything?”

  I fold my arms. “Well, you’re not really a chit-chat kind of person, are you?”

  He looks faintly amused. “Not really. I was waiting for you.”

  My stomach tightens. “And how did you know I’d be here?”

  At least my voice doesn’t give away my nerves. I grip my arms so that my fingers can’t shake. He feels uncomfortably close but taking a step back would show him that it bothers me. I force my feet to stay exactly where they are.

  He ignores my question. “Have you changed your mind about working for the Chain yet?”

  “Have you been following me? Inside?” I search his face, but his expression is a blank canvas. “You can go through the Wall?”

  His eyes widen slightly, then he throws his head back and laughs. I’m not sure what’s so funny. “No, at least, I’ve not tried.” His face turns serious. “And I’m not about to. I have my own ways of getting Inside. But you’re getting predictable. I just had a few people keeping an eye out for you.”

  “Fine,” I snap. “So, what do you want to talk to me about?”

  He glances around, then pushes me into the narrow passageway. I stop in front of a mound of trash that’s piled almost as high as me.

  “They’re following you too, you know. Murdoch’s team. They don’t trust you.”

  “Can you blame them, given you keep bothering me?” Damn idiot, blowing my cover.

  “I’m trying to warn you,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “About what? You don’t tell me anything. Just keep dropping all these stupid hints that make me feel like a complete dumbass for not understanding.” I slam my palm into his chest. He doesn’t budge an inch. “You expect me to trust you instead? The guy who’s admitted he’s working with the government. Who says he’s helping Outsiders but stands by while they get slaughtered by the Metz.” I hit him again. The guy is like a damn brick wall. And he’s blocking my way out.

  I raise my fist again, but Samson closes his iron fingers around it. “The Chain don’t care about London. At least, not all of them.” His voice is low and fierce. “They want to take down the government, kill the President, destroy the Metz. But they’re not interested in what comes after that. How society is rebuilt.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Then why are they doing all this?”

  He releases my hand and it falls to my side. “That is the question you should be asking them.” He half turns to leave, then seems to remember something. “Oh, and that officer you found? The one who helped you?”

  I nod, my heart pounding.

  “There’s no need to worry about him. I mentioned it to the President. All Metz officers have had their chips reset. Your rogue officer won’t be rogue anymore.” He flashes me a smile.

  “What do you mean?” I whisper.

  But Samson has gone.

  Samson was right. Murdoch does have people trailing me. A scrawny kid who I spot right away and an older guy, dressed as a hobie, who’s less obvious. But I manage to lose both of them by heading to the rooftops. I crouch down by a solar panel array and try to figure out what to do next.

  According to Katya, the Metz are planning something big. And that kind of makes sense. They’re not used to people fighting back. And they’re losing officers. Surely, it’s only a matter of time before a captain gets taken down and they lose control of a whole bunch of them.

  An overwhelming display of force. The ultimate Cleaning.

  How many Metz officers are there in the compound? I should have asked Rogue. A lot, for sure. And they have pods. They could land in different places, maybe even fire down from the air.

  The question is, will they wait for the professor to finish the device, or will the Commander decide to attack without it? The professor had said it was nearly ready … Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait?

  A shiver runs down my spine. Whether they wait or not, an army of Metz officers descending on Area Four will end in disaster. Images flash through my mind like a newsreel. Blood, fighting, screaming. Slick cobblestones underfoot. The stench of sweat and fear and death.

  I lean forward and retch. There’s not much in
my stomach to bring up but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I get unsteadily to my feet, trying to will the images out of my mind. But they won’t go away.

  I need to warn people. But who will listen?

  The Chain knows. Samson has control of the gangs, but he won’t listen either.

  My heart sinks as the only other option becomes clear. Jay. I can’t imagine him listening to anything I say either. But the Snakes are the biggest gang in Four. People listen to them, and they listen to Jay. It’s worth a try.

  I climb down to street level and check to make sure I’m not being followed. But even if I am, it’s not as if I need to make a secret of where I’m going.

  Jay’s apartment is empty. Or at least, no one responds to my banging on the door. I sigh. Snakes’ HQ it is. But I’ll be damned if I walk in there to be sneered and laughed at.

  I’m approaching the back entrance to the HQ building when Jonas walks out. He says something to a greasy-haired young man slouched against the wall who straightens and mutters something in response. Jonas pats him on the shoulder and walks away.

  I step out into his path. “Hey.”

  Jonas stops dead. A smile flashes across his face but it’s quickly replaced by a frown. “Are you supposed to be here?”

  “Why, has Jay banned me from the Snakes now?” I try to keep my voice light.

  “Not exactly. But y’know, she’s in there.” He looks uncomfortable.

  A pang of jealousy. I take a deep breath. “That’s okay, I don’t want to go in. But I do need to speak to Jay. Can you ask him if he’ll come out?”

  Jonas runs a hand over the shaved side of his head. “Sure.” As he raises his arm, his jacket lifts and I catch a glimpse of the gun at his waist.

  He turns to leave, then checks himself. “Is everythin’ okay?” He frowns again, but this time it’s a frown of concern. “Did you find somewhere to live?”

  I nod.

  He smiles weakly. “Good.” There’s a pause. “If you need anything …”

  “I’ll let you know.” I smile. It’s odd. He seems to genuinely want to help me. Or perhaps he just wants Jay’s cast-offs. The thought sours my mood.

  But he has a gun …

  “Actually, Jonas, there is something you could help me with.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “Would I be able to borrow your gun? I’ll bring it back later, I promise,” I add quickly, noticing the flash of alarm that crosses his face.

  “Is someone botherin’ you?”

  I shake my head. “Not exactly. I just …” My voice trails off as I realize I’m not sure what to say. I can’t tell him the truth, but I don’t want to lie to him either.

  Jonas pulls the gun out and reluctantly hands it over. “Just be careful with it, okay? And don’t tell Jay. He’d have my head.”

  I flash him a smile and tuck the gun into my waistband, so it’s covered by my jacket. “Thanks, Jonas. I’ll bring it back later. Can you get Jay now?”

  Jonas starts. “Oh yes, sure. He might not want to speak to you though.”

  “I know. Tell him it’s urgent. About Samson.”

  Jonas raises one eyebrow and then turns and walks back into the building. I lean back against the wall of the alleyway and nod to the guard. He ignores me and continues to chew on his gum.

  Five minutes later, Jay emerges, tailed by Jonas. He grunts at the guard and pulls me back down the alleyway.

  “Whaddya want?”

  By his surly look, I don’t have much time. “The Metz are planning something big,” I say quickly. “Don’t ask me how I know, I just know, okay? I wanted to warn you.”

  “Thought you wanted to talk about Samson.” Jay’s forehead creases in a frown.

  “Samson won’t listen. Look, since the broadcast went out on the news about what the government has done, people have been fighting back. But the Metz won’t stand for it. They’re going to crack down. I’m not sure what exactly, but it’ll be big. Think a Cleaning, but bigger. And Samson has told you not to fight them, right?”

  “Right.” Jay nods slowly. I can almost feel the effort he’s putting into trying to process what I’m saying. But there’s no time.

  “Samson’s wrong.” I hold up my hands as he opens his mouth to protest. “I know you don’t believe me. I’m not going to argue. I just want you to be ready. Be prepared. Because if the shit that I think’s coming down on us does, then it’s going to be like Rose Square but a thousand times worse.”

  There’s a pause while Jay thinks. I glance at Jonas, who gives me an apologetic smile. Would he help me? Perhaps. But his loyalty to his leader is stronger than any feelings he has for me.

  “So what d’ya expect us to do about it?” Jay says eventually.

  “Warn people. Get prepared. I don’t know, even look at places to hide away. Make sure people who can’t fight are safe. Set up some traps. Just don’t run at them head-on. They’re bigger and stronger and have better weapons than us.”

  “But you’re talking about whole neighbourhoods, Aleesha. There’s nowhere for people to go!” He waves his hand around vaguely. “Are you sure about this?”

  I nod. “It makes sense. They have to knock us down. Prove they’re in charge. Look, I found out something important. Each group of officers is controlled by a captain. They look just like all the other officers, but if you take the captain out, the officers are leaderless. They’ll have no orders coming through to them.” I hold a finger up. “One captain.”

  “So how are we supposed to know which one’s the captain if they all look the same?” Jay looks confused.

  “They’ll be the best-protected officer. In the middle of the group, I guess. All the others will sacrifice themselves to protect the captain.”

  Jay wrinkles his nose. “Are they bots then?”

  “No.” I sigh. Trying to explain the detail will just confuse him more. “Just remember. Look for the captain. Take it out.”

  “Captain. Take it out.” He nods and takes a step toward me, lowering his voice. “Look, why don’t you come back in. We could use your brains. Beth’s great but she’s not a fighter. Not like you.”

  And you can’t figure things out by yourself, right?

  I swallow down the bitter taste at the back of my mouth. “I can’t. I have something else I need to do.”

  I look up at the towering warehouse behind us and the blue painted snakes that wind their way around each other and feel a pull in my chest.

  “Look after them, Jay.”

  I turn and walk back down the alleyway. First thing’s first. I have a date with Andrew Goldsmith.

  20

  Trey

  The back door to Abby’s house is locked. I retrieve the spare key from its hiding place, punch in the number code on the door pad and let myself in. I top up the water in the kettle and flick the switch on the hotplate. Nothing happens.

  Damn electricity. I’d been looking forward to a cup of tea. I roll my shoulders back and wince. Everything aches. What would I give for a relaxation chamber. Ten minutes in the hot steam would ease some of the tension in my muscles. The model they had at school had a built-in massager to knead away knots and lactic acid.

  And out here, I can’t even get a proper shower.

  I stretch out my back and rub my neck. I push the thought of massages away and lift Abby’s guitar off the wall. Sinking into a chair, I begin to strum a tune Abby had taught me. My fingers move instinctively over the neck and strings, remembering by touch what notes to play, and I let my mind wander to other things.

  Why are Outsiders attacking their own people? Surely it’s the government they should hate? But the government are too far removed. How can they attack the government when they can’t go Inside? They’ve tried blocking the food depots and stores. But they’re the ones who suffer if the food doesn’t get out, not the government.

  The strings vibrate, digging into my skin. I switch to a simpler four-chord repetitive tune. Harder and harder I strum.
r />   Instead, they attack the people they see as benefiting from the government policies. Insiders. Or those Outsiders who are practically Insiders.

  My fingers slip on the strings and a harsh discord cuts through my thoughts. I stop strumming and the final chord echoes in the room.

  The Wall. It all comes back to the Wall. While that stands, the government are safe and protected. They don’t care if Outsiders fight among themselves. It just proves their point – that they need to be controlled.

  Footsteps sound in the back yard and a moment later, Abby walks in.

  “What are you doing playing in the dark?” She reaches for the light switch. “Oh. Electricity off?”

  I hang the guitar back on the wall and take the bags from her. At first, I’d thought Abby was just old-fashioned and refused to install technology in her house. All-in-one home systems have been around for decades and even the most basic apartments have automatic lighting, heating controls and security systems. Or at least they do Inside. Out here, it’s only the newer apartments and those who can afford to install the technology. And half the time, the solar panels seem to be broken and there’s no electricity to power anything.

  Outside, the clouds part momentarily and a shaft of sunlight brightens the gloomy room. Abby stretches her arms above her head and basks in it. “Oh, for summer to come,” she murmurs.

  “Don’t you find it too hot?” I ask. The height of summer was the one time I was glad not to be in London. The heat was slightly more bearable out in Wales, though my mother constantly worried about the risk of wildfires. We always had a pod on standby to escape if needed.

  “Sometimes. But anything’s better than this dreariness. Still, at least the constant rain keeps the water tanks topped up.”

  I peer inside the shopping bags lined up on the table. “What have you been buying?”

  “Supplies.” She sighs and turns away from the window. The clouds close and the room is plunged into gloom again. “Bryn said the Metz are planning something big. And with the incident at Rose Square, most of the supplies I stockpiled over the winter have gone.”

  She pulls a small bunch of green fragrant herbs from one of the bags and carefully hangs them above the counter alongside some withered, dried plants. I unpack the bag in front of me, stacking white fabric and gauze neatly on the table.