Delete: Volume 3 (Shifter Series)

by Kim Curran

  “You don’t know me like you think you do. All I’ve ever wanted is to live a peaceful, boring life.”

  “What we want and what we must do are rarely the same thing. Can I sit down?” He gestured to the bunk.

  I moved out of his way, pressing against the wall, wondering what his game was now.

  “My friends…” I said.

  “All safe and free.”

  “And the programme?”

  “Shut down, and all the remaining children are to be sent to care centres. I’ve been overseeing the process myself,” he said, touching his perfectly knotted tie again.

  “So what now?

  I waited. Pretending I didn’t know exactly what he wanted of me.

  “Doctor Goodwin says Benjo Green doesn’t have much longer to live. A few hours at most.”

  I’d known what his plan was, but I played along. “You want to put me in the Igloo?”

  “It is a regrettable decision, but the only choice available to us at this time. You are the only Fixer left, Scott. Doctor Goodwin has said she will do everything she can to make the process as quick and painless as possible.”

  “You said the war was over. Why do we even need the machine now?”

  “This war is over. But there will be others. New enemies who wish to destroy us. That machine has become the thin red line.”

  “You’re asking me to sacrifice myself? After everything you’ve done to me?”

  “I’m asking you to sacrifice yourself to save countless lives. So that the people of this country can rebuild their lives without the shadow of terror. So that your friends and family can.”

  The way he said the words “friends and family” made it perfectly clear what his real offer was. Step into the machine and Aubrey and Katie and the others remain safe. Fight him and he would bring them down. I gave a quick, bitter laugh. For a Shifter, I’d not had a hell of a lot of choices lately.

  “I’ll do it. But I want one thing from you first.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s like you said; I’ve been through a lot. Before I do this thing, before I give myself up completely to the Igloo, I need to be certain of who I am. I want access to a simulator before…”

  Before I’m subjected to Frankie’s ‘delicate balance of chemicals’, I didn’t bother to add.

  Vine’s eyes tightened. He was pleased with me. “I think that would be a very good idea. It will give you a chance to lay your ghosts to rest.”

  What it will give me, I thought, is a chance to play out my options.

  Frankie waited, her tablet pressed to her chest under folded arms, a stern expression on her face. She turned without saying anything as I was escorted into the room, and went to stand next to the large chair with a headset dangling over it. I glanced at Vine. Beneath the usual mask of blank expression I sensed tension, urgency. Well, he could wait.

  I walked slowly over to the chair, taking in my surroundings. The grey walls, the bright lights overhead. Would these be some of my last memories?

  The soft leather of the seat hissed air as I sat down. It was surprisingly comfortable. Frankie pulled the headset down and eased it onto my head.

  “If only you’d come to me sooner, Tyler,” she whispered in my ear as she fiddled with the straps. “I said I could have helped you.”

  “There’s only one person who can help me.”

  She waited for me to elaborate, but I didn’t bother. She sighed and lowered the glasses over my eyes, blocking out all light. “We’re ready.”

  “You have half an hour, Tyler,” Vine’s voice echoed around the room. “After that, you will need to take Green’s place.”

  I hoped this would work.

  Frankie bustled about, fine-tuning the controls. She smelt of antiseptic and coffee. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded, causing the wires on the headset to rattle against each other.

  There was a blinding light and then…

  I’m holding a phone in my hand, shaking fingers attempting to dial a number from a black business card with the letter ARES punched out. Forget it, I think, and put the phone down. I don’t need their help. I can do it alone. I crumple up the card and throw it in the bin.

  I rode the ripples from my decision to join ARES and it led to me sitting in another jail, arrested for Shifting without a licence. And while I was there, I heard stories from the guards on duty about the death of a Shifter. Found hanging from chains in an abandoned warehouse, part of her brain missing.

  I tried another decision.

  I’m standing outside the wooden doors of St Sebastian’s. I’m here to warn Aubrey that ARES are coming for her. But she doesn’t want to see me. She made that clear. I turn around and walk down the street, rain soaking through my clothes.

  But it was too late; I’d already lead ARES to their door. Aubrey and Zac had been arrested, just like before. Only, this time, there was nobody there to find out about Greyfield’s. Nobody to stop Abbott’s plan. Or to save Aubrey from becoming another Ganymede volunteer.

  I hunted for another pivot point.

  I’m peering in through the broken glass at a warehouse. I’ve forgotten to bring a jacket and I’m already freezing. There’s nothing in there but darkness. Benjo Green is dead. I’m a fool to think otherwise. I should never have bothered coming here at all. I close my eyes and I’m in my bed.

  Yes! I thought. If I’d never gone after Benjo, I wouldn’t have learned about Frankie Anderson or her children. Never have put Aubrey in danger. This new reality filled me with a sense of hope. But then the consequences of turning my back on Benjo revealed themselves. Hiding in his dark warehouse, Benjo had gathered his strength, his mind twisting around a single thought. Revenge. Against the boy who had destroyed his life. And what better way to destroy me than to take away the person I loved?

  There had to be another way. The images playing about my head suddenly stopped, like someone switching a TV off. But it was OK. I knew what I had to do. It was so perfect, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it from the start.

  “Time’s up,” Frankie said. She raised the helmet and took the glasses off my face, looking into my eyes. “Are you with us, Tyler?”

  I nodded. “I’m here.” A strange sort of calmness had come over me. I’d accepted everything that was going to happen. It felt good not having to fight anymore. I couldn’t remember the last time I wasn’t fighting against something. The enemy. Myself. I was finally at peace.

  “And you know where you are?”

  “I’m in the Hub. Home to the S3. And you are Doctor Francesca Goodwin, and you are about to put me in the Igloo,” I said.

  Her skin blanched and her lips tightened. “Yes,” she said.

  She gave me her hand and helped me to my feet. Vine and the armed guards were all watching me.

  “Well,” I said. “What are we waiting for?”

  They led me through winding corridors. I knew Vine hoped to keep my arrest as quiet as possible. If any of the S3 found out that he planned on putting put their saviour in the Igloo, it might all kick off. I would play along. I wasn’t going to be here for much longer.

  When we arrived at the Igloo, there was a second coffin in the centre of the room, its lid open wide, ready for me. I walked towards it, glancing down at Benjo in the coffin next to the one that would be mine. His pale face was shrivelled, his black eyes sunken like hot coals in the snow.

  “We’ll make the switch once you’re hooked up,” Frankie said, her voice forced through clenched teeth.

  I looked at Vine. This small man who wore power like another man’s suit. Who’d become addicted to it. Twisted by it. Soon, I’d be setting us both free.

  Once I was hooked up, I would Force him to stand down. I would Force every leader in the world to obey my commands. No more senseless death. No more profit above people. No more war.

  Unaware of my plans, Vine nodded, unable to keep a smile from twitching at the corners of his mouth. I nodded in return.

 
I eased myself into the box and lay down in the padded interior. At least they’d tried to make things comfortable.

  Frankie held up a glass bottle containing clear liquid. She pushed a syringe into the rubber seal and drew the liquid into it. It made a tiny squeaking noise as she pulled it out, as if the rubber didn’t want to let go of the needle. She held it upright and squeezed a bubble of air out of the syringe, so precise that no liquid escaped. She rolled up my sleeve, revealing my arm with the S tattoo on it. I remembered the day I’d had that done now. Remembered the itching burning of the ink being scratched into my skin and how proud I felt. How proud I was to do my duty.

  Frankie lowered the needle into the crook of my arm, an inch above my tattoo. As it pricked my skin, I smiled.

  “I wish there was another way,” Frankie said, more to herself than to me, I thought.

  “It’s OK,” I said, resting my hand over hers. “It was always going to come to this.”

  What she didn’t know was that once I committed to the machine, I would have the power to push my will on anyone. It would amplify my thoughts and send them all across the world.

  Everything he had done led to this. As soon as he’d learnt about the capabilities of the Igloo, he’d known there was only one way to stop the madness that had infected the world. He’d worked to earn Vine’s trust so the Minister would think him his loyal soldier, then pushed him enough so he would be willing to sacrifice his most powerful pawn to this machine. It had been a delicate game of actions and consequences. And he had played it masterfully. I’d almost ruined it all by turning up at the most crucial moment. I’d been fighting so hard against him, I couldn’t see what was really happening.

  Now both of us had a job to do to put things right. Him in this reality. Me in mine. Neither of us were going to have the happy endings I had naively hoped for. Maybe there’s no such thing.

  Goodbye, Scott.

  “Goodbye.”

  Frankie flinched at the word she thought was for her, then composed herself, blinking away the tears that threatened to cloud her vision. She pushed down on the syringe, the thick, clear liquid pumping under my skin, mixing with my blood. I lay on the pillow, which suddenly felt like the softest pillow in the entire world.

  Frankie started to count down from twenty.

  I knew what I had to do. But it was hard, giving up on everything I loved. Knowing I would never see my family again. Aubrey again. But it was the right thing.

  “Thirteen.”

  He taught me that; he had given me the strength to follow it through. Or maybe I had that strength within me all along?

  “Nine.”

  I was going to have to hold on to that certainty. To override the biology that would fight to keep me alive. This was mind over matter.

  “Five.”

  I let myself drift back to that night.

  “One.”

  To that very first night.

  The electricity pylon looms over me like a monster against the night sky. They’re all chanting my name, but I can tell now that they’re doing it to mock me, rather than because they actually believe I’m going to go through with this. But they don’t really know me at all.

  I jump, leaping up to grab onto the first strut. It feels cold under my fingers, the sharp edges of the metal digging into my flesh. It hurts, but it’s only pain. I pull myself up to the next rung.

  Voices call up to me, bored by the game, wanting me to come down so they can get on with drinking. But I ignore them. This isn’t about them anymore. The only person I have anything to prove to is myself. I’m fourteen, fifteen rungs up. And I’ve never felt more confident in my life. Like I have finally found the place where I belong. I reach out for the next metal rod. My hand closes around it.

  The snap of metal is like the sound of a coffin lid slamming shut.

  Final and certain and inescapable.

  It was always going to come to this.

  I close my eyes, giving in to gravity and fate and whatever else has brought me here.

  And let myself fall, a smile on my face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I jolted awake. I was blind: a white fogginess obscuring my eyes. Panicked, I reached up and realised there was something stuck to my face. I peeled it off, blinking sleep-glued eyes. It was a page of paper covered in scribbled notes. Typed across the top was a question.

  Nucleus X is B. Deduce the number of protons and the number of neutrons in nucleus Y.

  Beneath it, after the series of dots marking out where the answer should be written, were more questions. About pair production, excited atoms, the ionisation energy of hydrogen.

  It was a physics exam paper.

  There were scatterings of more pages, along with physics textbooks, piled on top of other books about chemistry and advanced mathematics. I was at home. In my bedroom. It was 7.43am on the fourteenth of April, judging by my digital clock.

  “But,” I said out loud, “I should be dead.”

  I tried to stand up, and pain shot through my thigh and all the way up my spine. Was it the injury from the battle?

  I sat back down. I was wearing a grey tracksuit and trainers, but there was something strange about my left leg. I pulled up the trouser. Sticking out of my trainer, where my calf should have been, was something that looked like a leg. It was the colour of skin and had the shape and form of a leg. I poked it. It was rubbery plastic. I continued to poke all the way up till I got to my thigh. That was all flesh. The simple pressure of my finger was enough to make me wince.

  I leaned back in my chair, trying not to panic. Trying to make sense of what was going on.

  First things first. I was alive. That was a surprise. When I undid my very first shift, made the night I fell from the electricity pylon, I assumed it would have resulted in my death. It did, however, seem that I now only had one leg. I patted the rest of my body. Tenderness in my lower back, stiffness in my shoulder, which, I saw as I pulled my T-shirt down, was covered in a neat crisscross of scars.

  I probed my memory. I’d fallen from the pylon and shattered my pelvis, my femur, broken my scapula, my humeral head and a list of other bones I couldn’t remember. But I’d lived.

  I remembered how I’d been stretchered out of the park, with Hugo, my supposed best friend, crying and blaming himself while a blonde girl with big boots and dark eyeshadow looked on. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. And I dumbly asked for her number as the paramedics pushed me into the ambulance, the drugs they’d given me for the pain making me brave and stupid.

  I hadn’t seen her after that night.

  I tried standing again, remembering how to find my balance on my artificial limb. It was awkward at first, and I needed to lean on the walls to help me along. But I made it down stairs.

  “About time,” my mother said as I shuffled into the kitchen. “I was about to come and check on you. You have to leave in half an hour.”

  I leaned against the doorway, watching my mum busy herself with the kettle and toaster.

  “You look sick,” she said when she turned around, mug of steaming tea in her hand. “Are you sick?” She pushed the mug into my hand and pressed her palm against my head. “If you have another infection, I swear I will sue that hospital.”

  I held her hand. “It’s fine, Mum. I’m fine.”

  “Well, you had better be. You can’t miss any more school with your exams coming up.”

  I spat out the mouthful of tea I’d taken. “Exams?”

  “Oh, Scott. You’re not having another of your turns, are you?”

  “No, I’m good,” I said.

  “He’s just trying to get out of going to school,” a voice said behind me. Katie pushed me out of the way and sat at the table. It was all I could do to stop myself from hugging her and never letting her go.

  “What?” she said. “Have I got something on my face?” She grabbed a spoon and turned it around to look at her reflection in the curved bowl.

  “No. You’re perf
ect,” I said, fighting down the tears.

  “You’re a freak, Scott.” She plunged the spoon into a bowl of cereal and shoved it into her mouth. “I can’t believe we have to go to the same school.”

  I laughed. It seemed like everything was back to normal. As if the last year of my life had never happened. I’d never joined ARES, never met the people who were to become my friends. I didn’t even know if any of them were still alive.

  “Where are you off to?” Mum said.

  “I have to check on something,” I said, walking as quickly as I was able on my new leg up the stairs.

  I sat at my desk, opened my laptop and rested my fingers on the keyboard. “Please remember,” I said.

  I punched in the URL for the ARES intranet and took a deep breath when the login screen appeared. I typed in Carl’s password.

  CARLSEXGOD

  It hadn’t changed.

  I paused before choosing who to search for first. It was like I couldn’t bring myself to search for her, not yet. I began with Jake Bailey.

  There were a few tense moments while the system loaded, then his face appeared. That crooked grin was still there, but the sandy mop of hair was no more. Cropped into a neat buzz cut. He looked older than I remembered. I scanned his files. He’d quit ARES three months before, was going to school and living with his sister. I clicked through to check her file. She was under surveillance as a possible rogue and suspected member of the SLF – the Shifter Liberation Front – although no evidence had been found to prove it. But both of them were safe – that’s all that mattered.

  Next, I searched for Zac.

  Isaac Black – suspected leader of the SLF. Now believed to be living in America.

  Probably a millionaire already, I thought, smiling.

  I closed his file and searched for CP. As I waited for the results to show, I mentally unpicked the events of the last year and a half. Her file loaded and my heart contracted when I read the words.