‘Eh?’
I hand him the antibiotics and he sits up straight, cradling the tube like it’s as delicate as an egg.
He reads the label and turns to me, eyes wide. ‘Where d’you get these from?’
I hesitate. ‘I can’t tell you. But I think Kyla needs them more than me.’
Jax carries on staring at the pills. He doesn’t thank me and I’m feeling a bit annoyed until I realise he doesn’t know what to say. I carry on talking to fill the silence. ‘I think you take them three times a day.’
Jax just nods and then gently wakes Kyla. She grumbles as Jax coaxes her to swallow two of the tablets with some flat Coke. She lies back down and so does Jax.
He grunts something.
‘What?’
‘Thanks, man,’ says Jax. Within a couple of minutes, he’s gently snoring.
The girl stirs in her sleep and turns towards me. She opens her eyes wide and then her eyelids flicker and she falls asleep again.
I lie there forever, trying to do the same. My thoughts keep jumping around like something wild trapped in a cage. I’m picturing the twisted, smoking remains of the van and imagining the bodies inside it, all burned up. I squeeze the heel of my hand hard into one eyeball, trying to blank out the pictures but it’s no good. Now I’m seeing Des’s face up close, spit flying. Then Cavendish with his cold smile, explaining terrible things as though they’re normal and everyday. And then there’s the boy. The brain tissue donor. The one who gave me my only memories. I keep trying not to think about him but he’s always there, inside me. Closer even than a twin. I know how it felt to be him. I know everything about him and almost nothing about me.
Then I’m in Amil’s house and his mum is talking in a quiet, low voice, comforting me. But she isn’t Indian. She has long red hair and freckles . . . it’s so nice here. I want to stay. But then someone else is prodding me, hard.
I wake up sharply. Zander is crouching over me and poking me in the ribs. ‘Wake up,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a little job for you.’ His hot breath smells of alcohol and onions. ‘Get up.’
‘What . . . now?’ I say.
His eyes narrow. ‘Yes, now. You stay here, you pay your way. Even for one night.’ He touches his coat pocket meaningfully. Something pointed is in there. A gun, or maybe a knife. He blinks. ‘You’re mistaking this for a request. Get up.’
I carefully get to my feet, keeping my eyes on his.
‘So you’re the invisible man, according to Jaxon,’ he says. ‘Let’s see how invisible you really are.’
He gestures with his hand in the pocket. We step around the bodies that are sighing, snoring and emitting puffs of bad breath. I’m breathing heavily, scared, but I don’t want him to know that. He’s a bully. He gets off on making people feel small inside so I stand tall even though my knees are trembling. He could be taking me anywhere. Again, I picture myself bleeding in a gutter. But he knows I have no cash so why bother?
I think about making a run for it all the same but, once outside, there’s no real chance of me doing it. He looks like he could be fast, plus he’s walking close enough for me to feel the bulge of his weapon in his coat pocket. His leather coat creaks gently as we move and his onion breath keeps coming in gusts against my face. ‘Where are we going?’ I say. I try to sound calm but my teeth are chattering.
‘Not far. I’ve got a little test for you,’ says Zander. ‘This is your way of thanking me for my hospitality.’
I can’t think what he could possibly want from me and panic lurches in my stomach. We walk through the empty streets for ages. Zander moves in a silent prowl, dodging open spaces and sliding from building to building like a slippery shadow. I try to do what he does. Being with him is bad enough, but I don’t want to get picked up by CATS either. I shiver involuntarily at the thought of them finding out that I escaped from the Facility. Better see what he wants and try not to freak out.
We retrace our steps along the canal and then go a different direction so that after about five minutes we’re amongst what looks like tall office blocks. After a while we come to a smart-looking plaza. Glass buildings rear up on all sides, so tall I get neck-ache looking up. Zander pulls me back into the shadows. I feel something press against my shoulder blades and there’s a soft, deadly click.
‘Now then, here’s what you’re going to do,’ he whispers. ‘You’re going to walk across that square and I’m going to see if you’re as invisible as Jax says you are.’
‘That all?’ I say. ‘Just walk?’
‘The whole square is spiked with security lasers,’ he says. ‘They can only be set off by humans. Foxes were causing too many false alarms. So the cameras and alarm systems only kick in when they sense ID chips. And you and I both know that you aren’t chipped, don’t we, Matt?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I say pathetically and Zander digs the gun in harder.
‘Don’t mess with me,’ he hisses in my ear. ‘Now go.’
He shoves me hard and I cry out and stumble into the brightly lit square.
I stand rooted to the spot. I’m breathing hard. I’m scared to move a muscle in case alarms start screeching all around and men in balaclavas appear from the sky on ropes. But two, three, four seconds pass and nothing happens. He said they only get activated by ID chips, didn’t he? And there wouldn’t be any point bringing me here otherwise. Would there? Well, then . . . but I’m still frozen.
‘Oi!’ hisses Zander and cocks his head to indicate I should move. He waves the gun at me.
I take a deep and shaky breath of the cold night air. The rain has stopped but the wet marble flooring gleams like black silk around me. I slide my right foot forward and pause, heart crashing against my ribcage and cold sweat trickling from my armpits inside my clothes. Nothing happens so I slowly move the other foot forward.
Nothing. No men on ropes. No wah-wah-wah of sirens.
I take a few tentative steps, sliding my feet on the slippery ground as though lifting them to walk properly will somehow jinx everything.
A couple more steps . . .
I realise I’ve been holding my breath and I let it out in a rush. I think it’s going to be OK . . .
And then everything changes.
Terror clutches at my insides as a bluey-white light suddenly appears as a long column in front of me. It silently creeps up and over my body. I look up for its source and see its coming from a device high up on the side of the building. It crawls upwards and I close my eyes against the blinding brightness of it. Then it snaps off and is gone. I daren’t move. I daren’t breathe or blink or anything.
But nothing happens. I feel like laughing out loud with relief. I hear a soft repetitive sound and see that Zander is grinning broadly and gently clapping his hands together.
He gestures for me to move around a bit more. But I’m fed up with being a performing monkey for him. So I walk defiantly back to where he is leaning against the wall, a sly smile on his face.
‘Excellent,’ he says, grinning broadly. ‘Now then, Matt. I’ve got a business proposition for you . . .’
As we walk back, Zander speaks, his breath making cloudy puffs in the chilly night air.
Here’s his proposition: I hang around for a few weeks and help him with his ‘work’. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that this involves thieving. But he claims he has a ‘foolproof system’ and no one will get caught. He’ll pay me a bit, but, here’s the most interesting part, he’ll not only get me some fake papers but reckons a mate of his can fit me with a false ID chip that passes routine checks.
‘Why would you think I —?’ I start to say, not sure I want him to see how much I might need this.
‘Don’t take me for an idiot,’ he interrupts. It’s like a shutter has slammed down on his new friendliness. His eyes glint, cold and hard. ‘I heard what Jaxon said, about you being “invisible”. I know you’re not chipped. I don’t much care why. But you know it and I know it too.’
I look at my feet. He
’s right. I was mad to think I could get to Brinkley Cross on my own. How long before I get spotted and picked up? I’d still have to be careful about being seen on regular CCTV but at least this way, I’d have papers to check if I get stopped by CATS. Maybe I could get myself back on my feet a bit; learn a little about this strange world I’ve woken up to. And then I can try to find out where home is.
It’s seriously tempting.
‘I’ve got a question before I agree to anything.’ I say.
Zander stops abruptly next to me and looks questioningly into my face.
‘Have you heard of somewhere called Brinkley Cross?’
‘What?’ His irritated voice is taut as a wire. A muscle in his cheek twitches and his eyes are cold. There’s a sweetish, musty smell rising from his coat, although I probably don’t smell that great either right now.
I repeat the question.
‘Why you asking me about this now?’ he says. ‘I’m trying to strike a deal with you here.’
‘I know,’ I say, swallowing, ‘but I need to know something important before I agree to anything.’ I meet his glare and make myself not waver or blink. ‘Brinkley Cross. Can you look it up or something?’
He swears quietly and gets out his phone, then points it at the nearest wall. A crystal clear projection the size of a computer screen appears on the wall with a slightly different Google logo than the one I know. Despite everything that’s happening, the normal part of my brain itches for a phone like that too. He mumbles ‘Brinkley Cross’ grudgingly. A 3D map instantly appears. It shows a satellite image of a town. According to the sidebar it’s just fifty miles north on the motorway from here.
My knees almost give way.
It’s a real place! I didn’t dream it. I want to laugh and punch the air and do a silly dance all at once. It’s not much to go on but it’s something! I feel like it’s calling me, pulling me back. I have to get to Amil’s place. They have some connection with my real life, I know it. If not, then they’ll help me, I’m sure. Maybe there’s even a family waiting for me there. But first I need money and fake ID.
I hold out my hand to shake.
‘I’ll do it,’ I say, ‘but two weeks only. I’ve got somewhere I need to be.’
Zander grins slowly, his wolfish teeth glinting in the darkness. He takes my hand and shakes it hard.
I’m sure it’s five minutes later when someone is shaking me awake. I feel like I’ve been hit all over with a baseball bat. I groan and try to focus on who’s next to me. It’s Jax, leaning in a bit too close and looking annoyingly well rested. His big brown eyes are centimetres from mine.
‘Come on,’ he says, ‘got you this.’ He puts down a cup of tea in a cracked, stained mug next to me. ‘Zander says I’m to show you the ropes.’ He sits back on his haunches and watches me as I sit up and take a grateful slurp of the hot, sweet drink. Kyla is fast asleep next to me, her breathing a bit noisy but steady in rhythm. Jax reaches down and tenderly pulls her sleeping bag up a little higher, tucking it under her chin. He catches me watching, and blinks, then looks away and gets to his feet.
‘So, drink that, yeah? And we’ll get started.’
I’m worrying a bit about what I’ve got myself into as I wash my face in the bathroom. The mirror is dappled all over with rust and black mould. The hand towel is soaking wet. Whatever colour it once was has long faded. I give it a sniff, grimace, and then drop it back where I found it. I use my sleeve to dry my face instead.
Lots of people are still sleeping as we leave the quiet house.
Outside it’s grey and overcast. There’s a smell of warm concrete, burned rubber and wee. The estate doesn’t look much better in the daytime. The windows of most of the houses are smashed and some are streaky with black smoke damage. We only see two people – an old lady slowly carrying a bag of shopping, and a boy about my age who scurries into a house with his hood covering his face.
We get to the canal again and step down onto the crumbling path. It’s wider than it seemed in the dark but the smell is just as bad and quickly coats the inside of my nose and throat with something stagnant and rotten. Huge warehouse-type buildings with broken windows loom on the other side of the water. We have to fight through nettles and thorny fingers of plants that reach across the path. The water looks even higher than it did before and slops over the towpath at certain points, soaking my trainers.
Jax is almost silent. He lopes along in front of me, all arms and big feet, head down. He’s fast because of his long, skinny legs and I have to hurry to keep pace with him.
‘So how long have you worked for Zander, then?’ I say, hoping some conversation might help with the jangling nervous feeling in my belly that isn’t just from the lack of breakfast.
He flicks a look back over his shoulder. ‘Few years. Dunno,’ he says and then stops abruptly. ‘Look, I know what you think.’ He turns to me. His dark eyes are serious. He swipes a hand across his chin.
‘Uh . . . what do I think?’ I say with a small laugh.
‘That I’m nuts to be working for a creep like him?’
‘I’m not thinking that,’ I say feebly.
He swoops his eyes. ‘Sure you ain’t.’
We walk along in silence for a minute and then he stops abruptly. ‘I do it so me and Kyla don’t have to live on the streets, OK? I gotta look after her. I promised her mum.’
‘OK!’ I say, palms up. ‘Jeez, I didn’t even say anything!’
‘No . . . well, that’s all right, then,’ he says grumpily and carries on walking, a bit slower now. ‘You prob’ly have no idea what it’s like for us. Expect you’ve always had a nice home and never had to look after yourself.’
I sigh. ‘You have got no idea,’ I mutter.
He just snorts in disbelief. He’s completely different to how he was last night. Maybe he’s planning to shop me. Maybe him and Zander are up to something between them. I look around, half wondering whether I should try to go right now and make it on my own.
We’re at the end of the towpath and I can see large metal sheds that look like factories ahead. Jax mutters something under his breath.
Tiredness and irritation surge up inside me, forcing words out. ‘Look, what’s your problem, Jax?!’ I say. ‘You invited me back in the first place!’
He stops and we face each other, both breathing heavily, eyeballing each other. He makes a frustrated noise and his shoulders drop. ‘I’m just . . . it’s . . .’ He runs his hands through his hair. ‘What am I going to do if she dies, man?’
So that’s it. This is really about Kyla. I think about what Zander said about kicking them out, and the horrible noises coming from her lungs last night. Any lingering doubt that I did the right thing in giving away the medicine fades. On cue though, my cut throbs and I give my hand a dismissive shake.
‘The people who gave me that medicine,’ I say, ‘they said it was good stuff. Hard-to-get stuff. It should help her. She’s not going to die. I’m sure she’ll be OK.’
Jax gives a weak smile. ‘You really think?’
I smile back. ‘Yeah, I really do.’
It feels like the right thing to say.
Turning off the towpath, we come back into the place we met again last night, among factories and warehouses. Vans and lorries snake around the roads and there are a few people in overalls about the place but it’s mainly quiet.
We go to a spot near the back and Jax explains why we’re here.
Seems that most areas of the city don’t have the sophisticated cameras on the outside like in the plaza that Zander took me to last night. They have them inside warehouses and factories but on the outside they have regular CCTV. Zander’s gang has developed a method to moving around and staying below the radar. One of Zander’s crew worked out that each camera operates on a cycle of, say, one minute on and one minute off. Some work for longer, some less. There have been electricity shortages and all sorts of power surge problems so this has been the only way the authorities can keep so many g
oing at once. So when you’re in built-up areas, you look to see how long a camera goes still for and then you can dodge them. That’s why Jax was walking in that weird way last night when we were out in the open.
Some of the cameras are broken in this part of the estate, so it’s a good place for Jax to show me the ropes, he explains.
‘So go on,’ he says, ‘I want you to pretend those cameras there and there,’ he gestures with his head, ‘are on a cycle where the nearest one switches off after three seconds. Then you move and count to three for the next one. And again. And keep close to the shadows. See if you can get all the way across to the fence.’ He pauses. ‘Got it?’
‘Er, I think so,’ I say.
‘Go on, then.’
It’s a lot harder than it looks. I’ve only walked about a metre when Jax makes a noise like a loud klaxon and waves both his thumbs down.
‘Fail!’ he says happily. ‘You walked right into the open there.’
I try again, this time pressing myself close to the walls, counting, then darting across to the next building. I look at Jax who is expressionless. Must be doing it right this time.
I repeat the process until I get to the next building and then the next. I get to the other side and turn round, flushed and triumphant. I really think I’m getting the knack of this.
But Jax starts slowly shaking his head.
‘Matt, Matt, Matt,’ he says, with a heavy sigh. ‘They just got a clear shot of your ugly mug.’
Irritated, I have another go.
He makes the klaxon sound again. ‘They already got you tied up in some cell,’ he says. He screws up his eye, as though listening to something. ‘I think you’re being beaten up by a big, bald guy called Skin about now.’
I glare back at him although a tiny part of me wants to laugh too. ‘All right, genius,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you show me how it’s done, then?’
Jax wiggles his fingers and shunts his arms forward so the sleeves of his hoodie rise up, exposing his knobbly wrists. ‘Prepare to watch a maestro at work,’ he says and glides away from the wall.
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