I wake up in what looks like a hospital room. My arm is hooked up to a bag of liquid. My head throbs with a rhythm like someone is banging a stick against it. The memory of being captured comes at me like a freight train and I groan, running my tongue over cracked, dry lips.
The door opens and Daniel Cavendish comes in with another man. ‘Hello, Cal,’ Cavendish says. ‘Are you feeling better? You had a very severe infection in that hand.’
I try to turn my head to look around. An image of being taken into a big grey building comes into my mind.
‘Where am I?’ I say croakily. ‘Is this Riley Hall?’
Cavendish frowns. ‘The Facility was built in the old prison known as Riley Hall. They’re one and the same place. The Securitat is very keen for our research to correct offenders’ behaviour.’
Of course. I never saw the building when Torch rescued me. I left in the dark.
I was in Riley Hall all that time.
I wince at the bright light and squeeze my eyes closed again, trying to take this in. Riley Hall, the Facility, me, the boy Alex . . . it’s like a series of circles all rippling closer together. My life and his, mixed up in a way that can never be separated. All squeezing into something small and tight, like a noose around my neck.
‘I know what you did,’ I say. ‘You pretended I was dead and brought me here for your research. And the donor boy . . . he was a prisoner here, wasn’t he?’
Cavendish purses his lips. ‘Alex Hunt was the first young offender to be part of our programme of research here, yes.’
‘What do you want from me?’ My lips are so dry they stick to my teeth. ‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’
‘All our research rests on you. We have to take things up a notch. Move to the next level.’
I try to struggle upwards and then realise I’m bound by my wrists to the bed. ‘What are you going to do to me?’
‘We’re simply putting you back into the world you know so well, that’s all. You’re perfectly safe. Didn’t we keep you alive these past twelve years? We didn’t hurt you.’
‘What?’ I struggle against the bindings again but they get tighter. ‘You stole my life!’ I yell. ‘You had no right! And what about Alex? You killed him, didn’t you? For your stupid experiment.’
Cavendish looks uncomfortable. ‘Nothing inhumane was done here to anyone. There are sometimes unfortunate and unexpected consequences, that’s all.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ I whisper. ‘The whole programme is disgusting! And I won’t be part of it again! I won’t let you do it!’ I thrash about wildly, shaking my head and pulling against the restraints.
Cavendish sighs. ‘We can easily sedate you, so it’s pointless behaving that way. You’ll only injure yourself. But I’d prefer it if you were a willing patient, especially as you may endanger my staff who are trying to treat you. Maybe I should show you something . . .’ He produces a phone from his pocket. He points it at the wall and a projection comes to life. It’s a prison cell in semi-darkness. The image pans around the room. I see Jax, lying on the hard bench, his big trainers hanging off the end. It’s so realistic, I get an urge to touch him. Tell him it’s OK.
But it isn’t. None of it’s OK. It may never be OK again.
He’s got Jax. But not Kyla? Maybe she got away. And it looks like my mother got away too. I guess they didn’t know who she was. I hold this comforting thought inside, cherishing it. Holding it close. But poor Jax . . . What will they do to him? Will he be next for the Revealer Chip?
‘I’ll do anything you want,’ I say flatly. ‘Just let him go.’ I don’t know if I can trust Cavendish, but it’s all I have to hang on to – the thought that my friend won’t get hurt.
‘Good, I’m glad you’re seeing sense,’ says Cavendish crisply. ‘Now those antibiotics have brought you back round to us, we can begin the procedure.’ He smiles but there’s no humour in his eyes. ‘You could think of it as going home.’
I turn my head to the wall. I’m numb and cold inside. Nothing could be worse than this. I almost wish I’d never woken up in the first place. Never had a taste of a real life. Of friendship. Maybe even love.
It’s over. I’m going back. Back into the coma world.
I don’t struggle or resist. How could I? Jax’s life might depend on my cooperation. They attach me to tubes with needles under my skin. I’m in the bed for now and I wonder if they’ll put me in the pod later, once I’m out? I glance across the room at it and lick my dry lips. They’ll put me in and keep me there, like a spider under a glass.
I keep my eyes wide open as long as I can but it’s no use.
I don’t fall down a hole or go towards a light or anything like that.
Everything just sort of shifts.
One minute I’m in a bed in Riley Hall, the next, I’m standing in the middle of the school playground. People are playing football around me and it’s like the world is spinning and loud and I’m the only thing still and quiet. I look around and everything feels one hundred per cent real. The ball comes towards me and I instinctively block it and cross it back to the nearest boy. It felt like a real ball and the boy who mumbles ‘Cheers’ is as solid as I am. I take a deep sniff and that’s how I can tell the difference. It doesn’t smell like anything at all here. I lift my arm and smell my own armpit. Nothing. Like I’m just some sort of 3D avatar.
The whistle goes for the end of breaktime but I just walk towards the gates. I hear an adult voice shout at me but don’t bother to turn round. I can do what I like. Outside the school I cross the road and don’t bother looking. I feel the whoosh of cars going past but of course, nothing hits me. You’d think that would be liberating but it isn’t. I feel numb inside.
A thought hits me forcefully then. I suddenly know with more certainty than I’ve ever felt that Cavendish won’t free my friend. And they’ll probably kill me if I ever wake up again. There’s nothing to lose. This is my chance to wreck things for the Facility, even if I die in the attempt.
I start to walk in the familiar direction. There’s no one around at all. Now I’ve made up my mind, my brain has stopped bothering to people this movie with extras. I lift a single finger into the sky and shout, ‘Are you getting all this, Cavendish?’ Something moves at the corner of my eye and I flinch but it’s only that cat again. I feel a tug of affection and squat down, coaxing it over. The cat arches its back, rubbing against my legs.
‘You can’t help being owned by an ugly, bald creep, can you, puss?’ I look at the cat again and this time I notice its collar. I undo the little leather pouch. The small black tracker is in there. It seems small, considering the damage it did when it was cut out.
I hold it up to the sky and shout again, telling Cavendish exactly where he can shove his tracker. I’m quite enjoying swearing at the sky like a madman. No men in white coats can come and get me, can they? The men in white coats already came.
As I get closer, I can feel my feet getting heavy, just like in a dream, but I force myself into a run and even though it takes twice as long as it should, I finally get to the top of the hill.
I go to the pile of bricks at the side of the house. I take aim and throw one straight through the window. It makes a satisfying sound, just like a real window breaking.
The front door hangs open and an eerie wind whistles through the rooms. Inside, it’s derelict now and broken glass and dirt crunches underfoot.
I’m going to fight Cavendish with everything I’ve got – trash his research and stop the nightmare he’s planning. It ends here. With me. I’m going to smash up this fake world.
I go outside to the shed and throw open the door. I know there’s an axe in here somewhere.
The wind is whipping up now, buffeting against the metal walls. A high-pitched sound like distant screaming curls around me.
I see the axe resting up against the broken work bench and heft it onto my shoulder. A shadow passes across the open doorway, fast, like an animal. My mouth goes dry and my heart starts to
hammer.
‘It’s not real . . . none of it is real.’ I whisper the words quietly to myself but they don’t really help. It feels real, is the thing. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up for real and the wind is blowing in my face for real as I move towards the door, which suddenly slams shut. I stumble forward, trying to not fall on the axe and I reach for the door . . . and then I hear quiet laughter behind me. All the terror of being shut in here all those times hits me like a tsunami and I fight down the urge to scream and shout. I make myself close my eyes and keep my back turned, even though I hear heavy breathing and the warmth of another, bigger body behind me. I have no reason to be scared. But I can’t make it go away. Not like I could with everything else.
That’s when I realise what’s really happening . . .
Cavendish talked about the next phase of this project, didn’t he? He isn’t just watching any more – he’s found a way to get inside and manipulate my thoughts. He’s been rummaging around inside my head and looking for my weaknesses. He knows what buttons to press. He knows my fears and how to exploit them to his own advantage.
What better way to keep people down than planting scary images in their heads? Nowhere is safe. No one is safe. That’s what they want everyone to think. They can mess with people’s minds and scare them into submission.
No. I can’t let them get away with it. ‘You can’t hurt me, Cavendish!’ I shout. ‘This Des isn’t real. He’s just a bad dream. You don’t even scare me.’ The last part isn’t true. I feel hot breath against the back of my neck and a rough hand grabs a handful of my hair. It’s all I can do not to cry out or turn round. ‘You’re nothing,’ I say. ‘No one. You’re not even real. You’re nothing.’
I’m a millisecond away from freaking out and fighting back but I know if I do, I’ll be lost. I’ll have allowed myself to become part of this world again, just by accepting it’s real. My heart is racing, I’m sweating all over . . . Got to hold out a bit longer. I can feel myself slipping. I’ve got to turn round! Got to fight him off! If I can just hang on a bit longer. I close my eyes and say, ‘No, no, no, no, no.’
The door slams open again and I know I’m alone. I laugh out loud, euphoric at having beaten him.
I run out into the light. There isn’t much of it left because the sky is bunched with black clouds and thunder is rumbling away. It feels like a massive storm is brewing. The air tastes metallic. I’m sweating all over as I go back into the house, the heavy axe on my shoulder. Outside Pigface’s room I swing it back and bring it hard into the door with a crunch. It melts away like it was never there. I walk over to the broken Xbox, which is sitting just where I last saw it on the cabinet, split across the top. It’s been repaired. No damage from where the weights fell on it. It looks different in other ways too. There’s no Microsoft or Xbox logo. It’s just a black box, with a whole load of tiny lights on it, flashing away. I’ve seen it before, back in the room where my real body is lying like a corpse on a slab.
Realisation slams into me. This is the brain of the Cracks programme.
Everything that happened to Alex in his real life got mixed up with what was happening to me as I hung, trapped inside that pod. The nurse mum. The cat.
The Xbox.
He broke Ryan’s Xbox and it set off a chain of events that ended up with him inside Riley Hall, a prisoner. His memories and my imagination combined and created a whole new reality.
The Xbox, the Cracks hard disk . . . they’ve somehow come together in my mind. I might not be able to touch it in this world, but maybe I can take away its power.
All I know is, my mind is my own now. I won’t be controlled by a lump of plastic, even a lump of plastic that can communicate with a chip inside my brain.
I look at the axe in my hand and there’s a moment’s hesitation. Will it hurt me to this? Will it set me free?
But then I realise that I don’t even care. If I have to die, I’ll die on my terms. In control.
I lift the axe up, ready to crack the box in two and then freeze. A strange sound fills the room. It’s a girl, crying, somewhere outside. It sounds like someone is hurting her.
‘Cal! Cal! Help me, please help me!’
It’s Kyla’s voice.
She’s not real, she’s not real.
Wait. What if this is the real Kyla? What if my ears are hearing what’s actually happening around me in the Facility? My insides clench with fear. ‘Kyla!’ I call out. ‘Where are you?’ I turn around blindly and stagger into the hallway, trying to see where she is but the wind is so strong I can hardly stand up, even though I’m inside.
I realise then that the crying’s coming from ‘my’ bedroom. I push open the door and step inside.
The storm instantly stops, like someone switched it off. Instead, the sun is slanting through the window onto her face. She’s sleeping, one hand curled up under her chin. She’s wearing some sort of short blue dress and her long brown legs seem to gleam. She’s smiling in her sleep and then she rolls onto her back and stretches sleepily, stretching her toes so her dress rides up a little further up her thighs.
She opens her eyes. ‘Cal,’ she says dreamily. ‘I’ve missed you. Come here.’ She holds her arms out to me.
It feels like a giant magnet is pulling me towards her. I can’t stop myself. I don’t care if it’s not real. I could be with her, here, for ever. She wants me. She actually wants me. Heart banging and palms sweating, I sit down on the edge of the bed and start to lean over. Her lips are slightly parted and she gives a little sigh as I get closer. My lips are just about to touch hers when I notice it. The gap between her teeth has gone.
I jump back like someone has hit me.
This isn’t Kyla.
Her eyes snap open. ‘What’s the matter, Cal?’ she says. She’s smiling like I’m the most desirable thing she’s ever seen. Then I see that the teeth aren’t the only thing wrong. She uncurls her fingers to reach for me and I notice her hands. Instead of bitten nails with chipped varnish, she has perfect, long fingernails tipped with snow-white crescents. It’s all wrong. These aren’t Kyla’s hands. She’s too perfect now.
No, she’s the wrong kind of perfect.
I stand up, shakily. He’s somehow been in my mind while I was recovering, used that Revealer Chip and seen how I feel about her and he’s using it against me. For a second, I burn all over with embarrassment and have to squeeze my fists tight. I close my eyes and swallow. What else did he see? Those thoughts are mine. They’re no one else’s. They’re not even for Kyla.
A kind of white rage fills me up like light inside then and I know I can do this. ‘Forget it,’ I say, turning to leave. ‘This isn’t going to work.’ I don’t see her move, but Kyla is suddenly right there, blocking the door now. Her eyes are half closed and sexy and she reaches for the zip of my hoodie and starts to pull on it.
‘Stay with me, Cal,’ she says. ‘Believe in me. We can be together always here. You know you want to. Just one kiss, come on . . .’
My body seems to have a life of its own because I feel myself melting towards her. What’s the harm? It’s just one kiss . . .
Then I picture the real Kyla, and Jax, who’s curled up in a prison cell. Does he have her too? Will he hurt them, like he’s hurt me? I force myself to shove the pretend Kyla out of the way. She screams and falls back, hard, and it takes everything I’ve got to wrench the door open.
I take one last look back. Her eyes are burning into me.
‘Come on, Cal . . . what’s stopping you?’ she says, but she sounds weird. And then I realise; it’s not Kyla’s lovely voice I’m hearing. It’s Cavendish’s voice.
All the hairs on the back of my neck go up. But it’s not going to work. Cavendish is just trying to scare me. He’s set traps for me here in this coma world, knowing I’ll fight back. And I won’t let him win.
I run back to where I left the axe. I pick it up and start smashing it into the walls of the hallway.
Huge cracks appear along the wa
lls and start to spread quickly. The ground starts to rumble under my feet like an earthquake. Plaster and dust patter onto my face and catch in my throat just like it’s real. But the world has gone red and the rumbling turns into the sound of a heartbeat, loud and rhythmic, all around me.
I smash down the door to Ryan’s room and lift the axe over the black box. As the blade smashes down into the hard plastic, the world explodes around me and blinding light fills the room.
This is it, it’s the end.
A sharp pain slices into my head and I crouch down, instinctively trying to protect myself. The world goes still and I look up, wincing at the brightness.
I’m in a perfectly white room, with no chairs or tables. I know somehow that I have to get out or I’ll die here. I lift up the chair and hurl it at the wall. Nothing happens and I run full pelt at a window. I hear it break but it feels like something molten and I’m pushing against it, fighting it.
I shout, ‘NO!’ at the top of my voice, over and over again. My voice has gone all slow and drawly. I hear an almighty cracking sound.
For a minute I think I’m trapped inside a gigantic spider web. I can feel it everywhere, sticky and tangled around me. Then I realise I’m back in the real world, inside the pod. I kick and thrash about and suddenly I’m free, slumping sideways against the moist glass surface.
I find the pod door and climb out, wincing at the worst headache of my life. The light of the room is pure violence but right at that moment there’s a weird fpzzt sound and the room goes dark.
I feel a shudder of pure panic. Am I still in the coma? Did I make that happen? But no, I can smell things . . . bleach, disinfectant. . . smoke. It’s real. I really am back!
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