I gawp nervously at the bag, wondering what’s inside.
And then he speaks slowly. ‘Sprechen Sie deutsch?’
I say nothing.
‘English?’
And I sit up a little in bed, lower the sheets from my face and gawp at him, cos I’m sure I understood that word.
‘English?’ he says again. ‘You speak English?’
I nod.
And he nods too. He takes a small bottle filled with a clear liquid out of the bag.
‘I speak English a little,’ he says. ‘What is your name?’
I open my mouth to speak, only I can’t force the words out.
‘You can’t speak?’ he says as he takes more things out of his bag.
‘I’m Jesper,’ I say croakily.
He smiles. He starts to put together some of the things that he got from the bag. ‘I’m Father Lekmann. You’re in the medical room at St Jerome’s Children’s Home,’ he says. ‘You were brought here after a bad accident. Miraculously you don’t seem to have sustained any lasting injuries.’
I gawp at him, then at the equipment.
‘I need to give you an inoculation, Jesper.’
I watch as he continues to put the things together and I realise he’s making a needle. A memory from My Place flashes into my mind. A needle going in my arm and then darkness. At least I think it’s a memory.
I feel nervous. I shake my head. I squizz around the room again. Except there’s nowhere to go, is there? And he has the needle in his hand. He pokes the sharp end into the bottle and fills the needle with liquid. And then he’s reaching for my arm. And I realise that I have to do something quick, so I let the bed sheets drop and I grab hold of his arm and I sink my teeth into it.
‘AAAARRRGGGGHHHH!’ he yells, pulling his arm away.
The needle clatters down on to the floor.
And then, before I even have time to react, he slaps me right across the face. He grabs my arms and another priest rushes over to hold me down on the bed. And it all happens so quickly I don’t have time to do anything about it.
Father Lekmann grabs the needle off the floor and stabs it into my arm. ‘This is for your own good,’ he says. And then he presses the plunger and the liquid goes into my arm.
I’m expecting the jab to make me start to feel sleepy.
Only the sleepiness doesn’t happen.
All that happens is that time drags slowly past and more provisions arrive so I scoff them. The other boys in the room, they spend their time rocking and humming and crying and howling like always. All except for the boy in the bed beside mine. Cos he’s been lying in bed the whole time, eyes closed, tossing, turning, coughing, moaning.
Eventually, after the sun’s gone down and the bell has tolled again, the light in the centre of the room goes out and all the others close their eyes and sleep. I try to do the same.
Only my brain won’t switch off, will it? All the same questions keep bouncing around my mind.
A new thought is bouncing around in there as well. Cos I’ve been thinking about how I don’t have my bag or the scroll any longer. I don’t have any way to know which way I’m meant to be going (not that I can go anywhere while I’m locked in this room). And that makes me think about how The Voice is going to find me. He said he’d come and find me, didn’t he? But how will he know I’m here?
Another question I don’t have an answer for.
Questions isn’t all I’m filled with, is it? Cos I’ve been in this bed all day long and I haven’t been to the toilet the whole time, not while the others are awake. And now that the rest of them are sleeping, it seems like the best time, doesn’t it? So I peel back the sheets and I cross the room to the bucket which serves as a toilet. And what I find is that doing my business wakes up the horrible stink of everyone else’s dung and pee. It makes me feel so sick that I have to cover my nose and mouth with my hand.
When I’m done, I creep over to the window and squizz outside. Beneath the inky star-filled sky, there’s a building, right next to this one. A church. It’s lit up and shadowed and creepy-looking. It must be where the bell was tolling.
The church makes me think of God, makes me realise I haven’t prayed for ages. So I say one in my head, facing the church, eyes closed, hoping God can hear me, even though I’m sure He can’t. And what I pray is that He gets me out of this place, that He sets me free, puts me back in the forest or, even better, guides me to where The Voice is.
But God can’t hear me, can He? He doesn’t even know where I am.
I decide to test it. If God was listening, He’ll have done something to help me escape. He’ll have unlocked the door, or provided a key or something. So I creep across the room to the door and try the handle. Only what I find is a locked door.
I’m trapped here and there’s nothing I can do.
So I go back to my bed and I wait for the sun to come up again, listening to the kid in the bed next to mine as he groans and whimpers in his sleep.
Blake
It’s three o’ clock in the morning. There are four hours until I’m due on shift again. The building where my quarters are located is entirely silent. I’m dressed head to toe in black, stepping silently along the corridors, sticking to the shadows. I have a gun in my right hand. What I’m about to do is risky. But it’s necessary to get the cure out of the hands of the Huber Corporation and into those of the Spirit of Resistance.
I creep to the end of the corridor, past four shut doors on each side, behind which the men and women who staff the Huber Corporation sleep. I reach the stairwell and climb up to the next floor, gun at the ready. The only sound I hear is the soft shuffling of my own footsteps.
I head straight for door number 11. I stop and check around me, making certain I’m alone. I reach inside my pocket, take out the picks and then work on the lock – turning and listening as the lock clicks and clunks and eventually unlocks.
I take a careful step into Jarl’s quarters. Right away I can hear that he’s inside, sleeping in the bedroom. I push the door closed behind me. And I wonder where he’d keep it.
The layout of his quarters is identical to mine. I decide to try the living room first. I step carefully through the hallway, stopping after each step, listening for Jarl’s breathing from the bedroom to check I haven’t disturbed him. Eventually I reach the living room – and what I find is nothing. A sofa the same as my own. A table with a dirty plate and a glass on it. A few pieces of paper on the floor, which I pick up and check, discovering they’re nothing more than letters from Jarl’s family back in the Scandi-Countries.
I step through to the kitchen area. More glasses and plates lie around, filling the sink and covering the sideboards. I open the cupboards and look around, moving food and crockery aside. But no sign of what I’m looking for.
Which leaves only two rooms to check – bedroom and bathroom. I choose the bathroom first as it’s closest and there’s less chance of waking Jarl. Lying across the floor of the bathroom, I find his clothes. My heartbeat quickens. I pick up his suit jacket and check the pockets. And there it is – in the front pocket.
Jarl’s pass.
I pocket it and leave the bathroom, pausing outside the bedroom to listen in, checking Jarl’s still sleeping.
And then I leave his quarters and slip back into the shadows of the corridor.
I fasten the scarf across my face, pull my hood up and step out of the shadows and on to the path leading to the building. At the entrance, I scan Jarl’s pass. The glass front door slides quietly open. I hurry inside and through the dimly lit corridors, past the control room, heading for the laboratory.
As I arrive outside the lab, I take a look through the window. The lights are out. The place is empty. I scan Jarl’s pass and the door buzzes. I slip inside.
For a second I stand at the entrance, looking around as my heart thuds. I spot the computer on the far side of the room and head straight for it. I swipe my finger across the screen and it lights up, showing a login
page.
Login Name:
Security Code:
And this is the point at which I have to bluff it. I don’t know Jarl’s login name or security code. But I know that my own is based upon my personal information. I look at Jarl’s security pass and enter his first initial and last name as his login name. And then I try his employee number as the password.
Immediately the screen changes. I read the information.
First stage complete. Answer a security question.
What is your place of birth?
And again I can’t be sure. But I have a vague recollection that he once mentioned to me that he was from Aarhus, so I type that in.
The screen glows green.
I’m in.
I scroll through the system, searching until I find a folder named ‘Zweiter Stamm – Impfstoff-Entwicklung’. In English, Second Strain – Vaccine Development. Inside I find just what I’m looking for – diagrams and rows of numbers and chemical equations and scans of untidily handwritten notes. I plug a blank scroll into the computer and download it all, deleting from the computer as soon as it’s copied.
As soon as the last file has copied, I log out of the computer, put the scroll in my bag and look around the lab once more. There’s a freezer with a warning sign on it. A light comes on inside as I open the freezer door. There are racks and racks of test tubes with substances inside them. I look through the labels, until I find a whole batch labelled ‘Zweiter Stamm’. I open up my bag, carefully take the test tubes from the freezer and place them inside my bag alongside the files. I’ll need to get them into a freezer as quickly as I can.
As I turn, I catch sight of the window in the door, see someone walk past the laboratory. I freeze where I am, switch off the flashlight.
I watch the window, waiting in case whoever it was returns. Seconds pass slowly. My heart pounds. But nobody comes back.
When I’m sure the coast is clear, I hurry from the lab and then from the building.
Jesper
When I hear the bell tolling, I open my eyes. The sun’s already flooding in through the barred windows. The others are waking as well, all except the boy in the bed beside mine. In no time at all the room fills with the sounds of growling and crying and moaning again. That isn’t all the place fills with though, cos one of the boys goes over to the bucket and pees, waking the smell.
Time passes slowly until there are footsteps outside the door. All the others go loopy, cos they know food’s coming.
As the two priests come into the room, I pry on them. Cos, as I lay awake last night, a thought came to me. The only chance to get out of this room is when the priests come and go, and that’s mostly at mealtimes. Those are the only times the door is open.
I watch as one of the priests pushes the trolley into the room. The other stays right by the door, locking it as soon as they’re both inside.
Could I get out? Could I charge at them and run out of the room when the door’s open?
I think it over while the priests hand round the trays.
One of the Fathers brings a tray to the bed next to mine where the boy still hasn’t woken, is still mumbling. When he gets to the bed he gawps at the boy, moving close, adjusting his face mask. He says something urgently to the other priest, who immediately puts down the tray he’s holding and rushes over. Both of them lean over the boy, speaking to him in their words, repeating the same word: ‘Andreas.’
But the boy doesn’t say a word back. He just tosses and turns and moans and coughs, eyes closed, like he did all night.
The priests speak quickly to each other, nodding, and then hurry from the room, leaving the trolley here, not even handing my tray to me.
Blake
I take my coffee to the cafeteria table where Franks is already sitting. He nods as I take my place.
‘You’ve heard the news about Jarl?’
My heart races, but I try not to let it show. I shake my head. ‘What news is that?’
Franks takes a deep breath. His eyes dart around; he leans in closer and lowers his voice. ‘He’s been detained by Huber.’
I take a sip of bitter coffee. ‘Really? What for?’
Franks shrugs. ‘I don’t know for sure. The rumour is that he let himself into the lab late last night and took the development information on the vaccine for the second strain of Marsh Flu – all the samples and vaccine trials too.’
I take a long, deep breath and blow it out slowly. ‘Wow. You’re sure?’
‘It’s just a rumour. But I’ve heard it from various people.’
I run my hand through my hair, giving the impression of taking the information in, thinking. ‘Why would he have done it, though?’
Franks takes a gulp of coffee, then wipes his mouth with his hand. ‘I don’t suppose anyone knows for sure at the moment – like I say, it’s a rumour. But some are saying he knows where Boy 23 is, that he might be the one who helped him escape. There are rumours he also stole a blood sample from the lab a while back. This might be part of his plan.’
‘Why though?’
Franks shrugs. ‘Maybe he thought he could develop and sell the vaccine himself. Do that and he could make himself millions . . .’
I shake my head. ‘But Jarl? Really? I never would have suspected him of doing something like this. I can think of others, but . . .’
Franks nods, draining the remains of his coffee. ‘It’s always the ones you least suspect,’ he says. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. See you around.’ And then he leaves the table.
Jesper
Hardly any time passes before the door’s unlocked again and the priests rush back into the room. But the boy’s gone quiet now. Silent. No moaning. No thrashing about. He just lies there.
And when the priests come in, I see that as well as their mouths and noses being covered, now their hands and hair and everything is too. They push a trolley into the room. Only this one isn’t like the provisions trolley; it’s more like a bed. It’s long and has a white sheet draped over it. They push it over to the bed beside mine where the boy lies still. And when they stop, they make the sign of the cross in front of themselves.
They speak to the boy, but his eyes stay closed. Both of them lean over him, speaking to him, sounding desperate, repeating the same word, ‘Andreas’. And I wonder whether that’s his name.
But the boy doesn’t answer and he doesn’t move.
And when the priests touch his face and neck, then try to lift him up, to sit him up in the bed, his whole body is limp.
Like the hopper in the bag. Like the fish. Cos he’s dead, isn’t he?
He died in the bed next to me. Just now, while I was thinking about my provisions.
That’s why he was moaning and whimpering last night.
That’s why he didn’t wake up properly this morning when the bell tolled.
And no one did anything to help him.
The blankets are nowhere near my face now. I’m just gawping as the priests lie the boy back down, cover him right over with his sheet and cross themselves. And when they’re done with that, they lift him from his bed and on to the trolley they wheeled into the room. I watch one of the priests adjust his face mask with his gloved hand, making sure it’s completely covering his mouth.
Around the room, the other boys have stopped making their noises and rocking and whatever else they do, cos they’re all prying like I am, aren’t they? The priests make the sign of the cross again and then wheel the trolley out of the room, taking the boy away.
As soon as the door’s locked again, the whole room goes madder than ever – rocking and moaning and crying and bouncing and growling. And I’ve missed a chance to get out.
Blake
Hersch catches me as I walk through the corridor. ‘I’m surprised to see you’re still here,’ he says.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘Heard what?’
Hersch looks furtively around, then leans in closer. ‘They thi
nk they found him.’
‘Who?’
‘Boy 23 of course.’
For a second a paralysing feeling grips me. I take a few seconds to process the information and what it means. ‘How? Where?’
Hersch shakes his head. ‘That I don’t know. Maybe it’s something to do with Jarl.’
‘Is the boy alive?’
Hersch shrugs. ‘I don’t know. All I heard was they found intelligence as to his whereabouts this afternoon and left right away. I guessed you’d be with them.’
‘Who’s “they”?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Hersch says. ‘Henwood, I think.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
And I hurry through the corridor.
Back in the outbuilding I make my way across the room to the pile of crates beside the wall and take them down one by one until I can reach the handheld screen. I drag my finger across it, and as soon as the screen wakes up I see the map and the red marker which shows he still hasn’t moved. He’s in the same room he’s been in for days, in the village of Schweilszeldorf. If he’s been in one room for that length of time, the chances are he’s dead, or ill, or he’s been captured and whoever has him has got in touch with Huber. He still hasn’t responded to the message I sent him either.
I’m starting to fear the worst.
What I know for sure is there’s no time to waste. I have to get to him before Henwood does. I put the screen under my arm and hurry back towards my room to grab what I need.
Jesper
There’s even more of a reason to get out of here after what I’ve seen. Cos I’ve thought about what happened to the boy and the jab that they gave me when I got here. It started me thinking about diseases. That’s got to be what the boy had. And I’m scared that if I stay here I’ll get the disease too.
But I have a plan, don’t I? I know the habits of the priests. I know when to expect their visits to the room, and I know exactly what they do when they get here. And I can use that knowledge and the element of surprise to get out of here, can’t I?
Boy 23 Page 7