A second later, Father Frei walks towards us with an expression on his face like he’s caught us doing something we shouldn’t.
‘Jesper. Carina. What are you two doing here?’
Carina
It’s night-time and I’m wide awake, so, to save me from memories I don’t wish to revisit, I get up. I creep across to my wardrobe and open the drawer that contains my underclothes. I rummage beneath the bras and vests and pants, until my hand grasps the gun I found at the tip.
My heart races as my skin comes into contact with it. I look around the dormitory, checking no one’s watching. Everyone’s sound asleep though. Nervously I lift the gun from my drawer and I hold it. I’ve held guns before, of course. I’ve used guns. But I’ve never had one of my own. The metal feels cold and heavy. It feels solid. Deadly.
My head fills with images of what this gun could do, the devastation it might cause. And the images it creates are almost exactly the same as the memories I was trying to escape.
I turn the gun round in my hands, open up the chamber to see that it’s empty. No bullets.
I think of Father Frei, of what this gun could do to him if it was loaded. What I could do to him, if I chose to.
I know where his room is. I could take the gun, hide it in my nightclothes and creep through the dark corridors. Then when I found him, I could shoot him as he slept. I could be back in bed, asleep, before they found the body.
I could.
If I was as bad as him.
I wipe the handle of the gun clean with an old vest and then carefully place it back in the drawer.
Blake
Henwood’s scroll beeps. He takes it from his jacket. His right eyebrow arches as he reads the message.
Across the street, a wagon driven by a priest rolls past us. It’s laden with ragged children leaving the orphanage, going out to work. It passes the crowd which has gathered outside the gates.
Henwood puts his scroll back into his jacket pocket. ‘That was from Huber. There’s a change of plan. He’s worried about the newspaper article and the crowd. He says we need to act quickly, but we can’t risk going into the orphanage ourselves.’
‘Right,’ I say.
‘Instead, we’ll get Markus to do the dirty work for us.’
‘The boy from the orphanage?’
Henwood nods. ‘He wants you to pay Markus and give him a gun,’ he says. He reaches into his jacket pocket and gives me a handful of banknotes and the weapon.
‘Of course.’
‘Make sure he knows that a bullet through the heart is the only way to kill him. That or smashing his brain in.’
I nod. ‘Why me, though?’
Henwood straightens in his seat. He looks out of the windscreen. ‘Huber’s coming to Manburg as we speak. There’s a function at the town hall this evening, which Huber and I will attend. The priest who took Boy 23 in will be there.’
‘Right,’ I say, putting the gun and the money inside my jacket pocket.
Carina
It’s my third straight day at the landfill.
Today, just after the break for lunch, there was a loud explosion. We all jumped out of our skins and then stopped work and looked up. At first we couldn’t see anything at all. But then, coming from site 1, we saw smoke rising. We all knew what had happened. Everything but the earth-moving machines went quiet.
It’s rare, but sometimes, if you’re unlucky, moving some rubbish uncovers a pocket of trapped gas. It mixes with the air and then, BOOM, it explodes. Usually it’s the earth-moving machines that disturb the gas, because they’re the ones that shift most of the rubbish around before we sort through it. But not always. Sometimes it’s a person. And sometimes they die.
For the rest of the day I worked carefully, nervously lifting and turning and digging things.
But now I’m on my way home. The horses’ hoofs clip and clop on the hard road as we pass the ruined buildings and St Jerome’s comes into view. I’m starting to think about getting out of these clothes, about soap and water.
But those thoughts are driven from my mind for a second. Because for the second day in a row I spot a car – the same black car, sitting in the same side street.
Jesper
I flick through the pages of Father Frei’s Bible as I lie on my bed, trying to figure out what the words mean. And I think I must be starting to understand German a little, because I can work out some of it. There are whole sentences I can just about guess.
Footsteps approach my door as I stare at the words underneath a picture of Jesus healing a blind man. Seconds later, Father Liebling limps in carrying a pile of clothes, rather than the tray of provisions I was expecting.
‘Father Frei has asked me to bring you these,’ he says.
They’re not like any clothes I’ve ever worn before – there’s a black suit and a white shirt that looks stiff and uncomfortable.
‘What are these for?’
‘You’re Father Frei’s guest of honour this evening. He’s taking you to meet some of his important friends. He wants you to look smart. Get changed and I’ll be back in a few minutes to pick you up.’
Father Liebling seems nervous as he leads me from my room and along the corridors. Just before we get to the stairs, he stops and turns to me. ‘Jesper, you must be careful tonight,’ he whispers, leaning in so close that I can smell his breath.
I gawp at him, expecting him to say something more. But he doesn’t. He limps on along the corridor and I follow him, down the stairs, into the big wood-panelled entrance of the building, where Father Frei waits.
Blake
I sit in the car while Henwood and Huber attend to their ‘business’. I hide the gun Henwood gave me beneath the passenger side seat.
As afternoon turns to evening, Markus appears out of the shadows and comes to the car window. I hand him half the money and the message to kill Jesper. But I don’t tell him how. And I certainly don’t give him the gun. He slinks back into the shadows, leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling.
Is this a risk too far?
I sit and stew on what could happen.
Carina
I’m alone in the dormitory – a moment of peace before church. I open the drawer where I keep the gun and take it out.
I stare at it and I think how pointless it is me having it. I know I’ll never use it. I might have the opportunity and the motive to use it a million times, but I don’t have what it takes to pull the trigger and end somebody’s life. Not any more.
It was different before. There was a clear choice between losing my life and keeping it. I chose to keep it. I didn’t hesitate for a second to do what I had to.
No regrets.
So why have I kept hold of this?
I don’t have an answer.
I could have sold it. It would fetch a good price. Maybe that’s what I should do.
Maybe.
A sudden noise from the other end of the dormitory startles me.
I hurriedly fumble the gun back into the drawer and leave the dorm.
‘Jesus, what’s that smell?’ Markus says as he sits at my bench in the food hall. ‘Did something die?’
I sigh. ‘Go away, please.’
But he doesn’t. He wrinkles his nose. ‘They shouldn’t let you in here, you know. You’re putting everyone off their food.’
I’m not going to give him the reaction he’s after, so I look down at my plate instead of at him.
‘Have you seen Jesper Hausmann recently?’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘You’re his only friend, aren’t you?’
I shrug. ‘Hardly. I barely even know him . . . Why?’
‘Nothing. I just need to see him, that’s all. I figured you might know where he’s kept.’
I shake my head. ‘Ever since you pushed him down –’
‘He slipped.’
‘Ever since then, he’s been kept away from everyone.’
Markus smiles. ‘If you ask me, we’re all better off with him locke
d away. At least this way he can’t infect anyone else.’
I’m tempted to argue with him. But what’s the point? You can’t ever win an argument with someone like Markus.
So I change tack. ‘If you’re happy he’s locked away, why are you so keen to see him?’
Markus shrugs. He picks an overcooked potato from my plate and shoves it in his mouth. ‘No reason,’ he says with his mouth full. ‘I just want to say hello.’
I look at him, raising an eyebrow. I don’t trust him.
‘If you must know, I have a new friend who’s very interested in him. From Huber. If you can let me know where Jesper is – which room he’s in – there’ll be a little reward for you,’ he says, and he puts his hand in his pocket, brings it back out with a banknote in it.
‘Where’d you get that?’
He shrugs. ‘None of your business.’
He reaches over and takes another potato from my plate and shoves it in his mouth. ‘You know, Carina, maybe you could use the money to get yourself some soap,’ he says, waving his hand in front of his nose.
‘If I was going to take advice on body odour, it wouldn’t be from you,’ I say.
Markus raises an eyebrow. ‘Funny,’ he says. He gets up from the bench. ‘Remember – help me find Jesper and I’ll pay you.’
Jesper
I can’t help gawping at the man driving us. Cos the clothes he wears are the same as those the men driving the car that hit me had. It’s not the same man, I’m sure, cos his face is different and he doesn’t wear a mask. But as I gawp at him I can’t help remembering, and that makes my heart thump.
Father Frei talks as the car glides down the roads. He sounds excited, asking me what I know about cars. Only I don’t know anything about cars, do I? All I know is I woke up in the back of one before I was left in the forest. And another car ran me over. A car like this one. That’s all I know.
So as Father Frei talks, I gawp out of the window at the town, lit by dim yellow gaslights on poles on the pavement. In the distance a bell tolls and people rush through the streets, hurrying into buildings.
‘The curfew,’ Father Frei says, squizzing over at me. ‘But not for us this evening.’
Before long the car stops outside a tall building which has the word ‘Rathaus’ written on it. Big, stone steps lead to an enormous front door.
‘We’re here,’ Father Frei says, opening the car door. ‘This is the building from which New Dawn runs the land for two hundred kilometres around.’
Carina
As soon as my head hits the pillow the memories come to me.
Me in bed at home. Seven years old. Hearing a voice and waking up.
‘Carina, come quick!’
It’s Greta’s voice coming from another room – panicked and loud and desperate.
My heart races. The seven-year-old me opens her eyes. It’s the middle of the night. The room’s pitch black but I can make out that Greta’s bed is still made, unslept in. I look over at the bedroom doorway. A strip of light leaks into my room from the crack between the floor and the bottom of the door.
The hairs on the back of my neck and on my head and my arms prickle. I have a feeling I know what’s going on. And I don’t want it to be happening.
I pull on my robe and walk slowly out of the bedroom, following the dim light and Greta’s voice to Mum and Dad’s room, saying a prayer in my head.
My heart thuds against my chest as I get to the doorway. I know what I’m about to see in there. I can hear Mum’s voice, cracked and tiny-sounding; I can hear her moan and Greta whispering to her, reassuring her.
I peek my head round the door. Mum’s in bed, grey-faced and sweating, eyes closed, moving her head jerkily from side to side, mumbling and making all sorts of noises. On her knees beside the bed, Greta mops Mum’s brow with a cloth. She turns as I creep into the room.
‘What is it?’ I ask, my voice sounding small and scared.
Greta gets up from the side of the bed, walks over to me and then puts her hand on my shoulder, guiding me out of the room and into the hallway.
‘Mum’s really poorly,’ she says.
I say nothing, but I can’t stop myself from gulping.
‘She asked to see you, Carina.’
I nod, even though I have butterflies in my stomach. We walk back into the candlelit bedroom without another word. Greta gestures for me to kneel down beside the bed.
Terrified, I reach my hand out and place it on Mum’s forehead.
‘Mum?’ I say.
‘Is that you, Carina?’ Her eyes stay closed.
‘Yes. How are you?’
‘I’m fine, dear,’ she says.
And I want to believe her.
Jesper
We’re met at the top of the steps by a man wearing the same black uniform I’ve seen before. On his arm is a badge that says ‘New Dawn’.
I follow Father Frei in through the big wooden doors at the front of the building. And the room we walk into is the tallest and longest room I’ve ever seen. I squizz all around it, gawping at pictures hanging on the walls. The high ceiling is painted gold, carved with patterns and pictures and faces and shapes. Huge, fancy electric lights hang from the tall ceiling, making the room bright and warm.
The room’s packed with people, most of them men wearing the black uniform with the New Dawn badge on it. Except their uniforms have gold braid on their sleeves, like maybe they’re the ones who’re really in charge. There are women here too, though none of them wear the uniform. They wear dresses and necklaces and earrings and rings on their fingers.
And the noise they all make – talking and laughing in German – makes me feel nervous and dizzy and sick, like the room’s spinning around me.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump.
‘Jesper, are you OK?’ Father Frei says, handing me a drink.
I nod, even though I don’t feel OK. I finish the drink in two gulps.
‘In that case, I’ll introduce you to some of my friends. They’ve heard a lot about you. They’re eager to discover more.’
He guides me through the crowd. I shudder every time I brush past someone. And when I squizz around, trying to take everything in, what I find is they’re all prying at me. Every single one of them. And I don’t like it. Only there’s nothing I can do to stop them gawping, is there?
We stop in front of a man with a big moustache and more gold braid on his New Dawn uniform than anyone else in the room. He towers over us both, squizzing down first at Father Frei and then at me.
‘Commander Brune,’ Father Frei says, ‘this is Jesper Hausmann.’
And the man looks down at me with his mean face before speaking in German to Father Frei in a deep, deep voice. The two of them speak so quickly I don’t understand. And then all of a sudden Commander Brune turns to me and speaks and my heart thuds.
‘So you’re the miracle child?’ he says.
I’m too terrified to say a word. I nod.
‘You’re very welcome here, Jesper. Eat and drink as much as you like. Later I would like to find out more about you.’
Blake
When the curfew bell tolls eerily through the empty streets and the lights go off in all the buildings, I make a decision. Now’s the time to act. This is my chance to break Jesper out of there. I leave the car and make for the orphanage building, sticking to the deepest shadows. The only other soul about is a fox, who rattles through some bins and then, when he spots me, stops and stares before disappearing into a hedge.
At the front door of the orphanage I ring the bell and wait.
There are no lights on inside the building, no sign of life. And for a long time nobody comes to the door. I begin to wonder whether I’m going to have to break in, to search for Jesper myself. But finally I see movement. A shadowy figure hobbling down a flight of wooden stairs and then across the large entrance hall to the door.
The door unlocks with a clunk. The hobbling figure – a priest – steps into the moonlight.<
br />
And with a shock, I realise his is a face I know.
‘Gerd?’ I say. ‘Gerd Liebling?’
For a second there’s incomprehension on his face and he says nothing. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. ‘Is that really you, Blake?’ he says eventually.
‘It is. Listen, Gerd, I don’t have much time. I need your help.’
He nods.
‘You’ve got a child here. Jesper Hausmann. I need to see him now.’
Liebling’s eyes narrow. ‘What do you want with Jesper?’
‘He’s in very serious danger. He’s on the run from the Huber Corporation.’
Liebling’s eyes widen. He nods.
‘They were planning to end his life,’ I say. ‘I had to set him free. I need to get him to safety, to the Spirit of Resistance.’
Liebling clears his throat. ‘OK. I see. Why is he important to them?’
I take a deep breath. ‘It’s a long story, but there’s a new disease,’ I say. ‘A new strain of Marsh Flu.’
Liebling nods. ‘I’d heard rumours. I didn’t know whether to believe them. So is Jesper a carrier?’
I shake my head. ‘But Huber don’t want anything out in the real world that could set a trail back to them. As they see it, Jesper must die. He isn’t like everyone else. He’ll draw attention.’
‘I noticed. Father Frei thinks he’s some kind of miracle.’
‘So, can I see him?’ I ask.
Liebling shakes his head. ‘Jesper isn’t here at the moment.’
‘What? Are you sure?’
‘Certain,’ he says. ‘Father Frei has taken him to meet some of his friends in New Dawn.’
‘Then your help is even more important.’
Liebling nods. ‘You’d better come inside.’
Carina
Greta left a few minutes ago to find Dad. Now I’m alone with Mum and I’m scared. I watch her sleep, watch her breathe. Each gap between her breaths makes me nervous, in case the next breath doesn’t come.
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