by Gemma Malley
‘Okay,’ Evie said. ‘I’m going to stand up. Are you feeling steady? Hold on to the wall if you need to.’
Frankie did as she was told; Evie lightly stood up and bent over her. ‘I’m going to move your leg,’ she said, her voice different somehow, gentle, almost tender. ‘Okay?’
‘Okay,’ Frankie said morosely, then yelped in pain as Evie manoeuvred her into a sitting position.
‘Can you move this leg?’ she asked, patting Frankie’s right leg. ‘If so, can you move it forward?’
Frankie duly swung it round.
‘Okay, and now the other one.’ Frankie winced as Evie gently manoeuvred her left leg forward. It hurt like hell, but there was something about the way Evie was touching it, pressing it, that made her not want to cry out. There was nothing rough in her touch; nothing impatient. Instead, she was methodically moving her hands up and down, asking Frankie what hurt, where the pain was, which movements caused it.
Eventually she stopped. ‘I think you’ve sprained your ankle and possibly torn some ligaments around your knee. It’s going to hurt. But if we can support it somehow …’ She paused. ‘Are you going to be okay if I go and get the torch?’
‘Yeah. Of course,’ Frankie said gruffly, not really wanting her to go at all but wanting to admit that fact even less.
‘Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Frankie barely heard Evie running down the stairs; it was as though she was entirely weightless. She stared after her into the darkness. She felt really alone. More alone than she’d ever felt. There were no messages from people telling her how amazing she was; there was no one cheering her on, admiring her courage. There was no one at all.
Frankie bit her lip and sniffed, doing her best to push back the tears that were pricking at her eyes. She didn’t want to be in a bloody tunnel with a sprained ankle. She wanted to be in her apartment, getting ready for a night out, asking people whether to wear blue or green. And yet, even as she longed for the camaraderie of her Watchers, she knew that she didn’t want them. Not really. Because they weren’t real. Because they’d been just as happy to follow an imposter. Because she might have felt like she had a million friends, but actually, apart from Jim, she’d been pretty much entirely alone; even her boyfriend hadn’t given a shit about her.
‘Okay, it’s still working,’ Evie said, arriving back with the torch, shining it on her face and revealing a little smile. ‘And I found a few sticks at the bottom of the steps which we can use to support your knee. It’s not going to be the best bandage ever, but …’
She took off her cardigan, placed the sticks against Frankie’s knee and started to wrap. ‘I’m going to need your tee-shirt. For your ankle,’ she said as she worked.
‘That’s fine. I’ve got two on,’ Frankie said, quickly taking off her sweatshirt and slipping one over her head.
‘You look like you know what you’re doing.’
Evie shrugged. ‘Not really. I mean, we all had to learn … at the Settlement. There wasn’t a hospital like there was in the City. There was a doctor, but we all had to learn the basics.’
Frankie absorbed this. ‘What was it like?’ she asked. ‘I mean, what is it like? In the UK, I mean? Is it like here?’
Evie shook her head. ‘The City is. A bit. I mean, there are computers and electricity, although it’s rationed. And they get food from other settlements because they can’t grow enough themselves. They don’t tell people that, but … There. How does that feel?’
‘Good,’ Frankie said as Evie surveyed her knee. ‘So come on, how about the Settlement? That’s the place you lived when you left the City?’ The truth was, Frankie had barely listened when Evie was telling Glen about the UK; she’d been too absorbed worrying about tunnels, about the turn her life had taken. But now, now she really wanted to know.
Evie nodded. ‘The Settlement …’ She went misty-eyed. ‘It was amazing. It was this wonderful place, started by someone called Benjamin. He was an incredible man. Strong and brave and …’ She paused, took a breath. ‘Everyone was kind and happy. Everyone had enough to eat and they had teachers so you could read books and learn about history and …’ She met Frankie’s eye and reddened. ‘But it isn’t there anymore. Thomas destroyed it because Benjamin wouldn’t hand us over. Everyone’s hiding in caves and Benjamin is … dead.’
‘Oh,’ Frankie said. ‘Sorry about that.’ She wiggled her ankle and looked at Evie incredulously. ‘Wow. That feels much better, thank you. Bloody hell. I just … it’s hard to take in. What you’re telling me, I mean.’
Evie pulled a face. ‘Discovering that the world hadn’t been all blown up was quite hard to take in too,’ she said lightly. ‘We thought we were the only survivors of the Horrors. We thought we were the lucky ones.’
Frankie breathed out and pulled herself up. ‘Thanks, Evie,’ she said. ‘I mean really. Thanks.’
‘It’s nothing.’ Evie shrugged. ‘Do you want to hold on to me?’
‘No,’ Frankie said, forcing a smile; there were limits to how much charity she could accept from this strange girl. But as she watched Evie walking carefully in front of her, as she hobbled after her, she knew with a sudden conviction that they were truly in this together now; she and Evie probably needed each other. And if she was quite honest, Evie probably wasn’t a bad person to have on her side.
‘So if Raffy’s not your boyfriend, why were you both taken by Thomas?’
Evie turned sharply; Frankie’s initial questioning had turned into a full-fledged interview and Evie wasn’t used to sharing information like this. In the City she’d always been too scared to share, too fearful that she’d be judged, that the System would be alerted; in the City no one shared confidences – they buried them, denied them, terrified about the consequences of admitting anything, whether a feeling or a thought, in case it veered from what everyone else thought, what the Brother thought. In the Settlement the women had been friendly and had always chatted as they worked, but Evie had been too shy to join in, still too nervous that she might say the wrong thing or reveal too much.
‘We …’ She frowned, not sure how to answer the question, how to explain her history with Raffy, the complicated twine that bound them so closely together. ‘I was matched with his brother, Lucas,’ she said eventually. ‘But Raffy was in danger in the City. We were … very close. So when he had to escape from the City, I went with him.’
‘Leaving Lucas behind?’ Frankie asked curiously.
Evie bit her lip; just the thought of Lucas made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, made her eyes fill with tears. ‘We were together. When Thomas found us,’ she managed to say. ‘But Linus helped him escape. We were all meant to get away, but …’ She closed her eyes, the painful memory of Raffy rushing forwards to stop her following Lucas as he took the left turning in Linus’s cave, the steep drop that led him to freedom, that should have taken her, too … She had hated Raffy in that moment, loathed him so much she would have happily killed him if they hadn’t been held at gunpoint by Thomas. But now … Now she didn’t know what she thought about Raffy. ‘It didn’t work out like that.’
‘So now I get why you’re in such a hurry,’ Frankie said, a little smile on her lips. ‘So this Lucas. Is he hot? And how about Raffy? Is he hot, too? I like his sense of humour.’
Evie found herself smiling at the ridiculousness of their conversation. Normally she’d have barked back a sarcastic comment; lives were at stake and Frankie’s questions were stupid, infantile. But they were also comforting, friendly. And Evie wanted a friend. She needed one.
‘Lucas is … beautiful,’ she said after a long pause. ‘He’s strong and he’s had to hide who he is for so long …’ She glanced over at Frankie, whose eyebrow was raised quizzically. ‘He’s hot.’ Evie giggled.
‘And Raffy?’
Evie thought for a moment, remembering Raffy the boy she used to meet secretively at night; Raffy the farmer who had proudly worked so hard at the Settlement; Raffy who ha
d risked everything to help her escape. It was weird having someone ask about him. Weird having Frankie ask about him. Like she … liked him, or something.
She pulled a face, trying to remind herself that Frankie wasn’t being rude, or patronising. In this world, what people looked like mattered a lot. Half the people she’d watched in the apartment spent most of their time in front of mirrors, or describing other people’s appearance in great detail. ‘I guess he’s hot too,’ she said, thinking of his dark, soulful eyes, which always seemed to show Evie the thoughts he hid from everyone else; sometimes she warned him to keep them closed in company because it made him too much of an open book. She realised Frankie was waiting for her to say something and bit her lip as she tried to work out how to describe Raffy. ‘He’s darker,’ she said eventually, trying to mimic the language she’d heard on screen, the relaxed way people talked about each other. ‘Tall. Kind of brooding.’
‘Mmmm,’ Frankie said as she hobbled down the last few steps. ‘Interesting. Okay, Evie, holder of the torch. Where to now?’
26
Hovering in the shadows, Glen watched the station concourse. There were three or four police people visible, but he had already spotted a further two undercover Infotec guards, their eyes narrowed, focused, as they checked faces, watched the platforms.
Glen looked at his watch. Ten minutes until the train left. Had Jim been detained? Had they linked him and Frankie?
His eyes darted around the concourse, taking in every piece of information available, clocking what people were wearing, who was being watched on the myriad screens, which trains were leaving from which platforms at what times. He had spent years underground and he had learnt how to disappear, how to blend in to the landscape so that no one noticed him, no one remembered him. But he had also learnt that information was power, that you always had to be two or three steps ahead, that looking carefully at any situation would always eventually provide the route out of it.
He rubbed his eyes. It was morning and he hadn’t slept. He was cold, colder than he should be, colder than the weather demanded. He knew why: he was hungry. But there was no time to eat, and he couldn’t risk a problem with his chip if he tried to buy something. Maybe Jim would bring some food. He hadn’t thought to ask.
He looked around furtively, eyeing up each person on the concourse as possible Infotec Inforcers waiting for the right moment to move towards him. He wasn’t on any screens, but he knew they were still looking for him. Knew they would never stop looking.
He took a deep breath; tried to calm himself down. But he didn’t feel calm. What if the cameras had seen him? What if they had picked him up on the outskirts of Paris with Frankie and Evie? They’d been so careful, changing chips so many times, changing direction, using every trick Glen knew in order to confuse the cameras, in order to throw Infotec off the scent. But what if Infotec had found them anyway? What if they were, right now, opening the entrance to the tunnel, dragging Frankie and Evie out?
He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped in the air, his heart racing now, ready to run, ready to charge through the station. But the hand held him down, a voice muttered in his ear. ‘It’s me. Come on, this way.’
Jim linked his arm through Glen’s and led him around the concourse, away from the platforms. His face was disfigured, nothing like the images Glen had seen of him. It was impressive; he had disguised himself well. ‘Here’s your stuff,’ he said, thrusting a bag into Glen’s hands. ‘I’ll wait here.’
Glen looked at him uncertainly. ‘Wait? You go now. I can’t thank you enough, but you should leave.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Jim said then, his voice low but firm. ‘It’s not safe for me here anyway. Quick. The train leaves soon.’
Glen opened his mouth to protest, then realised there was no time and turned instead, keeping his head low as he ducked into the men’s, so as not to have the facial recognition cameras spot him. He went into a cubicle, clocked where the cameras were, angled himself away from them and got to work. The silicon slipped on easily and the wig was unobtrusive, thinning on top, realistic. He put on the shirt, flushed, and came out, allowing himself a quick glance in the mirror as he washed his hands. He looked like someone else.
He put his hands in his pockets and wandered out onto the concourse, more confident now, but his eyes still flickering, still noticing everything. He frowned as he looked around. There was no sign of Jim. No sign at all.
He turned, scanned the platform announcements. Platform 11 for Stockholm. It left in four minutes.
He walked towards Platform 11, up the escalator, towards the gate. But as he walked he felt his head begin to throb. Jim must have been apprehended. He was in danger. And all because Glen had asked for his help. Yet again, because of him, people were in danger, people’s lives were being ruined.
No, not because of him, he told himself firmly, ignoring the sweat on his palms, the anger welling up inside him. Because of Infotec. Because of Thomas.
He got to Platform 11, waved his wrist, and felt mild elation as he got through the checkpoint. He upped his pace as he got close to the train, then stopped as he heard footsteps behind him. Footsteps that were getting quicker. Glen braced himself. He would fight. He would run. He would find another route, but he would get to Sweden. He wouldn’t let them win, not now, not with so much at stake.
He turned, ready to throw himself at his pursuer, ready to hurl them aside and race away. Instead, he stopped dead.
‘I forgot to buy socks,’ Jim said, looking at him strangely. ‘You know it’s minus twenty degrees in Sweden right now? So, shall we get on the train?’
Milo’s door opened and Thomas walked in, unannounced, as was usual. But for once Milo struggled to shoot him his trademark smile. Instead, he turned, a little wearily. ‘Thomas. What can I do for you?’
Thomas was jumpy; Milo could tell from the way his eyes wouldn’t settle, instead wandering around the room; the way he paced around the room instead of standing still. ‘Found the body yet?’
Milo shook his head. He’d wanted to keep that particular piece of information to himself, but when all attempts at finding Evie’s body had failed, he’d been forced to tell his boss. ‘I just don’t get it,’ he said. ‘I can only think someone saw her fall and, for whatever reason, took the body.’
‘Took a dead body? From outside the Infotec building? Who would be so stupid?’ Thomas rounded on him, his eyes flashing angrily. ‘Who would get past our security? Who would be able to move her without being caught on camera? Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?’
Milo did his best to keep his expression neutral. ‘Then perhaps she disappeared into a puff of smoke,’ he said.
Thomas’s eyes narrowed. ‘So you’re reverting to sarcasm?’
Milo sighed. ‘Look, I’m on it,’ he said, diplomatically. ‘There must be some explanation and I will find it.’
‘Good,’ Thomas barked. ‘And I need some drones to be made available for next week. To travel to the UK. I want anthrax dropped to cover every inch of the land. Do it carefully; none can drift back across the channel.’
Milo frowned. ‘Anthrax?’
Thomas nodded dismissively. ‘It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while – the whole thing is a loose end, a vexation. We’ve kept everyone away with tales of radioactivity, but eventually someone is going to get over there and we can’t afford for our dirty little secret to get out. You know how quickly Anthrax kills people? How quickly it covers a large area? It’s ingenious, really. Problem solved within twenty-four hours or so. The bodies will decompose eventually and in the meantime, anyone who decides to go and see for themselves will be dead before they can report anything back home.’ He smiled. ‘I know. I’m brilliant. But we wait a week. If the System hasn’t been delivered, I’m going to make Linus and Raffy watch before they are flown over themselves and dropped by parachute. I want them to live long enough to know what’s about to happen to them.’
Milo nodded
uneasily. Until recently Thomas had kept what Milo called his ‘dirty laundry’ a secret. The first time he’d confided in Milo was when he’d brought those people over from the UK. Now he talked about killing people pretty much every day and sometimes Milo just wanted to stick his fingers in his ears because this wasn’t what he bought into when he got this job. He wanted women, power, money. Not violence, torture and murder. ‘Anthrax. Sure.’
‘Good,’ Thomas said, evidently pleased with himself. ‘And find another girlfriend. Someone you can control. The world misses Frankie. We need to find someone new, and fast.’
Milo pulled a face. ‘You know she’s not actually dead?’ he said tentatively. ‘I mean, she’s still out there, somewhere.’
‘She’s as good as dead. Forget about her. You need to find someone else, and soon. Understood?’
‘Loud and clear,’ Milo said, clearing his throat as Thomas headed for the door. ‘I’ll get on it right away.’
He waited until Thomas was several feet away before turning back to his screen and typing in his code. He had to find Frankie. He had to find her now.
The Swedish outpost of Infotec was positioned in the north of the country, in an area twenty-five miles north-east of the Abisko National Park, far enough away to ensure that no one ever visited, that no one in fact really knew of its existence except for the hundred or so people, including five security guards, who worked there. All the employees had been recruited from Germany or Paris and were shipped up for a year at a time, a rite of passage for ambitious Infotec employees who were sworn to secrecy before leaving. No one knew exactly where they went and, on their return, no one ever breathed a word, but still stories abounded amongst younger employees of a training ground, a central hub, a place where truths were revealed, where the brilliant were able to excel. No one ever admitted on their return, particularly to themselves, that in actual fact they had spent a year being bored out of their minds in the middle of nowhere, monitoring the Infotec mainframe, ensuring that it was backed up every sixty seconds, and nothing more. It was less a rite of passage, they generally realised after a week or so of being there, and more like a penance or test; survive Sweden and your career would be on track. Try to leave, as some poor fools had done, and you’d never be seen or heard of again.