I move my eyes back to Luke. He’s looking at me, but I can tell that his mind is far away. I hope he’s with his dad too. And I hope his dad somehow knows that we’re safe and standing here, so he can sleep.
I need to sleep. I have to keep my eyes wide and let the cold air keep them open. Every time I blink, I’m scared they’ll ignore me and force themselves closed.
‘There’s a moon,’ I whisper.
‘Where?’ Luke asks.
‘Where do you think?’ I almost laugh, but keep my face and my eyes steady.
‘I wish I could see it.’ Luke’s words are tiny snatches in the freezing air.
‘I think it’s full.’ It’s very white against the deep black sky. It’s a miracle, really, how it hangs in that space. And every day it disappears and every night it’s back again. It doesn’t judge us, it’s just there. It makes me feel safe as it watches us now. Because it means that we’re part of something much bigger, something that the Trads have no way to control.
I feel for my charm bracelet and find the crescent moon clasped on it. The first one Sara chose for me. She said it looked like a smile. I feel the top of it and the curve of it is smooth against my fingers and a wave of missing her crashes into me so violently that I nearly fall. I try to hear her voice, to feel her close, but I can’t. I try to see her face, but my mind won’t hold her. She’s not here and I can’t find her.
I don’t mean to cry, but I can’t help it. The missing her pushes into me, bruising my throat. Luke looks terrified as my tears fall. He shakes his head and I wipe them away as I keep looking at him. They never said we couldn’t cry.
And for the first time ever I’m glad Sara is a Trad. I wouldn’t want her to be here, where every part of me hurts – my stomach, my mind, my heart. I want her to be free. Even if it means being in a society with values so screwed and twisted that people can’t see the truth hidden within it. I want Sara far away from here. From an evil that seems to be growing up from the ground. And from which I’m scared we can’t escape.
‘I love you, Ruby,’ Luke whispers. He moves his hands and although I can’t look clearly, I know what he’s signing. I would die for you. I think he wants to stop my tears, but they’re coming from somewhere too deep, too powerful. ‘Don’t cry,’ he says, his mouth hardly moving. He reaches out for me instinctively.
‘No touching,’ the guard shouts.
It jolts me back to here, to the freezing-cold night. To my bones that are so tired I don’t think they’ll ever move again. To Luke, my Luke, in front of me.
Luke and Ruby.
Ruby and Luke.
I wipe my eyes and brush the backs of my hands against my cheeks.
Dad will come. He knows to save us. I can feel him moving closer over the mountain. Creeping up the back of it with an army of Core voters. They’ll storm in and surprise the guards.
And Darren. Darren tried to save me. I’ll go in her place. You can punish me. He would have done that. He would have stood in front of a bullet for me.
The night presses so heavy on my shoulders that I think I’ll collapse. I can feel the sky and every one of those stars sitting on my back, pushing me lower to the ground.
‘No,’ Luke says. ‘Stay awake, Ruby. Look at me.’
I blink and he’s here.
Luke.
My Luke.
He’s here.
The sky is changing. I watch the moon as it falls slowly. The barbed wire of the fence tries to pierce it, but I know it can’t reach it. Our moon won’t bleed.
I’m so cold that I’ll never be warm again. But the sun is coming. It’s on our side. It wants to heal us.
I can get through this.
There’s a sound. A door opening. People are coming out. Not the guards, but many people, Core supporters, like us. Core supporters who won’t be beaten.
Close footsteps. A warm breath in my ear.
‘Dismissed,’ the guard says.
From this world?
I wait for the gunshot. I wait for them to take me from my life, but the guard walks away.
‘We did it,’ Luke says, but neither of us move. I’m sewn to the earth and feel nothing.
People are walking towards us ready for the roll call. Now, I turn to look. Rusty bones inside my body. I watch the door at the flood of orderly people. Conor is there and he doesn’t understand why Luke and I are waiting here like this.
I watch the door. There are people and people, until I see Darren walk out. I barely recognise him. He seems broken.
Look up. We’re here.
And Mum is behind him, with Lilli by her side and they’re holding each other up.
I’m alive. We survived.
Darren sees us and starts to run towards me. There are soldiers with guns, but he doesn’t care.
‘Ruby!’ he shouts and he gets to me and gathers me up. I’ve never let him hug me, not properly. And here, now, I feel the strength of the world in his arms.
‘Thank God,’ he says. ‘Thank God.’
Mum is here. She touches my face and she’s crying.
‘We’re alive,’ I whisper.
I can barely eat. Mum holds the bread to feed me and I’m her child again. Darren rubs my arms and back to make my blood find its warmth and Lilli doesn’t take her eyes from me. I have too little energy to think about what’s in her mind, to know if she can find a reason from the lessons they’ve been teaching her.
When our breakfast is finished, I think I’ll be told to go to the bunk room to sleep, but I’m made to walk in line with the other women to the furthest building again. Inside, the children are taken to the other room and I don’t try to fight it as Lilli is taken with them.
We find our same group. I hardly know how I hold the thread. Almost every stitch I do is unpicked by someone else. But Luke will be doing worse than this. How will he manage a day of hard labour? His dad and Darren will hold him up, as my mum and Lilli do me.
My mind takes the day and squeezes and stretches it and wrings it dry, until we walk back to the bunk room, Mum half carrying me. I almost crawl across the room to the bed. Darren folds his jumper under my head and gently puts his coat over me, before he rests his hand on my shoulder. I see Lilli, strange in her new pink pyjamas, before I close my eyes and finally sleep.
I wake in the morning and it’s enough to do just that – to wake.
When the guard turns on the light I look first to Luke and he’s there, on the floor with his dad, his coat as his pillow. His dad shakes him, but Luke turns away and has to be shaken again.
Darren crawls out from under the bed. I don’t think he’s slept at all as he pulls himself up to sit next to me on the mattress.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asks, as Mum and Lilli go to join the queue for the toilet.
‘I’m tired,’ I say.
He tucks my hair behind my ear and I leave it there. ‘We’ll look after you.’
‘Did Mr and Mrs Jesenska come back?’ I ask.
Darren doesn’t look away from me as he shakes his head. ‘No. There’s no sign of them.’
‘I’m worried the Trads will experiment on them.’
Darren closes his eyes for a few seconds, as if that could somehow take this horror away.
‘I think you could be right,’ he says. He glances around us before he talks again. ‘I don’t think we can trust anyone in here, Ruby.’
‘I can trust Luke,’ I say defensively.
‘Of course you can. I mean anyone we didn’t know before. Your mum and I were talking about it. We think there’s a mole in here.’
‘A mole?’
‘Yes. You know, a spy.’
‘In here?’ I look around. I suppose that any number of theses strangers could be pretending to be a Core.
‘I had my suspicions before, but since you and Luke were caught I’m convinced. Because they knew about you. The guards never could’ve seen you go in the toilet together, not with everyone around like they were. Someone told them.’
‘Yes.’
‘How can we stop them?’
Darren leans his head into his palms. ‘I don’t know, Ruby. Maybe it’s best for her to think that she’s a Trad. Just while we’re in here.’
‘You can’t be serious?’
‘She’ll be safer. That’s all I care about.’
‘You care about more than that,’ I say, shaking his arm. ‘You care about truth and freedom and what’s right. Remember?’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘But I want to get you out of here and if pretending to be a Trad is the quickest way…’
‘I don’t want to be free if they take away my way of thinking. That’s not freedom. That’s just being in a prison of another kind.’
Darren looks up at me. ‘You’re far more wise, Rubes, than I ever gave you credit.’
I want to tell him that he’s far nicer than I ever realised. That I can see now why our mum chose him and that I’m glad she did. But I can’t find which words to put first and the moment drifts out of my reach and is gone.
‘I’ve been watching the coaches that come into the camp,’ Darren whispers. ‘They’re not closely guarded when they let the new prisoners off. I think there could be a way I can get on to them.’
‘You can’t just sneak on to a coach.’
‘I’d have to time it right.’
‘It’s way too dangerous.’
‘It might be our only option.’
‘It won’t be,’ I say. ‘I’ll think of something else.’
‘We’re going to have to do something soon,’ he says, as he picks up my trainer from the floor and starts to loosen the laces. ‘Here. You need to get these on.’
‘I can do it,’ I tell him, but he doesn’t let me and I’m glad. My mind might still be ready to fight, but my body is so exhausted that I feel it giving up on me.
When Mum and Lilli get back she ushers me into the line before I have a chance to go to Luke. When I glance back, Zamal is holding his hand, but Luke looks beaten. I want to run to him and kiss him and tell him to keep strong, but it’s too late and I’m walking down the stairs next to Lilli.
I notice the fence as soon as I step outside. It’s almost complete, but we still don’t know why it’s there. A wound that cuts the camp in half. There are two empty coaches, so maybe it’s for the new arrivals?
I look carefully at the coaches as we stand waiting in the freezing cold of roll call. There’s only one guard near them. Maybe Darren is right? Maybe they’re somehow our way out of here. I watch as their engines are started, how the wheels turn until they’re facing the distant gate, as they start to gather speed before they leave the camp. I look over at Darren and he’s watching them too.
After roll call it’s breakfast. Two slices of bread with a glass of water. I want to make it last. I want to enjoy every mouthful, but they rush us through as though we’re machines.
At the door I’m pulled aside.
‘Number 276?’ the guard asks me.
I nod to the number on my arm. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ But I regret it as soon as I say it and Mum tenses beside me.
‘The general wants you,’ the guard says, staring at me as though I’m dirt.
‘It’s fine,’ I tell my mum, because if he wants to see me again it means I haven’t messed everything up. ‘I’ll be back later.’ She steps forward to hug me, but I’m yanked away and led the familiar route to the general’s office.
I look outside the window of the corridor as I always do, but Conor’s blackthorn bush has gone. There’s only a silent hole watching back. And I know we could never really have used it to escape, but suddenly I feel despair choke me. I have to shake it away, push it as far as it can go as I get the cleaning things and knock on the general’s door.
He seems pleased to see me and I wonder if there’s a strange part of him that thinks I really might be his daughter. If he did the maths he’d realise it’s impossible. I was five when she died, so there’s no way I’m her reincarnation.
‘What would you like me to clean?’ I ask.
‘I thought the floor could do with a good sweep,’ he says.
‘I don’t have a brush.’ The bread I’ve just eaten has helped settle the painful hunger, but my bones are so tired they feel like they’re made of lead.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve thought of that.’ He’s too pleased with himself as he comes out from behind his desk to get a broom that’s leaning against the wall.
‘Thank you,’ I say, as he passes it to me and I start to sweep. But it’s awkward between us and I know I have to change that. ‘Have you been well?’
‘Yes,’ he sounds surprised. ‘Thank you. Yes, I have.’
‘Good.’ Is that what Zoe would have said? Did she even like him? ‘It’s very beautiful up here. The loch. The mountain.’
‘It is. Indeed,’ the general says. ‘We’re very lucky to be in such an extraordinary part of the world.’
Lucky? I press the broom hard into the floor to stop myself from screaming.
‘Is there a dustpan and brush?’ I ask.
‘Yes. In the corner.’
I get it and concentrate on sweeping up every bit. As I walk to the bin I see that it’s filled with screwed-up bits of paper. They must have things on them, even though they’re discarded. They could have any kind of information about the camp. I kneel down next to the bin and glance back, but he’s watching me.
‘I love being outdoors,’ I say, as I sprinkle the dirt from the dustpan on top of the waste paper, before I stand up again. ‘My dad used to teach me the names of all the plants.’
‘Is he here with you?’
‘No.’ I push the broom up against the base of the wall. ‘He died,’ I lie. I don’t know why I say it. Maybe because I’m terrified that they’ll track him down and bring him here. Maybe because the general might feel closer to me if I’ve lost someone I love too.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he says.
‘It was a while ago,’ I say.
‘It doesn’t make it easier.’
‘No. It doesn’t.’ I wonder how he can sit here and talk like this when people have been murdered in this camp. Did he order for people to be killed?
I sweep up more and this time I keep my back to the general when I throw the dust into the bin. I reach in before I have time to think and I’ve one of the screwed-up pieces of paper in my hand. Fear is clearly in my blood because I know that if he catches me now I’ll have no way out of this, but he doesn’t say a word so I slip it into the pocket of my hoodie.
‘Would you like one of these?’ I turn to see he’s holding up a plate with biscuits placed on it like a fan. I’m going to have to walk over to him, knowing that I’ve stolen something of his, knowing that if he opens his eyes properly he’ll see. I leave the broom leaning against the wall and step over the rest of my pile of dust.
‘Can I take some for my family?’ I ask.
‘No. I’ve offered them to you.’
‘But they’re hungry.’
‘Do you know how difficult it is to feed you all?’ His jaw ticks with vague annoyance. ‘I suppose we could always feed half of you more food and leave the other half with nothing. Is that what you want?’
‘No.’ There’s so much more I want to say, but I’m too vulnerable here. Too close to a stranger I can’t predict.
‘So,’ he says. ‘You would come to the same conclusion as we do.’ He holds the biscuits towards me again.
‘Thank you.’
‘They were my mother’s favourites,’ the general says.
I can smell the lemon in the biscuit before I can taste it. I keep each bite held in my mouth, the taste dissolving into my whole body.
‘We’re worried about some friends of ours who’ve disappeared.’
‘Who might they be?’ He tips his head to the side just slightly, as if he’s interested.
‘Violette
Jesenska and her husband. They’re older and we don’t know why they’ve gone.’ I press my arm against my hoodie pocket and hold it there.
‘Unfortunately, elderly people are often too set in their ways to change their thinking and certainly useless for work.’
Useless? I think of the spark of light the Jesenskas bring us.
‘Where are they? Are they safe?’
The general’s laugh is sudden. ‘Their minds are probably safer than they’ve been in years, now that they’re in our hands.’
‘Are they alive?’
‘Yes.’ The general smiles. ‘And they’re helping us to find a quicker, pain-free way to make people see the error of their ways. If it works then we wouldn’t need you to be here.’
‘You’d let us go?’
‘Core supporters would potentially only need to undergo a small procedure and then we’d have everyone thinking in the same way. There’d be no conflict. Can you imagine that?’
‘What procedure?’ I try to make my stomach steel. I have to be impassive to anything he tells me.
‘No need to worry yourself with the details. All we need to focus on is the fact that it works and we’ll be building a world that would have been good enough for Zoe.’
The details? What are they doing to the Jesenskas?
I breathe deeply to calm myself. ‘Do you have a picture of her?’ I ask. I see my question balance in front of the general as he wonders which way to answer. When he smiles it somehow makes him human.
‘Here,’ he says, turning one of the framed photos on his desk so that I can see. And she does look like me. Even I’m a bit spooked by how similar we are.
‘How did she die?’ I ask.
‘Cancer,’ he says, the word turning him grey.
‘My friend’s mum has cancer,’ I say quickly. ‘But she’s in here, so she can’t have her treatment.’
‘And you want me to do what?’ His human mask has gone, he’s the general again.
‘Let her go to the hospital. Please.’
‘And give her a chance to survive, where my daughter didn’t?’
I am Not A Number Page 17