I jump to my feet. ‘Shit, we gotta get out of here.’
Sarah frowns. ‘Not now, Adam. Not in the dark.’
‘Didn’t you hear what he just said?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s dark. And we’re all tired.’
‘We’re going in the morning then,’ I say. ‘First light.’ I sit down again, slowly, but I can’t eat no more. The stew is sitting in my stomach like a stone. I can’t keep still. My legs are jiggling, ready to run.
The buzz of conversation starts up again. ‘We can’t keep on the move for ever,’ Sarah says, quietly. ‘We’ve been at it for two years, Adam, and I can’t walk miles any more.’
I look at her swelling belly. We don’t know exactly how far gone she is but it must be seven or eight months.
‘And what about my brothers?’ she says. ‘Mia. They need to live somewhere. They need a home. We all do.’
Home. I had a home once. Seems like years ago, but it stopped being home once Mum died. And I had another one, with Nan, ’cept I never realised what I’d got ’til it had gone and so had she.
‘Home’s not a place, Sarah, it’s people. We got all we need with us.’
‘We need more people,’ she says. ‘I’m going to have a baby, if you hadn’t noticed. I had Mia on my own, on a grotty bathroom floor in the squat, and I want this to be different. Daniel’s a doctor. We have to stay here. And we can’t run faster than motorbikes. If they want to find us, they will.’
She don’t get it. Even after all this time, she don’t understand how bad it is to be handcuffed, thrown in a cell, completely powerless.
‘I’m not going to be found, Sarah. No one’s going to take me away from you and lock me up again. No one.’
I’m shouting now. Everyone around the fire falls silent, looking at me or looking away.
‘All right,’ she says, keeping her voice low. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’
I take no notice of her and plough on. ‘Think about what staying means. I’m not being paranoid. There are people after me.’
‘Yeah, after you.’
So that’s it. Her words sting like a slap on the face.
People begin to gather up their bowls and drift away.
‘Come on, boys,’ Daniel says to Marty and Luke. ‘I’ll take you back to your tent.’
The boys trudge off. The laughter and the warmth of the meal’s gone from their faces. Marty looks worried.
Then it’s just Sarah and me and Mia by the fire. ‘Do you want me to go?’ I say.
Her eyes flick up to mine and then away. ‘We can’t keep running like this, Adam.’
‘Do you want me to leave you here?’ I say.
‘Mummy Daddy cross?’ Mia says, in a little voice. Her eyes are fixed on us, missing nothing.
‘I’m not cross,’ Sarah says quickly. I force a smile at Mia, but I know she’s not buying it.
‘I’m chipped,’ I say, trying to carry on the argument. ‘Mia’s chipped. That drone could’ve picked us up and sent our location back to wherever, whoever, it came from. Even if it didn’t, I’m so bloody recognisable.’ Almost without thinking I put my hand up to my scarred skin. ‘If we stay it’ll only be days before they find us. Maybe hours. And then what?’
‘We don’t even know what they want, Adam. They might want to shake you by the hand and thank you. Perhaps you saved them, too.’
There’s something about the way she says it, an edge. Like she’s mocking me. I can’t stand it. My hand finds a piece of wood, and I launch it into the fire with such force that sparks fly up. Sarah flinches and Mia jumps, but it don’t stop me. I pick up another log and do the same.
‘I didn’t ask for this, Sarah. I didn’t ask for none of this. I never wanted to see numbers. I never wanted all this death in my head, all this pain.’
Mia’s eyes are filling with tears, and Sarah’s not looking at me. I know I’m ranting, but I can’t stop.
‘I’m eighteen, with a girlfriend and three children to look after, a baby on the way, and no home and no food, and it’s never gonna get better. All I know is it’s gonna end one day because I see the end everywhere, in everyone, and I wish I didn’t. And even that isn’t certain because it could all change. It could all be over tomorrow or the next day, or the next. Do you think I want this?’
‘Do you think any of us want this?’ she says.
And now my stomach’s churning. If she’s not on my side no more, then I got nothing.
But we have to go. It’s not safe here.
Chapter 3: Sarah
Adam shakes my shoulder before it’s even light. He’s a dark shape next to me. I can’t see his features. Even inside the tent, the cold air is nipping at my face.
‘Sarah,’ he whispers. ‘It’s time to get up. We have to go.’
I pull my sleeping bag up around my ears and turn my back to him.
‘Sarah,’ he hisses. ‘It’s time.’
I take a deep breath in, and then push the air out – slowly, slowly, slowly. I’m scared of what I’m going to do next, but I’m doing it anyway.
‘I’m not leaving.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not leaving.’
‘Yeah, you are. We’re packing up this morning. Moving on.’
I wriggle round so I’m facing him again. My heart’s thumping.
‘I don’t want to go. I want to stay here for the winter. They’re nice people. There’s a doctor and there’s food. Adam, please.’
‘Sarah—’
‘No. I’m going back to sleep.’
But I don’t. The blood’s beating in my ears, and I lie there listening to Adam’s silence. Have I done the right thing? But my swelling ankles tell me it’s right. And my blistered hands tell me it’s right. And the gentle snoring of the kids tells me that we all need a rest. It’s time to stop moving and just be a family for a while. Me, Adam, Marty, Luke, Mia – and the new baby.
It’s a funny sort of family. I can’t ever be the boys’ proper mum – I’ll always be their sister – but I’m the only relative they’ve got left, so I’m the nearest thing to a mum they’re going to have now. And Adam’s not anyone’s father, though Mia calls him Daddy. When she said it to him that first time – ‘Da da da da’ – his face changed. It was like the sun coming out. We were dog-tired, sitting by the side of the road, hadn’t even put a tent up, but Mia was wide awake.
‘Did you hear what she said? Did you hear, Sarah?’
She did it again, ‘Dada’, and reached her arms up towards him. He scooped her up and danced around with her, and it was like he’d forgotten everything else, just for a minute. It reminded me why I loved him.
Love him, I remind myself now. Love, not loved. I love Adam Dawson.
If I say it often enough, think it often enough, perhaps I’ll still believe it.
But it’s difficult if you know that when he looks in your eyes he can see you dying.
I close my eyes and try to empty my head of it all, to let sleep wash over me and blank me out, but everything’s all mixed up: people, places, words, and numbers.
Always numbers.
Mia’s the last to wake, which is unusual. When she eventually crawls out of the tent, Marty and Luke have already left to forage in the forest. Her eyes are pink and glassy, and her cheeks are flushed.
‘Me poorly,’ she whispers.
I swoop down next to her and put my hand on her forehead. She’s red hot. Her nose is blocked and she’s breathing through her mouth. Her breath is sour and sickly.
‘Adam, she’s burning up.’
‘Shit.’
This is the thing we dread: Mia getting a temperature.
The night of the quake – in the heat of the fire – she had some kind of fit. I can still see her twitching in Adam’s arms, outside the burning house, her legs and arms all stiff. That’s when her number changed. She was meant to die that day – but Adam got her out and Val, his nan, died in the fire instead. Their numbers swapped. Their fates sw
apped. I don’t know how it happened.
Will it happen now if her temperature gets too high?
‘Daniel,’ Adam says. ‘I’ll get Daniel.’
It’s only a couple of minutes until Daniel comes, but it feels like hours.
‘Let’s have a look,’ he says, as he crawls into the tent. He pulls out a stethoscope from his rucksack and listens to her chest. ‘Not too bad,’ he says. He takes her temperature. ‘Nearly forty. Let’s give her some paracetamol.’
‘Have you got some?’ Our last supplies ran out months ago.
Daniel produces a full bottle from one of the rucksack pockets. I look at it, then at him. Where did he get a full bottle of medicine? We check every empty house and shop, and sometimes we’re lucky enough to find a sachet. But a full bottle …
‘I’ve got quite a bit of … kit,’ he mutters sheepishly.
‘How? Where from?’
He smiles. ‘The government’s got a stash. You just need to know how to get at it.’
‘And you do?’
‘I’ve got contacts, shall we say.’
‘Government ones?’
He smiles again but doesn’t say anything more.
‘Looks like a virus,’ he says. ‘Keep her drinking and I’ll give her paracetamol every four hours.’ He crawls out again.
Adam looks in.
‘He’s got medicine, Adam,’ I say. ‘He’s got a whole bag of tricks.’
‘I know.’
‘So this is a good place to stay.’
He sighs. ‘We don’t have much choice.’
I know it’s a big deal for him.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘Just don’t blame me if …’
‘If what?’
‘I dunno. If it all goes wrong. I feel …’ He struggles to find the words. ‘Like a sitting duck,’ he says finally.
‘It’ll be all right. We’ll be all right.’ I really want to believe it.
‘Maybe,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. ‘I’m going to start a fire.’
I turn back to Mia. She’s calmer already.
Her trusting eyes fix on mine and her number fills my head. I don’t see numbers, like Adam, but I know hers. Adam told me. 2022054. Twenty-five years left. It’s better than the lifespan she started with, but it’s not enough. I feel sick at the thought. My daughter can’t die aged twenty-seven; it’s too young.
She needs to find another number, a better number.
Could I give her mine, like Val did? But how? How did she do it? If it would help her, I’d give it to her, of course I would. I’d give my life for Mia.
Her hair is damp from her sweat, darker and curlier than ever, but still blonde. It’s like a halo. All I can think is that twenty-five years is nothing. It’ll be over in the blink of an eye.
I gather her into my arms. Tears stream down my cheeks.
Mia puts her clammy hand up to my face.
‘Don’t, Mummy. Mummy sad?’
I don’t want to upset her but I can’t stop crying.
I wish I didn’t know. Adam’s brought this gift, this curse, into our lives. It’s not his fault, but right now, at this moment, I resent him for it. I hate him.
It’s not natural to know this stuff.
It crushes you.
Chapter 4: Adam
I hear Sarah sobbing as I make the fire. Should I go back in the tent? I wait outside for a moment, listening, then I walk away into the forest.
I can’t blame her for being scared. I’ve been scared for most of my life, ever since I realised what the numbers meant. I was only five. That’s a long time.
She’s frightened for Mia, and so am I. But I’m frightened of her, too. I’m ashamed, but I can’t help it.
It’s wrong, isn’t it? She’s a beautiful child – with those blue eyes, that blonde hair, her skin all tanned from living outdoors. A golden child. People look at her wherever we go – after they’ve clocked me first. And of course it’s not her looks that freak me out, it’s her number. She don’t have the number she was born with. I get this spooky feeling when I look in her eyes. Her number sort of shimmers in my head, like it’s not there. It reminds me every time of Nan and that terrible day in the fire, at the start of the Chaos.
Nan wasn’t meant to die that day. She had twenty-seven years left. I always thought she’d be there for me, that I could rely on her. I thought she was safe. But she weren’t. She died. There one minute, gone the next. I can’t even think about it now without getting a lump in my throat. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. I didn’t want Mia to die so I walked into the fire to save her. But I didn’t want Nan to die neither. I can’t help wondering: did Mia take Nan’s number? Was it murder? Or did Nan give it to her?
No one knows what happened. It’s our secret – mine and Sarah’s – and I reckon it should stay that way.
And this feeling about Mia, I’ve never even told Sarah. But what happened that night of the fire wasn’t right.
It wasn’t natural.
I don’t know what the rules are any more. I don’t know how it all works. If Mia can change things to save herself, does someone else always have to pay the price?
In the evening, we gather together around Daniel’s fire again.
It’s rabbit stew this time. The hot food’s intoxicating, it makes me warm and woozy. Marty and Luke caught the rabbits – they’re feeling proud, I can tell. They’re pushing each other, and laughing and joking. Someone starts singing, an old song.
Mia’s gazing into the fire and the flames cast a rosy light on her face. She looks more like an angel than ever. She seems better. Daniel’s paracetamol did the trick. But what about next time? Sarah’s right – we do need people.
I put my arm round Sarah and rest my hand on her waist. Beneath my fingers I can feel the baby moving. She leans in to me. I kiss the top of her head, close my eyes and breathe in, listening to the singing. For a moment, just a split second, I’m happy. We were right to stay.
The noise of the engines is so quiet at first I hardly notice it. It’s like it’s part of the singing, and then, as it gets louder, everyone hears it at the same time and the singing stops.
The light from the flames flickers on our silent faces. Then I realise everyone’s looking at me.
‘They’re back,’ Daniel says. He don’t need to say who.
Three men on motorbikes. The sort of people you don’t grass to.
I jump to my feet, grab the boys’ hands.
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Let’s go. Now.’
Marty and Luke look at Sarah. She puts her hand up to my wrist, trying to stop me.
‘Adam …’
It’s no good. I know it’s not logical, but I’ve got to move.
‘Please,’ I say.
She sees the look on my face and struggles up, with Mia in her arms.
‘Adam, stay put. We’re all here for you,’ Daniel says. He looks round the circle and everyone nods in agreement. He’s speaking for all of them. But I can’t just sit still. I can’t.
We stumble away from the fire, picking our way between shelters and out into the dark forest where we huddle together, facing the camp. We can see here, but not be seen. The sound of the bikes has stopped, but now there are three points of light bobbing towards the fire. Soon I can see three figures moving: men in black leather jackets and trousers, black boots, black gauntlets. They sweep the beams of their torches to either side as they approach, and stop just outside the circle. There’s an obvious gap in the places we’ve left – why did no one think to close it up?
Every eye’s on the men. It’s not just their clothes that makes them different, it’s the way they carry theirselves, and their weapons: army-issue rifles slung over their shoulders and a belt of ammo across their chests.
The man in the middle steps forward. He’s got grey hair, cut short, and a strong jaw, almost square. His face is pale, like he hasn’t been outside for a while, but I couldn’t say how old he is. Thirty? Sixt
y?
‘We don’t want to break up the party,’ he says. His voice is deep but sharp, clipped. ‘Just looking for somewhere to stay the night.’
Sounds innocent enough. Three travellers in need of some sleep.
Next to me, Mia whimpers.
The boys are quiet, watching like us.
Sarah shushes Mia, who’s curled up in her arms, hiding her face in her hands. ‘Dragons,’ she’s whispering. ‘Noisy dragons.’
‘Sh, Mia, shh.’ The warm, relaxed feeling we had round the fire is long gone. Sarah’s face is pinched and anxious.
‘You’re welcome to stay,’ Daniel says. ‘We’ll find you some food too, something hot.’
The three of them step closer to the fire and take up our places in the circle, with their backs to us. The man who spoke is obviously the leader. To his left there’s a smaller guy, wiry and mean-looking. The other one is huge, a mountain of a man with long dark hair.
It’s cold now we’re beyond the reach of the fire. Marty and Luke are shivering. Mia starts to cough. Sarah holds her in closer, but nothing can muffle the noise completely.
There’s no reaction from the people by the fire. Everyone faces the flames in silence. Then the questions start.
‘You know who we’re looking for,’ says the man with grey hair. ‘Have you seen him? Have you seen Adam Dawson?’
I hold my breath.
Will Daniel and the others lie? Will they save us, or will they save their own skins?
‘I’ve seen him, yes,’ says Daniel. ‘He passed this way, but he’s gone now.’
Not a lie, strictly speaking. But not a giveaway neither.
‘How long?’
‘He left just after lunch.’
‘So you won’t mind if we search the camp?’
‘Do you have a warrant?’
The man laughs. It’s a grating sound, like he doesn’t use it often. ‘No, I don’t have a warrant. I don’t need one. I’m on government business. My name’s Saul, that’s all you need to know.’
So it is the government. I feel the world crashing in on me. Is it the old murder charge? Is that why they’re here?
Daniel’s looking uncomfortable now, but he’s still civil.