“Where have you been? What’s happened to you?” I gasp, but feeling a catch in my throat I stop myself from saying any more.
“That’s not important right now; what’s important is that you realise how much danger you’re in. We all have our roles to play, Zia. Hand yourself in to the officials, go back to the infirmary and live a decent life. Don’t waste it.” Grant replies, but somehow I know that what his eyes and mouth are telling me are out of sync with each other, like a hostage being forced to read from a script.
“So why aren’t you at the hospital living out this good life that’s been gifted to us? And how do you know I’m on the run from officials; all this happened after the last time that I spoke to you and nobody’s seen you since?” I already know the answer; he’s been compromised. I doubt that I’ll ever know why, but is this really the best that they could come up with, getting Grant to tell me to give myself up?
“I’ve taken a job with the governors. Zia, what I told you before wasn’t true, you know. Just the ramblings of a cantankerous old man,” he says with sorrowful eyes, but this comment inflames me.
“I don’t believe you. What did they do to you? How did they make you go back on your own words?” I shout at him. “I’ve lost everything over this. My mother lost her life protecting me and the only reason that I needed protecting is because you made me see the truth. There’s no going back now; I have to see it through. You were so strong. How did they get to you? What did they threaten you with?” I push him hard in the chest, away from me, and turn around to leave as I start sobbing.
“My daughter,” I hear him whisper gently over my shoulder. I turn back around to face him as he lunges towards me and grips me by the elbows. “I’m not the only one that found out, Zia. There were a group of us, including your mother, who were trying to bring the system down. You need to find Jo’s mother Rosaline, but stay underground. If they find you they will−”
I hear a noise like a balloon popping in the distance and simultaneously feel Grant’s grip release as he slumps to his knees on the ground in front of me. Blood starts running freely from his nose and feel my stomach tighten.
“−Kill me,” I say aloud, although I barely hear myself because my senses are overwhelmed by the blood rushing in my ears and the hammering of my heart.
I’m running before I know that I made the decision to move my feet. I feel the wind rushing past my face as I urge my legs forwards, to carry me faster, but I feel weak and shaky. I focus my eyes on the first light that I see in Narrowmarsh and run directly towards it, like an arrow shot from a bow. As the light draws closer I become aware of a figure in a grey uniform cast in its light, and I slow to a stop. I ran towards Narrowmarsh because Lake and I’d planned to; it never occurred to me that the shot might have been fired from this direction.
The official begins to run towards me so I sprint to the right, but he’s not alone. I hear their laboured breathing and heavy footsteps falling close behind me. I urge my body forwards and faster with every ounce of strength that I have left, even though my muscles and lungs are burning from the exertion. I keep imaging one of them reaching for a gun and shooting me in the back, almost to the point that I can actually feel the impact. I don’t even know where I’m running to, but I still think I’ll have the best chance of losing them amongst the winding streets and back alleys of Narrowmarsh.
My pace slackens as stitch and cramp rack my body. Suddenly the material of my coat tightens around my throat as one of the officials catches hold of my hood and pulls hard. Staggering backwards I lose my balance and trip, falling onto my back. I watch as the official raises his arm, his fist clenched around a wooden baton and brings it down hard on my shoulder. I roll over and curl into the foetal position with my hands raised protectively over my head. The memory of Lake curled on the floor whilst his drunken father beat him leaps into my mind. At least if I die here, my last thought was of him.
The blows keep coming, at least he doesn’t have a gun, I think to myself as I wait for the next blow, but it doesn’t arrive. I glimpse a blur of black soar over me and connect with the official on the other side. Pushing myself off the dirt with my shaking arms, I see Lake kneeling on top of the official. It takes me a couple of seconds to realise that Lake is choking him using his own baton, and the official’s arms and legs flap and kick wildly. Lake’s teeth are gritted together so tightly that it resembles a wild dog’s snarl more than a human expression.
I hear the other official’s footsteps close behind us, but I’m unable to warn Lake before a powerful blow knocks me back down. My ears ring with a high-pitched squeal and pain shoots down my spine. I look for Lake, who’s been hauled off by two officials and wrestled to the ground. They help up the official whose life light Lake had been attempting to snuff, and I watch in horror as he retrieves his discarded baton from the ground and swings it towards Lake’s angelic face. My fists clench and I start to army crawl towards him when I see his lip split and his head snap back under the impact. As I crawl I feel a boot firmly press me into the ground, before another heavy impact connects with the back of my head.
When I open my eyes again the whole scene has shifted, and I think that I must have lost consciousness for a short amount of time. I recognise the strong metallic taste in my mouth but I’m not able to identify the source of the blood. Lake is now handcuffed, but it still takes two officials to restrain him. He’s watching me with an expression that’s hard to make out. Sorrow, regret? The first official towers over Lake with a twisted grin on his face which I find hard to distinguish as pain or pleasure. He’s saying something that I’m unable to hear but in his hands he holds something black and shiny which reflects the lights of Narrowmarsh.
A gun.
Chapter Fifteen
I hear myself scream as the official outstretches the gun before him, aiming it directly at Lakes’s forehead. Then I hear another howl, but not an anguished scream like mine; this one sounds more like a war cry. Narrowing my eyes in the direction of the sound, I’m able to make out ten − fifteen − twenty or more dark shapes running towards us. The two officials holding Lake release their grip and he slumps to the ground. I crawl towards him, unhindered this time, and wrap my arms protectively around him. The crowd approach rapidly with walking sticks, hammers and cleavers raised above their heads, poised for attack. The officials clump together and raise their batons, but they’re soon overpowered by the numbers.
I clamber to my feet, but I’m dizzy and Lake feels like a dead weight that I can’t move. Another pair of hands find Lake’s body and when I turn to see who they belong to, I’m confronted with an angry red scar and wide smile. Redd. They came to help us after all. I cry out in relief as he hoists Lake to his feet and props him up with his shoulder. We make a slow getaway back into Narrowmarsh as the fight continues behind us. I look back over my shoulder before we slip into the maze of houses, and see all of the officials lying on the ground. Some of them writhe in pain with gang members standing over them holding bloodied weapons, but the official that Lake grabbed lies motionless, his eyes wide but unseeing.
Redd leads the way with Lake leaning heavily on him. We make slow progress, but it soon becomes apparent that we’re not going back to their old apartment. Redd turns into a different block of high rise flats, although it looks remarkably similar, with graffiti spray painted on the walls and rubbish strewn down the stairs. I look up at the ceiling and see naked wires poking through holes where the CCTV cameras have been removed. Redd winks at me.
We’re steadily making our way up the steps when I hear a commotion behind us. I swing around in alarm to see who’s following us, but it’s just the rest of the gang who have caught up.
“Come on, we need to get out of sight before more officials arrive,” I hear one of them shout.
Another person catches my wrist and hoists me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Three more people each take one of Lake’s arms or legs and start jogging up the stairs with him. The ro
om that we’re heading to must be very high up because we keep going up and up. The rhythmic lollop up the stairs is starting to make me feel sick and I struggle to get down, but strong arms hold me tightly in place and eventually we reach a dirty white door.
Once through the door I’m finally put down and I can see where we are. We’re actually on the roof of the building and all around me are pieces of material strung up to form basic tents. There’s a stack of food on one side, with the remains of what looks like a fire next to it. Lake is carried out and laid down on a sleeping bag under a canvas. I kneel down next to him, taking his hand in mine. He smiles weakly at me, but I can’t bring myself to smile back. He looks terrible. His lip has been split wide open, there’s another cut on his eyebrow and, judging from the amount of blood down the front of his t-shirt, I wouldn’t be surprised if his nose is broken; but there won’t be any trips to the infirmary, that’s for sure. I lie down next to him and rest my hand on his chest so I can feel it rise and fall. Nobody approaches us to discuss what just happened. Instead they leave us in peace. I concentrate on Lake’s breathing to stop intrusive thoughts about Grant breaking through into my consciousness and before long we both fall into deep restorative sleep.
***
It’s light when I open my eyes again, but the cool autumn sun provides little warmth. Someone has laid a duvet on top of me, which is folded back where Lake slept, but now he’s gone. Peering out of the tent, I spot him sat around a fire at the far end of the roof with other members of the gang and make my way towards them. Their faces break into smiles when I approach, but I’m not sure how this change in opinion about me happened or why they helped us. The group shuffle up to make room for me, and I sit between Redd and a girl that I’ve never seen before. She has short hair, which is unusual in the compound because people tend to be quite traditional, and wears a leather jacket with studs on.
I try to join in their discussion, nodding when I see others nod, but I can’t stop my mind from returning to Grant. It was a trap. His mission was to lure me out so the officials could arrest me. I feel betrayed and angered by his deception, but when I remember the reason he said that he did it my anger dissipates. I didn’t know that he had any family, let alone a daughter, and I can only imagine the terrible things that they must have threatened to do to her to make him comply. But he didn’t follow their orders because he tried to warn me and told me who I could trust. I remember the look of shock on his face before he fell to his knees. He had paid with his life, but what would they do to his daughter now?
“I need to find Rosaline, Jo’s mother,” I interrupt, oblivious to whatever they were discussing.
The group turn to look at me. “Who?” Redd asks.
“Why?” asks Lake. Deep purple bruises are beginning to emerge under his eyes, but other than the stiffness in his movements, he looks much recovered compared to only a few hours ago when he was carried here.
“That’s what Grant said. He told me that he wasn’t the only person who knew the compound was an experiment. There had been a group of them, including my mother and Rosaline,” I reply, trying to recall exactly what Grant told me.
“But you said she was evil for abandoning Jo,” Lake says.
“Yeah, I know, but what other options do we have?”
The group exchange meaningful looks with each other as they individually appraise the situation.
“She’s right; we need to get organised if we’re going to stand a chance of getting out of here alive,” says the girl sitting next to me. She stands up and walks over to the wall that surrounds the roof. “I’m going to find out what lies on the other side of those walls.”
I feel the tension in my neck lessen just knowing that other people share the same mutinous ideas as me, like the burden has been lifted a little. I follow her over to the wall and squint into the distance, but all I can see is dirt punctuated by low shrubs. She starts talking without looking at me, like she’s the voice inside my head.
“There’s something else out there, somewhere more than this place, somewhere peaceful where you can rest your soul as well as your body.”
Lake appears on the other side of me. “Are you alright?” I think that he’s referring to Grant, but choose to ignore it.
“Yeah, I feel okay, a bit thick-headed but that’s all. How about you?”
“Feels like I’ve had a heavy night drinking with my dad,” he says with a grin. “Well we’ve done it now, we’re fugitives. All of us.”
“Why did they decide to come and help us?” I ask in a low whisper.
“Oh, has no one told you yet?” I stare at him blankly in answer to his question. “They received an email,” he says, looking over at Redd.
Redd walks over to join us. “You left your emails open on our computer and I wanted to read the one that Grant sent you, to see what it said. Then whilst I was reading it, you received another email from someone called Alana. Alana’s a human rights activist who’s trying to research and raise awareness about a population experiment called ‘The Utopian Universe’. She explained that she learned of the project through her ex-boyfriend who used to drive the food trucks here, and she’s been emailing Grant for the past year. She told us not to give up hope because she wouldn’t let us be forgotten.”
I’m dumbfounded by what I’ve just heard. How does she know who I am, or how did she get my email address? Maybe Grant told her? Or perhaps it’s another trap laid down by the officials?
“So what’s the plan?” the fat boy − Marshall − sat by the fire calls.
Redd walks over to him, and we follow to listen. “We’ll hide up here in the day because it’s secure,” Redd says, gesturing towards the door onto the roof that has been heavily blockaded from the outside. “And only leave at night under the cover of darkness.”
That plan sounds familiar, I think to myself. I’m not sure who’s the leader of the gang at the moment, but I suppose as long as we all have a common purpose then it doesn’t really matter.
“We also need to start spreading the word to other people because we can’t break out of here alone,” Lake says, and the rest of the group nod in agreement.
“And we need to find Rosaline and ask her what she knows,” says the girl. “She’s our only lead so we’ll have to be careful not to scare her. Zia and I will go.”
“Yeah, Neve, ‘cause you’re totally not non-threatening,” Marshall laughs.
She glowers at him. “Shut it, Marshall.”
I feel uneasy about leaving Lake behind. He’s the only person I completely trust, and I don’t know what I’d have done without him last night.
“You’ll be safe with Neve,” Lake says, reading my thoughts.
Another girl drifts towards the group of us by the fire. “What are we going to do about food? The food bank is a busy place and they’re bound to look for us there because we need to eat.” It sounds like this question has been troubling her for some time.
“You’re right” Redd replies, frowning as he thinks. “Since it’s closed at night I suppose we’ll need to depend on other people to collect it for us, or steal it from their houses.” I know the people could easily replace the food because food rations are unlimited in the compound, but the idea of taking it without permission still makes me feel uneasy because my mother brought me up to respect other people’s things.
“What about working?” calls another girl’s voice, but this time it’s one I recognise. I scan the roof and see Star standing with her arms crossed across her beige fur coat.
“Suspended,” Redd replies. “Not worth the risk.” I hear her huff, but I don’t know why she’d want to sell her body for money.
“And gear?” she adds in a lower tone after a pause. Oh, now I understand.
“We’ll do what we can, but currently we’ve bigger things to worry about.” He turns back to address the rest of the group. “Get some rest all, it’s going to be a long night.”
I smile at Star as the group begins to di
sperse, but her face is stony and she turns away without acknowledging me. I guess not everybody’s on board with the plan. Walking over to the edge again, I watch people rushing around like ants in the streets below, crowding into makeshift restaurants for lunch. Looking past Narrowmarsh I see the outline of the infirmary, and from there to my old apartment where I used to live happily with my mother in what seems like a lifetime ago now.
The first drops of rain spur everyone into action, and I make my way back to the tent that I slept in last night. Other people pile into the tents around the outskirts of the roof. The wind drives the rain into the tent sideways, so I pull a blanket around myself. Neve pushes her way towards the back of the tent, next to me.
“You know it’s a shame that you didn’t stage a coup in summer,” she says, laughing.
Part of me wants to protest that this is not my fault because I never actively sought out any of this, but I can’t help seeing the absurdity of the situation. So much so that when the first flash of lighting illuminates the grey sky followed closely by a loud clap of thunder, I actually laugh out loud. Perhaps hysterics are setting in, caused by everything I’ve witnessed recently. First there was my mother, then Grant. I’ve lost my home and everything that was familiar and safe. Yet I can’t bring myself to regret all of it.
I look around at the wet bedraggled figures and feel another fit of laughter erupt from somewhere deep inside. Then after the next flash of lightening I start crawling out of the tent. I hear people shouting my name, but I don’t look back as the next rumble of thunder fills my ears. I feel the rain drive in harder with every gust of wind and it makes me feel alive. Opening my arms, with my face tilted up towards the heavens, I spin round in circles. I sense the presence of people near me and imagine that they will soon grab me and pull me back under cover before I catch my death, but when I look down I see Neve prancing around me and Lake a few feet back, laughing hard enough to make lines appear next to his eyes.
Slowly more people join us from the safety of their sleeping bags. No words are exchanged but everybody knows the purpose of the impromptu celebration, to shed all of our worries and feel free. I look down to the street below. I can’t see a single person and it feels like we could be the only people in the world.