Creeping deeper into the infirmary, I look for a lift or flight of stairs that will take me down to the basement. After walking around in careful circles I’m relieved to find a door with the word, ‘Storage’, spray painted on with a template. Applying pressure to the left-hand side of the door, I’m thankful to feel it give way. Inside the room is dark so I fumble, scrambling along the wall, until I find the light switch and flick it down. I hear a clicking sound above my head as the lights jump into life, flickering at first before becoming stable. The room is bigger than I’d expected, with all of the available wall space taken up with shelves stacked high with cardboard boxes. There’s also a large pile of cardboard boxes in the centre of the room with various labels scrawled in black marker pen. ‘Bandages’, ‘Petri dishes’, ‘Face masks’; everything that you’d expect to find in storage, but no medicines.
I worry that medicines might be kept in another location, under lock and key, but a small box on one of the shelves captures my attention. It has an official looking white printed label stuck on the side so I lift it down to read. The text is small and I don’t understand most of it but I recognise one word, ‘Tramadol’. It’s definitely a medicine – I remember my mother mentioning it – but I think it’s a painkiller so not what I’m looking for, but it’s a step in the right direction. Replacing the box on the shelf I suddenly realise that it’s not sitting on a shelf but resting on top of a cabinet with doors on the front. I intake a sharp gasp of breath and hold it. I bet the medicines are kept inside the cabinet and that this box is overspill or someone forgot to put it back.
I grab the handles and pull, but the cabinet is locked so I kick it in frustration. Sitting on one of the nearby boxes, I release the breath that I’ve been holding when an idea slowly begins to form in my mind. I felt the cabinet rock forwards as I pulled the handles so I know it’s freestanding, not fixed to the wall. As a child I once pushed a book back too hard on a bookshelf which had pushed the back off a little. I tried to disguise the damage but my keen-eyed mother noticed and said it was okay because the back was only made out of thin, cheap wood and tacked on since there’s no point in using good wood on the back of a bookcase.
I try walking the cabinet forward, pulling first the left-hand side and then the right. It’s extremely heavy, giving credence to the idea that the box on top is overspill, but it’s definitely moving. When I’ve pulled the cabinet out by about fifty centimetres, I jump over to inspect the back. I’m disappointed to find that the nails have rusted with the amount of time that it’s spent in the basement, but the back is undeniably more flimsy. I push it with my hand before giving it a hard kick, although I haven’t got much room and the back’s so flimsy that it easily accommodates the force before returning to its normal position undamaged. Pressing my back against the wall I plant my feet on the cabinet to push it out further, but I slip and slap the floor loudly. I wait, listening intently to hear if anyone’s nearby, before giving the cabinet another hard kick in the corner where the wood flexes least. It works, and the wood gives way with a loud crack. I kneel down to remove the splinters of wood before pulling boxes out.
The first box I extract is white not brown like the other cardboard boxes. I look for the label to see what it contains, ‘Anti-inflammatories’, then slide the box across the floor and out of the way. Pulling out more boxes I repeat the process. The boxes are various colours and sizes, ‘Painkillers’, ‘Laxatives’, and different ‘Painkillers’. I’m starting to wonder if there are any antibiotics in here at all when I read the blessed word, ‘Amoxicillin’. I know it’s an antibiotic and from what I can remember it’s a pretty wide-acting one including lungs which will be good for Jo. Opening up the box I peer inside; it’s filled with sheets of gel capsules and I smile widely.
Suddenly I’m startled by a noise outside the door. Caught up reading what the boxes contained, I’d forgotten to listen for anyone approaching. I scan the room but there’s nowhere for me to hide, and even if I did it’s not like my presence would go unnoticed because the floor is littered with cardboard boxes and shards of broken wood. Jumping to my feet, I hold the box of antibiotics tightly to my chest as the door begins to open. I quickly decide that the best thing to do is run and barge past the person, hopefully catching them off guard, and then sprint back out of the infirmary into the night before they have chance to raise the alarm. I hold my breath, pressing myself flat up against the wall, waiting for the door to fully open so I can run through at full pelt, when I hear a women’s soft, quiet voice.
“Zia?”
Chapter Nineteen
The sound of my name catches me off guard and I realise that I should have run already, but I haven’t. The voice sounds familiar and I get an odd sense of déjà vu, like I’ve stumbled upon someone that I once knew in another life. I stand pressed up against the shelves, holding my breath as Alice walks through the doorway. I wait because I’m not able to anticipate her reaction and, judging by the look on her face, she’s not sure either.
“What are you doing here?” she whispers.
I pause for a moment before deciding that there’s no point in lying to her and instead just keep the details as vague as possible. “I need antibiotics. My friend’s very sick.”
“They said you’d gone mad, either at the news of your mother’s death or that you went crazy and killed her.”
I stare straight into her eyes, looking for any signs of doubt, but I refuse to defend myself. If that’s what she really thinks then I’m wasting precious time that Jo doesn’t have and I slowly move my gaze to a point someway behind her.
Alice anticipates my actions and suddenly adds. “I’m sorry about your mother, Zia.”
“What are you sorry for? You thought I killed her,” I bite back spitefully.
“That’s what they said. But I didn’t believe them, and nor do some other people here.”
My gaze snaps back to her face. “What?”
Alice pokes her head around the door to check that nobody is coming, and then pulls the door closed behind her. “You have friends here, whether you know or like it,” she says, touching my arm, her eyes wide. “Some members of staff recently asked questions about protocol and management came down on them like a ton of bricks. They’re hiding something, but we don’t know what. We heard rumours that you did.”
I swallow hard because I think my knowledge has been amplified and exaggerated by rumour. “I do, or at least I know parts.”
I explain everything at breakneck speed, conscious of the fact that we could be discovered at any moment. I tell her about the research paper, Grant, the secret group, and the food delivery cancellation. Repeatedly, I scrutinise Alice’s expression, trying to gauge her thoughts because I know that the story sounds fanciful. When I finish she remains motionless and silent, like she’s trying to absorb and digest what I’ve said.
“So what are you going to do?” she asks, slowly bringing her gaze up to meet mine.
I look back into her big innocent brown eyes and answer truthfully. “I don’t know.”
Alice narrows her eyes and tilts her head to one side before repeating my own words back to me more slowly. “You… don’t… know.” She pauses for a moment before adding, “Aren’t you in cahoots with a gang or something? Don’t they have a plan?”
“I was, yes, but I left because they didn’t have a plan. I guess I’m not doing any better by myself though. I returned to my old apartment to visit Jo and see if I could find any clues about who else was in the secret group, but instead I found Jo gravely ill. I really must get back to her.”
“Well some good did come of it; you found me and I can tell the others. Hailey and Tommy were going to come and find you before that official got killed, but I bet they’d still help.”
A broad smile spreads across my face as if a light bulb has switched on in my mind, shining like a flare in the darkness. “No, they need to stay here. Everyone needs to carry on doing their jobs like normal. There’s no point in doin
g what we’ve done so far and publicly defy them, they’ll come down too hard because they’ve too much to lose. But if they didn’t know who the enemy was, then they couldn’t come the heavy hand because they wouldn’t be seen as law-abiding and that’s imperative to their authority. It’s the classic magicians trick; watch what I’m doing with this hand, not what I’m doing with this one. We’ll create the distraction whilst you undermine the structure from within.”
I’m pleased to see Alice smiling back at me. “How will we keep in touch?”
The image of an old war movie jumps into my mind’s eye. I see a young spy dropping a screwed up piece of paper in the gutter at a predetermined place and time, which is subsequently retrieved by another agent when tying their shoelace. Perhaps this is what we are now, undercover agents on a covert mission to bring the system down from within. “Do you know what a dead drop is?” She nods slowly, although it seems like a little of the enthusiasm has gone from her eyes. “Once a week at ten o’clock on Tuesday evening I want you to drop a screwed up piece of paper detailing what you’re doing at the side of the bin outside of Lankyan Palace.”
Alice blushes slightly because Lankyan Palace is a well-known brothel located in the heart of Narrowmarsh. “Really? Couldn’t we pick somewhere else?” she asks in a whiny voice.
“No,” I say insistently. “It’s perfect because even after nightfall there’ll still be lots of people hanging around to obscure us. Remember I’m a criminal now,” I say with a laugh.
“Yes,” she replies, looking around at the damage I’ve caused in the store room. “But won’t we meet?” she asks, looking a bit upset.
“If necessary,” I say, trying to comfort her. I’ve almost become desensitised to danger now, and I have to remind myself that it’s a very risky thing that I’m asking her to do and she needs reassurance. We’re both well aware that people who meddle with the workings of the compound go missing. “It’s a good thing because the less contact that we have with each other, the smaller the chance is that someone will realise that you’re helping me.”
Alice looks like she’s going to say something else, when suddenly we hear another voice.
“Alice? Are you still down there, you’ve been ages?” the voice calls from some distance away, but I still recognise it as belonging to Lisa.
Alarmed, I look at Alice who’s shaking her head violently, telling me not to reveal my presence to her.
“Yeah,” Alice calls back. “I just knocked a couple of boxes off the shelves but I’m coming now,” and walks towards the door. Before she disappears through it, she turns back to me and mimes a word, “Tuesday”.
I listen to her footsteps as she climbs back up the stairs to greet Lisa and their voices grow quieter as they walk away. That was close, I think to myself, picking up my box of antibiotics and leaving the storage room. I spring up the stairs light as a feather having not only found Jo some antibiotics, but also discovered that not everyone believes the version of events that officials are telling people. Suddenly an awful thought manifests itself in my mind. What if Alice is spying for the officials and she’s setting a trap for me. That’s why she was so keen to meet in person. No, I tell myself, pushing the thought back out of my mind. You have to use your instincts in these things and mine tell me that she can be trusted.
I hear footsteps when I approach the next bend, and hang back behind the corner. Straining my ears I listen until I’m sure that they’ve walked in a different direction, before peeking around the corner. The hallway is empty so I trot quickly and quietly down it, looking for something familiar or a sign that indicates the way out, but it all looks very similar. When I reach the far end of the corridor I peer around the corner but quickly yank my head back when I see a waiting room. I don’t think anyone saw me, but I certainly didn’t come in this way.
Feeling like a trapped rat, I run back along the corridor and turn the corner without checking. I hit something hard − someone − which causes me to drop my antibiotics. It’s the male nurse who helped relocate Lake’s shoulder, but he doesn’t look anywhere near as surprised as I’m sure that I do. Without saying a word he hands me my box of antibiotics and pushes open an unmarked door which leads out into the loading bay. I walk outside carefully, never taking my eyes off him until he slams the door closed behind me. I can’t be sure, but I thought I saw the hint of a smile lurking behind his dark eyes which made them shine brighter, and I wonder whether Alice told him that I was in the infirmary and to make sure that I got out unseen.
***
I’ve been gone over two hours by the time I get back to my old apartment block. I listen as I quietly walk up the stairs, but I think that Jo and I are still alone. As a child I used to be afraid of the dark but these days I find it comforting; darkness is cover and protection. Walking along the balcony to Jo’s room I find the door still unlocked, but this time when I push it open I’m greeted by a wall of hot air that makes me feel dizzy. Removing my coat I throw it over the chair and approach the bed, but something’s not right. Jo’s complexion is almost grey and I hear a voice in my head start to cry, No No No! Creeping closer I hold my breath and lean down towards her mouth with my ear, but I can’t hear her gentle breathing or feel her breath on my face. Frantically, I pull down the blankets to watch her chest rise and fall, but it remains still.
I’m too late; Jo has died.
Clutching my hands to my throat I squeeze tightly, maybe to prevent me from screaming or because it’s easier to deal with the pain physically than what I feel inside. Releasing my grip, I let out a loud gasp and drape myself over Jo’s frail body. “I’m so sorry,” I sob into the duvet. “I let you down.” The pain is excruciating and the guilt debilitating. I wasn’t even there when she died. I should have come back for you sooner. My mother would have never been as selfish as I’ve been. Jo has always been one of the two stable and loving people in my life, but now they’re both dead.
Whoever’s behind this will pay!
Chapter Twenty
For the next hour I watch Jo’s body, trying to memorize every inch of her. My head pounds from crying but I can’t stop thinking about how she was abandoned by everyone, even me. I think of all the people that knew she was here, the nurses who visited her, the officials that cleared the building and neighbours who lived here for years. I also imagine all of the terrible things that I’m going to do to them when I find out who’s behind this. I want to avenge her death; I want to make them suffer like she did.
Eventually I can’t bear to be in the room any longer and collapse outside on the balcony. She was the last thing I had left; now they’ve taken everything. I slump down against the wall, not conscious but not asleep either. It feels like I’ve entered a trance, making everything around me seem distant and unconnected. Even the sound of footsteps on the stairs isn’t enough to rouse me. I don’t even make an effort to see who it is until Lake bends down, bringing his face level with mine. He peers into my vacant gaze and follows it towards the open door of Jo’s apartment. Straightening up he walks over to the bed piled high with blankets. When he returns a few moments later his mood is cooler as he crouches down beside me. He drapes a heavy arm around my shoulders, inviting me to fall into him and I feel tears spill from my eyes again.
The cold has seized my joints but I don’t want to move because I know when I do it will be to leave Jo once more. Lake waits calmly by my side and it suddenly becomes clear in my mind what the others were going through when Marshall got killed, and why Lake didn’t force them into action. It’s at times like this I see what a keen insight he has into human nature, and I understand why the others follow his orders without question.
“We need to go,” I say eventually.
Lake nods his head. “Are you coming back to the roof?” he asks, without accusation.
I nod my head in reply and slowly climb to my feet. Walking over to Jo’s bed one last time, I kiss her gently on the forehead; she still feels warm. “I love you Jo,” I whisp
er softly to her. “I don’t think that I ever told you, but I hope you knew it.” Then I grab my coat and my mother’s diary and hurry out of the front door, pulling it closed behind me.
I walk like a zombie back to the rooftop, dawdling in a daze. Suddenly, Lake wraps his fingers tightly around my wrist and surges forward. I stumbled bemused as he shoves me around the next corner and glance over my shoulder. I see the silvery outline of a man, the same official that almost saw me when I first returned home. He must be patrolling the area, waiting for something or someone.
***
Lake pushes open the door to the roof and I hear the mutter rise when they see that I’m behind him. “Where’s she been?” a male voice calls, but I don’t look up. Walking over to a tent I slump down onto my side and throw a duvet over myself. I hear Lake speaking in a hushed tone and others muttering in response, but I try my best to ignore what they’re saying.
Sometime later I feel a delicate figure settle at my side, which I assume is Neve, but instead of acknowledging her I pretend to be asleep. She must know that I’m not sleeping though because she leans closer and begins to talk softly with her head resting on the same pillow as mine.
“We have to fight. I heard a brave girl say that only a few hours ago.”
I inhale deeply, feeling nothing but the emptiness inside. “She was mistaken. She thought that there was something worth fighting for, but we’re nothing but ants under a magnifying glass. We’ll all die. The only question that remains is how soon.”
“You’re wrong,” she interrupts, louder now. “We have everything to fight for because we’ve nothing to lose. If they’re going to starve us and kill us off one by one then let’s bring the compound down with us!”