I’m not convinced. If Grant did have important information to share with me, then why wouldn’t he have just told me in the email? Or if he thought that the privacy of our email conversation was compromised, why would he arrange the time and place of our meeting?
“Either way, we have to move now,” Lake says, getting to his feet and finding his coat.
I grab the bag that he brought back from my apartment and disappear into the bedroom. Inside the bag are a few t-shirts, a pair of skinny black jeans, a warm woollen jumper and a pair of black tennis shoes. I dress quickly and brush the worst of the dry mud off my green coat.
Lake’s waiting for me with the front door ajar so I sweep out into the hallway and quickly down the stairs. It’s still light but there’s a bite in the air now that the sun is losing its power. No sign of Redd yet; I wonder how he’ll know where we’ve gone.
“I thought we were moving at night,” I say.
“As a general rule yes, but we don’t have the time to wait till nightfall because someone went ahead and opened the email without warning.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it.
Electricity pulses through my hand and up my arm. I never knew that being on the run from the authority could feel so good. We walk quickly through the narrow streets and back allies of Narrowmarsh, still holding hands. The streets heave with torrents of people and I’m pleased that my presence doesn’t elicit anything more than a casual glance from anyone that we pass.
“Where are we going?” I ask, realising that I don’t know where we’re heading.
“We’ll get a room for the night at an alehouse near the irrigation tower.”
It’s not legal to make or sell alcohol in the compound, which means that most of it’s consumed in residential houses that have been transformed for the purpose. Many of the terraced houses in Narrowmarsh now boast living rooms decked out with tables and bench chairs. My mother and I would never have dreamed of frequenting an alehouse, but now I hope that they’ll shield me from the omnipotent eye of the law.
As we walk deeper into Narrowmarsh the streets begin getting narrower and consequently appear darker. Apartment blocks and houses loom above us, blocking the low sun’s rays almost completely. Washing lines crisscross between buildings above us like spider webs and pale children’s faces press up against barred windows like trapped flies. The streets are lined with people selling everything from stolen goods to tobacco. Everything’s laid out on plastic carrier bags or on foldaway tables so that the whole street can be cleared within seconds of hearing that an official’s on their way.
A door swings open up ahead and music flows out into the street along with a hum of busy chatter. There aren’t any other outward signs of its internal function, but I feel sure that we’ve arrived. Lake strides ahead of me and through the doorway, but doesn’t let my hand drop. Inside I’m greeted by a heady atmosphere of stale smoke and sweat. I follow closely as Lake walks up to the man stood behind a makeshift bar which appears to be constructed out of an interior door. Behind the bar are shelves filled with rows of bottles containing different coloured liquids, from vibrant pink to dark brown.
The man nods at Lake as we approach, which I assume means that they have a prior acquaintance. His face is etched with deep lines that tell of a hard life and make him difficult to age.
“We’re looking for a room tonight,” Lake says.
The man’s gaze settles upon me and I’m reminded once again how out-of-place I must look.
“Together?” the man asks, without taking his eyes off me.
Lake nods. “It should only be one night.”
“So what brings you here?” he asks, clearly suspicious.
I suppose that the majority of the custom he receives is single men looking for company. Or maybe he knows who I am and that the officials are looking for me. I imagine that gossip travels faster than the speed of light amongst the densely packed houses of Narrowmarsh.
Lake’s jaw stiffens. “You know, just lying low for a while.”
Why would he say that? I look back and forth between the two men, trying to gauge the situation. The muscles in my legs twitch like coiled springs ready to sprint back out of the door, but I’m surprised to see the man’s features soften. This seems to be the first thing that has made sense to him since we arrived, and he begins rooting around in a jar filled with rusty old keys.
“Up top best?” he asks curtly.
“Yeah. How much?” Lake replies.
The man places a key on the bar. “A crown and you weren’t here.”
“Two shillings and sixpence, and I’ll forget you said that,” Lake growls.
“No deal,” the man snaps back, reaching for the key again.
I unfasten my watchstrap and place my watch on the bar. It’s the last tangible link that I have to my mother. She gave it to me on the morning of my sixteenth birthday, with the time and date that I was born engraved on the back. Dead people have no use for knowing the time, I try to remind myself as the man picks it up and examines it in the light. Lake throws me a questioning look, but snatches the room key when the man gives a satisfied grunt. I follow Lake as he walks around to the other side of the bar without instruction and pushes open a wooden door revealing a ladder that leads through a hole in the ceiling. I push away the nagging question in my mind, Why is he so familiar with the layout of the building? because I don’t think I want to know the answer.
We ascend three flights of stairs before arriving on the top floor. There’s no lighting in the hallway so the only illumination comes from the fading daylight that spills in through a small dirty window high up at the end of the corridor. Lake looks down at the number written on the handle of the key in permanent marker pen.
“Eighteen,” he wonders aloud, looking at the numbers that are scrawled on the doors in black pen.
At the end of the corridor Lake stops and tries to insert the key into the lock, but the door swings open of its own accord, revealing a square nicotine-stained box with bare floorboards. At the far end of the room is a double bed with a naked, mottled mattress and a single pillow. To the left of the bed is a cracked window that looks out over the street that we walked in off. I lean against the window frame to see if I can make out the irrigation tower, but there’s another apartment block in the way.
I rest my head against the window with a little too much force that I think for a moment that it’s going to fall through. What am I doing here? The question circles around my mind, bumping into other questions that I have no way to appease. Two days ago my life was normal and I was happy with that. I walk over to the bed and crawl onto my stomach. My body feels broken from huger and exhaustion. Grant told the wrong person. I can’t do this. I breathe heavily into the mattress and focus on the damp smell rising from it to stop me from giving into despair. I know that Lake’s watching, but I don’t care.
I feel his weight on the end of the bed as he sits. “I’m going out to find us some food since we kinda missed breakfast and lunch.”
He waits for my response but I don’t answer. After several minutes I feel the mattress rise as he stands and hear the door open and lock behind him. Once I’m alone I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling which is laced with cracks like a spider’s web. By tomorrow evening this might all be over. If meeting Grant is part of a sting operation then I’ll be removed which I’m fairly certain means killed. I hope that when it happens, death will wrap me in a loving embrace and I won’t feel any pain. Maybe I’ll be reunited with my mother again in the afterlife so I can ask her what happened and tell her how sorry I am. Tears spill down the sides of my face again. I never thought at sixteen-years-old I’d be facing my own mortality.
***
I awake with a jolt as a dark hooded figure slides the window up and begins climbing in though the open gap. Leaping of the bed I rush over to the door and yank the handle, but the door doesn’t open. Horrified, I realise that Lake locked the door behind him and I don’t have a key to
escape. I spin back around to face the figure, pressing my back into the corner of the room.
“Zia, it’s Lake’s brother. It’s Redd,” a voice pants.
Chapter Twelve
The pale sunlight shines through Redd’s hair, lighting it up like fire and casting an orange glow over his features as he climbs into the room. He looks tired, but that doesn’t soften the anger that I feel towards him. He stole the most important thing I had; without it I have no proof to convince anyone that I’m telling the truth and my mother died for nothing.
“How did you find us?” I snarl. “Who else knows where we are?”
“Nobody. I narrowed it down to a couple of local haunts, and asked a few people there whether they’d seen Lake,” Redd replies.
Fantastic, we’re trying to keep a low profile and he’s going around asking people whether they’ve seen us. An ugly thought creeps into my mind. He wants us to get caught. With Lake gone he could put an end to all of this nonsense and establish himself as the new leader.
“And why did you compromise our location?” I ask in a condescending tone.
He glares at me, “Because I have an update for Lake about the newspaper clipping.”
“Lake? You stole it from ME!” I scream, rushing over to him. He towers over my slight frame, but I’m not afraid of him. It seems foolish to fear physical injury when there’s a very real chance that I’ll die tomorrow. “Grant told me about it and now I’m the one being pursued, so if you know anything then you’d better tell me.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, curling his lips into a cruel smile. “It’s you that they want. This is your mess, so just take your nonsense elsewhere.”
His words take me aback and I stammer. “What, don’t you believe it?”
“That we’re all part of an experiment? Sounds quite unlikely, doesn’t it? And what proof do we have? All we know is that a posh girl found a newspaper article about mice?”
“So why do they take away our dead?”
“To bury them.”
“Bullshit, they carry out autopsies to see how they died and what impact overcrowding has on health. And why can’t we use birth control?”
“Because the Catholic faith disallows it. We have enough food to support everyone born inside the compound.”
“But not enough SPACE,” I cry out in frustration. “There are cameras, Redd! They’re watching us like fish in a bowl as the population swells and the pressure increases.” Redd shakes his head in disbelief but I don’t relent. “Then who drives the food trucks? And why aren’t we allowed any contact with the outside world?”
“Who says there is an outside world?” Redd challenges.
“Where do you think our ancestors came from? They elected to join the compound.”
“Well if that’s true, it suggests that it must be pretty awful out there, so why would we want to go back? They obviously don’t care about us.”
“It can’t be worse than in here. They might not even know about us.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Then answer me this single question, Redd. Why can’t we leave?”
“I don’t know, perhaps it’s dangerous out there. All I know is that everything was okay until you came along and now my brother’s running around risking his life for a marked girl.”
I laugh, although there’s no humour in it. “Everything was okay,” I repeat. “How was everything okay? Crime is at an all-time high, along with prostitution and infant mortality. Society is crashing down around us but you can’t see it−”
The sound of the lock turning cuts me off and the door swings open. Redd and I simultaneously break eye contact and take a step back from each other. My face feels flushed and my chest heaves as adrenaline floods my body. Lake strides purposefully between us and places several plastic bags of hot food on the bed. They fill the room with the warm comforting smell of home, but underneath it the atmosphere is charged with explosive potential.
“So−” Lake says slowly, acutely aware that he’s interrupted something. “What’s up?”
“It turns out that I didn’t lose the article. I was pickpocketed by a young lad from the Block Eighteen gang,” Redd says, conveniently neglecting to mention the row that we’ve just had.
“And how did they know what it was?” Lake asks.
“They didn’t, they just charged a new initiate with the task of stealing something from another gang and I guess he saw it sticking out of my back pocket,” Redd replies.
Lake sighs. “Well more fool you. So when are you getting it back?”
“They’re asking a high price and we considered it−”
“Wait,” Lake cuts him short, standing in front of his brother. Redd is slightly taller than Lake, even when he slouches, but Lake’s presence consumes the whole room. “Who do you mean by we? Do you mean my gang?”
Redd shifts uneasily. “We just don’t see this as a good use of our money. It’s money that belongs to everyone.”
“I think that you’re looking for dead man’s shoes, brother. Be careful,” Lake hisses through gritted teeth.
“I don’t have to. You’ll both be dead by morning if you go tomorrow. And for what, a stupid mouse experiment that has nothing to do with us?”
Lake calls after Redd as he walks out of the room. “You’re short sighted, Redd, and that’s only one of the reasons that you’ll never lead the gang.”
“I already do,” I hear him call back as he disappears down the ladder.
I visualise Lake exploding in anger and tearing after Redd, jumping down through the hole where the ladder is, making him take back every word. But he doesn’t; instead he sinks down onto the bed with a sigh. He looks exhausted and for the first time I realise that I’m not the only person that has lost something.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get it back,” he says, tearing open some of the bags.
I pick up a polystyrene carton of thin noodle soup. “How? I don’t have any money.”
Lake pauses and takes a deep breath. “I hope this won’t upset you, but when I went back to your apartment I took some money.”
I stare at him, imaging him rummaging through my mother’s possessions the day after she died. “No, it’s what she’d have wanted. It’s no use back there,” I reply, replacing the carton back down unopened.
Lake picks at the contents of another bag before discarding it unfinished. Sighing heavily he lies back on the bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Redd’s words resonate in my head, ‘You’ll both be dead by morning if you go tomorrow’. I close my eyes and lie back, resting my head on Lake’s shoulder. I feel him flinch away from me and for a moment I think I’ve overstepped a boundary, before his body slowly begins to relax and he leans his head to rest on mine. His breath is warm on my face and smells faintly like burning.
In the past week I feel like I’ve lived more than most people do in a lifetime, not all of it good but not all of it bad either. I have regrets, but there’s nothing that I can do to rectify them now. Things will never go back to being how they were before, and this is why I know that I’ll meet Grant. I can’t spend the rest of my life dodging cameras and officials, trying to hide in a glass house. My old life has come to an end and if I have any future then it will be on the other side of the wall. A strange calm descends over me as I make peace with my fate. If I forfeit my life tomorrow then it will be forcibly taken from me.
Lake breaks the silence. “I don’t think that the rest of the gang are going to help us tomorrow night.”
“I know,” I say softly.
“You understand that it reduces our chances of getting away if it’s a trap?”
“I understand, and I don’t expect you to come with me. The officials don’t know that you’re helping me, so if we part ways then things can just go back to normal for you.”
Lake pulls back so he can look at me. “Things can’t go back to being like they were before. I’m not the same person I was before I met you.”
?
??You don’t even know Grant. This isn’t your gamble to take.”
“He’s the best lead that we have and I want answers too. If he can send data to the outside then he can also send them a message.”
“Do you think we can bargain for our freedom?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a try because I’m not ready to lose you. I only just met you.”
I close my eyes and feel his lips brush mine. I’ve never been kissed by a boy before and it sets off a chain reaction inside me. Lake wraps his strong, muscular arms around me, pulling me closer. Resting my hand on his chest I feel his heart hammering rapidly under his t-shirt, like mine. He’s nervous too. I look into his pale brown eyes, flecked with green flashes, before they close and he kisses me deeply again. I feel his lips part and the tip of his soft, moist tongue against mine. He tastes like burning too. Our surroundings seem to dissolve around us until there’s only me and him.
Chapter Thirteen
Lake’s arms are still wrapped tightly around me in a comforting embrace when I wake, but as I rouse from my slumber my peace is replaced by an ominous dread. Silently, I debate whether it would be better to meet Grant alone tonight, or with Lake. Grant is probably more likely to open up fully if I meet him by myself, but on the flipside this leaves me completely unprotected and with no knowledge of the area if I’m ambushed by officials. I’m prepared to die if I have to, but I’ve no intention of making it easy for them.
Lake stirs, like he can sense my anxiety, so I slip out of bed and stand by the window. The room doesn’t have any heating so I slept in my clothes, and my breath fogs up the window pane. Peering down to the street below, it’s already bustling with people buying and selling food. The compound provides all members with adequate food rations but, for a small price, people will cook it for you, so it’s common to eat out.
Glancing back towards the bed, I find Lake propped up on one elbow, smiling at me. How does he look so damned good without showering? Then pulling my fingers through my dull hair which hangs limply, I turn away to disguise an embarrassed smile.
“Are you ready to go out for some breakfast?” Lake asks, pushing himself up into a sitting position.
“Out? I thought we were supposed to be keeping a low profile.”