Breaking East (16 page)

Dead people’s eyes aren’t glassy and vacant like in the movies. At least dead Mary’s eyes weren’t. They were alive and staring at me - they even spoke to me,
‘Think you’re going to get out of here? Think again.’

I closed my eyes.
Don’t panic, Atty.
For the first time I wanted to yell back at Dad’s stupid voice. Don’t panic? Jesus. Try being me. Don’t panic, my foofle. Panicking was about all I had left. I wasn’t cut out for this. Born to be an activist, my backside.

I stretched out my leg and nudged the drawer closed with my foot. There must be at least twenty drawers. If they all had a body in them … No, that body must be fresh today or there’d be a stink. And flies. Big bluebottles were supposed to nest in bodies. I breathed in through my nose; the warm scent of office-block leather with an undercurrent of blueloo - nothing like the distinct, ripe whiff of Fran swinging from the bannister. And Mary’s cheeks were still soft. Dead things went hard after a while - I’d seen road-kill, frogs and stuff. I swallowed and closed my eyes. Calm.

The simplest thing to do to keep my sanity was pretend I hadn’t seen the body at all. At least I hoped there was a body attached to her head, I wasn’t going to check. And she might have dropped dead from natural causes for all I knew. Fell off the back of a bike. Ha. Oh no, the hysteria was back.

I crawled to the door and listened. My back felt vulnerable and tender, my neck in particular, tingled cold with terror. I had a word with myself. Mary didn’t frighten me when she was alive, so she certainly shouldn’t now she lay dead in a drawer – get over it, move on. I peeked out to check the corridor was clear and, to hell with looking calm, shot out the door and ran for Stuart, praying he was still where I’d left him.

The fat alcoholic’s door swung open easily. I whisper shouted, ‘Stuart!’

He popped up from behind the sofa, a piece of paper in his hand. ‘I got it.’

‘We need to get the feck out of here.’

He stepped up to me. ‘What’s happened? You’re bleeding.’

I swiped at my face and brushed at my t shirt. ‘It’s not mine.’

‘What? Then what …’

‘Never mind. What’s that?’ I reached for the sheet of paper. Not that I gave a crap.

‘They’re in the east tower.’

‘We can’t stop. We have to get out of here. Mary’s dead.’

‘Who?’ He put his hand up. ‘Doesn’t matter. We need to get Gemma.’

‘Jesus, Stuart. If we don’t go now we’re dead too. Seriously.’

‘I’m not going without Gemma. This way.’ And he ran out the door, down the corridor and veered off down a passage. I followed, pausing only to pick up a mop conveniently left against a door jamb. I’d have preferred an AK-47 but beggars and choosers, etcetera. Stuart burst through a door into another stairwell, narrower this time, more like an old fire escape. I searched the ceiling, found the camera, and battered it with the mop.

‘What are you doing?’ Stuart squeaked in horror. ‘They’re going to know we’re up to something.’

‘Oh for shitting shits sake, Stuart. How deep in it do we have to get before you wake up?’

But destroying the camera would be pretty pointless. The next one would pick us up and then the next. There was no escaping them. I looked out of the window and watched guards running towards the boundaries. And they carried guns. I didn’t know what sort, but big, BIG guns. I looked at my mop head. ‘We are so dead.’

The door opened and a man in a sharp suit stepped through. ‘Good afternoon.’ He held out his hand and Stuart shook it. ‘Delighted to meet you. My name’s Commander Jenkins. I’m head representative of International Security Specialists. Welcome to Sapton Manor.’

People stepped out of their offices and took a good look as, flanked by guards, we were taken to the ground floor and locked in a room with a barred window.

‘Now what?’ said Stuart.

‘I can’t believe you shook that guy’s hand.’

‘It’s habit.’

‘A freaking stupid one.’

‘And what about your habit of smashing people’s faces in? I’ve only known you a few days and that’s two already. Not counting ours.’

‘You’re blaming me for our black eyes now, are you? I said we should get out of that station but, hell no. Stuart knew best.’ I stomped around looking for something to prise the bars off the window with. In one corner stood a desk, two hard chairs and a broken mirror; in another an old filing cabinet lay on its side with a lonely looking print of a flower propped up against it. ‘We’re so dead.’

‘Yeah. So you said already.’

‘Well nothing’s changed, has it? In fact things have just got a whole lot worse. Commander of International Security?’

‘Nobody is to blame here, Atty. We need a clear head if we’re going to think of a way out of here, so just cool it.’

‘I am cool.’ God alive. “Cool” was on a par with “oops.” ‘I mean I’m okay.’

Stuart shook his head and looked out the window. When he turned to face me his hands rested loosely on his hips, the sun shone from behind him, and he stood in a ring of light, like some sort of solar idol. Then he spoke and spoilt it. ‘Do you think we might be about to get arrested or something?’

I gaped at him, there were no words to express how I felt. None.

He looked sulky, like a kid on the naughty step. ‘I don’t think they’re going to let us go.’

I walked in a circle, hands on my head. ‘How the hell did I end up here with you?’

‘Stop getting grotty with me, Atty.’

If he’d fronted it out instead of hiding behind the sofa we wouldn’t be in the mess we were in. There was little point in being a beefy academic if common sense didn’t feature – anywhere. I looked him in the eye and kept my voice calm. ‘Okay, I’ll just shut up while you catch up and state the bleeding obvious then.’

‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

I raised my eyebrows.

‘I’m just thinking aloud,’ he said. ‘You know, bouncing ideas around.’

‘Oh, ideas. I’d love to hear them. But if all they amount to is, “I think we might be in a spot of bother”, then you can keep them to yourself.’

‘Well you could try too. Instead of griping at me, think of a way to get us out of here. Getting stroppy and argumentative is getting us nowhere.’

‘Oh, I know,’ I said, wide-eyed like an idea had popped into my head, ‘let’s feed them salad.’

He sighed and turned back to the window. ‘You’re impossible.’

Seconds of silence turned into minutes. Oh Jeesh. I had a sulker on my hands. ‘All right, all right, I’m sorry. Can we do the bouncing idea thing?’

‘You don’t sound very sorry.’

God alive. ‘I’m really, truly, honestly, begging you sorry.’

‘We can’t keep arguing with each other. We’re all we’ve got, remember?’

Breathe Atty, breathe. ‘What ideas have you got, Stuart? Let’s hear them. And be quick. I reckon we’ve got minutes to dream something up else we’re going to end up with our heads in a drawer full of linen.’

‘Uh?’

‘Forget it.’

‘I wonder what the bloody hell they’re going to do with us.’

‘Kill us. They’re going to Bloody, bloody, BLOODY kill us. Do you get it now?’

Stuart actually looked hurt. My knees wobbled, I dropped to a crouch in the corner and put my head in my hands. It was little wonder Joe had tried to get me home. He thought he’d sent me on a nice cushy and cosy job to watch a couple of soft easty kids. No way would he have sent me anywhere near the ISS and dodgy research centres. All those years he’d kept me bubble-wrapped and safe and then, within a few short days, the bottom had fallen clean out of my comfy little box.

‘It’s all Gavin’s fault,’ I said. ‘If he hadn’t pointed his skanky finger at Stacey none of this would have happened. Fran wouldn’t have killed herself and I’d have been around to keep an eye on Gemma.’

‘Gemma is my little sister and my responsibility.’ Stuart paused, leaning against the wall as if stood waiting for a lift, hands in his pockets. ‘But neither of us could have stopped Crawlsfeld taking Gemma. He had Dad’s permission, remember?’

Perhaps having a dad go walkabout was better than having a crap one at home after all.

‘And,’ he continued, ‘it would have been somebody else’s baby if not Fran’s.’

I snorted and swallowed some self-disgust. ‘You’re a better person than me. I came here for my sake, not theirs. Chasing promotion, wanting to escape Basley, impress my dad. Selfish.’

Stuart looked to be pondering on the weather, not how to save our necks. ‘That’s not true, Atty. You sorted that Carl bloke out good and proper. Not many people would have gone in like that. I certainly didn’t want to.’ He looked at me. ‘That guy whose blood you got down your shirt, what did he do to you?’

‘Nothing. He tried and failed.’ I rubbed the palm of my hand down my thigh, scrubbed at the corner of my mouth with the cleanest corner of my T-shirt. ‘I need a shower.’

He looked back out of the window. ‘I bet a place like this is crawling with paedos.’

‘Stuart, I’m nearly eighteen.’

‘Everything is relative. Come and look at this.’ I got to my feet and joined him at the window. An army of men in black overalls, flak jackets and caps darted about the grounds directing what looked to be a mass evacuation. We watched as high-heeled women and thick-waisted men in suits climbed into various modes of transport and left through the gates.

‘It looks like they’re expecting the end of the world,’ said Stuart.

There was something about bunches of nervous looking grown men in bullet-proof vests that scared the bejeesus out of me. Stuart held my hand. ‘We’ll be okay.’ But it didn’t look good.

‘We can’t just sit here and wait for something to happen,’ I said after we’d been locked up for what felt like hours. ‘We need to be pro-active.’

‘Have you seen the size of the guns out there?’

Good point, but patience and I weren’t becoming any better friends. ‘There has to be somebody outside the door. If not I’m going to knock it down.’ I went over and hammered on it. ‘Oi! Open up!’

‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ Stuart stood staring at me like I’d lost it. He might have been right. Probably right.

I hammered again. ‘Oi! I need the bathroom!’

‘You haven’t long been.’

For an educated guy he wasn’t half thick. I gawped at him. ‘Are we wanting the same thing here?’

‘I just don’t think we should make them angry. At least without formulating some sort of plan. What are you going to do when you get out?’

‘We’ll wing it. All our plans have gone to hell so far. We must be on plan Q by now.’ I kicked at the door. ‘Oi!’

It opened and I stepped back out of the way in case they came in fighting, but, crouched over the prone body of a guard, with a finger on his lips, was Joe. ‘Shhhh.’

Joe and I have never been the cuddly types, but I leapt up and hugged his mega block head until my arms locked. ‘Oh my God. Is it good to see you? What are you doing here?’

‘Rescuing your lily-white arse.’ He prised my legs from around his waist and lowered me to the floor. ‘I told Gavin to bring you home. Where is he?’

‘Um.’ I’d forgotten about him. ‘He’s our getaway man.’

Joe gave me a look that confirmed how daft an idea that was. ‘Please tell me you’re yanking my chain.’

‘He’s waiting by the back gate,’ said Stuart.

‘I doubt that,’ said Joe. ‘Have you seen it out there? And have you heard from your mum?’

‘No. How? Why?’

‘She’s been looking for you.’

‘Where? When? Why?’ Stuart looked wide-eyed and bamboozled.

‘This is nice - this little catch up thing - but that guy’s waking up.’ I nodded towards the guard rolling onto his hands and knees just outside the door. ‘Shouldn’t we be making a run for it?’

Joe grabbed the guard’s hair and slammed his head into the wall. ‘Sorted. Come on.’

We walked down the passage and up the stairs, Joe in the middle, gripping us by our elbows. Somehow he’d managed to acquire a security pass. ‘Can you get us one of those?’ I asked.

‘Bit late for that now, don’t you think? Shut up and try and look frightened.’

It wasn’t too hard to achieve. ‘There’s a dead girl in a drawer with sheets.’

‘What girl?’ Joe frowned. ‘No. Don’t answer that. Just keep quiet.’

What was it about people not wanting to know about bodies everywhere? The corridors were silent. Only a few people bustled past carrying files and bags, and their jackets over their arms, all keen to get away before some type of massive turd hit the fan. Though I doubt they were as keen to escape as me.

Only one bloke challenged us. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Putting them with the others,’ said Joe. ‘Jenkins’ orders.’ He led us to the second floor and right at the end of the corridor was a blank door which I would have guessed led to yet another faffing cupboard. He knocked. A tubby woman with grey curly hair opened it within seconds.

She scanned me and Stuart before muttering at Joe. ‘It’s looking worse than ever out there.’

Joe nudged us into a huge room with enormous windows on two walls. It contained several sofas, three unmade beds, a cot, and lots of clothes and clutter across the floor. Very homely.

‘STUEY!’ Gemma raced towards Stuart and jumped to cling around his neck, her legs dangling, her Perfect Princess wedding-gown riding up to show fluorescent green leg warmers. If they were indulging her fashion sense she hadn’t suffered too much.

‘Woah, Gem Gem. How’re you doing?’ Stuart swung her around and closed his eyes as he hugged the life out of her.

‘Owerr. Put me dowwn.’

‘You look amazing.’ He put her back on her feet. ‘Let’s have a look at you.’ He held her hand. Gemma twirled like a ballet dancer and performed a little bow. Stuart grinned. ‘Stunning, as always.’

The girl from the park was sitting on a chair at the window bouncing Fran’s baby on her lap. ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘You okay?’ She nodded but gave me the cold teenage stare before continuing to watch Stuart and Gemma’s display of happy, reunited families. ‘And Stacey? Is she okay?’ I asked.

She looked at me, huge eyes, tearful yet sparking with defiant anger. ‘Sure.’ She stood and handed the baby to me and walked away through a door into another room. Naturally, Stacey yelled.

‘Shh, shh.’ I patted and jigged her.

Gemma came over and shouted up. ‘Oi, baby Frannie. What’s the matter with you now?’ Baby Frannie stopped crying.

‘She’s called Stacey,’ I said.

‘Well we didn’t know that so we called her baby Frannie. Fran was her mummy’s name,’ Gemma said full of importance. ‘She cries a lot.’

Great.

Joe spoke to the woman who had opened the door. I didn’t recognise her but by the way Joe leaned in close, pointing his finger like he might be uttering instructions, I’d throw a good guess she worked with him, and not Jenkins.

‘Who’s that lady?’ I asked Gemma.

‘Matron. She came this morning to look after us.’

When Joe walked towards me he looked more than serious, he looked scared. And he never got scared. My belly flipped. If Joe was scared then we all had good reason to be bricking it.

My voice sounded different as if it belonged to some soppy sap. ‘Is everything going to be okay?’

‘I hope so. Just stay here. I’ll come back for you.’ He looked at Stuart. ‘Look after her for me.’

Stuart nodded and held my hand. ‘Yes, Sir.’ I’d normally have laughed but seeing Joe like that turned me too numb-bummed-terrified to do anything much at all.

Matron looked around the room. ‘Where’s Chelsea gone?’

There was only one person Chelsea could be. ‘She went in there,’ I said, nodding towards the door.

‘The bathroom,’ said Gemma.

Stacey wriggled but I didn’t want to let go of Stuart’s hand. I tried to jiggle her back up onto my hip with the one arm.

‘Here,’ said Stuart. ‘I’ll take her.’ He let go of me and plucked Stacey away. She snuggled into his shoulder like she’d known him forever.

Matron frowned. ‘I have to go with Joe. I need you to keep your eye on Chelsea, she’s been through a rough time.’ Matron and Joe left without another word or looking back.

‘What the hell have we done?’ I said. ‘We should have stayed away.’ I should have listened to those instincts. That split, fraction of a second in the hedge, I should have said “no” – insisted that I’d changed my mind and convinced Stuart it was a dumb idea. ‘We should have stayed out the way,’ I said, ‘All we’ve done is given them two more kids to rescue.’

Stuart wrapped his free arm around me. ‘Bloody big bloke Joe, isn’t he?’

‘He’s scared.’ My hands were shaking. ‘I’ve never seen him scared before.’

‘He looked okay to me.’

‘If ever a black man goes that pale, that’s the time to start panicking.’ I tried to lean into his cuddle, sharing the space with Stacey.

‘At least he hasn’t locked the bloody door. I was getting sick of being locked in.’ He squeezed me tight and put his mouth in my hair. ‘Bloody, bloody.’

‘Not now, Stuart.’

‘Okay.’

Stuart had been right about Gemma. She didn’t shut up. She didn’t just prattle to us and Stacey but to Mr Table and Mrs Bed and Mr and Mrs Cup. I desperately wanted to wash my hands and face, maybe even grab a shower. ‘Does Chelsea spend a lot of time in the bathroom?’

‘Yes she does.’ Gemma spoke so posh it was as if she’d been trained by royalty. She might have been an interrogator for the BBC in a previous life. On and on. ‘Why hasn’t anybody come to take her home? Where’s her mummy and daddy? Has she got a big brother like me? Why is your hair a funny colour? Do you always dress like that?’

‘Chelsea will come with us,’ I said.

Chelsea’s uncle must have sold her. Maybe I’d seen him from time to time walking the streets of Basley. Pretending to be normal.

Gemma wandered away and I watched Stuart sit Stacey on the rug and feed her a pot of something he’d found in a hamper. ‘You read Chelsea’s file, right? Do you know her uncle?’ I asked. ‘He’s supposed to be looking after her since her parents died.’

‘No. She lives further west than me. Near the river.’

‘I wonder how much he got for her. Can you remember?’

‘I didn’t read it very closely.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe he believed in the whole ponies and go-kart stuff.’ He stopped and looked at the bathroom door before back to me. ‘Do you think they’ve started already? And, you know, given them something?’

‘They all look okay.’

Gemma made her way back to us and kept up her chattering. ‘Mr Crawlsfeld comes to see Chelsea sometimes and they go in there for some special time.’ She looked at me and spoke very seriously. ‘And there’s a bath. She likes to lie in the bath for ages and ages.’

Stuart swiped at his lip and leaned forward. ‘Gemma. Did Mr Crawlsfeld do anything special with you?’

She shook her head and screwed her mouth up. ‘No. He said when I got to be a little bit older he’d take me too. But I have to wait my turn.’

‘Did he give you any funny sweets or drink that you’ve never tasted before?’

Gemma sighed and flopped her arms around. ‘No. I just told you. He only likes Chelsea. I’m too little.’ She looked at the floor and went the stillest and quietest I’d ever seen her.

‘What, Gem?’ said Stuart. ‘What? You seem sad.’

‘I didn’t want special time anyway. Chelsea always cries all the time.’ Gemma’s eyes were big and heavy when she looked up at Stuart. ‘I don’t have to go anywhere with him when I’m bigger, do I?’

‘No. Definitely not.’ Stuart gave her a tight hug before standing to pace the floor. If I thought I’d seen angry Stuart before, it wasn’t a patch on this one. I followed and put my hand on his arm. He shrugged me off. ‘She’s twelve!’

Gemma stared at him, her fingers fiddling with the bow at her waist.

‘You’re frightening Gemma,’ I said.

‘Twelve!’ He looked at the ceiling and took some deep breaths before turning on me. His eyes went such a pale grey I stepped back. Never mind Gemma, he was putting the jeeblies up me.

I held my hands up. ‘She’ll be okay now. Joe will make sure of it.’

He strutted about looking so furious I feared his head might explode. ‘If they’ve already started …’

Gemma crept over and held his hand. ‘Are you okay, Stuey?’

He picked her up and squeezed her so tight she screwed her face up. ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘We’re all going to be okay. Don’t you worry.’ He put her down and crouched to speak to her. ‘Why don’t you go and play with Stacey for me. Make her giggle.’

‘Okay.’ Gemma trotted back to where Stacey lay playing on the rug.

When Stuart looked out of the window I went up behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned into his back. He felt warm and solid and smelt of grown-up man and soap.

‘It can’t keep happening, Atty.’

‘I know.’

He turned and gave me a squeeze. ‘Things will be very different when I get in office. There’ll be no Early Release Programme for a start. People like Crawlsfeld will be locked up for good.’

‘I know.’

We stood there just holding each other. I closed my eyes to pretend we were somewhere else, safe. ‘I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to get so shitty.’

‘Pah. Forget about it.’ He rubbed his hand up my back and tickled my arm with his fingers, sending a tingle deep into my stomach. ‘I’m going to make sure places like this are shut down and the buildings used to benefit the community,’ he said.

‘Good idea.’

His body relaxed and melded into mine. Then he shifted position and a gap opened between us. ‘I wonder what’s going on outside. What do you suppose Joe is up to?’

I pulled him in close again. ‘He knows what he’s doing. If anybody can put a stop to all this mess, it’s him.’

Stuart bent to snuggle my neck. ‘You will still want me when this is over, won’t you? When I can give you my full attention?’

Oh God, would I ever. I leaned my head against him. A few days ago, the idea of having an easty boyfriend would have been so ridiculous I’d have laughed myself stupid. But things had changed. Everything had changed. When we got out, if we got out, maybe we could be together. ‘Lots of guys have girlfriends from over east.’ I said.

‘Like Gavin.’

‘Yeah, like Gavin.’ I said. Not the best idea mentioning him. ‘He’s not the only one though, lots do but I don’t know of any that last. East – West, different worlds.’

‘We’ll be the exception.’

I breathed his scent and savoured the moment. If we got separated I wanted to be able to remember every touch, smell and sensation. And I tried, really tried, to believe that we might be different. ‘What about your mum? She’s going to hate me after all this.’