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‘Officer Calvin, please –'

‘Do it!' he ordered.

I stood up. The others got up too.

Calvin herded us into the corner of the room.

‘Please,' I stammered again, falling back against the wall. ‘No, no, please. Don't do this. Please don't do this.'

My fingers clawed the glass behind me, and suddenly it was like someone had flipped a switch in my brain, like all the terror I'd felt so far had just been the warm-up. Nausea flooded my body and I doubled over.

I could feel Luke shaking next to me, cowering.

Not Jordan. Even now, she was refusing to drop eye contact with Calvin.

‘The girl first,' said Shackleton easily. ‘Let's be gentlemen about this.'

No.

Adrenaline exploded through me and a second later I was standing in front of her, blocking Calvin's path.

‘Peter!'

Whump!

Calvin slammed me back into the glass wall, pinning me by the throat with his messed-up arm. His good hand swung around, pointing his gun at Jordan's head.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, grinding my teeth, struggling against the weight of his body and the weight of the rage and terror swirling through me. I heard the click of Calvin's weapon, heard one final thump of his crutch as he braced himself against me, ready to fire.

Don't do this.

Don't do this.

Please –

Chapter 29

T
HURSDAY
, J
UNE
4
70
DAYS

‘Bruce, wait! Don't!'

BLAM!

Screams. I think one of them was mine.

An angry shout from Calvin.

And then the thump of a body hitting the ground.

I pried my eyes open, scanning the room, brain processing everything at quarter speed.

Jordan still standing.

Luke slumped down next to me, shaking.

No blood.

We were all still here.

Wait. No. Where was Calvin?

Movement on the ground a few metres away.

Somehow, Calvin had wound up flat on his back at the other end of the room.

How …?

Someone had shouted.

Dr Montag.

He was standing outside the doorway, looking frantic.

For one crazy second, I thought he'd taken a shot at Calvin.

But no, the doc was unarmed.

And unfortunately, it looked like Calvin was fine. He was batting his arms around, reaching for his crutch, confused and disoriented.

The bullet had gone wide, splintering the glass behind Jordan's head.

Shackleton was still standing behind his chair. He glanced back and forth between Calvin, Montag and the three of us, bemused, but still smiling.

And then suddenly, Calvin was stretching out his hand towards us, aiming his weapon at me again.

I scrambled across the carpet, trying to get out of the line of fire.

‘Bruce, no!' shouted Montag, stepping between Calvin and us. ‘We need them.'

‘Out of the way, doc,' growled Calvin, waving his gun at him.

‘No, we can't afford –'

‘They know about Tabitha!' barked Calvin.

‘And this is your plan, is it, Chief?' said Montag. ‘To destroy every candidate who –'

‘Who threatens to expose us? Yes, Doc, that's exactly my plan.'

‘And what exactly do you intend to tell their families?' Montag turned to Shackleton. ‘Sir, please.'

‘Yes, yes, all right,' said Shackleton, like this was all just an interesting twist in some drama he was watching on TV. ‘Put the gun down for a moment, will you, Bruce?'

Calvin glared at the doc, but let his arm drop.

My body gave a kind of shudder. Relief, maybe. By that point my brain was spinning too fast to tell one emotion from another.

‘I assume your arrival means the subject has been safely contained?' said Shackleton.

‘Yes sir, the chamber seems to be holding,' said the doctor. ‘But we lost two more men tonight, transferring him. Which, with respect, sir, is all the more reason not to shoot anyone else unless we absolutely –'

‘That's not the
real
reason, though, is it, Doctor?' Calvin grunted, sitting up.

The doc stiffened. ‘What are you suggesting?'

Calvin grabbed his crutch and hauled himself to his feet.

‘I'm
suggesting,
' he sneered, ‘that we wouldn't even be having this conversation if you hadn't suddenly taken an interest in the Hunter boy's mother. And until you manage to recover your objectivity –'

‘Oh, yes,' said Montag, ‘let's have a lesson in objectivity from the man who's just spent half the night trying to exact bloody revenge on –'

‘That will do, gentlemen,' said Shackleton. He strolled out from behind his chair. ‘It seems to me,' he said, ‘that a compromise is in order.'

By now, Jordan had slid down to the carpet next to Luke and me. I could see her eyes flickering, following Shackleton around the room.

‘I'm sure you can see my conundrum,' said Shackleton, bending down to talk to us again. ‘Whatever his motives may be for wanting to keep you children alive, Dr Montag is correct. We cannot afford to continue haemorrhaging candidates. To lose another three of our number tonight would be disastrous.'

He began slowly pacing the length of the table, rubbing his temples like he was the one having a bad night. ‘However,' he continued, ‘Officer Calvin is
equally
correct in pointing out the foolishness of releasing anyone back into the community who might compromise the success of our operation. What we
need,
therefore, is a way of ensuring that you children keep the information you have uncovered tonight to yourselves.'

Shackleton reached the end of the table and stopped pacing. ‘Go down to my office and fetch the suppressors, will you, Doctor?'

For a fraction of a second, Montag hesitated, and I thought he might be about to question Shackleton. But then he just nodded and left the room.

Suppressors?

Jordan looked at me for an explanation. I had nothing for her.

But if even the doc thought this was a bad idea …

Shackleton came padding back towards our end of the room. ‘I had hoped, Peter, that your father would be a bit more co-operative after the unpleasantness of our last meeting.'

I looked up. He was standing right over me.

‘What? No, Mr Shackleton, my dad didn't –'

Shackleton smiled and held up a hand. ‘I'm not suggesting that he was involved in tonight's little endeavour,' he said. ‘Your father has no idea what goes on up here. However – ah.'

The doctor was back, carrying a steel briefcase. He laid the case down on the table and clicked it open.

‘They'll need to stand up,' said Montag.

Calvin stomped over and kicked me with his good leg. ‘You heard him.'

We got to our feet and he marched us back over to the table.

‘Lean over,' said the doc.

‘What are you doing to us?' Jordan demanded.

‘Please,' said Montag. ‘Just lean forward across the table.'

‘Doc, no, c'mon,' I stammered, ‘you don't really want to hurt us, do you? This isn't –'

Calvin slammed a hand into my back, knocking me down on the desk. I looked pleadingly at the doc but he refused to make eye contact. He had a kind of faraway look in his eyes, like he was trying to detach himself from the whole situation.

Montag reached into the suitcase and lifted up a shining silver instrument. Like a handgun with a syringe in place of the barrel. I squirmed, nausea rising again, but any thought of escape was wiped out by the sight of Calvin's weapon hovering in the corner of my eye.

‘This technology has been a pet project of Dr Galton's for quite some time,' said Shackleton, as Montag loaded something into the back of the syringe/gun. ‘She was so pleased to finally get it up and running.'

Montag closed the briefcase and brought the thing around behind me. I flinched, almost throwing up, as he pulled up my shirt and rested a hand on my back.

‘Your father was the first to undergo the procedure,' Shackleton told me, like this was just an interesting piece of trivia. ‘It was intended to serve as warning.'

I felt Montag point the syringe at the small of my back. The cold steel tip sent a shiver up my spine.

Clink.

Montag pulled the trigger and whatever else I was going to say was caught up in an agonised scream. Pain exploded from where the needle hit, sparking up my spine and down my legs, sending me crashing down to the floor.

‘A warning,' said Shackleton, peering down at me, ‘about the importance of keeping his son in line. A duty which, I am sad to say, he has clearly failed to live up to.'

The doc moved across to Jordan.

‘No,' I mumbled, still writhing on the ground. ‘No, please …'

I wanted to get up, wanted to save her.

But I couldn't –

Clink.

Jordan cried out, and the sound was almost worse than getting hit with the needle. She tried to stay standing, tried to keep looking Shackleton in the eye, but lasted only a few seconds before her legs gave out and she collapsed next to me.

I clutched her arm.

Seconds later, another shout and Luke hit the carpet too.

The three men stood over us. Shackleton, frowning sympathetically. Calvin, completely cold, probably disappointed that we were all still breathing. Montag, looking like his medical detachment was pretty hard to keep up with the three of us thrashing and groaning at his feet.

Slowly, the sharp stabbing pain began to give way to a dull ache. It still hurt plenty, but at least I had my head back together enough to hear Shackleton when he spoke again.

‘The worst of the pain should be over within a few minutes,' he said gently. ‘And your legs should return to full strength within a week – assuming you all behave yourselves.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?' grunted Jordan, sitting up.

‘Each of you has just been implanted with a tracking device,' said Shackleton. ‘From the computer in my office, I will now be able to monitor your locations at all times.'

Jordan stared up at him, and I knew she was already calculating, already searching for a way to keep fighting him.

Shackleton seemed to guess what she was thinking.

‘Any sign of misbehaviour,' he said pointedly, ‘and the pain comes back. The suppressor will block muscle control in your legs, rendering you unable to walk.'

He paused, giving the words a chance to sink in, his smile stretching so wide that it looked like his face might split apart.

‘Which reminds me,' said Shackleton, drumming his hands on the table. ‘Doctor, would you please ensure that we have a wheelchair waiting for Peter's father when he wakes up in the morning? I would hate for his new condition to interfere with –'

‘No!' I said, staggering up to my knees. ‘Mr Shackleton, come on, he hasn't done anything! He told me to stay
away
from all of this!'

Shackleton sighed sadly. ‘If only you had listened to him.'

I crumpled back down to the floor.

What were we thinking, coming up here?

Why
hadn't
I listened to him? Or to Reeve? Or to the voice of sanity in my own head, screaming all along that we'd be killed?

Now my dad was going to wake up paralysed. Luke's dad would be hunted down by Shackleton's men. We were trapped in this place,
trapped in our own bodies.
And for what?

For
what?

Jordan reached up and latched onto the edge of the table. Slowly and shakily, she pulled herself to her feet, staring defiantly at Shackleton. She leant in, right up close to him.

And she spat in his face.

Calvin was on her in an instant, but Shackleton waved at him to let go.

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his cheek.

‘No,' said Shackleton, folding up the little square of material and sticking it back into his pocket. ‘No, it's still not quite enough, is it? Not enough to ensure that you won't make some foolish attempt at retaliation.'

When his hand came back from his pocket, it was clutching a phone. He slid it open and dialled a number.

‘Victoria,' said Shackleton brightly, speaking into the phone. ‘Can you give me the feed from Surveillance Room One please?'

What now?
I thought wearily. After everything we'd been through tonight, what more could this psychopath possibly do to us?

Across the room, the Shackleton Co-operative logo on the screen disappeared. A second later, a security camera feed appeared in its place. It was the room from Crazy Bill's DVD. The room where Craig and Laura had died.

I felt Jordan jolt beside me, like she'd been electrocuted. I grabbed one of the chairs and dragged myself to my feet for a better look at the screen. Luke did the same.

On the screen, we could see Reeve kneeling on the floor, his unbroken hand cuffed to the table in the middle of the interrogation room. He was talking to someone outside the frame.

‘As you can see,' said Shackleton, ‘Dr Galton has managed to resolve the security issues that were plaguing us earlier this evening.'

‘Let him go,' hissed Jordan through gritted teeth.

Shackleton ignored her and put the phone back to his ear. ‘Any time you're ready,' he said. He threw a glance over his shoulder, smiling warmly back at us. ‘Yes, they're watching.'

Cold dread stabbed through me.

‘Don't you dare!' said Jordan. ‘Don't you dare use that
thing
on him!'

‘Tabitha?' Shackleton chuckled. ‘No, I'm afraid that would be quite ineffective at this stage. He's a candidate, after all, just like the three of you.'

Another figure strode into the interrogation room, long brown hair trailing behind her.

Dr Galton.