Cracks (15 page)

He whips the bag out of my hand before I can say anything else and rummages through it, dropping clothes onto the floor.

Then somehow I’m hard against the wall and can’t breathe. One of his hands is at my throat, while the other pats me all over. Somehow he misses the antibiotics that sit snugly
against my leg. His face is close. His pupils are huge and his eye colour mismatched. One is almost golden like a cat’s and the other is green.

‘I told you I had no money,’ I splutter as he releases me. I regret it straight away. He smiles in a way that reminds me of a snake about to strike with a poisonous bite.

‘Yeah, you did,’ he says. ‘So you can get lost now.’

‘I tell you, Zander, Matt’s not going to bring any trouble,’ says Jax. ‘He’s the invisible man.’

Zander’s whole body stiffens. ‘Invisible man?’

‘He got buzz-droned earlier and it just left him alone,’ says Jax. I’m trying to beam SHUT UP! at him in giant letters but my telepathy skills are obviously rubbish.

‘It was like it couldn’t read him or something,’ he continues eagerly.

Zander is looking at me differently now. His eyes flick to my bandaged arm.

‘How d’you do that?’ he says.

‘Dog bit me,’ I say instantly.

He smiles, showing small pointed teeth and for a moment I imagine him sinking them into the other arm.

‘One night only,’ he says quietly. ‘There’s no room for freeloaders here.’

I meet his gaze, trying to match the cold contempt in his eyes. ‘No problem,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘One night. Thanks.’

Zander stalks off and Jax lets out a breath beside me.

‘Who’s that charmer, then?’ I say quietly.

‘That’s Zander,’ says Jax in an equally low voice. ‘He’s kind of in charge here. We all work for him and he keeps us safe in return.’

I wonder what it’s like to have Zander with his crazy eyes as your protector.

Jax must read this because he grimaces. ‘Ain’t so bad. Better than the streets.’ He looks away.

S
omeone hands me a bowl of curry and I practically inhale it. People talk late into the night, most of the conversation about games I’ve
never heard of or football stuff that seems too insane to be true. I swear someone says Crawley Town are top of the Premier league, but I reckon I might be delirious from everything that’s
happened.

My eyelids feel like they have weights attached. Jax hands me a musty blanket, which I take gratefully, even though I’m still damp from the rain, which I can hear hammering relentlessly
outside. I try not to get too close to Kyla, but she’s restless. I can feel the heat of her fever coming off her. I drop off and then wake with a start to find her thin arm lying across my
chest. I lie there, frozen with embarrassment then get really distracted by her velvety skin. I gently move her arm back into a comfortable position. Jax is asleep on the other side of her and the
voices are getting quieter, replaced by snores from around the room.

Then Kyla has a coughing fit that violently jerks her upright. Jax is instantly awake. He pats her shoulder and murmurs soothing words as her body convulses. Tears leak from the corners of her
wide eyes and she flaps her hands, struggling to breathe. I go cold all over. Jax’s face is tight and frightened. She’s in a really bad way.

After a few more moments it passes and she collapses back, a thin sheen of sweat on her face. Her lips are dry and cracked-looking. She’s wheezy but breathing again.

I lie there, eyes bolted open, having an epic wrestling match with my conscience.

Kyla needs antibiotics.

I have antibiotics.

I need antibiotics too.

But she might actually die. Quite soon, by the looks of it.

I look at my hand and tentatively pull back the bandage. It’s a bit red and puffy round the edges. It hurts, but not too badly. It’s not brilliant but let’s face it, I have a
bit of a knackered hand while she has knackered lungs. It’s not really much of a contest.

I wriggle to get the tube of pills out of my pocket. Then I nudge Jax awake.

‘Waar . . .?’ he says grumpily.

‘Got something for you. For Kyla, I mean.’

‘Eh?’

I hand him the antibiotics and he sits up straight, cradling the tube like it’s as delicate as an egg.

He reads the label and turns to me, eyes wide. ‘Where d’you get these from?’

I hesitate. ‘I can’t tell you. But I think Kyla needs them more than me.’

Jax carries on staring at the pills. He doesn’t thank me and I’m feeling a bit annoyed until I realise he doesn’t know what to say. I carry on talking to fill the silence.
‘I think you take them three times a day.’

Jax just nods and then gently wakes Kyla. She grumbles as Jax coaxes her to swallow two of the tablets with some flat Coke. She lies back down and so does Jax.

He grunts something.

‘What?’

‘Thanks, man,’ says Jax. Within a couple of minutes, he’s gently snoring.

The girl stirs in her sleep and turns towards me. She opens her eyes wide and then her eyelids flicker and she falls asleep again.

I lie there forever, trying to do the same. My thoughts keep jumping around like something wild trapped in a cage. I’m picturing the twisted, smoking remains of the van and imagining the
bodies inside it, all burned up. I squeeze the heel of my hand hard into one eyeball, trying to blank out the pictures but it’s no good. Now I’m seeing Des’s face up close, spit
flying. Then Cavendish with his cold smile, explaining terrible things as though they’re normal and everyday. And then there’s the boy. The brain tissue donor. The one who gave me my
only memories. I keep trying not to think about him but he’s always there, inside me. Closer even than a twin. I know how it felt to be him. I know everything about him and almost nothing
about me.

Then I’m in Amil’s house and his mum is talking in a quiet, low voice, comforting me. But she isn’t Indian. She has long red hair and freckles . . . it’s so nice here. I
want to stay. But then someone else is prodding me, hard.

I wake up sharply. Zander is crouching over me and poking me in the ribs. ‘Wake up,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a little job for you.’ His hot breath smells of alcohol and
onions. ‘Get up.’

‘What . . . now?’ I say.

His eyes narrow. ‘Yes, now. You stay here, you pay your way. Even for one night.’ He touches his coat pocket meaningfully. Something pointed is in there. A gun, or maybe a knife. He
blinks. ‘You’re mistaking this for a request. Get up.’

I carefully get to my feet, keeping my eyes on his.

‘So you’re the invisible man, according to Jaxon,’ he says. ‘Let’s see how invisible you really are.’

He gestures with his hand in the pocket. We step around the bodies that are sighing, snoring and emitting puffs of bad breath. I’m breathing heavily, scared, but I don’t want him to
know that. He’s a bully. He gets off on making people feel small inside so I stand tall even though my knees are trembling. He could be taking me anywhere. Again, I picture myself bleeding in
a gutter. But he knows I have no cash so why bother?

I think about making a run for it all the same but, once outside, there’s no real chance of me doing it. He looks like he could be fast, plus he’s walking close enough for me to feel
the bulge of his weapon in his coat pocket. His leather coat creaks gently as we move and his onion breath keeps coming in gusts against my face. ‘Where are we going?’ I say. I try to
sound calm but my teeth are chattering.

‘Not far. I’ve got a little test for you,’ says Zander. ‘This is your way of thanking me for my hospitality.’

I can’t think what he could possibly want from me and panic lurches in my stomach. We walk through the empty streets for ages. Zander moves in a silent prowl, dodging open spaces and
sliding from building to building like a slippery shadow. I try to do what he does. Being with him is bad enough, but I don’t want to get picked up by CATS either. I shiver involuntarily at
the thought of them finding out that I escaped from the Facility. Better see what he wants and try not to freak out.

We retrace our steps along the canal and then go a different direction so that after about five minutes we’re amongst what looks like tall office blocks. After a while we come to a
smart-looking plaza. Glass buildings rear up on all sides, so tall I get neck-ache looking up. Zander pulls me back into the shadows. I feel something press against my shoulder blades and
there’s a soft, deadly click.

‘Now then, here’s what you’re going to do,’ he whispers. ‘You’re going to walk across that square and I’m going to see if you’re as invisible as
Jax says you are.’

‘That all?’ I say. ‘Just walk?’

‘The whole square is spiked with security lasers,’ he says. ‘They can only be set off by humans. Foxes were causing too many false alarms. So the cameras and alarm systems only
kick in when they sense ID chips. And you and I both know that you aren’t chipped, don’t we, Matt?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I say pathetically and Zander digs the gun in harder.

‘Don’t mess with me,’ he hisses in my ear. ‘Now go.’

He shoves me hard and I cry out and stumble into the brightly lit square.

I stand rooted to the spot. I’m breathing hard. I’m scared to move a muscle in case alarms start screeching all around and men in balaclavas appear from the sky on ropes. But two,
three, four seconds pass and nothing happens. He said they only get activated by ID chips, didn’t he? And there wouldn’t be any point bringing me here otherwise. Would there? Well, then
. . . but I’m still frozen.

‘Oi!’ hisses Zander and cocks his head to indicate I should move. He waves the gun at me.

I take a deep and shaky breath of the cold night air. The rain has stopped but the wet marble flooring gleams like black silk around me. I slide my right foot forward and pause, heart crashing
against my ribcage and cold sweat trickling from my armpits inside my clothes. Nothing happens so I slowly move the other foot forward.

Nothing. No men on ropes. No
wah-wah-wah
of sirens.

I take a few tentative steps, sliding my feet on the slippery ground as though lifting them to walk properly will somehow jinx everything.

A couple more steps . . .

I realise I’ve been holding my breath and I let it out in a rush. I think it’s going to be OK . . .

And then everything changes.

Terror clutches at my insides as a bluey-white light suddenly appears as a long column in front of me. It silently creeps up and over my body. I look up for its source and see its coming from a
device high up on the side of the building. It crawls upwards and I close my eyes against the blinding brightness of it. Then it snaps off and is gone. I daren’t move. I daren’t breathe
or blink or anything.

But nothing happens. I feel like laughing out loud with relief. I hear a soft repetitive sound and see that Zander is grinning broadly and gently clapping his hands together.

He gestures for me to move around a bit more. But I’m fed up with being a performing monkey for him. So I walk defiantly back to where he is leaning against the wall, a sly smile on his
face.

‘Excellent,’ he says, grinning broadly. ‘Now then, Matt. I’ve got a business proposition for you . . .’

As we walk back, Zander speaks, his breath making cloudy puffs in the chilly night air.

Here’s his proposition: I hang around for a few weeks and help him with his ‘work’. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that this involves thieving. But he claims he has
a ‘foolproof system’ and no one will get caught. He’ll pay me a bit, but, here’s the most interesting part, he’ll not only get me some fake papers but reckons a mate
of his can fit me with a false ID chip that passes routine checks.

‘Why would you think I —?’ I start to say, not sure I want him to see how much I might need this.

‘Don’t take me for an idiot,’ he interrupts. It’s like a shutter has slammed down on his new friendliness. His eyes glint, cold and hard. ‘I heard what Jaxon said,
about you being “invisible”. I know you’re not chipped. I don’t much care why. But you know it and I know it too.’

I look at my feet. He’s right. I was mad to think I could get to Brinkley Cross on my own. How long before I get spotted and picked up? I’d still have to be careful about being seen
on regular CCTV but at least this way, I’d have papers to check if I get stopped by CATS. Maybe I could get myself back on my feet a bit; learn a little about this strange world I’ve
woken up to. And then I can try to find out where home is.

It’s seriously tempting.

‘I’ve got a question before I agree to anything.’ I say.

Zander stops abruptly next to me and looks questioningly into my face.

‘Have you heard of somewhere called Brinkley Cross?’

‘What?’ His irritated voice is taut as a wire. A muscle in his cheek twitches and his eyes are cold. There’s a sweetish, musty smell rising from his coat, although I probably
don’t smell that great either right now.

I repeat the question.

‘Why you asking me about this now?’ he says. ‘I’m trying to strike a deal with you here.’

‘I know,’ I say, swallowing, ‘but I need to know something important before I agree to anything.’ I meet his glare and make myself not waver or blink. ‘Brinkley
Cross. Can you look it up or something?’