Furnace 4 - Fugitives (20 page)

Parting Ways

I didn’t have a plan. Of course I didn’t, I wasn’t a military general, I wasn’t even that smart. I was just a kid with a vendetta. I wanted to kill Alfred Furnace. Alfred Furnace was in the tower. We needed to head for the tower. Bingo, there it was, my masterpiece.

It was met by three expressions that were about as far from impressed as it was possible to be. Zee shoved the last of Donovan’s burger into his mouth, swallowing it without really chewing.

‘You better make sure that blacksuit doesn’t report back what you just said,’ he mumbled through the crumbs, wiping his lips with his jumper. ‘Because it would be such a shame if that amazing plan was foiled.’

Sarcasm. Just what we needed.

‘Seriously, though,’ said Lucy. ‘If that’s all you’ve got then I’m out of here. Talk about strolling into your own grave.’

We fell quiet, the sizzle of meat scraps on the grill like white noise. I tried to get my thoughts in order, to come up with something better, but I just couldn’t. It wasn’t
that they were too chaotic. If anything it was that they were too calm. I felt like a ship in the doldrums, stranded by absent wind and motionless waves, unable to build up any momentum. Every time I tried to put something together it just fell dead in the water.

‘Okay,’ Lucy went on, seeing me struggle. She was toying with her medallion again, nervously flicking it back and forth along its chain. ‘I know this is none of my business. But hear me out. This is what I think you should do.’

We all listened as she explained, leaning in closer and closer with each word. It took her the best part of a minute to spell things out. And I have to hand it to her, it was a better plan than mine.

‘It means splitting up,’ Zee said when Lucy had finished. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t really fancy being out there on my own.’

‘You won’t be on your own,’ Lucy replied.

Zee raised an apologetic hand. ‘Sorry, I meant without Alex and Simon. They’ve kind of saved my ass a few times now.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Lucy’s right. If we stay together and something happens then that’s it, game over. At least this way even if one of us …’ For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to say it, although the pause seemed to carry more weight than the word itself. ‘Then we still stand a chance.’

‘A very, very, very small chance,’ Simon said. ‘I wouldn’t bet on us.’

I wouldn’t either, but it didn’t stop a strange sense of
optimism filling the room. It sat in every twinkle of our eyes and every gentle smile.

‘Just remember,’ I said to Zee and Lucy, looking at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was shaped like a chicken, two skinny legs swinging beneath it and a goggle-eyed head staring at us in alarm. The greasy dial on its breast told us that it was nearly midday. It seemed impossible, utterly and completely impossible, that just eight hours ago we’d been in Furnace Penitentiary. That just twenty-four hours before that I’d been a blacksuit about to take the warden’s final test. They were snapshots from another age, another life. ‘Just remember, two o’clock.’

‘Two o’clock,’ Zee said. ‘You sure that will give you enough time?’

‘If I’m not out of there by two then I’m already dead,’ I said. ‘Or worse.’

Zee nodded. He looked unsure but he didn’t say anything.

‘So I guess this is it, then?’ he said, his voice so heavy that it almost broke. He coughed, then held out his hand. I went to shake it, forgetting about my bladed fingers and almost poking his eye out. He switched his right hand for his left and I shook it, realising that it was the first time I’d ever done so. His hand was small and warm, but strong. And I never wanted to let it go.

‘We’ll see each other again, on the other side,’ said Simon, putting his own mammoth hand over ours and squeezing. Lucy stood to the side watching us, and I
think there was genuine affection in her eyes. She caught me looking and offered me a smile.

‘On the other side of what?’ I asked Simon, raising my eyebrow. ‘Death?’

‘No,’ he blurted. ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant on the other side of this, the other side of the plan.’

We laughed together, softly this time, because we might not get another chance. We stared at our hands, still locked together between us, none of us making the break.

‘All for one,’ said Zee. And that did it. Simon pulled his hand off, using it to wave us away.

‘Oh God, don’t start all that musketeer crap again,’ he said. ‘Heard enough of it back in the prison. Come on, let’s just get this over and done with.’

I released my grip and Zee’s hand tumbled out of mine, slapping against his hip. I noticed the bands of white against his skin where my fingers had dug in. I didn’t realise quite how hard I’d been holding it.

‘What about him? Those cords won’t hold him when he gets his strength back,’ Simon said, nodding at the blacksuit. The man turned to us, a flicker of concern in his silver eyes.

‘Forget him,’ I said. ‘Even if he does get out there’s not much he can do. This will all be over in a couple of hours, one way or another.’

‘It will be over for you,’ the blacksuit growled without conviction.

‘Yeah yeah,’ I said. ‘So you keep saying.’

I turned my back on him and led the way out of the
kitchen into the small, dark corridor that ended at the back door. Zee had piled up a bunch of crates in front of it and we set about pulling them out of the way. I opened the door a crack to reveal the courtyard we had entered through, still deserted. It stank of rotting food from the bins lined up against the wall, but even more overpowering than that was the constant burning reek of smoke. Back in the open the sound of gunfire and helicopters reasserted itself. It made what we were about to do feel real. Too real.

‘Be safe,’ I said to Zee. ‘Stay off the main roads, and if you see anything moving that isn’t dressed in beige and brown then—’

‘I know, I know,’ he broke in. ‘We’ll be fine, we’ll find them.’

‘And no smooching along the way,’ added Simon. Zee’s cheeks flared, and so did Lucy’s. Her mouth fell open as if she was about to protest but she obviously thought better of it. I wondered whether they’d make it through this, whether it would bring them together. I pictured them in ten years’ time, or twenty, married, living miles away from here. I wondered whether they’d tell their kids stories about me, about what happened here. I hoped so.

My vision was blurring, so I started off out of the courtyard. There were two alleyways, one going west and the other east.

‘Be safe,’ I repeated. Zee nodded once, then he took Lucy’s hand and they made their way towards the second passageway. They hadn’t gone far before Lucy shook
him free and ran towards me, her hands around the back of her neck. Something glinted as she pulled it free: the medallion. She held it out between us. I studied it as it spun hypnotically, seeing an image of one man carrying another on his shoulders.

‘It’s a St Christopher,’ she said bashfully. ‘My dad gave it to me. He was a cop, I told you.’ She paused, staring into the middle distance as though she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. She seemed to pull the necklace away, then reached for my good hand and pushed the warm silver into my palm. She hung on to me as she talked, her fingers tiny against my own.

‘He was one of the policemen who got killed during that summer, the Summer of Slaughter. They never caught the gang members who did it, or maybe they did, I don’t know. Nobody ever went to court for it, anyway. That’s why I …That’s how come I’ve been acting the way I have.’ She squeezed my hand tighter. ‘I hated you all, so much. I hated every single inmate in that place. But I guess I shouldn’t have. And I need to thank you for that.’

‘For what?’ I asked, genuinely confused.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I really don’t. I was just tired of hating.’ She let go of my hand, stepping back. ‘It’s not a gift, it’s a loan. St Christopher, he’s the patron saint of travellers, so you should take him, take him with you.’

I started to protest, as she must have known I would.

‘It’s not a gift,’ she repeated. ‘It means too much to me. Give it back when you’ve killed him, okay? Give it back to me when things are back to normal.’

‘I will.’

‘Promise me,’ she asked gently. And I realised she was asking for a promise not just to return the necklace, but to make things normal again. It was a promise I doubted I could keep, but one I made anyway.

‘I promise,’ I said. She nodded at me, then jogged back to Zee, the pair hurrying from the courtyard together. Zee had his head ducked down, making him look even smaller than he already was. Right then he didn’t look as if he’d survive for more than a minute out there in Furnace’s new playground. I almost set off after him, but Simon grabbed my arm, knowing me too well.

‘It’s a good plan,’ he said. ‘It will work.’

It better had
, I thought. I had no hope of clipping the medallion round my neck with my hands the way they were, so instead I tucked the chain into my pocket.

Then Zee was gone, and without another word Simon and I turned and jogged the other way.

If things outside had been bad before, they were a million times worse now. At the end of the alley we had to pause, hiding in the shadows as a bunch of people walked past. There must have been thirty of them, a mix of men and women, young and old, and their clothes were tattered and stained. The two men who led the pack brandished iron bars, the metal stained with what might have been rust.

We could have stepped out. We were all on the same side, after all. But I saw the terror in their eyes,
and the violence too, so fierce it was almost spilling out of them, and I knew they’d have beaten us into the concrete before we could even get a word out. There was no self-styled priest goading them on this time, but scared people were stupid people. We waited for them to reach the end of the street beyond before sloping out and heading in the opposite direction, towards the glinting upper floors of the distant skyscrapers.

All around us was the soundtrack of war, an endless cacophony of explosions, shots, screams and worse carried on a warm wind that didn’t seem to know where to turn. It gusted down the streets in every direction, carrying scraps of clothing and a fine pink mist that soon burnished our clothes and our skin, collecting in the hollows of our eyes and making us cry tears of other people’s blood.

At one point, as we were crossing an intersection that led down the hill towards the centre of the city, a jet screamed overhead, so low it felt as if I could reach up and touch it. I saw the missiles clustered underneath the wings, prayed that Zee would get where he was going, that he’d be able to complete his part of the plan.

Simon swore, drawing me from my thoughts in time to see an army truck up ahead. There were bodies inside, but nothing that I could make much sense of. I heard Simon take a deep breath, holding it as he jumped onto the back of the truck and carefully pulled a grenade belt off one of them. He grabbed another, taking three in all, before leaping back down to the ground.

‘Might come in useful,’ he said as he strung the belts over his shoulder.

We continued in silence, and although I’m not a believer I mouthed a prayer as we passed that truck, the constant drip of blood from the tailgate like a ticking clock. I wasn’t sure if that prayer was for the dead soldiers or for me, though.

The blacksuit had told us that the funeral parlour was off High Court Road and he hadn’t been lying. We ran across the cracked tarmac of the main road, past the corpse of a berserker – a fat freak whose blubbery torso had been detonated over the street like so much pink and black blancmange – the shops flashing by one by one until we reached a building painted black. ‘A. Gold-burn and Sons’ was written in faded bronze, the windows tinted so that we couldn’t see inside.

We were much closer to the centre now, and even though the buildings here were big the skyscrapers towered over them. I couldn’t make out the one we were heading towards, but I could almost feel it, as if it was hiding behind the others waiting to pounce. I pictured the tunnel that burrowed beneath the streets, a wormhole that led into the heart of darkness, and wished that Zee had this job and I had his.