Resurgence (8 page)

I move carefully towards her until I am close enough to crouch and inspect the device. It has a metal ball at one end with a long, thin stem, like a baby’s rattle but longer and much
deadlier. Pietra’s shoe is resting half on the spherical end, half on the handle of the grenade. Her fingers are wavering as Hart joins me by her side, taking her hand in his and rubbing it
hard.

‘What is it like?’ he asks.

‘I don’t know. I can’t see a trigger,’ I reply.

Pietra says what I didn’t want to. ‘It doesn’t matter if there’s a trigger. It’s probably too unstable anyway.’

Hart hunches next to me, letting go of Pietra’s hand. ‘You’re good with this stuff. Is there any chance you can disarm it?’

‘If it was electronic I might have some clue, but this is different. Even if I did have an idea I don’t have the tools to get into it and there’s no obvious panel. It’s a
sealed unit.’

‘What about your box?’

I take the teleport device out of my pocket but know from the heat of the back panel that it isn’t going to work. The buttons on the front are unresponsive but at least it is now light
enough to see what I’m doing. I took a small screwdriver from the camp before we left and use it to wedge the back panel open. A small puff of steam escapes and the insides are hotter than
the housing. I shake my head to say it isn’t going to happen and lever the wiring out with the screwdriver.

I sit on the floor and stare up at Pietra’s scared expression. Her clothing is wet from the tunnel, with her hair stuck to her face. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve done something wrong
and it’s overheated. I’m going to need to replace some of the wiring.’

‘Can you do that around here?’ Hart asks.

Pietra replies for me. ‘If there’s one grenade here, there could be others. I don’t want you to go looking because of me.’

Hart begins to say that he’ll go anyway but she cuts across him with a firm ‘no’. None of us knows if the spying birds are still circling nearby either.

‘You should go.’ Pietra’s gentle but firm statement is met by silence so she continues. ‘I was the one silly enough to step on it. There’s no point in any of you
putting yourselves in danger. You all move away and I’ll take my foot off it. You never know, it might not go off and I can catch you up.’

The way her voice cracks makes it clear she doesn’t believe her own words. Hart tries to hold onto her arm but she pushes him away, carefully keeping her foot still.

‘Go,’ she urges, nodding towards me. ‘You especially. You need to get Imrin back and do everything else you need to. People are relying on you.’

‘I keep hearing that.’ ‘That’s because it’s true.’

The fact that her first priority is getting the rest of us to safety is a testament to the woman she has become. The girl on the train who taunted Wray for being a Trog as we were taken to
Windsor Castle for the first time is long gone. Pietra has been with me ever since I tripped over her in the secret passageway on the way back to the dormitory what seems like such a long time ago.
We have trekked from one end of the country to the other together.

Too many people I care about have died trying to do something for me: Rush, Faith, Porter and Opie’s father, not to mention everyone at the village hall. I dread to think what happened
after we were smuggled away. It doesn’t even end there: Wray and Xyalis are at opposite ends of the spectrum, one innocent and naive, one desperate for power. But I still watched them both
die in front of me.

And what about Imrin?

My mother’s words drift into my mind from when she was talking about Jela and Pietra: ‘You’ve got some good friends there’.

She’s right, I do. And Pietra can’t be another person added to the list of those who have died for me.

I pull myself up, ignoring my aching legs and the pulsing behind my eyeballs. I remember sleeping in the camp at the gully but it seems like such a long time ago. My body is telling me to rest
but it has been a relentless week, each day longer than the last.

Opie and Jela have been waiting nearby. No one blames them for not crowding Pietra; the fewer people close to the explosive, the better. As I move backwards looking from side to side, they join
me.

‘What are you looking for?’ Jela asks.

‘Pieces of scrap – it needs to be flat but solid. Not too bulky.’

Pietra calls across for me to stop but I ignore her. Hart hasn’t left her side, despite her insistence.

Many of the smaller pieces of metal piled about us are so rusted and brittle that they are unusable. Opie suggests heading around the gully towards our spot where we know there are broken
thinkpads but it isn’t something we can risk. There are Kingsmen close in the village and the possibility of spying birds overhead.

As I begin to think we aren’t going to find anything useful, Jela calls us across to the van. After leaving the tunnel, we slid around it, ignoring what I thought was a rusting shell. She
has used a rock to smash the lock on the back, leaving the door hanging open.

It is like a treasure trove inside, with tools hooked onto both of the side walls and a workbench built into the far end. Much of what has been dumped around the gully would be fully functioning
if it wasn’t for the country’s lack of fuel and batteries, but I have often come across things that seem to work perfectly well. The best item I discovered was a pedal car. From the
outside it looked like a smaller version of the vehicles that are scattered all around the gully, but there was a little compartment inside with pedals hooked up to a chain similar to a
bicycle’s. It required no fuel and had been discarded for seemingly no reason. There was no way I could take it back to the village as everything at the gully technically belongs to the King
and there is no point in being so obvious about things. That didn’t stop me from riding it up and down the edge of the gully until I grew out of it though. It would have been great for Colt
if I could have found a way of giving it to him – or getting him here without my mother noticing.

Sometimes it feels as if entire chunks of land were picked up and discarded here.

The underside of the van creaks ominously as I step into it, the entire thing rocking from side to side as I move around. Opie and Jela wait by the door but I carefully retrieve a pair of
long-handled wire cutters, an axe and a saw from the van walls. There are other things like spades, rakes and forks which would have come in handy around the village but they are of little use now.
I hand Opie a selection of pliers and screwdrivers taken from a drawer in the workbench, telling him to keep them in his bag. There are three knives which I take, knowing as I pocket them that it
is unhealthy for me to be thinking that I cannot have enough blades to hand.

This is the life in which I have found myself.

I exit the van carefully and head towards Pietra. She continues to object but I order the others to move away, including Hart, who protests more than anyone. Gently, I rest the metal end of the
cutters on one side of the ball part of the grenade and then slide the blade of the axe underneath Pietra’s foot until the hardened edge is pressing in the same place her foot was. The way
her foot twitches doesn’t help, but I can’t blame her, considering she is standing on something so dangerous – and the fact she hasn’t moved in over twenty minutes.

Shuffling backwards, I look at Pietra, who stares back calmly. As it’s something I have been guilty of a lot recently, I can tell she is putting a brave face on everything. She is
terrified.

‘I need you to slowly lift your foot,’ I say.

She shakes her head. ‘I’m not moving until you’re all out of range.’

‘Pie . . .’

Our eyes lock and she nods gently. ‘If things don’t . . . make sure you look after Hart.’

There is no point in arguing, so I stand, ignoring the twinges and tweaks that wrack my body. ‘I will.’

I join the others, and even though Hart objects, we half-drag him away until we are out of the gully and past the tree line. We are far enough away to be out of danger but close enough to watch
Pietra twitch as, gradually, she lifts her foot.

We cling to each other, expecting an explosion at any moment, but she steps away, stumbling to the ground and shrieking in relief as she clambers away. Hart starts running and
doesn’t stop until he reaches the rim of the gully, where he reaches down, wraps his arms around Pietra’s waist and pulls her free. They roll on the grass, holding each other in a
mixture of giggles and sobs. Jela and Opie stay close with me as we watch them kiss. Somehow, despite everything that has happened, it is wonderful to think they have found each other.

Eventually they pick themselves up and walk across to us, hand-in-hand, childish smirks on their faces. ‘Sorry,’ Hart says, although he doesn’t seem it.

None of us minds and Jela speaks for us all. ‘I’d tell you to get a room but that might be a problem out here.’

We all laugh and each have a moment with Pietra, letting her know that leaving her wasn’t an option.

The days are beginning to lengthen again but the sun is on its way down as we move back through the woods and find a small clearing. We head around the village instead of towards it. The faint
smell of burning drifts on the breeze but none of us mentions it, not wanting to think about what happened in Martindale. The trees are thicker here, blocking much of the light from above. I
don’t need to ask the question as I can see how exhausted everyone is. My eyelids are desperately trying to close and it is only when we start to unpack our bags that I realise Opie has been
carrying his father’s as well. He catches my eye as he sees me glance towards it but there is so much that doesn’t need to be said.

This may not be the route I know so perfectly, but these are still my woods and it feels as if I am home as we lay the blankets and snuggle close. I expect Pietra and Hart to find their own
space somewhere, but we have all spent so much time travelling together that this way of huddling for warmth is second nature. I am sandwiched between Opie and Jela, expecting to lie awake with
memories of Martindale and everyone else. Instead, I am asleep as soon as my eyes close.

* * *

The next thing I know, I am being shaken awake. I’m confused, grasping at the person’s arms and flailing my legs. My eyes feel reluctant to open but Opie’s
smile slowly drifts into focus. ‘Shh . . .’ he whispers, shifting the lighter part of my hair away from my face.

My voice is croaky and painful. ‘What time is it?’

He points to my thinkwatch, the only one of ours which works. ‘Three o’clock.’

‘It’s light.’

‘That’s because it’s the afternoon.’

I rub my eyes, trying to understand. ‘I slept for a whole day?’

‘Yes.’

‘When did you get up?’

Opie helps me sit. The others are in a semi-circle on the other side of the clearing. Their bags are packed next to them and they are eating from tins. ‘We’ve been up since this
morning. Jela caught a rabbit and I started a fire using some dry twigs. We’ve saved you some.’

I push myself up quickly, reaching around for my bag only to find it is already packed, aside from the blanket and makeshift bedding that is covering me. I can’t work out if I’m
angry. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

He doesn’t reply at first, tilting his head and offering the lop-sided smile that only he can pull off. ‘Do you really need to ask?’

It’s only then I realise that I was so tired the previous day that I didn’t think about a lookout. The fact we were well covered and a few miles away from civilisation isn’t
the point.

‘Everyone’s fine,’ Opie says, reading my mind, as I twist, trying to make sure for myself.

I stand and stretch, enjoying the click in my shoulders and lower back.

‘That sounded painful,’ Opie says with a gentle laugh.

‘I feel . . . good.’ I struggle to find the words because I am so used to feeling exhausted that anything other than that feels unnatural. It is as if my body is not my own. I rotate
my ankle but there is only the merest hint of pain. The permanent grey haze that has been sitting around the edges of my eyes has lifted and the green of the grass seems brighter. Everything from
my sense of smell to my hearing feels that tiny bit sharper.

Opie asks if I am all right.

‘I feel better,’ I reply.

‘You haven’t moved all day. You’ve simply slept.’

‘How do you know I haven’t moved?’

Opie squirms, turning to face the others instead of me. ‘I was watching.’

‘You watched me sleep?’

‘For a bit . . .’

‘Weirdo.’ I nudge his shoulder with mine, and then gather up the bedding, folding it into my bag.

As I pick it up, it again feels lighter. ‘What have you done?’

‘We shared everything out equally between us. After me, you were carrying the heaviest bag. You shouldn’t take everything on yourself.’

I instinctively reach for the pouch around my waist. ‘Do I . . . ?’

‘You’ve still got the syringes in your bag and nobody touched the other thing. I didn’t say anything about the blood bomb.’

I know I should destroy it, or bury it so that no one can ever use it, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It was my fault Xyalis created it and it feels like something for which only I
should bear the responsibility.

‘Stop calling it that,’ I say.

‘What else is it?’

I can’t argue with him. ‘I was fine carrying what I had.’

He shakes his head dismissively. ‘Come on – you should eat.’

I check my other pockets and the strap around my ankle, making sure my knives are there. Nothing is missing.

Whether it’s because of the way they cooked it or because my senses are more alert after sleeping, the rabbit tastes better than anything we have caught before. Jela is modest but it is
the first thing she has snared and I can tell she is delighted with herself. I finish off a tin of fruit and a tub of rainwater. I cannot remember the last time I didn’t feel either hungry,
tired – or both. I am another person as I finish: alert and ready for action.

The others have been waiting for me. They are smiling, happy that I am more like the person they knew months ago, not the pale wreck I had become. I don’t have a mirror but know my skin is
no longer the sallow white it was.