The Fearless (11 page)

A few minutes later, we’re out of range. I collapse back against the side of the boat, groaning.

‘Did they get you?’ Cass asks, sounding panicked.

I shake my head. ‘No. It’s my ribs. Some bruises from when your pal decided he was gonna try and kill me.’

‘What?’ She leans over and before I can stop her, she’s pulled up my jacket, hoodie and shirt. In the moonlight, the bruises on my ribs look black. Cass gasps. ‘Did Sol and Rob do that?’

‘Aye.’ I tug my clothes back down.

‘They said you had a knife, but I saw it in your bag.’

I snort with laughter. ‘I didn’t have anything.’

Cass goes quiet, grabs the oars and starts rowing. I wonder how she feels about Blondie. He said she wasn’t his girlfriend. Has she turned him down or something? He sounded pretty bitter.

Jesus, why do I care? I need to think about what I’m gonna do next. I need to think about getting Mara back. The longer she’s with those bastards, the more danger she’s in of ending up like them – half-dead and rotting from the inside out.

My sister has already been through hell. I can’t let it happen again.

When we’re almost at the mainland, I stop rowing, gasping for breath. The docks look black against the star-scattered sky. Dread squeezes inside me like a cold hand. What if the place is crawling with Fearless?

Then I think of my brother, of the Fearless man clapping his hand over his mouth so he couldn’t even cry out before he was dragged away. I row the rest of the way to the mainland with my teeth clenched together, while Myo rests against the side of the boat with his eyes – or rather his eye – closed. When I remember the bruises on his ribs, I feel slightly sick.
God
, why did Sol
do
that?

It isn’t hard to find somewhere to moor the boat. Wooden piers still jut out into the water all along the shore, although most are rotted and collapsing now, their pilings slimed with seaweed and crusted with barnacles. I find one with a ladder that still looks safe, and tie the boat up alongside it. I’ve got the knife I told Myo about – the biggest and sharpest of my kitchen knives – in my boot with a piece of oilcloth wrapped around the blade. Checking it’s secure, I shoulder my pack and climb the ladder, my fingers clamped around the spray-slick rungs. Then I help Myo up. He falls to his knees, breathing hard again and clutching his side. But when I step towards him, he waves me away.

Trying not to listen to his ragged breathing, I turn and look at the docks again. Everything is washed in moonlight, just like it was the first time I was here seven years ago.
That was the last time I was on the mainland
, I think with a chill, as memories of that night come flooding back. Those ships are still in their dry docks, rust blooming on their sides like sores, and beyond them is the jumble of warehouses and buildings we ran through with Mum.

Myo limps towards me, grimacing. ‘I’m sorry, I need to rest for a bit. I can’t carry on like this.’

‘Oh. OK,’ I say, although inside, I’m screaming,
What about Jori? If we don’t go now, we’ll never get to him in time
. I chew my lower lip. I’ll never find my brother on my own. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Like it or not, I’m relying on Myo, and if he needs to rest, then I have to let him.

‘I’ve got the rest of my stuff in one of those buildings,’ he says.

I look at the warehouses, which are half-lost in inky shadow. ‘Is it . . . safe?’

‘Aye.’

I wish I could feel so sure.
Perhaps he lives here
, I think. Is his friend here too? I wonder what’s so wrong with their baby that Myo was prepared to risk everything to get onto Hope and try and find someone to help her.

As he limps past me, I reach down and take the knife out of my boot, my stomach tightening with nerves as I unwind the oilcloth from around the blade. At the end of the pier is a towering stack of shipping containers – cargo for a ship that never arrived, or was never able to leave – and nearby, weeds tangle through the arm of a toppled crane, which lies along the ground like the skeleton of some gigantic, prehistoric animal.

I follow Myo across to the containers. He holds up a hand, peering at the entrance to a large warehouse. ‘Do you want a lamp?’ I whisper. He shakes his head. I grip my knife tighter.

Myo gives a low whistle. ‘
Don’t!
’ I hiss.

He looks round at me, a half-smile playing on his face. ‘Why? Who d’you think’s gonna hear me?’

Inside the warehouse, something moves. A wave of terror crashes over me. Myo’s tricked me into getting him off Hope and lured me over here by promising to help me. Inside the warehouse, the Fearless who took Jori are waiting, and now they’re coming to get me too.

Every muscle and nerve ending in my body is on fire with adrenaline, my mind screaming at me to run. I take a step back. Then another. Myo glances at me again, but this time he’s frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’

Out of the shadows pads the biggest dog I’ve ever seen.

The top of his head reaches Myo’s elbow, his wiry, dark grey fur hanging in shaggy fringes over his eyes and along his muzzle, legs and tail.

‘His name’s Lochie,’ Myo says as the dog nuzzles him, his tail sweeping from side to side. ‘He’s a Wolfhound.’ He rubs Lochie’s ears. ‘You waited,’ he murmurs. ‘Good lad.’

When he lets him go, Lochie comes over to me. I freeze, hardly daring to breathe. I didn’t even know you could get dogs this big.

Myo smiles. ‘He won’t hurt you. Hold out your hand.’

Nervously, I do as he says. Lochie sniffs my fingers. It takes all my willpower not to snatch them away as he swipes at them with a huge, wet tongue. Myo makes a strange sound, and I realize he’s trying to stifle a laugh.

‘What?’ I say.

‘Your face.’

‘I’ve never had a dog, only a cat,’ I say, and feel an unexpected twist of sadness. It’s the first time I’ve thought about Kali in years. ‘Anyway, when I heard him coming, I thought—’ I stop, feeling my face heat up.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘No, what?’

‘That those Fearless were in there, and you were calling them to come and get me.’

Myo’s amused expression vanishes. ‘Why would you think that?’ he says sharply. ‘Let’s get one thing clear right now. I’m not a Fearless, and I’m not in league with them either.’

He sounds angry, and that makes me start to feel angry, too. I look him straight in the eye. ‘I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you. And two Fearless just took my brother, so excuse me for being completely paranoid right now.’

We glare at each other for a moment. He looks away first.

‘Aye, well,’ he mutters. ‘Are we gonna get some rest, or what?’

I follow him and Lochie into the warehouse, taking my lamp out of my pack. But it isn’t as dark inside as I was expecting – moonlight leaks through gaps where parts of the roof have fallen away, painting stripes of light on the cracked, stained concrete floor. Old wooden pallets and bits of machinery are strewn everywhere, and a profusion of skinny, leafless trees, just like the ones in the Shudders, have sprung up among them.

‘Over here,’ Myo says, making for a stack of metal crates in one corner. Between the crates and the wall there’s a sleeping bag, a dish of water, frozen solid, and a fire barrel with a metal rod balanced across the top. In the corner is a pack, twice the size of mine.

I take off my pack. ‘Can we light a fire?’ I say. My clothes are damp from sea spray, and I’m cold all the way to my bones. Myo nods, pulling his satchel off over his head with a grunt of pain. He takes out a bottle of water, knocks the ice out of the dish and refills it, while I go to find wood. In less than ten minutes, I have a fire going in the barrel, moon-silvered smoke spiralling up towards a hole in the roof above us, the flames casting a shuddering orange glow onto the crates and the walls.

‘Nice job,’ Myo says.

I step back from the barrel, brushing off my hands. ‘What d’you think I do all day on Hope, sew dresses and sweep floors?’

He holds up his hands. ‘Did I say that?’

I narrow my eyes at him. Grimacing, he sits down. Lochie lies down beside him with a grunt. His paws are almost the same size as my hands. Myo reaches out and rubs the dog’s ear.

‘You want to eat?’ he says.

I’m about to tell him I’m not hungry, then remember what we were told, time and time again, in the Junior Patrol.
If you find yourself in a survival situation, your priorities must be shelter, water and food. Without shelter, your body will weaken. And without fuel, it’ll give out on you altogether
.

‘Yeah, OK,’ I say. I take bread, dried fish and kelp strips out of my pack. They look even less appetizing than usual, although Lochie shows a great interest in the fish strips, raising his head and sniffing the air loudly as I unwrap them.

Gritting his teeth again, Myo turns and pulls one of those foil pouches I saw in his satchel out of his pack. ‘Want one? There’s ravioli, chicken stew, chilli or spaghetti bolognese. I wouldn’t recommend the bolognese, but Lochie likes it.’

Frowning, I take a pouch. It’s a year or so out of date, but that doesn’t worry me. The barterers occasionally trade canned food, and everyone on the island knows that unless the tins are split or bulging, they’re safe. I assume these are the same.

The pouch is full of packets. I stare in wonder at the labels:
Chicken Stew, Strawberry Dairy Shake, Mango Peach Sauce, Sugar Free Raspberry Beverage
. There’s even a pack of crackers, a spoon and a wet wipe.

‘Where did you get these?’ I ask as he shows me how to prepare the stew by sliding it into a pouch marked
Heater
, tipping a small amount of water into the top and propping it up against the wall while the chemicals inside react and heat the food.

‘Ben found a load of them at the bunker when we—’ He stops and clears his throat.

There’s a few seconds’ silence.

‘Who’s Ben?’ I say. ‘And what bunker?’

He starts eating, pretending he hasn’t heard me.

‘
Myo
.’

At last, he looks up at me.

‘Do you have a community too?’ I say.

He nods.

‘Where?’

‘Up north. Staffordshire.’

‘And you live in a bunker?’

He nods again, and starts eating his chilli. A pouch of bolognese for Lochie is cooling nearby.

‘How many of you are there?’ I say as I take a cautious spoonful of the chicken stew. To my surprise, it tastes OK – a little salty, but it’s definitely edible.

Myo tries to shrug, and winces, sucking in his breath. ‘Twenty of us, including me.’

‘Twenty? Wow.’
So the barterers’ stories about other survivor communities are true
. ‘Is Ben your leader?’

‘I guess so. He found the place.’ Myo turns stiffly to empty Lochie’s water dish and tip the bolognese into it. Lochie gobbles it down in just a few mouthfuls. ‘Sorry, boy,’ Myo says when the dog whines at him for more. Lochie lies back down with a grunt.

I can tell from his body language that he doesn’t want to tell me anything else about the bunker, so I say, ‘You said you thought you knew where those Fearless might be taking Jori.’

He nods. ‘Sheffield.’

My stomach sinks. ‘But that’s going to take . . .’

‘The Fearless are on foot too. And they’re only human, same as us.’

‘They are not,’ I snap.

‘Not what?’

‘The Fearless are not human. They’re monsters.’

‘Aye,’ Myo murmurs.

‘And what if they’ve given Jori the serum already? He could have Altered by the time we get there!’

‘He won’t have.’

‘How do you know?’

‘The serum they use these days isn’t as effective. It takes at least a couple of weeks and multiple injections to Alter someone.’

I stare at him. ‘What? How do you know that?’

He shakes his head. ‘Everybody knows that.’

I think back to what we were told about the serum in our lessons at Hope’s school. Did nobody realize things had changed? Why didn’t the barterers say anything?

My head is full of questions – I want to ask Myo about his friend’s baby, and if he still intends to try and find medicine for them – but he’s turned away, busying himself rinsing out and refilling Lochie’s dish with water. It’s clear that this conversation’s over, too.

A silence settles over the little space, broken only by the sound of Lochie sighing occasionally, and the crackle of the flames in the barrel. Every now and then a piece of wood shifts, and sparks drift up into the air along with the smoke, winking out as they float towards the warehouse roof.

‘We should get some kip,’ Myo says at last.

‘Shouldn’t one of us keep watch?’

Myo jerks a thumb at Lochie. ‘We’ve got the best security guard on the planet right here. You’ll listen out for any trouble, won’t you, boy?’

I notice that whenever Myo talks to him, Lochie’s shaggy eyebrows twitch up and down, as if he understands every word.

‘Here.’ Myo holds out a blanket.

‘I’ve got one.’

‘Yeah, but you can’t lie on the floor. You’ll freeze. Take it.’

He thrusts it at me. I spread it out, and dig my own out of my bag to wrap round myself. Myo gets slowly into the sleeping bag, his teeth clenched together, his face pale.

‘Are you sure they didn’t break something?’ I ask him.

‘I don’t know. I hope not.’ He lets out a slow, shuddering breath.

I lie down too. I’m not expecting to sleep, but when I close my eyes, exhaustion rolls over me in a great wave. Before long my thoughts start to fragment, sliding over each other like pieces of broken glass, and I’m sucked down into a deep, dreamless dark.

‘What happened?’

‘Where is he?’

‘Did you catch him?’

As I join the rest of the Patrol in the Refectory, everyone crowds round us.
Get away from me
, I want to tell them. I’m scanning the room for Cass, but I can’t see her.

After she raised the alarm, everyone was evacuated from the apartments to the Refectory. The Patrollers who weren’t guarding them or on watch duty were sent on another search, and Captain Denning came to find me, Rob, Shelley, Marissa and Andrej and told us to join them. That was how we found out we’d graduated.