‘Yes,’ Evie said anxiously, even though it wasn’t clear at all, even though she had no idea what he was talking about. All she knew was that her fear had returned, that she had angered Linus, upset him. And she didn’t want to upset him. She wanted him to like her. She knew that Raffy didn’t trust him – she could see that from the way he didn’t take his eyes off him – but she wanted Linus on side, wanted to see his laughter lines again. Because if Linus knew about the City, he might know more. He might know about the people who came to the City all those years ago. He might know about her real parents.
‘Good,’ he said gruffly. ‘Okay, come on. This way.’ He herded them around the corner and into another building; but once inside they were outside again – the building was only a façade. Camped on the grass within were three tents, and sitting between them was a group of five people, one of whom Evie immediately recognised as Angel. He gave her a little wave as they approached; Evie looked away quickly and tried to stop her shoulders from tensing with fear.
Linus noticed. ‘Angel’s a good man,’ he said, putting his hand on Evie’s shoulder as they stepped past one of the tents. ‘He’s one of my best. Don’t worry about him, he’ll never hurt you so long as you don’t become our enemy.’
Raffy tugged Evie away from him so that Linus’s hand fell back down to his side. ‘And how are we supposed to know if we’re your enemy or not?’ he asked, his jaw set angrily. ‘We don’t know who you are. You say you’re not Evils, but why else did you capture us and torture us?’
‘All in good time.’ Linus smiled. ‘Sit down. Have some food.’
He sat down cross-legged next to an auburn-haired woman who immediately started to open various containers in front of her and spoon what Evie could only imagine was food onto three paper plates. Then she handed them to Linus one at a time; he handed one to Raffy, one to Evie and the other he kept for himself. ‘Eat,’ he said, motioning with his head. ‘Eat and then we’ll talk.’
Tentatively, Evie looked down at the food. A roll. Something green. Something white. Nothing was identifiable, nothing was recognisable from the food they ate in the City. In the City, food was simple and unadorned. Boiled, grilled, cooked with a little oil if absolutely necessary. Bread and oats formed the bulk of the diet, with milk and potatoes propping them up. The plate in front of her, on the other hand, was full of colour; she thought she could see carrots, but they were cut small, mingled with something else, maybe onion, with a red liquid covering them. It could be poison, she knew that, but it smelt delicious and she was so hungry that her stomach felt like it might touch the back of her spine.
‘Eat,’ Linus said again, more gently this time. ‘You’ll enjoy it – Martha here is an incredible cook.’ He smiled at the woman to his left, who flushed in response to the praise. ‘Swap plates with me if you’re worried we’re planning to poison you,’ he went on, offering her his dish, his eyes twinkling. Evie started slightly; she was unnerved by the way Linus always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Raffy interjected. He reached his hand out and squeezed Evie’s wrist. ‘We’ll both eat together.’ He shot her a little smile, a smile that said they wouldn’t just eat together; they were in this together, they’d get through it together, it was the two of them, just like it was in their tree: laughing, talking, sharing secrets and fears. Evie immediately picked up the bread roll and stuffed it into her mouth, and she had to stop herself from squealing in delight because it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.
‘Try the avocado,’ Linus said, pointing at a green substance smeared over her plate. ‘Dip the bread.’
She did as he suggested; she had never eaten avocado before. And it was heavenly, the texture more decadent than anything she had ever tasted.
‘It’s good,’ she breathed as she ate and Linus smiled, and winked at Martha. They watched as Evie devoured the bread and avocado and allowed Martha to heap more onto her plate. She smiled at Raffy; she needed to share her pleasure with him. But he was looking to his side and she noticed something that she hadn’t seen before. An angry red line, new blood, just next to his left temple. She hadn’t noticed it before because his whole face had been spattered with blood, but his scar, his amygdala scar, looked as though it had been re-opened. And it was in the same place that she had felt such excruciating pain – pain that now seemed to have gone. What had they done to her and Raffy? She touched her own temple, felt the slightly soft indent, something scratchy that felt like stitches. And she put her plate down, because her heart was thudding in her chest and she had suddenly lost her appetite.
‘What did you mean about a chip?’ she asked, her voice catching slightly. ‘Before, when we woke up?’
Linus smiled; his mouth was full of food. ‘I thought we were eating,’ he said.
Evie tried to swallow, but there was no saliva in her mouth now. She couldn’t have eaten if she’d wanted to. She turned to Linus again. ‘Can’t we eat and talk at the same time?’ she asked quietly.
This time Linus laughed. ‘I can see why you left the City,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine you got on too well there if you were this demanding all the time.’
Evie shook her head. ‘I don’t want to talk about the City.’
‘Well in that case, I’ll talk,’ replied Linus with a little shrug. He put his plate down in front of him. ‘Probably not a bad idea anyway; we’re going to have to get going soon.’
‘Get going where?’ Raffy asked.
‘Ah,’ Linus said. ‘Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Not one I’m going to answer, if you’ll forgive me. Let’s just say we’re going back to Base Camp.’
‘Base Camp?’ Evie exchanged a glance with Raffy. ‘What’s that?’
‘That,’ Linus said, ‘is where we come from. Where our people live.’
‘The other City?’ Evie asked cautiously, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up.
Linus looked at her, held her gaze for a few seconds, then turned his head slightly. ‘Not exactly a City, no,’ he said.
‘So then what is it like?’ Raffy asked, leaning forward, watching Linus carefully.
‘It’s . . .’ Linus looked thoughtful for a few moments, then he pulled a face. ‘It’s a work in progress,’ he declared.
Raffy put his plate down too. ‘You said we were going to talk,’ he said.
‘We are talking,’ replied Linus, looking enquiringly at Raffy.
‘No, we’re not. You’re not telling us anything. How do you know about the City? What did you mean when you said you removed our chips? What chips? Who are you? Where do you come from? Why did you trap us and why are you keeping us now? Why aren’t you killing us, or letting us go? Tell us.’ Raffy’s voice was low, his eyes intense. Evie could see every muscle in his neck, along his arms, flexed ready to spring.
Linus saw too; Evie thought she could glimpse something approaching respect in his eyes. Or maybe she’d imagined it; maybe she’d looked for it, created it. Either way, she stared at Linus with all the determination she could muster because she needed him to answer, because they deserved an answer – because each question that she formulated only led to others, and her brain was hurting with all the uncertainties that were crowding it.
Linus sat back. His eyes were bright with amusement, as though this were a game, as though he was planning his next move. And then he leant forward.
‘The chip I told you about,’ he said, looking from Evie to Raffy and back again, ‘is an implant that you both had in your heads. It’s a tracking device. I took it out so that the City police guard couldn’t follow you. Couldn’t follow us.’
‘An implant?’ Evie’s hand moved to her temple again. She glanced at Raffy; he was doing the same, thinking the same thing – about the blood, the pain when they’d first been captured.
‘Sorry, but I had to do it,’ Linus said quietly. ‘The water I gave you had painkillers in it. You should be feeling okay now.’
Evie moved closer to Raffy; she could feel herself getting hot. A chip? In her head? In Raffy’s? Keeping track of them? But then the System would have known – about their meetings, about the tree. It would have known everything.
Raffy reached out his hand, took hers and squeezed it. Then he turned back to Linus. Evie could see from the way his jaw muscles were tightening that he was thinking the same as she was. ‘You’re lying,’ he said, his voice tense. ‘There are no implants in the City. No chips. There can’t be. Otherwise how did we escape? Tell me what you were doing. Studying our brains? Why? What did you do?’
Linus exhaled loudly and leant back on his elbows. ‘Studying your brains? Well, that might have been an interesting exercise, but I prefer not to study the brains of people who are alive. For some reason the brains don’t seem to like it.’
He smiled at them for a moment, then sat forward, his expression suddenly serious. ‘Listen to me,’ he said, his voice soft but insistent. ‘Everything you were told in the City, you have to forget.’
‘Why should we?’ Raffy asked crossly. ‘When you’re telling us nothing?’
‘I’ll tell you when it’s time,’ Linus said, standing up. ‘I’ll tell you everything when I think you’re ready to hear it.’
‘We’re ready now,’ seethed Raffy, standing up and blocking Linus’s path. ‘You said we were going to talk. So talk. Tell me something. Anything.’
‘I told you about the chip,’ Linus said in measured tones. ‘And you don’t believe me.’
‘Because I know you’re lying,’ Raffy said, standing firm. ‘Tell me something else. Tell me something true.’
Linus appeared to consider this. Then he shrugged. ‘You asked me why we haven’t killed the two of you.’
‘So?’ Raffy demanded. ‘Tell us.’
‘Because there’s no need to,’ Linus said, walking past him. ‘Because if you carry on like this, you’re going to kill yourselves.’ He stopped, then turned and walked back towards Raffy until he was just centimetres away. ‘You’re not in the City now,’ he said then, his voice low but forceful. ‘The rules are different, but they still exist. And out here, they’re our rules. For our protection. So think about that, will you?
‘You’ll find out what you need to know when you need to know it and when I want to tell you. Until then, enjoy our hospitality, eat well and have a rest. In an hour, we’re leaving. Your head pain will come back. Martha there has the painkillers you need. Keeping hydrated will aid your recovery. You’ll get those things if you do as you’re told. Your friend will get those things if she does as she’s told – and she’ll follow your lead, my friend, so think about that too. Think about all of this. I’ll see you later.’
And with that, he left, back out through the building façade, leaving silence behind him.
Raffy picked up his plate again and started to eat, motioning for Evie to do likewise. Hesitantly, she followed suit.
‘I’m glad you’re eating,’ Martha said, an enigmatic smile on her face, her voice soft and lyrical after Linus’s gravelly tone. ‘It must be difficult, being here. We all find it unsettling at first. But Linus is a good man. He has our best interests at heart.’ Then she stood up and retreated into one of the tents; one by one the others retreated also until it was just Evie and Raffy alone on the grass.
‘Best interests,’ Raffy whispered sarcastically. ‘I don’t believe a word of it. There’s something weird about this place. About Linus. We’re not hanging around to find out what.’
Evie’s eyes widened. ‘We’re not?’ she whispered back.
‘We’re getting out tonight,’ Raffy said, his eyes glinting. ‘Linus is a liar. They all are. There’s something they want from us, but they’re not getting it. Pretend everything’s okay. Then, when I give the signal, we run. Okay? But eat now. We may not eat again for a while.’
Evie nodded. Then they ate and when they couldn’t eat any more, Raffy lay back and Evie nestled into his shoulder. And slowly, fearfully, but comforted by the sound of Raffy’s breathing, she fell asleep.
‘I see,’ the Brother said, looking at his chief police guard, a squat and honest man who wore his baton proudly. No guns for his police guards, no weapons of evil. Sometimes the Brother found his own rules frustrating and restrictive; he longed for people who could see the world as it really was, who saw what had to be done but also saw the truth. The old man at the lodge with his gun and his dog knew what the world was really like, but he was also an alcoholic, a waster, a man who would do what was asked of him in return for a weekly supply of Gathering drink, a sweet fermented wine that helped everyone to be moved, spiritually. He was no companion. ‘And there was no sign of them?’
‘No sign, Brother,’ the man said, his head hung low. ‘We searched. We didn’t stop searching until nightfall.’
‘Very well,’ replied the Brother. ‘Thank you.’
He waited for the man to leave before allowing his head to fall backwards. Today had been a terrible day. First the discovery that the boy had escaped. Then that the girl had helped him. Her father had been ashen-faced at the news, her mother angry, screaming that she’d always known the girl had been wicked. And now the police guard had failed to find them, failed to track down two teenagers.
Had it been an accident or design? How could they have designed such a thing? Impossible. They couldn’t have known what was in store for the boy. Not unless Lucas had told them. And that was impossible. It was . . .
He sighed loudly, then buzzed his assistant. ‘Send Lucas to see me,’ he barked, his tone shorter than he would have liked. ‘Please,’ he added, just in time.
‘Yes, Brother. Of course.’
His hand fell off the buzzer and moved to his forehead where it joined his right hand, the position they always took in moments of difficulty, of challenge.
‘It is times such as this that make us,’ he whispered to himself. ‘It is in challenging times that we are able to rise to become our better selves. Our strongest selves.’ He had said those words so many times to so many people, offered such solace, such hope. And yet all he felt was a seething resentment, an anger that seemed to consume him but in a lifeless, heavy way that left him gasping for air.
How had they known? How had they planned such an escape? How? How?
A knock at the door; the knock of his assistant. Gentle, unthreatening – a knock that he always appreciated.