by Gemma Malley
It couldn’t be true. And yet, as she heard the footsteps speed up behind her, Gabby felt a cold veil of terror fall over her. Because she knew now without a doubt that she was being followed. Because through the fug of fear, she realised that what Clara had told her was true. Because suddenly she knew that she was running for her life.
3
What she needed to do, Evie thought to herself as she walked to work, was to just stop thinking about things so much. She had always thought too much, always questioned things too much. Maybe she should just learn to accept what was in front of her; maybe then she would actually be happy.
She and Raffy were happy here, there was no question of that. And it wasn’t like she wanted to marry anyone else. The truth was that marrying Raffy made total sense. And the last thing she wanted to do was mess things up, to jeopardise anything.
The truth was, Raffy and Evie had found that, in spite of the Settlement being a warm, open and welcoming place, it hadn’t been that simple to be accepted into it and the last thing she wanted to do was set them back again. Raffy and Evie had been interviewed, questioned at length; they had met various groups of people, had undergone a trial period, had been put up before the camp council for approval. As Benjamin had said, the township belonged to the people who lived in it; they alone could decide who joined them. And anyone who did join them had to prove their worth, had to show that they were committed, that they could fit in.
And so that’s just what they’d done. Raffy had got work on one of the many farms that kept the Settlement’s community fed; Evie had started in the kitchens, then moved to the fabric workshops where her rusty sewing skills were welcomed. And Raffy’s delight in the place soon rubbed off on her, too. Whereas in the City she’d loathed sewing, had wanted to do something as different as possible from the woman who had posed as her mother, here she found herself feeling grateful that there was something she could do well; here she brushed away the pricked fingers that plagued her, because they didn’t matter, because in a strange way she was almost proud of them. Proud of her work, of being part of a community that was as different from the City as it was possible to be.
And Benjamin had watched them, too; every so often one of them would look up to see him watching them, the whites of his eyes shining against his ebony skin; when he realised that he had been seen, he would give a half-smile, a little wave, and would walk on, his long robes flapping at his ankles, robes that were in no way a uniform, and yet were emulated by most of the men and women on the Settlement – long flowing clothes and long flowing hair that framed open, happy faces as they worked, talked, laughed and ate.
People didn’t talk much about the past at the Settlement, which suited Evie and Raffy down to the ground. It was like Benjamin had said, people here were building a new life, a new future. The past was another place, the past could not be changed. The citizens of the Settlement recognised this. They had suffered during the Horrors, just as everyone had suffered, just as those who had initiated the Horrors had intended. But the Settlement’s people had survived, and with survival came responsibility. A responsibility to live, to grow, to learn, to draw a line and move on.
And that was what had convinced Evie that this wasn’t just somewhere they could survive, but was somewhere they could live. In the City, they talked about the Horrors all the time, about the evil that had nearly destroyed the world. In the City, everything and everyone was analysed, labelled, ranked, including the people. Here in the Settlement, people just got on with their lives, looking to the future, looking for the good in people instead of fearing the evil. Here, music was always in the air; people playing guitars, singing, humming as they worked. Here books were shared and discussed openly; here different opinions were welcomed and considered. Here, asking questions was encouraged, not frowned upon. Here, you could talk to whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted to.
At least that was the idea.
‘Hey, Evie!’
Evie turned to see Neil walking towards her. Neil was one of the Settlement’s teachers. Teaching was considered the highest calling in the Settlement and everyone was encouraged to learn as much as they could. There were regular art classes, book groups, pottery, woodwork, engineering and cookery classes, as well as classes in reading, writing and arithmetic for those whose education had been limited to a few sporadic lessons given by whoever was available, and for those who hadn’t even got that far.
‘Neil!’ Evie’s eyes lit up and she rushed towards him eagerly. Neil, who was aged somewhere in his fifties, had arrived at the Settlement ten years before, having lived almost has a hermit since the end of the Horrors. Wearing nothing but rags and with hair down to his waist, he had – according to the stories Evie had been told – been close to starvation; for several weeks it was touch and go whether he would survive. But slowly he was brought back to health and with each week his nurses had learnt more about him, discovered that this emaciated man in front of them had been a leading academic before the Horrors, had won prizes, travelled the world. He was a sailor, a pianist, had invented a device used in fishing that prevented environmental damage and had given the proceeds – many millions of pounds – to charity. Evie had been told all this, but it didn’t mean much to her; she found talk of the old days confusing and strange. But what she loved about Neil was the excitement on his face when he was talking about a book or concept; the way his eyes danced when one of his pupils grasped something important.
Now he tended live stock during the day and held various classes in the evenings: creative writing, musical appreciation, knot tying and singing, and he regularly told anyone who would listen that he had never been happier, that he had everything he wanted here and more. But Evie knew that this wasn’t strictly true; she noticed how quickly he devoured the Settlement’s meagre rations every evening, knew that he was too busy teaching to tend his own allotment. And so, whenever she went to his classes, she always brought him a piece of bread, a piece of fruit, something from her meal that day. And he would always refuse to take it, but she would insist because she didn’t need as much food as him and anyway, she was hungry for learning, so really it was a fair trade.
Although she never told Raffy what she was doing.
She wasn’t sure he would entirely understand.
The truth was, though, and Evie knew it, that if Neil only asked for more food he would almost certainly get it; food was shared equally only because it seemed the most sensible way, the fairest system. As Benjamin and Stern and everyone else kept telling them, the Settlement wasn’t a place of rules but rather one of community. Everything was up for discussion; anyone was within their rights to suggest something different, to propose a new way of doing things.
And no one ever asked to change a thing.
‘I got that book I mentioned.’ Neil held it aloft and Evie’s face broke into a smile. He threw it to her; jumping, she managed to catch it.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her face glowing as she turned the book over in her hands. It was a book Neil had told her about at her creative writing class held every Wednesday evening. Benjamin had suggested she go, that she might find writing cathartic. Initially, Raffy had gone with her, professing to be as interested in writing his thoughts down as she was, but eventually he had drifted away, joined another club, run out of excuses to stop her attending on her own.
And Evie loved it – loved the language of words, the way just changing one word in a sentence could change everything, could create emotion, tension, suspense or fear, loved how writing about her life, about the terrible things that had happened to her, reduced them to just words on a page, helped her to free herself of them.
‘You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure you will,’ Neil said. ‘This author was writing over a hundred years ago, but her books are relevant to any time because her themes are universal, because there’s truth in her words. You’ll see what I mean.’
Evie smiled gratefully. She’d always hated learning in the City; had despised the fac
ts and figures she had been forced to memorise, regurgitate word for word, no questions, no imagination, nothing new or different, because different was dangerous, because different couldn’t be trusted. The City had been so full of fear, she realised now; fear of doing something wrong, fear of talking to someone who might infect you with evil, fear of your label being changed to a lower one, a worse one, fear of the same thing happening to someone close to you, fear of the Evils outside the City walls, fear of what might happen if the walls were breached, if your resolve crumbled, if evil reigned once more. And fear was crippling; fear was debilitating. Fear made people anxious, irritable, unhappy and closed.
‘I’ll see you on Wednesday?’ Neil asked and Evie nodded, beaming.
‘See you then,’ she said, opening up her bag and putting the book, All Men are Mortal, safely inside. But as she did so, her fingers brushed against something, a hard, metal object that made her redden guiltily and quicken her step as though afraid someone might be following her, might know what it was.
It was a watch.
Lucas’s watch.
The watch he’d given her on the day she and Raffy had left the City for the last time.
The watch that had belonged to Lucas and Raffy’s father, the watch Lucas had asked her to give to Raffy, and then told her that he loved her. Had always loved her.
‘You okay, Evie?’ Neil moved towards her, his face suddenly concerned. Evie realised that she was blushing furiously.
‘Fine,’ she said, quickly, knowing that she sounded less than convincing. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’
It had been several weeks before she found the moment to give the watch to Raffy. She had waited until she thought he would be ready to understand, ready to forgive his brother, ready to see Lucas for who he really was instead of the oppressive older brother he’d pretended to be.
She’d pressed the watch into his hands just as Lucas had done with her; had told him that Lucas wanted him to have it. ‘He said it was always yours. That your father asked him to look after it for you. He couldn’t give it to you before. But now … now you should wear it.’
Raffy looked at it for a moment, then stuffed it into his pocket.
‘You’re not going to put it on?’ Evie asked, but she was met by fiery eyes.
‘Put it on? No,’ Raffy said curtly.
And that was that; at least Evie thought that would be that. It was only weeks later that she dared mention it again, ask whether he might ever think of putting it on.
‘Put on Lucas’s watch?’ Raffy sneered. ‘I don’t even have it any more. I traded it with the baker for some cakes. Remember the chocolate sponge? More useful than a gold watch.’
Evie had stared at him. ‘But Lucas kept that watch for you. For years. It was your father’s. He—’
‘Don’t,’ Raffy interrupted her, walking towards Evie, a look on his face that she’d never seen before, a look that was so cold that it was like he was someone else, someone she didn’t know, someone she didn’t want to know. ‘Don’t mention Lucas again to me. Or my father. Or that watch. Do you understand?’ His face was inches from her but there was no intim-acy in his expression, no softness in his eyes. He didn’t even see her, she realised; at that moment, he saw only his resentment, saw only his own, selfish rage.
And inwardly seething, inwardly so furious she could barely look at Raffy let alone bring herself to speak to him, Evie had nodded. But four months later, the baker had benefited from a full set of patchwork curtains and cushion covers sewn by her hand from the scraps of fabric left over in the workrooms, and Evie had the watch back.
Now she kept it hidden, transferring it from bag to hiding place on a regular basis, never keeping it in the same place for any length of time. It was yet another secret that she kept from Raffy, a time bomb that might explode at any moment. But she was prepared to take that risk. Because Raffy might be happy to forget Lucas, to ignore his sacrifice, to pretend that he didn’t exist. But Evie couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
Lucas did exist. And Evie hoped that he was happy. Back in the City, she hoped that he had finally found the peace he’d been searching for.
‘All right then,’ Neil shrugged, giving her one last smile before he walked away, ‘see you Wednesday.’
4
Lucas took a deep breath and surveyed the woman sitting opposite him. Amy Jenkins. He had spoken to her many times before; had orchestrated the launch of her journal, The City News, believing that the introduction of a free press, of independent thought, would be welcomed by the City’s people, would encourage them to believe in themselves, to build a new world together.
But that had been a year ago. A lifetime ago.
Now things were very different.
Now search parties were roaming the streets of the City; crowds were gathered outside his offices, braying for his blood. Now he was met only by angry faces, by desperate pleas. And everyone wanted one thing. The System, reinstated. New Baptisms reintroduced. The Brother. Servility.
Lucas felt a lump beginning to form in his throat.
‘What we have to remember,’ he said, coolly, calmly, giving no indication of the turmoil underneath, ‘is that the System enslaved us. Its judgements were arbitrary, controlled by the Brother to keep people fearful, to separate them, to reward his friends and punish his enemies. It was corrupt.’
‘And yet,’ Amy said, her eyes narrowing, ‘the City was a place of safety, of peace. And now our young people are disappearing. Every week another one is snatched from their bed, from the street, never to be seen again. They trusted you; their families trusted you. To keep them safe. To keep the Evils out of the City. But you failed them; you continue to fail them. What do you say to that?’
Lucas closed his eyes. They were calling them the Disappearances. Boys and girls, all teenagers, all missing. A few weeks ago Jane Anderson, Bill Grainger, Edward Ashleigh, all the others, had been working, eating, sleeping … And then, one by one, they had gone. Six of them in total, disappeared, in a City with huge walls that had been built to protect them all. Disappeared in a City that for years had believed itself rid of evil, safe. Disappeared with no explanation, no clue as to what had happened to them.
He opened his eyes again, then stood up and walked to the window, a small perfunctory affair that let in enough sunlight but kept out the cold. Utilitarian, like everything else in the City. Lucas had never really noticed until recently how drab everything was, how little beauty there was within the City walls. He’d been too focused on the machinations of its government, on protecting Raffy and Evie, on secretly communicating with his father’s comrade, somewhere outside. But now his brother and Evie were gone; now there was no subterfuge, no living a double life, no more secrets. Lucas had expected to feel better, happier. Instead, he felt empty.
And now this. Lucas was used to being one step ahead; used to knowing what others didn’t. Now he felt helpless, and helplessness did not sit well on his shoulders.
‘We are searching,’ he said. ‘Day and night. We have searched every inch of this City.’
‘And yet you haven’t found them,’ Amy said, her voice brittle. ‘My little sister, for instance. She’s been missing for three weeks now. She was at home. I said good night to her and in the morning she was gone. And you say you have search parties? What’s the use of search parties when they can’t find anything? When it’s you, our self-imposed leader, who is doing this to us? Will you be happy when we’ve all gone? Is that what you want?’
There were tears in her eyes, but Lucas didn’t blink; he just walked towards her. ‘I want the City to be a good place,’ he said simply. ‘A place where people are free to make decisions for themselves, to live without the stigma of labels.’
‘To be free to be abducted by Evils?’ Amy asked, her voice strangled with emotion. ‘To be scared to walk down the street alone? To travel around the City only in large groups? To lock every window and press furniture against the door at night-time? Is that what you want for us?’
Her lips were trembling as she spoke; she reminded Lucas of Evie, with her challenging eyes and refusal to accept anything less than the truth. What would Evie say to him now, he wondered. Would she tell him that he wasn’t doing enough? Would she stare at him angrily, just as Amy was doing, and tell him that until the Disappearances stopped he had failed his people, failed the City? Of course she would. And she’d be right.
Lucas steeled himself and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Of course not.’
Amy scrutinised Lucas’s face. ‘And what words of reassurance do you have for us?’ she asked. ‘For the parents of the missing children? For their families? For everyone else, terrified to go to sleep? What do you have to say to them? To us?’
Lucas looked at her steadily. ‘I will find who is doing this. I will find them and I will punish them. I will get justice. And I will find our young people. I will reunite them with their families.’
‘How?’ Amy demanded, but Lucas had already walked towards the door, opened it for her, made it clear that the interview was over.
Because he didn’t have the answer to her question.
Because he wasn’t sure he had the answer to anything any more.
But he knew that he would find answers. Knew that he wouldn’t stop until whoever was doing this was brought to justice. Unless he did, everything he had fought for, everything his father had fought for, would be for nothing. Whoever was snatching away these young people was snatching away the City’s happiness, its peace. And it was up to him to restore that peace.
Lucas left his office; he needed to get out, needed air. Amy was right: he had let his people down. He had dismantled the System, the System that tracked each and every citizen, the System that would now be able to show him exactly where the Disappeared were and exactly what had happened to them. He, Linus, Evie and Raffy had destroyed it joyously, triumphantly. But Lucas hadn’t realised quite what a supporting wall it had been to the City; hadn’t realised that without it, things would begin to crumble.
