The Disappearances

by Gemma Malley

  Neil shrugged. ‘I just wish we had more books here. They weren’t really a priority. In the fight for survival, I mean. Short-sighted idiots putting food and water above the written word.’ He grinned. ‘Still, we’ve got enough. And who knows? Maybe one day someone will arrive here with an entire library of books that they’ve buried underground. You never know, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Evie said, her eyes twinkling. It had taken her a while to relax in Neil’s company, to understand his constant use of irony, to realise that when he got excited and asked her question after question, it wasn’t because she’d got it wrong, or because he was frustrated with her, but because he was as thrilled as she was about finding the answer. And now she loved spending time with him, enjoyed nothing more than discussing the finer points of one of the books she’d read, finding something to disagree with him on so that they could argue happily for hours.

  ‘So, next week,’ Neil waved and ambled off towards the centre of the Settlement where he would sit in the square and share a drink with friends. Evie knew this because he had invited her along several times, telling her to bring Raffy, that they would both be very welcome. But she’d said no. Because she’d known what Raffy would say and hadn’t wanted to have the argument, hadn’t wanted to feel the inevitable disappointment when he confirmed her fears and refused to go, refused to let her go without him.

  Maybe when they were married it would be different, she told herself.

  Maybe when they were married he would finally believe that he had her, that she wasn’t going anywhere, that she loved him.

  She started to make her way home. She did love him. Had always loved him. And yet … And yet. She sighed. Then she heard something and stopped. A sound in the tree above. A bird? Bigger than that. She peered up into the branches, not sure what she was looking for, but not feeling in any great hurry to rush home. And then, as she met Raffy’s eyes, her mouth fell open. She watched him flush, jump down, run towards her, his arms reaching out.

  ‘Evie!’ He half-smiled, then the smile disappeared and she could see the fear in his eyes; then he tried to downplay it. ‘Evie, come on. I was just … just …’

  She stared at him, her brain trying to compute what had happened, what was happening. ‘How … how long were you up there?’

  Raffy bit his lip.

  ‘How long?’ Evie demanded.

  Raffy shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I just … I was interested. In what you were learning.’

  ‘Really?’ Evie folded her arms. ‘Then what were we discussing today? Which book? What did you learn?’

  Raffy opened his mouth but no words came out.

  ‘Tell me, Raffy. What did you learn today?’

  Again she was met by silence. Raffy’s eyes had now turned thunderous as they always did when he felt cornered. Usually she would hold his hand, soothe him, reassure him, talk him out of his anger. She had done exactly that so many times since they’d arrived here. But not now. Right now, Evie had no interest in reassuring Raffy. He had stepped over a line; she was shaking with anger.

  ‘You used to hate the System,’ she said, her voice low. ‘And now you are acting like it. You would keep me at home every day, just as my fake parents did. But you can’t, Raffy. I won’t let you.’

  She turned, tears pricking at her eyes, tears that she didn’t want Raffy to see because he would rush to comfort her and she didn’t want comforting, not by him. She wanted him to trust her, to let her live.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Raffy called after her. ‘Where are you going?’

  His voice was anguished; she knew that he would be staring after her, desperate, miserable. But still she walked. Because this was his fault. Because he had to learn. Because if she stayed it would be worse. Because if she didn’t keep walking until she was far away from Raffy, she might say something that she would regret.

  16

  Lucas tried his best to enjoy the tea and cake that Linus had put in front of him, tried to resist his urge to stand up, pace around impatiently. He had learnt with Linus that there was no use rushing. And so, instead, he simply told Linus everything he knew. Linus listened carefully.

  Eventually, when Lucas had finished, Linus looked up.

  ‘I knew we should have killed that bastard.’

  Lucas grimaced. ‘The Brother?’

  Linus nodded. ‘Who else?’

  ‘So what do you know about the Informers?’ Lucas asked. ‘Who are they? Why are they so interested in the System?’

  Linus raised an eyebrow, etching lines into his forehead. He had a weather-beaten face, a face that had lived, Lucas found himself thinking. Eyes surrounded by lines, which deepened when he smiled, joining one another so that they appeared to flow back and forth across his features in ever decreasing circles. ‘That is the question,’ he said.

  Lucas tried to contain his disappointment that the months Linus had been holed up here, apparently monitoring the Informers and trying to track them, gave him apparently no insight into what they were doing in the City. But going on the attack would be pointless. He had to trust Martha that Linus knew what he was doing; trust his father that Linus was someone to believe in. But he still had to make sure that Linus really understood what was happening.

  ‘The City’s unrecognisable,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Families are roaming the streets after dark to find whoever’s doing this. And they blame me for dismant-ling the System. I’m beginning to blame myself. I haven’t protected them. If the System was up and running …’

  ‘Stop being self-indulgent,’ Linus said dismissively. ‘The System isn’t your problem. What we have here are some bad guys doing bad things. Forget worrying about your leadership and instead let’s work out how to find them, how to stop them, and how to make them pay for what they’ve done. Sound good?’

  He was looking Lucas right in the eye; Lucas nodded. It was no use trying to manipulate Linus. It was like trying to manipulate a wall.

  ‘Okay then,’ Linus said. ‘Funny how it seems that the good guys always look to blame themselves and the bad guys always absolve themselves of any guilt.’

  Lucas looked at him uncertainly. Linus grinned. ‘I’m saying you’re a good guy,’ he said with a wink. ‘You should take that as a compliment.’

  ‘Right,’ Lucas said, not sure what else to say. He wasn’t great with compliments. Preferred giving them to receiving them, and he wasn’t even that great at giving them.

  ‘So, seven dead and Clara is the missing one, the one they’ll be looking for,’ Linus was muttering. ‘Okay, I think it’s time to pay them a little visit.’

  Linus stood up; Lucas watched him.

  ‘So?’ Linus said impatiently, bearing down on Lucas suddenly. He was a big man, towering over him. Lucas was tall – over six foot and broad at the shoulders. But Linus … Lucas had never noticed his size before, never noticed that he was built like a warrior. With his long hair and beard he looked utterly terrifying.

  ‘So what?’ Lucas asked, managing to keep his voice level.

  ‘So let’s go.’

  Lucas started. ‘Now? Where?’

  ‘To the camp, of course. Come on,’ Linus said impatiently.

  Lucas’s brow furrowed further. ‘You’re not going to pack? You don’t think we should make a plan? Think about this a bit? You don’t think you should shave?’

  Linus stared at him incredulously. Then, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, his face broke into a smile. He laughed. ‘You might have a point with the beard and the hair. Bit unwieldy. Okay, I’ll go trim up and you get yourself ready to go.’

  He disappeared into the corner of the cave; Lucas heard a tap being run, then the buzz of an electric razor. He only knew about electric razors because his father had had one, saved from the days before the Horrors. ‘Only three of these in the City,’ he’d told Lucas proudly. It had been one of the things that disappeared in the days after his father was taken. Lucas often wondered if the Brother now had the razor, if he ever th
ought of Lucas’s father when he trimmed his own beard.

  Ten minutes later, Linus reappeared, his beard gone, his hair back to how Lucas remembered it: closely shaved, his growing bald patch rather less glaring.

  ‘This way,’ he said, walking to the other side of the cave to where Lucas had come in. ‘Climb up here.’ Lucas followed him up to a slight platform that led to a tunnel; they quickly reached a fork. ‘And here,’ Linus said, ‘we turn right. Always right.’

  ‘What’s left?’ Lucas asked.

  ‘Try it one day,’ Linus shrugged. ‘Then you’ll know why we always turn right.’

  Lucas peered down the left fork; it sloped downwards at quite an angle and its floor was smooth, slippery, like stone. One false step and Lucas imagined you’d disappear.

  ‘Right then,’ he said with a little shrug, following Linus. ‘So we’re going to a camp in an area of England that apparently no longer exists? With no clear idea of what we’re going to do when we get there?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ Linus nodded.

  ‘I see,’ Lucas said. ‘Just checking. You lead the way.’

  ‘So how are we getting to the coast? It’s miles away,’ Lucas asked Linus as they clambered down a sharp rock face to the ground below. They were on the other side of the hill from where Lucas had entered Linus’s new lair. Having crawled through a tunnel for what had felt like hours, they now, finally, were in the open air again.

  Linus shot him another infuriating smile. ‘This way,’ he said, winking as he dropped down to the ground below. Lucas followed suit; Linus had already started walking anticlockwise around the hill and he had to jog to catch up. ‘I wish you’d just tell me,’ he said.

  ‘But where would the fun be in that?’ Linus asked, his face crinkling before he turned ahead and started to walk again.

  With a sigh, Lucas followed. He found himself staring at Linus’s back as they walked, marvelling at the muscle, at the deep tan that seemed to cover him in spite of living in a cave for several months. He padded like an animal hunting, his eyes and ears on full alert. Lucas recognised in Linus what he had learnt himself, a state of constant awareness, constant readiness for fight or flight. Lucas suspected that Linus could predict what was going to happen way before those who carried out the actions did. Maybe he’d even known that Lucas would be coming; maybe that’s why he had shown no surprise.

  Finally, Linus stopped. He was in the mouth of another cave. Lucas looked at him curiously. ‘We’re still no closer to the coast,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ Linus agreed. ‘But this is certainly going to help us get there.’

  He entered the cave and took out a torch, shining it into the back. Lucas saw something, a reflection of some sort, but it was only as they drew closer that he realised what it was. Something he’d never seen before. Something he’d only heard about, imagined, seen drawings of.

  ‘It’s a car,’ he said, mouth open as he walked around it, touching it, getting a huge adrenalin rush as he felt its shiny surface and took in its gleaming body. This was nothing like the trucks used outside the City by Wall patrol, or the ageing vehicles resting at Base Camp. It was shiny, new-looking, a vehicle designed for pleasure, not practicality. ‘It’s a real car.’

  ‘Not just any old car either,’ Linus grinned, evidently enjoying Lucas’s reaction. ‘This is the cream of the crop. Worth a pretty penny in its day. Worth more to me now, though.’

  He pressed his hand to one of the doors and the locks clicked off. ‘Get in,’ he said, pointing to the passenger seat.

  ‘But how will you … do you have petrol?’

  ‘Full tank of gas,’ Linus said. ‘And I’ve got myself a whole lot more right here. Only use it for emergencies, of course. But I think what we have here would be termed an emergency, wouldn’t you say?’

  Lucas nodded; he was too awed to speak. Instead he opened the passenger door and got inside, sighing involuntarily with pleasure as he eased into the soft, cream leather.

  ‘How did you … I mean, how long have you … How is this possible?’ he breathed.

  ‘I found it,’ Linus said, as he started up the engine. ‘Beautiful, isn’t she? She’d been abandoned. I found her with the keys still in the ignition as if she’d been left there just for me. Now, it’s been a while since I’ve driven, I’m afraid, and I don’t want to scrape the old girl. So if you’ll just let me concentrate …’

  Lucas nodded and slowly the car crept backwards towards the cave opening, then reversed around the corner. Linus moved a lever, shot Lucas another smile, and put his foot down. ‘Enjoy the ride,’ he said as they sped off, the car appearing to glide over the rocks that were strewn all around. ‘Welcome to travelling Mercedes-style.’

  17

  ‘You killed my son! You killed my baby boy! You want to kill me too? Do it! Do it now and kill my baby too. You are an evil boy. You will burn in hell for what you’ve done. You will …’

  Devil turned, walked, jogged, ran. He knew it was a mistake to come back to the estate. He’d been away all morning, waited for everything to be dealt with, cleared away, had thought by four o’clock he’d be safe to come back. But she was waiting for him. Waiting right in the spot her stupid son had jumped off the balcony.

  ‘I told him he was evil,’ the boy’s mother screamed after him. ‘I told him it was all his fault. That’s why he killed himself. But it wasn’t his fault. It was your fault. God will find you and he will punish you, and—’

  Devil was out of breath but he kept running like his life depended on it. She was crazy. He had to get away. Far away. He hated this shit hole. Hated his dad for leaving, for making them move here. He shouldn’t even be here. None of this should have happened.

  He passed some of his crew but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t be dealing with them right now either. He couldn’t be dealing with none of it.

  He ran down the steps, across the playground, and through the tunnel. He exhaled heavily as he came out of it, just like he always did, but usually it was because he’d held his breath for all the time it took him to run through it, protecting himself from the stench, whereas this time he hadn’t had that luxury. Man, he was out of breath. He needed to get fitter. Needed to do a lot of things. He breathed in several times, put his hands on his knees, then stood up and started to walk around the corner, onto the main road, across onto a long lane that led into town. His usual walk. And then he stopped. Because in front of him was a car. A car he didn’t know. A car that did not belong, that stood out like a beacon.

  It was a nice car. Very nice.

  And it was empty.

  Which meant its owner was either very stupid, or so powerful he didn’t have to worry about where he parked it.

  He looked around then approached cautiously, checking out the plates. Only two years old. Looked after. Silver, alloy wheels, tinted windows. He held his hand out tentatively, touched the bonnet; no alarm. He stroked it appreciatively for a second or two, then walked round to the driver’s seat. Whoever had left this car was now in the estate. They had money. They had class. But what else? This was a gangster’s car.

  An empty gangster’s car.

  Carefully, Devil took out his pocket knife. He could get into any car; it was the first thing he learnt. No one was around; no one would see him. He could almost smell the leather, the wealth. Like his dad’s car. Large, soft leather seats, the gentle clunk of the heavy doors. He wanted this car. He wanted it so bad he could scream. This was the car he deserved. This car would tell the world who they were dealing with.

  But he put his knife back in his pocket. You didn’t mess with a car like this without there being consequences, complications. And Devil didn’t need that kind of attention right now.

  Instead, he just stood next to it, imagining the sound of the doors clunking, the feeling of the soft leather, the smell, the purr of the engine. One day, he thought to himself. One day …

  And that’s when he felt the metal against the back of his neck. ‘Like my car? You
should get in.’

  He didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t have to. A large man with a thickset head appeared next to him and opened the car door.

  ‘Fancy a ride?’ said the man holding the gun.

  Devil didn’t say anything. You didn’t mess with guns. Maybe this was it for him. Maybe the Green Lanes Massive had friends he hadn’t banked on. He closed his eyes, said a quick prayer, then got in.

  There were four men in total. Two on either side of him, big blokes, not to be messed with, one driving, and the one with the gun was in the front next to the driver. He was the one that Devil had his eyes trained on, watching him, studying him, taking in every detail. He’d thought he was quite old, at first. He was bald, for starters, looked like he was losing his hair, But now, looking at him, he could see that he wasn’t. Close up, it was clear that he wasn’t that much older than Devil, in fact. Other than that his face didn’t give that much away.

  Devil watched him anyway, watched his hands, watched his chin, in case he gave something away, something that Devil could use. ‘People always give themselves up,’ his dad used to say. ‘You learn to read people, you’ll have them at your feet.’

  He wasn’t scared, not yet. No one was saying anything, and Devil was happy to wait. They were driving, the quiet hum of the car making him feel sleepy as they sped along the roads, the car barely registering the various pot holes it encountered.

  His father’s car had been a Lexus. The one he’d had in Hertfordshire anyway. It was only after he’d gone, only when the police came round asking questions, that he’d discovered that Hertfordshire was only one of his father’s lives, that Pastor Jones was just one of his aliases, that the Church of Good Faith was only one of his little empires. Did he drive a Lexus in his other hometowns, Devil had found himself wondering. Hoping, actually. Hoping that he knew something real about the man who was his father, about the man who had run away, who had turned out to be not at all the person that Devil thought he’d known. He liked to drive a Lexus. That was something. Without that, he had nothing.