Ready or Not (The Hide and Seek Trilogy Book 3)

by Mark Ayre

  This world was truly astounding. Whenever Heidi dwelled upon its suffering at humanity’s hands, she filled with such black rage that she could have gone on a killing spree. Before she calmed, millions would be dead.

  She could not afford to draw so much attention to herself.

  Not long now.

  Rising, she turned before heading into the maze; paused when she saw someone leave the French doors and step onto the patio. Nassir. He surveyed the gardens. Knowing he could only be after her, Heidi raised a hand. Once he had spotted her, she turned, and headed through the maze entrance, stopping close enough that Nassir could still see her as he made his way off the patio towards her. On another day, she might have carried on, had him search for her. The maze was extensive, almost a mile in diameter. It was easy to get lost, especially if you were human. One could starve looking for a way out. It would have amused her to have him chase her on another day. Not today. Too important.

  Upon accepting her inheritance, Heidi, as Olivia, had kept on Mr Michael’s entire personal staff. Most she had infected; a minority she had left alone, allowing them to believe she was Olivia. They were devoted enough to their jobs not to trouble her, especially once she gave them each a sizeable pay rise.

  She had assessed the staff. Three members, she had not infected but had taken into her confidence. Given they were human—part of that weak, pathetic race—this was rare. Unlike Trey and Mercury, they liked her. Like those she infected, they wanted to serve. The difference was she had not cursed them.

  Of the three, Nassir was her favourite. Over time he had become her closest confidant.

  Though to her, humans were little more than is a dog to a man or woman; she treated Nassir almost as an equal. After all, even one of her incredible power was not immune to loneliness.

  She had arranged for the possession of a simple girl she had met on a nighttime stroll but had not taken to the member of her kind who had filled the girl’s body. Heidi had been pleased to be rid of Betty, though was not sure she trusted the fool to exterminate Mercury.

  Perhaps she was about to find out how warranted was this mistrust.

  Nassir reached her. Smiling, she opened her arms and brought him to her, kissing his cheek and extending a hand so he could kiss her.

  “Lovely to see you, Nassir.” She gestured into the maze. “I was going to take a stroll. I’m not sure I have the time. It depends on what you have to tell me.”

  At first, Nassir had been afraid of Heidi. Petrified, when he found out what she was. Once she had taken him into her service, convinced him he would come to no harm, he became more settled but was still deferential and shy. At last, he had grown confident. He always treated her with the respect she deserved, but now looked her in the eye and spoke with conviction.

  At least, he had, until this morning. Heidi closed her eyes, composed herself. She tried to remember she liked Nassir. Whatever he said, she would not kill him.

  What was that human expression? Don’t shoot the messenger.

  “Talk to me,” she said. “Tell me if I have time for a walk.”

  “Ma’am, preparations for this afternoon are going excellently. We’ll be ready in the next hour.”

  Heidi rolled her eyes. Moving to Nassir’s side, she placed a hand on the back of the neck, massaged him a little with her fingers.

  “Nassir, you are regressing. I don’t like it.”

  “Regressing?” he asked.

  “What did I tell you about making eye contact?”

  He forced himself to do so. “I apologise, ma’am.”

  “Your voice is trembling. Worse, you’re avoiding my question. I know preparations for this afternoon are in excellent order, but that wasn’t what I asked, was it? You do remember what I asked?”

  To his credit, he did not look away. Heidi didn’t break eye contact, and Nassir forced himself not to either.

  “I remember,” he said, his voice steady, but almost a whisper.

  “And you know to what I was referring?”

  He opened his mouth to answer then stopped himself, remembering everything Heidi had told him. What she liked from a follower.

  “Mercury, Trey and Amira escaped the trap. Raphael called to say they were giving chase. They won’t stop until all three are dead.”

  Heidi had continuously been massaging Nassir’s neck. She stopped as he spoke, though she left her fingers where they were.

  “Ma’am,” Nassir said, “I know this is disappointing but—“

  “Shhh,” she put a finger to his lips, then pulled it away. She faced him, removing her hand from his neck and placing one on either shoulder. “Do you have your phone?”

  He fought the urge to look at her hands. Keeping her eye, he said, “Yes.”

  “Of course you do. You’re my favourite follower, Nassir.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am, that means ever so much to me. You have—“

  “That’s enough. You know that often I enjoy our talks. Right now, I want you only to speak when spoken to. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.”

  She was thinking. Thinking of Betty and that idiot Raphael. How could they have failed? How could they have let her down, on today of all days? Fury continued to bubble through her, though she had no idea of the physical effect it was having until she heard Nassir squeal.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Releasing. There were tears on his face, and he shook his head, unable to tell her it was okay.

  “Your phone,” she said. “Unlock it. Give it to me.”

  He offered it without hesitation. Heidi took it with one hand and clasped his throat with the other. She called Talina, another non-infected follower.

  “Nassir?” As Talina spoke, Nassir slipped from Heidi’s grasp to the grass.

  “Nassir is dead,” said Heidi. “Please send someone we can trust to the maze entrance to deal with the body. Fast. It would not do to have prying eyes spot him on today of all days. Besides, it’s ruining the aesthetic of this lovely garden.”

  Without hesitation, Talina said, “Yes, ma’am.” She knew better than to question her master.

  Heidi thanked her follower and hung up. Leaving the maze, she turned and looked at Nassir: her favourite follower—her confidant.

  Realising there were tears in her eyes, she raised a hand and wiped them away. The rage pulsed deeper and stronger than ever.

  First, Mercury had thwarted Heidi’s plans and continually escaped her execution; now, she was responsible for poor Nassir’s death.

  This was one step too far.

  Heidi would make her pay. And she would do it today.

  Leaving behind the body of her faithful servant, Heidi dropped his phone to the floor and made her way towards the house to plot her next move. She would have to bring forward her plans.

  Her morning walk in the gardens had been ruined.

  Yet another thing for which she could never forgive Mercury.

  Sixteen

  “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  There it was. After hours of worrying, going over and over it in his head; finally, Trey had found the courage to speak. To tell Amira how he felt.

  Imagine that, Trey Michaels, finding courage.

  At first, she didn’t respond.

  Why would she? Sitting at the wheel, she was in control. Her destination, her plan, was all that mattered. If she ignored Trey and carried on as though he didn’t exist, would he grab the wheel, force her off the road? Would he crack her head against the window and attempt to kick her from the car, all in aid of achieving what he believed to be the best course of action? No, and no. Even if he did, he was no match for Amira. She would overpower him, embarrass him, and they would continue along her route, eventually, as though nothing had happened.

  So why bother to open a discussion?

  After several minutes of silence, she said, “Shut up.” As though he had followed his initial statement with a diatribe, trying to browbeat her into do
ing as he wished. He had said nothing. Hadn’t looked at her following his initial comment. After a brief victory for courage, cowardice once more reigned supreme.

  Ironically, it was her telling him to shut up that prompted him once more to speak.

  “We should be following Mercury, persuading her to reconsider. It isn’t because she’s your friend. You’re brilliant, Amira. Ruthless. But we can’t do this without her.”

  These were not spur-of-the-moment thoughts. Amira had permitted no follow up questions to her revelation that Mercury was gone. They would get a few hours sleep, she said after making a call, then move. She had her little black book, and they had somewhere to be.

  Amira rose an hour before the sun. Trey had hardly slept. Throughout the night, he had obsessed on Mercury’s departure; on what it might mean. Worried when he first lay down, by the time Amira rose, Trey had worked himself into a state. He did not think but knew, as though it were a premonition, that without Mercury, they were doomed.

  Amira’s hands were tight on the wheel. She tensed her leg and pushed the car a little faster than they needed to go on this empty country lane. She kept her eyes forward because she could not stand to meet Trey’s stare.

  From somewhere, he had found the strength to look at her. He feared her, but this was important. Killing Heidi mattered more than anything. He could not let their best chance slip away.

  “We should turn around.”

  Amira shook her head. “This is the plan. We agreed. Mercury was the one who decided to walk away from that, not me.”

  “But the plan means nothing without Mercury.”

  Now Amira turned his way. Her look was almost enough to make Trey scream, throw open the door and fling himself from the racing car.

  “I won’t tell you again,” she said. “Shut up.”

  Momentarily cowed, he watched his hands in his lap as they tussled with one another, a clear sign of nerves. What right had he to question Amira? After everything he’d done, he was lucky to be involved. They might have killed him. Execution was no more than he deserved.

  But he was here, and someone needed to say it.

  Like a parent frustrated with two warring toddlers, he forced his hands apart. Though he was scared to face another death stare, he turned once more to Amira. It might get him a punch, but he was determined to say his piece.

  “You always say we shouldn’t let feelings get in the way of what needs to be done. You despair when Mercury and I jeopardise the mission by struggling to accept collateral damage or our role as executioners of the infected. You say, and I think you’re right, we must always put the mission first, even when our feelings scream at us to take another course of action.”

  Amira opened her mouth to tell him for a third time to shut up, then shook her head. For a minute, she fell silent.

  Then: “What’s your point?”

  “That’s what you’re doing. Letting your feelings get in the way.”

  The road stretched on ahead, endless fields in either direction. The only sign of modern life, beyond their bubble, was a speck in the rearview mirror: another car, a few miles back.

  “I don’t think—“

  There was uncertainty in Amira’s voice. Trey didn’t believe he had ever heard that before. It made him feel a tad guilty. Also made him realise he had to press on while Amira was listening. He was getting through.

  “You love Mercury,” he said. “She’s your best friend, and she left, even though you only did what you did to try save the world. You thought she’d understand. Instead, she abandoned you.”

  “She’s a grown woman. If Mercury wants to—“

  But Trey couldn’t stop. He cut in again.

  “You’re using your beliefs as a shield. You tell yourself we need to reach your contact from your little black book if we’re to have any chance of beating Heidi. You tell yourself that’s why you’re not going after Mercury, because you aren’t letting feelings get in the way, but that’s not it. It’s the other way around.”

  Amira’s eyes flashed to Trey. Never had he seen someone look so furious and so lost at the same time. At that moment, she might have opened his door and kicked him from the car, or burst into tears.

  Before she could do either, Trey ploughed on.

  “You know Mercury’s our best weapon. You know our only chance of winning this war is by sticking together. If you were putting your feelings to one side, you’d forget how much Mercury hurt you and stop her from throwing away her life. You’d do whatever you could to make her rejoin us because that’s the only way we win.”

  The landscape slipped by. Blurred bales of hay appeared and disappeared in a blink of the eye. Amira had her hands fixed on the wheel, her eyes on the road. Trey’s hands were on his knees; his eyes couldn’t keep from the speedometer.

  90, 91, 92…

  “Will you feel better once you’ve got us killed?” Trey asked. He was amazed how calm his voice sounded. Amira did not look his way.

  93, 94, 95…

  Up ahead, a sharp turn. Amira was staring at the bend in the road. She was an excellent driver. At her current speed, she would flip the car and kill them if she tried to make the turn.

  96, 97, 98…

  “Amira…” but there was nothing more Trey could say. He’d made his argument. It was up to her.

  99.

  Amira released the accelerator. They sped on. She put her foot on the brake and eased it down.

  95, 90, 85…

  Trey opened his mouth to warn Amira they were still going far too fast. The corner was approaching far too quickly. When she tried to turn, she would hit the grass verge; they would flip into some poor farmer’s land. But of course, Amira knew.

  She pressed harder on the break.

  80, 70, 60…

  The verge was seconds away. Trey grabbed the handle above his window, knowing, when they flipped, it would do nothing to save his life.

  Amira said, “Piss it, you were right,” and slammed the break.

  50, 40, 30…

  She twisted the wheel, the car screamed as it span. They reached the turn, and the back tyres hit the verge. The car jumped. Trey was thrown into the ceiling then crashed into his seat. The vehicle continued to spin. Amira kept her foot on the break and her hands on the wheel. Her arms looked as though they were about to break with the exertion.

  Then the car stopped.

  They were side-on, pointing away from the turn, into the fields. Half of the car, Amira’s side, was in the grass, up the verge; wheels in the air. Trey’s side remained on the road. He felt sick as he stared out of the window, down towards the tarmac.

  Trey placed his hands on the dashboard; Amira kept hers on the wheel. They gulped air as though they had sprinted rather than driven towards the verge.

  “You were right,” Amira repeated. “I’m pissed off because we’re supposed to be best friends, and she was supposed to understand. We have to be ruthless to win this war.”

  She shook her head. Trey was looking not at her but into the distance. The car he had spotted in the rearview was still coming, growing closer every second. If it were approaching the turn at even half the speed they had, it would struggle to avoid crashing into them.

  “Amira—“

  “But you were right,” she cut in. “Abandoning Mercury isn’t ruthless; it’s stupid. This contact—“ she pulled the black book from her pocket, “can make the difference between the three of us winning or losing, but it has to be the three of us. Contact or no, without Mercury, we die. We need to get her back.”

  “Yes,” said Trey. “There’s a car coming.”

  Amira glanced up. The car was closer than it should have been because it was travelling far faster than was sensible. The racers couldn’t have noticed the turn, nor the car trapped on the verge. They were going to get everyone killed.

  They had maybe thirty seconds.

  “We need to get out,” said Trey.

  “And what, walk fifty miles until we meet
another car or hit somewhere with a signal?” said Amira. “I don’t bloody think so.”

  She started the engine, nudged the accelerator. The car groaned, the wheels on Amira’s side span but went nowhere. The wheels on Trey’s side seemed to do nothing.

  They went nowhere.

  They had twenty seconds.

  “It’s fine, don’t panic,” said Amira, as though Trey had started screaming. He hadn’t made a sound. He was watching the vehicle as it came closer and closer; as it came into focus.

  “We’re in trouble,” he said.

  She hit the accelerator. The car groaned, jerked forward and back, but remained trapped.

  “They might be able to stop,” said Amira.

  “They don’t want to,” said Trey. “They want to kill us, and they don’t mind dying to do it.”

  Amira lifted her foot, looked to the approaching car, saw as Trey had that it was a black SUV. Recognised, as Trey had, that it was the same kind of black SUV they had seen in the carpark outside Amira’s block of flats.

  They had ten seconds.

  “Shit,” said Amira.

  She slammed the accelerator and threw herself forward onto the wheel, as though her physical force could knock the car on.

  They had five seconds.

  Amira roared. Smashed the accelerator.

  They had one second.

  They shot forward.

  The SUV rocketed straight into its target.

  Seventeen

  Sam woke to the smell of bacon.

  The response was immediate, visceral. Bile rose in her throat and tears in her eyes. She sat up, swung her legs onto the floor. Beneath her, the camper bed creaked and groaned. She had a hand over her mouth and was wondering where she could find the nearest bathroom.

  The door into the hall was open. Framed by it was Benny. In his hand was a plate upon which lay the bacon, two rashers, plus a sausage, a few dry looking beans; at his feet was a bucket.

  “Here,” he said, and kicked the bucket her way. It slid and scraped its way along the stone floor, stopping by her feet. Hand still over her mouth; she shook her head. Wanted to speak. Shook it again.