Mr Banter’s card was already in his hand. He swiped it, leaped through the lift’s parting doors, slammed in the code – three-one-one-two – and almost collapsed when the doors closed.
The lift descended. When its doors opened Cyan was on the move again. He ran past the corridor of cells straight to Ruby, who was still out cold on the dirty floor. He winced at the bruise that blotted half her neck, then stooped with an ear to her nostrils. Her breathing was steady.
He pulled off his blazer, folded it into a pillow and tucked it tenderly beneath Ruby’s head. After brushing her cheek with his fingertips he was up again, limping back to the corridor he’d passed.
Cyan moved as quickly as he could down the corridor’s length, slowing at each door to swipe Mr Banter’s card. He left a trail of green lights in his wake, heard the echoing clicks of unlocking doors.
“Come out!” he cried. “It’s okay! You can all come out! You’re safe now! You’re safe!”
He’d reached the corridor’s end and turned around to see two doors opening. A teenage boy and girl – both wilting and garbed in grey gowns – stepped gingerly from their rooms. They cowered and blinked in the grimy, flickering light.
“It’s okay,” repeated Cyan, his voice quieter. “Come on. Don’t be scared. We’re getting you out.”
Gradually, more doors opened. The corridor began to fill up.
Some of the residents were so young. They stumbled and squinted, gradually turning their heads to Cyan. One of them – a bald girl who looked about ten, with medical gauze taped to the side of her head – fixed him with dull green eyes.
With that familiar sting pricking his eyelids, Cyan smiled at her. The girl’s lips moved. Her expression was thin, tremoring, weak. But it was there, and it was almost a smile.
Cyan headed back down the corridor, squeezing gently between residents. He stopped, though, after brushing past someone with a bob of blonde hair.
“Amber?” He made to step towards her then faltered. His heart ached when she flinched and backed away. “Or…Ruth, right? Ruth McMurphy. It’s you. I found your code. And your note. I…” He trailed off at the confusion in her eyes. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“It’s all right.” Cyan fought the quiver in his smile and kept moving, until the sight of thin arms and black hair stopped him in his tracks.
“Jonquil,” he breathed.
She turned slowly and her dark gaze shifted – not to Cyan, but to the empty space in front of him.
“Jonquil?” he repeated.
She didn’t respond. Her eyes didn’t move.
“Don’t worry,” whispered Cyan. “You’re going to be fine.” He took a timid step towards her and – opening his arms very, very slowly – embraced her as softly as he could.
Jonquil didn’t move. Not by a millimetre. But Cyan could feel her heartbeat, strong and alive and quickening against his chest.
Again, the pinpricks behind his eyes. He blinked several times, exhaled and stepped away.
“Okay!” Heads began to turn. Cyan was beckoning towards the lift. “Hop in, everyone. There’s room if we squeeze together. I need you upstairs.”
Cyan entered a foyer far quieter than the one he’d left. Residents were sprawled across the floor and propped up on benches. Orderlies worked silently and methodically, hauling unconscious bodies onto cold metal trolleys.
Dr Haven was still by the spiral staircase, to the right of the foyer’s handless clock. He wore a rigid frown, with his face a dark and unfamiliar shade of pink.
Abruptly he broke the silence, calling irritably into his locket. “Mr Banter! Send me an update this instant!”
“I doubt he can hear you,” Cyan replied.
The director lifted his head, his eyes growing wide at the sight of Cyan. He gaped at the spiral staircase behind him, then looked again at Cyan. “How…” Another glance at the stairs. “Where’s Mr Banter?”
The orderlies had stopped their work to watch.
“Still up there,” said Cyan. “Somewhere.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Orderlies. Take him immediately.”
Two orderlies not far from Cyan reached into their pockets, and within a blink were wielding needles.
“Wait.” Cyan put a palm up to them. “You might want to see this.”
Turning around, he gestured towards the corridor. He moved backwards while he beckoned, to make way for the residents from below.
While they shuffled into the foyer, Cyan saw orderlies’ expressions changing. Some of them looked baffled, while others became as stiff and pale as their uniforms.
Cyan joined the freed residents, who’d stopped and huddled together as if for warmth. Many of them were wincing and blinking again, struggling with the foyer’s brighter light.
Cyan’s gaze swept the orderlies. When he spoke it was to Ms Ferryman. “Do any of these faces look familiar?”
Ms Ferryman’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. She seemed unable to speak, but eventually managed a nod.
She turned to Dr Haven, who was backing silently away. His lips twitched at their edges, and he’d paled from pink to skull-grey. But he flushed again, stopped and stood his ground.
“I said take him immediately!” he bellowed, glowering at his staff.
Some of the orderlies avoided his gaze. One of them shook her head. But others were steeling themselves, readying their needles.
The slide of soles against carpet. Cyan followed the sound; two orderlies had blocked the exit. Others came from the front and sides, closing in.
“Orderlies, stand down!” It was Ms Ferryman, who’d left the stairway to join Cyan. She glanced sidelong to meet his eye, then held a stern finger up to her staff.
The advancing orderlies hesitated, their eyes flitting to Dr Haven.
“Don’t listen to her!” he barked. “I’m your superior!”
“And he’s a liar!” countered Ms Ferryman.
Even by her steeliest standards, her expression was grim. She peered over her shoulder at the residents bunched up behind her, then returned her attention to her staff. “You know these children as well as I do. Dr Haven said they’d recovered and were safely back home again. Do they look recovered to you? Didn’t they just come out of that lift?”
“Ignore this nonsense!” snapped Dr Haven. “Take them all down and Ms Ferryman too or…or suffer the consequences!”
Some of the orderlies turned their faces from the doctor to the floor. Cyan saw a cartridge fall from someone’s hand. But a handful of orderlies were still looking at the director.
Their jaws and shoulders tightened. With needles poised and glinting, they crept forward again.
“Consequences?” croaked Cyan. He waved an arm at the quaking residents. “These…are the consequences, if you keep listening to the doctor. Just look at them! Look at their faces and remember! Don’t you remember them the way they were before?”
He saw Amber cowering behind Ms Ferryman. She looked so afraid, with her face pinched and pale beneath her scruffy bob. “Look at Amber!” he went on. “I don’t remember her before she was like this – before she was withdrawn and hidden away. But I’m sure most of you do!”
With their eyes on Amber, all except one of the approaching orderlies slowed and stayed put.
The one still edging closer – a young male orderly fairly new to the sanctuary – glanced at Dr Haven, before stepping forward at another nod from the director.
He faltered, though, when someone emerged from the huddle. It was Jonquil. She stared at him with eyes deep and brown, childlike and unblinking.
Cyan spoke to the orderly, his voice softer now. “You’re new here, aren’t you? You probably don’t know these residents. But you knew Jonquil, right? You remember how she was. Before the doctor did this to her. This is what you’ve been part of, without even knowing. It’s what you’ll still be part of, unless you stay where you are and lower that syringe.”
The orderly’s lips
creased, and he lowered his eyes. He held his cartridge out to Ms Ferryman, who stepped forward to take it from his hand.
Cyan was limping past orderlies, on direct course to Dr Haven. Every eye in the foyer went to the director. Some orderlies had shifted into new positions; once again all exits were blocked.
Cyan paused by a trolley when he saw Teal unconscious on its top. He rested a grateful hand on his friend’s chest, as proud of him as he was sorry, then continued on his way.
The doctor stood trembling with rage. He glared at Cyan with silent, seething contempt.
“Ahoy.” Cyan’s voice was hoarse. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
Ms Ferryman joined him. Cyan eyed the syringe still in her hand. “Shall we give the doctor a taste of his own medicine?”
Ms Ferryman nodded; Cyan stepped aside. Dr Haven twitched on the spot, making to flee. But there was nowhere to go.
The doctor looked so helpless – so thin and frightened – as two orderlies took his arms. But when the needle entered his arm, he fixed his cold, grey eyes on Cyan.
Cyan had never felt so drained. It took all of his strength to lift his finger to his head. Unable even to smile, he saluted the slumping director: a tired tap of an imaginary cap.
The walls rattled with the thrum of spinning blades.
Cyan watched through the side window of the sanctuary’s helicopter, saw dunes racing by below. Even from up here, cutting through the sky at over a hundred knots per hour, the sands were relentless.
He peered to the west. The sun was plump and poised on the horizon. A handful of clouds, with golden curls on their swollen bellies, speckled a peach-hued sky.
Cyan edged closer to the window, to watch the convoy of helicopters that flew alongside his own. Most were military: soaring green Chinooks, with propellers at both ends. But there were other helicopters too. Black ones, unmarked, with sharp noses and tinted windows. And Cyan could see two air ambulances – metallic red and neon yellow – speeding side by side within the thundering flock.
And inside every helicopter: residents in gowns and uniforms, taking leave of the Elsewhere Sanctuary.
He turned from the window to look at Teal, Jonquil and Ruby. They were sitting at the centre of the cabin on the webbed seating that faced the cockpit. Teal and Ruby were on either side of Jonquil, who was gazing blankly ahead.
Teal seemed dazed, with eyes pink and sleepy behind his crooked glasses; it had only been a few hours since residents were being tranquilized in the foyer. He cupped one of Jonquil’s hands and said something to her, though Cyan couldn’t hear over the helicopter’s hum.
Ruby saw Cyan watching, smiled tiredly, and crossed the cabin to join him on the seat by the window.
Cyan grimaced at the bruise on her neck, which was beginning to dull from blue to purple. He leaned in close, so she could hear him over the drone. “You okay?”
“Shipshape.”
A huffed laugh left Cyan’s nose. “How’s Jonquil?”
“Hardly the life and soul of the party. But she’s responding, I think. Moving sort of…quicker, too. That’s progress, right?” She peered uneasily at Jonquil. “Do you think she’ll get back to the way she was?”
“Fingers crossed. I’m hoping a bit of kindness’ll do more than strobes and syringes.”
Ruby nodded to herself, then turned her head to the cockpit. Cyan followed her gaze, and saw sunset filling the pilot’s visor.
“What about Ms Ferryman and Professor Vadasz?” It was Ruby, close to his ear. “Are they on these helicopters?”
Cyan shook his head. “The professor is, but Ms Ferryman’s staying. She went to the hidden floor with a bunch of people who were flashing IDs at each other – the same ones who took Dr Haven away. Said she wants to make sure our files go to people who can help us. I heard her saying something to one of those suited types, about digging through records to find out who was funding the sanctuary and helping Dr Haven.”
“I guess he’s is in big trouble.”
“The bigger the better.”
Ruby moved suddenly to the window. Her finger was pressed against the plexiglass. “Look at that!”
Cyan leaned to look. Ruby was pointing at something huge, black and oblong that protruded from several dunes. He thought it might be some sort of whale, until he saw metallic fins and a propeller. “Is that…”
“A submarine.” Ruby was grinning at the sight. Her knee began to jiggle. “Wow, right?”
“Yeah. Wow.” Cyan kept his eyes to the dunes. He wasn’t sure, but there seemed to be a gradual shifting in the sandscape. The dunes looked flatter, somehow. And the boats they passed – rusted wrecks and metal husks – were few and far between. Something flashed in the softening light: the beached corpse of a giant jellyfish.
They both fell silent, watching the sands pass beneath them.
“So…” began Ruby. Her voice caught in her throat.
Cyan looked across. Ruby’s smile was gone.
“We’re going back,” she said. “No more Island of Elsewhere. We’re all going to be…somewhere. It’s kind of scary, right?”
She looked nervously at Cyan. Her curls were wilder than ever. “All the stuff we left behind,” she said. “All the stuff Dr Haven lured us away from… I guess we’ll have to face up to it.”
Cyan’s eyelids began to tingle. “Yeah. I guess we will.” He watched Ruby bite her bottom lip, so hard that it must have hurt. “Are you scared?”
Ruby swallowed. “Yeah. I am. I mean…” She balled up her hands. “I know running away got us into this mess. And I know keeping everything pent up has been…hurting us.” She threw a glance at Jonquil, before looking again at Cyan. He could see the fear in her eyes.
“But what…” she began. “What if going back hurts us too? It’s bound to, isn’t it? We’ve all run away from horrendous, traumatic things. You can see it in the oaths on our lockets. All that pain we had, before Dr Haven removed it.”
Cyan shook his head. “Dr Haven never removed it. He only hid it. He stopped us from dealing with it. From ever having the chance to heal.”
“Well, yeah. Sure. But what if going back is even worse? Maybe it’ll damage us even more than the sanctuary?”
At first, Cyan didn’t know how to answer, so he took one of Ruby’s trembling fists, eased it open, and held her hand in his own.
And then he knew.
He brushed a curl from her cheek. “I’m sorry, Ruby. I can’t answer that. I don’t know what it was you went through. And I don’t know what you’re going back to. But I do know that whatever it is, no matter how much it hurts, you won’t face it alone. Just like I won’t face my past alone. We’ll help each other. Just like we’ll help Jonquil, and all the others too.”
Ruby fell silent. Moments passed by, until Cyan felt her squeeze his hand.
“Yeah,” she said. “We’ll help each other.” She managed a small smile. “And you’ll get your parents back. Just like you wanted.”
Cyan had to look away. “Not my mum. She’s not alive anymore.”
He heard Ruby take in a sudden, clipped breath. “Oh god… Cyan, I…”
“She died. After saving me from a fire.” Cyan winced as the heat rushed in. It felt as if the fire that took his mother was in his head, burning behind his eyes. “That’s what…brought me to the sanctuary.”
Ruby’s palms folded over his hand. “I’m so sorry, Cyan.”
“That’s what it was.” Cyan clamped his eyes shut. “The hurt that was always there, all along.” His eyelids tremored. “At least I’ve got a chance of dealing with it now. I’m going to start by remembering Mum. So I’ll get her back…in a way. And I won’t lose her again. Not ever.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’s alive. Dr Haven said he started drinking and sort of…drew away.” Cyan opened his eyes. They stung as if being pricked by pins.
“But I can see it now,” he went on. “My dad was only doing what I did. Escaping. Hiding
. Maybe I can find him.”
Ruby squeezed his fingers. “I hope so. Whatever happens, I’ve got your back. Just like you’ve got mine. Like you said: we’ll face it all together. No more hiding. More living.”
Cyan nodded. “More living.”
Ruby squeezed his fingers again, softer this time. “Hey…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember when you took me to the Serenity, to show me those lipstick pictures? When you said you’d asked me to help ’cos it felt…right?”
Cyan swallowed the painful bulge in his throat. “Yeah. I remember.”
“And I said I didn’t know what you meant.”
Cyan nodded. Ruby’s hand pulled away.
“I know now,” she said. “I know what you meant. About it feeling right.”
She put her arms around him and rested her warm curls against his neck. Cyan embraced her too, then opened his eyes. Something in the window had changed; a play of light on the plexiglass.
He shifted gently to look down and saw rolling blue waves. It was the sea, sparkling and vast, sand turned to water.
Cyan blinked through his glasses, pulled in by the foaming waves. He felt suddenly adrift, lost in their languid loll and rhythm – in their turquoise beauty, their white-crested freedom.
“Ruby…” he whispered.
Ruby looked down and – for a moment – stopped breathing.
While Cyan watched the rolling waves, he felt not only sadness and sorrow, but also laughter and hope, mingling in the salt-stream that ran from his eyes. The ache ebbed away, and the burn lost its sting. Tears ran like balm down his cheeks.
For finally, he could cry.
“Guys,” said Ruby, beckoning the others.
Teal got up and guided Jonquil to the window.
And all four of them stared as one, enthralled by a glittering horizon.
I have a car crash to thank for this book. That, and my determination to turn lemons into lemonade.
The Memory Thieves Page 18
