“Classified.” She laughed again wryly. “Sorry, Jess.”
His phone began to beep. It was dying.
“I’m going,” he said. “Will I see you again? Let me see you again.”
“I don’t think so, Jess. Just get out of there. They can’t send anyone to help you, OK? You’re on your own. Get out of there any way you can. And Jess. Guess what. I just want to say —”
And the phone went dead.
“Shit!” Jess looked at the stupid gadget in his hand — dead to the world. What had she been about to say?
Whatever. He was going to war. He was going to fight for the revolution. All he had to do now was get out. And that was easier said than done.
AFTER SHOOTING VINCE, CHRISTIAN WANTED TO GET AWAY as fast as he could. He untied Lizzie from the bed and hurried her to the door, but she managed to stall him by pointing out she was still in her nightie.
“It doesn’t matter,” he yelled.
“It does!” she yelled back. She nodded down at her body. “For your eyes only.”
Grumbling but flattered, Christian allowed her to pick up her clothes and get dressed. In doing so, she was able to recover Vince’s phone from under the bed.
Done! She was feeling good — strong, quick, clever. It was only while he was hurrying her downstairs to the car that she realized what was happening; she was feeling the first effects of Death. It was a feeling that was unlikely to last, but if it helped her get away from Christian, it was more than welcome.
Christian drove them into Manchester, where he kept a town flat on Deansgate for business purposes. The fight with Vince seemed to have unhinged him totally. Maybe he no longer had to pretend, maybe the beatings his head had taken against the wall had done some damage, but his mood was swinging dangerously between the sentimental and the violent. At the flat, they spent most of the rest of the evening watching a film on TV, with Lizzie manacled to the sofa. Her coat with the phone in it was in the bedroom, hanging up on the door. She had no chance to get anywhere near it.
As the film progressed, Christian began muttering to himself, at first quietly, then louder and louder.
“Tomorrow we go to the factory,” he announced to no one in particular.
“Where’s that?” asked Lizzie lightly.
Christian jumped and looked at her suspiciously. He’d obviously forgotten she was even there.
“Don’t answer her,” he said. “She’s fishing. No, she’s not! She just wants to know. You trust her?” he asked incredulously. “You trust her? Do I look stupid?” he shouted suddenly.
“I’m your girlfriend, Christian,” she told him in a cross voice, doing her best not to show how terrified she was. “Of course you trust me!”
“Do I?” Christian flailed around in a panic. “You? But who else are you?” he demanded.
“Just me,” she said. “Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Remember? Lizzie. Girlfriend. When are we going to get some tea, Christian?” she asked, frowning. Getting him to do things for her seemed to help keep him away from dangerous thoughts.
Christian chewed at his knuckle and came to a conclusion. “She’s all I have,” he explained to himself. He kissed her and went to the kitchen to see what there was to eat. He came back with a single bowl of tomato soup, all he had. He wouldn’t go out to get any more because he was convinced that his life was in danger. Lizzie had no idea why. Probably it was pure paranoia, but maybe, just maybe, he was scared of Adam. She hadn’t seen a body. It could be that he was still alive.
She could hope, anyway.
They shared the soup, but it was nowhere near enough and in an hour or so, Christian started to get angry about how hungry he was. Lizzie knew better than to offer to go out for him, and made a big fuss about how important it was that they stay put and hide from their enemies. That helped calm him down and convince him they were in it together. She helped him do a search of the cupboards, but all she could find was a single bag of sugar. She spent the evening making gallons of hot, sweet tea for them both, which they drank together, huddled up in bed, like children hiding from the ghosts. The hours and minutes passed slowly by. He beat her up twice: once at midnight, and again two hours later. Toward first light, he fell in love with her all over again and went to sleep in her arms, weeping sentimental tears.
Lizzie watched over him. He had chained her to the bed and to himself. There were no weapons nearby. She wondered if she could strangle him, but thought probably not. It was tempting, but now was not the time. So she waited, watching over him, until at last she fell asleep as well.
* * *
After he had crashed through the window in a hail of shattered glass, and pulled himself out of the rose bush, Adam dashed off with tiny steps into the woods, still hobbled and with his hands cuffed behind his back. He had hardly gone more than fifty feet or so when Christian burst out of the front door and began firing wildly through the trees in his direction.
He ran on as fast as he could, tripping and falling over every few steps, until it occurred to him that he didn’t actually have to have his hands tied behind his back — he could step over them so they were in front and then untie his legs. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? As he paused to do it, he could hear Christian tearing his way through the tangle of woodland, bawling in rage, only forty or fifty feet away. But he was heading the wrong way and obviously wasn’t sure where Adam was. He bent, rapidly untied the rope around his legs, and fled. Now Christian spotted him and fired off more rounds, but his luck held. It was another two hundred yards to Vince’s Porsche and Adam covered them at full tilt, with Christian, full of fury but out of his mind, tripping and cursing, screaming at him to stop, and letting shots off at every shadow he saw.
Adam got to the car and there was a dreadful moment when he thought he’d lost the keys. He fished desperately around in all his pockets before he found them. He reversed out, burning rubber and grinding the clutch as Christian came out of the trees toward him. He stalled on the road; a truck going past blared its horn and swerved to miss him. But then he got going again — and pulled away, nought to sixty in seconds. A couple of shots thumped into the trunk — he could feel the impact of them right through the car — before he got out of range, driving fast to safety.
But it wasn’t over. It couldn’t ever be over with Lizzie still in captivity. Christian would be straight back there. Maybe he’d shoot her on the spot, but Adam was hoping that now that she’d swallowed Death as well, he’d follow Vince’s plan and let her live out her week. Either way he had to get back. The longer he left it, the worse things could get for her.
He pulled over into a rest stop and waited a few minutes to give the impression he was gone, then turned around and went back. He parked the car well away from the drive and once again made his way up to the house, but he was already too late; the birds had flown. Only Vince remained, dead on the floor with a bullet wound in his head.
Adam had escaped. Lizzie was as good as dead.
That was it, then. He’d lost her and he had no idea how to find her. She’d been fed Death — and what on earth would her last few days be like, with Christian as her jailer? It didn’t bear thinking about.
He wandered around the house, trying to find some kind of clue as to where they’d gone, but found nothing. Eventually he went back to the car and sat at the wheel, still trying to work it out.
Christian had been right about one thing: It was all his fault.
Where was he? Day 4; Day 5 tomorrow. Two days to go. He’d lost his life, ruined his parents’ lives, and now he’d destroyed Lizzie’s as well. Sitting at the wheel, Adam began to cry, quietly at first, then more and more until he was sobbing out loud. It was getting dark, but he remained where he was, with nowhere better to go, nothing better to do, until, blessedly, he fell asleep at the wheel.
* * *
The following morning, Friday, Lizzie’s luck was still holding: Christian woke up feeling refreshed. He looked almost normal. They kissed, made small talk
, watched TV. He even went out to buy stuff for breakfast.
As soon as he was out the door, Lizzie was out of bed. The phone … just a few feet away, in her jacket hanging on the door. The bed was a huge oak thing that weighed a ton, and she had to drag it inch by inch behind her to get there. She typed out her text in a panic — the shop was only a few steps away and Christian could be back at any moment. She got as far as at factory before the front door went. Back already! She had time to type out Adam’s number and send, before desperately dragging herself and the bed back, wincing at the noise of the legs on the boards, certain she was going to get caught. She chucked the phone under the bed and just about managed to get everything back as it was before he came in bearing croissants and jam. She smiled sweetly. Done! It wasn’t much of a text, but it was a start. At least something had gone out.
They ate together in bed with coffee. When it was done, Christian wiped his mouth and said thoughtfully, “You know what, Lizzie? I think we need to get away. Just you and me. Big holiday. Thailand, maybe. All points east. Japan. We’ve always wanted to go to Japan. What do you say?”
“It sounds wonderful! When do we go?” she gushed. Christian beamed at her, and her heart quailed inside her. She had her one week — the most life could offer her now. How horrible it would be if she had to spend the whole time pretending to be in love with Christian. She wanted to see her parents, she wanted to see Adam — she had so much she wanted to do in those few, miserable days. For the first time, she began to wonder if it was worth it, this dreadful struggle to stay alive. She was going to die anyway, probably in a horrible way. Perhaps it would be better to get it over with at once. Anything would be better than this.
But not yet. She wasn’t ready for that. In a few days maybe …
The holiday idea seemed to be a runner. Christian booked some flights to Tokyo. They could get a hotel when they arrived. It was all set — and then things began to deteriorate. He finished the calls, made them both some tea, which they drank in bed; but then he began to get agitated. The muttering started up. Lizzie tried to distract him by talking about Tokyo, but it was no use.
“You idiot!” he suddenly bellowed. “You’ve forgotten the business.” He swung around suddenly and glared directly at her. Lizzie cringed down — it was a bad move but she couldn’t help it.
“Don’t call me an idiot!” he screamed. But he had turned away and was talking to someone in his head. “Yeah, but you are, aren’t you? You have business. What’s Daddy going to say … what’s he going to think … what’s he going to do?”
Gibbering in fear, Christian turned his horrified eyes to Lizzie, as if begging her for an answer. At any moment it could turn to rage. She tried to smile.
“Er … we ought to get the business side of things sorted out before we leave, though, don’t you think?”
Christian looked at her suspiciously. “What do you know about my business?” he demanded.
“Nothing. But you always have some. Isn’t there something you need to do? Weren’t we supposed to be … going to the factory today?” she asked, digging into her memory as she spoke.
His eyes swiveled anxiously. “Factory … yeah. That’s it. Right. The factory. Good girl. Good girl, Lizzie!”
He ran to kiss her, and then dashed off to sort things out. Lizzie had time to sob twice before he was back, ordering her to get dressed. They were going right now. This time, to her disgust, he stood over her, watching her like a hawk, and she had no time to pick up the phone.
Fifteen minutes later, after tying her to the passenger seat of his car with several yards of rope, he was driving her east. The phone was still lying under the bed. She just had to hope that Adam was still alive and that, if he was, he would manage on his own. It wasn’t a thought that filled her with confidence, but there was one thing, to her surprise, she felt confident about. If he was alive, he would try. She had no doubt about that. Adam was an idiot in many ways, but this much was true: He was her idiot, and he would never give her up in a million years. She didn’t think there was anyone else in the world she could say that about. And she wasn’t sure she knew anyone else who had that, either.
What a thing, she thought. And what a way to discover it. It was just a shame that they had only days left to live. And with that thought, suddenly, she was fighting back tears.
There wasn’t much time to mourn, though. Christian, who was obviously very nervous about the trip, started to explain to her that he wanted her along for moral support.
“What sort of moral support?” she asked.
He rambled on, half to her, half to himself, but from what she could gather, he needed her to reassure his dad that he was, in fact, taking his meds; and that Vince was, in fact, not with them because he had another important job to do rather than having been murdered; and that he, Christian, was, in fact, as sane as the next man.
“No problem,” said Lizzie brightly. She settled herself into the seat and looked out the window. Adam was going to die, if he wasn’t already dead, and she was going to die, too; she knew that. But with a little bit of luck, just a tiny wee bit of luck, she might manage to take some of the bastards who’d been making this horrible drug with her. Christian was there, at the top of the list, and his dad was right below him.
Why not? she thought. This one is for you, Ads. Leave the world a better place, like it said on the list. Go for it!
Christian looked sideways at her, his eyes rolling like marbles. Lizzie smiled back. Don’t cry, she thought. Don’t cry — kill. Even if she took just one of them with her, it would be worth it.
* * *
She was expecting a long ride, but very quickly they were driving through a strange wasteland of shipping containers. Lizzie was amazed. She had no idea that such a place existed so close to Manchester city center. There were hundreds of containers, maybe thousands, some stacked on top of each other, all laid out in endless rows.
The car pulled up in the middle of nowhere and Christian got out. He stood there a moment, flexing his shoulders and looking around him. She thought, Is this it? Has he taken me here to kill me? But then he bent into the car and kissed her on the cheek.
“Won’t be long, love,” he said.
“Aren’t you taking me to meet your dad?” she asked.
“No.” Christian was most amused. “No way.”
“But you said —”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lizzie,” he said. He shook his head irritably, and walked off. Lizzie watched him disappear behind a container. Suddenly she was on her own. She tugged at her bonds, but he’d tied her good and tight. Her hands were free, but there was no way she could reach around to the knots that had been tied behind the seat. She was stuck — and if she didn’t take her chance now, she might never get another go.
There was only one thing she could do. She leaned across to the driver’s seat and pressed on the horn. Please God let there really be someone there. The horn blared out into the silence of the container terminal. And it worked. All around her, doors opened in the containers. The whole place was full of people hiding in them. They ran toward her. One of them was Christian.
ADAM WOKE UP IN EXACTLY THE SAME POSITION HE’D fallen asleep in — sitting in the car with his head resting on the steering wheel. He felt dreadful — headache, nausea, aches, the lot. What had happened to that beautiful glad morning of Death? Why was he so shot? It made no sense.
He clicked the key in the ignition and checked the time. It was already eleven A.M. So late! He’d slept for hours.
And … Lizzie. He’d lost Lizzie.
He couldn’t see any way out of it. It was Day 5 — Friday — the day Janet had said he should meet her and collect the antidote. Was that what he had to do — save his own skin? He might as well, if he couldn’t do anything for Lizzie.
He felt so bad about it — but it would pass, wouldn’t it? He had it all back. His parents, his life, work — all waiting for him. He could go and wait for the antidote, and just get on
with it. He’d have to live with what had happened to Lizzie, but he’d forget. He’d learn not to let it ruin his life. That’s what happens. We live, we move on. We persevere.
Adam took out his phone and turned it on. As he expected, there were maybe fifty messages from his parents. Looked like they were going to be in luck after all. Loads from his friends, too, who had obviously been brought in on the act by his mum and dad. Where are you, we miss you, we just need to know you’re OK. He scanned through them.
Then, an unknown number. He opened it up. The message had two words: at factory.
Adam stared at it. Where had he heard that word before? Vince, was it?
He turned on the GPS and said the word “factory.” And up it came. Adam sat there, staring at it. The text had to be from Lizzie. And now he had a choice. He could go back home to life — to all the things, good and bad, he’d thought he’d lost forever. Or he could try to help Lizzie — and probably die in the process.
Adam sat there at the wheel, not thinking, not feeling, just waiting. As if somehow, if he sat there long enough, maybe he’d think of a way he could stay alive and bear to face it.
* * *
Jess was in the lab running tests when the commotion started up outside. A car pulling up, a door slamming. It was shocking. No one, but no one, made any noise during the hours of daylight in the container terminal. Even Florence Ballantine avoided moving about by day, and he owned the place. Everyone in the lab, guards and techies alike, paused, got to their feet, listening, trying to work it out. Then, the horn, blaring like a siren — and off went the guards like dogs after a rabbit, the guns coming out, faces intent.
They left the door open. Casually, Jess strolled toward it.
“Hey, where are you going?” one of the techs yelled.
“Don’t worry, just looking. Having a smoke,” said Jess. He leaned against the door and took one out. The techies didn’t like it, but it wasn’t their business to stand guard over him. Besides, they were curious themselves. Some of them were already drifting over to the door after him to have a look themselves. Jess yawned, but inside he was burning with excitement. It was midday. He had one short hour to keep his date with Anna. Outside, in Manchester city center, the crowds would be gathering right now. Even here, miles away, the noise was immense. Every day it had been growing louder — the roar of a million voices asking questions the government was unable to answer. It felt as if the whole country was there, just out of sight, waiting to claim the future. Jess had been given a chance to join them, to be with them — to die for them, if he had to.
The Hit Page 19
