The Memory Keepers

by Natasha Ngan

  85

  SEVEN

  The door swung open for the first time that day. Seven had lost track of time in the eternally lit cell. Was it night yet? Had the Ball started? Lin entered, holding a tray of food that smelled so good it made Seven’s stomach curl. All he’d been given so far was stale water and crusty bread, stuffed into his mouth because his own hands were in cuffs.

  ‘Dinner,’ said Lin with a smile. He set the tray down on the spare chair and moved behind Seven. There was a click as the handcuffs sprang open.

  Immediately, Seven grasped his hands. They were covered in dried blood. He flexed them, trying to ease off the constant cramp that had settled in his wrists and arms.

  ‘Here.’ Lin handed him the plate of food. ‘As a thank-you for complying with us so far.’

  Seven let out a snort. ‘Poisoning me as a way of saying thank you? No thanks.’

  ‘It’s not poisoned.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want it.’

  His belly let out a growl.

  Lin’s smile edged wider. ‘Are you sure about that?’ He sat back in the chair, resting his hands on his knees. ‘We’re not heartless, Candidate. We know to reward loyalty.’

  ‘I’m not loyal to you,’ Seven spat.

  ‘Well, we’re hoping we can change that. Now, please – eat. You’ll need your energy for what I am about to ask of you.’

  Just for a second, Seven considered throwing the plate of food in Lin’s face. Then (telling himself that it would be an insult to the animal that had died for this meal) he began stuffing the tender slices of roast beef, rosemary potatoes, garlic beans and fried onions into his mouth. Juices dripped down his fingers. Of course they hadn’t given him any cutlery. They were aware of how much could be done with a toothpick; gods forbid he ever got hold of a spoon.

  Lin smiled when he’d finished. ‘Good, isn’t it?’

  Seven licked his lips. Only the best effing meal I’ve had in my entire life, he thought.

  Instead, he shrugged. ‘Needed more salt.’

  Lin laughed. ‘Well, Candidate Seven.’ He stood, brushing down his sleek grey suit. ‘Now you’ve got your energy back, I’ve got a little exercise for you.’

  He took the empty plate and set it down on his chair. Pulling something out of his suit pocket, he bent and crouched beside Seven, cutting the plastic cords round his ankles. Then he moved to the door and waited for Seven to follow.

  But Seven stayed put. ‘Damn,’ he said, yawning theatrically. ‘Still knackered. Think it’ll take at least two more plates before I can go anywhere.’

  Lin’s glare was cold. ‘Come with me, Candidate. You can eat again after.’

  ‘After what?’

  ‘Come with me, and you’ll find out.’

  Knowing he didn’t have any choice, Seven got to his feet. He moved shakily, his ankles feeling swollen and bruised, and it hurt to stretch out his legs after all this time. Lin led him down the corridor in the opposite direction to Loe’s cell. He didn’t put Seven’s handcuffs back on or guide him by the neck like Nihail had done, but when Seven glanced over his shoulder he saw a burly London Guardman following them as they walked, and knew better than to try anything. Besides, one thing he did know for certain: his fighting skills (or rather, lack of) weren’t going to help him one bit here.

  They came to the end of the corridor and turned into a lobby area with a set of lifts. A desk ran along the opposite wall, two guards sat behind it. Moving over to the lifts, Lin swiped his access card over the panel to call for one.

  ‘Since you know all about The Memory Keepers,’ he said, ‘including the fact that you are one, we thought it was time you had a go for yourself.’

  Seven tensed. He thought of the skid Takeshi had made him alter; the overpowering scent of male sweat, Oxana’s ripped clothes, the metallic snap as Takeshi lowered down, unbuckling his belt …

  Seven used to love skid-surfing. Now, he didn’t think he wanted to look inside some else’s mind ever again.

  When the lift arrived, Lin, Seven and the guard who’d been tailing them all got in and the doors slid shut.

  It happened so fast Seven didn’t even have time to react.

  Just as the lift began to glide down, the guard jerked forward and grabbed Lin, locking an arm round his neck and jabbing something into the side of his neck. Lin’s shout died in his throat. He slumped down and the guard dropped him, kicking his body to the back of the lift.

  ‘I’m Axel,’ grunted the man, turning to Seven. He had a stony face and deep-set blue eyes. ‘Welcome to the Movement, Candidate Seven.’

  ‘Er … hi.’

  Axel jabbed a different floor on the lift’s display. Crouching beside Lin, he took an access card and a tablet from his pockets before gagging him and tying his arms and legs with plastic cords.

  ‘Wh-where are we going?’ Seven stuttered, gaping at him.

  Axel grinned. ‘Why, to the Ball, of course, Cinderella. The others are waiting in the car park. We need to get going quick before anyone raises the alarm.’ Flipping the back of Lin’s suit jacket over, he pulled out the gun that was tucked there and held it out to Seven. ‘Have you ever used one before?’

  Seven shook his head. He took it with shaking hands: it was cold and heavy.

  Axel finished running him through how to use it just as the lift slid to a stop. But before the doors could open fully, Seven jammed his finger on the close option on the controls, then the number of the floor they’d come from. The lift began to move back up.

  Axel turned, frowning. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘My friends,’ Seven said. He swallowed, trying to calm his spinning heart. ‘I can’t leave them here.’

  Axel’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes, you bloody can.’

  He took a step towards the control panel but Seven blocked it, his face hard.

  ‘Two of my friends are up there. I’m not leaving them behind. After everything I’ve done for you guys, the least you can do is help me free my friends.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous. The whole building’ll know that we’re here.’

  ‘I don’t care!’ Seven shouted. ‘If I don’t try, I’ll spend the rest of my life hating myself.’ And I’ve done enough of that already, he added in his head.

  They were three floors away now.

  Axel was glaring at him. Seven glared back.

  Two floors away.

  One floor.

  ‘Oh, fuck this.’

  Axel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pushed him in front of the doors.

  ‘Bastard attacked Lin in the lift!’ Axel yelled at the guards behind the desk as the doors opened. He shoved Seven forward. ‘I’m locking him back up. Gonna teach him what a mistake that was.’

  The guards scrambled up. As they rushed past towards Lin’s unconscious body in the lift, Axel turned, pulled a gun from his holster, and shot them in the backs of their heads.

  Seven’s mouth dropped open in horror, but Axel was already wheeling him away, leading him quickly down the corridor to the cells.

  ‘Where are they?’ Axel growled.

  ‘W-who?’

  ‘Your friends! Which cells are they in?’

  Seven swallowed. ‘I – I don’t know where Dolly is. But Loe’s at the end of the hall.’

  ‘Isn’t that the girl that gave you up to the London Guard?’ Axel threw him a sharp look. ‘Still think she’s your friend?’

  Without hesitation, Seven nodded.

  He’d had plenty of time to think about what Loe had done over the last three days, and what he realised was that he did understand. He knew how desperate she’d been. She had given him up to protect Mika. Seven would have done the exact same thing for Alba, because that’s what you did when you loved someone, wasn’t it?

  And he’d realised that he did love Alba. That he’d fight the whole world just to keep her safe. Just to see those pretty green eyes one more time, feel her kiss him that way she had the other night, as though she’d die if she didn�
��t, as though she needed his lips against her to breathe.

  Seven needed her to breathe.

  They stopped outside Loe’s cell. Axel punched in the code to release the door and they went in.

  Seven couldn’t help it; he recoiled at the smell. Loe was in an even worse condition than when he’d last seen her. Blood caked the skin around her jaw. Both eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She looked up as they entered, but her movements were slow and difficult.

  Anger twisted like a knife in Seven’s gut. What did the London Guard want with Loe? Couldn’t they tell she was just a frightened girl trying to survive in a world that was doing everything it could to bring her down? How could they hurt her, knowing what they were doing themselves to innocent people?

  Bending down, Axel cut Loe’s bindings free with a thick pair of metal clippers and unlocked her handcuffs. She didn’t seem to understand what was going on. She looked down at her uncuffed hands as though she’d never seen them before.

  ‘Who was the other one?’ Axel asked, getting back up.

  ‘Dolly Rose.’

  He nodded. ‘I know where she is.’

  As he left the room, Seven went over to Loe and swung an arm round her waist. Her eyes focused in and out as she looked at him. Her throat strained as she tried to croak something, but he cut her off.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said gently. ‘We’re getting you out of here.’

  Half carrying Loe, Seven left the cell. He spotted Axel, back the way they’d come at the far end of the corridor, disappearing into another cell. By the time they reached it, he was leading someone out.

  ‘Dolly!’ Seven cried.

  She turned, her eyes flashing as they met his, and the barest hint of a smile touched her lips.

  Then shouts echoed from the lobby. The lights overhead switched in an instant to red, flooding the corridor with a deep, bloody colour, and a siren started to wail.

  86

  ALBA

  ‘I‘ve been looking for you everywhere, Alba. Why are you hiding away?’

  Alba’s stomach knotted at the sound of Thierry’s voice. Twisting round, she forced a smile. ‘I just wanted a few moments alone.’

  He didn’t take the hint. He moved closer, swaying slightly as he set down the drinks he was holding and lowered himself to where Alba was sitting on a fur rug, laid out under the low-hanging branches of a tall beech tree. The tree was on the very edge of the grounds, hidden behind a stage where performers were twisting down through the air on long silk ropes.

  Alba felt annoyed Thierry had found her. She’d come here to escape the Ball, with its whirl of glittering dresses and jewels, bubbling champagne, waiters in white serving canapés on silver platters and endless laughter and inane chatter and gossip, gossamer strains of orchestral music sweeping over everything. She couldn’t think straight in the midst of it all, and it was important she keep a straight head.

  The Movement could show up any minute. Alba needed to be ready.

  ‘This is intimate,’ Thierry purred, brushing her back.

  He gazed up at the lanterns and fake snowflakes adorning the branches of the tree. They lit the space underneath in a warm, golden glow. Beyond, away from the party, the lawns disappeared into frosty darkness.

  ‘Come here.’ Thierry wrapped an arm round Alba’s shoulder, tugging her closer. His breath reeked of alcohol. Leaning in, he whispered, ‘I want to kiss my wife-to-be.’

  She pushed him away. ‘I’m not your anything yet,’ she snapped. (And good lord, I hope I never will be.)

  Thierry flushed. Against his dusky pink suit and white shirt, his coloured cheeks looked a sickly red. Watching her with narrowed eyes, he smoothed a hand over his hair.

  ‘Let’s change that, then, hmm?’

  Alba glared at him. ‘You’re drunk.’

  ‘And you’re a prude.’

  He leant in again, reaching for her, but she pushed him away.

  ‘I said no!’

  Thierry glowered, and it was like thunder rolling down on her, his usual easy smile replaced by hardness.

  ‘That’s not a word I like to hear.’

  All of a sudden, Alba felt cold. Gathering up the skirts of her dress she went to stand, but had only half risen to her feet when Thierry grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. Before she could do anything, he twisted her onto her back and pressed his lips hard against hers, forcing them apart with his tongue.

  ‘Get off!’ she gasped, throwing her head to one side.

  Alba dug her fingers into his shirt and pushed hard, but Thierry was heavy. He shifted his body on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

  She writhed and squirmed and kicked and bucked, but his weight held her down. Her hands were trapped between their chests. She screamed, and he shoved his arm up under her chin, forcing her mouth to snap shut.

  No one could hear her anyway, Alba realised desperately, heart pounding. The music was too loud. They were too far away.

  Thierry grunted. His lips and tongue were all over the bare skin of her shoulders and chest, each touch making her feel more sick. Drawing his free hand down, he began tugging at her dress. She felt fresh air on her legs, then her hips.

  Alba tried to scream out loud again (she’d never stopped).

  When Thierry’s fingers reached between her thighs, she felt a part of herself break. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried to twist her neck out from under his arm, thinking she’d bite his hand off if she had to, anything, anything to stop this nightmare –

  ‘Get off her!’

  A shout rang out.

  Thierry’s weight lifted suddenly from her. Alba gasped. Air rushed back into her lungs. Through blurry eyes she saw him scrambling to his feet, turning angrily to face the figure cutting across the grounds towards them.

  It was her mother.

  There was a look of pure hatred on Oxana’s face. She flew at him, grabbing the lapels of Thierry’s shirt to shove him away.

  ‘She wanted it!’ he shouted, staggering back. His face was a red, twisted mess. ‘Ask her. She wanted it!’

  ‘Leave,’ Oxana snarled. ‘Now.’

  Throwing Alba a disgusted look, Thierry backed away, brushing down his rumpled clothes and smoothing a hand over his slicked hair before disappearing back into the lights and noise of the party, leaving Alba and her mother alone.

  87

  SEVEN

  The alarm howled.

  ‘Get back!’ Axel yelled.

  He pushed Seven, Dolly and Loe behind the cell’s open door just as two guards rounded the corner, shots ringing out. He fired back.

  Seven drew his own gun, holding it with shaking hands, but before he could do anything Axel had moved out.

  ‘Follow me!’

  Still half carrying Loe, Seven ran after him down the corridor, Dolly beside them. They stumbled over the bodies on the floor.

  It was like being submerged in bloody water. The disorientating red light made it difficult to see: he guessed that was the point. They rushed through red-lit halls to the lobby. The two men Axel had shot earlier were still lying by the lifts, legs sprawled, necks twisted. Blood pooled across the floor.

  One of the lift doors opened. A guard moved out with his gun raised.

  ‘Drop your weapons! I said drop –’

  Axel silenced him with a single shot, and the lift doors slid shut. Running forward, he swiped Lin’s access card over the control panel.

  Nothing happened.

  ‘Shit! They must’ve locked the lifts from leaving this floor.’ He spun round and moved to a door to the side of the lifts. He yanked it, but it didn’t open.

  ‘The stairs?’ asked Seven, panting for breath. He was trying not to look at the bodies at their feet, the bloody footprints smearing the floor.

  Axel didn’t answer. He backed away from the door to the stairs and fired three shots at the lock. Then he lunged, crashing into the door shoulder first. It burst open with a loud crack.

  ‘Come on!’

&nb
sp; He disappeared into the shadowy red darkness of the stairwell.

  ‘Here,’ said Dolly at Seven’s side. She swung an arm round Loe’s waist and pulled her close. ‘I’ve got her.’

  Seven shook his head. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Not with your injury.’

  She threw him a look that said, Don’t you dare argue with me. Not wanting to waste any time (besides, she was right – his chest was starting to feel like ripped meat again where the dog had bitten him), Seven went into the stairwell, Dolly following behind with Loe.

  They went down and down. Axel moved quickly, gun held out. He kept swinging round checking for guards, but it wasn’t until they’d reached the twentieth floor that a door flew open above them and shots rang out.

  Dolly let out a cry.

  Seven whirled round. He saw her falling just in time and jumped the few steps between them, reaching out to grab her and Loe. Bullets spun through the air. He helped them to their feet, biting back a groan of pain as he felt the stitches in his wound snap open. He barely noticed Axel run past, gunshots ringing out as he took the guards down one by one.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Seven asked breathlessly, looking over at Dolly. He couldn’t see any fresh blood, but she was more bloodied and bruised than the last time he’d seen her.

  She gritted her teeth. ‘I’m fine. They just – they surprised me.’

  ‘Hurry!’

  Axel was off again now the guards were down, taking three steps at a time as he ran into the dark red shadows. One arm looped round Loe’s waist, Seven started back down the stairs, Dolly behind him.

  They staggered on, passing floor after floor. When they finally reached the basement level, they burst out through the wide double doors into an underground car park, stumbling straight into the car waiting for them.

  They crammed into the back seat. Axel clambered into the front as the car sped off, tyres squealing loudly in the sudden silence of the echoing concrete basement. He launched into a tense conversation with the driver while changing out of his London Guard uniform.