by Angie Sage
I glance over to Kaitlin, who stands alert and ready, grasping Maximillian’s left upper limb in the approved two-handed Roach grip. He is at least a foot taller than her but my sister is totally in charge. She’s a natural at this. If she were a real Enforcer she’d be a comm in a few months, no doubt about it.
The Astro Room one-way glass is giving me the creeps. I steal a glance at it and I can’t see any sign of activity. Yet. I keep thinking of the Astro Techs that Madam Guardian sent for. Are they on their way up? Or maybe they are already there in the Astro Room, setting up for Dad and Maximillian. And, if this all goes wrong, for Kaitlin and me too.
This feels seriously dangerous.
I will not look at the glass again. I. Will. Not. Panic.
K
Madam Guardian is ensconced behind her giant desk, watching us as a spider would a group of foolish flies that has just fluttered into its web. “Put the teapot on the desk, Maximillian,” she says.
Now is Max’s big moment, but to our surprise, Dad stops him. “Not yet, Max,” he says. “I have something to say first.” He steps forward to the desk but Tomas, in role, pulls him sharply back.
“Enforcer. Allow the prisoner to approach,” Madam Guardian says coolly.
Dad walks the few steps to the desk while Madam Guardian watches him with her heavy-lidded eyes half-closed. Nonchalantly, Dad rests his hands on the edge of the desk and leans over to her. To my surprise, she does not react. She looks at him steadily and for a fleeting second I catch a glimpse of something that was once between them; it is possible to imagine her and Dad as a happy young husband and wife with a little baby called Maximillian. And then the moment is gone and Dad is saying, with barely controlled anger, “Marianne. I would like to know how, in all conscience, you sleep at night.”
“What?” She looks shocked, but she can’t feel half as shocked as we do. This was not in our plan.
But Dad is not stopping now. “You keep a whole city imprisoned in abject terror. You murder innocent people and send children to their deaths and it really doesn’t keep you awake? Ever?”
Madam Guardian sits back and looks at Dad with something like amusement. “What rubbish, Matthew. We are not imprisoning people; we are protecting them from the deadly Contagion. And we murder no one. We have a very fair judicial system that will, quite reasonably, not tolerate traitors to our city. And as for sending children to their deaths, what utter rubbish. The SilverSeeds are extremely privileged young people, and we go to a lot of trouble to send them off to a better life.”
“Lies, lies, lies, Marianne,” Dad is saying.
Stop bickering with your ex, Dad, I think. It’s weird. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s like a dog with a bone and he won’t let go.
But Madam Guardian seems to be relishing the argument as much as Dad. Did they always fight like this? I wonder. She folds her arms and I do believe she smirks. “Prove it,” she tells him.
I am so scared. Any minute now the Astro Techs will march in and that will be the end of it for us all, but Dad just won’t stop. “Very well,” he says. “For the last few months I have been living Outside. And do you know who I saw walking on the hills early one morning?” Madam Guardian does not get a chance to answer, because Dad does it for her. “You, Marianne. You.”
At last, Madam Guardian has had enough. “Enforcers!” she shouts. “Take him.”
Tomas and I are at Dad’s side in an instant. We pull him back from the desk and bring his arms up sharply behind his back. Dad gasps. I feel awful doing this, but Dad told us to be realistic.
You would think that would be an end of it, but Madam Guardian, it seems, does not like to lose an argument any more than Dad does. She gets up, walks to our side of the desk and plants herself in front of Dad. She laughs in his face. “You don’t fool me, Matthew. I know you’re upset because two of your brats were on the last SilverShip Exit. Let me see, that’s all of them gone now, isn’t it? Not one left apart from the Roach.”
Dad struggles angrily and we hold him back. The Guardian smiles like a snake would if only it could. “Oh dear,” she crows. “Did you not know about the oldest one in the Astro three days ago? Cried like a baby when we put him in the suit.”
I can tell that Tomas is about to explode. Tomas. Please. Just keep calm, I think.
Dad is calmer now. Maybe he’s said all he had to. “I know very well what happened to Tomas,” he says, in a low, measured voice. “You’re a killer, Marianne, no doubt about it. You started early on our defenseless baby boy, and I always thought you’d have a go at my other three when you got the chance.”
Madam Guardian snorts indignantly. “What did you expect, Matthew, after you ran off with that nurse? Making me look a fool. Not to mention giving me a Roach son.”
Poor Maximillian. He is clutching that awful teapot to him like a baby and looking at his parents in dismay. I think how strange it is that Maximillian actually has the full set of two parents here, with him, and yet he seems so orphaned.
“Maximillian is a fine young man,” Dad is saying. “You should be proud of him. And it was you, Marianne, who gave him the Roach gene, not me. You may not know it, but you had twin sisters who cocooned. What do you think lies under those two old apple trees in the yard?”
This is something Madam Guardian does not want to hear. “Maximillian,” she barks, “give me that teapot. Right now!”
“Max, my boy,” Dad says with a sigh. “Don’t keep your mother waiting. Give her the teapot.”
M
I hold the little gold-and-white teapot with the beaky spout out to Mama and my hands do not tremble. Standing here with my family around me, I know that I am no longer the “poor, frightened thing” that Mama used to call me.
Mama snatches at the teapot but, just as we planned, I do not let go. I feel Mama’s sharp nails slip off the porcelain and I draw the teapot away from her clutching fingers. And then I open my hands. For a heartbeat the little eagle teapot seems to hang in the air—and then it falls to the slate floor and smashes into a thousand pieces. There is a beat of silence, a terrible stillness.
It is done.
K
“You idiot Roach!” Madam Guardian screams.
Coolly, Maximillian replies, “I am no idiot, Mama, and I never have been.” He pauses and then, at last, he says our code word. “But you, Mama, you are evil.”
Evil.
At that, Tomas and I throw back our visors. Madam Guardian stares at us, nonplussed. She looks from me to Tomas and back to me and then she recognizes us. Her jaw drops, and for the very first time I see her afraid. We step menacingly toward her—the plan is to hold her while Dad gets the DisK from its hiding place—we know exactly where it is because Mom told him. But Madam Guardian scoots past us and is out of the room before we can stop her.
“Let her go,” Dad says as he hurries behind the desk and pulls open a drawer. He looks up in panic. “It’s not there!” he says.
We rush to the desk and pull open all the drawers. There is no DisK to be found.
“Oh my days, supposing she keeps it with her now?” Dad says.
We stop and stare at him in horror, our plans turning to dust before our eyes. It is then that I see a small, almost unrecognizably clean bear sitting in the corner. I snatch him up. “Tedward!” I say.
Dad is snappy. “Stop messing about, Kait. We have to find that DisK.”
I feel like telling Dad that I’m not the only one who’s been messing about up here, but I don’t because Tedward is heavy again and he has a smart new zipper in his back. I unzip Tedward and pull out the DisK.
We are out of there in seconds and into the atrium. It is deserted. Madam Guardian has fled. But as we head through the big door with the silver number 9, we hear the clanking sound of the elevator coming back up.
M
We are in skylon hut number nine on the roof of the Bartizan. It is different from Parminter’s hut, for it has a flight of metal steps up to the control p
anel, and its thick glass windows look out onto the Bartizan roof. And of course there is no friendly rocking chair, warm blankets or welcoming lantern.
Its control panel is almost the same—a ring of numbered lights for each skylon is glowing steadily—but there is a small but essential difference. In the center of the ring, beneath the glowing light for skylon number nine, there is a circular indentation that is not obliterated with a splodge of gray metal. This is the only open DisK Lock in the city—neat and sharp, crisscrossed with burnished gold bands and it is just waiting for the DisK.
“The DisK will try to spring up after it has made the connection,” Papa tells Kaitlin. “But you must hold it down until the Orb is fully open.”
“Okay, Dad,” Kaitlin says, and she pushes the DisK striped side down into its bed. There is a satisfying pzzzz-ut as the connections are made and the eight lights surrounding it begin to pulse brightly. Kaitlin keeps pressing down on the DisK and we wait, holding our breath, to see what will happen. Suddenly, through the window, we see a brilliant flash of light arc across the sky.
“The DisK,” Kaitlin says. “It’s getting hot.”
“Keep pressing,” Papa says anxiously. “We must fuse the skylon circuits so that we destroy the Orb forever. You must hold it down until the sky is totally clear.”
“I know, I know,” Kaitlin says between clenched teeth.
Tomas has climbed out through the hatch, and Papa and I peer through the thick blurry windows, watching the arcs of light traveling across the sky. They travel fast but are falling back well before they touch.
Kaitlin lets out a gasp. “Ah . . . so hot!”
Papa looks worried. “Katie, are you all right?”
Kaitlin is biting her lip now. “Dad, this really, really hurts.”
“I’ll take over,” he says. “I’ve got tough old hands.”
“Let me,” I say. “My hands are tougher.”
Papa knows this is true. “Thank you, Max,” he says. “Take care it doesn’t come back up. It must stay down until all arcing has stopped and the Orb has completely gone. I’ll tell you when. Okay?”
I understand. And I am happy to be the one who frees Hope from its incarceration. I take a deep breath and then I place my hand over my sister’s. I choose my middle limb, for the lower hands of a Roach have tougher skin than the more sensitive upper ones. “Pull your hand out now,” I tell Kaitlin, “and I will press down.” Kaitlin pulls her soft little paw out from under my armored one. I keep the pressure on the DisK, which to my relief, is still in its bed, soaking up the power and opening the Orb. But oh, it is hot. I keep pressing and pressing. I will not let go. Not until our city is free.
T
I am out on the Bartizan roof, standing beneath the skylon. My hair and skin buzz with charge but I don’t care. I am here to witness the new beginning of Hope.
A long ripping sound comes from the tip of the skylon. I shield my eyes from the brilliance and see a starburst of light snaking out. Its delicate fingers race across the whiteness of the Orb, stretching out toward others that are zigzagging toward it. They hover, suspended, tantalizingly close and then just before they meet, they fall back.
Suddenly a new starburst shoots out from the tip of our skylon and its questing fingers zip across the Orb at such a speed that I know that this time they must collide.
They do. With an earsplitting crackle they meet those from the other skylons racing toward them and they fuse into a net of blindingly bright light stretched across the Orb. I watch the dull whiteness that encloses us evaporate like steam on a summer’s day, to reveal a brilliant blue. Outside it is a beautiful day.
“Yes!” I punch the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
K
An excited yell from Tomas fills the hut. “All clear! All clear!”
Maximillian snatches his hand away, shoves it under his armpit and jumps back from the control panel. Dad and I look at the DisK. We both want to know that there will be no going back from here. And there it is, or what is left of it: a blob of gold and silver—with a worrying swirl of indigo—fused into the control panel. Seeping out around it are dark wisps of evil-smelling smoke. “Let’s get out of here,” Dad mutters.
Dad and I help Maximillian up to the hatch and Tomas pulls him through.
Black smoke is spooling out from the control panel. It smells vile and catches in our throats. Suddenly, at the foot of the flight of steps that lead up to the control panel, the door crashes open—two Astro Techs hurtle in and swarm up the steps toward us. I’m terrified. There’s no way we’re going to get out now. But as Dad is lifting me up and Tomas is pulling me through the hatch, I hear a soft whoomph and a sheet of orange flame gushes from the control panel. A moment later I am on the roof and Tomas and I are pulling Dad through. An Astro Tech has hold of his ankle, but he kicks her off and we pull him free and roll across the roof away from the heat of the fire. There is a loud bang and a great spurt of flame shoots up from the hatch. A scream comes from the hut below. And then there is nothing but the roar of fire.
M
The Bartizan roof is on fire. Flames are licking around our feet—and my family is having an argument.
Papa is telling Kaitlin to get onto me so I can fly her off the roof and Kaitlin is refusing and saying that Tomas must go first. Now Papa is telling Kaitlin to do as she is told and I am telling them both to make their minds up before we all fry to a crisp. We are all yelling at each other when out of the corner of my eye I see a wonderful sight—the sun glinting off shimmering purple wings of Parminter. Behind her comes Andronicus and together they are gliding down toward us. Never have I been more pleased to see my friends. They land lightly upon the edge of the Bartizan roof but as they hurry over to us there is a loud craaaack and the skylon hut is engulfed in a wall of flames. It is time to go.
We are off. I am taking Papa, Parminter has Kaitlin and Andronicus has Tomas. As we glide down past the line of windows by the Astro ledge, I am shocked to see the pale face of Mama staring blankly out at us. She is twisting the little gold chain from the lid of the teapot around her fingers, watching the family that she never wanted leave her forever. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
K
Wheeling through the beautiful blue sky, we glide away from the flames and the heat and the smell of burning rubber. I look down and see people running about like ants whose nest has been disturbed. They are calling to one another, shouting and pointing up at the roaring flames and smoke pouring out from the top of the Bartizan.
We land in front of the Bartizan to find people running out of the entrance shouting, “Fire! Fire!” and then suddenly stopping and staring upward in disbelief as they see the bright blueness of the sky.
Everyone is running out, but we are going in. We have to find Parminter’s mother before it is too late. Going against the crowd, we push our way up the wide steps of the entrance and I am surprised how many people the Bartizan holds. Not just guards but ordinary people too: cooks, cleaners, clerks, medics. A nurse hurries by and I grab hold of her. She stops and stares at me, fear in her eyes. It takes me a second or two to remember that I’m wearing an Enforcer’s uniform. But I use it to good effect. “Evacuate the hospital,” I tell her. “Immediately!” She runs back and I see her heading up the stairs.
But we go down into the depths of the dark heart of the Bartizan.
Into Oblivion.
Chapter 36
Oblivion
M
Tomas takes us down to a huge circular underground space that he calls Sneaks’ Hall. In the center is an armored booth with a lone guard inside. Tomas’s Vermin training is now very useful indeed—he tells us that he spent a week as a guard in Oblivion and he knows how it works. He marches up to the little window in the booth. “Week twenty-four. Which level?” he demands.
The guard eyes us all suspiciously, but Tomas has a wild look that cannot be argued with. “Level three,” the guard replies nervously. Tomas leans forward to the window in a c
onfidential manner. “By the way,” he says, “I’ve locked you in. And just so you know, the Bartizan’s on fire. Hand over the master key to the cells and I’ll let you out.”
The guard scrabbles for the key in panic. He flips up the little glass window and throws the master key at Tomas. Then he is out of the booth and scuttling away as fast as he can.
“Let’s go,” Tomas says, but we need no telling. As we race through a door with a large silver O on it and hurtle into the dingy corridor beyond, Tomas explains that although no records are kept of where prisoners are put, a different level of Oblivion is used each week. “And your ma,” he tells Parminter, “was taken in week twenty-four. Same week I was Astroed.” Parminter shudders. “So we only have one level to search,” Tomas says. “Which is a lot better than five.”
Parminter has come prepared. She has a flashlight, a roll of fine cord and a flask of water. The water is for her mama when we find her. Not one of us dares say “if,” although that is what we are all thinking as we career down two flights of narrow stairs to a grubby landing where there is a door with 3 scrawled on it. Parminter ties the end of her cord to the door handle and with her flashlight shining we set off into a wilderness of doom.
It is a warren of narrow passageways peppered with countless cell doors. Tomas throws open each one in turn and I shall not tell you what we see within. All I shall say is for the first ten minutes we find no one alive. At last, at the end of a corridor dripping with damp, Tomas throws open yet another cell door and something stirs within. The smell is bad. “Ma?” Parminter whispers, fearfully. “Ma?”
The inhabitant of the cell heaves itself off the floor with a groan and staggers toward us. It stares at us with wild eyes, then grabs Parminter’s water bottle and pushes out past us at a run.
“Minna!” Andronicus says, shocked. “That was Minna.”
“Do you want to go after her?” I ask him.
