Blood Brothers

by Ruth Fox

  The kids uncurled and, stumbling over one another’s chilled feet, they dived for the bowls of food. There was pushing and shoving, yelling, and a few screams as some boys and girls were knocked aside, shoved to the floor, and stepped on.

  “Hey!” Zach called, but no one heard him. The ravenous kids scooped food into their mouths, caring for nothing except filling their aching bellies.

  Little Maryanne looked sadly at the crowd. “They’re monsters now.”

  Zach only half heard her. He was looking over his shoulder. The Sleepers hadn’t moved with the crowd. They still sat or lay or slumped where they were.

  “Don’t they eat?” he said.

  “When they get bad enough they don’t get up when food is brought in,” Maryanne answered.

  “But if they don’t eat . . .” Lex said.

  “They’ll eventually starve,” finished Ryder. There was pain in his voice. “They were feeding Miranda through a drip. But there’re no IV stands in here! We have to get these kids out soon.”

  The crowd broke up and drifted back to their huddled groups. The bowls were discarded, mostly empty.

  Zach crossed to the nearest one. There were a few scrapings of the disgusting goop left in the bottom. He didn’t feel hungry at all. He suspected he’d have to be starving to put any of that stuff in his mouth, but then, given a few more days, he would be.

  He carried the bowl back down the room, towards one of the Sleepers who was slumped against the wall. Which one of the Vanished kids was he? Lucas Larkin? Jeremy Dawkins? He was only about ten. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes were ringed with black. Zach crouched down until he’d put himself in the boy’s line of sight. Even with Zach right in front of him, he didn’t respond.

  Zach scooped up some of the slop in his cupped hand and waved it under the boy’s nose. Nothing.

  The boy’s mouth was slack, his lips slightly parted. Zach pushed the handful of food between his lips. It dribbled from the corners of his mouth, but the boy reflexively moved his tongue, and gulped the food down.

  The others had been watching him. Ryder looked disgusted, but Lex picked up the other bowls, and began to do the same to the rest of the Sleepers. They didn’t stop until every last smear of food had been scraped out of the bowls.

  They got no thanks from the Sleepers. Or any of the other kids. But there were whispers, now, and covert glances their way; Zach could tell they were making an impression.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was nerve-racking, this wait. They were all on edge. Even the other kids, for all their apparent apathy, seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Zach sat against the wall and tried to sleep. Ryder sat next to him, dozing, and Maryanne sat on Ryder’s other side. Ryder had given her his jumper to wear over her pink top.

  But it was Lex whose close presence affected Zach the most. Sitting side-by-side, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, he felt like he could hardly breathe.

  Lex was tapping a finger on her knee. “When do you think they’ll come?” she asked.

  “It could be any minute,” Zach said. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

  “Nervous?” she repeated. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Really?” Zach queried her, unable to contain his disbelief. Lex was always so bold. “But you’re always . . .”

  “Always what?” Lex asked, but Zach found he couldn’t answer. After a moment, Lex sighed. “It sucks, just waiting here. I wish I had my notebooks. If we ever get out of here, this is going to be a story and a half!”

  “Is that really all you can think about?” Zach said, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Is that really the only reason you came along?”

  “No!” Lex said. Her voice sounded hurt. “No, of course not. But . . . it’s like I can’t help it. I need to write everything down so I don’t miss anything. It’s like—if I can capture it all in words—then it’ll be worth something. I’ll be worth something. Do you know what I mean?”

  Zach couldn’t see her face, not from this angle.

  He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like this. He had never thought he would have something in common with Lex Eckles, of all people.

  “I’ve never really been good at any one particular thing,” Zach said. “I get good marks at school, not great ones, and I’m not bad at sports, but I’m not fantastic. I’m good at cooking. That’s about all.”

  She turned his own question back on him. “Are you nervous?”

  He wanted to lie. He wanted her to think he was strong and brave. He wanted her to think he could take on the monsters single-handedly and rescue them all. He wanted her to think he was someone worth writing about. Instead, he gave the honest answer.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I thought, when we came in here, that we could do this. That it would all work out somehow. That I’d rescue Ida . . .” He broke off here, blushing wildly. “I mean, all of the kids—”

  “Mostly Ida, right?” Lex said in a teasing voice.

  “No. I didn’t mean that.” His voice sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

  “Oh, come on. Everyone knows you like her.”

  “No they don’t . . .” Zach said desperately. He was very glad Ryder hadn’t woken up to hear this conversation. “Because I don’t. Like her. Not—I mean—she’s really nice—but—”

  He didn’t want to move, because then she would see his face, and he would give himself away. One look at him and she would know everything—how his heart was pounding, how his guts were churning, how a light sheen of sweat had formed over his skin, and was rapidly chilling him as it met the cold air.

  Lex was laughing silently. He could feel her shoulders shaking. “It’s okay, Zach. Tell you what. When we get out of here, I’ll ask her if she’ll go out with you.”

  “No!” This came out louder than Zach intended, and he blushed even harder because he didn’t want Lex talking to Ida about him. But it wasn’t because he was too shy to say anything himself. It wasn’t that at all. “Just, please, don’t do that. Don’t say anything. Anyway, we’ve got to get out of here first. Ida—and Fiona—and all those others—they might not even still be . . .”

  “Alive?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re the heroes, right? In stories, heroes always save the day.”

  It was Zach’s turn to laugh, but it had a bitter note to it. “Really? Because I thought Monster-boy was the kind of person to be a hero.”

  Lex knew what he was talking about instantly. “I know, it sucks. But you’re thinking about it the wrong way. When I spoke to Morton—when I was secretly interviewing him for that article—he told me how much he admires you. How much he liked having a brother. I’m good at reading people. He wasn’t lying about that.”

  “Then—why—”

  “He probably didn’t do it because of you. Or because of your parents, or anyone else on the North Side. He probably did it for himself. There was something he needed and this was the only way he could get it.”

  “Yeah,” said Zach slowly. “But still. Now it feels like we’re not just fighting the monsters. We’re fighting Morton as well.”

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Zach blinked his eyes open and took in his surroundings. He had slumped onto his side, because Lex was no longer there. He saw her standing over near one of the Sleepers. It was a boy, the one Zach had fed first. His skin looked so grey it was almost like watching him on the screen of a black-and-white TV. His eyes were open, but glassy. Lex was wrapping her own black jumper around his shoulders and rubbing his arms to warm him up. She was wearing only a t-shirt now.

  The noise that had woken Zach was the hiss and clank of the freezer door opening. Two monsters came in, the ones who’d brought them here last night. Slit-nose and Crest-head.

  Their gazes swe
pt the room and settled on Zach and Ryder. “There they are.”

  “You, boy! Where’s your girlfriend?”

  Zach stood up. “What do you want?”

  “We’ve been told to take the girl next,” Crest-head said. “A session in the Testing Chambers’ll calm her down.”

  Lex stood up. “This boy is really sick. His skin is ice-cold. Can’t you at least give us some blankets?”

  Slit-nose’s mouth twisted in a sneer as he spotted her. “There you are. They weren’t happy with you, girl. Not that I can blame you for belting up Lilothan. Servers are so stupid—that pair in particular. I’m surprised the Grelgoroth allowed that pair to keep a Cingulum between them.”

  “I’ve wanted to throw things at them myself, sometimes,” said Crest-head, his eyes fixed on Lex. “Your feisty behaviour proves you’re exactly what we need.” He turned back to his companion. “Usually, by the time they get to this age, they’ve lost their edge. Not that one, you can tell.”

  “I’ll come with you if you get them all some blankets,” Lex said defiantly. She was good at standing up to these monsters. Zach took another step, putting himself in front of her.

  “I’ll go. Take me.”

  Crest-head shook his head. “You’re coming too, don’t you worry. But not to the Testing Chambers. You’ll be taking on a special role.”

  “It’s the highest of privileges,” Slit-nose added with a snigger.

  Zach didn’t like the sound of that. He wished with all his heart they hadn’t picked Lex, that they would look around the room and pick someone else instead. Ryder, evidently, had the same thought. “What about me?”

  The two monsters fixed him with a stare. “You’re not what we’re after,” Slit-nose said, and with lightning-quick movements Crest-head had Lex’s arms clamped to her sides, holding her so that she could barely reach the ground with her feet.

  “Come on, then,” Slit-nose motioned to Zach as his companion carried Lex through the door. Zach barely had time to gasp as he was lifted up in the air and slung, once more, over Slit-nose’s shoulder. He was jolted and jounced as Slit-nose turned to shut the door behind them.

  But not before he heard Ryder spluttering indignantly, “Not what you’re after? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  The monsters carried them down the long corridor. Slit-nose stopped in front of a door to their left. But Crest-head continued on down the passageway towards the elevator. Zach felt a wild fluttering of panic as he watched the monster slip his wristband into the lock.

  Realising he and Lex would be parted, Zach tried to wriggle around so he could see her; but the doors of the elevator were already closing. He had a brief glimpse of her pale face and only hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  The smell was back, and it was more putrid than before.

  “Mmm. Dinner,” said Slit-nose. “Maybe you can cook me up something on the side, little human. A snack . . . some brownies, or a cake, eh?”

  The monster stepped through the door and Zach saw that he’d been taken into a kitchen.

  Slit-nose dumped him to the floor, then kicked him lightly with his booted foot. “Stand up, boy, and meet your new employers!”

  Zach stood unsteadily—it would have been much easier if Slit-nose hadn’t felt the need to kick him twice more—and found himself facing the two four-armed monsters who’d brought the meal this morning. Brother and Sister.

  They were grinning at him widely. Brother bowed deferentially to Slit-nose. “Thank you for your assistance, master.”

  Slit-nose nodded and vanished. Zach tried to look impassive, but his whole body hurt from the bruises, from the recent kicks, from the slowly fading cold. Not to mention his spinning head and roiling gut. He tried not to breathe in the smell, and looked around the room.

  There was a door leading through to another room in the back. The walls were crammed full of equipment and shelves, benches and racks. Every spare surface was covered with open packets or torn boxes of food. Crumbs spilled over the floor. Mould grew in mounds on a few discarded loaves of bread and a block of cheese. A couple of carrots were turning black in one corner. Other things that Zach couldn’t even identify were lurking, fuzzy and grey, on the benches, the shelves, and in the sink. There were three big ovens, and from these came a wonderful glowing warmth. It was such a difference after the freezer that it hurt almost as much as the bruises.

  “You’re not going to cause any trouble, are you?” said Sister, her voice silky. “Yeah,” she continued, as if he’d answered. “You’ll do just fine.”

  “What—what am I supposed to do?” Zach asked. “What did you bring me here for?”

  “You’re going to cook, of course,” Brother answered. “If Master Morton—and your vicious little human girlfriend—are right about your skills, you’ll be a great help.”

  Zach sucked in a breath. “What do you want me to make for you?”

  “Not for us,” Sister growled. “We don’t have a problem with our cooking! It’s nutritious and filling.”

  Zach thought about their breakfast and decided he’d keep his opinions to himself.

  “But Donovan isn’t happy with our offerings. Donovan has very refined tastes.” Brother’s sneer told Zach what the monsters thought of this. “There’s a lot riding on your supposed skills, boy. If the next meal we serve up isn’t of gourmet standards, we’ll be serving you next time.”

  Zach shivered. Still, this was a good opportunity. In fact, out here, he could move around far more freely than he could when he was locked in the freezer . . .

  Zach paused for a moment. Had Monster-boy done it on purpose? Had he intended for Zach to be released from the freezer? They couldn’t tie him up if they wanted him to cook. And that meant he could look around. If he could get back to the elevator, he could find Lex and the other kids . . .

  But what about that look Zach had seen on Morton’s face when they grabbed Lex? No, this was probably all just a cruel joke on Morton’s part. But maybe Zach could use it to his advantage.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Brother stepped in front of him. “You can’t get into the elevator without a Cingulum,” he said. “So don’t think about trying to escape.”

  As he’d said this, the monster had rubbed the wrist of his bottom left hand, but Zach could see it was bare. Surreptitiously, he looked at Sister’s arms. The silver band gleamed on her top right wrist.

  “So? What can you cook?” demanded Sister.

  Zach looked around at the spoiled food. “Not much with this food. Don’t you have anything that’s not rotten?”

  Brother shrugged. “Food goes off. Can’t help that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not supposed to eat it when it does.”

  “Says who? It’s still good. You cut off the black bits, scrape off the mould. Why waste it just because it’s old?”

  “Because it’s . . .” Zach furrowed his brow. He’d been about to say it was bad for you. But then he remembered what Fernzy had said about living on scraps. The stories Monster-boy had told about how little monsters had to eat. Maybe—in a world where food was scarce, and valued enough to fight over and steal—they had a point.

  But what kind of gourmet meal could he possibly cook out of this stuff?

  “Do you have any mushrooms?” he asked. “Um, mincemeat?”

  Sister pointed towards the door at the back of the room. “There’s a larder back there.”

  The “larder” was a small storage cupboard, and a blast of frigid air met Zach as he stepped inside. He looked at the wall, and wondered if it joined onto the freezer room next door. It wasn’t as cold, but the air smelled the same—stale and musty.

  Rubbing his hands, he looked at the well-stocked shelves. They were piled
with tins so ancient they were rusty, their labels missing or faded, and boxes of things that Zach had never heard of—“Rice Crix” and “Jam Doddles” and “Sour Grape Vine Twists.” He shoved these aside and found a jar of pickled onions that hadn’t been opened, some white rice and a tin of tomatoes.

  Then he heard something.

  Woof. Woofwoof.

  He crouched down to scan the base of the wall, where he thought the noise was coming from. He couldn’t see anything.

  Woof. Woof woof woof.

  It was faint and echoing and he wondered if it was inside his own head—his mind playing tricks on him.

  There was the sound of footsteps, and Zach stood up. Brother had followed him in. “What’s taking you so long?”

  “Nothing,” said Zach quickly.

  Woof. Woof.

  Brother stiffened. He’d heard the noise too, Zach could tell, and was now looking at Zach warily.

  Woof?Woof?

  Brother shoved past Zach to the shelves, and reached up one of his hands to grab a packet of Grain-Chip Biscuits. He tore it open and crouched near to where Zach had thought the noise was coming from. Shoving aside a crate, he revealed an air vent, from which cold air spilled in a stream of mist. He dropped the biscuits, one by one, into the vent. “There you go, boy.”

  There was an echo of movement, then the sound of crunching, and a wet dark nose poked its way up through the vent.

  Zach couldn’t believe it. It was a dog! The dog—it must be the same one that had helped him find Tommy in the tunnels.

  He looked at Brother in amazement. “You feed him?” Of course, he thought—the dog had to be getting food from somewhere.

  “No one knows,” said Sister, who had come in behind them. “There’s no rule to say we can’t. He’s a good boy.”

  “You think he’s a boy?” Zach asked. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the dog in the tunnels.

  “Just seems like it,” Sister said.