by Holly Bourne
She didn’t answer him at first. Her bottom lip was wobbling.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
“We need to get there fast,” she said. “I’m not sure we have enough time.”
She swung the laptop round for Rain to see. He saw the green code charge down the screen and quickly did the maths.
“Oh dear,” was all he could think of to say.
Anita leaned forward and spoke authoritatively to the driver. “You need to drive faster, and you need to drive faster now.”
The driver shrugged his shoulders. “Lady. I understand that you’re in a hurry but look out the window. I’m driving through a storm here. I’m going as fast as I safely can.”
“If you don’t hurry up we won’t get there in time and you’ll die anyway.” Anita spoke calmly without any hint of emotion.
An ache of terror spread through Rain’s chest. She was right. Could this be the end? All this, and they just didn’t get there in time?
The driver laughed. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
“I’m not joking. Now drive faster.”
The driver looked around and the look on Rain’s face was enough for him to change his attitude. He put his foot on the accelerator and the speedometer went over 90 mph.
Blackness sped past the window, raindrops exploding on the glass as Rain looked out. Then, through the darkness, he saw a simple white sign. It was lit up by two lamps and surrounded by a well-tended flower bed.
“Welcome to Middletown.”
Rain gulped.
“We’re here.”
Noah’s flat was quickly transformed. Flickering tea-light candles emitted a golden glow from every available surface.
I began to feel a little nervous.
Noah pulled me in close, wrapping his arms around my back and began to dance with me slowly, to no music.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, my feet in time with his.
“Not too much?”
“It’s perfect.”
I thought about it as we spun slowly. “Although for a supposedly heterosexual man, you have a hell of a lot of candles.”
He laughed. “I like candles.”
“Yeah. But what boy has about ten million?” I looked down at the glass coffee table. “Hang on… Are some of these scented?”
He spun me around. “Don’t be silly.”
I stretched my neck over his shoulder to see them better.
“They are scented,” I said triumphantly. “Vanilla?”
Noah went a little red. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”
“Nothing. It’s great that you’re so comfortable with your sexuality that you can…hey!”
Noah had jabbed me playfully in the ribs.
I jabbed him back, tickling him, and we dissolved onto the sofa in between shrieks of laughter. Noah, of course, was stronger than me, so successfully managed to pin my arms above my head and tickle me mercilessly. I yelped at him to stop, but when he did, I would just whisper “Vanilla” and would be subjected to another attack.
Then, just as my mouth was open, mid-laugh, Noah put his lips to mine and the mood changed instantly. I stretched up to meet his mouth properly and we shared a lingering, delicious kiss. I heard thunder erupt overhead but barely registered it. Noah pulled back and stared directly into my eyes. He looked beautiful. His eyes were so black, his cheeks flushed, his still-damp hair flicked across his forehead. There was a vulnerability there, an open expression only I got to see. Intimacy in its most simple form.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much it doesn’t seem physically possible.”
I reached out and gently caressed his lips. “I love you too. Incredible amounts.”
And then it was time to stop talking and we fell back onto the sofa.
I didn’t hear the cars pull up outside.
The thunder shook the windows of the car. Shuddering, Rain felt primal fear coursing through his veins.
“We’re too late,” he whispered. “This is it.”
Anita’s face was pale but her determined, emotionless expression stayed the same.
“If it was too late we would both be dead already.”
The jeep and its following convoy screeched down a residential road lined with manicured hedges.
“This is the one,” Anita said, her voice full of urgency. “Pull up there on the right. Quickly!”
The jeep jolted to a halt outside a block of expensive-looking flats.
“Right. It’s on the top floor. Get in there. Now. Go, go, go, go!”
The officers jumped out of the cars and ran at the door, their weapons already in their hands.
Rain took one look, possibly his last, at Anita.
“Here we go,” she said, half-smiling.
They jumped out into the pouring rain and followed them.
Noah’s mouth had moved past my neck to my chest. Our bodies were practically fused, bound together, by lips kissing flesh, lips kissing lips, flesh touching flesh. He expertly wound his hand around my back and undid my bra. He began kissing my collarbone. It felt incredible. I sighed and rolled my head back. Then, I felt a tremble and he stopped kissing me.
“What was that?”
There was another tremble, stronger this time. The walls of the apartment shook, the lights of the candles flickered.
“Is it an earthquake?”
The room was still again.
Noah shook his head. “Middletown’s hardly near a fault line. I think it was just a big lorry driving past.” His mouth returned to my neck and his hand ran up the inside of my thigh. “Now,” he said. “Where were we?”
Just as they got to the stairwell, the ground began to shake. Not violently at first, but then a second shock rippled through the building. Many of the officers stumbled and fell on the stairs. Their eyes were wide with confusion and fear. They stayed on the floor, watching almost with admiration as the world began to jerk around them.
Anita, hugging the walls for support, screamed instructions. “Get up there. Get up there now. Get up, get up, GET UP!”
The tremor subsided and Rain tripped over his own feet as he ran behind the SWAT team.
“We’re too late. We’re too late. We’re too late.”
He said a quick prayer. For his family, for his friends, and for himself.
I tugged at Noah’s T-shirt. It glided over his head and floated to the floor. His chest was perfect and I explored it with my mouth. His fingers were tracing the outline of my knickers. I almost couldn’t bear the pleasure his touch was bringing. I let out a low groan and strained my body towards his hands. He continued kissing my neck as I felt him tug at my pants, pulling them down to above my knees. And then he was up, fiddling with his belt buckle, moulting his jeans. The moment had almost come. Just for a second, apprehension consumed me. Noah looked deep into my eyes and pushed me gently onto my back. I waited for it. The connection, the feeling of us fusing. Becoming what we were always supposed to become – one single entity. Two imperfect people combined to make a perfect match.
Then came a loud, terrifying battering on the door.
They reached the top of the stairs and pelted down the corridor. The officers thumped loudly at the door. Rain and Anita ran past them and joined the leading officer from their jeep at the threshold.
There wasn’t an answer.
Anita reached out and knocked again. Her delicate hand produced a surprisingly efficient bang.
She shouted through the door. “It’s the FBI. Open up or we’ll have this door down.”
Still no answer.
She stepped aside and gave the officers instructions. “Try not to kill them. But if they even try to stay touching each other, then neutralize them immediately.”
The lead officer nodded to his men. Then, with a bash, the door was down and they all rushed inside.
“What the hell is that?”
We sprang apart, staring at the door like it was a rigged
bomb.
“I have no idea,” Noah said.
“Is it a joke?” I gasped, pulling up my dress straps to cover myself.
There was another loud banging. This time we sprang together, holding each other with fear.
A voice rang out. It was shrill and sent shivers of dread up my spine.
“The FBI?” Noah muttered. “It must be some kind of joke.”
My heart was thudding madly as we both stared at the door.
And then there was no door. A mass of soldiers ran at us, guns at their sides. I started screaming and glued myself to Noah.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
Things seemed to slow down. A burly man was heading straight for us and I realized he was trying to grab Noah away. I screamed harder, praying the neighbours would ring the police. I had to stay with Noah. I grabbed hold of his hand and refused to let go, still yelling. “You can’t take him! You can’t take him!”
Then I felt something pinch my stomach. I looked at my waist and a tiny staple was sticking out of it.
“No,” I heard Noah yell, but it was like he was underwater. My head was cloudy and I wanted to sleep all of a sudden. Even with all this madness around me, I felt calm.
You’re just dreaming, I told myself.
Noah’s facial expressions, the fear in his eyes, his perfect mouth opened up into a wide O, looked like they were made of plasticine. He was being restrained by the strange men in his flat.
I smiled.
And then sleep came and I succumbed to the darkness.
At first Rain thought the place was on fire. There were flames everywhere and it was burning hot. Then he realized it was candles. They were everywhere, on every table. The room stank.
Wow. This is pretty romantic stuff for teenagers, he thought.
The couple, understandably, looked somewhere between shell-shocked and petrified. The girl wouldn’t stop screaming. When the officers tried to tear them apart, she launched herself at her boyfriend and screamed harder.
“You can’t take him! You can’t take him!”
We can. We will. We have to.
Rain felt sorry for her.
She wouldn’t calm down so they fired a pacifier at her. Within seconds, she was unconscious, her body flopped to one side.
Her boyfriend started screaming and attacking the officers, but he was far too scrawny to make any impact.
The soldiers shot a pacifier into him too and calm descended.
Anita entered and looked round, taking in the candles and two unconscious teenagers on the sofa.
“Well, isn’t this romantic?” she said, before she burst out laughing.
They secured the area. Knocked on a few neighbours’ doors, told them a lie about the young boy running a massive underground drugs operation. Bewildered, they nodded, taking it in, excited about telling their friends over cups of coffee the next day.
Rain extinguished the candles one by one. The room began to smell like the moment after a birthday cake’s candles have been blown out, with all the wishes floating away in the smoke.
There was one left alight on the coffee table next to the girl. Rain bent down to blow it out but was distracted by her face. She looked peaceful at first glance – there was even a little smile on her face. But, as he leaned in nearer, he saw one tear glistening on her cheek. The initial relief he’d felt that his life was no longer in danger was replaced with another emotion, a nastier one.
Guilt.
He sat on the floor and really looked at her. She was a pretty little thing. Her green dress was crumpled and one of the thin straps had fallen off her shoulder. He gently pulled it back up for her and blew out the last candle.
He sensed Anita standing behind him.
“They make quite the pretty pair, don’t they?” she said. “You wouldn’t think two people so young could cause quite so much trouble.”
Rain didn’t answer. The boy’s face was also peaceful. He should enjoy the unconsciousness while it lasted – there would only be pain from now on.
“We did good,” Anita continued. “A bit too close to the bone, but I take responsibility for that. I was the one who let this thing run.”
She kneeled down beside Rain and examined the girl’s face herself. If she noticed the tear, she didn’t mention it.
“An interesting couple of days are coming up. I can’t wait to see what we can get out of them.”
Rain felt a bit sick. He was suddenly unsure if he wanted to be involved in the next stage. On paper, it made scientific sense. In practice, wasn’t it…well…wrong?
The lead officer came back into the room. The floorboards creaked under his weight. “We’re all done,” he said, with an air of self-satisfaction. “What do you want us to do with the targets?”
Anita stood up and nodded towards them. “Take them back to the centre. Make sure they’re in separate cars.”
The officer picked up the boy roughly, tossing him over his shoulder like a limp rag doll. Another bent down and, more gently, picked up the girl. Her head fell back heavily and Rain saw the tear run backwards up her cheek and fall gracefully onto the wooden floor.
“Let’s get out of here,” Anita said.
And they left.
The worst bit of a bad dream is that moment when you’ve woken up and think it’s still real. And this nightmare was refusing to shift.
I was lying on an uncomfortable bed attached to the wall. I kept sighing, turning over and trying to wake myself up. I wanted to discover I was actually in my warm bed at home, snuggled under my purple duvet cover, Mum downstairs making brekkie, and a text waiting to be read on my phone from Noah, telling me he loved me.
But the dream wouldn’t shatter. Whenever I opened my eyes to force myself awake, it wasn’t my bedroom I saw. It was some kind of holding cell. There was a sink and toilet in the corner and a teeny tiny window casting a teeny tiny square of light on the wall. My waist stung. I lifted my unfamiliar top and found a scab forming. Where did I get that? Was there a staple? I vaguely remembered a staple. My head was thudding dully – similar to a red-wine-induced hangover. My mouth felt like the Sahara Desert had moved there. There was a beaker of water on the floor next to me but I didn’t dare drink it.
I tried to remember how I’d got here and it hurt my head. There was the gig. And then running off with Noah in the rain. When did that happen? Earlier today? Days ago? I had no idea. I recalled his flat, the candles and the sofa.
Noah… Where was he?
And then I remembered – the door being knocked in, the men, them taking him. Screaming.
And nothing.
Panic bubbled its way through my intestines. Where had they taken Noah? I looked around my odd little room, trying to work out where I was, why I was here. No clues. I didn’t even know how long I’d been unconscious. All I had was the physical throbbing in my stomach, signalling that something dreadful had happened.
I closed my eyes and prayed to every God I’d ever learned about in RE GCSE that sleep would come and take this away.
I woke again from whatever miserable unconsciousness my body had allowed me to fall back into. The square of light on the wall had gone, the only indication it was night. I lay on my back and tried not to let my brain free-fall into panic. I breathed in and out, resting my hands on my chest, and tried to work out what to do. Ten million thoughts rushed into my head. Where was I? What had happened? Was I in danger? Would I ever get out? Was I going to be killed? Would I ever see my parents again? Friends again? Noah again?
Then that familiar feeling of suffocation smacked me. I tried to keep breathing but was only inhaling stale oxygen. I attempted a scream but only a gasp escaped, making me panic further. There was no one here to help, no friends, no doctors. I was going to suffocate to death in this strange room, alone. I inhaled again but still nothing. My throat burned and my vision blurred.
Fight it, I told myself, but my body had taken over. I began to choke. Fire coursed up my
throat and I felt tears run down my cheeks, hot and wet.
I tried to scream, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. My body failed me and, once more, the blackness claimed me.
I came to when I felt a squeezing under my armpit, but my vision was too blurred to see anything.
There were voices I didn’t recognize.
“Is she okay?”
“I’m not sure. She hit her head pretty hard when she fell off the bed.”
“You were supposed to be watching her.”
“She was asleep! I only went for a piss. I come back and she’s having some kind of fit.”
“You’re not supposed to leave her. Dr. Beaumont said this could happen. She’s in withdrawal.”
My throat was burning again.
“Watch out, she’s going to blow.”
I tipped my head forward, heaved, and vomited onto the concrete floor. Someone was stroking my back but it wasn’t Lizzie, and it definitely wasn’t Noah. I began to cry. Tears slid down my face, joining the mess I’d made on the floor.
“Hey, kid. Are you okay?”
Too scared to reply, I just continued crying.
“I think she’s done. Christ, it stinks.”
“Go get something to clean it up. And get Rain while you’re at it. He’ll know what to do.”
Rain? Was it raining?
I felt another tug and was lifted onto the bed. I curled up foetus-style, whimpering, with a foul taste in my mouth.
I could hear the breathing of the person who’d stayed. He didn’t try to engage me in conversation yet he did sit on the end of my bed. I curled up further so our bodies weren’t touching.
