“You should be outside the gate by now.” Taylor swore softly under his breath. “What the hell are you doing? The alarm will go off in forty seconds, thirty-nine, thirty-eight . . .”
“On our way, sir,” I said.
Together we raced into the bathroom. Taylor was still counting as I followed Charlie out of the window we’d climbed through earlier. “Twenty-five seconds, twenty-four seconds . . .”
“We’re out,” I said, breathless.
“Shut the window. Right to the bottom,” Taylor hissed. “Then run.”
We pressed down on the sill, but it was stuck.
“Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen . . .”
Panic rose like vomit into my throat. “Come on,” I hissed, tensing every muscle.
With a final shove the sill slid down into place.
“Eleven. Ten.”
“Done,” I said.
“Get through the gate,” Taylor said. “Nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”
We raced across the gravel driveway. The electronic gate was starting to close. I grabbed Charlie’s hand, pulling her along. Faster. Taylor’s voice echoed in my ear.
“Five . . . four . . . three . . .”
We squeezed through the closing gate just in time. It clanged shut behind us. As we ran up to the van, the door swung open.
“Get in,” Taylor ordered.
I followed Charlie inside and we sank, panting, onto the floor of the van. Taylor thumped on the panel that separated the back of the van from the driver’s cab. We sped off.
“Where is it?” Taylor demanded.
I took the stick and handed it over. While Taylor inserted it into the laptop in front of him, I sat back and snatched a look at Charlie. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling.
Taylor examined the contents of the memory stick. “This is good,” he muttered.
“What does it say, sir?” I asked.
Taylor looked up. “Classified, but it’s all useful info on the League of Iron,” he said with a smile.
“Is that all you’re going to tell us?” Charlie asked.
“Is it another bomb?” I added.
“Classified,” Taylor repeated. “And call me sir.”
“What?” Charlie sounded outraged. “We just risked our necks for you. You owe us more than a freakin’ ‘classified.’ ”
“That’s enough.” Taylor narrowed his eyes. “And you will call me sir.”
“Fine.” Charlie folded her arms. “Tell us what we want to know. Sir.”
Taylor shook his head. “There are plans here but we need to process the codes properly. Once we’ve done that and I’ve debriefed the Commander, then we’ll see. . . .”
“See what?” I frowned.
“See if the Commander thinks you’re ready for training. Once you’ve completed basic induction, you’ll be assigned a cell. Then you’ll be trained for missions, at which point I’ll be able to tell you not only what the League of Iron and others are planning, but how we’re going to stop them.”
“What does that mean: ‘a cell’?” Charlie asked.
“We operate in small groups called cells,” Taylor explained. “It means every group is independent, so there’s limited risk of security breaches between groups. It makes it less likely that anyone outside the army will find out what we’re doing.”
He handed Charlie a phone similar to the one he’d given me before. “You’ll be contacted on this. Keep it safe and don’t use it to make or take any other calls.”
“When will you call us?” she asked.
“Soon. We replace the phones once a month,” Taylor said. “We never use the same transport twice or accommodation for more than three months at a time. Each support cell contains someone who deals with all that stuff—admin, then there’s someone working on comms . . . communications . . . which is everything from fake IDs to IT manipulation.” He paused. “Everyone else is an active or sleeping agent, trained in combat situations so they can defend themselves in event of attack. We only fight in self-defense but sometimes that means lying our way into situations and, occasionally, using force too. So we need frontline soldiers, especially for the new youth army. And that will be you, if the Commander agrees.”
“Do you think he’ll agree?” Charlie sat back against the steel van wall. Her voice was carefully even. “I mean, will you recommend us?”
Taylor paused for a moment, then a rare grin spread across his face. “Hell yes,” he said. “You’ll make the best cadets I’ve ever seen.”
I looked down at my lap. I didn’t want either Taylor or Charlie to notice but inside I was glowing with pride. After being so scared earlier, the fact that Taylor rated me was beyond brilliant. Lucas’s face with its lopsided grin flashed before my mind’s eye. If only he could see me now.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
Across the van, Charlie said nothing.
CHARLIE
Taylor dropped us off at a point halfway between our houses. We each hurried home alone. Adrenaline was still pumping through my body. After being so close to one of the League of Iron leaders . . . actually in their house . . . I was more determined than ever to get revenge for Mum’s death. And joining the EFA was clearly the best way to do just that. I didn’t buy into Taylor’s “we only use violence in self-defense” line. From what I’d seen so far, Taylor was quite prepared to lash out when it suited him. But if it brought me closer to taking my revenge I didn’t really care.
There was something else too. . . . I didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was I’d enjoyed breaking into that house just now. It had been exciting, a thrill. I’d liked being part of an efficient team and Taylor had talked me through every step of that complicated computer job with a calm focus I couldn’t help but respect. I wasn’t sure what that said about me. Maybe just that my life since Mum died had felt small and dull.
I reached Gail and Brian’s house and let myself in. I could see Gail through the kitchen door, chopping vegetables for supper. I was in no mood to talk, but I knew that if I didn’t at least show my face she would pester me later, asking if I was okay, so I made myself cross the hall and stick my head around the door.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi Charlie, love,” Gail said, looking up from her pile of carrots with a smile.
I smiled back, then ducked out of the kitchen and went upstairs to my bedroom. In contrast to what Nat and I had just done, life here seemed very boring. As I lay down on the bed, my head spun, wondering exactly what the EFA training Taylor had talked about would involve. I took Charlotte’s Web off the shelf and curled up on the bed. Just holding the book—one Mum had loved so much she named me after it—felt comforting. But I didn’t want to read. I was too excited, so close to getting my revenge on the people who had killed Mum.
I switched on my new laptop. I felt all fired up by the mission Nat and I had just undertaken, and determined to try to find out more about the country’s political situation, especially the League of Iron. But all I came across was a video from a local news program on which the mayor of London, George Latimer, was being interviewed by a reporter. It was funny seeing him on-screen after having listened to him talk at the memorial service. I tried to focus on what he was saying—some cliché about Londoners having to pull together and show ‘Blitz spirit’ in the face of the cuts. I lost interest after a few moments and switched off the video. In the end, all politicians were the same. The mayor was just as big a hypocrite as the rest of them.
I looked around for Nat the next day when Rosa and I arrived at school. He was in our house room, on time for homeroom for once. He was deeply engrossed in some textbook and didn’t notice me come in. I felt a twinge of disappointment. Then I noticed Rosa watching me and scuttled away to my locker.
Nat and I barely spoke for the rest of that day, nor the next three that followed. We didn’t sit together in any of our shared classes and he never came up to me during break times either. I wasn’t sure why he felt it was so important
to keep his distance. I guess if people had seen us talking it would have caused gossip. And yet I couldn’t help wishing Nat had felt the same bond I had after our housebreaking adventure. But Nat was clearly locked up in his own life. It was obvious that after I had used him to force my way into the EFA, he now didn’t want anything to do with me.
I tried to tell myself I didn’t care.
But I knew, deep inside, that I did.
Taylor called on the Tuesday evening of the following week. It was mid-November and, after weeks of mild weather, the days had turned cold and damp. I was alone in my room, as usual, when I felt the phone he had given me vibrate in my pocket. I had been carrying it everywhere with me. Just in case.
“Hello?” I said.
“You’ve been accepted into the English Freedom Army.” Taylor’s voice was crisp and businesslike.
Yes. I grinned to myself. “Great,” I said.
“Induction training is in three weeks,” Taylor went on. “You need to make some excuse to get away. Friday after school till Sunday morning. Figure it out and text me when you’re clear.”
“Yes, sir.”
Taylor hung up. I hesitated, then sent Nat a text: Did he call u?
Five minutes later Nat sent a text back: Yes. I’m in. U?
So Nat was going to take part in this EFA training weekend too. Well, it didn’t matter what he did. I was only interested in revenge on the League of Iron.
I sent Nat another text: Yes.
And then I started thinking about how on earth I was going to get away from home for most of a weekend without anyone realizing what I was doing.
NAT
The last week before the training weekend crept by. Every day was wet and gloomy. I hated the lack of light even more than the constant rain. It made the house feel like a tomb: empty, cold, and dark. Meanwhile, Mum was as distracted as ever and Dad was staying at work later and later every night. At least that meant it would be easy for me to slip away unnoticed. I was planning to leave a note explaining that I was going to a party and staying with one of Callum’s friends. My only worry was Jas. Apart from the fact that she might bump into Callum himself over the weekend and wonder why I wasn’t with him, she had a habit of knowing when I was lying. I could often tell when she wasn’t being honest either. It was a twin thing.
I had hardly spoken to Charlie since we broke into that League of Iron member’s house. She had made no effort to talk to me either. Which was good. Excellent, in fact. It meant we were linked only by our desire for revenge on the League of Iron. I liked that—it was clear-cut and straightforward.
It was Thursday morning and I was in my house room at school. Taylor sent a text instructing me to be waiting outside the Featherstone Road building site on Friday at seven p.m. He was going to pick us up and take us to the training venue. I looked up. Had Charlie received the same message? Across the room, I could see her peering down at her own cell phone. As she straightened up, she gazed around, and I knew instinctively that she was looking for me. I kept my eyes on her until she found me. I raised my eyebrows. She nodded.
A mix of excitement and fear thrilled through me—along with a ridiculous desire to impress her. I looked down again, telling myself not to be such an idiot.
Impress Charlie indeed. After the panic I’d nearly given in to when we broke into that League of Iron house, I’d probably be lucky if I got through the training weekend without throwing up.
CHARLIE
Nat was sitting beside me, tapping along to music on his headphones; Taylor and our driver were up front, listening to the radio. I peered through the darkened glass of the 4x4 car. The road ahead was dark and desolate. We’d been driving for over two hours, first along the M1, then on the M6, and now through smaller, slower roads. I didn’t recognize the names of any of the places we were passing. It had just started to rain, the light glistening off the deserted pavements.
I glanced at Nat again, wishing he would take off his headphones and talk to me. I was uneasy. For starters, I felt bad about lying to Gail and Brian—they thought I was visiting Aunt Karen for the weekend and I’d been sending both Gail and Karen texts through the evening, reassuring them I was fine. But what bothered me far more was the fact that I was putting so much trust in the EFA.
Nat and I hadn’t said much as we’d waited, earlier, for Taylor and his driver—to whom we hadn’t been introduced—to arrive at our pickup point. Neither of us really had any idea what to expect. Taylor had told us to wear loose, comfortable clothing, but that was about it. As we drove on, into the dark evening, questions flooded through my head: Where would we sleep? What would we eat? How many other people would be there? What would we be expected to do?
The radio program finished and the news came on. More job and welfare cuts had been announced. The Future Party leader, Roman Riley, was protesting against the changes. Unlike Mayor Latimer who I’d heard the other day, Riley sounded properly sympathetic to what ordinary people were going through.
“I have been hungry,” he said. “I know what it’s like to be scared when you don’t know how to feed your family. This latest round of cuts is an outrageous—”
Taylor leaned forward and switched the radio off.
I closed my eyes. Maybe the question I should really be asking was: When there were established political parties to act through, what the hell was I doing in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers who called themselves “soldiers” and belonged to a self-styled “army”?
NAT
I kept my headphones in for most of the long drive. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk, more that I was worried someone might see how scared I was. We were traveling across open countryside; there were no street lamps and the road ahead was dark and lined with low stone walls. Only a few, distant pinpricks of light indicated the existence of other buildings. For a few minutes it felt like we were on another planet, out of time. And then Taylor turned from the front passenger seat and I tugged off my headphones.
“We’re nearly there,” he growled. “We’ll walk the last bit of the way, then there’s the introduction meeting, then bed.”
Beside me Charlie fidgeted uneasily.
“What happens at the introduction meeting?” I asked.
Taylor frowned. “Well, the first thing it involves is you remembering to call me sir.”
“Okay, sir. What does—?”
“We’re here.” The driver of the car spoke for the first time. He parked the car in a paved area beside a wood.
“Out,” Taylor ordered.
I grabbed my backpack, then scrambled out of the car. The trees alongside us were dark, swaying in the breeze. It wasn’t raining right now, but the smell of damp was in the air and a chill wind whipped across our faces. I followed Taylor and Charlie into the trees. Behind me, I heard the car drive off. I shivered. It was stupid, but that car felt like our last link with civilization. I focused on Charlie, striding ahead of me. She gave no sign of being anxious.
We trudged on for about fifteen minutes. A light rain started, pattering softly through the bare branches and onto our heads. It stopped as we emerged from the trees into a field. The moon cast a soft glow through the clouds overhead. A single light shone from a stone farmhouse across the field. There was no sign of any farm equipment. In fact, as we got closer to the house, it was obvious that the building was derelict. Remembering the broken-down place we’d met Taylor in before, I drew level with Charlie, then whispered:
“Do you think the EFA has a thing for houses no one else wants?”
She turned and smiled. For the first time, I caught a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. For some reason this made me feel stronger myself.
“It’ll be okay,” I whispered.
Charlie nodded. A moment later we reached the cobbled yard of the farmhouse. Taylor strode over to the large wooden door. A man, dressed in black from head to toe, his face obscured with a ski mask, stepped out of the shadow. My heart skipped a beat. The man saluted. As
he raised his arm, I caught sight of the gun strapped to his side. I stared, transfixed. Was the English Freedom Army going to train us to shoot? That would be illegal, wouldn’t it? A shiver snaked down my spine: part fear, part excitement.
“Evening, sir.” The man stared straight ahead, not looking at either me or Charlie.
“Evening, soldier,” Taylor growled. He pushed open the door.
With a final glance at the man with the pistol, I stepped inside and followed Taylor and Charlie along a bare, stone hallway to an empty kitchen. There was no table. No chairs. Just a row of cupboards along one wall, a stove, and a sink beneath an uncurtained window. Water dripped from the tap, leaving a yellow stain on the chipped, white china beneath. The room was so cold we could see our breath misting in front of our faces.
“Wait here.” Taylor turned and left.
Charlie and I looked at each other.
“What do you think?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It’s all—”
But before she could finish, the door swung open again. Taylor was back. Two men followed him into the room. They both wore black ski masks, just like the soldier outside. They stood on either side of the door as four boys and two girls—all in their late teens—came in. The newcomers stared at us, unsmiling. I stared back, taking in each face in turn, as Taylor stepped into the middle of the group.
“You are recruits,” he said in a low growl. “Which means you have potential. Each one of you has a special skill, some kind of intelligence, some ability the Commander wants to nurture. The next twenty-four hours will prove—to us and to each of you—whether those abilities can be channeled into something useful. The most important thing is that you do exactly what you’re told at all times. Operating as a defense force is often dangerous. Solid training and absolute discipline is what will save your life.” He paused. “Get some sleep. You’ll be up again as soon as it’s light.”
I checked the time. It was barely ten p.m. Was Taylor serious about us going to bed so early? It was Friday night, for goodness’ sake.
In a Split Second Page 11
