by Teri Terry
I turn away and head back towards the school. My Levo vibrates: great. I glance down. 4.2.
Ben follows behind. ‘Here. Take one of these.’ He holds out his bottle of ‘headache tablets’.
‘No thanks. I’ve seen what they can do.’
Instead, I run.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. My levels hover around four; I wrap a jumper around my wrist so no one will hear it vibrate. All I can think about is Ben. I have to stop him, but how?
At the end of the day I get to the car before Amy, and ask Jazz to tell Mac I want to see him, hoping he’ll get Aiden along as well. I’d vowed I wouldn’t speak to Aiden again, but maybe he can help talk Ben out of something so crazy, or, at the very least, tell him how the AGT did it. If he isn’t there, maybe Mac can help me persuade Ben to wait until he tracks him down. It is the only thing I can think of to try and stop Ben.
Late that night, blank paper and pencil lie idle in my hands. Even my drawing has deserted me.
‘The question we are considering is how to deal with pain. Pain can kill, all on its own: the body goes into shock and shuts down. If it is severe enough.’
The boy smiles, even less idea what is coming than I have. He is nothing like me. He sits where he is told, speaks when spoken to, and smiles great dopey grins all the while. Even more so now with that drip in his arm, the empty whisky glass in his hand. His pupils are dilated and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on his skin, though the shop is so cold I can see my breath.
‘It doesn’t work under general anaesthetic: they must be conscious. I haven’t worked out why. Yet.’ Still the boy smiles, either not listening or not understanding. He is older than me: fifteen or sixteen, perhaps. ‘This time, in addition to the usual concoction, we’re trying cocaine: an oldie but a goody. Hard to source these days, but we tracked some down.’
‘Hold out your hand,’ he orders, and the boy complies. He straps his arm on to a table. That is when I see the saw: it is lined up with the boy’s wrist.
‘You’re not…’ I start to protest. I hate blood. Hate it. The metallic smell, the colour, the slippery feel of it, and I start to spin inside, holding on to the table with one hand, my stomach on its way up.
He shakes me, hard. ‘Who are you?’ he shouts. Abruptly the spinning is gone. I am calm, observant. ‘You have to work on your control. You don’t want to let her out, do you?’ he says, his voice dangerous.
‘No! Snivelling wimp.’ I stand straight.
‘Good girl. And no, I’m not cutting off his hand. Though that would be an interesting experiment on pain, in itself.’
He pulls up the boy’s sleeve, exposes a metal circle. Like a bracelet, with numbers like a clock, but it isn’t telling the time.
‘Is that…is he…’
‘This is a Levo, and he has been Slated.’ He twists the boy’s wrist and adjusts the straps so the Levo is lined up at right angles to a split in the metal table. In line with the saw. ‘This saw is diamond tipped, and is the only thing that will get through the metal they use in these devices; believe me, we’ve tried everything. Cold, heat, chemicals, all sorts of cutting devices. But an old-fashioned diamond-edged saw works best.’
He slips on goggles. ‘Stand back a little, there may be some spatter if I go too far.’ He flicks a switch, the saw spins, whines. He pushes it towards the boy’s hand. His Levo.
The boy watches, eyes wide, uncertain now. He looks at mine. The saw reaches the Levo, strikes against it and a loud grinding noise begins, sparks fly. And then he starts to scream…
Pain twists through my arm; I struggle, but soon realise it is just tangled blankets that hold me. The only thing glowing in the dark are Sebastian’s eyes.
I switch on the bedside light. Sebastian’s fur is on end, standing straight up his spine, down the length of his tail. A row of scratches trail down my arm: this is the pain that woke me. It wasn’t part of my dream, at all. The second time Sebastian has woken me in the middle of a nightmare.
‘Thanks for the wake up call, cat,’ I whisper. Soon he settles as I pet him, smooth his fur. He curls up to sleep but I leave the light on, unwilling to find darkness all around me, again.
Imagination, cruel and horrible, or traces of memory I should not have? Where do I go in my dreams?
Some instinct says it is both. My dream self didn’t know what Levos were, other than in an abstract way; she didn’t recognise that boy as Slated, either, though it was obvious. But there is one inescapable conclusion.
Ben must be stopped.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
* * *
‘Time to go!’ Mum hollers up the stairs.
But when I get to the bottom of them, instead of marching through the front door, she turns and leans on it.
‘Is everything all right?’
Everything is so far from all right that even if I could tell her, I wouldn’t know where to begin. Instead I glance at the clock by the door. ‘I’m going to be late for Group if we don’t go.’
She pauses a moment longer, then opens the door. ‘You know, Kyla, maybe I could help if you tell me what is wrong. The way you’ve been mooning about the last few days there is obviously something.’
There is a part of me that longs to tell her everything. She might see a way out of this box that I can’t.
Danger.
‘Is it Ben?’ she asks as we pull away from the house.
I nod. That much I can admit.
‘Did you two have some sort of fight?’
I scowl. ‘Did Amy tell you that?’
‘Don’t be angry with her. She was worried about you, and about Ben.’
I stare out the window. Amy’s good intentions are causing so much trouble.
‘Kyla, you do understand why your dad and I thought it best if you don’t go running with Ben alone?’
I look back at her. ‘Toeing the line,’ I snap before I can stop myself.
Mum half laughs. ‘I do remember what it is like, you know. To be young and want to be with somebody.’
‘Then why can’t I run to Group with Ben?’
‘Because you can’t. But just so you know, I don’t always agree with your dad. I went along because, officially, he is right, and we can’t do things that will get you in trouble, can we? But keep things as they are for a little while, and we’ll see if we can get Ben around now and then. Chaperoned, I’m afraid.’ She smiles and I know she is trying to help, thinks she is on my side. But it is so much more complicated than she can imagine. Ben might not be around long enough for a little while, or any other sort of while.
If only I could talk to Ben alone, make him see sense.
Wait a minute.
‘Maybe there is something you could do to help.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Could you maybe pick me up a little late tonight? Not long. Just so we can talk for a few minutes, sort things out.’
‘Your dad would have my head if he knew.’
‘I won’t tell him!’
She sighs. ‘All right; neither will I. I’ll give you twenty minutes. Good enough?’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘Oh good, a smile. Try to have one on later when I pick you up, all right?’
Group begins as usual. Penny has a bright jumper and is too cheerful to be normal; Ben runs in late. He doesn’t sit next to me, and I try to stuff down the hurt. Is he angry about the way I left him, walking off like that?
In Group everyone talks inanely about things that don’t really matter. I eye the clock, as each minute ticks down. We go a few minutes over and I almost have to bite my tongue to stop myself from objecting. When Penny finally says we can go, Ben stands and heads for the door.
But I am out of my seat and get there just as he does.
‘Wait,’ I say.
He turns, looks at my eyes for the first time of the evening. Says nothing, and it is like a dagger inside. I almost slink away. But I have to talk to him. I have to find the words that will put a
n end to his plans.
‘Ben, please. Can we talk? Mum is coming late. We’ve got a little time.’
He glances across the room; Penny is looking the other way, talking to the parents of one of the others.
‘Come on, then,’ he says, and I follow him outside, along the car park in the shadow of the hall.
‘Are you angry with me?’ I say, and then want to bite it back. There are so many things that need saying; that could wait.
He shakes his head. ‘Of course not. But I am trying to keep away from you. I don’t want you to associate with me in public, so when things go down…’ He pauses. ‘I don’t want you to get in trouble.’
I sigh. ‘Does this mean you haven’t come to your senses? Are you still planning to go through with it?’
‘You didn’t really think I’d change my mind, did you?’
‘I didn’t, I just hoped. But at least wait until we can see Aiden again. He can tell you how they did it, give you a better chance.’ Talk you out of it.
Ben shakes his head. ‘Listen to me: I’m not going to change my mind,’ he says in a quiet voice, determination threaded through it. ‘And I don’t think from what he said that Aiden really knows what they did, anyhow.’
‘Please, Ben. I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
His eyes soften. ‘What I’d really like to do now is drag you off into the woods and kiss you.’ But around us cars are pulling in, collecting children; there are eyes everywhere. He takes my hand and links our fingers. ‘This will do for now.’
‘Ben you have to listen to reason. Please.’
‘We’ve covered this ground, haven’t we?’
‘How exactly are you going to do it?’
‘I’ve started going through equipment in Mum’s workshop. I’ll sort something out this weekend.’
‘So soon?’
‘Yes. Mum is going away to Dad’s sister who had a baby; Dad is already there. I convinced them I could stay here on my own.’
I stare at him miserably. ‘Please, Ben…’
‘Kyla, listen. If this works, we can cut yours off, too. We can run away some place, together. Without our Levos no one could keep us apart.’
‘What about the AGT?’ I whisper, quietly as I can. ‘Have you given up that idea?’
He shakes his head.
‘So. Just you, me, and a major terrorist organisation. Sounds like heaven.’
‘Think about it. We could change the world.’
Mum pulls in, waves.
‘I have to go.’
‘No smiles, Kyla?’
I slump back in the seat.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says.
Once we get home I escape tea and sympathy as soon as I can, but I can’t escape my thoughts. Ben, cutting off his Levo: screaming in pain. If he somehow survives, Ben in the AGT.
I have to stop him.
Everything is misty, unclear. I straighten the goggles.
‘Here: this is the switch. You push the saw along this track. The diamond wheel should make quick work of his Levo. The key is to cut it off as quick as possible before the pain and shock cause death, but not so quick the hand goes as well. Where most attempts fail is in stopping when the pain hits instead of pushing through it. Understand?’
‘Yes.’ I am calm, observant. Interested in the experiment.
The subject is sweating, eyes dilated. His hand immobilised on the table. He reeks of whisky.
I flick the switch. The wheel spins, whining as it hits speed.
Pushing it closer and closer, I glance up and see the subject’s eyes. Blue, wide: not scared. Not yet.
‘Watch what you are doing!’
I look back to the saw as it touches the Levo. Sparks fly in an arc.
‘More pressure!’
The screaming begins.
I pull the saw back.
‘No! He’ll die now if you don’t cut it off and do it fast.’
But I’m spinning, faster than the saw. Screams of agony rip through my skull. I clench my eyes shut and with them shut I see more clearly. He changes: the screaming boy is gone. And in his place is Ben.
‘No! Ben, no!’ I lunge for the machine, to stop the saw before it reaches him, to release the straps, but arms grab tight around me and hold me firm.
‘You must stay in control. You know the rules.’
‘No!’
‘You’re next.’
I fight, kick. Struggle, scratch and scream. But it is no good. I’m strapped into a chair, my arm to the table.
The saw whines…
Bzzzz…
My eyes snap open, desperate to escape the horror. A dream, but I can still hear the saw?
Bzzzz…
I reach for the light, and when it happens again, I feel it, on my wrist: my Levo is vibrating, a dangerous 3.3. I’m nauseous and shaking. This time, to begin with at least, I was the one wielding the saw. Could I ever really have done something like that?
Slowly, so slowly, my heart stops racing, my levels come up, but I can’t let go of the images. They replay again and again in my mind. A diamond-edged blade. Whisky. A quick cut.
Was I really there, in that place, torturing that boy?
Somewhere inside there is a crack, a glint of light.
I don’t want to know, but I can’t escape it. In my dream, when I was put in place to have my Levo cut off, I was terrified: not of the pain, or that I might die. But of being without my Levo. I hate it, what it means and represents, what it does to my life. Yet for some reason I needed to keep it so much that the mere thought of losing it filled me with terror.
Why?
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
* * *
Friday morning when I reach the back of the bus, Ben’s usual seat is empty. I half stand as the bus pulls away, and look at every head. No; he’s not sitting elsewhere. He’s simply not here.
I panic inside. He didn’t. No. He said his parents were away this weekend; that was when he was going to try to cut off his Levo. He wouldn’t have jumped ahead, would he?
Numb, I go through morning classes as if back in a nightmare. I even consider asking Mrs Ali for help. If I tell her what Ben is thinking, they’ll stop him. They won’t let him do it. But how long would he stay safe and well? What would the Lorders do to him?
If it’s not too late already.
I wander the grounds at lunch, alone. Can anyone help? Try Jazz.
The sixth form common room in the main building is where Amy says they usually have lunch, and I head there now. She is still on her work placement, so I won’t need to dodge her. Some instinct through all of this has said to tell her nothing. She thinks I shouldn’t see Ben any more; how would she react if she found out he is planning to cut off his Levo?
I stand, uncertain, in the door. Please be here, Jazz. The common room is crowded, full of students chatting in groups, on benches eating lunch, at tables and study carrels doing homework. I scan the room and can’t spot him anywhere. But I can’t quite see around the desks and shelves into the far corner; I crane my head around.
‘Out of the way, please,’ a voice says behind. I move to one side and two older girls walk in, look at me pointedly. ‘Get lost. Sixth formers only.’
‘Wait. I’m looking for Jazz MacKenzie?’
They ignore me and keep going.
‘Jazz?’ I say, louder. His familiar head peeks around the corner of a desk half across the room. He smiles, walks over.
‘Hi Kyla, how’re things?’
‘Can we talk a minute? I mean, away from everyone.’
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Hang on a sec.’ He comes back with his jacket on. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
We head down the hall and out the building. The sky is grey, and a light drizzle is falling. Enough for the benches and paths to be mostly deserted.
‘What’s up?’ he says when we clear the last of potential eavesdroppers.
‘I’m really worried about Ben. He wasn’t on the bus today.’
/> ‘Well. He might have slept in, or have a cold, or be at the dentist. Any number of reasons why he wasn’t there.’
I don’t say anything else; he looks at my face. ‘But you don’t think it is any of those things.’
‘No,’ I whisper. I hesitate; better for Jazz if he doesn’t know details. ‘It’s just that Ben was thinking of doing something really stupid. Now I’m afraid he’s done it.’
‘I see.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say, miserably. The drizzle increases to rain. My Levo vibrates, but I keep my hands buried deep in my pockets so Jazz won’t hear.
‘Amy thinks you shouldn’t see him any more. She agrees with your parents.’
‘What do you think?’
He shrugs. ‘I think Ben is all right. You’re really worried?’
I nod.
Jazz tilts his head to the side, thinking. ‘Tell you what. Let’s bunk off school for the afternoon, and swing by his, yeah? See if he is okay.’
I find myself agreeing; Jazz goes back for his bag, says he’ll meet me by his car in a few minutes. This is a bad idea.
I shrug off that thought as I cross the grounds to the student parking area, keeping a look out for teachers. True, skipping class this afternoon will be hard to explain, and Mrs Ali is already on my case. It’s not like no one will notice. A very bad idea.
Jazz is longer than a few minutes, and I start to worry. Did he change his mind? No. He would have told me.
But then he bursts around the corner, a big grin on his face. ‘Ben is on a class trip.’
‘Really?’
‘I checked: they post them up on a bulletin board by the office. His agriculture class is spending the day at a farm. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.’
My knees go weak with relief, and I feel dizzy, almost like I’m going to throw up.
‘Heh, you all right?’ Jazz looks at me curiously.
‘I will be. I just really need to talk to Ben.’
‘Well, we could go to his place after school. Ditch the bus and I’ll take you, get you home before Amy or the Dragon know a thing about it.’
‘Really?’
‘Sure. Why not?’
