Ryan considered slipping through the gate while they were distracted, but then three more patrol cars drew up and he knew it would be impossible. His head was throbbing and he gently dabbed the front of his hairline finding blood on his fingertips. He stepped back from the checkpoint and cast around for another option. There had to be another way out.
That was when he spied the woman with blonde hair who had spoken to him a few minutes earlier. She was about to re-enter one of the office doors.“Hey. Wait a minute.”
The woman was startled but to her credit waited in the doorway for Ryan to catch up. As he jogged over he broke into another bout of coughing that took several seconds to pass.
“You need a doctor,” she told him, a concerned expression on her face.
“I know, but I have to tell my family I’m safe first. Could I use your phone?”
“Your family have a phone?” the woman asked sceptically.
“Of course.”
She gave his clothes an appraising look, obviously squaring it with the fact that he had been in the explosion.
“I shouldn’t really let you in.”
“Please. Just one quick phone call before this whole place is shut down. My mother will be so scared otherwise.”
The woman relented and pushed open the door into her law firm, beckoning for Ryan to follow. Inside there were maybe a dozen people, all wearing the crisp white shirts and wide neck ties of the professional class. The background chatter and ringing phones dulled slightly as Ryan entered and he saw most of the lawyers had ceased working and were staring from the windows over the square.
“Close the door Neriese,” a man called, rushing forwards. Ryan recognised him as the one who had been on the cobbles earlier. His fear was plain for all to see and obviously infecting those around him.
“Why have you brought him inside?” a woman said, staring at Ryan from behind her desk.
“He needs to use the phone,” Neriese said defensively. “What was I supposed to do? Leave him out there?”
“Yes,” the first man said. “We don’t know anything about him. He could be one of the bloody bombers for all we know.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake Tillet. Look at him. He’s more likely to drop dead than to harm one of us,” she gave a quick glance to Ryan. “Sorry.”
Once inside, he had hoped to talk his way through to the other end of the building and leave via the trading doors. He realised that Tillet and the others were never going to let that happen though.
“I’m going to be sick.” He doubled over and clutched his stomach.
“Toilets,” Neriese said sharply just as Tillet jumped away, covering his mouth.
“Oh God, how do we know there wasn’t poison in that bomb. Get him out of here.”
“Shut up,” Neriese scalded and shepherded Ryan to the far side of the office. He rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door quickly behind him.
Inside was a toilet, a sink and a frosted glass pane overlooking the main street. Ryan turned the faucets, marvelling at the cool, clear water that collected in his hands. He took three deep gulps and instantly his head cleared. He wiped wet hands down his face and through his hair, cleaning away the worst of the blood.
The window beside him was set into the outer skin of the wall and created an alcove about a foot wide. There was a small mirror and some flowers arranged on the ledge which Ryan removed and placed quietly on the floor. He lifted the locking arm that fastened the window and gave it a solid push. It didn’t budge. He leant harder, jamming the heel of his hand against the wood but still it held firm. Panic seized him and Ryan banged the frame, first with his hands and then by standing on the toilet lid, kicking at it with the bottom of his foot.
“Are you okay in there?” Neriese called through. Ryan saw the handle twist around.
“I’m fine,” Ryan said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“What’s all that banging?” He couldn’t think of any excuse so said nothing. Neriese knocked again. “Hello?”
“I’m going for a gunnerman.” Even with his muffled hearing, Ryan could hear Tillet’s voice and knew he had to get out now. He scanned the small room, searching for something to smash the glass with. His eyes settled on the toilet cistern that was fixed to the wall overhead. It was an ancient contraption identical to the one they used to have in the family outhouse. Ryan clambered back onto the toilet and reached up to remove the heavy porcelain lid. It scraped out of its casing and he hefted it down.
With a quick back swing, he thrust it through the single pane of frosted glass and watched it shatter instantly. Neriese yelled something from the office but he ignored her and dragged the porcelain lid around the window frame, breaking off as much of the jagged glass as he could. He scraped the broken pieces from the alcove and carefully crouched onto the window sill.
“He’s climbing out the window.”
Ryan froze, one foot dangling in mid-air above the street. He overbalanced and then fell onto the pavement where a splinter of glass gouged a slice into his back. Ignoring the pain he jumped to his feet and fled.
Chapter 47
It was mid-morning and several hours since Ryan had left to see Brynne. Alia had barely slept. When the first wash of sunlight crept through the lounge window, it found her cold and alone with the familiar knot of despair in her stomach.
Now she was hiding in the bathroom with her back to the door. She held a bottle of pills in one hand and gently tipped them back and forth so that the tablets rattled inside. Across the hallway, her dad was groaning and shouting. It was an awful sound and Alia found that she was both ashamed and scared by it. She knew that he was hungry and hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. Even so, she couldn’t muster the strength to fetch the bowl of porridge that she force-fed him twice a day.
“Alia,” a shrill voice called. “Alia. Come to me now.”
Feet pounded downstairs and - after a short silence - back up again. Alia had grown to recognise these sudden bursts of activity as part of her mother’s condition now. There were times when she would sit dormant for weeks, barely speaking unless it was to voice her unhappiness at life. At these time, Alia tried to coax and cajole her back to life with little success.
The blanket of depression was occasionally lifted by brief and uncontrollable surges of energy. They might last an hour or a few days and Alia quickly learned to fear these more than the dark days. Her mother could not be reasoned with when she got like that. Her thoughts would flit from one topic to the next and she would convince herself of ridiculous and often dangerous notions.
Last month, she had declared that gunnermen bullets could no longer hurt her. She left the house shouting threats and challenges, forcing Alia to drag her back like a screaming infant. When they got inside, her mother slapped her with such force that Alia’s teeth rattled. Then she barricaded herself into the lounge where she grumbled and raged for hours.
Now as she sat alone in the bathroom, Alia recognised the imperious tone in her mother’s voice. She tried to ignore it, hoping that she would think the house empty. A sudden banging rocked the door though and the handle flicked up and down.
“Alia? I know you’re in there. Come out child, your mother needs you.”
Alia dropped her head onto her knees and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back tears. Her mother only paused for a moment.
“I’ve finally succeeded where those moronic doctors could not. We can fix your father and rebuild the company and be back in our home by tomorrow.”
Alia stayed quiet but twisted open the lid of the tablets and emptied one into her palm. Glumly she swallowed it down, all too aware that she was breaking her promise to Ryan. Her mother gave the door one final whack.
“Fine. If you’re not going to help me, I’ll fix him myself.”
Alia went to the sink and tipped her head beneath the tap to wash down the chalky aftertaste. On the landing outside, her mother stomped away. Alia prepared herself for another haranguing but was surp
rised to hear only silence. She waited for a few moments and then realised that her father had also ceased his groaning for the first time in hours.
Frantically she unlocked the door, raced across the landing and into her dad’s room. She found her mother standing over the bed with a pillow in her hands and a serene expression on her face. Her arms though were shaking with the effort it took to hold the pillow across her husband’s thrashing face.
“Mum,” Alia screamed, rushing forwards and pulling her away. She was able to remove the pillow just long enough for her dad to gasp a lungful of air.
“Let go of me, stupid child. I am curing him.”
“You’re killing him.” She yelled, continuing to struggle. Despite her mother’s small frame, she was surprisingly strong.
“He needs to stop breathing so he can learn to talk again,” she grunted, freeing her hand and thrusting it back onto the pillow.
“Stop, just stop.” Alia grabbed her mother around the waist and heaved her backwards. They fell in a tangle of limbs in the doorway.
“Alia?” Someone was running up the stairs and she craned her neck towards the voice.
“Ryan.” A surge of relief ran though her. “Help me. She’s trying to kill Dad.”
“I’m saving him,” he mother cried and wriggled like a cat as Ryan grabbed hold of her wrist. Together they dragged her into the other bedroom and restrained her on the bed.
“What happened?” Ryan said as he grappled with the older woman’s arms. Alia was kneeling across her legs, breathing hard.
“She was trying to suffocate him with a pillow.”
“I was helping him,” her mother screamed, but her voice was hoarse and her kicks lacked any real power. They stayed with her like that for a long time, slowly releasing their grip as though she were a wild animal. Eventually they were able to retreat to the doorway and Alia’s mother rolled over and chuntered quietly to herself while her eyelids grew heavy.
“It should be okay to leave her now,” Alia whispered and stepped into the hallway. “My dad still needs feeding though. Will you watch her while I go and get the food?”
“Of course.”
When she returned with a bowl of smooth brown porridge, he was standing outside the room with one ear pressed to the door. “I think she’s asleep,” he whispered. “She’s stopped talking anyway.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long with this.”
She suddenly became aware of Ryan’s dishevelled appearance and the new collection of cuts on his face. Even his clothes were torn and stained with patches of dried blood.
“Oh my God, what’s happened to you?” she said, pulling gently at his shirt and studying the fresh injuries. She felt a sudden irrational need to keep him in sight for fear that some new danger would claim him.
“It’s okay. Go and sort your dad. We can talk after.” Ryan gave her a calming smile. “I’ll wait downstairs. Just call if you need me.”
Forty minutes later, Alia returned with only a few scrapings of cold porridge left in the bowl. After feeding him, she had cleaned her father and changed his clothes. That was when she came to the sobering realisation that she felt neither revulsion nor pity when doing it.
In the lounge, Ryan was cornered in the sofa, his chin supported on one hand, eyes closed while he snored softly. At that moment he seemed so young to Alia. No more than a boy really. Feeling a sudden weariness deep in her bones, she eased herself up against him.
“I was just resting,” he murmured, wiping at his mouth quickly.
“It’s okay. We can rest together.”
He gave a contented grunt, lifting his arm so that she could lean up against him and he didn’t wake again for several hours. Alia had lain with him for part of that, but when her mother’s footsteps tramped on the floorboards, she crept upstairs to keep a cautious eye on her.
She was treading a path across the landing carpet like a caged animal, back and forth from the bathroom without rest. Eventually she moved past Alia without even acknowledging her and headed for the front door. “Where are you going Mum?”
She made no reply and although Alia knew she should go after her, she just didn’t have the energy. With any luck, the cold Straybeck air might restore balance to her troubled mind. She closed the front door and crept back to the lounge where she tidied quietly around Ryan as he slept.
He eventually drifted back to consciousness and Alia settled on the arm of the sofa. She wanted to hold him close but there was something she had to say first.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“All day.”
“I’m sorry,” he reached towards her but Alia kept her hands clasped on her lap.
“What’s wrong?”
“When you were here yesterday, you told me all about the things you do. The things you’ve been involved in.”
“Yes.” His tone was guarded.
“And I told you all about me.”
“You did.”
“And I hoped you’d understood what that meant to me.”
Ryan frowned. “I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?”
“You said you’d only be a couple of hours,” she blurted. “You said you were just going to talk to him.” Without knowing why, Alia was on the verge of tears. Ryan straightened in his seat, suddenly defensive.
“What’s the matter? Is it because I was away for longer than I said?”
“Look at your face,” she half shouted. “Look at your clothes.” She knew it wasn’t making any sense, but it was all so overwhelming. “It’s this Brynne. Why do you let him do it to you?”
“Brynne didn’t do this,” Ryan said. “There was a bomb. In Karasard.”
He tried to tell her about the Town Hall and how he had watched someone refusing their oath, but it only made her more distressed. She waved away his words, trying to gather her own thoughts.
“What were you even doing in Karasard? You said you were going across Straybeck to find Brynne. You said you’d be back and then you weren’t and then you turn up like this.”
“I did go to find him. I went to his home but it had been raided by the gunnermen. He thought I’d informed on him. I had to go to Karasard to prove it wasn’t me.”
“That makes no sense.”
Ryan sighed, either at his own answers or her lack of understanding. “Don’t you see, it was like a test”
“A test?”
“Of loyalty. I don’t know, it’s complicated.”
“No it isn’t Ryan. It’s really simple. You just tell him that you don’t want to be part of his insurrection or whatever he calls it. Then you walk away.”
Ryan shook his head. “He’s a hard man to walk away from.”
He looked so miserable then that Alia felt the strength of her own anger evaporate. She slid from the arm of the sofa and landed on the cushion beside him. When she spoke, her voice was level again.
“What happened to the man with the bomb?”
“It was fake. The one he had.” Ryan screwed up his eyes as he tried to remember. “There was another bag though,” he said it slowly as though he was just discovering the memory. “It was on the ground next to me. Brynne had brought them both from the chapel and I carried one across town for him.”
Alia’s chest tightened. “You carried the bomb?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Well yes, but not on purpose. Brynne just gave me a bag to carry. He had one too. He took them both through the checkpoint though and I think he gave one to Arris. It’s all a bit muddled. There were bodies everywhere. I saw…” he closed his eyes again, pained by whatever image had come to mind. “I’ve not seen Brynne since.”
“You think he’s dead?”
Ryan found grim humour in the idea. “I seriously doubt it. I don’t know what it would take to kill Brynne. I need to know he’s okay though. I can’t explain why.” He seemed to read the expression on her face and tried to backtrack. “I just need some answers, that’s all.”
“You need, you need.�
�� Her voice rose again and she could feel the terrifying trembles of a panic attack. “It’s not just about you anymore.” Her legs were tingling and as her chest tightened she struggled for each breath. When she tried to leave the room her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor.
“Alia,” Ryan dashed to her side.
“You have to decide,” she gulped air between the words.
“What’s happening?” he said, but Alia ignored him.
“You have to choose,” she gasped. “I won’t keep…” she clutched at her throat and all the words stopped. The edges of her vision blurred and then blackness closed in around her.
Chapter 48
It was less than a minute before she opened her eyes, but to Ryan it felt like a lifetime. He lifted her legs onto the sofa and slid a cushion under her head, his own expression clouded with worry.
“Are you okay?”
Alia took two long blinks like the words had been spoken in a different language. With a jerky movement she propped herself up onto one elbow before sinking back down to the floor again.
“What happened?”
“You couldn’t breath and then you passed out.”
“It sometimes happens. It looks worse than it is.”
“It looked pretty bad.”
Alia shrugged. Ryan didn’t know if she remembered what had caused it and he didn’t know if he should bring it up again. Her words rolled over and over in his mind.
You have to choose.
“I can’t fall in love and then lose you. I’m not strong enough.” Her eyes were closed but Ryan saw tears pushing through her long eyelashes.
“You won’t lose me,” he said, stroking her face. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s not enough. You can’t keep one foot on both sides of the line. If we’re together, you leave Brynne and all his world behind.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“No you’re not. He’s still got you.” She rolled away from him, balling her knees up to her chest.
“I need to know he’s safe,” Ryan said, hearing the desperation in his own words. “I owe him. He’s always watched out for me. Always listened to me when my own dad didn’t care.” Even as he said them though, the words rang hollow.“Where is he now?” Alia said sourly. “I don’t see him tearing up the city to find you. What about when your house was raided? Where was he then? Or when you were thrown from a moving train? Or even this morning?”
Straybeck Rising: Calloway Blood: Book one (Calloway Blood 1) Page 28
