*
About half an hour later, Rebecca returns.
‘You two alright?’ she asks.
I nod.
‘You’re brother and sister are you?’
‘Yeah. Our mum and dad were killed a few months back, by raiders.’ Luc feeds her the cover story we worked out earlier.
‘Oh, you poor things.’ She sits down and gives us a sympathetic smile. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘Well, we’re looking for a place. We’ve been on the road for a while.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Sixteen,’ Luc lies.
She turns to me.
‘Fourteen,’ I say, colouring. Obviously I’m not as good an actor as Luc.
We’re banking on the fact that as we’re roughly the same ages as Freddie and Lissy, we’ll be housed with or near them. We’re also assuming that accommodation will be according to gender and so we’re prepared to be split up. That’s the part I’m dreading - being alone without Luc to back me up.
I’m quickly becoming more and more in awe of Luc and his calm demeanour. He’s rational and practical, while I’m hot-headed and impulsive. He seems so focused and certain and I’m a pathetic quivering mass of nerves. My head is swimming with fear at what could happen to us.
‘You know,’ she says. ‘You’re very welcome to stay here for the night. We’ve plenty of room.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s no problem.’
‘Is this some kind of compound then?’ Luc asks. I marvel again at his composure.
‘Yes, in a way it is. We’ve rescued hundreds of people who have no place left to turn. We think of ourselves as an oasis in the wilderness, offering food, shelter and protection.’
‘Sounds amazing,’ I say.
‘Well, come on, you must be tired. Shall I show you to your quarters?’ She stands and gestures to the building behind her.
We follow her into the house, which is actually some kind of work room. Several women, maybe ten or twelve of them, all similar in appearance to Rebecca, sit at desks and tables. Some are writing and some are reading; the majority are sewing clothing. None of them talk, they’re all quietly engaged in their tasks, but most of them look up and smile as we thread our way through to the door on the far side of the room.
As we walk through the door, a young man in his late teens greets us. He’s unremarkable looking, dressed in unflattering beige trousers and a short-sleeved white cotton shirt. He asks Luc to follow him. I make to go after them, but Rebecca touches my arm.
‘I'm afraid the men and women's quarters are in separate buildings. Don't worry, you'll see your brother later.’
Luc gives me a reassuring smile and a long penetrating stare that comforts me and makes my stomach do flips at the same time. This has to be the most ridiculous time for my feelings for Luc to come to the surface. Suddenly, all I can think about is us together, his lips on mine.
‘Don't worry Riley,’ he smiles. ‘I'm sure Rebecca will look after you. I'll see you later.’
I take a breath and have a proper look around, trying to make a careful note of my surroundings, as Luc told me to do. We’re in a gravel courtyard, much bigger than the one at the entrance. It’s rectangular, with a building on each side, mostly in shade, with just a few small squares of sunlight on the ground. A cloud blots the sun for an instant and I shiver and hug my goose-bumped arms. I’m only dressed in a t shirt and shorts, and wish I’d thought to bring a jumper or cardigan.
Luc is taken off to the right, to a long low red brick house. His trainers crunch loudly over the gravel, until he disappears through a dark green painted wooden door. Rebecca watches them go and then she asks me to follow her. We walk directly across the courtyard into an imposing building, four storeys high, with wide steps leading up to a set of grand double doors.
We enter a large dim wood-panelled hallway with a wide staircase. It smells musty and slightly of sweaty feet. The kitchen must be somewhere at the end of the hallway, as I can hear clanking pots and pans and distant busy voices. Rebecca leads me up two flights of stairs to a shabby landing with a worn patterned carpet and about eight closed doors. It’s gloomy and quiet.
She knocks on the door immediately at the top of the stairs. A plump girl opens it. She’s wearing a dark grey A line skirt with a grey shirt tucked in. Around her neck hangs a heavy looking iron cross, the same colour as her shirt. Her hair is pulled back into a lank ponytail and she’s got angry-looking acne on her cheeks and chin.
‘Martha,’ says Rebecca. ‘This is Riley, she'll be staying tonight.’
‘Riley is it?’ Martha looks at me, mouth pulled downwards. ‘Is that short for anything?’
‘No, it's just Riley.’
‘Right.’ She hmmphs. ‘Follow me then. We'll get you settled.’
‘I'll see you, Riley,’ says Rebecca, turning to go. ‘Martha will look after you now.’
‘But I'll see you later won't I?’ I ask Rebecca, unwilling to have a seemingly kind woman replaced by this unfriendly girl.
‘I'm afraid not,’ Rebecca replies, already halfway down the stairs. ‘You don't need me anymore.’ She looks up regretfully and then hurries down and out of view, her footsteps receding.
I brace myself. This, after all, is what I was expecting from the outset anyway. But our initial welcome had softened me up a bit. I have to remember why I’m really here and what I’m supposed to do. Martha points towards a room in the middle of the corridor.
‘There's the bathroom. Take a shower. There are some clean clothes on the back of the door. If you leave your clothes in the basket, I'll have them washed for you. Come and knock on my door when you've finished.’
I do as she asks and I’m soon clean, smelling of the harsh soap, and dressed identically to Martha, minus the cross and still wearing my flip flops. The clothes fit me pretty well, but there’s no mirror so I can't really tell how awful I look. I take a deep breath and knock on Martha’s door. She looks me up and down and hmmphs her approval. Then she steps out onto the landing and locks her door.
‘Follow me,’ she orders.
I follow her to the other end of the corridor where she opens another door. I expect to see another room, but instead there’s a small dark, wooden, winding staircase leading down.
*
It’s been two days and I’ve heard no mention and seen no trace of Luc, Lissy or Freddie. Everybody I’ve met so far has biblical names and it’s entirely likely that Freddie and Lissy's names have been changed, which will make it an almost impossible task to locate them. I hope Luc’s having more luck than me; the alternative doesn't bear thinking about. What if I never get out of this strange half-asleep place?
I’ve been assigned to the Nursery, which is actually an okay job, if exhausting. All the Close's children are taken from their parents at the age of one and housed together in the Nursery. They’re separated into age groups until they’re nine, when they are split by gender. I’m looking after the three to five-year olds. There are twenty four of them, looked after by four of us: myself, an older woman and two women in their twenties.
Nothing has been explained to me, other than the actual duties I’ve been assigned. Any questions I ask are met with a vague smile and an unenlightening change of subject. Everyone’s on autopilot and there’s no small talk, chatter or gossip - they simply get on with their duties in a kind, but firm manner. The children all behave immaculately.
I sleep in one of the dormitories on Martha's floor. There are four bunks in my room, sleeping eight girls who are about my pretended age of fourteen. I have hardly spoken to any of them, as they come in long after I go to bed and are still asleep when I get up to report for work at the Nursery. They obviously work a different shift to me.
I tried talking to a couple of them last night, but they were just as vague and dreamy as my co-workers. I’m getting a bit panicky now, worrying that I’m going to be stuck here forever, turning into a version of these half-alive women and girls
. It’s not scary or dangerous here, but it doesn’t feel right either. It’s too quiet and emotionless. It’s like the life has been sucked out of everyone.
It’s my third morning here and I’ve just reached the bottom of the dark winding staircase that takes me from my dormitory to the maze of buildings where the Nursery is located, when I see a figure in the corner. My heart skips a beat when I realise it’s Luc looking handsome, if a little nerdy, in borrowed clothes. I was beginning to think I’d never see him again.
‘Looking good, Riley,’ Luc grins at me.
‘Back atcha.’ I so want to hug him, but he doesn't make any move to come closer to me, so I stay where I am.
‘How are you?’ He turns serious. ‘Sorry I couldn't get here any sooner and I can't stay long, I'm supposed to be fetching some paint cans.’
‘What's happening?’
‘It's not good news, Riley. I'm pretty sure we've been tricked.’
Chapter Twenty Five
Riley
*
The original plan had been for me and Luc to get into the Close and find out what had happened to Fred and Jessie’s children. Hopefully we’d locate them and help them to escape with us. Meanwhile, Fred and Jessie would be waiting a mile away in their jeep with our AV parked close by. They would wait there for up to two weeks, after which time, if they heard nothing from us, they would drive to our Perimeter in Bournemouth and alert our parents who would send in help.
On his first night here in the Close, Luc waited until the very early morning, until his roommates were soundly asleep. Then he left his bunk, climbed out of the bathroom window and crawled along the long low roof. He saw no security guards, but he knew they were there. He just had to hope they didn't know he was there.
He needed to get up high to get a view of the surroundings, but his building was only one story high. He lowered himself down from the roof and let himself drop the remaining six-or-so feet on to the noisy gravel.
The next building along was four storeys high. He heaved and climbed his way up the side of the building where there were the fewest windows, using the wide metal drainpipe. When he reached the roof, he shuffled up to the ridge, trying not to dislodge any of the ancient looking roof tiles.
To the rear of the building, he saw another quad-shaped courtyard and yet more buildings. The outside walls were high, smooth and topped with jagged glass and razor wire. In the middle distance, he saw the impressive spire of Salisbury Cathedral and then he saw something to make him realise our plan had gone terribly wrong - he saw our AV parked close by, under a small stand of trees. Several thoughts raced through his mind at once, but he would be unable to confirm what had actually happened until he got some more information. He returned to his quarters the way he had come.
The following day, Luc tried to get some sense out of his brainwashed companions. There were five of them with the task of preparing and painting three rooms. The work group set-up was similar to mine - an older person in charge, with two twenty-somethings to help and then Luc and another adolescent doing the unskilled work.
The three adults stayed focused on their work and seemed completely unapproachable, but Luc managed to befriend the other boy. His name is Michael and he doesn't know how long he’s been at the Close. Luc doesn't think he can have been here too long as he’s slightly more coherent than the others.
Luc decided he had nothing left to lose by confiding some of our story to him. He told him about Fred and Jessie and their farm and how they’ve lost their children, Freddie and Lissy. What Michael told him, made Luc despair.
‘Don't know about no Freddie or Lissy, but that Fred and Jessie was a right nice couple. They had a farm and dogs and really nice grub. They had a tower thing, I remember that. There's a few of us here who know Fred and Jessie, but some of 'em don't think so highly of ‘em as I do.’
It was then Luc knew for sure that we’d been duped. Fred and Jessie must have known about Grey all along. They’re acting as the sticky web on the outside, passing along the nice fat juicy flies to Grey and his cronies. They meant for us to come to the Close and be caught here forever. There probably is no Freddie Junior or Lissy. Maybe they are just a ruse, to be used if necessary.
Did they do it willingly? Or have they been coerced? Brainwashed too, maybe? Well, it makes no difference now. They fooled us thoroughly and now I feel stupid and angry - I always pride myself on being a good judge of character, but I was completely taken in by them.
As Luc hurriedly whispers his discovery to me in the dark doorway, I experience a familiar sweep of hopelessness.
‘Riley! Riley, are you listening to me?’ Luc shakes my arm to get my attention back.
‘What are we going to do?’ I wail. ‘We're trapped. We'll be brainwashed.’
‘Shh, keep your voice down. I've got to go now. Just be ready. Where’s the window to your bathroom? Security in here is pretty laid back. It's just the outside wall we need to worry about. We have to get out of here fast, before they move the AV. Day five is the start of Integration Week for newcomers and I really don't want to stick around for that or we'll end up like zombies.’
Luc tells me what to do: Each night at about 2-3am, I’m to try and get to the bathroom on my floor. There are no clocks here, so it’s going to be difficult. Once there, I’m to hang an article of clothing outside the window to let him know I’m in the room. Once he’s formulated an escape plan, he’ll come for me.
This is the fourth night I’ve waited for him to come. For the last three nights I’ve waited a couple of hours, but I didn’t dare stay any longer. Luckily, no one has needed to use the bathroom while I’ve been in here. Luc hasn’t shown up yet and each morning, just before dawn, I’ve staggered back to bed, weary and disappointed.
Tonight, as usual, I’ve hung a small hand towel outside the bathroom window. It’s chilly in here and all I’m wearing is a cotton nightshirt. I wish there was a large towel or something I could wrap around me. I didn't get dressed in case someone sees me.
I get up and stamp my right leg – it’s full of pins and needles. I’m cross with myself for not listening to Luc in the first place. His gut instinct was to leave well alone and not even mention James Grey to Fred and Jessie, but I ignored him and now we’re both in danger of a lifetime of incarceration. Of course, the couple could have arranged our capture by some other means, but it’s too late to regret stuff. We just have to hope we can get out of here. And then what will we do? Will we just continue on our way to find Chambers? Suppose Luc doesn’t want to carry on ... Maybe he’s had enough and wants to go home, I wouldn't blame him. Do I want to keep going?
I give it some thought and decide I really don't want to give up on our mission, despite the danger. This realisation surprises me and gives me a surge of fresh courage. The alternative is to go back home and live with regret. Skye is dead, she had no choices, but I’m alive and I really want to do this for her. I have to get out of here, if not for me, then for her and for anyone else who may fall foul of Chambers in the future. The man has to be caught and punished. I’ve escaped from armed raiders, so I’ll damn well make sure we get out of here and finish the job we started.
Now, in the quiet gloom of the bathroom, I’m willing Luc to come for me, but an hour passes and there’s still no sign of him. Each night, I worry that I’ve arrived too late or returned to my room too early, but I really don't think he’ll come for me after dawn. I’m almost dozing off on the chilly lino floor, when I hear a soft tap on the window. I give a start and wipe a small dribble of saliva from the corner of my mouth. I’m cold and stiff, but my heart beats fast and I jump up and go to the window.
Luc's face is such a welcome sight. He climbs into the bathroom quickly, slides the sash window shut and passes me a pair of worn navy jogging bottoms. I pull them on gratefully. They’re much too long, so I roll them up a bit. We hug briefly and awkwardly and I return the hand towel to the hook.
‘Okay, we haven't got much time,’ he whispers. �
�Come on, I hope you've got a good head for heights.’ I follow him out of the window and try not to look down. ‘You'll be fine,’ Luc encourages. ‘Wait till I've reached the ledge before you start coming down, I don't think the drainpipe will take both of us at once.’
I don't share his confidence in my climbing ability and my right leg shakes uncontrollably. But I grit my teeth and attempt to emulate his cat-like agility. We finally make it down to the ground. This side of the building adjoins a different courtyard. I look around and see our AV parked under some trees. It seems too good to be true – there’s no one in sight.
‘Why aren't there any guards?’ I ask. ‘A place like this, you think there'd be loads of security.’
‘Yeah, you're right.’ He thinks for a minute. ‘Maybe there's something we're not seeing, or maybe they don't think they need security on the inside. I mean, with everyone here wandering around in a daze, they probably don't need to worry about people escaping. It is a bit weird though. You think there'd be someone.’
‘Do you have any ideas about how we're going to get out?’ I ask. ‘We seem to be pretty well locked in.’
‘There's a delivery van arriving in a while. Well, it's come in the last two mornings. It's not a great plan, but we haven't got many options. I thought we could just make a break for it when the gates open and hope they don’t catch us. We have to pray we can get into the AV and hope it's got enough fuel to get us away.’
‘It sounds like plan to me,’ I reply. The fresh air and the climb down from the bathroom has really woken me up and, with a heavy shot of adrenalin thrown in, I feel on heightened alert. ‘Luc, you're amazing. I never would've thought we had a hope of getting out of here.’
‘Thanks, but we've got a way to go yet. Okay, when I say go, we need to run across to the AV. You flatten yourself up behind one of those trees, while I see if the keycard's still there. Once I'm in, you get in the passenger side as quickly and quietly as you can.’
I nod in agreement.
Outside - a post-apocalyptic novel Page 12
