The Roar

by Emma Clayton

  Ruben’s face bloomed scarlet with humiliation and anger.

  ‘What are you going to give me? A YDF cutlery set? A consolation prize lollipop? You’ve made a mistake and you know it! You weren’t sure, were you? You chose me then you changed your mind!’

  ‘How dare you question my judgement?’ Gorman said quietly, trying not to flinch under the boy’s evil glare. ‘Sit down or I’ll have you removed.’

  ‘NO!’ Ruben yelled. ‘I’m not a child! And I won’t be treated like one! Change your mind or you’ll regret it!’

  Mika didn’t think he could be shocked by anything else that day, but as Ruben rose up into the air to float eerily above the table, he watched in stunned silence with the others. Ruben’s light trail turned completely red and spread out in mist-like tendrils around him, and his eyes began to glow with a blood-red haze. He looked so utterly evil, the Telly Heads seemed like cheery old grandparents in comparison and they shrank back in their chairs as Ruben cast his glowing red eyes over the table. Iman screamed and stepped sideways as a fork flew through the air towards her, narrowly missing her eye. Then all at once, cutlery, carafes and glasses rose into the air and began to spin in a deadly, bladed whirlwind. Glasses smashed into each other sending lethal shards flying through the air and knives shot with a whoosh towards faces, necks and backs. Waiters used their trays like shields and the Telly Heads hid behind their high-backed chairs.

  Mika and Audrey threw themselves under the table, then they were joined by Leo, his hand to his face and blood running through his fingers. He had a gash down his cheek from eye to jaw, where the skin had been sliced like a melon. Above them they heard Gorman yell, ‘Kill him, NOW!’

  From beneath the table, Mika saw several pairs of army boots run into the room and heard the click of safety catches. In an instant he knew what he had to do; he scrabbled out from beneath the table. Audrey tried to grab him with her free hand and hold him back, but he broke away, climbed on to a chair and with a flying tackle, launched himself at Ruben and dragged him out of the air. A shot rang out and they fell and landed with a crash on to the table. There were screams. Cutlery and glass rained down on them. Mika’s mind blanked as if someone was surfing his channels and he waited to feel the first wave of pain, sure that the bullet had hit him. But it didn’t come. Instead he heard Ruben swearing and trying to push him away.

  ‘Get off me!’ Ruben yelled.

  He shoved Mika roughly aside, climbed off the table and tried to run for the door, but he was grabbed by several men who covered his eyes and dragged him away.

  Mika rolled over on to his back to find Audrey glaring at him. ‘They nearly shot you!’ she said, furiously. ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘I don’t know, they were going to shoot him,’ he replied.

  ‘So you thought you’d let them shoot you instead?’ she cried.

  ‘But they didn’t,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m fine. We won!’

  ‘Won what?’ she cried. ‘This is supposed to be a game! This morning they put us in a pit with those dogs and now they just tried to shoot a boy! I want to go home!’

  He looked at her, not knowing what to say. After all, this was a game run by Telly Heads.

  The men with guns returned and started shouting, telling them they had to go back to their rooms. They were escorted in silence and locked in so they couldn’t talk to each other. Mika sat on his bed, shaking. He had Leo’s blood spattered all down his front and a shard of glass embedded in his hand. He gritted his teeth and pulled it out, watching the blood run in rivulets off his palm, but he felt no pain, only a delirious, exhausted happiness. He had won the competition, he could reach into the fire, and every moment of fear and pain was worth it to feel so close to Ellie.

  43

  REACH INTO THE FIRE

  Half an hour later a man entered the room.

  ‘Are you hurt anywhere?’ he asked, looking at Mika’s bloodstained clothes.

  ‘Just my hand,’ Mika replied.

  ‘Let me see,’ the man demanded and Mika held it up briefly to show him.

  ‘That’s deep,’ the man commented, looking at the cut. ‘We’ll have to heal that . . . and do something about your throat, too; you look as if you’ve been strangled.’

  ‘I have,’ Mika replied.

  ‘Well you can’t go home looking like that,’ he said. ‘You’ll need half an hour in the healing chamber.’

  ‘Home?’ Mika repeated, welling up with panic. ‘I’m going home . . . already?’

  ‘Soon,’ the man replied. ‘Mal Gorman wants to talk to you before you leave. He’s with Audrey at the moment, but he won’t be long.’

  Mika paced by the side of the bed panicking, feeling as if he’d been pushed away from the fire. They were going to send him home before he’d found Ellie but what possible excuse could he use to stay? The competition was over and they didn’t want him any more. But he was shocked by this, he’d expected more, there had to be more than this.

  Please let there be more.

  Mal Gorman appeared in the doorway and held out a bony hand. Their eyes met and to Mika’s horror, he felt a spark of recognition pass between them, as if Gorman knew he was the monster from Mika’s nightmares. For a fleeting moment, he sensed doubt and fear and a quiet danger like poison or gas. The knife was there; Mika couldn’t see it but he felt the cold metal pressing on his skin. What did Gorman know? The old man had chosen him and yet he didn’t seem to trust him. Mika’s mind returned to the black chair where he had been strapped down while his memory was searched and he felt an icy chill. There were many things Mika didn’t want Mal Gorman to know about him. Many things. Struggling to stay calm, he took the old man’s hand and shook it. It felt dry and hard.

  ‘Sit down,’ Gorman said quietly.

  Mika obediently sat on the bed and felt his stomach tighten as Gorman sat next to him. He smelt of nothing, Mika thought, as if he’d been freeze-dried fifty years ago.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Gorman asked.

  ‘Fine,’ Mika replied.

  ‘Good,’ Gorman said, with a cold smile. ‘You were brave earlier when you tackled Ruben. The Education Minister is grateful to you; apparently he was almost hit in the chest by a knife. I hope you weren’t hurt.’

  ‘Not really,’ Mika said, closing his hand. He felt a pang of relief that he had done something Gorman liked, even though his gratitude was misplaced; after all, the last thing Mika was thinking about when he saved Ruben was protecting the scumbag Telly Heads.

  ‘You seem to have taken the events of the past hour very well considering you were almost shot and you didn’t get your pudding,’ Gorman said.

  ‘I know what Ruben’s like,’ Mika replied, carefully. ‘He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t get his own way.’

  ‘So I see.’

  Their eyes met again and this time Mika observed a more confident look as if Gorman felt reassured by their talk.

  ‘I was right to chose you,’ Gorman said thoughtfully. ‘You deserve it.’ He removed a gold card from his jacket pocket and placed it on the bed between them.

  ‘What’s that?’ Mika asked.

  ‘The key to the apartment you’ve won in the Golden Turrets,’ Gorman replied. ‘Your parents will be there when you arrive.’

  ‘Will they?’ Mika asked, surprised. ‘So I’m going straight to London, tonight?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gorman said. ‘It’s all arranged. After you’ve gone to the healing chamber you’ll be flown there by a chauffeur. Your parents will travel in a removal freighter – we’ve already sent men to your old apartment to pack up your things. The other winners and their families will be living on the same floor in the Golden Turrets and tonight, you’ll be having a party to celebrate your success.’

  Mika felt the colour drain from his face.

  I must seem grateful, he thought, this is supposed to be what I want.

  He struggled to think of something appropriate to say, like, ‘Oh good,’ or, ‘Thank you,’ but his lip
s wouldn’t move. He was being sent away without his sister to a new apartment he didn’t want. It was all going wrong.

  ‘Your parents will be proud of you, Mika,’ Gorman said. ‘You have achieved the impossible; you’ve moved your family from a fold-down apartment in the refugee town of Barford North, with stinking floodwater all around it, to the Golden Turrets in London – the most beautiful homes in the new world. You’ve got an amazing future ahead of you, you are very lucky to be chosen.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mika asked cautiously. ‘The competition is over.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gorman replied. ‘But your life isn’t, is it?’

  ‘No,’ Mika said, trying to say the right thing.

  ‘And,’ Gorman went on, quietly, ‘I have a special prize for you.’

  ‘Really?’ Mika said, feeling a spark of hope.

  ‘But to get it you’ll have to prove I can trust you,’ he continued.

  ‘What is it?’ Mika asked.

  ‘Something you believe was taken from you,’ Gorman said. ‘Or rather someone. Have you any idea who I’m talking about?’

  Gorman’s words pricked Mika like hot needles. He knew exactly who Gorman was talking about and he felt as if the old man had taken another key out of his pocket and placed it on the bed and this time it was the key to Ellie.

  He looked at Gorman, his eyes pleading with him and tears burning his throat.

  ‘You know she’s with me, don’t you?’ Gorman said.

  Mika nodded and dropped his head. He could feel great sobs of relief swell inside him but he didn’t want to cry in front of this man.

  ‘I thought so,’ Gorman said.

  ‘What do I have to do?’ Mika asked, desperately. ‘I’ll do anything.’

  ‘Good,’ Gorman said, simply. He stood up and began to walk towards the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Mika said. ‘Tell me what I have to do!’

  Gorman turned in the doorway to face him and his eyes were hard. ‘I’ve already told you. I want you to prove I can trust you.’

  ‘How?’ Mika asked, hungrily.

  ‘Make me a promise,’ Gorman said.

  ‘Anything,’ Mika replied.

  ‘Promise me you’ll come back tomorrow,’ Gorman said. ‘And do whatever I tell you.’

  Mika was shocked by this request, but he agreed to it immediately, because he knew this was his chance to reach into the fire. ‘OK,’ he said.

  ‘At half past eight tonight,’ Gorman continued, ‘while you are with your parents at the party, they will receive a message telling them you are coming back. They’ll be upset and angry and they’ll probably ask you lots of questions because they’re going to want to know why. But you must tell them nothing. They must not know what you can do. Promise me.’

  ‘I promise,’ Mika said, with his heart thudding. This was hard, he could already imagine how upset his parents would be when they discovered Mal Gorman wanted him to return and he refused to talk to them about it. But what choice did he have? Ellie was suddenly within his grasp.

  ‘And,’ Gorman continued, ‘you must stay in your new apartment tonight. You are not allowed to go anywhere else. My men will be watching you and I will be very angry if I hear you’ve disobeyed me. Promise me you’ll stay in the apartment.’

  ‘I promise,’ Mika said, nervously.

  ‘Give me your companion,’ Gorman demanded, holding out his hand.

  ‘My companion?’ Mika repeated, hesitantly.

  ‘Yes.’ Gorman replied. ‘I don’t want you making any calls.’

  Mika found Lilian and silently placed her in the old man’s hand, wondering if she knew anything that might make the old man more distrustful. He remembered Helen’s call, warning him he was in danger, and felt a suffocating grip on his heart.

  But calls aren’t saved, he reminded himself. Gorman won’t find out about that.

  Nevertheless, he didn’t want to give him Lilian.

  ‘Repeat your promise,’ Gorman said, dropping the companion into his pocket while Mika watched anxiously.

  ‘I must stay in the apartment tonight,’ Mika replied. ‘And come back to Cape Wrath tomorrow. And I must not tell my parents what I can do.’

  ‘Good,’ Gorman replied. ‘Are you sure you can keep this promise?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mika said, feverishly.

  ‘You’d better,’ Gorman said. ‘I’ve told the other winners I’ll make them homeless if they don’t do as I say. I’ll take their new apartments away in the Golden Turrets and dump them in The Shadows. I don’t need to threaten you in the same way, do I?’

  ‘No,’ Mika replied, feeling his blood run cold.

  ‘Because if you don’t keep your promise, you will never see your sister again.’

  44

  DON’T FORGET WHERE YOU CAME FROM

  As Mika left Cape Wrath, he felt a sudden and overwhelming wave of sorrow and a tear rolled down his cheek. He caught it on his index finger and rubbed it thoughtfully between his finger and thumb, thinking it had been cried for Ellie because he was leaving her behind. But he was wrong; the tear had been cried for thousands of children, not just one.

  As he flew away from the giant ring fortress, a line of freighters approached it. In the darkness, they looked like a string of black beads that stretched all the way to the distant horizon. They were carrying children; thousands of children from refugee homes, who had been lured into the arcades by a lie. Instead of rushing home with their pockets full of money or vouchers for real food or clothes, they had left with an implant buried in their foreheads. A round metal disc attached to their brains by a fine wire that now controlled everything they did, except feel. They were unable to speak or move but inside they were tormented by fear and confusion.

  Mika was too tired to cry more than one tear, even though he felt like crying a river. He put his head back and closed his eyes, feeling weak and sick and wishing Ellie was coming home with him.

  * * *

  Half an hour later he opened his eyes to see London. He’d only ever seen it on television before and he was dazzled by its scale and beauty. The Golden Turrets shone like a heap of hot treasure on the horizon, bathing the night sky with a warm orange glow. Each turret was sliced into thousands of luxury apartments, and their lights twinkled like diamonds. All around on the air roads, pods whooshed towards the city like bees towards a hive, leaving trails of blue and gold light in their wake.

  ‘Lovely innit?’ the chauffeur said. ‘You’re a very lucky boy.’

  ‘Yes,’ Mika said, thoughtfully.

  They flew through the city and descended on the edge of New Hyde Park. The golden street, which formed a ring around it, was clean and wide and softly lit by lights set in the curbs. The people walking past were dressed for the night. Jewels glittered on their hands and their bodies were wrapped in cloaks of expensive fabrics that looked like fur, wool or silk.

  The chauffeur opened the door to let Mika out. Immediately he heard a strange sound.

  Boom. Boom.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked as his feet hit the pavement. It sounded like the heartbeat of an enormous beast, as if a dragon was sleeping beneath its treasure, instead of on top of it.

  Boom. Boom.

  ‘The Shadows,’ the chauffeur replied. ‘Haven’t you heard?’

  ‘No,’ Mika said. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘The mould is getting worse,’ the chauffeur replied grimly. ‘Hundreds of people are dying every day. And they say the government won’t help them because it’s cheaper to let them die.’

  Mika looked at the ground beneath his feet and shuddered. He’d just eaten dinner with several members of the Northern Government, and it didn’t surprise him at all that they’d do such an awful thing. He remembered how they’d gorged themselves while they’d stared at him with greedy eyes. Their light guttering, barely human, barely alive.

  ‘But the people in The Shadows won’t be ignored,’ the chauffeur said. ‘So they’re banging on the pillars holding up the Gold
en Turrets with huge steel balls on chains. All day and all night they swing them – one time for every person who’s died. It was driving people crazy up here when it started on Friday night, but apparently you get used to it.’

  Boom. Boom.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll get used to it,’ Mika said. He gazed at the pavement and tried to imagine what was below, all that darkness and water and millions of people trying to stay alive and balls on chains swinging against the pillars.

  ‘Creepy innit?’ the chauffeur said. ‘I’m glad I don’t live down there.’

  ‘So am I,’ Mika agreed.

  Boom. Boom.

  He looked at the people walking past. They were talking and laughing as if they couldn’t hear it. He watched a woman apply lipstick with a small gold mirror in one hand, and the boom vibrated through her red stiletto shoes.

  ‘When everyone moved behind The Wall,’ the chauffeur said, ‘we were all the same for a while, because we were united by tragedy and loss. But not any more, not since the Golden Turrets were built. It’s amazing how quickly people forget where they came from. But I suppose that’s the way it’s always been. Some people have nothing and others have everything. Anyway. Enough of politics. You’ve just won yourself a new home and I don’t want to make you feel bad about it. You make the most of it, lad. Just don’t forget where you came from.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Mika said, firmly.

  He watched the pod rise and loop up around the turrets before disappearing into the night sky. A full moon was hanging like a gong amongst them, huge and pale. It looked down on him as if it knew everything and Mika wished he felt the same.

  His turret was one of the biggest and most beautiful in the city and it towered over New Hyde Park like an elegant sculpture with a gently tapered dome at the top. The scale of it was breathtaking; the cylindrical base was the same size as their old refugee tower, but it was at least three times as tall and seemed to go up forever. His neck ached as he tried to look at the top of it.

  The curved apartments inside the turret had balconies and glass walls. Inside the ones near ground level, he could see rich people talking and laughing and this made him feel as if he was watching an advert on telly. The breeze picked up and blew a fine mist from the fountains in the park across his face. It felt fresh and smelled of perfume. By the doors were a pair of security guards in smart black uniforms, and they watched him with contempt as he walked up the shallow marble steps.