by Phil Hurst
“I’m not tagged,” she said. “But a few of my indiscretions may have happened after the amnesty.”
Fiona rummaged through a chest of drawers and found a green jumper. Fully dressed, she took her coat from the peg behind the door.
“My mother can help,” Sam suggested.
Fiona’s nose curled. “I don’t need her help,” she said.
Sam was stunned by the sudden determination she was showing. She dug around in a drawer and pulled out three different passports and slid one of them into her back pocket. She noticed him watching her. “What?”
Sam replied: “I didn’t know you had that many passports.”
“I’m prepared, Sam. It comes with age. Let’s go.”
She motioned for him to lead the way, and they left the backstage area and entered the auditorium. There was a spooky quality to the room in the silence of the middle of the night. Sam wondered how many people had died in the theatre in its 150-year history. Probably none through acts of violence, but perhaps there had been the odd heart attack or seizure.
Then his display began to ring again. Paige.
“There are people coming towards you.”
Sam put his free arm across Fiona to stop her moving.
“Unjudged?” he asked.
“They move like reckoners.”
“There are no reckoners in Cromer.”
“There are now,” Paige said. “I’m hiding near the box office at the end of the pier. Hurry up.”
“We’ll get around them.”
“Sam, they’re armed. Not just staffs. Guns.”
“We’ll get around them.”
Sam cut her off. He turned his display off to make sure it wouldn’t ring again and asked Fiona to do the same. She asked him what the problem was, and he told her.
“Reckoners?” Her demeanour changed. “I can’t get caught by the reckoners, Sam.”
Sam looked at her. She was a different woman to the one on stage, the one he spent his nights with. It worried him. It made him wonder what else she was hiding. “Come on.”
Sam changed direction, and they slipped out of the side fire exit. There was no alarm linked to the door. There was a sign that said there was, but both of them knew the owner had declared them pointless. He never clearly explained the rationale behind the decision, but both Sam and Fiona were both glad of it at that moment.
The fire escape opened out on to a thin walkway that hung off the edge of the pier and out to sea. This was the pier’s widest point. To their left was the end of the pier and the endless North Sea. To the right, a quarter of a mile away, were the cliffs and the lights of Cromer. Before they reached it, they’d have to sneak past the bar.
“There’s a ladder that way,” Sam whispered, although he could barely hear himself speak over the water below. “We could use it to get to the water and swim to shore.”
“I won’t last five minutes in that water,” Fiona replied. “We need to go along the pier.”
“No! The water—it’s safer,” Sam said.
The lights in the bar flickered and made their quest more difficult. The windows stretched around in a semi-circle as the pier met the auditorium, offering a clear view to anyone inside of the pier.
“You swim,” Fiona said. “I’ll be fine.”
Sam grabbed for her hand. “I’m not leaving you. We’ll sneak past them.” He stood next to the first window and tried to listen to the conversation inside but couldn’t hear anything other than a variety of muffled voices. He told to Fiona to get down on her knees, and without waiting for a response, he started crawling underneath the windows.
They both inched along the narrow ledge. He could hear the waves splashing against the supports of the pier. Sam knew this was risky. His swimming plan would have meant a smaller risk of capture. But he wasn’t leaving Fiona. He checked on her and saw her crawling after him.
He reached the end of the bar’s windows and sat up, bending one of his legs under the other. He held his hands out towards Fiona, who used them to pull herself towards him. He nodded to her and looked down the pier.
A familiar voice cut through the silence. “What the fuck are you two supposed to be?” Jules was walking towards them with a gun raised. “Stand up, would you?” Two other men walked out of the bar, both with guns. A fourth was still inside, crouched over the bar, working on something unseen. Fiona and Sam both obeyed orders.
“Well, that was poor timing,” Jules said, pointing his gun over their heads. “I have to search you. Spread your legs.”
“Jules,” Sam said. “What the fuck?”
“Legs,” Jules said.
Sam did as he was told, but couldn’t hide his surprise. When Jules had finished searching them both, he asked: “Are you a reckoner?”
“I…” he turned to the men behind him. “Chaps, give us a minute. Help Artur get things ready.”
“Fuck that,” one of them, a huge black man with arms thicker than Sam’s head, poked Sam with his gun. “I don’t trust them.”
“Consider it an order, Udan,” said Jules.
Udan snarled and lowered his weapon. “Come on, Wix,” he said. “Let’s get a beer.”
The door to the bar closed behind them. Jules’ shoulders dropped just a little as soon as the other reckoners were out of sight. He looked like the bored bartender again.
“This way,” he said and walked to the edge of the pier. He leaned on a railing and looked back at his two captives. He propped his elbows on to the uppermost barrier and let the gun swing loose from his fingers. He brought his free hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was covered in shadows as the men in the bar moved back and forth in front of the lights. Behind him, all Sam could see was the total darkness of the night sky.
Fiona looked towards Cromer, and Sam followed her gaze. Lights were starting to switch on in the windows of the hotels and guesthouses as people tried to get a handle on what was going on. Tiny shadows ran in and out of the houses as Unjudged and residents ran around. Sam placed a hand on hers and wrapped his fingers around into her palm. He had never seen her so agitated. Jules coughed, and Sam returned his attention to his friend.
“Don’t think about running,” said Jules. “You wouldn’t get away.”
“I wasn’t,” said Sam.
Jules nodded at Fiona: “But she is.”
“I thought you were Sam’s friend,” Fiona said.
“I am,” he said.
“You lied to me,” said Sam.
“I was undercover. Lying comes with the job.”
The other two were silent.
Jules used his gun to scratch his chest. “I’m not a bad guy.”
Fiona pointed through the windows. “They look like bad guys,” she said.
Sam looked into the bar. The man Jules had called Artur lifted a soul staff from a bag and was looking along it. It was a well-practiced exercise. The other two men were cleaning guns and checking their sights.
Jules ignored her comment. “I’m better at this than bartending.” He moved the gun to the back of his neck. “I check people’s attitudes. See what the likely opposition might be when the reckoning comes. I have to keep undercover because if people find out, then they tend to tell people. And then people with my job tend to get killed. It’s standard policy. I’ve done it all over the country. Wales, even.”
Sam looked up. “And what do people usually say when they find out?”
“Usually by the time they find out they have an implant. The reckoning has come and gone, and they see how much better things are.”
“And you move on.”
“Yep,” Jules straightened his back. He couldn’t stand still. “That’s the way these things work.”
“So what are you going to do with us?” Fiona asked.
“That depends how much trouble you are.”
“You won’t tag us?” Sam looked at Fiona as she asked. His eyes widened.
“But you’ve not got implants,” Jules wal
ked up to Fiona and put his face about six inches from hers. “At least Sam doesn’t.”
“We’ll be no trouble,” said Sam.
“I know,” Jules agreed. Sam didn’t like how close he was to Fiona.
Fiona scowled at Jules. Her face scrunched up. “I’m going,” she said. “Let me go.”
“Now why would I do that?” Jules said.
“You owe me,” Sam said.
“Fuck off do I,” Jules had switched his gaze to Sam as he answered, and Fiona took full advantage, shoving him backwards with all of her strength. Jules stumbled and dropped the gun. It skidded across the wooden boarding and lodged itself in one of the gaps between panels.
“What the fuck was that for?” he asked. Fiona was already running.
Unconcerned, Jules picked the gun up and checked it for damage. “She should have stayed here,” he told Sam.
“Were you planning on keeping us prisoner?” Sam asked.
“I can’t make anyone do anything. But if she’d stayed for just a few more moments, I’d have been able to tell her some important information.”
Jules walked slowly to the bar, watching Fiona the whole way. He opened the door and said something to those inside. They all nodded enthusiastically. He said something else, and they all shook their heads. Two of them, Wix and Udan, moved to the door and watched Fiona running.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” said Sam. “I’ll get her.”
“You had better be quick,” Jules said. “She’s nearly there.”
“Where?” Sam asked.
Jules didn’t have time to answer. Sam returned his attention to Fiona. She had covered a good distance already. He’d never seen her move so fast. His fascination over her speed vanished when he saw her trip on something. His first warning that something bad was going to happen was a gust of air that blew dust and debris into his eyes.
The pier in front of Fiona erupted into flames. The sea below was illuminated as night turned into day. The fireball pushed up, destroying the pier. Metal lampposts buckled in the heat, torn from mounts and hurled away. In dazzling speed, wooden planks were pulled up from the pier and scattered into the sky.
Fiona was thrown backwards by the shock wave of the blast. Sam had to shield his face from the explosion, but the second the flare of the light faded he scoured the pier for her. Near an old bench at the centre of the pier, he could see movement. There was a crunching noise and some of the pier fell away into the sea, burning brightly. A bitter smell drifted towards him.
White smoke floated into the air, reflecting the light from the remains of the pier that was continuing to burn after landing in the water. Smoke hovered between the two parts of the pier, as if it were consciously waiting for something before moving away. Small pieces of debris floated calmly down to earth, with their slow fall indicating none of the violence that had sent them on their journey into the sky.
Jules grabbed hold of Sam’s arm. “I have some important information for you,” he said.
Sam felt the muscles in his neck tense. A surge of power flew through his arms, and he shook Jules off with ease. He began to run towards Fiona. Jules shouted something, but he ignored him.
Paige
T he scrawled writing on the signs said “Seized by reckoners and secured against aggression. Do not cross.” The reckoners had put two of them up, one hanging over the end of the pier and one almost entirely blocking the turnstiles through which visitors usually entered. The posters were marked with the URC symbol, a circle with three lines crossing it horizontally, and three vertically. The symbol was all over London, attached to every other advertising board and every public display.
A metal grate covered the shop windows but she could still see through it to the auditorium and bar at the far end of the pier. Through the metal of the grating, the bright lights of the theatre shining on to its approach reminded Paige of a prison, not a seaside attraction.
Paige had been scouting the defences, looking for a way to get past them, when the explosion happened. She was protected from the blast by the buildings that surrounded where the pier was birthed from the land. Nevertheless, the wooden floor underneath her shook, and she almost lost her footing. A flame reached above the admissions booth, and she heard the creaking and moaning of the old pier following its injury. She stumbled, half falling, into the cover offered by a ticket office.
The world seemed to swim around her, and she lost focus.
She was back with Lana in East Runton after the altercation with the three Unjudged men. It seemed eerily prophetic now. Lana had fixed her display with some replacement parts that immediately heated it up. But it worked. She hadn’t given her car back, but she had let Paige get cleaned up (although they didn’t have any change of clothes, so she still looked like she had taken a bath in blood).
As she prepared to leave and walk to town, she had to ask, “Why are you letting me go?”
Lana leant on her pike and smiled. “You won’t join us.”
“I know your plan. I saw what you did. I could tell the reckoners.”
“There are no reckoners in Cromer. Only new soldiers in our fight against them,” Lana gestured behind her to the funeral pyre, which was still burning bright.
“The reckoning helps everyone,” Paige said.
“The reckoners you know in London are established, strong and unchallenged. Out here, if you see a reckoner, you should run,” Lana smiled knowingly. “They are unpredictable, at best.”
“And at worst?”
“Vicious.”
Paige began to walk away.
Lana said, “Those reckoners seemed pretty keen to catch up with you.”
Paige remembered watching the aftermath of her accident vanish into her rearview mirror. The letter through the door demanding she attend court. She walked a few steps. “I turn right at the end of the road, right?”
“You know the way, Paige,” Lana replied. Paige could feel her eyes on her back as she walked into the darkness. As she walked around the twisting road, the light from the fire faded into the distance, and she was again in the peace and quiet of the night-time countryside.
It was only once she thought herself far enough from Lana and her little army that she allowed herself to squat in the middle of the road and take several deep breaths. With each exhale the pressure in her chest lifted. She stayed like that for 15 minutes, breathing, convincing herself that she would be fine.
Her decision to join the Unjudged seemed foolhardy. She couldn’t imagine becoming one of their warriors. What was she thinking? She should have stayed in London, taken her punishment. At least there were rules in London. People didn’t just cut each other in half. She was at a loss at what to do, where to go. For the first time in her life, Paige felt completely lost. Then images of Sam flashed in front of her eyes. She steeled herself and stood.
It was a half-hour walk in the dark, but the only other option would have been to grab some crude weapon and follow the Unjudged along the railway line. Paige found herself wishing the line still had high-speed trains rushing back and forth, crushing the Unjudged to death. At least it would save the reckoners the bullets and The Store the space.
Entering Cromer along the coastal road seemed characteristically peaceful. Most of the houses were dark or lit by a flickering blue light of a display that someone had fallen asleep in front of. A couple of dogs barked at her, and a single cat ran across the road. Otherwise, she was the only living thing on the road.
She passed the Redbridge Caravan Park, surrounded by a mesh fence, and saw the empty play area that tourists’ kids used but local children were never, ever, allowed to play in. She remembered the night she and Sam had sneaked underneath the fence and spent a joyous 20 minutes playing on the pristine equipment before an old security guard had chased them off.
She missed Sam more than she realised when she was back in London. When they were growing up, he’d been a reason of much annoyance and embarrassment. When she visited from unive
rsity, he had matured. Intelligent conversations were possible.
The walk down towards the pier was full of memories. She remembered playing with Sam in that park, clambering over the rocks below as they looked for crabs and skimming stones into the never-ending sea. Paige understood why people stayed in the same place their entire life. She pushed the bad memories away and concentrated on the good. To live in a place that held a choice of memory would be idyllic. And Cromer held good memories for her.
She stepped up her pace. The Unjudged would be at the railway station now. Confirming her thought, the sound of gunfire echoed towards her. She heard people shouting in the distance, and lights started turning on in the houses around her.
Lana was confident most people would want to join the Unjudged—that thousands would be recruited to their cause. Paige wasn’t so sure. The reckoning had been coming for a long time. Most people were used to the idea of it. People in Cromer rarely changed their minds. That was one of the reasons she left.
As the light of the explosion faded, she looked up the cliff and saw the windows of the Hotel de Paris shimmering. Dozens of tiny fires reflected in the windows and then vanished. Her ears began to ring as the noise of the explosion died away. The windows of the hotel started to light up as residents woke. She could imagine the confusion inside the hotel as guests ran about in pyjamas and dressing gowns, looking out of the windows to see the devastation and desperately trying to understand what was going on.
The partial destruction of the pier ended any romanticism she held for the Unjudged’s cause and plunged her in deeper desperation. The destruction of the pier would leave a scar on the community that would haunt it for decades regardless of who ended up in control of the town. The reckoners were being pushed to desperate measures by an enemy that surely knew it was doomed to failure.
A large piece of debris hit the concrete pavement in front of her, shedding sparks across the floor before burning out.
When Paige was certain the fire had gone out, she looked back towards the pier. Through the smoke, she could see an older woman sat on the edge of the damaged pier facing away from her. The woman was missing an arm but had somehow managed to sit herself up. Her whole body shuddered, and she let out a blood-curdling scream. As if reacting to the noise, the pier groaned and another section gave way, dropping the woman into the water below.
