by A J Rushby
I want to vomit. We’re seriously going to play hide and seek. Well, they can count me out of their little game.
Marcus and Lauren get up and Lauren takes herself to the corner of the room, crouching down, half hidden by the entertainment unit.
‘Miri?’ Marcus says, his hand on the light switch.
‘I’m fine right here,’ I say churlishly.
Marcus says nothing and turns the lights out. I hear him cross the kitchen area. It sounds like he’s somewhere near the fridge.
It’s pitch black.
‘Okay, Andrew!’ Marcus calls out.
The door opens then and I hear Andrew enter. He sighs. ‘Miri’s at the table.’
‘Surprise,’ I deadpan.
‘I think that’s Lauren by the entertainment unit and Marcus is beside the fridge.’
Still standing in the doorway, Andrew flicks the lights back on. He reaches up and turns his camera off and then opens his eyes.
When he opens them, he’s staring straight at me.
After the meeting, Lauren is busy discussing something with Marcus, so I take the opportunity to catch Andrew on his way out of the door. ‘You don’t have to experiment on the fifth student.’ I get straight to the point.
‘I know,’ he says. But he doesn’t look anything close to certain.
‘Do you really?’ I try again. If things had been different and Lauren had sided with Steen and myself, Andrew never would have agreed to experiment on the fifth student. I just know it.
He shrugs. ‘Look, it’s like Lauren’s said. We’ll never get this opportunity again.’
‘There’s a reason for that, you know.’
‘I know it’s not really above board, but neither’s what we were doing before …’
I drop my voice to a whisper. ‘How can you trust the Society? If they’ll do this, what else will they do? Can’t you see how they might use your research? Imagine the military implications of what you’ve just shown us. Can’t you see that the Society will take monetary advantage of that?’
Another shrug.
I shake my head. How can he just shrug this off? I want to shake him. Or get him to help me contact the outside world. Or both. But I can’t ask him. I can’t trust him.
I go to walk away, but Andrew catches my arm. ‘You’re crazy, you know that? You can’t just throw something like this back in the Society’s face. The Society … it can take you anywhere you want to go.’
I wrench my arm back and give him a long look before I use the exact words Steen had said to me once. ‘I guess that all depends on where you want to be, doesn’t it?’
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THREE HOURS AWAKE
I go back to my room and sit, facing the lab door, waiting for my next round of testing to begin. Every so often I get up and check that the blue scrubs, cap, mask and ID card are still where they’re meant to be.
I decide I’ll go and see Steen when my next round of testing is completed—in the gap between midnight and one in the morning, when I’m quite sure everything will be completely quiet. If I see him now, I’ll just blurt everything out, and anyway, he’s probably still sleeping after his operation.
By the time my nine o’clock testing starts, I’m truly on edge and pacing the lab. It’s only when Thing One and Thing Two arrive with my dinner on a plate that my stomach growls, telling me how hungry I am.
‘Take a moment,’ Thing Two tells me. ‘Eat.’ He passes me the plate and some cutlery and stands over me.
I glance up at Thing One, standing behind him, who takes off her distinctive glasses with their rectangular-shaped frames and places them on the bench, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
‘Okay,’ I say, taking off the foil.
I spoon in a couple of mouthfuls of chicken pasta before I notice he’s still watching me. I begin to slow down while my thoughts do the opposite and speed up. Before too long, I stop eating altogether. The pasta has a strange taste to it. I sit quite still and tell myself not to look up in case Thing Two notices anything. Which causes me to stare at the bin near his feet, which reminds me of Lauren’s bin in her room and how she hadn’t been logging all of her discards. All those half-full syringes of anaesthetic.
I place my fork on my plate and slide it onto the bench. ‘It’s a bit … stodgy,’ I say, still not quite meeting Thing Two’s eye.
‘You don’t want any more?’ he asks.
What does that mean? That he wants me to finish it? That I have to? Has he been talking to Marcus about my decision not to experiment on the fifth student? I get up and grab a bottle of water, surreptitiously checking it’s sealed before I open it and take a swig. ‘No,’ I finally answer. ‘I’m not that hungry.’
He watches me closely. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Everything’s fine. Really. I’m just eating way too much down here.’
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Thing One replies. ‘Shall we get started?’
‘Sounds good,’ I say. My gaze stays on her glasses on the bench.
As it happens, Thing One doesn’t reach for her glasses during the first hour of testing. Or the second hour. When we’re almost done, I take my chance. Getting off the treadmill, I pass by the bench, pick them up and slip them inside a half empty paper towel dispenser that’s lying nearby.
I feel bad, but know I can make them reappear in the lab later on. Right now, I need them more than she does.
It takes Thing One and Thing Two about twenty minutes to input all their data and then, finally, they’re ready to leave. ‘We’ll see you in the morning,’ Thing Two says, as they both head for the door.
‘Oh, wait. My glasses.’ Thing One pauses, her hand to her head. ‘Where did I put them?’ Her eyes scan the bench tops.
‘I don’t think you’ve been wearing them,’ I lie.
‘Miri’s right. You haven’t been wearing them tonight,’ Thing Two agrees with me. ‘I noticed that before. You mustn’t have brought them with you.’
Thing One sighs and shakes her head. ‘I really need to give up and invest in one of those old lady chains and hang them around my neck. I’m always forgetting them or putting them down somewhere. Anyway, we’ll see you at nine tomorrow.’ With a wave, they’re both gone.
Phew.
I give her a few minutes to return and tell me the glasses aren’t in her room, but she doesn’t come back. Then I take them out of the paper towel dispenser and stick them in my bedside drawer along with the ID card. I check that the blue scrubs and accompanying items are still under the mattress.
For the millionth time.
I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this. When I got on that plane for Vienna, not in my wildest dreams would I have expected my time here to end like this. Stealing ID cards and medical supplies and glasses. Outing the Society.
But then again, I also didn’t expect to see Steen, or think that Ryan would die and then the Society would decide his body was theirs to do with as they pleased.
When I really believe there’s no chance Thing One is coming back, I get up and head out into the corridor. My lab door is just swishing closed behind me when I see the nurse disappearing around the bend in the corridor.
‘Hey!’ I call out to her, running up to meet her.
She comes back around the corner. It’s the same nurse as before. The one who had been looking after Steen in recovery.
‘How’s Steen going?’ I ask.
‘Good,’ she answers me. ‘His blood pressure’s come down a little. He’s on three-hourly obs now.’
‘Can I see him?’
She pauses, looks up and down the corridor. ‘I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll let you in. Just for a moment though.’
‘Thanks. That’s really nice of you,’ I tell her as I follow her back down the corridor to Steen’s lab.
She swipes her card and we both enter, though she stands just inside the door while I cross the lab into Steen’s bedroom.
I approach the bed, keeping my back to the door so that
the nurse’s view is obscured. Even in the dim light, I can see that she’s right—he does look a bit better. And peaceful, too. He’s asleep and free from pain, though he’ll undoubtedly have some when he wakes up again. My knees suddenly feeling weak at the thought of what I’m about to do all on my own—without him—I sit down on the side of the bed.
I can hear the nurse behind me, pottering about the lab, and I don’t dare to speak to Steen about what I’m about to do. Or touch him too much. I’m not supposed to know him in that way. To care so much.
What I really want to do is curl up in bed beside him and hold him.
That’s not going to happen.
So instead I continue to sit. And, somehow, just having him beside me, warm and all right, is enough to make me believe I can do this and to remember why I have to.
For Ryan.
For my mother.
For all the others the Society has wronged.
But most of all …
For us.
It takes me only minutes to get ready. In my bathroom, I remove my cannula, which I’ll have to say I pulled out accidentally somehow when I return. Maybe catching it on the arm of the treadmill, which sounds like a plausible excuse. Then I pull on the white long-sleeved T-shirt I’d been wearing when I arrived, which helps to cover up a lot of the wires. I know I can’t take them off, or alarms will ring all over the place. That done, I put the blue scrubs on over the top of the T-shirt. I pull my hair up into a high bun like Thing One tends to wear and cover it as best as I can with the cap, because my hair is lighter than hers. I put Ryan’s ID card in my pocket and then turn my own ID card around, as if I’ve put it on without realising it’s facing the wrong direction. Then I put her glasses on.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
I wouldn’t pass up close, but from a distance I could be her. Same weight, same height, but mainly because of the distinctive glasses.
Turning away from the mirror, I go over and lie down on my bed and close my eyes. I attempt to visualise what I’m about to do—walk up the corridor, turn left, take the few steps to the medical and support staff door, swipe Ryan’s card, enter, find a phone, call Emily. I even speak out the number I’ll have to call and go through what I’m going to say.
I then run through all the bad things that might happen. I’m seen, someone notices my ID card is the wrong way around, Thing One is still awake and walking around, Ryan’s ID card has been cancelled or its unauthorised use is noted.
But there’s not much I can do about any of those things. I’ll just have to deal with them as they come. Take my chances.
So, without hesitating a second longer, I open my eyes and stand.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE HOURS AWAKE
My heart beating like crazy, I make my way up the corridor, turn left and duck into the meals and recreation area. Like Lauren said, I don’t think anyone’s watching us very hard, but just in case they are, I don’t want to attract their attention.
After a moment or two, I reach into my pocket and pull out Ryan’s ID card. Then I take a deep breath, walk the few more steps needed to reach the door to the medical and support staff zone and swipe the card.
Just like that, the doors slide open.
For a moment, I stand there, dumbfounded—surprised I’ve even got this far—then I move into action, stepping through the doors, which close swiftly behind me.
Inside, all is quiet, except for the thumping in my chest. I turn my head to the left and to the right, looking up and down the corridor that runs both ways.
Okay, now what?
For a start, I’ve got to calm down. I take a deep breath and, at the same time, reach up with my right hand. I try carotid pressure, massaging at a spot just beneath my jaw which will hopefully slow my pulse a little. I think it’s working. Or it is until I hear a noise to my right. It sounds like a TV. Maybe the support staff recreation area?
Slowly I start up the corridor towards the sound. If anyone’s still up, I want to know about it. The noise gets louder as I go, and when I get to the end, I stick my head quickly around the corner. No one in sight. There’s definitely a recreation area though, tucked in on the left. Most likely similar to ours. I also smell food. I think the kitchen must be further up this way.
My head still around the corner, I can hear not just the TV now, but voices as well. I inch forward, holding my breath, listening carefully.
‘Andrew …’ the voice says. ‘Proposal … Ryan—or Matthew, rather … gather everyone …’
I catch only every few words. It’s not Marcus, that’s for sure. It’s an older man with a gravelly voice. And I can’t hear anyone else, so whoever it is must be on the phone.
A scrape of a chair inside the room makes me jump, and I whip my head back around the corner. I freeze, waiting for someone to appear, but no one comes.
A phone. I’ve got to find a phone.
I head back down the corridor again, checking out the rooms. The doors are similar to the one on my lab, but the rooms are obviously smaller—the doors much closer together. They’re numbered, and a swipe card is needed to enter all of them. To me, they look like bedrooms, and I’m hesitant to swipe Ryan’s ID card again because I’m not sure it will work and also because someone might be inside, considering the time of night.
I glance further down the corridor and spot a different-looking door on the corner. This door has a handle and is made of an opaque glass. It looks like an office.
I walk swiftly towards it and peer inside. I can’t see any movement, so I try the handle.
It opens.
Taking another deep breath, I enter, closing the door behind me with a click.
I was right—it is an office. A very normal-looking office. There are two desks on opposite sides of the room as well as a computer, a printer, a photocopy machine and so on.
And a phone. Actually, make that two cordless phones. One on each desk.
I run over the carpeted floor, grab one phone and then the other. I pull out one of the swivel chairs and sit down on it, my back to the door. I grab the first phone and dial Emily’s number as fast as I can. Then I take the other phone and call my dad. ‘Come on, come on, come on …’ I mutter as there’s a pause while the numbers register. ‘Come on …’. It’s only eight or nine o’clock at night for them. One of them has to be around.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, one of the phones begins ringing.
‘Call me if you need me’, Emily had said. Now I attempt to send her a telepathic message, despite the fact that I believe in no such thing. I need you and it would be VERY HELFPUL IF YOU WOULD PICK UP RIGHT NOW. My hands are clammy against the phone. I close my eyes. Come on, I think. Pick up. One of you pick up.
My dad’s phone switches to voicemail. I groan, hang up and press redial. I know he’s home.
‘Hello?’ Emily’s voice answers.
I almost drop the phone.
‘Hello?’ she says again. Wherever she is, it’s noisy. It sounds like a restaurant.
‘Emily,’ I whisper, my voice urgent. ‘Emily, it’s me. Listen—’
Emily butts in. ‘Miri! I was just thinking about you. How’s the—’
‘You need to listen to me,’ I say, speaking over the top of her. ‘I didn’t go to Frankfurt. I’m in Denmark. Close to Helsingor. I’m at this … bunker. I’m involved in some research and it’s gone badly. Very badly. I need to speak to your parents. I need some journalists to get the word out about what’s going on here and—’
‘Are you drunk?’ Emily cuts in. ‘Is this one of those weird drinking games where you have to get a friend to believe something strange?’ She laughs.
‘No. Listen! You have to listen to me.’
‘It is, isn’t it? Come on, it’s got to be like two or three in the morning there or something. Have you gone wild without me? Hang on, I’m going to move out onto the balcony. I can barely hear you.’
I start to panic. ‘Emily, I’m serious. I need
your help.’ I remember something then. ‘Gingerbread,’ I blurt out, as a sound comes from the phone in my other hand. ‘Gingerbread, gingerbread, gingerbread.’ Thinking the sound I’ve heard is voicemail again, I’m about to press end once more and redial when I realise it’s my dad.
He’s answered the phone.
Of course he has. Of course he’d be there when I need him. Even if I don’t deserve it. Even if I didn’t listen to him when he tried to give me advice. Because I knew it all, didn’t I?
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. My hand grips the phone so tightly I think I might crush it.
‘Hello?’
I try to get a word out, but only choke.
‘Hello?’ His voice becomes more insistent. There’s a pause. ‘Miri?’ he says, his voice suddenly urgent. ‘Miri, is that you?’ He sounds worried now. I hear movement, like he’s got up from his desk. ‘Miri?’
‘It’s me,’ I say breathlessly. ‘It’s me. I’m in the bunker and I …’ I feel dizzy again. I can’t remember exactly what I’m supposed to say.
‘Miri! Take it slowly. What’s going on?’
‘There was a journalist. In Argentina. There was a car accident. And that day, in London, we were being followed. I mean, I was. There was a man on the train. Then in the restaurant.’ I stop myself. That’s not right. That’s not what I’m supposed to say. And I’ve only just remembered that—about the man on the train.
‘Miri,’ my dad says slowly. ‘What drugs are you on? Is someone watching you?’
Noises start to come from Emily’s phone, but I ignore them, concentrating on my dad. I try to organise my thoughts.
‘It’s all gone wrong. I understand now why you got out. They’re trying to make us experiment on someone else and—’ I stop dead as I hear something. ‘Shhh … be quiet …’
I hear another movement outside the door and bring my hand up over my mouth.
‘Hello?’ a voice outside in the corridor says. ‘Marcus?’
I don’t answer.
Meanwhile, Emily’s voice changes as it exits the other phone, coming in short staccato bursts, but I can’t answer her, or even listen to what she’s saying—I’m so focused on the office door, which clicks and begins to open.
