Renegade (21 page)

‘Yes.’

‘No harm done then. Anyway, what happened?’

Pietra is separating out a piece of hair: ‘We did what you said. I went to the town hall and waited in the shadows. At the time you said, I moved into the middle of the square where the
moon was brightest. Imrin shouts, “It’s her, there’s Silver Blackthorn”, and I swish my head around to let everyone see the chalk streak. As soon as someone else started
shouting, I ran for it.’

‘Did you remember the route okay?’

‘You made me go through it enough.’

I pull her hair apart and wipe away the remaining spots of chalk, before telling her she is clean again and climbing beneath the blankets.

‘Were there any hiccups?’

Pietra shakes her head. ‘No, it was all twists and turns for that first bit and I didn’t stop running until I got past the trees. I heard a few people passing by but I had such a
good head start that no one got anywhere near me.’

I squeeze her on the knee and then nod towards Imrin. ‘Brilliant. What about you?’

‘I didn’t have to do much. As soon as that first guy saw Pietra, there was a ripple around the town. After about a minute, there were Kingsmen everywhere.’

‘Didn’t you run for it straight away?’

He shakes his head, even though that was the plan. ‘No one was looking at me anyway – but there was one thing. Apart from the Kingsmen, there weren’t that many people out but
the ones that were, well . . . they’re crazy.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘This one guy, he was pointing towards the back of the town hall and telling the Kingsmen you’d gone that way. Then another woman was swearing blind you’d gone in the opposite
direction. If it had been you, you’d have got away anyway. The Kingsmen didn’t have a clue.’

I can’t help but grin as an enormous feeling of satisfaction grips me. The people of Martindale have known me my entire life and haven’t given up on me – just as Hart’s
father said. They don’t know if I tried to kill the King but, if I did, they presume I had good reason. I love the idea of the Kingsmen being sent one way and then the other, not knowing I
was standing behind them the whole time.

I shuffle into the middle of the semi-circle so that I have everyone’s attention and point to the other end of the town. ‘On the far side of those woods is a lake,’ I explain.
‘I call it the gully. At some point, all of the water was drained, making it one giant pit in the ground. After that, the authorities started bringing everyone’s rubbish here. It is
full of old electrical items that no longer work – mostly from before the war. It’s massive, many times bigger than this field, but at the centre are most of the bigger objects, like
old cars and scrap metal. My mother and brother are hiding there.’

‘Shall we go?’ Imrin asks, already removing the blanket.

I shake my head. ‘There are all sorts of sharp edges and broken things in there. It’s not worth any of us hurting ourselves in the dark.’ As I glance towards Hart, wanting to
make a joke, I see his eyes flicker sideways towards Pietra. ‘What?’ I ask.

Hart looks down at the ground, so Pietra replies. ‘His arm might be infected. I’ve been doing my best but we’re out of ointment. There’s a thin line of pus just inside
the wound. I’ve been cleaning it each day and squeezing the rest out but someone who knows what they’re doing needs to look at it.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

Hart doesn’t reply but Pietra does. ‘He wanted to see his family. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

‘There’s a doctor in town,’ I reply. ‘We could have sneaked him in.’

Hart cuts across me. ‘I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger. It feels fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

He lifts his arm and rotates it, as if to prove a point. ‘Look.’

I’m not convinced but there is no point in arguing. ‘Let’s get a bit of sleep. We’ll head out an hour before sunrise, so we should be at the edge of the lake just as
it’s getting light.’

* * *

My plan would have been perfect except for one thing. I am woken up by the gentle drumbeat of rain after barely two hours of sleep. When I think of Martindale, I think of the
drizzle tinkling around me as I shelter in the woods. This isn’t just a gentle shower though. Within minutes, the skies open in an apparent attempt to wash us all from the face of the
planet.

There is little point in doing anything other than heading towards the gully, which Imrin jokes will be refilled if it continues to rain like this. If I could breathe anything other than
rainwater, I might have laughed.

In single file, we traipse around the silent village, sheltering under blankets, clothes, bags and anything else we can find. The only comfort I have is that I cannot see any of the Kingsmen
duos walking around the village hoping to find me. It seems they don’t like the rain either.

As we reach the woods, I feel a phenomenal sense of being home. I smooth my hands along the tree bark, pluck the leaves and listen for the snap of the twigs or the scurry of an animal trying to
shelter from the conditions. Even the rain feels as if it is right here. I want to run, to climb, to cover myself in mud and then dash home and let my mother clean me up again.

My enthusiasm is tempered as everyone else is thoroughly miserable – not that I can blame them. The water is everywhere, rain running down my forehead into my eyes as I try to lead the
way. I can feel it dripping from my nose, running down my back, squelching into my shoes.

At the edge of the forest, I look around for the others but can see nothing but vague silhouettes walking beside me through the gloom of the night and the storm.

The first part of the gully drops down steeply. I am used to each ridge and handhold but these have all been washed into one large hill of mud. Instead of heading along the route I know best, we
continue to walk around the crater, looking for a place where we can descend without sliding perilously towards the mounds of rubbish. We are just over a quarter of the way around when I spot the
chassis of a train carriage lying on its side. I have never seen it before, although this is the first time I have walked this far around the pit and really examined its contents. Usually I would
head towards the centre, hunting for small parts I could salvage. The train carriage is so enormous that I cannot begin to guess how they managed to dump it here. I slide down the bank and land
with a thump on the thick metal. There is no way I’m going to keep my footing, so I sit in a puddle and use my hands to pull myself along until I reach a door that is hanging inwards. After
checking that everyone else is following, I lower myself through the gap and drop into the carriage, landing awkwardly on the broken remains of a cushioned chair.

Despite the difficult journey to get here and the endless rat-a-tat-tat of rain on metal, this is the most secure structure in which we have tried to sleep since leaving the castle.

We try our best to dry out but much of what we are wearing feels more liquid than solid. None of us sleep; instead we sit around talking as the monsoon finally slows to a stop just as the sun
begins to signal the start of a new day.

We share out the dry clothes we have, making ourselves as comfortable as we can be, and then, through a combination of piggybacks and stretching, lift each other out of the compartment. Slowly,
I lead the way across the sea of discarded junk. I tell the others to follow my footsteps, crunching across various pieces of electrical debris until the path begins to dip down and I find myself
in a more familiar area.

As we get closer to the centre, the rubbish is more spread out but everything is larger, with cliffs of old fridges piled alongside the husks of vehicles. It looks rickety but the trail is
surprisingly straightforward as we bound across the cars until we reach the bottom of the gully and find a route along the natural bowl. With soil under our feet again, the towering wreck of
rubbish soaring above us is almost as impressive as the towers of Middle England. Under both structures I feel tiny as I skip my way around another pile of metal until I emerge into a clearing.

As soon as Mayall told me my family was in the gully, this is the spot where I knew they would be. I have been here once before and as I stride towards a pile of cars that have fallen into a
pyramid-type structure, the first face I see walking towards us belongs to the person I was with when I first found this spot.

He runs towards me, calling my name, arms outstretched as the rest of our families emerge from the improvised tepee behind him. As he reaches me, he wraps his arms around me, lifting me from the
ground as if I am a rag doll.

‘I knew I’d see you again,’ he says, spinning me around.

‘It’s great to see you too,’ I reply, as Opie places me on the ground next to Imrin.

Pietra, Jela, Faith and Hart stand and stare as Imrin looks quizzically at Opie, whose eyebrows are raised and nose is wrinkled as he stares down at me, wondering why I
don’t seem more pleased to see him.

‘It’s getting long,’ I say, pointing towards the dark beard which has grown on his chin. When I left it was a few wiry spikes but it is as if he has changed from boy to man in
the few months since I last saw him. As I have wasted away through hunger and non-stop exercise, he has grown bigger. I recognise the cream T-shirt he is wearing but it fits him in a way it never
did before, bulging across his upper arms and chest.

Opie runs his finger along his chin, smiling. ‘It’s good for keeping you warm out here.’

Over his shoulder, I see my way out. My mother is standing in the gap at the front of the shelter, hair even greyer than when I last saw her, looking tired as she wipes her hands on her skirt
and grinning as Colt stands next to her, staring open-mouthed.

‘I’ve got to go,’ I say, striding past Opie and leaving the others. There are members of Opie’s family but I only have eyes for mine as I bound forward and embrace my
mum, wrapping my arms around her and bursting into tears. I feel Colt clinging to my leg but the only words I hear are hers, telling me how she thought she would never see me again.

I don’t know how much time passes until she releases me but it’s not long enough. She looks me up and down, licking her thumb and wiping something away from my cheek.
‘You’re so thin,’ she says, stating the obvious. ‘But you’ve got taller.’

‘I haven’t, Mum.’

‘Don’t argue with your mother. I say you have and you have.’

It’s nice to be back.

I crouch and give Colt a proper hug, going through the motions of telling him how grown-up he seems and asking if he’s been looking after Mum for me. He has got a bit taller and his hair
has grown out more. He tugs at it, staring at me as if I’m a ghost. He seems happy that I’m back and then, sheepishly, asks if he can go and play. Just behind him, I see one of
Opie’s brothers, Eli, watching us. As soon as I look towards him he glances away.

‘Hello, Eli,’ I say and he reluctantly acknowledges me. I laugh and tell Colt he can go and have fun. I didn’t find this place until I was older but this is a perfect
playground for a ten-year-old.

As I am about to stand, I feel something clatter into my side. The force knocks me sideways, leaving me flat on my back staring up at the blue of the sky. Imp is suddenly on top of me, looking
more like his eldest brother than ever, even if his eyes are green in contrast to the piercing blue of Opie’s and the rest of his brothers’. Imp has let his hair grow out slightly too,
as if there are no scissors in the entirety of this place, so it is the same flopping mass of blond that his brothers have. There is something about Opie’s smile which never seems natural. If
you tell a joke, you can’t be sure he has got it because his eyes rarely match his lips, as if his face cannot work as one to convey what he is thinking. It’s one of the things I find
wonderful about him; that half-look of confusion before he starts to grin. Imp is completely different; with smiles and an expression of adventure permanent features on his face. Now, his
cheekbones seem a little higher, his skin slightly darker and his eyes are perhaps more turquoise than green.

Like the other Cotton brothers he is becoming a mini-Opie.

He straddles my stomach and punches me in the shoulder. It only hurts a little but I’m still strong enough to teach him a lesson. I feign twisting one way and jolt back the other before he
has time to adjust his knees. It sends him flying into the dirt and I leap onto him before he can react, using the biggest weapon I have in my armoury – the one that always wins a fight.

Basically, I cheat.

I stretch my fingers underneath his top and start tickling him just above his hips. He squirms and squeals, screeching and shouting with joy. I hear him saying ‘stop’ but he has no
chance.

‘Do you give up?’ I ask.

A grin. He is enjoying it. ‘No.’

More tickling. He writhes so much that he rolls onto his back, giving me more areas to target.

He is out of breath, panting and crying. ‘Do you give up?’

‘Yes!’ he shouts. I can’t stop laughing myself as I roll off and lie next to him on the floor. He twists over until we are next to each other, backs in the dirt, staring up at
the sky.

I don’t know what it is about him but even though he is only seven, there’s no one I have more fun with than Imp. ‘I’ve missed you, mate,’ I say.

‘I didn’t miss you.’

‘Oh, yes you did. I can tell. You missed my tickles, didn’t you?’

‘No.’

‘I suppose you won’t want your present if you didn’t miss me.’

‘What present?’

‘I’ve been away all this time – you didn’t think I’d come back empty-handed, did you?’

‘What is it?’

I shift onto my front so I can see Imp properly. His curious eyes are staring into mine, trying to figure out if I’m lying. ‘It doesn’t matter now. If you didn’t miss me,
I’ll probably give it to someone else. Felix might want it, or perhaps I’ll keep it.’

‘No, no . . . I missed you more than Felix.’

Felix, the middle brother, is chasing around the edge of the clearing with Eli and Colt. Samuel, the next eldest after Opie, is talking to his father, Evan, close to the shelter. There are
Cotton family members everywhere.