Resurgence (26 page)

Gradually I move away, allowing her to slide towards the wall. ‘I still don’t think you should move.’

‘Okay.’

‘Do you remember what happened?’

She stretches out her other hand, opening and closing her fist as if to make sure her fingers are still working. The transformation is astonishing. ‘They came at night.’

‘Who did?’

‘Kingsmen. More than I have ever seen – an army. They came through the hatch, so they must have seen someone come through it or leave. There were so many. I remember the noise, the
“thump, thump, thump” of their feet. At first I didn’t know what it was, I was in bed. Then the screaming started.’

‘Who was screaming?’

‘Everyone. I went to get the children but the Kingsmen were already there. They had swords, knives, bats, cameras, everything.’

‘Cameras?’

She nods. ‘And lights. They filmed the whole thing. I think they were showing it live because one of them said something about it looking good for the people at home.’

I look to Opie, who is shaking his head in disbelief.

‘We’ll find everyone you have had any contact with, even just a sideways glance. Their blood will be on your hands.’

Did the King know this was where I had been hiding, or did they do this anyway?

‘Did they ask you to surrender?’

Gwen shakes her head. ‘People were standing with their hands up, some were on their knees, saying they gave up, but there was no mercy. They were cutting, killing, moving on to the next
person.’

‘The women too?’

‘And the children.’

I don’t want to be able to picture it but cannot think of anything else. Such ruthless, unnecessary barbarism.

‘How did you survive?’

Gwen sobs but starts to cough, her throat heaving again. I rub her back but she is desperate to answer. ‘I hid . . . When I saw what they were doing to the children, my first thought was
to get them out, but they were all the way up the stairs. Vez was there, trying to lead the kids to safety above ground. A few followed but the Kingsmen knew what they were doing. The one in charge
was sending them all back down here. When I saw that, I ran. I could hear everything behind me and dived into this cabinet. They must not have seen me because no one came after me.’

‘What happened then?’

‘There was one huge bang, then another. The lights went off and then things were falling, like the ceiling was collapsing. It was so loud and went on for ages. It was dark and then there
was this pain in my chest. I must have blacked out. When I woke up it was quiet and I couldn’t see anything. I thought I was dead until I heard your voice.’

I push the crusty hair away from my face, taking a moment to breathe, to think, and then ask my final question, the one I’ve been dreading. ‘Do you know what happened to the medical
bay?’

I’m thinking of Imrin.

Gwen coughs gently but nods. It takes her a few moments to catch her breath. It’s agonising amounts of time until she finally replies. ‘That’s where they started the
fire.’

After everything we’ve been through, this is it. Those nights Imrin and I spent plotting in the passageway next to the girls’ dormitory, walking from one end of the
country to the other, rescuing him from under the King’s nose. But my most vivid memory of Imrin is of him telling me about the tortoise and the hare. I didn’t understand the symbolism
of the story at the time, taking it too literally. I didn’t get how the slow, plodding shelled creature could beat the hare in a race. Hares were hard to catch, the tortoise simply trudged
from one spot to the next, eating leaves.

Did I ever truly listen to the story?

He told me to take my time and make sure I got things right in the end. Winning the small battles counts for nothing if you lose when it really matters. I certainly haven’t picked the
little battles; returning to Windsor Castle, escaping the North Tower twice, marching into the centre of Oxford and out again. Everything I have done recently has been without Imrin, without that
whisper in my ear telling me if I am making a mistake. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he’d had his say?

Opie pulls me towards him. ‘Hey, we’ve not found a body,’ he says.

‘I know.’

I try to act as if I am not defeated but I’m kidding nobody, least of all myself.

Hart and Knave clamber to their feet, saying they are going to look for other survivors. Gentle footsteps echo towards us as Pietra and Jela round the corner with one of the younger Offerings.
His eyes are wide with fear as he runs to me, hugging me tight around the waist. I don’t know his name.

‘We found him outside,’ Pietra says. ‘He was hiding in the field, watching us from under the hedge. He wanted to make sure there weren’t any other Kingsmen.’

‘Did anyone else get out?’ I ask, but he shakes his head. He is only twelve or thirteen and stares at me with deep brown dinner-plate eyes. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Ben.’

‘Do you know how to whistle, Ben?’

‘My mum tells me not to.’

I’m not sure why, but I find that funny, wiping my forehead wearily as I laugh and cough, trying to reassure him. ‘How about if I give you permission to whistle?’

‘Okay.’

‘Show me.’ He puts two fingers into his mouth and lets out a sharp, high-pitched screech. I start to cover my ears but he stops with a grin.

‘Can you do something for me?’

He nods enthusiastically.

‘Can you go back outside and find a spot nearby where you feel comfortable. If you see anyone –
anyone
– you whistle as loud as you can and then you run and hide. Head
for the trees if you can. Is that okay, do you think you can be our lookout?’

Ben nods, gives me one further squeeze and then heads back past Pietra towards the hatch.

I turn to everyone who’s left. ‘Let’s dig.’

Pietra stays to care for Gwen and I head towards the corridor close to the hatch that leads to the medical area. The tunnel still smells of burning and a thin mist of smoke is creeping along the
roof. At first I think there is no way through the rubble, but Knave takes control, spurred on by finding Gwen and the blistering fury at what has happened to his community.

Large parts of the walls and ceiling have collapsed, creating a barrier of debris that stretches almost from the floor to the roof. We start at the top of the pile where the smoke is seeping
through, working one at a time to pull free handfuls of wreckage that are passed from Opie to Knave to Hart to Jela to me and out of the way. Knave has us set up as one efficient unit, working
until the person at the top stops for a rest and then swapping to the next. Before long, we have cleared half of the stack, enough for all of us to clamber through into the next section. The smoke
in this area is thick at first but disperses quickly because of the larger gap we have created. Methodically we work through wall after wall, pulling away twisted pieces of metal, rough shards of
brick and glass and handfuls of plaster.

As Hart stops for a breath, I take my place at the head of the line, lifting out a sharp piece of wood and passing it to Opie, who turns to give it to Knave.

My eyes are caught by the flickering light at the other end of the corridor. I turn to reach for something else but then my head is spinning. A grey fog clogs the edge of my vision and closes in
too quickly for me to blink it away.

The next thing I know, Opie is standing over me, stroking my face and saying my name. The rough edges of the stones are underneath me and when I try to push myself up, my arms won’t obey.
I feel empty, my eyes closing again as I fight desperately to stop them. It is like they aren’t under my control any more. I can hear people saying my name: Opie, Knave, Hart, Jela, but I am
floating up to the ceiling, watching my limp body collapsed on the pile of wreckage. They are pawing at me, touching my face, my arms, my hands, but I cannot sense any of it. I wonder if I should
be feeling pain because the only sensation I have is satisfaction. I feel calm, content, peaceful.

It is my old friend, sleep.

* * *

I jump awake, feeling wetness on my face. My hand moves to my eyes and there is a soothing, shushing voice in my ear.

‘Silver . . .’

Opie slowly comes into view. His mucky blond hair needs brushing, as it always does, and there is a scuff of dirt across his chin. Above him, the sky is blue but fading to black. It is almost
sunset and I can see a faint orange glow in the distance.

‘Where am I?’

‘You’re outside.’

‘Outside of where?’ He doesn’t need to answer because I remember. ‘Imrin . . .’

‘They’re still digging. We had to take you away first.’

I try to lift myself up but Opie pushes me down. ‘You’re not going back. Knave says he’ll carry you out kicking and screaming if he has to.’

‘But . . .’

‘But nothing, you’ve done enough. You’ve hardly eaten in three days, you’ve not been drinking and I doubt you’ve been sleeping either. You’re not infallible.
You need all those things the same as the rest of us do.’

He hands me a small tub of water, explaining that they found it in the hideout. The water feels wonderful trickling down my throat and I deliberately dribble a small amount on my chin, enjoying
how it soothes my skin. I rest my head back down and realise the ground is soft.

‘We grabbed as many of the blankets from the bedroom as we could,’ Opie says. ‘We’re in the graveyard next to the church. It’s low and there are stones everywhere.
No one is going to see us here, even if it isn’t the best place.’

‘Have they found anyone else?’

‘No. They’re still digging.’

I lie back and shut my eyes. They feel so much better closed than open. ‘Why did the Kingsmen do this?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Because of me?’

‘None of this is because of you. They do it to scare people, to make them think that if they don’t do what they’re told, then this will happen.’

I sit up but not to get away, simply to grab onto Opie. I press my face hard into his chest, clawing at his back until he holds me with the ferocity I need him to.

‘I don’t know if I can go through with this.’

‘Silver . . .’

‘Look who’s left. I don’t even know for sure if my mum, your mum, Colt and the others are safe. This is it. We’ve been pushing our luck this entire time and it finally
caught up with us.’

He pulls away, taking my hands and pressing them between his. ‘Look at me.’

His face is dirty but beautiful. Kind eyes, those high cheekbones that make his smile so incredible that I’d do anything for him. ‘What?’

‘Have I ever told you about my earliest memory?’

I sniffle, feeling a gentle pressure at the top of my nose. It doesn’t have the same intensity as when I’ve used the teleporter, more like a subtle pinch. ‘No.’

‘I think I was four but I might have been a little younger. I was walking home from the market with my mum. She was holding my hand and telling me not to get ahead of myself. I remember
feeling happy, so perhaps she’d bought me something? I used to have this red coat . . .’

‘I remember.’

He laughs. ‘I’m not surprised. I think my dad had found it somewhere. One of the sleeves was shorter than the other and I was always tugging it to try to make it fit
properly.’

‘It was too big for you.’

‘By the time I grew into it, the foam was falling out. I remember I was tugging on the sleeve. Mum was telling me off, saying I’d break it if I kept pulling and that I would grow
into it.’

‘She got that right.’

He grins. ‘As we got closer to the house, I was skipping along. I might even have been whistling or singing or something. I just remember being excited. Then I turned and there was a
little girl on this piece of grass. She was picking up clumps of mud and looking to see if there were worms. Then she’d throw them off to the side and carry on.’

‘Opie . . .’

‘I remember watching her. She was using her hands to scratch her face, covering herself in mud. It was all over her forehead and chin. A woman was shouting at her, telling her off. She
said: “Get inside, what have I told you about playing in the mud?” I thought she was really angry but then, as the girl walked past her towards the house, she was shaking her head and
grinning. She wasn’t upset at all; she just loved her little girl.’

‘Please . . .’

‘I remember it perfectly. I wedged the side of my foot in between the cobbles. It was raining just a tiny bit. That really fine drizzle. I turned to my mum and I asked who the girl was and
why she was so muddy. She patted me on the head and she goes, “Oh, Opie, honey. That’s Silver Blackthorn. She’s such a sweet little girl.”’

I can’t stop myself any longer as everything I have built up since the day I said goodbye to Opie after the Offering floods out. Wray, Lumin, Rush, Faith, Porter, Evan, Paisley, Frank,
Vez, and so many other people in between. And now Imrin.

Opie smooths the hair away from my face as my tears flood down his chest. He whispers softly in my ear, telling me it is all right to cry.

I have no idea how long it is until I finally calm myself but my throat is raw and my eyes throbbing.

‘That’s really nice,’ I finally say.

He wipes a few remaining tears away and kisses my forehead. ‘The reason I told you that wasn’t to make you cry, it was because I wanted you to know that I’ll always be here for
you.’

‘How . . . ?’

He gulps. ‘I saw it in your face when Gwen told you about the medical bay. I told you at the gully that I loved you but you never said it back. I knew then . . . but I suppose I never
stopped hoping things might happen. That’s not even why I followed you everywhere, though. I’m here because you’re Silver Blackthorn, that sweet little girl. If you love Imrin
– or loved him, I suppose – then I don’t care. I’ll still be here with you.’

‘Opie . . .’

He cradles me closer, being who I need him to be. I can’t tell him how I feel because I don’t know. Is that normal? Nobody ever tells you these things. You see people like
Hart’s parents who have been together for years and that’s normal. But was there ever a time when one of them had to choose between their partner and someone else?