The Disappearances (14 page)

Lucas looked at Linus strangely. ‘But the rest of the world was destroyed in the Horrors. Why would there be any activity?’

‘Right,’ Linus said. ‘But if there are insects on the ground, this satellite would pick them up. It could be that the whole world has been destroyed into complete oblivion except for our fair isle, but it’s unlikely, you have to agree?’

‘Unlikely, but possible,’ Lucas said.

‘Okay, but that doesn’t explain why it isn’t showing any activity in Margate. Or Ramsgate for that matter. Nice place, Margate. And now it’s gone. Or rather, the satellite thinks it’s gone. But you see it isn’t. I know it isn’t, because I sent Angel to have a little look and there’s a new little community there. Quite a campsite, by all accounts. So my question is, why are they there, and how is it that I can’t see them or the place that they came from?’

Linus’s face was suddenly deadly serious. Lucas looked at the screen thoughtfully. ‘You think it’s the Informers?’ he asked quietly.

‘Seems likely,’ Linus said.

‘So then we have a common interest,’ Lucas said, turning to him.

‘Maybe,’ Linus said, his voice sounding tired.

Lucas looked him in the eye. ‘Linus, you can’t solve anything stuck in this cave.’

‘Not with you here interrupting me,’ Linus said, archly.

Lucas grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Linus, these Informers want the System turned back on. That has to be why they’re here. Or one reason, anyway. Who are these people? I’m going to find out. I’m going to stop them. You can help.’

Linus looked at him for a moment. Then he stood up wearily. ‘You know I came here to be alone?’ he said with a sigh.

Lucas didn’t reply.

Linus pushed his chair back. ‘Well, if we’re going back into battle I suppose I should offer you a cup of tea? I might even stretch to a piece of fruit cake. If you’d like?’

Lucas frowned, then flopped down on a chair. ‘I would, actually,’ he said. ‘I really would. Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Linus said, a smile creeping onto his face, his eyes back to their familiar twinkle, his step light as he bounded towards the kitchen. ‘You should see this place,’ he said. ‘Angel’s done me proud. It’s like a real home away from home …’

It was the colours that Devil noticed straight away. The vivid red against the grey slabs of the concrete ground; the brilliant blue sky behind the monstrous grey skyscrapers. It was like it wasn’t real; like it wasn’t really happening.

But it was happening; or rather, it had happened.

‘How long’s he been there?’ he asked, making sure to keep his voice level, like everything was fine.

‘I dunno,’ Nelson said. ‘Ten minutes, maybe. I heard him scream. Woke me up. I came out, and …’ His voice was trembling. Shit, Nelson himself was trembling. Devil had to sort this and sort it now. Not because Nelson was a mate. He didn’t have mates here. Couldn’t afford them, didn’t want them. He was different now; here, it was about survival, and friends were just baggage.

But Nelson was like his deputy. Anyone else had woken Devil at 5 a.m., he’d have killed them. But it wasn’t anyone else; it was Nelson, so he’d listened, followed him out here onto the tiny balcony that ran around the flats to look down at the body below. And the minute he’d looked, he hadn’t seen the boy, he’d seen his sister, seen her lifeless body on the tarmac below, and it had filled him with rage, with remorse, with a sadness so deep that it threatened to consume him, threatened to reduce him to a snivelling wretch on the floor. But he’d pulled himself together just in time, before Nelson could see; had reined in his emotions and channelled them quickly. And what he had channelled them into was anger at the boy. The stupid dead boy. Who could have been useful. Could have made something of himself, and instead … instead he’d caused trouble, made a scene, produced a problem.

‘Why’d they let him out?’ he asked, then, already blaming the police for this. ‘He should still be in prison. You think he told them what they wanted to hear?’

Nelson shrugged. ‘Dunno. They bailed him, didn’t they. Said he was young, first-timer. His mum went down to get him.’ He cleared his throat. ‘She was in a right state. Said he had to visit his sister in hospital.’

Devil remembered the look on his own mother’s face when she found out about Leona. He hadn’t recognised her; it was like she’d turned into an animal or something.

He shrugged. ‘Who cares.’ He turned away quickly. He felt claustrophobic, sick, he needed to be on his own to punch a wall, to punch someone. ‘Anyway, we don’t have to worry no more about him squealing,’ Devil said gruffly. ‘Right?’

‘Right,’ Nelson replied, but Devil could tell things weren’t right. They weren’t right at all.

‘This don’t change nothing,’ he said, turning to look at Nelson. His eyes were more clouded than normal. Devil scrutinised his face closely. ‘This ain’t our fault. This is nothing to do with us, right?’ he said. Nelson nodded but Devil could see his heart wasn’t in it. ‘The boy was weak, Nelson,’ Devil said quickly. ‘He couldn’t cope with life. Not like us. We can cope. We’re the strong ones. We’re going places, doing things. We got the world stretching out in front of us, right? Right?’

Nelson nodded again. ‘Stretching out in front of us,’ he repeated.

Devil patted him on the back. ‘You did the right thing,’ he said, ‘letting me know.’

‘We gonna just leave him there?’

Devil considered this, considered the alternative: telling the boy’s mother, calling the police. ‘Yeah. We need to get away from here. They find us here, they’ll try and make out like it wasn’t an accident. You go home. Get some sleep. We’ll talk later, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Nelson said, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘I’ll catch you later.’

Nelson walked off; Devil knew he had to do the same, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He couldn’t take his eyes off the boy. It was like he’d landed in a pot of paint. Funny that blood was so red, Devil found himself thinking. When it was hidden. Mostly colours were for a reason. His mum had taught him that, back in Hertfordshire when she didn’t have to work, when all she had to do was stay at home, make them food, tell them stuff. She’d smiled a lot back then, kissed him on the head for no reason. ‘See that flower?’ she’d tell him. ‘It’s so bright because it wants to attract bees to it. See?’

She’d loved bright stuff. House was full of it. Plates with flowers all over them, pictures on the walls, even their sofa was bright pink. His dad had had a fit first time he’d seen it; for a moment everything had gone quiet when it looked like he was going to have one of his explosive rages. But then he’d seen the funny side, told her it would be a talking point, told her not to worry, that it was okay.

Now they had a shitty brown sofa that was stained and uncomfortable.

Now she never talked about nothing; just sat and stared into the distance, not noticing if he was even alive.

She wasn’t a winner. She was a loser. She’d lost Leona, lost his dad. Lost herself, too.

Devil forced himself away from the balcony walkway that allowed access to the flats, and back into the tiny room his mum called the sitting room, even though no one round here knew what that meant. It was the lounge, the living room, the place they sat on the sofa to eat tinned spaghetti on toast – and that was on the days that she could be bothered to put some kind of meal together. Devil found his mum lying on the sofa, her eyes surrounded by dark shadows. Even asleep she looked knackered. She always slept there; Devil got the bedroom. She’d told him when they moved in that he and Leona needed a room of their own.

He’d still loved her then. Still seen them as a unit, a team who could carry on even if Dad was gone.

But that was a long, long time ago.

Now there was just the two of them. But really there was just one. His mum had packed up and left the day they found Leona; she just hadn’t had the guts to do it physically.

Devil took one look at her and knew he couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t go back to sleep now. He needed to walk, needed to burn off some energy. People killing themselves was a shit start to a day whatever way you looked at it. Things would be buzzing soon, with police and ambulances, questions and inferences. Best to get away now, before it started. Best to get some air before the fog descended.

Raffy wrapped his arms around himself and shivered slightly, but he knew it wasn’t the cold that was bringing up goosebumps on his arms and neck. He wanted to leave, wanted to walk away; wanted to be the sort of person who could walk away. But he wasn’t. And so he sat, cramped, surrounded by branches, shivering as he watched Evie learn about literature.

He hated Neil.

Hated him because he was handsome, clever, kind. Hated him because he was a good man, because Raffy knew that he was only interested in helping Evie. Hated him because Raffy was not a good person, would never be. Rationally, he saw the world as it was. But rationality did not control his mind, not all the time. Because sometimes the demons got in, changed the lens through which he saw the world, distorted things, made them look very different, very scary. They showed Evie looking up at Neil with a rapturous smile, laughing at his witty jokes. They thought they saw something in her eye, something that used to be there when she looked at Raffy. Love. She was in love with Neil. She would leave Raffy for Neil. Neil was just waiting for the right moment to seduce her, and she would let it happen, willingly, laughing at how foolish and young Raffy was. And Raffy would be alone, more alone than he’d ever been in his life, alone and miserable and lonely and—

A sound broke the silence; an acorn falling from the tree, dislodged by Raffy who had moved too suddenly. He froze. Evie glanced over, so did Neil, but then they were back to books, discussing female emancipation, the development of the female lead, the opportunities open to her as the twenty-first century went on.

Evie was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. She always had been. Raffy remembered seeing her for the first time when he was nearly six. She’d been tiny, wary, her dark eyes staring uncertainly at the other children as they were led into the classroom, shown where to sit, what to do. She didn’t mix well with the others; like Raffy, there had been something different about her, something that separated her from the other children. That’s how they’d found each other, what they had recognised in each other. And the first time he’d seen her smile, the first time he remembered her face breaking out into a broad, toothy grin because of him, because of something he’d said to her, he remembered thinking that he never wanted anyone else to ever make her smile like that. He’d been a young child at the time, but even then he’d known that he never wanted to lose her, had known that he inevitably would.

Because he wasn’t a good man, like Neil.

Because he wasn’t perfect, like Lucas.

Like Lucas.

Raffy breathed out, closed his eyes. His older brother. All his life, Raffy had lived in Lucas’s shadow, and even now he felt it blocking out his sun. Because Lucas was better than him. More noble, more generous. He had seen the way Evie had been with him, in the City, the night that they had shut down the System. He knew her better than she knew herself; he had seen the furtive glances, the change in energy whenever the two of them were together. And he also knew that Lucas had stayed behind in the City partly so that Raffy and Evie could be together, with no complications. A selfless act, just like the whole of Lucas’s life.

And that’s why he hated him. Because Raffy wouldn’t have been so noble. Because he didn’t want Lucas’s generosity. He wanted Evie. Wanted to keep her so close to him she’d never see another person, let alone talk to them, smile at them. He wanted her for himself; selfishly, possessively. He wanted it to be like it was in the tree, when they used to meet at night. Back then, the rest of their lives might have been intolerable, but Raffy hadn’t cared because in those moments when he was with Evie, he knew that she needed him, that it was just them, against the world, so close they could finish each other’s sentences. The City had oppressed them, had oppressed everyone, but Raffy hadn’t cared, not really, because it had pushed them closer together. He’d spend his life in prison if he could be sure he’d be sharing a cell with Evie.

And Evie …

Raffy looked down at her, talking animatedly, her hands waving around, her eyes dancing.

Evie wanted to be free. Of everything.

Including him.

He knew that. Saw it in her eyes. She had been imprisoned so long in the City, had felt so restricted, so unhappy. And now, now she was soaring into the sky, now she was smiling every day.

Raffy’s biggest fears were being realised; soon, very soon, Evie was going to see Raffy for what he really was, and then she would leave him.

Soon she was going to see that she didn’t need him. She was going to realise that actually, she never did.

‘Well, I should let you get back,’ Neil smiled. ‘Next week I’m going to introduce you to
Frankenstein
. A man-made monster. I think hailing from the City you might find it quite pertinent.’

Evie stood up. ‘Thank you,’ she said, earnestly. ‘I just can’t tell you how amazing it is to … to …’

‘To realise how much there is out there? How many brilliant people have written such incredible things, had such extraordinary ideas and the courage of their convictions to publish them?’

Evie nodded happily; Neil always managed to put into words thoughts that in her head were jumbled, desperately seeking articulation.

Neil shrugged. ‘I just wish we had more books here. They weren’t really a priority. In the fight for survival, I mean. Short-sighted idiots putting food and water above the written word.’ He grinned. ‘Still, we’ve got enough. And who knows? Maybe one day someone will arrive here with an entire library of books that they’ve buried underground. You never know, right?’

‘Right,’ Evie said, her eyes twinkling. It had taken her a while to relax in Neil’s company, to understand his constant use of irony, to realise that when he got excited and asked her question after question, it wasn’t because she’d got it wrong, or because he was frustrated with her, but because he was as thrilled as she was about finding the answer. And now she loved spending time with him, enjoyed nothing more than discussing the finer points of one of the books she’d read, finding something to disagree with him on so that they could argue happily for hours.