The Fearless (12 page)

And then, just as we were about to start, we discovered the boy had stolen a boat. The Patrollers on the wall had shot at him, but he was already too far away.

He’d escaped.

I clench my hands into fists. I want to punch something. A table. The wall. I can
see
that freak laughing at us. Laughing at
me
. How the hell did he get out of the cells?

And how the
hell
did he manage to steal a boat?

I touch the bruise on my jaw and wince. One thing’s for sure. If I ever see him again
anywhere
, I’ll kill him. No one makes a fool out of me. No one.

‘Everybody! Your attention,
please
!’ Captain Denning climbs onto a bench at the front of the Refectory, banging the butt of his rifle against the wood.

Everyone falls silent except for Olly and Ella’s brat, who’s doing that horrible, high-pitched screeching thing babies do.

‘It appears the boy has escaped from the island,’ Captain Denning says. ‘We believe he managed to steal a boat.’ A gasp goes up from around the hall. ‘
Please
. I don’t want anyone to panic. The Patrol are going to conduct another thorough search of the island, and . . .’

I tune him out and squint over everyone’s heads again. Where
is
she?

‘Where you going, man?’ Rob murmurs as I start to edge away.

‘To look for Cass. Cover for me, OK?’

As I slide through the Refectory door, I try to remember the last time I saw her. It was before the first search, when I told her to go inside. Perhaps she stayed in her apartment – the evacuation of everyone back to the apartments was chaotic, and I’m pretty sure no one thought to do a roll call. They were too busy freaking out about the boy, and the Patrol were too busy getting ready to start looking for him.

I take the stairs up to Cass’s place two at a time and go in without knocking.

The apartment’s cold, dark, quiet.

‘Cass?’ I say, turning the thumbwheel on my lantern to make it brighter.

As I go to the bedroom, my heart’s beating fast. What if she’s done something stupid?

No, she wouldn’t
, I tell myself.

I swing the lantern round. The room’s empty, but something’s not right. Normally, Cass’s apartment is tidy. Now, her stuff is scattered all over the floor, like someone came in and ransacked everything.

I look round again, taking in details. The blanket is missing off her bed. Her boots are gone, and so is the pack she keeps on a hook by the door. The clothes on the shelves near the sleeping mats are jumbled up; all the warm clothes – the jumpers and thermals – have been taken. And back in the other room, the cupboard where she keeps all her food and supplies is wide open. Loads of stuff is missing – food, lamp oil, her water bottle, purification tablets.

Oh, shit, she hasn’t.

She
can’t
have done.

Then I remember the way she looked at me, the way she begged:
Please, Sol, help me get him back
.

And I see the scrap of paper on top of the cupboard, weighted down by a tin of peas.

I snatch it up.

Whoever finds this, I’m sorry
, the note says in Cass’s slanting scrawl.
Jori is my family. He’s all I have. I can’t abandon him. C.

‘You
idiot
,’ I breathe.

Maybe you
should
have helped her
, a little voice in my head says as I read the note again, trying to take it in.
How?
I ask it.
By taking her off the island? By risking both of us getting kicked off Hope for ever?

Dammit, I should have stayed with her. I should have kept an eye on her. I should have—

What if she went with the boy?
the little voice says suddenly.

About to rush out of the door, I stop dead. What? No. That’s
absurd
.

What if she helped him escape?

No. No way. Not Cass.

And then I hear her call
Don’t hurt him!
after Rob and me as we led him away to the cells. See the imploring look on her face.

And hear
him
, the freak, sneering
You think your girlfriend’ll be happy about that?

Maybe he forced her to go with him
, I tell myself.

What? But gave her time to pack a bag with food and clothes?
the voice says.

The suspicion inside me blooms into a dark, terrible certainty.

When Dad and the Patrol find out about this, she’ll never be able to return to Hope, even if she does find Jori.

I stare at the wall with unseeing eyes. The thought that I might never see Cass again is far worse than knowing she’s run away with the freak.

I crumple the note in my fist, stuff it in my pocket, and run back into the bedroom, where I pull the clothes all the way off the shelves, kick over furniture, yank the blankets off Jori’s sleeping mat and throw them in the corner. After that, I ransack the other room as well.

Then I run out of the apartment, back to the Refectory, where I yell, ‘She’s gone! He’s kidnapped her!’

‘Who’s gone?’ Rob says. ‘What are you on about, man?’

‘Cass, you idiot,’ I growl. ‘The freak’s made her go with him.’

I shove past him to find Captain Denning and tell him the terrible news.

I don’t know what wakes me, but suddenly my eyes jerk open, and the jumbled nightmare I’ve been having about the Fearless man snatching Jori blows away like smoke.

The moon has set, and the fire in the barrel has almost burned down. Shivering, I sit up and rub my arms, which ache from rowing the night before. It’s so dark I can hardly see anything. I light my lantern.

Myo’s gone.

Panic rises inside me. I scramble to my feet. His pack and sleeping bag have gone too. So has Lochie’s water dish.

He’s abandoned me
, I think, my heart thudding. A wave of nausea rolls over me. I have no map, no compass. How will I ever find my way to Sheffield on my own?

Then I hear Lochie whine.

I turn, holding out the lantern. He’s standing behind me. ‘
Lochie!
’ I hear Myo hiss nearby. ‘
Come on!
’

But Lochie doesn’t move, just whines again, his gentle gaze fixed on me.

A few moments later, Myo appears, wearing his pack, the sleeping bag rolled up and pushed through the top.

‘Shit,’ he says. He must have seen my light.

My panic turns to fury.

I pull my knife out of my boot and, yanking off the oilcloth, push Myo backwards against the crates with the blade against his neck. Lochie gives a single bark, but stays where he is.

‘You bastard,’ I spit at Myo. ‘You promised you’d help me.’

His eye goes wide. ‘I – I was just—’

‘Just what? Planning on leaving without me? I risked
everything
getting you off Hope. I can probably never go back.’ I press the knife blade harder against his throat.

He doesn’t try to struggle or push me away, just stands there, his hands curled into fists by his sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

‘Well?’ I say.

‘OK. OK. I’m sorry. I was—’

‘Save it. I’m not interested in your excuses.’ I lower the knife, half expecting him to turn and run, but he stays where he is. I wrap the blade in the oilcloth again and shove the knife back in my boot.

‘At least your dog can be trusted,’ I say as I turn to gather up my things, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice. Lochie whines again. Tentatively, I reach out and rub him under the chin. His fur is a lot softer than it looks. He leans his head on my hand.

Myo takes off his pack again and sits down, holding his ribs. There’s a livid mark on his neck where I held the knife against it, but I haven’t broken the skin.

I get the fire going again, and we have a silent breakfast of fish strips and coffee.

‘So, how long is it going to take to get to Sheffield if we don’t catch the Fearless up first?’ I say when we’ve finished, my tone chilly as I emphasize the word
we
.

Myo heaves himself to his feet. ‘If we don’t catch them up, we’ll need to go back to the bunker. We can’t go to Sheffield without guns. They don’t call it the Torturehouse for nothing.’

The Torturehouse
. A shiver crawls up my spine. ‘Is that this place you talked about? The place where you think the Fearless are going?’

‘Aye.’

‘So how long will it take to get to the bunker?’

‘About eight or nine days.’

‘What?’ Desperation builds inside me as I think about how far behind my brother and the Fearless we could already be. Myo said it takes a couple of weeks for someone to Alter now – but what if he’s wrong? And there are so many other things that could happen to Jori before then. I don’t stand a chance of getting him back.

‘Keep your hair on,’ Myo says. ‘I know someone who might be able to help – a barterer. He has horses, and if he’s around, and heading that way, he might take us with him.’

If
he’s around.
Might
take us. ‘And what if he’s not around?’

‘Then we’ll think of something else, OK?’ he snaps. I’m about to snap back, then notice how every breath he takes in seems to hurt him still, and how pale he is, his face glistening with sweat.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ I say.

Myo gives me a hard look. ‘If we’re going to get to Danny and April’s by nightfall, we need to get a move on.’

Danny must be the barterer he was just talking about. I put the fire out. As we leave the warehouse, Myo limping again, I briefly consider offering to help him carry his stuff. Then I remember he tried to abandon me. Screw him.

Outside, the sky is the colour of dull steel; frost crunches under my boots. Soon, we reach the road that leads out of the dockyard. The cars left by the people who were trying to get onto the island that night seven years ago are still there. As we weave our way through them, Lochie trotting ahead with his nose to the ground, I try not to look at anything too closely, but my gaze is drawn as if by a magnet to the doors hanging open; a doll lying on a back seat that stares out at me with sightless eyes; a single child’s trainer, weathered and rotted; the decayed remains of a suitcase resting on the verge.

We reach Mr Brightman’s Range Rover, which is leaning sideways, its tyres flat, its windows smashed. More cars are parked behind it, stretching up the road as far as I can see. I stare at them as memories of that night return with full force – the crazy, terrifying drive down the motorway; the Fearless who tried to leap into our path; that house where the car was burning and two Fearless were crouched over that couple; Mrs Brightman getting shot; Mum’s cries as my brother was born.

I’d hidden my face and put my hands over my ears to block out Mum’s screams while it was actually happening, too traumatized by everything else that had happened to watch. But then I’d heard a different sound: a thin, sharp wail. Someone nudged me, and I looked up to see Mr Brightman holding out my brother, wrapped in his jacket. I remember trembling as I took him and placed him in my lap, awed at how tiny and perfect he was. His face was red and scrunched up, his fists opening and closing as if protesting at being born too soon, and into such terror and chaos. I held him close to my chest and rocked him until his wails subsided, and when I looked down at him again he was gazing up at me.

At that moment, I knew I’d do anything I could to protect him. I put out a finger and he hung onto it, his grip surprisingly strong. ‘Hello,’ I whispered. ‘I’m your big sister. I’m Cass.’ And when we reached the island, and we were being registered, I was the one who named him.
Jori
.

‘What’s wrong?’ Myo says, jolting me back to the present.

‘That was the car we came in,’ I say. ‘Me, my mum, Sol and his parents.’

‘What about your brother?’

‘He was born as we were on our way to the island.’

‘So he’s just a bairn?’

‘Yeah.’ The words catch in my throat as I think of how frightened Jori must be right now.

That’s if he’s still alive
, a nasty little voice in my head says. I tell it to shut up.

We reach the main road. The hedges are wildly overgrown and the trees lean at an angle down towards the tarmac, their bare branches forming a tunnel over our heads. The rest of that morning, Myo and I travel more or less in silence. I’m still angry about earlier, and he must sense it because he keeps his distance, walking a little way ahead with Lochie between us. All I can think about is Jori. Are the Fearless giving him anything to eat? Is my brother warm enough? Is he alive? I have no way of knowing whether each step I take is bringing me closer to him or taking me further away. Myo could be taking me anywhere. But until I come up with a better plan, I have to stick with him.

Near to what we both estimate is midday, we stop to eat again, sitting on our packs by the side of the road. Lochie disappears into the woods behind us, barking. I hear twigs snapping as he plunges through the trees.

‘Bring us back a rabbit, eh, boy?’ Myo calls after him.

I take a swig of water and am about to pass the bottle to Myo when he jumps to his feet.

‘What’s wrong?’ I say, my heart beating faster.

He holds up a hand. ‘Shh.’

I listen, but I don’t hear anything. Myo picks up his pack. ‘We need to get off the road.’

‘Why? What’s—’

‘Into the trees, now.’ Myo’s tone is urgent. I snatch up my pack and follow him into the wood. He’s almost running, his bruised ribs seemingly forgotten. A little way back from the road is a wide ditch, choked with dead leaves, twigs and ancient rubbish. ‘In there,’ Myo whispers, dropping his pack into it and jumping down after it. He digs in his satchel, pulling out his knife.

‘What about Lochie?’ I whisper back as we crouch side by side, looking towards the road, which is half visible through the trees. The food I just ate has turned sour in my stomach, and my heart’s pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst right out of my chest.

‘He’s got enough sense to keep away, I hope.’