Dear Lynch,
That's wonderful news about the school! I was always sure you'd get a place, but it's great to know for certain that you'll be going. Mari was so pleased when I told her. She says to wish you good luck and tell you to come and visit her at the library any time that you want.
How's life in the big city? It seemed like a nice enough place, but I only saw it for a few hours when I helped you drop off your things. I miss you, by the way. I wish you could have kept on living with us like you did before, but it's probably best that you go study. At least you won't have to worry about money like a regular student; they said on the news that your compensation was going to be in the hundred thousands.
I've seen you plenty on TV, of course. They had you on all the news channels last night giving evidence to the tribunal. And that interview you did was on the front page of all the papers. You look very grown-up in the pictures. I can't believe you've only just turned seventeen. I like what you've done with your hair, by the way. It definitely beats the bald look.
I've given a few interviews myself, but none as high-profile. And Darren's had to give evidence twice now. To be honest I'll be glad when it all dies down and we can put the whole thing behind us. Mum and Dad say that if everything is quiet by the summertime we'll go on holiday together. All of us, me and them and Darren . . . and you too, of course, if you'll come?
Write back soon, Lynch.
With Love,
Laura
Monday 21 May 2012
Friday 18 May 2012
Part Three, Chapter Ten
The gun kicks. There is the deafening slam of a gunshot. When I open my eyes it is to see Ingleman stumbling backwards, hands grasping at his neck. Blood escapes between his fingers. More than anything he looks surprised, astonished even. His eyes meet mine, but it's like he's looking past me, at some other person entirely. No recognition there. No more cruelty. And he stumbles again, this time towards the edge of the helipad.
Suddenly Laura's there, by his side, head down, determined. She's screaming, but I can't hear what. She shoves into him and sends him reeling and he stumbles like a drunk to the very edge of the platform and teeters there for just a second. Just a second and then he falls. I hear the thump of him landing like a sack of meat, and I know in that second that Ingleman is dead. The man who tortured me, who took Laura's brother, who organised the kidnap and vivisection of all those children is finally no more.
All the same I walk to the edge to check. He lies down there, broken and bloody, staring up with unseeing eyes.
A wave of tiredness and pain runs through me. My throat hurts. My lungs hurt. My leg is in agony. I've never felt this exhausted in my life, even after days spend in the labs. The gun falls from my hands, and for a moment I think I'm about to follow it, but Laura catches me by the shoulders and helps me to sit down on the edge of the helipad, then lie down. Distantly I can still here the shouts and shots of the battle being fought on the main deck of the ship. All I can see are the stars.
"It's okay," she says. "It'll be over soon. We'll get help soon." She's crying and I think that I'm crying too. "We're okay," she says, over and over. And then, just as I'm starting to feel drowsy she grabs my shoulder. "Look," she says, "Here they are." I raise my head just enough to see a small band of army men in black uniforms making their way towards us. Then I slump back to the deck and find Laura's face looking down at me, and I smile at her.
"Thank you," I say.
It's all confused after that. I drift in and out. One second I'm lying on the deck, and the next I'm being loaded onto a stretcher by the army men and carried down the stairs. Laura's by my side, holding my hand, and then she's gone. I drift out. I drift in. The men set me down on a trolley and I look around for my friend. At first I can't make her out from the confusion of bodies moving around me, but then I catch sight of her across the deck of the ship. She's hugging a blond-haired boy dressed in grey overalls, and he's hugging her back. I drift out. I drift in and Laura's there again, holding my hand, telling me that they found him, they found him, they found her brother. And the boy who helped me escape so long ago, so many long ages ago is there too smiling and holding my hand. And Laura's telling me that it was Mari, it was all down to Mari, she found our letter and she went straight to a friend of hers, a retired colonel, and he went straight to his friend, and by the time we were taken they were already planning a strike on the Academy. And Mari is waiting for us, Laura says, she wants to see us, she wants to see us, wants to talk to us . . . and so does every journalist in the country.
I drift out. The last thing I hear is Laura's voice. The last thing I feel is her hand on the side of my face. "It's over now, Lynch. It'll all be okay."
Suddenly Laura's there, by his side, head down, determined. She's screaming, but I can't hear what. She shoves into him and sends him reeling and he stumbles like a drunk to the very edge of the platform and teeters there for just a second. Just a second and then he falls. I hear the thump of him landing like a sack of meat, and I know in that second that Ingleman is dead. The man who tortured me, who took Laura's brother, who organised the kidnap and vivisection of all those children is finally no more.
All the same I walk to the edge to check. He lies down there, broken and bloody, staring up with unseeing eyes.
A wave of tiredness and pain runs through me. My throat hurts. My lungs hurt. My leg is in agony. I've never felt this exhausted in my life, even after days spend in the labs. The gun falls from my hands, and for a moment I think I'm about to follow it, but Laura catches me by the shoulders and helps me to sit down on the edge of the helipad, then lie down. Distantly I can still here the shouts and shots of the battle being fought on the main deck of the ship. All I can see are the stars.
"It's okay," she says. "It'll be over soon. We'll get help soon." She's crying and I think that I'm crying too. "We're okay," she says, over and over. And then, just as I'm starting to feel drowsy she grabs my shoulder. "Look," she says, "Here they are." I raise my head just enough to see a small band of army men in black uniforms making their way towards us. Then I slump back to the deck and find Laura's face looking down at me, and I smile at her.
"Thank you," I say.
It's all confused after that. I drift in and out. One second I'm lying on the deck, and the next I'm being loaded onto a stretcher by the army men and carried down the stairs. Laura's by my side, holding my hand, and then she's gone. I drift out. I drift in. The men set me down on a trolley and I look around for my friend. At first I can't make her out from the confusion of bodies moving around me, but then I catch sight of her across the deck of the ship. She's hugging a blond-haired boy dressed in grey overalls, and he's hugging her back. I drift out. I drift in and Laura's there again, holding my hand, telling me that they found him, they found him, they found her brother. And the boy who helped me escape so long ago, so many long ages ago is there too smiling and holding my hand. And Laura's telling me that it was Mari, it was all down to Mari, she found our letter and she went straight to a friend of hers, a retired colonel, and he went straight to his friend, and by the time we were taken they were already planning a strike on the Academy. And Mari is waiting for us, Laura says, she wants to see us, she wants to see us, wants to talk to us . . . and so does every journalist in the country.
I drift out. The last thing I hear is Laura's voice. The last thing I feel is her hand on the side of my face. "It's over now, Lynch. It'll all be okay."
Monday 14 May 2012
Part Three, Chapter Nine
My legs kick weakly against the decking. My fingers scrabble at his arms. His grip is like iron, like a vice closing around my neck. His face grins down at me, eyes wide, insane. The last thing I'll ever see, fading and fading and fading. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Now it just feels like I'm floating. I think vaguely of Laura and of Darren and of all the other poor children this man has hurt . . . but there's nothing I can do anymore. I feel a sense of terrible disappointment.
And then suddenly my vision clears, the pain comes crashing back like a knife through my neck. I gasp, drawing in a huge whoop of air that burns even as it flows into my lungs. I struggle to find my feet, the world seeming to tilt and turn crazily about me.
I see Ingleman on his knees a few metres away from me, Laura clinging to his back. He tries to throw her off but she clings there, arm tight around his neck. She won't last long, I know. Ingleman's strong, and Laura's no fighter. I struggle to my feet, every limb feeling weak and swollen. I just mange to stand before a massive wave of pain rolls through me, emanating from my leg. I look down to see that below the knee I'm covered in blood, so much of it that it's pooling on the deck. I feel faint. I grit my teeth. The faintness passes.
There, not more than a metre away from me is a pistol. Ingleman's gun; he must have dropped it when I attacked him. I lean down to pick it up, but end up falling to my knees. My hands close around it and I find the trigger and raise it and point it at the struggling pair of figures on the deck in front of me. Laura's still clinging to Ingleman's back, but as I watch he manages to whip his arm back and land a punch on her face that looks as though it breaks her nose. Blood spatters and Laura gives a muffled cry of pain. Triumphant, Ingleman rises to his feet, shedding Laura like a cloak. As he turns to kick her he catches sight of me holding a gun on him, and freezes.
My arms are sagging under the weight of the pistol. My vision is blurred. I don't even know if the safety is off, or how to remove it if it is. The moment stretches. Slowly Ingleman raises his arms. Even slower, he starts walking towards me.
"Now, little girl," he says calmly. "I want you to give that to me."
"Shut up," I say. I aim low, at his chest, and pull the trigger.
Nothing happens.
The trigger stops short, as if there's something blocking it. And I see the light of triumph in Ingleman's face, and he lunges forward, and I fumble with the gun, searching, stumbling back, knowing that there's no time, knowing that I've got it wrong. And Ingleman's so close, hands reaching for me, and something clicks on the side of the gun, a lever flicks into place, and I shut my eyes and aim wildly and pull the trigger.
And then suddenly my vision clears, the pain comes crashing back like a knife through my neck. I gasp, drawing in a huge whoop of air that burns even as it flows into my lungs. I struggle to find my feet, the world seeming to tilt and turn crazily about me.
I see Ingleman on his knees a few metres away from me, Laura clinging to his back. He tries to throw her off but she clings there, arm tight around his neck. She won't last long, I know. Ingleman's strong, and Laura's no fighter. I struggle to my feet, every limb feeling weak and swollen. I just mange to stand before a massive wave of pain rolls through me, emanating from my leg. I look down to see that below the knee I'm covered in blood, so much of it that it's pooling on the deck. I feel faint. I grit my teeth. The faintness passes.
There, not more than a metre away from me is a pistol. Ingleman's gun; he must have dropped it when I attacked him. I lean down to pick it up, but end up falling to my knees. My hands close around it and I find the trigger and raise it and point it at the struggling pair of figures on the deck in front of me. Laura's still clinging to Ingleman's back, but as I watch he manages to whip his arm back and land a punch on her face that looks as though it breaks her nose. Blood spatters and Laura gives a muffled cry of pain. Triumphant, Ingleman rises to his feet, shedding Laura like a cloak. As he turns to kick her he catches sight of me holding a gun on him, and freezes.
My arms are sagging under the weight of the pistol. My vision is blurred. I don't even know if the safety is off, or how to remove it if it is. The moment stretches. Slowly Ingleman raises his arms. Even slower, he starts walking towards me.
"Now, little girl," he says calmly. "I want you to give that to me."
"Shut up," I say. I aim low, at his chest, and pull the trigger.
Nothing happens.
The trigger stops short, as if there's something blocking it. And I see the light of triumph in Ingleman's face, and he lunges forward, and I fumble with the gun, searching, stumbling back, knowing that there's no time, knowing that I've got it wrong. And Ingleman's so close, hands reaching for me, and something clicks on the side of the gun, a lever flicks into place, and I shut my eyes and aim wildly and pull the trigger.
Friday 11 May 2012
Part Three, Chapter Eight
The sound of the battle becomes distant as I descend. I'm now cut off from the fight by a tall row of metal cabins. This end of the ship is all but deserted; just me and Ingleman. As I duck and sprint through the tangle of pipes and vents and railings I expect any second to hear the pitch of the helicopter rotors change, to see it rise up into the sky, bearing Ingleman away from me safe and sound. The thought of it makes me sick. After all he's done . . .
Finally I reach the metal staircase that leads up to the helipad. I grab the railing and jump up three steps at a time, only pausing when I reach the top. Up here the noise of the rotors is deafening. They're spinning at full speed, but Ingleman still hasn't taken off. Is he waiting for someone? Or did one of my shots damage the helicopter somehow? Either way, he's there and he knows I'm coming. I'll have to be careful.
Heart thudding, I move up to the very top of the stairs, keeping my head down below the level of the edge of the helipad. I realise now how defenceless I am without a weapon, dizzy and weak from lack of blood. Just a little girl, really. But I'm the only one who's here to stop him.
I take a few calming breaths and then quickly stick my head up and take a look before ducking back down. Sparks fly off the metal near my head, and there's the heavy thunk of metal hitting metal. I huddle down onto the steps. Ingleman's there sure enough, and he's got a gun pointed right at where I'm hiding.
"Lynch," I hear him bellow over the rotor noise. "What a surprise to see you here." Even now, even as his Academy falls apart around him there's a note of such certainty, such power in his voice. It makes my stomach turn to water, the adrenaline flooding coldly from my body. "Come to kill me, have you girl? Come to take your petty stab at vengeance?"
"The army are here," I shout back, hearing the fear in my voice. "They're coming. They won't let you get away."
"It won't be up to them to let me do anything," says Ingleman calmly. "You'll be amazed at what's possible with money and resources." He's moving closer, I'm sure of it. Little by little I can hear his voice edging nearer. I'm rooted to the spot, cowering there, waiting. "This isn't the end, little girl. This is little more than a setback, and a minor one at that."
"You're evil," I yell, not even sure what I'm saying. "You took children. You took children and you used them for your experiments. You can tell yourself it's all for the good but you're wrong, you bastard. You're wrong and they're going to get you and you'll spend the rest of your life dead or in prison."
His voice comes again, this time almost right above me. "You really are bitter, aren't--" But before he can finish his sentence I've jumped to my feet and flung myself up onto the helipad. He's standing even closer than I thought, and I cannon straight into his legs and knock him to the ground. As he falls the gun goes off in his hands and feel a hot, heavy impact just above my foot. The whole of that leg goes numb. I land beside Ingleman on the decking, scramble around and grab him by the neck.
But he's ready for me. His elbow slams back into my face, sending a wave of pain through my head. My grip weakens, and he turns, breaks from me, seizes my collar and slams me down against the metal, hard. He's on top of me, and his hands fasten around my neck and start to squeeze.
"I should have done this long ago," he grunts, his face wild, his hair sweat-slicked and dishevelled. His thumbs press into my neck. I taste blood. Everything starts to go dark.
Finally I reach the metal staircase that leads up to the helipad. I grab the railing and jump up three steps at a time, only pausing when I reach the top. Up here the noise of the rotors is deafening. They're spinning at full speed, but Ingleman still hasn't taken off. Is he waiting for someone? Or did one of my shots damage the helicopter somehow? Either way, he's there and he knows I'm coming. I'll have to be careful.
Heart thudding, I move up to the very top of the stairs, keeping my head down below the level of the edge of the helipad. I realise now how defenceless I am without a weapon, dizzy and weak from lack of blood. Just a little girl, really. But I'm the only one who's here to stop him.
I take a few calming breaths and then quickly stick my head up and take a look before ducking back down. Sparks fly off the metal near my head, and there's the heavy thunk of metal hitting metal. I huddle down onto the steps. Ingleman's there sure enough, and he's got a gun pointed right at where I'm hiding.
"Lynch," I hear him bellow over the rotor noise. "What a surprise to see you here." Even now, even as his Academy falls apart around him there's a note of such certainty, such power in his voice. It makes my stomach turn to water, the adrenaline flooding coldly from my body. "Come to kill me, have you girl? Come to take your petty stab at vengeance?"
"The army are here," I shout back, hearing the fear in my voice. "They're coming. They won't let you get away."
"It won't be up to them to let me do anything," says Ingleman calmly. "You'll be amazed at what's possible with money and resources." He's moving closer, I'm sure of it. Little by little I can hear his voice edging nearer. I'm rooted to the spot, cowering there, waiting. "This isn't the end, little girl. This is little more than a setback, and a minor one at that."
"You're evil," I yell, not even sure what I'm saying. "You took children. You took children and you used them for your experiments. You can tell yourself it's all for the good but you're wrong, you bastard. You're wrong and they're going to get you and you'll spend the rest of your life dead or in prison."
His voice comes again, this time almost right above me. "You really are bitter, aren't--" But before he can finish his sentence I've jumped to my feet and flung myself up onto the helipad. He's standing even closer than I thought, and I cannon straight into his legs and knock him to the ground. As he falls the gun goes off in his hands and feel a hot, heavy impact just above my foot. The whole of that leg goes numb. I land beside Ingleman on the decking, scramble around and grab him by the neck.
But he's ready for me. His elbow slams back into my face, sending a wave of pain through my head. My grip weakens, and he turns, breaks from me, seizes my collar and slams me down against the metal, hard. He's on top of me, and his hands fasten around my neck and start to squeeze.
"I should have done this long ago," he grunts, his face wild, his hair sweat-slicked and dishevelled. His thumbs press into my neck. I taste blood. Everything starts to go dark.
Monday 7 May 2012
Part Three, Chapter Seven
We step out and I quickly grab Laura and drag her down behind a nearby vent stack. We're at deck level, and there's a pitched battle taking place. Over at one edge of the ship a small group of Academy wardens and scientists have taken up position behind a line of metal crates and barrels. They're shooting across the deck at a group of men dressed in black, who are taking cover in among the pipework and vent stacks that cover the deck. My heart lifts; it can only be the army.
Even as we watch a helicopter sweeps low overhead. I see a few of the Academy wardens aim up at it, sparks flying from the muzzles of their weapons. The copter tilts and roars away from the line of fire. The attacking soldiers have used the opportunity to gain some ground. Two more of them come clambering over the railing at the side of the ship and hunker down in cover.
Just then there's an explosion that lights up the night sky. I duck back into cover; someone must be using grenades. There's a guttering scream, and I smell burning thick in the air. Feet hammer by not far from where we hide; a pair of Academy men go running past, then stop just in front of us to take aim at the soldiers.
Without thinking I point the rifle at their back and squeeze the trigger. One man falls, and the rifle kicks so hard in my hands I almost drop it. The other man has halfway turned when I shoot him in the neck. He drops, twitching. Laura screams and huddles down against the vent stack, covering her ears.
"It's okay," I yell to her. "We're going to be okay." I drop down with my back against the metal, every muscle in my body humming with the adrenaline.
There's the noise of a helicopter rotor. At first I think the one I saw before has returned for another run at the Academy fighters, but then I turn and see a second craft. This one, a small black bug of a machine, has not yet taken flight. It sits on an elevated platform at the rear of the ship, its rotors gaining speed as it prepares to fly. There, climbing into the pilot's seat, is Ingleman.
My breath catches in my throat. Even from this distance there's no mistaking him. I can't believe it; he's getting away. Even as his men fight and die to protect his investment he's busy saving his own skin. I glance back towards the battle being fought on the main deck; both sides are entrenched. The army has moved forward as far as it can, but the Academy men are holding them back with grenades. By the time it's all over Ingleman could be miles away.
I can't let that happen. I won't.
"Lynch, wait . . ." Laura calls, but I've already taken off running towards the stationary helicopter. It's not far off, but to get there I have to climb down onto a lower deck, sprint through a maze of pipework and venting, then climb back up again onto the launch pad. At the top of the first set of steps I pause, kneel, and take aim with the rifle. The helicopter jitters in the sights; with the pain and the adrenaline I can't stop shaking. I squeeze the trigger once, twice, three times, loosing a dozen wild shots into the night until at last it clicks empty. I see sparks fly from the metal of the helipad, and I see Ingleman duck down and shield his head with his arms, then fling himself into the cockpit.
None of the shots him home. Cursing, I fling the gun aside and sprint down the steps.
Even as we watch a helicopter sweeps low overhead. I see a few of the Academy wardens aim up at it, sparks flying from the muzzles of their weapons. The copter tilts and roars away from the line of fire. The attacking soldiers have used the opportunity to gain some ground. Two more of them come clambering over the railing at the side of the ship and hunker down in cover.
Just then there's an explosion that lights up the night sky. I duck back into cover; someone must be using grenades. There's a guttering scream, and I smell burning thick in the air. Feet hammer by not far from where we hide; a pair of Academy men go running past, then stop just in front of us to take aim at the soldiers.
Without thinking I point the rifle at their back and squeeze the trigger. One man falls, and the rifle kicks so hard in my hands I almost drop it. The other man has halfway turned when I shoot him in the neck. He drops, twitching. Laura screams and huddles down against the vent stack, covering her ears.
"It's okay," I yell to her. "We're going to be okay." I drop down with my back against the metal, every muscle in my body humming with the adrenaline.
There's the noise of a helicopter rotor. At first I think the one I saw before has returned for another run at the Academy fighters, but then I turn and see a second craft. This one, a small black bug of a machine, has not yet taken flight. It sits on an elevated platform at the rear of the ship, its rotors gaining speed as it prepares to fly. There, climbing into the pilot's seat, is Ingleman.
My breath catches in my throat. Even from this distance there's no mistaking him. I can't believe it; he's getting away. Even as his men fight and die to protect his investment he's busy saving his own skin. I glance back towards the battle being fought on the main deck; both sides are entrenched. The army has moved forward as far as it can, but the Academy men are holding them back with grenades. By the time it's all over Ingleman could be miles away.
I can't let that happen. I won't.
"Lynch, wait . . ." Laura calls, but I've already taken off running towards the stationary helicopter. It's not far off, but to get there I have to climb down onto a lower deck, sprint through a maze of pipework and venting, then climb back up again onto the launch pad. At the top of the first set of steps I pause, kneel, and take aim with the rifle. The helicopter jitters in the sights; with the pain and the adrenaline I can't stop shaking. I squeeze the trigger once, twice, three times, loosing a dozen wild shots into the night until at last it clicks empty. I see sparks fly from the metal of the helipad, and I see Ingleman duck down and shield his head with his arms, then fling himself into the cockpit.
None of the shots him home. Cursing, I fling the gun aside and sprint down the steps.
Friday 4 May 2012
Part Three, Chapter Six
He turns, but by the time he does it's too late. Laura slams into him and knocks him down. His gloved hand releases my hair. His rifle clatters to the floor, and he follows it with a shout of surprise. Laura lands on top of him, and she's hitting him with her cuffed hands, hard. The man tries to throw her off, but she just keeps hitting him and hitting him. His head snaps to the side and blood spatters onto the floor. Laura's sobbing and screaming. She leaps off him, stumbles, grabs the rifle up off the floor. She can't hold it properly with her hands still cuffed, but she pulls it tight against her side and points it down at him. The man twitches on the floor like a broken insect. He's clearly unconscious.
"Laura!" I yell. With a sob she drops the rifle and comes stumbling over to me.
"Lynch . . . oh, God, your ear . . ." Her hands flutter over the place where Ingleman cut me. It looks like she wants to help me, but she doesn't know how.
"It's okay," I lie. "Get me untied." Laura nods and starts working at the braces that hold my arms. She gets one undone, and then I use my free arm to undo the other while she unclips my legs. As I stand a rush of blood flows to my head and I stumble, dizzy. Laura catches me. I feel the blood still running down the side of my neck. It's all happened so fast that I can't take it in.
The room shakes again. I hear the sound of a dull and distant explosion. An alarm starts to sound, rising and falling somewhere in the depths of the ship.
"What's going on?" says Laura. "What's happening?"
I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. We've got to get away. We might not get another chance. Come on. Get the gun."
Laura picks up the rifle and passes it to me, and we make our way to the door. I hold the gun up, brace it against my shoulder and put my finger over the trigger.
"Open it," I say. Laura lets me stand by myself and hauls the heavy handle of the door up. It swings open. I duck out, checking left and right. Nobody there. We're in a windowless corridor that stretches off dimly in either direction.
"This way," I say to Laura, picking a direction at random. We start to run, Laura hiccupping and gasping softly behind me. My head throbs heavily and adrenaline courses through my body. I feel like any second I'm about to burn up, explode like a star gone supernova.
At the end of the corridor is another door, and on the other side a staircase. We hurry up, feet hammering on the metal steps. Two floors, then three. How far down can we be? Just as we set foot on the next flight of stairs the door at the top bursts open, and two Academy wardens come barrelling through. Instinctively me and Laura fling ourselves back against the wall, but there's no need. The wardens don't even notice us as they sprint away up the stairs.
The door they came through is still swinging shut when we reach it. We head through and find ourselves running along a kind of balcony that looks out over a cargo bay. It's huge, big enough to hold a street of houses with room left over. Down there are stacks of metal boxes and Academy equipment, as well as half a dozen big black jeeps. A few Academy personnel are scurrying about in a panic, but they're too busy to notice us.
"Here," cries Laura, "Through here." She grabs my arm and hauls me through an open door into a short, darkened corridor on the other side. At the far end there's a metal door with a porthole set in the middle, through which I can see a tiny disc of the night time sky. Me and Laura fling ourselves against the door, haul up the handle and fling it open.
A gust of cool air rushes in and over us. Out there on the deck of the ship, everything is chaos.
"Laura!" I yell. With a sob she drops the rifle and comes stumbling over to me.
"Lynch . . . oh, God, your ear . . ." Her hands flutter over the place where Ingleman cut me. It looks like she wants to help me, but she doesn't know how.
"It's okay," I lie. "Get me untied." Laura nods and starts working at the braces that hold my arms. She gets one undone, and then I use my free arm to undo the other while she unclips my legs. As I stand a rush of blood flows to my head and I stumble, dizzy. Laura catches me. I feel the blood still running down the side of my neck. It's all happened so fast that I can't take it in.
The room shakes again. I hear the sound of a dull and distant explosion. An alarm starts to sound, rising and falling somewhere in the depths of the ship.
"What's going on?" says Laura. "What's happening?"
I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. We've got to get away. We might not get another chance. Come on. Get the gun."
Laura picks up the rifle and passes it to me, and we make our way to the door. I hold the gun up, brace it against my shoulder and put my finger over the trigger.
"Open it," I say. Laura lets me stand by myself and hauls the heavy handle of the door up. It swings open. I duck out, checking left and right. Nobody there. We're in a windowless corridor that stretches off dimly in either direction.
"This way," I say to Laura, picking a direction at random. We start to run, Laura hiccupping and gasping softly behind me. My head throbs heavily and adrenaline courses through my body. I feel like any second I'm about to burn up, explode like a star gone supernova.
At the end of the corridor is another door, and on the other side a staircase. We hurry up, feet hammering on the metal steps. Two floors, then three. How far down can we be? Just as we set foot on the next flight of stairs the door at the top bursts open, and two Academy wardens come barrelling through. Instinctively me and Laura fling ourselves back against the wall, but there's no need. The wardens don't even notice us as they sprint away up the stairs.
The door they came through is still swinging shut when we reach it. We head through and find ourselves running along a kind of balcony that looks out over a cargo bay. It's huge, big enough to hold a street of houses with room left over. Down there are stacks of metal boxes and Academy equipment, as well as half a dozen big black jeeps. A few Academy personnel are scurrying about in a panic, but they're too busy to notice us.
"Here," cries Laura, "Through here." She grabs my arm and hauls me through an open door into a short, darkened corridor on the other side. At the far end there's a metal door with a porthole set in the middle, through which I can see a tiny disc of the night time sky. Me and Laura fling ourselves against the door, haul up the handle and fling it open.
A gust of cool air rushes in and over us. Out there on the deck of the ship, everything is chaos.
Monday 30 April 2012
Part Three, Chapter Five
I can't help it anymore. I start to scream. Wordless noise, begging him to stop, pleading with him, crying. He ignores me. A palm forces my head to one side, exposing my ear. Pain flowers at the side of my head, hot and razoring and unbearable. I feel blood spatter onto my shoulder, soaking still-warm into my clothes. Laura's screaming too, and I hear her dimly through the pain. The pain plunges like a spear down through my body, and all I can think of is that. I swear I can feel the flesh being cut. There is nothing else in the world.
Ingleman pushes my head the other way. I kick and pull feebly at my restraints, but it's useless. "No . . . Please . . ." I see the knife, now dripping blood, darting through the air towards me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. But the expected pain doesn't come; instead there's a deep, shuddering rumble that seems to come up through the floor. Ingleman releases me and I sag forward in the chair. I'm shaking and the side of my head is a mess of agonising pain. I can't hear anything at all through that ear, as if it's underwater. I can feel the blood flowing freely down my cheek though.
The rumble comes again. I risk a glance up and see Ingleman standing there looking plainly confused. His shirt, I see with a sickening jolt, is spotted with blood, and he still hold the knife. As I watch he turns to the two guards and barks an order that I don't hear. He tucks the knife into his belt and sweeps from the room, one of the guards in his wake. The other remains, rifle held steady, keeping watch over me and Laura.
A wave of dizziness hits me and I sag forward again. I realise I can still hear through my un-mutilated ear, and that Laura is shouting at the guard, screaming at him, calling him a string of filthy names, telling him to let her go. He ignores her. A moment later I feel a gloved hand seize my hair and slam my head back against the chair. The guard is holding me there, staring at the bleeding wound where my ear used to be with something that looks like fascination.
I turn my gaze away from him. In the very corner of my eye I can still see Laura. I see her sit up. I see her duck her cuffed hands underneath her legs, one by one, so that she ends up sitting with her hands bound in front of her rather than behind. And I see her stand up in one fluid movement and leap towards the guard.
Ingleman pushes my head the other way. I kick and pull feebly at my restraints, but it's useless. "No . . . Please . . ." I see the knife, now dripping blood, darting through the air towards me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. But the expected pain doesn't come; instead there's a deep, shuddering rumble that seems to come up through the floor. Ingleman releases me and I sag forward in the chair. I'm shaking and the side of my head is a mess of agonising pain. I can't hear anything at all through that ear, as if it's underwater. I can feel the blood flowing freely down my cheek though.
The rumble comes again. I risk a glance up and see Ingleman standing there looking plainly confused. His shirt, I see with a sickening jolt, is spotted with blood, and he still hold the knife. As I watch he turns to the two guards and barks an order that I don't hear. He tucks the knife into his belt and sweeps from the room, one of the guards in his wake. The other remains, rifle held steady, keeping watch over me and Laura.
A wave of dizziness hits me and I sag forward again. I realise I can still hear through my un-mutilated ear, and that Laura is shouting at the guard, screaming at him, calling him a string of filthy names, telling him to let her go. He ignores her. A moment later I feel a gloved hand seize my hair and slam my head back against the chair. The guard is holding me there, staring at the bleeding wound where my ear used to be with something that looks like fascination.
I turn my gaze away from him. In the very corner of my eye I can still see Laura. I see her sit up. I see her duck her cuffed hands underneath her legs, one by one, so that she ends up sitting with her hands bound in front of her rather than behind. And I see her stand up in one fluid movement and leap towards the guard.
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