Saul gets up too. He comes and stands close to me. Too close.
‘If not you, Adam, then who?’ he says quietly into my ear. ‘Who’s gifted like you? Who’s got your gift? Your daughter, perhaps?’
Then he walks to the door and knocks to be let out.
Left alone, I’ve got Saul’s words going round and round my head. To be honest, this room ain’t big enough for all the thoughts in there right now.
His number’s haunting me. I see it shimmering in my head with my eyes open or closed. I can’t get away from it.
He’s killed more than once to stay alive.
He’s threatened to kill me.
And he’s threatened to kill Mia.
I know what sort of monster Saul is now. And the worst of it is, Mia has a number that shimmers, too. Nan’s number. Does this mean that Mia is the same as Saul? Is my daughter a murderer?
I sit on the mattress and bury my face in my hands. My girl. My little girl. I think of her face the first time I showed her a bird’s nest with a clutch of pale blue eggs inside. The wonder on it. The sheer delight. She can’t be a killer, can she?
I don’t look up when I hear the door opening again. If it’s Saul, I ain’t ready to talk no more. I can’t give him an answer, well, not the one he wants anyway. But it’s not Saul. It’s a soldier carrying a tray of food. A different squaddie every time. He hands it to me and I put it on the bed – soup, crackers and a cup of water. The guy’s still standing there, not moving, almost like he’s waiting for a tip.
Finally I look up at his face. He looks the same age as me, a skinny guy with a wispy moustache. He’s nervous, a little flushed. He’s definitely waiting for something.
He clears his throat and nods towards the tray, meaningfully. I look down. There’s something sticking out from underneath the soup bowl.
The soldier turns his back.
It’s a piece of paper. I fish it out and unfold it. There’s a drawing of a graveyard on one side. Weird. I flip the paper over and there’s some writing. Six words: ‘Come back to me. Trust Adrian.’ And two kisses.
It’s signed Sarah.
‘Are you Adrian?’ I ask. He nods. ‘Tell her—’ I begin, but he puts a finger to his lips. Ssh. Of course, they could be listening in. He’s clever, this one. He knows the ropes.
He holds a stub of a pencil out towards me.
I can send a reply.
I’ve never been good at reading and writing. I tried, but I never really got it, only now I feel like I could write a book. I’ve got so much to tell her, so much I need her to know. I want her to know that I love her. I want her to know that I’ll get back to her, whatever it takes. I need to warn her about Saul – but I know she hates him already.
Maybe I need to warn her about Mia …
I take the pencil. The soldier makes a show of looking at the paper and closing his eyes. He’s telling me he won’t look at what I’ve written. Then he turns his back again.
The end of the pencil hovers above the paper. What do I say? Will this guy really not read the message? What’s to stop him having a look as soon as he’s out of this room? I would, if I was him. Why has Sarah put her faith in him?
I got a look at his number when he came in – he’s got years left, years and years. He’s a survivor. But he doesn’t look like someone who should survive. There’s something weak about him – weak in body and soul. Something doesn’t add up. I don’t think I want his help.
I write my message. It seems lame.
‘Trust no one. I’ll be back. xx’
I fold the paper back up again.
‘Thanks,’ I say, and the soldier turns round, takes the paper and puts it in his pocket. I nod at him and he leaves.
And I’m left alone with my thoughts again, and the numbers – Saul’s and Mia’s – shimmering in front of my eyes.
Chapter 27: Sarah
The light goes on and I hear the key in the door. I’ve been awake since my nightmare, and now Marion’s back.
‘Don’t come in, you cow!’ I shout. ‘Don’t come in here!’
Mia starts to wake up. The door opens, but it’s the white-coats this time.
We’ve left our escape too late. They’ve come for us.
Somebody swoops on Mia and picks her up. Half asleep, she starts yelling and struggling. I can’t help her. I’m pulled out of bed and my left arm is yanked up behind my back.
‘Get off me. Get your filthy hands off me.’
I’m pushed across the room and out of the door. Mia’s gone before me. I can see her hands and feet flailing around, hear her screams.
‘What are you doing? What’s happening?’
Mia’s taken into one room and I’m bundled into another.
The room I’m in has a huge glass window. Through it I can see Mia. She’s being put onto a bed. She’s fighting them, but they’re holding her down, tightening straps around her arms and legs. I can’t believe my eyes. It’s outrageous.
‘Stop it! Stop it! Leave my daughter alone! Leave her alone!’
Someone slaps my face hard, shocking me into silence.
They’re taping wires onto her now. It’s obscene. What the hell are they doing? She’s a little girl, for Chrissake!
A man’s standing in front of me now. He’s got a white coat on, too, and a squashed kind of face.
‘Sarah,’ he says, ‘I want you to listen to me.’
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I’m Doctor Newsome. I’m in charge of Mia’s assessment.’
‘Assessment? What assessment? What are you assessing by treating her like this?’
‘We’re undertaking a scientific assessment of her extraordinary powers. Someone needs to be in there with her. Do you want it to be you?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Tell this idiot to let go of my arm and I’ll go in there.’
‘Good. Let her go.’
By the time I’ve got into Mia’s room, they’ve taped sensors all over her body, including on her scalp.
‘Oh my God, Mia!’ I rush to her side.
‘Mum-meee!’
‘It’s all right, darling, it’s all right.’
There’s a bank of monitors in the room, a million lights and dials and screens. They’re being checked by technicians and supervised by Doctor Newsome.
He leans over Mia.
‘Look into my eyes, Mia,’ he says. ‘What do you see? Don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me, just look.’
Mia squirms her head away from him.
‘There was a little eye contact there. Did you get that?’ Newsome asks his assistants.
‘Yep, got it,’ one of them replies.
‘Can you turn her round gently,’ Newsome asks, ‘so she’s looking at you?’
I do as he asks, but only because I don’t want him touching her. As soon as we’re face to face her features crumple. She tries to reach out towards me.
‘Are you getting this?’
‘Yes, loud and clear.’
‘Okay, we’ve got the baseline data,’ he says. ‘We’re ready.’
The technicians start leaving.
‘What’s happening?’
Newsome turns to face me.
‘We’ll need to leave you for this part of the procedure. Your role is to stay with Mia, to comfort her.’
‘What tests are you actually doing? Is it an X-ray? Is that why you’re going? I’m not sure I should stay, because of the baby …’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he says and closes the door behind him. I hear a bolt sliding on the other side.
The large rectangle that I know is a window looks like a mirror from this side. All I can see is this grim room, and Mia and me. I know they’re all watching. I feel like an exhibit in a museum, or an animal in a zoo. I know they can see me and I know they can hear me.
‘It’s very hot in here,’ I say, addressing the mirror. ‘Could you turn the heating down, or put on the air con or something?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Newsom
e’s voice booms into the room. I glance up – there’s a speaker above the mirror, near the ceiling. ‘We’ll sort it out.’
Mia’s whining, trying to move her arms and legs against the straps.
‘Try and lie still a minute,’ I say. Then, to the mirror, ‘It’s getting hotter.’
‘There’s nothing to be alarmed about. We’ve got a temporary problem with the heating system. We’re working to fix it now.’
‘Is it hot where you are?’
‘Yes, yes, it’s the whole system.’
‘We need some air in here. Can you open the door, please?’
I’m sweating now, and so is Mia. Her forehead is damp and her cheeks are pink. She’s only wearing a little T-shirt and some pants.
‘Mia’s getting too hot,’ I say. ‘I’m going to have to take her top off. I’ll have to disconnect all the things on her head.’
‘Sarah, do not touch the sensors. Do you understand me? Do not touch them. We’re gathering a crucial set of data that will help with our analysis.’
‘What analysis? What data? You never actually told me. What are you doing?’
‘I’ll explain later. Just stay with Mia.’
‘Is the heat part of the tests?’
‘No, there’s a fault in the central heating system, I told you. But we must continue the tests. Please sit with Mia.’
I do sit on the bed, but not because he’s told me to. My legs are starting to feel wobbly. I’m sweating all over and it’s hard to breathe. Mia’s showing signs of distress too: thrashing her head from side to side, moaning. The spots of colour on her face are getting brighter. I’ve seen them before. This is getting dangerous.
‘What is the temperature in here?’ I ask.
‘Thirty degrees.’
‘Thirty! For God’s sake, that’s enough. Open the door.’
‘It’s the same everywhere.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Mia’s straining at the straps. I touch her face. It’s red hot. I look round the room for some water, anything to cool her down. There’s nothing.
‘Can you bring us some water, please?’ I can hear the panic in my voice. I know I should be keeping calm for Mia’s sake, but I can’t. Alarm bells are screaming through my body. ‘Doctor Newsome, can you bring us some water?’
‘We’ll be with you very soon.’
‘No!’ I scream. ‘We need it now!’
My breathing’s out of control now, coming faster and faster, but I’m getting more light-headed.
‘Try and keep calm, Sarah.’
I look at the bank of monitors near the bed, a battery of traces moving across the screens, with numbers and counters of all sorts. They don’t mean a thing to me, except one number. On several of the screens there’s the same number: 35 degrees. I watch as it changes, and, yes, it changes on every screen. 36 degrees. We’re being cooked in here.
Mia starts to cry, not a hearty full-on yell like she does if she’s fallen over or hurt herself, but a thin, watery noise. Her cheeks were very pink before, now they’re mottled – livid red blotches sitting on pale, almost alabaster skin. She was moving around a few moments ago, showing her discomfort. Now, she’s gone very still. Her eyes are glassy. The changes in her are all happening very, very fast.
‘Oh God. Doctor, help us, please. Mia’s overheating. Please, help us. We can’t let her overheat.’
I start scrabbling at the buckles on her straps. I should have done this to start with. I shouldn’t have let it go this far.
‘Don’t touch the straps, Sarah. We’ll be right with you. Keep her on the bed. Keep as calm as you can.’
‘I need to get her out of here.’
I’ve undone the strap round one of her arms, but my sweaty fingers keep slipping on the other buckle and my strength has been sapped by the heat. I can’t do it.
‘Stay where you are. We’ll be right with you.’
One more glance at the monitors – 41 degrees.
The room’s spinning around me. I can’t keep it together. I keel over onto the mattress next to Mia. The baby’s squirming inside me, pushing against my stomach and my ribs. Saliva floods into my mouth – I’m going to be sick.
I move my head and spit onto the floor. I can’t see any more. The room’s gone black. I’ve got my left arm across Mia. I can feel her even if I can’t see her. And I can hear her.
‘Mum-meee.’
It’s a thin, reedy noise, like an alarm bell in my head. It brings me round. I open my eyes and the room comes back into focus. I lift my head just in time to see her eyes roll back into her head and her body go stiff.
‘Oh my God. Oh my God. Somebody help us! Help! Please help!’
She starts to convulse, arms and legs twitching against her restraints, head jerking.
I can hardly breathe. I try to hold onto her limbs.
‘Mia! Mia, come back to me! Mia!’
The jerking gets more violent. It’s terrifying, but I can’t do anything to stop her. All I can do is watch and try and keep her from harming herself. Then her whole body goes stiff. Her eyes are still open but I can only see the whites. I cradle her face in my hands.
‘Mia. Mia. Can you hear me? Mia. Mia!’ It feels like she’s gone, like her body’s empty. ‘Oh God, no. Please, please, please.’ I slap her face. She gives a little moan and her eyes roll down and just for a moment she sees me again, I know she does. ‘Mia, don’t leave me. It’s not your time. Mia, stay with me. Stay with me.’
She’s pale now – the blotches have gone – a pale, stick-thin girl lying on a bed much too big for her. Her eyes close and her arms and legs go limp.
The door blasts open bringing a rush of cold air. Newsome and the whole team of staff sweep in.
‘Stand back, please.’ They jostle me aside and I stagger backwards. My body’s got no strength left in it. My back hits the wall and I sink to the floor.
I don’t know if my daughter’s alive or dead.
Chapter 28: Adam
Saul’s back. This time he brings a couple of armed thugs with him. Am I going to get a beating? Is he going to kill me now? They cuff my wrists behind my back and shove me out of the door.
‘Right or wrong, you’re going to help me now. You’re needed,’ Saul says, and he barges past and sets off down the corridor at a run. My posse are digging me in the back, pushing me, dragging me along – it’s all bruises on top of bruises. I ain’t in any position to resist.
‘Leave off,’ I say. ‘I’m coming, all right.’
My words don’t make no difference. They enjoy this shit.
We lose sight of Saul, but it don’t take long to catch up with him. We turn a corner and the corridor ahead is full of people running around like headless chickens. They’re mostly piling into one room, and that’s where we go.
To start with it’s difficult to work out what’s going on. It looks like there’s a crowd of people round a bed, so many I can’t see who’s on it.
Saul is shouting at Newsome. ‘What the hell were you doing?’
‘I was doing my job, Saul. The girl changed her number – we were scientifically recreating those conditions to analyse what happens.’
The girl. Mia.
They know she changed her number. How? How could they know that? Then I remember the soldier with the message, putting his finger to his lips. They could be listening in. They did listen in – they listened to me and Sarah. That’s the only way they could know.
What have they done?
‘I didn’t agree to that,’ Saul spits out.
‘I don’t need your sign-off, Saul. I’m the Chief Scientific Officer. I sign off all research. This is my project. You’re just security.’
They’re facing each other, standing nearly chest to chest like two fighting birds.
‘I’m in charge of this facility,’ Saul shouts into Newsome’s face, ‘in charge of the whole place, or are you forgetting that?’
‘What do you know about science?’ Newsome sneer
s. ‘What do you know about numbers? What are you even doing here?’ His chins are quivering.
Saul shoots me a quick look. I twig instantly.
Newsome don’t know about his number-stealing.
I open my mouth – I’ll shout it from the rooftops, if it helps me get out of here – then I think about Saul’s threats. And I remember. He’s murdered before.
If not you, then who?
I close my mouth. I’m helpless. I can’t tell anyone. And anyway, they’d never believe me. My word against his. What can I do?
‘What do you know about this girl, Newsome?’ Saul’s saying. ‘What has your research shown you? Has her number changed? Or has your scientific meddling killed her?’
Killed her?
I try to shrug off my minders, to get to the bed. As I twist around I notice a figure slumped on the floor. It’s Sarah. I call her name and she looks up. Her face is flushed and shiny, her eyes dull, but they’re still that piercing blue and the number’s the same. 2572075. Even in the middle of all this madness, her number comforts me. Somehow we’re gonna get through this. There’s a happy, peaceful, loving future waiting for us. Difficult to believe it, but that’s what her number’s saying.
And I can’t let that number change. I can’t let Saul near her – but what about Mia?
‘Sarah, are you all right? What’s happened?’
She shakes her head, unable to speak.
Saul grabs my arm and leads me away from her, pushing through the crowd. Some people protest as they’re shoved out of the way. Saul ignores them. And now I can see Mia. Her arms and legs have been strapped to the bed. She’s floppy and pale, and completely still. Her eyes are closed.
‘For God’s sake, what’ve you bastards done to her?’
‘Look in her eyes, Adam. Tell me what you see.’
Her chest is rising and falling – shallow little breaths. She’s breathing. She’s alive.
‘Fuck off, Saul. I’m not doing anything until you’ve untied us both.’
‘Do it,’ he says to the people round him.
My hands are wrenched up my back, while they fumble with the cuffs, but then, suddenly, they’re free. I reach forward, helping the others get the straps and the wires off Mia. She opens her eyes slowly.