The Death House

  ‘Yeah, that must be it.’ Louis looks relieved but there are still dark shadows behind his eyes. It must be tough having a brain that big. You can’t ever ignore the logic of something, however hard you try.

  ‘Do you think that’s it?’ Will says. He’s younger. Sweeter. His face is suddenly full of hope. ‘Can people be allergic to snow?’

  ‘Don’t see why not,’ Clara says. ‘Or perhaps it’s the wine. Now come on, stand up. Let’s get you out of these.’

  She smiles gently at him and he does as he’s told. He’s ten going on five this afternoon and Clara’s the closest thing he has to a mum. I hope he doesn’t ask after the nice nurse. I don’t think I can lie that well.

  It’s only when we peel his jeans away that we see the streaks of pink in the piss that’s run down his legs. Will starts to cry again then, and I sponge his legs and tell him it’s nothing while Clara washes his jeans out in the tub and Louis runs to get fresh trousers. Will’s facing away and doesn’t see the red that comes out of them, but Clara’s expression is troubled and Louis is trembling and all around us the house looms large once again.

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ Clara tells Will once he’s dressed again. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘I don’t want the nurses to take me. Do you think they watch us change before they kill us? Do you think the changing hurts?’ His voice is hollow, and he swallows between the words. I don’t know if it’s the result of his fear or his active Defectiveness. ‘I don’t want my eyes to bleed. I want my mum.’

  ‘It happened to me once,’ Louis suddenly says, loud and defiant. ‘That blood-in-the-wee thing. It was just an infection.’

  He’s lying, I know he is, but he’s determined to convince himself.

  ‘Now come on, stop being a baby and let’s go and finish our snowman.’ He grabs Will’s hand and drags him off, talking constantly as they head downstairs. I don’t know who I feel most sorry for out of the two of them – the one who’s going or the one who’s being left behind. I feel sick. It’s too much to think about after last night. I don’t want to be awake when they take Will.

  After a moment, Clara bursts into tears and, as we stand hugging in the bathroom, squeezing each other tight, so do I.

  Tom notices at teatime. Will’s struggling with his cutlery, gripping his fork ham-fisted in order to scoop some food into his mouth. Not that any of us is eating much.

  ‘What the fuck’s up?’ he says. ‘You sick?’ We glare at him.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Clara says. ‘He’ll be fine.’

  Tom looks at me and I can see he’s pretty sure Will won’t be fine and finds confirmation of that in my face. Eleanor’s eyes dart around the table trying to find some truth between the kids and the ‘grown-ups’. None of us can wait for tea to finish. Louis talks all the way through it, chattering about the snowman and asking Eleanor questions about the Narnia book that Jake destroyed until she says she’ll tell them the rest of the story later. My jaw aches with the tension and I’ve got a headache from crying. I want it to be night. I want to climb over that wall and run and run and run until I collapse.

  Worst of all is that I can see the glances coming from the other tables. We’ve learned to be like sharks scenting blood. The Dorm 4 table is now a curiosity. It’s like we’re all tainted. Will’s clumsiness and weepiness have been noted and now the grotesque show has begun. How long will it take? When will the nurses notice? Thank fuck it’s him not me. This is how Jake must have felt when Ellory got sick, but we’re different in Dorm 4. We won’t abandon our own. We’re better than that and Will is still one of us.

  At bedtime Ashley asks Will if he wants to come to the church the next day and this makes Will cry all over again, his thin shoulders slumped in his pyjamas, hitching as he sobs.

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ Tom snarls. ‘He’s fine.’

  ‘I’m not talking about his health,’ Ashley says. ‘But he’s upset and afraid. The church might help, that’s all I’m saying. It might help calm him down.’

  Louis’ in the bathroom and I’m lying on my bed with no energy for the fight, but Tom is full of pent-up anger.

  ‘You’re just a patronising prick. You’re a bug feeding on all this shit with your smug hymns and your stupid prayers and walking around as if you’re Jesus and if you don’t shut the fuck up I am going to break so many of your teeth you’ll wish they’d already taken you to the sanatorium. You’re a cockroach. A nothing.’ As he rants, he towers over Ashley who shrinks back. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look nervous and I enjoy it.

  ‘I’m just trying to help,’ Ashley says, cowed. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Just shut up,’ Will says wearily. ‘All of you, just shut up. My head hurts.’

  He cries before he falls asleep and we can all hear the small, scared sobs coming from under his blankets. The sound makes my eyes sting and my stomach churn. I want to make things better but I can’t, and I hate that I want it to stop so I can stop thinking about the same fate that’s waiting for me in the not-too-distant future. In the end, Louis gets out of his bed and crawls in with Will, whispering to him, telling him a story to distract him.

  I can’t wait for their sleeping pills to kick in. I need peace and I need Clara.

  The snow had started to thaw in the afternoon but the temperature’s dropped and now it’s turning to hard ice, but still we climb over the wall. We have to. We go as quickly as we can down to the small harbour where we creep silently out onto the jetty. We don’t talk much but we hold hands tightly. We’re both trying to leave the house behind but we can’t. I know she’s thinking about Will because I am, too. About Will and the nurse and Matron and the solid knowledge that everything has changed. We’re trying to concentrate on our escape. Maybe we can’t run from what’s inside us, but we can sure as shit run from here.

  We don’t laugh and all my muscles are tight as we carefully lower ourselves into the small rowing boat – practice to see if it will carry us. The wood creaks but holds and it’s like sitting on planks of ice. Clara looks around, back to where the supply boat will dock one night soon.

  ‘If we untie the rowing boat, we should be able to paddle it over there,’ she says quietly. ‘With our hands if we have to.’

  I sniff. ‘And then climb aboard the supply ship and get away.’

  ‘Yes. If there’s a way up the side. Otherwise we’ll just have to take our chances from the jetty while the truck is up at the house.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ I say. I’m shivering, my teeth rattling in my head. Around us the black sea looks like thick oil and the wind cutting across it is harsh. I want the warm, friendly ocean we’ve talked about so much. ‘Get me some hairpins and I’ll break into Matron’s office tomorrow night. Maybe she has the rota for the truck in there.’ It’s only a small bend in the truth. We’re sitting opposite each other to balance the fragile, weary vessel, but I just want to wrap my arms around her. She looks up at the sky.

  ‘I wish the lights would come again.’

  There’s a thin pink haze on the horizon but that’s all. I don’t look at it for long – it makes me think of the streaks down Will’s legs. Will, the nurse and Matron.

  ‘I keep thinking about the pills,’ I say as we sit in the quiet. ‘Do you think maybe there’s something in them? To make it happen quicker?’

  She looks at me. She’s not shivering at all and I wonder how she can be warm. But then I wonder a lot about Clara, the mystery, the mermaid queen.

  ‘You think so?’ Her voice is higher – hopeful. She worries just the same as me, but she’s better at hiding it.

  ‘I don’t know. Just wondered.’ After the nurse I wouldn’t be surprised by anything Matron did, and dark as the thought that the pills are making us go Defective more quickly is, it’s also a good thought. For us anyway. We haven’t been taking the pills. Maybe we have years ahead of us, not months.

&nbs
p; ‘When was the last time a Defective actually changed?’ she asks.

  ‘I dunno. Hundred years ago? Eighty maybe?’ I have no idea. A long time, anyway. They had the tests when my grandmother was a kid, so it was before that. There were more Defectives back then.

  ‘I don’t even know what we’re supposed to turn into. Someone at school had an old horror film about them, from before they were banned. I didn’t watch it, though.’

  I look out over the inky water. ‘It’s not good, whatever it is. We wouldn’t be ourselves any more.’

  ‘Maybe we should find an isolated island of our own. Just in case. I don’t want to hurt anyone. And we should have a gun. So when one of us starts to change, the other can take care of it.’

  ‘Are you saying you’re planning to kill me?’ I try and make a joke of it. I don’t want to think about the throwback genes in our blood.

  She smiles softly, light and shadow in the night. ‘I’d kill myself afterwards. Straight away.’

  ‘Me, too,’ I say. I’m not sure if I mean it, though. I love Clara. I can’t imagine not being with her. But I can’t imagine the endless nothing, either. I wonder if part of the reason I hate Ashley so much is that I can’t share in his fantasy of life-ever-after.

  ‘We’ll go into the earth.’ she says. ‘And then our atoms will race around the world together, completely free.’

  It’s a nice thought, but it’s still not enough to ease my dread. I want to be me. I want to be me for ever and I know I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep my life as long as possible. I’m not sure I could put a gun against my head and pull the trigger. I hate that, because I love Clara with all my heart and I don’t want to feel weak. I don’t want my fear to overrule my feelings for her.

  She sniffs. ‘I thought the snow would make everything better.’

  ‘It did for a day or so. The first day was a good day. A brilliant day.’

  ‘Poor Will,’ she says.

  After a while we climb back up to the jetty and talk about all the things we’re going to do and what we’ll eat and wear and live on when we get away, but tonight it feels hollow. Will is always with us. I feel like I have him at one shoulder and the nurse at the other. We go back to the house and make out for a while in the kitchen, but our touches are desperate – driven by a need to confirm that we’re still alive, and it’s tinged with sadness. Her skin is hot against my cold flesh, though, and it feels good. Clara cries a bit afterwards and I don’t have anything comforting to say to her. It’s shit. It’s all shit. Everything is shit apart from us. Tomorrow night I’m going to find out when that boat is coming.

  Eighteen

  I don’t think I’m going to sleep but I crash hard for the few hours before we have to get up and don’t even hear the gong. Tom has to shake me awake. Outside the sun is bright and everything glistens as the snow and ice melt. It’s a beautiful day and I stare at it as I get dressed. Eventually, however, I have to turn around.

  Louis is helping Will with his clothes and it’s clear things have deteriorated overnight. His legs wobble underneath him. He looks thinner. His eyes are sunk into his face and they scream fear.

  ‘We’re going to have to help him to breakfast,’ Louis says, looking at me. I wish they didn’t always look at me. I love Will but I don’t want to be near him right now.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Will is trying to do up his shoes but his fingers aren’t cooperating. Louis crouches and does the second one for him. ‘It’s nothing. I’m fine.’

  He looks at us then, first Tom, then me and finally Louis, desperately seeking reassurance. Only Louis gives it, fixing a grin onto his face.

  ‘I know, but you’ve got a bug and we don’t want the nurses prodding and poking you when there’s still some snow out there to play with, and we haven’t finished our chess game.’

  I can’t bear to look at them. It makes me ache too much.

  At breakfast I have to fight not to shuffle my chair away from them. I know now why the other dorms have all done it before. It’s not callousness; it’s just too painful to watch up close. This isn’t our Will. Our Will eats too much and sees the best in everything. Our Will still thinks they’re going to let our parents write to us.

  ‘I don’t want my eyes to bleed.’

  It’s the only thing he says as we force ourselves to eat. He’s staring down at his toast, his shoulders slumped. The words are soft and empty. They scare me more than anything else.

  It’s a long, horrible day of rising tension that feels like it’s going to make every sinew in my body snap. I wish the new teachers were here so at least a few hours would be taken up with lessons. We go out into the garden and although the sun is shining the air is still cold. Louis and Eleanor try to keep Will engaged and I think neither of them really believes it’s Will’s turn yet. They’re choosing not to see it and in some ways that makes it all worse. It means there’s three of them to worry about.

  ‘You all right?’ Jake has strolled over and sat down alongside me on the other swing. I think about the bets me and Louis had on Joe being next. Joe and Daniel are kicking a ball around in the slush. They both look perfectly healthy.

  I nod. ‘I guess we couldn’t keep up our lucky streak for ever.’

  He doesn’t say any more, which is a relief. Whatever peace we’ve made, that’s all changed now. He’s not one of us at the moment. This is a Dorm 4 thing and we’re closing ranks.

  Will coughs up blood in the afternoon and that’s when we all – even Louis and Eleanor – know it’s over. All we’re doing is waiting now. It’s a bright-red patch in the melting snow and me and Clara quickly mush it over with our feet. Will grabs my hand, holding on like a much younger child would as he stares mournfully at the ground.

  ‘I don’t want to go to the sanatorium. Not on my own.’ He’s crying again. ‘I just want to go home. Will you ask them if I can go home? Don’t let them take me up there. Please don’t.’

  We lead him inside to rinse the blood from his mouth and then up to the dorm, shutting even Louis and Eleanor out. He begs us not to leave him and we promise we won’t. Eventually he falls asleep while Clara and I sit and watch him as the minutes tick away and his breath hitches. He’s fading in front of us. Not fast enough to escape the dread, but fading all the same. We hold hands and her warm fingers are tight against mine.

  ‘He can’t go to the sanatorium,’ she says, eventually. ‘We can’t let that happen. He’s so scared of it. He’s so young.’

  ‘Maybe they won’t take him tonight. I don’t think they’ve noticed yet.’ We are far more aware of the changes in each other than the nurses. Or perhaps they just know when it’s the right time. We don’t really have a clue what they do up there. Maybe they let it go further before they finish us to see what happens or do experiments. Use our bodies to try and find a way to eradicate it entirely. Not that it makes any difference. It’s death either way in one form or another.

  ‘We should give him a last adventure. A brilliant night,’ she says. ‘We should take him to the cave. He’ll think it’s wonderful.’ She sounds sad but her words run deeper. There’s something else in them, something I don’t quite understand.

  ‘He wouldn’t be afraid there,’ she says. ‘I don’t want him to be afraid.’

  I look at her then. I look at her for a long time figuring out what she means, and then we make our plans. When Will’s eyes finally open and he starts crying again, low, quiet sobs, I know it’s the right thing to do. I hope it’s the right thing.

  I don’t need to wake him up when the house is silent. He’s awake and ready. As soon as we told him we had a secret to share and not to take his vitamin or tell anyone – not even Louis – his mood had lifted slightly, some of the old sparkle returning to his eyes. He’d grinned at us over tea as we helped him in, and even Louis looked relieved. He was hoping Will was getting better li
ke Joe had. Maybe it was just a nasty bug after all.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Will whispers.

  ‘It’s a special surprise.’ I help him with his shoes and let him lean on me as we go downstairs, the floorboards staying quiet for us. I’m going to have to carry him some of the way, I think.

  ‘Is this why you sleep all day? Are you awake all night?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ In the gloom he’s so pale. ‘About the pills.’ He sounds hurt. ‘Why did you keep it a secret?’

  ‘I dunno. Scared I’d get caught if everyone knew.’ It’s the truth as it stands now. I can’t tell him that at first I just wanted to be free of them all, and the house, for a while. ‘I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Clara. She made her mind up not to take them all by herself.’

  He nods and sniffs. I assume he’s fine with that. Will doesn’t bear grudges. He thinks the best of people.

  Clara is waiting at the bottom of the stairs with two flasks tucked into her bag and a blanket slung over her shoulder. Will grins at her as I help him down the last few steps. She hands me two of Harriet’s thick, sensible hairpins.

  ‘We’ll need the back-gate key,’ she whispers. ‘I’ll take Will – maybe we’ll make some sandwiches? She smiles at him before looking back to me. ‘We’ll see you in the kitchen. You sure the key’s in there?’

  I nod. I’ve told her that I overheard one of the nurses talking about the key rack once. It’s a lie, but I couldn’t tell her I’d seen all the keys hanging on the wall when I had my blood retested. I can’t tell her any of that.

  I’m left alone staring at Matron’s office door and after a deep breath I poke the wires in like Jake taught me and try to stop my hands trembling. Sweat makes my fingertips slippery, but I concentrate hard and after a few near misses, I hear the clicks. There’s no going back now. I open the door hesitantly, half-expecting an alarm to sound and lights to flash, but there’s nothing. Just still silence and my own ragged breathing.