Lace’s daughter cries during the whole service, though Lace remains stony-faced. Eric, who it turns out was Batch’s best friend, says a few words, eyes streaming with tears.
I spend the funeral watching the faces of the people around me, trying to work it out. Various forms of grief are patent here on this clear morning. Some look uncomfortable, some look weary. Most look sad, a few angry.
It is a puzzle indeed, and Luke isn’t the only one who wants to put the pieces together.
*
Luke
“Oh god.”
“What’s wrong?” Dad plonks himself down on the couch next to me.
“I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.” I hand him the tablet and let him scan the instruction book I’ve been perusing. It’s the only file I kept from the tablet I stole from John Smith and then gave to Josi.
It’s the end of a very long day. I’ve been speaking to just about everyone I can, getting statements about their whereabouts during the hours unaccounted for, during which Batch was murdered. There’s no way to prove any of it, of course, so it’s all a bit pointless. But it still has to be done. I haven’t told anyone about the knife under my bed, which was undoubtedly the weapon used to cut off Batch’s head, because frankly it looks bad enough to implicate me. I need to work out who put it there before I tell anyone.
Dad’s thick eyebrows furrow as he reads, scrolling through the pages. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on the case? This is a big project.”
“I’m working the case,” I promise him, then gesture to the instructions. “But this is important. I’ll work on it through the night if I need to, just do little bits at a time.”
Eventually Dad looks up. “You want some help with it?”
I breathe out in relief. “I thought you’d never ask.”
*
Dad and I head to the toolshed and have a look around. There’s always someone here, no matter the time of day – a guy called Blue is currently repairing one of the dining tables from the Den. He hates me for some reason I don’t know, so gives me a few hard looks before pushing off and leaving us to potter.
It’s a blessing that this toolshed is impeccably well stocked. Living in a completely self-sufficient community means people have been building and maintaining everything for the last twenty years, so they’ve stolen a whole heap of building material and tools from the city. I find two big pieces of wood that have obviously come from one of the trees beyond the wall. Dad grabs a few tools and starts piling them together on the bench. We go back to the instructions to make sure we have most of the stuff we need, and have to put our heads together to come up with ways to improvise the rest.
“We don’t have delicate enough tools for the bridge,” I point out, scratching my cheek.
“We can hand-carve that bit,” Dad says.
“Maybe you can, but I can’t.”
“I’ll show you.”
I start measuring the wood and making the pencil markings where it’ll need to be cut. “You and Mom going alright?”
Dad’s gathering a straightedge, a plane and a jig in order to start the fingerboard. He starts looking around for the right bit of wood. “Sure.”
“Do you … wish you were still at home?”
“No, son,” he says. “It’s just an adjustment. Your mom and I have lived in that house for thirty years. And all our things …”
Christ. The house will be reclaimed by the bank and all their things will be discarded. Including all my stuff from childhood, everything they own, and everything that once belonged to Dave.
My hands stop and I am utterly horrified. “I didn’t think – ”
“It’s alright,” he tells me gently. “They’re just things. It matters, to be here with you.”
“But Dave – ”
“Wouldn’t have cared about all that stuff.”
“But we do. We care about it.” There’s a wooziness in my heart. I can’t believe I brought them here without thinking about what they’d be losing.
“No, Luke,” Dad says firmly. “Possessions don’t connect us with Dave. Love does. Longing does.”
I swallow, barely holding it together. I nod. “Sorry, Dad. For leaving you guys when it happened. I shouldn’t have … I was a coward.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“What are you sorry about?”
“For not being me anymore.”
I look up, struck by the words. He’s concentrating on his measuring, tongue poking out the side of his moustached mouth. “You are you.”
“No, mate,” Dad murmurs. “I don’t think I am.”
We work quietly for the rest of the afternoon because I don’t know what to say to such words. The longing he spoke of is palpable in the air between us – longing for his dead son and longing for the man he used to be. But what I’m not sure he realizes is that the longing itself is new for him, since the cure. And to me, the longing seems like life itself.
*
February 20th, 2066
Josephine
Hal’s been ordered to teach someone to keep the train running. There’s always meant to be a couple of people at the one time who know how to maintain it, but at the moment there’s just him. He asked a bunch of people who said no, and since there were no volunteers, I decided to put myself forward. Truth is, the books Luke got me are great, but they’re all fiction, and my brain feels like it’s shriveling to the size of a pea without anything new to learn. It’s an awful feeling, worse than physical starvation. It makes me dream of being trapped, the cage around me shrinking so that I must shrink with it or be crushed.
I don’t, however, look forward to spending extra time with Hal, even though he’s become one of my best friends. Pace has spent the last several nights crying. She would gut me if I admitted to having heard her, and she’d hate for me to act any differently around Hal, but still. I feel awkward being in the middle of whatever it is.
I follow him down into the train tunnel. It’s instantly cooler than the hot air above. “This train was built in the 2020s so she’s getting on a bit,” Hal tells me fondly. “We took control of her back when we started The Inferno – it’s easily the biggest victory we’ve ever had.”
“Where is it now?” I ask, peering into the pitch black.
“On a circuit. Currently she’ll be about sixty-seven miles away. Today’s operational speed is two-hundred-and-ninety-eight miles per hour, which means she’ll arrive in approximately thirteen and a half minutes.”
“Oh. Approximately.”
“She runs on a magnetic levitation line, which was first used in Shanghai in 2004, at lower speeds than this, of course. The technology’s pretty geriatric at this point, but she still runs beautifully.”
“How does it know where to stop?”
“She doesn’t stop – she’s in perpetual motion and has been since the day she was built. The algorithm makes her run at different speeds each day, so her exact location can’t be predicted by the Bloods.”
“But they could just put constant surveillance on the city stations.”
“She runs on a line that hasn’t been operational in the city for over thirty years. The Bloods didn’t have a clue how we were moving in and out of the city without detection. Until they did know. But Luke destroyed their intel before he came out here the first time.”
“Yeah but if Jean whatshername knew the information, then she still knows it, regardless of what’s on her computer.” I know her name. I know it very well: Jean Gueye. She’s a woman I think about a lot. Because she’s the person who ordered my death.
“Yeah,” Hal agrees.
“So … what?”
“So we have to be really careful.”
“But what if the Bloods just jumped on the train? It would lead them straight to us.”
“They’re not allowed to leave the walls.”
“One of them did.” The one I shot.
Hal shrugs. “How would they find us? The line is so long and
covers such an expansive area that they’d never know where to get off.”
I shake my head. Someone will figure it out, one day. Or they’ll set up a permanent watch of the stations and wait for us to come to them. Especially after our latest attack on the Collingsworth lab. They’re going to want Meredith back. And then we’re screwed.
“She’s the only transportation we have,” he says. “And we’re lucky to have her. We can’t move above ground because of the Furies and they don’t have access to the tunnels. The risk of the train is one of the reasons we don’t make too many attacks and turn ourselves into too much of a priority target – we can’t afford to lose her.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “It just seems, like, outrageously risky.”
“I thought you liked taking risks.” He smiles.
“What gave you that impression?”
Hal shrugs, blushing a little. “Your boyfriend was a Blood.”
I freeze.
“He used to talk about you all the time, Josephine.”
“Don’t call me Josephine. Raven and Quinn still have no idea who I am.”
He spreads his hands quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”
“Mouthing off like that can get people hurt.”
Hal stares at me, looking mortified. “Is this … Are you angry because … Did Pace say something … ?”
“Not a word.”
“I hardly remember what happened!” he tries helplessly. “I was so drunk – ”
“Oh please. Just grow a pair and talk to her, Hal.”
The rest of the lesson is awkward after that. When we’re done I hesitate, asking, “Do I have to start referring to the train as a female now?”
It breaks the tension and Hal grins. “It’s a requirement.”
I head gratefully back up into the settlement for my next lot of training.
Luke is waiting for me on the mats. There are other people sparring, but he concentrates on me, pushing me harder than anyone else and not giving me any breaks. He’s in a foul mood, snapping at me constantly and pacing around in annoyance.
I decide to keep my mouth shut, not wanting to get into a shouting match with him in front of the other trainees. They all thought I was lucky to have personal training with him, but after his last roar of disgust at my inept kicking, I think they have now reconsidered.
When we’re finished I storm out. He jogs after me. “What are you doing?” I hiss. “Don’t follow me.”
“Why?”
“That was humiliating!”
“Fine.” He changes direction.
After dinner I find a note on my bed. It is written on the torn-out page of a book, as paper is scarce. It’s sacrilegious to ruin a book, in my opinion, and I can’t believe he’s done it.
I can’t go to your house, but we need to talk. Meet me at our spot.
Our spot? I definitely was not under the impression that we have a spot.
When I find him in the dark I can’t help but laugh. “You’ve got a good sense of humor, Luke Townsend. I’ll give you that much.”
His smile flashes in the moonlight. We’re at the edge of the settlement under the only copse of trees, in the spot where we had our ‘break-up’ and said we hated each other.
“I’m nothing if not sentimental,” he agrees.
“Why aren’t you allowed to come to my house?”
“I’m allowed to, I just don’t think I should at night unless we want Raven and Quinn to think there’s something going on between us.”
“What’s up?” I sigh.
“Sorry about today.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Although I’m not really that sorry.”
“Good apology.”
“You need serious training,” he insists. “I can’t be going easy on you, and I’m surprised you would want me to.”
“I don’t want you to!”
“Okay,” he laughs. “So we’re agreed.” Luke hesitates. “I’m still sorry. I wasn’t myself.”
“You were angry.”
“I’m always angry.” He meets my eyes. “It’s getting worse.”
“Luke,” I murmur. “Don’t … do anything rash. Don’t tell anyone.”
“It’s dangerous, me being like this.”
“Your change won’t happen until the blood moon. Meredith has months to work it out.”
“You were normal every other day of the year,” he points out. “But I feel … I’m not normal.”
Ben said he had no idea how the virus would react in an adult subject. Which means that Luke could have completely different symptoms to me, having been injected as an adult instead of a child. Looking at him now, he looks a lot like he did the night he injected himself. Aggressive, restless … His mood swings have been pretty wild over the last few days.
“You have all of your cognitive functions,” I insist. “You’re aware of your actions. You’re still you.”
“For how long? I have to tell them.”
“Tell who? Quinn and Raven?”
He nods.
“No. No way.”
“Josi – ”
“If they know you have a virus that makes you aggressive and violent, they’re going to think you murdered Batch.”
“Better me than you.”
“Better they just find the actual killer,” I say.
There is a moment of silence, and then Luke asks, “But what if I did do it?”
Cold shears through my heart, but I say, steady as iron, “Then we’ll make sure nobody ever knows.”
Chapter 17
February 20th, 2066
Josephine
I am making my way home from my secret meeting with Luke when it happens. I am feeling like a bit of an idiot, creeping around in the dark for no reason, when I see someone move behind a nearby building. I pause, something about the movement piquing my curiosity. There’s nothing behind that building – it’s just an equipment shed, with only a few yards of space between it and the wall.
I hesitate. Maybe if someone hadn’t just been murdered I might not be so nosy. Or maybe I would. Who cares. I walk closer, keeping to the shadows.
Flattening myself against the side of the building, I listen. The soft scuffle of footfall reaches me, and then two male voices. They’re too soft for me to distinguish the words. I peer around the corner as carefully as I can until I can make them out.
Both big men, their silhouettes roughly the same height. One is slimmer than the other. They are speaking with urgency and jerky hand movements. There is a long silence, and then they move, falling into each other’s arms.
And as they do they catch a shaft of moonlight, and I can see perfectly who it is, kissing as though their lungs don’t work.
Hal and Eric.
*
I dawdle home, not wanting to see Pace. My stomach is in knots. What am I going to tell her? Nothing – it isn’t my place. But how can I look at her and not tell her she’s in love with a guy who is clearly in love with someone else?
If it wasn’t so horrible for her, it would almost be funny that I tried to pick up a gay guy. I clearly have zero ability to detect sexual chemistry.
Pace is crying again in her room when I get home. “Oh god,” I mutter. Taking a breath, I knock on her door.
“Go away!”
“I’m coming in.”
“Dual, I swear to – ”
I barge in and sit down on the bed, despite her groan of annoyance. She buries her face back in her pillow so I won’t see her tear-streaked cheeks.
“This is insanity,” I tell her. “He’s not worth so many tears! No guy is!”
She looks at me over the pillow. “Now I just feel sad for you.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t let yourself feel anything for anyone.”
“That’s not … true,” I say faintly.
“You just pity yourself.”
My mouth falls open in outrage. “I’m feeling something for you right now and it ain’t good!”
“Go away,
” she moans.
“Just please promise me you’ll either talk to him or stop this moping. You slept with the guy. It’s awkward now. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I hate you.”
I head for the door.
“I’m not crying because it’s awkward, you idiot,” she sniffs. “I’m crying because I’m in love with my best friend and he doesn’t love me back. And that’s, like, the worst thing ever.”
I sigh, because it’s not the worst thing ever, but I guess it is pretty bad.
*
February 27th, 2066
Luke
“We’re never gonna finish it,” I sigh morosely.
“Still got four days,” Dad disagrees.
“I don’t have enough hours in the day.”
“We’ll work through the night then.”
I am sanding a piece of wood that I’ve cut into a rounded shape. Dad’s drilling holes in his, using a battery-operated drill that isn’t really big enough for the job, but he’s making a heroic effort to ignore that fact.
“Wanna come to training with me and Josi?” I ask him. It’s late, and we’ve been in the shed for a few hours now.
Dad smiles slightly. I notice it because he rarely smiles anymore. “Think I’m a bit beyond training, mate.”
“Rubbish. You could help me with her.”
“What’s the problem?”
I shrug. “She can’t connect with it. Can’t focus. Her head’s a million miles away all the time.”
He considers this for a while, working away. Eventually he suggests, “Put some music on while you train.”
I stare at him, and then I smile. “You’re a brilliant man, Dad.”
“I am,” he agrees.
*
February 28th, 2066
Josephine
Tonight Luke shows up to the training room looking excited about something. He’s holding the old stereo from Raven and Quinn’s house, and he’s got a long extension lead, obviously connected to the generator.