Blood Ransom (33 page)

My eyes snapped open. There was water in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

HELP!

‘Listen to me, Rachel. You’re okay.’

I registered Elijah’s muffled voice. I turned my head towards the sound.

He was outside the tank, a dark shape looking in at me. And I was in here. Trapped. No air. My eyes stung from the liquid. It was lukewarm – body temperature – and had a slightly
sour taste, like lemon, but very faint.

Panicking again, I beat against the sides of the tank with my legs and arms. Elijah had taken off my long top and socks but my leggings and vest clung to me, all wet.

‘You can breathe,’ Elijah said. ‘The liquid is breathable. Forget your nose and mouth. Focus on your heartbeat. It’s like you’re breathing through that.’

I stopped thrashing around in the dense, treacly liquid. Much as I hated to obey Elijah, what he said made sense. After all, I’d seen the embryos back on Calla surviving in the same fluid.
And Grace.

Instead of trying desperately to breathe the ordinary way, I took my attention to my heart. It was pumping like it would explode. After a second or two the beats slowed a little and I felt it .
. . the strange sensation of being okay with my lungs full of fluid. I still had to fight the instinct to breathe through my nose, but I could tell I was all right. It was like I was breathing
through my skin . . . through my body as a whole.

Definitely the weirdest sensation of my life.

‘There – you see, you are fine,’ Elijah said triumphantly.

I turned towards his voice again. It was still muffled through the tank casing and the hydratoroxide surrounding me, but now that I’d stopped moving I realised that my eyes didn’t
sting any more and I could see fairly clearly – like I was looking through a pair of slightly smudged swimming goggles. There was Elijah himself, looming over the tank. Beyond him was the
rest of his lab. I couldn’t see the outer room at all. Was Theo there? Or had Elijah already killed him? My heart pounded. As far as I could tell, it was just me and Elijah. And I was trapped
in this case. Totally at his mercy.

‘Milo, get in here!’ Elijah called. He turned to me. ‘I need help placing all the wire nodes. It’s a delicate operation, but it won’t take long.’

I stared at him, taking in what he’d said. So this was it. Elijah was going to fix the wire nodes over my body, then give me a lethal dose of poison. I had just a few minutes to live.

I felt the panic rising again, my desire to breathe through my nose asserting itself. I shook my head violently from side to side.

‘Calm down,’ Elijah said. He held up a syringe. ‘I can always sedate you again before I put the wires in. I don’t need you conscious for that part.’

I stopped moving immediately. I turned my head towards the door, looking out for Milo. He was my last hope. Would he stand up to Elijah?

‘Milo!’ Elijah swore. ‘Get in here!’

The wheelchair trundled towards us. Milo was sitting slightly hunched over, his head bowed. He was deliberately not meeting my eye. I fixed my gaze on the place where his beanie hat was pulled
low over his forehead.

Look at me
, I urged him
. See what he’s doing. Stop him. Do something.

Elijah glanced round. ‘Get over here,’ he snapped. Now Milo was in the room with him, Elijah had lowered his voice and it was harder for me to make out exactly what he was saying,
but I got the gist of it. Elijah wanted Milo to help hold all the delicate wires while he fed them through the tiny hole in the top of the case and attached the ends to my skin.

As Elijah spoke, he laid his gun on the table beside him. The wires were on the table too. He picked one up, waiting.

Milo was wheeling towards him – a little faster now, his head bowed and his attention clearly on the gun on the table.

Something was different about him.

I strained to see more clearly through the hydratoroxide.
Yes.
There was definitely something different in the curve of his cheek . . . the hunch of his shoulders . . .

A second later he looked up and met my gaze. And suddenly I realised what was happening.

Hope surged through my whole body.

It wasn’t Milo in the wheelchair. It was Theo.

98

I spun the wheels of Milo’s wheelchair and moved forward again. It was hard enough controlling the thing, let alone looking as if I used it all the time.

Luckily Elijah was distracted by the wires he was separating out on the table. I knew Rachel, floating in that hideous tank, had clocked me. I could only hope Elijah hadn’t noticed the
flash of recognition in her eyes. I kept my focus on the gun on the table beside Elijah. It was just centimetres away from his hand. If he realised I was pretending to be Milo before I reached him
he would shoot me. No question.

I turned the chair’s wheels again and thought fast. Milo was outside, unable to move. Rachel was stuck in that terrible tank. Defeating Elijah, once and for all, was up to me alone..

You have to kill him.

The thought flashed through my mind as I drew close enough to touch Elijah.

I still didn’t know how I was going to overpower him, just that I had to get that gun away from him.

Elijah threw a swift glance at me.

‘Will you hurry—’ His eyes widened with recognition. ‘
Theo?
’

Damn.

There was no time to think. As Elijah reached for the gun, I hurled myself out of the wheelchair. Everything that followed was a blur.

I knocked Elijah off balance. He stumbled sideways and fell to the floor, sending the table beside him crashing to the ground.

I threw myself on top of him, my hands reaching for his neck, my knees pinning his arms to his sides. He pushed me off with a roar.

I struggled back. He wasn’t going to win again.

He wasn’t going to kill Rachel.

I wouldn’t let him.

‘NO!’ I forced him down again, my hands like steel against his windpipe. He was choking, kicking. A massive shove. Elijah released his right arm. Punched me in the gut. I loosened my
hold on his neck, winded.

In a single movement he was pushing me back. One hand reached for the gun. Grabbed it. He stood over me, panting, the gun pointing in my face.

We stared at each other for a second. I glanced over at Rachel. She was staring, frantic, through the glass case that imprisoned her.

‘Enough,’ Elijah said. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and steadied the gun. The barrel was a thin black circle in front of my eyes.

‘Stop.’ The voice came from the floor by the doorway. It was Milo. His own gun was pointing up at Elijah.

I stared at him. I hadn’t even realised Milo
had
a weapon. I could see from the terrified expression on his face that he didn’t want to use it.

‘Put your gun down, Elijah,’ Milo said. His hand shook. ‘I didn’t want it to come to this, but I can’t let you hurt Rachel and Theo.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Elijah sneered. ‘You’re too weak to shoot me and you know it.’

I gazed at Milo. His whole body was trembling, but there was real fury in his eyes.

‘This is your last chance,’ Milo said, his voice dark and intense. ‘I’ve called the police and they’re on their way and—’

‘You’re bluffing. Anyway, the police can’t stop me.’ Elijah laughed. ‘Christ, Milo, I’d have thought even you weren’t stupid enough to believe
that.’

‘I know they can’t stop you,’ Milo said. ‘In the end, you always win, don’t you?’

‘
You’ll
win with the Eos protein,’ Elijah said. ‘Think how it could help you . . .’

Milo glanced at the Apollo clone, then at Rachel. ‘Not like this,’ he said.

Elijah muttered something under his breath in Spanish. And then, ignoring Milo, he turned back to me, took a step closer and cocked the pistol in his hand.

I shut my eyes.

Crack.
With a deafening bang the gun went off.

For a split second I was too numb to realise I hadn’t been hit. Then I heard a thud. My eyes opened.

Elijah was lying on the ground in front of me, a look of slight surprise on his face.

I crawled over, my whole body trembling. He was shot. I put my hand over his mouth. No breath.

I sat back. He was dead. This monster . . . murderer.

My creator.

Dead.

99

Everything happened very fast after that. The local police arrived en masse, forcing their way past Paul and the electric fence.

Theo must have let them into the bunker. Shocked at what they found, they brought in a doctor to help release me from the tank. It was hours before I was free, coughing up hydratoroxide and
breathing fresh, burning air into my lungs.

My first words were about Theo. Where was he? Was he okay?

I hadn’t seen either him or Milo for hours, though there were people all over the lab . . . some examining the Apollo clone, expressions of utter horror on their faces; others standing
over Elijah’s body.

I couldn’t quite believe he was dead.

Strangely, I didn’t feel anything – except relief.

I was wrapped in a blanket and taken straight to a small hospital in the nearest town, Tromstorm. I was examined by about six different doctors and interviewed by two police officers. To be
honest, it was all a bit of a blur. The only person I really remember from the whole afternoon was a petite female police officer with kind eyes who held my hand while I explained everything that
had happened. I asked her where Theo and Milo were and, to her credit, she went away and found out for me.

Milo, she said, was still being questioned by police, but the statements from both Theo and myself had backed up everything he’d told them about shooting Elijah to protect me. The police
officer was sure that, whatever happened, it was unlikely he’d serve a jail sentence.

Theo, it turned out, was in the same hospital as me. He was receiving treatment for the cuts he’d sustained during his fight with Elijah. I asked to see him, but the police office said the
UK and US agents they’d contacted through our parents both said we should be kept apart for the time being.

In the end, a doctor took some blood from me and I was left on my own, in a small, white-washed room, just waiting. Now I knew Theo was okay, my thoughts turned to Lewis – hoping he was
recovering in hospital back in Scotland – and to Grace. Had social services found a home for her yet? Was she all right? I couldn’t believe it was just a few days since I’d seen
them both.

At about eight p.m., the door of my hospital room opened. I looked up eagerly, hoping it might be Theo.

Mum and Dad walked in.

I got up off the bed, expecting them to cry or shout or hug me. Instead they both just stood there, their faces lined and sad and exhausted.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Dad cleared his throat.

‘How could you just leave like that, Ro?’ he said.

‘It was for Theo,’ I said, the words tumbling out of me in my eagerness to explain. ‘I had to save him from Elijah.’

‘Without telling us?’

‘You’d never have let me go,’ I said.

Across the room, Mum rolled her eyes.

Dad walked over and put his hands on my shoulders. ‘Your life . . .’ he said slowly, ‘I don’t think you understand how precious your life is to us . . . When you risk it
like that . . . it’s like you’re risking our lives too . . . our happiness . . .’

I looked down at the white tiled floor. ‘I’m sorry you were scared,’ I mumbled. ‘But I had to try and help Theo.’

‘And why does Theo matter so much?’ Mum snapped. ‘We’re your
parents.
Don’t our feelings count?’

I stared at her. Why couldn’t she understand how much Theo meant to me?

‘I don’t know who you are any more, Rachel,’ Mum said.

There was a long pause as I felt the resentment build up inside me.

‘No,’ I said. ‘You don’t. And that’s your own fault. You’ve tried to make me look and behave like the daughter you always wanted . . . like you imagined
Rebecca would have been . . . and I can’t be like that. I’m not her.’

Mum opened her mouth to say something else, but Dad cut in.

‘We want to know who you are. Don’t you see? That’s the point – we want you to tell us who you are, what you want . . .’

He shook me gently by the shoulders then let his arms fall to his sides.

A million thoughts whirled in my head. What
did
I want? Where I lived didn’t really matter. Having loads of nice things wasn’t important to me at all. No, in the end it all
came down to people.

‘I want three things,’ I said.

Mum raised her eyebrows. ‘What?’ she said. ‘The right to disobey us? The right to upset us? The right to—?’

‘Sssh.’ Dad hushed her. ‘Let Rachel speak.’

I took a deep breath.
Start with what’s easiest.

‘I’d like to know if Lewis is all right . . .’

‘He is,’ Dad said, ‘he’s doing fine, well on the road to a full recovery.’

‘. . . and I’d like to be able to keep in touch with him.’

Dad nodded. ‘Of course. Nobody’s stopping that.’

Mum said nothing.

‘Then there’s Grace,’ I said. ‘She’s my sister . . . genetically my twin. It
hurts
to be without her and—’

‘We’ve already been through this,’ Mum snapped. ‘We can’t possibly take on another child at our age. It’s not fair of you to ask, Rach—’

‘I’m not expecting you to adopt her,’ I said. ‘You were right about that, she should be brought up by younger parents that really want her . . . but I have a right to
still see her . . . she’s my family. She’s
your
family. I know you can do that. There are a couple of girls at school who live with foster families but still keep in touch with
their mums. Why can’t I see Grace like that?’

Mum and Dad exchanged glances.

‘What about Grace’s safety?’ Dad said.

‘Elijah’s dead,’ I said. ‘And RAGE aren’t targeting clones any more. Amanda Lennox said so and I believe her. They might wish we hadn’t been born, but they
don’t want to kill us. Grace isn’t at risk from anyone. And I don’t see why I can’t be like a proper sister to her.’