Children of the Cull (13 page)

“I don’t want to.”

That surprised me. Ruth was the oldest, but also one of the most compliant of all the children.

“Trust me, none of us want this, but I need to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m safe in my room.”

Inside I was screaming, telling her to move.

“Not any more you’re not, sweetheart. Please.”

She frowned.

“You’re never called me that before.”

“Called you what?”

“Sweetheart.”

I hadn’t even realised I had. “We need to go, Ruth.”

She nodded, stood and looked around her room, taking it all in, as if it might be the last time she stood there.

There was every possibility.

I held out my hand. “The rest are waiting.”

“The other children?”

“Yes.”

That made up their mind. “Then I must be brave, for them.”

She took my hand and I led her out to the others. “Okay, we’re all here.”

Eckstein’s voice echoed down the corridor. “Dr Tomas?”

Ruth’s hand tightened around my own.

“It’s fine,” I told her. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

I couldn’t take her with me. There was no telling what Eckstein had discovered.

“Here, you stay with me,” Allison said, holding out her own hand. “You heard Dr Tomas. She’ll only be a moment. We’ll all look after each other, won’t we?”

More nervously than I would have expected, Ruth let go of my hand and took Allison’s.

I mouthed a
thank you
and then went to find Eckstein. The guard was in the office Allison had suggested, sitting awkwardly on a chair in front of a monitor.

“How is it?” I asked.

“Not good.” He flicked a switch and showed the atrium of Neighbourhood One. The doors were open and the raiders were swarming in.

I gasped. “There’s so many of them.”

“And that’s not all.”

Another switch and the picture of a tall woman marching towards the front doors of N-2, followed by a colossus carrying what looked like a battering ram on his back.

“They’re everywhere,” he said, cycling through the feeds.

“Here?”

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time, see?”

Another image, the tunnels. A smaller woman came into shot now, striding confidently. Beside her was a less impressive man, rail-thin, and behind them...

It was like being hit by a sledgehammer. One minute, I was standing behind Eckstein and the next I was on the floor staring at the screen in disbelief.

“Dr Tomas?” Eckstein was out of his seat, offering his injured hand without thinking.

And all the time I couldn’t take my eyes off the display.

That face, after all these years. He looked older, of course he did, probably older than his years, but there was no mistaking him. His hair had receded slightly, his frame wirier than I remembered, but his eyes... As he passed the camera, he looked up, straight into the lens. Even on the grainy screen, they were so strong. So sure.

Looking straight at me.

And then he was gone.

“Dr Tomas.”

Eckstein’s voice. More demanding, insistent, bringing me out of my fugue.

“Yes, yes.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m sorry. I... It’s all been a bit much. I’m fine.”

Yes, because repeating it made it true.

He offered his hand again, but I refused, pushing myself up to sway on my feet.

It wasn’t possible, not after all this time.

Eckstein was talking again, although I couldn’t make out the words. I forced myself to concentrate.

“...know what we have to do.”

What the hell was the man talking about?

“The endgame? Ma’am, can you hear me?”

“Yes, of course I can.”

He’d found me. After all these years. When I had given up hope.

“So will you give me the authorisation?”

“Authorisation? For wha—” Then I realised what he had been saying. The endgame. A dead man’s switch. The Cabal’s orders were clear. When all lines of defence have failed, the base would be destroyed by explosives set into the foundations, ready to blow on the authorisation of the base commander, or whoever was left.

I shook my head. “No, not that. Not yet.”

“We have to, doctor. It’s standing orders.”

“Not
my
orders; besides, we can’t. The computer system is inoperative. There’s no way of setting off the charges.”

“There is, from the bunker. We get the children down there, access the secondary system and then blow these bastards to the skies.”

He grabbed my shoulders now. “A signal will be sent to the Cabal.”

We couldn’t.
I
couldn’t. Not with
him
on the base. Not after he’d found me.

“They’ll send a rescue party,” Eckstein continued, desperately trying to make me see. “Take us back to Germany. All your work, it’ll be safe. The children will be—”

“No!”

I didn’t mean to push him that hard, and certainly didn’t expect for him to fall. It must have been his injury, the loss of blood. He’d been unsteady on his feet all the time.

The crack as Eckstein’s head met the table would have turned my stomach if it wasn’t already churning. He crashed to the floor, and moaned, rolling on his front. It was like it was happening to someone else. I watched a hand—my hand—go for the gun in Eckstein’s belt. I pulled it out, grabbing the barrel to pummel the butt into the back of the German’s head. I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t real. The crunch of his skull. The blood. The gun falling from my shaking hand as I staggered back.

Eckstein didn’t move.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Oh, God.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

My training kicked in. See if he’s breathing. Check his pulse.

“Leave him.”

I whirled around to find Olive standing in the door. Christ. Where had she come from? Had she seen what I’d done?

Her tidy ponytail had come loose, hair hanging down in front of manic eyes. Eyes I recognised; I see them every time I look in the mirror.

“Jasmine, he’s dead. But no-one will know.”

I retched, turning to vomit in the corner of the room, inches from Eckstein’s corpse.

Olive was by my side, rubbing my back. “That’s it. Let it all out. It’s fine. He deserved it, you know. He probably killed Samuel. Him and Lam. Working together. You never trusted them.”

Didn’t I?

I wiped a thread of drool from my mouth. Jesus. My scrubs. They were splattered with blood. Eckstein’s blood.

“Quick, this way. Before the others come.”

Olive led me into the lab, pointing to a box of paper towels.

“Clean yourself up, as much as you can. Wash your hands.”

It was like I was on autopilot, moving over to the sink, running the water.

“But the blood...”

“There’s a white coat on the back of the door,” she told me. “Put it on. It’ll cover most of it up, until we can get you changed. There are clothes in the bunker. It’s going to be all right.”

“Olive, I...”

She was beside me again as I slumped over the sink. “He’s here, isn’t he? You saw him, on the screen.”

I looked up, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Did you see him too?”

“Of course I did. I’m your eyes and ears on this base. Always have been. You want to see him, don’t you?”

“Yes. More than anything.”

“Then sort yourself out. Head up, back straight. Get a coat and get a grip.”

I laughed, covering my mouth. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.” I grabbed another paper towel, dabbing my eyes, wiping my lips. Turning on the cold water tap again, I stuck my mouth under the stream and took a gulp. The cold liquid set my teeth on edge, but I swilled it around my cheeks and spat it out into the sink. “What would I do without you, eh?”

Olive rolled her eyes. “I’ve been telling you that for years. Coat, now.”

I rushed to the door, grabbing the lab coat and slipping my arms into the sleeves. It wasn’t a bad fit, a little bit big, but it would do. At least most of the blood was covered up.

“Right, I’ll get Allison to move the children and then go and look for him.”

“Sound like a plan. But aren’t you forgetting something?”

I peered at Olive, not understanding.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “The case. Don’t forget the case.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

KILL

I
T HAD BEEN
her; the voice I’d heard every night when I slept. I’d worried for a while that I would forget what she sounded like. I already struggled to remember what she looked like. But not now. She comes to me as soon as I heard her voice.

Smooth skin the colour of coffee; dark curly hair; wide, expressive eyes that seemed to reach all the way to her soul.

And then there was the laugh. Oh, God, that laugh. People would turn and stare when she got going—and smile. Talk about infectious. She could start a pandemic, eyes gleaming, head thrown back without a care in the world.

She exuded passion in every way possible. In her laugh, in her work, in our arguments—and where it mattered most, too. Life was for the living, as far as Jasmine was concerned, and woebetide anyone who stood in her way.

That’s why, even after all this time, I knew that she had survived, even when the universe told me that it was impossible. Blood-Type AB+. Cursed. Doomed.

But I’d heard her voice, all those years ago, by complete and utter chance, over a machine in the SIS comms-room. Just four words.

“
Are... are you there?
”

And there it was, my reason for living. The knowledge—because that’s what it was—the
certainty
that I would find her again, would hold her in my arms, would pick stupid rows and laugh at stupid jokes and just be the way the universe intended us. Together.

And yes, I know that’s enough to make you reach for the sick bucket, the kind of crap that’s spouted in a thousand and one rom-coms full of beautiful people with beautiful lives, but I don’t care. That’s how I felt, how I feel.

And I was right. I’d followed her here—or rather, followed rumour and hearsay, from one continent to another. The trail had brought me to Bristol, to this place. I’d told Brennan I wanted drugs: it’s what she wanted to hear, made me less threatening. The junkie who could get them into the base, with a one-track mind, thinking of his next fix.

I guess I should have felt guilty. All those people who had died. The guards, the gang-members. But hell, they were fighting for what they wanted, for a place to belong in an increasingly batshit crazy world. For a purpose.

So was I.

For years, as I’d drifted off to sleep at the end of every day, my prayer had been the same. Who gave a shit that I didn’t believe in God? It didn’t mean He wouldn’t hear.

Just let me hear her say my name again, one more time.

That’s all I wanted—and it could happen today.

“Is this the way?” Brennan asked, striding ahead of me.

I looked up, surprised by the question. “What’s that?”

“The place on the screen? Is it this way?”

What did she want me to say? “I guess so.”

“You guess so? Did you hear that, Brennan? He guesses so! I thought he was supposed to be the fucking expert!”

Fenton had been bad enough before. Now, it was all I could do not to snap his raw-boned neck.

“There weren’t any hospital wings when I was here before,” I snapped back. “They’ve obviously had some work done.”

“Yeah,” Brennan muttered darkly. “For these ‘experiments.’”

I picked up the pace, storming past Fenton. The sooner I got this over with...

“But from what I could see on the screen, it has to be on this floor. Old conference suites, the only place big enough to fit in all those beds.”

There were swing doors coming up on the left. I was sure I’d been in there before, staring at boring PowerPoint presentations, counting the seconds until I could escape.

I marched up to the doors, swinging them open... and froze.

Keep moving, soldier. Whatever the world throws at you. Keep moving.

Sir, yes, sir, etc.

The conference rooms had been partitioned into curtained cubicles, each containing a bed. Most were empty, but a few contained bodies wired up to life support machines, all tubes and wires and electronic beeps.

They were all so
thin
. Emaciated. A memory surfaced, a documentary I’d watched about holocaust survivors, from the concentration camps, living skeletons. Jasmine had made me turn it off. It wasn’t upsetting her. It was making her angry.

How could they do that to another human being?

But this was worse, much worse. As I walked the length of the room, I realised that all the patients were children.

Experiments.

The technician had said experiments.

Is this what he meant?

“Jesus!”

It was a woman’s voice, to my right. She’d walked through a door between wards, checking notes. Young, perhaps early thirties, tall and slim, with dark skin and short curly hair. Now her folder was on the floor and she was running back the way she came.

“Stop her,” Brennan yelled, and Fenton was off like a greyhound after the rabbit. He tore past me, quicker than I would have thought, and soon caught up with the woman, grabbing her shoulder. She screamed, trying to pull herself free, and they went down, slapping against the floor, Fenton on top of her.