Numbers 3: Infinity (12 page)

What?

And then, slowly, painfully, my mind takes the next step.

Them.
Saul has taken more than one number.

He’s a number-stealer. A cat with nine lives. More than nine …

Just like Mia …

Just like Mia …

I’m riding a motorbike. I feel the wind on my face, the smell of oil in my nostrils, the pulsing of the engine in my hands and legs.

Saul’s riding next to me, Sarah on the back. He salutes. A crack, and I’m flying, then nothing …

Just like Mia …

There’s no words to express what I’m feeling – all I can do is sit and stare with my guts turning to water inside me.

Chapter 25: Sarah

I
wake, wreathed in sweat, into a dark room. I’m lying on a thin mattress. Someone’s crying.

Reality’s slipping and sliding. Which nightmare am I in?

Am I fourteen again? Is my dad here? The room’s dark. There’s no lock on the door. I can’t keep Him out. Is He here now, or has He just been here? It can’t be me crying – I wasn’t allowed to make any noise. He said he’d kill me if I did …

Now there’s a woman, crouching in front of me. She’s got her hand on my shoulder.

And finally, one reality crystallises from the soup of memories and nightmares. The chemical smell. I remember this chemical smell. My cell.

And Marion. She’s silhouetted against the rectangle of light from the half-open door. Her face is in shadow, her body looming over me.

‘You were panicking in your sleep,’ she says. ‘You were dreaming, weren’t you?’

‘Get out of my room!’ I scream.

‘What were you dreaming, Sarah?’

‘I don’t know. Just get out. Leave me alone!’

But I do know. The panic was real – my heart’s still jumping in my chest – and the pain was real and the place was real. I’ve never been there but I can still smell the dankness in my nostrils, feel the cold seeping into my bones.

Mia’s here, too – she reaches up to touch my face. Tears brim in my eyes.

‘Mummy crying,’ she says. ‘Don’t cry, Mummy.’

But I can’t stop. I know there’s a time coming when she’ll be gone. It’s coming soon. I can see it – just as I saw the Chaos. I drew the Chaos without thinking – it was there, in my head. And I drew the new nightmare, too. It’s going to happen.

‘Sarah, what was it? What was in your dream?’ Marion’s still here.

‘Nothing! I don’t know. For Christ’s sake,’ I shout, ‘give me a break!’

‘You saw the Chaos, didn’t you, Sarah? You saw the date and you drew it. What do you dream now, Sarah?’

‘Nothing. I told you already, my dreams have stopped.’

‘You were dreaming just now. I saw you.’

‘Was it you looking before? Is that how you get your kicks, looking at people?’

‘I don’t … I don’t know what …’

‘You shouldn’t be here, you evil bitch. You shouldn’t be in someone’s room. It’s wrong. This whole place is wrong. Get out! Get out!’

I fling the covers back and launch myself at her. My arms are flailing, trying to hit her, scratch her, hurt her.

And finally she moves, hurrying out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Mia’s upset again. But she’s been
through so much in the last couple of days, seen so much.

I sit with her on the bed until she falls asleep again, maybe an hour later. I watch her chest rise and fall, listen to her regular breathing. After a while, her breathing quickens. Her arms and legs twitch now and again, and she murmurs in her sleep.

She’s dreaming.

Chapter 26: Adam

‘I
can’t help you, Saul. It’s wrong. Telling numbers is wrong.’

‘Where’ve you got that idea from?’ 

I clam up. I don’t want him dissing my mum. If he did that I really would have to batter him.

He tuts and shakes his head in irritation. ‘You’re not thinking clearly,’ he says. ‘I told you, life isn’t black and white. I’m acting blind now, I need to know. You can save people, Adam.’

‘Save them?’

‘Save them from me.’

I let his words sink in. He means saving the ones with the wrong numbers, people that are going to die soon – at least, too soon for him. He wants numbers with a long life.

‘I just need to find the right one … at the right time,’ he carries on. It’s like he’s talking to himself now. ‘If only I could see numbers. If I could learn, if I could master it. If I could
pick it up
…’

‘I can’t teach you,’ I say. ‘It’s something I was born with.
I don’t even know how I do it.’

‘No,’ he says, ‘you can’t teach me. But maybe you can
give
it to me. Would you give it to me … if I asked you nicely?’ He’s smiling at me now, but it’s a mockery of a smile, like the grin a fox has on its face when it’s looking at a rabbit. ‘I’ll give you mine, if you give me yours.’ He laughs. ‘Yeah, I like that – it’s a swap.’

I know then, as clear as day, that if I don’t help him, he’ll help himself. He’ll kill me. In two days’ time, when his number is up, he’ll take mine and hope my number-seeing comes with it.

‘Fuck off, Saul,’ I say. Fear makes the words catch in my throat. I jump up and stride over to the opposite wall, leaning my hands against it, dropping my head between my arms.

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

T
he 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,’ Newsome’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.’