Numbers 3: Infinity (14 page)

I turn to Adam, who’s crouching next to me. I need him to back me up, stand firm against this unhinged, bickering pair. But he’s not listening. I don’t think he’s heard a single word I’ve said. He’s gazing at Mia too – and he looks shocked to the core. My stomach goes soft inside. He thought he was her father. It was one piece of the jigsaw his mind had put in the wrong place. He hadn’t remembered she wasn’t his biological daughter.

I lean closer to him. ‘You’re the only father she’s ever known,’ I whisper. ‘You’re the best father she could have.’

He doesn’t react. I squeeze his arm, but he carries on sitting there, stunned.

I get my feet under me, and heave myself up. It’s a huge effort. The baby inside me feels heavier than ever. The bump is sitting lower in my body. It feels like it’s pressing on the top of my legs. Once I’m up, I lean against the wall. I’ve got no strength at all. I close my eyes for a second and breathe, trying to get a little energy into my bones.

I hear a voice, Newsome’s.

‘And so,’ he says, ‘we continue.’

I squeeze my eyes tighter shut. I want this nightmare to stop.

‘No.’ It’s Saul’s voice. ‘No, it stops here for today. They’ve been through enough.’

I open my eyes. Newsome’s squashed face is a picture of angry confusion – and then Saul turns away from me towards him, mouthing something. Newsome’s face darkens, but he stops spluttering and sweeps out of the room.

Saul’s a metre away from me now. He’s stepping forward, his hand outstretched. He touches my stomach.

I’m horrified. This guy’s given me the creeps ever since I first saw him. I’ve hated him from the moment he prised Mia’s eye open when she was hiding in my arms. My back’s against the wall – I’ve got nowhere to go. I stare at his hand. I can’t stand it, can’t stand the contact.

‘Get off me,’ I snarl.

‘Sarah,’ he says softly, ‘you must be exhausted.’

Adam’s on his feet now. He puts his hand on top of Saul’s and his fingers shake as they try to peel Saul’s away.

‘Take your hand off of her,’ he says.

For a second Saul’s hand grips a little tighter and I’m ready to scream, but then he drops it to his side. Immediately I turn and reach out for Mia. She clambers on to me. My knees nearly buckle with her weight.

‘Let’s get you back to your room,’ Saul says.

‘No!’

He looks at me, taken aback at the venom in my voice.

‘I don’t want to go back there. I just want to get out of here.’

He sighs. ‘And sleep on the ground? In the mud? In the cold? I don’t think so. You need a good night’s sleep. We’ll see how you are in the morning.’

Why’s he being nice to me? What’s he trying to do? My brain can’t make the connection between what’s happened, and what’s happening now.

‘I can’t sleep in this place. I just can’t.’

‘Then you need a little something to help you. We can arrange that. Come along.’ His hand is on my arm now, shepherding me towards the door.

‘No, I don’t want … I don’t need anything, just to be out of here … Adam? Tell him.’

I glance sideways and Adam is bristling with energy. He’s twitching – hands, fingers, shoulders, face. I’ve seen him like this before and I know what’s coming next.

‘No, Adam, don’t. Please don’t. They’ll take you away again. Please don’t!’

But it’s too late.

‘I said get your hand off of her. Didn’t you hear me?’

‘Adam!’

His elbow flies back and then his fist flies forward, making sickening contact with Saul’s jaw, catching him off guard. Saul reels backwards, clutching his face. Now people are grabbing Adam, restraining him, and they’re grabbing me, too, and Mia, pulling us out of the room.

Before I know it, I’m back in the place I dread; desperate and facing another long night. But this time it’s different.

I’ve seen what these people are capable of. There are no rules here. There are no human rights. It’s all about survival.

Chapter 30: Adam

S
o Saul wants to see numbers. If he asked me what it was like, I could tell him. I could say what it’s been like for me for the last eighteen years.

Looking death in the face every single day.

Feeling people’s pain, their suffering.

Knowing I can’t meet anyone without being forced to think about their last moment. Not even a newborn baby.

When he stepped forward and put his hand on Sarah’s stomach, I knew what he was thinking. He said it, didn’t he? ‘If not you, Adam, then who?’ He thought it could be Mia, that’s why he was so hepped up when he heard about Newsome’s experiment. But the minute he heard Sarah say that Mia wasn’t mine, he changed.

He weren’t thinking about Mia no more.

Now I know as clear as day that Sarah and our baby are in danger. Real danger. Saul’s time is running out. He could grab a random life but that’s not what he wants. He wants to steal a life that doesn’t just give him extra years, he wants
extra powers too, and he’s got less than forty-eight hours to find one.

Now he thinks he’s found what he wants.

We don’t know when the baby’s due, but Saul won’t wait. He
can’t
wait.

Sarah’s not stupid, and she’s never liked Saul, but she don’t know what I know. And my fists didn’t leave us any time to talk about it. I should be sorry. Here I am again, locked up. I am sorry, but only that I didn’t finish the job properly. Saul’s a monster. I should have killed him. I will kill him.

I walk from one side of the cell to the other. Two and a half steps there. Two and a half steps back again. Over and over. Then I drop to the floor and try some press-ups. The bruises hurt, but I grit my teeth and carry on. Fifty, and I’m still fresh. Fifty more, and I start to feel it in my arms. That’s better. Fifty more, and I’m sweating.

I want to be tired and I want to stop thinking, but instead of blocking out the thoughts, the exercise gives them a focus. There’s nowhere to hide in this cell. I brace my body, push with my arms, but I keep thinking about the people who aren’t here. Sarah and Mia, and the danger they’re in. Then, Nan and Mum. I don’t know where they are. Somewhere? Nowhere? Suddenly my grief about them, the feeling of missing them is a physical thing. A pain behind my eyes, a tightening in my stomach.

I rest down on the floor, lie there flat, with my head turned, one cheek on the cold concrete. I’m frantic with terror and it hits me all over again that I’m the only one left of my family. I got no one to turn to for advice. They’ve gone. Will Adrian help us? I can’t help thinking he won’t – not in the end.

I’m going to have to do this by myself. If I keep my wits
about me, I’ll see something, there’ll be an opportunity. I just have to stay alert.

There’s got to be some way out of here and I can figure it out. I know I can. I’m going to.

I’ve got to protect Sarah, get us out of here … and kill Saul.

Chapter 31: Sarah

A
nother doctor, a woman, comes to check Mia. Since we got back to the cell she’s been pale, silent and dry-eyed. She lies on the bed, unmoving. In less than two days I’ve seen her change from a bright, happy little girl to a frightened shell.

The doctor runs through some routine checks.

‘Her temperature’s fine now. Her heart rate’s good. She just needs rest and some TLC.’

TLC. I want to spit the letters back in her face. I bite my tongue, but I regret it when she’s gone. I should have told her how it is. What have we got to lose?

Adrian brings us food and drink.

I try to give Mia some milk. She takes hold of the cup, but doesn’t drink.

Adrian goes straight into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

‘Are you all right?’ he whispers underneath the sound of the water. He looks worked up.

I shrug. ‘They tried to kill us – how do you think we are?’

‘I’m sorry. So sorry,’ he says, and I believe him.

‘Is Adam back in solitary? Did you take the note to him, before?’ I say. I haven’t had a chance to ask him until now.

‘Yes,’ he says, looking away. ‘But he couldn’t reply. Too much surveillance.’

‘Thanks, anyway. Is there any chance we can get out tonight?’

He shakes his head. ‘I need some time to plan. I’m getting outside help. It won’t be long. Another night or two.’

It’s too long to wait.

‘I don’t know if I can cope.’

‘Hang on in there,’ he says. ‘I know it’s tough. You should rest, you know. You look tired. I can get you a pill …?’

My legs are like jelly and I can feel the bags of skin sagging under my eyes.

‘I won’t need a pill,’ I say. I hate the thought of sleeping here, but I can feel exhaustion creeping over me.

I kick up when I realise where they’re taking me the next morning – back to the room with the observation window. It doesn’t make any difference what I do or say. The only thing they give in to is my insistence that Mia comes, too. I don’t want to let her out of my sight. And if I see people leaving the room, then we’re going with them this time – there’s no way we’re getting shut in here again.

Mia starts to whimper when we get there. I hold her hand firmly, stroking her fingers with my thumb. This morning, though, they don’t seem interested in her. They give her crayons and paper again, and soon she’s lying on the floor underneath the bed, scribbling away. Their attention is all on me. They’re saying they’re going to do an ultrasound on
the baby. A scan.

I don’t want Newsome or any of his cronies anywhere near me or Mia ever again, but a part of me is curious, wanting to see the baby inside me. I never had an ultrasound with Mia. She was my secret. I didn’t even have any help with the birth. I thought things were going to be different with this one. Well, they’re different, that’s for sure – but not in a good way.

And now Newsome is here. I look at him warily.

‘Have you had any ante-natal care?’ he asks.

‘Any what?’ I snap.

He sighs, trying to keep his temper in check. ‘Ante-natal care. Have you seen a midwife?’

‘Course not. I’ve been living rough.’

Newsome tuts. ‘You have a responsibility to this child, a duty of care.’

That does it. I’m not taking a lecture from him.

‘You didn’t give a flying fuck about this baby yesterday. You nearly killed us both. And Mia.’

He’s got the grace to look embarrassed.

‘That was … different,’ he says. ‘I’m trying to balance medicine and scientific enquiry here. It’s not easy.’

‘My heart bleeds for you,’ I say, and his face flushes a deeper pink.

‘I’ve never enjoyed sarcasm,’ he says. ‘Let’s just do this, shall we?’

‘Not you,’ I say. ‘I don’t want you doing it. I want a woman.’

‘You’re in no position to make demands,’ he starts, and then a voice comes through the speaker. Its deep, sharp tone makes the breath catch in my throat.

‘Do what she says, Newsome.’

It’s Saul.

I can’t help glancing towards the mirrored wall. All I see is my own pinched face looking back at me, but I know he’s there now.

Behind the mirror.

Watching.

I want to get off the bed and get out of here, but someone’s putting a restricting hand on my arm. I look up and there’s a woman in a white coat, the same one who checked Mia last night.

‘Just lie back, please,’ she says.

She lifts up my top and squeezes cold, clear jelly onto my stomach. The skin is stretched taut.

‘Try and relax,’ she says. ‘We’ll have a picture soon.’

There’s a monitor on a trolley next to her. She flicks the screen on and starts pressing a plastic gun-thing into my skin, sliding it around, pushing and tilting.

‘Here we are. There’s a hand, the spine. There’s the heart. Can you see?’

I crane forward a little, and I can. There’s a baby on screen, its spine curled, arms in front, knees bent, eyes closed, face in profile.

‘Can you see, Mia?’

Mia’s out from underneath the bed, standing on tiptoe, peering up at the grainy, black and white screen.

‘Baby twinkle,’ she says.

‘Yes, the baby will like “Twinkle, Twinkle”.’

‘No,’ she says, cross. ‘
Baby
twinkle.’

I don’t know what she means.

She nods firmly, like she’s pleased she’s told me, then she goes back underneath the bed with her crayons.

‘Any problems?’ It’s Saul’s voice again.

The doctor shakes her head. ‘Everything seems fine. Doctor Newsome, do we know what the estimated delivery date is? I can’t find it on the records.’

Newsome’s voice cuts in. ‘That’s not important. That’ll be all – thank you. I’m coming back in.’

The doctor looks up sharply, then at me. She stays by my bedside as Newsome comes back in, but he ushers her out briskly. I struggle up, ready to run if I’m shut in here again.

Newsome’s talking, quickly, but I can’t make any sense of his words. My brain stopped working after his first couple of sentences: ‘There’s no need to be alarmed but the ultrasound is showing that we need to deliver the baby early. I’ll be doing a Caesarian tomorrow …’

I watch his mouth open and shut, his lips fold and unfold. At one point he leans forward and puts his hand on top of mine, a gesture of reassurance. I’m too stunned even to push it away.

Eventually, he stops talking.

‘I don’t understand,’ I say, faintly. ‘The other doctor said that everything’s okay.’

‘She meant that the foetus – baby – is alive now but there are other factors here. The way the baby’s presenting, the location of the placenta. A Caesarian is the safest option.’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘It’s for the best.’

The decision’s been made for me.

I look down at his hand on mine, sitting there, like a fleshy toad. And it’s as if I’m seeing it for the first time. What is it with people around here? Why do they think it’s okay to touch me?

I pull my hand away roughly.

‘I don’t want an operation,’ I say.

He gets to his feet. ‘It’s for the best,’ he repeats.

‘I don’t want this,’ I say again, trying to make my voice strong.

He pauses by the door, and through the gap I see someone lurking outside in the corridor. Saul, of course.