Numbers 3: Infinity (23 page)

I walk through the abbey and out into the yard. People notice me. Some of them try to shake my hand as I pass. I don’t blank them or pretend I haven’t noticed. I don’t look at the floor. When they call out to me, I stop, take the hand that’s offered, look them in the eye. I spend a moment with them, whatever their number’s telling me.

‘Where are you going?’ someone asks me.

‘I’m heading back to the bunker,’ I say. ‘I need to find my mate, the one who rescued me.’

People gather round. I recognise some of them from the graveyard. They want to come too. And instead of shrugging them off, I accept their help. So we walk together through the streets, past the heaps of rubble and tents and looted shops, and up towards the hill. Overhead, a drone tracks our progress.

‘Did you know about the bunker?’ I ask.

‘We knew. It was a badly-kept secret. That’s where half our supplies come from. Black market. And when people disappeared, the rumour is that’s where they were taken.’

‘Did people often disappear?’

‘If they started organising things, making a fuss, making trouble. If they were different. They were picked out. One minute they were there, the next they weren’t.’

The shouts in the night, the blood streaked on the walls. How many, I wonder?

‘Look!’

We’re at the bottom of the grassy slope now and there are people coming down the hill towards us. A straggly line of the walking wounded. One of the group with me gives a shout of recognition and starts running up the hill. When he
reaches his man, they fling their arms round each other, holding tight without a word before they break into back-slapping and excited conversation.

‘The disappeared are coming back,’ I say.

I scan the faces coming towards me. Many are bruised or cut. Some people are limping, walking in twos or threes, supporting each other. Some are slow, confused. Others are wildly happy, birds set free from their cage. All of them are met with kind words and helping hands and shown the way to the abbey.

The steady stream of refugees keeps on coming and I realise there’s no way I’ll be able to get into the bunker. Not until everyone who wants to has got out. All I can do is wait, so I walk up to the exit in the brambles and I join the welcoming committee, shaking hands, directing people down the hill. The last one out is Daniel.

His face lights up when he sees me.

‘Adam, you’ve got to move away. We’re in at the main entrance – we’re going for the communications centre. It’ll go up any minute now. You’ve got to move away. Move away!’ he shouts to anyone within earshot.

People near us start running and we set off too. We’ve only gone twenty metres or so when there’s a massive explosion. Everyone on the hill drops to the ground as dust and bits of rock shoot out of the tunnel over our heads. Daniel and I hit the deck. I curl up and tuck my head in as debris starts raining down. There’s a crash a couple of metres away from us. I wince, try to make myself smaller, and wait for the noise to subside.

When I look up there’s a drone lying on the ground next to us.

‘They got it,’ Daniel says, uncurling too. ‘They blew up
command control. No more drones, no scanners, nothing to keep track of us.’

We sit up. Below us, the line of people is picking itself up. As people look back up the hill and start to realise what’s happened, they high-five each other, start whooping and hollering. I help Daniel onto his feet.

‘Where’s Sarah?’ he says. ‘Is she okay?’

‘Yeah, she’s fine. She had the baby, a little girl.’

He breaks into a broad grin.

‘Congratulations,’ he says. ‘And Saul, what happened to him?’

‘He’s gone. He …’ I’m struggling to choose my words. ‘He had a nasty accident.’

Daniel’s grin gets broader and then he tips his head back and lets out a ‘Yee-hawww!’ his voice joining the weird and wonderful chorus on the hill. I wait for him to draw breath.

‘I gotta ask you, are Marty and Luke really okay? I know what you said to Sarah, but …’

He’s still grinning.

‘Yeah, mate, they’re fine. I’ll get Carrie to bring them here.’

‘Sooner the better.’

‘Of course.’

‘Are you staying here?’ I ask.

‘It’s as good a place as any,’ he says. ‘We’ve got rid of the cancer, it’s time to help the body to heal. We can start here.’

‘I want to help,’ I say.

‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

‘Not the way they wanted. I don’t want to choose who to help and who to leave. I’m sick of thinking about death. I want to help everyone. I want to help people to live.’

He claps his good arm round my shoulders and we start walking towards the city.

Chapter 51: Sarah

G
emma’s crying. She doesn’t need changing. She doesn’t want to feed. She jerks her head from side to side, rejecting my attempts to soothe her. Her round face is scarlet.

Adam’s been away for a while now.

If he was here, perhaps he could calm her down – I don’t seem to be able to help her. I wriggle out of our nest and walk round the chapel. Mia stays put. She’s staring ahead blankly, lips moving. The stains on her aura are spreading. I don’t see them changing, only notice the difference when I look away and look back.

I bounce Gemma in my arms. My frustration and panic are there in the way I’m moving. I try talking to her gently, and singing, but her cries drown out my voice. I should be able to do this. I coped with Mia on my own, didn’t I? I’m sweating and uncomfortable. The day’s taking its toll now.

‘She’s noisy, isn’t she?’ I say to Mia. She doesn’t react. Her aura is a mottled mess of gold and black.

Simon pops his head around the archway.

‘Everything all right?’

‘She’s just crying.’

‘Can I help?’

‘You can try.’

He takes Gemma from me. I stand and watch, scraping my damp hair off my forehead. She hasn’t even noticed the change. Her face is screwed up, red, angry.

‘What about her sister?’

‘No, don’t. She’s … she’s still in shock.’

‘Maybe this will help.’

‘No, really. Leave her. A crying little sister’s no fun to hold. Better to wait until she’s quiet.’

‘Of course …’ He hands Gemma back to me. ‘I’ll get Alona. She’s good with newborns.’

I resume my pacing, watching Mia at the same time. She’s stuck somewhere. I’m sure she’s not really here. Her lips are moving again, but soundlessly, mumbling something only she can hear. Wherever she is, it’s a bad place. I desperately want, I need, to bring her back.

‘Mia,’ I say. ‘Will you hold her?’

She doesn’t seem to have heard.

I kneel down next to her.

‘Mia,’ I say again, ‘do you want to hold your sister?’

Her eyes flick to mine. The aura around her head is inky black. A black halo. Her pupils are huge, like they contain a world of pain. And suddenly, I’m really scared. There’s something wrong with her. Very, very wrong.

‘Hold your hands out,’ I say, firmly.

She obeys me, but like a robot.

I gently place Gemma in Mia’s arms, putting my hands underneath, cradling them both.

This time, Gemma notices the change. She’s still crying, but she turns her face towards her sister. Mia stares at her, but not with the vacant stare that’s been rattling me – she’s looking, examining her sister’s face.

‘Baby wake up,’ she says.

‘She is awake, Mia. She hasn’t got eyes like you and me. She’s got sleepy eyes. She can hear you, though. You can talk to her.’

‘Hello, baby,’ Mia says.

Gemma stops crying. Mia pokes at her face.

‘No, not like that, Mia. Give her your finger to hold. Here …’

I move Mia’s hand so that it makes contact with Gemma’s little fist. The moment the two touch, Gemma unwinds her fingers and grips onto Mia’s. Mia looks up at me and smiles.

‘Baby hold on,’ she says.

‘She likes you,’ I say. ‘You’re her big sister. Can you sing to her? She’ll like that.’

‘Do Twinkle,’ Mia says.

‘You do it. She wants to hear your voice. I’ll help.’

We start singing, but soon my voice fades and stops.

Mia’s aura is changing before my eyes. Where the girls are holding hands, their colours blend. Mia’s is becoming gold again. Pure gold. Gemma’s sparkling light is moving up her arm, bleaching away the black stains.

Mia glances up at me.

‘Keep going, sweetie. She loves it.’

There’s noise drifting in from outside, a buzz of excitement rippling through the church. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m transfixed by what’s going on with my two girls.

Adam clatters into the chapel, with Daniel in tow. Daniel’s hand is wrapped up but they’re both in high spirits, arms
round each other’s shoulders.

‘How are my girls?’ Adam says.

Mia looks up and beams.

‘They’re fine,’ I say. ‘Adam, something amazing’s happening.’ I leave the girls sitting together and run over to him. He lets go of Daniel. ‘Mia’s aura was marked,’ I keep my voice low, ‘but I think Gemma’s …
cleaning
it. When she touched her, the darkness started to go. Mia’s becoming gold again. Pure, shining gold. I can’t believe it.’

Adam puts his arm round me, pulling me in. ‘So Gemma’s got her own gift,’ he says, and a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. ‘I thought we’d be the ones looking out for her all the time. Perhaps she’s stronger than we both thought.’

‘Adam, her blindness saved her. Maybe she’s the most special of us all—’

I stop sharply. Hate the thought that’s come into my head.

‘What?’

I don’t know how to say it, but I know I have to ask.

‘Is Gemma safe with her sister? Has Mia’s number changed? What if she’s so powerful she doesn’t need to see Gemma’s eyes to take her number?’

I have to know.

Adam looks at the girls.

‘Mia,’ he says. ‘Look at Daddy. Are you singing to Gemma? Did you make her stop crying?’

Mia looks up. Her eyes are shiny with excitement.

‘Baby like Twinkle,’ she says. ‘Shh, baby.’

‘That’s right. Good girl.’

He turns back to me.

‘It’s all right. Her number’s the same.’

‘She’s still got mine?’

‘Yeah. Do you mind?’ he says, looking down at me and pulling me close again. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

‘It’s a good number, isn’t it?’ I say. He looks pained. ‘You don’t have to answer. I saw it in your notebook, before the Chaos.’

‘It’s the best number I’ve ever seen,’ he says quietly. He holds me closer and for a moment it feels like it’s just me and him here, no one else, not even the children. His mouth is next to my ear. I close my eyes and he whispers to me. ‘It’s bathed in love and light. If she keeps it, slipping out of this life will be so calm for her, Sarah, so peaceful. It’s the most beautiful end anyone could have.’

I open my eyes and tilt my head so I can see him. His eyes are closed but a tear squeezes through his lashes and trickles down his face.

‘What’s wrong?’ I say. ‘I couldn’t ask for anything better for her.’

His eyes flick open and more tears spill out. There’s anguish all over his face.

‘It’s your number, Sarah. It should be yours.’

I wipe his tears away with my fingers, then cup his face with my hands.

‘No,’ I say. ‘This is the way it should be. We’ll raise our family the best way we can, we’ll surround them with love. We’ll teach Mia to hold on to her number and Gemma can use her gifts to heal. She hasn’t got eyes, but just think what she might help us see. Who knows, our girls might have something to teach all of us. Whatever happens to you and me, there’s a happy ending waiting for both of them. There has to be.’

I turn away from Adam and look back at the girls.

Mia’s head is bathed in gold again. The only black spots are around her legs and they’re dissolving as I watch. Mia leans forward and lays her cheek against Gemma’s, and the last pinpoints disappear.

Epilogue – 2033

T
he girl sits on the beach. She draws pictures in the sand with her finger while the others run and chase in the evening sunshine.

Marty and Luke are playing with Gemma, taking turns to swing her round. She staggers drunkenly between the two of them.

‘Careful. Not too much!’ Her mum’s voice carries across the beach from the sand-dune.

‘That’s enough!’ her dad shouts.

The girl twists round to look at them, standing with their arms round each other. Behind them she can just see the patched-up roofs of the cottages and the bare rafters of the new houses being built. It’s been a long day but a good one. When lots of people work together, a house can grow from nothing in a few hours. Her dad’s good at getting people to work together. That’s why they’ve moved around so much. People like it when he visits.

But she’s tired of travelling. She wants to stay put, have a
home, somewhere they can all live together for ever and ever.

She looks back at her drawing in the sand – a house and six people and a big sunshine in the sky above – and she traces some words underneath: HAPY EVA AFTA.

She hears the boys’ raucous laughter. Gemma’s properly dizzy now. She stumbles to one side, tries to right herself and careers off the other way.

The girl calls out to her. ‘Gem, come here! Gem, this way!’

Gemma turns towards her and smiles.

‘Come here!’

Gemma weaves her way unevenly across the sand, as the girl guides her in with her voice. When she’s a metre away, she launches herself forward towards the girl, diving through the air, arms held wide. The girl catches her and they tumble backwards in a heap of arms and legs.

‘Gemma, you big lump! What would you do if I didn’t catch you?’

Gemma flings her head back and laughs, then she moves her hands up to the girl’s face, tracing the creases at the corner of her mouth, the laughter lines by her eyes.

‘Mia,’ she says. ‘My Mia.’ And she kisses her full on the lips.

The girl wipes the saliva away.

‘Eugh, Gemma, that was a wet one,’ she says. ‘Shall we find Mum and Dad?’

‘Yeh.’