Resurgence (23 page)

‘I know, but I’d like to see for myself.’

For a moment, I think she is going to hit me. Her blue irises are so pale that the moonlight gleaming through the glass makes them blend into the whites. I cannot read her at all.

She yanks her arm back and I step towards the glass, glancing quickly in each direction. I speak loudly enough for Jela and Pietra to hear. ‘There are two Kingsmen walking away from us and
another two coming towards us. They’ll be past in about a minute and then we can go out the front. I can’t run but I’ll move as fast as I can. We should be at the far end in five
minutes at the most.’

I turn to see Rosemary continuing to stare at me. In the time I was looking away, she has shuffled forward and is standing next to me. Her eyes are whiter than ever, one milky pool of
nothingness.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

She nods. ‘I saw you on the screen.’

I usually make an effort to look people in the eyes but have to peer away because she is so unnerving. I glance towards Jela and Pietra, who share my unease.

‘What did you think?’ I ask.

‘You were very good. You talk well.’

‘Thank you.’

‘We had a bit of a disagreement.’

I turn back to Rosemary as the two Kingsmen trot past the window. It’s time to go.

‘Who had a disagreement?’

‘Me and my husband.’

I hear a jolt of movement and by the time I am facing the girls, there is a man standing behind Jela with a machete across her throat.

Rosemary continues as if nothing has happened. ‘We were talking about what we would do if we found you. I said we should hand you in alive and claim the reward, but he insisted the first
thing he would do is slit your throat.’

The man has dirty black hair down to his shoulders and days’ old stubble. He grins at me, with yellow crooked teeth. I can smell his foul breath across the room.

‘Rosemary, honey,’ he says sweetly.

‘Yes.’

‘Will you go to the kitchen and get the bread knife?’

‘Yes, sweetie.’ She speaks with no emotion and almost floats as she moves. It is both as graceful and as creepy as anything I have ever seen.

He flicks a hand towards Pietra and then indicates a sofa across from him and Jela. ‘Sit,’ he says gruffly and then nods at me. ‘You too.’

I step across and take a seat next to Pietra. It is bumpy, uncomfortable and there is something sticky on the material. I glance around the room, looking for anything that could help but,
although it is full of junk, there is nothing sharp I could use as a weapon. Certainly nothing I could reach before he slit Jela’s throat. There is a knife in my back pocket, another on my
ankle. I try to run through the angles of how I could get across the room but there is no way I could take him by surprise.

Rosemary is tinkering in the kitchen area and there is a crash as a pile of something tumbles from the table.

‘Are you okay, honey?’ he calls, without turning. She glides back to his side, holding the knife in front of her. It is long with narrow pointy teeth. He pulls Jela tighter to him
with his free arm and then quickly swaps knives with Rosemary, leaving her with the machete.

‘Okay, honey,’ he says. ‘Now go and stand behind Ms Blackthorn and keep the machete handy. If she so much as moves, do what we spoke about.’

Rosemary does as she is told. Even though she doesn’t press the blade to the back of my neck, I can sense it nearby.

‘Now,’ the man says firmly. ‘You’ve got yourself into a right little pickle, haven’t you?’

I don’t reply, even though he is looking directly at me.

His eyes narrow. ‘Earlier, you couldn’t stop talking. Saying this, saying that. There’s only one thing that’s going to get me more food, darling, and that’s handing
you in. I’m looking forward to becoming a duke.’ He licks his lips and flicks his eyes over my shoulder. ‘How do you fancy being a duchess?’

Rosemary squeals excitedly. ‘Can I wear a dress?’

‘You can wear whatever you like, honey.’

I am trying to figure out what is going on. There is something not quite right about Rosemary and not just because of her looks.

‘What’s your name?’ I ask.

The man doesn’t reply at first, tilting his head slightly and trying to work out if I am playing him somehow. ‘Max.’

‘Do you know what they’re going to do to me if you hand me in, Max?’

He is chewing on something. ‘I don’t care, darling.’

‘They are going to torture me on screen. They’ll find everyone I have ever cared about and kill them in front of me.’

He smiles with one half of his mouth. ‘That ain’t gonna work on me. I’ve seen more than my fair share of that.’

‘Why?’

He clicks his tongue against the top of his mouth and pushes the teeth of the bread knife deeper into Jela’s neck. She flinches but he holds her tight.

‘I used to be a Kingsman.’

‘When?’

‘Until a few weeks ago.’

‘What happened?’

He blinks twice in rapid succession and Rosemary makes a strange gurgling sound behind me.

‘Never you mind, darling.’

‘I’m trying to work out why you’re so willing to hand me in. Most people don’t revel in other people’s deaths. I’ve killed people and I hated it. I see their
faces when I fall asleep.’

Finally I get a reaction as his mouth twitches. Unfortunately, Jela picks the wrong time to get an itch and she shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He holds her tighter and runs
the blade along her throat, letting the teeth brush her skin but not digging it in. I try to maintain eye contact with Max but my glance flickers momentarily to Jela, whose face is one of absolute
terror, her eyebrows high and eyes wide.

‘Rosemary, honey . . .’ he coos.

‘Yes.’

‘Go and stand next to the window. The next time a Kingsman comes past, you shout to them, okay?’

‘Yes, sweetie.’

As she slides away, I allow myself a breath as the machete moves with Rosemary towards the window. I can only hope the Kingsmen patrols have ended for the night.

‘Max . . .’

He meets my gaze. ‘What?’

‘
Please
don’t do this. Look at us. We’re kids. We’ve never caused you any harm . . .’

Before I can finish the sentence, he bursts out laughing. Rosemary takes a second to catch on but then she begins too, her cackling unnatural and horrifying. It creeps through my pores, making
me shiver. I feel Pietra shaking next to me. It is awful.

‘You’ve never done me any harm?’ Max says.

‘No.’

‘You reckon?’

I pause, trying to think of anything I could have done. I have only been to Middle England once before and the only person I had any contact with then was Rom. ‘Are you saying I’ve
done something, Max? If you are then I don’t know what it is.’

I am trying to use his name as often as possible to engage him but he is only getting angrier. Spit flies from his mouth as he answers. ‘You’ve never heard the name
“Paisley”?’

I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone with that name, let alone someone from here. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, shaking my head.

He laughs again but this time Rosemary doesn’t join in. I risk a glance towards where she is half facing out of the window. The clouds have cleared slightly, making the moon brighter. Her
eyes are so terrifyingly white that I wonder if she is even human.

‘Paisley Morton was my little boy,’ Max says, his tone slightly lower.

‘Your son?’

‘He was four years old – the apple of his mummy’s eye, wasn’t he, honey?’

Rosemary is nodding enthusiastically. ‘Little Paisley,’ she says. I’m not sure in which direction she is looking. It could be out of the window or it could be at me. She slides
the side of the machete along her cheek.

I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but the only chance I have of surviving is if I keep Max talking. ‘What happened to Paisley?’

Max’s eyes blaze furiously, wide and glaring through me. For a second I think he is going to butcher Jela, but he takes a deep breath and blows out slowly. ‘Don’t say his
name,’ he hisses.

‘I’m sorry . . .’

‘You were here before, weren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘During the day.’

‘Yes.’ He’s talking about when I was here with Imrin and Rom and walked out of the North Tower’s front door in disguise.

‘There were alarms and all sorts of noise. Lots of people running because they thought they were going to capture you. They said they had you trapped in the tower but you weren’t
there.’

‘I got away.’

He nods. ‘My boy Paisley was a happy little fella. He loved watching the trains come in and out of the station. Before my shift, I’d take him into the centre and he’d sit on
the ground and watch them come in and out. He’d yell “choo-choo” when the steam ones came through.’

‘Choo-choo!’ Rosemary calls from the window.

Max nods towards the back corner of the room. ‘Go and look there.’

I hold my hands out to my sides. ‘You’re not going to hurt my friend if I move, are you?’

He shakes his head. ‘I promise ya, darling. If you don’t make no stupid moves, I won’t do anything to your friend. Just go and look in that corner.’

Slowly I stand, keeping my hands out to the side to show I’m not going to do anything. My legs and back hurt but I keep myself straight. The knife weighs heavy in my back pocket but the
handle is hidden under my top. I step carefully across to the place he indicated and crouch, picking up a wooden toy train. It is painted red with blue wheels.

I hold it into the air. ‘Is this what you wanted me to see?’

‘That it is, darling. Now come sit down again, nice and steady.’

I keep my hands visible and sit next to Pietra, passing her the train. ‘I used to have one like this,’ she says.

Max nods approvingly. ‘That was mine when I was a kiddy. I gave it to Paisley when he was a little wee baby. He would throw it around and chew on it. Then after I started taking him to see
the trains, he would run around making his choo-choo noises.’

I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. ‘What happened, Max?’

He swallows hard. ‘Well, darling, when all of those sirens went off ’cause of you, me and Paisley were in the plaza waiting for the train. I didn’t know what was going on
because I’ve never heard them go off before. But little wee Paisley, he was excited. His face was all lit up because he thought it meant the train was coming. Do you remember what happened
when that siren went off?’

‘There was an evacuation.’

‘Right you are, darling. I looked up for one second and Paisley was off, running for the tracks.’

‘No . . .’

‘Everyone came running out of them buildings, panicking. They were running, so many of them. A giant wall of people all moving as one. An army not looking where they were going, running
and running just in case you were going to blow them up.’

‘I was never going to do that.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t matter now, does it? All those people looking at each other, looking up at the screens. Running, running, running. None of them bothered looking down at
our little Paisley.’

Rosemary bellows ‘choo-choo’ at the top of her voice behind me.

‘Next time I saw him, he was just a bucket of flesh, trampled to death. There were shoe prints on his head, his arms, his legs. Poor little Paisley didn’t stand a chance with all
those people looking up, not down.’

‘I’m so sorry . . .’

I don’t know what else to say – words aren’t enough.

Max shakes his head. ‘Ain’t no bringing him back. At least I’ll end up being a duke. I’ll have my own patch of land and we can make some more little Paisleys, can’t
we, honey?’

Rosemary doesn’t reply. She is scratching her eyes so hard that it is as if she is trying to yank them out.

‘Rosemary, honey . . .’

No reply.

‘Rosie, come on, honey. Rosemary . . .’

No reply.

‘Rosemary!’ Max shouts her name this time and she shrieks at him in annoyance, finally putting her hand down.

Max turns back to me. ‘My wife wasn’t always like this, but after what happened with Paisley, she’s been a changed woman. She cried so much on that first day and then she kept
scratching at her eyes. Scratching, scratching, scratching. Over and over. Always with the scratching.’

I can’t stop myself looking at her again. The pure white eyes, the pale skin.
My fault
.

‘Someone’s coming,’ Rosemary says excitedly.

‘Is it a Kingsman?’

She presses her face closer to the glass. ‘I think so, there are three of them. It’s dark.’

Max sidesteps slowly towards the front door, knife still held against Jela’s throat.

‘Please, Max,’ I say. ‘You really don’t have to do this. Nothing is going to bring your son back.’

He looks at me and shakes his head, moving steadily towards the door. ‘Where are they?’ he asks.

‘Close,’ Rosemary replies. ‘They’re by the porch.’

As he keeps one hand wrapped around Jela, Max uses the other to open the door slowly. He holds it in place, half turning as he calls: ‘Come on in, boys, I’ve got Silver Blackthorn
here for ya.’

The blow crunches across Max’s head, sending him sprawling across the floor and the bread knife clattering to the ground. I launch myself across the room, grabbing the
machete from Rosemary, but she doesn’t fight back. She leans against the window in silence.

Max roars in anger and Knave dives at him, fists flailing. One blow, two, three. Bang, bang, bang.

‘Stop,’ I say as Opie closes the door behind him. Hart crosses to Pietra and cradles her to his chest as Jela sinks to the floor in relief.

‘We couldn’t find the red window frames,’ Opie says. ‘Your message was so short and it was cutting in and out. We started walking but there are Kingsmen out there and we
didn’t realise you were so far away.’

I reach for him, wanting to feel his hands comforting me. He hugs me quickly but I let him go, crouching next to Rosemary as she slides to the floor in floods of tears.

‘I’m sorry, Rosemary,’ I say, pressing the toy train into her hands.