Shattered (24 page)

‘You could say that.’

‘Want to talk about it?’

I stay silent a moment. ‘Do you mind if we don’t?’

He stops walking, pulls me around towards him, his eyes dark pools in the moonlight. ‘Talking is one option. There is another.’ One hand slips around my waist, the other under my chin. And it is as if I’m in two places, here, and another: the first time he kissed me. It was at night after running, and so like this that my mind is drifting, falling between past and present: between the Ben I knew, and the Ben I don’t. And then I’m shaking and crying.

He pulls away. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know. Who are you? Who am I? What does this mean?’

‘That’s way too much thought.’ He smiles. ‘Stop thinking.’ And he kisses me again, and again, until the past is gone, the tears are gone, and we are here. Now. There is nothing else.

We sneak back in late. Ben holds my hand tight; I protest when we get to a corridor, and he pulls me the wrong way. ‘My room is the other way.’

‘No, you’re coming back with me. We still have some talking to do.’

Another corridor and turn, some stairs. Ben still holds my hand. It’s late and I’m tired, but every bit of me is
alive
. Talking?

‘Now for the “be quiet” bit,’ he whispers. He opens a door, peers in. Someone is fast asleep on a bed in the dark; we creep past him to another door. Ben opens it. ‘Wait in here,’ he whispers. ‘I’ll tell my jailer I’ve returned so he doesn’t check if he wakes up.’

I step through the door; he shuts it behind me, and I’m plunged into darkness.

There are low voices through the door; then it opens and Ben steps through. ‘Give him five minutes and he’ll be out like a light,’ Ben whispers, pulls me close. Kisses my cheek, my neck, and I can hear my heart going
thud-thud
so loud I worry the student through the door will hear.

But then Ben lets go, turns and puts on a small desk light. Darkness retreats, reveals a small student room. Desk, wardrobe.

Single bed.

‘Ben, I should go.’

‘You’re not escaping that easily.’ He smiles, pushes me down to sit on the bed, sits next to me. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Talk?’

He grins a wicked grin. ‘Talking is one option,’ he says, and takes my hand. ‘Tell me. Why were you so upset before?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘I’ve got nothing but time.’

And once I begin, it all comes flooding out – all I’ve wanted to tell him for so long. Inside me, things are letting go with the words, loosening and coming free. Ben wraps a blanket around us against the cold, just holds me while I talk, and cry, and talk some more. I even tell him that I don’t know where I come from, about being kidnapped by the AGT and what they did. Why I was Slated, and what happened after he was gone. I tell him about Stella, but not about her mother and the assassinations: that isn’t my story to tell.

Finally Ben says, ‘Enough. I have a question. With all of that, why is it that what really upset you earlier was me kissing you?’

I shake my head. ‘No, that wasn’t it. That was lovely.’ I blush. ‘It’s this: how can we be anything together when we don’t know who we are?’

He shakes his head. ‘I haven’t any idea where I come from either, or anything of what happened before I was Slated, so you’re ahead of me on that. At least you know who raised you. But it doesn’t matter.’

‘It doesn’t?’

‘No. Kyla, all we are is what we are, here and now.’

And he kisses me again, and that
is
all that matters. Now. But a little voice inside knows that in the morning, the sun will come up. Tomorrow will come one way or the other.

CHAPTER THIRTY

I’m warm, in a dark, sleepy happy place. There was something: a sound? A click. I stir, then remember where I am.

I sit up fast. Light is coming through under curtains just enough to see. Ben is turned away, putting something in the wardrobe.

‘Ben?’

He whips around. Smiles. ‘You look cute all sleepy.’

‘It’s morning? I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I need to get out of here before anyone notices.’

He shrugs. ‘Stay. Who cares?’ He slips a hand around my chin, kisses me, but I pull away.

‘I care.’ I slip to the door, open it quietly. The student outside is sound asleep.

‘He’s a crap guard,’ Ben whispers. ‘He could sleep through
anything
.’ He kisses my cheek. ‘See you here tonight?’

His eyes hold mine and somehow the words come out without any thought or volition. ‘All right.’

I get down the halls without seeing anyone, and to my door. Open it.

Wendy is at her desk. She turns, smirks. ‘Good run with Ben last night?’

‘We were just talking, and I fell asleep!’

She laughs. ‘Sure, I believe you.’ She winks. ‘Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.’

I protest a few more times, cheeks burning, then head for the shower. Will she keep it to herself? Why does it even matter? Somehow I don’t want it known I was out all night, for things to be assumed.

Something nags inside. Mostly it’s that I don’t want Aiden to find out, and I’m not sure why. He had Ben brought here; he must know how I feel about him. Yet somehow I know Aiden wouldn’t like it if he knew I’d been in Ben’s room all night: he’s protective, and he’d worry. And he is the last person I want to hurt, after all he’s done for me. That is the only reason I don’t want him to know. Isn’t it?

The day passes. Florence takes me out to record some more witnesses; adults this time, so not as hard as the last, but their stories still tear inside. Ben isn’t with us as they’ve finally found a doctor to take him to who will do scans without asking questions. And after each witness I’m telling myself,
just get through the day
. Then I can be with Ben.

When Florence and I get back to the college, I stare up at St Mary’s Tower as we walk across the quad, where Ben wanted to go. ‘Can you go up there – up the tower?’

‘Sure. If anyone from the church is there, just smile and flash your student ID. It’s thirteenth century: check out the gargoyles. Great views.’

We get to the office and I fidget impatiently while Florence copies today’s recordings from my camera to a computer.

‘What’s with you?’ she asks.

‘Nothing.’

She raises an eyebrow, but before she can say anything else, the door opens: Aiden.

‘Kyla? Are you done? I need a quick word.’

Florence hands me my camera. ‘All finished. Away you go.’

Aiden holds the door open; I step through, heart sinking. Has he heard something about last night? No. His eyes are sparkling. ‘Quick, grab whatever you need until tomorrow; we’re off on an adventure.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘To see Dr Lysander.’

‘But how—’

‘No time for questions; you can ask on the way. Don’t tell anyone! Meet me out back in five minutes. Go!’

I race to my room to grab a few things. Wendy isn’t there, so I can’t ask her to tell Ben I had to go out. I can’t leave a note with Aiden’s
tell no one
ringing in my ears; there is no time to run to his room, if he is even in it.

As I rush to meet Aiden, I wonder: is Ben going to think I stood him up?

‘How are we going to get to Dr Lysander? She’s always guarded.’

‘Bit of luck on that one. DJ found out she’s speaking at a medical conference tomorrow; we’ve got connections in the conference centre, so can get in to where she is staying. We hear she refuses guards in her own quarters, so they stay outside the door. We’ve checked the room for bugs and cameras: it’s clean.’

‘So what is going to happen?’

‘We get you in there tonight; she’s arriving early in the morning. She’s got a few hours’ scheduled rest time before the conference starts.’

‘Which is when I make an appearance.’

‘Exactly. Kyla, there isn’t much we can do if she sets off the alarm.’

‘She won’t. But I still don’t understand why we’re going to all this effort to find out about
me
. Even if she knows where I came from, which I doubt, why could it possibly matter?’

‘Not a clue. DJ’s really pushing on this, and we’re going along with it.’

‘Who is he?’

Aiden glances at me sideways. ‘Even I don’t know his real name.’

‘That’s not what I mean. How does he fit into MIA? I figured he just helped with changing identities like he did with me. But there is more to it, isn’t there?’

Aiden laughs. ‘It’s on a need—’

‘—to-know basis.’ I roll my eyes, and try another tack. ‘Is he from Ireland?’

‘That you can get from the accent, so I’m guessing it is okay to say yes.’ Aiden hesitates. ‘There is international support behind MIA, not just from United Ireland. They know some of what goes on here from people we’ve snuck out of the UK, and there is international pressure to get all the hidden stories out, to make them public, and do it soon. They want to stop the human rights violations. This is why the Lorder attack on our computer systems was timed so badly; it’s held things up.’

I stare out the window. Why would people in other countries far from us care about our human rights, when almost everyone here seems to turn away and pretend not to see? ‘I don’t think that is what is most important. It should be about taking the wool off everyone’s eyes
here
. Making them face up to what is happening in their own country, under their noses, so we can fix it on our own.’

‘Both are important. But the simple truth is, we can’t do it alone, not when the Lorders have all the power. Sometimes you need help.’

Aiden turns into a small village, then parks next to a van behind a hall. ‘This is where we part company until tomorrow,’ he says. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Yes. DJ’s reasons for being interested in my origins might be different to mine, but I still want to
know
.’

‘Be careful,’ he says, and looks about to say more when the van driver’s door opens and a man steps out.

‘Evening,’ he says, nods, and opens the door to the back of the van. Reaches in, hands me a bag. ‘Clothes. Change into them.’ And with a wave goodbye to Aiden, I climb in the back.

The van soon lumbers up the road and I get myself into a uniform in the dim light; it looks like a maid’s? There were a few in different sizes and one seems to fit well enough to not draw attention. There are no windows in the back; we drive perhaps thirty minutes. Then I hear a faint beep and we drop down and around a circular ramp. The van stops, and I’m starting to feel nervous. What is this place? I don’t know what I’m doing. If anyone asks me anything, or—

The door opens.

‘There you are, lass. Now don’t worry about a thing, it’s all worked out. I’m taking you up tonight as no one is about until tomorrow. Best leave your coat and other things there in the van, they’ll be fine there until the morning.’

I take my coat off, extract the camera from a deep pocket. Maybe I should I have left it back at the college, but something tells me I’ll need it to get anywhere with Dr Lysander. There’s a pocket in the uniform and I slip it in.

I follow him through the underground lot to a lift. He puts a key in it to call the lift, and it is there in seconds. Up we go. ‘No one should get on, but if anyone does, nod but say nothing. I’ll handle it,’ he says.

I hold my breath but the lift doesn’t stop until the selected floor. The doors open, he peers through then gestures for me to follow.

We go down a plush hall, where all the doors have wire taped across them.

‘What is that?’

‘Security sealed electronic tape; the rooms were checked, cleared and sealed a short time ago.’

Then he opens a door at the end that leads to a narrow hall with little doors all along. He counts them along, and stops at one. ‘This is the service hatch into your friend’s room; they are normally used for breakfasts and so on. Listen very carefully. You can’t open these with the electronics on without setting off an alarm.’ He glances at his watch. ‘The electronics will go off shortly for one minute, the maximum possible without setting the alarms off. It should be just long enough to open it and for you to climb through into her room. I checked you were a little lass; I couldn’t do it. Once through, make yourself comfortable; there are spare blankets and pillows in the wardrobe. Stay out of sight of the door. Your friend is due tomorrow between 7 and 7:30 am, and you don’t want anyone to see you when she comes in and they bring her luggage. Speak to her, then come back out the same way at 8 am. The electronics will be switched off at exactly 8 am for one minute, and that is it. Here is a watch for you – it is coordinated with the hotel system so the time is exact. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ I say, slipping the watch onto my wrist. It is digital with hours, minutes, seconds shown by a faint green pulsing light.

He is watching his watch, hurriedly explaining how the service hatches work. Telling me not to touch the windows or doors in the room as they’re all alarmed.

‘It is time,’ he says and yanks doors at the back of the hatch open; it’s like a mini lift. I climb through into a small box, struggle to open the door on the other side when there isn’t enough room to extend my arms properly, but manage to pry it open.

‘Hurry,’ he says.

I crawl through; the doors swing shut.

‘Good luck, child.’ His voice is faint on the other side.

My heart is beating way too fast; that wasn’t easy to do in a minute. I’m sitting on the plushly carpeted floor in Dr Lysander’s soon-to-be room, wishing I’d asked more questions – like, can I turn on the light? Is there anything to eat?

I feel my way around the darkened room: large bed. Desk. Chair. Wardrobe. I open that and feel along the bottom. Under the promised pillows and blankets, my fingers curve around something cold and round, with a switch: a torch. I flick it on.

‘Thank you, mystery man,’ I whisper to myself. I explore the room again with the torch carefully angled down, decide the only place I feel safe is actually inside the thankfully huge wardrobe. What if I fall asleep and don’t wake up until she arrives?

I arrange the pillows on the wardrobe floor, settle onto it with the blanket. I try with the door shut, but it feels too enclosed so I push it ajar. I’m sure I’ll wake before she gets here; I’m not convinced I’ll sleep at all.