The Disappearances (21 page)

Because outside it was chaos. Outside … well, to be honest, it was freaking Devil out a bit.

Then, the next time, Thomas had brought a camera. Asked Devil to look into it, to imagine his father was there on the other side, to imagine that he was giving one of his father’s sermons. And at first he’d felt really stupid; at first he’d kicked his feet and looked the other way and muttered stuff about not being no Pastor Jones. But then Thomas’s face had gone cold and he’d said that maybe Devil wasn’t the right man for the job, and just like that Devil had started talking. Strange thing was, he remembered his father’s sermons word for word, but after a few tries he started to embellish with his own stories, with his own thoughts. And man, he loved it. He felt like a someone. Felt like he had stuff to say.

And the thing was, he was beginning to realise that Thomas was right, that people needed him. Because the world was becoming more fucked up by the day. Bombs going off everywhere, people out on the streets, riot police shooting at them. In Europe people were machine-gunning each other, just walking into each other’s houses and mowing whole families down. Devil had seen it on the news, on that big television Thomas had in his office. People screaming in front of the camera, begging for help. Two people were killed on camera. Seriously fucked up. And every week he gave another sermon, reworded for his father’s followers. ‘Because you’re going to be the new Pastor Jones,’ Thomas told him. ‘You look just like him. You’re going to guide people out of this mess.’

Of course in this building, you wouldn’t know about the men, about the violence. People walked around on the thick carpets just like they always did, in smart suits, nice hair, their voices low and calm, not shrieking like the people outside the banks banging on the doors and asking for their money.

Devil looked around the room. He wasn’t on his own this time; Thomas was there and someone else had joined him, a younger guy a few years older than Devil. A geek, his hair in a ponytail, white skin, glasses, thin arms and legs, couldn’t land a punch if he tried. They were drinking coffee; there was a television in there now and they were watching it, flicking through the channels, talking to each other in low voices. Devil was sitting in the corner, silently, watching.

Suddenly Thomas turned to Devil. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I’ve got this job for you.’

The geek turned off the television and left the room.

Devil looked at him steadily. ‘Whatever you want me to do, man.’

‘Good. And here’s some money to tide you over.’ Thomas took out an envelope and walked towards Devil, handing it to him. Devil flicked it; he knew how to count a bundle of notes by sight and weight.

His eyes widened greedily. ‘A grand?’

Thomas nodded. ‘Listen carefully, Devil. Here’s what I want you to do …’

Linus looked around, his eyes wide. This was most unexpected. This was … well, he’d have said impossible if he weren’t here, looking at it with his own eyes.

He stepped towards the screen.

‘Do you have a question?’ it asked him, its voice silky and feminine, a voice that managed to be both sexy and disarming.

Linus raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure you’ll give me the answer,’ he said, under his breath.

‘Try me,’ the computer suggested.

Linus shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘What are you?’

‘I am a G4 Benning 8 model with version 8.9 software and 1 million megabytes of memory,’ the computer said.

Linus frowned. ‘That’s impossible,’ he said, his mind whirring as he tried to work out why the name Benning reminded him of something. ‘I’ve never heard of you. And I know computers. I know every computer that’s ever been conceived of, let alone invented.’

‘I would argue that on the contrary, what you are suggesting is impossible, since I exist and am talking to you,’ the computer said.

‘So you talk philosophy too?’ Linus asked it.

‘Philosophical thought, yes, but only as part of natural discourse,’ the computer said. ‘For more extensive philosophical discussion can I suggest you download the philosophy app from the Alpha website? I can download it now, if you’d like?’

‘No,’ Linus said quickly. ‘No, that won’t be necessary.’

‘You seem tense,’ the computer said then. ‘Would you like me to play some music? Or would you prefer a visual display? Perhaps of fields? Or do you prefer the sea?’ Several options appeared on the screen; Linus stared at them. Then he shook his head.

‘No, no images,’ he said firmly. ‘But tell me this. Where do you come from?’

‘Alpha Ltd, 11189 East Street, Sacramento, USA,’ the computer said.

‘And when were you built?’

‘2053. January. I was shipped in February. Top secret mission.’ It sounded proud of itself.

Linus shook his head. ‘That’s impossible,’ he said again.

‘Not impossible,’ the computer said. ‘On the contrary, I could not have been built before this date as the latest chip technology was not introduced until 2052.’

‘But there is no USA,’ Linus breathed. ‘Not like there was.’

‘No,’ the computer said, ‘you’re …’ It hesitated. ‘Did you know that there is someone coming down the corridor towards this room on tip-toe in order to surprise you?’

Linus raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re quite something,’ he said. ‘Just one person?’

‘Just the night security guard. And thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Linus ducked down, moved towards the door.

‘No, you’re welcome,’ the computer said.

‘Okay, shut up now,’ Linus hissed; the screen went blank. Then he took a gun out of his pocket, checked it was loaded, and prepared himself.

The door opened. Linus grabbed the guard, held the gun to his head and urged him to be quiet. Then, opening his bag, he took out some tape. Within minutes he had the guard strapped to a chair, tape over his mouth. He put him in front of the computer.

‘Now we’d like some sea,’ he said.

‘Of course,’ the computer said, immediately bringing up an image of a sunny beach, waves lapping on the sand.

‘One last thing,’ Linus said, then, checking that the guard was comfortable but secure. ‘The patient in the hospital wing. Stop his medication. And give him something to wake him up.’

‘That requires authorisation,’ the computer said. Linus walked over to the screen, brought up ‘Security’ and started to input code, searching for the information he needed. Eventually he smiled, typed in a password. ‘Now will you do it?’ he asked. ‘And will you unlock all the doors of the hospital too?’

‘It’s done,’ the computer purred.

‘Thanks,’ Linus said with a grin and walked towards the door. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said, as he gave it one last look before ducking out into the corridor before the guard’s back-up arrived.

Lucas woke suddenly and looked around the room. It was sterile, white, with one small locked window overlooking a corridor. It had a cupboard, a sink, and over him was some kind of apparatus with tubes attached to the back of his hand.

And he wasn’t dead.

In fact, he felt very alive. Incredibly so: more energetic than he had for weeks, months.

He jumped out of bed, pulling out the various tubes attached to him, wondering how he could have been lying there for so long. Everything was so silent that he guessed it must be night-time, even though it was impossible to tell with no windows. He edged towards the door, tried it and to his surprise, it opened easily. Outside his room was a corridor, dimly lit; again, there was silence, no sign of movement, of nurses, of guards, of Mr Weizman.

He walked back into his room to search for anything that might be useful. He found his clothes, neatly folded in a cupboard, found a bottle of water and a bag. He took the lot, put them in the bag, put his shoes on, then left the room once more. He crept down the corridor, his slow steps gradually speeding up as he saw the door in front of him, the door that he presumed led out of this place. Then he stopped, hesitated, reached out and pulled the door just an inch. More lights. A landing, a staircase down and up. A window that told him he was higher than ground level. He took the stairs down, then stepped towards another door, a door which he knew led outside because of the glass panel that revealed a path, moonlight.

He prepared himself mentally for a locked door. Told himself he would remain calm, figure something out. But when he reached out to the handle, it pulled open easily, just as the door to his room had done. Almost as if they wanted him to get out.

Lucas hesitated. Was this a trap? He considered going back to the room, but only for a split second. A trap could be no worse than the prospect of death on that bed. Why trap him when they already had him? When they were planning to kill him?

Silently, he slipped through the door, scanned the path and tents ahead of him, then, stealthily, he started to walk carefully towards the perimeter of the compound. It would be secure, of that he was certain, but there had to be a way through somehow, and whatever it was, he would find it. He had to.

He had to get to Raffy; that had become overwhelmingly clear to him. Linus might believe he was safe, but Linus had thrown Lucas off a cliff; Linus had his own agenda and always would. Lucas’s agenda was to protect his brother. Just as it always had been.

He remembered the day that Raffy was born like it was yesterday; remembered the wonderment he’d felt at this small, fragile creature with its shock of black hair, black eyes and creased face, apparently boneless, curled up, utterly dependent, its only armour a cry that pierced through every other sound and created the backdrop of the house for the next year. It had been their father who had presented Raffy to Lucas; their mother had been sleeping.

‘This is your brother,’ he’d said gravely to his five-year-old son. ‘He’s going to need you to look after him.’

Lucas had taken him, gingerly, tenderly, had held his tiny body against his. In retrospect, Lucas suspected that their father had meant nothing by his words; had said them only to make Lucas feel part of Raffy’s life, to include him in his care. But Lucas had taken them seriously; as he stared down at the tiny ball that was his brother, he solemnly promised to protect him always, to look after him as best as he possibly could.

For the first few years of Raffy’s life, that had meant nothing more than watching out for him, teaching him the rules of the City, helping him up when he fell. But then, when Raffy was five and Lucas had just turned eleven, everything changed.

The night his father had come to Lucas, waking him from a deep sleep to tell him to follow him, silently, to his study, was a night that Lucas would never forget. The look in his father’s eye – fear, determination – filled him, even now, with grief and longing for the man he loved so much; with anger and resolve to avenge his death. Because what his father had told him had changed everything, had marked the end of Lucas’s childhood. He had told Lucas that he had discovered things about the City, things that were terrible, things that were secret and safely guarded, things that were dangerous to know. He told Lucas that the labels were not governed by a desire for good, but by a desire for power; that he had been communicating with an old comrade outside the City who could help them.

And from then on, Lucas had entered a different world, a world of secrets, of shadows, a world in which he could never again reveal his true feelings except in front of his father; a world in which he worked all day then worked again at night, learning from his father, learning everything his father had to impart.

And then one day his father came to him, told him that something had happened, something that would be discovered soon, that his label would be changed to K, and he would disappear. He told his son that the whole family would face the same fate unless Lucas did exactly what he told him to do: betray him, tell the Brother that his father was a traitor before the Brother could discover what had happened. That way Lucas could lead the family, could protect them all. That way, Lucas could continue his father’s work, continue to communicate with his comrade. That way, the City had a chance.

Lucas had opened his mouth to protest, to say that he would never betray his father, never let anything bad happen to him, but he had closed it again, because he knew even then that there was no use. He had already worked through the implications, the possibilities, the various outcomes in his mind, and he knew that he had no choice.

‘You must never reveal the truth until the time has come,’ his father had said. ‘You must never tell Raffy. He will hate you for betraying me, and you will have to live with that. Can you live with that, my son?’

And Lucas had nodded.

‘Good,’ his father had said then, relief washing over his face, relief tinged with pride and love, which gave Lucas the strength not to cry. ‘Then let’s make some coffee one last time.’

An hour later, when Lucas had alerted the City police to suspicious activity in his house, his father had been taken away and Lucas had become the protector not just of his brother but also of his father’s legacy, of everything he had fought for.

He stopped, caught his breath. In front of him now was a wall; he ducked down, knowing that it would be watched. He could see a gate to his right; could he get through? Maybe if he waited for someone to come in, some vehicle … But he could wait all night, could wait for a week.

He picked up a rock, threw it at the gate to see what happened. There was a resounding clank, then a torchlight shining. He shrank back.

‘Careful. You might have hit someone.’

Lucas’s head swung up at the sound of a familiar voice. ‘Linus?’ Lucas stared at the figure approaching him in disbelief. ‘You’re here? How? Why didn’t you come and get me?’

‘No need,’ Linus said with a shrug. ‘But I wouldn’t try and leave through the gate. Go through that and you’re toast. Quite literally I’m afraid.’

Lucas looked at the gate warily.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I think.’

‘No problem,’ Linus said. ‘This way.’

Lucas considered berating Linus for what he’d done, but found that he couldn’t really be bothered. Instead, they left the compound quietly through a small pedestrian gate to which Linus appeared to have the code, then drove all night; for once, Lucas didn’t feel sick; instead he could marvel at the world as they sped past and listen to Linus as he filled him in on the Settlement where Raffy and Evie were living. And strangely his stomach didn’t flip-flop when he heard her name; strangely, he just found himself smiling at the thought of seeing her again.