The Last Free Cat (12 page)

I looked him in the eye. “Funny how they raided that secretary,” I said.

Kris was unfazed. “If I'd given them a tip-off,” he said, “they'd have raided Amelie's.”

“Amelie didn't have the database,” I replied.

“She had Feela,” said Kris.

“Yeah,” I said, “but they wouldn't get any more information once they'd got Feela, would they?”

Kris paused, weighing me up. “You should write books,” he commented.

I said nothing. We stared at each other, not sure what to do next. Kris raised his eyebrows and smiled with one corner of his mouth. I briefly replayed Kris kissing that Fay, then pulled my helmet back on and restarted the skoot. We continued without another word, and Kris made no more hand signals.

Chapter Twenty-One

We made good progress down those back lanes. No cameras, not a lot of traffic, good weather, and no problems with the skoot. I was starting to feel confident, in control of my own destiny, a daughter Mum could be proud of. If it were possible, I'd have just kept riding, nonstop, all the way to Bluehaven. But we had to eat, check on Feela, and answer the calls of nature. Kris in particular needed to answer those calls. He'd drunk about a liter of orange juice before we left and his bladder was in danger of exploding.

Eventually we came across a picnic site which looked as if it could meet our needs. It was one of those sites which were off the road, down a lane—the kind of place which was often deserted. Often the automatic food-points were vandalized, and there was always the fear a gang of muggers might be waiting there. Somehow, though, I just didn't worry about those kind of things anymore.

It looked like we'd chosen the perfect place to stop. At the end of the lane was a wooded clearing without a soul in sight. The foodpoint had been demolished, but there were still a few picnic tables on the grass in front of a shallow artificial lake. Bushes and small trees were scattered around the area—apart from that, nothing but butterflies and dragonflies.

Kris pulled off his helmet and disappeared into the trees at the far side of the clearing. My first thought, however, was for Feela. As I opened her box, the poor thing refused to move a muscle. Despite the fact that she always struggled against going into her little jail, once she was used to it, she felt safer in than out. With some encouragement she did venture a quick glance over the top, but one crow's caw sent her cowering back down.

“Wish I could explain to you, Feela,” I said, but all I could actually do was try to put an end to this journey as quickly as possible.

I closed Feela's lid, just to be on the safe side, and looked around for a suitable ladies' convenience. There was a row of thorn bushes, just head high, back to the left of the lane where we'd come in. I sauntered over to check it out, but as I did so, became aware of something black and metallic glinting behind it. At first I thought it might be some kind of litter skip—but the way it shone suggested it was too new for that.

I rounded the bushes and, to my horror, saw a giant motorbike. It was fitted with every gadget and gizmo you could imagine, and along the fuel tank was emblazoned the word COMPROT.

“Nice machine, eh?”

The voice seemed to come from nowhere. My heart leaped into my mouth as I turned to see a fully uniformed comper—black boots, black gauntlets, stunstem, billy club, spray, and gun. Fortunately, however, none of the weapons were in his hand, and on his face was a smile.

“Like it?” he asked.

“Very nice,” I replied.

“Go on, hop on,” he said. “I know you're dying to.”

Was he playing a game with me? He didn't seem to be.

“I'll just look at it, thanks,” I replied.

The comper gazed over at the skoot. “That your vehicle?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered nervously.

“You look a bit young to be riding a skoot,” he observed.

“I'm sixteen,” I replied.

“I believe you,” he said with a wink. “Thousands wouldn't.”

“How fast does your bike go?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Two hundred, tops,” he replied. “I take it easy, mind you. Never go over one-ninety.”

I smiled weakly.

“Joke!” he exclaimed.

I smiled a little harder.

“Go on, get your leg over it!” he coaxed.

I decided it was easier to comply. It kept his attention off the skoot. With any luck he would soon get fed up with trying to impress me and go away.

“What d'you reckon?” he asked.

I didn't want to admit it, but after the old skoot, the Comprot bike felt fantastic. It was as if all the power of the state was concentrated into one supreme machine. How reassuring, I thought—provided you were on their side.

“Brilliant,” I replied. “Thanks.”

I began to dismount, and just as I did so, caught a glimpse of Kris emerging from the trees at the far side.

There was no way I could signal him to go back. He couldn't see me through the thorn bushes, and in any case, the comper would notice. I asked some stupid question about the brakes, just to keep the comper's attention away from Kris, but Kris, unfortunately, had seen him. Without thinking twice he headed towards us, planning to do what, I don't know. At any rate, the comper heard him coming.

“Oh,” he said. “Didn't know you had a boyfriend.”

Kris stopped, and tried to look vaguely threatening. At this point, the comper's manner changed. You could almost see the penny drop as he looked from one to the other of us.

“Let's take a look at this skoot, shall we?” he said, his voice no longer friendly.

The comper marched across the grass, casting a hostile look at Kris as he passed him. I hurried after him, hoping somehow to keep him away from the pannier, but Kris had other plans. He whipped the stun-stem from his inside pocket and ran full-tilt at the comper's back.

That comper must have had second sight. Before Kris could offer a single jab, he had whirled around, snatched the billy club from his belt, and smashed the stun-stem out of Kris's hand. Next second he was raining blows down on Kris, full force, dashing him to the ground then pummeling his defenseless body without mercy.

“Stop it!” I cried. “You'll kill him!”

The comper was deaf to my pleas. “Attack me, would you, punk?” he sneered, laying in now with his boots, which landed with sickening dull thuds on Kris's midriff.

I couldn't just stand there. Kris's stun-stem was still lying there on the ground, and almost before I knew it, it was in my hand. Within a few seconds I had switched it on and stabbed it into the comper's side. As he crashed to the ground I stabbed at him again and again till his spasms had stopped and he lay completely motionless.

“That's for Mum!” I cried. I felt a sob rising, but held it back.

Kris uncurled and raised himself painfully. “Good going, Ms. Pacifist,” he grunted.

“I had to do something,” I replied. My whole body was trembling now. I let the stun-stem drop from my hands.

Kris viewed the comper. “How many times did you use that thing?” he asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “Lots.”

“Jade, you're only supposed to use it once!” said Kris. He struggled to his feet, with a look of alarm on his face. “
Scheisse
,” he said. “I think you've killed him.”

“No I haven't!” I exclaimed.

Kris placed his finger against the comper's neck. “I can't feel a pulse,” he said.

“Don't be stupid!” I cried. I got down myself and felt the hot, clammy neck, until at last I detected the faintest tremor. “There is a pulse!” I cried.

“I couldn't feel it,” said Kris.

“You were pressing too hard,” I replied. “He's alive.”

Kris pondered for a moment. “Maybe it would be better if he was dead,” he said.

“No, Kris,” I replied.

Kris picked up the stun-stem and held it close to the comper's ear.

“No, Kris!” I yelled.

“Still think I'm working for Comprot?” asked Kris.

“No, I don't!” I cried. “Now leave him!”

Kris stayed motionless, stun-stem just centimeters from striking what would surely be a fatal blow.

“Don't play games with me!” I cried.

There was a pause, then Kris pocketed the stun-stem.

“With any luck he's brain-dead anyway,” he said.

Kris helped himself to everything he could find on the comper's belt, then pulled the radio from the comper's pocket and smashed it to the ground. To complete matters he hobbled over to the bike, smashed the mirrors, and let down both tires.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's get going.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I felt no guilt about what happened to that comper. My mind was totally focused on survival, and that meant counting down the signposts to Bluehaven, avoiding accidents, and most of all ensuring we didn't get caught. Despite the shock and the adrenaline I felt amazingly calm, almost robotic, my decisions clear and deliberate, my steering accurate, my control complete. Kris, like Feela, had accepted his fate as passenger now, and I was hardly aware he was there behind me. As soon as I stopped, however, I turned to see him as alive as ever.

“What have you stopped for?” he asked.

“Got to check on Feela,” I replied.

“Why?” said Kris. “We stopped less than an hour ago.”

“She's been in that box all day,” I replied. “She hasn't eaten and she hasn't been to the toilet.”

“If we keep going, we'll be there in two hours,” said Kris impatiently.

I ignored him, climbed off, and began opening the box. Kris looked around anxiously. We were in a wayside beside some fields of sweetcorn with no houses or people in sight, but there was always the danger of a stray speed camera, even here—except I'd already checked that out.

Feela looked up at me and gave a low cry. I knew that cry well.

“She's got to pee,” I said.

“We can't take her out here!” said Kris.

“There's a gate up ahead,” I said, almost manically. “You get in the field and I'll lift her over the hedge to you.”

Kris sighed. “Can't she wait?” he said.

“She's in pain!” I cried.

“I'll give her a Harpaxin,” said Kris. “That'll put her out till we get there.”

“She's pregnant, Kris!” I said.

“And?” said Kris.

“What's it going to do to the kittens?” I railed.

To my surprise, Kris didn't pursue the argument. Reluctantly, he climbed off the skoot, wincing as he did so.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yes!” he snapped irritably.

Kris was lying, that was obvious. You could see by the way he was standing how much it hurt. As I observed him a switch seemed to be thrown in my mind and the violent, unreal scene came back full force. I saw the comper's body on the ground, my hand on the stun-stem, Kris stopping me from almost certainly killing him. Reality hit home, the mask dropped and panic set in.

“This is a nightmare,” I blurted.

“Cool it, Jade,” said Kris.

“We've nearly killed a comper!” I cried. “What if they catch us? What'll they do?”

“They won't catch us,” said Kris.

“They couldn't kill us, could they?” I blurted.

“They're not going to catch us!” repeated Kris.

“Kris, I'm scared!” I cried.

“Jade, you're panicking,” snapped Kris.

“I know I'm panicking!” I cried. “I've got every bloody right to panic!”

“It's not going to help,” said Kris.

“I can't help it!” I yelled, tears bubbling. “I'm scared! Don't you ever get scared?”

There was a long pause. “Just keep focusing on your mum,” said Kris.

I calmed a little.

“Anger overcomes fear,” declared Kris. “Like stone over scissors.”

I calmed a little more. “Is that why you're a stone?” I asked.

“You're starting to suss me, Jade,” replied Kris.

I considered him. “Where does it hurt?” I asked.

“Everywhere,” he replied.

“Want me to kiss it better?” I said, trying to lighten the situation.

“Don't want poison in the wound,” he replied.

“Suit yourself,” I said curtly. Just as suddenly as I'd panicked, I was focused again. “Come on,” I ordered. “Get in the field.”

Just at this moment there was the sound of an engine—a hydro car. We both froze. Comprot used hydro cars. But this one turned out to be no more than a family cruiser, which passed us by with the usual odd looks, no more.

“This is too risky,” said Kris.

I agreed. “Maybe the next village will have a toilet,” I suggested.

“You're going to take Feela into a toilet?” said Kris.

“Why not?” I said. “At least it'll have a lock on the door.”

Kris shrugged. “You know best,” he said.

It was a long ride to the next village, which turned out to be one of the new inland marina towns, built around an artificial lake. It reminded me a bit of where I grew up, which was strange because it also felt totally alien and sinister, especially now it was growing dark. Everybody was a potential enemy now—the people loafing on their boats, the line in the deli, the parcel delivery men. Most of all, however, the cameras, because there were cameras everywhere. It was risky to stop here, but we had no idea how far the next village was, and the situation was getting desperate. As soon as I spotted a wash kiosk I pulled up. Kris climbed straight off the bike and began taking out Feela's box.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Taking her in,” he replied.

“I'm taking her in!” I said.

“I'll be faster,” said Kris.

“You won't know what to do with her!” I protested.

“I'll put her in the sink,” said Kris. “Then if I go, she'll go.”