Blood Ransom (29 page)

But Paul had already picked me up and slung me over his shoulder.

‘NO!’ I kicked and punched with my legs and arms, but Paul just tightened his grip.

As we climbed the stairs I lifted my head. Below us, Amanda Lennox was still sitting, slumped, against the wall. Opposite her, by the table, Elijah was talking – low and insistent –
to Milo.

Milo wheeled himself over to Amanda. She sat, arms wrapped round her knees, staring defiantly up at him.

I stopped yelling. Stopped kicking.

Milo raised his arm and held the gun against Amanda’s temple.

The gun shook. Elijah put his own hand on Milo’s arm to steady it.

Still slung over Paul’s back, I reached the top of the stairs. I could no longer see what was happening, but I held my breath, waiting.

Surely Milo couldn’t pull that trigger. Not in cold blood.

Surely Elijah wouldn’t make him.

The gun went off as Paul dumped me in my room. He turned without a word and left, locking the door behind him.

I stood still, listening for more sounds. Nothing. I pressed my ear to the door. I could hear voices downstairs – a dragging movement. Was that someone moving a body?

A few minutes later, the door downstairs slammed. And, a few moments after that, Milo’s sobs drifted up to me.

God
, he really did it. He really killed her.

I took a deep breath, trying to get my head round it.

Amanda Lennox was dead.

I couldn’t believe it.

I sank down on the bed trying to make sense of what I’d just seen and heard. Always before, RAGE had gone to attack Elijah’s labs mob-handed. And, while they’d managed to
destroy most of his work, Elijah himself had always slipped through their fingers.

I could see why they’d try sending in a lone agent with a cover story.

My mind went back to Lennox’s last words – about the code 2509, and the instruction to ‘
find it and kill it
’.

I still had no idea what she was talking about – but I was certain I knew
where.

Elijah’s bunker – that was the only place that could possibly need a code to open it. I
had
to reach it. Maybe there was someone inside who was helping Elijah do whatever
terrible things he was doing . . . maybe that was the ‘it’ Amanda Lennox had referred to?

My mind careered about, trying to figure everything out.

Lennox had said I was in danger too. A danger connected with the Eos protein Elijah was trying to copy from my blood.

What
kind
of danger?

I shook my head. I couldn’t let myself get distracted worrying about that.

Anyway, it didn’t matter
what
the danger was. RAGE’s mission had failed. I was the only person left who could stop Elijah.
That
was the priority.

I got up and pushed at my bedroom door. It was firmly locked. There was no way I could break it down. I turned to the window. I’d already examined it, of course. It was double-glazed, and
looked out over a first-floor drop made deeper because the garden of the chalet sloped so steeply away from the house.

As if that wasn’t enough, the ground below my window was covered with shrubbery, punctuated by a series of sharp rocks that spread at least a metre from the house. The chances of me not
impaling myself on one, even if I managed to land without breaking my legs, were minuscule.

But I had to try. Elijah had to be stopped.

In the distance, a car engine revved. Was Elijah going out?

It was a chance . . . I might not get another.

I took the lamp beside my bed. Like almost everything else in the room it was made of white-painted wood. I rammed it against the window. The glass shook, but didn’t break. I tried again.
Still nothing. I cast my eyes round, desperate for something else to use.

I picked up the chair, shoving the clothes on top of it onto the floor.

It was much heavier than the lamp. I gripped it by the back and swung it up and against the window. It slammed against the glass. A tiny crack appeared.
Yes.
I swung it back and rammed it
into the window again. With a satisfying smash, glass shattered outwards, onto the shrubbery.
Damn
, another hazard.

There was no time to think about it. If Paul had heard the crash he’d be upstairs in seconds.

I put one leg over the sill. In the distance I could dimly hear Milo calling my name. Ignoring him, I looked down.
God
, it was a long way to the ground. My heart pummelled at my chest. It
was too far . . . too lethal . . .

Go on.

I crouched on the sill for a second, poised . . . ready . . .

I flung myself as far as I could away from the house, hurtling through the air.

Wham.
I landed on my feet, making sure I rolled forwards as Lewis had taught me.
Ow
. Pain shot through my right leg. I glanced down. One of the sharp rocks had sliced through the
side of my calf. Blood poured out.

Panting, I scrambled up.
God
, it wasn’t just the cut . . . my ankle felt twisted as well.

‘Rachel! RACHEL!!!’ Milo’s yells were close. He was outside.

I hobbled away.
Get round to the bunker. You have the code.

‘Rachel, stop.’ I heard his gun click.

I stopped and turned. Milo was on the path behind me, holding his gun outstretched in front of him. His hands were shaking, his face under the beanie hat was ashen.

We stared at each other for a second then he put the gun down.

‘You killed her,’ I said.

‘Come back inside, please, or I’ll call the others.’

‘Elijah’s gone out,’ I said. ‘I heard the car.’

‘He’s only gone into town for something,’ Milo said. ‘He’ll be back in twenty minutes.’

‘What about Paul?’

Milo looked away. ‘He’s dealing with . . . with the body . . . down by the lake.’

‘How could you have killed her like that?’ I said. ‘Just because Elijah told you too?’

‘I didn’t,’ Milo said. ‘In the end I couldn’t . . .’

‘Elijah did it?’

Milo nodded. ‘He put his hand on mine . . . then he pulled the trigger.’

We stared at each other. I was suddenly aware of the silence all around us – the way the snow muffled everything.

‘Please come back inside, Rachel,’ Milo said. ‘It’s cold out here and you know that you can’t get over the fence. There’s no way you’ll
escape.’

‘I’m not trying to escape,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to make right what Elijah’s made wrong.’

Milo’s eyes widened. ‘You mean the bunker? Getting into the that’s harder than getting over the fence,’ he said. ‘Elijah uses three different types of
security.’

I thought of the code
2509
Amanda Lennox had given me. ‘I’ll be okay,’ I said.

‘But Elijah will win. He
always
wins.’ Milo’s voice cracked. ‘You’ve got no idea what he’s capable of . . . what he’s doing in there.’

‘That’s why I have to try and stop him,’ I said. ‘I’ve been hiding from him for nearly a year. I’m not hiding any more.’

I hobbled away, through the trees.

‘Rachel!’

I could hear Milo on the path, his wheels clattering over the stones. That path took a longer way round to the bunker than my route through the wood. If I walked quickly I’d reach the
bunker well ahead of him.

I sped up, trying to put as little weight as I could on my foot, and hurried on across the snow.

86

I picked up a large stick lying on the ground and threw it at the fence.

The metal sparked – a loud, bright flash. Lethal.

Man
, no wonder the woman in the shop had called this the ‘death fence’. How on earth was I going to get over it without getting electrocuted?

I wandered along, looking for a gap or a break in the thick metal bars, but the fence remained sturdy and unbroken. Typical Elijah. I followed it round for a few minutes until I was as far away
from the gate as I could get. Despite the densely wooded area I was now in, the pine trees had been cut back so they were set several metres away from the fence on either side.

There was only one option. It was crazy, but I couldn’t come this far and give up now. I was going to have to climb a tree and then jump from its highest branches to the nearest tree on
the other side of the fence.

I looked for a suitable tree. It needed to be big enough for me to climb – and close enough to a tree on the other side of the fence so that the jump was merely insane, rather than
completely suicidal.

There, that one would do. The pine tree I’d picked was slightly stubbier than the others around it. If I could just climb it to a metre or so above fence level, then I was sure I could
clear the fence when I jumped. What was less certain was whether I’d manage to reach the nearest pine tree on the other side of the fence. It was set nearly two metres back from the wire but
it was particularly bushy, with lots of dense branches.

I grabbed hold of my stubby pine tree and hauled myself up. I was used to clambering up trees – last year I’d even climbed one to get out of the back of school.

That was before I knew about being a clone. Before I met Rachel.

I hooked my knee over the next branch. And the next. The tree was sprinkled with snow that slid off as I disturbed it. My jacket was soon covered. An icy trickle ran down my neck. I was sweating
now. The tree was harder to climb as I got higher. Would the thinner branches hold my weight? I pushed on, wanting to get as far above fence level as I could.

I stepped onto a branch. It snapped.
Damn.
I swung for a second from the branch above then hauled myself up, testing the next branch more carefully.

A couple more branches up and I stopped. The top of the fence was at least a metre below me. The ground several metres below that.

Trying not to think about the dangers of what I was about to do, I peered through the dense woodland beyond the fence. I could just make out the roof of a wooden house. It wasn’t all that
far away. Maybe Rachel was inside.

As I braced myself, ready to jump, a muffled shot rang out.

I froze. Was that a
gun
shot? Panicking, I stood on my branch, breath misting in the air, straining my ears to hear another sound. But nothing came. No voices . . . no more shots . . .

I prepared to jump, flexing my legs, focusing on the tree on the other side of the fence.

Go.
I pushed off, legs tucked under me. For a second I was flying through the air. I cleared the fence . . . reached out for the bushy pine tree beyond.

I’m not going to make it.

The thought flashed through my head. In the split second that followed I reached out my arms, clawing for the pine branches. My hands closed on fragile pine needles but nothing firm enough to
hold me. I was panicking now, arms flailing, desperate to grab hold of something, anything. Pine branches slapped at my face.

Down. Falling.
Thump.

I landed on my arse in the snow.

I sat there, getting my breath back for a moment, testing out my legs and my back. I appeared to be fine, apart from a couple of cuts on my face from the pine branches and what I was sure was
going to be a whopper of a bruise on my bum.

In the distance I could hear a car engine start up. I couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from, so I lay low, close to the tree where I’d jumped, until the car drove off and
the noise faded away. There was silence now. Even the wind had died down. The snow was only patchy here, under the trees.

I set off in what I hoped was the right direction to reach the wooden house I’d seen earlier. As I walked, the faint sound of breaking glass drifted towards me. I had no idea how that
connected to the gunshot or the car driving away, but there was no time to think about it. I had to reach the house, then find a way in without anyone seeing me and look for Rachel.

The wood thinned out suddenly and I could see the outline of the house. At the same time I heard faint voices. One male. One female. I couldn’t work out what they were saying. Was the
girl’s voice hers?

Stomach tight, throat dry, I edged closer to the sound. Then the talking stopped.

I stood still, straining to pick up any noise at all. Someone was walking through the wood, feet cracking over the loose sticks and stones between the trees.

I crept nearer, my whole body tensed with anticipation. The woodland grew thicker again. I kept close to the trees, using them as cover. After a few moments I came to a small concrete hut. I
ducked behind it, as the footsteps grew louder. And stopped.

I waited a second, my breath fast and shallow, then peered round the corner.

It was her. She was standing, staring at the entrance to the hut. Her face was flushed and her hair scraped back in a rough ponytail.

I’d never been so pleased to see anyone in my life.

‘Rachel?’

She turned, her eyes widening as she saw me.

‘Theo!’And she burst into tears and flung herself into my arms.

87

I wiped my eyes and pulled away from him. There was no time. Anyway, if I let myself feel everything I was feeling for Theo, I’d never let go of him.

‘You lied to me,’ he said. He didn’t sound angry.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

Theo took my chin in my hand and lifted my face. It felt like he was seeing straight through me.

We stood, looking at each other. For a moment I forgot everything else: Elijah and his sinister research . . . Milo and Paul nearby . . . even the bunker we were standing next to . . .

‘Want to know how I know you lied?’ Theo said.

I nodded.

Theo pulled my silver chain out of his pocket. He handed it to me. ‘This.’

I blushed. The tiny ‘t’ nestled in my palm. So he knew, then. He knew exactly how I felt about him. My blush deepened.

‘You gave yourself up . . . for me . . .’ Theo said.

I nodded again.

‘That’s the bravest, most stupid . . .’

I reached up and touched a dark red line on his face.