Cracks (11 page)

And I don’t know how far they’ll go to get me back.

Tom gives me a backpack and tells me it holds some spare clothes and stuff. Most importantly, he hands me a pair of trainers. Black with white stripes. I quickly put them on
and tie the laces with trembling fingers. I instantly feel a bit less vulnerable. I understand now why I wasn’t given any back at the Facility. Who can run away, without shoes?

They do some final checks on the cottage and we go out to the van.

The air is cold and misty but smells sweet and good. I find myself pulling deep draughts of it into my lungs. It hits me that I haven’t been properly outside for twelve years and I have to
hold on to the side of the van.

‘You all right?’ says Tom with a worried frown.

‘Yeah,’ I grunt back.

‘Hop in the front, then,’ he says. I hear the click of the van’s doors opening and he goes to check the cottage one more time. Nathan climbs into the back and the doors close
with a soft thump.

I open the passenger door and then hesitate, looking around. There’s a long driveway bordered by low hedges and white mist hangs in long, spooky fingers all around. I get a mad urge to leg
it down the driveway, even though it looks creepy and uninviting.

The thing is, I still don’t really know much about this Torch lot. My mind buzzes. Should I go with them? Or should I try to make it on my own?

I could do it. I could run right now . . .

A cool breeze ruffles my hair and I shiver. It’s dark out there though . . . and filled with stuff I don’t understand yet. Could I really look after myself? If I go with them, they
might at least help me find my family. And after all, they did get me away from the Facility . . . I look down at my bandaged hand. I haven’t forgiven them for that yet, but I guess it had to
be done to stop Cavendish from tracking me. An image of that stark room and the pod hanging down like some monstrous insect cocoon makes me shiver harder.

I don’t have many options right now. I’ve got no mum or dad. No friends. I don’t even know who I really am. A wave of sadness passes through me and I swallow hard, squeezing my
one good fist so my nails dig into my palm.

Looks like I’m going to have to trust them, doesn’t it?

I wrench open the door and climb into the van.

W
e drive in silence for a while. The headlights bore two pale holes into the darkness.

I’m just starting to get lulled by the rhythm of the van when Tom speaks. ‘So, Cal,’ he says, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘Here’s the deal. My cover story is that
I’m a teacher on half-term holidays. You’re my kid brother and I’m driving you to stay with our aunt and uncle because our mum and dad are working. You injured your arm in the
science labs at school.’

‘I did?’ I say.

‘Yes,’ he says patiently. ‘You did. Everyone has a small ID chip implanted on the inside of their wrist instead of ID papers now. Except you. There was no need to ID chip you,
where you were. That’s why Helen bandaged that area too. CATS scanners need to touch skin to work. They’re unlikely to bother checking because they’d have to take the bandage
off.’

‘Right,’ I say, not much clearer. ‘What about you, though? What if you get scanned? Do they know you work for Torch?’

‘Oh yes, they know,’ says Tom, frowning at the road ahead. ‘But I’ve had a false chip fitted into my arm. It wouldn’t pass the newer scanners in the main cities,
but if we keep to back roads, it should be enough to get through the more basic security technology at any road blocks we come up against.’

My weary brain struggles to take all this in.

‘What about Bea— Nathan?’ I say.

‘Don’t worry about him,’ says Tom. ‘The van has a hidden compartment in the back. We’re banking on him not being found at all.’ The words hang ominously in
the air. ‘OK,’ Tom continues, ‘so your name is Matt Spencer and I’m Patrick. We live in Westport, North Yorkshire. But hopefully we won’t get stopped anyway. Cal?
Still with me, mate?’

‘Yeah, yeah. Spencer. Westport. Got it.’

Tom smiles. ‘I’m not surprised you’re tired after the day you’ve had,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you try to sleep for a bit?’

‘I’m all right,’ I say. ‘Not tired at all.’

This isn’t exactly the truth. I am
completely
shot to pieces. But I also feel like I’ve drunk about seventeen Cokes. I’m shaky and wired and can’t imagine
I’ll ever sleep again. My neck isn’t doing a very good job of supporting my enormously heavy head at the moment though, so I pick up the rucksack and squish it against the window so at
least I can lean against it.

No way I can sleep. Better to stay alert. Still not sure I can trust . . .

Something wet and cold is pressed against my face. I open eyes full of sand and realise I’ve done quite a lot of dribbling on the rucksack. Must have dropped off. The
light is milky grey and raindrops trickle down the windscreen. Looks like it’s morning but I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. The door of the van is open and we’re no
longer moving. Cigarette smoke wafts in. Must be in Loz’s van. Oh God, does that mean we’re going to Riley Hall again?

I sit up, panicky, in my seat and then it all starts to come back to me. Being in the Facility . . . getting sprung by Torch. It feels a bit like I’ve just plunged down a roller-coaster as
the images come rushing into my mind. I look at my bandaged hand, which throbs with a dull, steady beat. I need to pee too. I’m about to open my door to get out when quiet, angry voices
outside make me hesitate.

‘It isn’t the time or the place to discuss this!’ Tom’s voice is low and urgent. ‘We’re doing nothing without his permission, you know that! If he
doesn’t agree then that’s the end of it.’

‘You’re not thinking this through properly, Tom!’ Nathan’s words come as an angry hiss. ‘A deeper debrief is the only way to get the information we need. Damn it,
this is too important to waste time on polite requests! What do you think he’ll say? “Yes, go ahead, be my guest!” Of course he won’t! Would you agree, in his
position?’

‘Keep your voice down for God’s sake!’ snaps Tom.

Nathan swears and I hear the pop of him sucking on his cigarette. It reminds me of Des, whose face pops straight into my mind. I scrunch my eyes for a second to make it go away. Tom is now
murmuring so quietly I can’t make out what he’s saying.

‘We’ll see about that,’ says Nathan clearly. There are footsteps.

I hear the back doors open and close with a clang. Looking through slitted eyes, I watch Tom climb back into the van. He peers at me but I stay still, head to one side like I’m asleep. The
engine starts again and the car moves. I keep my eyes closed but my heart is thumping. Why were they fighting? And what did Nathan mean about a ‘deeper debrief ’? I don’t like the
sound of it, whatever it is.

I haven’t really been told what it is they want from me yet. Do they have their own reasons for getting me out of that place? I make a quick decision to be on my guard. I’m not
trusting anyone yet.

After a few minutes I do a fake waking up routine, with a big stretchy yawn thrown in for good measure. It feels important somehow that they don’t know what I heard.

Tom looks away from the road and searches my face before half-smiling. ‘How you doing, buddy?’ he says.

I shrug.

Tom yawns widely and then catches my eye and grins.

I think about asking him to explain what I overheard but don’t know how to bring it up. ‘You haven’t really told me where we’re going yet,’ I say instead.

He glances at me. ‘No, you’re right. Sorry, we should have made that clear. We’re driving to another Torch safe house. It’s in the Cotswolds. You can rest there for a bit
and get your head together. We can talk about the future once you’ve had time to adjust to all this.’ He pauses and flashes a kind smile. ‘It’ll all be OK. We’ll sort
you out, don’t worry.’

I stare ahead. We’re driving through a forest that feels like a dense green tunnel. There are no other cars on the road.

I don’t know what to think. I like Tom. He does seem to care what happens to me.

I sit up straighter in my seat. I’m all fidgety. It’s like there are so many questions, all crowded in together, and I don’t know which ones to pick out to ask. At this present
moment, though, I have other concerns.

‘Tom?’ I say.

‘Yeah?’

‘I need to pee.’

‘Ah, OK, no problem,’ he says and presses a button on the dashboard.

‘Comfort break,’ he says, presumably to Nathan.

The van slows and stops in a lay-by. I climb down onto the ground, which is crunchy with bits of bark and twigs. The rain has stopped now and sunshine is pushing through the clouds, splashing
brightness everywhere. I go off into the trees to do what I have to do, looking around me as I go. Weird . . . it’s not like I was expecting 2024 to be all jet packs and skyscrapers, but I
wasn’t expecting a normal-looking forest either.

But then I realise it’s amazing in a different way. I do a gentle spin, looking up at the tall pines above me and I get all filled up inside. The sharp smell of the trees mixed with the
warm earth and the sunshine sprinkling my face feel so intense and I have to swallow deeply. I wipe my eyes and cough in what I hope is a manly way as I walk back to where Nathan and Tom are
standing. Nathan is leaning against a tree, smoking again and frowning as usual. He looks exactly like you’d expect after spending several hours in the back of that van. Rumpled and sore. His
face now sports a rainbow of bruises and I guiltily look away.

‘All done?’ says Tom. His tone is light but he’s constantly scanning around us, checking we’re alone. His eyes have grey shadows under them.

‘Can I ask something?’

‘Of course,’ he says.

‘What’s with all the smells?’

He smiles, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Everything . . . it all smells so strong.’

The two men exchange glances and then Nathan speaks. ‘It’s because you’ve been cooped up all that time,’ he says a bit grudgingly. ‘You haven’t been able to
experience the world properly. You lived in those four walls for all those years. What are you, fourteen? Fifteen?’

‘Fourteen,’ I say.

Something passes across his face. He surprises me by giving me a weak smile, but there’s sadness in his eyes. ‘Plenty of time to make up for it,’ he says.

I think about his brother dying and feel a spasm of pity. Maybe I’m bringing back painful memories just by being a teenage kid.

‘I’m . . .’ I hesitate. ‘I’m sorry about hurting you yesterday,’ I say in a rush, looking at my shoes.

There’s a pause. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says at last.

Tom opens the driver’s door and emerges, holding a bag. He checks his watch. ‘I think we should take another five minutes and have something to eat.’ He looks at me.
‘How’s the hand?’

‘It’s OK,’ I say. Actually, it’s just started hurting like crazy in the last few minutes, like someone has flipped a switch and is gradually notching up the pain.
Whatever Helen gave me must be wearing off. It’s almost a high-pitched whine that only I can hear; an angry mosquito in my ear.

‘Well, it does hurt a bit, to be honest,’ I admit.

Tom goes to the van and comes back with tablets. ‘Swallow these and then eat something.’

I gulp the bitter tablets back with some lukewarm water from a plastic bottle.

We sit on a fallen-down tree and Tom produces tuna sandwiches and warm cans of Coke. I start wondering if 2024 is any different at all and then I remember I have a dirty great computer chip
inside my brain that shows people my darkest, deepest secrets. I stuff in my sandwich to distract myself, barely pausing to swallow.

‘Easy now,’ says Tom, but I ignore him and stuff the remains of it down before giving a ripe and satisfied burp.

‘Feel better for that?’ he asks with a mischievous grin.

The painkillers are starting to dull the pain already and I’m feeling almost half decent. A smile tickles my mouth. ‘Blinding, thanks,’ I say.

Tom laughs and then he burps too, even louder than mine.

Nathan swoops his eyes disgustedly, which just makes Tom laugh harder. It’s like Nathan is Dad and Tom is the cheeky teenager, even though there’s probably only a few years between
them.

‘I think it’s about time we —’ sniffs Nathan.

But Tom, suddenly serious, cuts him off with a harsh, ‘Shhh!’, his finger to his mouth. There are two sides to him, I can see, and the professional one kicks in effortlessly.

Both men go absolutely still.

‘I heard something,’ murmurs Tom.

Then I hear it too.