Experiment With Destiny (31 page)

             
“I can think of worse things to become!” she huffed.

             
They sat in silence for a few moments and he watched the energy drain from her as she pondered the impossibility of it all. Just when she seemed to reach the verge of despondency she leapt up from her seat. “I know!” Before he could say anything she left the room and disappeared into the hallway. He heard rustling noises and seconds later she returned, holding the gun.

Malcolm flinched at the sight of it, gleaming in the artificial light. “We could use this!” His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as his mind reeled through a variety of scenarios, none of them ending well. “I mean…I wouldn’t shoot anyone…of course I wouldn’t! Nobody would get hurt. But I could threaten…unless they release the boy!” He shook his head slowly and once again the fervour fell from her face. She was so like Rachel, so willing to embrace the positive, and naïve to the realities of this cruel life. For an instant she had truly believed her futile gesture would work and that nobody would be hurt…and Malcolm knew from bitter, painful experience that life just wasn’t like that. She placed the gun on the table between them. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I guess I’ve been watching too many old movies where that kind of thing seems to work!”

Malcolm knew he should say ‘thank you’ for everything she’d done…even the offer of help…but most of all for not judging him and making him feel human again. He should thank her and leave, perhaps even taking the gun…one more favour to call from her…and that way it was only his own destiny he needed to worry about. He was already to blame for Rachel’s and the boy’s…he could not be responsible for hers too. He studied her, wanting so much to reach out and hold her…tell it will all be fine…that there will be a happy ending, like in the movies. And then inspiration came to him…an idea began to form and, for the first time he could remember, he felt grateful for the harsh lessons of living in the wastelands!

“You can help me!” He saw the excitement flicker in her eyes and she edged forward to hear him better. He felt suddenly reborn, and with a purpose. All he needed was a little faith…that was what the ‘Good Book’ said…faith! “I have an idea that might just work. It won’t be…pleasant…but…”

“Tell me! Let me decide what is and isn’t pleasant!”

“Come with me to the police station,” Kathryn was nodding. “Later, as it’s getting darker. Come to the station, and tell them you were attacked by a boy…a non citizen boy, one of the nomads from the nearby wastes, on…the night before…what…day…is it?”

“Wednesday. It’s Wednesday November 5th.” He ran the days through in his head, slowly recalling the sequencing that no longer had meaning for him…until now.

“Monday night, tell them it was Monday night you were attacked…near the market place…you were on your way home. Give them a description…say he was about…so high…” he demonstrated with his outstretched hand. “Say he was quite young…thick black hair, matted, and grubby face. He was with a girl…and tell them he didn’t speak…he just made noises…grunts…squeals…that kind of thing…”

“He’s mute?”

“Yes. Nobody knows why. We thought it was just his…mother…not teaching him, but we tried…even Rachel and Harry…but he didn’t even seem interested.”

“Poor child!” It seemed to strengthen her resolve to rescue the boy. “How awful!”

“So when you’ve told them that, they will bring him out for you to identify…if he’s still alive…and they still have him, of course. There’s no guarantee…”

“Then I grab him, right?”

“No! No, you mustn’t! You must shout out…when they bring him…and that will be my signal. I will hear, if it’s loud enough, I’ll hear you and I’ll rush in and grab him! Then you must distract them…delay them…pretend to be terrified…faint or something…to give me time.” Kathryn beamed at him. He felt instantly proud. “And we don’t need the gun, that way, and nobody gets hurt.”

“Oh, you’re a genius! Of course that will work! Unless…”

“Unless he’s dead already…or gone…I know…but then it won’t matter. You’ll still be innocent in their eyes, either way. You won’t shout out and I won’t rush in. It will be over. You will return home…and I will go back.”

“No…I mean unless they won’t bring him out. They might insist I go in to look at him in his cell or something…and you won’t hear me, or be able to grab him!”

She was right. He hadn’t considered that possibility though, in fact, that was more likely than his version. He tried to remember where the cells were located in the station, though that was the last thing he wanted to remind himself of. “But…I could…pretend…I could pretend to be too terrified to go and see, if they do that! I could say I’m…claustrophobic…and insist on them bringing him out to me!”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, chiming with her excitement. “That will work! I’m sure!”

Suddenly her arms were around his neck and she had pressed her lips firmly to his cheek. Malcolm’s tummy somersaulted within. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around her and hold her, squeeze her, kiss her…but he was frozen. Kathryn was, after all, a citizen…and, however she made him feel right at this moment, he knew he was not. He wasn’t entitled to return her affection. He needed to remember his place in the world or this could end very badly.

“You must not follow me…when I grab him,” he said quietly as she released him. “You must stay and pretend to be utterly shocked. And when they let you leave, go straight home. Don’t try to find me, whatever you do…or they will connect…”

“So that will be goodbye then?” Sorrow shrouded her eyes. “Won’t I see you again?”

“You can’t! You must not…or they will find out and hold you responsible. I’m afraid it will have to be…goodbye.”

“I could come to the wastelands…after enough time has passed…just to bring you some provisions…and maybe meet Harry and Ma?”

“No!” he snapped. “That cannot be allowed! It’s far too dangerous for you! There’s…all kinds of horrors…nomads…I couldn’t bear it if…” Malcolm stopped himself. “Please, Kathryn, believe me, you will have done enough…more than. Let that moment of victory…let that be our goodbye. I will never forget you…or what you’ve done for me.”

* * *

              As daylight began to fade Kathryn went upstairs to ready herself for this great adventure with a new sense of purpose. Malcolm pulled on his new coat and boots and carefully tied the laces before packing away his new belongings in the canvas bag she’d given him. Then he stood and studied his surroundings…her home. How easy it would be to concede to her and stay, he mused, to forget the boy…and Ma and Harry. How long would it take for his guilt to subside? How long before he was discovered…a friend, a neighbour, a random stop-and-check? He knew that, even if he managed to bury his guilt about abandoning the others, he couldn’t live with himself if Kathryn suffered because of him. He had no choice but to leave this behind…to lay down his life, as the ‘Good Book’ said.

             
A sudden wave of nausea swept over him and he felt giddy, thrusting out his hand to steady himself against the table. It passed as quickly as it came, but he felt a pain gnawing at his insides and he remembered earlier, the blood he’d vomited. How much life did he have left to lay down? His eyes fell on the gleaming gun, still lying invitingly where she’d left it. He ran through their plan in his mind’s eye, imagining the scene inside the police station if it went wrong…if she panicked…if she produced the gun from her handbag and threatened. He pictured her dying in a hail of bullets…her precious blood seeping from the holes and clouding the floor. He could not allow that…he could not even risk that happening…her blood on his hands! She must live, unharmed, even if he failed and perished.

             
Malcolm picked up the gun. It felt heavy. It was for her own good, he told himself as he thrust it deep into his coat pocket. She could always buy another for her protection, after this was all over and she was not in any danger.

              They walked through the rain-soaked streets as the last of the daylight faded behind the ugly grey skies. Malcolm’s initial nervousness quickly subsided as he realised none of the faces passing him by were staring, or paying him any heed. He was anonymous in his clean, bright camouflage! He looked like them, smelled like them…they could not tell him apart…and, with this woman, his new friend, by his side, he could not have seemed less like what he really was. His confidence was growing and he began to consider the possibility that his plan might actually work! As he walked, absently gazing in on the shops and houses as they passed, he began to refine the plan in his mind…improve it…improve his chances of success and hers of walking away from this unscathed.

             
They passed the market place and he felt a slight unease again, watching the stall-holders clearing away their unsold wares as twilight unfolded. He saw them tossing aside the spoiled detritus he would have gladly and hungrily scooped from the muddy flagstones on any other night…and wondered if he would ever be doing so again. The pain in his side and stomach had not faded and was now a constant ache as he walked. Somewhere, among the emptying stalls, was the dark stain of Rachel’s blood…where she’d fallen just two nights ago…and just beyond was the alley that would lead him home again…hopefully with the boy at his side. He shut out the pain and pressed on, trying hard not to let it show on his face.

             
In the distance, in the gaps between the terraces sprinkled with lights, he could see the flickering of flames against the growing night. Surely the houses weren’t so close to the wastelands!

             
“They look like campfires!” he exclaimed. Suddenly the sky above them exploded with a flash of rainbow colour, trails of crackling sparks emanating out from the centre. He caught his breath. Kathryn was smiling at him.

             
“They’re bonfires,” she assured. “Of course, I’d forgotten…it’s Bonfire Night! That could help us…the police are always very busy so hopefully most will be out of the station…out and about dealing with youth nuisance.”

             
Several more rockets lit the darkness above them and a distant memory tugged at the edges of his mind. ‘Remember…remember…’ he thought. He smiled up at the magical world unfurling above his head, knowing it would soon be gone.

             
They reached the police station minutes later, three storeys of stern stonework beneath a slate roof glared down at them. All the lights were on, including the solitary blue lamp that glowed beneath the words ‘Heddlu – Police’ over the steps leading up to the entrance. Malcolm shuddered at the memory.

             
“If only there was another way,” he whispered quietly. “Take this cup…” If Kathryn heard him she gave no acknowledgement. They stopped at the foot of the steps and both stared up at the doors, as though they faced a mountain to climb. Neither spoke for an age. Finally Malcolm swallowed his fear and turned to her. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for all you have done for me…and for what you are about to do. You know I could never replay your kindness if I lived a thousand lifetimes.” There were tears in her eyes. She pulled him close and squeezed him as tight as she could. He winced at the pain in his side but said nothing. He did not want this embrace to end. This time he reached around her and held her tight.

             
“Thank you,” she said in his ear. “It is you that has saved me…given my life meaning…belief…this has been such a special day…one I shall never forget…even if I lived a thousand lifetimes!” He felt the trace of his own tears like cold rain down his cheeks. How was it possible to feel so joyous and yet so melancholy within the same moment of time, he mused. Suddenly her lips were pressed against his and he tasted her hot breath. The kiss was over as quickly as it had begun but his mouth still tingled and his heart was left fluttering. “I hope that, somehow, we will meet again one day…in better times,” she said. “Until then, please don’t forget me…and if angels exist then I pray a host of them will watch over you!”

             
“I won’t…” he shook his head, “…ever…forget!”

             
With that, she turned and made her way up the steps toward the door, not daring to look back. Malcolm let go a quiet sob as he watched her disappear inside, and then slowly climbed to take his place just outside the doors, praying the angels would be with them. The sky was full of fireworks now, the world around him flashing with light and noise, and the acrid fumes of gunpowder thick in the cold air.

He felt momentarily disoriented as he reached the top and his laboured breath seemed to stick in his chest. The pain was suddenly worse and he felt the nausea rising from the pit of his stomach. A second later he was bent double, retching blood and bile onto the flagstones. There was a piercing ringing in his ears and he felt chill, as though the wintry night was seeping in through his skin. Malcolm blacked out.

He opened his eyes. His vision cleared and he could see the stained step and his outstretched hands pressed into the ugly stain he’d made. The ringing noise and the insidious cold had passed with the nausea, but the pain remained. How long had he been there on his hands and knees? How long had she been gone? Had she called out the signal? Had he missed it? In panic, he pushed himself upright, ignoring the stinging sensations that wrenched his torso from top to bottom as he did so. He stared at the doors, half expecting to see Kathryn come running out, screaming at him for missing the moment…losing the boy. His heart was thumping as his mind raced through the options…stay and wait…go in…what should he do for the best? Either option posed a huge risk for both of them…but which of them held the least risk for her?