Mutation (20 page)

Cathryn hadn't shown up to school. I'd spent all of English worrying they'd done something to her. But then her mum had emailed in to say she was ‘sick'.

Then there was another mystery: Cathryn's confession was pretty solid evidence that she and the others weren't getting their orders from Shackleton after all. So how on earth had Cathryn been able to keep it all secret from her mum? How had she been sneaking around all this time without getting caught?

I guess even evil dictators have blind spots when it comes to their own kids.

‘Besides,' I said, resting my legs and letting the bike coast down the street, ‘I told you what I saw in my vision. We were out there at the explosion site, looking for him.'

‘We were out there getting shot!' said Luke.

‘Shot at,' I said. ‘Not shot. We were running.'

Unless that blood on my shoulder really was a bullet wound.

There was a weird silence. Luke and I both looked at each other. Waiting for the smart-arsed comment that Peter wasn't there to give.

Luke sighed.

‘I didn't just see that vision by accident,' I said. ‘There's something out there and whatever it is, we're supposed to – '

I cut myself short, realising how much I sounded like Cathryn.

Supposed to?

I'd called her a moron for following orders without bothering to ask who they were coming from. And here I was, putting my trust in – What? A vision of the future? How was that any different?

Because your visions aren't telling you to abduct people
and leave them for dead in the bush,
I told myself.
And
because, so far, the real world backs your visions up.

‘Maybe it was a warning,' said Luke. ‘If you really think you're seeing all of this stuff for a reason, then who says the reason isn't keeping you alive?'

‘What do you think we're doing this for?' I said, pointing down the street as we turned the corner. ‘Trust me, staying alive is definitely part of my plan.'

Luke sank down on his bike seat. ‘I just hope we can actually stick to the plan this time.'

We rode to the house, let ourselves in through the gate, and left our bikes on the lawn.

The Co-operative had put down a ramp out the front of the house, leading up to the verandah.

We took the stairs and I rang the doorbell.

‘What if he's not here?' said Luke.

‘His bike's here.'

‘Of course his bike's here,' said Luke, and I felt a stab of guilt.

The handle turned and the door opened.

Peter's dad rolled into the doorway. He looked warily at us. ‘Did something happen? Have you –'

‘Can we come in?' I asked. This wasn't the sort of discussion you wanted to have on a doorstep.

Mr Weir ran a hand down over his new beard, which had grown even more out of control since the weekend. He spun his chair around and rolled back up the hall. Luke shut the door behind us and we followed Peter's dad into the lounge room.

I saw that one of those chairlift things had been installed on the stairs, to let Mr Weir up to his bedroom. The Co-operative was doing everything it could to make it look like they were helping.

Luke and I sat down. Déjà vu. Every house in Phoenix was like a tiny little alternate universe, almost but not quite the same as every other. We were sitting in exactly the same positions we'd been in for our chat with Dr Montag at Luke's place.

Mr Weir pulled up next to the couch opposite us. He glanced sideways, like he was considering shifting himself across, then changed his mind.

‘All right,' he said. ‘What's going on?'

I put my head in my hands for a minute, trying to figure out where to start.

‘You're right,' I said. ‘We know what the Co-operative is doing out here. We know what really happened to you – and to Peter. And we know why.'

Mr Weir cursed under his breath. ‘And you waited until now to tell me?'

‘We didn't want to put you in danger,' said Luke.

‘I'm in a bloody wheelchair!' Peter's dad shouted. My son's been abducted! How much more danger–?'

‘Mr Weir, the last person we asked for help is in a coffin,' I said. ‘Can you blame us for wanting to be careful?'

Mr Weir's fury wavered for a bit as the words hit home. ‘Tell me,' he said. ‘Tell me what you know.'

‘We can't,' said Luke.

‘Yes, you bloody well can!' said Mr Weir, rolling forward until he and Luke were knee to knee. ‘You can tell me right now.'

‘Mr Weir, please, that's not what we came to –'

‘THEY HAVE MY SON!'

‘No. They don't,' I said. ‘That's why we're here. The Shackleton Co-operative hasn't got Peter. They're looking for him too.'

‘But we think we might know where he is,' said Luke. ‘Kind of.'

Luke pulled a face. He'd been doing that all day, every time he thought over the fact that our whole plan was based on Cathryn's vague descriptions and a vision of him and me running from gunfire.

But thankfully, Mr Weir wasn't interested in the source of our information.

‘Where?' he asked. ‘Who's got him?'

‘We're not sure,' I said. ‘But if we can get into the bush at the north end of town without Shackleton realising, we might have a shot at finding out.'

Peter's dad gave his wheels a tug, backing off from us a bit. ‘I take it that's where I come in.'

I cringed. Whatever I might have said to Luke, this still felt way too much like asking Officer Reeve to get us into the Shackleton Building.

‘It would be a massive risk,' I said quickly. ‘If Shackleton realises what you're doing –'

‘I'm in,' he said. ‘Whatever it is, I'm in. What do you need?'

His face was alive in a way I hadn't seen since Shackleton took his legs.

‘We need someone to distract Shackleton,' said Luke. ‘Keep him away from the computer in his office that tells him where we are.'

‘No worries,' he said immediately. ‘I can do that. I'll get up early. Get into work before he does. Should be even less drama with Calvin on leave.'

‘What?' I said. ‘On leave where?'

‘At home,' said Mr Weir. ‘He went in to see Montag on Saturday. The doc told him to take a few days off.' His eyes went dark. ‘Destroying lives is stressful stuff, I guess.'

‘There's one other thing,' said Luke. ‘For some reason, when Peter went missing, the Co-operative stopped being able to track his suppressor.'

‘Isn't that good news?' said Mr Weir.

‘For now, maybe. But if we find him, and his suppressor starts working again – If Shackleton sees that we've got him –'

‘Mate, stop,' said Mr Weir, sounding uncannily like Peter. ‘One problem at a time.'

He rolled forward again, almost smiling at us. ‘Let me worry about Shackleton. You just concentrate on getting my bloody son back.'

We decided that we'd make our start at 5 a.m. It would be early enough to get a jump on Shackleton, but not suspiciously early for a busy Co-operative employee like Mr Weir to arrive at the office. And hopefully it would be light enough by then to see our hands in front of our faces.

I filled in the rest of my afternoon drawing pictures with Georgia.

The homework was still piling up on my desk. But if everything went bad tomorrow, I wanted to know I'd spent my last few hours doing something worth doing.

Dinner was late. Mum and Dad had got an email back from Shackleton's secretary (Katie Reeve, still unknowingly working for the man who'd murdered her husband), which was basically all the same lies and stall tactics rearranged into new sentences.

They were both outraged, and spent ages talking around in circles about what to do next. I did what I could to calm them both down, but I could tell this was all going to spill over sooner rather than later.

One more thing to worry about once we'd got Peter back.

After dinner, I went upstairs and got myself organised for tomorrow. I packed pretty much the same backpack I'd put together for our trip out to the wall: food, water, torch, rope, notepad, pen, my old pocket knife with the half-broken blade …

The kind of packing that made Luke look at me like I'd come unhinged.

I laid out some clothes for the morning, deliberately avoiding the grey shirt I'd been wearing in my vision. Learning from the visions was one thing, but I wasn't about to start letting them control me. I chose greens and browns and then, remembering it was a school day, stuffed my uniform into my bag to put on later.

Life and death covert rescue mission. Then maths.

I went out to say goodnight to Mum and Dad. They'd finally given up on the flight-booking debacle for the night. Dad was sitting on the couch, going over some meeting notes. Mum was lying against him, hands on her stomach.

‘Night,' I said, leaning into the room.

Mum stood up to give me a hug, the same weary expression still etched across her face. ‘Night, sweetheart. See you tomorrow.'

The baby kicked against me, and I almost started crying.

I was going to get them out of here.

I was going to find Peter and stop Tabitha and take my family home.

I bent down to hug Dad, then went upstairs to see Georgia. She was lying on her bed, making shadow puppets in the glow of her nightlight.

‘C'mere,' I said, sitting down on the bed. ‘Give me a hug.'

Georgia wriggled across the bed and squeezed me around the middle. ‘Love you, Jordan.'

‘Yeah. Love you too.'

I sat there in the almost-darkness, soaking in that tiny moment of goodness in this nightmare place.

‘Hey, Georgia, I might have to leave before you get up in the morning, okay?'

‘How come?'

‘Just something I need to do,' I said. ‘You'll make sure Mum and Dad are okay, won't you?'

‘Yeah.'

I squeezed her again. ‘Thanks. Goodnight, Georgia.'

‘Goodnight,' she mumbled, face pressed into my side.

I started to let go, and she snapped her head up to look at me. Puzzled, like she'd just heard me say something weird.

Then she frowned and patted me on the back. ‘I hope he's out there,' she said. ‘I hope you find him.'

Chapter 25

T
HURSDAY
, J
UNE
25
49
DAYS

More dreams. More faceless ghosts chasing me through town and out into the bush. Faceless but still breathing, and close enough for me to hear it. Everything in slow motion. I tried to speed up, but the air around me was heavy as water. I could feel their arms stretching out behind me. Fingers grasping.

A dull buzzing under my pillow dragged me clear of them. My old, useless phone, set to vibrate so it wouldn't wake up the whole house. I turned off the alarm, jolting wide awake as I remembered what it was for.

4.45 a.m.

I got up, dressed in the dark, threw on my backpack and headed for the door, checking the stairs on my way out to make sure everyone else was still asleep.

As soon as I was through the front gate, I crossed over the road to the bush side. Away from the streetlights. It was still too early for any normal person to be up, but Calvin had security on patrol through the night.

Just to make us all feel nice and safe.

We'd decided to meet out at the cemetery and cut across to the crater from that side. The last thing we needed was to run into some early-morning cycling nut. I walked across to the corner and started up the little trail through the bush.

At first, I thought the moonlight was going to be enough to see by. But as I got further from the glow of the town, I realised I'd probably need to risk using the torch, at least for a bit. I pulled it out and switched it on.

And then I realised my first mistake of the morning.

When I was getting dressed, I'd completely forgotten about the clothes I put out for myself last night. I'd just pulled a T-shirt and jeans out of the wardrobe. A grey T-shirt. The one from my vision.

I half-considered turning back and getting changed.

Don't be stupid,
I told myself.
It's just a shirt.

A minute or two later, I was standing in the cemetery. I flashed the torch around. No Luke.

I was about to switch it off when the light fell across Reeve's tombstone. Gleaming white marble. A bunch of flowers and a little plastic truck had been laid down in front of it.

I froze up, playing Reeve's death over again in my head. Replaying the funeral. His family weeping and Shackleton barely managing to hide his smile.

There had to be a bigger picture here. There had to be more than I was seeing, otherwise Reeve's death was just a waste. And I refused to live in a universe where that was how it worked.

I jumped as a hand brushed my back.

Luke. Green shirt, dark brown cords. Just like in my vision.

‘Hey,' he said. ‘You ready?'