Numbers 3: Infinity (22 page)

‘No, Saul,’ I shout as I run, ‘I’m letting someone else live.’

He unleashes his animal roar. It’s the sound of reality catching up with him. No one’s gonna rescue him. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. And now it’s coming true. Two hundred and fifty years coming to an end. It tears at me with every step, but it don’t pull me back.

Saul – his twisted views, his cruel, selfish everlasting life – belongs in the past.

I’ve got one daughter in my arms, another taking her first breaths on earth and a girl I’ve loved since the moment I saw her. Saul knew nothing about love, or if he ever did, he forgot it. I won’t make his mistakes.

I’m running towards the future.

Chapter 49: Sarah

R
ed and gold, coming towards me through the stones. The colours of fire. Mia’s golden flame merges with Adam’s. He may not be her biological dad, but they blend together. They look like they belong. And, thank God, they belong to me.

‘Mia!’ I cry.

Her pale face is smudged with mud. She’s clinging on to Adam as if her life depended on it.

‘Are you all right, sweetheart? Come here.’

She won’t let go of him. Won’t, can’t speak. Her eyes are open, glassy, traumatised.

What on earth has she been through? What has she seen?

‘Where did you find her?’

He puts his hand on the side of her head, holding her closer, covering her ear.

‘With Saul,’ he says quietly.

‘What happened?’

He shakes his head.

‘Later,’ he says. ‘We’ll talk later.’

‘But her number, Adam. What about her number?’

‘It’s all right,’ he says. ‘Her number’s good now.’

The roaring cries in the fog go up a pitch, turning into piercing screams.

‘That’s him, isn’t it?’ I tip my head towards the noise.

‘It’ll stop soon,’ he says. He closes his eyes briefly and I know what he’s thinking. Please stop now. Make the noise stop.

But a few minutes later, the silence is almost worse than the screams. It sits heavily in the fog, clinging to the branches above our heads, the wet leaves on the ground.

And I know without a shadow of a doubt. In the end he couldn’t escape his number.

It came back to him.

Mia gave it back.

For a while the only sound is the rustle of rats. Adam keeps them away – stamping, kicking, sweeping the branch around. Then we hear the buzz of a drone overhead. We’re sitting ducks, at least Mia and Adam are with their silicon Judases lodged under their skin. But it’s not uniformed soldiers we see emerging through the fog – it’s ordinary folk armed with pieces of wood or bits of railing or not armed at all. Their auras merge together in a rainbow haze. They’re dazzling.

Adam draws Saul’s gun when we first see them, but he soon puts it away. There’s a whole crowd of them, women as well as men.

The guy at the front isn’t carrying any weapons and his pale-blue eyes light up when he sees the four of us. His colour is blue, too. It brings me calmness and confidence
before he’s even spoken.

‘You found them, then,’ he says to Adam.

‘Yeah,’ Adam says. ‘This is Sarah, and Mia. And this is our daughter.’

The man crouches down.

‘I’m Simon,’ he says to me. ‘If you can walk, I’d like to take you back to the abbey. We have food there, and shelter. It’ll be safer for you all.’

One of the women comes forward. She’s brought cotton sheets, towels and clean clothes, and a soothing green presence. She tells me she’s a midwife, Alona, and she ushers the others, including Simon, away. She helps me get cleaned up, wraps bandages round my cut hands, wipes the blood and muck off the baby, then wraps her tightly in a sheet, so that only her little face is showing. I beckon her nearer.

‘The baby,’ I say, ‘she hasn’t got …’ I glance at Adam. He’s looking after Mia and talking with Simon. I lower my voice. ‘She hasn’t got any eyes.’ Alona frowns. ‘Have you seen a baby like this before?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, but I’ve heard about cases. It’s a developmental thing, but the child can be perfectly healthy otherwise.’ She puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘All her vital signs are very good. She’s a beautiful girl.’ And she is. Her face is like a little apple. Her silver-white light nearly takes my breath away.

Alona helps me to my feet. I’m wobbly but I’m able to walk slowly. I carry the baby and Adam carries Mia. Close to, I can see that her light is flecked with strange dark spots, scorch marks in her golden flame.

When we get nearer to the gate, Adam moves to my other side and puts his arm round me.

‘Don’t look,’ he says, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen the mass of rats, tattered flesh and bare bone that is all that’s left of Saul.

We leave the graveyard the way we came in and turn into the cobbled street. As we walk, I’m remembering the sea of filth outside the abbey. Everyone’s being so kind, I don’t know how to say I don’t want to camp there, but when we turn the corner into the abbey square, I don’t see dirt and rubbish, I see people in all their rich, colourful variety. My spirits soar. My eyes have been opened to the world – I feel like I’m seeing it how it should be seen.

We’re ushered inside the church. As we go through the big studded door, a ripple of applause breaks out in the crowd outside. It builds and builds. No cheering, no shouting or whooping, just hundreds of people clapping.

‘What’s that for?’ I ask.

‘It’s for us,’ Adam says. He’s not uncomfortable with it, he’s smiling. He turns back briefly and waves to the crowd. Then we go inside. We’re not the only ones here. It’s almost like a hospital – the place is full of the very young, the very old and the ill. Half the windows are missing and not all the walls are intact, but it’s a beautiful space. It’s busy here, but there’s an overriding sense of calm.

We’re taken to a smaller place within the church, a chapel I suppose. People bustle around fetching bedding and blankets, and soon we’ve got a sort of nest, away from everyone else. Someone brings us hot tea and then, even more wonderfully, they leave us alone. No fuss, no bother. The four of us cuddle up under a duvet, Mia still clinging to Adam, the baby in my arms.

‘Adam,’ I say. ‘I need to tell you something.’

‘And I’ve got so much to tell you,’ he says, ‘I’m almost
bursting. I gotta do something first though. I don’t want to, but I’ve got to.’

He’s nervous now, pressing his lips together, eyes blinking fast.

‘What is it?’

He doesn’t answer, but leans over and tickles the baby’s face, gently teasing her round, peachy cheek. Her face twitches in response and she moves her head against his finger. She’s awake.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, but inside me I know.

‘Trying to wake her up. I need to see … I need to see her number. I don’t wanna but I know I got to.’

He glances up at me, wanting me to encourage him and his face changes as he sees mine. He’s frowning now. I have to tell him.

‘She is awake, Adam,’ I say. ‘She just can’t open her eyes.’

‘What?’

‘She hasn’t got any eyes. That’s why Saul didn’t take her number. He couldn’t.’

The frown deepens. He screws up his eyes and I can’t tell what’s going on with him. Anger? Disgust?

He stares at our baby’s face.

‘Adam, don’t hate her. She’s still our daughter. It’s not a bad thing – it saved her life.’

He won’t look at me now, he’s still staring at her.

‘Don’t hate her.’

Then he runs his thumb gently across the place where her eyes should be. The frown eases away. His face relaxes.

‘I’ll never know,’ he murmurs. ‘I won’t know her number.’

‘Just like the rest of us,’ I say. ‘Not knowing.’

‘Like the rest of you,’ he echoes. ‘I can look at her and I’m the same. I don’t know the end. All I know is we’ve got today.’ 

‘Is that okay? Are you okay with her?’

‘Course. Course I am,’ he says. ‘I don’t hate her, Sarah. I could never, never hate her. She’ll have it tough, though, won’t she? It’s a tough old world. But at least she doesn’t have to bear the gifts Saul thought she’d have.’

‘Yes, perhaps that’s a blessing. And she’ll grow up loved, Adam. That’s all she needs.’

‘I wanna hold her,’ he says. ‘Mia, shall we hold the baby?’

Mia still hasn’t said a word. She’s stayed in Adam’s arms, curled up, silent. I look at her, wondering what will bring her back to us, and I realise that the black spots in her golden glow are bigger. They’ve stretched out, spreading like stains.

‘Mia, I want you. Come here.’

She pouts and looks at me from the corner of her eye. She unwinds a little and lets Adam sit her down next to me. I put my arm round her little shoulders.

‘It’s all right, now, Mia,’ I say. ‘We’re safe.’

Adam takes the baby from me and holds her close. She snuggles in and they look so content together. I can’t help thinking Adam’s right. England’s a harsh place now. Are we really safe? What on earth does the future hold for us? I shut those thoughts away, kiss Mia’s curly hair and bask in this moment, this peace, this intimacy. Here. Now.

‘Adam,’ I say later, ‘we could call her Gemma. Not the same as your mum, but similar, a little tribute. Only if you think it’s okay. We could call her something else if you …’

‘Gemma,’ he repeats. ‘Gemma. That’s beautiful.’

Then he looks at me with tears in his eyes. ‘Thank you Sarah. For everything. For Gemma. For Mia.’

‘You don’t need to thank me.’

‘Yeah, I do. I haven’t said things in the past and I regret it.
Some things need saying. I love you, Sarah.’

‘I love you too.’

Mia’s restless beside me. I look down at her profile. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. I lean nearer.

‘Don’ leave me,’ she murmurs.

‘What’s that, sweetheart?’

‘Don’ leave me.’

I kiss her face and hold her close.

‘We won’t leave you. We’ll never leave you again. You’re safe now. Everything’s okay.’

I rock her gently, singing under my breath. After a few minutes, her breathing has gone heavier, more even. I think she’s falling asleep, but when I peer down at her face, her eyes are wide open. She looks like she’ll never close them again.

Chapter 50: Adam

S
arah whispers to me. 

 ‘I’m worried about Mia.’

They’re cuddled up together, but Mia’s not asleep. She staring at nothing, her skin pale, her pupils wide. She looks like a little ghost.

‘She’ll be fine,’ I say, but they’re empty words. She’s seen things a two-year-old shouldn’t see. She’s done things no one should do. I feel that thing again – a shiver of fear. She’s a little girl now, but she won’t always be little. What’s her life going to be like? How the hell is she going to cope with this? How are we going to cope with her?

‘Do you think she knows what she did?’ I ask.

‘How can she?’ Sarah says. ‘She’s only two. It must have been instinct. She could see I was in a bad way and did what she could to help me.’

‘And Saul?’

‘Maybe she thought she was helping Saul too. He was shouting for help, I could hear him.’

I’d like to think this makes sense – and maybe it does. Mia’s such a generous girl. Her instinct is to help.

I’d like to think it, because it’s way more comfortable than the alternative. That at some level she knew Saul’s number was bad and she gave it back to him to save her own skin. Is that what really happened? Did she beat him at his own game? The thought of it chills my bones.

‘How the hell do we deal with this? A girl who can change her fate? Change other people’s?’

‘Maybe there are two of us,’ Sarah says quietly. ‘I’ve changed twice now.’

‘Shit. Would you … could you …?’

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like something I did. It was like something that was done to me. I don’t know if I could.’

‘What did it feel like?’

She breathes out, like she’s forcing all the air out of her lungs – a long breath, almost a sigh.

‘I only realised what was going on just before it happened. I feel so stupid, as if I’ve been going round with my eyes closed. The baby was no good to him. He dumped her and came after me. He was desperate then. He needed a new number and so he took mine. He got close to me, really close. I tried to look away but he forced my eye open and it felt like he put a hot wire into my soul. It was painful, physically painful. He was taking something from me, ripping it out of me. He was taking my life away.’

‘Sarah—’

‘I just felt what I was losing. All my energy, my will to live – he took it. And in that last second I saw his number, felt it. 1622029.’ She closes her eyes, screws them tight shut and when she opens them again her pupils are wide and there’s shock and fear in them. ‘I saw his death date, Adam, the
number he was giving to me. I saw Mia’s too, when she gave it to me. I understand now, what you see every day.’

She twists around and puts her hand up to my cheek and there’s something so tender about it. It’s not pity – she knows how I feel now. She’s felt it too.

‘He took my life away, but Mia gave it back. She gave me her life, her number. She saved me, Adam.’

Mia’s still awake, her blond curls framing her face, her eyes blue and wide. She looks like an angel. And that’s what she is. She was Sarah’s guardian angel and she was Saul’s angel of death.

‘We have to be so careful with her,’ I say. ‘Bring her up right, whatever right is. If only Mum was alive, or Nan. If only we had some help.’

Sarah puts her finger to my lips.

‘If only’s no good. It’s no good, Adam. Your mum and your nan are here anyway. You and me, Mia and Gemma, we carry them around with us. They’re part of us. They’re in our hearts and minds and they always will be.’

‘It’s not the same …’

‘No, it’s not the same, but it’s what we’ve got. When we’re stuck, when this all gets too much, we need to look inside. The answers will be there.’

She’s speaking from the heart. She believes this. We can cope. We can do what we need to do. And listening to her, I’m starting to believe it too.

I leave Sarah tucked up in her nest with the kids. I feel like my eyes are open, really open. The last time I felt like this was just before the Chaos. I knew back then I had to try and help people, get them out of London. But since then I been sticking my head in the sand, denying who I am, hoping the world would leave me alone. I can’t do that no more. I’m not
sure what I can do, but I know where to start. I gotta find Daniel.