Numbers 3: Infinity (5 page)

Daniel looks surprised. ‘All of us. He was right about that – you’re important to all of us. And you’ll always have friends here. Always.’

I look him in the eye. 3152066. There’s no always, not for anyone, but I get what he’s trying to say and I appreciate it.

‘Cheers,’ I say, and I make to high-five him but he grabs my hand and pulls me in for a hug. A bit of back-slapping and we draw apart. I’m blinking hard, trying to keep the tears away. Sarah was right to remind me. It’s people that matter.

‘What do you think they’ll do next?’ Daniel asks.

‘I dunno. Don’t think they’ll leave it at that. We should move on, I s’pose, get out of your hair.’

‘No, Adam,’ he says, ‘stay here. You’re welcome. We’ve all been hoping you’d come.’

‘Sarah?’

She’s quiet and pale beside me, almost ghost-like.

‘I don’t like guns,’ she says.

I put my arm round her. ‘They’ve gone now. It’s all right.’

‘They’ve gone
now
. But they’ll be back.’

We walk through the camp to our tent. After the tension
of the last twelve hours, it feels like the whole place is breathing a sigh of relief. People are tending to their fires, listening to the sound of the bikes leaving. There was a frost last night and now the sunlight filters through the branches above us, making the ground sparkle.

Then I hear Marty and Luke. They’re yelling.

Sarah and I run.

First I see Luke lying outside the tent, holding his face.

Then Marty running towards us, his face streaked with tears.

Finally, I see the back of the tent. It’s slashed from top to bottom.

‘Mia … Mia …’ is all Marty can say. His breath’s coming in ragged bursts.

I sprint towards the tent and dive in.

Mia’s bed is empty.

She’s gone.

Chapter 9: Sarah

T
hey’ve taken her.

For a moment I’m paralysed. I’m looking past Adam at that gaping hole, the edge of the tent flapping gently.

We’ve only been gone a few minutes. Someone must have been watching, waiting. Saul’s men. While we were talking to him …

‘Marty, tell me. What did you see?’ I grip his shoulders. He tries to squirm away from me, still crying. I shake him. ‘What did you see?’ I scream.

‘It was those men,’ he sobs. ‘One hit Luke in the face. The other took Mia … Don’t shout. It’s not my fault. It …’

Adam’s on his feet and running into the forest. 

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Marty,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to … Stay there, and look after Luke. I’ll be back.’

And then I’m running, too, thrashing through frosty brushwood, crunching, slipping, scrambling after Adam. He’s heading towards the road. I can hear the engines revving
and stuttering. They’re not clear of the woods yet. Maybe it’s not too late.

I’m way behind Adam. He’s fast. I used to be but not any more, not like this. My stomach throws me off balance, but there’s pure adrenalin in my veins now. I have to get to her. I
have
to. I reach the road a split second before the riders do. They skid round and face us: one, two, three.

Mia’s on the second bike. She’s wrapped in her stripy blanket and the big man with the long hair is holding her, his arm clamped round her middle. She’s struggling. My heart skips a beat.

‘Mia!’ I scream, and for a moment she stops struggling and looks up. Her face is a picture of terror. ‘Mia!’

Adam’s sprinting towards the bikes, trying to block their path. It’s insane. The bikes are huge – great hunks of angry metal. Saul and his mates aren’t fazed by us. They pause for a second, no more, then they rev up and launch themselves forward, in our direction.

I don’t want Mia’s bike to crash, but I can’t just let them go without trying to stop them. Saul blasts past first. Adam jumps out of the way. His eyes are on Mia and the second bike. He tries to grab the handlebars. The bike swerves away from him and towards me. The wing mirror hits me in the chest, and I’m thrown backwards. The third bike weaves to the left and then they’re away, accelerating down the road.

‘No! No! Mia!’

There’s an explosion next to me. Then another and another.

It’s Daniel. He’s shooting right at them. One of the bikes skids and goes over, sliding along the road. Something’s thrown clear.

‘Stop it! Stop it!’ I heave myself up, teeth gritted against
the pain, and throw myself at him, putting both hands on the barrel of his gun and pushing it up towards the sky.

‘I’m going for their tyres!’

‘Mia’s on one of them. Stop it!’

He drops the gun away from his face. The other two bikes are slowing – they’ve twigged that they’re a man down. From here, I can’t work out who’s on the ground. Was it the second bike that went down? Is it Mia? Adam and Daniel and I start running at the same time. I’m in agony, but I don’t stop.

One of the bikes is turning round; the other is carrying on down the road. I stretch my legs out, cradle my stomach with my hands, willing myself to go faster. All I can think of is Mia.

The bike’s going to get there first.

I’m fifty metres away now as it screams to a halt. Adam’s closer. The rider dismounts. It’s Saul.

I’m shouting as I’m running now, ‘Mia, Mia, Mia’, but he can’t hear me or he doesn’t care. He’s crouching down, examining the body on the ground. A pool of dark liquid is spreading out over the tarmac.

One body. It’s the wiry man.

Mia’s on the other bike with the long-haired man. She’s gone.

‘Saul! Saul! Please …’ I’m gasping now, gasping and sobbing, stumbling towards him.

No reaction. He doesn’t turn his head. He doesn’t look my way – or at Adam, or Daniel. Instead, he gets to his feet, pulls a revolver from his belt, holds his arm out straight, the barrel pointing at the man’s chest, and shoots three times.

The body jerks with the force of the bullets. We stop in our tracks, appalled, terrified.

It’s only then that Saul seems to notice Adam and Daniel and me. He looks up and swings his straightened arm towards us. All my breath seems to leave my body.

‘Drop your gun, put your hands up and keep them up.’

Daniel drops his rifle and we do as we’re told. Saul’s eyes are cold and steely.

He points the revolver at Daniel.

‘You shot at me, and you shot at my men,’ he says. He is completely calm.

He fires.

Daniel falls to the ground, screaming and clutching his knee.

I’m screaming, too. The barrel of the gun moves in my direction.

‘Shut up, Sarah.’

It could be my turn next. My legs are shaking now.

‘Adam, pick this bike up,’ Saul barks.

‘What?’ Adam’s in shock. His eyes are almost blank with terror.

‘Pick this bike up. Now. Do it.’

Still with his hands above his head, Adam stumbles to the bike. The engine’s still running. He hesitates.

‘Stand it up.’

He tries to wrestle the bike upright. It’s a beast of a machine and it takes him a couple of goes to manage it. Saul looks at him with barely disguised contempt.

‘Can you ride one of these?’

‘I’ve never tried.’

‘Put it on its stand. You kick it out. Now take his helmet.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

Adam stares at the corpse on the ground and the black
pool of blood around it.

‘I don’t wannit.’

‘It’s not for you. It’s for Sarah.’

The sound of my name makes my blood freeze. I’m going too. My stomach contracts, the skin as tight as a drum across the baby inside me.

‘No,’ I croak. ‘Not on a bike.’ I don’t want to say it, but I have to. ‘I’m pregnant, Saul. Don’t make me ride a bike.’

‘You’ll sit behind me.’ He’s immovable. Inhuman.

‘I don’t want to. You can’t make me.’

He points his gun directly at me.

‘Can’t I? Shut up and get that helmet on.’

Adam’s crouching down by the wiry man’s side. He supports his lifeless head and undoes the buckle with shaking hands. The helmet gets stuck when he tries to lift it off and he yanks at it. It comes away but the man’s head thumps down onto the surface of the road.

‘God. Oh, God,’ Adam says.

‘Don’t worry,’ says Saul. ‘He didn’t feel a thing. Give the helmet to Sarah and then get on that bike.’

The thought of putting on a dead man’s helmet, his blood going in my hair, is making me gag.

‘We just have to do it,’ Adam says to me, under his breath. ‘It’ll be safer for you. Be brave.’ He raises the helmet over my head and brings it down.

Saul mounts his bike and pats the saddle behind him with the gun.

‘The boys? What about my brothers?’ I say. My voice is muffled by the helmet.

‘Get on, Sarah,’ says Saul, bringing his gun up once more. ‘I’m not going to ask you again.’

Adam helps me onto Saul’s bike. I take one last look at
Daniel. His eyes are closing, the blood from his leg’s pouring onto the road.

Marty, Luke … It’s too quick. There’s no time to tell them anything. I have to hope they’ll be looked after. Someone, surely someone will look after them.

‘Put your hands on my waist,’ Saul says.

What choice do I have? I reach forward and grip the leather of his coat. Touching him makes me feel sick.

Adam clambers onto his bike.

‘Come on,’ Saul shouts, ‘we’ve got some catching-up to do. Let’s go. Kick it into first gear with your left foot. Throttle’s on the right handlebar, twist it to go faster. Brake lever’s there, too. Clutch is on the left. You’ll get it.’

He sits, watching as Adam’s hands fumble at the controls.

‘Kick it with your left foot and twist the throttle,’ Saul repeats.

Adam’s bike jerks forward and he nearly topples off. He pulls up, then tries again. This time it’s smoother. I watch over Saul’s shoulder as he starts to weave down the road.

Then Saul starts his engine up and I get the fright of my life. It’s like the thing’s alive – the noise, the smell, the vibration is overwhelming. I grip Saul tighter. I have to.

Suddenly we’re lurching forward and my bum’s sliding back. I dig my fingertips into Saul’s body as the world around us becomes a blur.

Who is the man I’m holding on to for dear life? This cold-blooded murderer? And what does he want with us?

Chapter 10: Adam

I
’ve never ridden anything bigger than a scooter before and this is a massive, super-charged machine. Saul and his mate look like they belong on these things with their leathers and their gloves and their Nazi-style helmets. I got nothing. I’m riding this thing in a hoody and jeans, like a kid on a fairground ride, only this is more frightening than any theme park.

I’m so scared I can hardly breathe. If I come off I’ll be raspberry jam on the road. There are pot-holes and cracks all over the shop. I do my best to steer a good course, but in my mind I keep seeing that guy lying in the pool of blood.

Don’t think about it. Concentrate.

I run through the controls in my head – right for brake and throttle, left for clutch. The clutch has got me foxed: as I increase the throttle, the engine’s roar goes up and up, like a wasp singing scales. I try to change gear, but I don’t get it. The engine jerks and kicks, but it don’t change up. The
bike’s screaming now, and it’s rattling my brain against the inside of my skull. I have another go and the clutch bites this time, the roar dampens down.

I can do this. I can do it.

I can hear Saul behind me now, but I can’t see the other bike ahead yet. Is Mia okay? She was kicking and struggling before – I hope to God she’s staying still. Still and safe. I have to get to her. Whatever weird power she might have, she’s still just a little girl. Sarah’s little girl and the one who calls me Daddy.

I twist the throttle again and the bike surges forward.

After two years of walking, travelling at this speed is a buzz. If I wasn’t so shit-scared for Mia and Sarah, I might even enjoy it. The world looks different from the saddle of a bike. You lose the detail, the edges are blurred, but your senses sharpen up. There’s the wind on your face, the smell of oil in your nostrils, the pulsing of the engine in your hands and legs.

One more twist on the throttle and at last I get a glimpse of the back of a bike ahead.
Yes, I’m catching them.

The noise from Saul’s bike is getting louder. I twist round to see how close he is and the bike tips under me, veering across the road. Shit! I lean the other way and it rights itself, threatening to tip over the other way. I wrestle with it ’til I can feel the balance again.

Saul is only a few metres behind.

And now I’m back to thinking about him firing his revolver into the guy on the ground.
Bang, bang, bang.
Just like that. I seen things before, bad things, especially during the Chaos when it felt like all the normal rules had gone and people were just looking out for themselves. I seen fights. I seen people pulling knives on each other. But I never seen
something that cold-blooded. It was like he was putting down an animal. And then he turned his gun on Daniel …

But Dan’s number is sometime in 2066. He should be okay, if it don’t change. If, if, if …

Now I’m thinking about Saul’s number, too, the way it shimmers in and out of focus. Just like Mia’s.

Just like Mia’s. Just like Mia’s.

It goes round and round in my head.

Saul’s bike draws level. Sarah’s leaning forward, holding him round the waist. Her face is white as a sheet, she’s gritting her teeth so hard her jawbone’s almost jutting through her skin. I don’t know how much more of this she can take. Saul lifts one hand off the handlebars and gives me a mock salute. Our eyes meet and I get a flash of his shimmering number.

Just like Mia’s.

I tear my eyes away, but it’s too late.

There’s a crack in the tarmac across my side of the road and my front wheel hits it square on, then skews round. The handlebars are wrenched sideways out of my hands and suddenly I’m flying, my feet flung up above my head – and the last thing I hear is the sound of Sarah screaming.