The Meeting Point (14 page)

Everyone fell silent and Lena leaped to Angelo's side. “Angelo?” she said, terror distorting her voice.

“There's only one way to find out.” The ax fell and sliced wires with ease, sending sparks high, lighting their horrified faces in a flurry.

“Fuck, Angelo?” Mae shrieked and caught him as he slumped forward. Lena held him too, crying as an alarm siren wailed around them.

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” hissed Angelo above the chaos of the scene. “Just a small jolt. Come on, we need to go now!” He stood on legs a lot wobblier than they should have for a small jolt, and Mae's stomach lurched.

Lena hooked herself in under his shoulder and they limped off over the road toward the barn area. Mae watched as Angelo discarded the tool amongst the woodpile.

“Right then,” Mae whispered gently to the remaining couple. Deborah looked up. “It's time. You have to go now.”

They stood together, trembling, all eyes on the wires protruding from his forearm. It looked like someone had bent them away from each other a little. Must be to make sure they didn't touch as he passed through the energy field. Mae couldn't help but give herself a little pat on the back at her scientific powers of deduction at the thought. Snapping back into the here and now, she urged them again.

“Please.”

Deborah seemed to shake herself from the daze first and took hold of her lover's elbow. “I've got you, I've got you.”

Mae watched the tears run down the woman's cheek as she gently moved Marcus on.

He stood with his toes level with the wire and took a deep breath. His foot was poised, ready to take the step into freedom or death. Just as gravity took the weight of his step, a voice broke through the alarm and tension.

“Thorn?”

 

 

Marcus crumpled as his foot touched down on the other side of the broken wire. He must be dead. He was hearing voices. The bolt must have taken him swiftly. Funny, he felt no pain. He was cold—cold to the soul as his blood drained free of him, but there was no pain. In the distance, he could still hear the sirens.
Shit.
He hoped that spunky woman who had helped them had escaped. He wished he could warn her. Tell her to run, run! And what about Deborah? His Deborah. He thought he could make out her voice too. No, she didn't die too, did she?

“It's the shock, he's in shock.” Her voice was like an untuned radio coming in and out of focus. “It's you, you've fucking shocked him. What the fuck are you doing here?”

She was angry. He hardly ever heard her angry. He didn't want her to be angry and dead. If only he could talk to her.

Deborah
, he would say,
Deborah, don't be angry, I'm sorry I failed. But you must go now. Run, both of you. I'll find you at the meeting point. We are more than the physical.
He would say that. He'd said those words to her before. If only he could tell her again.

“Shh, he's trying to speak. Shut up, will you?”

Hands. Hands on his face. Voices in his ear.

“Deborah?” It was too surreal. He shook his head, expecting light and stars, but what he saw was infinitely better.

It was his lover. His Deborah. She wasn't dead, he wasn't dead. Relief flooded his senses and adrenalin filled him with energy.

“I'm not dead?”

“No, darling, no.” Deborah kissed him hard with warm lips. “No, you're not dead, you're free.”

“Go!” Mae's voice was like a cattle prod in his back, and he sprang up, grabbing Deborah's hand.

“What about—” Deborah began, but Mae stopped her.

“Just fucking go! All of you!” she hissed and fell to the ground, grabbing her ankle. “Sort it out somewhere fucking else!”

Marcus was confused, but started running, his hand clenched tight around Deborah's. As they gained speed, he was aware of another person following them. He strained to look around while he fled. A tall, slender figure was flying along behind them.

He hadn't misheard after all.

* * * *

Mae waited until her companions and the strange woman were out of sight before letting out an almighty holler.

“Help!” The alarm was still belting out and she shouted again, hoping she would be able to attract some attention over it.

“Over here,” a voice shouted, and some scuffling later, Mae was being hoisted by her underarms to standing.

“Ow, careful,” she said, taking great care to limp dramatically. “What the hell is going on?”

The security guard stopped and made her look her in the eye. “Someone has breached our security, ma'am. We need to find out what's happened, so if you can make it inside by yourself, that would be a help.”

“No, you don't understand.” Mae clutched the guard's sleeve. “It's me. I think I'm the security breach.”

She showed them the broken wire and her swollen ankle, but for a few horrifying moments, the security guards remained unconvinced.

“What on earth were you doing back here in the bushes anyway?” One of them eyed Mae suspiciously.

She said the first thing that came into her head. “I was desperate for a pee.”

“Are you a customer here? Surely you could have gone inside.”

“I was leaving. I've had rather a lot to drink and… I just forgot to go on my way out. I'm so sorry.” She put her hands up and covered her ears. She could see a small crowd gathering at the entrance gates. “Is there any way to shut that bloody noise off?”

“And you're absolutely sure it started when you fell?”

“Yes, my God! As if it wasn't bad enough tripping with my knickers halfway down, a bloody siren goes off to tell the whole bloody world!”

The guards managed a snigger.

“I'm so embarrassed right now. Really. Can we just, I don't know, switch it off now?”

“Yes.” The guard she was clinging to looked at the other. “I guess the story adds up. We'll take you inside and get you cleaned up.”

“Oh, that would be great. Thank you. My ankle is really killing me and I haven't even done that pee yet.” She smiled at the women who took up position on either side of her and began to walk her to the main door.

The crowd parted to let them through and Mae thought how she would have enjoyed the attention in a different life. Now though, she kept her head down.

“Ms…”

“Jones, Alana Jones,” Mae managed not to stutter.

“We have to be very careful with our security. I'm sure you understand.”

“Oh, yes, of course. You have some precious goods here.” Mae winked.

“So I must ask,” the guard said, and Mae's heart began to thunder, “is there anyone here who could verify that you are actually a customer of ours? Anyone you perhaps spent time with this evening?”

Mae exhaled and sank into her heels a little in relief.

“Well, actually, there is.” She led the women through to the bar. Maybe her fling from earlier could get some ice for her ankle too.

* * * *

“Who the hell is this, and why have you brought her?” Lena was angry. It wasn't just anger. It was rage. It had been she who had put her lovers in danger to help this couple escape and now they bring a tagalong? She could be a spy, a guard, anyone. “I asked who the fuck is this?”

Marcus and Deborah looked as shaken as Lena felt, but she could muster no pity for the pair. They had compromised everything with their trick.

“How
dare
you put us, me, in this position? I trusted you. I persuaded the most precious people in my life to risk their freedom to help you. Who is she?”

The strange woman was so tall and thin she was almost ethereal, and when she spoke, her words seemed to be burdened with the sadness of the universe. “I'm sorry, it wasn't their fault.”

Lena kept her eyes on Marcus and Deborah, but addressed the imposter. “I wasn't talking
to
you. I was talking
about
you. Shut up.”

Angelo was at her side in an instant, stroking her shoulder and whispering in her ear. “Shh, be calm. Let's hear what they have to say before we crucify anyone.” Far from calming her, his words made her furious.

“I will not be calm,” she snapped, still staring at Deborah.

“I have no answers for you, Lena. I'm as lost as you are on this.” Her eyes flicked to Marcus, and Lena could sense the woman's fear that her lover had betrayed her.

“I believe you,” Lena said, and turned her focus to Marcus. “Well?”

He twisted his neck and looked at the woman. When he turned back his eyes were full of hatred and disgust. “I had no idea of this. I am as shocked as you.”

The woman looked brittle and crumpled to the ground, crying.

Lena kept her eyes on Marcus. “I think I believe you. But you have history with this woman. I can tell. Now what is going on?”

As they waited for Mae in their hiding spot up in the bushes, Marcus and Deborah told them the story of their days in the forest and how this woman and her lover, Birch, were the ones to betray them.

The woman who had been lying, quivering, just a little bit away from them sat up. “I have never forgiven myself, Thorn.”

“I never want to hear you say that again,” Deborah spat. “His name is Marcus.”

“Please, you have to believe me. You have to.”

“Why? Why do we
have
to?” It was Marcus's turn to address the fragile woman.

“Because I know where the safe ground is.”

She had their full attention now. All four of them sat up and looked at her, waiting for what she would say next.

“I can show you the way. Let me make it up to you. Please. I need your forgiveness. I need to find peace before it's too late.”

“We owe you no peace.” Marcus got up and walked off just as she reached out to him, pitifully crawling.

“Please. Let me take you to the safe ground.”

Everyone fell silent and Marcus returned, sitting down next to Deborah. Lena cuddled in to Angelo, trying to shut out the strange twist as worry for Mae increased. Everyone, it seemed, was trying to ignore the sniveling from the waiflike intruder. They needed time to digest everything.

“I'm getting worried,” Lena whispered to Angelo, and he hugged her in tighter to his chest. “She's been too long. We should have been well up in the hills by now. Something's gone wrong.”

“Shh,” he soothed, cradling and rocking her in time to his thundering heartbeat. “If there's one of us who does not need looking after, it's that one.”

Lena smiled at the hint of pride in his statement.

“Jesus, look at the state of you lot.”

“Mae!” Lena jumped to her feet and embraced her lover. “You've been ages, what happened?”

“Ow, careful.” Mae limped out of Lena's hands and showed off her bandage. “It's pretty sore. I had to let them sort me out, you know. Didn't want to appear ungrateful for their help.” It was then that Lena smelled the alcohol on Mae's breath.

“Well, you really are one of the best undercover agents ever. A real method actor.” Lena smiled, remembering how she'd first met this woman back in the manor. She'd befriended her, but was really working for the Archmatrias. Mae swayed a little and looked hurt. “No, I mean it, Mae. That was amazing. You are amazing. I love you. I'm so glad you made it.”

Mae swooned into Lena's arms, and Angelo joined in the embrace. They cuddled for a moment before Mae's hand began to creep up the side of Lena's top and her teeth nibbled on her shoulder. Lena let her head fall back, but the sensation suddenly stopped and Mae stood back staring behind Lena.

“Who the fuck is that?”

 

 

“You're sure she knows the way?” Mae sidled up to Deborah for the umpteenth time as they struggled across the jagged moors through the darkness.

“How can I be sure of that? I'm not sure of anything right now.” Deborah was bristling from the inside out with nerves, fear, and guilt. She knew it was coming across as irritability so she tried to soften her words. “But so far, some sort of luck has been on our side.”

Hazel had taken her and Marcus aside and pleaded with them to trust her. To trust that she and Birch had made the bond and he would guide them to the safety of a toxin free Eden.

Deborah and Marcus had discussed it in hushed tones, feeling so responsible for the fates of those who had freed them from first the prison, then the farm. They felt they owed these people some hope, some direction, but in reality, they had nothing to offer.

The fact that their enemy showed up with answers made Deborah even more confused. She and Marcus had proved to themselves that however unlikely, and unscientific, and faint, the unity bond connection had worked. They had met there. If Birch and Hazel had mastered the art of ultimate unity then maybe they
could
find the way to this utopia.

It was with a huge shrug of resignation that she and Marcus concluded it was their only option. It didn't take her years as a research scientist to see that the world was decaying at an alarming rate. They had been lucky to be on fairly high ground throughout the past few years, who knew what it was like in the valleys and coastal areas.

Linking her fingers tighter into Marcus's, Deborah pulled away from Mae. Hazel was wearing a long, white slip which made her seem even more diaphanous and otherworldly. Were they walking blindly into another betrayal?

“I know what you're thinking.” The voice pierced through the sound of shrubs cracking underfoot and seemed to reach into the very center of Deborah's brain. “You think I can't be trusted, and I will never blame you for that. I only want to prove to you that you can. I promise, what happened has plagued me and I intend to make amends. Until the day I die, I will never have peace over what we did to you.”

Deborah shook her head and blinked. The voice had been barely a breath, but Hazel was several meters beyond them facing ahead.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered to Marcus.

“What? You okay?”

“Yes, yes, must have dreamed it.” She looked around at the trio just behind them, the two women leaning into Angelo with their eyes closed, sleepwalking, trusting as his eyes too began to droop with their hypnotic gait.

“Hazel, I think we should rest now.”

“No. We can't stop. It is clear now—the signal is good. I can't guarantee it will be this strong again. We must keep going.”

Panic rustled through the group at the woman's words.

“What the fuck is she talking about? What signal?” Mae, the feisty one, reared up again and broke free of the other two, stomping right up to Deborah. “Tell me. What signal?”

Deborah paused, and Hazel turned slowly. Marcus put his hand up to halt her as she looked like she was about to speak.

“Deborah, please, we need to know. If there's some sort of beacon we can all be looking for, why are we being so beholding to her? I know you're not sure about her. I know he isn't either.” Mae gestured toward Marcus without taking her eyes off Deborah.

“It's more complex than that.” Deborah didn't know how to explain it all.

“It's okay.” Lena, ever the peacemaker, came up behind Mae and put her arms around her shoulders, drawing her away. “We do trust you. We're just tired.”

It was a long, long night and Deborah was chilled to the bone by the time the sun peaked over the horizon. She was tired to the core of her very being and her blood flowed fizzy in her veins. Marcus kept swaying into her as he nodded off every now and then, causing her to stumble and fall into the jagged land.

If Hazel had seemed otherworldly before, she was now as if an entity gliding along the surface of the earth, leading them from another plane, which when Deborah thought about it, she kind of was. Thirst was beginning to rage on her tongue, and she cried out in a dry, cracked voice, “I'm stopping now. By these trees. I'm stopping.” And with that she slumped to the ground in exhaustion and cried.

The party halted and Marcus fell to his knees, cradling and warming her with his huge arms. “I'm just so tired,” she told him between snivels, her eyes closing.

“We all are. And my ankle is bloody killing me.” Mae again, sounding just as fierce as always. Deborah found herself smiling. Mae was a good person to have on your side, that was true. Deborah shivered at the thought of being on the wrong side of the woman.

While she drifted into a deep sleep, Deborah was lifted and carried toward the trees she had spotted. The swaying footsteps of her lover made her feel small and protected, and yet she also felt a strength here in these arms. She felt invincible.

Deborah awoke to the midday sun blazing down on the makeshift camp. Her companions were asleep, all huddled together. There was one person missing though, and Deborah's chest shuddered as she tasted bile in her throat. They'd been betrayed. That bitch had left them. She'd made them walk blindly through the night, unable to make landmark references or get a sense of where they were. She felt sick. She could punch herself in the stomach. She'd trusted the snake again. The old phrase
fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me
. She remembered hearing the saying as a child and making no sense of it. It wasn't much of a relief to figure it out now.

Silently, she gripped her hair and spun around to deliver a silent scream to the sun, when there, just a few meters away, was Hazel. Standing with her arms around her as if holding on to something. Deborah slowly walked up behind her and gently placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. “Hazel?”

The woman jumped as if being shaken from a trance. She turned and looked at Deborah, her eyes blank and unseeing for a moment before coming to. “Sorry, I was just trying to keep the link going. I want to be sure. I have to be sure.” She turned back to face the sun, and Deborah found something very creepy about the way the woman was acting.

“Hazel, have you slept at all?”

The woman kept staring straight ahead. Deborah took that to be a no.

“You're exhausted. Come on. Let's get a drink of water.”

The woman turned and Deborah was shocked at how worn out and old she looked.

“We'd have to boil it,” Hazel whispered without showing any emotion.

“Well, it's just as well we have a fire imp among us then, isn't it?”

A sudden overwhelming empathy flooded through Deborah for this pathetic human standing in front of her. A slow, faint smile crossed Hazel's lips at the term she had used for herself when they had met all those years ago. Deborah was relieved to see her words had connected.

“Yes. Yes, that's right. And you can find our drink, water nymph.” Hazel's voice was less hesitant, and Deborah was relieved. She had been seriously worried about the mental stability of the woman over the time they'd just shared. That look, that look of despair, emptiness, and defeat in Hazel's eyes would haunt Deborah, she knew it.

“Good, yes. I can hear a brook just a little way into the trees.”

Later, as they all sat drinking lukewarm water and waiting for darkness to fall, it was Mae who asked the question everyone wanted to know the answer to. “Is it much further?”

“It isn't precise, but I feel we are getting closer. The signal is strong,” Hazel said warmly to Mae. Deborah knew the woman couldn't be sure, but she had offered hope.

Replenished and a little less jumpy, the group made ready to leave.

* * * *

Journeys were a very different thing on foot, and Cheryl couldn't believe how long it took her to reach the checkpoints she'd kept in her head. A church here or a broken pylon there—she'd done her best to burn them to memory on the way there, but she now realized with the pace of a horse to keep you buoyed up meant that her landmarks, or visual breadcrumbs as she thought of them, were spread a bit too far apart to offer real comfort that she was going the right way every time.

She stopped to catch her breath and scanned her surroundings for something familiar to guide her. Yes, yes, she'd seen that worn out petrol station before. She imagined how vivid it must have looked when it had just been painted, when life still held the promise of a future. Part of the metal sign hung free from the wall and twitched in a soft breeze, a rhythmic scraping of metal on metal that was eerie and deserted and somehow comforting all at the same time.

Cheryl walked up to the dusty glass and peered inside. There was nothing left. It would have been that way for years, decades even, but who could resist a peek?

She tried the door, expecting it to be barred, and was astonished when it creaked open into a deserted shop. Faded adverts still screamed out long dead brands and the shelves seemed to bulge with emptiness. It was desolate indeed.

Cheryl tried another door which led into the customer loos. The toilet bowl was dry, but she hovered over it and took a piss anyway. Judging by the smell, she knew she wasn't the first. Knowing nothing would happen, she waved her hands under the drier, wondering what it must have felt like to have moisture expelled from your skin in such a way. So many things her generation knew of, had seen, had touched, but never experienced.

Wiping the mirror, she took a look at the gaunt, owl-eyed face staring back. Her pallor was gray, almost mauve, and the purplish bruising under her eyes confirmed how sick she was.

Out of habit, she absently twisted the tap, expecting a rattle and that was all. When a thick splashing stream of water gushed over the side of the sink and onto her clothing, she was ecstatic. She scooped great handfuls of it, throwing it up into the air and spinning in the droplets as they fell onto her. She rubbed the dirt off her fingers and palms as best as she could before cupping them and taking long slurps of the water. Only then did she realize how thirsty she was and turned the tap on full, leaning in to capture as much of the stream as she could in her mouth. Coughing and spluttering, she took her fill until her stomach felt distended.

When she stumbled out, replenished, into the sunshine, she felt new hope. Her cells felt plumped up and the headache that must have misted her thoughts since she'd began on this journey suddenly lifted. Only now was she aware that she'd had it at all. How strange. How slowly do things have to creep up on you before you realize they are even happening?

Her mind flew back to the inertia of the toxin victims still droning through the very streets that had made them sick. Where was their will to find something better? Could they not see how bad things were? Running her fingers through her scalp, she rubbed the last of her headache away and realized had it not been for the unexpected gift of water, she'd be drowning in the same fate.

She lifted her hair up and twisted it into a ponytail, letting it fall again with nothing to hold it there. When she brought her hands back down, they were coated in hundreds of fine, dark hairs and Cheryl retched. She shook her fingers, wiping the strands off while recoiling in disgust and horror. There was something so shocking about seeing her own hair in her hands that she almost felt her fingers would crumble away too—then her arms, until nothing was left but dust. Panic over the poison creeping through her body threatened to overwhelm her and she leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees, and took a good long breath.

She couldn't let this fear stop her. Now that she knew for sure she was sick it gave her a strange, calm determination. Like, she really had nothing else to lose. Marching back into the store, she found an empty bottle with the cap still on. She quickly filled it from the bathroom then scoured the shop looking for anything edible at all. There was nothing. She did, however, find a hunting knife that had slipped just underneath the counter. Grabbing a pile of still perfect plastic bags, she for once thanked God for those who'd ignored the biodegrade law.

Knife in hand and bags tucked into her waistband, Cheryl made ready to find her party.

* * * *

“It smells different.” Lena dropped her possessions and followed her nose. “It smells clean.”

A bubble of excitement fizzed in her chest as she picked up her pace, overtaking their mysterious guide. Her shrub-scratched ankles and feet which were used to being whipped and scraped by the undergrowth, suddenly signaled a new sensation. Lena realized she was now having to lift her knees less to clear the jagged dead plants and that each footstep was landing more softly. She kept running, losing herself into the sensation of beginning to bounce along before she felt able to actually look.

“Come on!” she screamed back at her companions. “Run with me!” Soon her raw ankles were being caressed by soft grasses as she ran faster and faster, allowing herself a carefree lollop as Angelo came tearing up beside her, dragging the limping Mae with him.

“Oh my God, Lena, we've made it!” Mae squealed and bumped her shoulder into Lena's just as Angelo did the same on the other side, sandwiching her between them.

“Hey!”

They did it again and Lena tripped, though she was not so sure it was an accident. The thrill of running without fear had brought an excitement she hadn't felt for ages. The excitement of hope and freedom. Her lovers fell on her and they tumbled together in the springy grass, moist with nighttime dew.

“It's proper lush, Lena! That freaky old witch wasn't lying!” Mae squealed.

Lena let herself giggle and roll among the bodies, laughing and breathing into each other. She wished she could look at the rich greenery, but they traveled by night and the landscape was still gray. There was no denying the health and vitality of the field beneath them as they playfully wrestled, the shrieking and panting slowly turning to groans and long nasal breaths as excitement turned to lust. She found herself lying next to Mae with Angelo straddling both of them, pinning them into the earth. His eyes glinted with desire as he looked down at them both, licking his lips.