The Three Most Wanted (2 page)

2

THE STABLE DOOR

I woke with a jolt as the bus went over a pothole.

“Okay?” Bane looked strange in the unfamiliar school uniform.

“Yeah. It’s not hurting so much now.”

“It’s been almost six days. The skin on your legs should be re-attaching.”

“Can’t be too soon.” I eased up to sit on the bus’s rear seat instead of lying along it, Bane’s hands hovering around me against the assault of another pothole. “Are we on schedule?”

“Yep. Should reach the Channel Bridge in about two hours.”

A knot of icy fear twisted in my belly. The Channel Bridge. Far, far more dangerous than going to a private school on the outskirts of York, changing into uniforms and boarding a bus for a supposed school trip. Marian Forbes, a teacher who said she wanted to get into the Vatican State anyway and wasn’t this an easy way to do it, was with us on the bus.

Bane and Father Mark had filled in all the forms themselves, but the headmistress, Mrs. Clayton, had told them exactly what to write. She’d even donated the cost of the bus rental. In cash. But even if she could prove the travel application had been forged, if the government asked her to make the Divine denial...
Lord, protect that brave woman!

“How much money have we got left, come to think of it?” I asked.

“The Resistance donated the ration packs and the foil blankets, I just had to pay for the camping stuff, the admin fees and a few other things. I sold your laptop and anything else we had that was worth a bit—we’ve enough to get us to Rome, especially walking.”

I shuddered—looked out the window again. I’d been determined to see all the counties we’d passed through, since who knew if we’d ever be back, but I’d still slept through quite a few. Huh. Another factory farm. A square concrete building all too like the Facility. Happily our meat back home came from the Fellest, stored in the butchers’ freezers after each yearly roundup and cull. But the big cities of the south didn’t have our huge forests and couldn’t waste crop space on animals, or so they said.

“Don’t you dare let me miss the Channel Bridge,” I told Bane.

“You’ve only said that a hundred times.”

“Okay, sorry, but I’ve only seen the sea once. And I’ve never seen the largest bridge in the world.”

“Me neither. But I’ll be waking you so you can pretend to be asleep.”

Excitement at the thought of the mighty bridge washed away in a wave of terror. I swallowed hard—he saw it in my eyes and gathered me close, cupping my face between his hands. Spoke low and intent.

“I’m going to be sitting in the row ahead, okay? And I here and now swear on...
on my life
I will not let them take you again, okay? I will do whatever it takes to save you from them.”

I think I know what you mean by “whatever it takes” and it’s not something I can condone
... But my cowardly mouth stayed shut.

“Don’t
you
go overreacting to anything,” said Jon from the other end of the seat.

“I’m not an idiot,” retorted Bane.

“No, just hot-headed, which in this case is almost worse.”

“Oh, shut up.”

They bickered fairly good-naturedly—like the best friends they were—for a while...

...Huh?

“Everyone back here had better get organized.” Father Mark stood in the back of the bus. We were pulled over to the side of the road, but I didn’t remember the bus stopping. Must’ve dozed off.

Bane promptly moved to the row in front and several other girls joined me and Jon on the back row. As—arguably—the two most recognizable faces, Jon and I sat in the two darkest corners of the bus’s solid rear wall. During our brief visit to the school Bane and Jon had, with equal reluctance, allowed their hair to be cut very short, to make the distinctive coal black and autumny russet less noticeable. My own brown hair had been dyed blonde.

‘It’ll start growing out quite quickly,’ Bane had said, ‘but it’ll be so much less noticeable. You’ll just have to wear a hat.’

Now Rebecca peeled off the bandages on my forehead, Harriet carefully applied makeup over the cuts and Caroline arranged a bit of hair casually over that, spraying it with hair spray to try to make it stay—then Father Mark was calling for everyone to get in their positions.

Jane sat down beside me and crossed very long bare legs. She’d taken off her school socks and rolled up her skirt until it was little more than a belt. Her school blouse was unbuttoned to a dangerous depth, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders. I’d always assumed she was a nonBeliever—and I’d been right. Even in the few days since she’d found out about my faith, she’d made it clear she thought it was dangerous and silly—but she understood what was at stake.

“Don’t you worry, Margo,” she told me. “They won’t be looking at you.”

“No, they’ll be looking for an excuse to impound the bus for the day,” said Bane. “Don’t be
too
obvious, right?”

“I’m not going to throw myself on them,” sniffed Jane.

“Couldn’t imagine that.” Jon’s dry comment earned him a scowl from Jane. He’d not forgotten how she’d tried to get him into her bed, not realizing he was a Believer like me.

My body was beginning to shake uncontrollably. Surely the bridge guards would take one look and recognize me as the girl who had authored a subversive bestselling book and masterminded the breakout of seventy-odd teenage non-persons from a government facility?

Father Mark bent to look me in the eye. “Hey, Caroline and I are at the front with the two remaining nonLethals, okay? Any trouble and we’ll shoot our way out. Just relax and enjoy the view.”

Lying through his teeth. Shoot our way across the Channel Bridge in a bus with just two nonLees? The Resistance, who scorned nonLethal weapons, had allocated fast trucks, five bazookas and an arsenal of small arms for this mission, along with a coordinated strike by the French Resistance on the Continental checkpoints.

But I smiled and nodded at Father Mark. He straightened and headed back up the bus, calling, “Places, everyone. If you’re supposed to be sleeping, start doing it now...”

Bane climbed half over the back of his seat, kissed me hard on the lips and got back down into his sleeping position as the bus moved off, cap pulled low over his face. I did the same, half concealed against the curtain.

Jane adjusted my stiffened hair and laid a jacket over me, further shielding my face. “Now,
don’t move!”

I was still not used to her being so nice to me!

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Emily stop fussing with Jon and drape herself on his shoulder. Also showing a lot of leg. Was I feeling a faint stab of... jealousy?
Oh, for goodness’ sake, Margo! It would be nice if he and Emily
did
get together
.

Okay, keep breathing. Just say a Rosary. Concentrate on that. Hail Mary
... My fingers twitched slightly as I tried to keep count.
Hail... hail
...
what came next?

The bus slowed and drew gently to a halt. Father Mark wasn’t a bad bus driver. I tried to draw deep, steady breaths, keeping my eyes closed.

The door hissed open.

“Hello.” Marian Forbes’ bright voice. “Are you coming on board?”

“We need to see your travel documents. Are you a school group?”

“That’s right. Heading for Venice.”

“Group pass, then, please.”

“Of course. Here you are.”

A little beep as the guard scanned the group pass and the list of names appeared on his hand scanner. All real New Adults, safe in their beds somewhere in Yorkshire. The defection of most of the Facility’s boys to the Resistance had called for some last minute amendments—Miss Forbes and Mrs. Clayton had taken care of that whilst I was being carted half-conscious through the Fellest.

“Forty-five students?”

“That’s right.”

“We must perform a headcount.”

“Of course. Come aboard.”

The heavy tread of someone mounting the stairs... I tried desperately not to tremble, not to gasp for breath, not to squeeze my eyes too tightly shut. Miss Forbes stayed silent until the footsteps were perhaps halfway up the bus, then began to talk again, presumably to a guard who still stood by the door. Hoping to distract them just that little bit more?

“Must say, I’ve been on quite a few school trips to the Continent and this is the first time the barriers have been up on the bridge. Looks like you’ve had some trouble. Is it because of that escape?”

“Just a precaution,” was the noncommittal reply.

The footsteps reached the back of the bus, a slight pause—about the length of two pairs of long legs—then they retreated again.

“Forty-five,” confirmed the guard.

“Glad to hear it!” laughed Miss Forbes.

“I’m sure you are,” said the voice, tolerant but uninterested. “On you go, have a nice trip.”

“Thanks. Have a good afternoon.”

The door hissed closed. The bus eased forward.

“I don’t know about your joining the Sisters of Revelation, you should go to Hollywood,” said Father Mark, once we were moving again. Miss Forbes laughed rather hysterically.

Easing my eyes open a crack, I looked out the window as the barrier slid past. Rows of bullet holes scored the concrete walls of the checkpoint booth and over by the side of the bridge a patch of freshly scorched and bubbled pavement suggested something large had been blown up. An armored vehicle?

The Resistance were supposed to have gone through here three or four hours ago, about the time we’d left York, making very sure to be noticed. They’d done that, all right. Luckily for us. Knowing—or so they thought—exactly where their quarry now weren’t, the EuroGov had promptly relaxed the checks on those travelling through and exiting the British Department.

The bus sped sedately on—sitting up and opening my eyes properly, I stared out at the channel. Grey blue, stretching away to the horizon. The mighty supporting arches of the bridge towered above us. Among all the climate crises and unending economic slumps, mankind had still managed a few technological achievements since the dizzy highs of the late twentieth century—and this was one of them.

Bane took Jane’s place and slipped his arms around me, feeling me trembling.

“There, we did it! And getting off the island was always going to be the hardest bit, wasn’t it?” He put on a confident voice—I rested my head on his shoulder and didn’t mention the one and a half thousand kilometers still to go.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” I said instead.

“Is it just. One sec...” Gently detaching me, he moved along the aisle, opening all the roof windows. “Smell the sea, Jon?”

Jon stared into space with an entranced look on his face.

“Thanks, Bane. I’ve never been to the sea.”

“Well, you’re
over
it, now.”

The Resistance had gone to town on the French checkpoints. Only one booth left standing, bullet holes and blistered pavement everywhere, and a group of engineers still trying to winch in a tank that had smashed through the thick bridge wall and dangled precariously over the water. No barriers left to put down—the lights were green anyway. The horse was gone, why cause backups by shutting the stable door now?

I peered grimly at it all from behind the curtain.

“I wonder how many guards they killed.” The Resistance hated the EuroGov just as much as I did, but they placed no more value on human life than the EuroGov—personally I thought they deserved each another.

Bane said nothing.

“Perhaps they ran for it,” said Jon.

“There’s nowhere to run,” said Bane.

“Did you know about this?” I asked him.

“They said the Frogs would distract the checkpoints when they reached the other side, that’s all.”

“You knew what they were packing, though.”

“Yeah, but if you’re going to try and run the Channel Bridge by force, you don’t leave the bazookas at home, do you? They weren’t going to use more than they had to. Didn’t look like they
had
, at the other end. But I didn’t speak to the Frenchies.”

“S’pose not.” He’d a point. From the look of the crumbled remains of the booths, most of the bazookas had come from the landward side.

Bane’s face lightened slightly. “I’d love to hear the story behind that tank, though!”

“What tank?” asked Jon.

A massive highway sign hung over the traffic on the main autoroute out of Calais. My breath caught in my throat at the three photos displayed there, six meters high. Me. Bane. Jon. Beneath, it simply said ‘Wanted: call 112 immediately’.

“How’d I make the three most wanted?” muttered Jon, after Bane filled him in.

“You’re too easy to spot,” Bane murmured back. “They figure if they find one of us three, they find us all.”

Everyone’s eyeballs pretty much rolled up in their heads as the sign went over us.