Part 12 (2/2)

6 DEAD.

20 MORE.

Ignoring the countless frightened questions and the grabbing hands of the refugees who surrounded them, the soldiers moved on to the next building. Thirty-seven survivors, six bodies to remove, s.p.a.ce for twenty more inside.

There was a sudden loud thump on the door of room 33. Mark jumped up from the s.p.a.ce on the damp floor where he'd been trying to sleep and ran to the door, tripping over Kate's father's leg, which hung out of the bed. He pressed his eye against the spyhole.

”Who is it?” Kate asked, standing close behind him.

”Soldiers.”

”Don't let them in.”

”I have to.”

The lead soldier thumped the door again and yelled for them to open up.

”Don't,” Kate pleaded.

”If I don't open it they'll batter the d.a.m.n thing down.”

Before she could protest he pulled the door open. Three soldiers barged through, pus.h.i.+ng him to the side. They stood in the middle of the room, each of them s.h.i.+ning a flashlight around, exposing every corner of the small, cramped s.p.a.ce.

”What's going on?” Mark asked, positioning himself directly in one of the beams of light.

”a.s.sessing s.p.a.ce,” the soldier replied, looking around, his voice devoid of interest or emotion. ”How many you got here?”

”Five of us. And five's more than enough. There's barely enough room as it is. We can't fit anyone else in-”

”Who?”

”What?”

”Who's here?”

”Me, my girlfriend, her parents, and my cousin's wife. And my girlfriend's pregnant. Like I said, there's no room for anyone else.”

One of the other soldiers made a note on a clipboard. The others continued to look around. Kate forced her way between them, stopping one of them from getting around the side of the double bed. She stood in front of him, thrusting out her pregnant belly for maximum effect.

”He told you. There's no more s.p.a.ce here.”

The soldier ignored her, moving her out of the way, then ducking down and glancing under the bed. He s.h.i.+ned his flashlight onto the bed's occupants, the two wizened, starving, elderly refugees shaking in fear under the sheets like characters from a Roald Dahl story.

”Your parents?”

She nodded. He spun around. Lizzie sat on a chair in front of the bathroom door, her legs drawn up beneath her, nervously chewing on her nails. She kept her eyes down, refusing to look up. Mark tried diplomatically to coax the soldiers back out.

”My cousin's partner,” he explained, keeping his voice low so she couldn't hear him. ”He was, you know ... one of them? She lost her kids, and it's really f.u.c.ked her up. Honestly, man, it's not a good idea to put anyone else in here with us. What with the baby coming and-”

”Not my decision, pal,” the soldier said.

”But I've been a volunteer,” he protested. ”I've been outside the city with you. I've been-”

”Not my decision,” he said again. With that the soldiers left the room. Mark slammed the door shut and leaned against it, staying there until he was sure he'd heard the door to the next room opening. He started to walk back to the others, but Kate stopped him.

”We can't go on like this,” she whispered. ”We should find somewhere else for her. It's not safe here.”

”And where exactly is is safe these days?” He sighed, leaning back against the door again. safe these days?” He sighed, leaning back against the door again.

”But she's-”

”She's family. They all are. Your family, my family ... our family. We stick together, and that's all there is to it.”

”But Mark-”

”Would I ask you to throw your parents out?”

”That's different-”

”Is it? I'm not talking about this again, Kate. It's a pointless conversation. She's family and she stays. No one's going anywhere.”

24.

BACK IN THE CELL. I cooperated and let them bring me back here. Thought the silence and darkness would help me work things out. My head was covered along the short walk back.

The longer I've been left, the more uncertain I've become again. Don't know who or what I believe anymore. I can't understand why I didn't kill Mallon when I had the chance, but at the same time I know that while I'm here, he really is my best and only hope. He hasn't screwed me over so far. But if he does, now he thinks I trust him, I'll kill him before he even realizes I've turned.

I'm still chained to the bed, but now the shackles are only loosely anch.o.r.ed to the metal bed frame, and I'm able to move around. I've been able to move the board and look outside for the first time, but the view is disappointingly limited. All I can see from this window are the redbrick walls of other parts of this building and the gray slate roof of another section below. I can see a few other windows, and I've been watching them, hoping to catch sight of other people like me. I haven't seen anyone else yet. It's dark now. Maybe I'll see more tomorrow.

My head is spinning. Still can't think straight and work this out. The lines between what I feel and what I know are blurring to the point where I can't make sense of anything anymore. I keep swinging between feeling anger and frustration that I didn't kill Mallon, then wanting him to come back again so we can talk some more. I want him to tell me what he knows about Ellis, but at the same time I know he won't have found anything out. I don't even think he has the means to find out, but I can't rule out the fact that he might. Maybe I'll just kill him when he next comes into this room and put an end to all this pointless s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around.

I sit back on the bed (I've turned the mattress, but it's still damp) and look up at the ceiling, tracing the familiar patterns in the yellowed paint again. If I killed Mallon (and I know I could), what would it achieve? I still don't know where I am. For all I know I could be surrounded by hundreds of Unchanged, all of them armed to the teeth. I could be dead before Mallon's body is cold. No, as hard as it is to swallow, right now he's all I've got.

But what does he really want from me? Ignoring all the bulls.h.i.+t, why is he doing this? He's already made it clear I don't have anything he wants, so is he still playing mind games just for the h.e.l.l of it, or does he think he can house-train me like a pet? When you consider all the options, other than looking for a ”cure” or resorting to extermination, trying to learn how to tame or control us is probably the only viable option the Unchanged think they have left.

So what do I do?

I'm daydreaming now, imagining walking around this place unchained, mixing freely with the Unchanged. I picture myself in a crowded room, surrounded by them but not yet killing, forcing myself to swallow down the fear and hold the Hate. I look into their faces, their stupid, evil, ignorant faces, and none of them knows who or what I am. They need their DNA tests and records and the strength of our reactions to be able to see what we are. But we, on the other hand, simply sense sense them. We know what they are without a word being spoken ... them. We know what they are without a word being spoken ...

f.u.c.k. The penny drops.

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