‘Where is she?’
‘What?’
‘The girl. Where is she?’
‘What?’ He looked at me.
And understood.
He knew exactly what I was capable of.
‘I did it,’ he said, eyes never leaving mine.
‘What?’
‘I did it.’
‘OK,’ said a guard. ‘That’s–’
‘He’s lying,’ I said quickly, loudly, clutching Ivy’s memento – a ring. I wondered if she’d realise I’d taken it when she’d pushed me away. ‘I picked his pocket and planted his spare keys on her, along with instructions for her escape. I did it.’
I didn’t look at Jeb. I couldn’t.
‘But how d’you know how to escape?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I’ve heard plenty of good escape plans.’
‘Then why are you still here?’
‘Ellis,’ Jeb said quietly. Now, I looked. His expression was heartbroken. ‘Where’s Michael?’
A guard said, ‘Michael Laska? His tracker’s malfunctioned but…’
A second.
Everyone turned to me.
‘At some point,’ I said quietly, ‘all the king’s men decided Humpty couldn’t be saved.’
‘Then–’
‘I made sure she chose someone who could be.’
Jeb looked horrified. ‘She thinks you let her go–’
‘As a game. So she wouldn’t come for me but wouldn’t wanna owe me.’ I shrugged. ‘It was the only way to save ‘em. She’ll forget about me eventually. Meet someone better. Someone less broken. Someone not perverse. And he’ll be safe. It’s for the best.’
‘Ellis…’ He shook his head. ‘How can you sound so, so calm? Don’t you care?’
I shrugged. A guard stepped forwards and handcuffed me. I turned away from Jeb.
‘Ellis?’ I started to walk. ‘You’re wrong, you know.’ He sounded desperate. ‘She’ll never meet someone as good, as loving as you. Never.’
I said nothing. I just kept walking, expression as calm as always.
In fact, it wasn’t until we were in the corridor outside that I finally let the tears I’d been holding back slip down my face.
the end About the author
Katie Lewis is a lawyer, originally from rainy Wales but now living and working in London. When not working, Katie likes to write stories (short and long) and then evade her colleagues’ questions as to: (i) where she found the time to do that; and (ii) is she ever going to do anything with them? Contrary to what she’s told them, she has been shortlisted and had short stories published by Momaya Press and Earlyworks Press previously, and would like to publish a novel one day. Katie also enjoys reading, travelling and playing drums in a samba reggae drum group.
BLIND ALLEY
Emily Wootton
An aphotic murk descended upon the alley, humid and repressing; all was still and silent.
Until it wasn’t.
Propelled by instinct, Martha shot up off the stones. There was a flicker of movement in the darkness ahead. She hissed at her companion, Jason, to move! before whipping around to run somewhere that their assailants weren’t.
But she felt the pressure of his hand on her elbow, a signal for her to stop. ‘It’s just cats,’ he said, his voice a cool whisper.
Martha crouched back down, much slower this time. She allowed herself to lean on the wall and took a deep breath. It reeked of rot and rubbish. It reeked of death. ‘I thought it was–’
‘Careful,’ he said. ‘You’re not turning rogue on me, are you?’
Martha flinched. How could Jason joke about that? Once human, now anything but, rogues were people who’d had their brains sliced and spliced. The state’s pets. With no emotion, no identity, rogues had only one goal in mind: to uphold the state. Anything else wasn’t just irrelevant but a threat to be destroyed.
They’d both spent the last few years posing as state researchers to discover just that. Martha herself had nearly turned rogue. They wanted to test a ‘new procedure’, and as a loyal subject, she couldn’t argue. She’d been drugged up on the table with the hot point of the laser primed and ready when Jason had managed to slip into the system and trigger the emergency alarm.
No harm done, they said. Just a few cells gone. The op had been rescheduled, but the two of them had to run. One unexplained breach could be covered up, but not two.
Martha turned to face Jason. In the half-light, she saw that he was smiling. His eyes were not. They were icy, reflecting the caution which she herself felt. Martha realised that Jason wasn’t joking about her becoming a rogue. He was serious. Deadly so.
‘Ha ha. Very funny,’ she said, while wondering, Which of us do I need to reassure the most?
Martha’s breath was white smoke; they huddled close together, needing the body heat now night was approaching. They didn’t have long. Warmth dissipated, or, as Martha well knew, it could be destructive.
‘When do you want to leave?’ Jason asked.
Martha liked how casually he spoke, as if they had a choice. As if they were stopping to sightsee. But she was happy to indulge the fantasy.
‘Maybe a couple more minutes.’
Her head was banging. What she really wanted to do was sleep. But sleep was something stolen in snatches, in abandoned buildings and old dumpsters. Something that was close friends with death.
Instead, she rummaged in her pocket and produced an energy bar. ‘Want to share?’
Jason nodded. So she broke the bar into two. It was bland stuff, but after going on the run for the whole day, anything keeping her alive was welcome. She hoped any pursuers wouldn’t suspect that two fugitives would seek shelter at a dead end.
Martha knew how risky it was, to quite literally have their backs against the wall, but the risk was a necessary one. Pursuers could only charge from one direction, giving her and Jason precious seconds to climb. They’d made sure to assess the place. On the other side of the wall was a block of flats leading to the outskirts of the city; it was best to rest on this side, where no eyes could see them. There were a few cracks and uneven bricks that made suitable footholds; Martha just had to think of it as a rock-climbing wall, one of many she’d scaled in training. Except now there was no harness.
‘Time to climb,’ she said when they’d eaten.
‘Ladies first.’
Ignoring the stones that scraped through her trousers, Martha began hauling herself up the wall. She was just halfway when a bullet sunk into the concrete, just missing her left shoulder.
Her hammering heart sent both adrenaline and panic shooting through her. They’ve found us! Aware of being too conspicuous – though what did it matter, at this point? – she lay flat on the top of the wall and reached down to help Jason. He was nearly there when another bullet burrowed into his thigh. A strangled scream escaped his gritted teeth. Martha heard trampling feet and saw faint outlines of state agents advancing, burning with bloodlust.
Damnit, Jason! she thought, grabbing his hands and heaving him up. They plummeted down on the other side. He winced as his feet hit the concrete.
‘Want me to dig it out?’ Martha asked.
‘There’s no time.’
‘Can you run?’
‘I hope to God I can.’
Sticking close to the wall, they pelted across the concrete. Martha could hear the agents as they jumped off the wall. It wouldn’t be long before they started shooting again.
She scanned the area as she ran. To their right, an open stretch of concrete lay between them and the nearest sprawl of buildings. Straight ahead was a main road. If they wanted the best chance of losing their pursuers, they had to head for the buildings. That meant streaking across open ground, too close to the streetlights to be safe.