WE HIDE THE CAR IN SHADOWS, approach the rest of the way on foot.
“There’s no one either in or near his house. It’s clear,” Freja whispers.
We find the key where Patrick always kept it, hidden outside. It’s funny how he could be so careful about online security and leave his house key under a plant pot.
I unlock the door, and we step in. “It seems so long since we’ve been here,” I say.
“Since we disappeared in the night,” Freja says. “We never said goodbye.” She sighs. I touch her shoulder.
Wilf flicks a switch on the wall. “There’s no power, but you’ll never guess what.”
“What?” I say.
“I’ve got a signal.” He waves his phone around, the screen light dancing around him.
“Be careful: we can’t charge anything,” Azra says. “When it’s dead, it’s dead.”
“That’s right. No games—essential use only,” Freja adds.
“That all depends on what you think is essential,” Wilf says. “Maybe I should confiscate yours,” Azra says.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Hang on a sec,” I say. “Are these phones registered to either of you? If they are, you shouldn’t use them.”
“No.” Azra hesitates. “We found them in the bunker.”
“They belong to ghosts.” Wilf’s word for the soldiers who died there. “There was no phone signal there; we just used them to put music on.”
“I don’t know,” Freja says. “Do you think anyone would check the numbers?”
“Seems unlikely with the mess everywhere that anybody could be bothered,” I say.
“But if those helicopters were going there looking for us, and if they find the bunker and bodies, they could work out who they are and that their phones are missing?”
“Paranoia aplenty.”
“Yep. But you said you’d listen to me in the future in areas of paranoia,” Freja says.
“True.”
“But we do need to call your mum tomorrow during office hours, so we’ll have to use one of them then. Hopefully it’ll be all right.”
“Are we spending the night here before we go to Wales?” Wilf says. “What’s left of the night, that is.”
Freja and I exchange a glance. “Well, thing is,” I say, “it might be safer for you to wait here while we go.”
“What? Are you dumping us?” Azra demands.
“No, we’re not dumping you. But in case the authorities are hunting for all of us together, it might be safer to split up. I’m going to go and see my mum, then come back here.”
They both look at Freja, and even I can see their words not said out loud hanging in the silence: Don’t leave us on our own.
“I don’t know yet if I can go,” Freja says. “We’ll have to see where they are meeting. I can’t cross roadblocks; they might be scanning for survivors.”
Freja sighs, looks down. I still think I should go with you, no matter what, she whispers inside me.
I know. But you can’t risk getting scanned. And I know you don’t want to leave these two. I understand that—it’s the right thing to do.
Then why does it feel so wrong?
I slip an arm around Freja; she leans her head against my shoulder.
Anyway, I’m not deciding yet, she says. We’ll see.
“What if you don’t come back?” Azra says to me.
“I will, I promise,” I say. But we all know it is a promise I might not be able to keep.