Ben, dressed from head to toe in black, pressed his eye to a gap in the wall between the black market and the warehouse next door. He watched Albert, Sal, Isobel, Jenny and two people he didn’t know leave the storage unit. Albert turned and handed Isobel his grey satchel.
‘There’s a tin of fruit, a blanket and a flashlight in there. And a few spare oxygen canisters.’
Isobel tried to give the bag back. ‘I need none of this. I don’t feel the cold as much as you and my eyesight is better than everyone else’s.’
Albert was insistent. ‘Please take it. It’ll put my mind at rest that you won’t starve.’
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. ‘I prefer meat.’
Ben smiled, too, remembering that Stephen had once told him about his diet of blood and meat. He had wrongly accused the Indigene of being a vampire; one of the more ridiculous notions his eight-year-old mind had concocted. He had been so wrapped up in his adventure stories, he’d missed the one thing he should have paid attention to: his mother was about to abandon him.
Albert pushed the bag strap into Isobel’s hand, and gave her arm a little pat. She nodded and slung it over her shoulder. Albert and Sal headed for home while the others stayed on the main road towards the docking station.
Ben kept a discreet distance behind Isobel’s group knowing Isobel could pick up on his presence; she’d been doing that for two days now. She had said that when she got used to someone being around, she could sense them. It explained two incidents where she’d spoken to him before she’d seen him.
The group walked for a while, keeping their movements restricted to the shadows of the buildings. Occasionally, they would hide down a street, and Ben would do the same as a vehicle turned and hummed past them. They came to a road called Hope Street, several blocks over from Waverley docking station, and disappeared down it. Ben crept to the edge of the corner.
A vehicle waited in the side street; a storage-unit door adjacent to the car was open. Two men carried boxes from the building to the open boot.
From his position at the front of the car, Ben couldn’t see what was in the boxes they carried. He crept past, jogged down the next street and approached the car from the rear. He could hear their voices much clearer there.
‘Were you and the driver followed, Robinson?’ Jenny said to a tall man with messy black hair.
‘I’m sure we weren’t,’ said Robinson. ‘We took the long route around.’
‘Olsen, are you sure they won’t notice this stuff is missing?’ Jenny asked a blond man.
‘We’ve used this storage place before,’ said Olsen. ‘But I admit I haven’t been in a while. I don’t know if everything we need will still be here.’
‘When was the last time the Kings checked on this place?’
‘About two weeks ago,’ said a woman with shoulder-length brown hair. She pointed to something on the door frame. ‘This magnetic device alerts us if the door has been opened. Olsen, I’m not sure if the tools we need are in there.’
‘Have you checked in the back, Hayes?’ said Olsen.
‘Not yet, but the associates may have taken them.’
‘Let’s check, all of us. We should leave soon.’
‘What are we looking for?’ said Isobel.
Olsen pointed at the door. ‘I’ll show you.’
They all went inside, leaving the driver alone with the car. Ben bolted for the open boot that was big enough to hide in without being seen. A large piece of tarpaulin had been folded back, ready to cover the cargo. He slipped under it and jammed himself into the space between the boot and the passenger area. He checked the glow-in-the-dark gauge on the new canister Greyson had given him. His breathing became ragged when the gauge said just twenty percent remained.
Voices neared. ‘We have enough to get us inside,’ said Hayes. ‘Brute force is our only option.’
Ben calmed his breathing when the car rocked as more items were placed in the back. He lifted the tarpaulin a little and saw a laser cutting tool, an old-fashioned crowbar, a hammer and various other tools.
More equipment shook the car as it was loaded in the back: several DPads, cables and some micro screwdrivers. Hayes held a USB key in her hand.
‘How will these help us get inside the computer?’ said Jenny, picking up a cable.
‘The AI no longer controls the computers,’ said Hayes. ‘I still need a way to get inside. The cables will give me hardline access. The USB 15.8 key contains advanced penetration software. The DPad will act as a micro server. It will mimic the operations of the admin server under my control while I figure out how to bypass security.’
‘Seems like this stuff is worth keeping at the medical facility, not in a storage place the Kings can also access,’ said Jenny.
‘Yeah, we didn’t consider that until it was too late,’ said Robinson. ‘The factions may be uneducated, but they know how to count. They’ve taken stock of everything in these buildings. If we take something and don’t return it, we risk losing our undetected borrowing privileges.’
‘All right,’ said Jenny. ‘Let’s get going before any more cars pass and decide to take a closer look at what we’re doing.’
Ben flattened himself against the partition and checked the seal on his mask. He was surprised Isobel hadn’t detected him yet, through sense, or smell. Maybe her mind was on more important things and with others around, his scent didn’t stand out.
Hayes dropped a few more things into the car, then closed the boot. Muffled voices drifted through the full partition wall separating the front of the car from the rear.
The car travelled west, out of town. Ben felt the raised bumps as the tyres hit the end of the Brooklyn Bridge. The car pulled over to the side of the road, or down another alleyway, he wasn’t sure. He thought he heard Isobel’s voice.
‘... he brought me here when I was looking for my husband.’
The digital library.
‘I can show you how to activate the DPads. But because I don’t carry an identity chip I can’t physically search for the World Government schematics. Hayes must do it.’
Ben heard the door open and close. A sudden claustrophobia hit him and he kicked the tarpaulin away. His oxygen levels were depleting faster than he’d expected. There must be a leak in his new canister or in his mask. He retrieved a fresh canister, battered and worn, from his pocket, and connected the supply. He breathed in and out; slowly, steadily. The environmental controls for the front of the car didn’t stretch to the back. His supply needed to last at least until they got to DC.
It seemed like an age before the car door opened again. He froze; moving even an inch would alert Isobel. They would find him, but not until the car had travelled far enough that it would be counterproductive to turn back. The air inside the boot felt clammy, and his face hot. The thick air put him to sleep.
☼
Ben woke to the steady motion of the car. He sat up, groggy and with no idea where he was. But when his head hit the ceiling and the tools rattled, he remembered. His face reddened as the airless heat smothered him in the windowless space. The neckline of his jumper tightened around his neck. He tried not to think about being trapped until that was all he thought about.
He yanked at the collar of his black sweater, despite the loose and shapeless neckline. But he still felt too much pressure on his windpipe. He twisted in the tight space, struggling for air. The car’s movement panicked him until he could no longer breathe.
He shoved the boxes away using his feet, then crawled forward and groped around for a handle on the inside of the boot. His fingers found smooth and polished metal, but no handle. He crawled back to the partition and banged his fist on it. He kept banging until the voices, low and sporadic, stopped talking.
The car took a sharp left then skidded to a stop. A door opened. Then he heard nothing. Suddenly the boot flew open, and Jenny stood there, pointing a Buzz Gun at his head.
Her eyes widened and she lowered the gun. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Ben didn’t answer. He scrambled out of the vehicle, slipped and fell. His back hit the tarmac road with a thud and a rush of air escaped from his lungs. He clawed at the seal on his mask, desperate to take it off.
‘I... can’t... breathe.’
‘Robinson!’
The tall black-haired man appeared in front of him. He checked the canister on Ben’s hip. ‘Take slow, deep breaths, young man. Your oxygen is fine. I can hear it hissing. You’re just having a panic attack.’ He peeled Ben’s fingers away from the mask. ‘You’ll make it worse if you take that off.’
Black dots clouded Ben’s vision. He could hear Olsen arguing with Hayes. ‘Where did he come from and how the hell did no one notice him in the back?’
‘Slow, steady breaths. Look at me, not them. That’s it. One breath in, hold it, then release. And again.’
Ben blinked and concentrated on the sound of Robinson’s voice. He kept breathing until his throat no longer felt pinched and the deep pain in his chest had subsided.
Robinson was saying. ‘In and out. That’s it. Slowly. You’re in control. Everything’s fine.’
Isobel stepped into his line of sight, her head covered by a shawl. She held a gel mask loosely to her face, for show. It was easier to pretend to be human than to explain why she didn’t need a gel mask like everyone else.
‘Ben, what are you doing here?’
‘Everybody wants to protect me. But I’m not a kid anymore. I’ve been trying to tell you both but you won’t listen. I can help.’
‘It’s not about how old you are,’ said Isobel. ‘It’s about how useful you can be.’
‘You weren’t asked to come, because what we need on this trip is expertise,’ said Olsen. ‘You understand?’
Isobel turned to Jenny. ‘We need to take him back. Albert will be worried about him.’
‘No! You can’t. We’re probably too far gone anyway.’
Olsen shrugged at Jenny. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘Ben’s probably right,’ said Jenny with a sigh. ‘We can’t turn back now. The neighbourhood doesn’t have the time. We must put a dent in the power the factions hold over the people.’
Robinson checked Ben’s pulse. ‘I guess it’s your lucky day. Albert will have to wait a while longer for your return. But how about you sit up front with us, where it will be more comfortable?’
Robinson sat up front with the driver while Ben gratefully climbed into the back seat between Hayes and Olsen. Jenny and Isobel sat facing him; he stared out the window to avoid Isobel’s icy glare.
The driver spoke to the dashboard. ‘Resume journey to World Government offices.’ The car moved. Ben wiped the last of the sheen off his face and rested his head against the backrest.
☼
The journey from Waverley to Washington DC took a little over an hour. The driver parked the car down a side street, a few miles out of town. Hayes grabbed a few items from the boot and put them in her bag.
‘We’ll have to walk from here,’ said Jenny. ‘Ben, stay close to me.’
Olsen spoke to Robinson. ‘Stay with the car and the driver, and move it if there’s any trouble.’
Hayes held up her DPad. ‘I’ll ping you if there’s any trouble on our end.’
Robinson nodded and checked his own DPad. ‘I’ll be ready.’
They set off on foot. Cracked pavements, potholed roads, and buildings with broken windows dominated the neglected landscape. As they got closer to the black glass tower that was the World Government offices, the streets remained dead and dilapidated.
The tall, sleek black tower brought back chilling memories for Ben. It was where he and his mother had been taken after the government labelled them both traitors and forced them to leave Exilon 5. On the two-week passenger ship journey, his mother had perfected her innocent face in public. But in private, the stony, cold face of evil hurled abuse and accused him of selling her out. He had pretended her behaviour was a reaction to their unfamiliar situation, so he’d let the insults slide, hoping things would improve when they got to Earth. But when his mother had dropped to her knees in front of a man called Charles Deighton and begged him to take her son off her hands, the cold, painful truth hit him.
The dishevelled appearance of the World Government offices softened its once-foreboding look. The slick, black windows were cracked and broken, and the paving, once clean and tidy, showed signs of disrepair. Splashes of green wove their way through the cracks, as weeds, long missing from Earth, found their voice again after decades of silence.
But despite the building’s appearance, it retained one aspect of the old regime: the patrol of armed guards.