Max had watched the girl across the road for the past ten minutes. Twice she’d got up and walked towards the old community centre before turning around again and returning to her spot on the wall.
At one point, she talked to herself for a while and then stamped her foot in anger before sitting down and crying.
He was fairly sure it was the girl that he’d seen at the window in the flats. He could see her more clearly at this distance. She still had incredibly pale skin that looked almost translucent – no wonder he had thought she was a ghost.
Max hadn’t expected to see her again after the raid the other day. He’d returned to find his flat ransacked and most of his possessions broken. They’d held and questioned him for several hours, and the only good thing was missing the actual assault, as doubtless he would have been shot. They’d been after someone called Vander, and Max never wanted to hear that name again. By the time they’d established his real identity and whole life history, he’d lost a night’s sleep and had a miserable day at work the next day, trying to stay awake.
He couldn’t watch any longer. It was too painful to see someone who was obviously so upset, but he had to leave for work soon. He had five minutes – time to see if there was anything he could do.
‘Are you all right?’
She looked up, taking a moment to focus. She held her hand up and turned her face away. ‘Don’t come any nearer.’
‘I won’t hurt you.’
She turned to face him. ‘No. I might hurt you.’
He laughed nervously. She was obviously mad. ‘Do you need help?’
‘I have to go, but something terrible has happened in the hall.’ She looked back at the community centre.
‘What? What’s happened?’
‘I don’t know, but they need help.’ She seemed relieved to have said it.
‘I’ve got to go. Tell them to get the Facility here.’ She turned and started to run down the road away from the centre.
‘Wait. What facility?’ But she was gone.
He looked at his watch. Four minutes. Did he have time? Not really, but what if something had happened? He started to walk towards the community centre and got as far as reaching for the wonky handle. A cold feeling washed over him. For a moment, he stared at the peeling paint on the door, and at that moment, he decided that he was the most cowardly man he knew. He sighed and turned back to walk to a communal phone at the corner, where he could call the Wuckers. Now he was going to be late for work because a madwoman was running around outside his house, claiming something was wrong in that crazy community centre, which always had something going on in it anyway. He paused. Perhaps it was nothing. He dialled.
‘Hi. It may be nothing, but I think something’s going on in the hall down by the river.’
Twenty minutes later he was on his way to work and glad to get away from the chaos that had broken out down the road. There were helicopters, ambulances, and people in suits and masks sealing off the centre and the ground around it. He hadn’t given his name or revealed that it was him who had called, as he had no intention of coming to their attention again. He suspected that they’d think it was too much of a coincidence to be caught up in this mess twice. His conscience twinged as he wondered if he should have told them about the girl. Perhaps she had hurt those kids. Somehow he didn’t think so. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stuck around but would have just run away and not wandered about outside.
Luckily, the sirens and helicopters backed up his story to his supervisor, and he was soon behind the counter in the ticket office.
‘I need to get to the reservoir.’
He looked up to see the crazy girl. He glanced around, expecting to see police running in behind her. ‘You.’
‘Thank you for getting the help.’
‘Are you in trouble?’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘Then why didn’t you call the Wuckers?’
‘I didn’t know how.’ She looked tired, and there was a blossoming bruise on her cheek. ‘I guess I am in trouble. I just want to go somewhere quiet, away from all this noise.’
‘The reservoir is near Lakeside station, last on the line. It’s five pounds. Do you have the money?’
‘She held out some coins. Is this enough?’
‘Yes. Push it through.’
‘No. I don’t want to give it to you.’
‘No one ever does. You have to give me the money, or I can’t give you the ticket.’
‘But this money is dirty.’
He shook his head. ‘I touch money all the time.’
‘I don’t want it to hurt you. You’ve been kind to me.’
He looked at the lengthening queue forming behind her. ‘The only other way is to do it through the machine. Say where you want to go, and put the money in.’
She looked back where he was pointing. ‘Lakeside?’
‘Lakeside.’
He watched her briefly as she walked across to the machine, and then she was lost from sight as passengers milled around the concourse.