The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

No matter how much I try to hold things together, shards still slip through my fingers. There are so few pieces that I have any contact with now, and I can’t even keep a grip on those.

Tia has been trying to speak with me for a couple of days. Every now and then, she flicked me hopeful looks across the dorm and nodded towards one of the back rooms, but then someone would turn up and pull her away. The girls have been fussing over her more than usual and I can’t help but wonder if they were keeping her away from me on purpose. I’m not sure what they hoped to achieve with that, but I don’t pretend to know those girls well.

I’m feeling so well-watched right now that I haven’t had the courage to press the issue. I could have gone over there, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off to talk. I doubt they would have been able to stop me, but it wasn’t a battle I wanted to start. These girls don’t tend to fight physically – it’s all tongue-lashing and voices that spiral up into uncomfortable octaves, sharp with barbs. And their fights don’t finish when someone walks away: they swirl around the dorms, rising and falling like the scum on the tide, snapping dirtily at our edges.

I’ve always hated how girls fight. I used to watch Bree at work and smile, even though it unsettled me. I’m ashamed to admit that I joined in sometimes. Then she turned on me and I realised why I disliked it so much. Girls are vicious. Bruises heal so much easier and cleaner.

Today, I finally got the opportunity to talk to Tia alone. It wasn’t in the dorm at all – just after midday, she slunk into the infirmary looking like a mouse who knew she was sitting in the middle of a trap but hadn’t a clue about where the cheese might have got to.

I was just heading over to snaggle her up before she got lost when Simon was suddenly there beside her. He spoke to her and she looked up at him with wide eyes, and to my surprise, she nodded and went into an exam room with him. I stopped, staring after them, the sheets from the bed I was changing still in my hands.

Peter chose that moment to brush past me – there was plenty of room, but he had to rub his way past anyway – and he chuckled in my ear. “You know what she’s here for,” he said with a grin. I got the sudden urge to slap him, but managed to restrain it until he’d gone away.

I forced myself to finish making the bed up, and then the next one too, while I waited for Simon to come out of the exam room again. I didn’t realise how much I was watching the door until it opened and my hands were only too glad to put down the pillow I was putting a cover on. I was pushing my way into the room when he was still in the process of closing the door behind him. He let me past with a disapproving scowl.

Tia was leaning against the exam table, straightening her clothing and looking paler than usual. She’s an elfin thing at the best of times – if she was any paler, she’d be translucent. She didn’t seem surprised to see me, though she wasn’t comfortable either; she shifted stiffly, as if bracing herself. I asked her if she was all right and she sighed, biting her lip.

“I don’t know,” she said, which only worried me even more. “Has he gone?”

She meant Simon. I glanced over my shoulder to check that the door had closed behind me – it had – and then nodded. “What is it?”

I knew what she was going to say next, but that didn’t make her words any easier to hear. They fell into the room likes stones, toppling into a messy cairn between us.

“I’m pregnant.”

There were so many things I wanted to say. Congratulations. Do you know who the father is? When are you due? That’s wonderful. The words clamoured in my throat but didn’t make it anywhere near my tongue. I put a hand on her arm.

“Are you all right?”

She gave me a look that reminded me how young she is. Eighteen, maybe nineteen by now, forced to take on an adult’s role long before she had ever planned to. Now she was going to be someone’s mother and she was completely unprepared. She was a tiny person lost in a sea of giants and her legs just couldn’t keep up.

The next thing I knew, she was sobbing on my chest, her arms clenched around my middle. I hugged her and stroked her hair, instinctively rocking her while she cried. It’ll be all right, I told her. We’ll get through this. Everyone will help her. Shh, it’ll be okay.

It took me a moment to realise that she was shaking her head. She took a shuddering breath and lifted her head, quietly picking herself up off me. I let her, helped her, made sure she was steady before I let her go completely.

I wasn’t expecting what came next.

“I can’t come with you.”

“What?”

“When you go. I can’t come, not now.”

“But–”

“I can’t, Faith. I just can’t.” A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed past it painfully. She stumbled on to tell me about how unsafe it was out there, about how they’d be able to take better care of her here. There was a doctor and an infirmary here. A safe roof over our heads every night and food on the table. No searching, no scratching, no shamblers tearing us down one by one. They were trying to build a future here – there was even a school for the little ones, they said.

“It’s too dangerous out there. I can’t risk it. I can’t,” she told me several times, between pointing out Haven’s virtues.

I tried to reason with her. I pointed out the flaws in this place, and the short-term nature of its virtues. We’re going to look for a future too, something better than this. We’re going back to our doctor, who’ll be able to make sure she’s all right.

“But what if there’s no better future to find? What if there is nothing better than this? What if he’s not there any more, too?”

I couldn’t argue with her. She wasn’t wrong, not about those things. Haven’s promises are so bright and warm, and she’s clinging to them. She won’t see how thin they are – they’re solid enough for her, more tangible than the promise of what lies before us. The Seekers have a lot of shadows to pass through before we have a chance of finding something better than Haven. For most of us, that’s something we’re willing to face. But Tia has her baby to think of and a wealth of fear to keep her exactly where she is.

She looked at me with defiance, tears streaming down her cheeks and her chin trying not to wobble. I closed my mouth on the arguments I wanted to spill on her. She had known that I would argue against her staying – she had been ready for this. She had made up her mind as soon as she suspected she was pregnant. She was trying to do the right thing for herself.

I didn’t agree with her – I couldn’t – but it didn’t feel right to bully her into leaving either. So I hugged her again and told her that I respected her decision. I didn’t like it but it was hers to make. She’d always have a place with us if she changed her mind anyway.

“There aren’t any ex-Seekers,” I told her. “You’ll always be one of us.” It’s who we are, even if we’re not together, even if we’re not out on the road.

Tia was puzzled at first and then she smiled and wiped her cheeks.

“I’ll still help you,” she said.

I thanked her for that and let her go. She slipped out of the room and returned to her work crew, probably to tell them the good news. I, meanwhile, sagged against the exam table and fought back a sudden wave of tears.

She had promised she would still help us get out of here, but I don’t think she will. She’d be a fool if she did. If she got caught, she’d ruin her own position here. She’d end up like me, watched and suspected and judged every second of every day. Pregnant or not, she’d be in trouble. To protect herself, she should separate herself from the rest of us.

And then there’s her brother. Terry is helping the boys out and I have no idea if he knows about this latest development. I don’t think he’ll come without his sister. Families should stick together.

Where does that leave Jersey? She’s attached to Terry, though she’d never admit it. They can’t be together here – even if he wanted to be, which he’s shown no sign of – so what will she do? What will she want to do?

There were so few of us already, and now our numbers are even smaller. With so many barriers rising around us, how will we ever get out of here? There must be a way to make this work. There must be a way to get free of all of this.

I just wish that I could see it.

I didn’t need to tell Jersey about Tia. When I got back to the dorms last night, the ex-Wolverine was stomping about with a face like thunder and everyone was giving her a wide berth. I would have asked her what was wrong if I didn’t already know.

She hasn’t ever been close to Tia, not really. Tia’s a girly girl and Jersey very much isn’t. She has looked after herself since the world came down around us and she doesn’t think much of the girls who have relied on others to get by. She’s had to do things the hard way, so why should anyone else get an easy ride? As far as she’s concerned, those who have taken the easier route have yet to prove themselves worthy of her respect.

I don’t think she’s quite that uncomplicated, but that’s the way she’s trying to make her world. It makes a lot of sense in these times After the bombs. She has taken up the mantle of pragmastism and run with it; it’s up to people like me to wave some kind of morality in her face. In many ways, Jersey represents a lot of what I despise about the After, but at least she listens. She doesn’t change, but she does restrain herself. There’s something in that.

I think she has guessed about Terry staying behind as well and that’s part of why she’s so angry. She hasn’t ever said anything about him – certainly not to me – but I believe there’s a candle there, well-sheltered from everyone and everything. It’s burning in the dark now, down to its nub, shrouded by the prospect of leaving him here and going out alone. He never seemed interested in her but Jersey’s not the kind to let that stop her when she wants something.

Except for now, when it’s being taken away from her. I wish I had some comfort to give her. A scrap of hope, some way to show that it isn’t so bad, not really. This world is full of harsh truths and this is one of them. I can’t even tell her how sorry I am – she would take it badly. Jersey’s the kind of girl who always slaps with a closed fist.

I wonder if there are any others here that will be missed when we’re gone. I haven’t made many friends here, but what about the others? Jersey has an odd attachment to Iona – I wish I knew where that came from – but she might be coming with us anyway. At least she’ll have one person she’s close to coming along.

I don’t know about the rest. Thorpe doesn’t make friends easily at the best of times, but Dale is charming enough and Terry doesn’t seem to have any problem in that area. Dan – well, who knows with him. I haven’t seen him since we got to Haven. Matt has always been popular and I doubt it’s any different here. He has probably people he’ll miss. And Dad – Dad’s been here longer than us. He must have made friends, too.

We can’t ask everyone to come along, but are there some we should ask? It’s impossible for me to say – I’m so cut off here, stuck on a tiny piece of rock miles from everyone. I don’t even know where their hearts lie any more.

Maybe I’m just looking for problems where there aren’t any. Jersey is upset and I can’t do anything about it, and that makes it easy to feel bad about everything. If the others have become attached to anyone here and that person is as unhappy as we are, maybe they’ll come along. Maybe they’ll become Seekers too. Or they could betray us and end this.

I am trying to stop being so negative, but it’s hard. I can’t wait to put this place in our rear-view mirrors. Soon can’t come soon enough for me.

The other women in the dorm have learned Jersey’s moods, but even they misjudged just how her temper can flare, especially when she’s already in a bad mood.

Just after I got back from the infirmary last night, I saw Nadine and Mama Prusco cruising the dorm, with the elderly Lavinia in tow. Like the three wyrd sisters, looking for ingredients for their cauldron. The old cow was directing them with little words and flicks of her fingers towards particular girls, mostly those ones trying to avoid meeting the women’s gazes. I heard Lavinia say something about needing to shake up the contingent of women sent to entertain the men. They would try a roster but with monthly cycles and pregnancy pulling girls out of the running, it was just too complicated to make work.

So they have to rake through the dorm every night, grabbing women at random and shepherding them off to the part of the compound commonly referred to as the brothel rooms. We don’t use that name within the hearing of the wyrd sisters, of course, but I’ve heard it on more than one pair of lips. It’s not inaccurate, considering.

Unfortunately for the trio of madams, Lavinia directed them towards Iona. The girl was sitting crosslegged on her bed, humming to herself as she combed out a lock of her hair, teasing out one painstaking knot at a time. She looked up when the shadows fell over her bed, smiling at the faces above her without a trace of reservation.

“Flowers are for plucking, but they fade so quickly,” she told them clearly, just a little bit sad. I think she understands more than she lets on, that one.

Mama Prusco stepped in to take one of the girl’s arms to encourage her to stand up (or, more accurately, to drag her off the bed). Iona didn’t fight or struggle, or even sit there limply. She just turned to put her comb down and went about unfolding her legs so that she could stand. I thought she might resist or at least be reluctant, but she showed no signs of that. That’s when I decided to get involved and got up to go over there.

Nadine was on her other side, ready to escort her to the group of uncomfortable-looking girls waiting in the aisle, when Jersey arrived. She beat me there, crashing into the situation with all guns blazing. I’ve never seen her so furious before. She tore Iona’s arms free, rough enough to leave bruises on everyone involved. By then, I had made it around the bunk and could draw the bewildered girl away from the battleground. Iona came with me as easily as she would have gone with the madams.

Jersey, meanwhile, was laying into all of them with a heavy-laden tongue. How could they think of taking Iona off for something like that? She wasn’t capable of making such a choice. It was like taking a child – and don’t think that Jersey didn’t know the younger women had been pressured into taking part in the whoring too. Only sixteen, a couple of them, but at least they knew what was happening to them.

Nadine made the mistake of defending their actions by saying, “Why shouldn’t she pull her weight? She’ll never know what happened anyway.”

The sound of Jersey’s fist hitting Nadine’s face was a sudden, sharp slap, and the dark-haired head snapped backwards. Her body clattered against the next bunk while voices rose all around us. Mama Prusco grabbed Jersey’s arms, demanding to know what the hell she thought she was doing, and I put Iona behind me. The poor girl was covering her ears against all the noise, whimpering and curling in on herself. Jersey growled and slammed her forehead into Mama Prusco’s face. There was a howl and a spurt of blood. Jersey’s arms were free again as the big woman cupped her hands over her broken nose.

I pushed Iona onto my bunk when Jersey turned on Lavinia. The old woman was tougher than she looked but I didn’t think that smacking her would help anyone right now. So I stepped in and pulled the ex-Wolverine back before she could do any more damage. She almost punched me too but restrained herself at the last moment, her breath coming in short, sharp huffs. She was all coiled tension, ready to lash out at anyone who came close enough – I was just lucky that she classed me as a friend. Anyone else would have ended up like the two smacked madams.

I had to shout over the horrified cries to get everyone to shut up. Throwing in a few four-letter words seemed to administer enough verbal slaps to get their attention. The ragged silence sucked at us like a split lip.

“You should all be ashamed of yourselves,” I told them shortly. “Trying to force someone into this deal of yours.” I saw Nadine drawing breath to argue with me and went on before she could form words. “Forcing someone who doesn’t understand take part is wrong. She can’t consent, and that makes it rape.”

Throwing that word in stopped any rebuttals before they were formed. They can put whatever excuse they want on it, but it’s still rape. I could feel the ex-Wolverine swelling behind me and I turned to fix a glare on her. “Jersey, go cool off. Now. The rest of you, I suggest you go and do whatever it is you need to do elsewhere.”

Jersey made a great show of stomping off to the unused bathrooms out back. To my surprise, the rest of the women dispersed, taking the battered ones with them. I hadn’t actually expected them to listen to me, but I guess a loud voice with a semblance of calm is better than the wailing and the violence. I let the other girls clean up the blood on Mama Prusco’s face and put a cloth to Nadine’s rapidly-swelling eye. I had no stomach to sympathise with them anyway.

My heart was still beating way too fast when I turned around to comfort Iona. She was curled up on my bed with her hands clamped over her ears, a tiny rigid thing murmuring to herself. It took me a moment to realise that she was saying, “Too loud, too loud,” over and over.

It took some coaxing to get her to take her hands off her head, so that she could hear the lack of noise for herself. She looked up at me, and I saw a scar of trauma in her eyes. Whatever chased her wits away was noisy but didn’t leave a mark on her. It pricks at my curiosity, but I don’t have the heart to ask her about it. She’s having enough trouble healing as it is. Instead, I tried to tell her that it was all right, she could relax now. Her response was to nod and bury her face in my blanket.

I left her like that to go check on Jersey, believing that she was calm enough and it would be safe for me to be absent for a few moments. The pugilist was pacing in the bathroom, back and forth, as if she was waiting for the bell to ring again.

She demanded to know why I had stepped in, why I had stopped her from teaching those “fucking pimps” a lesson – wasn’t I on her side? I told her that I was, but they had enough to think about for now and we had to keep things calm if we wanted to stand a chance of getting out of here. Did she want a tagalong cutout like mine? No? Then she should stop getting into fights. Just for now. Just until we can get out of here. Iona is safe, she’s fine.

“We have to take her,” Jersey said.

I hesitated, but I couldn’t find a way to disagree with that. I dread to think about what would happen to Iona without anyone here to look out for her, to protect her. It’s best if she comes with us, even if she’s a burden to us.

I gave Jersey a rag to bind her bruised knuckles with and went back into the dorm room. Iona was sitting on my bunk, rhythmically shredding my blanket into strips with her delicate, plucking fingers. I had to bite back my frustration.

I sighed and tried not to mind, and went to see if any of us might get some sleep. It took me a while to convince Iona to fold up on her own bed, then lay down fully-clothed on mine, abandoning hope of resurrecting the blanket. Sometime during the night, I woke up to find another blanket draped over me and a small body curled up against my back. There wasn’t a lot of room but I didn’t have the heart to move her, and I was too tired for it to stop me from falling asleep again.

What’s a little stiffness in the morning between friends?

All day yesterday, I was waiting for the fallout from Jersey’s fight with the madams to fall on us. It never did. No-one mentioned Nadine’s swollen-shut eye or the purple mess that is Mama Prusco’s flattened face. Jersey’s fat knuckles weren’t commented on, either. Even Jonah was silent on the matter when he escorted me to and from the infirmary.

I don’t think the madams reported it. The cutouts let the women govern themselves for the most part – internal matters remain internal unless someone makes it an external issue. I can see the wisdom in that; if the women are enforcing the rules, there’s less chance of them rebelling against the General’s leadership. It’s the kind of politicking I despise. Why can’t everyone just be reasonable enough to work together and not hurt each other? It’s not like we don’t have enough danger outside of these circles to worry about.

The good news is that Jersey is still free to move around the compound with her cleanup crew. She’s still able to make contact with the boys, and to secret stores away for us. Right now, she’s the thread that’s holding the escape effort together, so the lack of repercussions is a blessing for us.

Today, I was able to slip her the medical pack that I’ve been quietly putting together. Since the food stash went missing, I haven’t been doing much of anything to help the Seekers’ escape, desperate to keep my nose clean in case someone is checking. But as the person who spends the most time in the stores, folding sheets and rolling bandages, and trying to clean what pieces I can for reuse, putting a little of everything aside is easy. A little of this, a smidge of that, over in this cupboard instead of that one. Get a sheet too soiled to use for anything else, fold it over into double thickness and sew up the sides, and we have a makeshift duffle bag. Pack the siphoned supplies in there, then hide it outside in the trash, but make sure to give Jersey the nod in the morning so she knows to look for it.

I’m not completely sure that she managed to get it, but the trash has been taken away, duffle and all. Hopefully it’s nestled up with the food stores next to enough water to keep us alive for a while. Otherwise, the rain that is pattering against the windows is currently eating it away into nothing, washing it all over the concrete and seeping it into the dirt. Bandages, dressings, antiseptic, pills, needles, and everything.

There’s a part of me that hates the theft. It’s not just the stress of it, of wondering if the duffle will be discovered, tucked in a cupboard like it should be there. Or picked up by the wrong person. Or if it would just disappear like the food did. I had to stop myself from checking on it every five minutes, reminding myself that I would only wind up drawing attention to it if I did. Be casual, Faith. Act like nothing could possibly be going on.

It’s not just that that gets to me. It’s how drawn Simon is getting. More and more of the girls are getting pregnant and one or two are growing big now. I’ve seen him reading books on pregnancy and birth methods, boning up on the possible complications he might face. It’s easy to forget that he wasn’t fully trained, and unlikely to have been taught obstretics for an army medic position even if his training had been finished.

The other thing that he has been fretting over is the supplies situation. The infirmary is low on many things, particularly drugs. Taking anything from those thin supplies was difficult for me – too many times, I stood there with my fingertips almost touching the vials, asking myself if we had any right to be doing this. Sometimes, I was so ashamed of myself that I closed the cabinet and walked away. It was easier to come back after events had been particularly difficult or unfair; it was easier to take supplies when I was angry at Haven for something.

Sometimes, I feel like a terrible person, taking things that I know they’ll need to save lives. But so will we. We came to Haven with vehicles, equipment, and supplies, and it was all taken away from us. Now we’re taking something back before we go. It seems like that should make it square, but it doesn’t feel that way. I know they won’t see it that way.

I’m tangling myself up again. It’s done with now – I’ve handed my part of the stealing on. They won’t catch me with it, not until we leave. I can breathe. For a little while, I can breathe and pretend I’m not a thief.

In my honest moments, I’m scared. I don’t have any idea about what the cutouts will do if they catch us trying to leave, never mind what the General will do to us if we survive a failed attempt. I am sure that we’ll only get one chance at it. If we’re not shot during it, we probably will be afterwards. I’ve never done something like this before, and I doubt any of the others have either. How will we know if we’re prepared enough? How can we give ourselves enough time to get away before the cutouts notice what we’re doing and open fire?

I just had the worst idea. Now I wish there was enough bleach to burn it out of my memory.

The rain’s stopping. I have to go. Maybe all of this will look better when the sun comes up again.

I’ve been getting worried about my dad. I haven’t seen him in days – I’ve lost track of when I saw him last. I’ve been hoping that he’s in the same situation as Matt – many demands and too many eyes on him, even though he’s usually allowed to see me.

Now I wonder if he was breaking the rules by coming to see me, or just ignoring them. It’s typical of him to do something like that and not tell him; he knows that I’d worry and tell him off. Or maybe he got himself in trouble and I just haven’t heard anything on Haven’s strange grapevine.

I’m sure that he’s all right. I would surely have heard something otherwise. I have to keep that in mind. No news is good news, right?

Something weird happened today. Walking to the infirmary, Jonah and I got past the usual pleasantries, feet moving in time with each other. But the companionable silence didn’t fall. Without so much as a glance at me, he kept speaking past telling me that breakfast was awful this morning.

“Whatever you and your friends are planning, you need to be more careful.”

He sounded so calm and casual about it, like it was nothing. My heart thumped painfully against my breastbone and it was a moment before I could respond. I had to pretend that nothing was wrong; we were out in the open and anyone might be watching. Anyone at all.

“What do you mean?”

“The officers know something’s going on. You know that most of you are being watched.”

I swallowed and restrained the urge to glance around me. Just keep looking straight ahead. Nothing is wrong.

I collected myself enough to ask, “Are they going to do anything about it?”

“They will eventually.”

We were nearly at the infirmary door; there wasn’t time to ask him much more. We don’t stop and chat, ever, and I could feel the weight of attention on me. The pressure to act normal, like nothing was wrong, was suffocating. It made it hard to think, turning my brain into a rabbit desperately running around in circles on me.

“Why are you warning me?”

I felt him flick me a sideways glance. “Are you planning to kill anyone?”

“No.” Of course not. I almost added the last part but remembered that I was talking to a soldier. Their job is to deal with people trying to kill each other, so it’s not an unreasonable question. Especially not in the After.

“That’s what I thought.” I thought that was all he was going to say, then he added, “I don’t agree with all of their… policies.”

We were at the door. It was time for me to go inside; there was no room for any more questions. I swallowed and looked up at him, forcing up a smile from somewhere.

“Thank you.” The smile might have been pulled on, but the gratitude was real. He didn’t have to do that. Then I was inside and he was at his post outside, and the exchange was over.

Since then, I’ve been worrying about what the officers might know, and the Scouts, as Matt called them, with their sharp eyes and too-good reporting instincts. We’d be glad of their vigilance if we agreed with their policies, but in a police state, that kind of attention is heavy and painful.

Are the others safe? My Seekers, my boys so far from reach? My dad? Is it me – have I given something away? Do they know it was me who hid that food away? Why haven’t they approached me about that yet?

Perhaps they just like watching me twist under the stress of waiting for them to come. Perhaps this unknowing is my punishment – or the first phase, at least.

In a way, I’m furious with Jonah for telling me that the cutouts definitely know we’re up to something. Of course I’m grateful for the warning, but why couldn’t he tell me on the way back to the dorms? When I might be able to do something about it, pass the word along to Jersey so she can tell the others? Instead, I’m left fretting all day about things I can’t change. I’ve probably been acting guilty as a result and not helping my case at all.

Now, sitting here and waiting for the rain to stop, I wonder if they know about the laptop too and just don’t care. I’m exhausted. I want this to be over already, dust in the mirror.

When will soon be now?

Today, I stopped worrying about Dad or myself so much. Instead, I started worrying about all of us.

This morning, while I was sleepily climbing into my stained jeans and wishing that Iona would quit sneaking into my bed and curling up against my spine in the middle of the night, Jersey came up to me. She barely paused next to my bunk, the hitch in her step giving her just enough time to deliver a single word. Just one.

“Tonight.”

I met her eye and there was no doubt about what she meant. None at all.

Tonight’s the night. The pieces are in place. Tonight, we leave Haven behind us.

I was vibrating with the news as I walked across the compound this morning. I wanted to tell Jonah out of some kind of reciprocal urge, to give him a warning in exchange for the one he gave me yesterday.

I bit my tongue all the way to the infirmary – I like Jonah, and the warning was kind of him, but I couldn’t return the favour. It would be unfair of me to put him in that position, having to keep another secret for us, even if he was inclined to. I can’t risk endangering everyone like that, anyway; I’m not sure enough of his intentions.

If I think about it too much, nerves claw up the inside of my throat and my field of vision narrows like a heart attack. At the same time, there’s a flutter in my chest that wants to take wing – part of me is already soaring free.

How’s it going to start? When will the tap come? And where – to my shoulder, the window, the door? It’s raining now – should I be trying to get some sleep while we definitely can’t go anywhere? I probably should. But I don’t think I could settle enough for that; there’s too much buzzing around inside my head.

Am I ready? Do I have everything? I shoved a few things in my pack this morning, but there wasn’t any time before I had to leave for the infirmary. Luckily, I keep my most precious possession with me all the time – namely, the laptop – and the few bits of clothing I have to my name will be all of a handful to scoop up and stuff in a bag. I’ll be ready. I have to be ready.

Deep breath. We’re as ready as we’re going to be. It’s time to leave. Time to put Haven in our mirrors.

I can’t wait. I’m terrified. Soon has finally come.

Wish us luck!

I don’t have much time. Last night was not what we expected – it was both better and worse than we had hoped.

It’s hard to know where to start. I suppose I should start with the end and say that we made it. Sort of.

We’re free. I can look around and see familiar, friendly faces. I don’t have to worry about who’s watching and what I’m doing, because they’re all friends, all in the same position as I am. I can sit here and post without fear of someone stealing the laptop.

But there’s no celebration. No smiles or hugs of joy. No song circling the firelight. Sombre faces and painful grimaces sit with us tonight.

We’re not all here. Not all of us made it, and we don’t have a celebration in us. It doesn’t feel right. Instead, we’re huddling in the dark and wondering if the cutouts will catch up with us.

There’s a part of me that wonders if all of this was worth it.

I should go back to the beginning. Tell all of this in order. Start in the black of last night, when the dorm was full of sleeping breaths and drifting snores. The sound of cloth moving against cloth pulled me out of a tense doze; there wasn’t any chance of sleep for me, not after I knew what was coming.

In the strange world between sleeping and waking, I wasn’t sure if the movement was real or part of a dream trying to drag me down. Then Jersey touched my shoulder and I was starkly awake, nodding and pushing myself up out of the bed. It was thickly dark in the dorm but I could see my friend’s face enough to know that this was it. Time. I tried to shush my heartbeat so it wouldn’t wake anyone.

The first thing we had to do was wake the other girls who might be coming with us. I nudged Jersey off to fetch Jaye while I went to wake Iona. The strange one had gone to sleep on her own bed for once, but she was already conscious when I touched her arm. I put a hand to her lips and tugged her up, leading her out to the disused bathroom at the back of the dorms. She didn’t make a sound. A few moments later, Jersey arrived with a sleepy Jaye in tow.

I explained what was happening in quick, hushed words. Iona watched me calmly without a flicker in her expression. Jaye’s mouth fell open and she shifted back from us a step, as if escape was contagious. She asked if we were serious three times, and then how we thought we were going to do it. I couldn’t blame her for the note of disbelief in her voice – we did spring it on her.

I tried to answer her questions, but I could see her withdrawing from the whole idea of it. Jersey looked from me to Jaye and asked her bluntly if she wanted to come along. Put on the spot, Jaye clearly wanted to fold in on herself. Leave? Leave Haven? No. Of course not. Are you insane?

Tia was the one who told us that she would want to come. But Tia wasn’t there and Jaye was obviously not as eager to be out of here as we thought. I was left wondering what on earth we would do with her. I wasn’t prepared for her to say no. She might run and raise the alarm, or wake the rest of the dorm, or cry until someone asks her what’s wrong. She might ruin us by accident.

Jersey wasn’t paralysed with indecision like I was. She just stepped up and punched Jaye in the face, before I could do anything about it. The poor girl crumpled and I struggled not to shout out. The last thing we needed was for the dorm to be brought down upon us right now. It took another punch before Jaye was unconscious and I flinched at the dull, painful sound. I couldn’t have done it. I’ve never just hit someone out of the blue like that, cold and unprovoked.

We had no way of knowing how long she might be out, so we bound her up with the ruins of my blanket: feet, hands and mouth. I tried to make her comfortable against the wall, murmuring apologies she wouldn’t hear. It wasn’t her fault; she didn’t deserve this. It’s just a shame.

When that was done, we turned to the one remaining recruit, who had stood watching us silently. To my surprise, Jersey stepped up to ask Iona gently if she understood what was happening, rubbing her sore knuckles.

“Don’t speak, shhh,” Iona said, nodding slowly. I guess that meant she understood. “Is it time?”

Jersey and I looked at each other and silently agreed that Iona wanted to come. We didn’t have time for any kind of in-depth assessment and she was willing enough. We had already talked about the alternative – leaving her here with the madams and the vultures – and decided we didn’t want to do that.

I told Iona that she must be quiet, not a sound, fetch her things and we’re going. She nodded and shrugged, and stood there waiting for us. Apparently, she already had everything she wanted to take with her. No-one wanted to fumble about in the dark looking for her clothes, so we left it at that. Grabbed our packs and slipped out of the back door.

Outside, I hissed at Jersey, asking her where we were going. To fetch the supplies, she said, leading me off down the back of the next building. It was difficult to see and we tripped over the uneven ground between the patches of light thrown by the floodlights in the courtyards. Staying out of the light meant much stumbling and fumbling – I think Iona made the least noise of the three of us, floating along in her private cloud as she does.

Jersey seemed to know where we were going, so I followed her. I didn’t dare ask her about what was going on and the plan for getting us out of here; we were having enough trouble keeping quiet. I was lost in this escape – I didn’t like trailing around after someone else and I didn’t like not knowing what was going on. I’m used to being in the know and in charge. Nerves swirled around me, twitching at every shadow.

The packs containing the supplies were stuffed in an empty refuse tank – they didn’t smell great but they were still there, safe and waiting for us. There were too many for us to carry on our own but we grabbed what we could. We would have to come back for the rest – the notion made my stomach flop over on itself with unease.

We had just shouldered the load of stinking bags when a beam of light slid over us, slippery as oil. We gasped and hit the ground so fast that the air was punched out of me. I pressed my lips closed to avoid an audible gasp. A pack dug into my back as I huddled down, trying to be small despite my snail-like burden. I felt huge and impractical, and as glaringly obvious as if a neon sign was hovering over me. I eventually dared a breath, kept small and shallow in case someone heard me. Boots crunched against the concrete and I saw a shape move against the distant floodlights. I don’t know how I knew, but I felt it looking in our direction and the beam swung past us again.

Then there was a thud near my head and I looked up. There was a boot. A flashlight’s beam pinned my hands down, the glare blinding me. This is it, I thought. This is the end.

We’ve been caught.

We’re fleeing northeast at the moment. Putting the road under our tyres and just driving, trying to put as much distance between us and Haven as possible. We’re not heading to the University, not until it’s safe. We don’t want to risk leading the cutouts there .

It’s not safe yet. We have to keep our heads down.

Which is where I got to yesterday.

We were crouching on the ground, trying to pretend that no-one could see us. It didn’t work.

“Leaving already?”

The voice came from over my head. I froze, imagining a gun pointing down at me along with the flashlight’s beam, about to spit bullets. We shouldn’t have come for the supplies. We should have gone straight to the vehicles. We might have made it out of there.

Then I recognised the voice. I frowned and pushed myself up onto my knees, squinting through the glaring light.

“Jonah?”

I heard a shifting behind me and Jersey’s grunt as she pushed her burden out of her way.

“You know him?” she asked.

It was definitely him. I couldn’t see most of his face through the glare, but I could make out the pale line of the scar on his jaw through the shadow of his beard. The confusion behind me was almost palpable – like me, the others were wondering if we were actually as caught as we thought we were. Was this a disaster or a deal to be made? They were looking to me and I was looking up at Jonah, trying to figure out what to say.

“What are you doing out here?” It was uninspired, but it was short notice. It’s not like I was prepared for this.

“I think that should be my question,” he said. “So you really are trying to leave. On foot?”

I opened my mouth to tell him no, then closed it again. We might be caught but the others weren’t. They could still get out of here clean. Don’t make it worse, Faith. Don’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. “We’re leaving tonight,” I said instead. “Are you going to stop us?”

“Depends.”

My heart thumped uncomfortably. Here we go. “On what?”

“On whether you have room for a few more.”

It wasn’t what I was expecting him to ask for. I glanced over my shoulder at the others and then got to my feet. The packs were heavy, biting into my shoulders, and I adjusted them to rest on my hips more comfortably. I could feel bruises forming already. The pair behind me got up as well, and I noticed that Jersey was blocking Iona with her body.

I swallowed when I saw the rifle in Jonah’s hands, though it was held casually and not pointing at us. Not an open threat but not reassuring either.

“…A few?” I asked.

That’s when I realised that the shape against the floodlight was still over by the edge of the buildings. It hadn’t been Jonah making that shadow at all – it was a friend of his.

“Four of us,” he said.

“Why do you want to leave?” That was Jersey, stepping up behind my right shoulder. I suddenly felt less alone and out on a limb, teetering.

“Why do you?” Jonah countered.

“Jonah, please,” I said. The last thing we needed was testosterone getting in the way here. Every second we stood here chatting might bring another party into play, and we were running out of possibly-sympathetic ones.

He sighed and looked me in the eye. “I told you – not everyone here agrees with the General’s policies. Some of us are unhappy enough to leave. If you’re going, we want to come. And you owe me.”

There it was. The marker called in at the worst possible moment. My stomach sank – he was making it hard to say no while my head was screaming for me to. He had only caught three of us – the others were safe. Dad, Matt, Thorpe, Dale, and Dan. They could still get away, free and clear. We’d work something out for the rest of us. What if I trusted Jonah and he betrayed us? Raised the alarm as soon as we were all together? What if this was all some elaborate scheme to snag all of the troublemakers at once?

Then Jonah gestured and one of his friends stepped up. The new cutout placed a box on the ground and flipped open the lid so a flashlight beam could show me what was inside. I recognised the contents immediately – I had spent long enough looking for it all. It was the stash that went missing from the infirmary.

“You took it?” I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, it was him?

“I told you that I knew you and your friends were up to something.”

I didn’t know what to say next. He kept quiet. Took the food, hid it somewhere, and kept his mouth shut. Another secret he kept for me, another marker he was calling in. The pressure buzzed in my ears.

The decision was bigger than just me. I looked to the pair behind me for opinions, for help. Iona was as blank as ever. Jersey’s expression was closed and unhappy as she stepped forward. She held out her hands towards Jonah , offering a pack with one and an empty palm with the other.

“Swap you.” She nodded towards the gun.

Jonah hesitated, eyes narrowing, and looked at me. As ideas went, it wasn’t a bad one.

“Your friends too,” I said. “We have to know you won’t betray us.”

“How do we know you won’t just kill us?”

“You don’t,” Jersey said. “You wanna come, you hand those over.”

Jonah looked at us with an unhappy tilt to his lips, then made a gesture with his flashlight. Two more pairs of boots clomped over to us and he explained the situation.

The cutouts weren’t happy but they did give up their rifles. At a nudge from Jersey, they also gave up the handguns they had clipped to their belts. I’m glad one of us knew about those – I hadn’t noticed how many weapons they carried on them, and after it was pointed out, I wondered about combat knives and other small nasties tucked where we couldn’t see.

The soldiers were given our smelly packs to carry and then loaded up with the rest from the hiding place. Jersey and I had two rifles and two handguns each – neither of us felt comfortable putting weapons in Iona’s hands. It felt weird, holding guns and marching people along before us, as if we were the cutouts all of a sudden and they were prisoners. How did that happen?

Then I remembered the last time I held a weapon like this, the sharp crack and the perfect circle punched into Ben’s forehead. I almost dropped the rifle, my hands gone numb. I wrapped them around the damned thing instead, gripping tight enough to make them ache and staying well away from the trigger. It wasn’t the time for crippling sentimentality.

The cutouts gave us no problems and moved quietly enough. We watched them closely but nothing seemed out of place. That was almost suspicious in itself.

I thought we’d go to the back of the compound where the vehicles were hidden, but Jersey led me in the opposite direction. On the way, a small group of men sauntered across a courtyard near us. The floodlights showed them their way and we crouched down nervously just outside of the light, silently praying for ignorance. My pulse hammered at me to get up and run, just run away. I had to force myself to stay down, to keep still, trembling like a rabbit desperate to bolt.

I started second-guessing everything we were doing. Trying to get out of Haven, risking the lives of everyone I cared about. Agreeing to Jonah’s request. Then I heard laughter coming from the brothel rooms and fought back a wave of anger. That’s where those men were going. It pushed me on, determination rising above the drowning fear. That was a reason to go all on its own. The reminder was a blessing.

The revellers didn’t notice us. The cutouts didn’t betray us. I couldn’t help but wonder if Jonah and his boys kept silent because we hadn’t reached the other Seekers yet, but I wasn’t going to question our slender good fortune. I was taut with fraying nerves by the time we got up again to move on. I didn’t say anything; from the look on Jersey’s face, I wasn’t the only one regretting the decision to bring the cutouts with us.

We skirted the light like rats, skimming the well-travelled areas, and wound up near the front gates. A hiss from the side of the road pulled us over there before we came in sight of the sentry posts, drawing us down into a ditch that ran down towards the outer fence. Until we got there, I had no idea the gates had sentry towers, let alone ones that were manned at all hours. The gates were floodlit, brighter than the orange sunlight.

Suddenly there was another hurdle we had to get past: through the closed gates and out before the sentries could shoot us down. I could see the reason for our position: the closer we were to the exit, the less time the cutouts would have to react to the sounds of the engines starting. We needed all the headstart we could get. But we still had to get past them.

Nerves were curdling in my belly when we reached the others. Greetings were muted. Jersey and I offloaded our burdens, and gestured for the cutouts to do the same. I peered into the dark to take stock, and the nerves in my belly joined forces with a fearful snake. My friends peered back.

We had brought more and found less than was expected. Surprise and dismay flared in both halves of the group and I desperately tried to figure out who was missing.

We have to get our heads down. I’ll post more later.

We think we’ve lost the Haven cutouts. It’s possible we’re finally free of them. We’re keeping our course as it is at the moment, though we’ll reach the coast soon and have to choose a direction: north or south. Hard to say right now which way it’ll have to be.

At the ditch, clustering together to prepare to bust out of Haven, we were a mixed group. Intentions, hopes, confidence – all muddled, all standing in the dark peering at each other. Words were exchanged in strained whispers.

All of the Seekers were there except Tia, Terry, and Dan Wu. Dan had decided not to come, I was told. He had had enough of scraping for a living in the ruins and thought that Haven was worth a chance. Tia and Terry’s absence was not a surprise, but that was the moment when I realised I hadn’t said goodbye to either of them. Not even Tia. Jersey hadn’t woken the girl at all; she wouldn’t know we were gone until the morning, like everyone else. It felt unfair. What if she was going to change her mind at the last moment? She never got the chance and we’ll never know now.

Iona hovered on the edges of the group, her fingers plucking at her sleeves restlessly. She was nervous and constantly gazing around with wide eyes, but she kept quiet and that was the important thing at the time.

Dad was a solid presence in the group – I handed him the guns I had taken from Jonah’s friend as soon as I saw him. I didn’t want them any more. I didn’t want to touch another gun again in my life and it was an effort not to remember that it had been Dad’s rifle that I had used on Ben. He gave me a quick, one-armed hug before we turned to the cutouts.

The four men were relieved of their burdens and made to kneel in the centre of our little group. Questions circled around again – what, why do you want to come, why should we take you. They didn’t jump up and raise an alarm, or shout for the nearby sentries to come arrest us. There were no flares, no sudden breaks for freedom away from us. They just answered us, their answers consistent with what they had said earlier, words murmured so that they settled in the bottom of the ditch with us.

I didn’t know what to think. I trusted Jonah, even though I barely knew him at all – it was a gut instinct and I knew it. I wanted to ignore it but we had so little to go on. I didn’t know the other guys at all, though Matt knew one of the others. His familiarity didn’t help much either.

There was no time for a proper discussion. We had to get out of Haven before we were discovered standing here, deep is conversation. It would have been the most ridiculous and useless escape attempt in the world.

We didn’t have many options. I thought about poor Jaye who was going to wake with a wicked headache. We could do to them what we did to her: knock them out, lash them together and leave them here in the ditch. No-one would know until the sun came up. Unless they fought us and shouted for help – that would undo everything. I talked about it briefly with Matt, Thorpe, and Dad, and saw Jonah watching us. The cutouts would get in trouble if we did that. There would be questions about why they were out here, how they got caught by us – us – how we got their weapons and disabled trained soldiers…. It wouldn’t add up and we all knew it.

And we owe Jonah. I owe him, for keeping quiet when he could have got me in trouble, twice now. I couldn’t let that decide us, but I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Maybe the debt wasn’t this big, maybe it didn’t include our friends too, but I was beholden to him. It niggled at me even while I tried to stay distant and detached. Besides, trained soldiers might be useful for us.

There were dangers. Questionable motives and a further strain on our stolen supplies. Weapons, so many weapons. We didn’t have enough information to make a smart choice, so all we had left was the emotional ones. No-one in the group had the stomach to kill them, and leaving them behind would be too dangerous. So many things to think about and no time.

We decided to give them a chance and take them with us. It was safer for everyone. If they were going to raise the alarm and betray us, they could have done it by then and got us all caught – we were close enough to the sentry posts that shouts would be heard. Sounds carry far in the silent dark.

And if worst came to worst, we could deal with them outside of Haven.

The decision made, we turned to load the supplies onto the vehicles. I was expecting to see the hulks of vehicles crouching in the darkness, but there weren’t any. Instead, the bottom of the ditch where the Seekers sheltered held the slim lumps of motorcycles. I didn’t know what to think about it – riding those, we would be exposed, to bullets and the rain, painfully so. I had been told that the boys had found some unused vehicles, and I guessed that this was it. It was a case of making the best of it.

We had to lash the packs to the motorbikes and make room for weapons. There weren’t many bikes, and we were nearly done with the loading when I realised that it wasn’t going to work. Until then, I hadn’t had the chance to count bodies and vehicles. The numbers drew themselves together in my head while I wrangled a heavy pack into place on the back of a bike and I almost let the damned thing thud onto the ground. I struggled to lash it down and then stood back to count again.

The snake of fear in my stomach was still there, and I could feel its coils moving when my numbers were confirmed. There were five bikes, and eleven of us. Two per bike was already pushing it, especially with the supplies, but there were too many people. We would have to leave food behind to make room but the slender bikes still didn’t look like they’d take three.

I didn’t know what to do. Should we draw straws to see who would stay behind? Whoever it was would take the blame for all of this. Blame and punishment.

I was staring at the quiet motions in the ditch, frozen in place. Then Dad touched my arm and jolted me out of it, so he could ask me what was wrong. I told him in a soft, helpless voice and his expression clamped down into grimness. The snake moved in my belly; he already knew. He knew the numbers didn’t fit.

“Don’t worry, Faithy,” he said, not making any sense at all. How could I not worry about that? “Everyone will fit.”

“How?”

His gaze was avoiding my face, even in the dark. “I should have told you this before. I’m sorry.”

The snake had fangs made of ice. It bit deep. “Told me what?”

He looked at me finally, so I’d know he meant it. “I’m not coming with you.”

Where was I? Our time is so fractured right now – so many little things to take care of. Everyone’s lending a hand with few complaints now. There’s always one, though.

We’re still running. Most of us are still in one piece and we haven’t seen any signs of pursuit for a day or two now.

We’re in sight of the coast. There’s the tang of salt on the air and we’re up against that choice. Do we dare turn south, to head towards the University at last? Or should we be cautious and head away from it, in case we’re still being followed?

Either way, we have to keep pushing on, though I don’t think I’d mind being caught. Not entirely.

Being told that my dad wasn’t coming with us was like being punched. I was winded, my eyes pricking as I struggled to breathe. If anyone else had said they weren’t coming, I would have hit back, argued with them, but it was Dad. He’s solid and sensible, he knows what he’s doing, and he’s more stubborn than I am. He wasn’t coming. It filled my ears, trying to drown me.

“But-” All I was capable of was single bitten-off words. “Why-”

Dad shushed me, stepping closer to put a hand on my shoulder. “I have to stay,” he said. He had obligations in Haven, and he was too old to go running around the landscape. He’d only slow us down. He didn’t want to say goodbye to me, but it was for the best. We should leave, we should find somewhere better to be than this, and we didn’t need him. Besides, someone had to explain things to the General, and someone had to create a distraction while we got out. He’d sort all that out. He’d make sure we got away clean.

I tried to argue with him. He wouldn’t slow us down – but we were taking the girl with the disturbed brain with us, weren’t we? We’ve travelled with kids and people older than he is. We can’t leave him behind to take the blame for this. They’ll punish him. We can’t let that happen. We can’t. And he’s wrong; we do need him. “I need you.”

I was struggling not to cry and he cupped my face in his hands, making me look at him. “You’ll do fine without me,” he said firmly. “Same as you did before you got here. No tears now, Faithy.”

“But I only just found you.” I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t upset. Of course I was. I felt so small in his hands.

“We’ll find each other again.” He sounded so sure about that but I couldn’t believe it. In the After, it only takes the tiniest slip to lose someone. Finding him once was amazing enough. I knew I wouldn’t change his mind but I couldn’t be okay with it. Every part of me wanted to fight it.

“It’s not fair.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I hugged him then, burying myself into his chest and holding on as if that might make a difference. I breathed him deep and fought back the sobs that were making my chest tight. I wanted to break down, but this wasn’t the time for it. I needed to be clear-headed if we were going to make it out. I had to shut it away, shove the feeling down to where the treacherous snake in my belly could make it cold and numb. I drew in Dad’s smell, trying to fix it in my memory, and held him tight.

His voice had a rough edge to it when he finally took me by the shoulders and stepped back. “Go on, now.”

I felt Matt limping up to my side but I couldn’t look at him. I was barely holding myself together as it was; if I met the sympathetic look in his eyes, I knew I’d crumble. I had to keep myself in one piece until we were clear of Haven. I pulled myself straight and tried to remember how to breathe. It was harder than I thought it would be.

Dad tucked something into my jacket pocket – for later, he said – and asked Matt to look after me. Then he said he would go and create a diversion for us and said goodbye.

“I’m coming back for you. Someday,” I said.

He looked at me and touched my cheek, nodding solemnly. Then the darkness swallowed him and I stood exactly where I was, numb.

“Come on,” Matt said softly, tugging on my arm. “We have to go.”

There wasn’t anything else to do. Dad was gone and somehow, I had let him go. All that was left to do was figure out how to work the damned motorbikes and get out of there. Abruptly, I couldn’t wait to get it over with – I wanted to be gone, to run far away from this place. And maybe, to forget what we had found there. It seemed like it would be easier than remembering.

Thorpe gave me a quick tutorial on how to drive the bike. How to start it; what the levers did. I had to sharpen my attention to take in what he said and that helped me block out everything else. Focus, Faith. There was no room for mistakes – if I stalled the engine, there wouldn’t be time to start it again. Luckily, our time riding the scooters were of some use, even if they weren’t exactly the same.

“When we get to the gates, go straight for the centre,” he said. I nodded and filed the information away with the rest of his instructions.

We didn’t trust the cutouts enough to let them take charge of the bikes. So they would ride pillion, as would Iona on the fifth bike. Each of the Seekers had to drive, even Matt with his weak leg. Jonah was going to ride with me, but I told him to make sure that Matt was all right – Jonah was the only one of the cutouts I trusted enough for that. I took a stranger on my bike – I didn’t care which one; there wasn’t time to be choosy. Bobby, his name is. I didn’t find that out until much later.

Abruptly, we were ready. Everyone was on their respective motorbike, poised ready, even the pillion riders. The sound of the engines would attract attention, so we had to be able to go as soon as they were started. It made things awkward when kick-starting the bikes but the compromise was worth it.

Silence fell. I could hear the cutout breathing behind me and the shift of Matt’s glove against the handlebar to my right. I wondered what we were waiting for, what our signal would be, and looked around. Three bikes away, Thorpe was twisted to look behind him, towards the compound’s buildings. I remembered Dad’s words about a distraction and the snake weighed my stomach down like a rock. What kind of distraction? What was he going to do?

Floodlights snapped on behind us, pointed inwards and looking for something within the compound. Voices carried to us across the night air, raised in controlled urgency.

Then sound shattered the space around us: Thorpe’s engine coughed into life. Then another, and another. Hurriedly, I lifted myself up and lurched down on the pedal. Once, twice before the damn thing caught. I muttered through the instructions, trying not to forget anything. Kick that out of the way, nudge this, rev the engine so it doesn’t stall, make sure it’s in gear and let the clutch out. Don’t stall, don’t fall. Go, go, don’t be left behind.

We were a roar tearing along the ditch. I didn’t remember to switch the headlight on until we rose up out of it, cresting the edge in a shower of dirt and slithering tyres. One of the bikes skidded wildly in front of me – I didn’t see who was on it. The engine screeched as it pulled the bike straight again and I swallowed down a nervous lump in my throat. I wished that we’d had a chance to practise this. I wished that we had helmets.

We barrelled down towards the gate. The sentries were shouting in their towers but I couldn’t make out the words above the noise of the engines. Probably warnings. We didn’t waver, notching up the gears as the engines hauled us on faster and faster.

The gates were closed. Closed and locked. Punching through might work in movies, but we were far from Hollywood. I was sure it wouldn’t work now. Whoever hit them first would be thrown off and hurt, or worse. How can we not have a plan for this? Still we accelerated.

Gunfire punctured the air and kicked up the dirt around us. I hunched low, desperately hoping the cutouts would be unlucky in their aim. It was the only protection we had.

We were only a short distance from the gates when I saw one of the guys stretch up from his bike. One arm swung up, then forwards, snapping a small ball at the closed portal.

The explosion was the loudest thing I’ve heard since the bomb went off over my head. Something hit the back of the bike and it wavered. I fought to keep it upright. I wanted to brake but didn’t dare. My passenger’s arms tightened around me as I struggled, making it harder to breathe. Hair and debris whipped at my face. My knuckles stung. Keep going. We had to keep going.

Heat and smoke punched past us. My eyes stung and the headlight was useless. Aim for the centre, Thorpe had said. I had no idea where that was. The roar in my ears drowned out the other engines. I aimed for where I thought the centre of the gates was and sped on. Hoped for the best. Hoped the hole was big enough for us and we would hit it. Instead, it swallowed us.

The rest is a blur of dark and dust. Burning eyes squinting and trying to make sure that the road was still in front of the bike. Bullets pecked around us. My hearing was shattered, full of revving and roaring. The air tasted of dirt and ash, scouring my throat.

We pulled ourselves out of the other side of the smoke and the puffs of dust from bullets hitting the ground stopped. We kept going. The hulks of the buildings at Greenberry Junction rose up out of the darkness, picked out in headlight beams, and then fell behind us. We skidded around ninety degrees when we hit the highway. Tyres bit onto tarmac and we sped on.

I didn’t look back, not once.