Disruption (14 page)

‘What’s your name?’

‘Sarah,’ she responded.

‘Can you climb a rope, Sarah?’

‘I can do whatever it takes to get free of this hell.’

I nodded. ‘If you fall behind, I won’t come back for you.’

She licked her lips, excited. ‘I get it.’

‘You know if they catch us …’ I eyed her.

‘Not like I’m ever going to actually regret this choice.’

I understood what she was saying. Her only other option was to stay. And she was right, if she wasn’t skilled and couldn’t be of use, things would be coming to an abrupt end for her soon.

It was definitely a mistake. Nonetheless, I justified it in my mind quickly. She had information about Dad. But it was more than that. I
needed
to do this. Needed to give the whole damn system the finger and set at least one person free. I gave her a nod, which caused her features to soften and eyes to fill with guarded hope, and then we were at the window. I went first so that I could get into position to help her up.

She was surprisingly strong, and very determined; we made it off the roof and up to the tunnels in good time. I sprinted down the tunnel, Sarah panting at my heels. Everything might’ve gone smoothly, except when we turned into the main transit tunnel and started the run through the maze that would take us back to the shelter, I took a wrong turn.

Right into an area where two guards were stationed.

I drew to a skidding halt. Sarah took a few more steps past me before she saw what was in front of her and stopped too.

It felt like slow motion.

The guards looked up and saw her.

‘Hey!’ they screamed, raising their guns.

‘There’s someone behind her too!’ one of them yelled, but I was shadowed enough that they couldn’t see my face in the darkness of the tunnel.

‘Sarah, run,’ I hissed at her.

She didn’t hesitate, turning back and lifting her feet. I spun around and started to move. Maybe we would make it.

The shots were deafening in the tunnel, the sound rebounding off the walls. I turned in time to see her head rock forwards as it took the force of the second bullet. She went down hard. Motionless.

My speeding pulse set my M-Band off with a string of wild beeps. My body jerked forwards. I had to check her. Even though I was sure. I wanted to check she wasn’t breathing.

But then I heard the footsteps and I was running again. Another shot rang out and I felt the bullet puncture my side. I kept moving, my legs and arms pumping harder than ever before. I focused ahead, paying attention to the tunnels, making my way back the way I’d come and then eventually to the tunnel that led me to the homeless shelter’s basement door. It was concealed within their cool room.

I burst into the cold space and then through the outer door I’d left wedged ajar. Trembling and clutching at my side, I cried out in pain and stared at my blood-covered hand. Every step was agony but I was certain if I stopped now, I would never make it.

When I stumbled up the steps, I saw a dirty grey blanket hanging from the railing and I grabbed it, wrapping it around my shoulders to hide the blood.

Head down, I walked through the shelter, my M-Band finally beginning to quieten.

I was surrounded by people who had lost so much – homes, families, friends, jobs. Love. I staggered through the room and knew the haunted look in their eyes was eerily similar to the one that would now remain with me forever.

‘Miss,’ a voice said. ‘Miss, are you okay? Do you need help?’

The man looked at me kindly, his eyes free of judgement. A freedom I did not deserve.

I shook my head and kept going, dragging my feet out the door.

‘Miss?’ he called after me. But his duty of care had a perimeter and he didn’t follow beyond the door.

I
banged on Gus’s door, leaning against the wall. I couldn’t remember the drive. Or parking. I could barely remember taking the steps to his apartment. Somehow the blanket was still half wrapped around me and I was clinging to it with a shaking and bloodied hand.

I was starting to slide down the wall when the door opened and a hand caught me under the arm.

‘Jesus Christ, Maggie,’ he said, helping me into the apartment. He put me down on his couch.

‘Where are you hurt?’ He was breathing fast, his eyes panicked.

I let the blanket fall away as a round of curse words fell from his lips. And then again, when he pulled up my shirt and the bullet wound gushed more blood.

He ran to his bathroom and returned with a pile of towels. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. ‘We’re going to have to get you to the hospital.’

But we both knew we couldn’t do that.

‘Maggie …’ He let out a weighted breath and tried to mop up the blood. ‘This looks really bad. I don’t think we have a choice.’

I shook my head. It didn’t matter how bad it was, hospital was not an option.

He cursed some more, disappeared, and returned with a glass of water and a handful of pills. He put them in my hand and held me up while I swallowed them. There were more than should be right, but I didn’t argue.

‘I need to see if there’s an exit wound,’ he said, gently pushing me up further and pulling my top up. I was fairly sure his answer was in the affirmative when he blew out a heavy breath. ‘Jesus, Maggie. There’s blood everywhere.’ He positioned a towel at my back before laying me down again.

On the bright side, an exit wound was good news. At least he wouldn’t have to go fishing for a bullet. The sag in his shoulders told me he was feeling a similar wave of relief.

He took a few more steadying breaths and looked again. ‘Okay,’ he said, trying to sound in control. ‘The blood’s bright so hopefully it hasn’t hit anything important. But we have to treat this. It’s going to hurt.’

I nodded tightly. ‘Just do it.’

He disappeared again and came back with a bottle of vodka. When he poured it onto the wound, I could feel it burn its way through as if it had set my soul alight. It was what I deserved.

Tears sprang from my eyes.

I didn’t make a sound.

Once satisfied the wound was clean, Gus wrapped gauze around my belly, pulling it as tight as he dared.

‘This is only going to hold it for a bit, Maggie,’ he said.

‘It’ll do,’ I responded. ‘Can you drop me home?’

‘You’re staying here,’ Gus replied, distracted now by his phone.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Can’t. Mom will check on me in the morning before she heads to work. Need to be there.’ I couldn’t handle her launching an inquiry at the moment. Plus, I needed to be back. My place. My bed. My nightmare.

‘Can you sit up?’ Gus asked, as he typed something into his phone.

Whatever Gus had given me had started to kick in. I nodded and moved to get up. But when I couldn’t hide the wince, Gus was there with his arm under my shoulder.

‘You might want to bring a few towels,’ I suggested.

He narrowed his eyes, glancing at the wound.

I made a pathetic attempt at a smile. ‘Not for me. There’s blood all over your driver’s seat.’

He grabbed the towels and cursed all the way down to his car.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in my garage, lying on my bed.

I swallowed, my throat paper dry. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

‘Passed out,’ Gus responded.

‘Oh.’ Had Gus carried me upstairs?

He was sitting on the edge of my bed, looking at his phone again. ‘Mags, I gotta go,’ he said.

I’d already figured he had something going down. Right then, I didn’t want to know what it was. I just couldn’t take anymore, so I nodded.

‘Thanks,’ I rasped, my eyelids now heavy.

He looked down guiltily.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,’ I said.

He shook his head. ‘That’s not it.’

My eyes opened a fraction. ‘Then what?’ I asked, now suspicious.

‘Don’t kill me, okay, but you can’t be left alone right now.’ As he spoke I saw the lights of an approaching car light up my window. The car stopped and the engine was switched off.

‘Gus, what have you done?’ I whispered, dreading the answer. If he’d called my mom or Samuel, I was going to be extremely unhappy.

He stood up. ‘I really have to go. I called Quentin.’

I couldn’t stop myself. ‘How the hell could you do that?’ I yelled, my words slurring thanks to Gus’s painkiller cocktail. ‘After all your warnings! He’s the worst person to … Do you
want
us to get caught? Do you want to go to prison? How can you bring him into this now!’

He smiled sadly. ‘You left me no choice.’

‘I swear to God, Gus, you are going to pay for this!’

‘What’s new, Maggie?’ He headed for the door, pausing to look back at me. ‘And why do I think you’re more worried about him being involved than anything he could actually
do
to us?’ With a shrug, he left.

My head fell back on the pillow. Perfect. Now Quentin was going to see me all messed up and weak. That was the last thing I needed. The entire plan depended on him knowing he could rely on me to help
him
.

A couple of minutes later, I was trying pathetically to reach my blanket. I’d given up on reaching for my shoes, which wouldn’t come off until I untied them, but at least if I could cover myself with the blanket he wouldn’t see the whole dramatic scene.

Of course, I was sweating like a pig in my futile attempts only to look up and see him standing in my doorway. Livid.

‘What the hell have you done now?’ Quentin boomed.

‘Great to see you too,’ I said, wincing as I eased back on the bed.

Quentin continued to glare at me, a fierceness in his eyes that was pretty darn intimidating.

‘Sorry Gus bothered you.’

He ignored my comment and said, in a low and threatening voice, ‘Who did this to you?’

I knew he was worried about me, but his tone startled me so much that I shivered. One day that fierceness would be directed at me, and what frightened me the most was that the emotion I was feeling was one I hadn’t expected to feel for anyone other than my father. One I didn’t want to feel ever again. But invited or not, there it was. Regret.

‘You should go,’ I mumbled, turning my head away from him as I once again reached forwards to try to grab the damn blanket.

‘Stop!’ he growled, and then he was moving forwards and snatching the blanket further away.

‘That was just mean,’ I grumbled. ‘Please go.’

But when my head finally turned to his, our eyes locked and I saw an intensity in his that told me he wasn’t going anywhere. He looked away quickly. And it seemed as if it was with a kind of shame, not dissimilar to my own. Had I done that to him?

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. I couldn’t stop the words. They had to be said.

‘For what?’ He still wasn’t looking at me.

I swallowed. I wanted to be good enough, to fess up, but I wasn’t. ‘For … making you come here in the middle of the night. I’m sure you had something better to do or, you know, sleep.’

‘I don’t sleep,’ he said bluntly, looking back to me briefly before turning to my chest of drawers. Without asking, he started to rummage through my stuff, pulling out a few items before returning to me. I saw he had a pair of sweats and a large T-shirt in his hands.

He sat gingerly at the end of the bed and, wordlessly, began to untie my boots before gently sliding them off. Each action seemed to take away a little of his anger. When he was finished, he glanced up at me, gently lifting the blanket to my waist. ‘I’m going to take off your jeans, okay?’

Things were already beyond humiliating, what would a little more hurt? And God knows they had to come off, I could smell the blood drying on them already. I unbuttoned my fly and zip and pushed them down, but when I winced he put his hands on mine, stopping me.

‘Hold this,’ he said, giving me the edge of the blanket.

Quentin put his hands underneath and gripped the waistband of my jeans, slowly moving them down, as I remained covered beneath the blanket. It was all very chaste. But I felt his knuckles on the inside of my pants as they moved down my legs. I received a repeat performance when he pulled on my sweats and though I wanted to look at him, to see if it was affecting him at all, I didn’t dare.

When he was done, I could feel my breathing quicken and I had to concentrate to avoid a beep-off. Hell, if I wasn’t getting the mute upgrade next chance I got.

Quentin gestured to my top. ‘You’re covered in blood. Maggie … I want to help, but I don’t want to –’ He swallowed. ‘If you can manage alone, I’ll turn around.’

But we both knew I couldn’t even reach for the blanket. I nodded rigidly and bristled a little too. ‘I’m not afraid of you, Quentin,’ I said, falling back into my reliable bravado.

He smiled weakly. ‘I’m well aware of that, Maggie. I’m a neg,’ he said, causing a crack at the edge of my resolve.

I’ve done this.

I thought back to the testing day – if only I’d known him. If only I’d known that never before had a more dangerous person crossed my path. And never would again.

He swiped at the tear that slipped down my cheek.

‘Are you in pain?’ he whispered.

I shook my head. The painkillers were really doing their stuff and I was starting to feel increasingly groggy. No doubt that was also the reason for my runaway thoughts.

‘Will you let me do this?’ he asked.

I nodded, and when he pulled my body up, instead of just taking off my top, he pulled me to his chest and held me while – for the first time in two years – I cried.

‘They killed her,’ I sobbed into his chest.

‘What’s that? I can’t hear you,’ he soothed.

‘I’m so sorry, Quentin,’ I whispered. ‘I’m so sorry I brought you into this.’

‘Shh,’ he comforted, brushing down my hair. ‘I don’t want to be anywhere else, Maggie. For the first time in my life, I’m right where I’m supposed to be.’

His words made it worse.

Eventually he eased back from me, lifting my arms above my head. Then, not taking his eyes from mine, he lifted my top, leaving me in nothing but a see-through white bra. But he didn’t look down. Not once. He kept his gaze locked on mine, even as he lowered the T-shirt over my arms and head.

And God help me if I didn’t wonder what it might be like to kiss him.

Dad and I were in our booth. Weeks had gone by and Dad had been perfecting the small concoction that he slipped into the waitress’s drink each Thursday night.

So far nothing had happened, but Dad’s interest never waned and, as a result, nor did mine. Our meals had arrived and we ate silently as we observed Beth drinking her iced tea.

It happened almost instantly, with the next customer she passed. You could see Beth’s surprise as she stared at her M-Band. I glanced back at Dad to see a small grin forming on his face. Beth was moving around the room slowly, eyes fixed to her wrist.

A rosy flush made its way into her cheeks and one of the customers approached her up at the counter. Dad and I listened on as he asked Beth if she might be interested in getting a coffee after her shift. Beth, still seeming to be in a state of shock, nodded shyly.

‘Dad, oh my God, did you … Did you do that? Did you change her ratings?’ I couldn’t even believe I was asking the question.

‘It’s not so different to treating insects, Maggie.’

I shook my head. ‘But I don’t understand. Aren’t the lower ratings supposed to be the dominant signatures? How can you make her take higher readings?’

Dad’s eyes glittered with excitement and he leaned in. ‘I’m not. That’s the beauty of it. I’ve simply altered her signal output, just enough to create positive results when her signature is received by others. Like insects, alter the output signal for positive results. Alter the inward receptors for a negative.’ Dad gave a humble smile.

I stared, open-mouthed. I didn’t fully understand what he was saying, but I knew it was huge.

Dad gave me one of his signature winks and pulled out his wallet, dropping a few bills on the table before leaning towards me and speaking softly. ‘Imagine all the good we could do.’

That was the day he became my hero.

When I opened my eyes, I was still in bed. It was barely dawn and there was a quiet murmuring nearby. I looked towards the sound to see Gus and Quentin talking in hushed tones.

‘I’m awake,’ I slurred, the night’s events coming back to me.

‘Oh, joy,’ Gus retorted.

I smiled.

I glanced at Quentin. ‘Did I pass out?’

He looked like he was biting back a grin. ‘After you started slurring about some … things you were wondering about.’

The smile slipped from my face. The last thing I remembered thinking about was kissing him. No … no way. Please don’t let me have said that out loud.

He chuckled. ‘It was all very sweet, but entirely incoherent.’

Was he saving me? Either way, I took it.

‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘I can’t remember any of it.’

‘Understandably,’ he said, his own smile fading.

Gus chose that moment to sit on the bed beside me, reminding me of the pain down the right-hand side of my body. I pulled the blanket down and lifted my shirt to see the blood had soaked through the bandage.

‘Awesome,’ I groaned.

Gus, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, pulled a tube out of the brown bag he was carrying. I raised my eyebrows when he started to deftly undo my bandages.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘Just let me concentrate for a minute, Mags,’ he answered.

I waited, watching as he passed the bandages to Quentin, instructing him there were fresh ones in the bag by the door. Once he’d cleaned the wound for a second time, he pressed the tip of the pressurised tube at the opening of the wound and a towel at the opening in my back.

‘This might hurt,’ he said.