Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,69

some sleep. I’m just going in the shower.”

“OK. Night, Dad.”

Britney came back into the room. She was carrying a mug, and gave a little gasp as she spotted me behind the door. I saw her eyes widen and she quickly held her index finger up to her mouth. She closed the door, and I slumped back against it, silent tears running down my face. She crouched down next to me.

“What is it?” she hissed.

I couldn’t get any words out.

He was gone.

It was all over.

“Listen, tell me in a minute, when my dad’s in the shower. Get back into bed — I’ve brought you some tea. Here.” She’d put the tea down, and now she was helping me to my feet and shepherding me back to bed.

I couldn’t drink the tea. It was all I could do to keep breathing, black grief pulsing through me. After a minute or so, we heard the bathroom door close and the shower start up. Britney shuffled forward in the bed and put her hands on my legs.

“It’s OK to talk now, but quietly, still. Now what on earth is it?”

“He’s dead, isn’t he? I heard you. He’s dead.” The words were distorted, blurry, but somehow she understood.

“No, you turnip, it was the other one.”

“What?”

“The other bloke they arrested. A big bloke, Dad said, covered in tatts.”

Tattoo Face?

“He went mad in his cell, started smashing everything up. Took eight of them to stop him, and he died in the middle of it all.”

“He died?”

“They don’t know if someone hit him or if he had a heart attack or whatever. All hell’s broken loose down at the station, anyway. Dad was one of the eight — he’s been suspended for the time being.”

Tattoo Face, not Spider. 12112010.

“Britney?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know when it happened? What time?”

“Just before midnight. Just before the end of Dad’s shift.”

It was like things were slotting back into place again. The ground had shifted beneath my feet for a while, rules bending, but now we were back on solid ground: sickening, nightmarish, but solid ground. The numbers were real. Spider was still alive, but he only had three days to go.

“You OK?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Need a hug?”

I didn’t answer, but she leaned forward anyway and put her arms ’round me. I stiffened, and she must have felt it, but she didn’t let me go.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Everything will be alright. Here, have some of that tea.” She handed it over — hot, sweet tea, best thing I’d tasted for a long time. I drained the cup and we both lay down, curled up at opposite ends of the bed, legs hooked into each other’s. The tea had soothed me; my mind was so full I couldn’t think anymore. I was completely exhausted now; I could feel waves of sleep starting to wash over me.

“Britney?” I said quietly into the darkness.

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

“You’re alright.”

“I mean it.”

“Shuddup, and go to sleep.”

That made me smile; it was like listening to a reflection of myself. And I did go to sleep, an instant, dreamless sleep, away from the world for a few hours, away from the tick, tick, tick of the clock.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I reached for the alarm clock and held it in front of my face. Nearly half-six. It was still dark, but wouldn’t be for much longer. I shifted around in the bed, trying to figure out how I felt.

“Are you awake?” Britney’s voice whispered.

“Yeah.” Truth was, I felt pretty rough. I’d had a few hours good sleep, but I felt tired, a bit queasy.

“We’ll have to be really, really quiet.”

“OK.” We were both in our clothes, anyway, so we got up in the dark and padded downstairs.

“I’ll go in first, make sure we don’t startle Ray.”

Ray?

She opened the kitchen door, and I could hear her whispering to someone. So it was a setup after all. I should have known it was too good to be true. People will always let you down. I looked down the hallway. I could easily let myself out the front door.

“It’s OK, come on.” Britney was beckoning me into the kitchen.

I took another look at the front door, but something told me to trust her. I walked toward the square of light coming from other end of the hall. She was bent over in the kitchen, holding the collar of an enormous dog, a great big hairy German shepherd. I don’t do animals. Never had a pet, obviously, don’t know anything about them. The way some people fuss over them and talk to