turn out to be someone else entirely later on.
He watched as the dancing spotlight beams panned across each other, producing a giant X in the sky. He lay back on his elbows and looked up at the stars.
He’d go back and tell Mum, and Leona, and Walter about their time here. How good they’d got things at the Safety Zone. Maybe he’d even be able to persuade them to come back with him and see for themselves; merge the communities together. There was certainly space enough for everyone here.
‘Hey, Nate?’
‘Uhh?’
‘You reckon being one of these praetorians is a bit like being a soldier?’
Nathan gave it some thought. ‘S’pose. More like being a policeman, I think.’
‘But they get guns.’ He’d seen them patrolling outside in pairs, watching the workers, guns slung over their shoulders.
‘They gotta have guns, mate. I mean, them wild kids that attacked us? They’re out there, Jay. Reckon they’ve got to patrol the perimeters like border guards or somethin’.’
On patrol . . . just like for-real soldiers. A uniform as well.
Jacob looked around and saw a cluster of men watching them silently from a dozen yards away. He’d noticed an undercurrent of resentment from some of the workers towards the praetorians. He decided to lower his voice a little.
‘I hope Maxwell does take us on.’
Nathan settled back on his elbows and joined him looking up at the stars.
‘Me, too. It’s gonna be props, man.’
‘Yeah, really props.’ Jacob sighed. It always sounded naff when he tried using some of Nathan’s cool words.
‘It’s going to be good.’
The one thing Leona feared the most was not doing it properly. She wanted a clean drop, one impact and it was all over. Dying slowly, dying painfully; the thought of that terrified her. Which is why she wanted somewhere high enough to be absolutely certain.
She pushed the maintenance access door open and stepped out onto the roof of the Westfield shopping mall. It stretched out before her like a football pitch, criss-crossed here and there with pipes that ended with AC outlets. At the far end was a spiked brush of antennae and satellite dishes.
By moonlight the pale weathered surface reminded her of the helipad back home. An island alone in a dark sky. With the stars scattered above, she could just as well have been standing on a platform in the middle of space, drifting through the universe for eternity.
She made her way across the broad expanse, seeing her dark moon shadow cast before her. As she neared the edge she saw it was rimmed by a safety rail - not enough to put off someone determined but enough to protect a hapless worker from an unfortunate tumble. She ducked down and climbed between the bars and then gasped as she caught sight of the sheer drop below.
All of a sudden she felt dizzy, her legs wobbled beneath her and she quickly sat down, wrapping one arm around the rail. Her stomach churned, she wanted to throw up - her body’s reaction. It had finally woken up and realised what she was intending to do and was now doing everything in its power to convince her otherwise.
She cursed herself for being a weak, silly cow. Cursed whatever deeply-bedded survival instinct was making this last task so bloody difficult for her, making her hand clutch the rail tightly.
‘Just a little jump,’ she whispered. ‘And then we’re all done.’
Her body remained unconvinced.
‘Just another step,’ she urged. ‘And then . . .’
She imagined letting go and leaning forward; just five seconds of air whistling past her ears, chilling her face.
Please don’t jump.
Leona looked up at the sound of the little voice and saw Hannah, chin resting on the railing, a leg swinging impatiently, scuffing the tarmac with the tip of her sandals.
She smiled at her daughter. ‘Hello again, trouble.’
Hannah rolled her eyes and offered a long-suffering smile. The gesture was so her. Leona laughed softly at the vision of her daughter, hanging on the railing and gazing out at the dark horizon. She could quite happily indulge this fantasy for a minute or two.
Please don’t be a silly gonk, said Hannah.
‘I’m tired, Hannah, love. Tired of struggling along.’
She frowned. Why be so tired?
It was hard to explain to a child who’d never known anything other than life on the rigs. Hard to explain how difficult it was to get up each and every day and work ceaselessly to squeeze such a meagre payback out of life. When once upon a time it was effortless; a