cavernous chamber, setting the laundry lines aflutter. Valérie turned to his right and saw a blurred bar of daylight narrowing as the door swung shut again. He heard footsteps ringing out on the metal treads of the walkway, then, out of the dimness at one end and into a pool of daylight cast from a skylight far above, stepped Jennifer Sutherland.
‘Jennifer.’ He smiled warmly.
She stared at him in silence, her eyes lost in the shadows cast by her brow.
‘Jennifer, have you finally come to join us?’
She pulled something out from beneath her cardigan. He recognised the dull metallic glint of a gun in her hands.
‘You’re a bastard,’ she hissed under her breath.
He took a step backwards. ‘Jennifer, I am very sorry about the vote this morn—’
‘Shut up!’ she snapped.
‘You are still welcome amongst us. Welcome to join—’
‘SHUT UP!’ She shouldered the shotgun.
Valérie bit his lip and nodded. Several voices called up from below. Pleading voices.
‘Jenny!’ cried Martha. ‘What’re you doing?’
The side of her face scarred with a spiderweb of knitting skin gave nothing away. The other side, unblemished, hardened as her jaw clasped; lips tightened like purse strings. The gun wavered unsteadily in her hands.
‘Jenny?’ cried Martha again, ‘please, put the gun down, love!’
‘You,’ she hissed at him. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’
Valérie shook his head. ‘I do not know what—’
‘Natasha . . . and Hannah.’
‘Those poor sweet girls,’ replied Latoc. ‘They are . . . they are in a far better place now, Jennifer. They sit with our L—’
‘SHUT UP!!’
He slowly backed up another step. ‘You know it was Walter who killed them. You know that . . . but I think you cannot accept that, no?’
She racked the gun. ‘I know Walter! I know Walter. But you . . . I can see what you are now!’
Valérie smiled. ‘I am what?’
‘You’re fucking dead,’ she whispered. The chamber echoed with the deep boom of the shotgun.
Chapter 64
10 years AC
O2 Arena - ‘Safety Zone 4’, London
‘He’s definitely up to something,’ replied Adam Brooks quietly. ‘I think he’s getting ready to go. He’ll take who he needs and be gone.’
Leona could see his face through the gaps in the shifting veil of leaves, fumbling amongst the bamboo canes and pea vines for the few remaining pods. He was in the next aisle going through the motions of working but actually keeping a lookout for any jackets walking the perimeter nearby, or any other workers inching their way along the aisle and getting close enough that they could listen in.
‘When they leave,’ Adam continued, ‘things will fall apart quickly, Leona. No jackets around, it’ll suddenly be everyone for themselves. Complete bloody chaos. And that bastard Maxwell, I’m certain, won’t be leaving any food supplies behind for us. It’ll turn ugly very quickly. This place will fold just like the other safety zones.’
‘Then we should be sure our escape happens before that,’ whispered Leona. ‘I mean . . . as soon as we possibly can.’
Jacob’s words haunted her. Don’t let them hurt Mum.
‘We have to get back home before they arrive there.’ She reached through the leaves for a pod, wincing at the pain along her bruised arms and ribs as she stretched for it. ‘Brooks, you told me there were one or two other soldiers like you?’
‘Adam,’ he smiled. ‘You can call me Adam.’
Leona stared at him silently. ‘The others?’
‘Just the three of us now. They put us in different work groups, so we hardly see—’
‘Would you trust them?’
‘They’re good men.’
‘But do you trust them?’
Adam hesitated a moment. ‘Yeah, I think so.’
Leona nodded. ‘Then they can join us if they want. Could you go find them? Talk to them?’
‘Sure. I think they’re over the other side this morning, but I could arrange for us to meet somewhere at a break time.’
‘Do that then,’ she replied.
They continued working in silence. The air filled with the fidgeting of leaves and the trickle of water poured from watering cans nearby, the quiet murmur of conversations and the far-off echo of someone hammering.
Leona looked a lot worse than she felt. The swelling around her eye had gone down, now it was just a black eye, a shiner. The bruises over her arms and legs, mottled dark patches that only hurt if she pressed against them. And thankfully, no broken bones or internal damage, as far as she was aware. Her jaw still ached when she spoke at length, but that too was better than it had been.
Several days since those things happened. She’d lost track of