GLAZE (31 page)

‘What now?’ I say, not wanting this to end.
 

‘We walk out of here. And take you somewhere Max can never find you.’
 

I look up at him. ‘Is there such a place?’
 

‘We’ll find one. There are still some countries that don’t have access.’

‘But every time I try to leave they stop me.’
 

‘You’re with a WhiteInc nurse now. What can they say?’

 
He kisses me again, quicker this time, and it’s like taking a hit from a strong drink.
 

‘I don’t have any shoes.’
 

‘Once we’re out of the door,’ Ethan says, ‘I’ll carry you.’
 

I smile. ‘OK. Let’s go.’
 

‘Do you have everything?’ he asks.
 

I look around the room, at the wilting flowers and the copy of
The
Count of Monte Cristo
.
 

‘I have everything I need,’ I say, taking hold of his hand.
 

He reaches out to open the door.
 

‘Wait,’ I say. ‘Zizi. I can’t leave her here.’
 

He pauses for a moment, considering what to do, chewing on his bottom lip. ‘Then we take her with us.’

We find a wheelchair and Ethan pushes it to Zizi’s room. I can tell he’s as scared as I am, not to mention as eager to be away from this place, but he walks slowly, playing the part of nurse well.
 

Zizi is waiting, as always, staring ahead.
 

‘Come on,’ I say to her. ‘It’s time for a change of scenery.’

Ethan helps me move her from her seat into the wheelchair, but she’s so light I could probably have done it myself. I reposition the blanket over her legs and look at Ethan. I’m ready.
 

Almost. ‘Hang on.’ I pull the slippers off her feet and put them on my own. Now I’m ready.
 

He wheels her back out into the corridor and we head for the elevators at the far end. Nurses walk past and smile. Nothing wrong with another nurse taking a patient out for a breath of fresh air.
 

The elevators take forever to arrive. I keep punching the call button as if it will make them hurry, till Ethan lays his hand over mine.

‘Patience.’
 

‘Not one of my strong points,’ I say. And he laughs. I guess if I’d had any patience, then neither of us would be here.
 

Finally, the lift arrives. We get in. The doors are about to close when Nurse Catherine steps in.
 

‘Afternoon, Petri and...’ She looks at Ethan, matching his name up to the database. ‘Nathan. First day on the job?’ She smiles, her too bright smile.
 

‘Yes.’
 

‘Well, I hope you’re finding your way around all right.’

‘Yes, everything is fine. Thank you, Catherine.’
 

The seventh, sixth and fifth floors count down.
 

‘I, um, I thought it would be good for Zizi to get out, you know?’ I say, hating the heavy silence.
 

‘What a lovely idea, Petri. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the gardens.’
 

First floor arrives and Catherine steps out ahead of us. ‘Have a nice day,’ she says over her shoulder.
 

The reception floor is buzzing with WhiteInc staff: officer workers, programmers, security. Everyone who keeps the corporation running is here. Catherine stops and talks with a lady, and Ethan and I take the chance to go.
 

The gardens are to the right. But the exit, and our escape, is to the left. I grip the handle on Zizi’s wheelchair so tight my hands go numb.
 

With each step closer to the double doors I start to feel lighter. We’re going to do it. We’re going to walk straight out of here.
 

A security guard even opens the doors for us. I smile at him, trying not to giggle. Ethan and I grin at each other as we wind down the ramp and onto the nearly empty street.
 

A hand lands on my shoulder. Catherine stands behind me, her head tilted, a smile cutting across her face. ‘Oh, Petri, did you think it would be that easy?’
 

Her fingers tighten on my shoulder, her long nails cutting into my flesh.

‘Run,’ I shout at Ethan. ‘Run.’

I try to step away, but Catherine’s hold is too tight. She grabs my wrist with her other hand, her fingers digging into my flesh.
 

‘You little bitch,’ Catherine hisses at me. ‘You’re coming back with us.’
 

‘No, leave me alone.’ I try to shake her off, but she’s too strong.
 

Ethan pulls Catherine away with such force that she falls to the floor, hitting her head against the curb. It’s a moment of such total relief that I laugh out loud, despite the ugly cut on her temple.

My laugh is silenced as Ethan turns to me, his head swivelling slowly, followed by his shoulders, body and, finally, his feet grinding against the concrete.
 

‘No one is running anywhere,’ he says, softly.
 

He reaches for my throat with one hand and strokes my windpipe with his callused thumb. He pulls me towards him. I think, I hope, he’s going to kiss me.
 

He starts to squeeze.

28

‘
THERE’S NO ESCAPE
,’ he says, wrapping his other hand around my neck.
 

I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. His grip gets tighter and tighter. Lights dance around the edge of my vision, which is getting darker with every second.
 

I stare, unbelieving, into Ethan’s eyes. They’re glassy, like someone accessing Glaze.
 

‘Please,’ I try to say, my lips forming the words but no sound coming out. ‘Please.’
 

He squeezes even tighter, his lips curled back in rage.
 

Panic takes over. I lift my knee up as swiftly as I can, aiming between his legs. He grunts and his grip loosens enough for me to stagger away. I clutch at my throat, gasping for air. Ethan is bent over, one hand on his knee. I’m hit with guilt over the pain I have caused him.

Then his head snaps up and he stares at me again. Those aren’t his eyes. They’re dark and filled with menace. He means to kill me. Another step back and I trip over Catherine’s outstretched leg and land on the pavement, hard. Ethan is coming for me again, slowly, unstoppably. I scrabble around on the floor behind me, looking for something, anything to defend myself with. My fingers close over a stone. I tighten my hand around it and look from it to Ethan.
 

He’s nearly on me now. I close my eyes and throw the stone at him with all my strength. Maybe it will buy me enough time to escape.
 

The stone bounces off his chest. He looks down at it, distracted for a moment, then back to me. He smiles, a crooked, broken smile that I don’t recognise.
 

And he jumps.
 

His weight presses down on me, knocking what little air I had left out of my lungs. He hisses in my face; more creature than man. His hands feel for my cheeks, and his thumbs find my eyes. I thrash, kick, bite, do whatever I can. But I can’t move his weight. I feel pressure on my eyelids and kaleidoscope colours appear beneath the thin skin. This is it. This is how I’m going to die. Killed by the boy I thought was going to save me. By the boy I thought I loved.
 

Ethan howls in pain and I hope that my flailing limbs have finally connected. He goes limp and I roll him off me, finally opening my aching eyes. He’s lying on the floor, thrashing, his body jerking in wild spasms. Pinkish foam bubbles at his mouth and his eyes have rolled back showing only white.
 

I want to help him. I want him to die.
 

It’s only then that I see the girl standing over us both. She’s dressed entirely in black, so she looks like a shadow against the low, winter sun. A silver stud glints above her smile.
 

‘Nice to see you again, Petra,’ Corina says.
 

‘Petri,’ I choke back.
 

‘Whatever,’ she says. ‘Well, don’t sit there all day.’ She reaches out her hand and yanks me to my feet, more impatient than kind. ‘We need to get you off the street.’ Her head jerks left and right, eyeing up the flow of traffic and the few pedestrians approaching. They look curious about why there are two people lying on the ground and a woman in a wheelchair.
 

‘Damn, they’ve spotted us. We have to move. Now.’ She yanks my arm.
 

‘I can’t leave him,’ I say, looking down at Ethan. He’s stopped fitting now and is lying unconscious, spit trailing out of the corner of his mouth.
 

‘He would have killed you if I hadn’t stopped him.’ She holds up what I take to be a homemade taser. The end glows with a bright blue light.
 

‘That wasn’t him.’ Do I know this, or do I want it to be true so badly I’m making myself believe it? There’s an idea, a terrible idea, scratching away at the corner of my mind, but I refuse to let it in. No, I’m not going to believe I’ve lost Ethan. He was taken away from me once already. I’m not going to let him go again.
 

‘It sure looked like him. We have to leave. Come on.’ Corina pulls at my arm again, not taking her eyes off the people who are coming closer. Catherine moans and rocks her head back and forth.
 

‘I’m not going anywhere without him.’ I shake off her arm.
 

I hear the rumble of the engine first; a low purr, like a caged animal. Then a bright yellow MPV rolls around the corner and pulls up next to us.
 

‘What the hell is this?’ Corina shouts, yanking open the passenger door.
 

‘You told me to jack some wheels. These are wheels,’ the driver replies. It’s Shank. The boy with the dark eyes and the shark smile.
 

Corina mutters swear words under her breath as she races around to his door and pulls it open. ‘Slide over,’ she says.
 

There’s a muffled complaint from Shank as he clambers over the gear stick and into the passenger seat.
 

‘Are you getting in?’ Corina says, leaning across him.
 

The people are a less than a hundred yards away. Catherine’s starting to wake up.

‘Not without Ethan,’ I say.
 

Corina sighs, loud and impatient. ‘OK, get him in. But fast.’
 

She shoves Shank out. Grumbling, he slides open the door and helps me bundle Ethan inside. I then turn to Zizi who’s been sitting silently all this time.
 

‘No freaking way,’ Corina shouts. ‘We’re not taking her.’
 

‘But she’s my mother.’
 

‘No adults,’ Corina answers, revving the engine.
 

‘Believe me, if you knew her, you’d know she was no adult.’
 

The crowd are nearly on us. They’re shouting, asking what we’re doing. Catherine is struggling to get up, but she’s still dizzy from the blow.
 

Corina swears. But I take it as agreement and drag Zizi out of the wheelchair. She’s so light I hardly need the help of the boy. Together, we lay her on the back seat of the van and I pull the wheelchair in after me. Catherine pulls herself to her knees and lunges for me. Her long nails scrape across my leg as Corina releases the brake and we screech away.
 

‘Stop them,’ Catherine shouts, sprawled on the floor. ‘They’re stealing a patient.’
 

I slide the door shut as we fly past the crowd of people. They thump their fists against the van and the noise of things being thrown against the back window rings loudly. I look through the back window as they shout and rage after us. Catherine is helped to her feet and stands at the centre of them, her eyes staring after me, black and dark.
 

I try to fasten my seat belt on as we take a tight turn, but my hands are shaking too much, so I let it go. It clatters as it retracts back into the holder. Ethan slides across the seat and hits his head against the wall with a
thunk
. I should secure him, but I’m too frightened to touch him.

Corina lets the steering wheel spin through her hands as the van swerves across two lanes of traffic. It’s been years since I’ve been in a vehicle with someone actually driving and I wonder why anyone ever did it. It seems too hectic. So completely out of control. The black box that usually connects the van’s controls to Glaze has been wrenched free of the steering column. Blue and red wires spill out like guts.
 

‘Zip him,’ Corina says, taking her hand off the wheel to reach inside her jacket. She throws a handful of long black wire ties over her shoulder.
 

I scrabble to pick them up and then look down at Ethan. In sleep, his face is soft and peaceful, all his usual anger gone. He looks so young.
 

I wrap a tie around his wrists. It makes a buzzing sound as I pull it tight. I do the same with his ankles, then sit back in the soft leather seat.
 

‘And bag her,’ Corina shouts over her shoulder.
 

‘What her?’

‘Cover her eyes with something. She’s chipped, right?’ Corina looks back at me in the rear view mirror. I nod. ‘Then she’s broadcasting.’
 

I look around for something to blindfold my mother with. Then remember what Catherine said. She can’t even blink. I reach over the back seat and place my thumbs over her eyelids and gently guide them closed. The action reminds me of Ethan’s attack and makes me shiver.
 

‘What happened to him,’ Shank says, twisting around in his seat to look at us.
 

‘Looks like he went Metro,’ Corina says.
 

‘Metro?’ I say, and the origin of that word comes back to me. ‘You mean what happened to those people at Baker Street station? They said it was toxic gas.’