The Disappeared (16 page)

One good thing is that we don’t see Tong again either. I wonder if she quit or if she was pushed out. Instead of Tong we have Rice covering our sessions. We barely dare breathe.

Kay doesn’t get depressed like me. Instead she gets angry. She’s furious with Rice and all the enforcers about what happened to Lanc. It makes her fiercely determined to learn to read, if only to spite them. She starts recruiting others to learn. I want to give up on the whole thing, but Kay won’t hear of it. She reminds me of every argument that I made to her when we started. I let her talk me into it.

Five days after the Lanc episode, we’re kept waiting outside the grid longer than usual. Finally the door opens. As we enter there’s a ripple through the classroom and for a second I think that Tong must be back, but then I look up at the teacher’s enclosure and I realise why there is a stir in the class.

We’ve got a new enforcer.

It’s my mother.

She’s here. She’s finally here. I knew she’d come, but I still can’t believe it. I stop, staring at the side of her face. Someone behind bumps into me.

‘Move it, Blake!’

I stumble towards my compartment unable to take my eyes off her. I want to shout
Mum!
but I can’t make a sound.

Then she sees me.

She rises from her seat and reaches out an arm towards me before she knows what she’s doing. In that second I realise that we’re both in danger. We can’t let anyone know that we know each other.

So without showing any emotion I say, ‘Yes, enforcer?’

She sinks back into her seat. My mother isn’t stupid so she says, ‘You should be seated by now.’

And I know we understand each other.

The other Specials are whispering. A new enforcer is a big deal.

‘Silence,’ Mother says. ‘I am Enforcer Williams and this morning I will show you how to transfer information from storage to processor and then you will complete transfer exercises yourself. Before we start, make sure your EMDs are on,’ she says.

She says it just right. Firmly and matter of factly, like she expects it to happen. But she’s lifting her jaw a little higher than normal. I can tell that she’s afraid.

Mother takes us through an example of information transfer. I barely hear her. Part of me is happy that she is so close. I want to rush up to her and hug her, but the rest of me knows that this is a dangerous situation. Enforcers only survive if they are cold and hard and hate the Specials. My mother is way too kind to be here. They’ll tear her apart.

I try to concentrate on the numbers on my screen, but my eyes keep drifting up to look at her. She turns and catches my eye. She widens her eyes slightly, but I don’t know what she means. She brings her palms together under her chin. It’s not a gesture I remember her using. He eyes have gone back to her screen, but she separates then draws her palms together again.

I get it. She’s signing to me. Palms drawn together means meet. She wants to meet me. Still focusing on her screen she shifts so that her chin is leaning on the back of one of her hands. After a moment she extends her forefinger so it is pointing downwards. Here. Meet here. Her eyes flick to me to check she still has my attention and she moves her hand so it’s supporting her cheek. But only two fingers are raised. Two o’clock. In the morning, I suppose.

My insides surge upwards. I want to be able to talk to her so much. I want to ask her what I should do. I know that it’s risky. For both of us. But I have to see her, so the next time she darts a look in my direction I give the tiniest nod.

When we’re dismissed for lunch I pull Kay right into the middle of the surging scrum of Specials and whisper in her ear, ‘She’s my mother. Our new enforcer is my mother.’

Kay’s eyes bulge. ‘Don’t say it more times. Don’t say to any Special,’ she says.

‘I won’t,’ I say.

‘And don’t do a wrong thing. Don’t get into trouble.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ I say.

Kay squeezes my hand and for a moment I feel nothing but happy.

I work hard not to look at Mother for the rest of the day. I’m tired out by the time we go to the dining hall for dinner, but once I’m in my pod I let out a long breath and try to relax a little. We rarely see the enforcers in the evening so hopefully Mother is safe from any difficult situations for the time being. I’m secretly hoping that she has a really good plan that will mean she and I and Kay, Ilex and Ali will soon be leaving this place, but I doubt that things are going to be that straight forward.

I spend the evening with Ilex and Ali. Ali looks pale. Ilex shows me where a chunk of her hair is missing. He’s afraid that someone is picking on her, but Ali refuses to communicate about it. I look at their miserable faces. They need cheering up. I decide to tell them about my mother and how we’ll all be able to escape soon.

Blake’s mum is enforcer?
signs Ali. Her eyes are wide with horror.

‘She’s not a bad enforcer. She’s an okay enforcer like Enforcer Baxter,’ Ilex says.

Enforcer Baxter is Ali’s class enforcer. She’s not as vicious as some of the others. She rarely uses the EMDs. I’m glad that Ilex can see that my mum isn’t a monster. She’s having to act tough, but you can still see that she’s fair. Not like Tong.

‘I didn’t know your mum does enforcer work,’ Ilex says.

‘She doesn’t,’ I say.

‘Why is she enforcering here, then?’

‘She’s come to get me,’ I whisper, even though we’re alone. ‘She’s come to rescue me. And you two and Kay.

Ali looks questioningly at Ilex.

Ilex looks back at her. ‘That’s what mums do. They want you to be in the goodest place, I mean, the best place. What they think is the best place, that’s where they try to make you be.’

I’m not entirely sure what he’s going on about, but Ali seems to understand because eventually she nods her head.

‘Bed for Ali,’ Ilex stands up. ‘It’s a good for you to have your mum,’ he says to me and leads Ali out of the dormitory.

That’s not exactly the response I was hoping for when I told them that we’re going to escape.

I get into bed at nine-thirty when the senior Specials’ buzzer goes. Five minutes later the dormitory door is closed and locked. I’ve got no idea how I’m going to stay awake till two.

‘Kay?’ I say.

‘Mmm?’

‘What was your mum like?’

There’s a long pause. ‘I don’t know. I can think-back her hair, it was like my hair. But I can’t think-back more times with my mum.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry. Do you remember anything about before you took the Potential Test and came to the Academy?’

Kay gives a sleepy groan. ‘I don’t know your words, Blake. What’s Potential Test?’

‘You know, the exam, when you’re five years old they test you and—’

‘No.’ She yawns. ‘I didn’t do testing.’

‘But everybody does the test. And then you get your score and they place you in the school where you can best fulfil your potential. Or, at least, that’s what they say.’ I haven’t seen any encouraging of potential since I arrived here. ‘Don’t you remember?’

She doesn’t reply. She’s asleep. She must have forgotten. She said herself that she doesn’t remember when she was little. Probably lots of people don’t recall the actual test. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t take it. Otherwise, how would they know where to send you to school? That’s why everybody takes the Potential Test.

Don’t they?

After a while the whispered conversations in the dormitory die down. I try to keep my mind working. I run through the periodic table and then all the speeches I can remember from Hamlet. Kay’s breathing is deep and regular. I imagine her pale hair spreading across the pillow and I think about pushing down her blanket and revealing her bare shoulders and . . . That is not a helpful line of thought to take. Although, I’m certainly not feeling sleepy now.

I wait a little longer and decide I may as well be in the classroom, where at least I will be able to see the time.

I ease myself out of bed. It’s impossible to know whether everyone in the room is asleep, but have to assume that if they notice me they’ll think I’m going to pee.

The floor of the bathroom is icy on my bare feet. I should have kept my socks on. I check that the cubicles are empty before keying the code into the door and slipping out on to the landing.

Downstairs, I hesitate in front of the door to our grid. I’m always a little worried that, somewhere on a computer, door openings are recorded. I could wait till my mother arrives, but really the classroom is a much better place to hide than standing vulnerable in an empty corridor where an impeccable patrol might come round the corner at any moment. I type CLASSROOM and the door releases. I’m shocked by the volume of the clicking and hissing. I’ve never noticed it during the day when Specials are clamouring to get in or out of the room, but now I twist around, afraid that the noise will bring someone. I step quickly inside and close the door behind me, wincing at the sound again.

When the wall clock finally shows two o’clock, my eyes are trained on the classroom door, but a sound from the front of the grid makes me spin round. The door in the back of the cage is opening.

My first thought is Rice. But before I have time to duck out of sight, the door opens and there is my mother. Of course. There’s no reason why she should have to use the classroom door.

‘John,’ she says.

It’s strange to hear my real name. Even before, no one called me that. I struggle to get my chilled limbs out of my seat. ‘Mum.’

‘I’m so happy to see you.’ Her voice cracks and she presses a hand to her mouth.

I climb up on the platform, but the bars are too tightly spaced to be able to comfort her. I can only jam a hand in up to the wrist. ‘Why did you come this way?’ I ask.

‘It’s closer to my room and it’s a safer route than walking down the main corridor.’ She takes hold of my hand. ‘It’s such a relief to find that you’re all right. You are okay, aren’t you? They haven’t hurt you, have they? Do you get enough to eat?’

I remember when I used to speak to her on the communicator at the Learning Community. I’d complain if we were given the same dinner twice in one week or if I thought our study was too dusty. Now I just say, ‘I’m fine. I’m really fine.’

She looks me up and down. I know I’ve lost weight and there’s a bruise on my cheek from where Deon slammed me into a feeding pod the other day.

Tears well up in her eyes again. She takes a deep breath. ‘I can’t stay too long. I share a room with another enforcer – she’s incredibly nosy and I can’t risk her noticing that I’m gone. Sometimes I feel like she’s watching me. The other enforcers are so suspicious of volunteer enforcers.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, it must seem rather odd; anyone wanting to do this. It’s a terrible job.’

‘Is it?’ I’d never really thought about it. I suppose it seems like the enforcers are the lucky ones compared to the Specials.

‘It’s all right for Rice and his type.’

‘What do you mean, “his type”?’ I ask.

‘Rice used to have a low-ranking job in the Leadership. They say that he was caught stealing funds and that’s how he ended up running an Academy.’

Which explains a lot about the way Rice is.

‘But they don’t all treat you like Rice does, do they?’ she asks. ‘Some of them seem like decent people.’