The Perimeter (20 page)

‘Why do you want to push me away, Riley?’ he asked, his voice small in the vast wilderness.

‘Me push you away?’ I said. ‘It’s not me. It’s you doing that. You’ve been really weird lately. Criticising me and questioning my judgement all the time.’

‘When have I ever done that?’ he said.

‘That night I came to yours for dinner. You were really mean.’

‘What! I was worried about you, that’s all.’

‘Well thanks, but I don’t need your concern.’

‘Really? You’d rather I didn’t care? Do you want me to agree with you all the time? Even if I think you’re making a mistake that could put you in danger.’

‘No, but . . .’

‘I was worried about you,’ he repeated. ‘I still am. I can never win with you, Riley. Why do you always take things the wrong way?’

‘Because I’m scared,’ I said without thinking, and realised it was true.

He faced me, unsmiling, and I didn’t know what to think or say next. His normally blue eyes had turned dark grey against the wintry sky. I hugged my body to keep warm.

‘Riley . . .’

‘. . . Luc, you’re . . .’

‘Shh, let me finish for once.’

‘Sorry. Go on.’

‘Thank you.’ He relaxed his glare and gave me a smile and an eye roll. ‘Liss is a lovely girl, but we’re friends. That’s all. She’s only been here a day and we’ve barely even spoken. She’s worried about her parents and that’s it. I’m just trying to make the poor girl feel welcome. The rest is in your imagination.’

Embarrassment washed over me. Luc and I weren’t even together and I’d accused him of having feelings for someone else.

‘Riley,’ he said. ‘Ever since I’ve know you, it’s always been
you
.’

I wanted to say something but, more than that, I wanted to hear what he would say next. So I kept my mouth shut, biting my bottom lip to stop myself interrupting again.

‘It’s always been you, Riley.’ He said the words again and put his hand out to briefly touch my cheek. ‘It was never Liss and it was never Skye. There was never any chance of that. I loved Skye like a sister and she knew it. She would’ve dropped her crush eventually and been happy for us. That’s who she was. She was a sweet, generous person with a big heart who hero-worshipped you and had a little crush on me. But because she died, we never got past that stage. We’re stuck in this . . . this guilt-ridden limbo.

‘Riley, it’s only ever been you and you’re crazy if you think anything else.’

I revelled in his words, not quite believing he was actually saying them.

‘And I know all sorts of strange crap’s been getting in the way of everything,’ he continued, ‘and we’ve still got more to get through before any kind of ‘normal’ can happen, but . . .’ he broke off.

My heart was pounding and my mouth had gone dry. I licked my lips and tried to form a word, but I couldn’t speak.

He ran a hand over his head and stared at me. ‘. . . I love you.’ There was no smirk, no joking. Nothing but his eyes staring into mine.

I still couldn’t speak, so I did the only thing I could possibly do. I stepped forward and put a hand on his cheek, guided his face to mine and kissed him. A long slow kiss that made my insides disappear and my mind spin into nothingness. He felt warm and strong and alive and beautiful. His arms came around my body and his grip tightened, gathering me in closer toward him.

How had I got it so wrong before? How had I managed to convince myself he had just wanted to be friends? Or maybe I’d done it on purpose. Too afraid to let myself have this kind of happiness, so I’d pushed him away. But this, right now, right here, felt so good that I must have been crazy to deny what had been there all along.

Luc’s kiss was deep and warm. Becoming demanding. Urgent. Then he broke off and unwound my scarf, moved his mouth to my neck, to my ear, where he whispered, ‘I love you,’ before bringing his mouth back to my lips. His hands moved from my back to my waist. He sought out the skin beneath my sweater and moved his hands across my hips, lighting up nerve endings. Electricity in his touch as he trailed cool fingers across my stomach, letting them drop below the line of my jeans.

I gasped and moaned and he pulled me closer, our kisses deepening further. Even as we became so immersed in each another, I knew we’d have to stop. There was no time for us. Not yet. It was too dangerous out here. But I wasn’t going to be the one to pull away first. It wasn’t physically possible. My body too desperate for his. My hands pushing their way beneath his t-shirt, feeling the smooth muscles of his back and wanting to feel more.

As he lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms moving from around his body, up to his hair and the nape of his neck. His kisses touched the core of my body, like we were connected from the inside out.

‘Luc,’ I moaned.

‘I know,’ he replied.

‘Can we go somewhere?’ I asked, picturing a warm quiet place for just the two of us.

Easing me back down, he kissed me again, his hands in my hair. ‘We have to get home,’ he murmured. ‘If we’re out any longer, Johnny’ll kill me for putting you in danger. He’ll send out a search party.’

I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to run away, just Luc and me, and forget about our responsibilities. Forget about the dangers. Forget about FJ.

Luc and I had found each other again and I didn’t want our twisted situation to get in the way of us anymore. As I breathed in the warm scent of him, I was overwhelmed, consumed, terrified and euphoric.

‘Promise you’ll never doubt me again,’ he said. ‘I love you Riley. Nothing and no one will change that.’

‘I promise. I love you too.’

Chapter Twenty Three

Jamie

Standing in the arena with his brothers, trainees and warriors alike, Jamie flicked his eyes to the raised platform where a man stood, dressed in dark robes with the crimson trim, denoting he was one of Grey’s favoured disciples. His voice pierced through the loudspeaker, stabbing at Jamie’s ears after weeks of hearing nothing but whispers:

 
‘There has been a vile and vicious attack,’ the man said, pausing to let his eyes skim across the thousands of bowed heads. ‘Our Father’s life hangs in the balance . . .’

At this, a collective gasp from the arena. Even a couple of shouts from behind. Jamie resisted the urge to turn his head to see who had cried out.

‘We must all now speak to God and beg for Our Father’s recovery,’ the disciple continued. ‘Every one of you must kneel, bow your head and pray for Our Father. For without him, we are lost. We are nothing. We are cast back out into the wilderness to become dust.’

There was a moment’s silence before he spoke again.

‘Kneel!’ he commanded.

As one, Jamie and his brothers sank to their knees, bowed their heads. While they began to mouth the prayers, Jamie wondered what on earth could have happened to James Grey. Attacked? How? Was it soldiers? Army? Raiders? Had the whole Close been attacked or was it one person acting alone? An inside job perhaps?

As the hours passed there was no let-up. One speaker was replaced by another. And then another. The hours spent on the ground meant his neck now ached from supporting his bowed head. His legs had grown numb, his stomach growled and his bladder complained, but Jamie told himself that everyone else must be in the same predicament.

They stayed kneeling like that on the hard ground from dawn until dusk, when they were at last invited to stand and return to their quarters. The men creaked to their feet and shuffled from the arena. They were given bread and water and told to pray in their beds as they fell asleep. The next morning, after being led back outside into the blazing heat, Jamie prayed more fervently than the day before. He begged God to return Grey to health and to punish the people who had carried out the attack. But this wish for his leader’s recovery was not entirely altruistic. It was mainly so that he, Jamie, would be allowed to continue with his new warrior life and not be forced to leave Salisbury. He also threw in a few sly prayers to request an end to his discomfort, to relieve the heat, his bent back and sore knees.

Jamie adjusted his position, putting more weight onto his left leg to try and ease the cramp developing in his right calf. He preferred the tough days of training to this uncomfortable inactivity. The disciples’ prayers had now merged into an incomprehensible drone and Jamie had to keep pinching his fingers to stop himself falling asleep. What would happen if he accidentally nodded off? He’d be punished for sure.

The following day, prayers in the arena continued, but summer’s heat had been replaced by cool winds and spattering raindrops. Jamie didn’t know which was worse – to be thirsty and dripping in sweat, or to be cold, shivering and damp. He was dismayed that he still had these old self-pitying thoughts. Over the past few weeks, Jamie believed he had left his old persona behind; that he was now
Jacob
– a better, more godly human being. That he was a warrior who truly belonged to Grey’s Church of The Epiphany. So why did he still have these doubts and feelings of resentment when all these other men were so obedient and true?

While he was trying to come to terms with his failings as a human being, a commanding voice on the tannoy system punctured Jamie’s thoughts:

‘All stand.’

Jamie blinked his eyes open and chanced a look up at the speaker’s platform. A robed man stood unmoving. Nothing new about that; but this particular disciple had a presence about him which the others had not possessed.

Jamie found himself rising to his feet along with his brothers. His muscles enjoyed this chance to stretch out, and Jamie had to stop himself from rolling his shoulders and pulling at his limbs. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared up at the disciple and, when the man began to speak, Jamie realised he knew that voice. He had heard it once before, back when he first arrived at The Close. It was one of The Listeners, one of the men who had heard his confession. The younger one – Matthew.

‘I am here to introduce myself to you,’ Matthew said, his voice reedy but confident through the loudspeaker. ‘Our Father is gravely ill and we do not yet know if he will recover.’ He paused to allow the impact of his words to permeate the arena. ‘But he is still Our Father and we will pray for him with every ounce of strength in our bodies and souls.

‘It pains me to tell you that his voice was damaged during the attack and He is unable to speak at present. Therefore, he has decreed that I should become
His Voice
.

‘I am now
The Voice of the Father
and all his words will go through me. When I speak to you, it is His words I speak. I am
The Voice of the Father
. All kneel.’

Jamie sank to his knees once more, Matthew’s words spinning through his brain. If James Grey died, would this young boy take his place? Jamie didn’t know if he liked the idea of that.

The soldiers’ days of prayers lasted a full two weeks, until finally, miraculously, James Grey was considered healed and out of danger. It transpired that Grey’s vocal chords had been damaged beyond repair and so Matthew’s position as
The Voice of the Father
was made permanent.

Jamie’s days continued as before, only they were now so full that he barely had a moment to think of anything other than the increasingly gruelling exercises they were expected to complete. Their fitness regime was now also interspersed with weapons training: rifle, hand gun, short-handled knife and sword practice.

Some days, they were taken to a separate nearby compound containing hundreds of horses. There, they were taught to ride and fight on horseback. To Jamie’s surprise, he excelled at everything, with sharp reflexes, a steady hand and a keen eye. He and several others were quickly moved up to a different, more challenging, group.

They had also begun to train inside the actual arena where Jamie had first seen the robed warriors. In fact, Jamie hadn’t seen the warriors inside the compound for quite a while now. Had they gone? Did this mean the warriors were training somewhere else? Or were they actually fighting a real enemy on the outside? Maybe it was something to do with the attack on Grey.

Jamie wouldn’t want to be in their enemy’s shoes. Grey’s robed warriors were terrifying. He wondered if he would ever be expected to go out and fight. Although he was competent in training, he wasn’t so sure he’d be brave enough in a battle situation. Would a day come where he would be made to fight for real? He guessed so, but he hoped not.

Another month passed. The weather grew stormy and the arena, as Jamie had predicted, now churned with thick oozing mud. This did not mean they could slack off in their training. The men continued on in all weathers, learning to put up with the conditions, their clothes constantly damp, their quarters dripping and chilly, their muscles always aching. To Jamie, these squalid living arrangements were a step up from what he was used to – hardened to the elements as he was – but many of his brothers suffered discomfort and illness, although they never complained.

Jamie’s question about the warriors was soon answered as several wounded soldiers began to return. A makeshift hospital was set up on the east side of the compound in a couple of the training rooms, and medical staff were brought in from elsewhere. Jamie idly wondered if he would see Miriam, the doctor who had fixed up his leg all those weeks ago. He probably owed her his life; there was no way he would’ve survived on the outside with that kind of injury. But any medics he happened to glimpse were male.

There was obviously some kind of conflict going on, but as usual he was kept in the dark. Jamie attempted to stifle his curiosity but the fact of the matter was he was burning to know what was going on beyond the walls. He tried to ask a few subtle questions, but everyone seemed content to remain ignorant.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before Jamie and his brothers were back in the arena on their knees praying for their leader once more and this time it was worse – James Grey had been captured by their enemies, held hostage for reasons unknown. This could only mean one thing – a full-scale war was coming.

On his knees in the mud once more, listening to the monotonous words of the disciples, Jamie tried to keep his mind on the prayers he was supposed to be sending to God. But the truth was, he was freezing cold and miserable. He believed they would be much more use to Grey continuing with their training, rather than kneeling in the dirt all day. At least the sun was shining now, but it was merely the shadow of a sun, with no real warmth.

He mouthed the prayers while practicing fighting manoeuvres in his head. He was anticipating his opponents’ moves and blocking imaginary blows, when suddenly two sets of real hands grabbed Jamie’s arms and hauled him to his feet. Without thinking, Jamie twisted out of their grip and assumed a fighting stance. Then he opened his eyes wide and blinked in the bright sunshine, remembering where he was. As his eyes adjusted, they focused on two robed guards, their faces concealed. Jamie immediately lost his aggression, bowing his head in submission.

After a couple of moments’ hesitation, one of the guards gave him a sharp nudge sideways on the shoulder with the tips of his fingers and so Jamie turned and began to walk ahead of them, picking his way through a sea of bowed heads, his heart hammering in his chest. Had they read his mind? Could they have known that he wasn’t really praying? Not one person glanced his way. Every head remained bent, eyes presumably shut tight. The disciple on the platform did not miss a beat as Jamie was led from the arena.

In order to calm himself, Jamie began to recite the warriors’ chant. Though he did not speak it out loud, the words instantly soothed him and slowed his heart rate to a steady thud. Once out of the arena, the robed men headed along one of the corridors and into one of the dimly lit exit chambers.  Keys were procured, locks undone, doors opened and closed once more. They passed through a final door which clanged shut behind them with solemn finality.

Unshaded sunshine now assaulted Jamie’s eyes as he found himself outside the arena walls with just his two enigmatic guards for company. The world beyond the walls appeared vast and empty without the familiar security of his warrior brothers around him.

Was he being evicted or were they returning him to The Close? Why now? Why at such a critical time, when James Grey’s life was in jeopardy? Was it a coincidence or did they somehow think that Jamie had something to do with the attack? He tried to push out these thoughts by clinging to the mantra in his head, but he was so familiar with the words that he was now able to chant while thinking other things at the same time.

Here, beyond the metal walls of the arena, snatches of the disciple’s prayer came to him on the chill autumn breeze, the loudspeaker sending the man’s words out into the wide sky, sometimes dipping low and other times swooping high and out of earshot. As they walked, the words of the prayer gradually faded. Jamie and his companions were moving inexorably further from the compound, back across the water meadows where stubborn beads of morning dew still clung to the long grass.

Would nothing remain stable in his life? When Jamie had first arrived at The Close he thought he was fated to become a kitchen hand and had grown strangely content to chop vegetables and weed the garden. But just as he was accepting his lot, he had been wrenched from it and thrust into the world of the warrior. This too, he had gradually come to accept. So now what? Jamie was in their hands. He had no free will in this place. He had to follow where they led and ask no questions. He had to live a life of acceptance.

If his life was no longer his own, he should stop questioning and give himself over to these people. He should recite their words and block out all other thoughts. Suddenly, up ahead, a flapping of wings as dozens of goldfinches took to the air like overgrown bumblebees, their black and yellow markings catching sunbeams. Jamie watched their playful flight, envying such uncomplicated freedom. No one told the birds what to do; they just did their thing, followed their natural instincts. They had no choices to make; nature chose for them.

The meaning of the mantra suddenly came to him: