The Roar (29 page)

44

DON’T FORGET WHERE YOU CAME FROM

A
s Mika left Cape Wrath, he felt a sudden and overwhelming wave of sorrow and a tear rolled down his cheek. He caught it on his index finger and rubbed it thoughtfully between his finger and thumb, thinking it had been cried for Ellie because he was leaving her behind. But he was wrong; the tear had been cried for thousands of children, not just one.

As he flew away from the giant ring fortress, a line of freighters approached it. In the darkness, they looked like a string of black beads that stretched all the way to the distant horizon. They were carrying children; thousands of children from refugee homes, who had been lured into the arcades by a lie. Instead of rushing home with their pockets full of money or vouchers for real food or clothes, they had left with an implant buried in their foreheads. A round metal disc attached to their brains by a fine
wire that now controlled everything they did, except feel. They were unable to speak or move but inside they were tormented by fear and confusion.

Mika was too tired to cry more than one tear, even though he felt like crying a river. He put his head back and closed his eyes, feeling weak and sick and wishing Ellie was coming home with him.

* * *

Half an hour later he opened his eyes to see London. He’d only ever seen it on television before and he was dazzled by its scale and beauty. The Golden Turrets shone like a heap of hot treasure on the horizon, bathing the night sky with a warm orange glow. Each turret was sliced into thousands of luxury apartments, and their lights twinkled like diamonds. All around on the air roads, pods whooshed towards the city like bees towards a hive, leaving trails of blue and gold light in their wake.

‘Lovely innit?’ the chauffeur said. ‘You’re a very lucky boy.’

‘Yes,’ Mika said, thoughtfully.

They flew through the city and descended on the edge of New Hyde Park. The golden street, which formed a ring around it, was clean and wide and softly lit by lights set in the curbs. The people walking past were dressed for the night. Jewels glittered on their hands and their bodies were wrapped in cloaks of expensive fabrics that looked like fur, wool or silk.

The chauffeur opened the door to let Mika out. Immediately he heard a strange sound.

Boom. Boom.

‘What’s that?’ he asked as his feet hit the pavement. It sounded like the heartbeat of an enormous beast, as if a dragon was sleeping beneath its treasure, instead of on top of it.

Boom. Boom.

‘The Shadows,’ the chauffeur replied. ‘Haven’t you heard?’

‘No,’ Mika said. ‘What’s happening?’

‘The mould is getting worse,’ the chauffeur replied grimly.
‘Hundreds of people are dying every day. And they say the government won’t help them because it’s cheaper to let them die.’

Mika looked at the ground beneath his feet and shuddered. He’d just eaten dinner with several members of the Northern Government, and it didn’t surprise him at all that they’d do such an awful thing. He remembered how they’d gorged themselves while they’d stared at him with greedy eyes. Their light guttering, barely human, barely alive.

‘But the people in The Shadows won’t be ignored,’ the chauffeur said. ‘So they’re banging on the pillars holding up the Golden Turrets with huge steel balls on chains. All day and all night they swing them – one time for every person who’s died. It was driving people crazy up here when it started on Friday night, but apparently you get used to it.’

Boom. Boom.

‘I don’t think I’ll get used to it,’ Mika said. He gazed at the pavement and tried to imagine what was below, all that darkness and water and millions of people trying to stay alive and balls on chains swinging against the pillars.

‘Creepy innit?’ the chauffeur said. ‘I’m glad I don’t live down there.’

‘So am I,’ Mika agreed.

Boom. Boom.

He looked at the people walking past. They were talking and laughing as if they couldn’t hear it. He watched a woman apply lipstick with a small gold mirror in one hand, and the boom vibrated through her red stiletto shoes.

‘When everyone moved behind The Wall,’ the chauffeur said, ‘we were all the same for a while, because we were united by tragedy and loss. But not any more, not since the Golden Turrets were built. It’s amazing how quickly people forget where they came from. But I suppose that’s the way it’s always been. Some people have nothing and others have everything. Anyway. Enough of politics. You’ve just won yourself a new home and I don’t want to make you feel bad about it. You make the most of
it, lad. Just don’t forget where you came from.’

‘I won’t,’ Mika said, firmly.

He watched the pod rise and loop up around the turrets before disappearing into the night sky. A full moon was hanging like a gong amongst them, huge and pale. It looked down on him as if it knew everything and Mika wished he felt the same.

His turret was one of the biggest and most beautiful in the city and it towered over New Hyde Park like an elegant sculpture with a gently tapered dome at the top. The scale of it was breathtaking; the cylindrical base was the same size as their old refugee tower, but it was at least three times as tall and seemed to go up forever. His neck ached as he tried to look at the top of it.

The curved apartments inside the turret had balconies and glass walls. Inside the ones near ground level, he could see rich people talking and laughing and this made him feel as if he was watching an advert on telly. The breeze picked up and blew a fine mist from the fountains in the park across his face. It felt fresh and smelled of perfume. By the doors were a pair of security guards in smart black uniforms, and they watched him with contempt as he walked up the shallow marble steps.

‘You must be from the competition,’ one said, eyeing Mika’s filthy sneakers and jeans.

‘Yes,’ Mika replied, dropping his bag with its broken strap on the step in front of them. They looked down their noses while he searched for the gold key card, but when they saw it glinting amongst his socks, they stepped aside to let him in.

Just inside the foyer there was an ornate marble fountain with nymphs sitting around it bathing their feet and combing their hair. Mika walked up to the edge and trailed his fingers in the cool clear water, feeling astonished by its extravagance. In their old foyer the walls were covered in slime and the wind whistled through in a ghostly lament as if people had frozen to death in its corners.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see two boys and a girl. They were the same age as him and yet they looked as
if they came from another world. A perfect world where people were warm and ate real food, but their lights were dark, revealing their hostile thoughts, and the girl looked at Mika as if his ragged clothes made her feel sick.

Boom. Boom.

He looked at the floor, remembering The Shadows, but the rich kids ignored the sound and continued to stare at him.

‘Who are you?’ the girl asked, haughtily. ‘How did you get in?’

‘I live here,’ Mika replied.

‘No you don’t,’ one of the boys scoffed. ‘People like
you
don’t live
here
. You must have come in with the cleaners.’

‘And you’re touching our water,’ the girl said, ‘Don’t. You’ll make it dirty.’

Mika almost retaliated. His anger surged up with the crackle of the roar and he wanted to punish them for their prejudice and wipe the haughty sneers from their faces. How easy it would be to humiliate them with the powers he now knew he had. Then he remembered his promise to Mal Gorman and knew this was not the time to be showing off to arrogant strangers, however horrible they were. He turned from them and picked up his bag and walked towards the lift. He heard the boys laugh and say something as the door closed but he clenched his teeth and blocked it out.

Remember Ellie.

Boom. Boom.

The lift began to rise and he slumped against the wall, dreading the moment when he saw his parents again. It wasn’t going to be easy to keep that part of his promise to Mal Gorman. How could he get away with not telling them anything? The bruises on his neck and the cut on his hand were gone but he felt different. Since he’d left home on Friday, he’d been strangled by Ruben, almost killed him by looking at him, then saved his life, been lowered into a pit full of strange borg dogs, met the Telly Heads, won the competition and found, but not seen, his
supposedly dead twin sister. He felt as if he’d been playing all the parts in a very strange soap opera and now he had to face his parents and say nothing. And then, at half past eight, while they were supposed to be enjoying a party, they would get a message from Mal Gorman and find out he had to go back to Cape Wrath in the morning. They were going to be mad as hell and very upset. They would ask lots of questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. It was going to be awful.

But worth it.

* * *

He would never forget the vision that met his eyes as the door to their new apartment opened; his mother stood barefoot on a luxurious carpet in her blue celebration sari and behind her, the Golden Turrets glowed through their very own wall of glass.

‘Mika!’ She ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck. He breathed into her hair and felt a spasm in his chest as he overflowed with love for her. Then she pushed him away so she could look at him.

‘You seem different,’ she said, her eyes scrutinizing his face with maternal sharpness.

‘I’ve only been gone two days, Mum,’ he said. ‘Are you going to tell me I’ve grown again?’

‘Have you been hurt?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes.

‘No,’ he replied, nervously. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘You just seem . . . different. I’m so glad you’re home.’

‘So am I,’ he said.

‘I just said “home”, didn’t I?’ she said, sounding confused. ‘I can’t believe it! Look at the view!’

She gestured towards the glass wall. There was a door to one side that led out onto the balcony and Mika saw his father leaning on the railing with a glass of wine in his hand. He walked out and stood beside him and they gazed down into the park. It was laid out in a pattern of gold paths and pools, their fountains
rising and falling in elegant plumes.

‘I can’t believe you won us a home here playing a game,’ David said, shaking his head. He looked at Mika and smiled. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

‘Thanks,’ Mika replied.

‘Has your mother shown you around yet?’ David asked.

‘Not yet,’ Mika said.

‘She will,’ he went on, smiling.

‘Does she like it then?’ Mika asked, tentatively. ‘Here?’

‘Well, it was a bit of a shock when they turned up three hours ago with packing cases and said we were moving. But I have to admit the place is growing on me and it’s only twenty minutes on the train to Barford North for work and friends. But that noise . . .’ he paused and they listened to it:

Boom. Boom.

‘I don’t think I’ll get used to that. It makes me feel guilty. I don’t think I’d want to stay here if the government don’t do anything to help them down there. I suppose we could sell the apartment if we decide we don’t like it. You know, several government ministers live above us in this turret.’

‘Do they?’ Mika asked, looking up.

‘Yeah,’ David continued. ‘Right at the top, in the dome. The apartments up there are even bigger than this.’

‘Mika!’ Asha called. ‘Come and look at the kitchen!’

David grinned and sipped his wine. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, ‘There’s only so much I can say about cupboard doors and spice racks.’

The main living area led onto an open-plan kitchen with highly-polished pretend wood cupboards. Mika let her show him everything, the acres of cupboard space, the fancy fridge full of champagne and party food, the polished stone worktops and the lovely shiny taps.

‘Look at the air conditioning!’ she enthused, showing him the control panel. ‘We can choose from three different smells: summer meadow, sea breeze or bluebell wood.’

There were two bedrooms and their doors opened on to the living area from the left and right and each had its own bathroom and glass wall overlooking the city. Mika’s room was as big as their whole apartment in Barford North and the walls were panelled with smooth pretend wood. In his bathroom he had gold taps and a warm air cubicle to dry in. There were small soft lights embedded in the walls and on the floor, a thick cream carpet.

‘Where’s the furniture?’ Mika asked, looking around.

‘There isn’t any,’ Asha replied. ‘Not even a television. All we’ve got is our old sofa.’

‘Never mind,’ Mika said. ‘I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. The carpet is soft.’

‘There are wardrobes,’ Asha said. ‘So there’s no excuse to chuck your clothes everywhere. We’ve got under-floor heating and room service – just like in a hotel and a new vacuumbot and a swimming pool and gym and a restaurant, although we probably can’t afford it . . . look in this cupboard! It’s a dry laundry unit! You hang your dirty clothes in here and fifteen minutes later they’re clean! Why don’t you clean what you’re wearing now before everyone arrives for the party?’

She sighed and sank to the floor.