Page 54

The park was small – it had clearly once been much bigger, but as was the way with most of the old green spaces, hundreds of cubes had been built on it during the Rising, leaving behind a patch of grassland with some shrubs and trees and a tiny pond.

There was also a dirty, smelly toilet, but at least it provided drinking water and a place to relieve himself.

The weather was dank, with strong winds and squally rain showers, and he felt bitterly cold.

He spent his days walking around the suburb until he knew it like the back of his hand.

He hid in the park every night, staying out of sight as much as he could.

He bought a supply of food from a nearby convenience store and ate it on benches, watching small children with their parents feeding the ducks on the pond.

Helicopters circled overhead regularly, and on a couple of occasions a black SUAV with the Tyler livery on the side passed by, but he always managed to evade them.

Early on Tuesday morning, a Tyler security team did a sweep of his park; he only just got out in time, sheltering in a nearby shop until they left.

Every day seemed to last an eternity, and he lurched constantly between boredom and fear.

He was anxious in case Tyler’s men returned, and yet also teetered on the brink of tedium as each long hour ran into the next.

His nerves were frayed, and although his stomach griped constantly, he struggled to eat.

The slightest thing startled him, and sleep was hard to come by in the cold, wet bushes.

After several days of living on the edge, he felt physically and mentally run down.

The damp had seeped into his chest, he had a permanent headache, and he was desperately tired.

He wished he could switch off, for just a moment, as the hypervigilance was exhausting.

He often thought about Solange. He hoped Tyler didn’t know about the part she’d played in his escape. Sometimes he thought about Elsie. She’d had such a warm, kind voice – it was all he could do not to call her again just to hear it, he felt so alone.

Where would Elsie’s escape route take him?

Most of Northern Europe had been a warzone since the Rising; he’d heard all kinds of horror stories about warlords, scavengers, and people living in vast, lawless cities made of rafts and boats.

He was both scared and excited at the prospect of going there.

At least in that chaotic world he’d be almost impossible to find.

Then he could leave the nightmare of being George Tyler’s whore and whipping boy behind.

He tried not to think about what Tyler would do to him if he caught him, but in the darkest hours of the night he couldn’t help it.

He flinched at the thought of a week spent locked up with Jake Harper.

What would be left of him after such an ordeal?

Or worse, being locked up in Tyler’s own personal suite, humiliated and punished every second of the day, with no end in sight.

Would he ever see his brother or father again, or were they lost to him forever?

He longed to see his father, in particular.

He wanted to tell him how sorry he was for what had happened that day in his office, and to explain his part in it.

Noah had looked at him with such contempt when he’d said that he wished he’d never been born.

That hurt the most. Maybe it was best if he never saw him again, but Charles…

His heart ached at the thought of never having another chance to see his beloved big brother.

Finally, the excruciatingly long ten days came to an end. On the morning of Monday 25th, he hunkered down on a park bench in the rain, turned on the nanopad, and waited for it to buzz. Finally, just after 2p.m., he received the call, his cold, stiff fingers fumbling to answer it .

“Ben, honey, it’s Elsie.” Her voice was as warm and comforting as he remembered it, her nano set to voice only, which he supposed was a wise precaution, although he longed to see her face. “Are you in West Wickham, like I told you?”

“Yes, I am. I’m sitting in a park,” he said stupidly.

“Okay, sweetie. Now listen – you need to go to Station Road at eight p.m. There’s a little parade of shops there, near the leisure centre; our car will be parked there – you won’t be able to miss it.

” She gave a throaty chuckle. “It’s a red Pre-R Jaguar.

Really old, though she’s polished up nice and shiny.

You’ll be meeting two of our people – Peter and Joe.

They’ll get you to a safe house tonight, and then we’ll get you out of the country tomorrow. Do you understand all of that?”

“Station Road. Eight p.m. Red Jaguar,” he repeated.

“That’s right. Just go straight up to the car and get in – don’t hang around outside it, looking suspicious.”

“No. Fine,” Alex said tightly.

“Don’t sound so scared, Ben honey. Peter and Joe are nice people – I’ve known Peter since he was a little kid, and he’ll take good care of you. Joe’s his husband, but don’t worry, he’s not quite as scary as he seems when you first meet him.”

“Okay.” Alex hung on to the nanopad tightly, not wanting her to go. “Can you really get me out of the country?” he asked pathetically.

She gave another of those warm, throaty chuckles. “Of course. That’s what we do. Don’t you worry – another few hours, and you’ll be wrapped up warm in our safe house – and within a few days you’ll be starting a new life, far away from here.”

“Okay.” He nodded vigorously, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Where did you escape from, Ben?” she asked.

“Umm…” He cast around for a plausible story and then drew on what he knew best. “A factory,” he said, thinking of Lytton AV.

“Did they treat you badly?” she asked sympathetically.

“Yes.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He desperately wanted to keep talking to her, but hated lying to her when she was so nice.

“Well, you’re safe now. You be at Station Road tonight, okay?”

“Yes. ”

“Good boy. Now, I’ve gotta go. We’ve got other people to help. You take care now, sweetie.”

“Yes. Bye,” he mumbled.

He felt a pang of guilt. Should he have told her who he was?

Should he have warned her to tell Peter and Joe to take extra care, because Tyler’s men were on the prowl, looking for him?

He was placing them in danger by keeping it quiet.

Presumably, that came with the territory, but it bothered him all the same.

He didn’t want anyone being put at risk because of him.

He’d hurt too many people in his life already. Could he trust them, though?

Elsie had put him on the spot when she’d asked him where he’d escaped from; he had to think up more of a back story, because he was likely to be asked again.

He also needed a surname. He thought about it for a while, and settled on Smith.

Ben Smith. It was the blandest name he could think of, unlikely to draw anyone’s attention.

The day wore on, and as dusk fell, Alex visited the unpleasant park toilet one last time, to get ready.

He hadn’t washed properly in over a week, and his clothes were damp and muddy from sleeping in undergrowth.

Gazing at himself in the cracked toilet mirror, he struggled to find some trace of himself.

George Tyler’s over-styled IS was gone, and in his place was someone very different.

His face looked gaunt, his hair lank, and his chin was covered in a thick layer of dark brown stubble.

His eyes were sunken and haunted. Nobody would recognise him now.

However, he found himself in the determined gleam of his eyes and the firm set of his jaw.

He was going to do this. Alexander Lytton was his past – the future belonged to Ben Smith.

At 7p.m., he made his way to Station Road.

He walked along it until he saw the parade of shops Elsie had mentioned.

It was too early for the red car to be there, so he ducked out of sight down an alleyway and waited, keeping an eye out for Tyler’s black SUAVs.

He hadn’t seen any for a couple of days now, but he was always on the alert.

It would be a horrible irony if one showed up now, when he was on the brink of freedom.

At 7.45p.m., his stomach did a little flip when he saw a red car driving slowly down the street, clearly looking for a parking place.

Eventually, it pulled across the oncoming traffic and steered into a space on the other side of the road, opposite a café.

Alex watched it for fifteen minutes, just to be sure, and then he made his move.

Pulling his hood down over his eyes and wrapping his scarf around his face, he left the alley, his heart pounding.

He crossed the road with a casualness he didn’t feel and carried on walking down the street towards the red car, glancing over his shoulder a couple of times as he went.

He’d never seen such a beautiful Pre-R vehicle up close before.

In other circumstances he’d have stopped to admire it, but now wasn’t the time.

He could make out two people inside – both were big, solid men, one blond, the other dark.

His stomach churned anxiously as he put his hand on the door handle and opened it.

It felt weird, climbing into someone’s car without knowing them, but he slid onto the back seat.

“Am I in the right place?” he enquired anxiously. “Elsie sent me.”

The dark-haired man in the driving seat turned around and smiled. He had the sort of face you trusted instantly – kind, with bright, twinkling brown eyes, full of good-natured humour. Was he Peter or Joe? Alex decided he had to be Peter, because Elsie had said Joe was scary, and this man wasn’t.

“You are. I’m Peter, and this is Joe.” Peter jerked his head at his companion. “What’s your name?”