At two o’clock that morning, Anna woke up and sat bolt upright, shocking Peter, who’d been just about to wake her. She’d gone back to her own cell for the midnight check, and then returned to Peter’s right afterwards and since then they had been lying together on the concrete slab that constituted a bed, huddling together for warmth and comfort. Anna wasn’t sure quite where Peter’s storytelling had finished and her dreams had begun as she gradually fell asleep. She’d been sure she’d never be able to sleep in such a place, with so much anticipation fizzing through her body, but now she was glad she had. She felt sleepy, but she also felt rested and a little calmer.
The vent, behind which their future lay, was the same as the vents found around Grange Hall – rectangular in shape and just about big enough to wriggle through. It was positioned about two and a half metres up the wall, on the opposite side of the cell to Peter’s bed. Anna hadn’t allowed herself to fully believe that behind it lay a tunnel that would lead them out of Grange Hall until Peter had carefully pulled it off earlier to show her.
‘It’s small,’ he’d said seriously. ‘It’s not big enough to walk down, only crawl, so we have to go one at a time.’
Anna looked up at the stark, musty tunnel uncertainly, then looked down at Peter. He was pulling a blunt cutlery knife out of his overalls and he met her eyes with a grin.
‘Got it a couple of days ago. Lunch, I think it was,’ he said, winking. He lifted it up, his forehead creasing in concentration as he used it to unscrew the wire mesh panel. ‘Domestic didn’t even notice it wasn’t on the tray when I gave it back to her. Not that I’m complaining.’
Anna didn’t say anything; instead she took one last look around the cell. It was – she thought wryly – quite apt that her last view of the Hall should be of Solitary, the greyest, bleakest area of all. That night she would be leaving this place for ever. She didn’t want to contemplate the idea that they might get lost in this small, winding tunnel, to die in the underbelly of her prison.
‘I’m going to have to lift you up, so you’re going to be going first,’ Peter said seriously. ‘But I’ll be right behind you. OK?’
He was looking at her intently – even in the darkness of the cell, she could see his eyes glinting, looking at her for reassurance that she was all right. She stuck out her chin bravely and nodded. Then, silently, she allowed Peter to hoist her up so that she could wriggle through the opening.
‘Will you hurry up!’ Mrs Pincent urged Dr Cox irritably. It was late, later than she’d planned to leave London. If they didn’t get to Grange Hall by four o’clock, it might be too late. The first checks were at six in the morning, and she wanted the boy dealt with by then.
‘All right, I’m just about done,’ Dr Cox said, easing the last of the Longevity+ fluid into a small bottle. It was a difficult job, collecting stem cells from unwilling patients, but the rewards more than made up for it.
‘The boy,’ he said thoughtfully, as he packed up his things. ‘I presume I can take what I need from him before I administer the injection?’
Mrs Pincent shrugged. ‘Do what you want, but do it quickly. We’re going to be pressed for time by the time we get back there.’
Anna expected the small opening to widen slightly once she got through, but to her dismay it didn’t. It remained resolutely about fifty centimetres squared, big enough for her to squirm through, but only just, and the dank air and lack of light made her feel like she was journeying into the bowels of the earth.
As she travelled further along the tunnel, the smell got worse and the light all but disappeared. She could hear Peter clamber up behind her, which bolstered her for a while, but it wasn’t long before her demons were surfacing again. What if there was a dead end? she found herself worrying. What if they were discovered and instead of being pulled out of the tunnel, Mrs Pincent put the vent back on and left them to die?
‘I can’t see much at all,’ she called back to Peter, not even sure he’d be able to hear her – there seemed to be no space even for sound to travel.
‘Just keep going straight ahead,’ she heard his muffled reply. ‘It’s only fifty metres or so.’
‘How many metres have we done so far?’
‘About ten maybe.’
Anna’s heart sank, but she gritted her teeth and continued squirming along the enclosed passageway, half crawling, half wriggling like some oversized worm.
It took them over an hour to travel the short distance the tunnel covered. To her relief it had opened up a little as they continued. Anna’s only indication that the tunnel had come to an end was the fact that she squirmed straight into what felt like a brick wall. By now she was hot and sweaty, and covered in foul-smelling slime. Each movement made her squirm. It was absolutely pitch black too and if it hadn’t been for the sound of Peter behind her and his stupid jokes she’d have been tempted to give up ages ago.
‘Peter, I think we’re there,’ she said, feeling around for any twist in the tunnel that might explain the sudden wall in front of her. ‘But I can’t find an opening.’
‘Huh. OK, can you feel around for a grate or something?’
Anna felt around again. There wasn’t much room to manoeuvre, but slowly and methodically, she felt every centimetre of the wall in front of her, hoping for something – anything – that would indicate the way out.
‘I . . . I can’t feel anything,’ she said eventually.
There was a pause, then Peter said, ‘OK, hold still, I’m coming.’ Moments later Anna found herself pressed into the slimy ground, her cheek forced into the corner, as Peter made his way to the end by clambering on top of her.
‘I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .’ she complained, but Peter wasn’t listening.
‘I’m going to get us out, don’t you worry about that,’ he was muttering, and Anna was surprised to hear a tinge of fear in his voice.
Then she heard a yelp of what sounded like terror and she shut her eyes tightly.
The next thing she knew, Anna was being pelted with dry mud, which found its way into her ears, her nose, her mouth, and, as soon as she opened them to try and make out what was happening, her eyes.
This was the end of everything, she thought to herself resolutely. This was what happened to Surpluses who thought they could break the rules. They were going to be buried alive.
But a moment later, Peter was scrabbling forwards and Anna felt his weight lifting from her. As she shook the mud from her face, she realised that he wasn’t yelping in terror, but in delight.
‘We’re nearly there. The tunnel goes up from here. It’s just blocked with mud from the Outside.’
Excitedly, Anna wriggled her arm free and felt the mud for herself. She was touching the Outside, she thought to herself deliriously. It was so close she could actually feel it.
Peter hauled himself through the muddy opening above them and reported that the tunnel continued in the same direction above. Anna followed him, feeling happier now that Peter was in front. As she wriggled up the tunnel, she felt a welcome shiver of cold. It was wind, she realised. She could feel the wind.
The wind grew stronger as they continued along the passageway, turning from a welcome delivery of fresh air to an icy, biting squall that whistled down the tunnel, sounding like some kind of banshee. But Anna barely noticed the cold, or the wailing; she barely noticed the slime or the grazes on her knees, hands and elbows. Up in front of her, just beyond Peter, she could see something that made her feel strong enough to cope with anything. She could see the night sky. Just a fraction of it; mostly all she could see was a wall of some sort that jutted out in front of the tunnel’s opening. But just there on the top right-hand corner, was the tiniest vision of a star, shining against a black sky, not hidden behind a grey blind, but right there in front of her. Anna had never seen anything quite so beautiful in her whole life.
Moments later, Peter disappeared, and within a few seconds she could see his grinning face at the mouth of the tunnel.
‘We’re here, Anna Covey. Give me your hand.’
With Peter’s help, she scrambled out of the narrow opening, and for a moment she couldn’t even speak. Feeling the bitter cold air against her skin and listening to the distant hum of cars and the first, early morning sounds of birds singing, she found herself unable to take it all in. She’d thought she’d be unfazed. After all, she’d been Outside when she went to Mrs Sharpe’s; had thought of herself as quite the worldly Surplus. But this was different.
The whole world was suddenly available to her, right there in front of her, waiting to be felt and heard and smelt. She had seen the moon before, of course, luminescent and bright, but only in stolen glimpses on cold evenings as she stared at it longingly through three thick panes of glass and imagined what it would be like to sleep outside underneath it. Now it felt like it was almost within reach, its perfect roundness unsettling her unperfect self and filling her with awe and something very close to ecstasy. She looked around wide-eyed and she didn’t dare open her mouth in case she screamed or cried or laughed, or even all three all at once, because it was so beautiful and incredible and for this moment, at least, it was hers.
‘OK,’ Peter said, looking around quickly to get his bearings. ‘We should be on the east side of the village. Which means . . .’ He frowned in concentration. ‘That we need to head in that direction.’
Anna nodded mutely and followed Peter down a small road. They looked awful, she realised, looking at his gaunt form in front of her. Their Grange Hall overalls were covered in grime, their faces muddy, and their hands and ankles were bloody.
‘Everyone’s going to know where we’re from,’ she said, ‘in these overalls.’
Peter turned round. ‘They’re going to know where we’re from anyway,’ he said. ‘Anna, there isn’t anyone our age on the Outside. Not openly, anyway. There’s the odd Legal, but you don’t see them much.’
His eyes were flashing in anger, and for a moment Anna didn’t know what to say. But then he shrugged. ‘You’re right, though. We need to find somewhere to hide, fast. But not too close to Grange Hall. The Catchers will be searching everywhere as soon as they know we’re gone.’
Anna nodded again and hurried breathlessly after Peter, wishing she could be more help, but knowing that she knew nothing about this new, unfamiliar environment. Then she stopped.
In front of her was a wall, and on it there were several posters. One showed what looked like a computer screen with the outline of a man with a gun on it. Across the bottom was written ‘Networks spread terrorism. Don’t put your country at risk.’ Another showed on one side a house with lights on in every room, and then a house that had crumbled to the ground on the other. Emblazoned across the top in large, red lettering were the words ‘Protect Energy – keep Britain out of the Dark Ages’. But the poster that caught Anna’s attention was the one that had a picture of a Small on it. The Small was chubby and it was eating, pushing food into its mouth with its little hands, and across the picture, in large black letters, was written ‘Surpluses are Theft. Stay Alert. For more information on the Surplus Problem, visit www.thesurplusproblem.auth.uk’.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘Surpluses are Theft. That’s us, Peter.’
Peter frowned and stepped back so he could see the poster. Then he grabbed Anna’s hand. ‘One day there will be posters about the Longevity Problem,’ he said angrily. ‘That’s the real theft. Stealing life from everyone else just so that Legals can live for ever.’
He stormed off down the road, dragging Anna behind him, ducking down behind walls and bushes whenever they heard the sound of a car or footsteps. Anna, who had longed to see the Outside, had longed to touch the grass and feel the night air on her face, was now very scared of this strange and hostile place. Peter was irritable too. It was getting late, he kept saying, and they should be further away by now. Much further away. The Catchers would be called any minute now.
At the mention of Catchers, Anna’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly caught up with Peter, forcing herself to look straight ahead instead of staring inquisitively at the houses they were passing.
And then she stopped abruptly.
‘What is it now?’ Peter said with a sigh.
‘This house,’ Anna said softly. ‘I know this house. This is Mrs Sharpe’s house.’ The front garden outside the house was just as she remembered it from her internship as a housekeeper; whenever she’d had the chance, she’d sneaked a little peek out of one of Mrs Sharpe’s windows to admire the green grass and perfect borders. And the front porch was unmistakable, with its bright red door and several wind-chimes, which had greeted Anna with a chorus of odd-sounding clanging every time she had taken out Mrs Sharpe’s bin bags.
Peter looked at her uncertainly. ‘Mrs Sharpe?’
‘I told you, remember? I was her interim housekeeper. For three weeks. She was very kind.’
‘A kind Legal?’ Peter snorted.
‘She was,’ Anna said defensively. ‘She was nice.’
‘Fine, whatever. Come on, we’ve got to get going.’
They carried on walking furtively along the road, clinging to the bushes to the side of the pavement, when suddenly they heard a siren and saw lights flashing ahead. Peter pulled Anna back into the bushes, where they lay, hearts racing, in silence. A few moments later, the sirens were silenced and they looked at one another apprehensively.
‘Come on,’ Peter said hurriedly. He scrambled out of the foliage and pulled Anna to her feet. She emerged, scratched and trembling.
‘Was that the . . .’ she began to say, but was unable to finish the question.
‘Maybe,’ Peter said. ‘Although the Catchers don’t tend to advertise their presence like that. It was probably the police. Probably nothing to do with us.’
Anna nodded silently and followed Peter as he started to walk again. But then she frowned.
‘What’s wrong with your leg?’ she asked.
Peter shrugged. ‘Nothing. Come on, we have to be quicker.’
He started to walk again, but Anna could see him wincing. Every time he stepped on his left leg, his body contorted slightly.
‘You’re hurt,’ she said flatly. ‘Peter, you’re hurt.’
‘So what if I am?’ Peter snapped. ‘Come on. We need to get out of the village. We can hide in the fields just outside. They’re only a little bit further.’
He was sweating, Anna noticed, and his face was white. Quickly, she stopped him and pulled up his trouser leg. There was a large gash just above his ankle with blood encrusted in it.
‘Peter,’ she gasped. ‘What happened?’
He sighed. ‘The tunnel,’ he muttered. ‘I caught it on something.’
As she looked more closely, she realised that his lower leg was swelling up, and when she touched the surrounding skin, she felt Peter wince.
‘You can’t walk anywhere like this,’ she whispered. ‘You just can’t.’
‘I have to,’ Peter said, gritting his teeth. ‘There’s no alternative.’
Anna bit her lip.
‘There is one alternative.’
‘What? Get caught?’ Peter said, forcing himself to walk on a few steps, but obviously finding it increasingly difficult. ‘Never. I’m not going back, Anna, and nor are you.’
‘We could go to Mrs Sharpe’s. Hide there for a bit.’
Peter looked at her incredulously. ‘Turn up on a Legal’s doorstep and ask her to hide us? Have you gone mad?’
Anna blanched. ‘I just thought —’
‘Yeah, well don’t, OK? I’ll do the thinking,’ Peter said angrily. He put his weight on his left leg and yelped as he did so.
Anna’s eyes narrowed. She was tired and irritable. ‘Fine. Because your thinking has worked perfectly so far,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Any moment now the Catchers will be after us. You can’t walk, and we’ve got nowhere to go. Don’t you think they’ll find us, if we’re hiding in a field somewhere?’
She folded her arms defensively. Peter turned to look at her and Anna thought she could see fear in his eyes.
‘Anna, she’ll turn us in. She’s a Legal. Come on, there’s got to be an alternative. And we have to find it before it gets light.’
‘But it’s already getting light,’ Anna said urgently. ‘Look.’
Peter looked up at the sky, which was gradually taking on a paler blue hue.
‘We can’t,’ he said, sounding less certain. ‘It’s too risky.’
Anna thought quickly. ‘She’s got a summer house in her garden,’ she said cautiously.
‘A summer house?’ Peter had stopped again.
‘She used to tell me about it because her husband used it as a storeroom and she kept meaning to clear it out, but never got round to it,’ Anna continued. ‘I was going to help her, but then it was time for me to go back to Grange Hall.’
Peter looked around furtively.
‘Do you think we could hide there? Just for today, I mean?’ he asked, his voice now serious. ‘Are you sure Mrs Sharpe never uses it?’
Anna shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again. ‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t think so, but it was a year ago.’
Peter sighed. ‘Can we get to the summer house from out here?’
Anna nodded nervously, and they made their way back to Mrs Sharpe’s house. Then she and Peter scurried to the tall wooden gate that separated Mrs Sharpe’s front garden from her back garden, where Anna picked up a small rock from the ground.
‘You’re not going to smash something are you?’ Peter sounded worried, but Anna shook her head.
‘It isn’t a rock,’ she explained to Peter. ‘It’s for hiding the key. Mrs Sharpe showed me it. Look.’
Carefully, she opened the false rock and took out a key. Her fingers were trembling too much to put it in the lock, so Peter took over, opening the gate and locking it behind them when they were through.
Quickly they darted across Mrs Sharpe’s beautifully manicured lawn, behind which lay the obligatory Allotment. There, at the bottom of the garden was the summer house, still full of furniture and boxes. And there, beside the door, was another false rock.
Two minutes later, they were both safely inside, hidden under a large double bed that was leaning up against the far wall. Using some heavy velvet curtains to wrap around themselves against the cold, they sat still and waited, the only sound their short, shallow breaths.