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Aura
     
    She
explained yesterday that this letter had been a warning not to try to escape.
She and her friends had sneaked into the outskirts of the 3A complex and
discovered it surrounded by an invisible electric fence, marked by the corpses
of small electrocuted animals. They also discovered that 3A was protected by
Nighthawk, the same ‘private spies’ that bombed the flight my parents and I
should have taken.
    I run
my finger over the letter’s top edge, a row of jagged holes where the page was
torn from a spiral memo pad. Aura could’ve been killed by that fence or shot by
those mercenaries. The thought twists my stomach, until I have to lie down on
my side to stop the pain.
    I crush
the letter against my chest with both hands, as if Aura’s determination can
seep out of the paper and into me. She still wants to conquer our vast array of
enemies, while all I want is to forget them.
    ‘Zachary?’
Mum knocks on my half-closed door.
    I sit
up quickly, smoothing my hair. ‘Yes?’
    She
eases the door open. ‘Just wanted to let you know I’m away to bed now.’
    ‘Goodnight.’
I offer her what feels like a serene smile, then make a mental note to add
smiles to my list of positive sanity variables . ‘If Dad needs anything, let me know and I’ll take care of it.
I’ll be awake late anyway.’
    ‘No,
you need your sleep.’
    ‘I
can sleep mornings after his nurse comes. You can’t, because of work. Let me
take the overnight shift from now on.’ When she hesitates, I add, ‘Please, Mum.
I’ve no job or school to fill my time. I want to help Dad. I need to help.’
    A
thoughtful look crosses her face. ‘I suppose I could use the rest. Do you
remember what to do?’
    ‘Of
course. I helped you care for him in Baltimore. He’s no sicker now than he was
then.’
    ‘True.’
She smiles at me. ‘Thank you, Zachary.’ She turns away, her hand still on the
knob.
    ‘No!’
I leap off the bed, scattering the letters. ‘Don’t close it!’
    Mum
yanks her hand away as if it’s been burned. ‘I wasn’t, I-I’m sorry.’
    ‘Okay.
Goodnight.’ As I watch her back away down the hall, into the loo, my thumb
pushes the latch into the door again and again, comforted by how easily it
slides in and out.
    Which
reminds me …
    I
wait inside my bedroom until I hear my mother start brushing her teeth. Then I
hurry downstairs to the front door.
    Just
like last night, I disengage the deadbolt, then turn the knob to unlock that,
too. Quietly I open and close the door. Leaving it unlocked, I repeat the
process on the door to the back garden, then on all the ground-floor windows.
Finally I put the kettle on for tea, one of the simple, everyday rituals denied
to me this summer.
    And
then …
    I
stand here, holding my breath, eyes darting between windows – first the
small one over the sink, then the larger one in the dining room.
    So.
Fucking. Quiet. I could be the only person in the world right now.
    Slowly
my arms curl around my waist. Not alone
not alone not alone. But even I feel far from me at this moment.
    On
the stove, the kettle rattles as it starts to heat. I reach to place my palm on
its stainless-steel body. If I burn, I exist.
    The
briefest flash of pain makes me draw back. I press my hands to my face in
relief.
    My
fingers still hold the warm brass scent of the door locks. It reminds me that
here, metal exists. Here, some things are hard and unyielding, not all soft and
padded like they were in 3A. Here, I could use hard things to make myself
stronger, or to destroy myself.
    Today,
I choose strength.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    My mates
and I are taking the long way home from Firhill Stadium, where the Jags have just won a match. Aye, Jags won – one
doesn’t often see those words beside each other.
    Due
to the club’s shitey season thus far, it was a
sparsely attended event, so the crowds didn’t overwhelm me like I’d feared.
Martin had told Niall, Frankie, and Graham that I was