curious.
They come to a stop a few metres from me. I can’t see their faces but I can feel them gawping. I grin tightly, saying nothing, waiting for them to make their move.
Finally one of them says, ‘
B?
’
It’s a girl’s voice, not what I was expecting.
I don’t answer. I think I recognise the voice, but I don’t want to raise my hopes, sure they’ll be dashed if I do.
‘Is that you, B?’ the other one asks, and this time it’s a boy. I’m sure I recognise his voice too, but again I’m worried that I might be imagining things.
Maybe my metallic ears are distorting the sounds, making me hear what I want to hear.
‘Who wants to know?’ I grunt.
‘It’s us,’ the girl says.
‘The twins,’ the boy adds.
At that, I can’t help myself. I look up, expecting my eyes to contradict what I’ve heard. But, to my surprise, the vision matches the voices. A boy and girl a few years younger than
me, with blond hair and fair skin. They helped clean me up when I first crawled out of a Groove Tube all those months ago.
‘Cian?’ I say dumbly. ‘Awnya? What are you guys doing here?’
‘Waiting for you,’ Awnya says.
‘And playing catch,’ Cian chuckles.
The twins sweep forward and hug me. I can only stare at the top of their heads like a dope, wondering if I’m dreaming.
Then Cian says, ‘What happened to your stomach?’
And Awnya says, ‘Ew! Gross!’
And suddenly I know it’s real. With a cry of shock and delight, I wrap my arms round them, and for the longest time I just stand there, hugging the young twins hard, without a single other care in the world, all thoughts of suicide forgotten,
lost for a short, blissful period to an emotion I thought I’d never feel again in this undead life.
Happiness.
TEN
Eventually the twins tire of the hugging and let go. I would have been content to hug them forever, but I don’t want to appear like some kind of desperate creep, so I grin shakily and
force a weak chuckle.
‘You guys will never know how relieved I am to see you,’ I mutter.
‘Who did you think we were?’ Cian asks.
‘Bad people?’ Awnya laughs.
‘The very worst,’ I tell them, my smile slipping.
The twins see the pain on my face. They study my wounds, this time seriously, saying nothing, concern and compassion in their gaze.
‘Are you OK, B?’ Awnya asks.
‘Of course she’s not OK,’ Cian huffs. ‘Look at the hole in her stomach. How could anyone be
OK
when they look like that?’
Awnya ignores her brother. ‘How bad is it?’
‘Pretty damn bad,’ I admit with a grimace. ‘But I’ve plugged up the worst of the damage and made it this far. I can battle on a bit further.’
‘Maybe we could find something to patch you up more efficiently,’ Awnya says. ‘There are some pharmacies close by. We could get proper bandages, plasters, anything you
need.’
‘It’ll take more than that to put me together again,’ I sniff.
‘I think even all the king’s horses and all the king’s men would have a tough time with this one,’ Cian nods.
‘Idiot,’ Awnya snorts, and we exchange a look that girls everywhere have been sharing since the dawn of time —
boys
!
‘So, all kidding aside, what were you doing on the
Belfast
?’ I ask.
‘Waiting for you,’ Cian says.
‘Really,’ Awnya adds.
I frown. ‘How did you know I’d come this way?’
‘We didn’t,’ Awnya says.
‘But Dr Oystein hoped you’d return to a place you were familiar with,’ Cian explains.
‘He posted Angels here, Battersea Power Station, your old flat,’ Awnya says. ‘Anywhere he thought you might turn up if you managed to escape.’
‘He didn’t think I was a lost cause?’ I ask hoarsely.
‘He feared the worst,’ Awnya sighs.
‘But he said if anyone could get out of that mad clown’s den, it was you,’ Cian smirks.
‘He never gave up on you,’ Awnya says softly.
‘He prayed and had faith,’ Cian whispers.
‘And his prayers have been answered,’
They come to a stop a few metres from me. I can’t see their faces but I can feel them gawping. I grin tightly, saying nothing, waiting for them to make their move.
Finally one of them says, ‘
B?
’
It’s a girl’s voice, not what I was expecting.
I don’t answer. I think I recognise the voice, but I don’t want to raise my hopes, sure they’ll be dashed if I do.
‘Is that you, B?’ the other one asks, and this time it’s a boy. I’m sure I recognise his voice too, but again I’m worried that I might be imagining things.
Maybe my metallic ears are distorting the sounds, making me hear what I want to hear.
‘Who wants to know?’ I grunt.
‘It’s us,’ the girl says.
‘The twins,’ the boy adds.
At that, I can’t help myself. I look up, expecting my eyes to contradict what I’ve heard. But, to my surprise, the vision matches the voices. A boy and girl a few years younger than
me, with blond hair and fair skin. They helped clean me up when I first crawled out of a Groove Tube all those months ago.
‘Cian?’ I say dumbly. ‘Awnya? What are you guys doing here?’
‘Waiting for you,’ Awnya says.
‘And playing catch,’ Cian chuckles.
The twins sweep forward and hug me. I can only stare at the top of their heads like a dope, wondering if I’m dreaming.
Then Cian says, ‘What happened to your stomach?’
And Awnya says, ‘Ew! Gross!’
And suddenly I know it’s real. With a cry of shock and delight, I wrap my arms round them, and for the longest time I just stand there, hugging the young twins hard, without a single other care in the world, all thoughts of suicide forgotten,
lost for a short, blissful period to an emotion I thought I’d never feel again in this undead life.
Happiness.
TEN
Eventually the twins tire of the hugging and let go. I would have been content to hug them forever, but I don’t want to appear like some kind of desperate creep, so I grin shakily and
force a weak chuckle.
‘You guys will never know how relieved I am to see you,’ I mutter.
‘Who did you think we were?’ Cian asks.
‘Bad people?’ Awnya laughs.
‘The very worst,’ I tell them, my smile slipping.
The twins see the pain on my face. They study my wounds, this time seriously, saying nothing, concern and compassion in their gaze.
‘Are you OK, B?’ Awnya asks.
‘Of course she’s not OK,’ Cian huffs. ‘Look at the hole in her stomach. How could anyone be
OK
when they look like that?’
Awnya ignores her brother. ‘How bad is it?’
‘Pretty damn bad,’ I admit with a grimace. ‘But I’ve plugged up the worst of the damage and made it this far. I can battle on a bit further.’
‘Maybe we could find something to patch you up more efficiently,’ Awnya says. ‘There are some pharmacies close by. We could get proper bandages, plasters, anything you
need.’
‘It’ll take more than that to put me together again,’ I sniff.
‘I think even all the king’s horses and all the king’s men would have a tough time with this one,’ Cian nods.
‘Idiot,’ Awnya snorts, and we exchange a look that girls everywhere have been sharing since the dawn of time —
boys
!
‘So, all kidding aside, what were you doing on the
Belfast
?’ I ask.
‘Waiting for you,’ Cian says.
‘Really,’ Awnya adds.
I frown. ‘How did you know I’d come this way?’
‘We didn’t,’ Awnya says.
‘But Dr Oystein hoped you’d return to a place you were familiar with,’ Cian explains.
‘He posted Angels here, Battersea Power Station, your old flat,’ Awnya says. ‘Anywhere he thought you might turn up if you managed to escape.’
‘He didn’t think I was a lost cause?’ I ask hoarsely.
‘He feared the worst,’ Awnya sighs.
‘But he said if anyone could get out of that mad clown’s den, it was you,’ Cian smirks.
‘He never gave up on you,’ Awnya says softly.
‘He prayed and had faith,’ Cian whispers.
‘And his prayers have been answered,’
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