any younger, and I was a crap parent anyway. My son didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Are these people going to be any better?”
“Take a look around you, Danny. Just look at them. Look at how they talk to each other and how they interact. Listen to them. It’s a million miles removed from what we’re seeing in places like Lowestoft. This is how the world used to be. This is what we really lost because of the fighting.”
“Bullshit.”
“Is it? You saw what happened in Southwold. That’s as good as it’s going to get up there. Do you think it’s ever going to stop? Look at what’s happening. The human race is regressing. It’s like some kind of de-evolution. Take the Brutes, for example—you saw that poor bitch by the farm. They’re incapable of functioning anymore. Kids are the same. Have you seen how wild they’ve become?”
I don’t bother telling him about the things I’ve seen.
“And the fighters,” he continues, “for Christ’s sake, they’re in charge now. People have stopped thinking. Violence has taken the place of discussions and negotiations. Day by day what’s left of civilization is becoming less and less civilized. Where’s it going to end? Those stupid fuckers ruling the roost are never going to relinquish the power they’ve suddenly been given, are they? Things will get far, far worse before they get any better.”
“So? There’s nothing anyone can do about it. How is keeping a bunker full of Unchanged alive going to make any difference?”
“Don’t you see? These people are constant. They’re normal, and we’re the freaks. This was all about keeping Andrew safe to begin with, but I’ve come to realize now that these people are all that’s left of the human race. We’ve just got to hope there comes a time when they’ll be able to go back aboveground and start again.”
Fuck. Sutton has truly lost his mind.
“Are you out of your fucking mind? You’ve got to face facts, these people are history and all we’ve got left now is cunts like Hinchcliffe and places like Lowestoft.”
“You’re wrong,” he protests. “Help me keep them safe, Danny. All’s not yet lost.”
I’m not listening to any more of this bullshit. “All is lost,” I tell him as I shove him out of the way and try to find my way back to the exit. I can’t take any more of this today. Has Sutton been driven crazy by months of fighting? Whatever’s behind this madness, it’s not my problem. I’m going to do what I promised myself I’d do last night—leave Lowestoft and get away from everything and everybody. I sidestep the man and woman I watched earlier, now lying together, their bodies still locked in an embrace, and all I can think about suddenly is being shut in that damn hotel room yesterday and that rough, loveless sex and how empty and vile it made me feel … The only person I want to be with now is me. I don’t need anyone else. Maybe I’ll go tell Hinchcliffe about this place, then leave them all to fight out their futures between them.
Desperate to get out, I turn to go through the door into the corridor and walk straight into Joseph Mallon coming the other way.
24
“DANNY?” HE SAYS, HIS voice trembling with uncertainty and surprise. “Danny McCoyne, is that really you?”
“Joseph?”
Is it him, or have I finally lost my mind? Am I so sick I’ve started hallucinating now? His voice is unmistakable, but he looks literally half the man he used to be. His face, broad and beaming when he held me captive in the convent, is now distressingly gaunt. His cheeks are sunken and hollow, the whites of his eyes as yellow as his teeth. He wears a grubby woolen sweater that hangs off him like it’s several sizes too big.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were dead,” I answer, slumping back against the wall in disbelief. This can’t be happening. I feel like I’m about to pass out, my hands and feet suddenly numb and heavy, fingertips tingling, eyes not focusing properly … I must be hallucinating.
“You two know each other?” Sutton asks, chasing after me, sounding as shocked as I am. Mallon nods his head vigorously and stares at me, his rasping breathing sounding uncomfortably erratic. He’s in worse shape than me. He grabs my hand and shakes it furiously, grinning like a madman.
“Did you know about this?” I ask Sutton. I look straight at him, demanding an explanation, but he doesn’t answer. I can’t tell whether he’s genuinely shocked or if he orchestrated this whole situation just to try to keep me down here.
“I had no idea…”
“What happened to you, Danny?” Mallon says as he looks me up and down. “You look like shit, man.” I don’t have a chance to respond before he speaks again, turning to talk to Sutton this time. “Danny was one of the ones I told you about, back in the city with Sahota.”
“But how did you…?”
I’m unable to finish my question, not even sure what it is I’m trying to ask. He might look like a shadow of the man he was, but Mallon still manages to seem infinitely more composed than I feel. He’s acting like he’s found a long-lost friend, not someone he kept locked in a cell for days on end, chained to a piss-soaked bed—someone who wanted to kill him. I focus on that thought for a second. There’s a part of me that still thinks I should do it.
“Back at the convent,” he begins, in that instantly familiar, rich accent, “there was a lot of bullshit flying about.” He looks at Sutton. “I told you about Sahota … the guy pulling the strings there? I figured out what he was, what he was all about, and how he was training up people like Danny here for some crazy last crusade. I knew he was bad news, but I didn’t let on. I acted dumb and played along with it ’cause I didn’t have any choice—I knew he’d kill me if I stepped out of line. He gave me food and he kept me safe from all the chaos outside, so I put up with it, but I knew it wouldn’t last, and I was ready. The moment he packed up and disappeared, I knew something bad was coming.”
“Wait,” I interrupt, “he disappeared?”
“It was like someone flicked a switch, Danny. One minute he’s sitting in his office, giving out his orders, the next he’s loading up a car, clearing out the supplies, getting his people together, and getting the hell out of there. They killed the rest of us before they left, but I was one step ahead of the game. Locked myself in your old room, as it happens. Hid under the bed and waited there until I was sure they’d all gone.”
“But the bomb … how did you get away?”
“A combination of good luck and common sense,” he answers. “The area around the convent was empty, not a single person left there but me. Then, next day, crack of dawn, everything goes crazy. I hear fighting, then there’s this unbelievable noise and the army starts racing away from the middle of town. Didn’t take a genius to work out that the shit was about to hit the fan big-time. Sahota’s people had left a couple of cars behind. I had one of them ready, and I joined the convoy out of the city. I saw the explosion in the distance, but I was far enough away by then. I dug in with the military until they were attacked. Me and a couple of others managed to get away, and that was when we ran into Peter here and his people. ’Cause he’s like you he was able to keep up all the bullshit and pretense and keep us hidden. Now here we are, several months and several stops farther down the line. And here you are, too. Jesus Christ, Danny McCoyne, it’s good to see you! I can’t believe it’s you!”
I can’t believe it’s him, either. I try again to make sense of everything I’ve heard today, to unweave the stories Mallon and Sutton have told me and try to find a logical explanation as to why I’m in a bunker buried under a farm with a bunch of foul Unchanged, but I can’t. It’s as impossible as it sounds. My overriding emotion right now, stronger even than anything I feel for either Mallon or the Unchanged, is anger toward Hinchcliffe and Sutton. Now, if what Mallon’s just said is true, then that anger spreads to Sahota, too, because after dispatching me and many others into the city to fight and sacrifice ourselves in the name of the cause, he turned tail and ran. Cowardly fucker.
“I need help to look after these people,” Sutton says. I look into his face, but in the half-light his expression is impossible to read. Is he genuine, or is he just another manipulative shyster, out to use me and exploit me like everyone else? “This is their only chance. This is our only chance.”
“You shouldn’t have brought me here.”
“Yes I should. Please stay, Danny, I need your help. I can’t do this on my own anymore.”
