Thank you to the bees. Even the ones who killed a thief at the off-ramp eatery. I read about it in the taxi.
Thank you to the spring that grew the blossoms the honeybees sucked.
Thank you, Susan, for the gift. I am so sorry to ruin your career, but it might pay you back for all those chocolate-flavoured farts.
I take another bite. Delicious.
Thank you for the taste buds I still have in my cheeks. And for my beating heart, leading me inexorably towards the sea.
* * *
I collect my white towels for the very last time.
At the door to the hall, I let my key card do its magic. Open the door to my second chance.
* * *
* * *
The last five cages are already missing. Their cradles lie empty, their feed pipes hang uselessly. The prisoners are all craning their necks, gazing up at a cage swinging by its thick chain near Tamba’s surveillance glass.
‘Help me . . .’ a girl’s voice drifts from the roof, ‘Ple-e-ase.’
‘Be calm, Lolie!’ the desert strangler soothes.
Through the glass, Meirong is standing over Tamba, prodding at something on his DJ desk. She steps back, exasperated, flings a few words at his dreadlocks. She disappears. Tamba sits hypnotised by the tears glittering on Lolie’s cheeks, her kohl eyes terrified.
Her cage is stuck.
‘Don’t worry, you’re safe, Lolie!’ the social worker shouts. ‘They have too much to lose.’
Andride is right. If the chain snaps, they will risk three priceless GM spleens.
‘Help me-e,’ she cries.
‘Close your eyes!’ Madame Sophie shouts.
Lolie shuts her eyes tightly. Madame Sophie begins to sing, ‘Rocka-bye baby on the tree top . . .’
‘Oh, God, Sophie,’ Vicki groans.
Tamba is watching this fascinating movie without sound. He squeaks through my device, ‘The engineer is coming. Bear with me, Malachi.’
But what the heck is he doing besides staring at Lolie? I glare up at Tamba, send him a silent message. That’s the girl they tortured with the plastic bag.
It’s as if Tamba hears me. He swivels on his chair, scoots far away from the beautiful, distressed assassin. I hurry to Samuel’s cage. He senses my urgency, shoves his hands into the sheath.
I bow over them, type beneath the leather shield. ‘Tonight. Get ready. I am going to switch the power off. Your cages will unlock for three seconds.’
Samuel’s fingers curl with shock. The prisoners near us gasp, strain their ears to hear my spokesman over Madame Sophie’s singing.
‘There’s a search going on for Frances –’ I stop. It’s too complicated. ‘We can try to catch up with them.’
Samuel’s eyes glow with courage. ‘When?’
‘I will come in at midnight.’
‘When the wind blows . . .’
Lolie’s eyes are closed, she’s clinging to Madame Sophie’s tender soprano.
‘. . . the cradle will rock.’ Madame Sophie leaves out the last, catastrophic lyrics.
Above us, Tamba is still cowering from his conscience, out of sight.
I type quickly, ‘We can try to launch the lifeboat.’
‘Do you know how?’
I shake my head.
Samuel says, ‘I filmed a launch once from a container ship. I was doing a feature on piracy.’
Across the aisle, Josiah shuffles out of his lethargy. He sits up straight, his scarred eyes slowly letting in light.
I type to Samuel, ‘We might get shot. There’s a soldier on deck with an AK97.’
Samuel nods. ‘Romano.’
I glance at him, astonished.
‘Dominic told us,’ Vicki murmurs.
I have a vision of Vicki’s lungs exploding before Romano’s machine gun. I dare not look at her face or her breasts in case it comes again. I look down, type fervently, ‘If you don’t want to take the risk, just stay in your cage.’
But Vicki’s dark eyes grab hold of me, press my breath from me. ‘I want to.’
The old witch nods and smiles. ‘Let’s go and see the sun rise.’ She sounds like a young heroine in a Grave Escape TV show.
The information travels down the aisles in short, sharp sentences. ‘Three seconds . . . Midnight . . . Malachi . . .’
I clean Samuel’s feet gently. Please God let them hold him upright for the first time in fourteen weeks. I hit the buckle, set them free.
‘Thank you,’ Samuel says simply, the look in his eyes like the dying lioness when we saved her cubs.
As I clip the witch’s fingers, they say my name down the aisle, achingly pretty. I drop the clippers on my sneaker, pick them up. They think I am a hero but I am a fumbling idiot. And Madame Sophie’s incessant singing is driving me insane.
* * *
Vicki slips her crooked, cute toes into the brace. ‘Why are you risking your life for us?’
Her question tugs at my vocal chords. I glance up. Tamba is sitting with his back to Lolie, staring at his wall of computer portraits. Is he watching Vicki? I catch her baby toe between my fingers, squeeze it. Point up at Tamba, put my finger to my lips. I press each of Vicki’s funny, swollen toes one by one. I can’t help it. There is something about sex and death. I feel my penis come alive, remember the love I showed it last night. All I want to do is take Vicki’s sweet, clean toes into my mouth.
Vicki suppresses a giggle. The purple vortex of her eyes does some weird tantric trick.
‘Ticklish,’ she breathes.
I see a flash of Meirong’s white outfit high above us. I slip my phone back in my trousers. It knocks my penis, tells it to go to sleep. I hurry through Vicki’s feet, that today seem dangerously sexy.
* * *
A metallic grating sound rattles the air above us. The hatch slides open next to the surveillance station. A thin man appears in the rectangular space, a torch shining from his forehead. He wears loose white overalls, like he too got the memo. Is this snail the same man inside the fire suit on Sunday? He shines his headlight to the roof, his eyes ghoulish below the beam. His fingers are long protuberances
