Dog Blood Part 14

Lizzie knelt down in the doorway. Curled up on the floor in front of her, chained to the sink pedestal, gagged and bound and heavily sedated, lay Ellis. Lizzie stroked her hair and ran her hand gently down the side of her tranquilized face.

"She could kill you, Lizzie. She could kill all of us."

"I know, but I can't let her go. Try to understand..."

"There's nothing to understand."

"Yes there is. What if your baby turns out to be like this? Will things be different then? Could you imagine giving your baby up?"

"No, I-"

"She's my daughter, Katie, and no matter what she is, what she's done or what she might still do, she's my responsibility. I'll protect her and fight for her until the bitter end."

"If we go on like this," Kate warned, "that will be sooner than you think."

26.

THE MORNING I THOUGHT would never come is finally here. I lay on the bed for hours, but I couldn't sleep. It reminded me of being back in the apartment with Ellis, when we shut ourselves off from the others and slept on Edward's top bunk. I kept thinking about her wide, innocent eyes. Oblivious to all that was happening around her, she curled up alongside me, full of love and complete, unspoken trust. would never come is finally here. I lay on the bed for hours, but I couldn't sleep. It reminded me of being back in the apartment with Ellis, when we shut ourselves off from the others and slept on Edward's top bunk. I kept thinking about her wide, innocent eyes. Oblivious to all that was happening around her, she curled up alongside me, full of love and complete, unspoken trust.

Barefoot and cold, I've spent most of the last few hours looking out of the small window, watching the darkness turn to gray as the sun rose over the roof of this bizarre prison.

I've stood here for hours trying to work out who this Sahota might be and what he wants from me. I've taken some rea.s.surance from the fact that I'm sure Joseph Mallon's naive trusting of me is genuine-he put his life on the line several times yesterday, and all that any of the Unchanged have left now is their lives. He's either supremely confident and brave, stupidly optimistic, or, and this seems most likely, he genuinely believes all the c.r.a.p he's been peddling. So will Sahota be the same? I've been trying to work out my tactics, deciding how I should play my showdown with Boss Man. But how can I prepare for a meeting in a place I don't know with a person I've never met?

It's all irrelevant.

The only thing that matters now is getting out and looking for Ellis. The war ... us and them ... taking sides-all of that has to take second place from now on. I'll play along with Mallon and his hippie/pacifist/conscientious objector bulls.h.i.+t for as long as it takes until I get out of here. Unless, of course, they don't intend to let me out. Then I'll resort to my backup plan-my Plan B, which used to be Plan A: start fighting and don't stop until every last one of the f.u.c.kers is lying dead at my feet.

The door finally opens, and Mallon strides in. About time. There's no tray of food and no small talk or niceties either this morning. It's like he's just got a job to do. Is he abandoning me and moving on to a new pet? Or is he just unable to look me in the eye because he knows what's coming next? I want to attack him, but I don't, forcing myself to swallow the Hate back down like poisonous bile.

"What's going to happen?" I ask, instantly regretting having spoken. Christ, how far I've fallen. It's bad enough that I'm being held captive by the Unchanged; now I'm begging them for information, too. Pathetic.

"I told you last night. You're going to see Sahota."

"Yes, but-"

Mallon stands up straight and looks at me, still on guard but allowing himself to relax slightly. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I resist the temptation to shrug it off.

"Have faith, Danny. Sahota is a good man. The kind of man who could bring an end to this war."

That doesn't make me feel any better.

"But who is he? What does he want to see me for?"

My questions obviously sound as desperate as I suddenly feel. Mallon manages half a smile.

"You'll find out."

He bends down and takes the shackles off my feet. Now the only chains left are those that bind my hands together. I could kill him now, but that would be a mistake. If I'm going to kill anyone this morning, it should be the main man, not one of his minions.

Mallon leads me out into a wide corridor. There's no security this time, no bag over my head, and I get my first proper look at the building I'm being held in. It's an odd-looking place, nothing like the prison I'd imagined. The walls are bare, their light yellow paint faded and peeling, and the air is cold. There are traces of religious paraphernalia lying around like the crucifix in my room-a painting of some serene-looking woman at the top of a staircase, some unfathomable ancient slogan scrawled across another wall, enough crucifixes to ward off a whole army of vampires.

We reach a T-intersection at the end of the long corridor, walking under an unrepaired hole in the roof where rainwater has poured in and soaked the carpet. To my left the corridor continues toward another long staircase. To my right there's a short, narrow landing, then three steps leading up to an ominous-looking door. Is this my Room 101? Is this the very end of my journey? All the fears and uncertainties I'd managed to dismiss suddenly manifest themselves again. My pulse is racing and my throat's dry. My body tenses. I stop and turn toward Mallon. The urge to kill him is strong, almost too strong ...

"Don't, Danny," he pleads pathetically, my intent obviously clear, "please don't. You're so close now..."

He moves past me quickly, climbs the steps, and opens the door. He pushes it wide open, and I edge a little closer to try to look past him and see inside. It looks bizarrely like a doctor's waiting room, more like another short corridor than a room-clean, a door at either end, light flooding in through a skylight, a low table and a row of three chairs against one wall. I take a step closer, my curiosity and nerves getting the better of me. Mallon stands there, blocking my way, and it's like he's somehow taunting me. Can't stand this. This bulls.h.i.+t has gone on for too long. I don't think there's anyone else in this d.a.m.n building. I'll kill him, then fight my way out of here.

I run at the f.u.c.ker, but he sidesteps, then pushes me into the other room. I spin around as he slams the door in my face.

"Don't blow it," he shouts as it shuts. I hear a bolt slide across, then hear his m.u.f.fled voice still talking to me. "Keep the faith, Danny, you're almost there. Remember everything you've learned."

I hammer on the door, but it's no use-it's locked, and he's gone. How could I have been so f.u.c.king dumb, to walk into a simple trap like this?

I'll wait for Sahota to show his face now.

I'm ready to fight. b.a.s.t.a.r.d won't know what's. .h.i.t him.

27.

SILENCE. ABSOLUTE, TOTAL f.u.c.kING silence. I stand and watch the other door, waiting for it to open, ready to attack. No one's coming. Is this another setup? More stupid games? Making me wait and trying to get me to panic and crack? Too late for that now. silence. I stand and watch the other door, waiting for it to open, ready to attack. No one's coming. Is this another setup? More stupid games? Making me wait and trying to get me to panic and crack? Too late for that now.

Both doors are locked, but the skylight above is open slightly. I climb up onto one of the chairs, my hands still bound together, and try to haul myself up. The rattling chains are heavy around my wrists, and the frame of the skylight doesn't feel strong enough to support my weight. I'll pull it down before I- "Going somewhere?"

I drop, spin around, and throw myself at the figure standing in the other door. I swing my chain-wrapped hands at his head, hard enough to decapitate him. He manages to somehow duck out of the way, then shoves me in the gut. I trip over the chair I was just standing on, falling back and cracking my head hard against the floor. I roll over and try to get up, but this b.a.s.t.a.r.d's fast. He pushes me back down and plants a boot right between my shoulder blades, stopping me from moving. I brace myself for his next strike, but it doesn't come, and he lifts his foot off. I look back and watch him walk away. Confused, I drag myself up, using another chair for support, suck in a deep breath of air, and turn around to face him.

What? How can he... ?

"You must be Danny McCoyne," he says, but I can't answer. "I'm Sahota."

Standing in front of me, wearing a smart, if a little crumpled, pin-striped suit and a remarkably clean white s.h.i.+rt, is one of our people. He's not Unchanged. I do a double take, but I know I'm right. This man is a friend and an ally, and I immediately know we're on the same side. He's short and his build is slight, but he stands tall with confidence and composure. The surprise and confusion he obviously sees on my face are clearly not unexpected.

"Apologies for all the subterfuge and bulls.h.i.+t over the last few days," he says, gesturing for me to follow him through into the next room. He stops just inside the room as if he's remembered something important. He checks his trouser pockets, then pulls out a key and undoes the chains around my wrists. He throws them out into the waiting area and closes the door behind us.

All I can do is stand and stare at Sahota. I don't know what I was expecting, but he isn't it in any way, shape, or form. He's a good foot and a half shorter than me, dark-skinned, with close-cropped dark hair, graying at the temples. He has a neatly trimmed mustache and wears a pair of wire-framed gla.s.ses. For the first time in months I'm suddenly conscious of my shabby appearance-dead man's trousers and s.h.i.+rt, no shoes, hair long and s.h.a.ggy, face covered in stubble and bristle.

"Come in and sit down," he says, ushering me farther into the room. It's a wide, s.p.a.cious, and relatively clean and uncluttered office-c.u.m-living-area. In one corner is a metal-framed bed, similar to the one in my cell but with clean bedding folded back with military precision. Along one wall are several huge, mostly intact windows (only one pane of gla.s.s has been boarded up), and in front of me is a large wooden desk with a single chair on either side. Sahota locks the door, then sits down at the desk with his back to the window. He beckons for me to sit opposite.

"Where do you want to start?" he asks in a clipped, well-educated accent as he pours me a drink and slides it across the table.

"Don't know," I mumble pathetically between thirsty gulps of water. Truth is, I've got so many questions to ask I'm struggling to make sense of any of them.

"Don't worry." He grins. "It's not unusual. You've been through a lot."

"I don't know what I've been through."

He grins again. "We wouldn't have done it this way if there'd been any alternative."

"So what exactly have you done?"

"Which one of them looked after you? Selena, Joseph, or Simon?"

"Looked after me?! That's not how I'd put it."

"Which one?"

"Joseph."

"And what did he tell you?"

"Lots of bulls.h.i.+t about breaking the cycle, not fighting fire with fire, holding the Hate ... He said the more I fought, the harder it would get."

"Did you believe any of it?"

I shrug my shoulders. Truth be told, I'm still not sure what I believe.

"Bits of it made sense."

"Well, some of what he said must have had an effect on you, because you're here and he's still alive. You'd have killed him otherwise."

"He said I was only locked up here because of the Hate. He said the more we fight, the less we get."

"And what do you think about that, Danny?"

"I'm not sure what I think."

"But you must have some kind of opinion. You can't tell me an intelligent man like you lay there alone in the darkness for hours and didn't think about what he'd been told."

"I think he was right when he said we were stuck in a vicious circle and that things are only going to get worse..."

"Go on."

"But I don't understand what difference that makes. What else are we supposed to do? We can't live with the Unchanged, we have to kill them."

"You're absolutely right."

"So how do we win a war without fighting?"

Sahota stands up, picks up his drink, and walks over to the window. He looks out, choosing his next words with care and consideration.

"There is an alternative."

"Is there? I can't see one."

"That's because you're looking in the wrong place. You need to change your perspective, Danny, and that's what this place is all about. That's why we're here. Tell me, before we brought you here, did you ever hear anything of Chris Ankin and his plans?"

"I heard his messages when the war started, and I was with a group for a couple of days. They said they were trying to build an army."

He turns back to face me. "And what did you think of that?"

"Gut reaction?"

"Yes."

"As soon as we start grouping together in large numbers, the enemy will blow the s.h.i.+t out of us."

"Exactly right. We're still outnumbered, and they still have a structured military with a just about operational chain of command. We'd only be able to take the fight to them on limited fronts, and yes, they'd probably blow us out of the water. While we're concentrating on one of their cities, the others would still be standing strong. They've already shown they're willing to sacrifice thousands of their own to try to wipe us out. You've only got to look at how they lost London-"

"What did did happen to London?" happen to London?"

"You didn't hear?"

"Not really, only a few details."

"It was early on, before these refugee camps were set up. It wasn't something we planned; rather it was something they couldn't prevent. The capital was too big for them to defend, too sprawling ... London showed us what we could achieve. The fighting on the streets must have been incredible. I almost wish I could have been there. There were hardly any of us in comparison to them, but the panic we caused was beyond anything we could have hoped for. They reached critical ma.s.s..."

"Critical ma.s.s? I don't understand."

"The point of no return ... the point where it was impossible for them to regain any order, where the number of individual battles was so high and the fighting so intense that they could no longer separate them from us. They didn't know who was who anymore. The only option left to them was to destroy everything."

"They destroyed London?"

"The whole city and everyone in it. Wiped out thousands of our people, but they took hundreds of thousands of their own with them."

We're digressing, and I'm confused.

"I still don't understand. What's that got to do with you holding me here?"

"In the end it was their confusion and panic that destroyed London, simple as that. But like I said, if we'd attacked with an army, they'd have seen us coming and wiped us out before we'd even got close."

"You said I was looking in the wrong place..."

"That's right, and so were they."

"Still don't get you. Look, I'm sorry, you've spent days f.u.c.king with my brain, and I'm tired. Stop talking in riddles and just explain."

"Have you ever heard of a text called The Art of War The Art of War?"