Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(67)

The smell was coming from a second-floor window at the back of a dorm block. It was one for ‘small family units’, which meant single parents with few enough kids that the whole family could be housed in one room. ‘Few enough kids’ could apparently be as many as three.

A woman stuck her head out the window, fanning steam, her brown skin glistening.

‘Sorry, pet,’ she called down when she saw him standing below. ‘Coupla lil’ chickens flew out the factory yesterday, but we’ve none spare, even for a proper lad like you.’

She gave a deep, throaty laugh and disappeared back inside. Luke didn’t begrudge her refusal, just stood there feasting on the aroma.

Then another face appeared at the window: a girl, maybe early teens, whose frizzy hair was barely contained by two plaits. She put her finger to her lips then held up what looked like a wodge of tissue and tossed it to him. Luke darted to catch it. It was actually toilet paper, but concealed in the middle, like an improbable prize at the end of a game of pass the parcel, was a hot sliver of meat speckled with salt and pepper.

Luke stuffed it in his mouth and looked up to thank the girl. But she was staring over his head at something behind him. Then she broke her self-imposed silence.

‘Run!’

Startled, Luke looked over his shoulder.

His feet took off before his brain caught up, by which time he’d managed to get a few blocks away. He could still hear the boots behind him, though. They were going surprisingly fast given the man’s size.

But Luke knew what he’d seen when he’d looked back. There was only one person in Millmoor who wore that uniform and was built like that, albeit the massive bull neck had been in silhouette. And Luke knew the voice that had roared his name just as he took to his heels.

Kessler.

Luke had to slow his pace a little. His work in Zone D might have made him stronger, and his illicit roaming around Millmoor had wised him up to the city’s layout. But neither of those things had made him any quicker on his feet.

Kessler wasn’t catching up just yet, though. Could he shake him off?

But the man had plainly known where he was. It would be too much of a coincidence for him to have simply run into Luke way out on the edge of South, in the depths of the family blocks. How had he known?

The chip. The bloody microchip! Luke clawed at his arm as he ran, as if he could scratch the thing out.

What did Kessler’s pursuit of him mean, on this of all days? Think, Luke. Think!

Luke wondered if there was any blood in the middle part of his body at all. It would all be flowing frantically to his legs and his brain. And right now, his legs were getting the lion’s share.

Kessler had been looking for him. Which could mean that he hadn’t succeeded in fooling Ryan last night. Or maybe Zone D had been deserted all day, and for want of any better leads they were pulling Luke in for questioning by someone who actually knew how to do it.

Or maybe they knew about the club.

The first two scenarios Luke would just have to handle. But if it was the last one, he had to warn the others. And there was only one way he could think of to do that: find Jackson.

He had to get to the Doc before Kessler caught up with him, then Jackson could get word to the others. Help them keep a low profile, somehow.

He snatched a glance at his watch. The cruddy BB digital display was hard to read, but the sky itself told Luke that the afternoon was wearing on. The rally at the MADhouse had been scheduled for three o’clock. That was where Jackson would be – even if he wasn’t giving any speeches. Hopefully Luke would be able to lose Kessler in the crowd for long enough to find him.

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he had.

He ran through the streets as swiftly as he could without pushing himself to exhaustion. His throat and lungs began to burn. He was sucking in air that was too cold, too fast. At least Kessler wouldn’t be finding it any easier. Luke couldn’t hear the man behind him any more.

He settled into a regular pace, like doing cross-country back at school, and eventually the surroundings became more familiar. Ahead he saw the agglomeration of offices that kept Millmoor functioning: Supply, Sanitation and the vast Administration block. Off to the right was the huge, blank barracks of Millmoor Security.

The streets were strangely empty, but over the noise of his thumping heart and scraping breath Luke could hear what sounded like a cacophony of many voices.

It must have worked.

The club’s plan must have actually worked. That sounded like hundreds of demonstrators. Maybe more.

As he approached the MADhouse, the streets began to fill with people. At first they were just in small groups and loosely packed knots, but ahead they thickened up into a dense crowd. And beyond that, it looked as if they formed a solid wall. There were no guards here at the back of the gathering. They must all be at the front, keeping protesters away from the MADhouse and other key buildings.

Luke hurried forward, first weaving his way between people, then shouldering his way deeper, and finally pushing through.

How the hell was he going to find Jackson?

The crowd spread as far as he could see. It filled the confined area in front of the MADhouse – a meanly proportioned space never intended for public celebrations or display – and flowed into the avenues that led away from it. He revised his estimate of numbers. There must be a few thousand here. It certainly smelled and sounded like that many.