The Passengers(26)
He briefly forgot about Libby as his attention was drawn to the other Passengers, trapped like him, all with no means of escape. In particular, he was concerned about the visibly distressed Claire. Hers was the first voice he’d heard in his car after the Hacker’s. He watched as she held one hand over her mouth, the other protecting her unborn child. When faced with death, her maternal instinct was to shield something she loved unconditionally. He admired her selflessness. Amongst the other terrified voices, he could just about make hers out. ‘Please … I’m begging you,’ she sobbed. ‘Please.’
Jude was filled with a need to try and reassure her that help was imminent and that they mustn’t give up hope. There was very little he could say to reassure her or anyone else held in their vehicles against their will. But he had to try.
‘Claire,’ he began, attempting to make his voice heard above the others. ‘Claire. It’s Jude Harrison.’ He waited for her to acknowledge him waving at her. ‘Are you okay?’
Her hand moved from her mouth to her eyes to brush away the tears. ‘I can’t die,’ she said, her voice barely audible above the others. ‘I can’t die now. Not like this.’
‘Please, try not to panic. I know it’s easier said than done, but we can’t give in, okay? My instinct rarely lets me down and it’s telling me that you’re a strong woman. You need to hold on to that for both of your sakes. You hear me? Don’t give up. None of us should give up. We will find a way out of this.’
‘How?’ she asked. ‘That Hacker, he said we are all going to die like that poor old man. How can we stop that happening?’
‘I don’t know yet and it’s going to be difficult, but try and keep faith until we’ve exhausted every avenue. Okay? Will you promise me that?’
Claire sniffed up much of the snot running from her nostrils and wiped away the rest with the back of her hand. Jude watched as her response came in short, sharp nods.
His eyes returned to the screen and, in particular, Libby. In an instant he noticed that something wasn’t right with her.
Chapter 19
Almost a year had passed since Libby had last suffered a panic attack.
They’d plagued her through her early twenties before gradually tapering off as her thirties had loomed. When they’d reappeared and limited her tasks as an in-patient mental health nurse, her ex-fiancé William had insisted she told Occupational Health who’d matched her with a counsellor. Dr Goodwin had suggested what Libby had already suspected: that they were a symptom of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Now, witnessing Victor Patterson’s murder brought to the surface memories of both Monroe Street and her brother Nicky’s death.
The counselling sessions taught her mechanisms for when she sensed an attack looming. So, soon after her heart palpitations began in the inquest room, she pushed her chair back from the table, ignoring the commotion surrounding her and tried to keep herself steady despite the disorientation. Next came the dizziness and underarms and chest sweats. She picked a blank wall to stare at and clear her mind.
Ride it out, she told herself, don’t run away from it, confront it head-on, it’s not going to kill you.
Libby had been advised that having someone with her during an episode might help to reassure her. But there was no one she placed her trust in inside that room. The only person she had any faith in was just an image on a screen and who was facing much more life-threatening problems than hers. Gradually, Libby’s eyes left the blank wall and returned to Jude’s screen until the anxiety slowly drained from her body and her escalated heart rate decreased.
The seven remaining Passengers appeared afraid. If the Hacker could kill a disabled pensioner and war hero so casually, he could do the same to any of them.
There was so much shouting and talking over one another that Libby struggled to take in complete sentences, and could only pick up on a few random words and phrases. Sam kept repeating to his wife Heidi that he loved her and that they would be okay, but neither looked convinced. Bilquis, the woman wearing the colourful hijab, wouldn’t give up hope that her telephone might just work, and kept pushing at buttons and trying to summon her operating system. Meanwhile Shabana didn’t appear to understand much of what was happening, only that it wasn’t good. Only Sofia was taking it all in her stride and kept smiling to the camera.
Jude was more concerned with putting someone else’s well-being above his own. Libby watched Jude reassure Claire, who was cleary distressed. Listening to him trying to persuade her not to lose hope was proof her instinct about him the night they’d met was the right one. He was a good man, a man who cared for others. And in Libby’s experience, they were few and far between.
The Hacker’s voice cut through the chatter. ‘Now, Jack,’ he continued, ‘do I have your attention?’ But before he answered, Libby jumped in.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she began and rose from her chair. She steadied herself against the rim of the table, her legs still weak from the panic attack. ‘Victor didn’t deserve that, he was innocent.’
‘Well, someone has truly found their voice, haven’t they?’ the Hacker replied. ‘I have to disagree with you though. He wasn’t innocent. None of us are innocent.’
‘Why did you kill him? He’s done nothing to you.’