Anywhere

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Follow Penguin

Jon Robinson

SOMEWHERE

Prologue

A snowstorm lashed at the concrete walls of the prison, rendering the grey stone white. Hidden by acres of surrounding woodland, the building was almost invisible at the best of times. Then again, that’s the whole point, Henry thought, sitting against the wall of the underground cell. His white beard was flecked with blood from wounds inflicted by the guards when they’d caught him, when he’d been helping Jes and Ryan escape.

Luthan won’t just leave me here, he thought. He was sure the Guild would be doing everything they could to free him.

He looked up as the sound of footsteps came down the corridor.

The door opened and Susannah, the teacher, stepped inside.

‘Have you come to gloat?’ Henry said.

‘Felix is dead,’ she said abruptly. ‘And Stephen Nover has taken control of the Pledge. He’s insane …’ She paused, looking around as if someone might overhear. ‘Never mind. That’s not the only reason I came here. Something’s happening to the children. I need your help.’

Henry watched her carefully and nodded.

Susannah looked over her shoulder at the door. ‘Come in,’ she said.

A small frail-looking boy with pale skin entered. His nose was flecked with dried blood.

‘He’s passed out a couple of times,’ Susannah said. ‘He’s been getting quite confused.’

‘I see.’

‘Do you want to examine him or –’

‘I’ve seen enough,’ Henry said.

‘Very well.’ Susannah called to the guard, who appeared at the door. ‘Take this inmate back to his cell.’

The guard nodded and beckoned to the boy, who quickly left. As soon as their footsteps had disappeared, Henry sighed deeply and looked at Susannah, before saying, ‘The Ability is being overused. It’s making them sick. When reality is manipulated on such a scale, like you’re doing here, it causes the brain to just …’ Henry snapped his fingers.

‘What does that mean?’ Susannah asked. ‘What will happen?’

‘The nosebleeds will get worse. So will the blackouts until he’s either lost his mind completely … or he just doesn’t wake up. And not just the children here. My people too. The escaped inmates.’ He stopped and slowly shook his head. ‘It’ll kill them all.’

Susannah said nothing for a few moments. ‘Is there any way of stopping it?’

‘End the project,’ Henry said. ‘At once. Set them free.’

‘There’s nothing I can do,’ she said. ‘If I disobey Stephen, he’ll just get someone else to take my place. He won’t let it end –’

Henry narrowed his eyes. ‘We discovered the Ability, Susannah, all those years ago … and you let it fall into the wrong hands … You gave it to these psychopaths and now we’re all in danger: you, me, the country itself. The children –’

‘I know!’ she hissed, exasperated. ‘But it’s out of my hands now. I’m just as much of a prisoner as you are.’

Before he could answer, she turned and slammed the door shut.

Henry leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Prologue

The butterfly was on fire. It fluttered wildly through the air, leaking coils of smoke from its smouldering ochre wings.

Who had done this? She thrust out her hand to extinguish the flames, but the creature dipped nimbly through her fingers. I’m trying to help you! she urged it desperately, and tried again but it was still too quick to capture.

She followed it with her eyes, not blinking, and before long she realized that the butterfly was travelling the same path over and over, caught in some strange loop.

It was trapped.

She waited, anticipating its next movement, and made a grasp for it. The instant her fingers found the flame, she shuddered awake.

‘Pyra –’

Pyra looked around with a sharp intake of breath. The windscreen wipers of the silver sports car whined back and forth, smearing the rain-speckled window.

Anton, a black man in his early thirties with a single glistening stud in his ear, was touching her arm. ‘Talking in your sleep again,’ he clarified.

‘Was I?’

‘Yep. Shouting. Everything all right?’

‘I think so,’ said Pyra.

She rubbed her eyes and shivered, looking outside. An endless froth of white clouds bruised with grey smothered the Scottish countryside.

‘How far are we?’ she said, rearranging her short spiky black hair.

‘Dunno. An hour? Maybe a bit less. You wanna tell me about this dream?’

Pyra thought for a moment. ‘I don’t … I don’t really remember.’ She sighed, plucking grumpily at the seatbelt strap, which had left a deep pink groove in her neck, and wriggled in her seat.

Anton dug his hand around in the side compartment and removed a cassette tape in a battered cardboard sleeve. ‘Let’s have a bit of music,’ he said, shoving it into the player.

‘As long as it’s not that annoying piano crap. God, I hate jazz.’

‘Yeah,’ he said disappointedly. ‘Well, I’m working on that.’

‘Keep working. I don’t get it.’

‘No one gets jazz,’ he said with a grin, adjusting the volume. ‘It gets you.’

Pyra smiled with the corner of her mouth. ‘You want me to take over for a bit?’

‘Not yet.’ He tapped the indicator and let the vehicle drift into the next lane. He looked across at her. ‘If you’re worried about the escaped boy,’ he said, ‘don’t be. We’ll find him, Pyra.’

The traffic up ahead quickly became congested. Pyra wound the window down and stretched. The air was damp and cool against her face. ‘It looks like some kind of roadblock. You think someone’s trying to delay us?’

‘Maybe. I guess they figured we’d be on our way.’

As their car inched forward, Anton lowered his window and called to a workman in a fluorescent yellow vest. ‘What’s going on?’ he said. ‘When’ll we be moving?’

The man shrugged, exhaling a stream of misty air from his red cheeks. ‘It’s the police. Random vehicle check. Had a tip-off about some illegal goods being smuggled or something.’

A knife of panic stabbed Pyra, and she felt the car becoming airless. ‘The stuff in the boot,’ she whispered. ‘You know, the –’

‘It’s fine. They won’t find it. And even if they do, so what?’

It won’t take much to raise their suspicion, Pyra thought.

‘You need to relax,’ Anton said, but Pyra thought she could see some concern in his eyes too as the car in front rolled a little further forward.

The police officers were talking among themselves. One of them, a bald man with authoritatively piercing blue eyes, waved the next car on. A second officer with a radio went round to the boot of the car and opened it. After some moments he nodded to his colleague, who gestured with his head for the car to move.

The police officer waved Anton and Pyra forward. Pyra watched as a uniformed woman walked over to the window. ‘What’s all this about?’ Pyra asked.

‘Just a check, madam,’ the policewoman said with rehearsed composure. ‘My colleague will check the boot, then you can both be on your way, all right? We don’t want to waste any more of your time.’ She stepped to the side and whispered into her radio.

‘He’s going to see,’ Pyra hissed to Anton, watching the police officer with narrowed eyes. She slipped an ivory domino out of her pocket and began rolling it across her knuckles.

‘You don’t need the Ability,’ he whispered. ‘Remember what Luthan said about getting too reliant?’

‘Yeah, well, this is different,’ she spat. ‘This is an emergency.’

Anton quietened her with a pass of his hand.

The police officer opened the boot and peered inside. There was nothing in there except an old, tattered blanket.

Anton moved his fingers round the steering wheel. He turned his eyes to the wing mirror. Only the elbow of the officer’s fluorescent jacket was visible.

The officer was about to close the boot when something urged him to reach towards the blanket.

Anton peered back out of the window. ‘Look, how long is this gonna take? We really have to be somewhere …’

The policewoman returned to his door. She put a hand on the ridge of the lowered window and leant down. ‘Please try to be patient, sir.’

Anton looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘I don’t understand what you’re looking for.’

‘That’s not any of your business, I’m afraid, sir.’ She glared at him and then stepped away from the car.

Pyra was still fiddling with the domino, weaving it over and round her fingers. It wasn’t working. She’d left it too late, and now she couldn’t concentrate.

‘There’s nothing back there. You’re wasting your time,’ said Anton.

The officer lifted the blanket in the boot. Beneath it were several small canvas bags, large enough to slip snugly over a human head, some coils of rope and two tasers.

The policewoman put her radio back in her belt and walked over to the car. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to –’

Anton slammed his foot on to the accelerator with as much force as he could muster. The nearby police officers leapt out of the way of the speeding car. Then the vehicle burst through a barrier and swerved through a procession of cones, which spilled like skittles.

Pyra looked over her shoulder. ‘They’re coming after us.’

Anton yanked the gearstick back. The car splashed through a stretch of puddles. Three sirens began to wail as one. Anton slammed the steering wheel to the side. The car spun left from the dual carriageway on to a narrow, winding road, steeped with bracken on either side.

Pyra closed her eyes, plunging into a deep state of concentration, using the domino to help her focus.

Moments later, the police car behind theirs careered on a patch of ice. The driver struggled to reclaim the steering wheel as the car veered into the undergrowth, blocking the route for the following vehicles.

‘Guess I was wrong,’ Anton said. ‘We did need it after all.’

The twenty-three-year-old girl sitting beside him stared silently at the road ahead. The look in her eyes was probably relief, but may also have been excitement.

1

‘I understand this is going to come as a bit of a shock, but despite our best efforts there’s been an … unexpected problem with the programme,’ said James Felix, the wealthiest man in the country and the leader of the Pledge, into the answering machine. ‘Six of the inmates have escaped and are loose in the forest. There’s no need to worry about anything just yet, Prime Minister. This is one of the reasons we insisted on such an isolated location and let’s not forget that we have some of our best men out looking for them … and the inmates haven’t the faintest where they’re going.’

There was a momentary pause while he organized his thoughts.

‘We expect this matter will be wrapped up quickly, with little fuss, but I and the rest of the Pledge are keen to hear from you, to know that we still have your support. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have further news on the matter. There is no way out of this, Prime Minister. You and the Pledge are in it together. There is no way out,’ he repeated.

With that, the voicemail message ended and the phone, in the secret compartment under the floorboards of the prime minister’s office, gave a final bleep.

‘The stream ends here!’ Elsa puffed and pointed to where the sheen of cloudy ice merged with a snow-covered thicket as the pair hurried alongside the steep edge. The canopy of trees quivered gently overhead, shielding them from all but a few falling snowflakes.

Elsa and Harlan had become separated from Ryan and Jes and had been following the ice downhill for an age.

‘We should wait for the others,’ Elsa said, and brushed her frizzy brown hair out of her eyes. Her usually pale features, covered with freckles, were tinged red with cold. We’re in the middle of a forest, miles from anywhere and we don’t have a clue where we’re going, she thought.

Harlan, a tall, slim Indian boy, leant against a tree. ‘The guards won’t be far behind.’ He looked at the distant column of black smoke rising from the crashed truck that they’d used to escape from their prison, then he bent down to tie his shoelace. Finding it too hard to tie a knot with his unresponsive, frozen hands, Harlan shoved the length of lace into the side of his boot and straightened. His black hair was pressed flat against his forehead. ‘We need to keep going. We’ll find something soon enough.’

‘And you know this how?’

‘I just do. It’s hard to explain. I’ll tell you some other time.’

‘Why don’t you tell me now? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.’

Harlan lowered his eyes.

‘Go on, Harlan,’ Elsa insisted. ‘I’m all ears. You’re always saying stuff like this – that you have these feelings –’

‘Look, Elsa, I know you’re grumpy and you’re scared, but taking it out on me isn’t going to make things any better –’

‘I’m taking it out on you cos you’re full of it, Harlan. You don’t know anything!’

Harlan glared at her and pressed on. Elsa began muttering to herself when a sudden crack shattered the silence and echoed in the wind for some moments. ‘Harlan – what was that?’

‘For someone who doesn’t know anything, you expect a lot from me, Elsa.’

He cautiously removed the ibis from inside his coat. The weapon was a black metal cylinder, about thirty centimetres in length. Simple and elegant in its design, the ibis was an extremely advanced weapon, able to fire pulses of paralysing compressed sound.

Harlan saw that the power light above the handgrip had dimmed. ‘It’s not working,’ he said, jabbing at the trigger. ‘Try yours.’

‘Mine’s not working either. It’s like they’ve been turned off –’

There was a second shot. Elsa dropped her ibis into the snow. ‘Run!’ she cried.

Harlan looked back towards the sound a final time and then ran, with Elsa in close pursuit. The pair sped on until a flailing Harlan tripped, staggered and stumbled.

‘Get up,’ Elsa pleaded, pulling at his coat. ‘Get up, get up, before they catch us.’

‘I think we’re OK,’ he wheezed, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Elsa doubled over by a tree, struggling to reclaim her breath from her pounding heart, which seemed to be beating it out of her. She exhaled, and clutched her stomach. ‘It sounded like a gun,’ she said. ‘Is that what it sounded like to you?’

Harlan kept quiet, although he suspected she might be right. When Elsa eventually stood upright, she spotted something among the trees. ‘Look.’

He followed the trajectory of her finger to a small grey hut. ‘Cables,’ Harlan said, and started towards it.

‘Harlan …’

Harlan ignored Elsa and tiptoed across to the door. He gave it a gentle push and the door slowly withdrew.

‘There’s an electricity generator in there. Maybe it’s some sort of back-up generator for the prison,’ he said, and brushed inside, immediately noticing an indistinct mud pattern on the floor. ‘Footprints.’ He looked down at his own boot and compared the patterns. ‘One of ours.’

‘Alyn must’ve stayed here when he escaped!’ Elsa realized.

Harlan mulled it over. ‘We should probably rest here for a couple of hours and see out the worst of the night.’

He hopped on to the desk and sat down to pull off his boot. A pile of snow trickled to the floor.

‘What’s this?’ he said, leaning down and poking at a pile of paper files on the floor before picking one up.

‘Dunno,’ Elsa said, squinting at the folder. ‘Do you think this place is part of Nowhere? Seems pretty far from the prison.’

‘Maybe they want to keep it secret from the rest of the guards,’ Harlan replied, flicking through a couple of pages before finally tossing it on to the floor. ‘It just looks like loads of numbers.’

Elsa glanced over her shoulder at their prints in the snow. It wouldn’t be long before they were covered. ‘What if they look inside?’

‘We just have to hope they call it a night before then,’ Harlan replied, shutting the door. ‘Whatever happens, I know I’m not being taken back without a fight.’

1

A crow flew on to a lamp post and croaked as a car hurtled round the corner, its speakers blaring. The gust of wind blew a plastic bag on to the snow-covered grass. From the outside, the Guild’s building looked like a decrepit block of flats in a south London estate: the last place anyone would expect to find a training school for those who could manipulate reality itself. The only indication was the heavy security gate that barred the front entrance to the building.

Inside the dining room, Luthan, the acting leader of the Guild, studied the group assembled round the table as they ate lunch. A stocky bald man in his early forties with deep-set wrinkles around his eyes, he possessed the intensity of someone who was relishing his opportunity to take charge.

On his right was Elsa, the youngest: small, scrawny, with freckles and frizzy brown hair. The most innocent of the escaped inmates. The most naive, he corrected himself silently. A potential hazard. Jes, an attractive red-haired girl, was sitting beside her and indignantly prodding her lunch. She seemed to be growing more and more angry, but he admired her no-nonsense attitude. If her skill increased, she might some day make a fine member. Ryan, next to her, obviously had feelings for her – only a fool could not see it. But his aggression would need to be kept under control, or he might be a problem.

Luthan then looked over at Julian, a slim boy with dark hair and pointed elfin features. He’d heard tales of how he was clever, but a traitor. Luthan liked to think anyone could change, but, if not, Julian might need to go; the Guild couldn’t risk someone like that among its ranks. But, despite his manipulative streak, Julian seemed less keen on altering reality than the others, to the point of self-righteousness. At the other end of the spectrum was Harlan, a tall, quiet Indian boy who kept himself guarded. He was desperate to join them. Maybe a little too desperate. Luthan noticed he’d been spending an increasing amount of time using the Ability. It seemed like it was starting to become an obsession.

‘Henry is a prisoner in Nowhere,’ said Luthan from the head of the dining table, ‘and the Pledge’s project is still underway. They might think they’re saving the country, but we all know what this is really about … power. And money.’ Luthan paused, as the group took in his words. ‘As long as they are around,’ he continued, ‘none of you will ever be safe.’

‘Neither are the rest of us now they know the Guild exists,’ said Pyra resentfully.

She was in her early twenties, wearing a leather jacket and tattered jeans. Her black hair was short and spiky and fell across one eye. Pyra had joined the Guild at a young age, and she too had taken a while to fit in. Now she was one of the most valuable members of the team. Quick, fearless. Willing to do whatever it took.

Ryan was slouched in his chair with his hood up and his hands in his pockets. He had barely touched his food.

‘What do you think, Ryan?’ said Luthan.

Ryan gave a feeble shrug. ‘Dunno.’

‘This is your future too,’ said Luthan. ‘Giving it some thought might not be such a bad idea.’

‘Look, mate, I don’t know! I don’t know what to say. Yeah, they’re all scumbags. Stephen’s a nutter …’

Luthan leant forward and locked his fingers together. ‘The inmates in Nowhere are forced to watch films containing subliminal messages: a way to harness the Ability without them realizing –’

‘To make things happen,’ Jes interrupted. ‘We know. We were there, remember?’

‘We need to stop the project,’ Luthan said. ‘But to do that we need to get inside.’

‘There’s a tunnel in the yard,’ Harlan said. ‘Was a tunnel. I’m sure it’s been blocked up by now.’

‘All of you are quite sure there’s no other way in?’

The group shook their heads. ‘Place is like a fort,’ said Ryan.

‘And to get into a fort, you need an army,’ Julian offered. ‘And you don’t have one. You’ve only got us. Sorry to break it to you, but Henry’s not getting out of there. And you’re not getting in.’

Half an hour later, everyone had finished eating and went their separate ways, without resolution. After some moments sitting alone, Luthan went into the corridor. When he was certain there was no one around, he walked over to a door in the middle of the corridor and knelt down, removing a small key from a secret compartment in the wooden skirting-board.

He unlocked and opened the door and entered. In the darkness Luthan could just make out the faintest hint of a shape, silhouetted against the wall. ‘Hang on in there,’ he said. ‘I’m doing everything I can to stop it.’

With that, Luthan stepped back outside, locked the door and put the key back inside the panel.

2

‘Let us go,’ Ryan begged, looking at Jes, lying on her side in the snow. ‘Please … if she doesn’t get help, she’ll die.’

Rayner, a tall, muscular guard with several days’ stubble, narrowed his eyes and slipped his finger round the trigger.

Words rushed together on Ryan’s lips, but none formed. Jes muttered softly, her face obscured by her long red hair.

‘Claude,’ said the young guard beside Rayner. ‘Come on, put the rifle down.’

‘She’s not what you think – she’s not a bad person,’ Ryan went on. Lumps of snow were trapped in his curly blond hair. ‘I swear it … none of us are. None of us.’

‘You might have convinced me, had you little animals not killed him,’ said Rayner.

‘Killed him? Killed who? Hang on, we haven’t –’

Rayner pointed the rifle at Ryan’s chest. ‘You should know by now the innocent act doesn’t work with me, Farrell.’

Ryan closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.

The rifle fired, but was knocked to the side, leaving a steaming hole in the snow just centimetres from Ryan’s legs.

Ryan looked up with wide eyes as a bearded man slammed a branch down across Rayner’s head. Rayner looked baffled momentarily, and then collapsed wordlessly into a heap.

The guard beside him lifted his ibis, but not before the bearded man had raised and swung the branch back at him and knocked him to the ground. He released it and hurried over to Jes, whose consciousness seemed to be slipping away by the second.

He bent down and picked her up, then made eyes at Ryan, who was still kneeling, too shocked to say anything. ‘Are you just going to sit there?’

Ryan didn’t need telling twice and sprang up. The bearded man gathered his bearings and began to trot with the girl in his arms.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Ryan said.

‘My name’s Henry.’

Jes groaned and tried locating the wound in her side with her fingertips. Her green eyes were failing to focus.

‘Hey, it’ll be all right,’ Ryan called across to her. ‘You’re going to be OK, Jes.’

Henry turned through the trees and they arrived at a small clearing.

‘Where do we go?’ asked Ryan, looking around for some indication of where they might be. ‘There’s nothing in every direction, except –’

‘Except down. Here. Hold her for a moment.’ He passed Jes to Ryan. Weary and aching, Ryan struggled to hold her in his arms and lowered to his knees, trying his best to keep her head raised. He winced as pain jolted through his ankle, which was still sore from the escape.

‘What’s going on?’ Jes said. ‘Are we … are we free?’

Ryan gently brushed away the snow from the side of her face. ‘We’re out of that place, if that’s what you mean.’

Henry tore frenziedly at the snow, soon revealing a circular metal cover. He dug his fingers round the sides and, with some effort, levered it away. He took Jes from Ryan’s arms and gently placed her over his shoulder. Jes whimpered and gritted her teeth.

‘Pull the lid over behind you,’ Henry said to Ryan, making his way down precariously.

Ryan swivelled on to the first rung, lowered himself down, then reached up and hoisted the cover back above them.

If I never have to climb another ladder again, it’ll be too soon, he thought, remembering the tunnel that had led them into the yard. It was a wonder they’d ever escaped from the prison; something had been on their side, but luck seemed too strong a word.

Henry soon reached the bottom, and a solitary light flickered on.

Ryan followed him down a narrow passageway, every step echoing noisily.

‘What is this place?’ Ryan asked, and felt himself turning a little queasy at the thought that Henry could be leading them right back to where they’d started.

‘This is my home,’ Henry said.

The three arrived at a door on the left. Henry nudged it with his boot, and slipped into a small room sideways with Jes in his arms.

Inside, a single bulb hung from the ceiling. There was a table in the centre, and one against the far wall. A sleeping bag was crumpled in the corner, beside a small pile of books, wilted with damp. Henry carried Jes over to the table and gently lowered her on to her back, then went over to a cabinet on the wall.

‘I’m Ryan. This is Jes.’

Henry nodded.

‘You even know what you’re doing, mate?’ Ryan asked.

‘Not really, no. But if you have any better ideas I’d love to hear them.’

Ryan shook his head and brushed some matted, damp strands of hair from Jes’s forehead. ‘So why did you save us?’

‘Because you were in trouble.’ Henry opened a first-aid box and removed a pair of scissors. ‘And I’d say you still are.’

‘But why were you –’

‘I need to concentrate,’ Henry said, interrupting him.

And I need answers, Ryan thought, but held his tongue as Henry pinched the blood-soaked material of Jes’s grey uniform with his forefinger and thumb and began cutting.

Henry unscrewed a bottle from the box and dribbled clear fluid on to the wound. Jes writhed and cried out. When Ryan glanced across at Henry, he noticed his hands were trembling as he reached for a pair of forceps.

‘She’ll try to resist, Ryan. But I need to get that bullet out.’

Henry took a deep breath and lowered the forceps to the wound in Jes’s side. Ryan watched with half-closed eyes.

Jes screamed and kicked her legs frantically.

‘Ryan, keep her still –’

‘Jes, you’ve got to keep still, you’ve got to keep still,’ Ryan said, watching with horror as the forceps turned red. ‘It’s OK,’ Ryan said, wincing. ‘Everything’s OK.’

She squeezed Ryan’s hand with such force he felt his fingers going cold. And then she was still.

‘She’s passed out,’ Henry said, noticing Ryan’s concern. ‘It’s for the best.’

He delved further with the forceps and then he paused. ‘I think I’ve found it.’ He removed them gently. Pinched in their grip was a dripping bullet.

3

As he sprinted through the forest, tears filled Alyn’s eyes, dissolving the landscape around him until he could no longer see where he was running.

‘Murderer!’ he’d heard Ryan cry through the radio, and he had listened in disbelief.

He stopped, bent double and leant against a tree, his black fringe hanging into his eyes.

Ryan. It was his fault. He’d got Jes involved, and fed her these stupid ideas that he could free them.

Breathing hoarsely, Alyn knelt down and fumbled in the snow for the heaviest branch he could find. The branch murmured as he lashed it through the air, imagining swinging it at Ryan’s face.

‘Hey!’

It took Alyn a moment to realize that a voice had called out to him, among the whistling wind and rustling leaves.

He turned to find himself faced with a girl in her early twenties, with black spiky hair. She wore a leather jacket and torn jeans and her eyes were dark with mascara.

‘Who – who are you?’ he said, lowering the branch.

The girl took a step towards him. ‘My name’s Pyra. We’ve been looking for you. I’m part of a very special group. We’re –’

‘You’re with them?’

‘Look, I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ she went on. ‘But we need to take you with us.’

‘I’m not going with you,’ Alyn said. ‘My friends need me.’

‘So do we,’ Pyra said, removing a taser and pointing it at him with both hands. ‘I can’t let you leave.’

Alyn looked at the weapon and raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re threatening me?’

‘Yep. Now drop the branch and get over here.’

Alyn loosened his grip on the branch. ‘Here,’ he said, feigning dropping it while launching it at her hand. Pyra dropped the taser with a yelp as the branch struck her wrist.

Alyn charged at her and tackled her into the snow. He crawled towards the taser, grabbed it and pointed it at her.

‘All right, kid.’ She sighed, raising her palms in defeat. ‘You win. Just chill.’

‘You want to take me back there?’ Alyn panted, staring at her.

‘No.’

In his time at the prison Alyn had come across many liars and wasn’t about to be fooled so easily. He moved his finger round the taser, searching for a trigger.

‘Prove it,’ he said. ‘Prove you are who you say you are.’

‘I can’t prove anything,’ Pyra said, lowering her hands. ‘Besides, you’ve already made your mind up.’

Alyn thrust the taser in her direction. ‘I swear I’ll –’

Pyra met his eyes with some reluctance. ‘You don’t have any idea why you’re here, do you?’

Alyn lowered his eyes. ‘No. But I’ve got a feeling you do. And that’s what I’m about to find out,’ he said.

Pyra smiled coolly.

‘I said, that’s what I’m about to –’

Alyn’s words were cut short by something landing across the back of his head, and everything went black.

PENGUIN BOOKS

Contents

THE BEGINNING

Jon Robinson

SOMEWHERE

Prologue

Prologue

1

1

2

3