Underdogs. Chris Bonnello
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right. I don’t know what kind of relationship you had with her, but keep it alive. Even if it means—’
‘Have to stop you, Jack. We’ve arrived.’
The hiding spot was still in the distance, but it was a convenient excuse to withdraw from the conversation. Their vantage point was a crater next to the hill’s peak, surrounded by trees. An elevated view with excellent cover. Ewan approached, knowing what sight would await them once they reached the brow of the hill.
And there it was. Oakenfold Special School.
Oakenfold, where the world had made just a little more sense. Where people either knew how to accommodate students with special needs, or at least gave a crap about trying.
Oakenfold, where the problems were not the person.
In order to cope with his own reaction, Ewan looked at his friends’ faces for theirs. But each of them echoed his own feelings: complete and utter confusion.
He had expected Oakenfold to look like a military compound, lit up with floodlights, with armed checkpoints and vehicle barriers and so on. What they found was just their old school, with no extra construction work and the lights turned out. It was like Grant’s employees had gone home for the night.
‘This place can’t possibly be unguarded,’ said Mark.
‘Maybe they want us to think it is,’ answered Gracie. It was a clever comment, coming from her.
‘There’ll be a least a minimal guard somewhere,’ Ewan said. ‘Maybe even inside. So let’s be stealthy. Go as long as you can without firing a shot.’
‘Do we even have to wait until three?’ asked Raj. ‘Doesn’t look like it’s getting any quieter, and we’re giving them three hours to spot us up here.’
‘We stick to the plan. In New London the watches start and end every six hours – three and nine in the morning, three and nine at night. They’ll do the same here too. Consistency and all that.’
‘Bit of a leap of faith, isn’t it? I didn’t think you liked those.’
‘We stick to the plan,’ Ewan repeated impatiently. ‘We wait till three, sneak in while the guard changes, and we grab all the information on AME we can get our hands on. After we learn what we’ll be up against in New London, we wipe out every physical trace of the technology from Oakenfold…’
He hesitated before finishing his sentence.
‘…Even if it means burning our school to the ground.’
*
Bloody hell, comms is boring. Especially when your partner’s silent.
When it came to missions, Alex preferred being on the comms end of the phone. He was less likely to die that way. And Mark had been right: the Oakenfold mission belonged to the students and them alone.
Still, a little action would have been appreciated. Or at least something happening, even if were just a conversation with Shannon.
It was the early hours of the morning and she was sitting upright in her chair, dutiful and focused. As if she had restructured her sleeping pattern specifically for that night. It made Alex feel ashamed of his own tiredness.
I wonder if McCormick’s still alive? He thought. If the operation were going to go wrong, it would have happened by now.
Alex shook his head, and tried to think optimistic thoughts. In all probability, Lorraine had already sealed him up with that soldering iron and cried herself to sleep.
He needed something to distract himself. With nothing to do, his mind would start to mull over all the worst possibilities. He had once heard someone say that’s how it worked for Kate, except it seemed more painful for her.
There was only one distraction available, and she didn’t seem in the mood for talking. Especially not about the subject Alex had in mind. But it was worth a try.
‘So Shannon…’
‘Hm?’
Already Alex was wondering whether it was a good idea. It struck him how little he and Shannon had in common. In fact, he knew so little about her that he didn’t even know whether they had anything in common. He wasn’t sociable in the getting-to-know-you sense – more in the take-the-mick sense – and Shannon hardly spoke to him unless the conversation was necessary.
Better ask, then.
‘I’ve been wondering for a while. Hope you don’t mind me asking, but… what was he like?’
Shannon looked piercingly into his eyes.
Ouch, no wonder the autistic lot find that painful.
‘Who?’
‘Your father. The great Nicholas Grant.’
She didn’t answer at first. She just let the question hang in the air like the smell of a carcass.
‘Does it matter?’ she eventually asked.
In a rare display of shyness, Alex backed down.
‘I suppose it doesn’t.’
‘He was a monster,’ she said. ‘I never heard him talk, because he only shouted. He smashed up my room whenever he got drunk. He only fed me when I obeyed him. He once had a barbecue with all my childhood toys, and performed a ritual to our overlord Satan while rocking out to death metal and stealing candy from puppies. Is that what you want to hear?’
Alex was ashamed to admit that for the first few sentences, he had actually believed her.
‘I didn’t see that much of him,’ Shannon said, ‘that’s the truth. Around the time I left primary school he got into Marshall–Pearce, and spent his days building up his takeover project.’
‘So he didn’t… abuse you or—’
‘Bloody hell Alex, you’re crap with social boundaries.’
Alex looked away, pretending to have heard something. Shannon didn’t fall for it.
‘It was neglect, I guess. Which is a type of abuse. There was a big empty hole where my father should have been. And everything he did after Takeover Day, all the luxuries he showered me with to get me back… it made no difference. Gifts mean nothing if they come from an invisible man.’
She rested back in her chair, and let out an enormous huff.
‘If it makes you feel better,’ said Alex, ‘my dad was an arse. He was more my taekwondo coach than my dad. I think I’d rather have had a guy who wasn’t there, instead of a guy who thought comfort zones were something I wasn’t allowed to have.’
Shannon didn’t answer.
‘Then again, I’m kind of glad he pushed me. Without the drive he gave me, I wouldn’t have lasted long in this war. He’s probably the reason I prefer doing things alone, but maybe he’s also the reason I’m still alive.’
‘Maybe my dad’s the reason…’
She trailed off, and Alex decided not to chase the other half of the sentence. He had poked around enough for one night.
The phone rang, and Shannon’s hand shot to it first. Perhaps she wanted to leave the conversation more urgently than Alex did. Ewan’s face appeared on the smartphone screen, but he spoke so quietly that Alex couldn’t decipher his words.
‘Yeah,’ replied Shannon. ‘OK, good luck.’
They’re going in. Must be three o’clock already.
Ewan said something else.
‘Fine,