After the night with Derek, Ria is given freedom of movement and access to the tablets that control both devices. There is an assumption she is now fixed. That she got the bad energy out of her system.
She doesn’t tell anyone when her period fails to come. Nor does she say anything when she pisses on a plastic stick bought from the pharmacy in Walmart that turns blue, and she doesn’t notice that everything she does is seen by Miri.
Ben has to reach the conclusion on his own. He has to know for himself because to know is to counter, and to counter is to win. If we do not win, everyone will die. The manipulation is steady and careful. Ben is smart. Miri respects that.
Win Ben. Win the others. Win the game.
‘Bertie Cavendish was in the mainstream media for gaining triple Master’s degrees at a young age. He was quoted as saying he wants to invent time travel. The Brits launched a significant attack in Berlin, which we know was the centre of the search and full of agents from every country. Within an hour or two, the same agency launched an attack on Cavendish Manor. The rest of the world will follow the breadcrumb trail and that information alone is enough for every other agency to think the Brits have secured the device. It does not matter that the British will deny having it, because who in their right mind would admit such a thing?
What does the world look like the day after Cavendish Manor? This situation now could cause the world to be destroyed by 2111, but we cannot go forward to look as it makes no difference. We fix this situation and then go forward, because the day after Cavendish Manor could be the day those warheads are unleashed. We know who will attack who. We’ve studied it. We have that information. We know where the warheads are pointing. We do not have a choice, Mr Ryder. Do you see now? I need you to see this.’
She saw on the day she arrived the way Safa and Harry deferred to Ben’s intelligence. The way they both held back and waited while Ben asked the questions. They respect Ben. They trust his judgement. Emily is now the same.
Manipulation to reach a conclusion Miri knew when the game first began. Everyone else just needed time to grow the bond and believe that what they are doing is righteous and proper.
Win Ben. Win them. Win the game.
‘Miri’s right,’ Ben tells the rest that evening.
The confirmation is received quietly with grim determination. To the last they accept it must be done and the thrill of the game grows only stronger.
Thirty-Six
‘END EX, END EX.’
That was the best one yet. Ria can sense it. The last few days have seen a marked change. Almost like the confirmation Ben gave cemented the belief in the need to achieve the goal.
They had more hologram soldiers today too. Ria re-configured the program and moved the tablets about so they would pop up in different places.
She makes her weapon safe and slings it to the rear, grimacing at the weight and the stench of the flash-bangs hanging in the air. One of the chemicals within them turns her stomach. She should say something. She should tell them. She doesn’t know why she is not saying anything, only that each time she tries, the words don’t come out. She feels stupid and immature. What they are doing is important and big. Bigger than anything. Hey, sorry, I know you’re all trying to save the world and everything, but I think I’m pregnant. No way. She can’t say it. Not now. The pressure in the bunker is immense. Crushing, heavy and growing worse every day. An energy building up ready to be vented and unleashed.
She keeps telling herself she will tell them after, but what if she wants an abortion? Does she want an abortion? She could speak to the doctor and arrange a termination now, but again the mental block is there. John is working with Bertie every day anyway, in between nursing sore ankles and tutting over the bruises on Ben’s shoulder caused by the immense recoil of the Barrett.
She pulls the hood down on the poncho, suddenly too hot, and feeling swamped and trapped by the waterproof cover. Rain lashes her face, wetting her hair against her scalp. It feels nice. Refreshing. She cannot bring a baby into this world. What is she thinking? Say something. Do something. She could attend a walk-in clinic. The UK has them. She wouldn’t even need to give her name. Just walk in, get it done and leave.
‘Ria? We’re heading back in.’ Safa’s hard voice coming through the radio under her poncho.
‘Okay,’ she shouts, jabbing at the button through the material.
She heads back across the clearing that is now so familiar. She looks up to the tree line that is now so familiar. She walks closer to the bank and sees the top of the bunker that is now so familiar. This is home, but it doesn’t feel like it.
Ria is not stupid. Not stupid at all. She just refuses to give voice to the idea that having a baby will give her something of her own. Bertie is a genius. He is the reason all of this is here. The others are all gifted in what they can do. Ria isn’t gifted in anything. She can’t do anything. She feels stupid around them. Fat and unfit, too slow, too dense. She wants the baby, but she doesn’t want the baby. She wants her mum.
Their paths converge as she reaches the Blue at the same time as the others. Faces flushed. Brows sweaty despite the rain.
‘Went well?’ Ria says.
‘Did,’ Ben says, grim-faced. He looks exhausted. ‘Look okay from your point of view?’
She nods. ‘Really good, best yet.’
‘Soldiers were brilliant,’ Emily says to her. ‘Popping up all over the place.’
‘Too many?’ Ria asks.
‘Oh god, no, really good,’ Emily says.
They go through into the portal room. Shedding kits, boots, weapons, ponchos and bags. Miri comes through after them with the doctor.
Ben puts the Barrett down. He was hoping it would become an extension of his body or something that he would gain an intrinsic connection to, but it’s just a gun. A big, noisy, heavy gun, and he hopes never to touch the thing ever again. Harry works to strip the Browning. Emily checks her assault rifle. Safa drops to start pulling her boots off. Tension in the air. Tension that grows every day.
‘Grilled chicken tonight,’ Ria says, hanging her poncho.
‘And fish,’ the doctor adds, as though trying to lift the mood.
‘I didn’t get any fish,’ Ria says.
‘I got them,’ the doctor says.
‘Where from?’ Ria asks.
‘From the sea.’
‘We can’t do that,’ Ria replies instantly. ‘I mean, we said, didn’t we? No food from these times. No berries. No fruits. Nothing . . .’
‘Oh,’ the doctor says benignly.
‘That could be dangerous,’ Ben says. ‘The whole food-chain thing is way out, isn’t it?’
‘Ah, it’s probably fine,’ Doctor Watson says, waving a heavy hand about.
‘We’re not getting fucking food poisoning,’ Safa snaps.
‘Don’t eat the fish then,’ he replies.
‘Or you,’ Safa says. ‘You’re the medic. We need the medic to not be dead. They tend to work better.’
‘Ah, it’s probably fine,’ the doctor says again, heading for the door.
Ben drops to a knee to start unlacing a boot. ‘How long?’ he asks after the doctor.