Georgia?â I asked, settling onto the couch opposite them.
But before Mum could answer, Georgia came bowling into the room, carrying a heart-shaped wooden box with a photo of her and Grandma set into the top. Sheâd got it as a going-away present right before we came here.
Georgia held the box out to Mum, fixing her with a stern look. âRemember, I only want green and purple and pink this time.â
âRight,â said Mum.
Georgia plonked herself down at Mumâs feet. Mum handed the heart box to Dad. He flipped it open and started sorting elastics, while she got started redoing Georgiaâs braids.
I curled up on the couch and closed my eyes. Clearly, Montag had been checking for more than just a concussion, but heâd sent Georgia home in one piece, so that one was less thing to panic about, at least for tonight.
âItâs good that youâve finished feeling sick in the mornings,â said Georgia out of nowhere, breaking the silence. I opened my eyes.
She was looking up at Mum.
It took Mum a minute to respond and when she did, it was hesitant. âHow did you know that, sweetheart?â
âYou just said it!â Georgia twisted up her face, like Mum was being slow on purpose.
Mum stopped braiding. âGeorgia, I wasnât even speaking.â
Georgia turned around again and leant her head back, waiting for Mum to get back to work.
âI know,â she said. âYou donât have to anymore.â I had another look through Mikeâs sketchbook before I went to sleep, trying to figure out what it all meant. Trying to distract myself from worrying about Georgia.
Mum and Dad had let the moment slip past without any more comment, but I could tell the weirdness of it hadnât been lost on them.
I stared down at yet another pair of carefully sketched men in white, my eyes blurring with exhaustion. The longer I looked at them, the stronger the urge to check over my shoulder and make sure I wasnât being watched.
Get a grip.
I snapped the sketchbook shut and flicked off my bedside light.
Nightmares had been a part of life ever since all of this started. But tonight I had new enemies. Faceless, white-robed figures, chasing me through the bush. Hunting me. The figures flickered, real one second, hand-drawn the next, but always right behind me. I pressed forward, grass rising, trees closing in on all sides, and suddenly I was out over the lip of a giant, flaming crater. I tumbled forward, down into the bottomless darkness â
And then all of it was gone.
Solid ground under me. I was back in my room.
I opened my eyes, drifting up from sleep, trying to get my bearings.
Cold air.
Had I left the window open?
I glanced up at the clock. Just before midnight.
And then suddenly the clock flashed off, blocked by a dark shape slipping past in front of it.
There was someone in my room.
Chapter 10
T UESDAY , J UNE 16
58 DAYS
The silhouette moved on, melting into the darkness of the bedroom, and for a moment I lost track of it. I froze, trying and failing to steady my breathing, disjointed images rushing at me. Knives and cold eyes and grasping hands and gunshots and pillows held down over my â
Shuffling noises from over near my desk. Barely audible. Whoever this was, they were used to getting around undetected.
I closed my eyes for just a second, trying to refocus. Only one way I was getting out of this. I eased out from the covers, slow and quiet, letting my intruder keep on thinking I was asleep.
More movement. There was someone crouched down there on the floor.
A tiny trickle of relief pierced through my chest. The figure was small. Or human-sized, anyway. No billowing white robes. Nothing glowing.
Not that there werenât plenty of humans around who were more than capable of doing me in.
The intruder rose slowly, his back still to me, stretching up to investigate my desk.
I pushed myself up into a sitting position, then swung my legs
Mercedes Keyes, Lawrence James