Free The Disappeared by C.J. Harper Page B

suspicious eyes, so I say the first thing that comes into my head.
    ‘You’re not a Red.’
    ‘I know,’ she says.
    ‘Are you an Hon Red?’ I frown. ‘That’s like a half-Red, isn’t it?’
    ‘I’m not an Hon. It’s like Red, but no . . .’ She tugs a strand of hair.
    She frowns at the fruit bowl and repositions a banana to cover the gap left by the apple I took. ‘I will be an Hon Red.’ Her eyes light up. ‘I’m going to be next Dom.’ She says it in a low voice as if she’s letting me in on a big secret.
    I’ve gathered that the Dom girl is important. She and Rex are like the Specials’ king and queen.
    ‘That’ll be nice,’ I say. ‘If you like hanging around with a bunch of violent bullies.’
    She sucks in her breath. ‘Dom is the best. I’m going to be the best.’
    I consider asking her if her complete lack of both ginger hair and height might be an obstacle, but she’s all starry-eyed and I don’t want to annoy her, so I butter the tiny chunk of bread she’s allowed me. That’s when we hear voices coming from the dining hall. I freeze. The girl doesn’t freeze, she whips two containers back in the fridge, screws on the lid of the massive bottle of milk, replaces it in exactly the right position, closes the door and starts reconnecting the electronic lock.
    ‘I suppose you’re expecting something to eat,’ the voice from the hall says.
    They’re getting closer.
    ‘Door,’ says the girl, without looking up from the wires she’s fiddling with.
    ‘What?’ I say. She can’t mean we’re going out through the door; we’ll run straight into them. I look about for a back door.
    The girl tuts and drops the wires. She sprints silently across the kitchen and prods the wedge of wood out from the door and eases it shut. She runs back to me, rapidly twists in a final screw on the lock, flicks off the light, grabs me by the wrist and pulls me through complete darkness into a cupboard.
    I hear the kitchen door open. A wave of fear washes over me and I feel like someone has sucked the bones out of my legs and they can no longer support me. I am too terrified to stand. I sway on my feet, but the girl grabs me by the back of the shirt and holds me up. I realise that I’ve still got the butter knife in my right hand. I concentrate on not dropping it.
    There’s the sound of a cupboard opening and the rustling of a packet. ‘Here, you can have this. Now listen, I’ll keep this short,’ says the voice on the other side of the kitchen. ‘I know you find it hard to follow lengthy instructions.’
    It’s Enforcer Tong’s voice. I’m sure of it.
    ‘Uh?’ comes the reply.
    That doesn’t sound like an enforcer. It must be one of the Specials, or maybe an impeccable.
    ‘I hear some Specials are planning trouble for the enforcers,’ says Tong. ‘I don’t like trouble. It is your job to find them for me and it is my job to punish them. You find these bad Specials and you will get more food.’
    ‘Uh-huh,’ the impeccable grunts.
    There are footsteps and the sound of the door closing. I relax and the sense of relieved tension is so strong that I almost wet myself. I have cramp from standing rigid and I start to roll my shoulders, but then I notice that the girl’s hand is still on my back and I stop mid shoulder roll. I turn to look at her, even though it is too dark to see. She takes her hand away. I slowly drop my shoulders in what I hope is a casual fashion. Neither of us speaks.
    The girl pushes past me out of the cupboard. She turns on the light again and I notice that there is a back door in the corner. Maybe I should get going. The girl checks that the lock on the fridge is secure then she sweeps up the crumbs we’ve made on the counter with her hands.
    ‘What was all that about?’ I say.
    ‘Tong makes people do the things she wants. And stops them doing things she doesn’t.’
    ‘Control obsessive is she? I don’t like the way they use older kids to keep an eye