The Last Murder at the end of the World

SIXTY-FIVE

Emory’s cross-legged on the floor, staring at her husband’s sleeping face. She cried for a long time after finding him, then managed to find hope in the fact that he was still alive.

‘I’m going to get you out of this,’ she says to Jack. ‘I’m not leaving you down here.’

The words temporarily buoy her spirits, but she knows it’s an empty promise. The fog is coming, and – even if she can stop it – she doesn’t know any way to free him from my control.

‘I wish I could talk to you,’ she says to Jack. ‘I’d tell you all this and you’d make a joke, or come up with a fact about something stupid.’ She laughs. ‘I’ve missed you, every day.’

She wipes a tear away, smudging something in her eye. It’s yellow pollen, she realises when she picks it out with her finger. It’s all over Jack’s shirt, and in his hair.

Clara, Hui and Thea were coated in this stuff when they came down from the cauldron garden the day Niema died. It’s possible Jack was up there at the same time they were.

Did Hui spot Jack in the cauldron garden?

That would explain why she was acting so strangely around Clara. Hui knew her best friend’s father was alive and was forbidden from saying anything. No wonder she spent the afternoon avoiding her.

Adil crashes through the door, his hand pressed to his stomach, blood pouring from between his fingers. His legs give out, and he collapses to the concrete floor, his legs splayed out in front of him.

‘Adil,’ she cries, going to his side.

He’s breathing shallowly, desperately. He’s been stabbed.

‘What happened?’ she asks, trying to get a look at the wound, but he shakes his head.

‘Pock … pocket,’ he says, struggling to speak.

Searching his pockets brings her the Blackheath key and a diagram, identical to the one her father had in his pocket when he woke up.

‘Map,’ he explains, coughing up blood. ‘You can’t … Niema’s … Niema’s murder …’ He shakes his head frantically, grabbing her arm. ‘Don’t … solve …’

Emory stares at the map, trying to make sense of what’s he saying.

‘Why wouldn’t you want me to solve Niema’s murder? What do you know?’

He taps the map. ‘Find …’ He sags, the strength going out of him. ‘Thea will … Thea … kill –’

His head lolls, his body going completely still.

Springing up, she offers a desperate glance at this room with Jack in it, but the fear in Adil’s voice was contagious. Whatever this errand is, it’s important.

She glances at the map, which makes sense now she’s in Blackheath. The numbers are junctions, and the lines represent corridors. Niema must have dictated the same one to her father as she lay dying. He ripped a page out of Magdalene’s book and wrote it down, which is how it came to be in his pocket.

Wherever Adil wants her to go, it’s the same place Niema directed them the night of her murder.

Emory’s about to set off when she hauls herself back. Adil’s been at the centre of all this since it started. He’s as much a clue as anything else.

Kneeling down, she quickly searches his clothes from head to toe, trying to ignore the stink of his unwashed body but there’s nothing to find. She turns her attention to his boots, discovering eight fragments of a memory gem’s case embedded into his right sole.

She plucks one out, studying it. He must have been the person who crushed Niema’s memory stone. That would seem to put him near her when she died.

Content that she’s unearthed everything of use, she follows the map into the facility, but every step leaves her more perplexed than the last. On the other side of a glass wall, she sees a hospital, full of beds and supplies, bright displays showing every part of the human anatomy. There are sealed packs of sterile bandages left lying on tables, alongside syringes and small, strange devices. At the back of the room are huge machines, clearly designed to be stepped inside, and probes on articulated arms, ready to be wheeled into place. Everything is advanced and alien, and incredible. Seeing this equipment, she can’t believe anybody ever died in the old world.

She passes a cafeteria so huge the entire village would feel lonely in a corner of it. Aside from a thick layer of dust, the kitchen looks brand new, and has ways to cook food she can’t even begin to understand. The taps deliver clean water, and the cupboards are stacked with plates, cups and cutlery made of shining metal, rather than splintered wood and fragile clay.

There’re huge, comfortable bedrooms down here, the mattresses soft and springy, each one with its own bathroom. She twists a tap and hot water comes out of it.

None of this makes sense! Why lock all this away? Every day in the village is hard. They grow everything they eat, and drag water up from a fresh spring, deep underground. A bad winter means rationing, and a diseased crop means death. There are injuries every month, not to mention the illnesses, which periodically rip through the population. If they’d had access to the equipment down here, how many people would have been saved?

‘Niema chose to keep all this for the humans,’ I say. ‘They’re much more fragile than your people.’

‘And much more valuable,’ Clara says angrily. ‘You can always grow more of us when we die, right?’

‘Yes,’ I admit.

Following the map delivers her to a ‘repair bay’ where she finds Hui sleeping peacefully in a bed, one of Clara’s birds beside her. Her bloody clothes have been removed, revealing a nasty stab wound through her sternum, between the left and right clavicle. The shattered bone and torn flesh is being slowly knitted together by a flickering red beam fired from the ceiling.

Emory rushes to her bedside, gripping the girl’s hand.

‘Hui,’ she says urgently. ‘Hui.’

The young woman’s eyes flutter, but that’s all. Her skin is pale and clammy, her breathing shallow. This is why Niema sent us out here, she realises.

Hui was injured, and only Blackheath’s equipment could save her. Niema dictated a map to this room for Seth, and gave him the key. They put Hui on a cart to transport her, but it broke down outside Adil’s shack.

‘Niema really wanted to save you,’ she mutters. ‘But why? She watched our people die for ninety years without lifting a finger. What made you so special?’

Whatever it was, Niema must have charged Adil with tending Hui after everybody had their memories wiped. That’s why he had the key. It’s why he was down here tonight, though that doesn’t explain why Thea was with him.

Footsteps echo distantly, causing Emory to jump. It has to be Thea.

Ducking through an adjoining door, she finds another bay, just like this one. Hui’s pulse is thin and reedy, much too weak to safely move her – which would matter if there was any other choice.

She glances at the red beam, dubiously. ‘How do I get her out of this?’

‘The machine will automatically switch off when you move her,’ I say.

Emory scoops Hui into her arms, then carries her into the room next door. A second later, Thea strides into the bay she left.

Seizing her opportunity, Emory waddles across the corridor into one of the consultation rooms opposite, laying Hui down on a couch, before quickly closing the blinds.

The last one is barely down when she hears a huge crash, followed by a scream of frustration.

Emory slides to the floor out of sight, terrified of making even the slightest noise.

Why would Thea want to hurt Hui?

She presses her thumbs to her eyes, wracking her brain, shaking out everything she’s learned since this all began.

‘Wait …’ she says, in her thoughts. ‘The day Clara discovered Hui was missing you told us she was disconnected from your … what was it?’

‘Mitochondrial network,’ I supply. ‘It’s a side effect of the drugs currently in her system.’

Emory’s eyes widen with realisation. ‘That means you’re not in her head, doesn’t it?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘You weren’t able to wipe her memory.’ She gazes at Hui in astonishment. ‘She knows exactly what happened that night. That’s why Thea’s so desperate to find her. She’s trying to kill the only witness to Niema’s murder!’