Cecelia Ahern - Perfect

The heavy footsteps above us are circling, scurrying around in panic, all order lost, like a trail of ants that have lost their scent. I didn’t know the hatch was here until it opened, the outline faint and flush with the surface. I’m hoping they won’t see it, but they’re Whistleblowers—they’re trained to see everything; they don’t miss a trick.

“They won’t be able to open it from up there,” Leonard whispers, his hot breath on my neck. “They can’t gain access from outside.” He points to the panel on the ceiling, which opens with the swipe of a security key card. “But it’s only a matter of time until they try to find their way to us from another angle.”

The stomping on the hatch ends and we begin to hear pounding on Bahee’s door instead. I think of Carrick’s parents, Cordelia, little Evelyn, and Mona, all huddled inside, thinking they were safe.

You brought this on yourself . I direct Bahee’s words back at him angrily. Bahee, the peace-loving leader. If he has orchestrated this search to get rid of me, then it’s his fear of change that brought greater change than I ever would have, and will inevitably hurt the people he loves the most.

“Bahee locked me out of the room,” I whisper to Leonard. “Could he have called the Whistleblowers? I don’t get why he’d risk his own safety.”

“I’m not surprised.” He shakes his head angrily. “Lizzie always thought Bahee was a creep. She couldn’t stand him. I’m sure it was him.”

And at that, I am surprised by how little I have learned after all. I fell for Bahee’s nice-guy act.

I feel that I owe Leonard something.

“I asked Mona about Lizzie,” I whisper, and despite what’s happening above us I have his full attention. “She said that Lizzie told you she was Flawed, that you didn’t want anything to do with her, and she ran away heartbroken.”

“That never happened,” he says, hurt, angry.

He says it too loudly. I push my hand to his mouth. His eyes are wide and he nods quickly, understanding, keen to continue our conversation.

“I told you,” he whispers, “I knew she was Flawed all along. Or I suspected. Her brand was on her chest. She was funny about me touching her…” His face goes beet red. “I wouldn’t have cared; I would never have let her go. I wanted her to confide in me; I kept bringing up the fact that I’m against the Guild, trying to make it easy for her to tell me. Why would Lizzie tell Mona that?”

I frown, trying to work it all out, but I can’t. Was Mona lying to me? I don’t know her well enough—I don’t know anybody here well enough, but even so, that idea of her feels wrong.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. But we’ll find out,” I say, determined.

The Whistleblowers’ footsteps retreat back down the fire escape.

“Thanks for your help, Leonard. I appreciate what you’ve risked.”

“I’m just following your lead. During the trial you said you helped the old man because it was the right thing to do. Compassion and logic,” he says. “I’m voting the Vital Party.”

I smile.

“We’d better move, in case they try to find another way in here. This way.” He moves and I follow him through a maze that traverses the plant.

Leonard guides me to a safe position where we can see the Whistleblowers gathering in the entrance courtyard. On one side are a dozen Flawed people who work in the factory legitimately, all of them displaying their F armbands on their sleeves. They have been called to witness whatever is about to happen. On the other side a team of Whistleblowers surrounds the discovered evaders: Carrick’s parents, Cordelia and Evelyn, Bahee, and Mona, who thought they were safe in the laboratory. My heart thuds: If they’re here for me, I should give myself up. Me instead of them would be the right thing to do.

Thud, thud, thud.

I move forward.

“What are you doing?” Leonard asks, panic in his voice.

“I can’t let them be taken away. They’re here for me.”

“You don’t know that!” he says. “Celestine! Come back!”

Suddenly Evelyn screams as a Whistleblower grabs her, and I stand up tall and quicken my step. If anyone looks up now they’ll see me. A hand grips me from the darkness and pulls me close. I go to fight it but as soon as our bodies touch I sense it’s Carrick. I can smell him. I squeeze my body tightly to his, and he wraps his arms around me.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says, voice low.

“I can’t let them be taken away.”

“So they’ll take you and them, what good will that do? Think about it, Celestine.”

He’s always calm; even under these circumstances, his sentences are slow, as if he is able to process everything in proper time, unlike me, whose head is jumping around with images and thoughts, panic and fear.

“How did you get away?” he asks.

I quickly tell him, Lennox, Fergus, and Lorcan about what happened with Bahee. Apart from Leonard and Carrick, they’re surprised to hear this, perhaps even doubtful. And they have a point: Bahee locking me out may have been just to save his own skin; we don’t know for sure that he alerted the Whistleblowers. And if he didn’t, there is still a traitor among us. I wonder again about Rogan, who is the only person not present. Or Mona, who may have lied to me about why Lizzie left.

I duck down, staying tight to Carrick as a Whistleblower starts to drag away a kicking and screaming Evelyn. Cordelia is howling with grief as they take her child away and is being held back by two Whistleblowers.

“Oh my God,” I whimper, hands in front of my face. I don’t want to watch but I have to.

“This was not the deal!” Bahee shouts, and everyone, on the ground and in hiding, turns to stare at him in utter shock.

“It was him,” I whisper, shocked, even though I suspected him.

“ You arranged this, Bahee?” Mona shouts.

The dozen Whistleblowers clear the way for their leader, a woman, I think, who walks toward Bahee. He quickly backs off, the fight in him gone. The Whistleblower removes her helmet, and to my absolute shock I see it’s Mary May.

I gasp and Carrick blocks my mouth.

“The deal was,” says Mary May, “we leave you all here and we take Celestine. There’s no sign of Celestine and no one mentioned anything about an F.A.B. child on the premises. We must remove her immediately. We must give her the care and treatment she needs, though it may be too late already.” She looks at Evelyn with disgust.

I feel Carrick tense beside me. He knows all about that special-institution care.

“What have you done?” Cordelia screeches at Bahee, who cowers away from her, looking so weak that a light breeze could blow him over.

“You’re lucky I’m not removing you all. Take her away,” Mary May says, waving her hand.

I’ve never seen Mary May in combat uniform. Usually she’s in her Mary Poppins Whistleblower persona, the one who does house calls, who checks to make sure I’ve made my curfews and stuck to my diet and followed all of the daily anti-Flawed decrees. Even the Mary May who came looking for me on Granddad’s farm wasn’t this woman; it tells me that she’s stepped it up a level. It’s as though she has mentally walked onto the battlefield. Riot gear, helmet and all, she will do anything to find me. What chance have I got?

Evelyn puts up a good fight. She kicks a Whistleblower between the legs, and he curses loudly, hunches over, and loses his helmet. My heart stops. I feel Carrick’s grip on me tighten and his hand blocks my mouth for the second time, because he knows that I want to shout out.

The Whistleblower is Art.

TWENTY-SIX

ART’S UNRULY BLOND hair collapses in curls around his face as he holds on tight to Evelyn’s arm, his face an angry mush of pain and irritation.