Hello again, everyone :) I hope you all had a great Christmas and New Year, so here's a new chapter for you (second-to-last in the Roman Numeral category!) Enjoy!
XI
"Ready?"
"Go!"
The loud shatter of breaking glass cut through the night like a knife. I froze, the heavy stone still in my hand, as I listened for the tell-tale sound of sirens.
"Great." The flame of Patrick's lighter flickered in the air beside me as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "We'll climb through this window and start the first fire upstairs. Keep a look-out for any security cameras or anything, OK?"
"OK." I whispered back, gazing up at the building. The large, rectangular windows either side of the door seemed to frown at us, as if they knew what we were planning to do. "Let's go."
Kicking away a few stray shards of glass, Patrick heaved himself up onto the windowsill, then disappeared from view. I followed him, inching my way over the jagged edges and suddenly, found myself in the library.
It didn't look like a library at all. It looked more like a cross between a museum and someone's attic. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with dusty books. There were empty, wooden desks lined up against a wall. A large black filing cabinet stood a few metres away from me.
"It's amazing that a place like this doesn't have security." Patrick muttered, seeming as awestruck by the place as I was. "Reckon we'll find anything of use to us in here?"
"I'd say so." I replied, curiosity mounting inside me as I moved closer to look at the huge filing cabinet. There were labels stuck beside each drawer, I noticed, written in untidy black handwriting. One labelled St Mary's. Another labelled Larkhill. And the third– Confidential.
What could be so important that needs to be marked Confidential? I wondered, turning away from the cabinet, my lighter still clutched firmly in my hand. Then again, I'm sure Norsefire have plenty of secrets they don't want anyone to know about. "Let's go."
Patrick nodded, his eyes on me. "Upstairs is that way." He pointed through a door at the end of the room to a dark wooden staircase.
The stairs creaked under our feet as we crept upwards. On the last step, which gave one final creak, I felt Patrick's body go still, listening for something.
"What?" I hissed.
"Nothing." He quickly glanced around the cluttered room, a near carbon copy of the one downstairs. Moonlight streamed through the empty windows. "You can sometimes tell if they have a security alarm on. It makes a tiny beeping noise."
I listened, but all I could hear was silence, bringing me to my senses. "I'll start over here. You do the other side, but we'll have to hurry. Fire travels fast."
"OK." He flicked his lighter again, the flame burning into life, then crossed the room. I copied his actions, letting my solitary flame brush the edge of a large, ragged red curtain. A second later, the scent of smoke told me that my first fire had been lit, and was now in the process of burning what was actually a large Norsefire flag.
There was no time to waste now. I hurried to a medium-sized bookshelf, scanning the shelves for anything that might appear relatively important. Nothing. I held my lighter to the spines of some of the books, waiting for the fire to fully catch on, before leaving the smoking, crackling bookshelf behind. A second Norsefire flag was set alight by Patrick on the other side of the room, the air filling with smoke, becoming gradually hotter. I coughed, finding it harder to breathe.
"Come downstairs!" Patrick shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me back towards the staircase. We took the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding fast by the time we got to the downstairs door. Pulling the door open, I hurried towards the other end of the room, towards the wooden desk. But as I did, I stopped suddenly, as my eye caught sight of that black filing cabinet.
"Keep on starting fires, I'll try and get this open!" I shouted to Patrick, as a blaze of orange flame took hold of a small bookcase. Dashing over to the filing cabinet, I tugged on the Confidential drawer. It was locked. I scanned the area around the cabinet, looking for something, anything, to break it open with. In desperation,
my fingers traced around and underneath the drawer– and found a hole, toward the front. As my finger connected with the metal rod that acted as a locking system, I pushed the rod upwards, and the drawer slid open.
In a frenzied rush, I pulled every last bit of paper from that cabinet, my eyes searching for anything that looked important. The smell of smoke grew stronger as I looked up to see Patrick running towards me.
"Vanessa, let's go!" The air became hotter as the flames cracked in my direction. Acting on instinct, I grabbed a small, thin blue folder before pulling myself up and finding my way towards the window. As my feet touched the ground beside Patrick's, I stuffed the blue folder inside my jacket.
"Come on!" The thin wails of approaching sirens pierced the air as I grabbed Patrick's arm, towing him after me as we ran down the shadowy street, away from the fiery inferno. Just as we reached the corner, Patrick stopped, turning towards the building. "Wait."
A second passed, then suddenly–
BANG!
The upstairs windows shattered as the fire raged on, burning through electricity, paper, wood, metal and bricks. I suddenly noticed that I was shaking, though whether from fear or adrenaline, I didn't know.
"Patrick, let's get out of here." I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "Before they find us."
"I just, I want ye to know that–" He broke off, his gaze fixed on mine. "If I get found–"
"Don't say that." My voice was fierce.
"But–"
On impulse, I leaned forward. And all of a sudden, we were kissing, his mouth on mine, tasting of fire, smoke and adrenaline. It only lasted for about five seconds, but it was enough to make me want more.
Then I pulled away, and tugged at his jacket. "Come on."
And as the Norsefield Library burned behind us, we ran down the street, towards freedom.
It had been five days since Patrick and I had destroyed the Norsefield Library. I hadn't told either V or Evey about the blue folder that I had stolen from the filing cabinet. I'd made up my mind that, until I could look at every single bit of information inside that folder, it was staying a secret.
That afternoon, the opportunity came.
Alone in my room, I sat on my bed and carefully opened the folder. The first thing I saw was a plain sheet of paper, with the red Norsefire logo stamped at the top of the page, and the heading 'CONFIDENTIAL' typed across the front. I turned the page and was greeted by a column of black text. I scanned through the paragraphs, stopping to read here and there.
It has been recorded that the deadly St Mary's virus has now killed at least two thousand people, with the death toll still rising. A singular school has been targeted, leaving several hundred dead within the first few weeks. Under the instruction of Creedy, the message has been communicated that authorities are attempting to control the deadly spread of the virus…
The next page was the same, this time detailing information about a tube station, and water treatment plant. Then, a whole page about Larkhill, showing a photograph of the 'treatment station', where I knew V had been experimented on. I shuddered, then noticed the faded photographs down the bottom of the page. The names Lewis Prothero, Bishop Lilliman, and Dr Delia Surridge were written next to their photograph, as well as a description of their role at Larkhill. I looked closely at Delia Surridges' photo. So this was the woman who had played the vital role in V's transformation. She'd probably be dead too, by now.
As I turned the paper over, I was greeted by several newspaper clippings. The heading 'Mysterious Epidemic' glared back at me from the front of one of the papers. 'St Mary's virus kills 80,000 people' was printed in large, black font.
I turned over to the next page, puzzled. There was something that didn't seem right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Wait a minute. I turned back and checked the date of the newspapers. April, 1999. Exactly three months before Sutler won the election.
In fact, after Sutler was elected, everything went back to normal. I realized. And it was only after they shut Larkhill down that antibiotics were invented and miraculously cured the St Mary's virus.
My fingers turned to the last page in the file.
And there, written in black, scrawling writing, was a letter, from a man called Peter Creedy, to Sutler. It was short, but at the same time, incredibly detailed.
Chancellor Sutler,
Based on the recent results of your election as Chancellor, all seems to be in order for the next step of this operation to go ahead. As head of the Finger, I can plainly say that by genetically engineering the said virus, starting from Larkhill and ending at St Mary's, we have successfully gained complete control over the London population. Fear, as they say, is the greatest weapon.
Creedy
With shaking hands, I replaced the paper and closed the folder, feeling sick.
So now I knew the truth. This was how Norsefire gained control of the whole of London. Nobody would suspect their own government of committing such a terrible crime. But it seemed that, as Creedy so put it, that their ultimate weapon was the fear. By installing enough fear into people by creating a virus so deadly and uncontrollable that it left everyone no other choice but to elect Sutler as Chancellor.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
"V, I'm leaving."
The sound of Evey's voice made me look up from my nearly-finished copy of Pride and Prejudice. She was standing near V, who was in turn positioned over a jukebox. A brown bag containing her things was slung over one shoulder.
"You're leaving." I said, glancing at her. A strange feeling of sadness washed over me.
She nodded, turning her attention back to V, who didn't appear to have taken any notice. "Did you hear me?"
He straightened up. "Yes."
"I can't stay here."
V turned around to look at her, as if quietly accepting the fact that she was moving on, and leaving the two of us. "I know. You won't find any more locked doors here."
"This is yours." She held out something that I could only identify as Valerie's letter. "I thought about keeping it, but it didn't seem right, knowing that you wrote it."
"He didn't." I said, quietly.
"May I show you something before you go?" he asked, gesturing for her to follow him. Sticking a marker in my book, I followed them into Valerie's room. Lit by candles, adorned with roses, this room was every bit as beautiful as it had been when I first saw it.
"She was real." Evey gazed around the room, and at Valerie's picture hanging on the wall. "She was in the cell next to yours. Did you know her?"
V's voice was quiet. "No. I delivered that letter to you just as it had been delivered to me."
A moment of silence followed.
"Then that's what this is about." Evey realized. "You're getting back at them for what they did to her. And to you."
"What was done to me created me." V stated the fact bluntly, his voice rough. "What was done to me was monstrous."
"And they created a monster."
A silence followed. I flinched, unsure of what V would do. Slowly, I raised my head to look at him, yet he just stood there silently. Yet at the same time, I didn't like to think about what he must have felt on the inside.
"Do you know where you'll go?" I asked her, breaking the silence.
"No. That would have scared me before, but I suppose I should thank you, V." She glanced first at V, then at me, giving me a slight smile. "And you, Vanessa. Without you, I don't know what I would have done."
"I'll just….wait for you at the door." I said, shuffling past V, knowing perfectly well that Evey wanted to say goodbye to V properly. As I waited beside the front door for her, it dawned on me that this would be the last day that I ever spent with her and V here, in the Shadow Gallery. It felt as if years, rather than months, had passed since we had both first arrived here.
A moment later, Evey rejoined me. "I'd better get going."
"Well." I swallowed. "Bye, Evey. It's been–" I cast around for a word, but couldn't find one. Instead, I felt my throat close up.
Suddenly, Evey leaned forward and hugged me. "I know." She pulled back to look at me. "Goodbye, Vanessa."
I could only watch as she pulled the door open and walked away from me. And was it my imagination, or did I faintly hear the sound of something shattering from inside? And the sound of someone sobbing?
Five minutes had passed before I could bring myself to head back inside, my whole body numb. As if on automatic, I headed to my room and slid open the bottom drawer, where the blue folder was. Tucking it under my arm, I cautiously made my way to V's bedroom door and knocked.
He opened the door. "Vanessa." He seemed surprised to see me; after all, it was the first time I had ever come into his bedroom. I stared round the room, which looked relatively normal, apart from the fact that the mirror at his dressing table was shattered into pieces. "What brings you here?"
In answer, I held out the blue folder.
Well, I hope that you all enjoyed reading! Once again, thank you for all the reviews (I love you all!) :D