Nothing but Nought

two. Tobey

I won't say that I haven't made mistakes in my lifetime, 'cause I have. I always thought that people, and by that I mean Crosses, think they know best, so they all believe noughts are terrorists, no doubt about it. The moment I got involved with that slimeball McAuley, I was trapped, and yet I didn't know it – or, if I did, I had been too stupid and desperate for the money he promised to realise it. I'm glad I killed that monster, what else could I do after he'd attacked my precious Callie like that? He showed no remorse, too, which made him even worse.

It's people like McAuley, and the LM in general, that make Crosses think we're all terrorists. I can count on the fingers on my left hand the people who see me and all the other noughts as we are: human beings, who aren't all out to get the ruling Crosses, no matter how much truth they find in the fact that we despise most of them. Those people are people I know personally, and are now a part of my family: Callie Rose, my wife, Callie's mum - Sephy and her husband Nathan – Callie's now late grandmother, Jasmine Hadley and that's it. All the other Crosses I meet walk to the other side of the street and give me looks that could kill or looks of fear from there, and I hate it.

Callie's on my side, though, because people do the same to her, because she's half of both – dual heritage. That's hard in itself, and I love my Callie for being so brave and strong about it. Of course, she and I both know we both had a momentary vicious lapse in our constant, yet peaceful, stand to fight for equality.

She hated her Granddad Kamal, too right; the guy's a bastard still, and wanted to get rid of him. She was prepared to give up her own life to kill him, and I know that, because she told me that's what she was planning to do on that morning we spent together on her Nana Jasmine's private beach. Me, I was just desperate for money to help my family. We were dangling right at the bottom of the breadline, and I needed money in any way I could get it. I made the wrong choice, and accepted my ex-friend Dan's advice that I should work for McAuley or the Dowds. Lot of good it did me. Scarred me for life, and I'm terrified that Peter is going to follow my stupid tracks. I can't stop him – whatever we tell him, his mind, his body, his life is still his own and we can't control that. Neither of us has ever tried to, but we are trying to protect him. I can't tell if it's working or not.

I wonder why he was in such a hurry this morning. He's a teenager, and normally he sleeps as late as he can at the weekend. Something weird is going on, and I don't like the way my thoughts are taking me. Surely not. He can't be a member of the LM? Or even thinking about joining? Not after all Callie and I have told him about them? I wish with all my heart that my thoughts are as far from the truth as it is possible to get, but I don't know. I can't see what my son is doing now – I just hope it's not something stupid and dangerous. To be honest, I can't believe I let him go so easily – I should've questioned him more, and tried to stop him from going, just in case. I know it would be better to have an angry son who's grounded and not speaking to me than to have a son who has learnt to kill and maim Crosses just because he has been told he is a freedom fighter, or he is doing it for money. I don't want Peter to become the hollow, cold shell of himself that Callie and I both did.

Yet I'm terrified that he will.

And there'll be nothing Callie or I can do about it.

I was washing the dishes stood in the kitchen, when I heard footsteps on the stairs, and Callie appeared in the doorway. God, although I've been married to her for the last two years, it still amazes me how beautiful she is, and the fact that she's mine and has vowed to be forever. I was just watching her gorgeous face as her long, slender legs helped her make her way towards me, and she kissed me tenderly on the lips. I wanted her to linger for longer than a few seconds, but she didn't, and softly pulled away. 'Morning, Tobey,' she said to me, her sweet smile already warming my heart. She looked carefully around the room. 'Where's my son? I thought I heard him come down about an hour ago.'

I turned quickly away, unable to meet her eyes. 'He's…he's gone out,' I managed, careful not to let my hidden guilt come across in my speech. Callie put a hand on my shoulder and helped herself to a banana that was just lying on the table.

'Have you any idea where? You did ask him about it before he went, didn't you?' The words were just a question, but I couldn't miss the slight accusatory note in her voice.

'Of course I did,' I said sharply. What sort of father was I if I didn't check where my son was off to? Especially in this world, where the colour of his skin decides how he is going to be treated. Callie regarded me with a strange look, and then shrugged and dodged round me to put the kettle on for a cup of coffee.

'Coffee?' she asked, and I nodded, already wincing inside at how harsh my reply must have sounded to her. She must've read my mind, because next minute, her arms had slipped round me and she muttered: 'I don't mean to be so accusatory, but you know we've got to look out for him, and ourselves. Look out in front, behind and from our sides.' I smiled grimly and nodded.

'I know. I'm sorry, but I just have...' I couldn't tell her what my thoughts were telling me. No, I couldn't. She stared up at me, her head tilted to one side, the way it always was when she sensed something she needed to question about to be said.

'Tobey?' she prompted, a slight note of panic in her voice. I opened my mouth again to say something, and the words I so wanted to say just flew out of the window.

'It's nothing,' I said softly, trying to reassure her. 'I'm having concerns about my job, that's all.' I breathed a sigh of relief as she relaxed in my arms and went to pour out the coffee. My job had been the perfect lie – she knew I was worried about that.

Later, I was sat in front of the computer, as usual, emailing Mr Thompson, my new boss. Suddenly, a strange urge overtook me, and I clicked on the internet icon on the bottom of the screen, and in the search engine I typed 'Alex McAuley', and about 2,000 results came up, all at once. I clicked on the Wikipedia biography and read it.

After I'd read it through three times, I sat back in the chair and took a deep breath. Staring at the computer screen filled with text, I fought a bizarre desire to laugh. How could anyone have got McAuley's biography so wrong? I opened up the email I'd been sending to Mr Thompson, signed it off and sent it. I had more important things to do now, things to put right. Clicking back on the Wikipedia page, I selected the edit button and got down to work rewriting the biography of a man I knew from real experience.

An hour or so later, I admired my handiwork. I had completely changed the writing, so people would now know what he had really been like, and that his company still hadn't gone. I sat there in silence, with the door closed. A bird tweeted as it came to rest on the apple tree in the back garden. How could something so natural, so innocent still live in a world like this? My mind wandered, and it wandered to my ex-best friend Dan, who, as far as I know, was still serving his ten year prison sentence for McAuley's murder and for running from the police. I guess I should just be glad he knows I didn't, and wouldn't, turn him in, no matter that he's my ex-best friend. He saved my life by killing McAuley, and not turning him in is the best thanks I could give him considering his situation. I stared outside, wishing my thoughts could reach his mind. 'Dan, I wish I could come and visit you. I do. I think about doing it every day, but surely you can guess why I haven't. It'd be too dangerous. The police already know me after the drug dealing with McAuley, and they know I know you, 'cause I bailed you out last time, remember?' I just wanted to say that out loud, get it off my chest.

I don't know for sure how long I sat there, but a horrid thought suddenly struck me. What if Peter was doing what I thought he was doing and they'd already told him to kill someone? Or to deal drugs? Or suppose he'd found Dan's secret lockup? I couldn't let my son get sucked into the violent world I did. The last thing I wanted was him holding a gun or a knife and wanting, or knowing, how to use it on someone. This family didn't need any more hatred. Before I'd even thought my plan through, I'd turned off my laptop, grabbed my car keys and run out the door.

I literally leaped in my car seat, jammed the key in the ignition and sped off down the road. I had to get to that place. To the headquarters. To Dan's lockup. God help me if Peter had got there first and was already being taught that violence is the only way to get what you want in this life. I ignored the speed limit signs, and carried on praying to the God of Crosses, hoping he would answer my prayers and help me, even though I'm a nought. 'God, God, please, stop Peter from messing up his life before I can. I can't cope with my son going down that path like I did. I know I've made mistakes, and I've probably drawn this path out, but please, if you're fair, unlike those you're the God of, help me to stop him, to help him, before it's too late.' I prayed with all my heart, speeding until the car squealed in protest.I had to get there before it was too late. I just had to. I turned off the road and thought of nothing else as I drove.

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