Chapter 20

A long time passed without either of them speaking. Jenny had sunk onto the bed, feeling completely and utterly drained, and Ben had slid down onto the floor and was leaning against the adjacent wall, staring blankly up at the ceiling. At one point, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and took one out.

"That's one of the best things about being back here," he said wistfully as he placed one in his mouth and lit it. "I can finally get a decent pack of fags."

"Do you have any idea what they do to your lungs?" Jenny snapped bossily as she watched him take a long drag with disapproval.

"Yes," he replied shortly. "But we've all got to die of something right? And lung cancer or emphysema seem like a sweet way to go in comparison to getting torn apart by a creature."

His flippant words stirred something inside Jenny as she painfully remembered his dire predictions for her own demise.

"How does it happen?" she asked in as casual a tone as she could.

"Excuse me?"

"How do I die?" she probed, shuffling slightly so that she rested her back against the headboard. "At least tell me it's a good one."

"You think that's funny?" he asked in a brittle tone.

"A little bit, yeah," she lied, raising an eyebrow at him. "So do you want to tell me, or would you prefer me to guess?"

He paused for a minute, looking her up and down as though sizing up how much to tell her. "It's a creature attack," he answered eventually in a hollow voice. "Dad spared me the full details, but from what I could gather, a Raptor catches you off-guard."

"A Raptor?" she repeated, using an amused tone to hide her complete and utter horror. "Interesting. I must say, of all the ways I've pictured my death, a Raptor wasn't one of them."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway because it's not going to happen now."

She laughed weakly. "You seriously expect me to stay here when you're going to gas my husband, not to mention my closest friends?"

"You don't have a choice," he stated sharply.

She let out a disbelieving scowl and rolled her eyes, turning her gaze away from him. She didn't care what he said or what it took to get out of there, she was going to do it. She couldn't just sit here, reasonably safe and sound when Nick and the others were in danger, first from the creatures, then from being suffocated by poisoned air. She couldn't let that happen.

"I know you think I'm a monster," he spoke again unexpectedly. "But I just don't want to lose you again."

Surprised, she looked back at him, noticing that he was watching her with a slight frown, making him look more like her Ben than he ever had done. Then, with a gasp, a horrible sickening thought occurred to her.

"Oh god - I didn't flirt with you did I?" she asked, feeling a wave of nausea.

"What? he exclaimed hotly, narrowing his eyes in disgust. "No!"

"Thank god," she sighed to herself, relieved.

Another dense silence fell between them, awkward and stifling. Jenny didn't know what to say to him. Sure, genetically he might be her son, but he was just a stranger to her. Worse than a stranger - he was her kidnapper. What was she supposed to do - try and get to know him? Try and break through the emotional wall he'd erected between them? A part of her wanted to. A part of her burned to know everything about him. But what was the point? He wasn't her little boy, and he never would be. He was a killer, hardened by the dreadful world in which he had dragged himself up in. Why should she want to get to know him? But still . . . the former part of her seemed to win out.

"You said before that one of the only memories you have of me is me leaving you with your nan," she said quietly. "Do you have any others of me? Any at all?"

He paused for a moment, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into a plant pot next to him. "Just feelings mostly," he replied distantly, frowning slightly as he was clearly straining for a memory. "I remember feeling safe and happy when I was with you. And your smell," he added, glancing up at her. "I remember the smell of your perfume. You're wearing it now."

"Oh," she sighed, slightly disappointed at the fact that all of the times she had spent with him - all the times she had sat up with him at night when he was frightened; all the times she had snuggled him close to her when they were watching the television - none of it had stuck in his memory.

"All my life, I wondered what it'd be like to meet you," he continued quietly, his gaze set firmly on his hands. "And what I would say to you if I did."

"And am I what you expected?" she pushed.

"No," he replied shortly. "You're more."

She laughed drily. "I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment."

"Good - it was intended as one," he qualified.

Hesitating slightly before making up her mind, she got to her feet slowly and walked up to him, sliding down to sit on the floor next to him.

"I know you've got to act all tough," she said, cautiously resting her hand on his arm. "But I also know that if given the option, you're a good person. You've got to be."

"I think I was once," he replied coldly, although he didn't pull away from her touch.

"If you're trying so hard to save me, then you must be good," she pushed, watching his stony expression.

"I'm saving you so that I don't have to grow up without a mother," he corrected her.

"So you don't feel anything for me?"

He wrenched his arm out of her grasp suddenly and stood up, regaining his distance from her. "Don't be trying any of that shit with me," he snapped, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused at the sudden out-burst.

"Listen, I know you're used to being able to wrap people round your little finger," he said, narrowing his eyes. "But it won't work with me."

"I was just asking you a question!" she retorted, getting to her feet also, finding his height advantage suddenly unnerving. "Just because you're too scared to answer it - "

"I'm not scared of anything," he breathed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Look," she began, trying a different tact and fixing him with a pleading stare. "You can't go ahead and gas the whole of London - "

"Everyone's evacuated anyway," he replied in a unconcerned tone. "So it's not like it matters - "

"Yes, everyone except most of the people I love!" she exclaimed in incredulity.

"No-one's life is more important than stopping the creatures!" he barked back, matching her anger.

"Except mine?"

"Listen, I took a huge risk bringing you back here!" he snarled, nostrils flaring in fury. "The least you could do is be grateful - "

"Grateful?" she gapped.

"Yes!" he bellowed, all thoughts of keeping his volume down apparently forgotten. "Because of me, you'll survive long enough to bring up little mini-me, and stop him having the life I did."

"But now that you've warned me about my dying, I won't let it happen," she pointed out, trying her best to regain her calm. "I can be more careful. Just let me go - "

"It doesn't work like that!" he groaned in frustration. "It's harder to change the past than you might think. By just altering something small, time will still find a way of achieving it's goal. To change things, it requires a massive intervention - like me removing you from the battle completely. Because if you went at all, you would die. It may not be in the same way as in my past, but believe me, it'd happen."

"But - " she began to argue back, but her voice faltered as she spotted something out of the corner of her eye that stopped her heart. There, lying as though discarded on the floor, was some sort of mobile phone. It must have fell out of Ben's pocket when he was sitting against the wall.

"What?" he said, his expression bemused as his eyes searched her face.

"Nothing," she replied immediately, her gaze snapping back to him, panicking about not letting him discovering it lying there. "Look, Ben - "

"Don't call me that," he snapped through gritted teeth. "It's Matt."

Jenny chuckled coldly before she could stop herself. "I gave you life, so I'll call you what I damn-well please."

"If you - " he began, stepping towards her aggressively, but he was interrupted by the door bursting open, causing them both to turn.

It was Kathryn.

"Oh . . . sorry . . ." she stammered, looking inbetween the two of them. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Yes, you were," Ben snapped rudely. "What do you want?"

"You're needed downstairs," she informed him, shifting herself guiltily.

He sighed deeply before glancing round at Jenny. "Stay here - I'll be back in a moment."

She nodded immediately and watched as he barged past Kathryn out of the door. Jenny felt a prickle of anger as the girl winced in pain and touched her hand tenderly to her shoulder. "Charming boy, isn't he?" she said sarcastically, causing the woman to chuckle slightly.

"That he is," Kathryn sighed in a resigned manner as she made to follow him.

However, before she did, she paused, and Jenny's heart thudded wildly as she saw her green eyes rest on the mobile phone on the floor. Then, she looked back up at Jenny, rasing her eyebrows ruefully.

"Please don't say anything," Jenny mouthed to her, clasping her hands in a pleading gesture.

After a moments hesitation, the girl nodded slightly, biting her lip nervously as she withdrew herself from the room.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Jenny scurried over and picked up the mobile. It looked a little different to any phone she had used before, but as she fiddled with it, it seemed to be of the same basic design as the ones today, and more importantly, it could text. She didn't have much time, so she made the message as brief and as clear as possible.

Nick, on St. Andrews Street, need u 2 cum n wait 4 me on the corner asap. Found way out. Giv me 2hrs. Dnt txt this numba bac n dnt cum in the house. Jenny.

She quickly sent it to Nick's mobile, and went back and deleted the message from the outbox incase Ben checked when he found the phone. Footsteps could be heard coming back up the stairs, and panicking, Jenny flung the mobile to the corner where he had previously been sitting and sat back on the bed, arranging her face into what she hoped was an unreadable expression. The door opened and Ben came in again.

"Listen, this is going to take a while, so you might as well get some sleep," he said curtly. "And before you think about breaking out, the windows are locked and I'm leaving a guard at your door."

"Okay," Jenny nodded immediately, before realising her sudden co-operation might seem a tad suspicious.

"Okay - good," he said, looking slightly puzzled as he made to leave. However, just like Kathryn, before he did so, the mobile on the floor must have caught his eye. Suddenly, he strode back and scooped it up, holding it up to Jenny. "Did you use my phone?" he demanded in a stern tone.

"No, of course not, I didn't even know it was there," Jenny lied quickly, looking up at him with an innocent expression. "You must have dropped it."

"You're lying," he stated, watching her with his jaw set.

"Am I?"

"Don't mess me around Jenny, who did you contact?" he commanded, obvious anger bubbling under the surface.

"Oh, so it's 'Jenny' now is it?" she laughed in an attempt to cover up her guilt. "What happened to 'mum'?"

"You're not listening to me - who did you contact?"

"No-one!" she exclaimed, ensuring that her voice was seeped in a hurt 'I-can't-believe-you'd-think-I'd-do that' tone. "I didn't even see it there. I wish I had, but I didn't. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he seeped sarcastically. "Now go to sleep. Hopefully in slumber, you're not this much trouble."

"Yes Sir," she said with venom, putting particular emphasis on the last word.

He shot her a glare before turning and marching back out of the room again, slamming the door shut behind him so hard that it made her wince.

Now for the hard part, she thought to herself with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

London was almost completely deserted, with the exception of a few straggling cars that roared past, not stopping for anything in their hurry to get away. And Cutter didn't blame them, not after the story Lester and the Minister, whoever he was, had cooked up involving an uncovered terrorist plot about the decimation of the city.

He and Becker were slipping and sliding their way down a steep embankment, torches held high, stumbling every now and then when their boots stuck in the mud. The ARC had intercepted an emergency call a while ago about a car going over the bridge and landing in the watery depths below - a car that's description matched Jenny's one down to the letter. However, to Cutter's intense relief, the caller had stated that the two people had escaped unharmed before he had hung up, saying he was going to check and see if they were alright. Nothing had been heard since, and Cutter didn't even know if the emergency services had been to check it out - they had an evacuation on their hands, and since they knew the passengers were out alive, they probably had more important things to worry about.

Darkness pressed up against them and the eery silence that was so unlike London made the hairs on his arm prickle. Trying desperately to keep his footing, he angled his torch light to the ground, the better to see where to put his step. However, suddenly, his foot caught on something large and unseen in front of him, and the next thing he knew, he had a face full of mud as he smacked painfully to the squelching ground.

"You okay?" Becker asked, pausing and turning his torch on him.

"Aye," Cutter murmured bitterly, wiping dirt from around his mouth as he staggered to his feet.

He and Becker both searched the ground for what he had tripped on, and suddenly, unexpectedly, a horrific scene met their eyes. It was an old man, cold and stiff, with blood all over his mud-caked clothing, unmistakably dead.

"Jesus," Cutter said numbly as he and Becker crouched down carefully. "What happened here?"

"Two bullet wounds," Becker pointed out, gesturing with the light of his torch to a gapping hole in the poor man's chest and stomach. "He was shot at some distance, judging by the size of them."

"Oh god . . ." Cutter trailed off, his brain freezing as he jumped to the most obvious conclusion - that whoever had taken Jenny had shot this man down mercilessly, leaving his body here to rot, not even bothering to cover his tracks. Whoever did this was deranged. And he had his wife.

That is, a horribly realistic part of his brain chimed in, if he hasn't killed her already too . . .

"Cutter!" Becker's voice shouted from a short distance away.

Numbly, Cutter stumbled over to him, not quite able to get his legs working properly due to the terrible fear that something had happened to her. If it had, he would never ever forgive himself.

"Look at this," the soldier continued when he reached them, directing his torch light to a patch of ground next to the lake.

Cutter squinted his eyes, not really sure of what he was supposed to be looking at. Then, he noticed that their were deep imprints in the mud, showing that this was probably the place Jenny and the man had scrambled out of the water.

"It looks like there's been a struggle," Becker observed, moving closer for inspection.

"Jesus," Cutter sighed again, raising his tired hand up to his forehead and rubbing it, trying desperately to block out the vile, unbidden images that his mind was forming.

"But there's two tracts leading away from here," Becker finished, straightening up and looking round at him. "So at least we know she got out of here alive."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Cutter snapped, rather unreasonably.

"Well it's better than finding her body here isn't it?" Becker retorted back. "At least we know she's still out there somewhere."

"No, we know she was alive when she left here," Cutter corrected him hotly. "But that was probably hours ago - he could have killed her by now."

"No," Becker argued, shaking his head. "If he wanted her dead, he would have done it sooner rather than later. Taking a hostage is difficult, especially one who's constantly trying to escape like Jenny's probably doing. No, there's a reason she's still alive. He wants her for something."

"Well that's not much better either!" Cutter exclaimed acidly.

He heard Becker sigh slightly, although it was so dark where they were that he couldn't see his face.

After a few moments of tense silence, the soldier cleared his throat. "We should get back to the ARC."

"No way," Cutter answered immediately. "I'm not going back until I find her."

"Cutter, the trail ends here!" Becker pointed out in an uncharacteristically aspirated tone. "There's nothing else we can do out here. But back at the ARC, we can intercept calls and keep an eye on any unusual activity. And she still might get in touch."

Cutter let out a disbelieving laugh. "You just want to get back so you can play military strategies."

"I care about Jenny too!" he snapped, for the first time sounding angry. "I want her found just as much as you do. But I'm being realistic. There's nothing else we can do without any more leads, and we're not going to find them out here."

Cutter scowled and looked away, his gaze falling on the gentle ripples of dark water to his right, his pain at thinking about her in danger preventing him from accepting that the man was right. However, as his panic steadied, he realised that the most they could do out here was get more cold, wet and muddy, which was neither going to help Jenny, nor the population of Britain if they couldn't contain the anomalies.

"Alright," he said stiffly to the soldier.

"Good man," Becker said, clapping him on the back.

They slowly made their way back up the slippery embankment towards the car. When they reached it, Cutter couldn't help but pause at the door, looking down the deserted street ahead of them, knowing that it was probably the route Jenny had been forced down.

"Christ Jenny, where the hell are you?" he breathed to himself.

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his mobile vibrated in his pocket, starling him slightly. Grumbling, he reached for it, assuming it was Lester calling, having kittens because they weren't back yet. However, it wasn't a call - it was a message from a number he didn't recognise. Bemused, he opened it, his eyes skimming it's contents.

He nearly dropped the phone in shock.

It was a text from Jenny, telling him where she was and when he was to meet her. He could have sunk to his knees with relief.

"Becker," he said sharply, tossing him the phone over the car bonnet.

The soldier caught it, and held it up to his eyes, frowning as he read it.

"And you're sure this isn't a trap?" he asked skeptically when he had finished.

Cutter shook his head immediately. "It's her - I know it is."

He expected Becker to argue some more about them not having time, or the possibility that it might be the kidnapper leading them into an ambush. But to Cutter's complete surprise -

"Right then, let's go," he sighed, dropping into the drivers seat.