We drive for twenty minutes, making sure no one is on our tail. It takes the same amount of time for my heart to slow and head to clear. For me to be able to think. When I was a kid, mum used to take us to a house near Cobham, it was in the middle of a forrest, not much else around. I think we owned it, but I'm not sure.
It's another twenty minute drive from where we are now. Then we can call Miss Gateshead and she can tell us what to do from there. It's not a great plan, but it's the only one I have. I tell Grace where to go.
"Amelia," Elijah says from the back of the car, his voice hoarse.
I look back and he's grey, his eyes dark rimmed. He doesn't look good at all. He doesn't have much longer, maybe two hours tops. I glance over at his brother, Stanley's eyes are closed and he looks equally as colourless. He looks dead.
"Stan?" I say, my heart spluttering in my chest. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me. I breathe a sigh of relief. "You and Elijah are injured pretty badly, I need you two to talk to each other and not stop until we've got you to safety, okay?"
Stan licks his lips as if they're really dry, and his voice is barely there as he says, "Sure."
There's a silence for a minute whilst the brothers look at me, slumped over and eyes glazed. I'm far too out of my depth here, they're relying on me to get them to safety. I just have to keep them alive. Help will come. I just have to make sure they live; that's my job. Keep us all alive.
"I approve of her," Stan finally says to Elijah. "Just so you know."
"Thanks," Elijah chuckles, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the headrest. "Not that I needed your approval."
"Of course not," Stan says, also closing his eyes and leaning his head back. They almost look identical, "But you could have done worse."
"I could have chosen Lily," Elijah sniggers. "Imagine that."
"Gross," Grace chimes in.
"I'm sure mum would have approved."
"Shut up," Elijah jokes. "It wouldn't matter if I brought home 007. They never approve of anything I do."
Stan chuckles this time, "That's probably true."
"If you die, it'll be my fault."
"I expect no less," Stan says, "I want you to wear a cone of shame at my funeral."
"I'm sure dad would love that. It will be my parting gift to you."
"Wonderful." Stan says, "When it comes to you giving a speech, I don't want one. I just want you to start singing Celebration by Kool & The Gang."
"Not Ding Dong the Witch is Dead?" Elijah asks.
"No. Celebration."
"I mean, if that's your dying wish then that's your dying wish."
"What's yours?" Stank asks him.
Elijah takes a second to think, his eyes still closed. "I don't want a funeral, I think that will really piss them off."
"It would." Stan gives a little nod.
Back and forth they go, the sounds of their voices filling the car. I don't listen to their conversation, not really. I direct Grace, until finally we pull up at the only other house from my childhood. This, you can tell, hasn't been visited for the last year. It means no one else knows about it, and that's as safe as I can get right now.
"Stay with them," I say to Grace, "Anything happens and you drive until you can get them back to school. You leave me behind if you have to. Understand?"
She nods and I open the car door, acting much braver then I feel. I do a perimeter sweep, but we're deep in the woods and it's silent. There's no one here. Not even the birds are chirping. I'm silent as I trample over the grass.
I slink around to the back of the house, peering through the back door. The kitchen is darkened and empty. With my elbow I smash the glass panel in the back door and let myself in. I step over the threshold, glass crunching under my feet. Nothing happens. No booby traps, no one rushes at me. It's silent. It's exactly how I remember, just a normal two bed house situated in some woods. Decorated exactly like our Wimbledon home, plain and undistinguished.
The kitchen table is covered in dust, and the house is cold from where it hasn't been lived in. I can't believe I haven't thought about this place sooner, but I suppose we did only visit it once every few years. Looking back now, knowing what I know, it was probably when dad was in trouble; or we were in danger. This probably is our safe house.
I sweep the house from top to bottom as quickly as I can, but as I expect, I find nothing. It's just an empty building that no one knows about. Then I head back to the car.
"It's all clear," I tell Grace.
"Good," She says, stepping out the car.
"We'll put Stan on the sofa," I say, "He won't be able to go far because his leg, you can watch him. Elijah can go upstairs and on the spare bed."
She nods and we work to get the boys inside. Once they're comfortable and laid out, I grab the burner phone Stan brought with us and call Miss Gateshead. What else can I do? I've got roughly an hour and a half before Elijah's lost too much blood, and I haven't been able to asses Stan yet.
"It's bad," I tell her, having explained everything that happened. "Stan and Elijah have been shot, I think Elijah might need a blood transfusion."
"Give me your exact address. We'll send someone now," She says, I do and I hear her barking orders, calling people to action. I wait for my instructions. "Amelia?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let them die."
I take a deep breath, "I'll try."
We hang up. Now, the only thing I can do is wait for help. I head back inside, Grace is talking to Stan,
making jokes and he's smiling at her. I head up to Elijah, he's a funny colour; hot and clammy. I wipe a wet flannel I found in the bathroom across his forehead, it smells damp but I don't care.
"Hey," He whispers, opening his eyes, his voice low. "You doing okay?"
"No," I tell him, looking at his gaping wound. "They're sending help, you just have to wait a bit longer."
I go back to wiping his clammy forehead, trying not to allow the worry that's consuming me over take. If they don't come soon, I might lose Elijah. I don't know if I can cope with another loss. I think it would send me insane.
"Hey," He says, using his good arm to catch my wrist, he moves his head so his eyes lock onto mine. "It's going to be okay."
I sniffle, fighting back tears. "You've been shot."
He gives a weak smile, "You've been shot before and you're here."
I stroke his hair, "We have no idea what happened to me but I can see what's happening to you."
He gives a low, soft laugh. "Now you know how it feels."
I frown, "How what feels?"
He stares at me, unblinking, "What it's like when the person you love is injured."
I half laugh, "Yeah? Well it sucks. I don't recommend it."
"No, neither do I." He says, not laughing with me. His eyes are serious. "But I promise I'll be okay. Okay?"
I nod, "If you say so..." I look down at his beautiful face, his green eyes watching me. He's so perfect, so wonderful. I can't imagine life without him. "I'm going to kiss you now."
"Good," He mutters, closing his eyes in anticipation.
I lean down and give him a gentle peck on the lips, it's nothing like they write about; there's no sparks or fireworks, my loins don't burn. It just feels like I'm coming home. Like I'm exactly where I should be. With him, always.
"Amelia," Grace calls, her voice alert. I break away from Elijah.
"Stanley," I mumble, panic rising in me. I rush to the door and turn back to Elijah. "Stay awake. Stay awake for me, okay?"
Elijah salutes, "I'll be right here."
Then I dash downstairs, but Stan is fine and Grace is gone. "What happened?"
"You can't hear it?" He asks me, I stop and listen.
"It's a chopper," I say.
Stan grins, "We're saved."