Jonathan held Lucia's hand as they stood in the corner. He was able to convince himself that this was to reassure her but, in truth, it was to reassure himself. He strained his ears, trying to hear what was going on, not daring to risk a glance out of the window.
Joseph unbolted the door slowly and deliberately, and Jonathan was aware of how harsh his own breathing had become.
"Can I help you?" Joseph asked politely, to whoever was there.
"Mr Joseph Nickson?" a voice demanded.
Jonathan closed his eyes, shivered, and started to edge across the room. He didn't let go of Lucia's hand but he didn't dare look at her face. They had to get out into the hallway, out of a back entrance or a window. They had to get out.
"Yes, officer?" Joseph answered, scrupulously correct. "Is there a concern?"
"It has come to our attention that you broke curfew tonight," the officer replied. "Do you have anything to say in your defence?"
"Yes, I did," Joseph admitted. "But it was a one-off offence. A friend's sister was ill and he had to work the nightshift so I agreed to take care of her. It was a last minute arrangement."
Jonathan groaned inwardly. It wasn't easy to make up excuses on the fly but Joseph should know better than this. Even delivered well it would have been hard to believe and Joseph's voice had a tremor in it that gave him away.
"We have authority to search the premises."
Jonathan could feel Joseph's hesitation. "I can assure you, you'll find nothing."
"You have a problem with our authority?"
Joseph backtracked fast. "No, no, no. Please come in, officer..."
Jonathan had made it to the far corner of the room, Lucia right up against him, pulled into his arms. He hardly dared breathe. There was a door behind him that might open onto anywhere. He prayed that it was unlocked.
"Can I offer you a drink?" Joseph asked, lightly, shutting the door. "Tea? Something stronger?"
"No," the officer replied, curtly.
Jonathan listened hard, trying to figure out how many there were. Three? Five? Not many. Perhaps they really did believe this was only one occasion of curfew-breaking. He reached out his hand behind him and found the door handle. As slowly as he dared, he turned it.
"We'll start upstairs," the officer announced.
Jonathan nearly sobbed with relief.
"As you say, officer," Joseph agreed, humbly. "Shall I lead the way?"
"We can find a staircase on our own."
Jonathan backed slowly through the door, pulling Lucia with him. He pushed it shut behind them and leant against it, breathing hard.
"They found us so fast," Lucia whispered. "Do you think...?"
"They can't know," Jonathan answered, sounding more confident than he felt. "It's just bad luck. Joseph was hurt last night...he probably wasn't paying so much attention..."
Lucia leant against him for a second, trembling. Jonathan stroked her back absentmindedly. He wished there was a way to solve this that didn't put her in danger. It had been one of the primary attractions of Lucia, that she was an outsider to this world.
The room they were in was a small backroom, something like a larder. A door led out into a garden and, from there, across the fence were only a few streets until you reached the woods... That was the way out. Just one door, a sprint in the open, and then they would be back on Jonathan's ground, headed for safety.
Jonathan reached out and ran his hand along the shelves until he found an iron key, large and old-fashioned. He closed his hand around it, tested it in the lock. It fitted.
"We're going to make a run for it," he whispered. "Stick close to me and do exactly as I say."
Lucia nodded seriously.
"There's nothing up here!" a voice called from high above them.
Jonathan's heart did a little panicked skip. All of Joseph's incriminating evidence would be hidden somewhere; the officers might never find it. But the most incriminating evidence was Jonathan and Lucia and if they couldn't get out without being noticed, Joseph would be dead by morning.
The key slipped into the lock and turned with a loud, decisive click. Jonathan eased the door open and the hinges creaked audibly. He flinched, paused, but there was no sound except the boots of the officers as they tramped back down the stairs.
"Now," he told Lucia and shoved her out into the garden.
It was lucky she got the message, and that she was fast. She broke into a run, dashing across the short strip of grass while Jonathan pushed the door closed again as quietly as possible, leaving the key on the doormat outside.
"Hey!" a voice called from overhead. "Hey, there's a girl running across the garden!"
Jonathan swore loudly. They'd left someone looking out of the window. How was that fair? He took off running after Lucia, overtaking her just as they reached the fence. He grabbed the top and kicked with his legs, scrabbling until he fell face-first over the wall.
Lucia landed on the ground next to him with her knees scraped and a tear in her skirt, a fierce, blazing look in her eye. She grabbed his collar and hauled him up.
"Come on! Come on!" she yelled. "Run, Jonny! Where are we going?"
Jonathan remembered himself. "Follow me!"
And so she did, right on his heels every step of the way, her breathing fast and airless behind him. Jonathan led her down the streets, still empty of all people. They were trapped in their homes, awaiting permission to leave. Despite everything, Jonathan felt a thrill of desperate freedom.
The sounds of pursuit were far away but one set of footsteps was drawing nearer and nearer. Jonathan seized Lucia and pulled her out of sight around a corner, in one movement pressing her against his chest and clamping a hand down over her mouth. They waited for one heartbeat...two...
Someone burst around the corner and tripped over Jonathan's outstretched foot, sprawling in the dust.
"It's me!" Joseph shouted, as Jonathan made to kick him. "I got one of them, let's go!"
"Sorry," Jonathan offered a hand and pulled him to his feet. "I thought..."
"I know, I know," Joseph brushed off his knees. "No time for that. Let's run!"
Running was something they did well. You learned it fast in these climates. You learned to run from bullies and snatchers and traffickers as a child. You learned to run from parents and neighbours and officers who would string you up for stealing.
Then you grew up and you learned to run for different reasons. Chasing those who stole from you. Trying to catch up with those you had to save. Running to get to places. Running to get away again. In the resistance, you had to be fast enough to stay alive.
Jonathan's breathing was even as they made their way through the trees. Their chasers were drawing nearer but there was still a lead they could make use of. Lucia was safe by his side, keeping pace. Joseph was just a few steps behind, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.
He really believed it might be that easy, that they might make it. Until something ruffled his hair and embedded itself deep into a tree just to his right. Lucia, unused to being under fire, gave an involuntary scream.
"This way!" Jonathan grabbed her arm and pulled her sharply left, ducking under the cover of a low-hanging branch.
They ducked and wove amongst the trees, diving into the undergrowth, spinning around. Jonathan was half-tempted to tell Lucia to climb a tree and wait for him to come back and fetch her but he didn't, for two reasons: a) they might see her and shoot her down and b) he might never come back.
No matter how they tried, they couldn't shake them off. They could only maintain their slight lead and that wasn't good enough. They were tiring and their pursuers weren't. Their pursuers had had a good night's sleep and sufficient food and nothing to worry about. They were armed. The advantages of being on the winning side were endless.
In a brief dip in the ground, momentarily out of sight, Jonathan skidded to a halt. Lucia almost crashed into him as she tried to come to a stop too, bent double and breathing hard, her hair falling into her face.
"Joseph, take Lucia to headquarters," Jonathan ordered. "As efficiently as you can. Do whatever it takes to get her there alive."
Joseph saluted. "Absolutely."
"What?" Lucia panted. "No-no-no, you're not leaving us!"
"I'll hold them off," Jonathan ignored her. "Try and draw them away from you. Do you think you can do this?"
Joseph's cheeks were flushed from exercise but, even so, he seemed to turn a little paler.
"Jonathan," he said, quietly. "Try not to get yourself killed."
"Save Lucia," Jonathan replied.
"On my life," Joseph clasped his hand. "Lucia? We need to move now."
"Jonathan..." Lucia seemed unsure what to say.
Jonathan was struck by the feeling he always got when he was about to leave her to do something dangerous. Part of him wanted to say everything he'd never said, or not said enough. How much she meant to him. How wonderful she was. How much he hoped for the two of them. I love you.
Part of him wanted to cling to her and hold her and cradle her and kiss her. He wanted to feel her heartbeat, breathe her in, imprint every part of her in his memory forever. But he knew that if he did that, it would be too difficult to let go again.
As it was, he hugged her roughly and shoved her away almost immediately.
"Go!" he said, abruptly. "Go! Don't get hurt!"
Lucia turned and ran, Joseph at her side, the two of them trying to move soundlessly through the trees. Jonathan took a deep breath and plunged in the opposite direction, trying to do exactly what they weren't. He snapped branches. He crashed through bushes. He made as much noise as he could.
All the while, he was thinking: please follow me, please follow me, please follow me.
It seemed his wish had been granted. A shot or two whistled past his head and footsteps came closer. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end but he fought his instincts. There was no sense in trying to get away now. What mattered was keeping them from Lucia.
It is a surprisingly difficult thing to run away fast enough to keep from being caught but slow enough to make sure your chasers stayed with you. It took all of Jonathan's concentration not to make certain decisions that might have swung the balance either way.
He was breathless and exhausted. It felt as though a giant had picked up the world and given it a good shake before setting it back down again. He needed to rest for a second, get his bearings, figure out how to lose his pursuers and double back to reach Lucia and Joseph.
Jonathan dropped to his knees and crawled into the centre of a thicket. The arrangement of the branches meant that he would be able to see out but nobody could see in. Just in the middle, there was a little hollow space that, if he positioned himself just so, meant he wasn't about to be spiked to death. It was his safest hiding place.
Crouching in this thicket, Jonathan focused on returning his breathing to normal. His legs cramped painfully but, eventually, sorted themselves out again. The woods all around him were silent. Nothing moved, and neither did he.
A feeling began to steal up on him, that feeling that you get when you're a child playing hide-and-seek. The sense of excitement, the thrill of hiding, of being somewhere but not being known, was a feeling not dissimilar to, but not the same as, the need to go to the toilet. It meant that you yourself were a secret.
But then that began to pass away and his mind grew quieter and his ears straining for the sounds of his seekers picked up on the movements of ants over the forest floor and the faint rustlings of leaves and maybe things that didn't exist at all. His spine prickled as if someone were behind him and Jonathan was filled with a great sense of not-being.
Because maybe they were out there looking for him, waiting for him, ready to find him. So he had to stay hidden, just in case, otherwise he'd lose. But maybe the seekers had gotten bored with the game and gone away, inside, somewhere more comfortable. Maybe they'd never come looking for him. Maybe he'd hidden too well and they'd never find him.
It came over him in a creeping tide, familiar and neither pleasant nor unpleasant. An ant crawled over his shoe. Maybe he'd stay here in silence forever, never leaving, never being found. Nobody would want to search for him but he couldn't forfeit the game. He was only breathing and silence and not-existing, on and on and on.
Sooner or later, the tension of hiding and not-being would grow unbearable and you would just have to step out into the light and the sunshine and announce, "Here I am! Here I am!" and it would feel like a shout, like coming alive again, like waking up.
Jonathan crawled out of the thicket and stood up. There was nobody around. He took a few steps to the left, looked around, and took off running. It was at that moment that the forest around him exploded into life.
"There! There! Get him!"
The ragged sound of gunfire. His pounding feet. His sudden panic. He ducked, he dodged, he wove. They were everywhere and he seemed to be getting nowhere. His eyes wouldn't quite focus. The world was a blur.
A line of fire sketched across his spine and he roared. His legs seemed to disappear beneath him and his chin hit the floor hard. It hurt but he had a whole new perspective on pain now. He seemed to be screaming using a different mouth, one set in a different head, connected to a different brain. He seemed to be filling up with fire.
Bullets danced the dust around him. He tried to reach round behind him but he couldn't seem to manage it. His limbs felt like nothing. There was blood on his hand now. Blood on his face. Blood in his eyes. Blood in his brain.
He seemed to be bursting and then...it was as if he did and he knew he was dead.