Numbers 3: Infinity by Rachel Ward Read Free Book Online Page A

in twenty minutes,’ he says, almost to himself. It’s as if I’m not there. ‘They’ll assess his neck and back. His brain function.’
    Neck, back, brain function. Oh, God, this is bad. Really, really bad.
    Twenty minutes.
    Each second is like an hour.
    I scan Adam’s face, his fingers, his feet, looking for the slightest movement, the smallest sign. But there’s nothing. He just looks like he’s asleep, except that I know he’s normally restless in his sleep, as restless as he is awake; his legs twitch, he mutters and mumbles, he turns onto one side and then the other.
    Now he’s perfectly still.
    Saul paces up and down, peering down the road, but I can’t leave Adam’s side.
    The ambulance – a four-wheel-drive – doesn’t announce itself with a siren. There’s no need. Since the Chaos, there’ve been no cars on the road. Four people jump out. They fire questions at Saul – what, when, how? – and all the time they’re getting to work on Adam.
    ‘Is he …?’ I splutter. ‘Will he …?’ No one hears me. I’mpushed outside their circle and all I can do is peer through the gaps.
    They fix a neck brace onto him, then ease him onto a stretcher.
    ‘Can I go with him in the ambulance? Please?’
    Again, I’m ignored.
    ‘Get back on the bike,’ Saul says curtly. It’s the first time he’s spoken to me since the accident. ‘We’ll get there before they do.’
    The bike. I can’t face it. My legs ache and my chest hurts where the wing mirror of the other bike hit it.
    ‘Please,’ I say.
    He barely looks at me. ‘You can get on the bike or I can leave you here. Doesn’t make any difference to me. I only brought you along so Adam would come. You might still be useful to us, but I doubt it.’
    In that moment, I understand I mean nothing to this man. Literally, nothing. He’d leave me at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, without a second thought. With my boyfriend in an ambulance, my daughter kidnapped, and a baby on the way.
    I feel numb, helpless, like all I can do is watch while the world spins out of control around me.
    I get on the bike.
    We set off before the ambulance does, crossing a bridge over a motorway. Three years ago there would have been nose-to-tail traffic. Today, there is a string of tents along the hard shoulder on one side and two people on horseback the other side. The road runs between gently rolling fields. We pass signs for Chippenham, Corsham and Bath, and I wonder if we’re heading for one of them when Saul starts braking.
    I’m confused. There’s nothing there, just a track leading to a dull-looking hill. I’m expecting the track to go up, or round. But it doesn’t. It carries straight on. And then I see it: a large metal door set into the hillside. A pair of uniformed men, armed with the same rifles as Saul and his men, stand either side.
    A bunker.
    We come to a stop by the metal door. The armed men salute, and one of them slides back a bolt before pulling the door open.
    I don’t want to be buried in there, shut in with no light, no fresh air. I can’t do it.
    ‘Is Mia here?’ I say to Saul’s back.
    He doesn’t bother answering me, just kills the engine and dismounts.
    ‘Get off the bike,’ he says.
    I don’t move. I don’t want to go inside the hill.
    ‘I’m losing patience, Sarah,’ Saul murmurs, then, before I can say anything, he grabs me round my waist with one arm and hauls me off the bike. I stagger as my feet hit the ground. My joints are agony.
    ‘Can you give me a minute?’ I ask. ‘I just need to stretch my legs—’
    ‘Stretch them inside,’ he snaps.
    I look at the entrance in front of us – a square of light in the hillside, a bright, empty corridor about twenty metres long – and then I really start to panic. My breath is tight in my throat, I’ve got goosebumps everywhere, and my scalp’s tingling.
    If I go in, I’ll never come out.
    ‘Is Mia inside?’ I ask again.
    Saul pauses for a moment, as if