Before the Storm Read Free Page B

concluded Fox.
    Emily waited until she heard the bath water begin to splash again before she tiptoed away.

    Emily felt very self-conscious as she emptied the pockets of Fox’s clothes. The fact that there was something very, very odd about him made her curious to know more about who he was, but it felt like spying and nice girls were not supposed to do that sort of thing. The pocket of his shirt contained a silvery thing about the size of a pen, but there was no nib. In his trouser pockets were a few coins, a handkerchief with IWA embroidered on it, and some type of clasp knife. His jacket pockets were empty, but in three places there were faint, brownish singes in the violet material, as if someone had pressed the tip of a red-hot poker into the cloth for a moment. The jacket had a double row of silver buttons with some sort of crest embossed on them. Emily bundled everything into the damp handkerchief, but as she picked up the trousers again, her fingers felt something else in a hidden pocket. She took it out.
    The thing was like a block of smooth, black rubber, trailing black cords and inset with coloured glass that looked like jewels. The word ’Sony’ was embossed in silver along one side. A Sony ? she thought, feeling that the name might apply to a toy. She began to examine it, turning it over in her fingers. One of the tiny jewels clicked as she touched it, and a bright light flared in Emily’s face. She dropped the device on the table in front of her.
    A patch of light about a yard square lit up the blank wall beside the table, and it suddenly became a moving picture like in the new cinemas … except that this picture was in colour, and sounds were coming from somewhere within the Sony. Emily stood frozen with astonishment.
    On the wall, images of young soldiers in violet and black uniforms like Fox’s were dashing about. They were carrying short, stubby rifles that shot fire with a squeaking, hissing sound, like a cork being drawn across a bottle. The scene was a blur of flashing lights, running figures, bodies, blood, smoke and flames. Voices shouted orders in the same clipped, precise English that Fox used, and the soldiers referred to each other as numbers. The leader was a thin but stunningly handsome youth with dark hair. There was a long cut down the right side of his forehead, and it was bleeding.
    For all the smoke, confusion, blood and death before her eyes, the sight of the youth that the others kept calling BC drew Emily’s eyes more than anything else. He shouted the precise orders, led the way, and sprayed fire from his strange rifle as they ran. Dark figures appeared at the end of a corridor, figures that fired pretty sparkles of light that began to cut down BC’s soldiers. BC stood his ground, shooting back at the attackers as one more of those beside him fell.
    â€˜Squad! Go! I cover!’ he barked, then there was a bright flash and he fell, still shooting. Someone else charged past him, there was a blast of fire, then all was silent.
    Emily suddenly realised that she was watching the scene from the perspective of someone who was one of BC’s own soldiers. It was like the time she had acted in a school play, watching the story as one of the characters would see it. This was definitely no play, however. The watcher glanced about, saw nobody else standing, then hurried through the swirling smoke to where BC lay.
    â€˜Three, go!’ cried BC, clutching his bleeding stomach.
    Three! Emily remembered from the conversation heard through the bathroom door that Fox had called himself Three. Three. Fox Essthree? FoxS3? Three bent over BC, who tried to push him away with bloodied hands. Although contorted with pain and smeared with blood and soot, his face was still strangely handsome, almost beautiful.
    â€˜Leave me!’ cried BC. ‘Temporan machine, plan follow, NineFive, prevent.’
    â€˜Bombs set,’ shouted Fox’s voice. ‘Temporan