Invisible – The First Three Chapters

In the year 2034, all crime is punishable by one sentence: Invisibility, a cruel punishment where criminals can still be seen and heard, but are shunned by society and cease to exist until their sentence is complete.

Framed for a murder he did not commit, seventeen year old Nathan Yorke is about to lose his identity. Shunned by society and left with nothing, Nathan’s only hope is to make contact with a group hunting the criminal mastermind known only as ‘The Manager.’ But, in a society that has little regard for human life, Nathan’s first priority is survival.

© Pete Cummings





High Court of Justice

Friday 1 December 2034

I’m scared. No, scared isn’t the word. I’m absolutely terrified. What seventeen-year-old boy wouldn’t be in this situation? The courtroom is full; a sea of faces staring back like they are disgusted to be in the same room as me. We don’t know each other, but their hatred of me is etched across their angry faces. To the left of my cage, the judge glares at me with venomous eyes, like he’s ready to pass judgement. He looks like he’s heard enough to have already decided my fate. Through the bars I see my defence, the only person willing to risk their reputation to defend my hopeless situation, and even she thinks I’m guilty as hell. I sincerely hope she has a trick up her sleeve, an ace to play to get me out of this mess I’ve found myself in. I know whatever she hits back with won’t even be half as effective as the attack from the prosecution lawyers, who have succeeded in painting a picture that is the very opposite of the person I am.

I knew I was doomed before I entered the courtroom, before I even arrived here. Maybe from the moment the police charged through the house twenty-four hours ago to arrest me. By the end of the day I will cease to exist, I know that now. But if there is even the slightest chance in my mind that I will be found innocent, it evaporates the moment they call their final witness.

My legs buckle as I hear her name. Emily Thornton, my girlfriend. My heart races as the adrenaline pumps through me. Only yesterday I was desperate to see her, just to be with her, hear her voice and feel her touch. But the moment she enters the courtroom, she becomes the last person I want to see. Her battered and bruised body tells its own story.

She is about to betray me.



Lime Oak High School

Twenty-four hours earlier

I hate assemblies. There’s really no point to them other than to hone the skill of feigning interest, which will no doubt be useful later in life. Usually, we only have house assemblies, but once a year the whole school is involved; and that day is today. The Special Day. As usual we are ‘treated’ to a film that shows the history of our country before, during and after the war.

Normally I would enjoy a historical film, but this one is nothing more than sleep-inducing propaganda, created by an unelected government supposedly to prevent us from repeating the mistakes of the past; all it does is tell us how to live our lives. I’m sure they only play it at the end of the day so they can discipline anyone who starts to drop off. But despite it being a visual sedative, I’m grateful for the film as it gives me the chance to drift off and think about other things, like the weekend.

I know we’ve still got another day to go, but I need something to take my mind off the pile of trash that’s booming out across the hall. On the downside, I’ve had to stare aimlessly at the screen for the last twenty minutes, pretending I’m interested while some government sycophant drones on endlessly about the war that decimated Britain, destroying every major city and claiming over eight million lives in the process. It’s something I don’t need reminding about; bombs exploding, missiles flying overhead and the constant fear of whether your family were going to live or die, generally sticks in the mind when you’re a ten year old boy.

I’d rather think of more enjoyable things, like Emily and our upcoming weekend together. That’s far more interesting than events that happened seven years ago.  Her father will be away, but has agreed to allow me to stay over. Don’t ask how that happened, I just know it did and that’s good enough for me.

Emily’s on the row in front and a little to the left, sitting upright conforming to government rules and wearing the regulatory educational image. Grey and white uniform – standard for every school across the country – with the only identification being the school crest and logo emblazoned on every piece of clothing. Shoes have to be of the same make and design, and the government even instruct us on hairstyles. Boys must have their hair cut to a short length, while girls cannot extend lower than the shoulders and must be kept in a neatly contained ponytail. It’s almost like we’re clones of each other.

I take a quick look around to make sure no teachers are watching, before I blow gently in Emily’s direction. A few wisps of loose hair move and she turns her head slightly in my direction, but not taking her eyes from the film. I blow again and I see her cheek rise as she smiles, before she readjusts herself in her seat and nods towards the screen, indicating for me to do the same before I’m caught and punished.

I follow her lead, but because I’ve not been paying attention I’ve completely missed most of the spiel about our illustrious government. That’s if you can call a bunch of power hungry, control obsessed dictators a government. Well it’s not like I haven’t heard it every year for the last four years. We are now at the part where they proclaim themselves as guardians of this ‘great country,’ and we should be thankful they are here to protect and look over us.

We are then reminded of our duties as citizens: to uphold the law, and not interact with the ‘forbidden ones who blight our society.’ In other words, criminals and anarchists who live in the areas outside the cities, creating disorder wherever possible.

I can’t help but smile at those words; by government rules, everyone here is breaking the law by interacting with me. The only difference is that they don’t know it and I’ve not been caught. Not yet, anyway. I don’t like being a criminal and didn’t ask to be one. It’s not like I approached the careers officer and said ‘hey I want to work for a criminal gang. Which one do you recommend?’ I had no choice. I’d rather be an anarchist.

Finally, the film ends with the new national anthem. It’s not exactly God Save the Queen; that’d be more appropriate if we had a Queen, King or any royals to save. We all dutifully stand with arms by our sides, like we’re standing to attention as the song plays out. When it has finished, the windows revert from black to clear and we shield our eyes from the bright sunshine outside.

The head teacher then gives his usual speech before we are allowed to leave. As we file out of the hall – in an orderly fashion of course – there’s a sudden tug on my arm, and I’m pulled to the side away from the other students. Staring wildly at me are the eyes of Mr Marton, the Head of English who is glaring viciously, like he wants to kill me on the spot.

“You’d better start showing a little more appreciation, Yorke,” he hisses in a deadly serious tone, mixed with a hint of malice. “Or you’ll go the same way as your father.”

“What do you know about my father?” I snap.

Marton smiles smugly. “Enough to know that you’re heading in the same direction. He never had any respect either, and look what’s happened to him.”

“I don’t know,” I retort. “What has happened to him?”

He doesn’t answer the question, but instead just stares at me, like he’s trying to burn through my eyes and read the thoughts that are racing across my mind. He seems to be enjoying the conflicting emotions of confusion and anger that are visible on my face.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day,” he sneers. “Now get lost before I have you expelled.”

He releases my arm and he shoves me away. I want to say more but daren’t; disobeying a teacher’s instruction is a certain way for kids to get kicked out of school and locked away in a strict government educational facility, where corporal punishment is a way of life; I don’t need any more trouble than I am already in. I finish school completely when I turn eighteen in August, so I should really just keep my head down, but teachers like Marton make it so difficult for me to do that.

Trying to control my anger, I walk quickly from the hall and into a corridor where Emily is waiting. She sees my annoyance and struggles to keep up as I charge past her, knocking a few younger kids out of the way.

“Are you okay?” She asks as she manages to catch up to me.

I continue to stomp away, but Emily grabs my arm and forces me to slow down.


“Yeah,” I lie, desperate to admit how much I really want to go back and wipe that smug, arrogant look off Marton’s face.

“What happened? What did Marton want?”

I can feel tears forming in my eyes. I don’t usually get emotional like this, but when people start making comments about my father or my situation, I can’t help it. I turn away from her and stare through the window of a darkened, unoccupied classroom. I clasp my fingers together behind my head, forcing the muscles in my biceps to expand.

“Nathan?” Emily says softly, running her fingers through my short hair, before moving her hand onto my chest, stopping over my heart.

I turn towards her, but I don’t know what to say.

“Everyone knows Marton’s an idiot,” she says. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I just don’t understand why he hates me so much,” I reply, letting my arms fall, before thumping a clenched fist against the wall as I fight to control my rage. “It must be something to do with my dad. He’s always making comments about him. I just wish…”

I don’t know what I wish, but Emily finishes the sentence for me.

“Wish you knew what happened to him?”

“He’s been missing for three months, Em,” I reply. “No one has seen or heard from him.”

“Have you spoken to the police again?” She asks.

“They said they’d contact me if they had anything, but whenever I ring they just fob me off, like a missing person is the least of their worries.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder. Her touch is welcome, but does nothing to improve the situation. “Has your Aunt Carolyn not heard from him?”

“No. I know she’s been looking online for any information, but she would have told me if she’d found anything.”

Emily takes my hand and holds it tight, her touch bringing me away from my thoughts. “We’ll find him,” she says gently in an attempt to reassure me. “You know, I could always take a look inside the Justice Department’s database, see if I can find anything. Only if you want me to though.”

I don’t doubt she could. Emily’s a genius when it comes to IT, and I firmly believe she could break into any system on the planet if she wanted to. But the last thing I want is for her to find out more about him than I’ve told her. She knows most of it, just not the part where he ran up a huge gambling debt and was doing illegal activities for a criminal gang in order to pay it off. If she starts looking, she might also discover that, since his disappearance the gang have passed his debt to me and I am now their dogsbody. Then I’d have to explain it was either that, or find forty grand from somewhere.

“And how are you going to do that without your father knowing?” I ask. “It’s his job to know everything isn’t it?”

I don’t mean to spit the words out, but it seems like everyone has got a perfect family, where as I have a missing father and a deceased mother. Then again, Emily’s family life isn’t perfect; her mother walked out on them when Emily was five, so she’s grown up with just her father, which makes me feel slightly guilty for my comment. Emily either didn’t notice, or has disregarded it completely. Instead she just smiles as we walk down the stairs towards the exit.

“He doesn’t know everything,” she replies. “For example, he doesn’t know you’re coming to spend the weekend with me while he’s in Germany. He thinks we’ve split up and the girls are coming round to console me.”

“Why would you say we’ve split up?” I ask, a little concerned about this latest twist.

“He wasn’t going to go, so I had to think of something to get him out of the way,” she replies.

“And what’s going to happen when he finds out we haven’t split up?” I ask dubiously. “Or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

“After my weekend with the girls, I realise how much I love you, and we get back together next week.” She flashes a smile at me. “Simple.”

I put my hand around her slender waist, pull her close and stare into her gorgeous green eyes, which seem to instantly dissipate my anger. “You’ve got it all worked out haven’t you?”

“Of course I have,” she replies. “He’s going tomorrow, and won’t be back until Sunday evening.” She pulls closer to my face, her lips inches from mine. “We have all weekend together,” she whispers before pulling away. “But first of all, today. Where should we go to eat? You know I can’t go shopping on an empty stomach.”

I can almost feel the cogs going round in my head. Shopping? When did I agree to that? I think I’ve taken a bit too long to answer, and the hard punch to my shoulder confirms it.

“Don’t tell me you forgot? Oh my God, Nathan. We discussed this last night. How could you forget already?”

“I’ve not forgotten,” I laugh as we exit through the main doors of the school and outside, where a combination of sunlight and cold, late autumn air welcomes us. “How could…” My words trail off, and my heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach.

“Nathan?” Emily asks at my side “What’s wrong?”

I can’t answer. All I can do is stare at the black four by four, parked across the road from school. Beside it, a burly man is stood waiting for me. This can’t be happening, not today. They never come to school; they usually only want me in the evenings, and I’m normally given a bit of notice. I can feel my heart pounding, thumping crazily against my chest.

“Nathan?” Emily repeats, following my eyes towards the car.

“I have to go,” I stutter. “I’m sorry.”

It’s like I’m in a hypnotised state, unable to take my eyes off the car. I don’t want to go, not again and not now, but I know I have to. I force myself to look away and stare down into those green eyes, her face a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“With him?” she asks and I nod. “Who is he? What’s going on?” Emily demands.

I want to explain everything to her, but I can’t. I don’t want her to know anything about my other role in life. I can’t think of a good reason, so I try to avoid the truth and hope it succeeds.

“It’s just something I have to do. I’m sorry.” I’m willing her to accept it and not push it any further.

Emily takes another cautious glance towards the car, then turns back to me. To my relief, she nods her acceptance.

“Okay,” she finally says, and her eyes search my face for an explanation I cannot give. “Just…be careful, whatever it is you’re doing.”

I hear the doubt in her voice, like she doesn’t believe me but doesn’t want to aggravate it. After my recent angry outburst, who can blame her?

“Call me when you get home so we can discuss the weekend,” she adds, softening her voice a little. Her hand brushes softly along my arm, yet I don’t feel the pulse of electricity that usually follows her touch.

I can’t think straight and all I do is nod. “I’m really sorry, I need to go. I’ll call you tonight.”

I glance towards the car where the man is standing, arms folded and staring at me. It’s the kind of look that is showing impatience, and if I don’t move soon he may well come over and drag me away. I look back at Emily, and another apologetic look spreads over my face.

I lean in to kiss her and the smell of her perfume hits me. I breathe it in deeply, savouring the scent that I’ve got to know so well over the last few months. Our lips meet and I want the kiss to last forever, but she pulls away just as I’m beginning to lose myself.

“Don’t be greedy,” she says as the kiss ends, before reaching up to whisper in my ear. “I’ll pick up something nice at the shops for tomorrow.” She gives me a small, mischievous smile, then reaches into her bag for her phone while I head out of the school gates towards the car.

I need to concentrate and erase all thoughts of Emily, and anything else about the weekend, just for now. If anything goes wrong, I won’t be able to speak to her again. Not for a while anyway, so I need to be completely on the ball. As I get closer to the car, it’s obvious the man is not happy with me taking my time; he’s not the sort of person that you want to keep waiting, if you know what’s good for you and I’d been stupid to push him this far. As I hurry across the busy road, he opens the rear door for me.

“Come on Romeo,” he says sarcastically. His voice is gruff and dry, and by the smell of it, he’s been drinking, even though alcohol consumption before seven in the evening is illegal. I shouldn’t be surprised; this group have no regard for the law, so why should a simple rule like that stop them?

I glance at him, then risk a fleeting look back at Emily, who is slowly walking away from school with a couple of her friends, but she doesn’t look towards me.

“Get in,” he orders. “You can see your little bird when you’ve finished.” He mutters something else under his breath, but I can’t make out what it was.

I hate the way he talks about women or just people in general. He leers at every woman his eyes make contact with, and always has some kind of derogatory remark for them, but only if the woman is close enough to hear it. It seems like his goal in life is to hack off as many people as possible. He’s at least succeeding in that.

I’ve barely got into the car when he slams the door shut, almost trapping my right foot and I mutter an obscenity as he climbs into the driver’s seat. He runs his finger across the ignition pad to start the engine, and seconds later he pulls out into the traffic, much to the annoyance of the car behind, judging by the long blast on his horn. In reply, Stefan raises his middle finger which receives another angry rebuke.

“Calm down, Stefan,” warns the stern voice of Mr Robertson from the passenger seat. “You don’t want to draw attention to us.”

His words have an immediate effect, and as Stefan slows the car down, Robertson turns his head, takes off his rounded glasses and stares at me with a piercing look. He has an authority about him that says he’s not to be messed with, which I presume is the reason he leads this gang.

“Sorry for the short notice, Mr Yorke,” he says in a well-spoken voice that seems totally out of place with the current situation. “But we need your services again.”

I don’t want to ask why; I’m just doing as I’m told. One day, this will all be over, preferably before they kill me or worse, the police catch me and I become a forbidden one.

“You’re doing very well with us, Nathan. You’re just like your father.”

I say nothing, but my earlier anger starts to resurface. My hands clench into fists as I fight to control the urge for another outburst. That’s the second time today he’s been mentioned, and I resent it even more coming from Robertson. I’m sure he knows what happened to my father, but he couldn’t care less. Dad was probably working for him on the night he disappeared. If it wasn’t for him, Dad wouldn’t be missing and I’d be with my girlfriend right now, instead of waiting to be given instructions on my next round of criminal activity.

“In fact,” Robertson continues, oblivious to my angry thoughts. “I’m thinking of promoting you.”

I stay quiet, mainly because I’m not exactly sure what that would entail, but Robertson looks like he’s reading my mind and answers the question for me.

“It will mean your debt will be paid off quicker.”

At least that gives me some hope. “What will I have to do?” I ask, not really wanting the answer. I have a feeling that it’s going to be something a little more dangerous than what I already do for them, which is dangerous enough as it is.

“We’ll talk about that another time. Just concentrate on today. Nick has all the instructions.”

If I thought this day couldn’t get any worse, it just has; I now have to work with a psychopath. Or sociopath. Or both, if that’s even possible. Nick is similar to me physically, apart from his shaved head, which he thinks gives him a more threatening appearance. Mentally he’s unpredictable and does things without thinking, like there are no consequences to his actions. He doesn’t really talk much, well not to me anyway, other than to give orders to. But when he does speak, he tries to deepen his voice to make himself sound more authoritarian. I’m not scared of Nick, I just don’t like him.

“Is there a problem, Mr Yorke?” Robertson asks, staring at me with those piercing eyes. He must have noticed my derision at the news.

I shake my head. “No,” I reply. “No problem.” I just love working with psychos.

I hope my answer is convincing, but I’m not sure. Robertson continues to stare at me, like a teacher who knows when you’re telling a lie and tries to intimidate you into admitting the truth. I turn away from his gaze to stare out of the window, and my thoughts return to Emily.

We’ve only been together for three months, but they have been the best months of my life. She was paired with me during ICT, and we sort of hit it off from there. I hate computers, but she really helped me out that day. To say thank you I’d offered to buy her lunch the following weekend, and was stunned when she said yes. I’ve barely been away from her side ever since, so it pains me to be with these criminals rather than with her.

The light is fading quickly, which will provide the perfect cover for whatever Nick has to do. The rapidly darkening streets are almost a blur, as Stefan speeds through them towards the rendezvous with Nick, before finally stopping and ordering me out. One job, I think to myself. One job and I can have my weekend with Emily.

As I get out of the car and slam the door shut, the realisation of the coming weekend hits home, and I’m more than a little angry that I am here in the middle of a quiet street rather than with my girlfriend. As I stand in the road, I’m suddenly overcome with guilt for the way I’ve just treated her. As soon as this is over, I’ll meet her in town and take her somewhere to make up for it. It’s the least I can do.

Stefan screeches the car from the side of the road and Nick, who has been slumped on a bench in the middle of the street staring blankly into space, suddenly comes to life, almost like the noise woke him from a comatose state.

I cross the road towards him and he just watches me, like I’m a bad smell heading in his direction, before he stands, slings a bag over his shoulder and walks along the street, making brief glances behind him to make sure I’m following. He’s walking fast and I need to stay close to him, but not too close. If the police stop him, I can continue walking unchallenged. The only time we should be together is when he breaks into the car and I drive it.

Nick strides along, like he’s walking with purpose, and I suspect he already knows the vehicle he wants and where to find it. After a few minutes he stops; he has seen his target. A white BMW, the only car on the street worth stealing and not controlled by a computer, is sitting near the end of the road and Nick heads straight for it. I take a quick look around, making sure we’re not being watched, but it’s deftly quiet; it’s like the streets have emptied just for us.

To be honest, it’s a little too quiet. Usually a suburban area like this would have some people about; kids coming home from school, delivery drivers dropping off goods in time for Christmas, or even a couple of old people out for a leisurely late autumn walk. But there’s nothing, and I’m a little unnerved by the lack of human presence.

Nick doesn’t seem too concerned, but he still takes a quick look around to make sure he is unobserved before hurrying toward the vehicle. Crouching next to the driver side door, he pulls the bag from his shoulder and reaching inside, he takes out a small, hand held device which he runs over the metal. A blue light reflects against the door as it scans for a viable fingerprint and by the time I reach the car, Nick is already inside and busy re-programming the on-board computer to accept my fingerprints. Some cars still use keys and are quite easy to steal, but the better cars, like this one, use fingerprint identity and only recognised prints can start them. Clever, but still not as clever as the equipment used to steal them.

Nick slides into the passenger seat and I get in, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to drive a stolen care as the adrenaline rushes through me. I run my finger over the ignition pad in the same way Stefan did and the engine quietly comes to life. I set my watch alarm to thirty minutes, then put the car in gear and hastily pull away. There is still a chance the owner will see us, but as I guide the BMW through the quiet streets and enter mainstream traffic, I know I’m safe. For a while at least.

Nick gives me directions and I drive quickly but carefully, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. Print recognition cars are easy to identify, but because the theft rate on them is very low, the police rarely if ever stop them, even if it’s a kid like me driving it. Despite that, I’m taking no chances and make sure that I stick to every rule ever written, like I had to pledge on the day I passed my test.

I stop at a set of traffic lights and a police car pulls up alongside. I quickly divert my eyes forward and stare at the lights, willing them to change. I can feel the eyes of the police officer watching me, wondering what I’m doing with a car like this. My hands are sweating on the wheel, and I inadvertently rev the engine as I adjust my foot on the pedal in case I have to floor it to get away. I’m expecting them to order me to pull over and as the lights change to amber, I risk a sideways glance, only to see the squad car has already moved off without paying us any attention.

I let out a deep breath, and relax my grip on the wheel as I slowly pull away from the junction, making sure there’s plenty of space between them and us. Nick continues to guide me through the streets, as we leave the city and the suburbs behind us.

After a while, my watch alarm vibrates on my arm and as I switch it off, I turn to look at him. “Are we stopping anytime soon?”

“Just keep driving,” he growls back.

I shake my head. “We’re supposed to stop after half an hour and take another car,” I reply. “The police might be looking for it, so maybe we should-”

“I know the rule,” Nick snaps back. “And I said to keep driving, so do it and shut up.”

I glance at him for a few moments, then turn back to the road, fuming. This isn’t how we operate, and by not abandoning this car and taking another, he is putting us both at risk. Instead, Nick instructs me to drive through an area that I’m completely unfamiliar with. Even in the low light, I can see the houses are unlike those in the main city or outer suburbs, and I realise we’re in one of the less desirable neighbourhoods.

The government have made the twenty new cities look nice and clean for all those that can afford to live there, while the outlying towns that survived the war, make up the areas surrounding the cities. Then there are areas like this. Shabbily built houses on plots of land that are likely to be subsiding, and street lighting that is so inadequate, you’d have trouble seeing your hand in front of your face. A poorly run and expensive transport system links them to the city that is miles away, making it near impossible for them to leave, and therefore ensuring they are kept away from the riches of city life.

There are hundreds of estates like this, dotted around the very edges of the main cities, and all can rot as far as the government are concerned. The residents make their living by working in the many warehouses and factories owned by rich city businessmen, who rarely, if ever venture out to the businesses they own.

I live outside the city. It may not be as rich as the city dwellers, but it’s comfortable, not like the place that surrounds me at the moment. Even the atmosphere here is different, almost imposing with the closeness of the houses that bear down on you, giving the impression that your every move is being watched by suspicious eyes from behind small cracks in the curtains. Not that they would see much with the minimal street lighting, other than a car with its lights on full.

From what I can see, the place looks like a mixture of industrial complexes and residential homes. To me, it’s the sort of place you’d probably expect to see drug deals or gangland style executions taking place, and I’m hoping what we’re doing here is neither.

Nick directs me through the streets towards an industrial estate, and orders me to drive behind the buildings. It looks like everyone must have left for the day, with the dark windows and empty car park, so I don’t think anyone would notice if we pulled up to the front doors, covered in Christmas lights with a brass band playing behind us. However Nick wants to remain as hidden as possible, so I drive into a deserted alleyway at the back and stop the car behind one of the larger buildings.

There’s little chance of being seen in the darkness, which is just as well as Nick gets out and forces the door of the building on the left, before disappearing inside, leaving me alone in the car. I now have to sit and wait anxiously until he comes out. I’ve no idea what he’s doing in there, and don’t want to know; the less I’m aware of, the better.

I hear the sirens of a police car nearby, and instinctively duck low to hide my face from view. Thankfully the sirens fade into the distance and I’m safe for now; they’re off to catch some other lawbreaker. But it’s not just the police I need to be looking out for; Police Observation Drones, or PODS as they are better known are always on patrol and can be anywhere, even in areas such as this. The only time you know one is close is when you hear the low hum of its power cells, but by then it’s too late; once you have a POD on you, it’ll never leave until you’re arrested. There’s only one loser, and it’s never the POD.

I take another anxious look around and I’m still alone. Spoke too soon. Someone has just entered the alleyway, but I can tell instantly it’s not the police; the person is walking in a disjointed way, like they are drunk or have been walking for so long, their legs are about to give up. I watch in the mirror as the shadowy figure gets closer and as he reaches the car, I see the mark that has been stamped into his forehead. He’s a ‘forbidden one,’ a criminal, more commonly known as an invisible.

I sink lower in my seat in the hope that he doesn’t see me. I’ve never seen an invisible before, not in person anyway, but I know the rules about not interacting with them; I don’t want to be made invisible too. But I’m in a stolen car, which is obviously a crime, and committing serious crime leads to invisibility.

Of course a person isn’t actually made invisible, where would the punishment in that be? Instead the forehead is branded with an immovable mark that shows they are invisible, and must bear the mark until their sentence is complete.

The rule about invisibles is simple; they are to be ignored, shunned by society, like banishment from civilisation until they learn the value of living in a crimeless society. Invisibles lose everything they have; home, family, identity and if any person interacts with an invisible, they are breaking the law and suffer the same fate. It’s a punishment that has brought the crime rate down, but not enough; hardened criminals have simply got smarter.

How invisibility works I have no idea and I don’t want to know, but I’ve heard the pain from the procedure is the worst you can imagine. That’s why I’m hoping Nick hurries up and gets the hell out of the building, so I can get off the streets, and I’ll be one job closer to paying off this debt hanging around my neck.

The invisible sees me in the car and begs me to help him. I turn away and look anxiously towards the building, praying for Nick to finish whatever he is doing. What’s taking so long? I’ve never been in so much of a hurry to see the psycho’s face than I am now. The invisible is almost on his knees, pleading for me to help, but the more I ignore him, the angrier he gets and before I know it, he starts banging on the vehicle.

I don’t need this sort of attention and nervously scan the area again. He moves to the front of the car and starts pounding on the bonnet, all the while shouting and hurling abuse at me. It’s like he wants to draw attention to himself and in turn, me. I need to stop him, but if I’m caught interacting with an invisible, I’ll become one too. On the other side of the coin, if I do nothing and the police turn up, I’ll still suffer his fate as I’m in a stolen vehicle.

My only option is to silence him, so I look around the car for some sort of weapon. Outside, the man suddenly falls to his knees clutching his head, but his screams continue and he pounds the car harder, making some huge dents in the metal. My left hand is rummaging under the seat for anything I can use as a weapon, and my fingers touch something cold and metal. Great, an old style metal foot pump. A modern car like this doesn’t deserve such a dated piece of equipment, but it’s better than nothing I suppose.

I take a deep breath in anticipation of what I’m about to do. I’m not proud of it as I’ve never hurt anyone like this in my life, but it’s necessary. As I open the door, the man is suddenly silent and falls to the floor. Nick steps over him and gets in the car, like he’s just given a child a packet of sweets to shut them up.

“Is there a reason you couldn’t shut him up like that?” he asks angrily, slamming the door and throwing a bag onto the floor.

I show him the foot pump. “I was just about to.”

“What were you going to do? Inflate him to death?” he replies sarcastically. “Just get us out of here now before anyone sees us.”

I’m seething as I throw myself back into the driver’s seat and fling the footpump over my shoulder onto the back seat. I scan my finger angrily across the pad. The engine starts and I move the car out of the alleyway, leaving the invisible on the ground behind us.

I’m so annoyed that I drive erratically through the estate, releasing my anger through the car and because I’m not concentrating, I enter the main carriageway without looking. Another car appears on my right and I swerve left to avoid it, but in doing so, crash the vehicle up the kerb and straight into a lamppost. Nick curses loudly, gets out and examines the front, while the other driver stops behind us.

“Wheel’s wrecked,” he says, kicking the vehicle.

He looks over at the other car and smiles. I’ve never seen him smile before and it looks unnatural, or maybe I’m just used to seeing him look angry all the time. I watch as Nick walks toward the other car and I notice the female driver inside; that’s probably the reason he’s smiling.

I hear him as he checks she is okay and calmly asks if he can use her phone. Nick is never without his phone and he’s being quite pleasant with her. In fact, he’s being overly pleasant, and it’s only when I notice the bag on his shoulder that I realise what he’s going to do.

I want to stop him, but I can’t and I’d be stupid if I tried. The woman winds the window down just enough to slip a phone to him. I open my mouth to shout a warning to her, but there’s no time. Nick reaches for the phone, but drops it back into the car.

As the woman reaches down to pick it up, Nick forces the window down, reaches inside and unlocks the door before dragging her out. I’m frozen in my seat, unable to move like there are invisible restraints holding me down. Nick shouts at the woman and pushes her to the ground while she looks on, terrified. He shouts at her again, raising his arms like he’s about to strike her and she backs away, scrambling across the road to safety, clearly terrified that he will hurt her further.

“YORKE!” Nick shouts and I realise I’m still sat in the car, watching him threaten this terrified lady.

I get out and pass her as I run towards the car. She is lying on the floor and looks injured. She pleads with us not to take the car, saying it’s her baby and I just want to run away and leave Nick alone, but I can’t, no matter how much I want to. I’m temporarily distracted by an explosion and as I look up, I see the factory where we were a few minutes ago gushing with flames.

“Yorke,” Nick says again and remembering where I am, I get in and pull away from the roadside, leaving the woman screaming hysterically.

“It’s only a car, the stupid bitch,” Nick sneers as I watch her collapse to the floor in the wing mirror. “And a crap one at that.”

I ignore his comments; I’m too concerned about his actions. I’ve never been involved in a car jacking, and it isn’t the way we do things. She has also seen both our faces and Nick used my name, so it won’t be difficult for me to be identified. Add to that the fact that, as we left, some residents ran over to help her, so it won’t be long until the police are on us. We probably have about ten minutes or less, so I have to get rid of this car as quickly as possible.

I still can’t believe what just happened and I want this job over now, so I put my foot down to get away a little quicker. That’s another mistake. As I pass a side street, a small black globe ladled with cameras, microphones and all sorts of sensors emerges, hovering around fifteen feet from the ground.

“POD,” Nick shouts as I slow down, but it’s too late; I’ve already got its attention with my speed.

At the moment it’s in observation mode, but if the orange light at the bottom of the POD turns red it will pursue, so I keep my speed low, trying to give it no reason to continue observing us. It follows for a few moments, then seems to be satisfied that I’m driving safely and backs off.

I hate those things. Some say they are sentient, while others think humans direct them. Whatever controls them, I don’t like them. It’s just another way for the government to oppress us. I watch the POD in the rear view mirror getting further away.

Then suddenly, the light changes to red and it takes flight, speeding towards us like some kind of supersonic aircraft and within seconds, it’s right behind us. I curse and floor the accelerator, trying to go as fast as I can while the POD attempts to circle the car, trying to record every event so that it can later be used as evidence in court. But we have to be caught first.

I know I won’t be able to outrun it if I stay in this built up area, so I turn quickly down a side road, mounting the pavement and taking out an old, traditional newspaper stand on the street corner. Just add it to my list of charges. The POD is still with me, so I force the vehicle into a series of turns, taking road after road and before long, I’m taking every other road in order to get away, but nothing is working.

“Get to the motorway,” Nick yells above the noise of the overworked engine.

Why didn’t I think of that? PODS never go on motorways. The traffic causes too much wind, which knocks them all over the place. In the early days, many PODS were destroyed because they ended up crashing into trucks or bridges, so if I want to get away, that’s my best option. It’s about a mile away, but I’m sure I can hold the POD and any pursuing police off until then.

As I drive, I keep checking my rear view mirror; the POD has slowed considerably and is quite a way back. It lingers at the same distance all the way to the motorway. I wonder why it fell back, but to be honest I’m glad it did; I could be the first person to escapes one of those things. As I reach the motorway slip road, I let out a satisfactory smile. There’s no way it will follow us now. I glance in my rear view mirror, and it’s completely clear with no sign of the POD or any chasing police cars.

“You thinking of slowing down?” Nick asks suddenly.

I realise that my eyes have been stuck on the mirror, rather than the road ahead, so I don’t notice the traffic is slowing. I slam my foot on the brake, and immediately check the mirror. My stomach turns when I see the POD gliding towards us. It must have known we’d have to stop for the traffic and followed us. I think fast and again floor the accelerator, cutting across the hard shoulder, forcing the car up the grassy embankment.

I have no idea where it leads, but I’ll deal with that when I get there. The car lurches over the top of the mound and the front wheels leave the ground slightly, before slamming onto the hard soil, as I crash through a wooden fence that surrounds a field. Its pitch black, but I can see the lights of a farmhouse and head for it, knowing it must be connected to a road.

The POD is still with us as the car bounces over the uneven land, and I feel and hear the effects of the front wheel hitting something hard. The steering wheel vibrates and I start to lose control, but just manage to keep it together as I hear a strange noise behind me. I’m pretty certain it has nothing to do with the car and I risk a glance round to see what it is.

I really wish I hadn’t.



When the woman said ‘baby,’ I think we both assumed she was referring to her car because she loved it so much, not because there was an actual baby inside. It’s there, sitting in its car seat behind us like it hasn’t a care in the world, which I suppose it hasn’t being a baby.

Damn, why didn’t I see it? Of all the cars, why did Nick have to take this one? With theft, car-jacking and now this, they’re going to throw the book at me if I’m caught. I have to make sure that doesn’t happen, however I’m wracked with guilt for taking the baby from its mother, and I feel responsible for its safety.

Barely able to see in the darkness, I start to drive carefully, hoping I don’t hit a ditch or something. I can’t let anything happen to the child, regardless of what will happen to me.

The POD is still with us, hovering on the left closest to Nick, who is desperately trying to cover his head with his jacket. It must be the world’s most pathetic attempt to stop it from recording his face. Think it’s a bit late for that mate. The field is getting worse and harder to drive on, so I ease my foot off the accelerator, reducing the speed considerably.

“What the hell are you slowing down for?” Nick shouts.

I can feel his glare burning into the side of my head. “Well if you hadn’t noticed, it’s a bit rough, I can’t see where I’m going and we’ve got a baby in the car as well,” I retort.

“You think I care about a kid?” Nick replies angrily. “Put your foot down, now.”

I ignore him. He might not have morals, but at least I have some, and I’m not putting the baby’s life at risk. I know I’m going to be arrested; that’s inevitable, but I still have some decency within me. And I don’t care what Nick says or does; he’s going to get the same treatment as me when he’s caught.

I look over at him; he’s scowling and I suspect he’s about to do something, when he suddenly lifts his leg over the gear stick and onto my right foot, trying to force it to the floor to make the car move faster. I struggle against him to keep control as he grabs at the steering wheel. His fist strikes my face and I’m dazed for a moment, but it’s enough for him to reach further over and try to open the door.

I realise he wants to push me out, so I’ll get caught instead of him. I try to fight back but he’s too strong, and he manages to get his fingers on the door handle. His elbow connects hard with my jaw, before he reaches over again, and this time he succeeds and opens the door. He lifts his foot from mine for a second, and sits back to kick me out of the car, just as the vehicle hits something hard and comes to a sudden stop. I’m jolted forward, and the baby screams hysterically as I try desperately to start the car. But no matter how many times I press the start button, there’s no way the engine’s going to fire.

The POD is now hovering outside the car, recording our every move and image, and I know I’m beyond help. Nick grabs his bag from the floor and snarls at me. “It’ll follow one of us. If you get caught, remember the protocol.”

Of course, the precious protocol. We can’t have Robertson and his friends associated with people like us, can we?

Nick opens the door, but before he gets out, he turns back to me. “If I ever see you again, I’ll rip you to pieces,” he hisses, before getting out and running into the dark.

I watch him disappear into the night, and I’m left with the baby and POD for company. I turn and stare at the floating globe, which is hovering just a few feet away while I try to decide what to do, but the screaming child in the rear seat makes the decision for me. It’s bitterly cold, and I can’t leave the poor kid alone, so instead of running, I get out and rummage behind the driver’s seat for something to stop the baby crying.

I know that staying will mean arrest and invisibility, but that was inevitable the second we stole the car. It wouldn’t have taken them long to find and arrest me, so I might as well accept it now rather than later. By taking care of the child, it might look more favourable in the eyes of the judge, and I’ll get a lesser sentence; maybe a week or so owing to the fact that I’m under eighteen.

The baby quietens down and I cover it with the small blanket on the seat next to it to protect it from the cold. I stand upright as I hear the noise of police sirens getting closer, and turn to see what direction they are coming from. Above me, out of reach even if I jumped, the POD hovers, watching me intently.

In just two years, these things have evolved from street cameras with limited abilities, to this. The old cameras weren’t fitted with rechargeable power packs, which last thirty-six hours, nor did they have the ability to move, follow and chase. They couldn’t scan a person, monitor their heart rate, or record every move and word spoken by anyone within a fifty-yard radius. The invention of PODS has made life very difficult for criminals, which was a good thing, until I got caught up in all this.

I look up beyond the farmhouse, as a stream of flashing lights enter the farm. It looks like they’ve sent the entire police force, as what must be a dozen emergency vehicles make their way along the dirt tracks. I turn away, and plant my head against the metal roof of the car, completely regretting my actions this evening. I’m about to disappoint the only two people who love me, especially Emily. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and now I’ll lose her. She won’t have anything to do with me after this.

The first of the cars grinds to a stop in the hard dirt, and the police shout to me as they approach. I don’t know what they are saying, but I can guess, and put my trembling hands on the roof of the car while I wait to be searched and cuffed. My arms are shoved high up my back, to the point where I think they’ll either break, or be ripped from their sockets, while the police read me my rights. I’m entitled to silence, legal representation and…that’s about it. They don’t even ask my age so they can call a parent or guardian. Such a fair society.

“Where d’you get off, stealing kids?” one of the coppers asks, as I’m marched towards the waiting police van.

I don’t reply, but as he opens the doors to the vehicle, he grabs me by the neck and sticks his face into mine.

“I asked you a question, you freak,” he spits.

I look away from him, shrug him off and step into the van. I wrinkle my nose as the stench from the inside hits my nose.

“Sorry the smell isn’t to your satisfaction,” the copper says, noticing my reaction. “We had a couple of drunks in last night who threw up all over. I think one might have pissed himself as well. We haven’t been able to clean it for you.” He bangs the internal gate shut and locks it. “Enjoy the ride,” he snarls.

The last thing I see as he slams the external doors shut is the baby being taken from the car to be returned to its mother, who will undoubtedly want to press more charges than those for a carjacking.

Outside, I hear the voices of the other officers who, from what I can tell are about to begin their search for Nick. The hum of the POD fades and the doors at the front of the van open and close, before the engine starts, and my journey to the police station begins. As the van moves across the farm, the motion throws me about and that, combined with the vile smell makes me think I won’t make it to the station without adding my own contribution. It makes me glad that, until now, I’ve managed to stay out of trouble.

My stomach is turning, and I desperately want to get out of both the cuffs and the van. I hate enclosed spaces, and having my hands bonded is only making it worse. Maybe I should have escaped when I had the chance. It might not have been so bad if they’d arrested me tomorrow, but then I think it might be better this way; at least I don’t have to face anyone I know, particularly at school, where I would have been on display like some circus attraction.

As we hit normal road, my thoughts return to Emily. Her beautiful brown hair that glints with tinges of red when the sunlight hits it, that I’ll never be able to run my fingers through again. Her soft face and sweet lips, that only an hour or so ago I was kissing. I already miss her. I want to walk in the rain again, like we did just a few weeks ago. Just me and her, holding each other while the rain bounced off the umbrella, that was far too small for the pair of us to fit under. By the time I’d walked her home, we were both drenched, but neither of us cared; we had each other, and that was all that had mattered.

I want to see her, but after this it’s not going to be possible. She won’t be allowed to speak to me without breaking the law. In fact, nobody will; I’ll be completely on my own, regardless of how long my sentence is. Then there’s her father to consider. There’s no way in hell he will let me anywhere near her after this. I’ve messed up big time.

The journey to the station isn’t long, and before I know it, the doors are open and cool air sweeps into the van, along with the bright lights from the police station that force me to turn my head away. A pair of hands pull me out and I stumble, smacking my knees into the tarmac. I’m dragged to my feet and marched across the yard towards the station, before being unceremoniously thrown through the doors.

The coppers push me forward towards a desk clerk, who looks like he’s been on duty for the last two days, and couldn’t care less about who has just been brought in front of him. He sighs loudly, like my arrival is an inconvenience to his evening.

“Name and address,” he asks grumpily, not moving his head that is resting on his left palm, while tapping his keyboard with just his right hand.

“Nathan Yorke,” I reply, and begin to give my old address when I lived with my father.

I stop mid-sentence, realising my mistake, and for a moment I have a complete mind-block, which the clerk interprets as me trying to give him false details. He lifts his head up, revealing a large red patch where his hand has pressed against his face, and glares sternly over his glasses, like he suspects I’m trying to hide something. I think fast and just in time, I remember and repeat it quickly to him.

“Don’t bother trying to pull a fast one, son,” he growls, in a Scottish accent. “We will always be able to find out where you live. How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” I reply without the barest hint of hesitation.

I hate to admit it, but sleepless man has got to me. It’s like his role is to intimidate me so I’ll give a full confession straight away, and to be honest it’s working; I’m almost ready to spill the entire story now. Sleepless man looks up at the officers who brought me in.

“What’s he done?” he asks.

There’s a slight hesitation, like the two coppers have changed their minds as to what they arrested me for. “Oh the usual for a kid his age,” one replies sarcastically. “Car-jacking, theft of a motor vehicle, wilful destruction of property, driving a vehicle without insurance.” He turns to the other officer. “Did I miss anything?”

The second one replies instantly “You forgot kidnapping a minor.”

“And kidnapping a minor,” the first one adds.

My jaw clenches as I hear the lie; the anger within me starts to boil, and I’m fighting to keep it under control. That’s not what they said at the farm, and by the sly look on their faces, they know it.

“It wasn’t kidnapping,” I protest. “I didn’t know there was a kid in there.” I get a whack in the ribs for my outburst, but I carry on through the pain. “We just wanted the car.”

Suddenly their faces turn serious, and they all stare at me in unison. A duty sergeant appears from behind sleepless man, the distinctive three stripes of his rank clearly visible on the arm of his pristine uniform. Where he’d been hiding I have no idea, but my situation has just become very scary, if it wasn’t already.

“What for?” he asks, and I realise the predicament I’m in.

Aware that I’m about to break the protocol, I lower my head and keep my mouth shut.

“A young lad like you doesn’t steal cars for fun, let alone car-jack a young woman with her baby.”

He leans over the desk in an attempt to intimidate me, and I continue to avoid eye contact with him.  “You know what will happen to you, don’t you?” he persists, and I know too well what awaits me.

I want to admit the truth, but can’t. I’m in a place where there’s no escape; if I break protocol there’ll be punishment, if I don’t, there’ll still be punishment, so which is the lesser of two evils? I still don’t look up, but I can feel his eyes glaring at me.

“Throw him in cell three,” he says angrily, disappointed that he didn’t get more of a confession out of me. “And call Murdoch. He’ll get the truth out of him.”

One of the officers grabs my shirt and drags me along the corridor, before slamming me against a stone wall. He puts his arm across my neck, forcing my face against the brickwork to stop me from moving while he removes the cuffs. He then pulls me back and launches me into a cell that stinks almost as bad as the van.

“Don’t I get to make a call?” I shout, but get no reply. The door slams shut, and I’m alone with only the smell for company.

I don’t know who I’d call anyway. I can’t ring Aunt Carolyn; it would be a huge kick in the teeth for her to see me like this after all she’s done for me. And there’s no way I can face talking to Emily about what has happened, and expect her to understand. I’m the very essence of the society her father is working to eradicate, and if she is associated with a criminal, his reputation will be hit.

Thinking of her reminds me that I was supposed to be getting ready for a weekend alone with her, not locked up here like the common criminal I am. To be honest, I’m amazed her father fell for the line she spun him about us breaking up; if I were him, I’d probably want some sort of proof, or plant a ton of video cameras around the house to record everything that went on. In fact, he might well have done, but I’m not going to find out so there’s no point in thinking about it further. I just wish none of this had happened.

I sit on the edge of the metal bed, and look around at my cramped surroundings; there’s barely room to even keep a cat, never mind swing one. As well as the bed, which is bolted to the wall and floor, with a mattress slept on by god knows how many delinquents, there’s a metal toilet with no seat or lid, and a sink from which both taps are slowly dripping. A modern police force with twentieth century cells. Nice.

I think about the sergeant’s words and what’s going to happen to me. Once I’m found guilty of whatever they decide to charge me on, I’ll be made invisible, like so many others before me. It’ll be like I no longer exist. Some have said it’s barbaric and have protested about it, but there are many people for it. I’ve got to admit, the streets have seemed a lot safer since this law was introduced.

But the real criminals like Robertson and his gang have just got smarter, and have found ways to avoid it. The sentence was designed as a punishment for lawbreakers to give them a better understanding of living in society. So for murderers it’s a way of making them understand the value of human life, or thieves will experience what it is like to have something taken away, but it’s different for me; I’m not a criminal by choice.

I sit back on the bed and the springs inside the mattress poke into me, making it difficult to find a comfortable position. Every time I move, another spring stabs into my legs, until I eventually give up and sit on the floor, while contemplating what my life will be like. The moment I become invisible, I’ll be on my own. I’ll have to make my way to a special shelter, which is the only place I’ll have access to food, water and a bed, but that’s all. I’ve no idea where it is, and have had no need to find out until now, and the more I think about this, the more infuriated I’m getting.

I’m angry with my father for leaving me when he did, and having to clear up the mess he left behind. I’m angry with Robertson and his gang for forcing me into this life. But most of all, I’m angry with Nick for his actions this evening. He’s the one who should be sitting here, not me; he’s in that group by choice.

My fingers start twitching, and my legs become restless as my aversion to small, enclosed spaces takes hold. I want to tear down the walls, kick the door down, anything to get out of here. I want to scream and shout but it will do no good. No one will come and take me away from this. I’ve let people down, people who trusted me. Aunt Carolyn took me in when it was obvious my father wasn’t coming back. She’s given me so much and this is how I thank her. I love her so much and I’ll never be able to repay the kindness she has shown to me.

And Emily, who has been my rock over the last three months; she doesn’t deserve this either, and shouldn’t have to see me like this. But she will; they both will and, I can’t do anything to stop that. I’ve failed them. I don’t care about Nick, Robertson or anyone else involved in that group; as far as I’m concerned they can all rot in hell, but Carolyn and Emily are the two most important people in my life, and I’ve ruined everything.

I need a lifeline, and it’s not long before I get one. The cell is opened, and an enormous copper fills the doorway; I presume this is the man who the duty sergeant was referring to. I’ve not given him a thought while I’ve been cooped up in this hovel, but now he’s here, I’ve suddenly changed my mind about leaving. Like Stefan, he is big, but in a muscular way, and looks like he works out every day. No wonder he has a reputation for getting the truth from people. He stares at me for several moments before speaking.

“Come with me Mr Yorke,” he orders. “You and I are going to have a nice little chat.”

His deep voice is as frightening as his frame, and I have no choice but to follow. He is around six feet tall, which would put him four inches above me, and I feel intimidated just walking beside him. He doesn’t speak as we walk along the station corridors, and I know this chat, as he puts it, isn’t going to be about the weather over tea and biscuits.

We enter a room on the left and he orders me to sit. I instantly obey, and he closes the door before sitting down in the chair opposite. For a few minutes, he just sits staring at me with the kind of look that wants to bore right into my thoughts, until finally he speaks.

“Car-jacking isn’t a particularly huge crime, Mr Yorke,” he says calmly. “But it’s still a crime that would get you six months invisibility. However kidnapping a child is considerably worse.”

“I swear I had no idea the baby was in the car,” I say quickly. “If I had then…”

Murdoch holds up his right hand, and I instantly fall silent. “I believe you,” he says to my complete surprise. “You don’t seem the type of person that would kidnap a child.”

Suddenly there’s a bit more hope about the situation, and I might still be able to get out of it. But then he speaks again.

“All, I want to know is why you took the car in the first place.”

A few moments ago I was eager to speak, now I’m silent again.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time Nathan,” Murdoch says softly. “Even before the new laws came into effect. I can tell a real criminal a mile off, and do you know what? You’re not it.”

Well at least I’ve got something going for me.

“The man you were with,” he says, placing a picture of Nick on the desk in front of me. “He’s known to us and we’ll be bringing him in anyway, so you don’t need to be quiet to protect him.”

I drop my head again, knowing he’s right, to a point, but there’s also the protocol.

“Just tell me what you two were doing and who else is involved, and the kidnapping charge, along with all other charges will simply…disappear.” He opens his hands like a magician, who has just made a rabbit vanish.

He’s making it sound so easy, and all I want is for this to end quickly, but that would mean breaking the protocol. If I do that, chances are Emily will be waking up next to a dead man this weekend. His voice scares me out of my thoughts.

“Come on, Nathan,” he growls. “You’re a smart boy. There’s nothing on you. This isn’t a normal action for a kid like you.” He points to the picture of Nick. “Don’t let this idiot ruin your life.”

He’s making it harder for me to stay silent. I look at Nick’s picture, but all I can think of is Emily. How will she react when she sees me as an invisible?

“I just fancied an adrenaline rush,” comes my nervous reply, which I know instantly he detected.

Murdoch sits back and sighs deeply before continuing, his voice taking on a more aggressive manner. “We found the car you crashed earlier. It had been re-programmed to accept new fingerprints. Your fingerprints. Adrenaline junkies don’t have specialised tools to re-programme cars like that.”

The colour drains from my face, as I realise we didn’t erase my fingerprints from the on-board computer before abandoning the BMW. Nick has really set me up here; I know I’m completely doomed, and I’m considering telling Murdoch everything. Murdoch waits, but I remain silent while I consider what to do.

“Do you know what the sentence is for kidnapping?” he asks, folding his arms across his huge chest.

I shake my head but can’t muster any words.

“Three years invisibility. Kidnapping a baby would earn you an extra two.”

He watches my face, looking for signs of a reaction while his words sink in. Maybe the judge would show some leniency when he finds out I stayed with the baby, but what Murdoch says next unnerves me further. He leans forward, like he’s speaking so only I can hear, and rests his elbows on the table.

“You won’t make it to six months, once people out there know what you’ve done. And believe me, I’ll make sure they find out.”

I’m sure he can see the fear on my face. I can feel it there so I know it’s visible, and sweat is forming across my head, neck and pretty much everywhere else. I want to keep quiet, but there’s no way I can face such a sentence because he’s right; I won’t last long once people know what I had done. Or what they believe I’ve done.

“Think about it Nathan. The people you’re involved with will all be invisible for a long time, and no longer a threat to you. Whatever the reason you’re involved with them will be gone, and you’ll be free to live your life.”

He’s making it sound perfect. No more Nick or Mr Robertson giving me orders, or Stefan waiting for me at the school gates, all their contacts eliminated and my debt to them cleared. It’s becoming too appealing.

“You’re not really considering the alternative are you? Freedom or certain death. It’s a no brainer in my book.”

He waits for me to respond, and sighs heavily at my continued silence. “If not for yourself, do it for your girlfriend. She’s a pretty girl. You don’t want to drag the Deputy Justice Minister’s daughter into this as well do you?”

“WHAT?” I shout. “She’s not involved in any of this.”

Murdoch smiles. “She can be. It’s up to you.”

I can feel my heart racing away, like it wants to escape. If he wanted, he could very well frame her, make it look like she was in the car with me, and I realise I don’t have a choice. There’s no way I’m not risking her life too. “Will you protect us? And my aunt as well?” I ask.

Murdoch nods, and a satisfied smile spreads across his face. He knows he’s got me. “Not that you’ll need protecting. You know how the system works. We’ll have them within a couple of hours, and the sooner we can get them in, the sooner we can get them sentenced. The more you name the better.”

I nod and I’m suddenly overcome with emotion. I try to stop, but a tear escapes down my cheek. Murdoch gets up and sits on the desk next to me, like he’s about to offer some comfort. “Nathan. We all make mistakes, but we don’t always get an opportunity to atone for them. You have. Don’t throw it and your life away for this idiot. He doesn’t care about you. He’d rather you rot.”

I look at the picture of Nick again, and I know Murdoch’s right. Nick doesn’t care about anyone, least of all me. If the situation was reversed, I’m sure he’d give my name in a heartbeat. My decision is made. If they can take these people out of my life then I’ll do it.

I nod and I’m soon giving Murdoch the names of everyone I know that are involved, and to my surprise, he says most are already on their watch list. I’m even explaining how this all started in the first place and he listens patiently, like he’s some sort of counsellor. Suddenly, Murdoch’s demeanour changes, and it’s like I’m now his best friend.

“Thank you Nathan,” he says putting his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve done the right thing.”

I’m still not happy about it, but if it comes down to a choice between Robertson and his gang or my girlfriend, Emily will win every time, so they can stick their protocol. Murdoch stands, beckons me out of the room and leads me to another, but this one is not a cell or an interrogation room, more like a lounge area.

He leaves me there, while outside the windows, I can see the police making plans to take the people I’ve named into custody. Within an hour, a full operation has been launched, and just a couple of hours later, Murdoch tells me the raids have been successful.

“That was relatively easy, Nathan. We’ve got everyone you named, and a decent amount of evidence too. Now, are you sure that’s everyone?”

I nod. “Everyone that I know or worked with,” I reply

“Excellent. Good job Nathan,” he says, beaming like he’s just won a coveted award for Detective of the Year. “They’ll be sentenced soon. You’re safe.”

“Do I need to testify against them?”

Murdoch nods his head. “I would imagine so, but there may be enough evidence against them to easily get a conviction without it.”

My shoulders drop, and I allow a huge sigh of relief to escape, thankful that the nightmare of the last few months could finally be over. No more will I have to be secretive around Emily, or hide from PODS. My life can return to normal.

“I just need you to sign a few papers at the front desk, then you’re free to go,” Murdoch says.

“What about the mother of the baby? Doesn’t she want to press charges against me?”

“Not against you, Murdoch replies. “As far as everyone is concerned, the guy in the photo stole the car. He’s up for kidnapping a minor. And when she heard how you stayed with her son and looked after him, she was more than happy to forget you were there.”

I can’t believe it. I must be the luckiest guy in the world right now, and it’s like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I walk with him to the front desk, where the clerk is waiting to release me.

“We’ll have a POD monitor you and your aunt, but since we got everyone involved, I don’t think there’s a particular risk.”

“Thank you,” is my weak response. I can’t muster the strength to say more than that. I am truly grateful for what he has done. I am free not only for my weekend with Emily, but for the rest of my life.

“You did well, Nathan. You should be pleased with yourself. As agreed, this whole incident will be wiped clear. There will be no record of this anywhere, so it can’t come back to haunt you.” He smiles warmly, and he is very much a different person than when I first met him. In fact, he’s quite likeable.

“Now do me a favour and keep out of trouble.” He pats me on the shoulder, and I feel like a child who has just been given a headteacher’s award.

I nod as the door opens behind me, and there’s a great deal of commotion coming from the outside. Someone is clearly resisting arrest, and as I turn to see what’s going on, I instantly regret my curiosity.

Stefan and Nick are being dragged through the doors, kicking and screaming that the police have nothing on them, while Mr Robertson is relaxed and not putting up a fight, although he looks like he is trying to talk his way out of it.

However, the second he sees me, he goes very quiet, which is in stark comparison to the other two who, once they see me, try everything possible to attack. Robertson stares hard into my eyes, and I can’t help but give a small grin. This man has made my life hell over the last few months, now it’s his turn.

He scowls at me, and then gives me a grin of his own, only his is nastier, and I get the feeling this isn’t over. He forces his way forward in an attempt to get to me, but the officers holding him are too strong, however he is close enough for me to hear his threat.

“You need to watch your back, Yorke,” he hisses as he is dragged away. “The others will be coming for you.”



Others? What others? I don’t know of any others. I’ve only ever known Nick, Robertson and Stefan, plus five other lads I’ve worked with, all of whom I have named, and presume are now in custody.

I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move in case there’s someone waiting outside for me, but my self-imposed paralysis is violently broken, as Murdoch grabs my shirt around the neck and squeezes it tight. He pulls me up towards him; my feet almost leave the floor, and I can feel my face turning puce as I struggle to breathe.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” he spits, his attitude changing considerably from the friendly one a few moments ago, and I’m scared he’s about to throw me back into a cell for keeping information from him.

“No,” I manage to say. I grab at my collar, which seems to make him realise I’m struggling for breath, and he releases it a little. “All the names I gave you are the only ones I’ve ever known. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

I talk quickly in the hope he will let me go, so I can get out of here. But Murdoch’s eyes are wide and full of fury, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

“Really?” He growls, and my shirt tightens again in his grip. “Your friend seemed to think otherwise. You’d better start explaining yourself, or you’ll be joining them in their cell.”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about, I swear,” I answer desperately. My heart thumps wildly, and I stutter my words as I try to speak. “The only people I’ve ever met are those I told you about. As far as I know, Robertson was the one who organised everything.”

“As far as you know?”

“Yes, he arranged everything. He gave all the orders. I don’t know anyone else, I swear.”

I can’t do anything more to make him believe me. It’s like those films where the good guy is telling the truth, but is never believed, so ends up being tortured then killed.

Murdoch can see the fear in my eyes, and he must know how terrified I am. Just as I think my face will explode, he releases his grip, allowing me to breathe properly again. I reach up to my neck and pull the shirt away as I gasp for air, but a second later Murdoch slams his hands into my shoulders, pinning me against the wall.

“Fine,” he snarls. “But you listen to me, Yorke. If I find you know more than you’re letting on, kidnapping and car theft will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?”

I quickly nod my head in agreement as he steps back and orders me out of the station. I turn and grab my belongings, before hurrying through the doors, out into the night, waiting until I’m well away from the station before tidying myself up. My entire body is trembling, my legs have turned to rubber. I stop to try and regain some level of composure. I press my hands against a wall, relieved to be away from there.

I’ve no idea what went on back there, and the way Murdoch reacted, I’m guessing police protection is out of the question. I struggle to regain my composure, while Robertson’s words rattle around in my brain. Who are these others? Maybe it’s a tactic of his to unnerve me, or make me think there are more people involved than there actually are.

I suddenly feel very vulnerable, so after a few minutes, I feel able to move again, and I rush through the dark, lonely streets, trying to put any thoughts of the gang to the back of my mind, but it’s impossible. Even if it is just a tactic, it doesn’t stop me from checking over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure I’m not being watched or followed. I even double back on myself to make absolutely certain I’m alone. I try to ring Aunt Carolyn to let her know I’m on my way, but there’s no answer. Attempting to remain as calm as possible, I leave a message, but it comes out garbled, and she probably won’t understand half of it, causing her to worry about where I am.

I think about phoning Emily, but I want to gather my thoughts first; she’s very perceptive, and I don’t want her becoming suspicious of anything, particularly as she saw Stefan at school. If I phone her now, she’ll only demand all the answers, and I make a mental note to ring her once I’m safely home and calm.

My nerves are shattered, and my limbs are aching, but I force my legs forward, desperate to get off the streets as quickly as possible. I’m looking round in panic at every little sound, trying to find the source of the noise, and my head is like a swivel as I look for any signs of trouble. It’s an anxious walk home, but as I get there, the first thing I see is a POD hovering nearby and instantly feel safer; Murdoch has at least come through on his promise, and I relax a little, knowing they now cannot touch me.

Although I might still have to testify against the gang, it seems like a formality they will be sentenced for a long time. I consider the possibility they may come looking for me anyway, but it would surely be too risky for them. Although invisibles are able to go anywhere, they rarely stray from the shelters provided for them. Out on the streets, they are easy targets for anyone, particularly victims of their crimes.

There have been reports of invisibles disappearing and even found dead. I remember hearing about one guy, who had been sentenced for repeatedly beating his children. He was found in a ditch in one of the outlying towns, having been beaten to death himself. The police never searched for the murderer, as murdering an invisible isn’t a crime; you can’t kill what doesn’t exist.

As I approach the dark, unlit house, I wonder where Carolyn is. She may have been upstairs for a while, and the light sensors downstairs have simply gone to sleep. Or maybe I’m just looking too much into things, I really don’t know. I press my thumb against the pad on the wall, and step inside as the door swings open, but all I am greeted by is silence. Detecting my movements, the lights instantly brighten the room, but there’s no sign of Aunt Carolyn; I would have expected her to be home by now.

I look at the clock; it’s almost nine. Something’s not right. It’s not uncommon for her to work late, but she’s always home for seven thirty at the latest, so I know something is definitely wrong. I can just feel it. It’s eerie, and the air is still as death. One time when I was a kid, I’d stayed here for a weekend. There was a fire at the house next door and three people died. The feeling then was like it is now; disturbing and ominous, empty like something is missing.

The music on my phone suddenly starts playing, scaring the hell out of me.

“Hi, Emily,” I say as I answer. I was hoping it was Carolyn letting me know where she is.

“Are you okay?” Emily asks. “You sound a little nervous.”

I stop in the middle of the room, looking round for anything out of the ordinary. “Yeah I’m fine,” I lie and quickly change the subject. “How was your shopping trip?”

“Productive,” she replies. “I can’t wait for tomorrow night so you can see what I bought.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” she repeats. “Is that how I make you feel? Intrigued?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” I reply, as I remember I’ve not shut the front door. “I…”

There’s a noise from behind, and I turn to see where it came from. A shape, best described as a huge dark blur comes towards me, and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor having taken a well-aimed kick to the chest.

The phone flings from my hand, and I shout to Emily, who I’m hoping is still on the phone and hearing the commotion, to call the police, but I’ve no idea if she’s heard me. I try to get up, but a strong arm wraps itself around my chest, a hand clamps around my mouth and I am dragged into the lounge. The taste of leather from the gloves fills my mouth, and I try to bite the attacker’s hand, but it has little, if any impact.

I fight back as much as I can, wildly kicking my legs out, and my right foot makes contact with the assailant’s shin. He curses and flings me to the sofa, and I again shout to Emily to call the police. The attacker pushes my head into the settee, then pulls my left arm up until it can’t go any further, and I scream in agony. He pulls my head back and moves close to my face.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he says. “You’re going to do exactly as you’re told, and not cause us any problems, understand?”

“Yes,” I manage to say through the pain.

“Good,” he replies, and releases my head and arms, and flings me back onto the sofa. “Now stay there and don’t move.”

Once free, I look round to see three burly men standing in front of me, arms crossed menacingly while forming a human wall to prevent me from escaping. I try to jump over the back of the sofa, but a large pair of hands grab my ankles and drags me back, before pinning me down again. The man presses his hands hard into my shoulders.

“What did I just say?” he shouts, his face just centimetres from mine. “Are you really going to make this difficult?”

I shake my head nervously, terrified about what he could do to me, and decide I won’t try that again.

“Good answer,” he replies, tapping my left cheek, like a parent giving a ‘well done’ to their child. The man releases his grip, and takes his place between the other two.

As I sit up, another man enters the room, and walks towards me with a deliberate slow pace. I’ve no idea who he is, and his face is hidden, obscured by a combination of the glare from the light behind him, and the hood he is wearing. He stops behind the three men, and I wonder if he’s just going to stand there all evening, but he finally breaks the silence.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Mr Yorke,” he says in a very well-spoken but croaky voice, which could well have been Mr Robertson, if he wasn’t inside a police cell. “Today was supposed to be a quick job, nothing difficult, but you decided to get caught and break protocol.”

I try to stand so I can defend myself, but the men in front prevent me. “It wasn’t my fault,” I reply desperately, trying to see a way through the wall of muscle. “Nick chose the car. There was a baby inside.”

The man moves closer, but I still can’t see his face. “I couldn’t care less if a whole family and their dog were in the vehicle,” he snaps. “You should have just stopped and left it on the pavement but no, Nathan Yorke has his own agenda. Nathan Yorke sells us out and costs me a lot of good people.” His anger towards me is growing by the second. “Nathan Yorke puts the life of a pathetic little baby before those of his colleagues.”

I make another impassioned plea of innocence. “I’m sorry. They were going to sentence me for kidnapping and -”

“And you should have let them,” the man cuts me off angrily. “But instead, you destroy part of my operation.” I think his patience, which is probably already quite thin, has broken. “And now. You have. To face. The consequences.” His words are slow, deliberate and full of purpose, and I can tell by the way he is acting that I’m going to suffer.

“Please,” I choke. “I had no choice.” I know I sound pathetic, like a six year old begging to his father, but I have to find a way out of this. “I’ll do anything you want. Just give me another chance.” My heart is racing faster than ever, and I am aware of tears rolling down my face. “Please, I don’t want to die.”

“Die?” The man says in a surprised tone. “Who said anything about dying?”

One of the men in front of me grins while the other two remain stone-faced.

“I’m not going to kill you Nathan,” he says much to my great relief. “Killing you would be pointless.” He pauses for a moment, before continuing. “No, you serve a far greater purpose, my friend.”

What does that mean? If he’s not going to kill me, then what is he going to do? I thought I was going to die here, and they’d leave my body for Aunt Carolyn to discover. Probably make it look like suicide or something, but now what? I watch the man as he stares out of the window, considering his decision before telling the men in front of me to proceed.

One man turns and lifts a small, metal case off the floor, setting it down on the sofa next to me. He opens it, and inside is a selection of syringes, needles and bottles of clear liquid. He selects one syringe and inserts it into the cap of a bottle, drawing the fluid into the plastic tube. Once he has reached the required level and released the air bubbles, he turns to me, and I fight to get away, but the other two men hold me down. My right sleeve is pulled up, and a strong hand grips tightly around my upper arm. I again struggle and try to pull my arm away, but it’s useless; I’m not strong enough to fight off one of these guys, let alone two.

“Relax Nathan,” the man holding the needle says. “This will make it much easier.”

My skin pinches as the needle penetrates my arm, and the cold liquid flows into my veins. Once the injection has finished I am released, but the men remain standing in front of me, re-forming their wall.

“Give it a couple of minutes,” the man says, putting the syringe carefully back into the case. “Then he’ll be away with the fairies.”

The other men laugh as they stare at me, and I wonder what he means.

“What have you done to me?” I ask as my eyes start to droop, and I realise I’ve been drugged.

Behind the human wall, I see the bright lights of a car shining through the windows, and I’m hoping its Aunt Carolyn or the police. The room looks like it is falling to the side, and I grip the settee to steady myself. I try to focus my eyes on a fixed point, but there’s two of everything I look at. I want to be sick and wonder what sort of drug was in the needle.

I hear the man speak again, but I can’t tell what he’s saying, and between the burly figures in front of me, I can see two more people entering the house, dragging a third person behind them. I can’t see who it is, but I can tell it’s a female.

I try to stand, but my legs won’t work; it’s like I’m paralysed from the waist down, and I fall, my knees crashing into the laminate flooring. The human wall moves as I try to crawl along the floor. I am aware they are laughing at my futile efforts, but I still try; I need to help Emily.

“Leave her alone,” I shout, at least I think I shout; I’m not convinced I’m making any sense anymore. “She has nothing to do with this.”

I want to get up and help her, but I’m losing the feeling in my arms, and my head hits the floor in defeat, as I finally succumb to the serum. The last sensation I feel is being lifted and thrown onto the sofa. The man crouches over me and removes his hood. I can make out some very faint features on his face, but his image is quickly replaced by an array of bright coloured specks of light, dancing in front of my eyes, while everything else turns into a complete blur.

“Silly boy,” he says quietly.

I can’t move, and I know I’m about to pass out. I try to resist it for as long as possible, but it’s hopeless. Then I hear the words I don’t want to hear, and I’m powerless to prevent from happening.

It is the order to kill her.


I would love to hear your thoughts on the above chapter, so please leave a comment below.

Many thanks


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