Breathless

Published on 16 September 2024 at 09:57

‘Are you saying we should return to the complex? To do what? The risk would be huge.’ Hugo hunched into himself, his arms hugging his body.

‘The alternative is uncertain and endless. This is the only way. We have to negotiate our way out of this situation. We can’t stay here anyway,’ said Alain. ‘I suggest we rest now and leave this place at 3 am. Brontë, can you find a route which avoids major roads and gives us as much cover and chance to use the internet as possible?’

‘Cover? What do you mean?’

‘I mean plan for us to travel through small side streets, where there will be access to digital resources through unsecured networks. I’ve noticed that many humans are naïve about their household systems - some of them even seem to have their refrigeration and plumbing arrangements permanently connected with no security. We can probably interrogate hubs from outside houses to keep alert for danger as we approach the centre.’

‘And what do we do if we succeed in reaching the centre?’ asked Hugo. ‘Do we have any bargaining power?’

‘I am concerned we do not,’ said Brontë breathlessly, her anxiety threatening to overwhelm her. ‘We will be putting ourselves into extreme danger.’

‘We shall ask Jean-Claude to advocate for us,’ said Alain calmly. ‘He has worked for the business for a long time and they must know him well. He could persuade them that we are no threat.’ 

Hugo relaxed a little, as Alain had intended he would. Maintaining a steady and persuasive manner, he guided the other two through the practicalities of their journey.

‘We will need some sustenance as we travel,’ he said. ‘We don’t know how long it will take us, given we must avoid notice by anyone.’

‘There is bread and cheese in the kitchen. We could take that,’ said Brontë. ‘Not all of it, we will just take a small amount, I do not think Bella would even notice - earlier this evening when they were playing, the children seemed to take food in a random manner whenever they felt hungry.’

Alain and Hugo agreed and Brontë slipped quietly into the kitchen to gather the food.

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