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Back The Dead Line Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

Casey and Hessa leaped towards it.

‘Careful, Casey,’ Ed caught Casey’s arm. ‘You don’t know what’s in there. It could be anything—’

But Casey pushed him away. ‘I have to know, Ed. I have to.’

She grabbed the bolt. It stuck for a second, screeching, metal on metal, and gave way with a shriek. Casey pushed the door open, and stopped.

47

47

A girl’s face jolted towards her.

It was the girl in Savannah’s photograph, Casey knew at once. The wary eyes under the thick eyebrows, the fuzz of black curls at the hairline. The shy smile was gone now, the girl’s eyes sharp with fear. No pretty red dress any more. Romida wore a ripped T-shirt, shrinking away as Casey took a step forward.

She was so very young.

There were just two other girls in the cabin. One of them lay in the grand stateroom bed.

‘Romida?’ Casey whispered.

Silence.

‘Romida?’ Casey forced herself to smile as she repeated the name. The girl stared, her eyes meeting Casey’s and then flicking away, as she twisted herself into a tighter coil.

‘I want to help you,’ Casey tried. ‘We all want to help you.’

Hessa was just behind her, moving forward. ‘Are you all right, Romida?’

Romida gazed at Hessa, her expression solemn.

Casey and Hessa waited.

‘How do you know my name?’ Speaking to Hessa, Romida’s voice was hoarse, as if she hadn’t spoken aloud for days.

Hessa hesitated. ‘Your mother, Romida. I spoke to Shamshun, back in the camp.’ Romida’s eyes filled with tears. Her head bowed. ‘I’m sorry, Romida,’ said Hessa. ‘I’m very sorry to upset you.’

‘My mother?’ Romida cleared her throat, lifted her head. ‘You spoke to my mother.’

‘Yes.’ They stood there, for a long quiet moment.

‘How is she? When did you see her last?’ The words rushed out of Romida, and Hessa tried to answer, in her patchy dialect.

‘She misses you, Romida. She misses you terribly.’

The girl on the bed reached across to Romida, and Romida folded into her, just as she had curled into Jamalida’s side all those weeks ago.

‘Jamalida misses you so much too,’ Hessa said gently.

‘I miss her.’ The words were a gasp. ‘I miss her every minute.’

Casey stared around the cabin. This must have been one of the grandest rooms in the ship once. There was a writing desk in one corner, the dark polished wood from another world. Mirrored cupboards ran down one wall. The bedside lights had been torn out, and there was dust and grime everywhere.

The girl nearest the door was staring vacantly at an ugly painting, cheaply framed above the huge bed. Narcissus, enraptured.

Casey imagined all the girls held here: the healthy girls chosen and snatched from the camps. All I had, I gave to Romida . . .