Soul Fire

out.
    AmI already too late? The girl’s screams have stopped now.
    And then the final row of people melts away. There’s a tiny figure on the ground.
    It’s not Cara.
    The girl’s legs are covered, and she’s not wearing Ade’s blue shirt.
    Definitely not Cara . Thank God.
    Then I realise the figure is wrapped in a blanket.
    I crouch down, next to a paramedic in a fluorescent jacket, who is shouting into a radio.
    ‘Shit. What’s going on, Alice?’
    I swing round to see Cara next to me. ‘Oh, Jesus, Cara.’ I reach up and grab her hand. ‘I thought it was you. Where the hell have you been?’
    Behind her, Ade appears. For one paranoid moment, I think that they’ve played some practical joke on me. Correfoc hide and seek.
    There’s a whimper from the person on the ground. And then I know why the first voice I heard, the girl screaming, was so familiar.
    ‘ Zoe?’
    I lean forward and the first aider tries to shield his patient, but not before I catch a glimpse of lime green fabric pulled across her face like a veil.
    Oh, God.
    Enough of the scarf is still wrapped around her scalp, and I think that at least no one else has seen that she’s lost her hair. She’ll be relieved about that when she comes round.
She fought so hard to keep it a secret.
    There’s a raw red mark across her right cheek. Her eyes are closed, and the sockets look deeper in the torchlight, as though she’s already a skeleton.
    ‘Zoe.’ I reach out for her hand, which is lifeless. ‘Zoe, what happened? It’s me. It’s Alice.’
    ‘ Dejala! ’ the first aider says. ‘Leave her!’
    ‘This is my friend,’ I say. ‘Please.’
    Maybe the first aider recognises the desperation in my voice, because he stops shouting.
    ‘Zoe, what happened to you?’
    Her eyelids flicker.
    ‘If you can hear me, Zoe, I need to know if this was an accident, or . . .’ I’m aware of the others right behind me, so I whisper, ‘or if someone did this to
you.’
    Her lips move.
    Unless it’s a trick of the firelight.
    ‘Try again,’ I whisper.
    ‘ Tim.’
    ‘Tim? But he’s dead, Zoe. Tim is dead.’
    Her lips purse but nothing comes out this time. Then I’m being pulled away and I realise Ade is behind me when he takes my arm to steady me.
    Two paramedics are moving in to treat Zoe. I want to explain but I don’t have the words. Lewis could probably manage the odd phrase . . .
    Lewis! Where is he? And Sahara’s missing too.
    A siren’s getting louder, closer . Ade steps forward, but a policeman pushes him back, and it’s obvious the officer means business. He’s on his radio, and I hear Ingles . Maybe they’re calling for someone to translate.
    ‘Our friend. Our . . . amigo ,’ I say, not knowing if that’s the right word or not. ‘This is our friend.’
    But the circle of emergency staff around Zoe is getting bigger, and I can’t see her at all anymore.
    None of this seems real. Less than an hour ago, everything felt alive, electric, full of hope. Javier’s family were safe, Gabe knew he’d made a difference, and I was almost allowing
myself to hope that I could be closing in on my sister’s killer.
    But now I’m lower than ever.
    ‘What the hell happened?’ Ade asks.
    ‘You should know. She went into the fiesta at the same time as you!’ I tell him.
    ‘No.’ He shakes his head and I see the briefest glimpse of guilt on his face and I know, then, that he was with Cara, and that they were oblivious to everything but each other.
    ‘What’s going on?’ It’s Sahara, pushing forwards and ripping off her balaclava. Her hair is messy, but she looks calmer than she has done all trip.
    ‘It’s Zoe,’ I say. ‘She’s hurt. They’re treating her, but . . .’ Sahara opens her mouth and I wait for a scream. Instead, she takes a gulp of air, and
then another, and begins to fall towards us.
    Ade catches her effortlessly, as though it’s something he does all the time. And as he pulls her back, the police begin to clear a path so the paramedics can bring Zoe through.

48
    Everything seems out of sync and blurry, like a pirate DVD of real life.
    Zoe’s stretchered away before we can explain to the police that she’s with us. We finally find an officer with good English. He arranges for us to be taken to the hospital but, once
we get there, no one will talk to us because we’re not blood relatives. We’re in the dark; we don’t know what’s wrong with her, or how serious it is, or even exactly where
we are,