The Declaration

and Ben were safe. But Peter wasn’t. Peter, who had saved her, Peter who had rescued her from her prison, was going to be taken away from her, and she felt like it was her own life that was slowly fading away, not her parents’.
    Anna’s mother was looking at Peter too, and Anna could see her mouthing, ‘Run, run, Peter,’ but Peter was shaking his head. Anna wanted to scream, wanted to throw herself on top of Peter, a human shield, a barrier to protect him, to keep him with her. But instead, she clutched Ben to her and watched the people who loved her so much they were dying to save her, the people she’d been taught to hate above all others. She watched, unable to move, as the life ran out of her parents, like water, until there was nothing left but the sound of her brother crying.
    Frank looked around the cellar and rolled his eyes.
    Then he turned to Peter.
    ‘Looks like it’s just you coming along with us now,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘So you’ll want to say goodbye to your little girlfriend.’
    Anna stood up.
    ‘You won’t take him,’ she said, her voice strong and low. ‘Take me instead. I’m more Useful.’
    Peter pushed her aside angrily. ‘It’s me they want,’ he said bitterly.
    ‘They’ll kill you,’ Anna said desperately. She could see glimpses of tears in his eyes. ‘I won’t let them. I need you alive, Peter. I need you.’
    The Catcher laughed. ‘Touching little scene this, Bill, isn’t it? Only, I’m afraid this isn’t a game show – you don’t get to choose who goes. So, Peter, is it? I think we’ll just call you Surplus, if that’s all right with you. And if it isn’t, then we’ll still call you Surplus. Right, follow Bill up the ladder.’
    But before Bill could start climbing, another face appeared at the trapdoor. An unfamiliar face, attached to a pinstripe suit.
    Slowly, he climbed down into the cellar, and his eyes widened when he took in the lifeless bodies of Anna’s parents on the floor before him.
    ‘Peter?’ he asked.
    Peter nodded cautiously.
    ‘Peter, I’m your grandfather.’
    The man looked at the Catchers, and handed them a piece of paper.
    ‘He’s coming with me,’ he said, looking Peter up and down as if looking for clues for something. ‘Peter, your father . . . died, today. Which means that you’re Legal now. I’m Richard Pincent. We’re . . . family, Peter, and I’d like to take you home.’
    Anna watched wide-eyed as Peter stared at the man, then at the Catchers who were looking in fury at the piece of paper they’d been handed, and then at Anna herself.
    ‘You’re not my grandfather,’ he said suspiciously. ‘I was adopted. I don’t have a grandfather.’
    The man nodded sadly. ‘I have something of yours,’ he said then, holding out his hand to Peter. As he opened it to reveal a gold signet ring, Peter’s eyes flashed.
    Anna stared at the ring, trying to see if it had a flower engraved on it, wanting it to be Peter’s ring and yet fearing desperately that if it was, it would take him away from her.
    You can’t go , she wanted to shout. You belong here with me. You’re my Peter . But she didn’t say a word. She was too weak for another battle. Too scared that he might want to leave.
    Peter looked at her then, a look that penetrated deep inside of her. He looked scared, she realised, with a shock. Scared and helpless. And the man was just standing there, waiting, his hand outstretched. Anna squeezed Ben to her and just kept looking at Peter, wishing she knew what to say, and what to do.
    Then Peter looked back at the man in the pinstripe suit, who smiled at him broadly and started to climb the steps. Peter looked back at Anna one last time, and then his eyes travelled to her parents’ bodies, and the cellar that he’d lived in for so long. And then he turned back to the man and, silently, he followed him back up the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-seven
    21 April, 2140
    My name is Anna. Anna Covey.
    I’m a Legal. That means I’m allowed to be here.
    I have the certificate right here in front of me. I’m not a Burden on Mother Nature any more.
    I can take Longevity drugs too, if I want to. The man from the Authorities who comes around once a week to see how we’re Assimilating, says that it’s very important I take them. That otherwise I’ll get ill, and suffer from Old Age and Death.
    But I don’t want to. I’m not afraid of dying. I’m not afraid of anything any more.
    We live in a house in Bloomsbury now – the