The Resistance

know, this place has been my life,’ he said, his voice quiet. ‘Science has been my life for as long as I can remember. I thought I was seeking truth. I thought science was beautiful.’
    ‘Science can be beautiful,’ Pip said. ‘But good science, not bad.’
    ‘One can turn into the other so easily. I saw Longevity as the saviour of mankind. How can something so healing be so destructive?’
    ‘All beauty has a dark side. Heaven can’t exist without hell.’
    Dr Edwards grimaced. ‘To discover, though, that you are on the side of the devils . . .’ he whispered. He looked back at Pincent Pharma with disgust.
    ‘It’s not your fault,’ Pip said, carefully, then he forced a smile. ‘Anyway, there’s always an Authorities ReTraining programme. What do they say? “Long Lives, New Challenges”?’
    Dr Edwards caught his eye. ‘ReTraining,’ he said quietly. ‘Yes, of course. The truth is . . .’
    ‘Stop right there.’ Dr Edwards heard a voice shouting from behind them and turned around to be greeted by a flashlight and a uniformed figure approaching through the darkness. He immediately saw the glint of a gun in the guard’s hand.
    ‘Guard,’ he called out. ‘I can explain.’
    ‘No explanation required,’ the guard said. ‘Move an inch and you’re dead, both of you.’ He took out his walkie-talkie. ‘Back-up requested, back entrance, river frontage.’
    ‘Of course,’ Dr Edwards said, his mind working frantically. In moments, more guards would appear, he, Pip and the girls would be captured.
    ‘Guard, there’s no need for this,’ he said, then, affecting what he hoped was a confident, reassuring tone. ‘I thought I heard something, that’s all. Came out to investigate.’ Then he turned to Pip. ‘Go,’ he hissed, as the guard’s location was confirmed by a tinny-sounding voice. ‘Get out of here.’
    ‘I’m not leaving you here,’ Pip said, under his breath. ‘There’s no need. We can take this guard.’
    ‘There’ll be more in minutes,’ Dr Edwards whispered back. ‘It’s not worth the risk.’
    ‘But he’ll kill you,’ Pip said. ‘You know he will.’
    The guard, who had halted some metres away, was staring at them impassively, pointing his gun at one of them, then the other, then back again. Not far away, Dr Edwards could hear the thud of boots on hard ground, the sound of running.
    ‘You know, death isn’t as scary as I thought it would be,’ he said, his voice soft, but loud enough for Pip to hear. ‘Perhaps Peter was right about it being nature’s version of Renewal after all.’ He turned back, briefly, and smiled. ‘Tell him he was right. Tell him forever isn’t important – it’s now that counts. Doing the right thing. Finally . . .’
    Giving Pip one last look, he started to walk towards the guard, his hands up in the air. ‘Really, Guard, there’s no reason to be like this. If you’d just let me explain . . .’
    ‘Explain? I don’t want an explanation. Stay where you are or I’ll shoot.’ The guard was squinting at him; Dr Edwards had positioned himself in the glare of his flashlight.
    ‘But we’re on the same side,’ Dr Edwards continued, watching as Pip shot him one last look before ducking down over the river bank out of sight.
    ‘Stop moving immediately or I’ll shoot,’ the guard said, angry now. ‘Come one more step . . .’
    ‘One more? You’d shoot me just for one more step?’ Dr Edwards asked, continuing to walk. But his words were drowned out by the sound of a pistol firing; as he landed on the mud, he felt the blissful sensation of pain shooting around his body, cleansing his sins, freeing him from anguish. He heard the guard erupt in anger as he realised that Pip had disappeared, heard him barking at the other guards arriving on the scene to search along the river’s edge. But as his life ebbed away, Dr Edwards heard the unmistakable sound of a boat’s engine starting up, and as he closed his eyes, he knew the guards were already too late.

Chapter Thirty-Two
    Derek Samuels watched over the shoulder of the programmer, suppressing the desire to shoot him in the head for failing miserably to restore power. He was not a man who ever allowed himself to lose control, but today he was close. ‘The press conference is due to start in fifteen minutes,’ he said, his voice low and menacing, ‘and if energy is not restored, if Mr Pincent is forced to cancel, then you and your family will live to regret it.’
    The