Them or Us

wrong. Just let me explain—”
    “There’s nothing to explain.”
    “It’s not what you think.”
    I try to stand but I can’t get up, another crippling wave of nausea making it almost impossible for me to move. It’s a combination of nerves and the airless, sweaty stench of this badly ventilated and overcrowded hideout. My head’s thumping. Sutton helps me to my feet, and I lean back against the wall.
    “What is this place?” I ask him, looking around at the emotionless painted faces of the mannequins that surround us. Some of them are dressed in old-fashioned army uniforms.
    “A nuclear bunker,” he announces. “It was operational until the end of the Cold War. Then they decommissioned it and turned it into a tourist attraction. Hence the dummies.”
    His words just bounce off me, barely sinking in. I should probably ask him a load of other questions, but my brain is still struggling to make sense of any of this. Stupidly, all I can think right now is how much I hate Hinchcliffe. If it hadn’t been for him then I wouldn’t have gone to Southwold and if I hadn’t been in Southwold, I wouldn’t have met Peter Sutton, and if I hadn’t met Sutton I wouldn’t know anything about this damn place or the Unchanged hiding down here. Thinking about Hinchcliffe makes me remember what he forced me to do with that woman yesterday afternoon … and then part of me starts wondering whether I should just stay down here in the dark and never put my head above ground again. Nothing makes sense any more. Whenever I think I’m starting to come to terms with the way this dysfunctional new world works, something always happens that leaves me feeling as confused and disoriented as I did when I killed Lizzie’s dad, Harry. Right back to square one again. Life feels like a game of Snakes and Ladders, but without any ladders.
    Sutton waits, then cautiously edges nearer. “I told you this place changes everything.”
    “And I told you you were an overdramatic prick. This changes nothing.”
    “Well, it’s changed everything for me,” he says. “Before I found these people I was lost.”
    “You’ve lost your fucking mind, that’s about all.”
    “I knew you’d feel this way at first, but just stop and think for a minute, Danny.”
    “Think about what? About the fact that you’re a traitor? About what Hinchcliffe’s going to do to you when he finds out about this place?”
    “No, I want you to think about yourself. Think about what you’ve had to do over the last year. Think about how much you’ve lost.”
    “And how much I’ve gained.”
    “Have you gained anything?”
    “My freedom. This time last year I was at a dead end.”
    “Things are better for you today because…?” He waits for me to answer, and the silence is deafening. “You’re alone, your health’s deteriorating, you’re living by yourself in a freezing-cold house in an otherwise empty housing development—doesn’t look so great to me.”
    “Are things any better for you?”
    “Not really,” he answers. “Truth be told, life’s shit for all of us now. You, me, these Unchanged. Killing them won’t make any difference.”
    “That’s not the point.”
    “There’s something else I want you to see,” he says, supporting my weight and gently leading me back toward the door. More Unchanged scatter when it opens, their wiry limbs and sudden movements making them appear unnervingly insectlike. We go back out into the main area of this part of the bunker. Some sections of the odd-shaped space are dimly illuminated by dull lamps; other corners remain shrouded in darkness. The walls that I can see are covered in old photographs, maps, and other paraphernalia, making the room appear smaller than it actually is.
    “Just look at them, Danny,” he says, shuffling me around and gesturing over to where a group of them are sitting at a mess table, watching us nervously. “These people didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t deserve any of what happened to them.”
    “Neither did I. Neither did you. This war wasn’t anyone’s fault, it just happened.”
    “But the fact the war’s dragged on is our fault. We have to stop the fighting.”
    “The fighting will end when all the Unchanged are gone.”
    “Do you really still believe that?”
    “Yes,” I answer quickly, even though I don’t. It’s an instinctive reaction. Sometimes I think I say these things just because I’m used to saying them, like I’ve been conditioned