Torchwood: Exodus Code

through the banister at the bottom. He couldn’t let himself waste time thinking about what new parts of his body were broken. Scrambling to his feet, he scampered like a wild animal back up the stairs, hollering at Gwen to stop. This time when he got to the landing, he could hear Gwen tearing up their bedroom.
    His heart stopped when she stood laughing at him in the bedroom doorway, the key to her gun locker dangling from her hand.
    With all his strength, Rhys threw himself at his wife. They fell backwards into the bedroom, careening off the wardrobe, and, with Gwen pummelling him with her fists and spitting obscenities at him, they crashed to the floor. Rhys’s head smashed against the wooden base of the bed and for a second everything went black. It was enough time for Gwen to free herself from his clutches and dart from the room.
    Rhys pulled himself up, the pain of his injuries nothing compared to the terrible fear that gripped his insides. Gwen had the key and he could hear her thundering down the stairs.
    Anwen was silent, having finally cried herself to sleep.
    Please God, let Gwen come after me first, thought Rhys.
    He crawled out to the landing. Phone. The stairs in front of him were rolling and he felt like he was going to vomit. He had to get help.
    Because what if he couldn’t stop Gwen? Or worse, what if he passed out before he could even try.
    Rhys patted his pockets. Shit. No phone. He remembered it was sitting on the kitchen table. Swallowing back bile, he peered over the banister. Gwen had dragged the gun locker up from the basement. It was on the floor near the front door and she was starting to unlock it. He wasn’t going to be able to call for help; he’d have to stop her on his own.
    No choice, mate.
    By the time Rhys was halfway down the stairs, Gwen had popped up the lid of the locker. She glanced at Rhys when he leapt the last few stairs, landing in front of her. She lifted out her gun, and Rhys thought he was a dead man.
    Gwen pointed the gun at his chest, screaming, ‘You’re not leaving me here alone any more! I will not smell peaches any more.’
    ‘OK, love, OK. You can do whatever you want. It’s your decision, but let’s make it without the gun,’ said Rhys, taking two steps closer, reaching his arms out to her, pain shooting to his shoulder from his swelling wrist, his voice hollow in his head.
    ‘Don’t you come near me, your words have too many points,’ Gwen hissed, stabbing the gun at Rhys. ‘You’re hurting me.’
    ‘Fine. I’ll stay right here.’ He backed up slowly. ‘But can you please put the gun away, Gwen. You need help. Can’t you see? This isn’t you talking.’
    From behind him Rhys could hear the creak of a floorboard, the scrape of a chair shifting, and then the living room door swung open and Anwen toddled out into the hall.
    ‘Mummy! Uppie.’

26
    ON HIS WAY down the cracked tile stairs, Andy passed some of his officers on their way up from the ground-floor lockers. He greeted them distractedly, still puzzling over what he’d read in yesterday’s incident reports. Two floors down, he stopped outside the security door to the video surveillance unit. Andy’s mate Tommy Livesy, who played rugby with him on the over-30 team, was on duty. Good – Tommy would keep Andy’s request quiet until he figured out exactly what his discovery meant. Andy may have been listening to his inner tiger, but he didn’t think anyone else would listen without some persuading.
    Swiping his identification on the keypad, Andy shoved the door open. A bank of computers in a horseshoe faced him with two officers watching a hundred screens of CCTV feeds and a few private security cameras in financial buildings in Swansea.
    His mate turned when the door opened. ‘Andy, my man. What brings you to our lair?’
    ‘Nothing important. A couple of questions from last night’s watch.’ Andy nodded at the other officer at the desk. Tommy got the message. ‘Jan, a minute. I’ll keep an eye.’
    Jan grabbed her cigarettes and lighter, but when she passed Andy she stopped and put her hand out. Andy rolled his eyes and handed over his last two chocolate biscuits. She smiled and left.
    ‘So what’s up?’
    Andy pulled Jan’s chair next to Tommy’s. ‘Have you got the CCTV from that supermarket disturbance yesterday?’
    ‘Give me a second.’
    While Andy waited, he watched the men, women and children, moving across the screens in front of him. It was mesmerising and he