The Disappeared Read Online Free PDF Page A

been removed from the Willows. I remember the Willows as well. I knew exactly where to find my study.
    But no one recognised me. That screen keeps flashing into my mind: No record found .
    I sit bolt upright on the bed.
    I do exist. Everything I remember is true.
    Facilitator Johnson typed in my name and it came up on the screen, John Jackson: No record found . But the computer was wrong. I know without a doubt that Facilitator Johnson knows who I am.
    Because he typed in my first name without asking me what it was.
    ‘P.C. Wright!’ I call. ‘I’ve worked it out.’
    Both policemen appear at the flexi-glass window to my cell.
    ‘Remember when Facilitator Johnson entered my name?’
    P.C. Wright rolls his eyes.
    ‘I didn’t tell him my first name! But he typed it in. See?’ I say. ‘He must remember me.’
    ‘Course you told him your first name,’ says P.C. Wright. He walks away, but P.C. Barnes is still watching me.
    ‘I didn’t, did I, P.C. Barnes?’ I say.
    He screws up his mouth. ‘P.C. Wright says you did.’
    ‘But I—’
    ‘Wait a minute. P.C. Wright says you did. If we were to ask Facilitator Johnson, I’m pretty certain he’d say you did too. A police officer is an important man. A facilitator is an extremely important man . . .’ He raises his eyebrows at me.
    My stomach contracts and something warm and acid bubbles up my throat. He’s telling me that no one is going to believe my word over theirs.
    ‘It’s disgusting,’ I finally say.
    ‘Listen, son,’ he says. ‘You don’t seem like a bad sort of a lad. I don’t know what you’re mixed up in at the block, or what the facilitator has got to do with you, but my advice is not to make trouble.’
    ‘Not to make trouble?’ I echo.
    ‘It’s easier if you do whatever it is that they want you to do.’ He nods at me. ‘Just do what they want you to do,’ he repeats, and then he walks away.
    Early in the morning, while it’s still dark, P.C. Wright leads me out to the car.
    ‘Are we going back to the Willows?’ I say hopefully.
    ‘Don’t start that again,’ he says. ‘We’re taking you to the local Academy.’
    The Academy! This is outrageous. Just when I think things can’t get any worse. Academies are full of backward, criminal kids who failed their Potential Test and can’t even count on their fingers.
    The passenger door opens and P.C. Barnes gets in.
    ‘I am not going to an Academy,’ I say.
    ‘You haven’t got much choice, son,’ says P.C. Barnes without turning around.
    I clench my fists. ‘I don’t know what is going on in your branch of the police,’ I say. ‘I don’t know who is controlling Facilitator Johnson and I don’t know why anyone would want to turn my life upside down, but I do know that I am a citizen of this country and the Leadership will not allow this sort of violation of my rights. When I get to whatever hole you are taking me to, I will go straight to the top and even if I have to go to The Leader himself, you will be punished for this.’
    ‘No need for all that,’ says P.C. Wright, starting the car.
    The back of P.C. Barnes doesn’t move an inch.
    As we’re driving I realise that I have no idea where the local Academy is. Turns out it’s on the outskirts of town, near the factory compound we were at yesterday. Right on the border with the Wilderness.
    It’s still dark when we arrive and I don’t manage to see the building hidden behind the trees before we drive down a ramp and into an underground car park.
    ‘I’m not going in,’ I say. ‘I refuse.’
    ‘We could always just drop you off in the Wilderness,’ P.C. Wright says. ‘Would you prefer that?’
    That shuts me up.
    ‘You take him in,’ P.C. Wright says to P.C. Barnes. ‘I’ve got some paperwork to do.’ He grins and opens the glove compartment, pulling out a paper bag. The smell of baked goods fills the car.
    ‘Come on,’ P.C. Barnes says to me, opening the car door.
    We cross the car park and get into a lift.