‘I’m the leader,’ he said. ‘I’m the warrior. I’ll fight them. I’ll protect you, Zohra.’
‘They’re too many,’ said Sam. ‘We have to get Zohra back. We have to run.’
Paddy wasn’t listening. He gave his war cry and ran at the advancing grown-ups, slashing with his belly ripper. One went down, two, three. Paddy was winning …
And then Paddy was down. Hit from behind by a sicko with a rock. Sam wondered if this was how legends were born, from ugly, scrappy, horrible fights like this. Talked up into tales of heroic acts and deeds. Creating a lie of bravery and glory.
In a moment Paddy had disappeared under a pile of grown-ups, who were tearing at him with their teeth and nails.
The Kid was tugging at Sam’s sleeve again.
‘We can’t do anything, sport,’ he said. ‘Except run.’
‘Zohra.’
But Zohra wasn’t listening. She was lying with Froggie on the tarmac, her arms wrapped round him.
Sam let The Kid pull him away. And they stumbled and staggered down the road towards the museum gates. Sam risked glancing back once. Zohra hadn’t moved. And then he couldn’t see her any more. She was swallowed up by the horde, which now filled the road from side to side.
And still the rest came on, eyes fixed on Sam.
Sam ran.
They made it back to the museum where the bigger kids were waiting for them, shouting at them to hurry. They dragged Sam and The Kid through the gates and slammed them shut. Locked them. A lot of museum kids were lined up along the fence. Sam saw that they had bows and missiles, javelins, crossbows, slings.
As soon as the grown-ups came close enough, the kids started to fire at them. Many went down, but still they kept on coming, until they were pressing against the fence from the other side, and the kids were stabbing at them through the bars. One or two grown-ups had enough intelligence to climb the fence, but they were easily cut down or knocked back. Sam looked along the row of hideous, distorted faces squeezing between the iron bars.
And he went cold.
Man U was still alive. Pushing against the railings as if he could somehow force himself through. Grey jelly was oozing from his nose, his mouth, his eyes, his ears, the wound in his chest. Sam went over to him.
‘Bastard,’ he said. ‘Dirty bastard.’ Still the worst insult he knew, the name he’d always been told he must never call anyone. He realized he was still holding Man U’s metal rod. He shoved it up through the father’s open mouth and into his skull, releasing a fresh shower of grey slime. Man U smiled at him. Could he not be killed? Had the grown-up turned into the thing they had been called but never were: the living dead – zombies?
And then the smile died and Man U died. The light went out and he was slipping down and the other grown-ups were once again confused and dull. The only thing keeping them going now was the scent of Sam.
It wasn’t enough. The museum kids hacked at them and slowly, slowly, they started to move away, defeated. The road cleared. Sam moved along the fence until he could see bodies lying in the road. The larger ones were the few grown-ups who’d been killed, and the smaller ones were Paddy and Zohra and Froggie.
Whitney was lying near to them, and further on were three more bodies – the rest of Paddy’s friends who’d been killed in a stupid, pointless fight.
‘We have to bring the bodies in,’ he said to no one in particular. He looked around. No one was listening. No one was with him.
49
Maxie was still up on the roof of the LookOut, wishing something would happen. Anything. But the grown-ups just stood there, and David stood with them, waiting. Just John and Carl leering, mucking about, parading up and down in front of the rotting, diseased army, taunting the kids. At one point John even turned round and bared his arse at them. Funniest thing Carl had ever seen.
Maxie didn’t laugh. She was remembering something.
A memory had come back to her. Very strong. Something she’d forgotten about altogether. When was it? She was still at primary school. Must have been Year Two or Three. She’d been crossing the road with her mum. At the top of the Camden Road. Yeah, of course. It was getting clearer. Coming back to her in a rush. It had been right opposite Waitrose, where she’d ended up living years later. There was a wide junction there, a big crossroads, the Holloway Road going one way, Camden Road going the other. And on the far side – what was it called? – Tollington Road. Yeah. Four lanes of traffic there. All facing her. Waiting. Her mum had risked the crossing. The green man was flashing and beeping even before they’d started across.
‘Come on, Maxie, hurry up …’
God, it was coming back to her as clearly as if it was happening right now.
They were nearly over to the other side when Maxie realized she’d dropped her dolly-bug.
Dolly-bug. Maxie smiled. She’d forgotten all about dolly-bug too. It had been a big, stupid, plastic ladybird. God knows where it had first come from. And for a while she couldn’t bear to be parted from it. She slept with it. She took it to school in her bag. Just some crappy piece of plastic, with half its legs missing. But it had been the world to her. And now she’d forgotten it had ever existed; that little girl crossing the road had been a different person. How could you ever get from there to here? Impossible.
She could recall the feel of it, the smooth, shiny plastic, the smell of it. The way she used to trace the black dots with one finger, counting them.
And she’d dropped it, halfway across the road. Without thinking, she’d pulled away from her mum’s hand and run back. Saw it lying there. Picked it up. Her mum was shouting, running back to get her. And Maxie had looked round at the row of cars – and it was as if they were watching her, wanted to harm her, were planning to come charging and roaring at her. All they wanted was to run her down and nothing would stop them. All four lanes. Held back by the lights, but ready, straining, to be set loose.
And then they’d started to move, coming towards her, faster and faster …
And her mum had dragged her to the side and yelled at her and Maxie had cried.
She had been so scared. It was the sight of the cars before they moved, the knowledge that they were about to come for her, that had been most frightening.
That was exactly how it felt now. Looking at the grown-ups. They were ready – ready to come roaring at her – and from this distance they were as faceless and evil as that waiting line of cars.
The memory triggered a load of others. Flitting past. Nothing to hold on to. Memories of Waitrose, the months spent there, fighting off the grown-ups, learning to survive from day to day. Memories of Arran …
Arran who had died.
Arran and all the others.
Another life. Another time.
The only reality now was that mob of grown-ups, waiting to attack. Was there going to be anything on the other side? Was a giant hand going to pull her across to safety? Or was this it? Did it all end here today?
She looked around. Jordan was sitting up on his platform, talking quietly and urgently with Blu-Tack Bill. He still hadn’t given the order for his troops to take their proper places. Maybe he didn’t want the enemy to know his plans. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do now that David was involved. David had punched him in the mouth before the battle had even started.
Well, Maxie wouldn’t wait any longer. She climbed the crude steps to the top of Jordan’s platform. Jordan gave her a dirty look. She didn’t have the authority to be up here.
‘We have to do something,’ she said.
‘Is my decision,’ said Jordan.
‘Then make it.’
‘Things have changed.’
‘Really? What’s changed? They’re still as many as they were. They may be more organized, but they’re organized by David somehow. Does that scare you? What does he know about fighting battles? Come on, Jordan, that’s why we put you in charge and not him. He doesn’t have a clue. Once this thing kicks off it’s gonna be chaos. How’s he
gonna know what’s happening? He’ll just tell them to attack and that’s it. So how is that any different to how it was before?’
Jordan said nothing for a few seconds and then nodded. Didn’t look at Maxie.
‘Good point,’ he said.
‘So do we get into position?’
‘We got no choice. We got to kill those things before they spawn. Or whatever it is they planning to do.’
‘Yeah,’ said Maxie. ‘It’s pretty straightforward. We kill them all and go home.’
Jordan smiled, nodded again, had a few quiet words with Bill. And then someone was running over from the west, shouting up to Jordan. Maxie saw that it was Hayden, one of the Tower girls. She climbed up the ladder on to the roof.
‘There’s been an attack,’ she said.
‘Where? What do you mean?’ Maxie saw that Jordan wouldn’t look at her either.
‘At the museum,’ said Hayden. ‘A breakaway group of sickos went round and attacked from the west.’
‘Why they do that? They never gonna get in there.’
‘Some smaller kids were out on the streets. It looked like maybe they weren’t trying to get into the museum as such.’
‘Was Sam with them?’ Maxie asked, suddenly anxious. This whole thing was about protecting Sam. Whitney had orders not to let him out of the museum.
‘Yeah.’
Maxie could hardly bear to ask it. ‘Is he … all right?’
‘I think so. Some kids were killed, though.’
‘Do you know who?’
‘Whitney …’
‘Not Whitney.’ Maxie cut her off. Whitney was one of her girls. Please not Whitney.
‘Yeah. Afraid so,’ said Hayden. ‘And Paddy. Only two names I remember … oh yeah, Froggie and his sister?’
‘Oh Jesus. Paddy. Was Achilleus not there to protect them?’
‘He’s still hiding out in his room apparently.’
‘He liked that boy,’ said Jordan flatly. ‘What happened to the sickos?’
‘Quite a few were killed. The rest just sort of wandered off. Probably making their way back here.’
Now Jackson climbed up on to the roof. What with the musicians who were sitting there, patiently waiting for orders, it was becoming a popular spot.
‘I’m going back,’ she said.
‘What you mean?’ Jordan asked.
‘I’m going back to make sure everything’s all right at the museum,’ said Jackson. ‘What if the grown-ups attack again? What if they get to Sam?’
‘No way they can get inside the museum,’ said Jordan.
‘But what if they do?’ said Jackson. ‘This is all so different. We don’t know what they might be able to do.’
‘I need you here,’ said Jordan. ‘Without Achilleus, you in charge of his unit.’
‘Will can take command till I get back,’ said Jackson. ‘But I have to see that they’re all right back there. Cameron’s in charge, but he can be dozy. We didn’t think we needed someone good at the museum.’
‘Well, you needed here,’ said Jordan. ‘Half your fighters are still back there. They never come to the battle.’
‘I still need to make sure the museum’s all right,’ said Jackson. ‘What’s the point of winning a war if when you go home your country’s been blitzed? Everyone killed? What is it exactly we’re fighting for here?’
‘Jackson, wait,’ said Jordan. But Jackson was already climbing down. She got to the bottom and Maxie watched her walk quickly away to the south.
Before Jordan could say anything they heard David calling over from the front line of grown-ups.
‘Well?’ he shouted. ‘Have you made your decision? Fight or live?’
Maxie swore. Right now she hated David more than she thought she could ever hate anyone.
‘Fight or live?’ Jordan repeated. ‘I choose live.’
‘You’re surrendering?’ said Maxie.
‘Not the way I style it,’ said Jordan. ‘I’m fighting and I’m winning and I’m living. The full package.’
He stood up and finally gave the order to his musicians. The trumpeters blared out the signal. The drummers beat out a rhythm. Off to the left, the rest of Matt’s musicians joined in and the green kids raised their banners.
‘We will defeat the Nephilim!’ Matt shouted, his hoarse voice rising above the din. ‘They are locusts. In number they are like the sand on the seashore. They have one purpose. They will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings – and with him will be his chosen and faithful followers.’
Maxie’s heart was thumping. She looked over at David who was furious. Red-faced. Quickly getting out of the way so that he wasn’t trapped between the two armies.
‘You’re a fool!’ he screamed. ‘You’re all fools. You can’t possibly win.’
‘Ollie,’ Jordan called. ‘Shut him up. Take him out.’
Ollie was waiting with his missile unit behind the barricade that connected the LookOut building with the parks buildings over to the west.
Ollie looked confused, came closer.
‘You mean?’
‘Shoot him,’ shouted Jordan. ‘Shoot all the front rank.’
‘Too far away,’ said Ollie, and Maxie wondered if they were, or whether Ollie was just saying that because he didn’t want to hurt another kid, even one as rotten as David.
‘Well, when they near enough. You go to it, soldier.’
‘We will.’
Bill whispered something into Jordan’s ear. Jordan nodded.
‘On my command,’ Jordan shouted. ‘Bill knows the distances.’
The missile kids were all taking their positions, climbing up on to platforms built into the barricade.
Maxie slid down the ladder and went to find Blue, who was waiting with their unit. She hugged him quickly, broke away. There would be no more of that until this was over. Right now it was time to fight.
But God, she was scared. She bent down and threw up into the grass. She wasn’t alone; all around her kids were puking, crying, holding each other.
‘You know why you did that?’ said Blue, an amused expression on his face
‘Because I’m terrified.’
‘No. Is because your body doesn’t want to waste blood on digesting food. It needs to save it in case it’s needed somewhere else. That guy Shadowman told me.’
‘In case I need to bleed,’ said Maxie. ‘I’m glad you shared that with me.’
‘We the same blood,’ he said. ‘If you bleed I bleed.’
‘I don’t want you to bleed for me, you idiot,’ said Maxie. ‘I want you to make them bleed.’
‘Is what I intend to do.’
‘They’re coming!’ someone shouted and Maxie looked round.
Sure enough, the grown-ups were moving, shuffling forward as one, heading straight towards the defences. St George and the long-haired woman held back, letting their troops pass them, so that they wouldn’t come in range of the missiles. And instead another group came to the front to lead the army in.
Maxie recognized them. She’d seen them before somewhere.
‘Where are they from?’ she asked Blue. ‘I know them.’
‘The palace,’ said Blue. ‘That’s the royal family.’
Maxie couldn’t believe it. She started to laugh. This was too much. The most surreal day she had ever lived.
A stupid day to die.
50
‘You’ve got to come! Before it’s too late, it’s too late! You’ve got to come fast. You’ve got to help us. We’re in terrible danger. You have to get here as soon as you can. They’re being killed. Sam! They’re after Sam. Help him. Help the boy. They’ve killed the boy. You have to help us! They’ve killed the boy. Come now! Please come now! We need you … Mister Three? You’ve got to hear me. Mister Three, wake up! Anybody! Can you hear me? They’ve killed the boy!’
Skinner was in a panic. And it was Fish-Face who’d done it to him when she’d gone into
meltdown – twittering, flapping her arms, filling his head with her noise. He knew that she was attempting to communicate with the others. With the Warehouse Queen, and with Trinity who’d gone west with Ed. He knew she was only trying to help, but he could feel her panic in his mind, and her message was getting distorted, tangled, garbled, swirling and whirling and painful. He wanted to keep her out. To shut her up. Even though he knew that it was important she tried to contact the others. There was a danger, though, that her tangled broadcast would just confuse them. It was so strong and insistent. No avoiding the main point of the message. That was coming through loud and clear …
HELP!
It was the details that were in danger of getting muddled.
It was like a repeated SOS from a downed aeroplane or something, sending out its distress signal over and over again.
Skinner felt awful. Twisted up inside. He and Fish-Face had been in the main hall when Whitney had gone charging past, shouting, ‘Help him! Help the boy! They’re after Sam – we have to help him.’
They’d followed her outside and witnessed the fight in the street. It was then that Fish-Face had started broadcasting her manic message, channelling what Whitney had shouted and adding stuff of her own. Doing it automatically, without even thinking. The words had smashed into Skinner’s consciousness, making it hard to think, and they were still there, like moths batting at a bright window.
Skinner had gone over to the fence and seen the last of the smaller kids come stumbling back to safety. Watched as the sickos crowded along the railings and the museum kids stabbed at them and pushed them back. Watched in panic as some of the sickos tried to climb the railings and were killed. And all the while Fish-Face was broadcasting her SOS – ‘They’re after Sam. Help him. They’re being massacred.’ Panicked thoughts and confused words, round and round.
And they’d seen the bodies lying in the street.
Skinner had been desperately sad. He’d liked Whitney. She was funny and tough. And, when he found out that Paddy was among the dead, he was even sadder. Paddy had been so full of life. And of course that had set Fish-Face off worse, adding Paddy into her distress signal.