Текст книги "The Enemy"

Автор книги: Charlie Higson

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

40

Sam had had a bad time, slipping in and out of sleep and troubled by half-waking dreams. It didn’t make it any easier having his hands locked together. Although he could just lie down on the seats, the handcuffs bit into him and rubbed his skin.

He was woken by a sound from outside. Something scraping along the roof of the carriage. It moved, and stopped and waited, then moved again. Little cautious movements like an animal would make. The carriage creaked slightly. Sam stared up with gritty, sore eyes. They were playing tricks on him in the half-light and he kept thinking he could see something coming through the roof. Some dark and twisted animal, unfolding out of the shadows. Then he would blink and it was gone.

He felt groggy and confused. Cold. Helpless.

After a while he became aware of another sound. Like some small creature whimpering. He realized eventually it was one of the twins crying.

It was the boy. Sam talked to him and tried to comfort him. His name was Jason. He was very weak and wanted his mum and dad. Sam didn’t really know what to say. He wished he had someone to comfort him, but at least it took his mind off his own troubles for a moment.

Suddenly there was a roar and a thud and Sam nearly jumped out of his skin as the door slid open. Nick came in, carrying a plastic basin. In the permanent night-time world of the tube station Sam had no idea what time it was.

Nick looked round at the four kids.

‘Who needs the loo?’ he asked. Jason said very quietly that he did. Nick unlocked the end of his chain from the handrail above and led him to the bucket at the other end. Jason could hardly walk; his legs were flabby and weak. Nick almost had to carry him.

Nick stood over Jason as he went to the toilet. Sam didn’t think he could go to the loo with someone watching him, and was determined to hold it in as long as he could.

Afterwards Nick slopped some food from the basin into four plastic bowls. It was porridge. Made with salt and water. Sam put his to the side to eat later.

‘Best eat it now, kiddo,’ Nick commanded. ‘I need the bowls back.’

Sam reluctantly did as he was told. Shovelling the gloopy porridge into his dry mouth. Afterwards Nick passed round a bottle of water and cleaned out some of the dirty straw where one of the twins had had an accident in the night.

Sam plucked up the courage to speak.

‘Why are you keeping us prisoner?’ he said.

‘Prisoner? We’re not keeping you prisoner, kiddo,’ Nick said, not unkindly.

‘Then why are we chained up in here?’

‘For your own safety. Don’t want you wandering off out there and getting lost. Or caught by no nasties.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘Listen,’ said Nick, ruffling Sam’s hair. ‘We just want you to get fit and well and eat properly, then we’ll see about what we’re going to do with you. Now don’t go worrying yourself. You need to rest.’

He tidied the carriage, tested all the chains and went out before closing the door behind him and wedging it fast. There were candles still burning on the platform, but inside the carriage it was dark. Sam sat there miserably, trying to keep dark thoughts from his mind. Once again he heard the thing on the roof. Shuffling, scraping, sliding.

‘What’s that noise?’ he said.

‘Rats, probably,’ said Rhiannon. ‘Or the cat looking for rats.’

‘Do rats ever get in here?’

‘No. Nothing gets in here except Nick and Rachel.’

The shuffling noise seemed to shift to the side of the roof.

‘I don’t think it’s rats,’ said Sam.

‘Forget it,’ said Rhiannon. ‘You hear all sorts of things down here.’

Sam stared at the side window for a long time. His eyesight was swimming with blurry dots that weaved themselves into random shapes and broke apart.

He blinked and saw a face at the window staring back at him.

It was floating there, seemingly without a neck or body. Sam wasn’t sure if it was even human. It was filthy. Covered in dirt. With a bald, pointy crown and a wild straggly beard sprouting from its chin. In the centre of its face were two wide eyes, the whites showing around the pupils.

Sam realized with horror that it had no mouth or nose.

He tried to scream, but his throat was frozen, like in a dream.

Yes. A dream. It must be. Something like that couldn’t be real.

It was still there, though.

Sam stared at it for half a second, and then it winked and disappeared.

‘Did you see that?’ Sam whispered.

‘What?’

Sam thought for a while. The image of the inhuman face was seared on his memory. He couldn’t dislodge it from his brain. The smooth stretch of skin where its mouth should have been upset him in a way he didn’t really understand.

‘Nothing,’ he said.

41

Ben and Bernie were sitting on a camp bed in the middle of the ballroom they were using as a dormitory, watching the other kids argue. Bernie shook her head and took hold of Ben’s hand. Why did the fighters always get so pumped up about everything? She was glad Ben wasn’t a fighter. He was clever and gentle and funny. She’d never liked macho guys. The two of them had been bullied at first, but when it became clear that they had some very useful talents they’d been accepted. Bernie wasn’t sure she fully understood what the argument was about, and even if she did have an opinion she doubted they’d listen to her right now. This was war talk.

On one side were Blue, Achilleus, Big Mick and most of the best fighters. On the other were Whitney, Freak and Maxie, with Sophie and her archers. In the middle were Ollie and Lewis, trying to keep the peace. The little kids and the other non-combatants, like Ben and Bernie, were watching in silence. None of the palace kids were present.

It was times like these that Bernie really missed Arran. He’d have sorted this mess out ages ago. The argument was going round in circles.

‘Look, there isn’t anything to discuss,’ said Freak, not for the first time. ‘The fact is, we shouldn’t be fighting other kids. End of.’

‘Exactly,’ said Maxie.

‘Admit it, Freaky-Deaky,’ said Achilleus. ‘You’re just bottling it.’

Freak swore at Achilleus.

‘Can’t you two lovers keep your personal fight out of this?’ said Whitney. ‘This is serious.’

‘It’s boring,’ said Achilleus. ‘You’re all just a bunch of wimps.’

‘The thing is,’ said Big Mick, ‘these other kids, these squatters, don’t mean nothing to me. Us lot in here is all that matters.’

‘And what about the palace kids?’ said Maxie.

‘What about them?’ said Mick. ‘I like it here.’

Freak jumped up to make a point. He was getting very emotional. Bernie hoped for his sake he didn’t start blubbing. ‘Arran said something, the night we found Jester, he said that every kid in London is one of our own.’

‘That’s right’, said Ben.

‘Nobody asked your opinion, Emo,’ said Achilleus.

Now it was Sophie’s turn to speak. She’d stayed quiet up until now, but Bernie could tell she’d been listening very carefully and waiting for her moment.

‘Can I say something?’

Maxie sighed. ‘This is not really anything to do with you.’

‘She’s one of us, now,’ said Ollie.

‘Is she?’

‘Will you please let me speak, Maxie,’ said Sophie, a hard edge to her voice. Maxie looked embarrassed and stared at the floor.

‘Go on,’ said Ollie.

‘As far as I’m aware, I’m the only one here who knows what it’s actually like to kill another kid. I wish I didn’t know how that felt. But I do. It feels horrible. There isn’t a minute goes by in any day when I don’t regret it. Even though I didn’t mean to do it. I’m not going to put myself in a position where it might happen again. Whatever you decide, I’m not going down there.’

‘The girl’s right,’ said Whitney. ‘We don’t kill no other kids.’

‘I can’t believe you’re even discussing it,’ said Maeve.

‘OK, OK, everyone just calm down,’ said Ollie. ‘Let’s not get carried away here. Nobody’s suggesting we go into the squatter camp and kill them all. David just wants a show of strength.’

‘We’re just going to shake them up a little,’ said Mick.

‘But why?’ said Maxie. ‘What are they to do with us?’

‘You know what?’ said Lewis, which surprised Bernie, because she thought he’d dozed off. He’d been sitting back against a wall, eyes closed, his Afro bigger than ever since he’d washed it. ‘I think, in a way, maybe David’s right. If we ever want to go back to any sort of normal life we have to make everywhere safe. Not just this little bit.’

‘Right, so we make London safe by attacking people, is that it?’ said Freak, sarcastically. ‘Don’t sound safe to me, sounds like war.’

‘It’s only war if they want to make it war, bro,’ said Lewis.

‘Oh, so it’s their fault…’

‘I agree with Lewis,’ said Ollie. ‘If these squatters listen to us – if they can work with us – then we’ve got allies. We expand, we take over this area properly, then we move further out –’

‘What do you mean, “we”?’ Maxie interrupted. ‘You mean David. He’s the one wants to take over London.’

‘Why can’t you accept, Maxie,’ said Ollie, ‘that David’s got a good thing going on here? And we can help him build on it. If all the little scattered groups of kids in London can link up, before you know it we have civilization again.’

‘So we make peace by making war?’ said Freak.

‘I guess so,’ said Ollie. ‘If that’s what it takes. Look at the ancient Greeks, the ancient Romans…’

‘I don’t know nothing about all that,’ said Freak. ‘I only know that the real enemy is the grown-ups.’

‘And we have to unite if we want to defeat them,’ said Ollie. ‘If we can’t unite, then they win. It’s as simple as that. I’m sure these squatter kids will see reason. I’m sure we won’t have to fight them.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ said Maxie. ‘You don’t know them.’

‘I’ve made up my mind,’ said Blue. ‘I’ve listened to enough yack-yack-yack for one night. I’m going down there tomorrow to take a look. Check these squatter dudes out. I’ll take anyone who wants to come with me. Anyone wants to stay here, that’s cool. I’m not forcing no one. But let’s see what these guys have got to say for themselves.’

‘And how do you think they’re going to react when you go marching down there armed to the teeth?’ said Whitney.

‘We’ll leave the heavy stuff behind,’ said Blue. ‘We won’t take no spears or swords and knives. Only wooden tool handles – you know, pickaxe handles, stuff like that. Just in case. If it does kick off we want to scare them, not kill them.’

‘That sounds like a good enough plan,’ said Ollie. ‘I’m with you.’

‘I still don’t like it,’ said Maxie. ‘But OK. Let’s at least check them out.’

42

Callum was running round his track. A circuit of the supermarket floor, in and out of the cabinets. He’d done sixteen laps and was going for twenty. He hadn’t slept well, and even now it was barely light outside. He’d had a good day yesterday, he’d found a stash of old magazines he’d forgotten about, and leafing through them had helped take his mind off his loneliness. Before going to bed, he’d gone up to the crow’s-nest to watch the sunset and to see if the grown-ups were still hanging around.

They were.

Dumb jerks.

And then he’d seen a new grown-up arrive and everything had changed.

He was a father. Fat and lumpy with boils. He wore shorts and an England vest with a cross of St George on it and had little patches of hair sticking out from his huge, bald head. So big it looked swollen. He had a pair of wire-framed glasses with no lenses in them and seemed more intelligent than the others, even having some sort of control over them. Callum had never known grown-ups to have a leader before, they usually just hunted in loose packs. This father seemed to be rallying them, organizing them. He had even turned up with a weapon. Just a club, but it was something else Callum hadn’t seen before.

The boss grown-up was surrounded by a little gang, some of whom also carried weapons. They were a mismatched bunch, but they stuck together. One had a metal-shafted arrow through his shoulder, another had a Man. U. shirt, another had no shirt at all, only one arm and his whole body was covered in blisters. The last one wore a filthy, pinstriped City suit and appeared to have a Bluetooth earpiece embedded in his ear.

The worst thing was when the bald fat one looked up and met Callum’s eye. He had seemed to smile.

Callum had worried about them all night. They looked dangerous. And as soon as there had been enough light he had crept out on to the balcony to see if they were still out there.

They were.

He still had two bombs and various missiles ready. If these new grown-ups made a concerted effort to smash their way in, he’d just have to use all his firepower. For the time being all he could do was watch and wait.

He told himself he was just tired. That’s what his mother always used to say, whenever he was cross or worried about something – ‘You’re just tired’ or ‘Have you had a glass of water?’ or ‘Have some fruit, your blood sugar’s probably low…’

The fat arsehole in the St George vest would get bored sooner or later and wander off. They always did. There was no point in getting worked up about it.

He’d run a bit longer. That would help.

Maybe thirty laps.

Maybe forty.

Maybe he’d just keep running forever.

43

Blue yawned and looked up at the sky. It was a grey morning with thickening clouds. It wasn’t yet seven o’clock and it looked like one of those days that was going to turn nasty. There was a distant rumble of thunder and he shivered. He’d rather have been in his bed right now, but there was work to be done.

They’d decided that the best time to go over to St James’s Park and check out the squatters was first thing, when they’d all still be asleep. Most of the fighters were going. Though Freak and Sophie’s team and a few others had opted out. Pod and Jester had joined them, with a squad of fighters from the palace.

‘So what’s the deal with David?’ Blue asked. ‘How come he ain’t with us?’

‘He’s not really a fighter,’ said Pod. ‘He’s more of a leader, yeah?’

Achilleus wandered over, swinging a sledgehammer handle. ‘And what about all those nerds in uniform?’ he said. ‘With the cool guns? How come they ain’t with us, neither?’

‘If David wanted a show of strength, why didn’t he send them down?’

‘With six guns and only about twenty bullets between them?’ said Pod. ‘They’re really just for show. And besides, they need to stay behind and, you know, guard the palace. If anyone, like, attacked while we were all out it’d be a total disaster.’

‘Tell us about the nerds,’ said Achilleus. ‘What’s their story?’

‘All the boys you see in uniform were from the same boarding school,’ said Jester. ‘Down in Surrey somewhere. When everything started to go wrong David led them all up into town. We’d already set up here in the palace, but it was chaos. David sorted us all out. He was head boy before.’

‘We used to play them at cricket,’ said Pod. ‘Not me, I was more of a rugger bugger. But our school.’

‘I suppose as he’d been to boarding school he knew how to organize kids,’ said Jester. ‘Some of the boys he brought with him work in the gardens or the kitchens, but most stayed as the palace guard. I think they did army training and everything at school.’

‘I still don’t think they’re as good street fighters as you guys,’ said Pod. ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you in action. I might pick up a few tips, yeah?’

‘I’m hoping we won’t be going into action,’ said Blue.

‘No, of course not, not today at least,’ said Pod.

‘We were kind of hoping the fighting was over.’

‘Come off it,’ said Jester. ‘You’d be bored stiff. You love fighting.’

Blue grunted. Could have been a yes or a no.

‘Are we going then?’ asked Achilleus, anxious to be off.

‘Guess so,’ said Jester.

‘Let’s move!’ Blue shouted and they tramped out through the gates.

As they passed the Victoria Memorial someone called out.

‘Look at that.’

The memorial had been vandalized. The Queen’s face had been sprayed yellow with two black eyes and a big smiley-face grin. And there, beautifully stencilled to the plinth below her, was a message. Two big words, multicoloured and vivid. They simply said:

‘ARRAN LIVES’

And under them the tag – ‘FREAKY-DEAKY’.

Maxie laughed when she saw it.

‘How can Arran be alive, man?’ said Achilleus. ‘I watched him burn.’

‘It’s a message from Freak,’ said Maxie. ‘Not to forget what Arran believed in.’

And there was Freak, standing at the top of the steps that led down from the statue, watching the kids troop past.

‘Freak’s an idiot,’ said Achilleus.

‘Don’t you believe in anything, Akkie?’

‘Looking after number one.’

Maxie shook her head and broke away from the group. She ran up the steps to where Freak was waiting.

‘Nice artwork.’

Freak shrugged.

‘You don’t have to go, you know,’ he said.

‘I know. But someone needs to make sure the fighters don’t get carried away. It could easily become stupid.’

‘Well, good luck, and take care.’ Freak hugged her.

‘You too,’ she said.

‘I wish Arran was here,’ Freak said quietly into her ear.

‘Yeah,’ said Maxie. ‘Now, I’d better go, or I’ll be left behind.’

Freak watched her jog over to the others and catch up with the tail as they went down into St James’s Park.

He prayed they’d all come back.

*

Jester slapped Blue on the back. ‘You see?’ he said. ‘This is where you belong, mate, at the head of an army. Not back in the palace doing all the boring crap. Watching vegetables grow. You’re a born general.’

‘Maybe.’

There was a lake running the length of the park. The water level had dropped a fair bit but it still contained a decent amount.

‘Perfect for irrigating crops,’ Jester explained. ‘Did you know? During the Second World War most of the parkland in London was turned over to allotments. There’s loads of space to grow stuff, easily enough to support the kids that are left. But you have to be secure or it won’t happen. Without security you’re reduced to scavenging, like you used to do, and like these squatters here have been doing.’

‘Who are they exactly?’ asked Achilleus.

‘They turned up a couple of months ago,’ said Jester. ‘Far as we know, they’d been wandering round London, taking stuff as they went. First thing they did when they got here was dig up all the crops we’d planted and eat them. If we try to go near and replant they attack us. They don’t want anything to do with us. I mean, they’ve tried to grow new crops, but they don’t know what they’re doing.’

‘They got someone in charge?’ Blue asked.

‘He’s called John.’

‘John what?’

‘Just John.’

‘Just John?’

‘Yes. Just John.’

‘Well, this guy, Just John, what’s he like?’

‘He’s hard to reason with,’ said Jester. ‘Harder even than you, Blue, if you can imagine.’

‘He’ll reason with this,’ said Achilleus, slapping his sledgehammer handle into the palm of his hand.

‘No fighting if we can avoid it,’ said Blue.

‘Yeah, right.’

The first drops of rain started to fall.

‘God’s policeman,’ said Jester.

‘You what?’

‘The police always used to pray for rain before any big demonstration, because people wouldn’t turn up. Nobody wants to run riot in the streets if it’s pouring with rain. Who’s going to want to fight in this?’

‘Let’s hope,’ said Blue.

Out on the right flank, Maxie put her sweat-top hood up. It would keep some of the rain off, and her new leather jacket was reasonably waterproof. She glanced over at the main body of kids. Ollie had left his position at the back and was making his way to the front. She wondered if everything was all right. She watched as Ollie approached Achilleus and said something. The two of them then broke away to the side to talk to each other in private.

Maxie liked Ollie, but she never quite knew what he was thinking, what was going on in that scheming, clever mind of his. Coming to the palace they’d had an aim, something to look forward to. It had kept them going. Kept them bound together. But since they’d arrived she wasn’t sure of anything any more.

The park opened out to their left into a larger patch of grassland. There was evidence of cultivation, mostly trashed, but someone had obviously tried to grow some new stuff. A few scrawny plants were drooping under the downpour. Other plants lay flat and dying in the mud.

It was a sorry sight.

‘Months of work wasted,’ said Jester. ‘This lot don’t know anything.’

Blue looked around and spotted a bedraggled knot of kids sheltering under the awning of the old café. A modern structure of wood and glass. They appeared to be armed, and a couple of them broke away and sprinted off in the other direction.

‘I guess they’ve seen us,’ said Blue.

‘Let’s keep on,’ said Jester. ‘Get this over with.’

‘Yeah.’ Achilleus spat into the rain.

They soon arrived at the outlying tents of the squatters. A mixed bag, large and small, expensive and cheap, flimsy and watertight. They clustered around the end of the park with no sense of order. A few sections of ramshackle barricade had been erected and two boys were keeping watch from under a piece of plastic sheeting.

The party from the palace walked into the camp. There was litter and rubbish everywhere, strewn all over the muddy ground, hanging in the trees, piled up in corners. There was an old pram filled with scrap wood. Apart from the few sentries they had seen there was nobody else around. They were all either asleep or sheltering in their tents.

Across the road at the end of the park was Horse Guards Parade, a large drill square enclosed on three sides by buildings. Behind the buildings the great circle of the London Eye was visible, rising up into the rain-heavy sky.

The squatters had built more permanent structures here: shacks and sheds and lean-tos, knocked together from scavenged materials. More plastic sheeting covered many of the buildings, but much of it was sagging under the force of the storm and simply pouring water on to the already sodden gravel of the square. It looked like a refugee camp.

The palace party trudged through puddles into the centre of the square where a welcoming party was coming out to meet them. They were a ragged bunch, tanned and raw-skinned from living outdoors.

At their head was a teenager armed with a thick staff that had three knives taped to the end of it. He was wearing a pair of long baggy shorts and nothing else. His bare chest was crudely tattooed and his short hair had been shaved into patterns a little like Achilleus. He had several teeth missing and a hard, bony face.

‘Just John, I presume,’ said Blue. ‘He don’t look much.’

‘Don’t trust him,’ said Jester.

‘Man,’ said Blue. ‘I don’t trust no one no more.’

With Just John was another older kid who looked a little like a pirate, with a bandanna tied around his head, a shirt with the sleeves cut off, the same long shorts as John and boots without socks. He was slapping a machete against his leg.

Behind them stood four big lads carrying baseball bats.

‘That you, Jester?’ Just John called out, squinting into the rain that was coming down fast and heavy now, battering the ground and sending up a misty spray.

‘Yeah,’ said Jester. ‘We’ve come to talk.’

‘Picked a nice day for it,’ said the pirate.

‘When are you going to learn?’ said Just John. ‘We don’t want to talk to you.’

‘And we’re never gonna leave,’ added the pirate.

‘We don’t want you to leave,’ said Jester. ‘We want you to work with us.’

‘Or what?’ said Just John.

‘Or we trash all this. We make you leave.’

‘You’ve tried before.’

‘Things are different now. We’ve got help.’

Just John looked over the ranks of newcomers with a look of pity and contempt.

‘Ooh. Am I supposed to be scared?’ he said.

‘Listen,’ said Jester. ‘This is stupid. Us kids have to stick together. You and us, we can make this whole area safe. You can live properly, eat proper food.’

‘We’re happy as we are,’ said John. ‘We get by.’

Maxie looked around at their camp. It was hard to tell in the rain but it looked a miserable, semi-permanent affair. Could anyone really choose to live like this?

‘What exactly is your argument with David?’ she called out.

‘Whassat?’ said John sneerily. ‘Did the bitch say something?’

Maxie tried not to get angry. She knew it wouldn’t help.

‘I asked you what exactly your argument with David is.’

‘What’s it to you? Who are you, anyway?’

‘We’ve come to help David.’

‘He getting girls to do his fighting for him now? He must be desperate.’

‘Answer my question,’ said Maxie.

‘Make me.’

Maxie didn’t know what to say. There was no reasoning with someone like this. She understood why David wanted a show of force.

Now the pirate spoke. ‘Our problem with David is that he’s a tosser,’ he said. ‘We don’t like him. We don’t want him telling us what to do. Acting like he owns London.’

‘Well, can’t you at least let them grow their food in the park?’ said Maxie.

‘Why should we?’ said the pirate. ‘It’s not his park.’ He twirled his machete around flashily. Showing off.

‘Now, why don’t you sorry bunch of losers sod off out of it and leave us alone?’ said Just John.

‘We need to sort this out once and for all,’ said Jester.

‘Go on then,’ said Just John and he laughed.

‘All right,’ said Achilleus, stepping forward.

Before John knew what was happening Achilleus let fly at his head. His sledgehammer handle made contact and John went down heavily.

He didn’t get up again.

Everyone from both sides looked at his still body in amazement.

‘What you do that for?’ said the pirate.

‘I didn’t like him,’ said Achilleus. ‘He was getting on my tits. Now – you – Captain Jack Sparrow, what’s your name?’

‘Carl,’ said the pirate.

‘Well, Carl, you seem a little more reasonable. Are you going to talk to us, or do we trash your camp?’

A laugh went up from some of the palace crew. Carl looked round, unsure of himself. He was soon joined by several more of his friends, all armed and looking for a fight.

‘What’s there to talk about?’ he said, readying his machete.

‘Fair enough,’ said Achilleus.

‘Stop it,’ said Maxie. ‘We don’t want a fight.’

‘You shouldn’t have started one then, should you?’ said Carl. ‘Cos now you’re going to have to finish it.’

Pod and his team started up a chant. ‘Fight – fight – fight…’

Maxie felt the situation slipping away from her.

There was a bright flash and a few seconds later a vicious clap of thunder. Maxie hadn’t thought it could rain any harder, but it did. The rain came down as a steady solid force. It made it hard to think.

The chanting continued. More squatters appeared, carrying an odd assortment of weapons. They looked confused. The rain streaming down their faces.

‘Back off,’ said Carl, seeing he had more support. ‘Someone’s going to get hurt.’

Fight – fight – fight – fight – fight – fight – fight – fight…

Achilleus stood there, sledgehammer handle at the ready, standing over Just John.

‘Bring it on, pirate…’

Carl advanced towards John, hoping to help him up.

‘I guess you don’t want to talk,’ said Achilleus. ‘That’s good, cos neither do I.’

‘Stop,’ Maxie yelled. ‘Just stop!’

Fight – fight – fight – fight – fight – fight – fight – fight…