Un Lun Dun

Far below was a patch of waste ground, dotted with crumbling buildings on which enormous insects busily fed. Two more grossbottles— one vivid blue, one a shining purple— rose above their revolting siblings and flew towards the bus, figures visible in the platforms on their backs.

15. A Sort of Delivery

“This is the plan.”

The bus juddered and arced. “Rosa can’t avoid both those grossbottles. We have to get you out of here,” Jones said to Za

“What about the passengers?” Za

“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “I’ll make sure they’re looked after. But the longer those things follow us, the more of a head start you’ll have.”

The toga-wearing man was gagged, blindfolded, and tied up. “We’ll get him to the Propheseers,” Jones said. “And we’ll meet you there. Okay?”

“You’re going to make us go on alone?” Za

She and Deeba stared at each other, aghast.

“You can’t!” said Deeba. “We don’t know anything about where we’re going!”

“We don’t know where we are…”

“We just can’t…”

“I know,” Jones said gently. “Believe me, I wouldn’t if I had any choice. We don’t have much time. There are two gangs of skyjackers on the way, and we have to get them off your trail. They know where you’re trying to get, but we can mislead them as to how you’ll get there.”

“Please…” said Za

“You’re the Shwazzy,” he said, silencing her. “You can do this.”

“What about me?” said Deeba. “I’m not.”

“Look to your friend,” Jones told her. “Together, you’ll be okay.”

“Obaday,” Za

“Can you…?” said Jones to Skool, who slumped in dejection and pointed at the heavy diving boots, miming I am too slow.

“You can do this, Shwazzy,” Jones repeated.

The bus plunged. Passengers screamed. The grossbottles homed in.

“We have one go at this,” Jones said. “We’ll only lose them for a few seconds. We’ll drop you at the edge of Slateru

“Tell them if they give you safe passage they’ll have earned the gratitude of the UnLondon conductors. Now hold on. Rosa’s going to do her stuff.”

UnLondon came so fast all Za

“Now, Rosa!” Jones shouted.

Instantly the bus zigzagged and, so suddenly that the shock sent them lurching forward, stopped.

“Now! Now!” hissed Jones, bundling Za

“Jump,” said Jones. They hesitated a second, then thought of the flies close behind them. First Za

They landed in the bottom of the V, and the air was knocked out of them.

The bus was hovering. “Are you okay?” Jones hissed, Skool peering over his shoulder. The girls nodded. “That way to the bridge. Stay high and find Chief Badladder. Tell her I sent you. Show her the pass. Tell her I’ll owe her. Stay safe.” He blew them a kiss, and shouted at Rosa to go.

The bus soared, something pale seemed to drop from it, and it shot away. The two grossbottles droned into view, buccaneers on their backs, and scudded in the bus’s wake.

“What was that?” said Za

“I du

Wind chilled Za

The two girls sat in the cold. Silence settled on them like damp. They shivered. They were tired and overwhelmed, and suddenly very, very alone.

16. Stuck

“Come on,” said Za

“I bet I could,” Deeba said, but she stood, holding Curdle.

“We deserve to,” Za

The UnSun was getting lower, and the sky darker.

“We have to find somewhere to shelter,” Za

“And food,” said Deeba.

They clambered laboriously up the slope, hauled themselves onto the ridge, and stared.

They were in the middle of undulating roofs, a slatescape in red and gray and the color of rust. It rose and fell like mountainside, steep, shallow, deep, flat, interrupted by trenches where streets must run, unlit alleys between houses. The angles were broken by dormer windows, by squat chimneys like patches of mushrooms, by tangles of ante

They stared for a long time in the direction Za

“What do we do?” said Deeba. “How do we get anywhere?”

“I don’t know,” said Za

“You’re kidding,” she said. Sighing, she put Curdle in her bag, and— slowly— followed her friend.

They stopped, suddenly, as an awful bleating cry sounded nearby, and was answered from a long way off.

“What was that?” whispered Deeba.

“How should I know?” Za

“Well I’m not Shwazzed. You know everything, Shwazzy. Shwa me what you can do.”

“Shut up,” said Za

“Shwat up yourself.” Za

They gripped a chimney stack and waited for their hearts to slow down. Far off, they could see the rise of tower blocks and the odd shell or vegetable or typewriter-and-fridge roof of UnLondon, but for a long way, it was just foreboding hillocks of slate.

The air was darkening. Deeba leaned into the chimney. Curdle nuzzled her forlornly.

“Oh man,” Deeba said. She couldn’t stop herself saying, “I want my mum and dad. How do we get down?”

“Why in the name of Unstible,” a loud voice said, “would you want to get down?”

Za

They were surrounded.

There were men and women on the ledges. They wore tough-looking furs and padded boots.

They trotted carelessly on brick ledges, somersaulted like gymnasts, and landed poised on slopes. One man had a baby strapped to him in a harness on his chest. It gurgled happily as he scampered up and down giddying slopes.

“ ‘Get down’ indeed,” the same voice said.

On a roof overlooking them was a tall, athletic, imperious-looking woman. She strode casually, reached a gap between buildings, jumped calmly over it, and landed on her toes. She took hold of an ante

“You, young grubs, are in the territory of the Slateru

Za

“We’re looking for someone called Badladder,” Za

“Oh are you?” the woman said, and the Slateru

“Conductor Jones dropped us here,” Za

“He had to go,” said Deeba. “He wanted to stay but—”

“We were being chased by grossbottles,” Za