The Enemy

‘Well, what if one or two did want to stay?’ said Arran. ‘How would you survive, Callum? It’s crazy.’

‘I’ll tell you what’s crazy,’ said Callum angrily. ‘You lot, going off out there, just because some weird kid in a patchwork suit turns up. It’s like that fairy story, the pied piper of Hamelin, where he takes the kids away and, I don’t know, eats them, or something.’

‘That’s not what happens.’

‘Yeah, well, whatever, it hasn’t got a happy ending. Why did you listen to that idiot? Hmm? Why did you believe him? He’s obviously lying.’

Arran looked around the supermarket. Where he had spent the last year of his life. They were on the shop floor, surrounded by row upon row of empty shelving. He was sick of the sight of the place.

‘Callum,’ he said steadily. ‘Anything’s better than staying here and dying one by one.’

‘It doesn’t have to be like that. You do what you want, Arran, but I’m staying.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why not?’ The thought of getting out of here filled Arran with a light, airy feeling. He’d had a bad night. The pain in his neck had steadily grown worse. He didn’t know if he’d slept at all. Now his head was throbbing, his eyes were dry and sore, and he was sweating heavily. The last thing he wanted to do was hang around here worrying about himself.

He looked at Callum, sitting stubbornly in an old armchair, as if nothing in the world could shift him.

‘What if the grown-ups get in?’ he said.

‘They won’t try and get in if they think there’s no one here.’

‘They’re bound to try, though, and I mean… Jesus, Callum, come on, what will you eat?’

‘I can scavenge just like you did. If there’s less of us, there’s less mouths to feed. It’ll be easier actually.’

‘Yes, and what if it’s just you? What then?’

‘It won’t be. Loads of other kids will want to stay. You’re forcing us out and we don’t like it.’

Arran sighed.

‘All right. I’ll ask them,’ he said.

He walked outside into the sunshine. All the Waitrose kids and the Morrisons crew were assembled there – fifty-seven of them in all. Carrying sleeping-bags and rucksacks, food, water and weapons.

‘Callum says he’s not coming,’ Arran a

‘Typical.’

‘He only ever thinks about himself.’

‘Leave him. He’s not a fighter. We can live without him.’

‘We can’t just leave him here, though,’ said Maxie. ‘He’ll die.’

‘So what?’ said Achilleus. ‘Let’s get going.’

Arran shouted them down. ‘Does anyone else want to stay?’

No one.

The kids stood in silence, shaking their heads.

‘You sure?’ said Arran. ‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want. Who’d rather stay here with Callum?’

Still no one.

Arran closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. There was nothing for it: he would just have to persuade Callum to come. He strode back inside.

Bernie turned to Ben. They looked very pale out here. Their black clothes accentuating the whiteness of their skin. They hardly ever went outside.

‘Shame to be leaving it all,’ said Bernie. ‘Everything we built.’

‘We can build more,’ said Ben. ‘If Jester’s telling the truth we can make loads of cool stuff in the palace. We can rebuild the whole of London. We’ll be famous. They’ll put up statues to us.’

‘Yeah, but… the speaking tubes, the barriers, the cookers we rigged up in the canteen, the new signalling system we were working on. It took us ages.’

‘You want to stay?’ said Ben.

Bernie looked wistfully over towards the supermarket.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I want to be a million miles from here. It reminds me too much of everything we’ve lost. All the friends who’ve died. All the bad times.’

‘It’s a fresh start,’ said Ben. ‘We’ll build newer and better stuff.’

‘Yeah.’ Bernie smiled and put an arm around Ben.

Nearby a group of little kids was clustered round one of the Morrisons crew. A tiny six-year-old called Joel who had an even tinier puppy wrapped in an old jacket in his arms.

‘Oh, he’s so cute.’

‘Look at him, he’s licking my hand.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Godzilla,’ said Joel and they all laughed.

Maxie looked on and smiled. They’d kept dogs in Waitrose at first, as guard dogs and companions, but it had got too difficult to feed them and they’d become semi-wild. In the end they’d had to turn them loose. They were probably dead now, along with most of the other pets that had relied on humans.

And it wasn’t just pets. Even the rats were gone. With no people around to leave rubbish and scraps there hadn’t been enough food to support their vast population. They’d starved, or moved on, or been eaten by cats. The cats had eaten the rats, the dogs had eaten the cats, the grown-ups had eaten anything they could – rats, cats, dogs, kids, each other. Everything was trying to eat everything else.

Maxie noticed a kid on the edge of the group, not joining in. He just stood there, wide-eyed, moulding a big lump of Blu-tack in his hands. She went over to him and crouched down.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked. The boy stared at her but didn’t speak. Instead he rolled the Blu-tack out into a long rope between his fingers.

‘He don’t speak,’ said Blue, walking up. ‘Not since his mum and dad died.’

‘Poor little guy.’

‘He’s not deaf, or nothing.’

‘No.’

‘We call him Blu-Tack Bill. He’s always playing with the stuff. Only thing that keeps him happy.’

Maxie smiled at Bill and noticed that he had formed the Blu-tack into a letter B. B for Bill.

‘I suppose we’re all going to have to get to know each other,’ Maxie said to Blue.

‘Guess so.’

‘I’m Maxie, by the way.’

‘S’all right, girl. I know who you are.’

Maxie smiled awkwardly, not sure how to take this. Blue scared her slightly. He reminded her of boys from before, the ones that shouted at you in the street and laughed with their mates when you tried to ignore them.

‘Are you, like, Arran’s girlfriend?’ Blue asked.

‘No,’ said Maxie a little too quickly and a little too indignantly. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Du

‘Is Whitney your girlfriend?’

‘Whitney? No way.’ Blue laughed.

Maxie made a face that said ‘well then’.

Arran came out of the shop, a dark look on his face. Maxie went over to him.

‘No luck?’ she asked.

‘He won’t budge.’

‘We could force him.’

‘What’s the point? If he doesn’t want to come, he doesn’t have to.’

‘We can’t leave him.’

‘I don’t think we’ve got any choice.’

‘Maybe I should speak to him,’ said Maxie.

‘Waste of time.’ Arran approached Blue. ‘Any of your lot want to stay?’

‘Nah. We’ve had enough of Holloway. We’re going to the palace.’

He gri

It was hard to believe. They really were going to Buckingham Palace.

One of Blue’s deputies ambled over in a loose shuffle. He was tall and bony with a messy Afro and a sleepy look about him. He scratched an armpit.

‘You ready?’ he drawled.

‘Yeah.’ Blue nodded to Maxie. ‘Lewis, this is Maxie. Maxie – Lewis. He looks dopey but don’t be fooled for a moment. He’s a killer. He’ll be protecting the left-hand side.’

Lewis smiled sleepily and lifted a hand in greeting to Maxie.

‘OK,’ said Maxie. ‘I guess if Callum’s not coming, then we’re ready to go.’

Blue, Arran and Jester had spent the morning working out a plan of action. As usual, they would stick to main roads and stay in the middle, keeping well away from the buildings on either side. Arran and Blue were to lead the group along with Jester and the best fighters from each crew. Maxie was taking the right flank with a smaller gang, Lewis the left. Ollie was in charge of bringing up the rear with a motley crew of skirmishers. The remaining older kids would be in the middle surrounding the little kids who were being looked after by Whitney and Maeve and some of the more responsible girls. Two of the kids had been assigned to keep the register, one for each crew. Josh was keeping it for Waitrose and Whitney for Morrisons. It was their job to keep track of everyone, so that nobody got left behind. Josh took out his list and carefully drew a line through Callum’s name. He felt a bit bad about it. He had spent a lot of time with Callum up on the roof. They were mates. But Callum had been a bit weird lately and in a way Josh was glad to be rid of him.