The Enemy

There was only one of him. This was his kingdom now. He was Arran, Achilleus, Freak and Ollie all rolled into one. He hadn’t been making it up when he’d told Arran he thought that some other kids would want to stay, though. He’d half-hoped they would, but after the initial surprise that nobody did, he’d soon discovered that it was much better this way. There was nobody to get on his nerves. Just him and his stash. Alone. Peaceful. Bliss. No more arguments. No more petty fights. No more needling or bullying. Most of the time, being here had felt like being in the Big Brother house. Everyone living on top of each other, with nothing to do except moan and bitch. Occasionally a scav party had brought back books they’d looted, or games and puzzles, anything to lift the boredom, but it had never been enough.

Now there was nobody to tell him what to do. What was the point, if the adults had all died, of simply getting jumped-up kids to boss you about? Oh, sure, he liked Arran, but he didn’t ever remember voting that he should be in charge.

It would be different now. Callum could do whatever he wanted. He even had a portable CD player. He’d kept it hidden in his most secret stash, along with some CDs and, most important of all, batteries. Batteries were more precious than gold. They’d found stacks of them in the shop when they first arrived, and they’d thought that they would last forever. Callum had been the first to realize just how quickly they would run out, though, and had set about hoarding them. Now he didn’t have to hide them any more.

He was looking forward to putting on some music. He hadn’t listened to any music for about six months. A lot of the kids had had iPods and other MP3 players, but they were completely useless as there was no way to charge them. Deke had once found a solar charger in a shop, but it never worked properly and it had eventually got broken. And that was the end of that.

Until now.

Sweet.

Callum was nicely set up.

But now someone was trying to spoil it. Making a racket outside, drawing the attention of any grown-ups who happened to be in the area.

Well, they could make as much noise as they wanted. He wasn’t about to let them in. This was his crib now. It was not for sharing.

He closed his eyes. Soon, whoever was outside would go away and he could have some more peace and quiet.

15

The grown-ups hobbled down the road on bent legs. Some were dribbling. Some were clacking their teeth together and making a sort of humming, buzzing sound. Some scratched at their sores and rashes. Some were shaking all over and whipping their heads from side to side. One was missing a hand and his forearm was green and gangrenous. All of them were hungry and crazy and in pain. The creature by the shop was food. They would catch it and rip it open and feed on it. That was all that mattered to them.

Sam reckoned he had about thirty seconds before they got to him.

He studied the barriers, his eyes darting about wildly. He knew they couldn’t be forced, but they were built to keep out grown-ups and he was small – maybe he could find a way…?

He frowned. There was a small gap at the top. The barriers hadn’t been closed properly. If he could climb up he just might be able to squeeze through. He threw himself up and grabbed hold of the top of a metal sheet. It bit into his hands but he ignored the pain.

He glanced down the road. The grown-ups were nearly upon him.

His feet scrabbled on the metal, trying to get a grip. His trainers squeaked. He found a little bump and his foot held fast. Now he pulled and wriggled and kicked and then he was up. On his belly. He was right. He could just fit through the space at the top. It was tight, though, and he could hardly breathe as he forced his small body into the narrow gap, scraping his skin on the edges, his feet kicking out behind him like a mad frog.

He could hear the grown-ups. They had finally got here. He felt hands trying to take hold of his ankles. He kicked harder and with a mighty effort he wrenched his hips through and then slithered and tumbled down the other side into the covered mall.

Outside, the grown-ups whined and moaned. He hoped they couldn’t get in. The barrier was usually bolted shut, but the bars weren’t in place and the chain was hanging loose. Why hadn’t it been done properly?

Awful thoughts came into his head. What if there had been an attack, while he was gone? What if everyone was dead?

He ran over to the shutter. It hadn’t been wound down all the way. Again, a grown-up wouldn’t fit through. But he was Small Sam.

He wormed his way under on his belly and stood up. Slowly he walked further into the shop, fearful of what he might find.

It all looked the same as ever – except that it was deserted.

‘Hello?’

His voice sounded feeble and tiny.

He walked deeper inside.

Somebody was in an armchair. In the area at the back where they had cleared a space and moved in some furniture. Just sitting there. Doing nothing. He wasn’t dead, though, he blinked.

It was Callum.

‘Hello?’ said Sam, walking closer. ‘Are you all right?’ Callum nodded slowly, watchful. ‘How did you get in?’ was all he asked. No surprise or joy at seeing Sam back from the dead.

‘The barriers weren’t properly shut.’

‘I must have not closed them right when they left.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Sam. ‘When who left?’

Callum told Sam everything that had happened. Sam slumped down on a sofa, exhausted.

‘They can’t have gone,’ he said.

‘Well, they have. All of them.’

‘Except you.’

‘Except me.’

‘Why didn’t you go with them?’

Callum shrugged. ‘I like it here.’

‘Didn’t you hear me, though?’ said Sam. ‘When I was trying to get in? I rang the bell.’

‘I didn’t know it was you, did I? How could I have done? I thought it was one of them, a grown-up.’

‘It was me,’ said Sam and he started to cry. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was lie down on the sofa and go to sleep, but Callum was looking at him in an odd way. Sam was so confused. He wasn’t sure he trusted Callum. Wasn’t even sure that he was telling the truth. Had a raggedy boy really turned up and led everyone away?

‘My sister Ella,’ he said quietly. ‘I promised to look after her, and now she’s gone.’

‘They didn’t leave that long ago,’ said Callum. ‘You could catch up with them easy.’

‘I’d have to go back out there.’

‘Yeah.’ Callum nodded his head slowly, watching Sam with glittering black eyes.

Sam stood up. ‘Is there a bicycle pump here?’ he said.

16

Arran’s head was spi

The truth was, he felt awful, and he knew it was serious. Germs had got in through his broken skin and they were breeding in his blood.

He could have wept. If Jester had only showed up a few hours earlier, then Arran would never have gone up to the pool with the scav party. Deke would still be alive, and Small Sam too, probably. Then Arran wouldn’t have this bloody bite in his neck. It was typical to be shown a way out, to be offered a place of safety, to have hope dangled in front of you, only to have it snatched away like this.