The Enemy

Ollie was at the back of the group, nervously looking back the way they had come. The other skirmishers, armed with javelins, slings and rocks, were squatting in the shade of a van talking about football. Ollie wished they were taking this more seriously.

‘It’s not right,’ he said, trying to get their attention.

‘Chill out,’ said one of the Morrisons crew. ‘There’s no one around.’

‘Yeah, but there should be people around,’ said Ollie, squinting up the road towards the top of the hill. ‘We haven’t come down this way for ages because it’s always been too mad. So where are all the grown-ups now?’

‘They’re hiding from us, man,’ said the other boy. ‘Anyone tries to attack they’ll be mullered.’

Ollie looked round at the scattered group.

‘Everyone’s relaxed too much,’ he said.

‘Except you,’ said the boy, and the others laughed.

‘Be quiet a minute!’ Ollie put a finger to his lips.

‘What?’

‘You hear anything?’

‘No… No, wait. Now I hear something.’

There was a swooshing sound, like waves rolling pebbles across a beach, and a murmur like the wind.

‘Something’s coming,’ said Ollie.

Josh was moving among the kids, trying to keep them alert. Most grumbled at him and when he got to the Morrisons team who were supposed to be guarding the right flank they looked half asleep. Josh struggled to remember the name of the tall, dozy-looking kid with the Afro who was meant to be in charge. Lewis. That was it. He was sitting slumped against a shop front, his eyes closed.

‘We should be ready in case anything happens,’ said Josh, worried that he was sounding like some anxious teacher on a school journey.

‘I’m conserving my energy,’ said Lewis and he yawned.

‘You should be watching the flank. In case any grownups come in from the side.’

‘I’m listening,’ said Lewis. ‘I’ve got bat ears.’

‘I don’t want to be a pain in the arse,’ said Josh. ‘You might think this is all a joke but –’

‘It’s cool,’ said Lewis.

‘What’s cool?’

‘You’re cool, I’m cool, everything’s cool.’

‘If we lose any kids…’

‘I won’t lose you no kids, bro. I’m cool. You got nothing to fear, Lewis is here.’

‘You think I’m scared?’ said Josh. ‘I ain’t scared. Nothing scares me, man.’

‘If you say so, bro.’

‘Yeah, well, just tell me if your bat ears pick anything up.’

Lewis slowly opened his eyes.

‘I’m hearing something now, man.’ He jumped to his feet surprisingly quickly and Josh could see that his whole body was tensed. What had he heard?

‘Up, up, up!’ Lewis yelled at his team and in a moment they were all ready.

Arran was aware of shouting. Coming from the rear of the group. He’d been lost in his thoughts, trying to regain his strength so that they could get moving again.

‘What’s going on?’ he said.

‘Du

‘Help me up.’

‘Arran…’

‘Help me up, Maeve!’ Arran snapped and Maeve hauled him to his feet.

‘Where’s my club?’

Maeve fetched Arran’s pickaxe handle and gave it to him.

Lazy. He’d been lazy. He was supposed to be in charge, a leader. He pushed his way through the milling kids to the rear of the group where the commotion was. He saw Ollie. Ollie would know what was going on. He was sensible.

‘We heard something,’ Ollie explained.

Before Arran could say anything someone shouted.

‘Look!’

People were coming over the brow of the hill. A solid line of grown-ups, their shuffling feet scraping on the tarmac, a low moan rising from the herd.

Sounds like the seaside, Arran thought and closed his eyes for a moment. He was back in Portugal with his mum and dad. Lying on his back, sunbathing.

‘Have you got your cream on?’

‘Yes, Mum…’

She leant over him. Smiled. Arran liked it when she was happy. Then her smile grew wide so that her mouth was a gaping hole surrounded by jagged teeth. She lunged at him…

‘I’ve got my cream on!’ Arran shouted.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Arran wiped sweat from his face.

‘Jesus,’ said Ollie. ‘There’s loads of them.’

‘Get into place!’ Arran yelled, just as Blue ran up with Jester and the rest of the fighters.

Arran was pleased to see how fast the kids got themselves together and back into battle formation.

The front line of grown-ups stopped about a hundred metres away and the two groups stood looking at each other.

‘What are they doing?’ said Blue.

‘God knows.’

Jester whistled. ‘They’re like a bloody army,’ he said. ‘Can you take them, d’you think?’

‘Don’t know,’ said Blue. ‘I’ve never seen so many in one place before. They ain’t usually this organized.’

A smaller group of grown-ups pushed to the front and stepped clear of the pack. Almost as if they were in charge. At the vanguard of this new group was a huge fat father whose neck didn’t seem able to support the great ca

‘They must have been following us,’ said Arran, his head clearing as his system was pumped full of adrenalin. ‘We need to avoid a fight if we can.’

‘How we go

‘We’ll back off,’ said Arran. ‘See what happens. Maybe get to somewhere safer. Somewhere we can defend. Where’s Ollie?’

‘Here.’

‘Stay with us. We’ll need your fire-power.’

He and Blue shouted orders and the kids began to retreat from the grown-ups. Arran and the best fighters stayed at the back, facing the enemy. The road in the other direction was still clear. Maxie and Lewis kept with their teams on the flanks. The little kids had formed into a tight, frightened bunch in the middle. They were huddled so closely together that it was difficult to keep them moving. They kept bumping into each other and anxiously looking back. Maeve and Whitney goaded them, shoving them along, encouraging them, telling them not to worry, but there was a mounting sense of panic.

Staying indoors all the time, the little kids had been sheltered from the worst of the fighting. They weren’t used to this. Some of the older kids, too. They weren’t all fighters.

The grown-ups kept pace with them, advancing down the hill. Creeping closer. The father in the St George vest still at their head.

‘Stay together,’ Arran shouted.

Then three emaciated grown-ups blundered out from a side-street, so starved they might as well have been skeletons. They made a dash towards the little kids to try to separate them from the group, but were swiftly knocked down by Lewis and the Morrisons fighters on that flank. Maxie watched them go into action and was impressed by their skill. Blue had been right: frizzy-haired Lewis might have looked dozy, but he moved fast when he had to, and dealt with the grown-ups ruthlessly and efficiently.

The sudden attack, though, had spooked the little kids. A bunch of them broke away and started to run.

‘Stop them!’ Maxie yelled, but there was nothing Maeve, Whitney and the others could do. In a moment the little kids were darting in all directions and even some of the older kids were starting to run. A bunch barged right past Maxie who screamed at them to get back, but it was no good.

‘Come on,’ said Lewis and he and his team ran after the fleeing kids. ‘We’ll get ’em.’

As the orderly group broke up it seemed to give encouragement to the grown-ups. The fat father in the St George vest raised his arms above his head, bellowed, and at last they attacked, coming as fast as they were able down the hill.