The Enemy

Maxie didn’t know her name. She didn’t want to know. She was tall and thin and posh, with long dark hair and very white skin. She was wearing a battered black leather jacket and knee-length biker boots.

Standing in a small, wary knot behind her were her friends, five girls and seven boys. They were all lean and wiry and weather-beaten, as if they’d been living outdoors for some time. Their eyes moved like animals’ eyes. Watchful, alert, unsure.

The Holloway crew outnumbered them easily.

And they had shot Arran.

‘We’d been following the pack,’ said the girl. ‘The adults. We didn’t know what they were up to. We’d never seen them behave this way before. We know how to keep hidden. We were staying out of their way. And then they were charging down the street towards us. We thought they were coming for us. We started firing. We never saw the boy among them.’ She touched the vanes at the tip of the arrow. ‘This is mine,’ she said sadly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Being sorry won’t bring him back,’ said Maxie. ‘Being sorry never changed anything.’

‘It was an accident,’ said Ollie, and Maxie shot him a dirty look.

Maeve pushed her way to the front and knelt by Arran. She put her ear to his chest and a finger to the artery in his neck.

‘He’s not dead,’ she said.

‘Oh, thank God,’ Maxie sobbed and dropped to the road beside Maeve. She put her face to Arran’s. It was wet with tears. She didn’t care who saw it.

‘Arran,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Don’t die.’

Arran’s lips parted and he spoke one word, in the quietest whisper they had ever heard. So deep was the silence, however, that there was no mistaking what he said.

‘No.’

Maxie smiled through her tears.

‘He’s not going to die. He’s strong. He’s our leader. He’s going to get us to the palace…’

‘The palace?’ said the girl, and now Jester stepped forward.

‘I’m taking them to Buckingham Palace,’ he said. ‘It’s safe there.’

‘It’s not safe anywhere,’ said the girl. ‘We know. We’ve been all over.’

‘Have you been into the centre of town?’ asked Jester.

‘Well, no…’

‘Then you haven’t been all over, have you?’

‘She’s not coming with us, anyway,’ said Maxie, standing up. ‘Not after what she’s done to Arran.’

‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘Yeah,’ said Blue. ‘It was an accident. If they want to come with us then let them. We could use some more fighters. We lost seven kids in the battle.’

‘She’s not coming,’ Maxie shouted.

‘If I say she’s coming, she’s coming,’ said Blue.

‘Why?’ said Maxie. ‘Because she’s pretty?’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Blue laughed dismissively. ‘I told you, she’s a bare good fighter We all need to stick together.’

‘Who put you in charge all of a sudden?’ Maxie snorted.

‘You said just now Arran was the leader,’ said Blue calmly, ignoring Maxie’s outburst. ‘Well, that wasn’t strictly speaking true, was it? We was both leaders. And now he’s hurt bad, so, from here on, I’m in charge.’

Maxie glared at Blue, her eyes defiant. ‘I’m Arran’s second in command,’ she said. ‘I’ll take his place until he’s better.’

‘I’m in charge, girl,’ said Blue.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Ollie, stepping between them. ‘All that matters right now is we try to get Arran sorted. Then we can argue over who’s in charge. Maeve, is there anything you can do?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Maeve, shaking her head. ‘The arrow’s in pretty deep. If we take it out he might bleed worse.’

‘Is it in his heart?’

‘If it was in his heart he’d be dead already.’

‘His lung?’

‘Maybe.’

Maeve looked round at the girl who was still kneeling next to her. ‘What do you think? Do you know about arrows?’

‘I think you’re right. If you try to take it out you could make it worse.’

‘You can’t leave him like that,’ Maxie yelled. ‘You can’t.’

Ollie nodded at the girl. ‘You?’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Sophie,’ said the girl.

‘Tell me, Sophie,’ said Ollie, crouching down to inspect the wound. ‘Is it barbed? The arrow? Has it got a barbed head?’

‘No,’ said Sophie. ‘It’s a sports arrow, designed for shooting at targets. It’s probably gone right through him. It was very close range.’

Maxie wailed and threw herself on Arran, cupping his face in her hands.

‘He was already weak from the bite in his neck,’ she said. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘OK,’ said Jester. ‘As I see it, it’s like this. He can’t walk. So, whatever we do, we’ll have to carry him. Maybe make a stretcher, or find a trolley, or something.’

‘We can’t move him like that with an arrow sticking out of him,’ Blue objected.

‘I know that,’ said Jester. ‘So we’ll have to risk taking it out. We’ve no other choice. We’ll have to bandage him up and just hope we can stop the bleeding.’

‘You’ll only be able to stop the bleeding on the outside,’ said Maeve. ‘Not inside. He’ll die.’

‘Well, what do you suggest?’ said Jester. ‘We operate on him?’

‘It would be the only way to save him,’ said Sophie.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Maxie snapped. ‘We can’t operate on him.’

‘I know,’ said Sophie sadly.

‘If we can just get him to the palace he might have a chance,’ said Jester. ‘But if we stay here he won’t, and it’ll be dangerous for the rest of us. We have to keep moving. I say we take the arrow out and see what happens.’

‘No,’ said Maxie.

‘We ain’t got time for this,’ said Achilleus and he marched over to Arran, grabbed the arrow and yanked it out. Maxie screamed. A gout of lumpy jellylike blood dribbled from the wound. Arran groaned and coughed. His body spasmed and he was still.

‘You’ve killed him,’ screamed Maxie.

‘No.’ It was Arran’s voice.

22

Sam waited, perched on the metal rungs. There was no way out of the shaft. The top was blocked. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on, even though he had wedged his body across the gap. His muscles were sore and shaking. His back hurt.

He tried to concentrate on hanging on instead of imagining what the grown-ups were doing. Every time he thought they’d gone he heard them again. Searching for him. Just be small, he told himself. Be small and still, and try to think of happier times. Of su

He heard one nearby. Snuffling like a pig. Its fingers raking the brickwork. He felt warm liquid trickling down his legs and he realized he must have wet himself again. He prayed that they wouldn’t be able to smell it. Then he heard the grown-up lapping at the water on the ground. A few seconds later it was sick. A fight broke out. The grown-ups snarling and whining at each other.

Why wouldn’t they just go away?

He had had enough.

He was only nine.

A terrible voice inside tempted him to give up, to let go and drop down and make an end to it.

No more fear. No more pain.

But there was a stronger force making his hands grip tighter, tensing his legs, readying them to kick if needed.

He was Sam the giant slayer. Sam of the silver pin. He thought about his favourite film – Time Bandits – how the little people in it won in the end against the forces of evil.

And he remembered the story of Pandora’s box that they’d read at school. After all the nasty things had come out of it there was one thing left. Hope. And Pandora had let it out of the box.

He had to have hope.

The grown-ups would go. He would climb down. He would find his sister and his friends and walk to safety.