The Dead

‘What?’ Jack asked.

‘Fields and fields and fields piled high with dead bodies. Stinking, rotten, flyblown corpses. That’s what you’d have found. Death and disease like you can’t imagine. It’s bloody chaos. I don’t have the words to describe it. Maybe if I’d been to a fancy school like you I would, I could quote some poetry or some Shakespeare maybe. To be or not to be. I’m not a poet. I’m a butcher.’

‘A butcher?’ Ed didn’t know why, but he found this quite fu

‘Yeah.’ Greg nodded towards a black case in the luggage rack above the first row of seats. ‘You don’t believe me you can check out me knives. Never go anywhere without them.’

‘I believe you,’ said Jack.

‘Yeah, good, well, so I might not know much about words, but I do know about livestock. About animals. Dead animals, I’ll give you that, but animals all the same. Meat. That’s what I understand. Meat. You know what it says on my shop sign, my motto, like? MEAT IS LIFE. I run an organic butcher’s in Islington. You probably heard of it – Greg’s Organic Gaff. Well, your mum and dad might of. I been on the telly a few times. The One Show and that. My sausages have won more awards than you can count. Butcher of the Year two years ru

Liam nodded.

‘Good farm. Good meat. One of me top boys he was, the gaffer, Big Paul McLaren. He said we could stay with him till things blew over. Reckoned we’d be better off there on the farm with him and his lads. Well, things never did blow over, did they? We’ve fortified the place. Wasn’t hard. Big Paul had guns and everything for shooting vermin. Came in well handy for shooting trespassers. Had like a smokery in a barn. We’ve smoked enough meat to get by on, and we’ve held out for a while, but it soon got silly. In the end Big Paul and all his family start getting sick, don’t they? Wasn’t nice. Had to shoot them and all. All except his youngest boy, Little Paul. Then the animals started to get sick. I’m a butcher not a vet, and without Big Paul we didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t risk eating them no more. I’ll tell you it was nuts. Too many crazies turning up. Dead bodies rotting everywhere. We realized we had to get out of there. Thought we might as well try and get home, the boy and me.’

‘What happened to Little Paul?’ Jack asked.

‘Never made it,’ said Greg simply, and didn’t explain any further.

‘We found the coach after two days,’ said Liam.

‘Only just in time,’ said Greg. ‘I drive me butcher’s van all over, more of a truck than a van, really, so I know a bit about these things. I’m like Noah’s ark on here, aren’t I? Be perfect if it weren’t for them three harpies at the back – Girls Aloud.’

‘What are you going to do when you get to London?’ Ed asked, hoping Greg might have a plan.

‘Du

‘We want to get back to see the Arsenal.’

Ed laughed. ‘I don’t think they’re still playing.’

‘He knows that, smart arse,’ said Greg. ‘He means the stadium. The Emirates, as was. That’s like a church for me and Liam, a cathedral of dreams. We’ve spent our best days there, ain’t we, son? We just want to get back home where we can see it.’

Greg twisted round in his seat to study Jack and Ed.

‘You probably think that’s stupid, don’t you?’

‘No,’ said Jack. ‘Seems as good a reason as any to go to London.’

‘Yeah, well, I ain’t stupid, pal.’

‘Didn’t say you were.’

‘You gotta have something to believe in,’ Greg went on. ‘Keeps you going. Stops you from chewing on your own dark thoughts.’

‘Can I ask you something?’ Jack asked.

‘Fire away.’

‘You won’t get angry?’

‘Can’t guarantee it. It depends if it’s a stupid question.’

‘Why haven’t you got sick like everyone else?’

‘Don’t know, don’t care.’

‘But it’s important,’ said Jack. ‘We thought everyone older was –’

‘Listen,’ said Greg, interrupting Jack. ‘You must have seen it yourselves. Some of them, didn’t make no difference what age, what sex, what race, just so long as they was over fourteen, they’ve pretty much got ill straight away and within a few hours they’ve dropped down dead. Others took longer to die, a few days. Others didn’t die at all. They’re still wandering around out there dribbling and squeezing their spots. The disease takes everyone different. Me, I must have a special gene or some antibodies or whatever that’s protecting me. Yeah? Or maybe I’m just stronger. I can fight it off. I mean, let’s face it, nobody knows why you lot, you kids, ain’t got sick. Look at you, all bright eyes and rosy cheeks. It’s not bloody fair. Kids these days, spoilt, want everything on a plate. Well, now you got it, you’ve got the world to yourselves. How d’you like it, eh? Your dreams came true; you got your three wishes. No more pesky adults to mess up your spoilt little lives. Except for them out there. The nutters. The walking bags of pus. What was it the Scared Kid called them? The mothers and fathers. Ha ha! Welcome to paradise. Have a nice stay. Turn out the lights before you leave. Now, I’m starving. I can’t keep this up on an empty stomach. I gotta eat something.’

He slammed on the brakes and reared up at Jack and Ed, a leery smile exposing two rows of neat little teeth.

‘How’s about I start with you two, eh?’ he snarled, then burst out laughing as Jack and Ed shrank away from him.

‘Your faces!’ he said. ‘What a picture.’ He chuckled and looked to Liam, who was smiling sheepishly. ‘Did you see them soft sods, Liam? What a picture. What a bloody picture.’

He applied the handbrake and switched off the engine.

‘Don’t worry, lads,’ he said, standing up and stretching. ‘I never eat boys for lunch … I prefer a nice salad.’

20

They’d stopped on a long straight stretch of open road with good views in all directions. If anyone approached them, they would be clearly visible.

Greg rationed out food from the cardboard boxes stacked at the back of the bus, moaning all the while that with all the newcomers there was less to go round. Jack wondered why he’d picked them up in the first place if he didn’t want them on board, but he reckoned Greg just wanted to make sure everyone knew who was in charge.

It wasn’t as if their lunch was exactly five stars, either. It was bags of crisps and Cheestrings mostly, with some stale Nutri-Grain, although Jack noticed that Greg had his own separate food supply that he kept in a cool box stashed behind his seat. He and Liam sat up front eating alone.

Jack was sitting halfway back with Chris Marker, who was eating a bag of crisps while reading his book. Jack was happy with the arrangement. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think either, so he was reading the information on the back of his own crisp packet. He was surprised by how much there was to read.

He was just working out the energy values when he became aware of someone standing next to him.