The Dead

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I am coming with you.’ Frédérique was standing by one of the yellow shells, the big knife in her hand.

‘No,’ said Jack. ‘It’s all right, Fred …’

‘I want to.’

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘I don’t care. I will come with you. I am like Brooke. I do not want to be scared any more. I want to help find food. I want to be useful.’

‘All right,’ said Jack. ‘I did say we needed more bodies, though this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’

‘Oh good, you ain’t left yet!’

More kids were coming out of the building. Big Courtney and little Aleisha, both carrying weapons that looked all wrong with their hair and their make-up and their bright clothing.

‘We was worried you’d gone without us,’ said Aleisha. ‘Courtney took so long to get ready you’d think she was going to a party or something, not on a sicko-whacking expedition.’

‘Oi, that ain’t fair!’ Courtney protested. ‘I couldn’t get near the mirror in the bathroom this morning, not with Brooke putting on her make-up. “Oh what d’you think? D’you think Ed would like this colour of lipstick? Oh, do you think the spikes in this club go with these trousers?”’

‘Shut it, Courtney!’ Brooke shrieked. ‘That is so not what happened.’

‘It is so, darling.’

‘So, where we going then, anyway?’ Brooke asked Ed, trying to change the subject. ‘Back to the bus?’

‘Maybe, if we don’t find anything else,’ said Ed. ‘We didn’t get it all last night, but we took the best of what there was. We need to find proper food really.’

‘Crisps is proper food where I come from!’ said Courtney, and they all laughed.

‘We should go down Ke

‘You sure we shouldn’t just search some of the houses round here?’ Ed asked.

‘I grew up in Ke

‘And what if we see any sickos?’ asked Courtney, who had armed herself with a sword that was a bit too long and unwieldy for her to use easily.

‘Depends,’ said Ed. ‘It’s best to run rather than fight.’

‘We have to assume we will meet some of them,’ said Jack. ‘And we will have to fight. If anyone’s got a problem with that, they should stay behind.’

Nobody said anything.

‘Let’s go then.’

‘I must be crazy coming along with you,’ Courtney said quietly to Brooke as they went across to the steps that led down into the stretch of park at the side of the museum.

‘Sisters are doing it for themselves,’ said Brooke, and she gave Courtney a high five. Aleisha joined in and then the three of them forced Frédérique to do one too. They giggled at her half-hearted effort.

‘Get down, girl,’ said Brooke. ‘Don’t be so snooty and, like, grown-up all the time. We’re all kids in this together, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Frédérique tried again, this time really slapping Brooke hard.

‘That’s more like it, sister!’

Halfway to the edge of the park they heard a shout from behind and turned round to see Justin the nerd ru

‘Now what?’ said Jack. ‘Is he coming too?’

‘Surely not,’ said Ed.

Justin was out of breath when he caught up with them, red-faced from ru

‘I’m going to help,’ he said.

‘You sure about this?’ Ed asked.

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘We’re not going on a picnic, Justin,’ said Jack, sounding a little harsher than he had meant.

Justin looked nervous and angry at the same time. He took a deep breath and the words tumbled out of him. ‘You said something to me yesterday, Jack. You said I wasn’t a proper nerd.’

‘I was mucking about, Just’.’

Justin was blushing now. ‘I know what everyone thinks,’ he said. ‘That just because I’m clever, because I study hard and don’t do sports, just because I like computers, and know how they work, because I like Star Trek and Robot Wars and have every Doctor Who DVD ever made, going right back to William Hartnell and including the rubbish one with Paul McGa

‘We don’t think that, Justin,’ said Ed.

‘Yes you do. I know you do. You call me Justin the nerd. Nerdy Justin. El Nerdo. That’s all I am. Nothing more than a nerd, hardly human. But I am human, and, yes, I suppose I am a nerd, but I want to prove to you that I’m not a complete waste of space. I’ll help you to find some more food. I’ll fight if I have to. I’ve been picked on and bullied all my life so I’ve had to learn how to defend myself. I’m actually quite strong, if you want to know.’ Justin stopped and glared at DogNut who had sniggered. DogNut looked embarrassed. He stopped sniggering and walked on.

‘Are there any more of you coming out?’ Jack asked, amused, staring back at the museum.

‘Don’t think so.’

‘What about Chris Marker?’

‘That geek! No way is he coming!’

36

At that moment Chris Marker was exploring the museum, carrying an old oil lamp. He had discovered a series of interco

He wasn’t frightened being alone here in the dark. Instead he felt a deep peace. He was reminded of TV ads for plug-in air fresheners where some woman would stick the little plastic thing in a socket and animated fumes would waft out and everyone would lift their faces, close their eyes, breathe in deeply and go ‘Aaaaaah’. Like they were taking some kind of drug rather than inhaling chemicals. Well, the smell of all these old books and papers did that for Chris. He felt very calm.

This place was like a church for Chris, a cathedral. In the unlit gloom the great shelves of books could easily have been solid walls. Walls of information. A castle of words.

He was safe here. In the quiet, inside his wall of words, he could think clearly.

It was strange to be at peace in a library where most of the books were to do with war, but he would need to learn about war now. He picked a cardboard box at random from a shelf and opened it. Inside was a pile of old army manuals, with instructions on how to fire different rifles. Whole little booklets for each gun. He had had no idea that guns were so complicated. He supposed that’s why they trained soldiers. All those guns downstairs in the exhibits and the armoury were useless without these manuals, little better than clubs or spears. It was only by using the power of these books that they could come alive.

He’d need time. Time to pick out what was useful. He’d start to make piles of books and pamphlets. Maybe he’d move a bed in here, and live with the books. He’d only ever need to go out to eat, and use the toilet.

He was smiling at the thought. It was the first time he’d been alone since this whole nightmare had started. Properly alone. It was a delicious feeling.

No, not really alone, when he came to think about it, because he had the books for company, and to him they were like living, breathing things. The writers were there among the book stacks with him, like friendly spirits. Whenever he opened a book and read the words hidden inside it he was waking a ghost and the ghost would talk directly to him. The long-dead writer would come alive.