The Dead

He had no choice.

The thing, whatever it was, a mother or a father, there was no way of telling in the dark, moved again. He heard the dry rasp of its feet.

They could smell you, couldn’t they? That’s what they did. They sniffed the air. And there was probably more than one of them down here. They’d find him and he wouldn’t be able to fight back because he couldn’t see them. He couldn’t see anything. He could imagine them, though, a group of them slowly creeping towards him in the darkness, worm-eaten, puffy and insane. Closing in, step by step, leaving slippery trails of saliva on the floor.

There!

The scuff of a shoe.

It was definitely closer.

He could hear it breathing.

Bam was begi

He wanted to see his enemy. In the daylight he was the bravest boy in the world. He would tackle players twice his size. He was Bam the tank.

Not down here, though, not in the dark, covered in filth, alone.

Another scuff. Closer still. Only feet away.

Where were his friends? What had happened to them? Had they died in the explosion? He wanted to cry out, to shout for help, but that would only bring the shambling thing in the dark nearer.

But where were they?

Where were his friends?

49

Jack, too, was in the dark, wandering lost and alone, moving as fast as he dared, desperately searching for Ed and Bam. His throat was hurting, raw, as if someone had scraped it with a wire brush. His vocal cords felt scalded and strangled. He’d tried to cry out but the dust and the pain and the tightness had prevented him from making anything more than a gurgling, choking sound.

His head was ringing. He thought he might have been deafened by the explosion. All he could make out above the whistling, whiny noise that filled his ears were dull muffled sounds that could have been inside his head.

He’d been terrified that something like this would happen. He hadn’t wanted to be responsible for the others, hadn’t wanted Bam and Ed to come along with him. He’d tried to get away from them all and now he was responsible. It was his fault they’d ended up down here. Wherever here was.

So now he had to find his friends, to rescue them.

It was up to him.

It wasn’t easy. He was stumbling along, arms held out in front, groping at the blackness, feeling for any walls or obstructions, head tucked down, cringing away from anything it might bash against. And all the while his sore, gritty eyes flicked around in their sockets, searching for any clues as to where he was, and how he might ever get out of here.

Look!

Was he imagining it? No. It was real. A small chink of light. If he could just get to it he’d be able to find his bearings. He had to admit he was no use to anyone like this, blind and dumb and confused. But if he could find a way out he could go back to help the others. One of those dead soldiers or policemen outside must have a torch on them. Providing there still was an outside. Who knew how much damage that last explosion had done? Maybe he was buried down here under tons of rubble and dead bodies …

Don’t think about that.

The most important thing was to escape, and then sort himself out and go back to look for the others. Nothing could happen to Bam and Ed in the meantime, not down here in the dark.

He froze. Something had moved in front of him, shifted slightly. The tiny spot of light had flickered. There was something up ahead.

He stood as still as he could, straining to see anything in the pitch darkness, straining to hear anything. But there was only the throb and hiss of his own blood surging around his body.

He couldn’t stay like this forever, though. He had to move.

Then a thought struck him. He couldn’t see in the dark, but neither could the sickos. They would be just as lost as him. He forced a smile. What was the worst they could do?

He got ready to run towards that welcoming chink of light.

50

Thirty-four, thirty-three, thirty-two …

Bam was counting down from fifty in his head. When he got to one, he would do something. Fight back. Get up. Take control. The sicko was still there, he could tell.

Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen …

Come on, you diseased bag of pus. Let me know where you are.

Move, damn you.

And then it did move. Suddenly it was coming straight for him. And coming fast.

Bam yelled in fright and pulled the trigger at the same time. Firing one barrel. There was a whoomph! and a bright flare as the charge in the cartridge exploded, sending shot spraying out towards his attacker. It was over almost before it had started. Like a camera flash going off. But it lasted long enough for Bam to see a body falling back, arms thrown wide, the white face splashed with red down one side, eyes wide in terror and surprise.

Jack’s face.

51

The kids were playing in the atrium, the younger ones chasing each other around among the tanks and vehicles. Nobody could remember being this happy for weeks. Jordan Hordern had been to see them. He was impressed by the lorry and had officially invited the newcomers to stay and share in everything they had. He’d organized some of his boys into a team to bring a few of the cages inside. Justin had even worked out how to operate the lift at the back of the lorry that brought them down to the ground. There were too many to shift in one go and they’d had to leave half of them on the lorry securely locked away from any marauding sickos.

Brooke, Aleisha and Courtney sat on a bench watching the fun. Wiki, Jibber-jabber, Zohra, Froggie and a couple of Matt’s younger acolytes were dashing about yelling and shrieking. Frédérique had even joined in. She’d been moody since lunch, but now she seemed almost hysterically happy, like she’d become a little kid again.

Froggie ran over.

‘Save me!’ he shouted, and Aleisha jumped up. She was hardly taller than Froggie, but she wrapped her arms round him protectively.

‘I’ll save you!’ she said. ‘Just pretend I’m your mum!’

Froggie pressed his face into her body. ‘Can I?’ he asked quietly.

Aleisha smiled and kissed the top of his head. ‘Course you can, little man.’

Brooke jeered at her friend. ‘Look at you, being mum again. What’s with you, girl?’

‘She’s nice,’ said Froggie.

‘She’s too nice,’ said Brooke. ‘It ain’t right.’

‘What game you playing, anyway?’ Aleisha asked.

‘Zombies!’ said Froggie.

‘You are joking me! Zombies?’ Aleisha shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

‘They’re doing the right thing,’ said Brooke. ‘You go for it, Froglet. Show them sickos we ain’t scared of them.’

‘Ain’t we?’ said Aleisha.