The Dead

‘We could use one of them,’ he said, pointing. ‘Like a battering ram.’

‘We’ll try it,’ said Jack, and they raced across the cobbled paving to grab a bin. All the other boys had gone down the road and Ed realized he was alone with Jack in the yard.

No. Not totally alone. The first of the teachers who had attacked them inside was shuffling through the arch, still dripping with foam.

The boys trundled the bin across the cobbles, rattling and banging on its small wheels. The noise sounded like thunder and Ed was scared it would attract the teachers in the porch.

‘Stand back!’ he yelled at the girl when they were close, then he and Jack hoisted the bin up on to their shoulders and, still ru

‘Can you climb out?’ Jack asked.

‘I think so,’ said the girl, her accent strange, foreign-sounding.

‘Be careful of any broken glass,’ said Ed, remembering what had happened to Mr Hewitt last night. The girl disappeared again and when she reappeared she was carrying a duvet and some blankets which she draped over the windowsill. Then once more she went off to get something.

‘Get a move on,’ Ed murmured under his breath. The teachers were advancing across the yard, and as they drew closer Ed got a good look at them. Their eyes were yellow and bulging, their skin lumpy with boils and growths, horrible pearly blisters nestling in the folds. They were streaked with foam and one or two of them had bright red blood dribbling from their mouths. One had an ear hanging off. It flapped as he waddled along. Another had some sort of huge fleshy growth bulging out from his shirt, as if he’d swallowed a desk lamp. His whole body was twisted and misshapen.

There was a shout from the window. The girl was standing there with a large plastic carrying-box. She passed it out to Ed and he realized that there was a tabby cat inside it, huddled, terrified and shivering, down at the end. Once the cat was safely out the girl manoeuvred herself over the window ledge and Jack helped her to the ground. Her whole body was shaking and her breathing quick and shallow.

She flung her arms around Jack with a great sob and buried her face in his shoulder, soaking his jacket. She kept saying the same thing over and over, her voice muffled.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you …’

‘We’ve got to keep moving,’ said Jack, pushing her away from him. ‘We’ve got to get away from here.’

The girl nodded and took the cat from Ed. She looked inside the box making little reassuring noises, and then spoke to the cat in what sounded like French.

Ed looked at the teachers. The girl hadn’t seen them. They were getting closer by the second.

‘We need to hurry,’ he said, and the girl tore herself away from the cat, her large eyes very wide. Even like this, her hair a mess, her face blotchy from crying, it struck Ed that she was pretty.

He tugged at her arm, but she resisted.

‘My father,’ she said. ‘I don’t know where is my father.’

‘Who’s your father?’ Ed asked, even though he knew it was a stupid thing to say.

‘Monsieur Morel. He is a teacher here. He was looking after me. But yesterday he goes out. He is feeling sick, he goes for medicine, he does not come back. I wait for him. I wait all through the night. He does not come back.’

The girl stopped. She had finally noticed the panicked look on Ed’s face. She glanced over her shoulder and gasped as she saw the teachers, almost close enough to touch.

Jack snatched hold of her arm and dragged her along, forcing her to run at his side.

‘You’ve got to forget about your father,’ he said. ‘All the adults, everyone over the age of fourteen, gets sick. They die, all right? Or they turn into … one of them.’

‘Is he … Is he sick?’ said the girl, her voice high-pitched with tension. ‘Is he changed?’

‘No,’ said Ed as they ran out of the school gates. ‘No, he’s not.’

‘Have you seen him?’ asked the girl. ‘You must tell me.’

‘Yes.’ Jack exchanged a pained look with Ed. ‘We saw him. He’s dead. Sorry.’

‘I knew it …’ The girl choked out the words then wailed in despair. Jack shook his head at Ed. Best not to say any more. At least neither of them had lied.

Ed hadn’t left the school grounds for a few weeks. It hadn’t been safe. And it was strange seeing the main road with no traffic. Even on a Sunday there had always been cars going past at all times of the day and night. Now it was utterly still and calm. Birds were singing in the trees, oblivious to how the world had changed. Not caring about the humans and their problems.

How quickly everything had fallen apart.

In a strange clear-headed moment Ed realized that for a while the world was going to be a better place for the birds, for all animals. No more cars, no more pollution, no more factories, aeroplanes, oil wells, coalmines …

There was a very strong chance that soon there would be no more humans. What chance did children have of surviving? What was the point of going on? What was the point of crossing the road? Ru

He didn’t stop, though. Something inside made him keep on ru

He looked back. They’d left the teachers behind. Nobody else had come through the school gates. Maybe they’d be safe for a while.

A little further down the high street on the other side of the road was the school chapel. It was only about two hundred years old but had been built to resemble a small medieval church, complete with bell tower and stained-glass windows. It was easy to see why Matt Palmer had thought it might be a safe place to hang out. There were battlements round the top of the tower that made it look like part of a castle.

Matt had come over here about ten days ago with some other boys. If he could be persuaded to join them and look for somewhere better to hole up, they’d have safety in numbers.

As Jack, Ed and the girl entered the gate and crossed the graveyard, they saw that the rest of the boys from the party were up ahead, huddled in the entranceway to the church. Why hadn’t they gone in as they’d arranged?

‘They won’t open the door,’ Joh

‘This is Monsieur Morel’s daughter.’ Jack gave a look to the boys that said ‘keep your mouths shut’. ‘Don’t know her name.’

The girl seemed to have retreated into herself. Her hair hung down either side of her face like curtains and she stared at the ground. Joh

Joh

‘What’s your name, love?’ he asked. The girl remained silent.

‘Come on, tell us your name. You’re safe now.’

‘Frédérique,’ the girl muttered, barely audible.

Joh

Ed had been taking a look around. There was some evidence that teachers had been trying to get into the church, but the heavy oak doors looked almost indestructible and the windows were too high to reach and laced with metal. He slammed his fists against the door.