The Enemy (19 page)

I
t was chaos. The kids were running in al directions while more and more of the things—whatever they were— dropped down onto them from above. It was impossible in the dark to make out exactly what they looked like. They were just gray blurs as they plummeted, yelping and shrieking, through the air.

They had to be animals of some sort. Too smal to be grown-ups. Maxie shoved her way through the panicked crowd to where she saw one land. A girl was facedown on the ground with one of the things on her back. It was hairless, with mottled pinkish-gray skin studded with sores and boils. It had long arms and stumpy misshapen legs. Maxie ran to it and whacked it in the back with her club. It barely moved. It was a powerful, solid lump.

It let out a hideous high-pitched scream and lurched toward Maxie.

Maxie kicked out at it, and the thing grabbed her leg. She could feel the incredible strength in its arms. Before it could bite her, she quickly butted the end of the club into the top of its skul . It croaked and fel away with a pitiful whine. She struck it once more in the head, and it col apsed into a lifeless heap. At least the things could be kil ed. She helped the little girl up from the ground. Her back and neck were scratched and bleeding, and she was sobbing uncontrol ably, her tiny body shuddering. Whitney scooped her up and cradled her in her arms.

“I’l look after the kids,” she said to Maxie. “You ral y the fighters.”

Maxie yel ed at the top of her voice. “They’re attacking the little ones! Everyone help!”

She saw two of the beasts dragging Curly Sam into the long grass by the hair, and ran after them. She got there just as Lewis and his team arrived.

The animals were swiftly dealt with, and Curly Sam was returned to his friends.

“What are they?” Lewis ran his flashlight beam over the dead animals. They had huge black eyes, great ragged ears, and long yel ow fangs strung with saliva and spotted with blood. Like the grown-ups, their skin was covered with oozing pustules and ugly lumps.

“Gross,” said Lewis, curling his lip with disgust. “They’re some sort of mutated children.”

Maxie didn’t know what to think. Anything was possible. Before they had the chance for a proper look, though, they were cal ed back into the fight.

The beasts were everywhere, scurrying in and out of the legs of the kids, bowling them over, snatching the smal est ones. The fighters tried to get at them, but it was difficult in the dark with al the kids in the way.

Maxie switched on her flashlight and saw a group of little kids break off the path farther down on the other side.

“Stop them!” she shouted, but it was too late. She saw them go into the grass, which came up almost to their shoulders, and one by one they went down.

Thank God Blue and the others had realized what was going on. They charged back from the front, weapons at the ready, and scattered a knot of marauding beasts. The noise was appal ing. The animals screeched and squealed and bel owed, which terrified the kids even more.

Maxie saw a fighter run past with a creature on his back, its hands over his face, clawing at his eyes. She smashed it in the spine with her club, and the two of them fel over. The animal was quickly up, though. It ran at her on its knuckles, teeth bared into a ferocious grin. She butted it in the face but only succeeded in knocking it back for a moment and making it furious. It was soon up again and coming at her. She didn’t have time to swing her club, and could only try to fend it off. Its skul seemed to be made of iron. Then it managed to get hold of the club and wrenched it out of her hands with tremendous force. Now she was unarmed. She didn’t want to run, because she was terrified of it getting onto her back. It flung the club aside in a rage and lifted both hands above its head. She backed away and saw it preparing to charge. Then there was a flurry of activity as someone stepped in and stabbed it with a spear.

It was Josh.

“They don’t scare me,” he said as it ran off, dripping blood.

Maxie spotted Joel. He was sitting on the ground hugging Godzil a. She was glad that he was al right. As she watched, though, a fighter blundered into him and kicked him over. Godzil a was jogged from his arms, and he shot off into the grass, whimpering.

“Leave him!” Maxie shouted, but Joel ignored her and was soon lost from sight in the confusion.

Blue and Freak arrived.

“Get everyone together!” Blue yel ed. “We need to make a run for it—get out from the trees and onto the road.”

“Yeah, but some of the kids have gone off into the long grass,” said Maxie, looking for Joel.

“Then go get ’em back,” Blue ordered.

“Okay.” Maxie turned to Josh. “You take the other side. Make sure you get any stragglers.”

“Sure.” Josh grinned. “You might need this,” he said, handing Maxie Arran’s club.

“Thanks.”

Josh ran off.

“I’l take this side,” said Maxie.

“I’m with you,” said Freak.

They ran into the long grass and found Lewis and his team already bringing back a group of runaways.

“Is that al of them?” Maxie asked.

“Think so.”

“What about Joel, the little kid with the puppy? Have you seen him?”

Lewis shook his head. “Nah.”

Then Maxie heard a shout. Thin and high and far off.

“Come on!”

Maxie set off with Freak in the direction of the sound, swinging the club in front of her to clear a path. They hadn’t gone far when two of the beasts suddenly reared up, clutching rocks.

“I’l deal with them,” said Freak. “You get the kids.”

Maxie ran on. Hoping she was heading in the right direction.

“Joel!” she cal ed out. “Where are you?”

Again—a smal piping cry.

Maxie sped up.

There was a big black sky above and a feeling of space such as she hadn’t experienced in months. This had once been a cricket field, and it seemed to go on forever. If it hadn’t been for the fear wrenching at her stomach, she might have enjoyed this exhilarating feeling.

At last she spotted something in the darkness. Two smal figures running ful tilt across open ground. She roared at them to stop. They were too scared, however, and kept on running. Maxie put on a burst of speed and final y caught up with them and grabbed hold of one. It was El a.

“Stop,” she said. “It’s me, Maxie. You have to come back.”

The other kid, Monkey Boy, now stopped, and Maxie held on to the two of them as they stood there sobbing and panting and babbling incoherently about monsters. But Maxie wasn’t listening. She had seen something behind the little kids that they hadn’t. It was approaching stealthily through the grass, bigger than the other animals. It came closer and reared up on its stubby legs, its arms out to either side like a wrestler. It had only one eye and a scarred, battered face. A crop of painful-looking boils nested in the crook of its neck. It stared at Maxie with its one big, black, glinting eye.

Maxie straightened up, the club raised ready to strike, never taking her eyes off the brute.

It tossed its head from side to side and quickly battered its chest with its fists, and at last Maxie understood what it was. A male chimpanzee, hairless and diseased, driven mad like the grown-ups. He pursed his huge lips and began to whoop. His cal was taken up by the other apes. Maxie was sure he would strike, but a sad look settled over his face. He looked deflated, tired. He sighed, gave a last feeble whoop, then turned and walked off into the grass.

“It’s just a monkey,” said Maxie.

She picked up El a, and they set off back to the others. On the way, they passed several more chimpanzees hurrying away through the grass.

Freak was standing where she’d left him. He picked up Monkey Boy and walked with Maxie.

A little farther along they heard something moving in the grass, and they froze.

Then Maxie smiled and knelt down. “It’s only Godzil a.”

But Godzil a was whimpering and shivering and nudging something with his nose. Maxie frowned and looked closer.

“Take the kids back,” she said to Freak, and something in her voice told him not to question her.

“Come along,” he said to the little ones, and walked off.

Joel was lying in the grass, bleeding from a wound in his head where he had been hit with a rock. His eyes were open and he had stopped breathing.

Maxie picked Godzil a up. He struggled and protested, whining quietly. He wanted to stay with Joel.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Maxie said, and closed Joel’s eyes.

She sniffed. Her throat was tight, but no tears came.

S
mal Sam woke with a start. At first he had no idea where he was. Suspended in a world of total, sightless night, he couldn’t feel his body at al. For one crazy moment he thought he might be dead. He felt a smal sense of relief. Nothing to worry about anymore. And then he was fil ed with the burning unfairness of it al . He was only a little kid, he didn’t deserve to die, what had he ever done wrong? Okay, so there was the time he’d broken his mom’s favorite mug and hidden it in the back of the cupboard without saying anything. And that other time when El a had been to a party and gotten a fantastic face-painting of a jaguar. It had been beautiful. She’d come in with it and he’d been so jealous. He hadn’t said anything, but when he was alone with her he’d thrown a cup of water in her face and ruined it.

Al right. If he thought about it, there were lots of things he’d done wrong. But they were only little things. He’d been sorry enough about them at the time and stil felt guilty when he pictured El a with the paint running down her face mixed with tears.

Surely it didn’t mean that he deserved to die, did it?

Then he felt awful pins and needles in his legs, and it came back to him. He wasn’t dead. He was stuck up the shaft in the underground tunnel. The last thing he remembered doing was tying himself to the iron rungs of the ladder with his belt. He was stil jammed there, half dangling, half wedged, half dead.

He held his breath and listened.

Nothing. The grown-ups had gone at last.

What time was it? He had no idea. He had no watch. He had no way of knowing if it was even day or night. He moved his stiff and painful shoulders, trying to get the blood circulating again, and then squeezed his legs with his tingling fingers. They were stil numb. He couldn’t move until he had some feeling back in them. He waited as the fizzing spread through his nerve endings. One moment it was a faint tickle, quite nice, then it was agony and he was kicking the wal s and whimpering. After what felt like ages, he had enough feeling to risk undoing the belt, but as soon as he tried to climb down, his legs gave way and he tumbled to the bottom of the shaft, landing in a painful heap in a puddle of water.

Al his cuts and scrapes from the day before had woken up. His body was a mess of stings and aches and painful throbbing.

It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself, though. He needed to get up, get out of here, and get back into the daylight. He switched on his flashlight and careful y emerged from the hole. He leaned over and flashed the beam up and down beneath the train. There was nothing moving in either direction.

As he listened, though, he could hear distant sounds back the way he had come. Probably grown-ups at Camden station. That meant he would have to go the other way.

No matter. He could get out at the next station.

He crawled along under the train, pumping his flashlight as he went. Stopping every now and then in the dark to listen. There were odd underground sounds. Smal animals moving about. The drip of water. Deep creaks and groans. But no human sounds.

He at last reached the end of the train and could stand up and move more quickly. He trotted along. Sometimes the water became quite deep, coming up past his knees. It was black and smel ed bad, but he tried not to think about it. At least it was probably so toxic nothing could be living in it.

On and on he pushed, down the curving tunnel, until he saw a faint light up ahead. He hurried on with fresh energy, but as he got nearer he slowed down. What did the light mean? It couldn’t be daylight, after al , because he was stil underground. It couldn’t be an electric light, because there was no electricity. It could only be one thing. Fire. He turned off his flashlight and studied the glow. It was flickering, al right.

As far as he knew grown-ups didn’t light fires. Maybe it was a camp of kids then? Maybe kids lived down here? Or maybe it was just an accidental fire?

He walked slowly toward it. He could smel smoke in the air, like a barbecue. His mouth was watering. A pain in his gut reminded him how long it was since he’d last eaten anything. Why did he have to think about barbecues now? He remembered how whenever the sun had come out in the summer, you could smel them for miles around.

That had been the old days.

As he walked he gradual y saw more of the way ahead. He made out wires and junction boxes on the wal s, a stop sign for train drivers, and a sort of traffic light thing, then the edge of the tunnel mouth, and final y bits of the station platform.

He realized that the fire was pretty smal . It had seemed bigger at first because it was the only light around. There were dancing lights and shifting shadows, but he could tel that they weren’t being caused by a big blaze.