The Enemy (23 page)

Although most of the stuff was too big for the smal er kids, they stil grabbed anything they could. When they came across each fresh batch, the excitement rose as they snatched at the clothes and argued over them, running from one pile to another. Maxie tried to stay on top of things but kept on getting distracted herself when she saw something she liked. At least now the boys had calmed down and were more alert— they had no interest in the women’s clothing. The main problem was that everyone kept ducking behind cabinets and shelves to change in the shadows and dump their old things.

As many as stood guard were out of action.

Maxie found an Agnès b top and some pants that looked like they’d fit her. She slipped them into her backpack. She would change later, when she was sure it was safe. She was too anxious now. The thought of being ambushed when she was half naked didn’t excite her. She pictured herself being chased around Selfridges with her pants around her knees.

She spotted a black leather jacket and was irresistibly drawn to it. She looked at the label—Belstaff. It was sturdy and wel made, had several useful pockets, and would offer some protection. At least, that’s what she told herself. In truth, she just liked the look of it. She put it on and tried to look at herself in a broken mirror. She couldn’t see very wel in the half-light. A little big, but it fit okay.

“That’s nice. It’s like mine.”

Maxie turned to see Sophie watching her, her bow at the ready in her hands.

“You think I’m taking it so I can look like you?”

“That’s not what I meant. I only meant I liked it.”

“Why should I care whether you like it or not?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Didn’t you? I know what you’re doing. Trying to ingratiate yourself. Trying to make friends. Wel , don’t bother. We’l never be your friends, Sophie.

Okay? Not after what you did.”

“Al right. I know how you feel, Maxie.”

“No you don’t.”

“Just leave it. I’m sorry.”

“You think you’re so great, don’t you?” said Maxie. “In your leather jacket with your bow and arrow. Wel , you’re nothing. The only person you’ve kil ed with that thing is Arran. Great. Wel done.”

“Listen, Maxie,” said Sophie, and Maxie could sense the emotion in her voice, as if she was on the verge of tears. “I know we can’t be friends. But we do have to find a way to get along.”

“Why? I never wanted you with us in the first place.”

“Fine. Be like that. I thought you were cleverer, though.”

“What? What did you say?” Maxie advanced on Sophie. “Don’t insult me.”

“Why not?” said Sophie angrily. “You insulted me. I understand about Arran. He was your boyfriend, and—”

“He was not my boyfriend. Maybe if he’d lived he might have been. But we’l never know, wil we?”

Sophie struggled to say something, then gave up. She turned her back on Maxie and walked away.

Maxie felt a brief moment of triumph, and then it was swamped by black despair. Why was she such a bitch?

She knew why.

She was tired and scared and miserable and stil aching over Arran.

It wasn’t Sophie’s fault. She knew it wasn’t, but when she saw her pretty face she just wanted to lash out at her.

She swore quietly and left the main group, returning to the central wel . She needed to be alone for a minute. It was quieter here. There was no one around—and no one keeping watch. She looked over the low wal . Shone her flashlight down, searching the floors below.

She caught her breath.

There was something moving.

She cal ed out.

“Hel o? Anyone down there? Hey! We need to keep together.”

Nothing. No sound. No movement. Maybe she’d imagined it? She was so jumpy she was seeing dangers everywhere. She raked the beam over the area. It was quiet now.

She sighed and turned to walk along the balcony.

Sophie was there, about four yards away, her bow up to her face. The string was drawn back, an arrow glinting, ready to be fired. Her face was set into a hard mask. Her eyes wide in the gloom.

Maxie swal owed. The blood throbbed in her head. She real y didn’t know this girl at al . Know what she was capable of.

“Don’t move,” said Sophie coldly, but Maxie couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to. She was welded to the spot. Her legs felt like they were made of lead.

Why had she been so stupid? Pushing Sophie like that. They were living in a different world now with different rules.

What would the girl do?

Maxie let out her breath.

“Sophie,” she said, “I . . .”

Sophie released the bowstring. The arrow sizzled through the air and swished barely an inch past Maxie’s right arm.

She had missed.

Maxie heard a thud behind her and she spun around.

A grown-up was standing there, a father, the arrow in his chest. He staggered sideways, flapping at the arrow and whining, then he hit the wal and toppled over the balcony. Maxie twisted around to watch him fal . He dropped al the way down to the bottom, turning slowly in the air, and landed with an almighty crash, splintering a table.

The sound was fol owed by complete silence. Al the kids froze where they were, listening hard. What was going on?

Achil eus ran up to Maxie. She hardly recognized him. He was wearing a shiny new silvery-gray suit over a dark blue T-shirt.

“What’s going on?”

“Grown-ups,” Maxie croaked, the words sticking in her dry throat.

S
mal Sam slept deeply. His chest rising and faling.

Rachel was stil sitting by his side, stroking his forehead and cooing to him.

“Don’t he look peaceful?” she said.

Nick grunted, went over to a dresser, and pul ed out a drawer. He took a pair of handcuffs from it and walked back to the bed. He gently lifted Sam’s left hand and snapped the cuffs tight around it.

“Almost seems a shame,” said Rachel. “He’s a nice kid.”

“Don’t get attached, Rachel, love. Remember how it was with the pigs? You should never have named them. Once you name them they become pets.”

“It’s al right,” said Rachel, pushing a lock of hair off Sam’s face. “I won’t get attached.”

The kids had been cal ed together, and a fighting party had quickly assembled around Achil eus, but they could see no sign of any more grown-ups.

“Maybe there was only one of them,” said Lewis, who was wearing a light blue V-necked cashmere sweater.

“No,” said Freak, pointing. “Look.”

“Oh, my days!”

Shambling down the frozen escalator from the floor above in complete silence were about fifteen grown-ups. They were al wearing new clothes, festooned with hats and jewelry and belts and scarves, and carrying expensive new luggage. But it was a mess, like some awful costume parade. They looked like children who had raided their parents’ wardrobes. The clothes didn’t match, or were the wrong size, or were simply being worn in the wrong way. One man was wearing two jackets but no pants, another wore a dress, some of the women had things on backward, and they had smeared their faces with makeup. One wore her underwear on the outside, like some freakish superhero, and had what looked like a lampshade on her head. An impossibly skinny old woman wore a flashy Nike tracksuit, a fur coat, a long blond wig, and several strings of pearls. She carried a camera on a strap over one shoulder and had only one shoe. High heeled. Making her limp.

It was an eerie sight as they came down in a huddle, like a bunch of weird tourists.

“Kil them,” said Achil eus, and he raised his spear.

“No, wait,” said Maxie. “I don’t think they’re going to attack.”

“Who cares?” said Achil eus. “They’re grown-ups. Kil them.”

“Look at them. They’re harmless.”

“We’l see about that.” Achil eus walked over to the group, which had stopped at the bottom of the escalator. They cowered away from him. One father, who had several ties knotted around his shirtless neck, raised his hand defensively. Achil eus struck his spear into his chest and he fel back. The other grown-ups shrank farther away. Achil eus advanced on them, herding them across the floor. They stuck together like frightened ducklings. Utterly bewildered. Achil eus started to laugh.

“Look at the sil y sods,” he said. “They’re pathetic.” He grabbed the old woman and shook her until her wig came off.

“What do you look like? Eh?” he said, throwing her into the others. “The lot of you. You’re freaks. Morons.” He snatched a hat off one of the fathers and stuffed it on top of his own head.

“Come on, you sheep,” said Achil eus, steering the little group between a row of columns. “Show us your stuff.”

The other kids were starting to laugh now, and four of the older ones joined Achil eus, tormenting the grown-ups, chasing them around, tripping them up, until they were al crowded into a corner, shivering and gibbering.

The big kids prodded them with their weapons and pushed a couple over. Then Achil eus and Big Mick grabbed one of the fathers and dragged him across the floor.

Achil eus sniggered. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s see if you like heights.”

Laughing, they took him to the balcony, and before Maxie could stop them, they’d taken hold of him by the ankles and hoisted him over the side. He dangled there, his arms clawing at the air.

“Look at him,” said Achil eus. “He’s trying to fly.”

“Stop it!” Maxie shouted.

“Stop it? Why? These bastards have been making our lives hel . Kil ing us, eating us . . . wel , now it’s our turn.”

“Not this lot,” said Maxie. “They’ve never done anything to you. They’re harmless. Look at them.”

“They’re al the same,” said Achil eus. “Al guilty. If it wasn’t for grown-ups we wouldn’t be in this mess. They mucked up our planet. They caused the disaster. Every one of them is to blame. We should wipe them off of the face of the earth.”

“We don’t know what caused the disaster,” said Maxie.

“Oh yeah, I forgot, it was God, wasn’t it?”

“Or spacemen,” said Big Mick, and he sniggered.

“We don’t know,” said Maxie. “But we can’t become animals. We’l be like them.”

“No we won’t. We’l be top dogs, and we’l hunt them down and slaughter them.”

“Achil eus, this is not right.”

Maxie looked around for support. Half of the kids were laughing, some looked worried, some were crying. She saw Blue staring at Achil eus, fascinated.

“Blue,” said Maxie, “tel him.”

“Let go of him,” said Blue.

“Al right.”

Achil eus and Mick let go, and the father gave a little gasp as he plummeted to the basement floor.

“He couldn’t fly after al ,” said Achil eus.

“You idiot,” said Maxie with as much scorn as she could muster. Achil eus tried to look dismissive—but she saw in his eyes that he thought he’d maybe gone too far.

“Who’s next?” he said, and strode over to the other grown-ups, but Blue put himself between Achil eus and them.

“C’mon, man,” Blue said quietly, and nodded to the smal er kids. “I think there’s been enough death lately. I don’t think the little ones want to see any more. Okay?”

“So we just leave ’em?”

“They’re not our business,” said Blue. “They’re certainly not dangerous. They just come in here like us. To get some new clothes. I guess old habits die hard. Now let’s get out of here. They’re waiting for us at the palace.”

A couple of kids slapped Achil eus and Mick on their backs, but most avoided them, and Maxie felt disgusted. She caught Sophie’s eye and Sophie looked away.

Now wasn’t the time to thank her.

Someone put a hand on Maxie’s shoulder. It was Blue.

“You done wel , girl,” he said. “You look after yourself now, yeah? We need people like you.”

“Thanks. And thanks for sticking up for me.”

C
alum watched them from the crow’s nest with his binoculars. They’d begun to arrive that morning in ones and twos, drifting in from the direction of Camden. They stood about aimlessly at first, now and then coming over to the shop and inspecting it. After a while they grew braver. They battered uselessly against the barricades or the windows, before wandering off and squabbling with each other.

Idiots.

He’d had a lovely morning. He had no idea what time it was when he got up. Al he knew was that it was light outside. From now on he would get up when he wanted, and eat when he was hungry. He wasn’t going to turn into a slob, though. He had made his bed and the place was clean and tidy. When he went to the toilet he took the bucket to the end of the Waitrose parking lot, climbed a ladder, and tipped it over the wal into a garden. It smel ed a little, but it would decompose. Stuff would probably grow there.