The Enemy (24 page)

He was going to look after himself. Clear away each meal when he was finished, wash regularly, and change and clean his clothes. He wasn’t a savage. That was what his mom had used to say. “Cal um, do the washing-up, we’re not savages.”

He thought of himself as being like someone stranded on a desert island. Marooned. Like Robinson Crusoe. Or the people on
Lost
. If he kept on top of things he would survive. He had calculated that his supply of food would last him at least a year if he was careful. And he was careful. After breakfast he’d done his exercises. Push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, stretches, and a bit of work with an old set of weights that Achil eus had found one day and brought back to the shop. Then he’d run twenty laps around the circuit he’d made on the shop floor. He would be fitter than he’d ever been before.

He planned to spend most of his time up here on the roof, where he felt most at home. Of course it would be different when it got cold and wet, but for now it was glorious, sitting in the crow’s nest, looking out over Hol oway. He’d be able to stay up here as long as he liked today. The sky was blue and mostly clear. There was stil a faint smoke haze from a big fire over Camden way, but it looked like it had stopped spreading.

Bliss. He had everything he needed. The stupid, meandering grown-ups below even provided him with entertainment. He liked to watch them fight, and he’d put imaginary bets on who would win.

He wondered where Arran and the others had got to. They must surely be at the palace by now.

He smiled. The last place he wanted to be was Buckingham Palace. Crammed in there with al those kids. No peace and quiet. Always someone tel ing you what to do. Waiting your turn for food. Lining up for the bathroom. Arguing al the time. No way. They could keep their palace. He was king of al he could see, and he aimed to keep it that way.

He felt something tickling his cheek. A fly, probably. He put a hand up to brush it away and it came back wet.

It was a tear. He was crying.

Why was he crying? He had no reason to cry. Even as he thought about it, though, his body heaved in a great sob, and the next moment there were tears flooding down his face, and he was wailing like a baby.

He shouldn’t have thought about the others. He shouldn’t have thought about them. He was so lonely. So bloody lonely.

T
he kids had reassembled on the sidewalk. Maxie couldn’t help thinking they looked a little like the sad grown-ups they’d found inside, wearing clothes that didn’t real y suit them, or fit properly. But she had to admit that they were at least cleaner than they had been before. They wouldn’t look so much like an army of tramps. Some, like her, had chosen to pack their clothes away for later, and she was determined not to be embarrassed or self-conscious about how she smel ed. Besides, it was their bodies underneath that real y reeked. No amount of clean clothes could hide that fact. You kind of got used to it when you were surrounded by it al the time, but if you ever stopped and thought about it—yeck. Maybe, if what Jester had told them was true, they could al get baths and showers at the palace.

The palace? The very idea of it sounded ridiculous. She didn’t real y quite believe it yet. She was taking every moment as it came, trying not to think too far ahead. Trying not to hope.

Blue was getting his crew together, checking with Whitney that they were al there. Maxie found Ol ie, who was also counting heads. He reassured her that everyone was present.

“Okay,” Maxie shouted at her kids, jumping up onto a street bench, “we’re ready now. We won’t stop again until we reach the palace. It’s not far, half an hour at the most. Are you ready?”

Everyone gave a big cheer, and with a light feeling inside, Maxie went over to Blue.

“We’re al set,” she said. “Shal we go?”

“Yeah.” Blue raised his arm, just as Arran had done the day before, then dropped it, and they marched across Oxford Street and down toward Grosvenor Square in perfect formation.

A group of little kids had adopted Godzil a. Monkey Boy, El a, and Blu-Tack Bil . It gave them something to think about other than themselves, and stopped them from worrying too much. They took turns carrying him and they fussed over him like a little baby. They had some cans of dog food and fed it to him with a spoon.

It was Blu-Tack Bil ’s turn to hold Godzil a, and in his mind he spoke to him, and he imagined the dog’s replies so vividly it was as if they were having a real conversation.

You’re like me, Godzil a. You can’t talk.

Doesn’t mean I’m stupid.

Me neither. Talking don’t make anything better. Maybe I should bark like a dog.

I don’t think you should; people will think you’re weird.

They already do. But I don’t care. I’m never going to talk again.

The grown-ups don’t talk anymore.

No. But you know what, Godzil a? They are stupid.

Will you really never talk again?

I think so. I’m happy like this. I’m safe. If nobody can hear your thoughts, they can’t hurt you. You’re the only one who knows me, Godzil a. And I’m the only one who knows you. We’l always be friends, won’t we?

Yeah. Do you like any of the new kids?

I like Maxie, she’s nice. And Maeve is kind. But Achil eus scares me.

Are you looking forward to getting to the palace?

Yeah. I’ve never been to a palace before. In fact, I’ve never left Hol oway before. I wish I’d come here before everything went wrong.

“Can I hold him?”

Bil looked up. El a was talking to him. He held Godzil a tighter. It wasn’t her turn yet. He’d only had him a little while.

“Let her hold him,” said Monkey Boy. “She’s getting upset thinking about her brother again.”

Bil held Godzil a even tighter. The dog squirmed in his arms and whimpered. Bil loosened his grip a little.

Don’t worry. You can still talk to me if she’s carrying me.

Bil shook his head.

Whitney came over. She was only thirteen, but to the smal kids she was as big and imposing as an adult.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“El a wants to hold the puppy,” said Monkey Boy, “because she’s sad thinking about her brother, but it’s Bil ’s turn.”

“What about Bil ? Does he mind? Do you mind, Bil ?”

Bil shook his head. He wasn’t going to let go. Even if he was a little bit scared of Whitney.

“Come on.” Whitney picked El a up and put her on her shoulders. “When Bil ’s had his turn, you can carry the dog. It’l be something to look forward to, yeah?”

El a nodded, swal owing her tears. She would never argue with Whitney. She looked sadly down at Godzil a. Sam would have liked him. Sam loved dogs. He’d always wanted one of his own.

She wondered if there would be other dogs at the palace. Jester said they had it al set up nice. Like a farm. Maybe there would be chickens and lambs. She’d like to see some lambs.

Maybe Godzil a would try to chase them.

No. They’d keep him on a leash.

“You al right?” Whitney looked up and squeezed El a’s knee.

“I think so.”

Maxie left her team on the flank and moved among the kids, making sure they were okay. Joking about their clothes. She saw El a on Whitney’s shoulders, the two of them chatting away. Whitney was wearing a new white tracksuit that was slightly tight on her big body.

El a looked like she’d been crying. Maxie asked if she was al right.

“She’s okay,” said Whitney. “She was just thinking about her brother, Sam. I told her he’s gone to heaven, where he’l be happy.”

“Yeah.” Maxie patted El a’s leg. “Don’t fret about him. He’s gone somewhere where he can’t be hurt anymore.”

“I miss him.”

“We al miss him. But when we get to the palace we can make new friends, meet new people. They’l never replace Sam, I know, but it’l be a new

“We al miss him. But when we get to the palace we can make new friends, meet new people. They’l never replace Sam, I know, but it’l be a new start for us.”

“Wil there be princesses at the palace?”

Maxie laughed. “I don’t think so, darling. Just ordinary kids like us. So you stop your crying, okay? Just think happy thoughts.”

“What about you?” said Whitney, fixing Maxie with a stare. “You thinking happy thoughts?”

“Trying to. Trying to keep busy.”

“So, you’re good?”

“I’m good,” said Maxie.

Whitney studied her. “If you’re lying I’l know.”

“As good as can be expected,” said Maxie.

“That’s right,” said Whitney. “Reckon that’s the best any of us can say. Is that boy Blue behaving himself?”

Maxie nodded. “I guess so. We’re sorting it out between us.”

“He’s cool, you know,” said Whitney. “He helped al of us in Morrisons through some hard times, some real y hard times, you better believe it. That’s why he’s in charge.”

“I was wondering about that,” said Maxie. “In the meeting, back at Waitrose, you seemed to be the one that everyone listened to.”

“Blue runs around and shouts and waves his spear, but it’s us sisters who real y rule the roost. The kids, though, they felt safer with a man . . . wel , a boy, in charge. A fighter. There was a lot of fighting in them days.”

“You needed a wartime leader,” said Maxie.

“War is right. And speaking of war, you should be out on the flank with your team. I can look after the little ones.”

“Sure.” Maxie smiled and rejoined her unit.

Lewis, on the other flank, was entertaining his team with a long story about a soccer match he’d played in where three kids had broken their legs. They were al laughing but keeping a watchful eye out at the same time.

“By the end of the game,” said Lewis, “everyone was like, walking around wide-eyed and shivering, too scared to run. Nobody would tackle anyone, they was too scared to even like, kick the bal , man. I was the goalie, so I wasn’t too bothered, and in the end they had to cal the match off. Can you imagine. Three people! It was carnage, man.”

This part of London couldn’t have been more different from Hol oway, where they had started their journey. There were expensive apartment buildings and houses, antique shops, art gal eries, a Porsche dealership stil with some cars in the showroom.

“Do you think there’l be a better class of zombies around here?” said Ol ie.

Sophie was walking with him. Ol ie was the Hol oway kid who had shown her the most kindness. She noticed that he kept himself to himself. Didn’t cozy up with any one particular group of kids. He was quiet and thoughtful, something of an outsider. Perhaps that was what he saw in her. She was an outsider too.

“They’re not technical y zombies, are they?” said Sophie.

“No,” said Ol ie. “They’re not the living dead, as such. Thank God they can’t come back to life after you whack them.”

Ol ie was almost walking backward, so often was he turning around to check behind. Sophie was seeing more of the back of his red head than of his face.

“You’re making me nervous,” she said.

“It’s good to be nervous,” said Ol ie. “We don’t want to end up as wel -dressed corpses.”

“You saw the grown-ups back at Selfridges,” said Sophie. “I think you’re right. The ones around here are different.”

“Yeah, wel , I’l bet you we have another fight on our hands before we get to the palace.”

“You’re on,” said Sophie. “How much d’you want to put on it?”

“A mil ion.”

“A mil ion? You haven’t got a mil ion.”

“What if I did?” said Ol ie. “What use would it be to me? There’s nothing to spend it on. Money doesn’t mean anything anymore. What if we were to break into one of these fancy banks around here? Get into the vault and take al the cash out. What would we ever use it for? Lighting fires?”

“Actual y, I don’t think bank notes burn that wel ,” said Sophie. “But I take your point. So what do you want to bet with? How about my bow against your slingshot?”

“Are you serious?”

“No,” said Sophie. “My bow is just about the most important thing in the world right now.”

“Same goes for my slingshot.”

“So the bet’s off?”

“I’ve got a package of cookies,” said Ol ie. “You got any food?”

“Can of carrots.”

“Okay—I’l bet my cookies against your carrots.”

“These cookies?” said Sophie. “Are they stale?”

“What do you think?”

Sophie thought about it. “Okay,” she said at last. “You’re on.”

They shook on it.