The Enemy (36 page)

A
chileus was sitting alone in the palace kitchen, eating a big bowl of spaghetti with tomato sauce. It was warm in here and quiet. He wanted a little time to himself before the fight, to get his act together. He was loading up on carbs, like a runner before a marathon. He’d put on a tough front upstairs, put on his macho hat, but he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Just John was one mean bugger.

There was a knock on the door and he glanced up from his bowl.

It was Jester. He was carrying a smal round shield.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, coming into the kitchen.

“You’ve found me.”

“Yeah.” Jester dropped the shield on the table with a clatter.

“Thought this might be useful,” he said. “It’s ceremonial, real y, but it’l be better than nothing.”

Achil eus got up from the table and picked up the shield. It was made of lightweight steel, backed with wood and leather. He slipped his arm through the strap and held on to the grip.

“Yeah,” he said, experimenting, moving his arm, raising and lowering the shield. “Feels good. Coulda used one of these before.”

Jester sat down. “You real y think you can win?”

“I gotta think that, dog, or I ain’t got no chance.”

“I could see if I could find you a piece of armor, or something,” said Jester.

“Nah,” said Achil eus, taking the shield off and returning to his dinner. “It’d only slow me down. Wouldn’t be used to it. I’m al right like this.”

He had changed into a fighting outfit. Sweatshirt and pants. Sneakers. A marked contrast to Jester in his patchwork coat. What was with that coat, anyway? Achil eus had been meaning to ask, and now might be his last chance to find out.

“Tel me something, Mister Magic,” he said.

“What?”

“David goes around in that nasty suit, everyone else here is kind of preppy, like they’re al at private school or something. But not you, you wear that tatty old coat. What’s that al about?”

“I used to live in Notting Hil ,” said Jester. “West London.”

“Ritzy.”

“I suppose so. Anyway, when it happened, what you cal the disaster—”

“Ain’t it that? What do you cal it?”

“I don’t cal it anything,” said Jester. “It’s what it is. It happened. So, as I was saying, I ended up in this big house. Massive place. With a load of other kids. Mostly friends to start with, but more and more joined us. It was easy back then. There were loads of big houses around there. A lot of rich people.

They’d hoarded stuff like you wouldn’t believe. It was rich pickings at first. We thought we had it made. But then ...”

“Grown-ups.”

“Grown-ups. Bad ones. And a lot of them. We didn’t have anyone like you, Akkie. We didn’t stand a chance. There was a girl with us, Persephone.”

“Greek name.”

“I suppose so. But anyway, the first of us to get it was her sister. We divided her things up among us. But Persephone, she took one of her sister’s party dresses, her favorite, and cut a patch from it. Sewed it onto a piece of cloth. To remember her. Then every time another kid died, Persephone made a patch from their clothes. Made a sort of quilt. She showed me how to do it. You know what it was like, there wasn’t much to do to pass the time. And when Persephone was kil ed, I added her patch. Kept the cloth. In the end we had to leave Notting Hil , it got too bad. Headed into town, where it was quieter. Some of us died on the way. But not everyone. Rose was with us. One or two others in the palace. And when we got here I made the quilt into this coat. To carry those dead kids with me. You know how many patches there are on here?”

“How many?”

“Forty-three. No, forty-four. I added Freak today.”

He showed Achil eus a fresh patch.

“And this one here is Arran.”

“You took his shirt?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.”

“You’re deep, man,” said Achil eus. “Real y deep. You happy to let David boss you around?”

“Are you?” said Jester.

“As long as I got something to eat, somewhere dry to sleep, I’m okay. I don’t want to be no boss. Too much to think about. But you . . . do you even like David?”

“He’s bonkers,” said Jester. “Gets nuttier every day. But it kind of works. For now. He’s sixteen, you know? Quite old.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I sometimes wonder if that’s what’s making him the way he is. I watch him al the time for any signs—you know, boils and that. Nothing yet.

None of us knows what’s going to happen as we get older. . . .”

“Don’t like to think about that stuff, man,” said Achil eus. “Don’t like to talk about it.”

“No. I’m sorry.” Jester paused. Studied Achil eus. Then went on. “If you win tonight, Akkie, you’re going to be in a very strong position, you know. I don’t know if David understands that. You could topple him if you wanted.”

“Told you, Magic Man, don’t want to be no boss.”

“No,” said Jester. “But you and me. We’d make a very good team.”

“Excepting I couldn’t never trust you, man. I’d fear to turn my back on you. You’re a backstabber.”

“I’m a survivor, Akkie, a winner like you. There are forty-four kids on this coat that didn’t make it. And I’m the one wearing it.”

“You gonna add another patch tonight? After I’ve fought John?”

Jester shrugged and stood up. “Let’s hope it’s not your patch.”

“Yeah. Wel , with this shield you’ve given me, I reckon I’m safe. It’l give me the edge over Johnny boy.”

“You do realize I had to give him one as wel .”

“You what?”

“We can’t have them crying foul.”

“You’re one slippery bastard, Jester, you know that? I suppose you’ve had this exact same chat with Just John, haven’t you?”

Jester laughed and went out.

T
he quadrangle, the large central courtyard of Buckingham Palace, was crowded. Kids hung out of the windows, waiting. Others stood around the edges of the space, looking toward the center, where flaming torches had been set up to make a ring.

Not al the kids were here. The younger ones and the more squeamish had been kept away. Some hadn’t even been told what was happening. Many of the smal er kids stil woke from nightmares, screaming in the dark hours. They had had a very traumatic time. They didn’t need to be exposed to any fresh violence.

Maxie wished she wasn’t here either, but she couldn’t bear to leave Achil eus to fight alone. She had to know who was going to win. She stil couldn’t real y believe that this was happening. It was like some awful barbaric Roman gladiatorial contest. She had never exactly liked Achil eus. He was a typical boy—a bul y, used to throwing his weight around, lazy and rude and ful of himself—but she nevertheless respected him as a fighter. Valued him. He had saved them al on many occasions. Before the disaster she never would have hung out with someone like him. In these tough times, though, he was a good person to have on your side. They’d been through a lot together. The thought that he might die today was too terrible to contemplate.

And what was the alternative? That Just John would die.

Another kid.

Yes. He was a truly horrible person. Like Achil eus ten times over. And he had kil ed Freak.

That morning, she would gladly have seen him dead. She’d almost kil ed him herself. But not anymore. And not like this.

She didn’t want to ever see anyone die again.

She’d had enough. Holding Freak as he’d slowly slipped away had been awful. And what had made it worse was that afterward she hadn’t felt anything. Just a numbness. A blankness.

Maybe there were no more tears left inside her.

She looked around at the faces of the assembled kids. Some were keyed up, some slightly glazed and shocked like herself, some sitting on the ground, nervous and quiet. The thirteen kids from the squatter camp stayed together in a huddle. The younger ones at the front, like they were about to watch a show, shoving each other, jostling for position, chatting excitedly.

And there was David with Jester and his uniformed guards clustered around him. David looking al high and mighty. An emperor. His champion ready to fight the barbarian champion. She noticed that Ol ie was with them. She wondered sadly if he’d gone over to the other side.

There was no one for Maxie to talk to anymore. Ol ie was with David. Arran was dead. There was always Whitney, but she was in the bal room with the little ones, trying to distract them from what was going down.

In a funny way she missed Blue. Even if he had been somewhat condescending. At least he understood what she was going through. He knew how hard it was to be a leader.

Was she stil a leader? She didn’t know anymore. Everything had changed since they’d come here. Things were slipping out of her control.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

Sophie. Standing there with her archers.

Maxie was torn. Under different circumstances they would have been friends. Sophie was someone Maxie could talk to. She would understand. But Maxie couldn’t tear down that wal between them.

“What do you want?”

“I’ve come to tel you we’re leaving,” said Sophie.

“What?”

“We just can’t stay. If it hadn’t been for Arran maybe it might have been different. As it is—we don’t like David, and you don’t like us. We’ve never fit in.

And then the fight today. We’ve made up our minds, we’re going to get away while everyone’s here. But I didn’t want to go without saying anything.”

“Where wil you go?”

“Don’t know, but we survived on the streets for a year, and it does seem to be safer around here, so . . .”

“Good luck . . .”

Sophie gave her a quick hug.

“I wish things had been different,” she said, and she slipped off into the shadows.

Maxie stood there stunned. Had she driven Sophie out. . . ?

Before she could get things straight in her mind, a great shout went up as Achil eus walked into the center of the ring.

Maxie looked around.

There were Pod and his fighters, like schoolboys at a soccer match, cheering their side on. Couldn’t they see how obscene this was? How disgusting? Had they real y come to this? Was a human life worth so little now? She supposed this must have been what it was like in a coliseum. No different than a cup final. Cheer on your favorite; boo the losers.

No matter that they were going to be slaughtered.

She winced. The pain in her side was worse than ever. It hurt just breathing. She’d give anything to be able to rewind the events of the last day.

Achil eus did a circuit of the ring, pacing it out, then took his sweatshirt off and went over to Big Mick, who was standing with Lewis. Achil eus gave Mick the shirt and nodded as his friends urgently talked at him from either side. They seemed to be giving him advice. Meanwhile, Just John emerged carrying a shield and his spear. He strutted backward and forward in front of his crew like a caged lion, bouncing up and down on his toes, flexing his arms, throwing chal enging glances over to Achil eus.

Achil eus ignored him. He looked to be slowly withdrawing into himself. Gathering his strength, sharpening his concentration, holding himself in.

“Come on, then, Gaylord!” John shouted over to him, spinning his vicious three-bladed spear around his head. “Kiss your boyfriends good-bye and come over here. Or are you going to rol over?”

Lewis handed Achil eus his spear. Maxie noticed that it had been freshly sharpened, the tip glinted silver, honed to a needle point. It was made from a long steel spike, with a pommel at the blunt end and thick leather bindings just behind the head to stop another weapon from sliding down it. Achil eus was always working on it, getting the balance just right. It was lethal, but John’s looked more lethal, with the three knives strapped to the end of its sturdy wooden shaft. One jab from that would cause a terrible wound, and he handled it expertly. He must have practiced for hours every day, twirling it around from hand to hand.

Lewis scratched his head. He looked half asleep as usual, but he was nervous.

“That’s an evil spear he’s got there,” he drawled.

“It’s clumsy,” said Achil eus. “It looks nasty, but it’s not aerodynamic, not with them stupid knives stuck on the end. It’s not weighted right.”

“Don’t matter,” said Lewis. “It’s a kil er. And he looks like he’s kil ed some.”

“And I haven’t?” said Achil eus.

Lewis shrugged. “This is different, bro,” he said. “This is another kid. He’s fit, man, and strong. He ain’t no shuffling zombie like the grown-ups.”

“He’s flesh and blood like anyone else,” said Achil eus.

“Don’t he scare you?”

“’Course he scares me,” said Achil eus. “You think I’m nuts? He’s a hard-nosed son of a bitch. So I’m gonna keep on my toes.”

“Not so hard-nosed now,” said Big Mick. “You land him one in the middle of his face, he’s gonna feel it.” He handed Achil eus his shield.

“Thanks,” said Achil eus, shoving his arm through the strap. “Shame John’s got one of these too. But them knife blades of his aren’t going to be as strong as my spear. If I can get him to keep knocking them against my shield, they’re gonna bust.”

“Just make it quick,” said Mick. “He’s tal er than you, with a longer reach. He’l be hard to get at.”