The Enemy (39 page)

He remembered seeing a wildlife documentary about a pack of wild dogs. They trapped some animal in its lair. A badger or a lizard or something.

And they dug it out. Took them ages. More than a day. They just kept on digging and digging, until they found it.

And then they ate it.

A huge bang fol owed by a thud. Something had fal en over.

He could hear them coming in now. They’d made it into the mal . There was only the shutter between him and them. He supposed he could run, but where would he go? It was too long since he’d been outside. That scared him worse than the grown-ups.

Another track came on. Another of his mom’s favorites when she was feeling “blue,” as she cal ed it. “I Have a Dream.” They’d sung this one together a mil ion times. On the karaoke version. With the words on the screen. It was only now, though, that Cal um real y paid attention to what the words meant.

No wonder his mom liked it. It was al about believing in your fantasies to help you forget reality.

It would be over quickly, at least, when they got inside. For now he would enjoy the chocolate and the Coke and the music. He wished he wasn’t alone. He wished he had someone to share his last moments with. He’d been slowly dying of loneliness since his friends had left.

He’d gotten what he’d wished for, but, like in the fairy tales, he’d discovered that what he wished for wasn’t what he real y wanted.

He leaned over and plugged in his headphones, turned the volume up so that he wouldn’t hear the grown-ups scrabbling at the shutters. He slipped the headphones over his ears. ABBA was stil singing away. They reckoned if you had a song to sing, you could cope with anything.

Yeah, right . . .

He stuffed half the chocolate bar into his mouth. The taste of it was overwhelming. It seemed to fil his whole body. He sighed with delight. When he’d licked al the chocolate from his teeth he took a swig of Coke to wash it down.

He’d kil ed his mom in the end. Smothered her with a pil ow while she was asleep. Not that she was real y his mom anymore by that time.

There was an almighty crash and a rush of cool air from outside. He could sense movement.

They’d broken a window.

He tried to keep his eyes clamped shut, to lose himself in the music. But he couldn’t bear it. He had to look. He had to.

He opened his eyes. For half a second. Less. Saw grown-ups running toward him. The bald man with the huge lol ing head at the front. He was grinning, his arms raised, clutching his club.

Cal um closed his eyes.

He sent a silent hel o out to his mom, and they were upon him.

A
chileus had been patched up, but he stil felt like crap.

His muscles were stiff and bruised, the whole left-hand side of his head throbbed, the cuts across his chest where John’s blades had raked him stung like a bastard. He was covered with a patchwork of tapes and bandages and had been liberal y painted with disinfectant. He prayed that the wounds were clean. He saw what had happened to Arran after he’d been bitten. What were the chances that a filthy animal like John would keep his weapons clean?

The one thing that gave Achil eus hope was that after his mom died, his dad had been surprisingly good at looking after him. He’d learned to cook, he’d gotten involved with Achil eus’s schoolwork, he’d made sure he always had clean clothes, and he’d taken him regularly to the doctor for his injections.

He’d been obsessive about it. His dad had moved to England from Cyprus when he was twelve. He stil had stories about the little vil age he’d come from.

Achil eus was sure he exaggerated the backward nature of the place. But his dad loved the British health system. And he had horror stories to tel about al the diseases that had been stamped out by vaccinations.

So Achil eus was pretty sure he was up to date with tetanus. The kids here were organized. They had a wel -stocked first-aid center, but they weren’t up to giving injections for things like tetanus.

Rose had given him some antibiotics, though, and had done her best with his ear. He wondered how it would come out. He’d never been particularly vain about his appearance. He knew he wasn’t pinup material. But he stil didn’t want to look like a monster. True—a little scarring would increase his status. Looking hard was halfway to winning a fight. Right now, though, he didn’t so much look hard as a mess. His head was wrapped up like a mummy.

Could have been worse. Much worse.

He’d been lucky with John. The guy was thick. Couldn’t see when he was being suckered. But if Achil eus’s trick hadn’t worked, that would have been the end of it. He’d have been wide open to John’s counterattack.

No problem. He’d won. That was al that mattered.

He’d moved to the Music Room at the back of the palace and was sitting looking at the rain as it ran down the windows. He was waiting for his dinner. He was hungry again. Probably from losing so much blood.

He was settled in a big fancy armchair, wearing tracksuit pants and a bathrobe. It hurt too much to put a shirt on over the bandages. Every now and then a palace kid would come through and compliment him. Want to shake his hand, hoping for some of his star status to rub off on them.

He could get used to this.

Paddy the Caddy came in with a cup of tea and a plate of food on a tray.

“You took your time.”

“It’s not my fault,” said Paddy, in his thick Irish accent. “They was busy in the kitchens.”

“I don’t want excuses, PC, I want results. Yeah?”

“Yeah, sorry. Plus I had to look for the other thing for you.”

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah.”

Paddy put the tray down and unslung a pack from his back.

“Open it up.”

Paddy unzipped it. There were a few bits of clothes, a toothbrush, a flashlight, and three cans of spray paint.

Achil eus sat looking at it al in silence for a long while. Then he picked up one of the cans.

“Was he a friend of yours?” said Paddy.

“Freak? Nah. Not real y.” He tossed the can to Paddy. “Look after this for me. And the others. The rest you can dump.”

“Okay. I’m not supposed to be your slave, though,” said Paddy. “More of a servant, I thought. I do things for you and you do things for me. Like teaching me to fight.”

“We’l see.”

“You said . . .”

“Don’t bug me, little man.”

“Sorry.”

Achil eus took a sip of tea. It was too hot. He put it back down.

“Blow on that for me, wil you?” “I wil not.” “You want me to teach you to fight, you blow on my tea.” “You teach me, I’l blow on it.” Achil eus stood up and stretched. Looked at Paddy. “You real y want to learn bad, don’t you?” “I sure do. So can we start?” “What, now?” Paddy shrugged. Achil eus waited a moment, then pushed him down on the carpet and laughed. Paddy looked angry and hurt. “What did you do that for?”

“First lesson,” said Achil eus, holding out his hand to pul Paddy up, “be ready for anything. At any time. The best fighter in the world can be taken out if he ain’t ready. Look at what happened to Just John. Twice now I’ve had him. Once back at the camp, once out there. He was a better fighter than me, mos’ def, but he’s none too smart, and both times I caught him napping.”

Paddy grinned. “I’l be ready next time.”

Achil eus hauled him to his feet, but halfway up he let go and Paddy fel back down with a thump. Achil eus laughed at him, and the little boy looked even more pissed off this time.

“Thought you said you was ready,” said Achil eus. “That was just stupid,” said Paddy. “Ah, but you’re learning, padawan. Don’t trust no one.” “So how do you know you can trust me?” said Paddy, getting up by himself this time. “Maybe I’m a spy in your camp.”

“You think I haven’t considered that?” said Achil eus.

“I ain’t, though,” Paddy said quickly, throwing a pleading look at Achil eus like a cute puppy. “Don’t chuck me out. Please. I don’t want to go back to the camp. It’s cold there and wet. I kept asking John why we couldn’t just live in the houses like everyone else, but he said we was different. Special. I never understood half of what he used to go on about. He said we was like gypsies. But we never went anywhere. We never did nothing, neither. It was boring there.”

“You think it’s gonna be any better here?” said Achil eus.

“Hope so,” said Paddy. “When you start giving me my lessons. Real ones. Not like that. Not like a kid’s game.”

“What, you want me to come at you with a pointed stick?”

“No. There’s more to giving lessons than just attacking someone.”

“Wouldn’t know,” said Achil eus. “Never given a lesson before. Not sure I’l be much use as a teacher. You’l just have to watch and learn, I guess. Pick up what you can on the job. It’s not nothing I ever usual y think about.”

“I’m a quick learner,” said Paddy.

Achil eus smiled at him, then shoved him down on the floor again. Paddy looked like he was going to burst into tears, but Achil eus just laughed at him. He was stil laughing when Maxie came in.

“I’m going up to see Blue,” she said. “Give him my love,” said Achil eus. “Wil you come with me?” “What for?” “I want to talk to him about whether we stay here.” “Why would you want to leave?”

“You could have died today, Akkie.”

“That was my choice.”

“And Freak did die.”

“Could have happened any time.”

“We’re just doing David’s dirty work for him.”

“So? I like doing dirty work.”

“Be serious.”

“I am being serious, Maxie. I mean, look at me, I’m a fighter. What do you expect me to do? Sit around al day counting potatoes? I’m not like you, Maxie, I’m not interested in politics. So long as I have a bit of excitement in my life, get some food at the end of the day, I’m cool.”

“Like an animal.”

“Jeez, calm down, Maxie. Look around you! We’re living in Buckingham Palace, for God’s sake, not the zoo. Before— how we used to live—that was living like animals. This is living like a queen.”

“I thought you’d rather live like a king,” said Maxie.

“Same difference,” said Achil eus. “Bottom line: I like it here. I don’t know why you’d want to leave.”

“Because if we stay here we’l become like David. Al he real y wants is power.”

“That’s fine with me,” said Achil eus. “As long as I’m on the winning side. Don’t want to hang with no losers.”

“Wil you come anyway?” said Maxie. “To see Blue?”

“I get bored of too much yakking.”

“Fine. Don’t come, then.”

“I won’t.”

Achil eus winked at Paddy, who laughed. Maxie blushed and headed for the door before she lost her temper and made a fool of herself. Her side was throbbing badly enough to make her cry. Jester was waiting in the corridor outside, carrying a candelabra with five lit candles. She wondered how much he had heard of their conversation.

What the hel . It was no secret how she felt about David.

Damn Achil eus. Damn him! At least Ol ie was meeting her up there, so she had some support.

As she left the room Achil eus cal ed out to her. “Where would you go?”

“I don’t know,” she cal ed back angrily. “Anywhere away from here.”

Jester took her to the grand staircase, where they climbed one of the twin stairways. At the top was a statue of Perseus holding the Gorgon’s severed head. Maxie was struck by how young Perseus looked, and how old Medusa looked. Maybe that was what the story was about. A boy kil ing an adult. The new world kil ing off the old.

Jester took her through the upper floors of the building, his candlelight flickering along the wal s. It was less grand up here, more like a normal house, albeit a huge one.

The sick bay was tucked away in a corner of the top floor. It was off a short corridor reached by a smal back staircase. Two of David’s guards sat outside, with rifles by their sides.

Maxie turned to Jester with a questioning look.

“I thought this was a sick bay, not a prison.”

“Lighten up,” said Jester. “They’re not keeping guard. They’re just there if anyone needs anything.”

“So why the guns?”

Jester leaned over and spoke quietly in Maxie’s ear. “They won’t go anywhere without them. They love their toys.”

He chuckled as they went inside.

There were six beds in here. Each with a little night-light burning by its side. Four of the beds were empty. The other two held Blue and the girl they had rescued. She was lying there, staring at the ceiling, her face covered with bandages.

Blue was sitting up, naked above the sheets, reading a book, which he put down as Maxie came in.

Rose sat by the window with her own candle, leafing through a magazine. Another girl in a nurse’s uniform was fil ing a glass with water from a jug.

There was an air of peace and calm. Maxie wondered what she’d been so worried about.

Blue gave her a wide smile, genuinely pleased to see her. He looked fine. Wel fed and rested. Maxie was struck for the first time by how fit his body was. Since the disaster they had al been eating a lot less; their bodies were mostly lean with little fat. Their active lives kept their muscles in shape.

“How you doing?” she asked.

“Better,” said Blue. “Couldn’t stop being sick for ages. Kept fal ing asleep. But when I woke up this evening I felt almost normal. Mother of al headaches, though. How you doing?”