‘Do you really believe that?’ said Maxie. ‘You don’t know them.’
‘I’ve made up my mind,’ said Blue. ‘I’ve listened to enough yack-yack-yack for one night. I’m going down there tomorrow to take a look. Check these squatter dudes out. I’ll take anyone who wants to come with me. Anyone wants to stay here, that’s cool. I’m not forcing no one. But let’s see what these guys have got to say for themselves.’
‘And how do you think they’re going to react when you go marching down there armed to the teeth?’ said Whitney.
‘We’ll leave the heavy stuff behind,’ said Blue. ‘We won’t take no spears or swords and knives. Only wooden tool handles – you know, pickaxe handles, stuff like that. Just in case. If it does kick off we want to scare them, not kill them.’
‘That sounds like a good enough plan,’ said Ollie. ‘I’m with you.’
‘I still don’t like it,’ said Maxie. ‘But OK. Let’s at least check them out.’
42
Callum was running round his track. A circuit of the supermarket floor, in and out of the cabinets. He’d done sixteen laps and was going for twenty. He hadn’t slept well, and even now it was barely light outside. He’d had a good day yesterday, he’d found a stash of old magazines he’d forgotten about, and leafing through them had helped take his mind off his loneliness. Before going to bed, he’d gone up to the crow’s-nest to watch the sunset and to see if the grown-ups were still hanging around.
They were.
Dumb jerks.
And then he’d seen a new grown-up arrive and everything had changed.
He was a father. Fat and lumpy with boils. He wore shorts and an England vest with a cross of St George on it and had little patches of hair sticking out from his huge, bald head. So big it looked swollen. He had a pair of wire-framed glasses with no lenses in them and seemed more intelligent than the others, even having some sort of control over them. Callum had never known grown-ups to have a leader before, they usually just hunted in loose packs. This father seemed to be rallying them, organizing them. He had even turned up with a weapon. Just a club, but it was something else Callum hadn’t seen before.
The boss grown-up was surrounded by a little gang, some of whom also carried weapons. They were a mismatched bunch, but they stuck together. One had a metal-shafted arrow through his shoulder, another had a Man. U. shirt, another had no shirt at all, only one arm and his whole body was covered in blisters. The last one wore a filthy, pinstriped City suit and appeared to have a Bluetooth earpiece embedded in his ear.
The worst thing was when the bald fat one looked up and met Callum’s eye. He had seemed to smile.
Callum had worried about them all night. They looked dangerous. And as soon as there had been enough light he had crept out on to the balcony to see if they were still out there.
They were.
He still had two bombs and various missiles ready. If these new grown-ups made a concerted effort to smash their way in, he’d just have to use all his firepower. For the time being all he could do was watch and wait.
He told himself he was just tired. That’s what his mother always used to say, whenever he was cross or worried about something – ‘You’re just tired’ or ‘Have you had a glass of water?’ or ‘Have some fruit, your blood sugar’s probably low…’
The fat arsehole in the St George vest would get bored sooner or later and wander off. They always did. There was no point in getting worked up about it.
He’d run a bit longer. That would help.
Maybe thirty laps.
Maybe forty.
Maybe he’d just keep running forever.
43
Blue yawned and looked up at the sky. It was a grey morning with thickening clouds. It wasn’t yet seven o’clock and it looked like one of those days that was going to turn nasty. There was a distant rumble of thunder and he shivered. He’d rather have been in his bed right now, but there was work to be done.
They’d decided that the best time to go over to St James’s Park and check out the squatters was first thing, when they’d all still be asleep. Most of the fighters were going. Though Freak and Sophie’s team and a few others had opted out. Pod and Jester had joined them, with a squad of fighters from the palace.
‘So what’s the deal with David?’ Blue asked. ‘How come he ain’t with us?’
‘He’s not really a fighter,’ said Pod. ‘He’s more of a leader, yeah?’
Achilleus wandered over, swinging a sledgehammer handle. ‘And what about all those nerds in uniform?’ he said. ‘With the cool guns? How come they ain’t with us, neither?’
‘If David wanted a show of strength, why didn’t he send them down?’
‘With six guns and only about twenty bullets between them?’ said Pod. ‘They’re really just for show. And besides, they need to stay behind and, you know, guard the palace. If anyone, like, attacked while we were all out it’d be a total disaster.’
‘Tell us about the nerds,’ said Achilleus. ‘What’s their story?’
‘All the boys you see in uniform were from the same boarding school,’ said Jester. ‘Down in Surrey somewhere. When everything started to go wrong David led them all up into town. We’d already set up here in the palace, but it was chaos. David sorted us all out. He was head boy before.’
‘We used to play them at cricket,’ said Pod. ‘Not me, I was more of a rugger bugger. But our school.’
‘I suppose as he’d been to boarding school he knew how to organize kids,’ said Jester. ‘Some of the boys he brought with him work in the gardens or the kitchens, but most stayed as the palace guard. I think they did army training and everything at school.’
‘I still don’t think they’re as good street fighters as you guys,’ said Pod. ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you in action. I might pick up a few tips, yeah?’
‘I’m hoping we won’t be going into action,’ said Blue.
‘No, of course not, not today at least,’ said Pod.
‘We were kind of hoping the fighting was over.’
‘Come off it,’ said Jester. ‘You’d be bored stiff. You love fighting.’
Blue grunted. Could have been a yes or a no.
‘Are we going then?’ asked Achilleus, anxious to be off.
‘Guess so,’ said Jester.
‘Let’s move!’ Blue shouted and they tramped out through the gates.
As they passed the Victoria Memorial someone called out.
‘Look at that.’
The memorial had been vandalized. The Queen’s face had been sprayed yellow with two black eyes and a big smiley-face grin. And there, beautifully stencilled to the plinth below her, was a message. Two big words, multicoloured and vivid. They simply said:
‘ARRAN LIVES’
And under them the tag – ‘FREAKY-DEAKY’.
Maxie laughed when she saw it.
‘How can Arran be alive, man?’ said Achilleus. ‘I watched him burn.’
‘It’s a message from Freak,’ said Maxie. ‘Not to forget what Arran believed in.’
And there was Freak, standing at the top of the steps that led down from the statue, watching the kids troop past.
‘Freak’s an idiot,’ said Achilleus.
‘Don’t you believe in anything, Akkie?’
‘Looking after number one.’
Maxie shook her head and broke away from the group. She ran up the steps to where Freak was waiting.
‘Nice artwork.’
Freak shrugged.
‘You don’t have to go, you know,’ he said.
‘I know. But someone needs to make sure the fighters don’t get carried away. It could easily become stupid.’