A territorial dispute had quickly broken out between the two old fathers and the angry new arrivals. There followed a brief, bloody fight that ended with the deaths of the fathers. Then St George and his gang had set about trying to break in themselves.

Shadowman had taken out his new binoculars and studied the area. The house stood in a large square with a fenced-off garden in the centre. It had probably once been a rich man’s home, but now looked like something out of a war zone. Whoever was inside had managed to barricade it pretty well; all the downstairs windows were blocked. He wondered how long the kids had been in there holding out against their original attackers. As he swept his binoculars over the site, he spotted the dead body of another stranger. An elderly mother who had been half eaten. Maybe she had been part of the siege party and the kids in the house had killed her? The fathers had probably eaten some of her to keep going, but what they really wanted was the fresh young meat inside. The body looked like it had been dead for a while, the blood around it dark and dry, which meant that the siege had probably been going on for some time.

Since he’d arrived, Shadowman hadn’t seen any signs of life from inside the building. He knew there must still be kids in there, though, or else St George would have given up and wandered off long ago.

He’d worked his way closer, moving from building to building, and had ended up in this burnt-out house. The fire must have happened fairly recently because there was still a strong smell of smoke and charring hanging over it. That would help to mask his scent, which was why he’d chosen it. He didn’t think there was any chance of them discovering him here, but he kept his loaded crossbow by his side just in case. He had a pretty good vantage point, up on the third floor, peering out from a gap in the broken masonry. The roof was open above him, showing the cloudy, starless sky. He wished it had been a brighter night so that he could have seen more of what was happening, but couldn’t risk getting in any closer in case they sensed him.

Now his binoculars could only just pick out the shapes of the grown-ups in the darkness. It was weird to see the control St George had over them. They seemed to respect his authority. What’s more, they all appeared to understand what he wanted them to do, even though he could only communicate with grunts and clumsy gestures, or by occasionally shoving one of them into the attack. They were working together as one unit, like a swarm of ants, sharing a single mind. Shadowman shook his head and told himself not to be crazy. There was no way the strangers could have developed a form of telepathy along with their boils and blisters, when the disease hit them. Or at least – he hoped not. For all their sakes …

The strangers were slow and awkward and St George’s gang were the only ones who could use tools of any kind. Sooner or later, though, they were going to get into the house and kill the occupants. If there were enough kids in there to beat the besiegers, they would have attacked them by now, got rid of them. The fact that they hadn’t told Shadowman that there weren’t enough kids to mount any kind of useful assault.

They were doomed.

The strangers had been steadily working away at the house all night. Right now a knot of them was hammering at the front door while a second gang was tearing at a downstairs window. Others were busy round the back. It was only a matter of time before they got in.

Once again Shadowman felt utterly helpless. Stuck out here, only able to watch. There must have been thirty, maybe forty strangers by the house. If he waded in, he’d just be one more casualty. An attack would achieve nothing.

It made him sick, though, imagining how terrified the kids inside there must be right now.

Then a ripple of excitement passed through the strangers, and they surged towards the front door.

They were in.

Shadowman closed his eyes. He could hear them, crashing about. There were shouts. Kids’ voices, high and frightened. Screams …

It felt like it was never going to end. At least the kids weren’t giving up without a fight. Maybe they would take down some of the strangers before they died.

And then at last Shadowman opened his eyes and dragged the binoculars to his face. They felt like they were made of lead. He didn’t want to look.

It took a moment to get his focus. The strangers were dragging two bodies out, a boy and a girl, the boy dead, the girl still alive and struggling feebly. Shadowman could just make out the shapes of St George, with his bloated head, and the One-Armed Bandit. He could picture the rest of them, Bluetooth, Man U and the one without a name. Picture how excited they would look, how triumphant. How miserable that girl would be, knowing this was the end now.

The strangers dumped the bodies on the ground. The girl sat up. Then tried to stand. With a jolt Shadowman realized that he recognized her. There was something distinctive about the way she moved. He strained at the binoculars, wishing he could see more clearly.

Then the girl shouted defiantly at the grown-ups.

There was no mistaking that voice.

It was Kate.

The dead boy must be Tom.

Then Shadowman’s view was completely obscured as the strangers crowded together, snarling and hissing, jostling to get closer to their catch. Kate stopped shouting. He knew what the strangers would be doing now. He’d seen it often enough before. The way they tore bodies apart to get at the meat and the blood. Gouging with their fingernails, ripping with their teeth, pulling limbs away from bodies with their adult strength. It was a long, slow and messy business.

Without any knives it’s hard work butchering a human body.

Shadowman noticed that he was weeping. He beat the sides of his head with his fists. He felt so utterly useless. Maybe he should have sacrificed himself, just to show Kate he cared.

In despair he aimed his crossbow at the shapeless mass of bodies and pulled the trigger. The bolt shot through the night air, invisible and silent. He had no idea if he’d hit anything, but in a moment a pack broke away from the feeding frenzy. He watched them lolloping this way and that, confused, directionless. They couldn’t possibly have seen where the bolt had come from, though, and soon gave up to go back to their meal.

Shadowman fitted another bolt and kept the bow trained on them.

Idiot. What had he achieved other than losing one of his precious bolts? He doubted they’d find him up here – they wouldn’t know where to look – but even so …

Stupid.

If he was going to survive, he was going to have to close his emotions off. If he panicked, if he lost control, if he attacked in a stupid rage, they would kill him, just as easily as they’d killed Tom and Kate.

Kill him and eat him.

And he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. He was witnessing something new here, something terrifying, and when he’d seen enough he had to warn other kids about it.

The grown-ups were getting their act together.

57

‘You sure you’re not coming?’

‘I’m sure. I was lucky to get here like this.’ Finn raised his arm, which now hung in a clean new sling. ‘I’m not risking it out there on the streets again until it’s fully healed. And you’ve got to admit there’s a better chance of that happening here than back at the Tower.’

‘You just like having them nerd girls play nursey-nursey with you.’

Finn laughed and put his good hand on DogNut’s shoulder. ‘I’m knackered, Doggo,’ he said. ‘It’s only when you stop it hits you. Feel like I could sleep for a thousand years. I probably shouldn’t have come in the first place. I mean, I haven’t exactly been a lot of use, have I?’