The Enemy (5 page)

Achil eus raised a hand and they al stopped. They had come to the part of Hol oway Road where they had had the fight with the dogs. A group of people was up ahead, clustered around the carcass of the dead German shepherd.

“Can you make out who it is?” said Achil eus.

Ol ie had the keenest eyesight of al of them. He shaded his eyes and squinted.

“They’re kids,” he said.

“Ours?”

“Nah. Morrisons.”

When everything had fal en apart, one group of local kids had ended up taking shelter in Waitrose, and another group had taken up Morrisons, the cheaper supermarket in the nearby Nag’s Head shopping center. Kids had mostly ended up in the place where their moms and dads had gone shopping.

Not al , though. Ol ie guessed Achil eus was more of a Morrisons kid.

In the struggle to survive, where every scrap of food was fought over, the two groups of kids led total y separate lives. There was even the occasional skirmish in the street.

Achil eus turned to Arran.

“What do we do? There’s more of them than us. Should we go around the back way?”

Arran looked at the other gang, then at his feet, then up at the sky.

“I don’t know,” he said eventual y.

“I’m wiped,” said Achil eus. “I can’t face another fight, and I can’t face going the long way around, looking out for grown-ups every step of the way.”

Arran sighed, pushed past him, and kept walking.

“If they want to have a go at us, let them,” he said. “I don’t care anymore.”

Achil eus watched him go, then shared a look with Ol ie.

“Come on.”

They made sure that Freak was stil with them, and hurried to catch up with Arran.

The Morrisons crew soon spotted them, and they took up a defensive stance in the middle of the road.

Arran carried on walking toward them. He wasn’t going to stop. Achil eus ran past him.

“We don’t want no trouble,” Achil eus cal ed out to the other gang. “We’ve had enough for one day. We just want to get back. We ain’t got nothing you want.”

The Morrisons crew stood their ground, sul enly watching them as they approached. They were armed with an assortment of knives, sticks, and spears. Ol ie spotted their leader, Blue, a muscley kid with close-cropped hair. Ol ie smiled at him, being as open as he could, showing that they meant no harm. A couple of the Morrisons crew nodded at them as they arrived, showing no expression. Blue noticed the dog, stil strung across Arran’s back.

He looked from the dead pit bul down to the German shepherd.

“You do this?”

“Earlier.”

Arran snapped out of his weird mood. He knew he had to put on a brave face. It was important not to show any weakness. They had nothing in their camp the Morrisons crew could want, but there was always a danger that they might lose some good fighters if the Morrisons thought they’d have a better life in the rival supermarket.

“You look pretty messed up, man,” said Blue, staring at Arran and then at Freak. “Was it the dogs?”

“No,” said Arran. “Grown-ups. At the pool. Don’t go up that way.”

“Never do,” said a big, slightly stooped kid who looked almost like a grown-up. He was Mick, the Morrisons equivalent of Achil eus. Their top fighter.

“There’s been a lot of attacks lately,” said Blue.

“Too right,” said Arran. “They’re getting desperate.”

Blue looked at him. “There’s been some trouble up at Waitrose,” he said.

Ol ie’s heart caught in his chest. His stomach flooded with acid. Now what?

“What sort of trouble?” said Arran.

“Some sort of an attack. There’s been grown-ups hanging around al day.”

“Oh crap,” said Arran, and he ran off down the road, the rest of his group struggling to keep up.

The Morrisons crew had been unusual y friendly and helpful, Ol ie thought. Which probably meant that they were getting scared. When it came down to it, the kids had to stick together.

The grown-ups were the real enemy.

T
hey’re back!” Josh ran up to Maxie.

Maxie’s heart thumped against her ribs. She had been desperate for Arran to get back, but she was also terrified of what he would think. He had left her in charge and she had mucked up.

She didn’t want to show how she was feeling in front of everybody. She couldn’t lose it twice in one day.

“Get the gates open,” she said, pleased that her voice sounded strong and clear. “Who’s on lookout now?”

“Cal um,” said Josh.

“I didn’t real y need to ask, did I?”

“He practical y lives up there.”

“Get someone to ring the bel ,” said Maxie.

“I’l do it.” Josh hurried off. In a moment Maxie heard the clang of the bel that told everyone to get ready to open the gate.

Maxie went over to the speaking tube. She banged on it to alert Cal um, then cal ed into it.

“Cal um?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you stil see Arran and the scavs?”

“They’re nearly here.”

“Is it safe to open the gates?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause and then a shril whistle.

Al clear.

Soon afterward there came the sound of the steel shutter being cranked up. The shutter was the old security gate that blocked off the main entrance to the store. It was operated by turning a big wheel set into the wal .

Maxie stood there, listening, but not daring to look. Trying to slow her breathing and take control of herself. Once the shutter was up the gate crew could move out into the mal and open the barricade.

The barricade was a huge fortified gate that opened on to the street. It had been built by Bernie and Ben in the early days. Bernie and Ben were two emos who looked identical, even though Bernie was a girl. They had straight black hair and wore black combat trousers, black T-shirts, and black sweatshirts. Both of them were into robotics and used to watch programs like
Scrapheap Challenge
on TV. They had built loads of modifications around the shop, including the speaking tubes. They were also in charge of opening and closing the barricade.

In a moment there was a flood of light and then the hubbub of voices from the street. Maxie tensed. The last two hours had been hel . An eternity of fear and apprehension. She had a horrible sick feeling in her gut.

At last, there he was.

She gasped, despite herself. He looked awful. There had been trouble. It wasn’t just the wound in his neck and the blood on his clothes—he was horribly pale, and there was a look in his eyes. A look of despair she had never seen before.

It was a moment before she realized there were only three others with him.

Oh no.

She wanted to run to Arran and throw her arms around him. To comfort him, to comfort herself, to hold on to something.

He would hate it, though. He had no idea how she felt about him. She mustn’t let him find out. She wasn’t one of the pretty ones. She had a plain, square face and mousy curly hair that tangled into knots so that she had to hack away at it with scissors. To Arran she was just his second in command.

That was al . She was tough. There was nothing girly or pink about her. If he knew that she’d always fancied him, he’d run a mile.

Fancy?

What a stupid word that was. It was more than fancy. She loved him. Another stupid word. Love. What did it real y mean? She knew how it felt. Good and bad at the same time. There was no one else. No mom and dad. No brothers or sisters. There was just Arran.

But he was hurt.

They both spoke at the same time. The same words— “What’s happened?”

So he knew it, too. He could read it in her face. She had screwed up.

Who was going to explain first?

Arran sniffed and cleared his throat.

“We lost Deke,” he said flatly.

“Oh no ...”

Arran shrugged. “There were too many of them.”

Maxie didn’t know what to say. She was glad that Arran had told his news first. It didn’t make hers sound so bad. But it was bad.

Arran looked at her. “We saw Blue and the Morrisons crew,” he said. “Told us there’d been trouble.”

“Some grown-ups got over the wal at the back,” said Maxie.

“How many?”

“Not sure. Four or five . . .”

“They get anyone?”

Maxie nodded.

Arran looked around, trying to see who was missing.

“It was Sam,” said Maxie. “Smal Sam.”

“Poor little bugger,” said Arran. “This hasn’t been a good day.”

“No. There’s been grown-ups hanging around since you left. I keep expecting them to attack again.”

“They won’t attack Waitrose,” said Arran, taking his club over to the rack where they kept their weapons. “They never have.”

“They might,” said Achil eus, who was already at the rack with Freak and Ol ie. “They’re changing. It’s getting tough, man.”

“It’s al over for us,” said Freak, looking utterly miserable and defeated.

Achil eus grabbed him and slammed him into the rack, spil ing weapons onto the floor.

“That was your bright idea, Freak,” he snarled. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you. Don’t never forget that. Deke’s blood is on your hands, man.”

Arran pul ed him off.

“Don’t be an ass, Akkie,” he said.

Achil eus turned away and let his breath out in a dismissive huff, before sinking into sul en blankness.

“We’re not going to start blaming each other,” said Arran. “It won’t get us anywhere. We’re al in this together. If we start fighting among ourselves it real y is al over. Okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Achil eus wandered off.

Arran put a hand on Freak’s shoulder.

“You al right?”

Freak looked at his hands. Stained red. He wiped them on his shirt and shrugged.

Ol ie took the dead dog off Arran, who seemed to have forgotten he was stil carrying it.

“Come on, Freak,” he said. “Let’s see what we can do with this.”

In a moment Maxie was alone with Arran. She was desperate to explain herself.

“They came into the parking lot,” she said. “We’d told the little kids not to go out there.”

“Not your fault,” said Arran.

“I thought you were going to be so mad at me,” said Maxie quietly.

“Not your fault,” Arran repeated.

“I know, but ...”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Maxie, I didn’t do so good either.”

Maxie almost burst into tears.

“We can’t go on like this, Arran.”

“Yeah?” Arran stared at her, that bleak look stil in his eyes. “So what are we supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know, do I?” said Maxie, trying to control her voice.

Arran sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s been a tough day. I’m the leader. I’m supposed to know what to do, aren’t I?”

“You can’t know everything. You can’t always be expected to know the best way to . . .” Maxie stopped herself. It wasn’t helping. “We should cal a meeting. Talk about it.”

“Later,” said Arran. “I’m tired.” He closed his eyes for a moment. Maxie took the opportunity to study his wound. It looked nasty, a row of weeping black holes surrounded by yel ow and purple bruising. She touched him gently with her fingertips.

“Does that hurt?”

Arran winced, then nodded.

“You need to have it looked at,” said Maxie. “Come on.”

They went upstairs. The floor above the shop was mostly a storage area, but there were offices here, the canteen, and access to the roof terrace.

One of the offices had been turned into a sick bay, and they kept a basic medical kit there. Antiseptic, painkil ers, and bandages. They found Maeve sitting at a desk, staring out of the window. Maeve acted as nurse and doctor. Her parents had both been doctors and she’d picked up bits and pieces from them. She knew more than any of the other kids, so in their world she was an expert.

Arran showed her the damage and she went to work.

She cleaned the cuts, put on some disinfectant, and taped a bandage over it, then gave him something for the pain. She said nothing. They al three knew that it was serious. There would be an anxious wait to see whether the wound got infected. Three kids had died from infections since they’d been holed up here. To lose Arran in the same way would be a catastrophe.

Maxie didn’t know what she’d do without him.