The Sacrifice (19 page)

No. Not possible. He was too sensitive to
their movements to have missed something like that.

There must be another explanation.

He studied the nearest group of strangers,
who were shuffling closer along the road to his left. He tried looking for a familiar
face or item of clothing. It was difficult. Their
skin was darkened,
lumpy and rotten, making them all look similar. A lot of them were bald and what clothes
they wore were identically black and greasy. They came nearer. Something was definitely
different about them. Was it their smell? Or was it that they seemed less organized? Not
in sync.

That was it. They weren’t working as a
group. Shadowman knew the habits of The Fear well enough by now. If they ever split into
smaller groups then one of St George’s lieutenants would nearly always take
charge. Man U or Bluetooth or Spike. Nobody seemed to be in charge of this lot.

No point trying to explain that to the three
kids. They’d laugh at the idea of strangers being organized.

These must be a completely new group of
strangers. And if these
were
newcomers it was worse than he’d imagined.
There were still at least a hundred of The Fear waiting inside the tyre centre.

‘We have to get away,’ he
shouted, his voice hoarse with panic. That and the fact that he hadn’t spoken to
anyone since his friends had abandoned him at King’s Cross station.

How long ago was that? Two weeks? Three
weeks?
He’d lost all track of time.

‘We told you, noob,’ said the
girl. ‘We don’t run, we fight.’

‘Well,
I’m
running,’ said Shadowman. ‘Or I’m gonna try. The only thing is, four
of us could easily punch our way through. By myself it’s gonna be hard.’

‘Then stay and fight. We’ll show
you how we deal with zombies.’

‘But we’re trapped here,’
Shadowman pleaded. ‘There’s
“zombies” coming
at us from both sides. At least break through one group so that you don’t have the
others biting your arses.’

‘He’s got a point,’ said
the boy with the spear, turning round to watch the slower group coming up from the
right. The girl thought about this for a few seconds, chewing something.

‘Yeah, all right,’ she said, and
raised her iron bar in readiness. The boy with the crossbow slung it over his shoulder.
He evidently didn’t want to waste bolts if he didn’t have to. He drew a
machete from where it was hanging at his belt. It was straighter than Shadowman’s
machete. Chipped. Looked like it had seen a lot of action.

The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder
ready to charge the nearest group of strangers. They didn’t ask Shadowman to join
them. Obviously thought he was a waste of space. Expected him to stand back and marvel
at their technique.

‘We’ll smash through then turn
and take them from behind while they’re still confused,’ said the girl to
her friends. ‘You ready?’

‘Let’s do
it … ’

Shadowman had to admit to being impressed by
their combat skills; they moved fast and efficiently, slicing, clubbing, spiking, and
the strangers fell back from them, two of them badly wounded, bleeding from deep cuts, a
third reeling from a blow to his head.

Shadowman tucked in behind the three of
them, his own machete at the ready. He lashed out a couple of times as strangers got too
close, but it looked like they were going to make it through without too much
trouble.

Now if only he could convince the others to
keep moving
they’d be safely away and he could get back on
plan.

As soon as they were clear, however, the
other three stopped and started laying into the strangers from behind.

‘Leave them!’ Shadowman yelled.
‘Leave them and get away. What difference will it make killing a few
more?’

‘It’s what we do,’ said
the boy with the spear. ‘You run if that’s what
you
do.’

If I have to
, thought Shadowman.
Yes, I will. But what I really do is stay alive. I survive
.

This was just stupid. They were taking a
pointless risk. The kids were good, well trained and not afraid to kill. If those ten
strangers were all they had to worry about it would have been a breeze.

The Fear were waiting inside, though.

The kids carried on hacking and chopping and
pretty soon half the pack of strangers was injured in some way. Two lay dead in the
road. Others were down and writhing on the ground. Shadowman didn’t join in. He
was looking past the fight to where the second group of newcomers was getting
closer.

And then, behind them, he saw what he had
most feared. A great dark mass of grown-ups emerging through the gates of the tyre
centre. Moving fast. St George’s army had woken and were coming out to hunt.

‘Run!’ Shadowman screamed.
‘They’re coming.’

‘See ya,’ said the girl.
‘Don’t forget to write.’

‘Can’t you see? There’s
too many!’

If he ran now he’d make it. He could
get his act together and return to spy on The Fear when everything had calmed down. It
would be easy. The Fear would be too slow to catch up. They probably wouldn’t even
bother chasing him. They’d stay to eat the three kids … 

Shadowman swore and then yelled at the kids
again. ‘You stupid bastards. You can’t win this fight!’

He had to get away now. Before it was too
late. He turned and ran. Three metres, four, five … 

He stopped.

Swore again.

Turned round.

The Fear had spread across the road and were
coming fast – much faster than the kids were used to – and only now, too late, they
realized the danger they were in. They were badly outnumbered and would very quickly be
swamped. Strangers had no fear; when they wanted something, they wouldn’t stop
until they’d got it. They would climb over dead bodies to get at you.

Shadowman knew what would happen next.
He’d seen it
too often in the last few days. The strangers would
surround the kids, move in as a solid mass of flesh and smother them, making it
difficult for them to use their weapons, not caring if the front ranks were cut down,
chopped up and killed. There would always be more behind to take their place.

The girl was shouting at her two friends to
break off the fight and get clear, but as they backed away from the thickening mass of
strangers, the boy with the spear tripped over a dead body and stumbled. A father lying
bleeding on the ground got hold of his leg and sank his rotten teeth into the
boy’s calf. He shrieked and went down. His friends instinctively grabbed hold of
him to try to pull him free, but it was their second big mistake. Maybe they
weren’t such skilled fighters after all, because now they couldn’t use their
weapons properly. It was weapons that gave kids their big advantage over strangers and
without them they were horribly vulnerable to attack. As they slowly dragged the boy
along the tarmac, the two of them barged with their elbows, kicked out, the iron bar and
machete flailing limply in their free hands.

Shadowman knew he couldn’t leave them
to it. Not this time. He’d seen too many kids get killed lately. It didn’t
mean he had to be happy about it, though. He swore once more, using the worst words he
knew, and ran back to help, barrelling into the mob of strangers, knocking three of them
over and nearly falling over himself. He swung his machete in a wild circle, but was
scared of hitting the kids, so he quickly sheathed his blade and snatched up the spear
where the boy had dropped it. He could stay clear of the strangers this way. He jabbed
it at them, twisting it so that it wouldn’t get stuck, concentrating on the ones
that were trying to surround the other kids.

It was hopeless, though; he didn’t stand
a chance of holding back this huge press of bodies – the strangers filled the street
from side to side, a stinking, rotten press of diseased humanity. The boy and the girl
were too slow, desperately pulling their friend along, as hands reached for them and
mouths dribbled in anticipation. The injured boy was screaming and sobbing as more
strangers clawed at his legs, attacked him with teeth and lips and tongues.

There was too much going on to be able to
keep up; grown-ups came at them from all sides now. The boy with the machete
wasn’t even looking at his blade as it flapped uselessly in the air.

And then a big father ripped the weapon from
his hand.

‘Hey!’ the boy snapped,
surprised and indignant. Zombies, as he called them, weren’t supposed to do that.
They didn’t use weapons.

Well, he was learning fast;
these
ones
did.

He’d learnt his lesson too late,
though. The father who had got hold of the machete was one of The Fear. Cleverer, more
organized, more lethal. He brought the machete down in a huge clumsy arc and it severed
the boy’s arm at the elbow. The boy cried out, let go of his friend, and as the
strangers smelt blood, they fell on him in a frenzy. He went down with a hideous
screech. The girl tried to pull him along as well.

It was no use.

‘Leave him,’ said Shadowman.
‘You can’t do anything for him.’

‘I’m not leaving him.’

Already, though, the boy had disappeared
beneath the press of strangers as more and more of them collapsed on top of him.
Shadowman saw his chance. The pack was
distracted, intent on getting
to the fresh meat. He ducked down and got the other boy round the waist, hauled him to
his feet with one mighty heave. His legs were covered in blood, but he could walk.

Just.

‘We can’t fight this lot!’
said Shadowman, staggering down the road with one arm round the boy. ‘We’ll
all be killed.’

The girl had no choice but to follow them.
She ran to catch up and then supported her friend on the other side. The three of them
lurched along as best they could. The injured boy was limping and moaning with each step
he took. Shadowman glanced down. Blood was pouring from the wound, soaking the bottom of
the boy’s jeans, which were ripped and tattered, his skin underneath shredded,
covered in bite marks. There were a couple of deep gouges with ragged edges. The cuts
would be difficult to heal without stitches and then there was the risk of
infection.

It was unlikely he’d survive.

It had all been so unnecessary.

‘I tried to warn you,’ said
Shadowman.

‘Shut up,’ said the girl
bitterly. She was right. It was pathetic to be scoring points now. They had to
concentrate on getting away.

‘We should never have left Ricky
behind.’

‘You had no choice,’ said
Shadowman. ‘His arm was gone. No way he could recover from that.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Whatever,’ said Shadowman.
‘It makes no difference now. How far away is your base?’

‘About two miles.’

‘Two miles? You’re joking. What
are you doing so far from home?’

‘We told you. We were tracking
zombies. We cover a lot of ground.’

‘I’m not sure your mate’s
going to make it two miles.’

‘No worries. We got wheels.’

‘A car?’

‘Yeah.’

Shadowman looked back. Most of the strangers
appeared to have stopped to eat the fallen boy. But some were advancing along the road.
The closest were only about ten metres away.

‘OK,’ said Shadowman. ‘I
hope it’s nearby.’

‘Not far.’

‘I don’t think I can make
it,’ the boy gasped. ‘My leg hurts too much.’

‘Keep going,’ said
Shadowman.

‘There,’ said the girl, nodding
up a side-street where a big black Lexus RX was parked in the middle of the road.

‘Just don’t tell me your mate
back there has the key,’ said Shadowman. The girl swore. Stopped dead in her
tracks. Swore again.

Brilliant … 

‘Oh Jesus,’ said the wounded
boy. ‘I can’t walk, Jaz. I’m gonna be sick.’

‘Is it locked?’ Shadowman
asked.

‘Course not. Why would we lock it?
Zombies don’t drive.’

‘Let’s get him in there and
we’ll work out what to do. If we carry on slowing down like this they’re
gonna catch up with us.’

‘We’ll be trapped in
there.’

‘We’ll work something
out.’ Shadowman twisted round; the lead strangers were nearer and closing every
second.

‘Come on.’ He put on a burst of
speed, dragging the other two along with him.

When they got to the car, the girl, Jaz,
wrenched open the back door and bundled the boy on to the seat before climbing in after
him. Shadowman got into the front. He slammed the door and hit the central locking
button. The locks snapped shut with a satisfying clunk.

He took a quick look around the car. It had
once been a luxury four-wheel drive, but the kids had given it quite a battering. The
seats were dirty and ripped in a couple of places. There was rubbish piled up all over
the floor. He noticed the passenger window was open a crack. He
tried
to close it with the window button, but it was dead.

‘Won’t work without the ignition
on,’ said Jaz.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t think even
the skinniest zombie could crawl through that,’ said Shadowman, and he checked the
rear-view mirror to see where the strangers were.

Nearly at the car. Six of them, more strung
out in the road behind them.

He scrunched himself back in the seat and
sighed.

‘Well, this is cosy,’ he said as
the first of the strangers arrived and started pawing at the windscreen, leaving greasy
smears across it. Soon all six of the first bunch were crowding round the car. There was
a whimper from the back seat. The boy was crying and Jaz had her arm round him. It
looked like she might be crying as well, but her face was so crusted with blood it was
hard to tell. The two of them were a mess and Shadowman supposed he didn’t look
much better. The blood that had soaked through his clothing felt sticky.

‘We’re never going to get out of
here,’ said Jaz. ‘We’re going to be stuck in this car until they
either smash their way in or we starve to death.’