The End (3 page)

Achilleus took it all in, getting a layout of the park in his head.

‘You see anything shouldn’t be here?’ he said to Ryan. ‘Any more grown-ups?’

Ryan shushed him. He had his head cocked to one side. Listening. Achilleus kept very still, trying to tune in to whatever it was Ryan had heard. All he
could hear was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the iron sculpture creaking under their weight.

‘What?’ he said and Ryan shushed him again. He was scanning the area, his head moving like a radar – left to right, right to left.

Finally, from far away, Achilleus picked up something. It could have been a bark and, as he concentrated, he heard another. Then a third one,
clearer and closer, more of a yelp than a bark. And behind it all a whining. Growing louder.

‘Dogs,’ said Ryan. ‘Coming closer. They like it here. They chase the ducks. Sometimes they catch them. If there’s any useful ones we’ll take them.’

‘I can’t see them,’ said Achilleus. He wasn’t very good at this.

‘There,’ said Ryan, pointing over the top of the gallery, past a little
sort of bell tower.

Achilleus spotted a movement at last. A pack of dogs, running through the trees. About ten of them. All shapes and sizes. Nothing too scary.

‘Incoming!’ Ryan shouted and started climbing down as fast as he could in his leathers and belts and buckles and chains. Achilleus beat him down and saw that the hunters had grouped up into a defensive formation, those
with the biggest dogs at the front. Ryan took his own dog from a guy who’d been holding her for him and led the group round to the other side of the gallery.

The newcomers had scented Ryan and his dogs and were running around in circles in a state of manic excitement. Most had their hackles up, but some were wagging their tails; others were doing that belly-crawling, submissive
crouching thing – whimpering. The bravest had their teeth bared ready to attack.

Achilleus quickly checked them out, deciding which were harmless and which were a threat. A big Rottweiler with a chunk of fur missing from his side looked to be the leader of the pack. He was coming closest and the smaller dogs kept running up to him, licking his face and rolling at his feet.

He had one damaged eye and was limping where it looked like he’d been in a recent fight and had his front leg gashed.

‘He ain’t no use to us,’ Ryan said. ‘Nothing but trouble. We take him out and the rest will back down.’

Achilleus looked to Paddy, but he could see he wasn’t up for it. The little boy was weighed down by the golf bag and still clutching the
Gáe Bolg
. Achilleus
guessed that killing dogs wasn’t his thing. Wasn’t sure that killing grown-ups was his thing either, to be honest.

‘I’ll do it,’ he said and took out his trusted old spear, the one he’d made months ago from a sharpened steel pole. He’d added a leather grip and it had a pommel at the end that became a useful club in a close-up fight. Twirling it in one hand, he strode out past
the hunters, keeping his eyes fixed on the Rottweiler. It made a lunge towards him, but was obviously wary of Ryan’s bigger dogs that were setting up an unholy racket, yelping and howling, straining at their leads, up on their hind legs. It was all Ryan’s hunters could do to hold them back. Achilleus needed to get this over quickly.

‘Come on, you ugly bastard,’ he said, walking
steadily towards the Rottweiler. It held back, and held back, and held back, and then at last attacked. Achilleus was ready – legs firmly planted, eyes never leaving the dog’s eyes – and as it leapt up at him he thrust forward with his spear and took it cleanly in the chest. Stepping aside so that the weight of the dog wouldn’t hit him. He’d killed it instantly.

The fight went
out of the other dogs. They calmed down and stopped running around and Achilleus was able to properly check them out. There were three yappy little things, nasty little bruisers, scarred from battle. Four larger mongrels with matted fur, smart-looking, but probably not much use to Ryan’s guys. And then there was an Alsatian. Skinny, but in better shape than the others. That was the
one he’d pick. The others could be left to run around harmlessly. They weren’t going to be a threat to anyone.

‘The Alsatian,’ said Achilleus, pointing at the dog. ‘Leave the rest.’

‘You want it?’ said Ryan.

Achilleus looked at Paddy who was grinning like a kid at Christmas.

‘Don’t need a dog,’ he said, and Paddy groaned.

‘Oh, go on, Akkie,’ he whined. ‘Let’s keep
him. I’ll look after him. He’d be a good guard dog.’

No, he’d be another mouth to feed. Another living thing to be responsible for. And it would need to be trained. Made safe.

‘Forget it.’ He turned and walked away. ‘He’s all yours, Ryan.’

Ryan made a signal and two of his hunters went in quickly, managed to catch the dog and put a collar and lead on it. It thrashed about,
snarling and snapping at them. One of them hit it with a stick and it quietened down.

There were tears in Paddy’s eyes. He was trying not to let anyone see.

‘We don’t need no dog,’ Achilleus repeated, and before Paddy could say anything there was a shout.

‘Guys!’ A hunter was over near the back of the gallery. Achilleus noticed that some of the dogs had also gone over and
were snuffling around, tails wagging.

‘They’ve found something,’ said the hunter. ‘A scent.’

‘What do you reckon it is?’ Ryan asked, joining the boy. ‘An animal? Another dog?’

The hunter was sniffing the air. He wrinkled his nose.

‘I reckon it’s the bastards we’re looking for,’ he said. ‘Must have got inside.’

‘Bastards?’ said Paddy, looking at Achilleus.

‘Is what they call grown-ups,’ Achilleus explained.

Ryan was walking round the building. ‘Check and see if there’s any openings,’ he said.

‘Here!’ shouted another hunter. ‘There’s an open door. And I can smell them. There is definitely at least one bastard in there.’

3

It was dark inside the building. The open door they went through led to a narrow, dirty corridor. This was probably a service area, behind the main gallery. Paddy kept close to Achilleus. The smell of the stuff the grown-up had sprayed on him was much worse in here in these cramped conditions.

‘Jesus, Paddywhack,’ said Achilleus. ‘Did you just open your lunch box?’

Paddy said nothing. He was gagging and struggling not to be sick again, his head spinning. Felt like he might actually pass out. This was the smell of death, he thought.

It really wouldn’t be cool to throw up again. There was never enough food and to puke half of it up like he’d done, that was bad. He so wanted to hang on to the rest of what was inside him, even though it churned
in his guts like acid. His dogs used to eat their own sick. Nothing went to waste. Paddy wondered how hungry he’d have to be to do something like that. He was shaking, his teeth rattling in his skull. He tried to tell himself that it was because he was cold. His clothes were damp from the spray and as it dried it cooled. It wasn’t that, though. He knew it wasn’t that.

Paddy was
scared. No argument. He never used to get this freaked out, but lately it had got worse. He’d gone out
west with Achilleus and the Holloway kids. That had been a nasty experience. He knew how easy it was to get hurt, to get killed. Before joining up with Achilleus’s crew he hadn’t been that bothered about staying alive. His world had been sick and painful and friendless. Now he had
good friends and a better life, he wanted to hold on to them.

Stupid to get killed now, here in this dumb building in the middle of the park. As long as he was with Akkie, though, he’d be OK. Everything would be all right …

The corridor passed by a kitchen. Nothing worth scavenging in there. It had been cleaned out months ago by the look of it, probably last year when everything
started to go wrong. There was really nothing of any use. All there was, was grown-ups.

Ryan was leading the way, his big dog sniffing the air, tensed up. He held up his hand and they all stopped. Ryan had brought four of his hunters in with him and two of his dogs, the biggest two. The others had stayed outside with the rest of the pack.

Paddy still had the
Gáe Bolg
, its
blade covered with dried blood, turning crusty. Stupid. He should have cleaned it. He wasn’t doing his job. When this was over, he needed to clean all the weapons. He didn’t want Achilleus to get mad at him.

Oh God, but he wanted to be sick. His skull was pounding and he had a headache coming on that you wouldn’t believe. Was it too late to go back outside and join the others? Get
some fresh air.

Which was scarier? Going back outside without Achilleus or staying in here with him … and the grown-ups.

Ryan beckoned them on and Paddy went with them. They rounded the end of the corridor and Paddy saw the
big open space of the gallery off to their left. Back here there were a number of smaller rooms, storerooms mostly by the look of them. The dogs were sniffing
and whining at the closed door of one, the fur sticking up all along their backs.

‘Hold!’ said Ryan and his dog moved away, obeying him. The hunter with the other dog pulled him back on his chain. Ryan looked to his team. Someone was going to have to look in the room.

Achilleus stepped forward. ‘I’ll do it.’

Paddy tucked in behind him. ‘You sure, Akkie?’ he said.

‘Relax,
caddie, I got it covered.’

Achilleus moved towards the storeroom door. It was made of metal and there were dents around the handle where someone had attacked it. Probably whoever had first broken into the gallery rather than grown-ups. One of the hunters aimed a torch at the door. It was open a couple of centimetres.

‘Shine it in there,’ said Achilleus, and he turned to another
hunter. ‘When I say, pull it open wide and stay clear.’

The hunter nodded and gripped the door handle. Paddy could tell that he was nervous too. They all were. Except Achilleus, of course. He was cool. Always cool. Paddy watched as he took up position in front of the door, legs planted, hands wide apart on his spear, ready to stab. Paddy held the
Gáe Bolg
out in front of him.
It would keep any grown-ups away. Ryan and the other guy had their dogs held tight, gripping the heavy chains. That left one hunter, who was armed with a big sharpened crowbar and standing just behind and to the right of Achilleus.

‘You and me, soldier,’ said Achilleus. ‘If any of them try to get out we knock ’em down.’

‘Safe.’

Achilleus called over to the guy holding the
door handle.

‘Open the box …’

And the hunter yanked the door back. The torch beam shone inside. There was a big square room, some old benches stacked on one side, chairs as well. Some sheets of wood against the wall. And at the back, coming awake, blinking in the light, stinking and filthy, what looked like about twenty grown-ups, all piled on top of each other, like a nest
of rats. And something else. Something dark and inhuman.

Paddy strained to see what it was, the sick rising in his throat again.

‘Close it,’ Achilleus said, and the hunter didn’t need to be told twice. He slammed the door and leant against it.

‘Too many to take on in there,’ said Achilleus. ‘Not worth the risk. We should try to get them outside where there’s more room
and more of you lot to deal with them.’

‘They ain’t gonna want to go out in the sunlight,’ said Ryan.

‘We could try to burn them in there,’ said a hunter.

‘Except we got nothing to burn them with,’ said Ryan.

‘I got some smoke grenades left,’ said the guy with the torch.

The grown-ups were starting to push against the other side of the door.

‘OK,’ said Ryan. ‘Lob
one in – it might help, but be careful. They seem pretty keen.’

The grown-ups were hammering now.

‘They’ll follow us, smoke or no smoke,’ said Achilleus. ‘If they don’t all come out we can come back in and mop up the stragglers. But I ain’t going in there with twenty of them.’

‘I wanna use a smoke grenade,’ said Torchboy. ‘I never get the chance.’

‘OK,’ said Ryan.

‘I can’t hold them much longer,’ said the hunter at the door. ‘They really do wanna dance.’

‘Let’s do it.’ Ryan nodded to his team. Torchboy took a smoke grenade out of his pack and got it ready. The guy with the other dog started to walk back the way they’d come. Ryan followed him. Their dogs would scare the grown-ups, maybe keep them from following. Achilleus slapped his
hand on the shoulder of the kid with the crowbar.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Zulficker.’

‘Well, Zulficker, you and me and the caddie here are gonna have to make sure they follow us. OK?’

‘OK.’

Achilleus looked at the guy holding the door.

‘You can just leg it. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘You as well.’ Achilleus was talking to Torchboy now. ‘Get the smoke in there and get out of our
way.’

‘Sure.’

‘Here we go then.’

Torchboy struck his smoke grenade, which sparked and then started to pump out thick white smoke. The other kid pulled the door open. The grenade went in, turning over and over. Already it was getting hard to see in the corridor.