The Fear (31 page)

‘There you are. I been looking all over for you.’

Courtney kept her eyes on the dangling skeletons. She didn’t really want to talk to DogNut right now. But he came and sat next to her anyway.

‘Cool,’ he said, taking in the exhibits.

‘Did it not occur to you,’ said Courtney, ‘that maybe I didn’t want to be found?’

‘Too deep for me, girl,’ said DogNut. ‘My brain don’t work that way. I always think if there’s something to talk about you should just talk about it.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

‘Ain’t there?’

‘No.’

‘Listen, I didn’t know how you felt about me, Courtney.’

‘And how
do
I feel about you then?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Go away, DogNut. It’s a waste of time.’

‘No. I really like you, Courtney, and I don’t want you to be upset. I just never thought about you like, a, you know, a girlfriend or nothing. I need to make some adjustments.’

‘Don’t bother. I changed my mind.’

‘So you
did
used to go for me, then?’

‘You just made me feel stupid and small and ugly.’

‘You ain’t none of them things.’

‘I ain’t small?’

‘No.’

‘You saying I’m fat?’

‘No!’ DogNut looked at Courtney. Was she joking now? He never understood girls. It was all too tricky. She’d been crying, but now she smiled.

‘I shouldn’t be angry at you, Doggo. There’s no reason why you should go for me. I know you came here to find Brooke.’

DogNut put his arm round Courtney.

‘It’s complicated, innit?’ he said. ‘On top of everything else – trying to find food and water and keep warm, trying not to get eaten by sickos – on top of all that we got to go through all the same old same old, girlfriends-and-boyfriends and who-likes-who and how-do-I-look and does-anyone-like-me?’

‘Yeah. It’s complicated.’

‘But we still friends, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ said Courtney, and DogNut squeezed her.

‘Cool.’

Typical boy. He probably thought that was all it took. Thought it was over. That he could carry on like nothing had happened.

‘Why you alone with the whales, anyway?’ he asked her. ‘You like whales or something?’

‘Makes you think,’ said Courtney. ‘Where we stand in the world. We ain’t top dog no more. We’re just krill.’

‘What the hell’s krill?’

‘Is what blue whales eat. I was reading the signs. They huge and that, but they just eat these, like, tiny sea insects, millions of them in one swallow, like a sort of soup.’

‘You only been here one day, girl, and already you talking like a nerd.’

Courtney shrugged.

‘So that’s all we are now?’ said DogNut. ‘Krill?’

‘Yeah,’ said Courtney. ‘We’re just insects and the sickos is like blue whales, cruising around sucking us up, swallowing us down.’

‘Nice.’ DogNut released Courtney and stood up. ‘So you gonna come back and join us humans again now?’

‘DogNut?’

‘What?’

‘I want to go home.’

‘Yeah.’ DogNut sat back down again. ‘Me too. This ain’t our world, babes. We should leave it to Brooke.’

‘You mean you’d leave her behind? After everything?’

‘Yeah. Why not? She ain’t interested in me. Let’s go back, the two of us, where we belong.’

‘Yeah. Let’s do that.’

Maybe there was still hope.

The strangers had got into the building. Something had alerted them, and, made braver by the darkness, they’d given up on the cat and wandered across the road. They’d climbed in through the downstairs windows, and Jester and Alfie could hear them on the stairs, approaching the door to the flat.

Alfie was panicking, turning to Jester for reassurance. Jester didn’t have much more of an idea than Alfie about what to do, though. The two of them had waited at the window all afternoon, hoping the strangers would give up and go away. Now it was too late.

The door to the flat was at the bottom of a short flight of stairs. The boys heard the first crash as the strangers reached it. It felt like the whole flat shook, and after the hours of silence it sounded horribly loud. Jester lit a candle and cautiously crept down to inspect the door, Alfie following, tucked in behind him for protection. They’d locked and bolted the door when they came in. Like most London flats there was heavy security. The door itself, however, didn’t look very strong. The big house had been divided up into several poky flats, and not a great deal of money had been spent on the building work.

As the strangers pounded on the door, it bulged and cracked in its frame.

‘Jesus, Jester, what do we do?’ Alfie said, still whispering, even though it made no difference now.

‘We can hold them off for a while,’ said Jester, putting the candle down on the stairs.

‘Yeah? And then what?’

‘Then we …’ Jester shrugged. ‘We fight them off?’

‘All of them?’

‘Have you got a better plan?’

‘You’re the one supposed to be in charge,’ Alfie whined, staring fixedly at the woodwork. ‘Do something. Think of something. You’re supposed to be clever.’

There was an almighty thump followed by an animal growl and a split appeared down the edge of the frame where it was starting to come away from the wall.

‘We should have looked for another way out,’ said Alfie, staring at the frame. ‘While there was still time.’

‘I’m not used to this,’ Jester protested.

‘Shadowman would have known what to do,’ Alfie said bitterly. ‘We should never of left him.’

‘Stay here,’ said Jester, snapping into action at last and bounding up the stairs. ‘Push as hard as you can against the door – don’t let them force it in.’

‘All right,’ said Alfie, thankful to be told what to do at last. He leant his weight against the door, felt the vibrations through the wood as the strangers on the other side hammered it. He swallowed hard, feeling like he was going to be sick. It made it all too horribly real, feeling the strangers throw their bodies against the door – it was like he was actually touching them. Only a few millimetres of pine separated them.

He prayed that Jester would hurry up.

How many of them were out there? They’d counted nine to begin with, but as night had fallen they’d been joined by more and more of their kind as they emerged from their dens to go hunting under the cover of darkness.

He slowly leant forward and put his ear to the door. Now he could hear their grunts and sniffs and hissing breath. Their frenzied scrabbling movements as they fought each other to get to the door.

‘Hurry up, Jester!’

He jerked back as there came an even heavier thump. His arms were shaking, his hands slippery with sweat.

‘Jester …’

‘I’m here!’

There was a clatter as Jester came down the stairs carrying two kitchen chairs. Together they quickly wedged them between the door and the stairs, jamming the legs against the steps.

‘That’ll help,’ said Jester.

‘We need more,’ said Alfie. ‘We need to block the stairs completely.’

‘OK. OK …’

‘But, Jester, even that won’t hold forever. You saw what they were like with that cat. They won’t give up. They’ll get in eventually, or we’ll starve to death, or, I don’t know what, but we have to have a better plan …’

Jester thought for a moment, running his fingers through his shock of stiff, wiry hair. ‘I’ll look for some more stuff to block the stairs,’ he said, trying to sound calm.

Alfie nodded. ‘OK.’

‘And I’ll look for another way out. A window, or something. We’re not that high up.’

‘Yeah. Good. But you should have looked before. You let us get trapped here.’

‘I didn’t think – neither did you.’

‘Shadowman wouldn’t have got us trapped like this,’ Alfie repeated.

‘Maybe not. But I’ll get us out, Alfie. All right?’ Jester smiled at the younger boy, a light of defiance in his eyes. Alfie smiled back. All he needed was for someone to tell him that everything was going to be all right. Jester was standing up at last, acting tough, and it gave Alfie strength and hope.

‘They’re all distracted here,’ said Jester. ‘They’ll be too stupid to think of whether there might be any other ways in or out. You stay put, bang on the door, make a lot of noise. Draw them all here. Let them think we’re not going anywhere.’

‘OK, yeah. I get it.’

‘Good man, Alfie. I’ll be right back.’

Alfie watched Jester run to the top of the stairs again, and then he returned to his station. The chairs were holding. With no room to give, the door wasn’t jumping so much in its frame now. Alfie’s smile grew wider. It felt good to have a plan. They could get one over on the strangers. Kids could always beat them, because they were smarter. The grown-ups’ weakness was their stupidity.

He banged his fists against the woodwork and was answered from the other side by a frenzied scurrying, scraping, moaning assault on the door.

‘Yeah?’ Alfie yelled, his voice high-pitched and hysterical. ‘You hear that? That’s me! Alfie Walker. Yeah? And I’m cleverer than you dumb bitches! You stupid ugly farts. Yeah, knock on the door all you like – you ain’t coming in. And, if you do, I’ll split you with my knife. I’ll rip your rotten guts out. I’ll kick your brains up the walls!’

He started to laugh as he hurled more and more insults at the strangers and came up with gorier and gorier ways to splatter them. His voice eventually started to grow hoarse and he realized that Jester had been gone an awfully long time. He turned and looked up the stairs. The candle was nearly burnt down.

Where was he?

‘Jester!’ he called. ‘Jester, how are you getting on?’

There was no reply. Before Alfie could shout again he was distracted by a change in the noise at the door. There was a harder, sharper bang, and a crunching noise. He picked up the flickering candle and moved it closer. Then it came again – THWACK – and a big crack appeared down the middle of the door. They were hitting it with something. Something sharp. Strangers didn’t normally use tools of any kind, or weapons, but some of them, the cleverer ones, the ones who weren’t as far gone, would sometimes pick things up. Then it was like some deep memory would kick in and they’d find themselves back in their old lives, doing DIY on a weekend, working in the garden, chopping wood …

‘Jester?’ Alfie called. ‘Hurry up. They’re using a tool of some sort. They’re hacking through the door, mate!’

Another crash and the point of a metal object punched through. Alfie swore and ran up the steps calling Jester’s name.

‘Where the hell are you?’ He moved from room to room, but there was no sign of the other boy.

And then he went into the kitchen.

The window was open.

Alfie went very cold.

Surely Jester wouldn’t have just abandoned him?

But that was quickly followed by another thought.

Why not?

He’d abandoned Shadowman, who was supposedly his best friend. A cold achy feeling filled Alfie’s guts. He went over to the window and looked out. The sky was clouded over, but there was just enough light from the moon to see a low flat roof below. Beyond that was a small backyard and an alleyway.

Empty.

‘Jester …?’

Alfie was crying. He wiped his nose.

‘Bastard …’

Another crash from downstairs, followed by the sound of splintering wood, and then the noise of the strangers themselves.

They were through.

Alfie dropped his knife down on to the lower roof and squeezed out of the window. He found it hard to calculate the drop in the darkness. He hung there nervously for a moment, summoning the courage to let go, and then something struck his hand and he released his grip. He landed badly, jarring his ankles and knees. But there was no time to feel sorry for himself. He staggered to the edge and realized he was going to have to jump again. Shaking his numb hand, he looked up at the window. It was blocked by strangers fighting to get out.

He took a deep breath and launched himself off the flat roof. He landed better this time, but it still sent sharp jolts of pain up his legs and into his spine. He tried to walk and shrieked in agony. His legs were on fire.

There was a thump from above and he looked up to see that a father had dropped from the window. Alfie realized to his horror that he had forgotten to pick up his knife. There was no question of climbing back up to get it.

The father shuffled to the edge of the flat roof and jumped down. There was a horrible snapping noise and he collapsed, his broken leg bones sticking through his trousers.

That made Alfie feel a little better. He mustn’t act like a wimp. He wasn’t so badly hurt. He limped to the back gate, barged it open and looked both ways along the alley that ran behind the houses. No sign of bloody Jester.

He spat.

Another stranger dropped out of the window.

Alfie started hobbling down the alley, his knees killing him, swearing under his breath with every step. He wished he had his knife. He wasn’t intending to be doing any fighting if he could help it – all he wanted to do right now was get away and find another hiding-place – but holding on to the knife had given him courage.

He left the alley where it joined the main road. There was nobody around. He was alone, out here on the streets with no idea where he was. There were sounds behind him. The hunters were on his tail. They could probably smell him. He tried to speed up, but it hurt too much. Tears were streaming down his face. Tears of anger and fear and betrayal and self-pity. First Kate and Tom had left him, and now Jester. He didn’t deserve this.

Well, he’d show them. He’d show them he could survive. He’d got this far, hadn’t he? After the sickness struck he was alone on the streets for nearly two weeks before linking up with some other kids, who he’d ended up going to the palace with.

He’d done it before – he could do it again.

Don’t wimp out …

He put his hand up to dry his eyes and felt a splash of something warm across his face. A wave of nausea hit him and a terrible pain ripped through his hand.

Now what?

He whimpered. His fingers had been severed at the joints. It must have been when he was hanging from the window frame. Something had hit him. Chopped his fingers clean off.