The next room was long and red, with several massive chandeliers, though the only light was coming through floor-to-ceiling windows down one side. At the far end was a row of thrones set out on a dais beneath a long plush red drape that hung from a gold canopy.

Seated on the thrones were seven people in various stages of decay. The youngest looked to be about sixteen, the oldest at least sixty. They were dressed in formal clothing that included robes and sashes, tiaras and medals. Diamond jewelry sparkled on the women, while the men feebly held on to ceremonial swords. They looked like they didn’t have a clue what was going on, and were very sick indeed. Their clothes hung loosely on them, and their scrawny necks poked out of their tops like vultures. They had sunken cheeks and waxy, sweaty skin marred by spreading sores and boils. But they were quiet; just sitting, staring with big blank, uncomprehending eyes.

Four boys in uniform stood near the thrones, rifles at their sides. David was standing off to one side with Franny and another girl in a white nurse’s uniform. Maxie assumed this must be the Rose Maeve had told her about. Two more girls in nurse’s uniforms stood a little behind her. Jester and Pod went over to join them.

“Welcome to the Throne Room,” said David.

Maxie was staring at the grown-ups. “Who are they?” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“They’re all that’s left of the Royal Family,” said Jester. “We found them here when we arrived. Hiding. None of the big names. Not the Queen or anything. But they’re still royal.”

“They’re a mess,” said Lewis.

“Well, they’re sick, but not too sick,” said David. “Who knows, maybe it’s their royal blood, their blue blood. Maybe it’s protected them from the worst.”

An old lady lifted her hand; on it was a grubby white glove. She seemed to be trying to say something. She gave up.

“At first they weren’t so bad,” said Jester. “They could talk and move about. I must admit they’ve gotten worse, though. Now they just sit there, slowly rotting. Two of them have died. I guess this bunch won’t live much longer.”

“That’s why we need to move quickly,” said David. “We need to set ourselves up in London before it’s too late. If I can say I’m putting the Royal Family back on the throne, it’ll make everything easier.”

“Whoa, hang on,” said Maxie. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about sorting London out. Putting everything right. We need to take control, and people will be much more likely to look up to us, to follow us, if we have some sort of authority.”

“What people?” said Maxie. “I still don’t get you.”