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Back The Enemy Save as PDF
Chapters (69)
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“You gonna add another patch tonight? After I’ve fought John?”

Jester shrugged and stood up. “Let’s hope it’s not your patch.”

“Yeah. Well, with this shield you’ve given me, I reckon I’m safe. It’ll give me the edge over Johnny boy.”

“You do realize I had to give him one as well.”

“You what?”

“We can’t have them crying foul.”

“You’re one slippery bastard, Jester, you know that? I suppose you’ve had this exact same chat with Just John, haven’t you?”

Jester laughed and went out.

53

The quadrangle, the large central courtyard of Buckingham Palace, was crowded. Kids hung out of the windows, waiting. Others stood around the edges of the space, looking toward the center, where flaming torches had been set up to make a ring.

Not all the kids were here. The younger ones and the more squeamish had been kept away. Some hadn’t even been told what was happening. Many of the smaller kids still woke from nightmares, screaming in the dark hours. They had had a very traumatic time. They didn’t need to be exposed to any fresh violence.

Maxie wished she wasn’t here either, but she couldn’t bear to leave Achilleus to fight alone. She had to know who was going to win. She still couldn’t really believe that this was happening. It was like some awful barbaric Roman gladiatorial contest. She had never exactly liked Achilleus. He was a typical boy—a bully, used to throwing his weight around, lazy and rude and full of himself—but she nevertheless respected him as a fighter. Valued him. He had saved them all on many occasions. Before the disaster she never would have hung out with someone like him. In these tough times, though, he was a good person to have on your side. They’d been through a lot together. The thought that he might die today was too terrible to contemplate.

And what was the alternative? That Just John would die.

Another kid.

Yes. He was a truly horrible person. Like Achilleus ten times over. And he had killed Freak.

That morning, she would gladly have seen him dead. She’d almost killed him herself. But not anymore. And not like this.

She didn’t want to ever see anyone die again.

She’d had enough. Holding Freak as he’d slowly slipped away had been awful. And what had made it worse was that afterward she hadn’t felt anything. Just a numbness. A blankness.

Maybe there were no more tears left inside her.

She looked around at the faces of the assembled kids. Some were keyed up, some slightly glazed and shocked like herself, some sitting on the ground, nervous and quiet. The thirteen kids from the squatter camp stayed together in a huddle. The younger ones at the front, like they were about to watch a show, shoving each other, jostling for position, chatting excitedly.