There was a shout from above, and a flaming torch arced out into the night, turning end over end and landing in a shower of sparks near the restless circle.

The grown-ups were thrown into a mad panic, and Arran started to run, charging into them, barging through the mass of bodies to get to the center, smashing skulls to left and right as he went.

Achilleus came behind, jabbing with his spear. Making sure none of the grown-ups closed the gap.

Josh was shouting at the grown-ups.

“Come on, you ugly freaks, come and get it!”

The boy in the patchwork coat was on the ground, clutching a piece of sharp wood. Arran grabbed him by the arm.

“Move it!” he shouted, dragging him to his feet. He pushed him toward Achilleus’s team, who formed a protective ring around him. The circle of grown-ups had broken apart and formed into a loose milling mob. Arran realized that the way back to the shop was blocked. But then he saw a crazed flurry of activity, and the grown-ups bolted to one side like a disturbed shoal of fish.

It was Freak. He’d gone berserk. Yelling and screaming, lashing out with his spear with no regard for his own safety.

“Leg it!” Arran shouted to Achilleus. “Get him inside!”

Achilleus’s team made it back to the shop and pushed the patchwork kid through the barricade to where Maxie’s group was waiting.

“Take him into the shop,” Achilleus said. “Watch him.”

Arran was looking for Freak. He had lost sight of him in the chaos.

There he was.

He’d fallen; a grown-up was on him, his hands at his throat.

“Achilleus! With me!”

Arran was running. His lungs on fire. He wasn’t going to make it in time.

There came a sharp crack and the grown-up toppled over, felled by one of Ollie’s slingshots. Then Arran and Achilleus and the others were there, weapons a blur, and Freak was on his feet.

He pointed down the road, too tired to speak. Arran looked where he was pointing. He could just make out a fresh mob of grown-ups charging toward them from the crossroads.

Arran stood his ground, ready for anything. All his doubts were forgotten. He was focused on trying to stay alive and protect his friends. Achilleus’s fighters were with him, spears bristling as the grown-ups came on like a wave surging on a beach. But at the last moment the grown-ups parted and ran past the little knot of kids. They had no appetite for a fight. Arran quickly saw why. They weren’t attacking, they were retreating.

Blue and a squad from Morrisons were thundering down Holloway Road after them, throwing rocks and yelling.

Blue spotted Arran and ran over.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“You tell me.”

“There was some idiot,” said Blue, panting, resting his hands on his knees. “He was trying to get in. We chased him away, then found this lot. Never seen so many grown-ups together before.”