He had never cycled so hard in his life: his lungs were on fire, his heart trying to punch its way out through his rib cage. Before, he had thought that he was flying along, but now he seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Come on. Come on.

He realized there were tears streaming down his face.

His happy dream of being welcomed home as a hero was in tatters. Nobody would ever know what he had gone through last night. Nobody would know about the battle at the stadium. The giant’s beard on fire. His escape across the field. Hiding in the water tank. It had all been for nothing.

Nothing . . .

No. Damn them. He wasn’t going to let them catch him. He was Sam the Giant Slayer. He was going to escape.

Then, as if in answer to an unspoken prayer, the road began to slope gently downward, and he picked up speed, still pedaling furiously. When he next looked back, the grown-ups had fallen behind. Yes. He was getting away.

See you, losers!

On he went. His legs like Jell-O. And each time he looked behind him, the grown-ups were farther away.

He whooped.

He screamed.

He was Sam the hero again.

By the time he hit Holloway Road he was alone. He had lost sight of the shambling idiots. Ah, they were probably still following him, but they’d take ages to get here—he had plenty of time to get inside.

There it was. Waitrose. His home. The lookouts on the roof would have spotted him already. He waved, but couldn’t see anyone. Maybe they were already at the speaking tube, sending orders to the kids below.

“You’ll never believe it! It’s Sam, riding a wonky bike like a crazy kid!”

Maybe the doors would open up for him as he arrived.

He cycled up to the front of the shop and jumped off his bike. He couldn’t hear anyone inside.

“Hey!”

He pulled the chain that rang a big bell above the shop floor. Pulling and pulling and pulling.

“Open up!” he yelled. “It’s me, Sam. I’m back!”

Nothing. What was taking them so long?

“Hey! You lot. It’s me. Let me in. . . .”

He stopped shouting and listened. He couldn’t hear anything. He pulled the chain again. Maybe it was broken? No. He was sure he could hear the bell ringing in the shop. So why was nobody coming?

He stepped back and went over to the window to try to see inside, but all the shutters and barricades were up. He banged on the glass. Shouted again.

He huffed. This wasn’t how he’d pictured it at all.

Something caught his eye and he turned to look back the way he had come. Bodies walking. His heart lifted for a brief moment. It must be a scav party returning. They’d get him in.

They were too big, though, too slow.

And there were too many of them.

Tears sprang back into his eyes Why had he lied to himself?