It was the grown-ups who had chased him down Seven Sisters Road. They must have carried on, doggedly following his trail, and now they were shuffling nearer.

He ran back to the door and tugged at the bellpull, screaming at the top of his voice.

“Let me in let me in let me in!”

The grown-ups heard him and broke into a lazy jog. They weren’t exactly hurrying, though. Why would they need to? They’d catch up with him in the end.

Callum could hear someone outside. Ringing the bell, banging on the windows, shouting. He stayed in his chair, unmoving. If he sat here long enough they would go away. For the first time in a year he was alone. Properly alone. He truly believed that if he was careful, if he stayed hidden and kept quiet, the grown-ups would ignore the shop, leave him be. Arran had left him some food and water, without telling the others. That was a cool thing to do. But what Arran couldn’t have known was that Callum already had loads of stuff stashed away. He had been hoarding since they first came here. In secret places. Above loose ceiling panels, in the wall spaces behind cabinets, in forgotten storage areas. It had been obvious to him from the start—if he didn’t look after himself, he was going to wind up dead. Let the others share, let them ration everything, divide food into portions—when everything ran out they’d quickly start fighting over what was left.

There was only one of him. This was his kingdom now. He was Arran, Achilleus, Freak, and Ollie all rolled into one.

He hadn’t been making it up when he’d told Arran he thought that some other kids would want to stay, though. He’d half hoped they would, but after the initial surprise that nobody did, he’d soon discovered that it was much better this way.

There was nobody to get on his nerves. Just him and his stash. Alone. Peaceful. Bliss. No more arguments. No more petty fights. No more needling or bullying. Most of the time, being here had felt like being in the Big Brother house. Everyone living on top of each other, with nothing to do except moan and bitch. Occasionally a scav party had brought back books they’d looted, or games and puzzles, anything to lift the boredom, but it had never been enough.

Now there was nobody to tell him what to do. What was the point, if the adults had all died, of simply getting jumped-up kids to boss you about? Oh, sure, he liked Arran, but he didn’t ever remember voting that he should be in charge.

It would be different now. Callum could do whatever he wanted. He even had a portable CD player. He’d kept it hidden in his most secret stash, along with some CDs and, most important of all, batteries. Batteries were more precious than gold. They’d found stacks of them in the shop when they first arrived, and they’d thought that they would last forever. Callum had been the first to realize just how quickly they would run out, though, and had set about hoarding them. Now he didn’t have to hide them anymore.