“It just happened,” said Arran. “Let’s not try to figure it out, eh, Freak?”

“I dunno.”

Arran unslung his backpack and opened it.

“Here,” he said. “I got something for you. I was waiting for the right moment. I guess this moment is as good as any.” He pulled out a can of spray paint. Freak’s eyes went wide.

“Where’d you get that?” he said.

“I found it when I was clearing out Waitrose, getting ready to leave. It was packed away in the back of a cupboard. Dunno who put it there.”

“You got any more?”

“I got five, mate. Black, white, red, yellow, and silver.” He passed one to Freak, who rattled it.

“Still half full.”

Arran handed over the other four cans, and Freak stashed them in his own backpack.

“Maybe if you can spray your tag somewhere—FreakyDeaky—it’ll sort of keep Deke alive. Write in big letters ‘Deke lives,’ or something. Don’t let them win. The grown-ups.”

Freak pushed his hood back off his head and walked straighter and taller. “Arran?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry.” Freak put a hand on Arran’s shoulder. “I’m with you all the way, man.”

“Thanks.”

Jester came over, his big mouth stretched into a tooth-filled grin.

“This is going to be so much easier than getting to Waitrose,” he said.

“I hope so,” said Arran.

“It will be, you’ll see. You guys know how to look after yourselves.”

Arran’s stomach clenched and he felt suddenly sick. He couldn’t speak for a moment, but Jester filled the silence.

“Something I want to know,” he said. “How come you all ended up living in Waitrose?”

“It just sort of happened,” said Arran. “I don’t know who got there first. But we all turned up looking for food.”

“And was there any?”

“Some. Amazingly. I think they’d stored up emergency supplies. There was stuff out of the way in freezers and upstairs in the storerooms. We had to break some locks, but we got to it all in the end. Same thing happened in Morrisons.

There was nothing fresh, of course, no fruit or vegetables or fresh meat, but there was canned stuff, and other useful things like candles and string and knives and batteries and I don’t know. . . .”

“No soap,” said Jester.

“Yeah, there was soap.”

“Shame you didn’t use any of it.”

Arran looked at Jester; his smile was even wider than before.

“What are you saying?”

“No offense and all,” said Jester, “but you lot stink. You probably don’t notice it, living there all the time, but I’m telling you, it’s a relief to get out of that shop.” He held his nose theatrically and screwed up his face.

“We wash when we can,” said Arran. “There were bathrooms there. Ben and Bernie rigged up a way to heat rainwater, but we weren’t going to waste too much of the stuff on washing. And, I mean, you’re right—after a while you don’t notice the smell.”

“What about your clothes?”

“We wash them now and then if we have to, but mostly we find new stuff in the shops. It’s easier.”