“Maxie.”

“Achilleus says you’re not feeling very well.”

“I’m feeling fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“You look awful.”

“I’m just hot.” Arran put a hand to his forehead and swayed. Maxie had to catch him to stop him from falling.

“Blue! Wait!” she shouted, and Blue held up his hand for the group to halt. Maxie took Arran to the side of the road and sat him down on the curb. He slumped forward, his head hanging down between his knees, and was sick on the street, throwing up a thin, watery stream.

“You’re not good,” said Maxie.

“I feel better for that,” said Arran. “I’ll be okay now.”

“We’ll rest for a while.”

“No. We’ve hardly gone any distance at all, Maxie. We’ve a long way to go today.”

“You can’t go on in this state.”

“I just needed to be sick,” said Arran. “I’m fine now.” He stood up and immediately staggered sideways into a car.

He muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” said Maxie.

“I need to put my Playmobil away.”

Maxie exchanged a worried look with Blue and Jester, who were standing watching.

“This is serious,” she said.

When I’m gone,” said Sam, “you’ll have to properly close the doors.”

“I will, yeah, I will,” said Callum. “I should have done it before, but I wasn’t sure exactly how. I should have paid more attention to the emos.”

They had found a pump and two more bikes in the back by the loading bay. Sam vaguely remembered some of the older kids using the bikes in the early days, before it got too dangerous out on the streets. These bikes were too big for him, though, so he was going to stick with his lucky bike.

After finding the pump, the two of them had gone out on to the balcony and watched the grown-ups below. They halfheartedly pawed at the doors for a while, and threw things at them—one of them tried to force the doors open with a long stick. At one point a fight broke out and a mother was knocked down, unconscious or dead. Eventually they all gave up and wandered off. Sam’s bike lay untouched in the street.

Callum guarded the door while Sam got the bike back inside. Then he pumped up the tires, mended a couple of punctures, and straightened out a bent wheel. Now that he knew Sam wasn’t going to be staying, Callum seemed to be behaving more normally, although maybe he was being just a little bit too helpful. As if he were anxious to get rid of Sam.

For his part, Sam was dead on his feet, but he knew he had to keep going until he caught up with the others, or he might never be able to find them again. There was no way he would be able to get to the palace all by himself.

He had a quick snack of stale biscuits and water before taking the bike back outside.