Callum was hovering in the open doorway now, looking nervously up and down the street. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave the building at all.

Sam climbed into the saddle, checked once more that the road was clear, and pushed off.

This was more like it. The bike went fast and straight. He whizzed along to the junction and turned onto Camden Road. Soon he was climbing the hill past the prison. It was heavy going, and halfway up he had to get off and push. All the while keeping a lookout for any grown-ups. Once he got to the top, it was downhill all the way to Camden.

He got on the bike and took one last look back.

Good-bye.

A few seconds later he was sailing down the hill, the wind in his hair, dodging in and out of the cars in the road. The kids had given up checking cars long ago. Most were out of gas, and nobody knew how to start them, or unlock the steering, without the keys. Besides, a lot of the roads were blocked by abandoned and burned-out vehicles.

Sam almost didn’t spot the group of people up ahead before it was too late. They were moving down the hill between the cars in the same direction as him. Sam had had too many disappointments today to let his guard down and hope that this could be his friends. He was right not to be too optimistic. They were grown-ups, walking slowly but purposefully.

He would have to go around them. He cut off down a street to the right. He didn’t really know the area around here. His mom and dad had never let him ride his bike on the roads. They said it was too dangerous. He’d only ever ridden in the park before, or on special trips to Epping Forest.

He told himself that he’d find his way. If he just kept heading downhill he was sure he’d hit Camden Town.

There was a dark thought scraping at the back of his mind, though.

What was it? What was wrong?

Something to do with the grown-ups.

No. He wasn’t going to worry about them. They hadn’t seen him. He could get around them all right.

They weren’t after him.

What were they after, though?

Maxie was sitting with Arran under the blue-painted railway bridge by Camden Road station. She had moved him here to be out of the sun. He was shivering, but she didn’t think it was from cold.

“You’ve got to keep everyone together,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Maxie.

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to what?”

“Worry.”

“You don’t, Arran. You’ve been cut. You’re sick.”

Arran grabbed Maxie’s arm. “That doesn’t make any difference,” he said. “It’s like I was saying to Freak—” He broke off, confused. “Was I saying it to him? Did I say it? I don’t remember. . . .”