Josh was moving among the kids, trying to keep them alert. Most grumbled at him, and when he got to the Morrisons team, who were supposed to be guarding the right flank, they looked half asleep. Josh struggled to remember the name of the tall, dozy-looking kid with the Afro who was meant to be in charge. Lewis. That was it. He was sitting slumped against a storefront, his eyes closed.

“We should be ready in case anything happens,” said Josh, worried that he was sounding like some anxious teacher on a school trip.

“I’m conserving my energy,” said Lewis, and he yawned.

“You should be watching the flank. In case any grown-ups come in from the side.”

“I’m listening,” said Lewis. “I’ve got bat ears.”

“I don’t want to be a pain in the ass,” said Josh. “You might think this is all a joke but—”

“It’s cool,” said Lewis.

“What’s cool?”

“You’re cool, I’m cool, everything’s cool.”

“If we lose any kids . . .”

“I won’t lose you no kids, bro. I’m cool. You got nothing to fear, Lewis is here.”

“You think I’m scared?” said Josh. “I ain’t scared. Nothing scares me, man.”

“If you say so, bro.”

“Yeah, well, just tell me if your bat ears pick anything up.”

Lewis slowly opened his eyes. “I’m hearing something now, man.” He jumped to his feet surprisingly quickly, and Josh could see that his whole body was tensed. What had he heard?

“Up, up, up!” Lewis yelled at his team, and in a moment they were all ready.

Arran was aware of shouting. Coming from the rear of the group. He’d been lost in his thoughts, trying to regain his strength so that they could get moving again.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“Dunno,” said Maeve, who was sitting with him, unable to do much more than offer sympathy.

“Help me up.”

“Arran . . .”

“Help me up, Maeve!” Arran snapped, and Maeve hauled him to his feet.

“Where’s my club?”

Maeve fetched Arran’s pickax handle and gave it to him.

Lazy. He’d been lazy. He was supposed to be in charge, a leader. He pushed his way through the milling kids to the rear of the group, where the commotion was. He saw Ollie. Ollie would know what was going on. He was sensible.

“We heard something,” Ollie explained.

Before Arran could say anything, someone shouted.

“Look!”

People were coming over the brow of the hill. A solid line of grown-ups, their shuffling feet scraping on the street, a low moan rising from the herd.

Sounds like the seaside, Arran thought, and closed his eyes for a moment. He was back in Portugal with his mom and dad. Lying on his back, sunbathing.

“Have you got your lotion on?”

“Yes, Mom . . .”