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Back The Enemy Save as PDF
Chapters (69)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. 1
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“Tell me, Sophie,” said Ollie, crouching down to inspect the wound. “Is it barbed? The arrow? Has it got a barbed tip?”

“No,” said Sophie. “It’s a sports arrow, designed for shooting at targets. It’s probably gone right through him. It was very close range.”

Maxie wailed and threw herself on Arran, cupping his face in her hands.

“He was already weak from the bite in his neck,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“Okay,” said Jester, “as I see it, it’s like this. He can’t walk. So, whatever we do, we’ll have to carry him. Maybe make a stretcher, or find a trolley, or something.”

“We can’t move him like that with an arrow sticking out of him,” Blue objected.

“I know that,” said Jester. “So we’ll have to risk taking it out. We’ve no other choice. We’ll have to bandage him up and just hope we can stop the bleeding.”

“You’ll only be able to stop the bleeding on the outside,” said Maeve. “Not inside. He’ll die.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” said Jester. “We operate on him?”

“It would be the only way to save him,” said Sophie.

“Don’t be stupid,” Maxie snapped. “We can’t operate on him.”

“I know,” said Sophie sadly.

“If we can just get him to the palace, he might have a chance,” said Jester. “But if we stay here he won’t, and it’ll be dangerous for the rest of us. We have to keep moving. I say we take the arrow out and see what happens.”

“No,” said Maxie.

“We ain’t got time for this,” said Achilleus, and he marched over to Arran, grabbed the arrow, and yanked it out. Maxie screamed. A gout of lumpy jellylike blood dribbled from the wound. Arran groaned and coughed. His body spasmed, and he was still.

“You’ve killed him!” screamed Maxie.

“No.” It was Arran’s voice.

22

Sam waited, perched on the metal rungs. There was no way out of the shaft. The top was blocked. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on, even though he had wedged his body across the gap. His muscles were sore and shaking. His back hurt.

He tried to concentrate on hanging on instead of imagining what the grown-ups were doing. Every time he thought they’d gone, he heard them again. Searching for him. Just be small, he told himself. Be small and still, and try to think of happier times. Of sunny days on the beach. Of playing with his Playmobil. Anything other than being stuck underground in this tiny space with the grown-ups sniffing around for him.