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Back The Enemy Save as PDF
Chapters (69)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. 1
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A kid? Grown-ups couldn’t speak.

But the body connected to the arm felt huge and strong. Too big, surely, to be a kid.

Sam was turned around so that he was facing the way he had come.

“Shine your flashlight back that way,” the voice commanded, and he did as he was told.

The grown-ups were hobbling and capering along the tracks.

The big figure raised its other arm. Sam caught sight of a sawed-off shotgun, just like he’d seen in the movies.

The shotgun blasted once, sending out a bright flash and harsh boom, then a second time.

The front ranks of the grown-ups fell away. The rest turned and fled.

“Come on,” said the voice. “Time we were leaving, kiddo.”

27

The kids woke at first light. Those that had slept. Many had simply lain on the grass or sat huddled together, too scared to sleep. They had spent the night in a fenced-off public garden at the top of Portland Place. It was semicircular and surrounded by roads, like one half of a giant traffic circle. There was grass and shrubs and large trees, but nothing could get close without being seen because of the road. The fence was black iron with a spearhead at the tip of each post. The kids had figured that it would be a safe place to spend the night. They had been too tired and scared and demoralized to go any farther after escaping from the park. Who knew what fresh horrors awaited them in the dark? So they had climbed the fence, lit a fire, and posted guards. There were small buildings in the corners, little more than fancy huts but tall enough for the kids to climb on the roofs and keep lookout. It was the best they could do, and thankfully nothing else happened in the night.

Now the sun was rising over London, painting the sky first purple then pink then gray. Soon it would be a vivid blue. It looked like it was going to be another sunny day. The kids stretched and yawned and hugged each other, glad to be alive.

Maxie had taken first watch, then swapped with Ollie and settled down under a bush in her sleeping bag. Too numb to feel frightened. She had instantly fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep, as if she had been knocked cold.

Now she felt sluggish and heavy, fighting to wake up properly. She hauled herself up into a seated position. Every muscle in her body was stiff. She ran her fingers through her short curly hair to try to untangle some knots, but it was a lost cause. She filled her lungs with clean fresh air. That was one small benefit from the disaster. No more cars pumping out poisonous fumes. No more factories and offices polluting the atmosphere. London couldn’t have smelled this pure for at least two hundred years.