Chapters (81)
- Contents
- Books by Charlie Higson
- Praise for Charlie Higson’s writing:
- ST GEORGE
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- THE HUNTER
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- 19 DAYS EARLIER
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- THE RACES
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- CLOSING
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Follow Penguin
- THE BEGINNING
- PENGUIN BOOKS
‘If it was today,’ he said, his voice almost a whisper, ‘I’d have taken them on. Smashed them to pieces. But I hadn’t learnt to fight then, and I was still weak and in a lot of pain, bleeding, limping, half blind, a useless piece of chewed-up meat. There was nothing I could do except stand there. There were too many of them; if I’d tried to do anything they’d have massacred us.
‘I watched as Susannah managed to get up, and she got into the Volvo. She got it started. I’d left the key in the ignition. She went zooming off out of control, smashed right into one of the petrol pumps and knocked it flat. No petrol had spilt out, but you could smell the fumes pouring out of the damaged pump. The kids were running towards the car to get the stuff out of the boot, laughing, jeering. And then Susannah must’ve of tried to start the engine again and there must’ve been a spark because next thing there was a big sort of whoomph sound and a fireball around the car. Some of the chasing boys were knocked over and I felt a hot blast, like a kick. That was enough for me. I was back in the Citroën. I turned the key and we were out of there.
‘Andy was crying and Henry kept asking about Mary and was she going to come and help and I felt sick. I’d hardly known Susannah, but I hated for this to have happened to her. You’d think you’d get used to it, people dying, friends getting killed, but somehow, for me, each new one is worse. I made a decision then that I was going to save people. Somehow I was going to save people.
‘I didn’t do a great job, did I? The next to die was Andy. In Slough. Not a great place to live. Worse place to die. The Citroën got us there. Only took us about half an hour. But when we arrived I wondered why we’d bothered. Why had we come here? What was I expecting to find? Happy families dancing in the street? My sisters rushing to meet me with big smiley faces? Yeah … Slough had been banged up much worse than Rowhurst. The whole town was ripped apart. It was chaos. Looked like there’d been a riot, or a war, or something.