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
‘We had a shed at the bottom of the garden where Dad kept his tools. I opened the door without paying attention. I was thinking too much about my sisters. And there inside the shed were about ten grown-ups, all squashed together in the dark, like a fresh litter of puppies. It was hot in there and the smell was rank. I stood there, like, frozen, not knowing what to do. Then they started to move and I grabbed a spade from where it was hanging on the wall and backed away. The grown-ups sort of unfolded, expanded from the squashed-up lump they’d been, like when you pour water on to a balled-up, dried-out cloth and it swells like a flower opening. They were coming up off the floor, eyes opening, lips parting, all teeth and tongues and gums. And then they were coming after me.
‘I tried to slam the door shut on them, but I wasn’t quick enough, or strong enough. They forced it open and came out blinking into the light. I swung the spade at the first one, got him in the side of the head with a big clang and he fell into a couple of the others, but he didn’t go down. I swung again, this time with the sharp edge of the spade, and I managed to hit him in the neck. That stopped him all right. Couldn’t stop the others, though.
‘I ran into the house. Andy and Henry were still there. Andy in his chair. Henry waiting patiently on the sofa, his hands in his lap. I noticed he’d pretty much stopped swearing now. Seemed calmer almost.
‘I told them we had to get out of there and Henry helped me wheel Andy into the hallway and through the front door. Only the whole street seemed to be filled with grown-ups now. They were all round the car. We had no way of getting to it. We tried to charge down the street, Henry pushing the chair, me clearing the way with the spade. It was hopeless. There was nowhere to run to and, in the chaos and confusion, Henry crashed the wheelchair into a trashed car and tipped Andy out. Some grown-ups got close to them and Henry went crazy. He was a bit uncoordinated, but he was wiry and tough and mad, lashing out all around him.