The End (33 page)

Jordan had made the LookOut building his headquarters. It was a modern building protected by metal fencing. Jordan had cut down most of the surrounding trees to reinforce the fence and give better lines of sight. He’d also erected a viewing platform on its roof so that he
could see out across the battlefield. Maxie was just glad that the sickos had obliged him by coming here. Almost as if it had been planned and agreed on, like a pitched battle from the past. Otherwise this would have been a lot of work for nothing.

She spotted Jordan up on his platform, sitting in a plastic chair. Blu-Tack Bill was at his side and Paddy’s dog, Bright Eyes, was
waiting patiently at the bottom of the big ladder Jordan was using to get up on to the roof.

That bloody dog. It had caused all the trouble with Achilleus. So petty. Such a stupid little thing to get upset about.

Although Maxie knew that wasn’t really why Achilleus was pissed off.

It was all about pride. Respect. The macho code that caused so many problems among boys.

And Achilleus being pissed off meant that now almost half the kids wouldn’t fight.

Great.

Maxie rolled her shoulder, trying to get rid of a knot of tension. She sighed. Maybe those kids wouldn’t have fought anyway. Maybe they’d just been looking for an excuse. Even so, Maxie could have killed Jordan and Achilleus for acting like a couple of dickheads.

It was ironic. They needed
macho dickheads to fight this battle. But it was Achilleus’s pumping testosterone that was keeping him away, sulking in his room.

Maxie looked around. Those kids who had turned up were silent, just staring out at the sicko army that faced them from the other side of the barricades across the long grass. They were probably all thinking the same thing as Maxie – was it too late
to turn and run? Jordan didn’t seem to be giving any orders. He just sat there. Even he seemed stunned by what they had to deal with.

For their part, the grown-ups also seemed to be waiting. Standing still and staring back.

Over to Maxie’s left, formed up in neat rows, all dressed in green, were the St Paul’s kids, carrying banners and musical instruments, Matt standing at
their centre, unreadable.

‘We will destroy the Nephilim!’ he shouted.

‘Yeah, right,’ Blue muttered, but Matt wasn’t finished.

‘I saw an angel standing in the sun. Who cried in a loud voice to all the birds – “Come, gather together for the great supper of God, so that you may eat the flesh of kings, generals and mighty men, of horses and their riders, and the flesh of all
people, small and great.” I saw the beast and the demons of the earth and their armies gathered together to make war against the King and his army. The beast was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him, but he will be slain. The rest of them will be
killed, and all the birds will gorge themselves on their flesh …’

Blue pushed his way into the compound where the LookOut was.
Maxie followed him in. Blue went right over to the ladder and started climbing up to the roof, Maxie hard behind him.

‘This is crazy,’ Blue shouted out to Jordan.

‘You telling me, soldier,’ said Jordan as Blue reached his platform. ‘We need ten times the numbers we got. But we don’t got ’em. So we just have to do what we can with what we are.’

‘We can’t attack.’

‘Is
probably right. We might just have to stay behind our defences and see what happens.’

‘Why aren’t they moving?’ Maxie called up to Jordan. ‘What are they waiting for? Why don’t they attack?’

‘Dunno,’ said Jordan.

‘It is really freaking me out.’

‘I hope you got a good plan?’ Blue said.

Maxie looked at Jordan. He nodded and chuckled. ‘As Mike Tyson once said – “Everybody
has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”’

‘That’s reassuring,’ said Blue and Maxie noticed that little Bill was whispering and muttering something into Jordan’s ear. Jordan turned and muttered something back to him.

Maxie had no idea exactly how many grown-ups were out there, but if anyone knew, if anyone could count them, it was Bill.

The calculating part of Maxie’s
own mind had shut down. She couldn’t take in the big picture, could only concentrate on details. A single white cloud in the sky. A
boy down below picking his nose. A girl literally wetting herself. The sun glinting on a spearhead. A bird singing in a nearby tree – almost the only sound in the whole park, despite the vast number of people here. And Bright Eyes, lying peacefully
at the bottom of the ladder, eyebrows twitching, her ears occasionally swivelling. Details.

Jordan climbed down from his platform and walked to the edge of the roof. It was flat but gently sloping, and he could see all his troops from here.

‘When I give the signal,’ he shouted, ‘I want all the officers to take your troops to where we planned. We start with missiles. We fire
at them and we keep firing. We throw everything we got at them till there ain’t nothing left to throw. We don’t go to them and fight unless we absolutely got to. For now, we defend.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s my musicians?’ he shouted.

Four kids came hustling over from the St Paul’s contingent. Two trumpeters and two drummers. They climbed up with some difficulty and joined
Jordan and the others on the roof. Maxie remembered the long, boring hours spent learning the various signals. She supposed now, though, that they’d be useful. They had to work together as one efficient unit if they were to stand any hope of defeating the sickos.

Jordan raised his hand to give the agreed signal. And then lowered it slowly, shaking his head at the musicians.

The front rank of the sicko army had parted and two grown-ups were walking out through the gap.

One was a big and grossly fat father, with wire-framed glasses that had lost their glass. He was wearing a tattered vest with a red cross of St George on it and a pair of baggy cargo shorts.

This must be St George. Couldn’t be anyone else.

The other was a tall, thin mother with
long grey hair that hung over her face and down to her waist. Her arms dangled straight and unmoving at her sides. Maxie had a horrible image. That these two were the parents of the whole army. It wouldn’t have surprised her if they’d reached out and held hands.

‘That’s their general,’ said Blue. ‘Could we take him down? Shoot the bastard now and maybe they’ll fall apart.’

‘Maybe,’ said Jordan. ‘But I think they too far away. Out of range.’

‘Worth a try,’ said Blue.

‘Wait!’

Everyone was startled. It wasn’t that the voice was particularly loud, or particularly forceful, but everything had been so quiet before, so tense, that the shout was totally unexpected.

Everyone turned to look where it had come from and there was David, walking along
the front of the grown-up army, with Jester, Pod and his personal guard in their red blazers. Behind them came Just John and Carl the pirate from the squatter camp – both grinning – and Paul Channing.

A moan came from those fighters who knew Paul. He’d gone on a killing spree in the museum before disappearing. They’d all hoped he was dead. He evidently wasn’t. That was where he’d
gone – to David.

‘It’s not too late,’ said David, standing next to the two grown-ups. ‘We can stop this now. You don’t have to fight. If you accept me as your leader I’ll send these grown-ups away. It’ll be over.’

‘What’s he talking about?’ Blue muttered to Maxie.

‘God knows,’ said Maxie.

‘Let’s shoot him down while we got the chance,’ said Blue, and Maxie gave
a nervous little laugh.

‘Wasn’t joking.’

‘You don’t control nothing, David,’ Jordan shouted at him.

‘Oh yes?’ said David. ‘Then watch this.’

He said something to Paul who nodded and closed his eyes. Seemed to be concentrating on something. David looked at St George and the mother, and, as he did so, St George bowed his head and a moment later the entire army of grown-ups,
as one, in perfect synchronization, bowed their heads too.

Maxie knew then that it was all over. They couldn’t possibly fight this.

From his position on Park Lane Ryan saw the sickos bow their heads. He and his hunters were supposed to be patrolling the perimeter, making sure all of the sickos stayed together, but they’d seen the army come in and couldn’t help themselves; they
had to watch the spectacle, the mind-blowing number of them.

And now this. Like something from
Lord of the Rings
. An army with one mind.

‘This is off the scale,’ said Dom.

‘We need to keep moving,’ said Ryan, rallying his guys. ‘We do our job.’

And they ran off, heading north, working their way round the army anticlockwise.

47

Sam and The Kid were just behind the two older gatekeepers, who were running after Paddy, shouting at him to stop, to go back to the museum. The rest of the Youngbloods were strung out down the road, Froggie lagging at the rear, Zohra holding back to be with him. They’d gone some way down the Cromwell Road before Paddy had turned off to the right, heading towards the park.
At least that’s where Sam assumed he was going. He wasn’t sure Paddy really knew his way around here. If Sam had been going to the park he would have gone left out of the museum gates, not right like Paddy had done. They were some way to the west of the museum now.

‘Paddy,’ he called out. ‘You’re being an idiot.’ And now Paddy stopped, turned round, his face red with anger,
made worse by running. He held up his spear, as if he was going to attack Sam and the two older kids.

‘Shut up, you little fart,’ he snarled.

‘I’m not that much smaller than you actually,’ said Sam as he got closer.

‘You are.’

One of the older kids swore and pointed ahead. An old mother with wobbly legs was staggering down the road
towards them. And then two ancient fathers
came out from behind an abandoned lorry.

The two older kids ran off up the road towards them, weapons at the ready. The Youngbloods watched, Paddy’s shoulders heaving up and down as he got his breath back.

‘OK,’ said Sam. ‘I am smaller than you, but that’s not the point. We shouldn’t be out here. We don’t know what we’re doing. It’s too dangerous. You can get yourself into
trouble if you want, that’s up to you, but the others are following you.’

‘That’s because I’m their leader.’

‘And if you were a good leader you’d take them straight back to the museum.’

The two older kids were approaching the three grown-ups carefully. Getting ready to attack. The mother had raised her fingers like claws and was baring her gums at the kids.

‘You really
want to fight things like that?’ said Sam.

‘Why not?’ said Paddy.

‘Look at us!’ Sam shouted.

‘Yeah,’ said Paddy. ‘Look at us! Form up into ranks. We march up there in formation and show them what we are.’

There was a ragged, not too enthusiastic cheer from the others, who still had their eyes fixed on the three grown-ups. Paddy grinned.

‘They’re with me all the
way.’

‘Listen,’ said Sam. ‘We need to go back. We don’t know what’s out here. We’ve even come the wrong way. I’m going back now – you should all come with me.’

‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Paddy as the Youngbloods formed into a ragged bunch around him. ‘He’s a coward.’

‘I am not a coward,’ said Sam angrily.

‘He’s not, he’s not,’ said The Kid, who sounded like he
might start crying. ‘I been with him in many fights. There’s no yellow streak in the boy. No shark-infested custard. No yellowskin bellyskin. He’s more of a warrior than any of the rest of you.’

‘And you can shut it an’ all, you loony,’ said Paddy.

‘I’ll trust you to keep a civil tongue in your head,’ said The Kid, and he made a mock snooty expression that made a couple
of the other kids laugh. Paddy cut them off.

‘You’re messed up,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Sam. ‘You’re messed up. We joined in the training for fun, for something to do, to stop getting bored. We never thought you’d actually take us into a battle. We can’t really do that!’

He pointed. The two older kids were fighting the grown-ups now; they’d cut down one of the fathers and
were now hacking at the mother.

‘I’m a killer,’ said Paddy. ‘Ripped open a nasty father’s belly just the other day. We’ll go without you.’ He checked his troop. ‘Where’s Zohra and Froggie?’

‘They’re catching up,’ said Sam. ‘Froggie can’t go so fast. What good’s he going to be in a fight?’

But Paddy didn’t reply. He just stood there, staring, his face suddenly bone-white.

Sam turned to see what he was looking at.

The road behind them was full of grown-ups. They had already surrounded Froggie and Zohra.

‘Oh my God!’ said Paddy. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘We have to save them,’ said Sam.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, right, yeah … we need to save them.’

‘Then lead us,’ said Sam angrily. ‘Lead us into battle. We can’t let Froggie and
Zohra get killed.’

‘Will they?’ said Paddy, panicked. ‘Will they kill them? Truly?’

‘Yes.’

‘We need the big kids,’ said Paddy, but, when they turned to look the other way, they saw that grown-ups had filled the road that way as well and there was no sign of the gatekeepers.