Shadowman shrugged. Decided to try to change the subject.
‘Where’d you get the beer?’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Just interested.’
‘Yeah – interested. You’re always interested, ain’t you? Listening in, poking your nose everywhere. Interested.’
John took a sudden swing at Shadowman, lashing out with his left hand. Shadowman instinctively ducked and backed away. John grinned.
‘You’re fast, ain’t you?’
‘Fast enough.’
John bent down and for a moment Shadowman wasn’t sure what he was going to do. But he simply grabbed another beer can and chucked it at Shadowman, who caught it neatly.
‘Cheers,’ said John.
‘Thanks,’ said Shadowman. ‘What’s the catch?’
‘No catch. We found this lot in a pub cellar, seeing as you asked. It was rammed full of booze. Which was lucky, as Carl’s little pillaging expedition earlier got banjaxed. I’m sending another gang back to get some more. Drink up.’
Shadowman opened his can and put it to his lips. As he did so, John whipped out a knife and held the point to Shadowman’s throat.
‘Dropped your guard, there, Snoopy,’ he said, and then pressed his face very close to Shadowman’s, keeping the knife hard to his skin and causing a small trickle of blood to run down his neck.
‘I’m keeping my eye on you,’ he said.
‘OK,’ Shadowman gulped, trying to keep his tone neutral.
John took the knife away, gave Shadowman a dismissive smile, then walked off, chuckling. One of his girls ran up to him, and John shoved her over.
‘Leave me alone,’ he said. ‘You’ll get your booze.’
He sat down on the boxes and lit a cigarette. Around him the other kids were madly busy, trying to get everything done to John’s satisfaction.
Shadowman wondered if this was a vision of the future. Was this what was going to happen to mankind? Was everything going to fall apart and degenerate into this desperate day-to-day existence? Or was it going to be more like how David ran things at Buckingham Palace?
It was funny, really. Mankind had such a powerful urge to survive at any cost. He’d read about kids in some Third World countries who lived on rubbish tips. Kids as young as five and six earning a few pennies to support their families by sorting crap all day for recycling. What for? So that they could grow up and have children of their own who would have to live on the rubbish tip as well.
Given the choice of living on in squalor and starvation, sickness and danger, or simply putting an end to it all, most people would choose life.
There had been a man who lived on Shadowman’s road when he was growing up. He’d lived there all his life, was one of the last of the original residents of Notting Hill. Everyone else was waiting for him to die so that they could buy his house cheap. If the old geezer had sold it, he’d have probably got a couple of million quid for it. But he didn’t want to sell it. He didn’t want to move. He wanted what he was used to.
Shadowman would see him sometimes setting off for the shops in the morning. He was impossibly old and walked bowed over, his hands twisted with arthritis. He could barely move and shuffled forward at an agonizing snail’s pace all the way down to the end of the road. It would take him all morning. And then, with the few pence he had, he’d buy a half a loaf of bread, some cheap biscuits, a pint of milk and some eggs, and then he’d shuffle home again.
Shadowman couldn’t imagine what kind of a life the old man had lived, and what he must have been thinking as he dragged himself to the shop and back, but he knew that if anyone had asked him if he wanted to end it all he would have said no. He was still alive, still moving, and he wanted to live as long as he could.
There seemed to be a deep-down urge in all living things to carry on whatever the cost. These kids were living, and they would go on living. Perhaps they would rebuild the world. Who knew? Diseases had struck before. The Black Death had wiped out half the population of Europe, but mankind had come back from that. This new disease had probably killed more. Three quarters maybe? Provided the kids were immune they would survive and somehow they would build a new world. And so far it looked like they were immune. Shadowman was fifteen now and had displayed no signs of illness. No sores or boils or crazy thoughts. That wasn’t to say that it might not all change, of course …
Nobody could see into the future.
Well, if he wanted to guarantee his future he needed to keep out of John’s way for a bit.
He drained the can and tossed it on to a pile of rubbish.
Dark soon. Better get moving.
Things to do.
People to see.
16
David was standing out on the balcony at the front of the palace with Jester. This was his favourite place in the whole building. On big occasions in the past, like weddings and birthdays, or jubilee celebrations, the royal family used to come out here to wave down at their public. Now David liked to come here and look out across St James’s Park. There was a good view of London and he saw it as his kingdom. His world. The only thing that spoilt it was knowing that the squatters were down there at the far end of the park in their filthy camp. A group of kids he couldn’t control. He needed to find a way to bring them on to his side.
In the meantime he had concerns closer to home. The eight travellers who had turned up on his doorstep.
‘So, they’ve agreed to stay the night?’ he said, without looking round at his second in command.
‘Yup.’
‘That’s a relief. We don’t need to keep an eye on them for the time being then. I’ll keep working on that Courtney girl. I can tell she wants to stay here. At least for a while. Do you think she bought my story about sending you out to gather information?’
‘I think so.’ Jester nodded and leant on the balustrade next to David. ‘She doesn’t seem to be the brightest spark in the box.’
‘We’ll make a big show of you going to find out where Brooke might be,’ said David. ‘They don’t have to know it’s all a sham. It won’t be too hard to hold them here till you come back, and hopefully by then they’ll have got used to the good life and won’t want to leave. I’ll offer DogNut a position of power. Make him a general or something.’
‘Stupid name,’ said Jester. ‘How does he ever expect to get anywhere with a stupid name like DogNut?’
‘He’s the key to this,’ said David. ‘They follow his orders. If necessary, we’ll let him leave and keep the others here. Without him around they’re much more likely to do what we tell them.’
‘And what about me?’ Jester asked. ‘What do I tell them when I get back? Do I tell them the truth? That Brooke and the others are living just down the road in the Natural History Museum?’
‘Don’t know. It’ll come out one way or another eventually, I suppose. I’ll think about it.’
‘So how long do you want me to go away for?’
David switched his attention from the view of St James’s to Jester. ‘I want you to do a bit more than just keep out of the way for a few days, Jester.’
‘Yeah? What exactly?’
‘DogNut said he’s just here looking for Brooke.’
‘Don’t you believe him?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said David. ‘I mean … I think he’s definitely looking for her, but what if there’s more to it than that?’
‘Like what? I don’t get it.’
‘You heard what he said about how things are at the Tower of London? How that weirdo Jordan Hordern has made them into a sort of army?’
‘What of it?’
‘I’ll bet DogNut and his gang are spies. Checking us out.’
Jester gave a snort of laughter. ‘You’re just being paranoid, David.’
‘It’s good to be paranoid,’ said David.
‘Don’t tell me you want me to go and spy on the Tower? It’s miles away.’
‘No. Not that.’ David shook his head. ‘But there are obviously more kids out there than we thought, surviving in different places round London.’