Resurgence (4 page)

I ruffle his hair. ‘Good lad. You hear the bangs outside, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘When I say it’s time, you have to be a big boy. Take Colt and Eli and find somewhere safe. Don’t climb anywhere high and make sure you have something solid covering you. Can
you do that for me?’

Imp looks at the tortoise, then at me. ‘Where will you be?’

‘I don’t know yet, buddy. You’ve got to look after the others and we’ll see.’

He nods in reluctant acceptance just as Opie puts my rucksack down next to me. It is a lot lighter now. Before I can ask, he says: ‘I swapped a few of your things into my bag.’

Usually I would protest but the ground shakes again, sending a spray of sand outside. Above us the rumble of the plane grows closer as the metal of the cars surrounding us creaks ominously.

‘Now,’ I shout, dashing towards the exit. The plane is circling ahead, halfway between our location in the gully and Martindale.

Iris leads the way as everyone follows her out of the shelter. She rushes towards the gap between the cars with me at the back, heading away from the towers of broken appliances, towards the
hull of a rusting lorry. The once-red cabin is now scratched, the faded silver of the metal now the primary colour of the aged vehicle.

She turns to order the children inside the cabin of the lorry but Imp is already sliding underneath the vehicle itself onto the solid ground, using a free hand to tug Colt with him. ‘This
is a safe shell, Mummy,’ he calls, before shouting for Eli to join them. She looks to me, asking if I know what he is talking about, but there is no time to explain about the tortoise. I tell
her he is safer underneath.

Yet another bomb rocks the ground nearby. If anything hits us, the old lorry will offer no protection anyway – but it is solid enough to stop any falling objects from harming us.

Felix joins his two younger brothers and Colt under the vehicle but the lack of tyres on the brown, rusting wheel hubs makes it too low for anyone except perhaps me to slide under with them. The
rest of us heave ourselves into the cabin, lying in the footwell with the crumpled metal roof offering as much cover as we are going to get.

Arms and legs are piled uncomfortably on top of each other but there is little chance to settle as something loud and metallic-sounding crashes to the ground nearby, followed by a slow rumble
that grows into a cascading explosion as hundreds of electrical appliances fall. Iris jumps as something hard bounces off the lorry door, the echo clanging around our enclosed space and making us
all cover our ears.

We are so cramped that when I push myself into a sitting position, I have to apologise to Jela for standing on her hand and Evan for kicking him in the shoulder. There is no glass in the space
where there would once have been a windscreen but I wedge myself into a position so I can see where our camp was.

In the couple of minutes it took us to get away, the cliff face of washing machines, tumble dryers and fridges have collapsed across what was once the clearing, the three cars we had been
sheltering under flattened and buried under mounds of metal. Everything is in the shadow of a plane, which is directly overhead. The roar is so loud that I can feel it more than I can hear it.

Slowly the drone quietens as the plane passes. It has been at least a minute since it dropped a bomb. ‘Do you think that’s it?’ I say to Evan, but his shrug says it all.

For a few minutes, I allow myself to think that we are safe but then the steady whine of the engine slowly begins to increase again: it is on its way back.

As I try to get a better view, Evan calls from the other side of the cabin. ‘Can you hear it?’

‘The plane?’

‘Listen to the engine.’

I’m not sure what he means at first but then I hear it – a click and a whirr before the rumble begins again. I can’t hear what he shouts as he calls to me a second time, but I
read his lips: ‘It’s running out of fuel.’

I have no idea how many bombs a plane like this could carry but it will likely dispatch anything it has left before the fuel is gone.

I nudge myself higher up the side of the cabin until everyone can see me. The plane is getting louder, so I have to shout. ‘I’ve got to head south. Anyone who wants to come is
welcome but we have to go now!’

Everyone rearranges themselves and the cabin is a mass of apologies as we all stand on each other. I clamber across until I am next to my mother by the door. She wants to ask where I’m
going and what I have planned but there is no time. I hug her so tightly that she has to stop talking and then cut in before she has a chance to begin again. ‘I don’t know if I’ll
be coming back.’

Her fingers cup my face as she swallows a sob. ‘You’ve already made me so proud.’

‘There are so many places you can set up around here, even after things have collapsed. That might even make it easier to find somewhere better hidden.’

Opie, Jela, Hart and Pietra are fixing bags to each other’s backs. Evan is tying a blanket around his waist and mouths ‘I’m coming’ when he sees me.

Given Opie’s father was one of the people most opposed to my presence, not to mention the fact he has been a staunch nationalist the entire time I have known him, it is quite a surprise.
I’m not sure if I want someone so much older with us, but I have no time to argue.

I look back to my mum. ‘Samuel’s good at hunting and it’s easy to collect water. You can set up a proper community here. If Kingsmen come, there are enough spaces to hide. Let
Imp guide you – he’ll know the hidey-holes and caves better than anyone. Try not to go out into the open unless you have to. If they’re bombing Martindale, this place will be far
safer.’

She nods, understanding.

‘Put something bright on,’ I shout to the others as Mum helps me pull a red blanket out of my bag. I tie it around my shoulders, letting it flap like a cape, and then say quick
farewells to Samuel and Iris, before leaning underneath and waving goodbye to Imp, Colt and the others.

When the rest have clambered out of the cabin, the sound of the plane becomes so loud that no one would be able to hear my voice, so I set off running across the newly created sea of carnage.
The sharp corners of the battered pieces of machinery are relatively easy to see but still provide a few awkward moments as I climb, run and balance my way across what was once a clearing.

Soon the wreckage ends and I drop back to the bed of the gully and stop to wait for the others. Evan is at the back, out of breath and doubled over, but I am impressed at the brightness of the
clothes we have managed to get together and put on. Between the blankets Hart, Opie, Evan and myself are wearing, plus the coloured tops Jela and Pietra have on, there is no way anyone above could
have failed to see us.

Almost to emphasise the point, something explodes a few hundred metres behind us, sending shrapnel flailing into the air and making the ground tremble underneath.

I point into the distance, tracing out a path relatively clear of debris, and then tell everyone to trust me before I start to run again. I try to pace myself, knowing Evan is struggling, but
turn in time to see something slap into the exact spot where we had been standing. The explosion is nowhere near as large as the ones we heard at first but my knees buckle as the earth shakes.

Hart is like a different person, sticking athletically to my shoulder except for when he turns to help the others. I take two steps up an old metal filing cabinet and hurdle over the top but he
provides a foothold for everyone else – including Opie – before jumping it himself. We travelled much of the length of the country constantly worried about his condition and I refused
to give him much responsibility. Whatever was in the medicine I injected into him has not only fixed his shoulder and cough but given him his body back. It looks as if he has put on a few pounds of
muscle overnight, as well as gaining a speed to his thought and movement he didn’t have before.

Another blast rocks the ground behind us but I continue running as quickly as I can, leading the plane far away from the lorry in which the rest of our families are hiding.

After what feels like a couple of miles, there is another loud grumble from the plane’s engine and then the air chills as its shadow passes overhead. Something dark drops to the ground but
it is hundreds of metres behind and doesn’t explode upon impact.

‘It’s out of fuel,’ Evan splutters, trying to gather his breath. The overhead noise booms through my body as the plane circles the tops of the trees. Everyone looks at me,
panicked and wondering what we are going to do.

‘You go first,’ I say to Opie, taking the teleport device out of my pocket. I aim it towards a space in front of us, fiddle with the dial on the side, and press the button, making
the air shimmer with orange.

‘Where is it taking us?’ Opie asks.

‘Hopefully somewhere safe. Get rid of the coloured clothing on the other side.’

Opie nods and runs forward, evaporating into a breath of apricot mist. The air feels warmer, unearthly, like there is an electrical current surging through the atmosphere. None of the others was
at Windsor Castle when Xyalis’ technology teleported us out – but it is only Evan who looks at me quizzically. As the plane makes a final twist in the sky, the nose angles directly
towards where we are standing.

Jela and Pietra follow Opie hand-in-hand, followed by Evan, each dissolving with a hazy glimmer.

‘Go!’ I shout at Hart. He looks at me doe-eyed, wanting to go last, but reluctantly steps through and disappears.

Above, the sky has disappeared, eclipsed by the plane. I feel the chill from its shadow and the howl of the chuntering failed engine. It is so close that I can see the pilot through the glass,
his eyes wide and terrified as he directs the plane straight at me. He is only a few years older than I am, with a hint of a beard on his chin and short, spiky dark hair. I think about his mother
and the rest of the family. Are they proud of the sacrifice he is about to make? Will they even know, or is he a faceless Kingsman, doing what he is told?

Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second and there is fear within him. He knows he is going to die and takes no pleasure that I am supposed to go with him.

I step forward, hearing the pop, embracing the pinching and pulling, until there is a second louder bang.

I feel a hand on my arm a fraction of a second before there is an enormous explosion which sets the ground rumbling again. We are standing at the top of the grass bank
overlooking Martindale and I turn to face the noise in the gully as Opie pulls me close to him.

‘You’re bleeding,’ he whispers, wiping away the blood from my top lip. This time there is more than a trickle, the liquid dribbling over my mouth and running from my chin. In
the distance a cloud of black and grey smoke rises into the sky, over the top of the trees.

‘It’s like the kamikazes of the old days,’ Evan says, before telling us quickly about pilots who used to fly their planes into objects, killing themselves and causing huge
casualties or structural damage in the process. Further tremors drift on the breeze as more junk tumbles where the plane smashed into the ground. By the time it crash-landed, it was a few miles
away from where my mother and everyone else were hiding in the lorry. They are almost certainly safe, not that whoever ordered the strike will know that.

The teleporter is warm and I repocket it as Opie pulls me towards him again. I shuffle away before noticing why he is trying to comfort me. I was watching the area past Martindale where the bang
came from but don’t even know where to begin looking as he twists me to face the village.

When we were here trying to find where my family were hiding, we sat on this bank with a perfect view of everything below us. There were small groups of light as Kingsmen hunted for me and I can
picture where everything should be. My eyes are drawn to where the inn once was. It was one of the village’s largest buildings but is now a smouldering pile of bricks. I spoke to Mayall in
the alleyway behind it, asking him if he knew where my mother was. Now there is nothing but debris.

The only thing I can see that hasn’t been destroyed is the village hall. Usually there would be rows of buildings blocking our view but now there are only rising plumes of dust. Dots of
villagers are heading towards the steps at the front of the hall, staggering and crawling. These are people I know, people I have grown up with.

I feel as if I am dreaming; the cobbled streets I knew so well are now a mass of tiles and rubble. It is almost too much to comprehend.

Hart must have seen it all a fraction of a second after me because there is an anguished gasp before he launches himself down the bank, running and rolling until he hits the bottom hard.

I follow, being careful to keep my footing and grabbing onto Opie for support. Hart hit the ground so forcefully that I thought he might have injured himself but he turns it into a roll and
springs forward. My ankle is as strong as it has been in days but that doesn’t stop me feeling tired from the endless running and walking.

Hart is as familiar with the village as I am and heads towards the main street that runs from one end to the other. He is trying to get to his parents’ house but the old routes are
useless. As he attempts to head along what was once a side street, he has to stop and clamber over the remains of cookers, toys, clothes and furnishings which once told the stories of
people’s lives. I let Opie lead the way, following him as he finds the simplest path across the carnage until we catch Hart as he reaches the place that was once his house.

Before anyone can say anything, he is on his knees, using both hands to throw bricks and slates to one side. I want to tell him he is wasting his time, that the damage is so intense that nobody
could have survived whatever was dropped on the area. Instead I am next to him, tearing the skin on my fingers as I wrench at the ruins, tossing the concrete to the side.

A few more dots of blood drip from my nose but I wipe them away more in annoyance than anything else. As I clean my hands on my trousers, there is a whimper from Pietra who is digging on the far
side of Hart. She rocks back onto her heels and reels away, covering her eyes with her hands. Hart crawls across the wreckage of what was once his home and begins to howl, reaching into the ground
and throwing debris to the side until he closes on a body.