The Dead (30 page)

‘I can’t concentrate with you yelling at me.’

‘Nah, you need someone to light a fire under you, to get you rocking and rolling,’ DogNut laughed. ‘Now go for it, dweeb!’

‘Shut up!’

They trundled out into the road and crushed a car before Justin managed to get the wheel turned far enough, and then he had to spin it all the way back in the other direction to straighten up. He didn’t do it in time, and before he could stop they’d crossed the road and trashed another car.

‘This is insane!’ DogNut shouted, but the engine stalled and the lorry at last came to a halt.

Jack ran over and told Justin to wait until everyone was safely off the roof and then went round to open the back. Ed and Bam and the girls scrambled down and followed him, wide-eyed and excited, as if they’d all just been on the most thrilling theme-park ride in the world. Finding Frédérique unhurt had been the topper. Ed reckoned the sickos must have left her alone to come after the richer pickings in the alley.

Jack whistled as he saw how much food was inside the lorry and there was an elated party mood as the others piled in to check it out. They were all talking at once, over each other, not listening, laughing, almost crying with joy.

There was just room for them to squeeze on and once they were all safely on board Jack shouted to Justin to get going and then climbed up the tailgate to join his friends inside. The whole lorry shook as the engine started up again.

The lorry slowly picked up speed until it was crawling along at a steady pace. Jack looked out at the road as it unspooled behind them. Then he made a quick decision and pulled Ed to one side.

‘I’m going,’ he said.

Ed was still buzzing. He didn’t really take in what Jack had said.

‘OK, cool,’ he said, and hugged his friend.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

Ed shook his head. ‘Not really, no,’ he said, and laughed. ‘Was it important?’

‘I’m going home.’

‘Back to the museum?’

‘No, to Clapham, to my old house. Like I always said I would.’

‘What?’ Ed stopped laughing instantly, as if someone had chucked a bucket of iced water over him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re halfway there,’ said Jack. ‘I could be home in less than an hour.’

‘Yeah, but I thought finding all this food … it’s changed everything, hasn’t it?’

‘Why?’

‘I mean, you can’t leave all this.’

‘I’ll come back. It’s not far. I’ll get my things and –’

‘No, Jack. It’s too dangerous.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Jack bluntly. ‘I always meant to go home. And now I won’t be leaving you lot in the crap any more. Not now you’ve got all this.’

‘Jack –’

‘You’re all right, Ed,’ Jack interrupted, shaking Ed by the shoulders. ‘You’ve got food, you’ve got shelter, you’ve got friends, weapons, girls. You don’t need me any more.’

‘I do, Jack … you’re my mate.’

‘You said it yourself, last night, though, Ed. I’ve been giving you a really hard time lately. I would’ve thought you’d be glad to get shot of me. I’ve been a right pain in the arse, I know that. And that’s why I need to get away. To clear my head. To go home. To get back in touch with how things used to be.’

‘And then you’ll come back?’

‘Of course I will. I’ll probably be back tonight.’ Jack grinned at Ed.

‘What if you don’t come back, though? What if something happens?’

‘I’ll be all right.’ Jack slapped his sword. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘Jack …’

‘You know me, Ed. Stubborn bastard.’

Bam had been listening in. He leant over and held the shotgun out to Jack.

‘Take this, mate,’ he said. ‘With any luck I won’t need it any longer.’

‘No, you keep it, Bam. You’re the shotgun king. I’m fine with my sword.’

‘Well, then, let me come with you.’

‘No way, Bam,’ Jack protested. ‘I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else. That’s why I’m going. These kids, they need a dad to look after them, but I’m not ready to be a dad yet. It’s hard work. Worrying about everything, looking after everyone. I used to laugh at my mum for getting anxious if I was out late. But I know what it feels like now, being responsible, being scared, and I don’t like it. I’m going. OK? This is my decision and it doesn’t affect anyone else.’

‘And it’s my decision to come with you, mate,’ said Bam. ‘My decision. My choice. My risk. I won’t hold you responsible. You won’t have to worry about me.’

‘I don’t need anyone!’ Jack turned away from his friends.

The lorry was snorting and hissing, shuddering as it started to accelerate. Justin was obviously getting the hang of the controls, risking a gear change. Jack jumped down off the back before it was too late.

Ed stared helplessly at him, thinking he might never see him again. And then Bam was on his way too. He vaulted over the back, stumbled in the road as he landed then ran after Jack and slapped him on the back. Jack threw up his hands, then Bam said something to him and he laughed.

As Ed watched the two of them growing smaller Frédérique came and joined him at the tailgate.

‘What are they doing?’ she asked nervously.

‘Jack just wants to check his old house out,’ Ed explained, trying to play it down and not upset her. Not upset himself either, to be honest. ‘It’s not far from here,’ he added, wanting to believe it. ‘He’ll be back later.’

His efforts were obviously failing. Frédérique looked terrified.

‘He cannot go. He must not leave me.’

‘Hey, you’re all right now, Fred. We’re all gonna be all right. There’s plenty of others at the museum who can look out for you until he’s back.’

‘He must not go …’

The lorry was getting faster and faster. Jack and Bam were walking in the opposite direction, already two distant figures. Ed tugged at his hair. How could they be so reckless? So unafraid? Strolling off like that. Who knew what was out there? It was crazy.

He suddenly felt very alone. Something clicked inside him. He grabbed Frédérique and shoved her at Brooke.

‘Make sure Fred’s all right,’ he said to the startled blonde.

‘Why, what’s going on?’

Ed was light-headed, drunk almost. And yet everything suddenly seemed very clear and simple. It was as if he had just woken up and cast off a dark heavy suffocating blanket. He wouldn’t be afraid any more. He wouldn’t be alone. He would be free, and alive. Nothing really mattered and as a result he could do anything he wanted.

He kissed Brooke and swung out over the tailgate, hanging there for a moment dramatically.

‘We’ll be home for tea!’ he shouted. ‘And I expect a decent spread as well.’

From the shadows of a burnt-out house at the side of the road a figure watched the three boys with red, sore eyes. He’d been following them all morning, waiting for his moment. He’d lost them a while back, but the noise of the lorry had alerted him and now here they were again.

Close enough to taste.

Not yet. Not yet. Wait some more. Watch some more. The time would come.

Shut up! Stop talking!
Those voices in his head. Why wouldn’t they just shut up? There was too many of them in there, all talking at once, too many to fit, crammed in, bursting his head. It was going to split open.

His head was going to split open. Split open. His head. Like a peach.

Not yet! Not yet!

Shut up!

He shook his head violently, a dog with a rat in its jaws. Spraying sweat everywhere.

He was shivering. Shivering and sweating at the same time. His nose was running, pouring snot down into his mouth. He hardly noticed. He noticed the itch, though, like stinging nettles under the skin. He would scratch his skin off if he could. Skin. Skin a rabbit. Dress it.

Why would you dress a rabbit? What was a rabbit? He couldn’t remember. Why was it so hard to remember anything? An animal? Yes.

He rubbed his neck. It was ringed with boils, like a horrible shiny yellow scarf.

Never mind that.

The boys were there. The ones he wanted. The boys who had done …

What had they done?
He didn’t remember. He only knew he hated them. He wanted to smash them and crush them like insects. He wanted to tear the flesh from their bones. He would eat them. He would eat them, but first he would make …

Soap …

Soup?

He would make soup of them.

Soup? What was soup?

Something.

Rabbit soup.

His mind kept spinning away from him. But there was an important thing to pin down, fix there. Superglue. Yeah … The very important thing. The big thing. The thing that they had done wrong to him. To his boy.

His boy
. That was it. His boy. His boy who was … little …? Little boy? He had a name, but the big boys had taken his name, they’d taken his son, they’d taken his son from him. His boy. Lee-am

His Liam.

Yes
. He grinned. And as his skin tightened it pulled at the sores around his mouth, making them bleed. They’d tried to take Liam from him. But they couldn’t – he was too clever for them. Clever clogs. That was him. Cleverer than them. Yes. He had kept Liam. They didn’t know that, did they? Kept him with him. Kept him safe. Always.

But he would get the boys. He would do them. He would skin them. He would dress them. He would do it. He knew how to do it. He was a …

What was the word?

Pooch?

Butch?

Teacher?

Not a teacher – he hated teachers – a pusher.

No.

Come on, clever clogs, think!

A butcher.

That was it.

Mr Clogs the Butcher. And he had the thing to prove it. The tool thing hanging at his belt. He’d had it with him all the time. Clever, see?

A clever. That was it. No, not a clever. A cleaner. A leaf cutter. A leaver. The thing the butcher used. A cleaver. A clever cleaver.

Boys … Meet the cleaver.

A meat cleaver. He was a butcher. He had his cleaver and he would do butcher to them.

He smiled wider, the blood smeared round his mouth like a clown’s painted smile. The boys were walking away. But he could follow, because the meaty, juicy stink of them hung in the air like something he could see and touch.

He picked up his bundle, hugged it to his chest and followed.

‘Frédérique’s not too happy about you going, you know.’

‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ said Jack. ‘I can’t be responsible for everyone.’ His shoulders were hunched, his head drooping. ‘I can’t look after her. I don’t know how.’

Ed wasn’t going to give up. ‘She really likes you,’ he said, slinging his rifle on to his back. ‘Don’t you like her?’

‘Yeah, I think so. No, I
do
. I like her a lot,’ said Jack.

Ed leant over and picked a long hair off Jack’s coat.

‘What’s this I find?’ he said, holding it between finger and thumb so that it twisted in the air. ‘Evidence!’

‘You’re going to start singing in a minute, aren’t you?’ said Jack.

‘Singing what?’

‘Jack and Fred sitting in a tree, kay-I-ess-ess-I-en-gee.’

‘Well?’ Ed raised his eyebrows.

‘It’s not like that,’ said Jack, the white half of his face reddening. ‘She’s just latched on to me.’

‘And you don’t like her?’

‘I’d like her more if she could stop crying for five minutes. There’s something making her miserable and I can’t get through to her. I can’t get her to tell me what it is.’

‘She’s just freaked out by everything,’ said Bam. ‘We all are, and we all deal with it in different ways.’

‘How do
you
deal with it?’ Ed asked.

‘You know me,’ said Bam. ‘I do things. Get physical. Same way I’ve always done. Rugger’s a good cure for real life.’ He paused and turned to Jack with a leer. ‘So,
do
you fancy her?’

‘I haven’t really thought about it.’

‘Yeah?’ It was obvious Bam didn’t believe him. ‘You reckon? Nice bit of French totty.’

‘All right,’ said Jack. ‘Maybe a bit.’

‘Ooh la la! Just a bit?’

‘Look. She’s all right. I like her. OK? She’s nice-looking. A bit thin perhaps …’