him into the doorway of the nearest house. I've just confirmed to him that we're the enemy. No going back now.
Before I can get to my feet and run to join Lee, there's a snapping noise and gravel spatters my cheek. Someone else is shooting at me. I'll be dead if I stay here another second, so I just get up and run as fast as I can for the nearest doorway, the frame of which splinters as I race through into the rotting terrace. Those bullets are coming from the other direction, which means the snatchers have woken up and decided to join in. I crouch inside the hall of the ruined house, trying to work out what to do.
I've got a kid gone rogue with a sniper rifle, misguidedly trying to protect me. There are at least four highly trained Rangers who now want to kill all of us. And there's an angry group of child-rustlers taking potshots at us from behind a big brick wall. Lee and I are trapped in houses on opposite sides of the street, there are four other armed children cowering in houses somewhere, and worst of all a minibus full of kids is smack bang in the middle of the crossfire. Would the snatchers shoot them rather than let them escape? I hear the engine revving. John isn't sticking around to find out. The minibus goes roaring past the house I'm sheltering in, making a break for it, getting the kids to safety.
The moment they're past I risk leaning out and sending some bullets back towards the snatchers. I get a vague impression of three of them lined along the wall. None of the Rangers are anywhere to be seen. I think only one of them is on this side of the street, which means three others are opposite me, with a clear shot if they want to take it.
There's nothing I can do here except get myself shot. Time to go. I race through the house, past an overturned sofa thick with fungus, through a burnt out kitchen, out the back door, down the old brick-walled yard, past the shed which used to be an outdoor toilet, and through the gate into the back alley.
Before I can get my bearings I hear the unmistakeable sound of a car crash.
Just for a second I catch myself wondering whether any day has ever gone completely to shit so quickly. But the answer, of course, is yes. Once.
Right — stop, think, prioritise.
Lee can take care of himself. Guria and the other four should have the sense to make their way out of the area, if they can avoid the Rangers. I have to worry about the minibus, because if John's wrapped it round a lamppost they could be injured. That's where I'm needed.
I run down the alleyway, away from the school, towards the ominous sound of a blaring car horn.
As I run, I expect to see a Ranger step out ahead of me, or hear one of the children calling for me to stop, but an eerie silence has fallen, broken only by that horn. The back alley is cobbled, with a gunnel running down the middle of it. I race past countless wooden yard gates, some hang off their hinges but most are still bolted shut. As I reach the far end of the alley I pass a row of garages and then I'm out into the street, skidding to a halt and trying to make it back into the alley without being seen. Because the minibus has driven head first into the grille of an enormous lorry, the first of a convoy of three, all boasting huge spray painted red circles on the side like some kind of logo. The street swarms with angry men carrying big guns.
I finally manage to stop about two feet away from a man who has his back to me. I take a step back; he hasn't heard me. I turn, planning to creep back into cover… and I'm staring down the double barrels of a sawn-off shotgun.
So there I stand, watching the steam from the ruined minibus curling into the air behind the head of this gunman, trying to think of something to say. But he finds his tongue first.
'Well fuck me slowly with a chainsaw,' he drawls. 'Look who it is.'
'Oh great,' I say when I've caught my breath. 'And I didn't think today could get any worse.'
He smiles, turns the gun around and slams the stock into my face.
The world goes black.
Chapter Four
I actually saw the muzzle flash as Guria took out the Ranger.
He was about halfway down the street, just behind the Rangers, in the top window. I opened the door and ran into the road, ignoring Dad's calls to stay put. I didn't really have a plan; I just wanted to stop Jane being cut to pieces in the inevitable crossfire. As the shot man fell, and Jane ducked, I saw one of the Rangers raise his bow to finish me off. I shouted at him to stop, but he wasn't having it. I dived out of the way and heard an arrow whistle past, far too close for comfort.
I was a dead man if I stayed in the open. I had no choice but to hare over to the nearest house and dive inside, sliding on my stomach over the slime that had accumulated in the once pristine hallway carpet. I stood up feeling soggy and sick. My best chance of ending this was to get to Guria and take over the rifle. He was about fifteen houses up on this side of the road. I glanced back out the door and saw Jane had made it to cover across the road. That was a relief. Then the minibus roared past me, bullets pinging off its roof as the snatchers joined the fight from their compound.
Events were moving too damn fast. I ran out into the alleyway behind the house and raced up to where Guria had been hiding. Somehow I managed to get all the way there before any of the Rangers emerged into the alley to make their own escape. Or maybe they were digging in for a fight.
I reached the kitchen door of what I was reasonably sure was the right house, and brought my SA-80 to bear. Guria was one of us, but this was the first time he'd fired in anger. I had no idea what state he'd be in when I found him, and I wasn't going to let him shoot me dead in a moment of hyper-adrenalised panic.
I grasped the old Bakelite doorknob and pushed. The door had been left locked but the wooden frame was rotting away; the lock fell off and crashed to the kitchen floor as the door opened with a wet smack. So much for stealth. I checked inside but there was nobody there so I stepped in and pushed the door closed behind me.
'Guria,' I said, loud but not shouting. 'You there?' There was no reply so I made my way through the ground floor to the foot of the stairs. There was a skeleton lying sprawled across the bottom steps, the black stain that had seeped into the carpet around it all that remained to indicate it had ever borne flesh.
I stepped over it and climbed the stairs, which creaked alarmingly. They could go at any minute; this house was not a safe place to be, even without the threat of being shot. In the five years since The Cull, the elements had started to eat away at the infrastructure that civilisation had left behind. The endless persistence of water, probing every crevice and crack, with no houseproud DIYers to hold it at bay with supplies from Homebase, had started gradually eating away the houses and schools, shops and offices, and all the places we'd built to shelter us from the cold. There was no-one still trying to live by scavenging the scraps of what was left behind — it had all been corrupted by time.
I reached the landing and spoke again.
'Guria, you there?'
There was no response from behind the door to the front bedroom, which was pushed to. Had I miscounted, got the wrong house?
I pushed the door and stepped inside.
'Guria?' I said softly.
I heard a crash in the distance and the sound of a car horn.
The boy was crouched at the window, still facing the street, grasping the sniper rifle. I could see he was breathing.
'Guria, you okay?' I stepped forward.
He turned his head, as if finally registering that I was there. He was white as a ghost, pupils dilated, staring into the middle distance. He was in shock.
'Oh, hi Sir,' he said, as if from the bottom of a deep well. 'I just shot someone.'
'I noticed.'
'His head kind of went pop.'
'Yeah, they do that. Good shot, by the way.'
'Like a melon.'
'Hmm. Can you pass me the rifle?'
