when I heard shouting. I went to the window and saw three men, all carrying guns, coming at McCulloch and Fleming. Our boys weren't armed, they'd been surprised, they didn't stand a chance. I watched as they were led away and then I followed, dodging house to house and keeping out of sight. They took the lads to a big house down a side road, an old manor house I think. I didn't even have time to sneak up and look through a window before they were brought out again. The three men and a new guy, some posh lord of the manor type in tweeds and stuff. They led our boys round the side of the house and I followed, hiding behind the hedges. And there, like it was the most normal thing in the world to have in your garden, was a gallows.
'McCulloch started screaming, so they did him first. It was all over in an instant. Then they did Fleming. He'd wet himself before they even put the noose around his neck.'
Bloody hell, Mac. No need for the fucking details. I clenched my fists angrily. He was enjoying this.
'I didn't stick around after that. But as I was leaving town I saw some guys putting up a new fence across the road and a sign saying 'Hildenborough Protectorate. Governor: George Baker. Traders welcomed. Looters hanged.'
'I had to try another way out of town and found guards posted at all the exit points around the perimeter. So I dealt with one of them and came back here. Just in time too, I reckon.'
'Dealt with one of them'. That explained the blood on his jacket. So he'd killed three people today and he looked for all the world like he was having the time of his life. I felt sick.
He sat back down and Bates took the floor again.
'Boys, I know this is hard, but we have to accept the reality that we may be, um, at war.'
There were murmurs of disbelief.
'I know it sounds ridiculous, but consider the facts. A hostile force has established a base of operations practically on our doorstep. They've killed two of us and wounded two more; we've killed three of them. We know they're armed, entrenched, and determined. We must assume they will attack, and we must be ready.'
I raised my hand to ask why he thought they'd attack.
'Put your hand down, Keegan,' he barked. 'I didn't throw the floor open to questions. And that goes for everyone. If we're to survive this we need to be focused, united, organised. There needs to be a clear chain of command and all orders will need to be followed promptly and without question. Is that clear?'
'Well, really,' said the Dinner Lady. 'I don't expect to be talked to like that.'
'Ma'am,' snapped Bates. 'You are welcome to remain at St Mark's but I am in charge here and if you accept my protection I'm afraid you accept my rules.'
And just like that Bates declared martial law.
I looked over at Mac. His face was solemn but his eyes told a different story. They shone with glee.
Hammond spoke up.
'I say Bates, are you quite sure you need to…'
Bates leaned forward and hissed something peremptory at Hammond, who fell silent.
He went on: 'We need to secure our perimeter, post guards, organise patrols and so forth. To this end we are re-establishing the CCF and every boy will be expected to do their bit.'
Broadbent raised his hand and began bleating before Bates could stop him.
'But sir, I was excused CCF because of my asthma. My dad wrote a note and everything.'
'I said no questions, boy!' Bates yelled. 'And no excuses either. If you're old enough to dress yourself you're old enough to carry a gun.'
You could feel the shock in the room as everybody's eyes widened and their shoulders stiffened. Bates breathed deeply and visibly calmed himself.
'I know it's not how we want things to be, but it's the way things are,' he reasoned. 'It's my job, and Mac's, to keep you safe. I failed in that today. Not again.
'As of now you will all refer to me as Colonel and Mac as Major. Is that clear?'
I wanted to laugh in his face. I wanted to stand up and shout 'Are you fucking joking? You're a history teacher, you deluded tinpot tosser'. But I didn't. It was all too tragic for that. Tragic and – I glanced at Mac – sinister.
'I said is that clear?'
Some boys muttered 'yes, Colonel' unenthusiastically. I thought Bates was going to push it, but he must have realised the time wasn't yet right.
'Good,' he said. 'Now, I want Speight, Pugh, Wylie, Wolf-Barry, Patel, Green, Zayn and Keegan to stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed for the evening.'
Norton whispered 'Good luck' as he got up to leave. Everybody else shuffled out leaving myself, Bates, Mac and the six other boys whose names had been called. They were all the remaining sixth-formers; I was the only non sixth-former there.
When everyone else had left, Bates gestured for us all to come and sit together at the front, and sat to address us.
'You're the senior boys here, and a lot of the responsibility of this is going to rest with you. We'll be assigning ranks in the coming days but for now you'll all be acting corporals. Major Mac will be managing you directly and I want you to follow his orders promptly and without question at all times. Is that clear?'
'Yes Colonel.'
'Good lads,' said Bates. He smiled what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but he actually looked more like a scared man presenting his teeth to a sadistic dentist. He patted Mac on the shoulder.
'All yours, Major,' he said, and left the room.
Mac glared at us and grinned a sly, feral grin. He didn't look impressed by us, but he did look pleased with himself. He pulled his chair around so that he was facing us.
'Right, I've killed three fuckers today and if none of you want to be number four you'll keep your ears open and your mouths shut. Clear?'
Oh yeah. Here he was. This was the Mac I remembered. All these weeks of playing nice and sucking up to Bates, he was just biding his time, waiting for the right moment. Now Bates had shown weakness, there was blood in the water, and Mac was the shark.
Things were going to get ugly.
CHAPTER THREE
I saw Mac with his father once, on speech day. Jon and I walked behind them for a while, fascinated by the way they talked. His father, being a Lord, was all fruity vowels and wot-wot, and the brilliant thing is that Mac was too. He was all 'Gosh Daddy' and 'Super' and 'Cripes'. Once he actually said 'Oh, my stars and garters!' Jon and I had to walk away at that point because we were finding it impossible to stifle our giggles.
I looked at the wannabe gangster who sat in front of me now and all I could think was: what would your father think? And also: I know you, fraud. Everybody else may think you're a hard nut but underneath it all you're just a spoiled upper class daddy's boy overcompensating for the silver spoon you've got shoved up your arse.
'Right,' he said, in his broad cockney accent. 'From now on, as far as you're concerned I am your fucking God. I am the law. Proper Judge Dredd, that's me. What I say goes and you don't question a fucking word, got it? You are mine.'
He paused for effect and graced us with a menacing leer.
'But I'm not unreasonable,' he lied. 'I'm not unfriendly. Stick with me and you'll be all right. I'll take care of you. I like loyalty. If you're loyal we'll rub along just peachy, clear?'
Again, we nodded.
'Right. So. The Colonel has made me second-in-command and you lot are my officers. You're my go-to guys. You'll be able to give orders to all the other scrotes and you'll carry weapons at all times. I'll be doing some extra training with you over the next few days – leadership, strategy, warcraft, that sort of shit. And you'll be leading scavenging groups, raiding parties and any other kind of operation too fucking menial for me to dirty my lilywhites with.
'Stick with me and you'll be in clover. Fuck with me and you'll be pushing it up.
