many men did he bring?’
‘Twelve.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Canteen, sir.’
‘Arrest them.’
‘Arrest them?’
‘You heard me. Confiscate their weapons, strip them of any radio equipment and lock them up in the stores bunker. Then … then — ’ he balled his fists, tapping them against his desk insistently, urging his racing mind to focus properly — ‘then I want you to double the guards on our command bunkers and gun emplacements. Nobody comes in, nobody goes out.’
‘Sir.’ The lieutenant turned to go.
‘And, Lawrence?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Pull all the cables in the radio room linking us to the communications hub.’
‘All of them?’
‘Every last one!’
He was sure the British were going to miss their officer soon enough and word would find its way back that there was trouble brewing … but the longer he had for that news to travel the better.
The young lieutenant looked pale. ‘What’s going to happen to us, sir?’
‘Nothing good, I’m afraid. I must talk to the men.’
‘Shall I have them assembled?’
‘No … no, not yet. I need to go and see someone first.’ He looked up at Lawrence. ‘Not a word to anyone about this yet, do you understand?’
He nodded.
‘And lock this room up. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’
‘Where are you going, sir?’
‘To meet the enemy.’
CHAPTER 52
2001, Dead City
‘God’s teeth! ’Tis a freak show,’ whispered Lincoln.
Sal found herself nodding. She estimated there were about a hundred and fifty of them in the abandoned Albion Theatre. Rows of stained and faded burgundy velvet seats, sprouting tufts of stuffing through ripped seams, faced a stage made of damp and rotting wooden boards beneath a partially collapsed roof. Moisture dripped from above with a steady
Samuel, it appeared, was one of the leaders of this odd assortment of unnatural creations, along with two others: a leadership committee of sorts. One of them was even thinner than the type she thought of as salamander-like. Impossibly thin, she wondered where the creature managed to store its internal organs. Its arms and legs were stick-like, bulging unpleasantly at the joints. Its head, instead of being loaf-shaped like many of the other types, was tall and tapered like a traffic cone. Samuel had told them every eugenic’s shape was designed specifically for a purpose. Sal could only imagine this one was designed to slither through pipes, or at least wriggle through some very tight places. It looked like a flesh-coloured cigar with limbs.
‘… have ignored us … this long, because we … just a nuisance … not a danger!’
Its chest was so slim and its lungs must have been so tiny that it was forced to pant like a dog on a hot day, its words broken up into garbled bites between each rapid breath.
‘I say that we … stay hidden here.’ It shuffled on thin trembling legs to a stool at the side of the stage and perched on the edge of it.
Another of the leaders spoke. This one looked like an even bulkier version of the ape-type. It swayed, top- heavy with muscles that flexed and wobbled with a life of their own. Its head looked like an apple nestling — almost lost — between two watermelons for shoulders. And on top of its head, an old-fashioned top hat was perched. Sal realized that even though its head looked no bigger than an apple, compared to its body it had to be the same size as an adult human’s for it to fit so snugly.
The rest of the eugenic was oddly out of proportion. Its waist tapered in, and the legs, short and fat, seemed almost like an afterthought.
‘If them humans come …’ it said with a voice so deep Sal felt something vibrate in her own chest. It stabbed a finger as big as a canteloupe at her and Lincoln. ‘If them come, maybe we kill these both … show them soldiers their heads. Them be frightened off! Not bother us no more!’ The ape’s deep voice made Bob’s barrel-round voice sound like the whine of a mosquito.
Samuel put the shotgun he’d been cradling in his skinny arms down on the stage and scooted forward. ‘No, that’sh shtoopid! We need them alive! If we kill them, they will really take a bloody revenge on
‘I’m sure no … humans will come … Samuel,’ whispered the cigar-like one. ‘They have … left us alone … this long — ’
‘But that wash before shome shtoopid genicsh killed shome of them!’ Samuel scuttled across the stage and looked up at the ape’s tiny apple head. ‘It wash one of your lot lasht week, washn’t it?’
The ape shrugged guiltily. ‘Maybe.’
‘You idiot!’ snapped Samuel. ‘We’re all going to be dead thanksh to you!’
‘They won’t enter … the city, Samuel,’ panted the cigar. ‘They still fear … all the poisons and … the diseases.’
Sal noticed his thin legs were shaking again under the stress of standing. He may have been designed to squeeze into tight places, but clearly those legs weren’t created to hold his weight for long. Once again the cigar perched on the edge of the stool. ‘Why did you … steal some humans … anyway?’
‘Becaushe, Henry, becaushe I heard about thish fool’sh shtupid raid! I heard about the humansh being killed — women and children — and I knew we better have
The ape stooped over Samuel, his looming shadow filling half the stage. ‘Call me
Samuel looked up at him, his ragged lips flapping. Sal wondered whether that was fear or frustration. The audience stared in silence and the tap-tap-tapping of rainwater continued in the background.
Sal watched the frozen tableau. For a moment she wondered whether somehow she’d been sucked down a rabbit hole and was stuck in some bizarre post-apocalyptic version of Alice’s Wonderland.
‘Gimme them humans,’ said the ape. ‘I kill them, go take ’em heads and throw at them redcoats if them come. That scare them away! If not — ’ he grinned at the shotgun lying on the stage — ‘then we now got nice big gun!’
Samuel shook his head and tutted. ‘They have bigger gunsh, you big dumb mump! And many more of them too. We wouldn’t lasht a minute fighting them, Jerry!’
The ape — Jerry — smacked a three-digit fist down on to the old floorboards. The entire stage rattled. ‘I want fight them … not running like …’ He scratched his head, struggling for an example.
Samuel waited until it was clear Jerry wasn’t going to come up with anything. ‘Truth ish, Jerry, you killing humansh wash a big mishtake.’
‘Didn’t mean to, Sam! Them got in the way … an’… an’… just happened. Real quick.’
‘Well, we can’t un-happen it now. It’sh done.’ Samuel shrugged bony shoulders. ‘Perhapsh my taking shome human prishonersh wash a mishtake too.’ He lowered his big head on his narrow neck. ‘We’ve pushed our luck too far thish time. I shay we musht all leave. Find a new place to hide.’
