‘In return,’ Monroe continued, ‘if I win, you’ll agree to follow my lead. In everything, not just in name. I’m far better suited to dealing with situations like this than you’ll ever be.’
‘How many apocalypses have you dealt with then?’
He rolled his eyes.
The man with the shotgun reached us. ‘You here for the supply drop?’ he asked gruffly.
We both nodded. ‘Why are you still here?’ I said. ‘Why haven’t you evacuated?’
‘I’m no coward. No freaky shit is going to force me out of my home.’ He waved the gun and my stomach tightened. ‘’Sides, I’m prepared for anything.’
‘Indeed,’ I murmured. I gestured ahead. ‘After you.’
The man jumped over the turnstile and was quickly swallowed up by the tunnel ahead. ‘You shouldn’t have let him go first,’ Monroe snapped. ‘He might take everything we want.’
‘I’m sure there will be enough to go round. Besides, we can be polite. We’re not animals, Monroe,’ I told him. Not yet anyway.
He laughed shortly. ‘Speak for yourself.’ He turned and leapt neatly over the turnstile, following the man inside the stadium. I sighed, hoping we’d be able to get in and out without too much bother, then I went in after him.
For a brief moment when I emerged onto the football pitch I forgot about checking how many people were present. Walking out onto the grass at Old Trafford felt almost spiritual. I wasn’t much of a football fan, although I frequently bet on matches. But you didn’t have to be a fan to appreciate walking across such hallowed ground with so many empty plastic seats staring down at you from the tiers above.
Unfortunately, the gigantic oak tree sprouting from the goal posts at the far end of the pitch, and the massive scorch marks trailing across the arena, somewhat ruined the overall effect. All the same, the experience was incredibly cool.
Monroe didn’t appear to notice. He was standing a few metres away, his arms folded across his chest and his expression grim. I followed his gaze, watching the people up and down the pitch ripping open the tightly bundled packages.
‘What do you reckon?’ I asked innocently. ‘Three hundred or so?’
He tutted. I punched the air and did a little dance round him. It wasn’t my typical winning behaviour but nothing about today was typical.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You win. Let’s pick up what we can and get out of here.’ He shot me a look. ‘Is your Max here?’
‘He’s not my Max. But no.’ I nibbled my bottom lip. Frankly, I’d have preferred it if he were; having Max here would mean that he wasn’t causing problems with Lizzy, Julie and Jodie.
Given the scuffles that were breaking out over various boxes, Max’s presence wasn’t needed to start a fight. I considered breaking up one of the arguments before it escalated into violence. Before I could make up my mind, the assailants walked away, clutching their supplies to their bodies. There was still enough to go round so disaster had been averted. For now.
Monroe had been watching the same show play itself out. ‘We need to grab what we can and get out of here.’
I nodded. In this, at least, he was probably right. I scanned round, spotting several boxes that had tumbled to the side and were currently unattended. ‘There,’ I said. ‘Let’s grab those.’
We walked over, beating an older woman who was walking with the aid of a cane. She scowled at Monroe as he gave her a pointed look. ‘These are ours,’ he growled.
The man was an idiot. ‘There’s more than enough for all of us,’ I said. ‘We can easily share.’
Monroe glared at me. ‘We cannot share. We did not come here to share.’
‘There’s plenty! We can split the stuff in half.’
‘And give her a lift back home in the process?’ he enquired.
I tilted up my chin. ‘Good idea. We can put her supplies away for her too. Then we can check up and make sure she’s alright in the future and—’
‘I’ve got my bicycle,’ the old woman informed us icily. ‘And I don’t need your help. I shall take this box,’ she said, swiping the nearest one, ‘and leave you two in peace.’ She tucked it under her arm and hobbled off.
‘You scared her off!’ I said accusingly.
‘You can’t give away our stuff to any random stranger who happens by,’ Monroe said.
‘It’s not our stuff. It’s everyone’s stuff. Besides, she’s a little old lady. She might need our help.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘She chose to stay in Manchester when she could have left. It’s survival of the fittest. This is how Nature intended it to be. If you help every poor soul who comes along, you’ll be dead before the end of the week.’
‘At least I won’t be dead inside,’ I sniped, before forgetting that Monroe probably did feel dead inside after what had happened to his pack.
I hastily regrouped. ‘And I don’t think that Nature ever intended…’ I reached into the nearest box and pulled out a silver package ‘…chicken tikka masala to drop out of the sky. We’ve got plenty of tinned food. We don’t need all of this.’
‘This will last longer. All of this has been carefully selected to provide maximum calories to an army on the move and in battle.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ve been in battle and I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up that way again before too long.’ He pointed at another squabble that had started up. ‘This is what is happening now, when we’re surrounded by supplies and no one is going short. Think about what will happen when supplies start to run out.’
‘That’s why we’re here,’ I reminded him. ‘This is my plan, after all.’
He leaned down towards me, his nostrils flaring. ‘Then stick to the plan and stop giving away our supplies.’ He turned and started scooping up boxes.
I glared at his
