She disregarded the soft knock at the front door. It was open anyway, and she knew it would just be one of her friends come to coax her back. She already knew she was going to relent, but she allowed herself the luxury of sulking there in the darkness, knowing that she was being self-indulgent but needing to be persuaded, needing someone to make explicit how much she was needed and valued.
She didn’t look up as someone entered and sat at the foot of the bed. Which is why she was so surprised when they began talking and she realised who it was.
“How long have you been looking after them?” asked the archer.
She thought: I don’t recognise your right to ask me that. She didn’t reply.
“It’s not easy, being a leader,” he said. “Managing people, trying not to let them down, making decisions when they’re too stupid or lazy to make them for themselves.”
“They’re not stupid,” muttered Caroline. “They’re just kids.”
“True. But how old are you?”
“Fuck off.” She took another swig.
“Not old enough to be drinking that, that’s for sure.”
“Touch my bottle and I’ll slice your fucking hand off.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” he said. “Your deputy told me where you’re making for.”
“Then he’s a blabbermouth twat who deserves everything he gets.”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
She looked up, open mouthed, then she threw the bottle at his head. He swatted it away.
“Sorry,” he said, seemingly genuine. “It’s just something you say, isn’t it?”
“Not any more,” she growled through gritted teeth.
“No, I s’pose not.”
There was a long awkward silence before Caroline said: “What do you fucking want, anyway?”
“This school you’re heading for, St Mark’s.”
“What about it?”
“Luke says their matron was with you. Is that right?”
“Like you don’t already know,” she muttered darkly.
“Is what he told me correct — did she go to the centre to kill Spider?”
Caroline glowered at him then eventually nodded once.
“And you used to know her? You were at the school?”
Again she nodded.
“Right. Well that’s good, because you see I met some of their people. Three guys — Lee, John and Tariq. Do you know them?”
“I knew Lee for a while. Never met his dad or the other one. They’re dead, anyway. The snatchers killed them when they captured her.”
Ferguson shook his head. “No, they didn’t. I was there that day. I was in the other lorry, the one you didn’t manage to liberate — good job, by the way. We faked their deaths so I could get inside Spider’s organisation.”
Caroline shook her head. “No, don’t believe you.”
“They’re still free. By now they should have got word to my boss. We’re going to bring these bastards down, Caroline. And you can help us.”
“No, Matron said they were dead. She said she knew they were dead.”
Ferguson paused, slightly thrown by her insistence. Caroline heard the edge of panic in her voice and tried to damp it down without success.
“I promise you, Caroline, they’re alive. The school is safe, and my boss will be sending help. I’ve been in Westminster for two days. I’ve mapped the layout, the disposition of their forces, their timetables. Everything. I need to get this information to my people so we can mount an assault…”
“What did he look like?”
“Sorry?”
“John. Lee’s Dad. What did he look like?”
“Um, medium height, brown hair and eyes. Strong chin. I dunno, I didn’t study him. Why?”
Caroline felt like wetting herself. She tried to rationalise it, to tell herself that no, she had been right, the man she’d killed had definitely been an imposter. But she knew.
Oh, God, she thought. What have I done?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BY THE TIME we reached Hemel Hempstead my arse hurt like hell. I’d done plenty of horse riding after The Cull, but not so much since Salisbury. I had shooting pains in both my legs, souvenirs of the times they really were shot, and chafing in places that, thank God, had managed to avoid being shot so far.
I got down from my horse feeling like an old man, walking bow legged and grunting the way oldsters do when they get up from an armchair.
“Behold, the mighty warrior,” laughed Jack as I hobbled towards him.
I let my horse loose to graze on the patch of grass by the car park of what used to be the West Herts College.
“Tease me again and I’ll shoot you in both legs,” I snapped. “See how you like horse riding then.”
He patted his steed on the flank and it trotted off to graze alongside its fellows.
The sun was setting. It had been a cold, rain-drenched ride and although the downpour had finally ended, the evening temperature was dropping fast.
“Is it open?” I asked, indicating the double doors that led into the main college building.
Jack nodded.
“We’ll sweep it first. Just in case.” This was Wilkes, leader of the six Rangers that Hood had gifted us.
Tall and solid, he was a no-nonsense Yorkshireman with ruddy cheeks and jet black hair. He’d hardly spoken to me since we’d been introduced, except to make clear that he and his men were here to help, but they’d do so on their terms and wouldn’t be taking any orders from me. I didn’t argue. I figured once they met Dad they’d fall into line, recognising the value of having a trained soldier in command.
The five men with him talked and joked amongst themselves, but gave me a wide berth. At least they weren’t openly resentful, like the ones who’d ridden with me up from Thetford, so I supposed that was progress of a sort.
I stepped back and let them enter first, with swords drawn. Jack and I stood outside feeling foolish and cold. Five minutes later the door swung open again and one of them ushered us inside.
The college had been trashed, but there was still plenty of wooden furniture for us to chop up for firewood. Within the hour we had a big bonfire in the car park. We gathered round it for warmth and shoved foil-wrapped potatoes into the flames to roast.
No one came to investigate the fire. If there were people still living in the vicinity, they stayed away.
“I thought they’d be here by now,” I said as I watched the flames consume a pile of old lab tables. “The snatchers were due to attack the kids in Hammersmith yesterday. If Dad got them out in time, they should be here.”
“You think they might be having to fight their way out?” asked Jack.
“Could be,” I replied.
“So how long do we wait?”
“We go at dawn, I reckon. If they’re besieged, they’ll need us.”
“Oh, yeah, you eight guys are a hell of a rescue force.”
I spun around, startled by this new voice. Tariq stepped into the firelight, gun in hand, smiling broadly.
“Don’t move!” came a yell from the other side of the bonfire.
“Relax,” I shouted as I got to my feet. “He’s with us.”
“What happened?” asked Jack, as anxious as I was at seeing Tariq here. “Did they attack the school already?”
Tariq shook his head, then indicated behind him with his hook. I stared into the darkness and realised that he was not alone. About forty children I recognised stepped forward into the orange light. They all wore their camo gear, their faces streaked with shoe polish, their hands full of hardware.
“We decided,” said a boy I was shocked to realise was Green, “to bring the fight to them.”