The Sacrifice by Charlie Higson
And then a big father ripped the weapon from his hand.
‘Hey!’ the boy snapped, surprised and indignant. Zombies, as he called them, weren’t supposed to do that. They didn’t use weapons.
Well, he was learning fast; these ones did.
He’d learnt his lesson too late, though. The father who had got hold of the machete was one of The Fear. Cleverer, more organized, more lethal. He brought the machete down in a huge clumsy arc and it severed the boy’s arm at the elbow. The boy cried out, let go of his friend, and as the strangers smelt blood, they fell on him in a frenzy. He went down with a hideous screech. The girl tried to pull him along as well.
It was no use.
‘Leave him,’ said Shadowman. ‘You can’t do anything for him.’
‘I’m not leaving him.’
Already, though, the boy had disappeared beneath the press of strangers as more and more of them collapsed on top of him. Shadowman saw his chance. The pack was distracted, intent on getting to the fresh meat. He ducked down and got the other boy round the waist, hauled him to his feet with one mighty heave. His legs were covered in blood, but he could walk.
Just.
‘We can’t fight this lot!’ said Shadowman, staggering down the road with one arm round the boy. ‘We’ll all be killed.’
The girl had no choice but to follow them. She ran to catch up and then supported her friend on the other side. The three of them lurched along as best they could. The injured boy was limping and moaning with each step he took. Shadowman glanced down. Blood was pouring from the wound, soaking the bottom of the boy’s jeans, which were ripped and tattered, his skin underneath shredded, covered in bite marks. There were a couple of deep gouges with ragged edges. The cuts would be difficult to heal without stitches and then there was the risk of infection.
It was unlikely he’d survive.
It had all been so unnecessary.
‘I tried to warn you,’ said Shadowman.
‘Shut up,’ said the girl bitterly. She was right. It was pathetic to be scoring points now. They had to concentrate on getting away.
‘We should never have left Ricky behind.’
‘You had no choice,’ said Shadowman. ‘His arm was gone. No way he could recover from that.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Whatever,’ said Shadowman. ‘It makes no difference now. How far away is your base?’
‘About two miles.’
‘Two miles? You’re joking. What are you doing so far from home?’
‘We told you. We were tracking zombies. We cover a lot of ground.’
‘I’m not sure your mate’s going to make it two miles.’
‘No worries. We got wheels.’
‘A car?’
‘Yeah.’
Shadowman looked back. Most of the strangers appeared to have stopped to eat the fallen boy. But some were advancing along the road. The closest were only about ten metres away.
‘OK,’ said Shadowman. ‘I hope it’s nearby.’
‘Not far.’
‘I don’t think I can make it,’ the boy gasped. ‘My leg hurts too much.’
‘Keep going,’ said Shadowman.
‘There,’ said the girl, nodding up a side-street where a big black Lexus RX was parked in the middle of the road.
‘Just don’t tell me your mate back there has the key,’ said Shadowman. The girl swore. Stopped dead in her tracks. Swore again.
Brilliant …
29
‘Oh Jesus,’ said the wounded boy. ‘I can’t walk, Jaz. I’m gonna be sick.’
‘Is it locked?’ Shadowman asked.
‘Course not. Why would we lock it? Zombies don’t drive.’
‘Let’s get him in there and we’ll work out what to do. If we carry on slowing down like this they’re gonna catch up with us.’
‘We’ll be trapped in there.’
‘We’ll work something out.’ Shadowman twisted round; the lead strangers were nearer and closing every second.
‘Come on.’ He put on a burst of speed, dragging the other two along with him.
When they got to the car, the girl, Jaz, wrenched open the back door and bundled the boy on to the seat before climbing in after him. Shadowman got into the front. He slammed the door and hit the central locking button. The locks snapped shut with a satisfying clunk.
He took a quick look around the car. It had once been a luxury four-wheel drive, but the kids had given it quite a battering. The seats were dirty and ripped in a couple of places. There was rubbish piled up all over the floor. He noticed the passenger window was open a crack. He tried to close it with the window button, but it was dead.
‘Won’t work without the ignition on,’ said Jaz.
‘Yeah, well, I don’t think even the skinniest zombie could crawl through that,’ said Shadowman, and he checked the rear-view mirror to see where the strangers were.
Nearly at the car. Six of them, more strung out in the road behind them.
He scrunched himself back in the seat and sighed.
‘Well, this is cosy,’ he said as the first of the strangers arrived and started pawing at the windscreen, leaving greasy smears across it. Soon all six of the first bunch were crowding round the car. There was a whimper from the back seat. The boy was crying and Jaz had her arm round him. It looked like she might be crying as well, but her face was so crusted with blood it was hard to tell. The two of them were a mess and Shadowman supposed he didn’t look much better. The blood that had soaked through his clothing felt sticky.
‘We’re never going to get out of here,’ said Jaz. ‘We’re going to be stuck in this car until they either smash their way in or we starve to death.’
‘This was your idea,’ said Shadowman. ‘Maybe if you’d remembered you didn’t have the keys … ’
‘My leg really hurts,’ the boy interrupted. ‘It’s not good, Jaz. It really, really hurts.’
All the boy’s swagger was gone. He was like a five-year-old with a cut knee being comforted by his mum. A big part of Shadowman wanted to join him. To break down and weep and have someone look after him.
There was no one, though, was there?
He took off his cloak and removed his backpack. Fished out a roll of bandage and some antiseptic.
‘Here,’ he said, passing them to Jaz. She sniffed, wiped her nose and smiled at him for the first time.
‘Thanks.’
‘Yeah, thanks. I’m Johnny, by the way,’ said the boy.
‘I’m Carl.’ Shadowman lied automatically, his habit of secrecy kicking in. He didn’t know these kids well enough to tell them his real name.
Whatever that was.
He’d been christened Dylan, but nobody used that name any more; most called him Shadowman, but others knew him by different names. Carl was the name of one of the kids at the squatter camp he’d been living in before he’d set off on his doomed trip to north London looking for other groups of surviving kids.
Jaz set about patching up her friend, all three of them trying to ignore the strangers who were all around the car now, pressing their faces to the windows, scratching at the glass with grubby, broken nails. One mother had found the open window and was wiggling her fingers through it. Shadowman could hear her panting.
‘Bugger off.’ He slashed at her fingers with his knife and she quickly withdrew them. Moments later she was back, dripping blood down the inside of the window. This time he ignored her.
What was the point?
He took his A to Z from his bag, tried to work out where they were. Better to be doing something than just sitting here.
‘What’s this road?’ he said.
‘I’m not sure exactly where we are,’ said Jaz. ‘We were following the zombies for ages. They kept leaving the road, wandering in the estates, cutting through gardens, getting in the houses. We couldn’t always keep up with them in the Lexus. Had to keep getting out and going on foot. One point we lost them for, like, two hours. We think t
Shadowman folded up his cloak and put it in the top of his backpack. He didn’t want it to slow him down if they had to run again.
‘Where you from, Carl?’ asked Johnny.
‘West originally. Notting Hill way. This last year I’ve mostly been living in the centre of town.’
‘Were you really at Buckingham Palace?’
‘Some of the time, yeah.’
‘Cool.’
‘Why don’t you two get a room?’ said Jaz, and Johnny told her to shut up.
‘So you got a plan yet then, Carl?’ Jaz asked with an edge of sarcasm. ‘You gonna magic us out of here?’
‘Listen to me, Jaz,’ said Shadowman. ‘You chose to ignore me when I warned you about these creeps. You treated me like an idiot. Wouldn’t listen, would you? Thought you knew better. But if you’d listened to me we wouldn’t be stuck here like this right now. You’d have the car keys and you’d have your mate, what’s-his-name –’
‘Ricky.’
‘Yeah, Ricky. So don’t put the blame on me. I could’ve run. I could’ve left you there. You don’t mean anything to me. But we’re all in this now. So let’s try and work together.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ said Jaz, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.
‘Listen to him, Jaz,’ said Johnny. ‘He knows what he’s talking about, I reckon.’
‘Maybe.’
‘We’ve got a choice,’ said Shadowman. ‘We can leg it. All three of us get out of this car before the rest of the pack arrives and we try to find a safer place to hole up until Johnny feels strong enough to walk again.’
‘No way,’ said Johnny. ‘I ain’t leaving this car. We wouldn’t get two metres.’
‘Yeah,’ said Shadowman. ‘You’re probably right. So there’s another choice. You and me, Jaz, we get out of the car and leave Johnny here. We go back to your camp and get help.’
‘You are not leaving me,’ Johnny wailed. ‘Not in this car by myself. That is not happening.’
‘Then just one of us goes,’ said Shadowman.
‘That’s too long,’ said Jaz, ‘even if we could get past that lot.’ She waved a hand at the dark, ugly faces that were squashed against every window, licking the glass and blocking out the light. ‘It’s a good half-hour walk to our camp, maybe more, then we got to get back here. In the meantime this car’s going to be crawling with zombies. They’d get to whoever was left here with Johnny before we made it back.’
‘Probably right,’ said Shadowman.
‘Good plan,’ said Jaz. ‘Really good plan.’
‘There’s a last option,’ said Shadowman.
‘Which is?’
‘One of us goes out there now, before the rest of the horde gets here.’
‘And does what?’
‘Tries to lead most of them away, then doubles back and gets the car key.’
‘Would that work?’
‘If we were fast enough. Most of the grown-ups will be strung out between here and where we left Ricky. If we ran, got back here before they arrived … This lot are the fastest ones, the strongest. The others are slower. I know them.’
‘That sounds well risky,’ said Jaz.
‘It’s a good plan,’ said Johnny. ‘If we got the key, we could drive away from here.’
‘It’s all right for you to say that,’ Jaz sneered. ‘As you’re obviously not the one who’s going back out there.’ She leant forward, closer to Shadowman. ‘What if there’s still loads of them back there with Ricky? And what if there’s loads here when you get back?’
‘What d’you mean when I get back?’ said Shadowman. ‘Who said I was going? He’s your friend.’
‘Well, I just thought.’
‘If I get out of this car I could just leg it,’ said Shadowman. ‘You weren’t exactly nice to me when we met. I don’t owe you anything. All you’ve done is screw things up for me.’
‘You’ve got to do it,’ said Jaz.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m scared, that’s why. All right? I couldn’t do it. Not go out there alone. No way.’
‘Jaz,’ said Johnny, his voice breaking. ‘Jaz … ’
Shadowman stared at two fathers who were thumping on the windscreen. One had a missing nose and the other had a mouth full of growths that bulged out as if he was trying to see how many golf balls he could cram in his mouth for a bet. Shadowman couldn’t believe it had come to this. Trying to save these bloody kids. He’d had it all sewn up. He was on top of things. Studying The Fear. Following them at a safe distance. And these stupid kids had thrown it all away.
Was he really prepared to die for them?
That’s what it came down to. Getting out of this car was almost certain suicide. He knew what The Fear were capable of.
He closed his eyes. Tried to clear his mind. Counted slowly from one to ten. Felt his heart pounding in his chest.
Then jabbed his finger at the door lock button.
30
Shadowman kicked open the car door, spilling two strangers on to the ground. He came out fast and brought the spear up while he was on the move, using the shaft to bat away more strangers. A bigger pack was advancing and more were coming round the corner at the end of the street.
Don’t think about it.
Just run.
He smashed his way out of the knot of strangers around the car and sprinted away in the opposite direction to the one they’d come.
Once he was at a safe distance he started jumping up and down and shouting at the strangers.
‘Come and get it, you bastards! Come on. Dinner! Over here.’
He was getting their attention. A few broke away and ambled towards him. Trying to get in the car was like trying to open a can without a can-opener. Shadowman was all unpacked and ready to be served. He smiled as the new arrivals coming down the road switched direction and headed for him instead of the Lexus.
‘That’s right. Over here. Come and get it. Fresh meat. Still on the bone. Come on … ’
The father with the mouth full of growths was the keenest and the fastest. He loped along, eyes fixed on Shadowman. Shadowman waited until he was nearly upon him then hurled the spear at him. It took him cleanly in the centre of the chest and flung him backwards. More and more of them were coming now and Shadowman started to retreat, drawing them away from the car. Once he was sure enough of them would follow he looked at his A to Z and set off at a slow jog, plotting a route as he went. He stopped every few metres to check he still had company and study the map. He had to judge it right: get too far ahead of them and they’d give up and go back to the car; let them get too close and he risked being caught. He knew that at some point, though, he would have to speed up and get well away from them or he wouldn’t have enough time to look for the car key.
He was the Pied Piper today and wished he could have led the pack over a cliff or something.
He figured out a route that would lead him in a wide circle, ending at the flat he’d checked out earlier. He’d be able to hide there and get a good view of where Ricky had been attacked.
Why the bloody hell was he helping these dorks? Why should he risk sacrificing himself for them? Why not just turn his back on them? Run away and keep on running. Leave Jaz and Johnny to look after themselves. He had no doubt that’s what they’d have done in his situation.
He remembered how his best friend, Jester, had abandoned him by the railway tracks at King’s Cross after they’d been attacked and Shadowman had been concussed, unable to walk. Jester had simply left him there to die. It was the sensible thing to do. It was the way to stay alive.
Hadn’t Shadowman done exactly the same thing? Persuaded Jaz to abandon Ricky?
He knew now how Jester had felt. Why he’d done it.
But he also remembered how he himself had felt.
It was the worst feeling ever.
Was it really the same? He and Jester had been best ma
The worst feeling ever. No getting round it.
That’s why he was out here, leading a pack of strangers away from the car. He was showing he wasn’t like Jester. Making it up to all the kids he’d watched being hunted and killed by The Fear. Proving he was one of the good guys.
After about five minutes he put on a burst of speed and dashed off, leaving his pursuers for dust. He hared round the streets, his feet pounding a steady rhythm on the tarmac, and was soon near the tyre centre, approaching the flats from the other end of the street. He ran up to the doors, barged them open and bounded up the stairs to the top floor.
Once inside the flat he secured the door, put his back to it and slid down to the floor. He was exhausted, his throat raw, his legs burning. His stomach suddenly lurched and he bent forward and puked on the carpet between his boots. He knew it was a basic defence mechanism. The stomach needs a lot of energy for digestion, ties up a lot of your blood flow. When the body urgently needs more blood to work the leg muscles, or extra energy to help you run or fight, it automatically empties your guts. Even if you haven’t eaten anything you’ll be hit by the heaves.
He took a glug of water from his canteen. He only now allowed himself to acknowledge that he had been terrified. From the moment he’d first seen the new grown-ups up until now he’d been in the grip of raw fear, but he’d used some survival instinct to block it out.
Jaz had admitted she was scared. Which must have taken something. He wondered if she’d seen that he was just as scared.
Probably not. He was good at hiding things.
He spat and got up. This was his last chance to run and leave Jaz and Johnny to look after themselves. After all, they’d ruined everything for him.
He laughed. Remembering how he’d felt protective about ‘his’ strangers when Jaz and the others had attacked them.
What had it all been about really? Following The Fear?
He walked into the living room, nodded to the bodies on the sofa and went over to the windows. The tyre centre appeared empty. The grown-ups must all have emerged. He opened the window and leant out. Could just see where they’d had the fight in the street. There was an oily, dark, wet patch, bits of body and clothing strewn about, several dead strangers, some already half eaten. Nine living strangers were fighting over the remaining scraps of good meat. These were the weakest and feeblest of The Fear. Always the last to eat. Hanging on for a few more days before they too were killed. Really they were doing little more than fattening themselves up for when St George decided it was their turn to be dinner. He was clever, St George, Shadowman had to admit. He had a sort of admiration for him. St George was toughening up his army, gradually culling the weakest and slowest, and using them to feed the rest. And now it looked like others were searching for him, joining up. That’s why the Willesden pack had been coming here.