The Fallen

by Charlie Higson

  One father got up and reached out for a museum girl who was cowering by a glass cabinet, too startled to defend herself. Big Mick’s focus was shifted from trying to rescue Maxie, and he aimed his spear at the father’s kidneys, plunging it into the soft flesh of his lower back.

  Maxie was struggling to get up. She was covered in bodily fluids from the three fathers and the dead mother with the candyfloss hair and trying not to think about it. She’d been sick as well, so some of the filth was from her own stomach. She was furious. Furious with herself for having been caught so easily, and furious with the grown-ups for catching her. She’d dropped her spear, and the museum boy who’d been holding the torch was nowhere to be seen. In the dark Maxie didn’t have a clue where her weapon might be. So she lashed out with her fists, battering at the fathers.

  For a couple of minutes she was in the centre of a vicious hand-to-hand fight in the dark. Punching soft, stinking flesh, gouging with her fingernails, kicking, elbowing, butting, shouting her lungs out, her nostrils filled with the rancid stink of them. Sweating from the heat they were giving off, their skin slippery and greasy. And then there was a shout. A light shining in her face …

  More kids were arriving. It was the rest of her team. Between them, they managed to deal with the fathers and it was quickly over. The kids stood in a circle, panting and heaving. The museum boy had disappeared. The girl was hurt, but not too badly.

  Maxie was still furious, though.

  ‘Where you all been?’ she snapped at her crew, even though it wasn’t their fault the local kids had run away.

  ‘We was chasing a big pack of them,’ said one of Mick’s boys. ‘They moved into another bit of the museum. We was after them when we heard you shouting.’

  So it wasn’t over yet. They had to regroup and press on.

  Maxie groaned, feeling the pain in her back where she’d been rammed up against the fossil.

  Bloody dinosaurs …

  Down on the lower level Blue’s squad were gradually driving a clump of grown-ups back along a dark corridor. Boggle and another museum kid stayed at the rear, shining their torches ahead. All Blue was aware of were white faces, gaping mouths, wide, frightened animal eyes, bony fingers held up for protection. And fingers didn’t offer any protection at all. Blue drove steadily forward. Spears held the grown-ups at bay, clubs battered them down, knives finished them off. Gradually the kids were reclaiming the corridor, stepping over fallen bodies as they went, leaving a bloody carpet behind them. One of Blue’s team stayed at the back, stabbing down with his spear at any grown-ups who still lived.

  They reached a large door and Boggle cried out that that was enough.

  Blue didn’t want to stop. All his anger and fear and frustration had surged up from where he kept it nailed down deep in his guts. He wanted to press on, slaughtering the grown-ups, wanted to press on until every grown-up in the world was dead. He was filled with a burning blood fever. A sick drive to keep on killing. Boggle held him back.

  ‘This is the door,’ Boggle said. ‘If we lock it then this corridor’s sealed off. We’re safe.’

  ‘Safe?’ Blue spat the word out.

  ‘You don’t have to kill any more,’ said Boggle. Blue looked at him; even though Boggle hadn’t been in the front rank his face was spotted with blood, and there was pus in his hair, probably from when Blue had smacked a grown-up in the face and his head had seemed to explode. There was blood and clumps of hair and bits of flesh stuck to the walls all down the way they had come. Blue fought the urge to be sick. His arms were sore. His head ached. He had only just recovered from the concussion he’d got when a wooden shack had collapsed on him a couple of days ago. He had no idea what damage he might do if he pushed himself too hard.

  He let it go. Felt his shoulders sag as the fight went out of him. Boggle and his friends were locking the door, shutting the remaining grown-ups in the darkness on the other side.

  ‘Tomorrow we’ll come back and finish what we started,’ Blue said. ‘Clear the whole place out. You can’t live with these creeps down here.’

  ‘It’s too big,’ said Boggle. ‘We can’t patrol the whole museum …’

  ‘No. You listen.’ Blue’s voice was hoarse and croaky, his throat dry. ‘We’ve got to do it properly. You hear me? Once and for all. We’ll flush them out, then arrange regular patrols, inside and out. You got to be serious about it. You lost friends tonight. You don’t want to lose any more. And you also got to find out how these doors got open.’

  ‘OK. But that’s enough for tonight. This is the last door. No more, yeah?’

  ‘No more.’

  ‘The lock doesn’t look damaged,’ said one of Boggle’s boys. ‘I reckon someone must have definitely unlocked it.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ said Boggle. ‘Why would anyone do that?’

  ‘Someone don’t like you,’ said Blue.

  ‘But who?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. I’m new here myself.’

  ‘Blue,’ said Boggle, his voice wavering again. He lowered his torch so that nobody could see that he was crying.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. Seems all we do lately is other people’s dirty work.’

  ‘I hope you’ll stay. We need people like you.’

  ‘We’ll stay. Least for a while. We ain’t got no other home to go to.’

  ‘This can be your home now.’

  Yeah, thought Blue, nice place. There was a thump and a wail from the other side of the door. Blue kicked the door and swore loudly.

  Bloody grown-ups …

  Achilleus was sitting on the main stairs at the back of the central hall, Jackson on one side, Paddy the Caddie on the other, the rest of their team spread out behind him. They’d found no grown-ups anywhere on the upper levels and had checked that any connecting doors were securely locked. He was actually enjoying doing nothing. Letting others do the blood, sweat and tears for a change. His wounds hurt a whole lot more than he wanted to let on. He needed painkillers. And sleep.

  He grinned as kids started to drift back from the green zone. Lewis strolled over, his spear slung over his shoulder, eyes half closed.

  ‘Didn’t find nothing,’ he said, scratching his messy Afro. ‘Just one crump old mother what couldn’t hardly even stand up. Brap! She won’t never stand no more. RIP mum. Apart from that, zeros, dude. We’ve went through all the galleries, shining our light into, like, every gap and behind every dead animal. All we’ve seen was bugs, birds and old bones. You?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Achilleus. ‘Looks like I’m having the night off.’

  At that there was a shout and several museum kids came running through from the blue zone.

  ‘They need help,’ one of them yelled. ‘There’s too many of them!’

  Lewis looked at Achilleus, who grunted and hauled himself to his feet. Tried not to wince as he set off at a slow jog.

  The night wasn’t over yet.

  5

  Maxie’s team had got stuck. Weren’t sure what to do. They’d chased some grown-ups through the corridors of the museum, past a load of stuffed bears and lions and bats. And then they’d run straight into a second, larger group that were coming the other way. In the chaos and near-panic, she’d ordered her kids through a big door into another gallery where they were now bottled up in the tight spaces between exhibits, unable to get back to the door.

  Their madly slashing torch beams lit up a surreal fleet of creatures dangling from the ceiling: dolphins, sharks, killer whales, whale skeletons and, right in the middle, a gigantic life-sized model of a blue whale that dwarfed the stuffed elephants standing beneath it.

  Her numbers were down. Most of the museum kids in her group had run off. She was left with Big Mick’s fighting force and just two of the locals. She had no idea how many mothers and fathers were in here, scrambling and hissing among the exhibits. The kids were fighting on all sides and Maxie was too intent on trying not to get hurt to see what
anyone else was up to. She knocked two fathers down and gave a little scream as she found herself face to face with a hippo, the teeth in its lower jaw as big as any tyrannosaurus’s.

  She swore and looked round. Big Mick was backed into a corner with no space to manoeuvre.

  ‘We have to stick together,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t get split up!’ And she waded in to help Mick, spearing a mother in the back and twisting her weapon to free it. Big Mick swung at the mother’s head as she went down and thanked Maxie.

  ‘Listen!’ he said and turned towards the door.

  Maxie could just make out noise in the corridor. Commotion. Her mood lifted. Maybe help had arrived?

  ‘Keep going!’ she yelled, kicking another mother in the gut. ‘They haven’t forgotten us.’

  Achilleus was going as fast as he could, but still lagging behind the rest of the group. He was right at the back with Paddy, his breath wheezing in his throat.

  ‘You all right, Akkie?’ Paddy asked and Achilleus slapped him round the back of the head.

  ‘Course I’m all right,’ he snarled. ‘Keep moving. I just don’t want to get ahead of you.’

  ‘I can go faster.’

  ‘Shut up, Paddy.’

  But Achilleus couldn’t go on. His vision was blurring, everything going dark around him. His legs felt loose and rubbery. He had to stop. He rested, leaning on a stuffed lion. He was sweating, his head pounding, his throat dry. He closed his eyes for a second, but that just made him more aware of the throbbing in his head. He forced them open again. Glared at Paddy.

  ‘What you waiting for, caddie? There’s work to do.’

  He staggered on and they caught up with the rest of his group who had stopped by the entrance to another gallery.

  ‘Whassup?’ he asked Jackson.

  ‘There’s kids fighting in the whale room,’ she said. ‘And more sickos in the corridor.’

  ‘Where’s my mates?’ Achilleus said. ‘Where’s Maxie?’

  ‘In the gallery.’

  ‘Get her out first,’ said Achilleus. ‘Then chase the sickos. I’ll keep a team here and guard the door.’

  Jackson took a fighting party into the gallery and Achilleus looked at Paddy. He was sagging under the weight of the golf-bag stuffed with weapons.

  ‘Come on, Paddywhack,’ he said. ‘You can’t rest now. There’s work to be done.’ Achilleus swayed on his feet and leant against the wall. A wave of freezing sickness passed over him. His head filled with fireflies and he felt himself losing consciousness.

  ‘Bloody whales,’ he said, and passed out.

  6

  Blue was coming out of the door that led back into the main part of the museum when Boggle, who was leading the way, froze.

  ‘Now what?’

  A horde of grown-ups was stumbling by, moving as fast as they could. They’d been forced round from the whale gallery and were now crossing the café and heading for the main hall.

  ‘Too many of them.’ Boggle held the kids back behind the door. Blue could sense the fear in him.

  ‘We got to take them on,’ said Blue, trying to push past him. ‘You can’t leave them running around the place.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ said Boggle. ‘Let them pass and we’ll go after them. Hit them from behind, yeah?’

  ‘So long as we ain’t hiding back here all night.’

  They waited for the last of them to pass then crept out through the door and checked there were no more grown-ups around. It seemed to be all clear.

  ‘We need to be careful,’ said Boggle. ‘There looked to be at least twenty of them.’

  They moved slowly and cautiously through the café, trying not to make a sound, but then a long, high scream filled the night and Blue was running.

  Sod that. No more being careful.

  He raced between the scattered tables and chairs and back out into the main hall, glanced wildly around, looking for where the grown-ups had gone, where the scream had come from. At first the hall looked empty, but then he realized the pack had headed up the stairs towards the next floor.

  And that was where the scream had come from. A kid who looked like he was dressed as Harry Potter, with glasses and everything, was being torn apart by the mob.

  ‘Jesus,’ Blue spat and he jumped up the stairs three at a time. There were too many grown-ups for him to get close to the boy, though. They were crowding round him where he had fallen on the steps. He didn’t seem to be moving, and wasn’t making any more noise.

  Blue was desperate. As fast as he pulled one grown-up out of the way, another one filled the gap. They were ignoring him, intent on getting at their prey.

  ‘Help me!’ Blue roared, dragging another diseased body clear. And then he was aware of other kids running up the stairs behind him.

  With the backup, Blue was able to batter his way to the heart of the pack where he managed to free some space around the boy. He knew instantly that he was too late, though. The kid was missing an eye and his throat had been torn out. They’d made a horrible mess of his stomach as well.

  Blue cursed and started hammering the grown-ups, who were now turning their attention to him. He had to abandon the boy’s body and back away down the steps with the others from his team who’d come to help.

  All the other kids were now congregating in the hall below. Blue turned and saw Jackson, the girl who’d been in charge.

  ‘Where’d Harry Potter come from?’ he called down to her.

  ‘Oh crap,’ said Jackson. ‘There was a group in the library. I’d forgotten all about them. God knows what’s happening in there.’

  ‘You need to take your lot and go get them,’ Blue shouted. ‘The rest of us will stay here and deal with these goons. Let’s get this done.’

  With the help of the reinforcements, Maxie had managed to clear the grown-ups out of the whale room, and as she led her gang outside she found Achilleus lying on the floor with a worried-looking Paddy kneeling over him. She grunted with shock. It was as if a cold, dark hand had gripped her throat.

  Not Achilleus …

  She hadn’t always liked the boy – he was rude and a bully, a show-off, and he had a bad mouth on him – but he was the best fighter she’d ever seen, utterly fearless in battle and clever with it. To get this far without losing anyone only to have Akkie wind up dead was more than she could bear. Without Achilleus they were in big trouble.

  And then she saw his chest rising and falling.

  ‘What happened?’ she said.

  ‘He just fainted,’ said Paddy. ‘Just like that. I think he’s all right, though.’

  ‘Thank God.’ Maxie sat down next to Achilleus and Paddy, leaning against the wall. Full of tiredness.

  ‘We better get him back to the others,’ said Big Mick, strolling over. ‘It looks like we got rid of all the grown-ups from round here, but we don’t know.’

  ‘One second,’ said Maxie. ‘Give me one second of quiet.’

  ‘Let’s hope this is the last of it,’ said Mick. ‘I’m whacked.’

  ‘Yeah. Help me up.’ Maxie stuck out a hand and Mick pulled her to her feet. After a brief discussion they picked up Achilleus between them, got their shoulders under his armpits and dragged him down the corridor, his feet scraping along the floor.

  They were the last. Following where the others had gone, they looped round to the back of the café and on through into the main hall where everyone else was regrouping.

  It was a mess. Blue was hacking at something on the stairs; a steady stream of blood was dripping down to where fresh bodies lay at the bottom. The stink of it hung in the air, and worse.

  A mutilated father was crawling across the floor towards the main doors, a trail of slime snaking out behind him. Big Mick let go of Achilleus, walked over to the father, put his foot on the back of his head and jabbed his spear down into his spine.

  As Maxie lowered Achilleus down on a bench, he stirred and opened his eyes, disoriented and embarrassed. He shrugged Maxie off.

  ‘Leave
me alone, won’t you?’ he muttered. ‘I’m all right.’

  He rubbed his head, looking around at the scene of carnage.

  ‘You got any water, caddie?’

  Paddy fished out a half-empty plastic bottle from his golf-bag and gave it to Achilleus, who drained it in one long gulp.

  ‘Did we win?’ he said and tossed the bottle to one side.

  ‘Think so,’ said Blue from halfway up the stairs. There was a shout from above and they saw Jackson returning with another bunch of kids, younger for the most part and wearing a weird variety of fancy-dress outfits. Like characters in a cheesy school play.

  ‘What’s going on in this place?’ said Achilleus. ‘What they all dressed up like that for?’

  ‘They were having a World Book Day event,’ Boggle explained, and Achilleus burst out laughing.

  ‘They was what?’

  ‘Celebrating World Book Day. They’re dressed as their favourite characters from books, I think.’

  Achilleus’ loud, mocking laughter almost distracted everyone from the fact that they had missed a grown-up. A big, ugly mother, wounded but not down, had been skulking at the top of the stairs, hidden among some display cabinets. As the last of the World Book Day kids came past her, she suddenly darted out and grabbed hold of a girl carrying a thick, leather-bound book.

  Most of the kids were too surprised to do anything, but Ollie had never relaxed. He was always alert, always watching, always ready, and without thinking he had fitted a steel ball in his sling, pulled it back and loosed off a shot before anyone else had reacted.

  With a meaty thwack, the ball hit the mother in the temple and she croaked and let go of the kid, reeling drunkenly. Blue bounded up the steps and finished her off with three quick blows. The little girl, meanwhile, was down the stairs like a startled hare and she ran straight into Ollie, who held on to her.

  Jackson came down with the other kids.

  ‘Are you OK, Lettis?’ she said to the little girl and she nodded her head without saying anything. Jackson thanked Ollie, who simply shrugged.