The Hunted (The Enemy Book 6) (Enemy 6)

by Charlie Higson

  ‘Is it safe, do you reckon?’ asked Ed.

  ‘Please be careful,’ said Trio. ‘The signal hasn’t changed. Like something following us.’

  ‘Relax,’ said Brooke. ‘It looks bare civilized. I mean, come on, what sicko is going to light a fire in a fireplace?’

  ‘Even if it’s kids it doesn’t mean we’ll be welcome.’ Ed undid his seat belt. ‘As Trio says, let’s go careful. Nobody do anything stupid, OK?’

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Kyle. ‘Let me do something stupid.’

  ‘Seriously, Kyle. If it is kids, and that’s obviously what I’m hoping, they may have defences, traps.’

  ‘Why don’t we just go knock on the door?’ said Macca.

  ‘You all sure about this?’ said Trey. ‘I’ve got a humming in my head and it’s not going away.’

  ‘Sure as I can be.’ Ed opened his door. ‘At some point we all knew we were going to have to get out of the car.’

  ‘I already did,’ said Kyle, sliding his door open and climbing out. ‘Back there on the motorway. Or didn’t any of you losers notice?’

  He got out and walked over towards the house, swinging his bloody axe idly in one hand. Lewis shoved his own door open and jumped down. Next out was Trinity. Lewis was impressed with how well the kids got about, joined up as they were. They had two normal legs, one each, with smaller shrivelled legs tucked up in between, under their body. They didn’t wobble or stumble at all, and seemed to use one brain when it came to manoeuvring. They walked over to join Kyle, and Lewis saw the third body on their back, sticking out below their pack. It looked dead, like an old mummy or a goblin, or something.

  He thought he caught a movement in the corner of his eye and threw a look to the house. Sure he’d seen a face at a window, pale, like a ghost. No. Stupid. There were no ghosts. Zombies, yes. At least grown-ups who thought they were zombies. But no ghosts.

  There was nothing at the window now. If there ever had been.

  Next out were Brooke and Macca.

  ‘You cool with this?’ Macca asked Brooke, hovering too close to her.

  ‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’ Brooke simpered.

  Macca grinned, puffed up. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to worry about anything as long as I’m around.’

  Lewis grinned. That boy was so dumb. Couldn’t he see when someone was winding him up? Taking him for a ride? Getting ready to dump on him.

  Lewis caught Brooke’s eye. She made a face behind Macca’s back and pointed at him – Can you believe this?

  Lewis was waiting for it. The moment when Brooke dropped the bomb on him. Looking forward to it. Must be any second now.

  ‘I’ll get my crossbow down off the roof,’ said Macca. ‘I’m a bare good shot.’

  ‘One thing, Macca,’ said Brooke. Macca turned and hesitated.

  ‘Yeah?’

  This was it. He was gonna get it now.

  ‘There’s one thing I want to say to you …’

  ‘Yeah?’

  But Brooke never told him, because at that moment something dark unfolded itself from the roof of the car, leant over the edge and half fell on Macca.

  He yelled in fright and jerked as if he’d been electrocuted.

  It was a father. He must have been holding on to the roof rack. How had none of them seen him? He had Macca’s head locked in his arms and had sunk his rotten yellow teeth into his throat.

  Macca screamed and groaned. There was a gush of bright red blood. And then Lewis was moving fast. He was closest. He smashed a fist into the side of the father’s face. His jaws were wide apart and Lewis felt the lower jaw break, teeth come loose. Then Lewis grabbed one of his arms and yanked him down from the roof.

  The father flopped to the floor with a wet thwack. And now Kyle was there. He swung his axe at him and got him in the neck, nearly cutting his head off; another swing and the head rolled free.

  Macca had dropped to his knees and was clutching his bleeding throat. He was sobbing and raving, his voice sounding strangled, like he was drowning in his own blood.

  ‘Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, no, not this, oh, help me, Jesus, help me, Mum.’

  Brooke went to his side and held on to him, looking round at the others with a helpless expression. Meanwhile, Ed had dropped his bag to the ground and unzipped it, dug out a first-aid kit. He unscrewed the top from a bottle of disinfectant, pulled Macca’s hands away from his wound and splashed liquid over it that caused Macca to hiss and groan. Then Ed ripped open an antiseptic bandage wrapper, pulled a white, square wad out of it and pressed it to Macca’s neck.

  ‘Hold this,’ he said to Brooke, already scrabbling to open a bottle of painkillers.

  Lewis was impressed by how quickly and expertly Ed did all this. He went to the car and checked the roof rack, making sure there were no more of the bastards up there. It was clean. He freed up his spear, a short wooden pole with a sharpened end, and grabbed one of Ebenezer’s javelins and chucked it over to him. Lewis had his katana in the car, but he still preferred the spear. He was scared of the Japanese sword, worried it would cut him worse than his enemies.

  Macca had gone very white and was shaking. Lewis had seen enough when Ed had pulled Macca’s hands away to know that the sicko had chomped a fair-sized chunk out of him. Ed forced some pills into Macca’s mouth and Brooke made him swallow some water from a plastic bottle.

  ‘You’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘You’ll be OK.’

  ‘Will I?’ said Macca. ‘You’re not lying to me.’

  ‘You’re all right.’

  ‘Oh my God, we should have known.’ Trinity had got out of the car. They stood there, not sure what to do, rubbing their hands.

  Ed was staring over at the building. ‘We need to get him inside,’ he said.

  ‘We don’t know what is in there,’ said Ebenezer.

  ‘Well, let’s find out. If it’s people they can help us.’ Ed walked round to the back of the car and fetched his sword from the boot. It was a big heavy-looking old thing. He started towards the house, calling out commands as he went.

  ‘Lewis and Kyle, you come with me. The rest of you stay here. Look after Macca. Protect him.’

  Lewis and Kyle hurried to catch up with Ed as he hammered on the front door.

  ‘Hello,’ he called out. ‘Open up. Please. We know there’s someone in there.’

  Lewis went over to one of the windows, pressed his face to the glass and shaded it with his free hand. He could see nothing inside past the net curtains, just darkness. He was considering whether to smash the glass when Ed shouted …

  ‘It’s open.’

  Lewis ran back to him. Sure enough the front door had opened a crack. It was impossible to see anything beyond it. He looked to Ed. Ed shrugged.

  ‘Let’s go for it.’

  Ed stepped up to the door and carefully pushed it wider. Still nothing visible beyond. Lewis walked in, his spear ready. It was dark in the hallway, a short, wide corridor leading to a large hallway, a room off to either side. As Lewis walked further in, he became aware of a brief movement off to his left. Something alive. Holding still now but definitely alive. He could sense it.

  A person?

  He tensed. Waiting. Held a hand out in warning as Ed pushed the door wider and came in. More light was thrown down the hallway and Lewis saw the person move, ducking into the room off to their left.

  ‘What is it?’ Ed asked.

  ‘There’s someone here,’ said Lewis. ‘Must be them’s opened the door.’

  ‘Hello?’ Ed called out. ‘It’s OK, we’re kids …’

  ‘What if they ain’t, though?’ said Lewis.

  ‘Then we merk them,’ said Kyle, pushing past with his heavy axe.

  Ed was sniffing the air. ‘Does this feel like a sicko den to you?’ he said. ‘Does it smell like it?’

  ‘No,’ said Lewis. It smelt of soap and flowers and hospitals. Hadn’t smelt anything like this in a long time.

  ‘Smells clean,’ he said.
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  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Kyle. ‘Ain’t natural.’

  ‘Hello?’ Ed called again and then turned to Lewis. ‘Which way did they go?’

  ‘In there.’ Lewis pointed to the door on the left and Kyle advanced towards it. Ed held him back. This time he was going in first. Kyle and Lewis stayed close behind.

  There was just enough light coming through the closed shutters to see that they were in a large sitting room, with sofas and chairs, all very neat and tidy. And there was another door that must lead through to the main hallway. Ed pulled the shutters open, filling the room with dusty light.

  A quick scout around showed them that there was nobody in there.

  Whoever had come in had obviously sneaked out through the other door.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Ed was shouting again. ‘We’re kids. We don’t want to hurt you, but one of us is injured. We need help.’

  Still no reply, but Lewis had heard movement from outside the door.

  ‘There’s definitely people here,’ he said. ‘They let us in, so now what? We got to go play hide-and-seek.’

  ‘I say we stop the nice-guy routine,’ said Kyle and he put on a moist, lisping voice. ‘Oh, hello, do please help us, we’re really nice …’

  Ed sighed and looked at his friend. ‘Kyle,’ he said. ‘It’s not an act. I am really nice.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ said Kyle, gripping his axe tightly in both hands, ready for action. ‘You’re a monster, Ed, and you know it.’

  ‘You two lover boys stay cool,’ said Lewis. ‘I’m going on through. I’ll find whoever’s here. You dress back.’

  He opened the second door into the hallway. Took a quick look to check it was all quiet. Stepped through.

  It was a grand space. Sort of place you expected to see big paintings and suits of armour in old movies. Nothing like that in here. It was almost bare. Doors off everywhere, big old wooden stairs up the back, with high, dirty windows letting in a feeble light. Not enough to lift the murk and gloom. He scanned the area for any signs of life.

  Nothing.

  Just his own breathing. Sounding noisy in the big empty quiet. And then he saw a yellow flicker, coming along the landing at the top of the stairs, throwing shapes and shadows on the walls. A candle appeared, in a candlestick, someone holding it, walking slowly, a long grey dress, white hair, white face.

  A ghost. Slowly coming down the stairs. A second figure, tucked up close, hiding behind her skirts.

  Lewis swore, got his spear ready.

  ‘You see anything?’ Ed called through from the sitting room.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Sickos,’ said Lewis bluntly.

  38

  Ed took a deep breath. He didn’t want any more trouble. He’d been praying that this trip wouldn’t end in disaster, in more deaths. He didn’t want to know what was on the other side of the door, but he didn’t want to leave Lewis there alone.

  He hurried over. Went through. Saw Lewis standing ready. Saw two people slowly coming down the stairs. Old people. Old like he hadn’t seen in a long time.

  Two women, one holding a candle, walking stiff and upright, the other sort of hiding behind her, very small, bent over, a frightened look about her, like a baby animal.

  ‘What do we do?’ said Lewis. ‘Do we kill them?’

  ‘Wait.’ Ed was thinking, trying to take this in. The old women didn’t look diseased. There were none of the usual signs – boils or blisters or sores – and their clothes were clean. Their eyes showed intelligence.

  They didn’t look like a threat.

  But they probably weren’t alone.

  He had to be careful. Mustn’t make any more mistakes. Take no risks. Driving into the sickos on the motorway had been dumb. His fault they’d ended up with one of them on the roof rack. His fault Macca was hurt.

  Should he just kill these old women and be done with it?

  They looked impossibly old. He’d never seen people this ancient and wrinkled. Even before the disease. Their hair was white and wispy, their skin hanging off their bones, thin and dry, blue veins showing through it, their skulls all too obvious beneath.

  They came closer and stopped near the bottom of the stairs, eyes fixed on the three boys.

  ‘What do we do, Ed?’ asked Lewis. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Kill them,’ murmured Kyle.

  Ed waited, trying to read the faces of the two old women. The one with the candle looked more alert, more intelligent, her eyes glinting.

  He had to do something. Say something.

  ‘Hello,’ he said at last, feeling foolish. ‘My name’s Ed.’

  ‘Hello, Ed,’ said the woman with the candle. ‘I am Amelia. Sorry about the pantomime at the door. I wanted the chance to see you up close before I spoke to you. And my sister is nervous of strangers.’

  ‘This is weird.’

  ‘I’m sure it is.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Ed went on. ‘Are you sick? What are you?’

  ‘We’re not sick,’ said Amelia. ‘We’re just old. The sickness didn’t bother with us. We weren’t worth it.’

  ‘How can we trust you?’ said Lewis.

  ‘Do we look dangerous?’ asked Amelia and she smiled at him.

  ‘There might be more of you.’

  ‘Oh, there are more of us.’

  Lewis tensed. Kyle stepped forward, his axe slightly raised.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ said the old woman. ‘Follow me.’

  She came fully down the stairs and crossed the hall to a doorway opposite.

  ‘It’ll be a trap,’ Kyle muttered darkly.

  Ed put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, urging him forward. ‘Then we’d better be ready for anything,’ he said.

  Amelia opened the heavy door and waited there for the boys.

  ‘After you,’ said Lewis as they drew near and she led the way through. It wasn’t as dark in the next room. There were three large bay windows down one side that let in a lot of light. Burning logs in the fireplace added an extra glow. Ed took it all in quickly.

  It wasn’t a trap.

  That was clear.

  There were about twenty people in there, sitting in armchairs and at small tables, all ancient, shrivelled and shrunken. Some alert, watchful, others dead-eyed and slack-jawed. One or two lost in their own private worlds, rocking backwards and forwards, gabbling.

  ‘See,’ said Amelia and she blew her candle out. The smaller old woman was still clinging on to her, not understanding what was going on, fearful. Amelia gently stroked her hair as she talked. ‘I told you there were more of us. But we’re all the same. All just old. Harmless.’

  An old man had got up from one of the tables and headed for them. He was bent over, walking with the help of two sticks, what was left of his silver hair neatly combed over his scalp. A smart blazer with a handkerchief folded in the top pocket. Glasses so thick they magnified his eyes.

  ‘Hello,’ he said when he got to them, turning to peer at all three boys in turn. ‘How splendid to have some visitors. I won’t shake your hands. I’m liable to fall over.’

  He chuckled.

  ‘This is freaky,’ said Lewis. ‘I ain’t talked to a grown-up in over a year.’

  ‘And I haven’t talked to a child,’ said the man. ‘Not for a long while. They leave us alone here. They’ve forgotten us.’

  ‘What is this place?’ asked Kyle.

  ‘It’s called The Beeches,’ said Amelia. ‘It used to be what you would call an old people’s home. I suppose it still is. A very old people’s home. And what brings you all here, I wonder?’

  Ed had almost forgotten about the rest of his group, still waiting outside. They’d be getting worried.

  ‘Our friend is hurt,’ he said. ‘Can we bring him in? Do you have any medical stuff?’

  ‘I saw from the window,’ said the woman. ‘A bad business. I do hope he’s all right. We have some bits and pieces here. There’s a medical w
ing, not as well stocked as it once was. And Norman here used to be a doctor.’

  ‘A very long time ago,’ said the man.

  ‘He still remembers some things, don’t you, Norman?’

  ‘A little. But I forget more. I remember my training better than I remember what I had for breakfast this morning, to tell you the honest truth.’

  ‘You know perfectly well what you had for breakfast, Norman,’ said Amelia. ‘You had what you have every morning. What we all have. Porridge oats and sweet tea.’

  ‘What happened to your friend?’ asked Norman, his goggle eyes blinking at Ed.

  ‘He’s been bitten.’

  ‘By one of them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Norman tutted. ‘Then I’m afraid there’s not a lot I can do for him. I’ll try my best, but my best is not what it was. He doesn’t stand much of a chance, the poor devil. You’d better bring him inside.’

  39

  ‘You won’t leave me, will you, Brooke? You won’t leave me here alone?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’m with you.’

  Macca was in a bed, with clean white sheets, in a clean room. Ed hadn’t seen anywhere this clean, this gleaming white, for ages. It all felt like a dream. A dream of the old days. Norman – Dr Norman Hunter, to give him his full name – was sitting at Macca’s bedside. He’d tried to clean and close the wound, bandaged him up, and had stuck a thermometer in his mouth. He was waiting for the result now, slowly rubbing his dry hands together. The old doctor looked tired, his eyes drooping shut behind his thick glasses. Ed knew that it was bad. He’d read it in Norman’s face when he’d inspected the wound. Macca needed a proper hospital, with serious drugs and proper surgical equipment if he was to have any chance.

  Brooke was sitting on the other side of the bed, holding Macca’s hand. Ebenezer stood awkwardly by the window, not sure what to say or do. The other kids, Kyle, Lewis and Trinity, were waiting downstairs in the empty front room. Amelia stood at the foot of the bed, her sister still stuck to her side. Amelia nodded to Norman, who gave her an uncertain look.