by Emma Newman
The clouds outside cleared and the grey-blue light strengthened into silver, describing the streaks of dirt on the window as it reached through. In that moment, Zane saw something that made him grab Dev’s shoulder, half to stop him but half out of fear. With a shaking hand, he pointed out the large footprints in the dust that lay from a door at the other end of the corridor and led up to one of the doors just to their left. Only one set. Whoever had made them was still in that room.
In that moment, they both heard a strange rasping sound, like someone struggling to breathe in the winter after running in the cold. Only it wasn’t entirely like that; it was slow and it had an edge to it. There was something odd about the exact regularity of the breaths and a slight click that sounded as it changed from intake to out breath. It came from the same room that the footprints led up to.
As they both turned to the door, the crack beneath it was suddenly illuminated by a bright yellow light that spilled out from underneath and into the corridor to fall over their shoes. Zane and Dev clutched at each other wildly, but the light faded just as quickly as it had appeared. They finally began to relax but froze again when the the light returned and the door handle started to turn.
A footfall with a heavy metallic clang made them both jump, the shock spurring both of them to back away from the door as it swung open. Both boys gasped at the figure emerging from the room. He was huge, at least seven feet tall, but what drained the colour from their faces was the shape of the Giant’s head. It was as wide as his shoulders, like a huge square sat on top of his frame. The Giant lurched out of the room as if his feet were made of iron and turned to face the boys. Before they could make out any features on his huge face the bright yellow light swung around to shine on them. Dazzled, they both shrieked in terror and sprinted down the corridor back to the stairwell.
They hurtled through the door and raced down the first flight of steps as the heavy footfalls approached and the yellow light burst through the round window above their heads. They listened to the bizarre breathing as the Giant approached. He stopped on the other side of the door and both boys held their breath, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t come into the stairwell after them. After agonised seconds of tense listening to the regular, horrible wheeze, they both sagged as they heard him walk away in the opposite direction. The steady, slow, clanking footsteps grew quieter as the light swept away from their door.
Chapter 2
THE NEW BOY
A long time ago, Russell Square, the heart of the Blooms-bury Boys’ territory, had a garden in the middle of it just like Miri’s square. But since the Boys had claimed it, the garden had gradually died, unable to withstand the constant assault of small, destructive children. When his predecessor had died, Jay ordered it cleared of the last big shrubs to give a clear view across at all times. Now all that was left was a few stubborn trees, tattooed with the markings of every Boy who had lived there.
The concrete area in the centre, where a fountain once entertained small children before It happened, was where the Boys tended to gather. News was exchanged there and the spoils of scavenging were pooled and inspected and fought over. On the mud around the concrete area they kept bits of metal, piles of junk too big to put easily anywhere else after having been cleared out of the rest of the square.
There was also a small fleet of rusting shopping trolleys that provided hours of amusement. None of the Boys had any concept of what they’d originally been designed for, so for every Boy they had only one purpose: racing, with one Boy inside and two to push. The shopping trolleys, or “Wheelies” as the Boys called them, had been responsible for three broken arms, two sprained wrists and countless scrapes and cuts. All of these injuries had been carefully cleaned, set, and bandaged by Miri as she listened to a detailed account of who had smashed into whom and who had won. Not even a broken arm would stop a race.
Almost the entire gang had gathered to hear what Dev had to say after he’d come running into the square yelling for Jay. Zane had waited at the edge to be invited into the territory, and Grame waved him in, also eager to see what the commotion was about. Zane hung back, giving Dev the spotlight as the Boys drifted in to surround him. Dev’s eagerness to impress them and raise his profile was palpable.
“He was twice as tall as you Jay, and at least three times wider … and he couldn’t breathe proper-like, he sounded like Tim after he runs lots –”
“Hey!” Tim protested, admittedly one of the shortest and weakest of the Boys. The rest of them sniggered.
Jay had been rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Dev and Zane reached him. Zane had persuaded his friend to wait until dawn before going back to report to Jay, knowing of his bad temper when woken too early. Dev tried to catch his breath and calm down before starting, giving the others a chance to collect around him. The only ones not there were those on watch, but they would soon be filled in.
Jay stood a head taller than the rest of the Boys, even Grame and Mark. It was this, and his thick black hair that he liked to shape into short messy spikes, that made him so easy to spot when the Boys were all together. When the Boys looked up at Jay, they stood straighter, and he only needed to shout “Oy!” once to make any of them stop whatever they were doing and come running if he wanted it. The gang leader walked with the swagger of a young man who knew he was on top. Never afraid to make and hold eye contact, he had the cockiness of one who could fight well and knew it.
A vast array of items adorned the young leader’s wiry body. First was his belt, made of several thin black ties plaited together. Then his jacket, made of faded and scuffed black leather, with a variety of patches, some fabric, some metal, sewn over various holes left by different knife fights. Zane’s mother had stitched on several of them, usually after sewing up the wound acquired at the same time. On the inside of that jacket was a collection of small metal badges coveted by all of the other Boys. Jay gave them out as a special reward whenever he felt a Boy should be publicly lauded. Almost all of the Boys had at least one; Grame and Mark both had ten each. Dev had none.
Two knives hung off Jay’s hips. They had worn handles and battered sheaths but Zane knew that the blades were sharpened every day. Jay had a spot in the square where he liked to do that, opposite the main barricade at the top of Montague Street, the place where the Gardners attacked the most. His pale blue eyes, framed by long black lashes, stared at that point where he had personally killed several Gardners with the very knives he was sharpening. All the Boys knew never to disturb Jay when he scraped the metal with his special stone, for when he was doing that, all Jay saw was Gardners and blood. When they were sharp enough, Jay would trace a finger lightly over the flat of the blades, still staring at that point, his lips curving into a smile that made anyone who saw it shiver and hurry away.
Jay concentrated on Dev’s tale, but when he finished his eyes flicked to Zane.
“This all true?”
Zane hesitated before replying. “He was really big.” He wanted to be truthful but not to discredit his friend who had exaggerated slightly.
“Bigger than Luthor?” Jay was frowning. Luthor, the largest Hunter of the Red Lady’s gang and the one she called her Champion, was very tall and very strong, setting Jay’s standard for “people to be concerned about.”
“Oh, much, much bigger than Luthor,” Zane replied with certainty and a ripple of wonder spread through the circle of Boys.
Dev sighed in frustration. “I told you he was, Jay, honest-like!”
Jay frowned. “But he didn’t follow you?” Both boys shook their heads. “And you didn’t see him in Miri’s square afterwards?”
“Nothin’!” Dev confirmed. “Was like he disappeared. Outside the hospital we couldn’t see anythin’ of him or them weird feet of his.”
“We could see footprints in the hospital,” Zane explained, “but all the dust blows about outside, so we don’t know which way he went.”
Jay looked down at one of the smallest Boys who tugged at his jack
et hem. He leant down and the sandy-haired Boy whispered into his ear. Jay nodded and straightened up. “Seb here’s got a good question. How did the Giant have a light that wasn’t fire?”
The gang murmured as Seb looked proud. Zane and Dev shrugged in unison.
“Maybe he put some fire in a jar like we do when it’s windy,” Mark proposed, scratching his lank brown hair.
Zane shook his head. “It didn’t look like that. It was too bright, and not shaped like a jar either. It was a perfect circle.”
The murmuring increased. “Maybe the Giant caught the sun in a bottle,” one of the younger ones called out from the back.
“Nah,” Dev said, “would’ve been hot, and it weren’t.”
No more theories were forthcoming. Jay kept frowning and that made the Boys nervous. “Grame, Mark, we need double shifts tonight, and everyone needs to stay sharp, ya hear?” All assembled nodded, even Zane, who then blushed. “Anyone hears anything weird, or sees anything weird, come to me right away.”
“Even if it’s Dev?” one of the Boys quipped. They all sniggered again, apart from Dev and Jay.
“Shut it,” Jay said and silence fell. “No messin’. This is serious. Maybe them Gardners have got sommat goin’ on with the Giant, so we need to stay smart-sharp. Got it?”
There were few things that Jay took more seriously than the threat from the Gardners. Named after their matriarch’s surname and that of her three sons, the Gardners attacked his Boys at any opportunity. Brutal, ruthless and cruel, with a territory boundary that expanded and contracted according to Ma Gardner’s daily whims, they were always on Jay’s mind.
Dev watched Jay closely, like a hungry puppy hoping for scraps from a table.
“Now scarper you lot. Check the square and the edges of the territory. No wheelie racin’ or fightin’ ’til I got the all-clear. Go on then!” The Boys scattered to all of the places they knew to check, but Jay grabbed Dev’s collar and held him back. “Nice one, Dev.”
Dev grinned as he saw Jay reach into his jacket and pull out a badge. “Ta Jay!” He scampered off after beaming a gaptoothed smile at Zane.
Jay turned to Zane. “Your mum know about this?”
Zane looked down at his scuffed shoes, his dark hair falling to hide his guilty face. “You know how she is about hospitals.”
Jay nodded, remembering the last time some of his Boys had been caught trying to pilfer old mattresses from the hospital on the corner of Miri’s square. He wouldn’t have believed their story if she hadn’t marched them over herself to hold him to account. “She should know though. If I were in her shoes, I’d wanna know.”
Zane sighed. “I know, I –”
He was cut off by three sharp whistles from the northeast corner of the square. Jay took off at a sprint with Zane following close behind. It was some kind of alert, but not a full-blown Gardner alarm.
“Jay! Jay!” A Boy called Smudge (because of a small birthmark on his forehead) was waving frantically for his attention. He was pointing at a low wall in front of one of the abandoned houses. “Another boy, a new one! Behind that wall!”
Jay ran and peered over, then vaulted it effortlessly. Zane hurried over, eager to help, tying his long hair back out of the way in case he was needed.
Huddled against the wall, shivering and deathly pale was a scrawny boy with very short mousy brown hair. He was dressed in the strangest clothes: thin pale blue cotton pyjamas, almost pristine in condition, no patches or holes and hardly any dirt. Zane shuddered when he saw him, not knowing why.
“Hey there,” Jay said. His voice was soft and calming and the little boy lifted his head. “I’m Jay, this here’s my patch, but boys are allowed to stay so you’re alright.” As he spoke, the boy visibly relaxed, and Jay slipped off his leather jacket to place it gently around his shoulders. He seemed to notice something as he did so, and beckoned Zane over. “Come look-see, Zane. I reckon he’s hurt.”
Zane clambered over the wall and went to Jay’s side. The little boy’s eyes widened when he saw him, and the trembling started again.
Zane knelt down to his level and, just like his mother would, he smiled warmly at the boy, even though a chill spread through him that made him shiver.
At that moment, the boy’s face crumpled into an expression of utter terror. He shook violently and his breath became ragged. Stunned, Zane drew back as Jay threw him a confused look.
“I only smiled at him,” Zane said apologetically, just as confused, as Jay gathered the boy up in his arms.
“I’ll take him to ya mum,” Jay said, as the petrified boy buried his face into his chest and clung to him desperately.
Zane sagged, watching them go. Smudge peered up at him. “Whatcha do to him?”
“Nothing! I’ve never even seen him before!”
Smudge raised an eyebrow. “Looked like he’d seen you before.”
Chapter 3
DEV’S TOKEN
Zane kept busy in the garden for the rest of that day, steering clear of the house whilst his mother tended to the new boy under Jay’s protective supervision. At supper that evening he was quiet, not wanting to talk too much about anything, in case it led to the tale of the Giant in the hospital. Zane wasn’t ready to face her anger about that yet.
For her part, Miri assumed he was brooding about the new boy’s reaction that Jay had mentioned, and left him to it. The boy had clearly been distressed and disoriented, and she couldn’t understand why Zane was so shaken up by his behaviour.
The next morning she was relieved to see that he was back to his old self. Not only was he cheery and pleased to see her, but he had risen early and stoked up the fire to boil the day’s drinking water. He kissed her on the cheek, just like every morning, and she hugged him tightly.
“Everything alright?”
Zane rested his chin on her shoulder, it still being a novelty to be able to do so and thought for a moment. Somehow it still wasn’t the right time to tell her about the Giant, but there was something else to talk about. “I had a weird dream last night.”
“Tell me about it whilst I make breakfast.”
Zane leant against the door frame, his back to the living room, as his mother began to chop the fruit he had picked the day before. The kitchen, like the whole downstairs of the house, was tidy and clean, worn and patched. Small, meticulously labelled pots and jars containing ointments, seeds, preserves, and dried fruit lined every work surface. The dark-red tiled floor, swept daily, was marked with scrapes from the wooden stools tucked under the table in the corner. The wooden cupboards, full of mismatched crockery, also showed signs of age, but it was all well cared for. The oven was treated as the best mouse-proof cupboard, as all of the cooking was done on a trivet over the fire in the living room. The back door into the small courtyard at the rear was open to let in the pleasant morning breeze, a thin muslin curtain pinned over it to keep out the summer insects.
“I dreamt I was in a house, not this one,” Zane began. “I was living there but it wasn’t my home. Everything was very dusty, and all the picture frames I could see were turned face-down, so I couldn’t see the people in them.” Zane glanced back into the living room at the framed pictures on the mantel piece over the fire. All were old photos of his mother with her parents when she was younger. All Zane had heard about them was that they died when It happened; Miri didn’t like to talk too much about the past.
Miri looked up at the pause and he continued. “I could see a rug that had been rolled back, and there was a weird sort of door in the floor and steps that went down.”
“A cellar,” Miri said, her knife halfway through an apple as she frowned a little. “You’ve never seen one before …”
“Oh. Well, there was one of those there,” Zane continued, unconcerned, “but I didn’t go down it, I knew someone was down there, but not a bad person. Anyway, the really weird thing was that I looked in a mirror in the dream, and I had strange purple eyes.”
“Purple eyes?! Like you’d ge
t from a fight?”
“No no, the um … the bit that’s brown –”
“The iris.”
“Yeah, that bit, they were like a pale purple, the same colour as those flowers that grow on the right-hand side on the way to Jay’s square.”
“Violet,” Miri’s hand was still poised on the knife halfway through the apple. “Like Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes.”
“Who?”
Miri shook her head, starting to chop quickly again and Zane knew she had thought about before It happened.
“Isn’t that a weird thing to dream about?”
Miri nodded. “Do you remember if your face was the same?”
Zane shook his head. “I can only remember the eyes … and that was all that happened, but it was so clear, it felt like I was really there.”
He watched her chop the rest of the fruit and then mix it all together, remaining silent. Miri glanced over at him expetantly a few times but didn’t press him to talk about the day before.
“The little boy was alright in the end,” she commented as she served the fruit into Zane’s favourite bowl.
“Oh, right … that’s good.”
Miri frowned at him and sighed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
He nodded hurriedly and took the bowl she offered. “What do we need to do today?” Miri didn’t press further.
As the days went by, Miri noted that Zane wasn’t visiting the Boys, but she didn’t worry too much about it–the same had happened in the past. Sometimes Zane would want to be close to others his age, sometimes he preferred her company; either way she was sure he would drift back there soon. Besides, summer was always very busy, and she was glad he wasn’t being distracted from all that had to be done. And the less time she spent worrying about what he might be getting dragged into with the Bloomsbury Boys, the better.
