‘Please let me come…’ begged Signy.
Conor smiled indulgently at her. ‘Far too dangerous,’ he said. ‘What would your father say?’
‘He’d have let me go,’ said Signy eagerly. ‘Ask him…’
‘When you were just a girl,’ insisted Conor. ‘You’re a little more important than that now.’
Signy seethed. Everything was too dangerous for her these days! In the past few months so many promises had been put on hold. There had been so many boring days and nights kept ‘safe’ in her tower. Sometimes… well, she loved him and he loved her, and when they were together nothing else mattered. But he seemed to expect life to stop for her the second they were apart. Then, one afternoon in the early summer, when she was exercising up in her tower on a trampoline, she heard Conor call her from the trap door.
‘Signy! Surprise! Come on down!’
There in the woods under her tower, the hunt was waiting for her to join them.
The Wall: a ring of brick and stone right around London, it towered over the broken suburbs and fields. Every fifty metres was a machine-gun nest, so high above the ground that even the halfmen couldn’t jump up. Jags of glass, iron and steel stuck out of the mortar. Rolls of razor wire coiled around the top. And on each side, a minefield, fifty metres wide.
Blood had been spilt with each and every brick. Men had worked under armed guard day and night, under attack after attack after attack. But the Wall had been finished, and it spelt the end of the halfmen wars. The gangmen told themselves they had won. They had driven the halfmen out of London, more or less. There were odd tribes and individuals remaining on the inside that had to be hunted down one by one, but the wars were effectively finished.
But what kind of a victory was this? The cost was huge. The gangmen had to give up all contact with the world outside. It was this Wall – their Wall – that made Londoners into prisoners, not Ragnor. Their only means of communication was through the halfmen themselves, who traded goods to and fro. The gangmen had built their own prison. No one got in, and no one got out, unless you were King Conor and had control of the gate.
Signy sat in the Land Rover next to Conor, dressed up to her chin in an expensive, out-of-town anorak – halfman smuggled. Her nose was pressed up against the window. Conor’s hand was tucked snugly away inside the coat. She squeezed him against her stomach and stared greedily outside.
The convoy of Land Rovers made its way across the narrow pathway through the minefield towards Abel’s Gate, a tall, narrow steel door, taken from a military base in Finchley. This was a weak spot in the Wall; Conor made up for it with extra hardware. Eight machine guns pointed down from the four high watchtowers, missile launchers were mounted on the brickwork. To go within sight of it was certain death.
Now the Wall got closer, bigger, taller. It was enormous. The gates loomed, opened wide. They passed through into the halfman lands.
Here, in the no-one’s land in the shadow of the Wall, there was nothing for half a mile – no trees, no buildings, no walls, no bushes, no life. The land was charred earth, pitted with craters from the last months of the war when the enemy had attacked over and over to try and stop the building. The convoy moved smartly over the bare ground towards another world.
Derelict suburbs, choked with weeds and broken up by trees. Buddleia and elder grew out of the crumbling brickwork and window ledges. Bushes pushed aside the kerbstones at the roadside and lifted the pavements. Nature was doing its best to reclaim the land.
The houses in this part had been so heavily mortared and bombed, very little was left standing. Even the good soil in the old gardens was covered in rubble. Odd-shaped sections of walls, crookedly collapsed roofs, chunks of concrete, of tarmac and tangles of steel poked up like mad sculptures, covered in ivy and bindweed and sprouting little shrubs. A kind of paradise of weeds was growing up between the stones. On this blowy summer’s day the dog roses that scrambled out of the pavements and tumbled over the rubble were just coming into flower. They loved the poor, stony soil; there were dozens of them, a hundred shades of pink tangled on the stones. The brambles that pushed aside the pavings stones were showing white flowers. The flowering shrubs that had long ago prettified the gardens were flinging out leaves and flowers of all colours.
The roads were scattered with the rusted carcasses of cars, all the furnishings long rotted away or stolen for bedding. Further out, things were said to be better, but most people believed that this state of neglect and decay was a result of the halfmen’s savagery and lack of civilisation, rather than a sensible decision not to build or live so close to a war zone.
As they bumped along, the four armed guards standing in the back of the vehicles stared in four directions and kept their arms forever ready, watching, watching. This close to the Wall there were few halfmen, but the ones that were here were monsters – real monsters. The more human ones lived further out, but some of them might have caught wind of the hunt and set up an ambush. Already it was dangerous. In any of those rubble caves, in all of those cars; so many places for them to hide…
Before long they pulled up by a tower made of metal struts; it was an old electricity pylon. A platform had been erected high in its metal branches. Conor got out of the Land Rover and opened the door for Signy to get out.
19
Signy
I got out of the car and I stood next to him looking up at the tower and I thought, if this is what I think it is, I’m about ready to throw up.
He said, ‘You’ll be safe enough up there.’
I said, ‘Safe?’
‘You’ll be able to see most of it from up there.’
I said, ‘You what?’
‘We chase them in the cars,’ he explained. He was looking all shifty. He knew exactly what he was up to.
‘Right, in cars,’ I said. ‘So what’s the point of being up there?’
Conor was giving these sneaky little glances over at the other vehicles. You got the feeling I was making a fool of him somehow. Then he rolled his eyes at heaven and said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous…’
Ridiculous. You know? I’d been stuck in that tower, I’d been wheeled out a couple of times a week to have a look at the human beings. I’d been cooped up like a tame rabbit, and now here I was on the biggest adventure of my life and I was being told to watch.
I just said, ‘You’ve got the wrong idea, Conor,’ and I climbed straight back in the car. He stood there staring for a second, then he pulled the door open.
‘We don’t have time for this,’ he hissed.
‘Conor, stop it now.’
‘It’s out of the question.’ He was trying to be patient. ‘What if something happened?’
‘What if it did?’
‘What if you got killed?’
‘What if you got killed?’
‘That’s different. Your father’d never believe it. They’d think we’d set it up. There’s too much at stake.’
‘And of course it would be just fine if anything happened to you. That would please the old guard, wouldn’t it?’
He began to bulge slightly. I tried being reasonable. ‘Listen. I’m used to going out on my own. I’m used to going where I want, when I want, how I want. I’ve put up with being cooped up inside for months because you tell me it’s necessary. OK. But out here we’re all the same, right?’ I was beginning to gabble. I could see from the look on his face I was wasting my time. It was, oh, Jesus, she’s being awkward. It was, oh shit, now she’s going to throw a tantrum and make things difficult for me…
‘What about me?’ I hissed.
‘You’re being selfish.’
‘Me?’
It wasn’t the first time we’d had a real row. Like I said, there’d been a few – well, quite a few stampings about and wailings. What do you expect? But never like this, in front of everyone. I’d put up with it all because, let’s face it, it was his land, he knew best. I didn’t know the politics – 1 never had to bother with all that stuff. If he t
old me it was dangerous, it was dangerous. If he told me I had to be patient, I had to be patient. I trusted him! But now for the first time I thought, this is bullshit.
‘Look, we have to get a move on. Will you please get up there? You’ll have a gun, you can shoot anything that moves.’
I’d had enough. ‘I ride in the car.’
Conor’s face went as hard as a little white stone. ‘You’ll bloody…’ But I didn’t hear the rest. He slammed the door in my face as hard as he could. I mean, hard. I mean, WHAM! It made me jump out of the seat. The air pressure made my ears hurt.
I was going to get out and stick the bastard, but outside he was still screaming like a girl.
‘Take the bitch back to the compound,’ he yelled at the driver. ‘Get her out of my sight. Get her out…’
Conor jumped into another car, still screaming. I thought, who the hell is this? I’ve never seen anything like this before. Outside, the rest of the cars were pulling away. My driver reached right across me, and I got a look at his face all white like paste.
‘D’you really want me to take her back unaccompanied, sir? Sir…?’
But the engines were revving up all around. The wheels squealed, the cars pulled away. They shot off, all wrapped up in Conor’s fury.
‘Shit,’ growled the driver, and he slammed the car into gear.
‘What’s up with you?’ I wanted to know. He looked like he’d been thrown to the lions.
‘You don’t travel on your own out here…’ the driver grunted. He started up and we shot off. ‘Jesus!’ repeated the driver. He was really scared. And I realised two things. One, just how dangerous all this was. That man obviously thought we were in real danger. Two, if that was true, Conor had left us – had left me – to die.
We were banging and bumping over the ragged ground. My head was whirling. ‘Is it that bad out here?’ I said to the driver. He was clutching the wheel and bounding the car forward.
He said, ‘Three to one we get ate. Look to the left.’ I looked sideways.
‘I don’t see…’
‘In the sky.’
A flock of – something – was heading our way.
‘The birds are coming,’ said the driver.
I got out my bins and tried to get a look, but we were bouncing and leaping so hard over the broken-up ground I had no chance. They were flying fast, though, I could see that – a lot faster than we were going. Against the dark shapes of their feathers, you could see shiny metal glinting.
‘They’ll rip this thing to bits,’ the driver said. ‘Can you drive?’ he asked me.
‘I can shoot better,’ I told him. And my heart, which had been thumping away, suddenly went right up to my head and I went, ‘Whoooo-hoooo!’ The driver looked at me like I was mad, but I was happy. No bunch of birdies was gonna snuff me out. Yeah, this was the first bit of real fun I’d had since I left the city. Look at me – 1 was getting things my way after all!
I hoiked my automatic out of my shoulder holster and leaned over the edge of the window.
‘Might as well pull over,’ I told the driver. ‘If we’ve got to fight, we better stay still so I can get a decent shot in.’
Then I spotted out of the corner of my eye something else moving towards us. It was going really fast and that scared me because this wasn’t in the air, this was on the ground. But then I looked and… shit. It was the convoy. Conor was coming back to spoil the fun.
I was pissed off about it, but the driver was pleased. He pulled over, and the convoy came skidding towards us through the rubble. I looked up at the sky, and the flock of things had already disappeared.
Conor got out and came over to us. He was as white as a sheet. He was so angry, he was gulping. I’d never seen anyone do that before. He was actually having to swallow his breath.
I said, ‘You’re spoiling my fun.’
‘OK,’ he panted. He leaned on his hands against the side of the car. He looked as if he’d just run all the way. I just sat there and waited. ‘OK. Compromise,’ he said.
I looked at him carefully and I said, ‘Stuff you.’
He sort of bulged. ‘Stuff you,’ I said again, nice and slow so he could really get to savour it.
Conor stood there, breathing. You got the feeling speaking was difficult.
I said, ‘Who are you?’
He swelled up again. ‘I’m the one who just saved your life,’ he snarled.
‘No, you’re the one who just nearly had me killed. Prat.’
He looked at me in sheer disbelief. No one ever spoke to him like that.
‘P, R, A, T. Spells prat,’ I explained, in case he hadn’t got it.
Conor walked twice around the car.
‘I was scared for you,’ he explained in a moment.
‘Worry about yourself. If you want a pet, buy yourself one.’ I skulked down into the seat. Just because I was in love didn’t have to turn me into a hand puppet, did it? ‘You go hunting,’ I said. ‘I’ll start making arrangements to go back home.’
‘OK. OK. Listen. You go in a car if that’s what you want. But you have to understand, you aren’t just a girl any more.’ He paused. He twisted round and leaned on the car bonnet as if the mere effort of having to talk was exhausting him. ‘If anything happens to you, don’t you see? You’re precious. You’re precious to me,’ he added, as if my being his precious changed anything he wanted it to change.
‘You come in a car, but we make it the armoured car. Right? That way you’ll be safe if anything goes wrong. I don’t want to blow this whole treaty just because of a halfman hunt. Once everything’s established you can do whatever you like. But just at the moment, you’re too important.’
I didn’t say a word.
Conor leaned forward, up close. ‘Armoured car, princess. Please?’
I groaned. Well, he had a point… didn’t he?
‘OK, then.’
‘Hoo-ray.’
He came over and gave me a cuddle through the car window but I just did the sack of potatoes on him. He wasn’t getting off so lightly.
The armoured car was one of those things with a whacking great gun sticking out the front where you have to climb in a hatch on the top. They slammed the lid down on me, and off we drove.
I was still furious, but I started thinking of how Conor’s face looked when I called him a prat and I began to snigger to myself. He was so cross!
And I thought, at least he saw sense in the end. At least I got my way this time, for once.
That’s what I thought.
This armoured car. There were three of us in there and there was room for about one. The driver was scrunched up over the controls, hogging this teeny tiny little scratched up, slitty little window. The only window. The gunner was standing up with his head out the top, because there wasn’t much room for it inside. I was wedged in between. If I turned one way I got the back of the driver’s head, if I looked the other I had my nose in the gunner’s trousers.
They were furious. It was all polite and ma’am this and madam that, but they had a job to do and, let’s face it, I was in the way.
I had to peer out from behind the driver’s head to get any sort of view at all. It was ludicrous. There wasn’t room to get my weapon out, and I couldn’t have fired it even if I could. And to make it all utterly useless, that old tub only did about half a mile an hour. Conor had really pulled one over on me. The Land Rovers were zipping off about as fast as they could. I could just see them on one side of the driver’s ears as they got smaller and smaller and disappeared behind the scenery. We were pootering along like a fat old man.
‘Is this thing any use at all?’ I hissed to the driver.
‘Not for the hunting, really, ma’am,’ he said. ‘It’s not a car for hunting in.’
‘Then what’s it doing here? To carry unwelcome guests?’
He glanced at the gunner, but all you could see were his trousers and they didn’t say anything.
‘Well, if they get into trouble, they
call us up on the shortwave and we come and blast them out,’ the driver explained.
So that was it. They’d stuck me in the back-up. I might be mobile – but I had no more chance of getting anywhere near the action than if I’d gone up that pylon. You bet your life the halfmen weren’t going to get close to a vehicle packing a a hundred millimetre cannon out the front of it.
‘Stitched up,’ I said.
The gunner didn’t say a thing.
We growled along for about a quarter of an hour, but it was obviously useless. In the end, I said, ‘I’ve had enough of this, I’m going to sit on my pylon. At least I’ll be able to see what’s going on there.’
They called Conor on the radio for permission. Which was another thing. Why did everyone have to ask Conor when they so much as wanted to scratch their nose? Anyway, permission granted of course. By the time we got to the pylon there was a guard already waiting up there for me. We all got out of the armoured car, and I climbed up.
It was a long way up – that was something; at least there’d be a view. Down on the ground the driver and the gunner had taken a tea break, and they were laughing and joking among themselves, all happy again. I thought, there’s going to be a few changes round here once I get home. Suddenly, all Conor’s explanations were beginning to seem suspiciously like excuses.
20
Up here, above the trees and the crumbling masonry, the wind was harder than it had been on the ground. It whipped her hair and pushed her as she climbed. At the top, the guard gave her his hand and tugged her roughly up the last metre. It was startlingly high. You could see forever.
The guard grinned and rubbed his hands together.
‘Welcome to the fantasy, princess,’ he said.
The wind roared. She knew already she’d be sick and tired of it in her ears by the end of the day. Down below, the men from the armoured car were dismantling the ladder. Nothing would get up, and nothing could go down, either. Signy pulled her anorak tight and peered across the broken landscape.
‘Now that’s something, ain’t it?’ said the guard. And it really was. The great trees, the long, thin meadows of wild flowers that used to be A-roads. Bushes leaned out of the chimneypots and moss gathered in dense, vivid green mats on the collapsed roofs.
Bloodtide Page 8
