David Moody - Dog Blood

“What did happen to London?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“Not really, only a few details.”

“It was early on, before these refugee camps were set up. It wasn’t something we planned; rather it was something they couldn’t prevent. The capital was too big for them to defend, too sprawling… London showed us what we could achieve. The fighting on the streets must have been incredible. I almost wish I could have been there. There were hardly any of us in comparison to them, but the panic we caused was beyond anything we could have hoped for. They reached critical mass…”

“Critical mass? I don’t understand.”

“The point of no return… the point where it was impossible for them to regain any order, where the number of individual battles was so high and the fighting so intense that they could no longer separate them from us. They didn’t know who was who anymore. The only option left to them was to destroy everything.”

“They destroyed London?”

“The whole city and everyone in it. Wiped out thousands of our people, but they took hundreds of thousands of their own with them.”

We’re digressing, and I’m confused.

“I still don’t understand. What’s that got to do with you holding me here?”

“In the end it was their confusion and panic that destroyed London, simple as that. But like I said, if we’d attacked with an army, they’d have seen us coming and wiped us out before we’d even got close.”

“You said I was looking in the wrong place…”

“That’s right, and so were they.”

“Still don’t get you. Look, I’m sorry, you’ve spent days fucking with my brain, and I’m tired. Stop talking in riddles and just explain.”

“Have you ever heard of a text called The Art of War?”

“I’ve heard the title. Don’t know anything about it, though. Never read it.”

“It’s a Chinese guide to warfare, written by Sun Tzu more than two thousand years ago.”

“And? What did he know about us and the Unchanged?”

“Nothing at all! But even though this war is unique, some of Sun Tzu’s tactics for fighting remain as valid today as they were in ancient China. He said that all warfare is based on deception. We have to fool our enemy-make them believe we’re weak when we’re strong, make them think we’re miles away when we’re next to them. ‘Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.’”

Sahota recites the script perfectly from memory. He waits for a reaction from me, but my head’s still spinning, and I can’t make sense of anything. He senses my confusion and explains.

“They’re expecting us to fight head-on. As far as they can see, our only tactic is to fight and keep fighting until we’re the only ones left standing. When you get deeper into the city you’ll see how that stops them from interacting and-”

“Wait a second,” I interrupt. “What do you mean, when I get deeper into the city?”

Sahota grins and pours me another glass of water.

“They’re expecting us to run straight at them with fists flying, screaming in their faces. What they’re not expecting is for us to be standing beside them and alongside them. We’re going to go deep into their cities to stir up trouble and cause them to panic. Then, when they’re too busy tearing themselves apart to notice, Ankin’s army will come into play. We’re going to make them destroy themselves from the inside out.”

“But how are we supposed to do that? Get within a few yards of any of them and all we’ll be able to do is fight.”

“Is that right? Didn’t you learn anything from your time with Joseph?”

It finally makes sense. That’s what this place is about.

“Holding the Hate…”

“That’s exactly it,” he says, sitting down again and leaning toward me. “Thing is, this is the only way to teach someone how to do it. If you’re not held or restricted in some way, you’ll kill them before you realize what you’re doing.”

“But Joseph…?”

“Joseph and the others are just puppets. They have no idea. They genuinely believe what they tell you, but it’s all just bullshit in the end. Joseph’s the best-or the worst, depending how you look at it. Some days all I want to do is kill him myself.”

“Incredible…”

Sahota’s eyes are wide with excitement. “Think of the advantage this gives us, Danny. We know who they are, but they can’t tell us apart until we start fighting. They won’t even know we’re there until it’s too late.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“We’re having to move fast. For various reasons things are deteriorating rapidly in the city. Normally we’d have given you a few more days here to make sure you understand, but time’s a luxury we no longer have. This is the perfect time for us to do this. Think you’re up to it?”

Talk about being put on the spot. I fumble for an answer for a second, before realizing that there’s only one thing I can say.

“Yes.”

“Good man! That’s the spirit! As soon as they told me about you I knew you’d be a good candidate.”

“What do you mean by that? Who told you…?”

“We send people out looking for battles. They wait on the outskirts of the fighting, watching out for people like you who manage to demonstrate some degree of control and don’t just attack. Let’s face it, we’d be wasting our time trying to teach this stuff to Brutes, wouldn’t we?! No, we need people like you who are able to take a step back and consider the options before committing to an attack. People who use the Hate and control it rather than letting it control them.”

He looks me straight in the eye. “Tell me, do you remember when you first stood next to Joseph and didn’t attack?”

“I remember.”

“And what were you thinking at the time, Danny? Were you thinking what he was saying was right, or were you just toeing the line to get the best out of a bad situation?”

The memory of the last few days is filled with confusion and uncertainty, the distinction between “us” and “them” suddenly unclear. But now that I’m away from my cell and Sahota has put his question so simply, the answer’s clear and unequivocal. Everything has been brought back into sharp focus.

“I was playing with him. Stringing him along. Doing what he wanted me to do just to get food and freedom…”

“Exactly! A perfect answer! From the moment you decided not to kill him, you were in control.”

This is too much to take in. Sahota watches me intently, and I’m uncomfortable under his constant gaze. I try to look anywhere but back at him. The sun breaks through the heavy gray cloud cover momentarily and streams in through the dirty office window. Christ, I’ve been so preoccupied with this bizarre conversation that I’d forgotten my newfound freedom-in the back of my mind I still think I’m chained to the spot. I get up and walk around the side of the desk.

“You local?” Sahota asks.

“Don’t know yet,” I answer. “That depends where local is. Where exactly are we?”

“Not far from the hospital where we picked you up. A couple of miles maybe.”

“A couple of miles in which direction? Farther away from the city center or…?”

My words trail away to nothing as soon as I look out of the window. I know this place. Sahota’s office overlooks a narrow parking lot. Beyond that, the long, overgrown back gardens of a row of once well appointed but now derelict houses stretch away. Beyond the houses is a small, sloping, oddly shaped patch of parkland, the brightly painted swings and slides of a children’s play area looking strangely at odds with the chaos of everything else I can see. A narrow track between two of the houses connects the parking lot to the road, and a huge wrought-iron gate prevents anyone unwanted from either getting in or getting out.