Scott Andrews - Children's Crusade

"You're welcome. You know what would be a good way to thank me? Getting this young lady to stop pointing a shotgun at me."

Everyone stared at Caroline, who held her gun steady. "Hood?" she said. "Robin Hood in Nottingham?" The sarcasm dripped like honey.

"The very same," said the archer.

"Right. And you're, what, one of his Merry Men?"

The archer shook his head "No. I'm one of the Sullen Men. The Merry Men are, you know, merrier than me. They crack more jokes."

Caroline could see her friends smiling, but she didn't follow suit. "Why should I trust you?"

The archer allowed indicated the dead bodies of the churchies that littered the crossroads, the look on his face saying 'you want more proof?'

"Bit convenient, though, isn't it? You just turning up like this, just in time to rescue us from the bad guys. Almost like it was staged."

"Caroline, seriously?" said Luke.

"Think about it, Luke. Perfect way to gain our trust. What if Matron didn't tell them where the school is? This would be a perfect way to infiltrate us and get us to lead them straight there. They've already tried it once, remember."

"He killed them, Caroline," said Melissa.

"Yeah, and wasn't that easy?"

"You think they let him?" Andrew's tone of voice betrayed the incredulity he and all his friends were feeling. Caroline didn't understand why they couldn't see it.

"They're fucking churchies, guys," she said. "Probably think they're martyrs, seventy eight virgins waiting for them or something." She glanced at their shocked faces. "What, you doubt my judgment now, after everything we've been through? Don't you see this is what he wants? Turn you against me, let you lead him to the school and then it'll be a fucking army of snatchers turning up at to carry us off. We should just kill him and move on."

Luke stepped forward and gently laid his hand on the barrel of her shotgun. "Too paranoid, Caroline. I don't buy it."

The archer wisely stayed silent, watching Caroline closely, waiting to see how this would play out.

Caroline clenched her jaw. She could just pull the trigger, finish this guy regardless. It was the safe thing to do. It was necessary, she knew that. Why couldn't the others see it? Once he was dead they'd fall into line, they'd have no choice. Who else was going to shepherd them to safety? They'd realise eventually that she was right. She squeezed the trigger gently.

"No!" shouted Luke, pushing the barrel down as the gun went off. The cloud of lead pellets embedded itself in tarmac. The archer didn't even flinch.

Caroline spun fast, dropping the gun and drawing a knife from her belt as she did so. The blade was at Luke's throat before he could step backwards.

They stood there, frozen, for a long moment. Luke was scared but defiant, sticking his chest out and staring Caroline down. Eventually she withdrew the knife and resheathed it.

"Traitor," she spat. Then she turned on her heels and stalked off into the darkness, away from her friends and the children who were beginning to emerge from hiding to see what was going on.

She needed to be alone.

Ferguson found her an hour later.

The shop downstairs had been looted clean, but the flat above it, although long abandoned, still had some stuff lying around that no-one had bothered to cart off. She lay on the double bed, ignoring the smell of mould, and took another swig from the bottle of whisky she'd found down the back of the sofa.

She disregarded the soft knock at the front door. It was open anyway, and she knew it would just be one of her friends come to coax her back. She already knew she was going to relent, but she allowed herself the luxury of sulking there in the darkness, knowing that she was being self indulgent but needing to be persuaded, needing someone to make explicit how much she was needed and valued.

She didn't look up as someone entered and sat at the foot of the bed. Which is why she was so surprised when they began talking and she realised who it was.

"How long have you been looking after them?" asked the archer.

She thought: I don't recognise your right to ask me that. She didn't reply.

"It's not easy, being a leader," he said. "Managing people, trying not to let them down, making decisions when they're too stupid or lazy to make them for themselves."

"They're not stupid," muttered Caroline. "They're just kids."

"True. But how old are you?"

"Fuck off." She took another swig.

"Not old enough to be drinking that, that's for sure."

"Touch my bottle and I'll slice your fucking hand off."

"Wouldn't dare," he said. "Your deputy told me where you're making for."

"Then he's a blabbermouth twat who deserves everything he gets."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

She looked up, open mouthed, then she threw the bottle at his head. He swatted it away.

"Sorry," he said, seemingly genuine. "It's just something you say, isn't it?"

"Not any more," she growled through gritted teeth.

"No, I s'pose not."

There was a long awkward silence before Caroline said: "What do you fucking want, anyway?"

"This school you're heading for, St Mark's."

"What about it?"

"Luke says their matron was with you. Is that right?"

"Like you don't already know," she muttered darkly.

"Is what he told me correct — did she go to the centre to kill Spider?"

Caroline glowered at him then eventually nodded once.

"And you used to know her? You were at the school?"

Again she nodded.

"Right. Well that's good, because you see I met some of their people. Three guys — Lee, John and Tariq. Do you know them?"

"I knew Lee for a while. Never met his dad or the other one. They're dead, anyway. The snatchers killed them when they captured her."

Ferguson shook his head. "No, they didn't. I was there that day. I was in the other lorry, the one you didn't manage to liberate — good job, by the way. We faked their deaths so I could get inside Spider's organisation."

Caroline shook her head. "No, don't believe you."

"They're still free. By now they should have got word to my boss. We're going to bring these bastards down, Caroline. And you can help us."

"No, Matron said they were dead. She said she knew they were dead."

Ferguson paused, slightly thrown by her insistence. Caroline heard the edge of panic in her voice and tried to damp it down without success.

"I promise you, Caroline, they're alive. The school is safe, and my boss will be sending help. I've been in Westminster for two days. I've mapped the layout, the disposition of their forces, their timetables. Everything. I need to get this information to my people so we can mount an assault…"

"What did he look like?"

"Sorry?"

"John. Lee's Dad. What did he look like?"

"Um, medium height, brown hair and eyes. Strong chin. I dunno, I didn't study him. Why?"

Caroline felt like wetting herself. She tried to rationalise it, to tell herself that no, she had been right, the man she'd killed had definitely been an imposter. But she knew.

Oh God, she thought. What have I done?

By the time we reached Hemel Hempstead my arse hurt like hell. I'd done plenty of horse riding after The Cull, but not so much since Salisbury. I had shooting pains in both my legs, souvenirs of the times they really were shot, and chaffing in places that, thank God, had managed to avoid being shot so far.

I got down from my horse feeling like an old man, walking bow legged and grunting the way oldsters do when they get up from an armchair.

"Behold, the mighty warrior," laughed Jack as I hobbled towards him.

I let my horse loose to graze on the patch of grass by the car park of what used to be the West Herts College.