Underdogs

by Chris Bonnello

  ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘we all know about your anger problems–’

  ‘Our anger problems. But yeah. Thanks.’

  ‘No, listen to me. We all know about them, but that’s all we see them as. Anger problems, nothing more. Not part of your personality. Not even part of the ADHD. You remember the Oakenfold Code, right?’

  Charlie nodded. It had never been an official school rule, but the teenagers had all agreed to it.

  ‘The problems are not the person.’

  ‘Exactly. Kate’s got enormous anxiety on top of her autism, but none of us care. In a positive way, I mean. Raj’s dyslexia means he can barely read, but it doesn’t change how we feel about him. Same with you. Alex called you “Angry Guy” earlier because he’s an ignorant numpty who doesn’t know any better. But even Thomas trusts you, so you must be doing something right.’

  Charlie let out a smile, one that was reluctant but real.

  ‘Thanks,’ he replied. ‘Oh, and when you get downstairs, say sorry to Raj for me. He’ll know why.’

  ‘Say it yourself. It’ll mean more.’

  Ewan slipped through the door to the landing, to find the lower half of McCormick’s body descending a ladder. The ageing man did not see Ewan until his feet rested on the floor of the landing.

  ‘Just checking for rats,’ he said, lifting the mobile ladder until it slid back into the attic, and closing the trapdoor above him.

  ‘Checking for rats like you do every time you leave the house?’

  It was an unusual sight, seeing Dr Joseph McCormick vulnerable. He gave Ewan a nervous look, but said nothing.

  ‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ said Ewan, trying to imitate McCormick’s own smile and warmth.

  *

  Beside the Memorial Wall, Ewan performed a quick head count. Charlie, Alex, Jack, Silent Simon. Nearly everyone.

  ‘Kate?’ he asked.

  ‘Farm,’ answered Jack.

  Ewan headed for the left-hand tunnel and opened the wooden door, then walked along the underground path between Spitfire’s Rise and the neighbouring house. From the outside, Spitfire’s Rise looked like a typical wealthy person’s countryside cottage, with white-painted bricks, black-painted wooden beams and an elegant slate roof, as if some former owners had tried to imitate the old-fashioned Tudor look. There was no way an outside observer could see the carefully planned interior, and least of all the underground tunnels which connected Spitfire’s Rise with two other houses: one used for growing their food, the other for generating their electricity.

  A stepladder at the far end poked up through next door’s floorboards, revealing their makeshift farm spread across the ground floor. The beginnings of fresh vegetables were emerging on the soil surface, well-lit by the searing hot lights hung not far above them.

  Ewan climbed up into the farm. Kate, Raj and Thomas were stood on the plank pathways across the soil, poking their gloved fingers through the soil for edible plants.

  ‘Kate,’ said Ewan, ‘can we borrow you?’

  ‘You can keep her if you want!’ cried Thomas.

  ‘Raj, give him a slap for me,’ said Kate with a laugh.

  Raj hunched his shoulders and marched towards Thomas, but his friendly expression gave him away and Thomas didn’t budge. Instead Raj ruffled his hair and wandered away, leaving the boy to pick out the globs of soil from his head.

  ‘I’m sure he loves you really,’ said Raj.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Thomas, ‘love you too, Kate!’

  ‘Ah, shut it!’

  Ewan began to wonder who the real children were in this ragtag group of survivors. But it was always good to see Kate as her happier self.

  ‘Thomas, could you go with Ewan for a sec?’ she asked. ‘Just need a moment alone with Raj before I go.’

  Thomas leapt his way across the farm, and threw his arms around Kate’s waist.

  ‘You’re not escaping without one of these though,’ he said.

  ‘OK, fine,’ said Kate, planting a brief kiss on the top of his head. ‘Just stay out of trouble.’

  ‘Ha, yeah right!’

  Thomas released Kate, and leapt down the stepladder. Ewan followed, and let Thomas lead the way towards the armoury.

  ‘What’s she doing with Raj?’ the boy asked.

  ‘No idea,’ answered Ewan. ‘Hope she hurries up, though.’

  Every time he walked into the cellar, Ewan felt more grateful that they had stolen so much army equipment in the war’s early days. His father’s raid on the obliterated barracks had helped the family stand their ground on Takeover Day – not that it had worked – but Ewan’s return after the purges had ended had turned McCormick’s clan from survivors to soldiers.

  Unlike his other teammates in black and camouflage with matching helmets, Simon was wearing a hoodie and jeans. A clear sign he was uncomfortable with joining the strike team twice in one night. There’d be five of them going back to Sandridge, not six.

  Simon looked at Ewan and opened his mouth, but closed it again when he looked around and remembered others were in the room. He used his hands to communicate words in a type of sign language Ewan had never learned, but the meaning was clear. Simon felt guilty for letting the team down, and was trying to apologise.

  ‘It’s fine, Simon. Don’t worry. You’ll be just as useful with McCormick.’

  Silent Simon in the communications building. Not the most practical decision ever.

  But Simon would be in good company. McCormick could always be relied on to lead the comms unit, since his age and a cyst in his abdomen put him out of combat.

  ‘Right,’ said Charlie, bored of waiting. ‘Weapons.’

  ‘Telescopic handgun,’ Alex’s voice boomed, as he dashed his hand to the shelf he had stood himself next to. ‘First come first served, guys.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Ewan. ‘If you need a telescope to help you hit a target, have it. Nothing beats the assault rifle.’

  Ewan chose the one with the discreet knife mark on the handle. He had put it there himself, to guarantee he had the same reliable weapon each time. Then he picked up the rucksack full of technological goodies, still full from their first outing, and slung it over his shoulder.

  ‘So where’s the old man?’ asked Jack, after sweeping his hair from his eyes to look for himself.

  ‘You’re only as old as you feel,’ came McCormick’s voice from the top of the cellar stairs, ‘which makes you the oldest and youngest here.’

  ‘I’m seventeen.’

  ‘Yes, with a childlike obsession with dinosaurs and old-school videogames, and a vocabulary even more advanced than mine. Jack, I’m amazed by your ability to be a child and an elderly man at the same time.’

  Ewan covered his mouth to hide a smirk. There was something about McCormick’s grandfatherly charm that allowed him to take the mick out of his soldiers without losing any of his warmth. He directed his team towards the giant slab of stone mounted to the wall, and took a meditative breath.

  ‘Let us begin.’

  ‘Do we have to?’ asked Charlie. ‘We did this a few hours ago. The first time we left.’

  ‘We’re not ignoring them, Charlie.’

  McCormick held out his arms. He, Ewan and their five friends grabbed one another’s wrists, and stood in a neatly formed semi-circle around the Memorial Wall.

  There were twenty names chiselled into the flat rock. From Sarah Best who had shared Ewan’s maths and science classes, caught by a band of clones in a supermarket food raid just days after the Takeover, to the trio who had died seizing the electricity generator with Jack. From Beth Foster, the late mother of Thomas, to Daniel Amopoulos, the stone still rough and unworn around his name.

  ‘To honour those who gave everything they had,’ McCormick said to the Memorial Wall, ‘we will give everything we have. To honour the dead we will free the living… united by our differences.’

  ‘United,’ came the crowd’s reply.

  Chapter 5

  Kate had never
pictured a post-apocalyptic Britain looking like this. In all the films she had seen, the world was filled with toxic wastelands, barren landscapes, grassless hills and stormy horizons. But the sky above the unlit country road showed more stars than ever, and nature had taken good care of the landscape while the humans had been away. The heart and soul of Great Britain had been well preserved, and in a way it made Kate’s personal losses a little easier to bear.

  Sandridge welcomes careful drivers, read the twisted road sign in the torchlight.

  Kate and her friends passed the Citroën attached to the sign and entered the village. They had stuck in one group this time. Clone platoons were a thousand times likelier to be around after the night’s events, and Kate had the feeling that all five of their weapons might be needed at once.

  ‘Repeat after me, Ewan,’ said Alex, ‘we are definitely–’

  ‘We’re not sleeping here Alex, even if your little legs are tired. Or whatever.’

  ‘You know,’ said Jack, flicking his fingers, ‘we could sleep at the house where Tylor died. It’s literally the last place anyone would think we’d hide.’

  ‘Unless one of them has Asperger’s too,’ said Charlie.

  Ewan lifted up a finger, and the group fell silent. Kate peered down Newton Road, and shuddered at the house with the smashed window. The sight itself was enough for her thoughts to start swirling.

  ‘I’ll lead the way,’ she said without hesitation.

  ‘Go for it.’

  There was a lot to be said for defiance. Kate had grown up believing it was unhealthy, but like most attitudes there was a place for it.

  The staff at her last mainstream school had been the opposite of Oakenfold. They did not appreciate her, they did not understand her, and they had not believed her. In the end she didn’t enter special ed because of her autism. She was just bullied out of mainstream, by both students and staff.

  The most important moment of her life had been a panic attack. Sometime during the eight-month wait for a new school placement, she had seen the old school bus out of her bedroom window. And then bang, her mind was gone.

  Later that afternoon, from underneath the covers of her overused bed, she had come to realise how much she hated her anxiety. Her anxiety, and not herself. It had been the moment she had decided to stop hating the person she truly was, rather than the tiny part of her which often took over the rest of her personality.

  From that day on, she had confronted her fears wherever she found them. The anxiety remained, but its grip wasn’t quite as tight. Thanks to her defiance in the face of mental health problems, it had been less difficult to start at Oakenfold.

  But even without the improvements to her life, she would have done it just for the satisfaction of kicking her anxiety in the balls.

  As they approached the front door, Ewan held up a fist. With everyone frozen behind him, he pointed to the shards of glass outside the smashed window.

  ‘The knife’s gone,’ he whispered. ‘The one with the clone blood on it.’

  ‘Not a good sign,’ said Charlie.

  Ewan headed for the side alley. By the time Kate had joined him at the far end, he was ranting under his breath and thumping a closed fist against the brick wall.

  ‘Let me guess,’ muttered Alex.

  Kate poked her head around the corner into the empty garden, and her heart vanished from inside her chest.

  Keith Tylor’s body was gone.

  His blood splatters remained across the grass, and nothing else.

  ‘They must have tracked his phone here when he didn’t check in,’ Ewan snarled. ‘He’ll be back in New London for some kind of autopsy. They took his backpack too.’

  ‘Shame,’ said Alex. ‘Now we’ll never know whether Stabby McStabface was telling the truth.’

  Kate took a close look at Ewan. As tricky as most people were to read, Ewan was transparent. Even to Kate, it was obvious he had no idea what to do. But he still wore his calculation face, mulling over his options with his forehead pressed against the wall.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Jack, ‘if we start heading home now, we might be back by two. Most of you stay up that late anyway.’

  ‘Seriously?’ asked Charlie. ‘I don’t know how far it is from here, but I’ve done it three times tonight. You really want a fourth trip without a few hours’ sleep?’

  ‘You’d need a very good reason to sleep in the countryside tonight. See that empty spot on the grass? The bit where Tylor’s body used to be? Proof positive – clones have been around.’

  ‘Well we could go home tonight, but only if Ewan goes back on the “no cars” rule.’

  ‘Driving a vehicle towards our secret base, with the engine making the loudest noise in Hertfordshire. No Charlie, we’re not going back on the “no cars” rule.’

  Kate rolled her eyes at the boys, and then took a sharp intake of breath, anxious about being seen doing so. She threw out some words as a distraction.

  ‘We could have a vote,’ she offered. ‘Between sleeping here or going home. There are five of us, which is an odd number, so…’

  Ewan pulled himself away from the brick wall, and spoke in the softest voice he could manage in his angered state.

  ‘None of you are asking the big question,’ he said. ‘You’re talking about whether to go home tonight or go home tomorrow. There’s a third option.’

  Wait, Kate thought, is he seriously suggesting…

  ‘I’m not giving up on New London yet,’ he finished. ‘We’ve got equipment, we’ve got ammunition, and we’re halfway there already. Let’s find another village and see how we feel in the morning.’

  Kate opened her mouth, but no words came out. Ewan did not wait for others to express an opinion. Before any of them could form a sentence, Ewan was back on Newton Road and expecting to be followed.

  He’s headstrong and driven, that’s for sure. Even when he doesn’t know where he’s going.

  *

  Every time the Underdogs occupied a new shelter, Kate felt more like an intruder than a soldier. Once upon a time, the house in front of her had meant the world to someone. Perhaps they were still alive in New London.

  The last eleven months had taken their toll on the house. The ivy across the walls had penetrated the brick, the windows were dusty on the inside, and the paint on the front door no longer showed any particular colour. Any sign of a loved garden had vanished under the tall grass.

  ‘Good enough?’ she asked.

  ‘Good enough,’ answered Ewan. ‘Give McCormick a ring. Alex, Charlie, check inside. I’ll do the perimeter.’

  Kate retrieved her phone from one pocket and the battery from the other. Alex pushed open the front door, which had clearly not been locked on Takeover Day.

  ‘Jack, could you time me?’ Kate asked, as the phone screen lit up in front of her.

  Jack reached for his digital watch, and pressed the stopwatch button. Grant had the technology to track any phone signal near New London, but only if he could hold onto it for three minutes. There was no guarantee Kate’s phone would be picked up this far away – McCormick’s comms unit was well out of range – but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  It took less than two rings for McCormick to answer. A typical speed for a man in a disused attic with nothing but a phone, some maps, a spare laptop and Silent Simon for company.

  McCormick’s face appeared on the screen of Kate’s phone. Although video communication was rare in the battlefield, they used it away from combat whenever it was possible.

  ‘Hello Kate,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘We’re here, sir.’

  I guess this counts as the battlefield. He’ll want us to call him ‘sir’. Military discipline and everything.

  ‘Has Ewan calmed down?’

  ‘I guess,’ answered Kate. ‘The walk did him some good. We’re in Lemsford now.’

  ‘Lemsford… that’s a bit out of the way. Keeping a safe distance from Sandridge then?’

&n
bsp; ‘Yes sir.’

  Jack held up two fingers. Two minutes of safe time remaining.

  ‘That’s good,’ McCormick continued, adjusting his glasses. ‘And if you’ve not sheltered there before, there’ll be plenty for breakfast tomorrow.’

  ‘Dried pasta, maybe – I’m not optimistic.’

  ‘Optimistic or not, you need to keep your strength up.’

  Kate couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘I’m a big girl now. I won’t forget to eat.’

  ‘You’re a big girl in a houseful of boys. Look after them.’

  ‘Will do sir,’ Kate said with a laugh. ‘Good night, talk tomorrow.’

  After a goodbye from McCormick, Kate removed the battery from her phone and Jack stopped his watch. A moment later, Alex poked his head out of the front window.

  ‘Clear.’

  ‘Thanks Alex,’ she said. ‘Did you find any food while you were looking?’

  ‘Yeah, while I checked for clones in the cupboards.’

  Kate heard the mocking, but pushed it out of her brain before it could take root. She walked through the front door, experience telling her to hold her breath. The disturbed dust would take a while to settle. She was the first to find the sofa in the torchlight, and lay her weapons down to claim it for herself.

  Behind her, Alex tossed the rucksack through the air. It hit the comfy chair with a series of metallic clatters.

  ‘There’s stuff in there, Alex,’ muttered Ewan with disapproval.

  ‘Really? I was wondering what that extra weight was.’

  ‘That extra weight’s important. It’s the gadgets that make the difference between winning and losing.’

  ‘Whatever. Bet you can’t you even list them.’

  ‘10×50 military binoculars,’ started Jack from the doorway, ‘a GPS tracker for when you get lost, a door combination hacker, waterproof matches, smoke grenades and a small stick of dynamite. Seriously, Alex – you don’t throw it.’

  Alex gave a grunt of acceptance as he sat on the chair. Kate sighed, and made her way to the kitchen.

  The inside of the house had fared even worse than the outside. Unworn by the elements, it had formed its own stable ecosystem of insects. One smart spider had woven a web across the window, and caught a lifetime’s supply of flies that had flown to the sun each day.