She takes a moment to compose herself.
JO-JO MADIGAN Sorry about that. Now before we leave you tonight, we’ve just got enough time to squeeze in a brief word from our sponsors. And you know what that means Magic Birds fans – take it away Clarkie!
Cut to commercial.
A middle-aged, bespectacled man is creeping through a dense, smoke-filled jungle. In the distance, a combination of dark green valleys and tall mountains stretch back as far as the eye can see. The man is dressed in an old-fashioned safari-hunting outfit: a khaki shirt and trousers with a British Empire pith helmet on his head. Strands of thick curly hair poke out of both sides of the helmet. In one hand, he’s carrying a fishing net, which is attached to a three-foot pole.
This is Clarkie – video games connoisseur and reviewer whose presence on UK national television dates back to the early nineties when he was presenter of the beloved show ‘GamesSlinger’. Since then, Clarkie has been a constant presence on British TV, beloved not just amongst gamers, but also with the general public for his quirky, light-hearted and cheesy presenting style.
As Clarkie creeps around the jungle, a weird and wonderful flock of birds fly overhead – one with the head of a lion, a luminous green pterodactyl, followed by a two-headed Golden Eagle, and much more.
Clarkie looks up at the sky, then turns to address the camera.
CLARKIE: Hey, you! Yes you! You look so bored sitting there at home doing nothing. You look like you want something more out of life, right? Are you sick and tired of the usual humdrum nine-to-five existence? I bet you’re looking for a way to free the hidden adventurer that’s been trapped inside yourself all your life? Well now you can. Come with me, Clarkie, and take a trip to exotic lands where wild mythological creatures still roam the skies and where adventure is the only nine-to-five you’ll ever find. That’s right, become a monster hunter like Clarkie! Become the master of the Magic Birds.
Clarkie gives two thumbs up.
CLARKIE: Magic Birds comes with the OFFICIAL Clarkie seal of approval. Even the people of London have taken time off from all their gang wars to play Magic Birds. That’s how good this game is. Watch them if you don’t believe me. Londoners LOVE this game. I love this game. So what are you waiting for? Download Magic Birds today – version 8.9 is now ready for download.
Cut back to Jo-Jo in the studio.
JO-JO MADIGAN: Woo-hoo! Thank you Clarkie. You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m already on Level Seven of version 8.9. I’m sure he’d be proud of me, don’t ya think?
She winks at the camera.
JO-JO MADIGAN: Okay that’s almost it for this episode of Postcards. Join us tomorrow night for more highlights of the best messages coming straight out of London. And if you can’t wait that long, don’t forget you can watch live and unfiltered Postcards on this channel – that runs all the way through the night after we go off air. But it’s live and unfiltered, so only watch if you dare! Now for one last thing. It’s a Saturday and you know what that means – it’s time to choose our Dick-Pic of the week. Let’s have a look at this week’s top contenders coming straight out of London. Boy have we got some horrors – I mean, beauties – for you!
Chapter 5
“Ferals,” Achilles said, his eyes looking straight ahead.
“I fucking hate Ferals.”
He spat the word ‘Ferals’ out like it was poison on his tongue. Like it was something icky and alive trying to crawl down the back of his throat.
Achilles was lying belly down in the long grass on Brickfields Meadow. He was looking towards the larger of two ponds that were located on the northern end of the meadow. Walker and the other Sleeping Giants were there beside him, all of them lying on their fronts, looking through the grass at the same thing as Achilles.
About ten or fifteen children were gathered close to the edge of the water. They were running back and forth along a series of trampled down pathways – flattened, improvised grass routes that marked their course as they rushed along the outskirts of the pond.
“Vermin,” Achilles said, keeping his voice low. “That’s what they are. Two-legged rats. They come into our territory, play in our fields, try to steal our Drop Parcels and take the food out of our mouths. What’s the world coming to, eh?”
Walker looked at the children playing beside the pond.
The Ferals were roughly between the ages of nine or ten on the younger end. The older ones were probably in their mid-to-late teens at most. They were dressed in a variety of familiar looking rags – winter coats that were several sizes too big for their undeveloped bodies, trousers or jeans that were too long or too baggy, and with gaping holes. The shoes on their feet had split or worn soles.
The kids didn’t seem bothered by their oversized garments. The biting cold didn’t seem to be affecting them much either. While some of them were running around playing like overexcited children in a school playground, others were standing still, staring at the phones they held in their hand. All the while, they were laughing and calling out to one another in a strange grunt-like language. Walker wondered if the children spoke English and if not, how had they figured out the phones? Was it that easy just to pick one of those things up and get started? It looked like they were playing the same sort of games that Pearl and the others had been talking about that morning over breakfast. The kind of games where technology and the real world were intermingled.
“Vermin,” Pax said. He spat into the grass and then looked towards the pond. “Vermin in our territory. Giants’ territory.”
Walker edged forwards, his belly flat on the grass like a snake.
It had been a short walk from the school to Brickfields Meadow. The meadow was a ten-acre park that had once been the site of an old brick works. There were two ponds located inside the park – a smaller natural pond and a larger one that had once been an old clay pit. According to Kojiro, the large pond had at one time been full of fish. This knowledge had encouraged the Giants, not long after they’d settled in Croydon, to try fishing in the pond using some worms and homemade fishing rods. They’d stuck it out for a few days but after hunger and impatience had gotten the better of them, they came to the conclusion that all the fish were gone.
Walker noticed a stretch of woodland in the meadow which might once have been a play area for kids. Everything was so overgrown that it was hard to tell what was what anymore. Brickfields Meadow was just another neglected thing, like every other thing in the city.
The Giants kept low while the Ferals continued to play by the pond. The kids looked happy, like they didn’t have a care in the world.
“You see them?” Achilles said, nudging Walker with his elbow. “Look how close they’re getting to the Giants’ Lair. Makes my skin crawl so it does, just the thought of them and all that disease they’re bringing into our home.”
Walker looked at Achilles, raising an eyebrow.
Giants’ Lair? Did Nigel really just call the school the Giants’ Lair?
“Little rat bastards,” Pax said. “Do you know what the real problem is here Walker? They’re not afraid of us.”
“Yeah,” Sooper said in a quiet voice. “They’re not afraid of us.”
“He’s right,” Achilles said. “They’re not afraid of us and it’s a problem. These runts have been trying to steal our Drop Parcels lately. Every week, about ten to twelve parcels get dropped on Woodside Green, just down the road from here. They’re ours, they belong to the Sleeping Giants and nobody in London disputes that. At least, until now.”
“Cocky little kids man,” Pearl said. She was lying on her belly to Walker’s left. “Trying to push in where they’re not wanted. It’s what they do.”
“How long’s it been going on?” Walker said.
“The last four Drops,” Achilles said. “Each time we’ve caught Ferals in the act, trying to grab our stuff. Last time they got away with two Parcels. We missed out on some important supplies for the week. We’ve been chasing them off as best we can Walker, but t
hey’re getting to Woodside Green earlier and earlier, just after the helicopters drop the bloody Parcels. Well, enough is enough.”
“They’re just hungry kids,” Nadia said. “It’s such a shame.”
Walker felt a tight knot forming in his stomach. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“Ferals scavenge well,” Kojiro said, nodding towards the children. “They do it better than anyone in this city. But while they’re scavenging they have a bad habit of creeping into the known territory of other gangs.”
Kojiro looked over at Walker, his face as hard as stone. “And here they are.”
Achilles leaned closer to Walker’s face. As the Giants’ leader spoke, Walker got a waft of musty breath blowing his way.
“This is your initiation task Walker,” Achilles said. “Get through this and you can call yourself a Sleeping Giant for the rest of your life. Do this and you’re one of us.”
Achilles’ stale breath was making Walker feel nauseated. Or was it something else?
“Do what?” Walker asked.
Achilles grinned, and it chilled Walker’s blood. The Giants’ leader pointed a long, bony finger towards the children playing beside the pond.
“Kill one,” he said. “Kill one of the Ferals.”
Walker felt his heart sink. He’d feared as much after seeing the children for the first time. But was this for real? Were they seriously asking him to murder a child?
“Kill one?” Walker asked. “How?”
“How?” Achilles said, screwing up his face in bewilderment. The deep grooves that lined his forehead were bottomless pits. “I don’t care how you do it. Use that bloody axe of yours if you want. Grab one of them by the neck and dunk their little head in the pond until they stop wriggling. The details don’t matter to me. We’re here to send a message to the rest of them. We’re here to scare the bejesus out of them. It’s not enough to tell them to piss off; we’ve got to show them what happens when you steal from the Sleeping Giants. Let’s introduce their primitive little brains to the concept of consequences. Shall we?”
Walker turned to Kojiro. He thought he saw the glimmer of a sympathetic look in the man’s eyes.
“I know,” Kojiro said. “It sounds cold and cowardly to kill a child. But that sort of thinking doesn’t belong in the Hole. It belongs in the world outside the superwalls. This isn’t London anymore – you must remember that Walker. This isn’t a land of Monday morning train rides or tax returns. The rules don’t matter here because there aren’t any. It’s a gruesome and fascinating reconstruction of the city that we’ve built for ourselves. Just remember this – those aren’t sweet children over there. It looks that way, but trust me – they’d stick a knife in your back if you had something they wanted.”
“We’ve got a reputation to protect,” Achilles said. “If word gets out that a bunch of Ferals are taking over our territory then we can kiss goodbye to any respect that we’ve built up over the years.”
“He’s right,” Kojiro said. “We need to invest in our reputation.”
Walker shook his head and looked once more towards the huddle of Ferals, still gathered around the large pool of still water. He wasn’t stupid – he’d seen enough terrible sights in the city to believe that those sweet-looking kids in their oversized clothes were brutal killers. It wasn’t hard to see murder in those angelic features. But whose fault was that? It wasn’t theirs. And they’d stolen a few Drop Parcels, so what? That was how Walker had survived in the Hole before hooking up with the Giants – scavenging and stealing from other gangs. For some, it was a way of life.
Walker looked into the pack of children and saw a young boy, probably no more than fourteen years old. He was leading a younger girl around the edge of the pond. Both boy and girl were staring at the phone in the boy’s hand, chasing after something unseen except to them. They were so close to where land met water that had they taken the slightest misstep, they would have ended up in the pond. But they didn’t fall – they ran with an agile, carefree grace and Walker felt the joy in their every step.
Pax looked over at Walker. He was wearing that irritating grin that Walker loathed.
“How many people you killed anyway man?” he asked. “Fess up.”
Walker glared at Pax. A deep rage bubbled slowly towards the surface, like red-hot lava spilling out of a volcano.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Walker hissed.
“Take it easy man,” Pax said, still grinning. “I just wanna see if you’re capable of doing the job that’s all.”
Walker turned away and tried to pretend that Pax wasn’t there. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
“This is the initiation task,” Achilles said in a cold, emotionless voice. “There will be no other. If you refuse to do it you’re out of the gang and there’ll be no Hatchet, no revenge for you. Now c’mon lad, get on with it. It’s an easy task when you think about it – look at them. They’re all distracted with their phones chasing Magic Birds around the pond. Stupid little fuckers will never see you coming.”
Hatchet.
Everything in Walker’s life came down to the same question; it was a question that followed him around like a shadow, whispering in his ear from dawn to dusk.
Will this bring me closer to Hatchet?
In this case, the answer was a resounding yes.
“Okay,” Walker said. “I’ll do it.”
“I never doubted it,” Kojiro said, his eyes beaming with pride. “I’ve seen you swing that axe Walker. I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you do it. You have a desire for killing in you that comes from being in this city for too long. Call it a disease if you will. If so, you’re infected. However there’s still a part of you that belongs to the world outside. Whatever you do, don’t listen to that voice today.”
Walker felt sick to his stomach. He nodded weakly and without another word, he edged his way forwards. If nothing else, it was a relief to get away from the others, as long as he didn’t think about what he was going to do.
He crept through the long grass, keeping his right hand clamped around the handle of the axe. He wriggled a few feet closer to the pond, stopped and then went forwards some more. Gradually he got closer to where the children were playing, all the while trying to ignore that voice in his head that Kojiro had urged him to dismiss.
Only monsters kill little children.
The Ferals seemed unaware that they were being stalked. They were too caught up in the game and from afar it looked like a picture postcard scene of innocence, which made the task even harder. Walker peered at them through the tall grass, watching them running and jumping back and forth, squealing with joy as they tracked the mythological birds around the meadow.
Walker felt the eyes of the Sleeping Giants burning a hole in the back of his head. He could feel them willing him forward. Go and do our dirty work for us new boy! Walker wanted to tell Achilles where to shove his dirty work. But if he wanted to be a part of the gang – at least for a short time – then it was his dirty work too. The kids were stealing food out of the gang’s mouths and that meant they were stealing from him too.
It made sense in a despicable, twisted way.
Walker buried himself deep in the grass, scurrying ever closer to the pond.
Then he stopped suddenly. He didn’t dare breathe.
One of the Ferals had strayed from the pack and was now running over in Walker’s direction. Walker froze. Had they seen him? Surely he was too far away from the pond, buried too deeply within the long grass to have given the game away.
Who was this person?
It was a little girl with dirty blonde hair. Walker noticed that she had a tattered yellow ribbon fixed to the side of her hair. She was wearing a khaki coloured parka jacket with a large hood that fluttered in the breeze as she came closer in a half-running, half-skipping motion. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old.
The little girl was carrying a silver phone in her hand. Her
eyes skipped back and forth between the black screen and across the vast green meadow, as if she was searching for a prize or for hidden treasure located somewhere nearby.
Magic Birds. The game had delivered her straight into his arms.
The girl approached slowly, her silent footsteps sinking deep into the grass.
She lifted the phone closer to her face. As she looked at the screen, her expression was a strange combination of profound concentration and childlike curiosity.
There was about ten feet between the girl and where Walker was waiting. He remained silent and hidden in the long grass. The girl had strayed from her Feral companions; the others were back there, racing around the pond, yelling and grunting at one another in their strange and primitive language. There were a few animal-like screams of excitement. The prize, whatever it was, had gotten closer.
Nobody was paying any attention to the girl who’d wandered off.
She took another step towards him.
Walker’s stomach was no longer pressed against the ground; he was a tightly coiled spring ready to pounce upon her, if only she would come a little closer. Had she looked in the right direction, she would have seen him.
He squeezed the handle of the axe.
Will this bring me closer to Hatchet?
Yes. He would do it, but do it quickly. This terrible thing that would never leave him. No matter how much this city perverted his soul in the years to come, he’d never forget what he was about to do here today. Hatchet would pay for her life too, as well as all the other lives lost because of what he did.
The Future of London Box Set Page 57