Kojiro shook his head.
“I don’t think we should risk open battle,” he said. “Let them come in. Let them come to us and we can pick them off one at a time. If we go out there, we’re going to lose people and then what? Even if we win, we’ll have to start all over again. I’d rather lose a few windows than a few Giants, wouldn’t you?”
“You want to hide in here?” Achilles said, looking horrified. “Are you serious? You?”
“You think you’re ready for this?” Kojiro said. “To die today?”
“Fuck you Kojiro,” Achilles said, his cheeks flushing bright red. “You want to let them come in here and destroy our home? The battleground is outside.”
The sound of smashing glass in the distance interrupted their conversation.
Achilles looked towards the corridor.
“I’m the leader of this gang,” he said, addressing everyone. “Me, not you Kojiro. We agreed at the start, remember? You didn’t want to be leader. You wanted to be free to piss off and do your wandering man thing across the city, right? I’m the leader and I say we don’t let those skull-fuckers into our home.”
“He’s right Kojiro,” Nadia said. “We can’t let them in. They’ll wreck everything. I’m shit-scared but I’d rather go out there than let them come in and destroy what little we’ve got.”
Pearl walked forward, stopping at Nadia’s side.
“We don’t have time to stand here talking about it people,” she said. “Whatever we’re doing, we’ve got to do it now.”
“Ostrich!” Achilles said, looking at the quiet man lurking in the corner. “Speak up lad, you one of us or not?”
Walker glanced over his shoulder at the silent man. In that moment, he thought that the Ostrich looked like the ghostly figure in Edvard Munch’s famous painting The Scream. He looked like a man on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
The Ostrich managed a feeble nod. But no words.
“You think we should go out to them?” Achilles said.
Ostrich nodded again, although the look in his eyes suggested otherwise.
Walker took a step towards Achilles and looked him dead in the eye.
“There won’t be any victory today,” he said. “Not even if we win. You know that, don’t you?”
Achilles looked at Walker. The man’s fingers were wrapped tightly around the sword handle at his waist. There was a look of grim determination in his eyes.
“We’re not letting them in,” Achilles said. “We go outside. Now.”
Chapter 17
The Sleeping Giants marched down the school corridor in single file.
The door at the end of the corridor was in their sights – the front door that led out into the playground and to whatever else was waiting out there for them.
As the newest recruit, Walker kept to the rear of this silent procession. Achilles marched out front, with Kojiro at his back. All the others were crammed in the middle.
There was no pep talk. No hesitation in their stride.
Achilles led them to the entrance of the building and once there, he turned back to the others. His eyes were blank; no words came out of his mouth. It was like he needed a moment to prepare himself to do terrible things. Then he turned around again and pulled the door open.
The Sleeping Giants spilled onto the playground, which was lit up by the first rays of the morning sun. The sky was blossoming into a beautiful shade of orange-red; it didn’t look real, more like something out of a painting.
The Obituaries were waiting for them.
They were standing on the other side of the school playground. Nine skeleton-like people, armed with spiked clubs that looked sharp and hungry. Walker guessed that the gang had no intention of breaking into the school after all. Whatever windows had been smashed, it had been done to provoke the Sleeping Giants into a straight fight.
The Obituaries were confident. Who could blame them?
But to Walker’s surprise, it wasn’t just the Obituaries waiting for them.
Ferals were there. They were hovering on the outskirts of the school, a gang of about ten to fifteen small, dark figures sitting on the brick wall beside the school gate.
Walker looked at the street kids, dressed in their familiar and oversized rags. He watched their fast-blinking eyes as they sat there, a pack of impatient spectators waiting for the fun to begin.
He saw their enthusiasm and it was anything but child-like.
Some of the Ferals were pointing their phones towards the playground, as if they were waiting to film the action. Walker wondered how long it had taken them to figure out that there was more to these phones than just video games?
Despite their vulture-like presence in the background, Walker felt pity for them.
“What the fuck?” Pax said, shattering the eerie silence. “Ferals! What are they doing here?”
“Working together,” Nadia said. “I’m thinking it was definitely a Feral that ratted you out yesterday Kojiro.”
Kojiro said nothing.
“Bloody vultures,” Achilles said. “Look at them, they’re not going to fight anyone. They want the Obituaries to do their dirty work and when we’re gone they’ll move into our territory and take our Drop Parcels. That’s their reward, isn’t it?”
Achilles stepped ahead of the line of Giants.
“Is that the deal?” he yelled to the children sitting on the school wall. “You joined up with these skull-fuckers to get rid of us? Well we’re not going anywhere you little filthy bastards. When we’ve sorted this lot out, we’re coming after you, I swear to God. You’re vermin!”
The Ferals, a multitude of scruffy shapes crouching in the dim light, stared back at the Giants in silence.
Walker looked around and saw the obituary notices displayed over the exterior of the school. There must have been at least twenty of them attached to the building itself. Additionally, the Obituaries had posted these same A4 sheets onto nearby lampposts, walls, fences, and Walker even saw some of them hanging on the front door of several of the abandoned houses across the street.
“What do you want?” Achilles said, addressing the Obituaries. “You come into our home and start smashing it up? Start talking or start dying.”
A woman stepped forwards. Her shaved head, painted white with make-up, shone eerily in the sunlight. It was difficult to tell how old she was underneath the make-up. Walker guessed that she was probably somewhere between thirty and forty at most. She was dressed in the same black skin-tight outfit as the others. And as ridiculous as that outfit was in such cold weather, Walker now realised it was a practical choice for fighting, especially compared to the heavy coats worn by the Giants.
“You know why we’re here,” the woman called back to Achilles. She spoke in a thin, raspy voice, one barely able to contain its contempt.
Achilles pointed to the Ferals gathered on the sidelines. “Are these your bodyguards?” he asked. “Need a little help do we?”
“We’re not together,” the woman said. She glanced over her shoulder at the Feral spectators for a second before turning back to the Giants. “And yet we are, just this morning. We’ve made peace because we share the same goal and that goal is to see the Sleeping Giants become extinct.”
Kojiro took a step forward, so that he was standing beside Achilles.
“I stole your heater,” he called out. “Did your Feral spies tell you that?”
“Yes Kojiro,” the woman said, turning her attention to the Giants’ second-in-command. “They did. And I must say I’m disappointed after we showed you hospitality on your last visit to our home. I never took you for a common thief. But it’s too late for such conversations – your obituary has been written and posted. You will die here today with your friends for what you did. We’ll take our heater back to the Ministry and the Ferals will take your place here. Life will go on without you.”
“Come ahead and try it you baldy bitch!” Pax yelled across the playground. He jabbed his sword repeatedly in their direc
tion. “Stop talking shit, stop writing your stupid fucking letters. Show us what you’ve got skull-fuckers.”
The woman nodded. Her painted face was expressionless, almost inhuman.
“We will,” she said.
Kojiro turned back to face the other Giants. His eyes were bright and alert.
“They use spiked clubs, remember?” he said, keeping his voice as low as possible. “Be aggressive, don’t allow them time to swing or generate force. That means getting in close. Yes, you have to do it. We can’t draw this out – we’re not in any shape for a long fight – it has to be quick and explosive. We either win or we die. You understand?”
Nobody answered.
“Do you understand?” Kojiro yelled. His face contorted with rage as he looked upon each and every face, one by one. Walker saw the others jump to attention, like they finally understood what was happening. At last they realised why Kojiro was always badgering them about practising more.
Walker’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never heard his sparring partner raise his voice like that before. It was motivating, to say the least.
The Giants nodded their understanding.
Kojiro drew his sword and turned around to face the enemy. Achilles did likewise.
Walker adjusted his grip on the axe several times, spacing his hands apart on the handle a variety of different ways. This was no time to experiment – whatever had worked that morning, he’d just have to roll with it.
Nothing fancy, he told himself. Swing and cut. Keep it simple.
Achilles and Kojiro started walking towards the enemy lines. Walker and the others followed close behind.
The Obituaries came forward too. Behind them, the shadowy shape of Feral spectators watched in silence. The bright light of their phones darted back and forth across the centre of the playground like a set of moving floodlights.
All of a sudden, Kojiro broke ranks. Without looking back, he exploded into a ferocious sprint and charged recklessly towards the line of Obituaries.
Walker saw the look of shock upon the faces of their enemy. Kojiro had upset the slow, steady rhythm of the early battle. They hadn’t expected such an unpredictable manoeuvre from the Sleeping Giants. They must have known how good Kojiro was and the sight of the skilled swordsman, his gleaming blade raised high above his head, must have sent shivers down their spines.
The rest of the Sleeping Giants, including Walker, followed Kojiro’s lead. They charged towards the enemy line at a reckless speed.
Somebody was screaming with excitement or terror. Walker looked down the line of Giants and saw that it was the Ostrich.
After that, everything was a blur.
Walker saw Kojiro disappearing into the enemy lines, cutting and thrashing with the short sword as he did so. Using constant head movement, Kojiro avoided the swing of the nearest club. He crouched down low, almost to a full squat position and then he swung hard with the short sword, slicing through both calves of the woman who’d spoken for the Obituaries just moments ago. The woman screamed in agony as her legs gave out under her. Walker saw a spiked club flying in the air above the huddle of Obituaries like a fat javelin.
The screaming didn’t last long.
The two gangs collided into one another at a tremendous speed. There was a brief explosion of noise – screams, grunts, yelps of pain, and the sound of steel clattering against spiked clubs.
A large, angry skeleton shape charged towards Walker. It was the biggest of the Obituaries – a broad shouldered man with a massive, round head and thick neck. Walker heard the low whistle of a spiked club shooting past his head at a terrifying speed. Instinctively he ducked. His feet danced to the right, taking him away from the man’s weapon arm.
Walker was in no doubt that had the blow connected, it would have finished him.
He straightened up just in time to see the big Obituary setting up a second attack. There was only a few feet in between the two men. Down came another swing of the spiked club. Walker avoided the blow by stepping to his left this time, never taking his eyes off the club. Even though the first two attempts missed, Walker had felt the power in the other man’s shots. He couldn’t keep letting the man swing like that or sooner or later it would be the end of him.
Or could he?
The man’s sheer bulk meant that he was strong, yes. But he was slow. And with all those muscles to fuel, his stamina had to be suspect too.
It was icy underfoot. Walker was familiar with the environment, having practised on the same slippery surface every day since he’d first taken up with the Giants. He knew that movement – or rather lack of movement was the key to victory. If he could use the other guy’s anger against him – if he could make him do the running while avoiding his blows, then his opponent would tire eventually. He had to.
Details, remember?
Walker did the bare minimum with his feet – a step to the side here, a step back there. He did just enough to keep out of range of the spiked club and its owner’s murderous blows. The man’s heavy breathing encouraged Walker to stick with the strategy. Even though he was tiring, the Obituary was putting all his weight into every single swing and hitting only thin air. His arms had to be getting heavy. His heart would be getting discouraged too.
Walker didn’t attack much at first. He threw the occasional blow just to keep the man thinking and to prevent him settling into any sort of rhythm. He was content to stay on the defensive, which the long-handled axe allowed him to do, to keep the fight at distance.
Despite everything going on around him – he was in a fucking battle for God’s sake – his mind was clear. The hard sparring sessions with Kojiro had prepared him well for this moment. The man in front of him was big and strong for sure – he was a formidable opponent, but he was nothing compared to the swordsmanship of Zander Kojiro.
The big man wobbled on the slippery black surface.
Walker switched tactics now, becoming more and more the aggressor. He took the lead, coming forward with growing confidence, swinging the axe low at his opponent’s feet, trying to tip him off-balance. He swung at the man’s head, arms and legs – he swung everywhere.
The other man took a backwards step for the first time.
Out of the corner of his eye, Walker caught sight of the Ostrich. The quiet man was a little further along the playground, wielding his sword like a clumsy pantomime villain in distress.
One of the Obituaries was walking him down.
Walker turned to his thoughts to getting the big man out of the way. Quick. He had to go help the Ostrich.
Whoosh.
The bloodstained club missed Walker’s head by inches. Walker grunted in shock, jumping backwards to safety. It was a near miss, and he chastised himself for taking his eye off the opponent in front of him.
He slid further out of range and recovered his focus.
Still the big man came after Walker. He was like a man possessed but that massive body couldn’t match the fire of his spirit for much longer. Laboured breath shot out of his mouth in frequent bursts. He was walking forward like he was wearing a lead suit. His swing was lazy, like he was fighting the battle underwater.
Walker charged forwards, slicing at the other man’s midsection with his axe. He swung high and low, yet kept out of range of the spiked club. In that moment, Walker felt his opponent getting weaker; it was like he could tap into the other man’s mind and witness his decline from the inside.
Walker pushed him back across the playground. Seconds later, the axe got through the big man’s flailing defence.
Walker felt the blade tearing into the man’s waist, cutting him open with ease. The skeleton-like enemy howled in pain. Instinctively, a hand reached for the fresh wound on his body. Walker saw an opening there and threw a lunging kick to the man, catching him off-balance. His opponent’s feet slid on the icy ground and he toppled backwards, his massive bulk crashing into the concrete.
Walker didn’t hesitate to finish him off. Gripping the handle of the
axe with both hands, he brought it crashing down onto the man’s head. The blade sliced through the grotesque white flesh like it was nothing. Walker kept his grip on the handle, while the body convulsed furiously for a couple of seconds.
Then it was over.
Walker didn’t stop to admire his handiwork. He put a foot on the dead man’s chest and pulled at the axe caught in the flesh. It came out with a sickening, squelching sound.
By now, the sky was a deeper shade of red as the sun climbed above the horizon, shining its light upon the horrors unfolding in London.
Seagulls flew over the school, squawking at the top of their voices.
Walker saw Kojiro in the distance. The swordsman was finishing off another of the male Obituaries. The short sword was impaled in the dying man’s heart and Kojiro pulled the weapon out of the body like he was pulling a knife out of melting butter. The top half of the blade was soaked in dark red. That same red slid slowly off the blade, dropping onto the ground like gruesome raindrops.
Kojiro straightened up and then looked around the playground. That’s when he caught sight of Walker, standing over the dead Obituary.
A rapturous smile flashed across Kojiro’s face. He nodded towards Walker. Walker nodded back.
Walker then looked around elsewhere. He saw Nadia about fifteen feet away from where he was standing. She was hurt and at first glance, it looked bad. With blood pouring out of a wound in her leg, the Giants’ chef was down on the ground, dragging herself towards the school building, putting distance between herself and the fight while she still could.
The Ostrich was down too. Walker’s heart sank at the sight of the tall mute lying motionless in the middle of the playground. A pool of dark blood surrounded his body.
“Shit,” Walker said.
But there was no time to mourn him. Not now.
Walker continued to look around, trying to make sense of what was happening around him. On the outer edge of the playground, Pax and one of the Obituaries were wrestling furiously on the ground.
The Future of London Box Set Page 65