The Future of London: (L-2011, Mr Apocalypse, Ghosts of London)

by Mark Gillespie

  The rogue made a pitiful hacking sound as the Ghost twisted his sword deep into its heart. The Ghost then pulled his sword out and the rogue’s body shuddered violently, before dropping to the ground.

  During this short-lived fight, Walker had made good ground on the Ghost. He’d jumped over the third to last row of pews and squeezed along the wooden bench towards the opposite aisle where the action was taking place. As he came within range, Walker brought the axe crashing down on the Ghost’s sword hand. He was aiming for the wrist but instead the axe landed hard on the handle of the sword, sending the blade flying out of the Ghost’s hand. It landed several feet away, close to the body of the dead rogue, underneath which a small trail of blood was spreading across the chapel floor.

  Walker brought the axe up again, aiming for the Ghost’s chest.

  But the Ghost was too quick. He leapt onto the back pew, jumping out of range so that Walker missed with his wild swing easily. Then the Ghost came forward and threw a hard punch that landed on Walker’s shoulder. It was enough to jar Walker’s rhythm and send him crashing backwards onto the hard floor.

  Walker looked up. The Ghost was running over to his sword on the floor. Walker pushed himself upright, charging towards the Ghost, trying to intercept the masked man before he could pick up his bloodstained weapon. At the same time, Walker heard Barboza behind him, screaming at Charlie to make a run for it.

  “Charlie!” she yelled. “Run! Come to me now.”

  The boy didn’t move. Fear had paralysed him.

  Walker bounded across the aisle, intercepting the Ghost before he could grab the sword. The Ghost, seeing that he’d been cut off, reached for Walker instead, using his long arms to seize control of Walker’s right wrist – the one holding the axe. The Ghost proceeded to twist Walker’s arm behind him, pushing it upwards towards his neck in an effort to either break his arm or make Walker surrender the axe.

  Walker couldn’t match the Ghost for strength. As his arm was being twisted backwards, he felt like a kids doll being tortured by a merciless child.

  The Ghost leaned towards him, and another option opened up.

  Walker stood tall, then slammed his forehead into the Ghost’s face, one-two-three times. Each one of these ‘Glasgow kisses’ landed with a crack on the rubber surface of the mask, just above the canister. They were hard blows that sent the Ghost reeling backwards, groaning in pain. He let go of Walker’s arm immediately and brought his hands to his face.

  Walker went after him. But instead of hitting the Ghost with his axe and finishing him, something made Walker reach a hand towards the Ghost’s face. Everything happened so fast. It felt like Walker was outside his body, watching somebody else’s hand moving towards the Ghost in slow motion. Walker reached out, slid his fingers underneath the rubber, and grabbed the back of the mask. Then he pulled it off with as much force as he could muster.

  The judges’ wig came off with it. Walker tossed the wig and mask combo onto the floor. He wanted to see how frightening the man was, the ordinary man underneath the Halloween costume.

  He took a step backwards and looked at the man’s face.

  Walker almost screamed.

  He knew the face of the young black man standing in front of him – it was immediately familiar. It was so familiar that he didn’t have to think or question it; this was a face he’d never forgotten over the past nine years.

  It was the face of his old friend. It was Sumo Dave.

  Chapter 17

  Walker staggered backwards down the aisle.

  His mind was racing, but he couldn’t find the right words.

  As he slowly backed off, he saw the confusion on the Ghost’s face. He had to be wondering why Walker hadn’t finished him off. Walker had the axe. The Ghost had nothing. But it was Walker on the retreat, looking like a man who’d just seen the Devil over the Ghost’s shoulder.

  The Ghost had to be wondering if it was some sort of trap.

  But when nothing happened, the Ghost scrambled, dropping onto his hands and knees and crawling like a spider towards the sword on the floor. Grabbing the weapon, the Ghost leapt back to his feet and rushed along to the centre of the wooden pew where Charlie was still frozen to the spot. The Ghost grabbed Charlie and once again, put the sword to his neck.

  They were back to where they started.

  “Walker!” Barboza screamed at him. “Have you lost your mind?”

  But Walker didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed upon the sword. Upon the dark shadow of the blade reflecting onto the boy’s pale skin. But he saw something else in that shadow – it was the face of his old friend, the man wielding that sword.

  Walker halted his retreat. “I know you,” he said.

  The Ghost’s dark eyes locked onto the man with the axe. “Do you?”

  Walker stared back at the Ghost. Nothing else existed, nothing. He lowered his axe, dropping the weapon to his side.

  “Sumo Dave,” he said. “That’s what we used to call you.”

  At last, Walker saw the human being in those black eyes. With two words, he’d reached deep into the man’s soul and shook him violently there.

  Walker could still see something of the boy he remembered. But there were more differences than similarities. Sumo Dave’s hair was shaved down to the bone, much shorter than Walker recalled. The lankiness of his old friend was still evident, although now he wasn’t skin and bones – he’d added lean muscle to his frame and it made him a formidable, athletic looking man. He must have been about 6’5 or 6’6 at least. He looked like a giant standing next to Charlie.

  “Is this a trick?” the Ghost said. He was moving away from Walker, sidestepping towards the other aisle where Barboza was. He was taking Charlie with him.

  Walker shook his head. “The last time we saw each other was at Piccadilly,” he said. “We went there together, the four of us. You, me, Tegz and Hatchet.”

  The Ghost let out a quiet gasp. It was barely there, but Walker heard it.

  “Mack?” Sumo Dave said. “Mack Walker, is that you?”

  Walker nodded. “Aye.”

  With that, Sumo Dave’s face broke into the most astonishing smile. The cool hatred, the vicious intensity – it evaporated, leaving a new man looking back at them.

  “God help us,” Sumo Dave said. Even his voice sounded different now, more like the boy Walker had once known. “I thought you were dead.”

  Walker shook his head. “I thought the same of you.”

  “Yeah?” Sumo Dave said. “I made it out of Piccadilly, only just mind.”

  “Tegz?” Walker asked.

  Sumo Dave pressed his lips tightly together. He broke off eye contact with Walker. “No,” he said. “He didn’t make it.”

  Walker sighed heavily. “What happened?”

  “He got trapped in the crowd,” Sumo Dave said. “There were people running into us like it was the end of the world. It was hard staying on your feet, let alone figuring out an escape route. And if you fell, you weren’t ever getting back up again. Well, Tegz was only a little bloke wasn’t he? I saw him go down, just a few feet away from where I was. He called my name. Screamed it, like I’d never heard anyone scream before. Those people trampled over him like he wasn’t there. Poor little sod.”

  “He was a good lad,” Walker said. “I liked him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about you?” Walker asked. “How’d you get out?”

  “I stayed on my feet,” Sumo Dave said. “That was the key to staying alive that day – stay on your feet and keep moving. But I guess you know that as well as I do Mack.”

  Sumo Dave looked at Walker.

  “I’ll tell you something Mack,” he said. “I had to do terrible things to survive that day. Like pushing other people out the way to make a path through the crowd. I’m sure some of those people must have died because of what I did. I’m talking about women and children too. But I don’t regret it – I wasn’t ready to die in 2011. Sixteen years old, both of us, eh? I w
as scared out of my bloody mind. Anyway, I got away from Piccadilly Circus. Somehow. I found an old office block nearby with the door smashed in. I ran inside, went all the way up to the top floor. Didn’t stop until I couldn’t get any higher. And I stayed there, me and a few others. Waiting for it to pass.”

  “I’m glad,” Walker said. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “Thought you were dead for sure,” Sumo Dave said. “You and Hatchet.”

  “I don’t think Hatchet’s dead,” Walker said.

  Sumo Dave lowered his sword. A little distance opened up between the blade and Charlie’s throat. They’d reached the other aisle by now. They were standing directly opposite Walker, who was still on the other side of the pews. Barboza was in the same aisle as Sumo Dave and Charlie, standing about ten or fifteen feet away at most.

  “Do you know where he is?” Sumo Dave asked Walker.

  “Not yet,” Walker said.

  “Were you with him when it happened?” he said.

  Walker nodded. “Sort of,” he said. “Look, there’s something you need to know about Hatchet.”

  “What?”

  Walker hesitated. This was a conversation he thought he’d never have. Why did it feel like all the dark secrets of the city were his burden?

  “Hatchet killed Chester George,” Walker said.

  Sumo Dave’s face creased up into puzzled smile. “What?” he said.

  “Hatchet killed him,” Walker said. “I saw him do it. He got past the bodyguards and he was sitting on the steps of that fountain. Do you remember the gun? The one he used to always carry around with him?”

  Sumo Dave nodded. “Yeah.”

  “He took it to Piccadilly,” Walker said. “And he used it to shoot Chester George.”

  “No way,” Sumo Dave said. “Why would Hatchet want to kill Chester George? Chester George was the man who was going to save us from our shitty lives.”

  “Phase Two,” Walker said. “Do you remember that? The riots were Phase One. After the riots came civil disobedience – Phase Two. Chester George was trying to calm things down. He encouraged civil disobedience over looting and running wild. Hatchet hated that – I think he felt betrayed by Chester George. Hatchet wanted the chaos to last forever. And look what happened. He got his wish.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Sumo Dave said. “I won’t.”

  “It’s true,” Walker said. “Everything that’s happened since, it’s all Hatchet’s fault.”

  “Walker!”

  Barboza was yelling at him from the other side of the chapel. “What the hell is going on here?” she said. “You know him?”

  “Aye,” Walker said, nodding. “I do.”

  He turned back to Sumo Dave, pointing a finger at Charlie.

  “Will you let him go Sumo?” Walker said. “I don’t know what the fuck happened to you man. I’m sure as hell not judging you, but Charlie, he’s just a little boy. He doesn’t deserve what you’ve got waiting for him down there in the Hole.”

  “Please,” Barboza said, pleading with Sumo Dave. “Let him go.”

  Sumo Dave glanced down the aisle at Barboza. Walker didn’t like what he saw in that brief exchange – in the dark eyes of his old friend. He watched as Sumo Dave brought the sword back up to Charlie’s throat. The boy let out a quiet shriek as the cold steel pressed up against his neck.

  “I’m sorry Mack,” Sumo Dave said. “But that’s not how it works. Not tonight.”

  Walker squeezed down on the axe handle. It felt like the knuckles on his right hand were about to burst through the skin. Was this really going to happen? Was he supposed to kill or be killed by Sumo Dave here tonight?

  What other cruel tricks did the city have waiting for him?

  Walker heard Charlie sobbing on the other side of the chapel, as if on cue. And to think, Charlie didn’t know the worst of it – he didn’t know what the bad men did to the people they threw into the back of their vans.

  People like Carol.

  Walker had the germ of an idea forming in his head. But for it to have any chance of working, he needed Charlie to be frightened.

  Even more frightened.

  “Sumo,” Walker said, raising his voice. He pointed a finger at Charlie as he spoke. “Are you really going to do it? You’re going to cut that little boy open and eat him?”

  Charlie’s eyes opened wide. The boy’s mouth hung open, like he couldn’t believe what Walker had just said.

  “Walker,” Barboza said, calling out to him. “Don’t.”

  But Walker shook his head. “I’m sorry Charlie,” he said, looking at the boy. “But you need to know what happens. This is what the bad men do – they take people away down to the Hole and they cut them open and eat them. Ain’t that right Sumo?”

  Sumo Dave glared at Walker. “You don’t know much about it do you Mack?” he said.

  “No?” Walker said. “You’re not going to eat them? All those people you’re putting in the back of the vans tonight?”

  “Some of them will be used that way,” Sumo Dave said. “You see we value our independence Mack. We don’t kneel to our captors outside the walls like Michael King and his Bedlamites. Better to be ruthless than relying on the once a week scraps that you call Drop Parcels. Do you like being locked up mate? Do you like being somebody’s pet dog? The Ghosts of London are as free as anyone in this shithole can hope to be. We take nothing that we can’t take ourselves.”

  “What the fuck Sumo?” Walker said. “I saw you grab that woman and her little girl earlier. I saw you tying them up and throwing them into the back of your car. You’re going to eat them? Because you’re so free?”

  “Don’t mistake us for rogues,” Sumo Dave said. “Not everyone ends up that way.”

  “What do you mean?” Walker said. “What do you do with the rest of them if you don’t eat them all?”

  “We build things,” Sumo Dave said.

  “You build things?” Walker said. “Like what?”

  “Power,” Sumo Dave said. “To put it simply, we build power. We establish control.”

  “What are you talking about?” Walker asked.

  “There’s no money in this city anymore Mack,” Sumo Dave said. “But some form of currency is still required in order to buy and sell things. ”

  “Buy and sell what?” Barboza said, taking a step towards Sumo Dave and Charlie.

  “Loyalty,” Sumo Dave said. “Respect. Fear. The Ghosts are the most powerful gang in this city for a good reason. You know Mack, when I hid in that office building during Piccadilly – I met someone. There was this man, this great man, and he had a vision. It was like he knew what was going to happen to this city. He was already building the future in his mind. After we got out, I stuck with him and so did a lot of other people who recognised his genius. We didn’t just wait around, hoping for the best. We didn’t go begging for scraps or asking for our freedom at the M25. We knew that once the walls went up they wouldn’t come back down. For us, it was all about moving forward. So we started to build.”

  “What are you talking about?” Walker said.

  “We’ve built many relationships over the years,” Sumo Dave said. “But it took a few years to realise that we needed some form of currency to properly take a hold of this city. And unfortunately, people are the only currency we have. People are food – yeah we don’t deny it. The Ghosts can provide the rest of the gangs in the Hole with enough meat to keep them healthy and fed. We take care of all the dirty work – the hunting, the preparation, and they pay us with loyalty. And if they stay loyal, we can provide them with other things too – servants, women, men – whatever it is they want. You understand Mack? People are money. People are power.”

  “Slaves,” Walker said. “You’re talking about slaves.”

  “There are hard rules to surviving in this city Mack,” Sumo Dave. “The rules are even harder if you want to thrive.”

  Walker pointed his axe at Sumo Dave. “Enough of this empire-building bullshit,” h
e said.

  He squeezed his way through the pews, walking towards the other aisle. Towards Sumo Dave and Charlie.

  “Give me the boy Sumo,” he said. “You think I’m okay with him being given to some gang in the Hole? Even if you don’t turn him into meat, you think I’m okay with letting him become a slave or some twisted pervert’s sex toy?”

  “You’re too soft Mack,” Sumo Dave said. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

  Sumo Dave pulled Charlie’s head back, exposing the boy’s pale white neck. He pushed harder with the sword – so hard that Walker expected to see a trickle of blood running down the boy’s neck.

  “Don’t!” Barboza yelled at him. “Leave him alone.”

  “Don’t make me kill him,” Sumo Dave said, looking at Walker and Barboza. He kept one hand pinned over Charlie’s chest while the other one gripped the handle of the sword. “I don’t want to do it Mack, but I will. I didn’t become a Captain in the Ghosts by having a weak stomach.”

  Walker stopped. He was standing in the middle of the pews.

  As he stood there, Walker noticed where Sumo Dave’s hand was positioned – the one without the sword. It was high up on the boy’s chest, keeping Charlie locked in a tight grip. Walker thought about the plan that had come to him earlier. It was still a long shot, but it was all he had.

  And it all depended on Charlie. Was he frightened? Was he brave enough?

  Walker looked at the boy, trying to make eye contact with him. Charlie was opening and closing his eyes intermittently, like he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

  “Charlie,” Walker said.

  At last, the boy looked at him. It was now or never.

  “Remember what I told you in the graveyard?” Walker said.

  Charlie didn’t answer.

  “Do what you have to do,” Walker said.

  There was a blank expression on Charlie’s face.

  “Charlie,” Walker said. He barked out the boy’s name like he was a Sergeant Major bawling at a hapless new recruit. “Remember what I said in the graveyard about the bad men. Do what you have to do.”