DogNut looked at the bright lamps and the glow of monitors attached to functioning computers as if they were some kind of magic. They had a generator at the Tower and one night a week they fired it up so that they could listen to music and watch DVDs in a communal room, but it was the warmth and cosiness of the lights that the kids enjoyed most.
Looking through the windows into this bright laboratory was like looking into another world. The world that had existed before the disease wiped it all out. Except there was an unreal quality to it, since all the scientists wearing the lab coats were children – fourteen, fifteen years old. As if they were involved in a school film project or something, playing at being grown-ups.
They were making a pretty good job of it, however. DogNut had to admit that life at the Tower was little better than medieval. This was something different.
‘So you got another generator in there to power it all?’ he asked.
‘Not in there,’ said Justin. ‘The fumes would kill us. There’s a couple up on the roof.’
He took DogNut inside, and they wandered among the desktops. Kids were peering in microscopes, looking at things in dishes, writing notes, reading books … DogNut’s brain was beginning to ache.
‘How d’you have time to run the museum and all this?’ DogNut asked.
‘Oh, I don’t run the labs,’ said Justin. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not great at biology – physics is more my thing.’
‘I thought it was all the same. Just science.’
‘No. Ah, here he is …’
DogNut saw a boy approaching across the laboratory floor. He was tall and wearing a grubby white lab coat over black jeans, a tweed jacket and a tatty old sweater. He had a shock of untidy dark hair and would have been quite good-looking if his teeth hadn’t been yellow and blackened, jutting out like horse’s teeth from rotten, receding gums.
‘This is Einstein,’ said Justin.
‘For real?’ said DogNut, grinning.
‘Yeah, obviously for real,’ said the boy sarcastically. ‘I really am Einstein. Justin regenerated me from cells found in a preserved lock of his hair.’
‘So it’s a joke name?’
‘Yes. My real name’s Isaac Newton.’
‘OK. Cool. Hello, Isaac.’
The boy snorted and looked to Justin then back to DogNut.
‘You’ve never heard of Isaac Newton, have you?’
‘Nope. Should I of?’
‘He was only the most famous British scientist of all time, the man who discovered gravity, worked out the laws of the universe.’
‘I didn’t really do a lot of science at school,’ said DogNut.
‘You surprise me. What did you specialize in? Finger painting?’
‘I liked history.’
‘Give the man a banana. History. Not a lot of use in the modern world, but it’s better than nothing, I suppose.’
DogNut stuffed his hands in his pockets. Otherwise he was in danger of hitting the boy, whose superior, sarcastic manner might have been even more devastating if his breath hadn’t stunk.
DogNut made a last effort to be polite.
‘So, if you’re not really Einstein, and you’re not really Isaac Newton, then who are you?’
‘Stephen Hawking.’
‘Listen, dickwad,’ said DogNut, grabbing the boy’s throat. ‘Stop taking the piss or I’ll knock your green teeth out.’
‘Oh, how brave.’
DogNut slapped him and let him go. The boy looked shocked for a second and then laughed in DogNut’s face.
‘I can see that the world of meticulous, patient, scientific enquiry is not for you. I rather think what we do here is going to be lost on you.’
‘Whatever.’
‘But at least you seem to have heard of Stephen Hawking.’
‘He was the dude in the wheelchair with the robot voice.’
‘Bravo. Full marks.’
‘Back off, both of you,’ said Justin. ‘This is getting stupid.’
The boy smirked and offered to shake DogNut’s hand.
‘My name’s Orlando Epstein,’ he said theatrically and not entirely sincerely, ‘but you may call me Einstein. Everyone else does.’
‘Yeah, right.’ DogNut slapped the hand by way of a greeting. ‘My real name’s Danny Trejo, but you may call me DogNut. Everyone else does.’
‘OK, Danny.’
DogNut didn’t let his face give anything away. He may not know much about scientists, but Einstein clearly didn’t know much about hard-faced, ex-con Mexican action-movie stars.
‘This is all very cool and impressive, like,’ he said blandly, keeping his little triumph to himself, ‘but what have you actually found out?’
‘Loads of stuff,’ said Justin, sounding like an excited eight-year-old.
‘Amaze me!’
‘We’ve proved there’s a definite link between ultraviolet light and the progress of the disease,’ said Einstein.
‘Yeah, and what does that mean?’
‘Basically, sunlight makes the disease act faster,’ said Einstein. ‘It blisters their skin, accelerates the process, and we’ve observed the effects of UV light on their blood under a microscope.’
‘Light kills them?’
‘Only ultraviolet light,’ said Justin. ‘Like you get from the sun. Electric light makes no difference.’
‘I always knew the sickos didn’t like the sun. But you saying it actually hurts them?’
‘Yes.’ Justin nodded enthusiastically.
‘And you can prove that, can you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘We tied up one of our specimens in the courtyard for a week and watched it die,’ said Einstein.
‘You mean a sicko?’
‘Yes.’
‘You left one out in the sun?’
‘We wanted to observe it. That’s what scientists do. They observe things and create theories based on their observations.’
‘So what happened to him?’
‘Her,’ said Einstein. ‘She burst. Splat! She couldn’t have made more of a mess if she’d swallowed a hand grenade.’
‘It seems the longer they stay out of the sun the worse it is when they’re eventually exposed to it,’ said Justin. ‘Those that go outdoors in the day develop more of a resistance, like getting a suntan. We tried it with another subject, exposed him to low light levels every day, gradually increasing the time he spent in the sun. After three weeks he hadn’t got much worse than the subjects we kept in the dark. Of course the sunlight irritated him.’
‘It sent him crackers,’ said Einstein, and he giggled. ‘We had to put him down in the end.’
‘When they stay in the dark, though,’ said Justin, ‘they stay quite calm, like the ones in the lorry. Take them outside and they lose it.’
‘The brighter the sunlight, the worse it affects them,’ said Einstein.
‘So we got to pay more attention to the weather forecast,’ said DogNut. ‘Cloudy with a chance of zombies.’
Justin laughed. ‘Something like that.’
‘They sound more like vampires than zombies.’
‘They’re neither,’ said Justin, irritated. ‘They’re not any kind of walking dead. But we think the secret to what they really are is in their blood. It’s that we need to look at most carefully.’
‘We need to know if the disease is a virus,’ said Einstein. ‘Or if it’s bacteriological, or if it’s a type of cancer, or autoimmune disease, maybe it’s caused by poisoning of some sort.’
‘Or space dust,’ said DogNut.
‘It’s a possibility,’ said Justin. ‘A disease could have come into the atmosphere off an asteroid, or a meteor, or was maybe brought back by a space mission.’
DogNut had mentioned space dust as a joke, and he decided to push it further, enjoying Justin taking his idea seriously.
‘Could be an alien attack,’ he said.
‘Possible, but unlikely,’ said Justin. ‘The neare
st inhabitable planet is many millions of light years away from Earth.’
‘Yeah, well, if they’d set off before breakfast, they could be here before tea time.’
‘That really wasn’t very funny,’ said Einstein.
‘Whatever,’ said DogNut, ignoring Einstein’s insult. ‘I think I get what you’re doing here.’
‘Do you?’ said Justin.
‘Yeah. You’re saving the world.’
‘We’re trying,’ said Justin, accepting DogNut’s joke with a smile. ‘When we’ve got more time I’ll take you round to the Science Museum next door. That might be more interesting to you. Everything we need to rebuild the world is in there. Scientific instruments, medical instruments, tools, machines, vehicles … The only stuff we’re lacking is chemicals, drugs, that kind of thing. If we had more troops, we could do it, but we can’t spare the manpower at the moment.’
‘We’d ask the hunters to get it for us,’ said Einstein, ‘but they’re not the cleverest kids on the block. It’d take too long to explain what we’re after. We need to mount an expedition, really. If we only had a good team to protect our scientists and doctors.’
‘You’re not real scientists and doctors, though, are you?’ said DogNut. ‘You’re just kids.’
‘This is all just a big joke to you, isn’t it?’ said Justin.
‘No.’
‘Have you taken on board anything we’ve said?’
‘Yes.’
‘So have you got any questions?’
‘Yeah … What’s ascorbic acid?’
‘What?’
‘You said before about how you had to make sure all the kids got enough ascorbic acid, and it’s been bugging me ever since.’
‘Is that all you’ve taken in?’ Justin asked.
‘I’m a slow thinker. Slow but steady.’
‘It’s basically vitamin C,’ said Einstein. ‘Animals make it in their bodies or else they die from scurvy. Humans, and some other animals, like guinea pigs, have lost the ability to make their own, though, and have to get it from their food.’
‘Thanks. So now I know.’
‘So now you know,’ said Einstein.
DogNut stared at the hard-working kids at their equipment. This wasn’t a world he understood. And so it wasn’t a world he liked. He longed to be back out on the streets with a weapon in his hand, not having to think about things, only worrying about staying alive, fighting, killing and returning home a hero.
He was beginning to think that it had been a mistake coming here. He’d found Brooke, but she obviously didn’t give a toss about him. Girls weren’t really impressed by fighting when it came down to it. Only boys. And the boys here …
He sighed. No. Brooke didn’t give a toss about him, or his plans to take over this place.
Who was he kidding? He couldn’t run this place. He gave a snort of laughter.
‘What’s so funny now?’ asked Justin wearily, expecting the worst.
‘Nothing,’ said DogNut. ‘I think I might just take a look around if that’s cool.’
‘Of course.’
DogNut strolled through the lab, staring dumbly at the busy kids, not having a clue what they were doing. He wasn’t cut out for this. He didn’t want to be in charge of these dorks.
He didn’t want to be in charge of anything. He couldn’t handle being responsible. Having kids on his watch die, like Leo and Olivia. He had more in common with Robbie than he’d cared to admit. Sometimes it was better to be number two. There was no shame in it.
Number two.
Well, number three.
Maybe he should just go home. Back to the Tower. He’d at least be a bit of a celebrity there. Respected. The guy who broke out. The guy who crossed London and brought back news of the outside world.
He wandered through to another lab and was surprised to see Finn sitting at a workbench, two girls fussing around his infected arm.
‘What you doing up here with the geeks?’ DogNut asked, happy to see a familiar face.
‘I’m getting my arm properly fixed up.’ Finn smiled at his old friend. ‘These people are good.’
‘These people are weird,’ said DogNut.
Finn chuckled. ‘I like it here.’
Before they could say anything else a breathless little kid came running in, red-faced and worried.
‘Where’s Justin?’ he called out.
‘He’s through there,’ said DogNut, pointing back the way he’d come.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked one of the girls who was tending to Finn.
‘It’s Paul. He’s gone mental.’
44
Paul was in the middle of the main hall at the museum, in front of the fossilized diplodocus. He had his knife in his hand, still bloody from when he’d attacked the Collector. The blood had dried into a blackened crust. To DogNut he looked absolutely crazy. Circling round, threatening anyone who came close, his face twisted out of shape by rage and despair, soaked with tears. Snot ran into his mouth where sticky saliva made little wires and tendrils between his teeth.
He was alternately shouting and sobbing, the words garbled, disjointed, staccato, punctuated by sobs and shuddering intakes of breath as they spilt out of him.
‘You let her die that that thing that awful that fat thing uh you let him take her you you you all of you you let her uh die you’re all to blame all of you look at you you’re uh happy aren’t you? Living here cosy and happy and stupid and happy because she wasn’t your sister she was uh my sister that thing that fat thing didn’t take your sister uh I know what you think I know I can hear your thoughts yes you didn’t know that I can hear all of you what you’re thinking I know you’re laughing at me behind my back uh yes you laugh that I should be sad but she was my sister my little sister uh just so small she was coming back to me coming here my sister but you wouldn’t let her come would you you all wanted to kill her because it’s funny to laugh at me you you uh you you don’t want me to be happy you’re none of you my friends Olivia was my only friend and you’re all so happy that she’s dead I can see you uh laughing … I can hear you … I know you …’
DogNut watched as Justin tried to talk him down, but he was obviously completely out of his depth. Justin knew about things, about science and maths and inventions, but he didn’t know too much about people. What made them tick. He had no idea how to help Paul. DogNut wanted to wade in and slap Paul, tell him to pull his crap together and not be so dumb. He needed to be jolted out of his madness before he hurt someone, or more probably himself. The events of the day and the argument earlier with Justin by the lorry had obviously tipped him over the edge. DogNut had seen it happen to kids before. Something inside them snapped and they flipped out, retreated into madness. He often wondered why more kids didn’t end up like this, the things they’d been through, the things they’d seen, the friends they’d lost. He wondered why they weren’t all gibbering wrecks. He supposed that some kids just had a different gene inside. A survival gene.
How could Paul blame anyone else here, though? It had nothing to do with the other kids in the museum. If anyone was to blame, it was DogNut. He’d abandoned Olivia, not these confused nerds.
He held back, however. Figured it wouldn’t be good form to start beating up on one of theirs. Instead, a concerned ring of friends had formed round Paul and they were all coming out with the sort of useless, meaningless babble they’d seen on TV programmes like Big Brother.
‘We do care for you, Paul …’
‘You’ve got a right to be angry, but not at us …’
‘Let it out if it makes you feel better …’
‘We all feel your pain, Paul …’
That was a good one. DogNut for one didn’t feel Paul’s pain. He had enough pain of his own to deal with, thank you very much.
He recognized a few familiar faces. There was a bunch of smaller kids, including Wiki and Jibber-jabber, Zohra and her little brother, Froggie, in a huddle at the back, whispering to each other, a cou
ple of them actually sniggering, no doubt as a way of coping with the unsettling weirdness of Paul’s behaviour.
And there was Kwanele, the dressing-up dude, looking extraordinary in some kind of embroidered Japanese or Chinese robes. Brightly coloured and with an ornate gold and silver sword in an elaborately decorated scabbard hanging from a belt at his waist. DogNut had noticed several kids with these swords and assumed they’d looted them from the Victoria and Albert museum over the road. They looked like they were more for show than battle.
And there was the book guy, Chris Marker. It struck DogNut that his robes were similar to Kwanele’s, although his weren’t quite as colourful. He had a group of younger kids with him and was making no attempt to join the others in trying to calm Paul down.
Robbie sidled up to DogNut and gave him a quick nudge in the ribs.
‘Enjoying the show?’
DogNut shook his head. ‘I can’t deal with this kind of thing.’
‘You’re like me, Dog.’ Robbie scratched his bent nose. ‘We’re happier out on the streets with a weapon in our hands. We don’t do domestic.’
In the end it was Brooke who sorted it out. She pushed through the ring of kids and walked over to Paul.
‘I’ll cut you,’ Paul cried. ‘Don’t come near me I know what you want I know what all of you want you want to shut me up you’d hurt me if you could you want to get rid of me like you did Olivia I know what you want you come near me and I’ll stab you.’
‘No, you won’t,’ said Brooke.
‘Won’t I?’
‘No.’ As Brooke said this, she slapped Paul hard round the face. He was so shocked and surprised he froze and Brooke quickly took the knife off him. She threw it away and before Paul could do anything else she put her arms round him.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’
‘It’s not all right … She’s gone …’
‘We’ve all lost people, Paul. We’re all alone in the end. If you wanna be angry, be angry at the sickness, not us.’
Paul buried his face in Brooke’s neck and gave in to his tears.
DogNut was close enough to hear him whisper five words.
‘I just want my mum.’
‘I know,’ said Brooke, and she stroked his hair. ‘We all do.’