42

The devil ran alongside him, every step of the way, tossing firecrackers under his feet, singeing his face with flames.

Joseph had never seen devastation like it, regardless of how much he had felt.

Everywhere he looked he saw the same thing: explosions, rubble, clouds, the sky so red, so orange, so white, that the time of night ceased to matter.

It felt like the end of the world, but still, he ran, and after only a few minutes, he realised he wasn’t alone. The devil was there, yes, but so was something else, a beast on four legs, gaining ground with every corner he turned, until, still a mile from the zoo, Tweedy burst past him, affording him not a glance or a pause, just four legs determined to get there before him.

It spurred Joseph on, though he really had little time to feel anything other than exhaustion. He should’ve been terrified, of course he should, the world was tumbling mere feet from where he ran, but he knew that if he gave it any kind of thought, then he risked being swallowed by it before he arrived. And he wouldn’t have that. Mrs F wouldn’t forgive him for it. And neither would he.

So on he went, ignoring the flames licking his heels. He saw houses tumble all around. He had to change course in a split second to avoid debris as it fell: he felt the wind whip him, not knowing if it came from the destruction or direct from the bombers’ propellers as they surged by. It didn’t matter, none of it did. As long as his lungs kept pumping and his feet kept pounding the road, there was nothing that Hitler or his minions could do to stop him.

Finally he arrived, the locked gates greeting him with bad news: Joseph realised, to his fury, that he had failed to bring Mrs F’s keys.

It hadn’t stopped Tweedy though, who was somehow already inside, barking at him, chivvying him along.

Joseph remembered that Bert Conaghan had made it over the wall on that awful night. Anything Bert could do, then he could do better. And faster.

Two minutes later, Joseph ran alongside Tweedy. It had cost him the skin on his left knee but given the injuries that were occurring all over the city, he considered it a badge of honour instead of a hindrance.

All he could think about was reaching the office, grabbing the rifle and getting to where he needed to be.

When at last the rifle lay heavily in his arms the gravity of the situation hit him. Then, and only then, did he stop and think, Can I do it? If that bomb finally falls, and takes out Adonis’s cage, would I, could I,really, pull the trigger?

He didn’t know, he hadn’t a clue, but he knew he couldn’t make a decision unless he was there, staring his friend in the eye. And so, for one final time, he ran.

He found Adonis where he’d left him earlier, and where Aphrodite left him too, stock-still, eyes not on the skies but on the exit they’d taken her through.

He showed no clear sign of agitation or distress, didn’t acknowledge Joseph or even Tweedy when the mad dog yelped through his bars. Joseph fussed the dog with his free hand, telling him it would be all right, which only served to make him more frantic.

‘You’ll be all right, too,’ the boy shouted to the ape. ‘I’ll make sure of that.’ He was edging closer to the bars, passing Adonis the biggest vegetable left in the bucket. As always, he felt the same shiver of excitement when the ape’s fingers brushed his.

Joseph considered feeding him more, only to be interrupted by a cluster of explosions back in the direction of the office that tested the ground on which he stood, prompting Adonis to retreat and howl in fear.

‘It’s all right! Stay there, don’t move!’ he yelled uselessly at Adonis, before dashing back from where he came and seeing almost immediately that not just the office, but the aquarium too, had taken direct hits. He felt the heat of the flames on his face.

What should he do?

There was a hose, coiled thirty yards away, and instinctively he raced towards it, only realising as he reached it that it was pointless, like stirring a teaspoon in the ocean to try and make a wave. It would take a couple of fire engines to douse the flames that raged. Besides, he was there for one reason only, and it wasn’t that.

So, arms pumping and rifle clutched in his sweaty palms, he sprinted back to Adonis, chewing over the challenges that faced him.

Where should he stand? He’d never fired a rifle in his life, so how accurate should he expect himself to be? Should he stand close to the bars, and poke the barrel through them to improve his chances of success? No, that was ridiculous. What was he thinking? He only had to pull the trigger if the bars were blown out, and if that happened while he was stood right by them, then he’d be flat on his back. How could he possibly be useful then?

He took a dozen paces back, rifle slippery in his grip, tucking it between his chin and shoulder. It felt rigid, lifeless, like a scaffolding pole rather than a weapon. He closed one eye as he looked down the barrel, training it on Adonis, an act that made his stomach lurch. He dropped his chin further until it lined up the sights, realising the wrong eye was closed, so he tried the other: better, but still blurred, not helped by the sweat running off his brow.

He let the gun fall against his side and pulled his coat up to mop his face, only to hear the roar of a plane overhead, and find himself thrown to the floor by yet another explosion, the closest yet. It smothered him in dust, the heat so intense that he beat at his clothes with his hands, convinced that he was on fire.

It was hard to breathe, the fog thick and cloying, coating his tongue as he gulped in air. He had to get to his feet, work out which way the cage was and somehow pick out Adonis in all the chaos. Who knew when the next bomb would fall, whether it could possibly be thebomb, the one that truly tested his resolve?

He pulled himself upright, ground still tilting, ears screaming with a high-pitched wail that must’ve been piercing Tweedy’s brain, wherever the dog was now.

But just as he righted himself, he was thrown again, as the bombers doubled back, throwing their fiery blanket in every direction.

A scream left his lungs, but it was useless. He lay, crumpled, unsure of which way the sky was, worrying that there was little point in trying to stand if this was simply going to happen again and again. Perhaps he was safer down here: maybe he should burrow beneath the rubble instead, but then he thought of Mrs F, and the promise he’d made to her.

Would she lie down and hide? No, she would not, and so it wasn’t an option for him either.

Sweeping debris from his clothes, he pulled himself to his feet, picking his way out to the right, to Adonis’s cage. But as he clambered forwards, he realised he didn’t have the rifle.

The rifle! How could he be so stupid? How could he aim the damn thing, if he couldn’t even be trusted to keep it in his grasp?

He fell to his knees, crawling like a baby, raking at the ground and ignoring the jagged edges of stones as they snapped at his fingertips. He had to find it.

‘Come on!’ he wailed. ‘Where are you?’ He bit back tears, feeling like a failure again.

But just as he was ready to quit, his right leg became entwined in something. He cursed, trying to free himself from its grasp when he realised he’d stumbled right into the rifle’s strap! He unearthed it frantically, running his hands along the barrel, feeling for dents.

It felt all right, but what would he know? Maybe if it weredamaged, then it offered him a way out, a way of not pulling the trigger even if the situation demanded it.

Because the truth was, he didn’t think he could. As old and dangerous as he was, the ape on the other side of the bars was the only thing that both Joseph and Mrs F had left. The only thing they loved.

His mind was being torn just as the landscape was, in every direction imaginable.

And all he could do was stumble, rifle in hand, back towards the cage, hoping against hope that when the moment came he would know what to do.