There was always something disturbing about seeing kriks on the land. I didn’t like being reminded that everything might not be good out there, that life on land might not be like my pleasant daydreams, or that if we did manage to escape then things might not be much easier off the Jellyfish. I also hated seeing kriks on our bit of land, by those houses that felt like ours, and scuttling on that road I could so easily imagine myself walking on. I just knew their feet would make an annoying scratchy, tapping noise on that tarmac – could almost hear it, if I turned my ear towards the shore. They were so skin-crawly, the way they moved with those unpredictable, erratic, sudden movements and random direction changes so you couldn’t tell where they were going to go next.
I was already feeling krik-y and tense when we were called in for that evening’s lecture, but as soon as I saw Soldier John standing at the front of the Big House I knew things were about to get worse.
‘Killing.’ Soldier John gave a long pause, staring at us each in turn. ‘That’s what tonight’s demonstration is about. Killing.’ He gave an even longer pause. The people on the front row started to shuffle awkwardly.
‘Well, that sounds jolly interesting, John,’ interrupted Dr Jones with a bright smile. ‘Is it a lecture on the history of killing?’
‘A demonstration.’
A few people in the front row took the opportunity to move away.
‘Right. But we normally do lectures, don’t we?’ said Dr Jones.
‘A demonstration would be more use. Military tactics. I need volunteers. You’ll do.’
‘Lovely,’ said Dr Jones. ‘You’re not going to kill me, I hope?’ She gave a hearty chuckle.
‘Stand here,’ said Soldier John without smiling, directing her towards the centre of the lecture area. ‘Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna be learnin’ about survival. We’re gonna be learnin’ about killing kriks.’
There was a relieved cheer and a quick burst of applause from the audience. We do love drama, and I looked forward to the chats afterwards about whether Soldier John would be prepared to kill somebody during a lecture. My view would be . . . possibly.
‘I want you to imagine Dr Jones ’ere is a krik.’ Soldier John waved his arm up and down the full length of her body and Dr Jones smiled, doing jazz hands.
‘This is a great idea, John,’ said Dr Jones. ‘Because funnily enough, we saw some kriks today.’
‘I know,’ said Soldier John. ‘That’s why we’re thinking about how to kill ’em.’ He picked up a sharp shard of hard plastic. ‘Now, how to kill the fuggers. Your basic krik gets ’arder to kill the older it is, you see. When it’s first born, its shell is softer and it’s smaller, so it’s just the same as killing a ’uman. You just stab ’em in their vulnerable areas. Any questions?’
We looked at each other.
James stuck up his hand. ‘Erm . . . imagine that we’ve never killed a human before. How would you recommend best killing one?’
Soldier John looked at him as though he was a complete idiot. ‘You just stab them through the ’ead, or the ’eart. You can also slit their throat, or strangle them to cut off their air supply. I’ll do another lecture on killing ’umans one evening. A useful skill.’
‘Thanks,’ said James. ‘Yes. Useful.’
‘The impo’tant thing with a krik, though, is you’ve got a shell to get through before you can get to the vulnerable areas. So.’ Soldier John gave a flourish with the large shard of plastic. Standing behind Dr Jones, he pointed it at her head. ‘The best way to kill a young krik is by stabbing or cutting ’ere.’ He held the shard against the top of Dr Jones’s head. She gave a cheery smile. ‘You’ll need a lot of force, but it’s still easy. If you can’t kill ’em,’ he glanced sideways at James, ‘then at least try to wound them. Slice off one of the legs, so that they can’t chase after you.
‘Kriks that are older,’ he continued, ‘are a different matter. Very different.’ He shook his head and curled his lip, giving another long, dramatic pause for effect. ‘Older kriks are faster than ’umans, stronger than ’umans, and can only be killed with a knife if you’ve broken through their exoskeleton first. You don’t stand a chance of gettin’ through it without smashin’ it first. I recommend metal bars, or wooden planks.’
He held up a wooden plank. I hoped it wasn’t one taken from the Big House, because I found it difficult to sleep when it’s really draughty. ‘You want to bash your plank ’ere.’ Soldier John tapped it against Dr Jones’s head. ‘Or ’ere.’ He tapped her lower back. ‘This is where there are gaps in the shell for the food to go in, and for the shit to come out. Use those gaps to lever in your weapons. Or if you can’t get either of those areas, just make sure you give a good bash somewhere so that you knock the enemy over. Their shell is softer underneath. The easiest way to kill ’em, if there is more than one, is by planning. Plan to kill ’em, think about killing ’em, and practise killing ’em. There’s still petrol in most of those useless cars out there.’ He gestured vaguely towards land, but it was dark and we were in the Big House anyway, so we couldn’t see where he was pointing. ‘Get the petrol out and spray it on the fuggers, then set them alight with a match. They burn well. Really well.’
James put his hand up again. ‘How do we spray the petrol on them?’
‘’Owever you want,’ said Soldier John. ‘So long as you do it quickly. Any more questions?’
Kate put up her hand.
‘Yes?’ said Soldier John.
‘Do we have to kill them? Can’t we just put them all in a zoo or something?’
‘No. You need to kill the fuggers, and you have to kill them hard. Next question.’
‘Oh,’ said Kate. ‘OK.’ She gave a sniff and started chewing on her thumbnail.
‘Ah, John, if I can just interrupt here,’ said Dr Jones, stepping forward. ‘Kate, love, it’s really dangerous out there. Maybe, in the future, we might be able to just treat them as tricky wild animals, like lions or something. But there are too many of them. They have killed most of the people in the world – or at least we think they have. We just don’t have the facilities or knowledge to keep them as . . . pets. Think back to when we studied the food chain. In the past, we used to be at the top of that – but now, well, we’re not. Kriks are on a higher trophic level than us. We have to kill them, or they will eat us.’
There was a pause while the others in the room thought about it.
‘I wouldn’t mind eating one of them. I’m happy to help humanity,’ said James. ‘And if I did, wouldn’t it mean that humans would be on a higher trophic level than kriks again? Ooo, and do you think they’d taste a bit like crabs?’
‘Errmmm . . .’ said Dr Jones.
‘Dr Jones?’ I stuck up my hand. ‘Dr Jones, are they basically just giant crabs?’
‘They’re certainly crustaceans,’ said Dr Jones.
‘Their ’ands are like claws,’ said Soldier John. ‘They can’t ’old weapons. But they don’t need to, because their ’ands are weapons.’
‘They also like to kill their food,’ said Dr Jones, ‘whereas crabs are scavengers, generally feeding on food which is already dead.’
‘Do they mainly attack humans?’ asked somebody in the audience.
‘Dunno,’ said Soldier John. ‘I’ve never stayed around long enough to find out.’
‘They are a significant threat to humans,’ said Dr Jones. ‘If you’ve got a convenient cow or pig around then, yes, try throwing it in their way, but to be extra safe, I’d also run.’
Soldier John gave her an incredulous look. There were a lot of hands up in the audience now. Soldier John pointed to one. ‘Yes, you.’
‘How do they breathe? I don’t understand how they can live both underwater and on the land?
‘Well, the “giant crab” theory has some merit here,’ said Dr Jones, ‘because crabs have always been able to cope on both land and sea – just like kriks. Marine crabs have gills at the top of their legs which enable them to breathe on land, or in the water. The gills needed to be kept moist, I seem to remember, but some crabs were able to do this with, erm, their own bodily fluids, and so could survive for long periods out of the water.’
‘Does it have to be seawater?’
‘If they’re like marine crabs, then yes. They probably can’t get very far inland. But it’s worth bearing in mind that there used to be freshwater crabs too. I don’t think we know too much about how kriks survive. It could be either of those options – or neither of them.’
‘How long do they live for?’
Soldier John shrugged, grasping his shard with the air of a man who knew they wouldn’t live long around him.
‘There are a lot of factors there,’ said Dr Jones. ‘Obviously their food supply is rather a big issue – and their food supply may well have . . . erm . . . decreased recently, leaving them with less to eat.’
The Jellyfish gave a shudder beneath us – a sudden vibration as it shifted in the sea. Outside the Big House there were a few answering splashes as the larger tentacles swished around, spraying water against our walls.
‘Do they prefer to eat adults or children?’ said Lana.
‘I think they probably prefer whichever option is larger . . .’
‘So what happened to all the other children?’ asked Lana. ‘And the old people?’
James put his head in his hands.
‘Well, they got eaten, didn’t they? They were the weakest who couldn’t run fast enough,’ said Soldier John. ‘Only the strong survive – or are worth saving.’