Swift sat down on the escalator, Cass beside her, parka still zipped to her little chin. She didn’t look at Jake, or Ollie.
–That was our only way out, she said in this dead voice.
And then it felt like a fog that came down over them. Jake could almost smell it, almost taste it. He looked round at Poacher, at the others. They’d all sat down around Swift and Cass, two steps up, two steps down on the escalator. Martha was shivering, Poacher zipping his jacket higher, though it wasn’t cold. Jet must be feeling it too, because he was pressing against Jake’s legs, and he had his tail tucked under him, like he did when he was scared.
–There must be other ways out, Ollie said. –Up the top of the escalator, or down there; and he pointed to the tunnel that led away beneath the To the Trains sign.
–There ain’t, Poacher said, and he ticked the answers off on his fingers. –Up there is blocked off. Dynamited. Down there is a pile o’ other gangs …
–Why can’t we ask them for directions, then? Jake said. –We don’t want to stay; we want to get out.
Poacher’s laugh echoed round the escalator hall. –Sweet, that is. Ain’t it? We kin just ask nicely an’ they’ll show us the way. Blimey, Jake, ain’t you learned anything yet? We ain’t asking them cos they ain’t offering.
–How come the hub police haven’t rounded them up, if there’s so many? Ollie said. –They must know they’re down here.
–Hub chips don’t work down here, Swift said.
–An’ mebbe they are catching ’em, Poacher said. –Davie’s heard rumours. People disappearing.
–That’s horrible, Jake said.
–Could be the hubbers is picking ’em off, just a one here an’ a one there, or could be they’re killed by other gangs. Mebbe the hubbers reckon it’s easier leaving most of ’em down here, outta the way, long as they ain’t a threat. Long as they ain’t makin’ no secca jump from any escalator.
Even under the dim light, Jake could see the fear on Ollie’s face, and he caught a glance from Swift to Poacher. It wasn’t like Poacher to be sharp like that.
–Anyways … Poacher said, and he put up a third finger. –Third reason we’re stuck here: if yer want ter travel over any gang’s patch, yer gotta trade wiv ’em. Only way we kin ask them fer help is … He rubbed his fingers together. Jake’s dad used to do that with his fingers when something cost a lot of money. –We gotta give ’em passage fees, innit? Cos none of them ain’t Outwalkers. More likely cut yer, soon as look at yer. Else they ain’t gonna help. Gonna do the opposite when they see we’re kids.
–Trade with what? Jake said. –We don’t have mobiles, or pads. No money …
–Most valuable thing is food, Martha said. –Only problem is: we’ve got next to none left, and what we have got: well, you’d need to be hungry to want to eat it.
Ollie had his hand up, tried to say something, but Poacher waved him down, and Jake saw Ollie roll his eyes and do something with his hands that Jake guessed was from his dad. An Italian thing.
–Bought food ain’t the only thing ter pay with, Poacher said, ignoring Ollie like he hadn’t seen it. –Plenty I could poach. Rats, mice, eels. Crabs too, white ones on the walls above the river. I don’t fancy ’em, but they get a good price. Only problem: someone catches you fishing on their patch, hunting on their patch, ain’t no hub police, no anyone to stop ’em … And he ran his finger across his throat. –So, bein’ straight up wiv yer. Our gang ain’t got the strength ter be down here much longer; nodding slightly towards Cass. –No sky, no sun, no proper light. Dunno day from night. An’ cruddy air what fixes in yer lungs, each breath. So once you’ve told us what happened to yer, we gotta make a plan. Ain’t gonna be easy, but it’s got ter be whatever’s best fer the whole gang.
Jake glanced round at Swift. Her face looked blank and she was staring down at the escalator step. He couldn’t tell if she was listening or not. Cass was nestled into her side.
Again Ollie tried to say something, and again Poacher waved him down.
–Tell us what happened when yer got caught, Poacher said quietly.
Jake and Ollie told it between them, from when Jake got Tasered to when they heard Jet barking in the tunnel. It was three days since they’d been in John Lewis and there was a lot to tell. But it was only when Jake told about the food bank that he got interrupted.
–So have you still got some food? Martha said, and the excitement in her voice was like electricity, and it was touching Swift and Poacher: it was there in their faces too, and the fog lifted, just like that, like they could see beyond their knees again.
–That’s what I was trying to tell you, Ollie said.
With the others looking on, Jake and Ollie set two malt loafs, and the Hob-nobs, the box of Mr Kiplings, a chunk of Cathedral Cheddar, the bar of the Fruit & Nut and the tins of fruit down on an escalator step like a shop display.
–Thought we had three malt loafs, Jake said. –And there was another chunk of cheese.
–You were out for two days, Ollie said. –I had to eat something. I stared at the Fruit & Nut for hours. You should congratulate me that it’s still there.
Jake put his hands up. –Respect, Ollie.
But even with the bar of Fruit & Nut, it didn’t look like so much when they got it out. Still, it was high-class stuff for trading, Jake was sure of that. He could’ve scarfed the whole lot, he was so hungry. Hungry and very tired.
He looked up at Poacher, at Swift, waiting for them to say something, but they were looking at Davie.
Davie shook his head. –Ain’t enough. Need a lorryload to cross everybody’s patch.
–Yer sure? Poacher said.
–I just said. Davie got to his feet. –Not a chance.
Jake let Ollie tell the rest of the story. Exhaustion was washing through him like water, sluicing through his mind so that it was difficult to think, difficult to remember clearly.
–But when the seccas look at the CCTV, they’ll see it was an accident, Martha said. –That the secca lost his balance. Just fell.
–It don’t work like that, Martha. Poacher’s voice was angry. –Don’t matter ter the seccas what’s true, do it? Easier ter blame lowlifer kids, cos that’s what they’ll call yer.
–And that’s why we can’t go back up to Bond Street, Ollie said. –Cos that’s where they’ll be looking hardest. We’d walk straight into their arms.
There was silence again, but it wasn’t a nice one. Above him on the escalator Jake heard someone shifting their feet. Someone coughed, and when Jake looked round, he caught a glance from Swift to Poacher, saw Swift give a shake of her head. A tiny shake, but it was there. Martha, sitting above them, was making patterns in the dust. She wasn’t looking at anybody, but her face looked grim, the kind of grim Jake’s mum used to look when she was going to tell him off. The kind of grim she’d looked after he’d grabbed Cass’s wellies. When Jake looked back down towards Ollie, he was looking as worried as Jake felt. Jake wondered if he’d had the same thought: what if Poacher and Swift just saw them as a problem now? What if …
–So in John Lewis … Swift spoke into the silence. –When the seccas came … which of you was on lookout?
Jake’s stomach lurched. He’d hoped no one would ask.
–Which of you? Swift said again.
–Me, Jake said quietly.
Swift looked at him, and it was hard to meet her eyes. –What happened, Jake? The rest of us asleep in the beds, and the whole place quiet as a tomb. How come you didn’t spot them earlier? Warn us earlier?
–They came up from behind— Ollie began, but Poacher put his hand up.
–We wanna hear it from Jake.
Jake stared down between his knees and his eyes swam out of focus. He wished he wasn’t here. He wished his mum and dad weren’t dead, and he wasn’t in this gang, and he was an ordinary boy whose mum told him stories, and who went to school and had a gang of friends to play on the rec with. He wished he was a boy who went home when it got dark, and for whom the scariest thing in his life so far was being frightened of the dark. It was warm down in the dead station, but he felt cold to his bones. He shivered.
–Tell us the rest, Jake. Then we kin decide what we do, Poacher said.
Jake looked up and tried to focus. Their faces were fuzzy, but he knew that everyone was waiting for his answer. It felt like there was a stone in his throat, and he swallowed, but it didn’t go.
–When the seccas came, I was thinking about food, he said finally.
–Food? Martha said. –But you can’t have been hungry, not after the Food Hall.
–It was about stuff I miss.
–Thinking doesn’t explain it, Swift said.
The heat rose to Jake’s cheeks, and he stumbled with his words. –Thinking and … and talking. To Ollie. So I didn’t hear them, didn’t see them till it was too late.
Another pause, and then Swift again. –So because you were talking, you nearly got us all caught. And you got Tasered, and now we’re stuck down here, under thousands and thousands of tons of London, with freaking scary gangs down every tunnel, and we can’t get out …
She hadn’t raised her voice, but he wanted to put his hands over his ears to stop any more of her words getting in.
–But they’re only looking for you, Swift said. –Not for us.
Shock, then silence. Swift’s words cut into Jake like swords. She was right. He looked at Ollie, but Ollie was staring at the wall adverts, though Jake didn’t reckon he was seeing much. Ollie looked like Jake felt: his skin was greeny white and his eyes wide open, like he’d just seen the scariest beast and it was sat there amongst them, ready to open its jaws and destroy him.
Jake remembered Ollie talking about his dad. Best cook in the world, he’d said. All his love, all his longing had been there for Jake to see. All his hope. And now, any minute, the gang might destroy it.
–Jake? Martha’s voice was gentle. –What were you missing?
Martha’s voice was gentle. Maybe she’d understand, Jake thought.
But before he could speak, Swift banged her hand against the side of the escalator.
–Come on, dog boy! What food? What were you missing so much? You nearly got us all caught. You’ve driven us down here. You’ve got the seccas on our backs. You’ve made it a hundred, a thousand times harder for us to get north. To get to Scotland … She glanced at Cass, snuggled in beside her, then went on. –Do you know what a Taser would have done to Cass?
Jake felt his face flush with shame. It would have killed her. Jarred her small body so hard with its violence, her heart would have given out, and then Swift’s heart would have given out too. All his bravery since then was like dust when he thought of the danger he’d put Cass in.
Swift was on her feet, her face a mask of contempt. –In fact, don’t bother telling us, dog boy. I’ve had it. If Tunnel Sixty-four, and Bond Street Tube, is the only way out, then I say we leave the two of you here and head there now. You and Ollie: you’re gonna have to take your chances, and good luck to you.
Somebody gasped – Jake didn’t see who – and the gang was on its feet, and everybody saying different things. Swift saying to come on, they should get their stuff, leave now, and Davie drumming with his fingers like no tomorrow and calling out – Go! Go! Go! And Martha saying no, and Poacher calling –Sit down. Sit down.
Jake stayed sitting, one hand on Jet’s back, and he could feel Jet shaking; Ollie had his head in his hands. Chasing through Jake’s mind was a single sentence: I’ve killed the gang. And he wished that the ground would open up and swallow him.
Then Swift shrugged, and zipped up her parka. Her face was all lines: mouth tight, eyes narrowed, cheekbones sharp. But as she bent to pick up Cass, Cass slipped beneath her arms and now the little girl was climbing down the steps, one small hand up to the rail to steady herself. Two steps, then a third. Swift stared at her little sister, mouth open. Then stopping on the step above Jake’s, Cass hunkered down and put her arms out round Jet’s neck and leaned into him.
Jake kept his eyes on his dog, and he waited for Swift to be there, loosening her sister’s hold, putting her arms around her, lifting her away.
But Swift stayed where she was. Sat down again, dropped her head into her hands. Everybody fell quiet. Even Davie stilled his fingers. When at last Swift looked up, Jake noticed the black rings below her eyes; noticed the exhaustion written across her face.
–All right, we stay, she said, –and whatever comes next, we face it together. All Outwalkers. One gang.
When everyone was quiet, Martha asked her question again. –Jake? What were you missing so much?
And he would’ve hugged her right then, except it would be embarrassing. But because he knew she would understand, he answered her.
–Raisins, he said.
Silence.
–Raisins? Poacher said.
Jake nodded. There was more silence.
He looked at his knees and waited. Someone made a strange noise, a kind of snorting noise, and he looked up. It was Swift. She was choking; no, she was laughing, and the others were joining in, Ollie too. All of them sitting there and laughing so hard, they were crying, and finally he was laughing too.
–So we nearly lost our cook – an’ we nearly lost our climber … Poacher spoke between his gasps … –on account of raisins. On account of some dried fruit.
–Not a good raisin fer anything, Ollie said, and it was so daft that everybody laughed, even Cass, chuckling silently into Jet’s fur. When Jake caught Martha’s eye, she winked at him, like she wasn’t only laughing at him. Like she understood him too.
Finally they quietened, and Martha passed the water bottle round. Swift turned to Ollie and Jake.
–There’s stuff you need to know down here, about the other people.
–We thought we saw others, Ollie said. –And heard them. In the shadows.
–They’re not Outwalkers, far as we know. They’re illegals. Loads of gangs. Call themselves lowlifers. Grown-ups, mostly. And they aren’t trying to get anywhere. This is it, for them.
–They live down here? Jake said.
–There’s kids born down here, Poacher said. Long as you stay down deep enough, you can’t be got, cos hubbing doesn’t work down here. They say there’s one who’s been down since the Faith Bombings. Got skin white as milk, hair white as snow. They’s all kinds o’ weird, Davie’s seen ’em. He’s bin our scout so far …
–I only know about the ones near us, Dave said. –Catchpitters, Friners, Line Kings, Eelers. Catchpitters got the best gear cos they make it out of stuff they scavenge from the catch pits. Rubbish, mostly, that people drop when they’re waiting for Tube trains. Food wrappings, bits of plastic, hats, gloves, jewellery, whatever they can find. Some o’ them is party people from above, but most is down here fer good.
–Catch pits? Ollie said.
–Trenches between the Tube rails, Davie said. –To catch the leapers.
–Leapers? Jake’s head felt fuzzy with all this new stuff.
–You know. People who … jump. You know! Davie said impatiently. –To kill themselves? But it doesn’t always work. An’ mostly the catch pits catch the stuff people drop in there, sometimes by mistake, sometimes on purpose. Different gangs control different territory. So round here is controlled by the Circus, he continued. –But up near Kings Cross Tube, where we gotta get to next, it’s a different gang, calls ’emselves the Line Kings. Then there’s the Friners going east. They’re on the run from interning. Europeans, mostly. They got a name for eating bugs. Cooking ’em up in oil. Lots of cockroaches and yellow scorpions from the tunnels on the Central Line.
–Enough detail, Davie, Martha said. –Ollie’s going to be sick.
And it was true, Ollie had gone very pale, and he was shaking his head.
–You don’t look so brilliant, either, Martha said to Jake, sitting down beside him, putting her hand on his forehead.
Her hand made him jump.
–You all right? she said, and he nodded, but there was this lump in his throat because the last time anyone did that, it was his mum. Then Martha took her hand away and rummaged in her rucksack, and though it made his throat ache and his eyes ache, he wished she would put it back.
She brought out a small plastic bag with some dead leaves inside.
–You’ve still got a temperature, she said. –Chew one of these. Stop you feeling so hungry too.
Jake sniffed. –Mint?
She nodded.
He leaned back against the escalator side and chewed. The mint was comforting.
–He needs to lie down, Martha said, –else he’ll be ill again. And you, she said to Swift. –If you don’t sleep now, you won’t be able to look after Cass.
–Prob’ly ain’t gonna be our easiest day tomorrow, Poacher said. –An’ we should all sleep if we can.