The Eternal War by Alex Scarrow

Author:Alex Scarrow
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure, General
ISBN: 9780141968315
Publisher: Puffin
Published: 2011-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 46

2001, Dead City

Sal grunted in pain as the creature finally dumped her unceremoniously on the ground. She looked around at the dark place and saw nothing but a few faint glints of daylight. But she could hear plenty: grunts and groans, the gasp of dozens breathing heavily, the rancid odour of stale sweat.

A match suddenly flared in the darkness and she saw she was in the coal cellar of some building along with the entire pack of these strange creatures. The match lit the end of a thick candle, already well used, sheathed in drips and rivulets of hardened wax. In the steady glow she watched the creatures. Some of them settled themselves on beds of scrap cloth and threadbare mattresses, and she realized that this must be their … lair … for want of a better word. Some of the creatures had no bed or nest to settle on. She noticed that the small childlike creature seemed to be organizing something, distributing scraps of cloth for those without something on which to rest. She heard hushed mutterings and grunts as it pointed and gestured to make itself understood to half a dozen of the salamander-like creatures. They seemed uncertain of their surroundings, and frightened.

They’re new to this group. She supposed this pack must have picked them up on a foray out of –

Her blood ran cold.

The Dead City.

That’s what this place was, wasn’t it? She’d caught glimpses, turning her head to one side, away from the creature’s sweat-soaked shoulder, caught fleeting glimpses of the outskirts of a deserted town, weeds chest high, saplings growing in the middle of cracked tarmac roads, long ago broken into a crazy paving by Mother Nature. The sun coming up, casting shadows from tall brick buildings lined with windows fogged by grime and algae, nubs of moss emerging from cracked wooden window frames.

She’d caught sight of old shopfronts and signs, faded and flaking: MCKENZIE’S HARDWARE STORE, RUSSELL AND BARTON’S CANDY AND CONFECTIONERY, MA JACKSON’S FRIED CHICKEN. Signs that swung lifelessly above smashed windows and hollow shells beyond, long ago picked clean of anything useful or edible.

The Dead City. Hadn’t that Chinese man warned them not to stray any closer?

‘Miss Vikram.’ She turned her head at the sound of the whispered voice, and saw, to her relief, Lincoln lying on the pile of coals beside her.

‘Jahulla!’ she hissed, surprised at how pleased she was to see him. ‘Are you OK?’

His wiry hair was clotted with dried blood. ‘One of those infernal big ones walloped me hard in that farmhouse. I must have been knocked senseless for a while.’

‘I think we’re in that Dead City that the Chinese man said we shouldn’t go near.’

Lincoln nodded. ‘I believe we are.’

‘I’m frightened,’ she said.

‘Me too.’ Lincoln swallowed. ‘Do you have an idea what these creatures are?’

She shook her head. If she believed in the things her parents had once believed in – in Shivu, in Brahma and his four heads and Vishnu with all his arms –

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