SECTION IV

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The Locos loved to fight. It was quite possibly their raison d'être, and if any of them were sorry that their city had been invaded by a powerful and militaristic enemy, it was hard to see it. Having kept quiet, licking their wounds and rebuilding their numbers during the era of the Chosen, they had clearly returned in style, and with their once ostracised queen now returned to their head they were truly rejuvenated. They swaggered about their decrepit, desolate HQ with all the confidence and self assurance of the victors in battle that they had always been in the past, drilling endlessly with their captured weapons, and performing with all the chaotic apposite of military discipline that could not help but be their style. Ebony was ecstatic, acting as though the war were already won, even though it had barely started, whilst the Guardian watched it all with undisguised delight. These people, even though they were one of the tribes he had once tried to destroy, were the followers of Zoot; the people who had actually marched alongside him, and listened to his manic attempts at speech making; something he himself could only dream about. To be amongst them seemed to him to be the perfect next step in whatever grand plan his twisted mind was lately envisaging. Bray didn't like to dwell on thoughts of that.

For Bray himself, the situation was rather different. He had no desire to be amongst the Locos, and no particular desire to be welcome amongst them. Their ways had never been his, and even now, when they shared a common goal, he couldn't help but be wary of them. He wanted to go back to the Mall, to rejoin Lex and the others, but that had been strictly forbidden. Ebony's doing, he suspected. It made a horrible kind of sense, for security had been tightened greatly since the night that the Mall Rats had been caught out and split up. Tribe Fury had divided the city up into new sectors, and thanks to the heavy saturation of border guards, travel between those sectors was almost impossible without the underground network of tunnels. The Mall, needless to say, was in another sector, and Ebony showed no interest in opening up more of the old tunnels in order to get there. There were other priorities, she said - and he could see her point. The Mall Rats hardly seemed indispensable just now, even if the extra manpower might have been useful. The Rats had made their plans and argued about how best to start a resistance - but all the time their old enemies had been getting that resistance underway, and winning real victories. It rankled to be outclassed by what amounted to a gang of mindless thugs, but at least for now they were on the right side. He watched them as they rehearsed for their coming war, throwing tennis balls as practice grenades, and shooting each other with old paint-balling guns found in some derelict clubhouse. Compared to the Mall Rats, with their talking and planning and inevitable squabbling; their hand to hand combat characterised by Lex's street brawling and Tai-San's Martial Arts; not to mention their habitual hiding in their fortified home; it seemed clear who was most likely to wrest control of the city away from Tribe Fury. The Mall Rats, after all, had never been a match for the Locos in the past.

For himself he had his own kind of drill - hand to hand combat, Mall Rat style. He wasn't the kind to use guns, and accepted that as a part of who he was, rather than the dangerous failing that the Locos seemed to feel it to be. He found himself a length of wood suitable as a staff, and practised alone - or with Ebony when she wasn't off being a leader of men. By night there were sorties into the realm of the enemy, stealing food and supplies, attempting various forms of sabotage, clashing with little bands of Furies. Bray went along, cutting electrical wires, filling petrol tanks with earth, pinning up posters intended to stir up the populace and make them turn on the invaders. They felt like minor tasks for the most part, but it was better than hiding in the Mall doing nothing of use to anybody. Every night that they went out he hoped to see something, or hear something, that would tell him of the fortunes of his friends; that might indicate that the Rats were through hiding, and were joining in the fight. Every time he was left disappointed. It was as if the Mall Rats had given up completely.

In the end it was Ebony who made him stop thinking his frustrated thoughts. The Mall Rats, she told him, would do something when they chose to do it; and no amount of worrying over it on his part would make things move any faster. He was angry with her then; what he wanted to know more than anything was whether or not they were still alive, rather than when they were going to make some kind of stand. Racha didn't seem to have made good on his promise to attack the Independents though, so either he had been bluffing, which seemed unlikely, or somebody had survived to make the weekly rendezvous with him. Bray was rather glad that he wasn't there to be making those meetings himself, but he hated not knowing anything about them, or about the fortunes of the Mall Rats themselves.

"You worry too much," Ebony told him, when they were sitting alone on watch one night. He glared.

"Somebody's got to worry. You don't care what happens to them."

"Not true. I'm quite fond of Pride, and Jack's a useful guy. I don't really want anything to happen to Trudy either, or to the baby. For reasons that I should have thought were obvious."

"Given the amount of time you've been spending with the Guardian recently, I don't think I want to know what your reasons are." Bray played absently with the rifle he was supposed to carry when on guard duty, but with which he did not feel remotely comfortable. "You'll be trying to worship poor Brady before long."

"I don't believe any of that crap, and you know it." She poured a mug of the thick concoction that served for coffee, and which hung for most of the day and night in a jug suspended over a low fire. "The Guardian is a means to an end. He brought us extra troops, extra weapons and extra supplies. I wasn't going to turn them down just because he's a mad bastard who I'd rather see dead. Besides, he has his uses. Have you heard him make speeches? The boys love it."

"They don't need his rabble-rousing. They'd do whatever you tell them."

"Maybe." She shrugged. "And maybe not. Spike turned a lot of them against me, in the days before the antidote, and the peace that it brought us. A lot of them had already turned against me, when the return of the Virus brought such a panic, remember? You were there then. You helped me to escape from a mob of my own men."

"Yes, I know. But that's all water under the bridge now. They don't even hate me anymore. When I realised that we'd been rescued by Locos that night, I thought they'd shoot me straight away, but some of them are even friendly."

"That's because they know who you are now." She smiled, sipping from her own mug of disturbingly strong coffee. "All that time Zoot worried about them finding out, because he was convinced that they'd hate him if they knew you were brothers. Now they seem to quite like the idea. You're a celebrity around here you know."

"Only because time has passed, and because Martin is dead now. They'd have hated the idea back in the old days. He was right to keep it a secret." He stared at his coffee, not bothering to drink it. "When we go out at nights on sabotage jobs, they look to me like I'm a leader. A leader of the Locos. Wouldn't Zoot love that!"

"Of course he would. It's not what he wanted at the time, because he wanted to be better than you at something. Bigger than you. But I should think he likes it well enough now. Who else would he rather pass the banner to? Brady's too young."

"Brady will never be a Loco." He was fierce for a second, and she laughed at him.

"You look like Zoot when you do that. The two of you always did know how to frown well."

"I do not look like Zoot." His expression softened a little, and he sighed. "I've been thinking about him again. I suppose it's having the Guardian around. You know he's started praying to him again? Every morning I hear him. Praying to my kid brother."

"Yes, I know. It's weird." She shrugged. "But you've got to be practical about these things, Bray. Maybe it could work to our advantage? The Locos would do anything for Zoot as a man. If they think of him as a god they really would follow him anywhere."

"You're joking."

"Yes. Seriously though, he does have his uses. He gets them fired up, and I can use that."

"He's not here to inspire them," Bray pointed out. She gave him a sparkling smile.

"No, maybe not. But his brother is."

"You've got to be kidding."

"No. Bray, we can galvanise this band into a unit that's willing to do anything, at any time, to defeat Tribe Fury. They'll do it because they're Locos, and they'll do it because I tell them to - but if they think it's what Zoot wants, they'll do it all the quicker. The Guardian has been trying to recruit them, and he hasn't really been succeeding. They follow me, not some madman they don't trust. But they have been listening to him. I've heard them, talking about what it means to have the brother of Zoot here. They already seem to think that you're some kind of figurehead. You think they'd follow just anybody on those sabotage missions? Crawling through those tunnels, some of them so small you can't stand up in them; never knowing who might be at the other end; never knowing when some guard might see you at work, and take the back of your head off with a quick bullet? They follow you because you're Zoot's brother, because you're Zoot's representative. And I think it's about time that we made that official. We need to make a proper strike against the enemy. One big assault. To do that I want to know that you're really with me."

"I'm not a Loco, Ebony. I never will be."

"Why? Because you don't believe in what we do? Nobody's asking you to. You're here to help us make a stand, not to help us run riot through the city like we used to do in the old days. Nobody's going to be enslaving any Strays, or trying to wipe out other tribes. Except Tribe Fury maybe. What else is it that you don't approve of? Our clothes?"

"It's not like that."

"No? You've never been one for big gangs, I understand that. You don't like our philosophy - fine. But we're the only people right now in this whole city who are doing something, Your friends back at the Mall haven't stuck their heads above ground in a month. Wait for them and you might be waiting for ever. The Locos are--"

"Making a difference, which I appreciate. But I'm helping you to do that anyway. I don't need to take up some kind of official position as a leader."

"Maybe you do. They respect you, and they follow you. They've fought with you, blown up buildings for you, been in car chases with you. But to them that's just games. What if something really serious happens? What if we're attacked? They'll follow me into battle, but when it comes to the crunch they'll turn to their own, not to you. They might even wind up following the Guardian, and I do not want that. But if you take up a position as joint leader of the Locos, they'll follow you to the ends of the Earth and back. You don't have to give me an answer right now. Just think about it, okay?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "Ebony, I was a Loco once. You know that. But it's something I put behind me a long time ago. A few weeks, at the beginning of all of this. A few weeks of trying to keep Martin alive when the rest of the world was falling apart. It didn't last. It wasn't me."

"No, it wasn't. Then. But that was different, Bray. You must be able to see that. Back then we were fighting for survival, and yes, we were trying to enslave the city. I'm not denying that. But now we're not trying to take over. Not yet anyway. I'll admit that that might come next, but for now... now all we're trying to do is to drive the Furies out - and that is what you want. I know that you want to see the others again, and I know you want to help them, and look after Trudy, and find Amber. But until the streets are safe again there's not much point in trying to do any of that, is there. Well is there?"

"No. I suppose not." He looked past her, to where a group of Locos were drilling with empty rifles. They looked like a nightmare brought to life - his enemies of old, now armed with terrifying weaponry. Compared to Tribe Fury, though, they were not really very terrifying at all. Ebony was right, and his best hope for making a difference did seem to lie with the Locos. The Mall might as well be a million miles away, and the city limits, beyond which he had been forced to leave Amber, seemed further away still. On the whole he was left with little choice.

"You agree?" Ebony was delighted, and he wasn't surprised. This was the sort of thing she had dreamt of since the early days. He felt as though he were finally caving in to old pressures forever resisted, and part of him was angry with himself. He wasn't a Loco; there were times when he didn't even feel like a Mall Rat. At heart he would probably always be a Stray. And yet here he was joining his enemies, the people he had fought a one man war against in the days before Trudy's pregnancy; in the days before he had met Amber; in the days before he had ever set foot inside the Mall. Long ago days, that might as well be decades past instead of months. But they weren't just long ago days - they were long gone days. Now was the time for something else. He reached out his hand.

"You won't be sorry." Ebony was fighting back the sort of excitement that made him angrier still. "Zoot would be so--" She broke off. "We're glad to have you on board."

"Only until Tribe Fury are gone." He felt her hand, firm and hot in his, and thought about how much he had hated her, so very recently. All that she had done to keep him and Amber apart. All that she had been. There was still a spark, though, when their hands touched. He hoped that she hadn't noticed it as well.

"Only until Tribe Fury are gone." She smiled at him. "Then after that it's all out war, right? The city goes to the strongest tribe. Except, I don't think there's really any doubt who that is."

"We'll see." He pulled his hand away. "The way things are going, we'll never see the Furies thrown out."

"Optimism, Bray. Optimism."

"Yeah." Optimism. With barely thirty people, and an entire army to defeat. It wasn't easy to think positive. Ebony smiled at him.

"Death or glory, remember? Come on, you're a Loco now. Smash them or be smashed. We make one definitive strike, to show the city that we're here, and who knows where it'll lead us?" She punched him on the arm. "Think big. It'll cheer you up, even if it is all a pipe dream."

"Maybe." He offered her the smallest of smiles. "But I can't help thinking this is going to come to nothing, and we're all going to die horribly."

"Probably. But on the other hand, together, who knows what we might do? We're going to win our city back, Bray. The two of us. In the end."

"Yeah." He wished that he could be more positive; that he didn't feel as though he was heading for very dangerous ground. "The two of us. Sure." But underneath the unease, he couldn't deny that his heart was now beating a little stronger.

They had set up home in what must once have been a storm drain, though it was blocked off not far inside. It was dry there, at least for now. When the weather changed, perhaps, and the sea became wilder, then it would no longer be safe - but for now KC was confident that all would be well. They used sacking for bedding, buoyed up with sticks and leaves, and found it all as comfortable as their beds in the Mall had ever been. It was simply high spirits perhaps, for life was hard outside. KC didn't care - he had lived rough even before civilisation had fallen, and it all seemed more fun now. Away from the Mall Chloe was an entirely different companion. She was still worried about Patsy and Salene, but now at least she had other things to occupy her mind. She had to forage for food, instead of being kept inside all the time by well meaning elders. She had to hide from dangers, instead of being hidden from them. Perversely it had made her less afraid.

They lived on fish and seaweed for the most part. KC was good at catching fish, and the seaweed was always easy to find. It hadn't been safe to eat, once, coming from so close to the shore - but the sewage pipes no longer pumped out their filth, and the factories had ceased to dump chemicals into the water, and nature had recovered herself quickly. Everything tasted good now, and although they could not always cook the food, for fear of their fire being seen, it didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter, except for their missing friends. Chloe made plans for escaping the city, and even though KC didn't think that they would ever really amount to much, he helped her with them, and added his own thoughts to the pile. It couldn't hurt. For himself he had ideas of helping the resistance, for rumours reached them even in their solitary existence. Things were stirring. The hotel and all the land around it was cordoned off, but within that broad sweep of the city, struggles still went on. Fires threw flame into the sky at unexpected moments; explosions rattled the buildings. Sabotage, so the local rumours went. It seemed incredible that such things could continue - that anybody would be able to withstand the might of Tribe Fury for this long; but apparently the resistance could. There was talk that it was the Locos, returned from the dead; there were tales of Ebony, leading her hectic, insane band of warriors once again. That news had made KC's blood run cold at first; until he had realised that it was probably for the best. The Mall Rats were still struggling. They needed support before they could truly make a stand. For now it was up to somebody else to get things underway - and who better than the Locos? They were evil, yes - but they were strong and determined, and many of them had never cared if they lived or died. And if appearances were true, and they really were doomed to failure, then such things would stand them in good stead. Perhaps the rest of the city would be stirred up then. Led on to victory by the Locos and their mad struggle for glory. Whatever happened, it was good to know that somebody at least was trying.

For weeks the pair stayed where they were, sleeping on their sacks and their sticks, eating their fish and their seaweed, and making great plans for finding their vanished friends; until, one day, they realised that the time had come to leave. The boats that swept the deeper water, making sure that nobody could leave or enter the city by sea were coming closer; the daily patrols along the beach were becoming more thorough, more frequent, more dangerous. It was time to find somewhere else to live. Chloe suggested going back to the Mall, though neither one of them really considered it. They had no wish to be babied anymore. Instead, collecting up a few stores, they slipped away in the dead of night, and headed in the opposite direction to their old home. KC wanted to find a battle to fight, and Chloe wanted very much to go with him. She didn't know if she was cut out to join the resistance, but she did know that she had to do something. It was her city; and she was damn well going to fight for it, one way or another.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't stay on the beach," KC muttered to her, as they hurried away into the streets. She smiled at him.

"I'm not. It was nice while it lasted, but it could never have been permanent. It's not fair to be happy when there's so much going on."

"I suppose. I had thought... well I had thought that things would move more quickly than they have. Lex made all those speeches in the Mall. I thought the fighting would really be underway by now. But it's not. They're not doing anything, and the only fighting that's going on is around the hotel. Crazy stuff. Stuff everybody says has no chance of succeeding."

"Which is why you want to join it I suppose?"

"Not me, Chlo. I only fight battles I know I have some hope of winning." He smiled at her. "But there's got to be something we can do, right?"

"Somewhere. I guess. At the very least we can get a bit closer to the heart of things, and see what's going on."

"Scared?"

"No!" It was an outright lie and he could see it in her eyes, but he didn't say anything. He was scared too. It was at moments such as this that he thought about how young he was. Could cities really be freed by small boys who didn't know what they were doing? But the doubt didn't last long. Like almost any other small boy, KC had boundless confidence in himself. He was indestructible. War could be so great a game. Grinning crookedly he offered Chloe his hand, and she took it after a moment's hesitation. When he did things like that she still expected tricks, he knew. Still expected him to whip his hand away at the last minute, perhaps. Once upon a time he had done that kind of thing all the time.

"So where are we going?" she asked him. He shrugged.

"There's an old warehouse, just outside the official cordon. We'll take stock there."

"And try not to get shot."

"Well, yeah." He smiled again, all restless excitement and optimism. "Still missing the Mall?"

"I'll always miss the Mall. But only how it used to be. With Patsy there, and Salene, and Amber and Ryan. When we were all in there arguing about food, and about the Locos and Tribe Circus, and even when Lex was trying to have Bray thrown out. It's not home there anymore. Now it's all about glowering and muttering and wishing for a way out." She shook her head sadly. "Maybe it'll be home again one day."

"I'd like that." He pointed. "It's that way, you know. Not far. If you want to reconsider?"

"I don't." She took the lead, pulling him onwards. "We have other things to do, right?"

"Right." Heart light, he quickened his step. He had no idea what they were getting into, but he was looking forward to it anyway. Things were moving at last; and one way or another, it would all be different now.

The Mall Rats had perhaps never been so afraid as they were in the weeks following their separation from Ebony and Bray. Lex wasn't afraid, or claimed not to be, but Trudy was at her wits end, and Jack seemed a bundle of nerves. They were all worried about Chloe and KC, and not knowing if Bray was still alive was hard on them all, even if Lex liked to pretend that he didn't care. Bray had been his enemy for a long time, although the fight against the Chosen had helped to bring them together, and it was easy to appear unconcerned for the other boy's welfare. In truth he missed him; missed the sparring, missed the arguments, missed the quiet confidence. He missed the food, too. Without Bray they had no way of replenishing their stocks, for Lex had never been good at gathering food. Even Pride was drawing a blank, although perhaps that was not such a surprise. What he was good at out in the country was not necessarily something that he could also achieve in the city, and on his few voyages outside the Mall he always came back empty handed - until Racha had taken to supplying them.

They had gone to him every week, just as he had demanded, and he told them about the Locos and their war. Not that they needed telling, for at night the streets screamed with over-taxed car engines and wretched brakes. They heard gunfire and the sound of marching soldiers on patrol, and sat together in one of the bedrooms, thinking about Chloe and KC. Brady cried all night, unable to get to sleep, and Pride paced like a caged animal, swearing at the darkened windows and everything beyond them. It was the reason for their fear, for the increased difficulty in finding their own stores. The reason why it was barely safe to leave the Mall. Racha wouldn't let them off their weekly meetings though, any more than he would help them in finding out whether Bray and the others had survived the tussle leading to their separation. He told tales of the skirmishes between the growing forces of Tribe Fury, and the tiny band of Locos ranged against them. To him it was all fine sport of course; the sort of thing that he had hoped for. He had no faith in its lasting, however, and he often expounded at length about the limited shelf life of a Loco resistance. He was convinced that they would all be dead within weeks, and it was clear that he still wanted the Mall Rats to provide him with the kind of long term resistance that really would be entertaining. Hence the food, presumably. It was barely enough for them, and wouldn't have been had KC and Chloe still been in the Mall, but it kept them alive. It kept them dependent on the enemy, too, which made Lex simmer. It wasn't long before he was refusing to have anything to do with the smug Fury, and it was up to Pride to keep their humiliating rendezvous.

And so they passed the time, with Lex growing ever more angry and dissatisfied, snapping even at Tai-San in his rage. Jack grew increasingly obsessed with security, designing and building more and more alarms and surveillance systems, and turning the Mall into more of a bunker every day. Pride was changing too, becoming more aloof and speaking to no one, save for when he and Lex clashed head on. Of all of them only Luke was happy.

He had been something of a revelation. Ever since the apparent death of the Guardian he had changed into a very different person to the one they had known before. His nervousness and awkwardness were gone, and his initial lovelorn response to the news of Ellie's departure hadn't lasted very long. Instead he became a better team player than any of them, helping to search for KC and Chloe in the early days, before they streets became too dangerous; helping Jack with his projects once their old animosity had had a chance to fade; even helping Trudy with Brady. He proved to be a remarkable cook, making more from their meagre supplies than any of the rest of them might have managed, and even Lex had to admit that he was handy to have around. The only thing that seemed to dampen Luke's spirits was not knowing what the Chosen were up to, but he consoled himself with the thought that, if they had sense, they would be staying in their underground home; for as the Locos stepped up their insanely suicidal operations, so Tribe Fury stepped up their own security. The streets were rarely empty of patrolling guards now.

And it went on. Lex sank ever deeper into a pit of depression and self-hatred. Tai-San worried over how she would ever win him back. Trudy sang sad songs to the baby she had always hoped Bray would help her to raise; and which now she seemed doomed to raise alone. Jack rarely ventured out of his den, and Pride alone went outside. Down pre-agreed routes, at pre-agreed times. Everything mapped out by Racha, killing the Mall Rat pride a little more every time. Something had to snap, and they all knew it. They could only hope that, when it happened, it would not mean the end for them all.

The weeks had made Amber stronger, as she had hoped that they would; but inevitably they had also brought her due date closer. She felt large and unwieldy now, though Sasha laughed at her for it. So long as she could still run when she had to, and display a reasonable degree of manoeuvrability, he felt that there was nothing for her to worry about; but still she felt dissatisfied. It was harder to be comfortable when she was sleeping, and harder to sleep anyway. The baby was apparently as restless as she was, and woke her up at unwelcome moments with its wriggling. It was comforting, she supposed, to know that it was healthy, but she wished that it would pipe down. She was no longer entirely sure when it was due, since the days had run together and she had lost track of the true passage of time; but it was readily apparent that it was no longer a distant event. Another month perhaps? Or just weeks? On the one hand it sounded like plenty of time to find Bray, but when viewed in the context of the weeks she had already spent doing nothing, it didn't seem like so very long at all. Bray could be anywhere. He could be dead. She might not find out the truth either way until Tribe Fury were gone - and yet all that she had done to accomplish that future goal was to get plenty of rest, allow Sasha to supply her with food, and quiz the two waif-like, forlorn people who had somehow managed to escape from the city. They had told tales of a fledging resistance supposedly led by Ebony, but seemed never to have heard of the Mall Rats. Amber wasn't sure what to believe, but the noises that they heard each night leant credence at least to the tales of a resistance. Following the initial invasion things had become quiet; but now the was silence no longer a constant thing. Somebody was engaging the Furies in gun battles. Somebody was blowing things up. Somebody was setting off old police sirens, in screaming testimony to the stories of Ebony's leadership. Police sirens said Loco, in high-pitched noisy letters. It was hard to imagine anybody else using them. She was partly worried by the idea of a Locust revival, but the notion of a resistance, no matter how small or insane, gave her some hope. There were people in the city fighting back - and if the Locos could do it then so could she. So could her friends. If Ebony was alive... It meant nothing of course, given the girl's tremendous luck and cunning, but it was something to cling to. If she was alive, then the others could be too. They might even be helping her.

Sasha soon recognised the restlessness that had taken over Amber. He correctly interpreted some of it as being caused by the growing baby, and her wish for things to be settled before it arrived, but he failed to recognise the influence of that noisy, and who knew how effective, resistance. She wanted to be a part of it, doing her bit to save her city, and it was this, even more than the ever nearing birth, that led to her announcing one morning that they were going to enter the city. It was something that they had talked about almost every day since setting up camp near to the city limits, but this time it was obvious that she meant it. Sasha nodded his head slowly, and his thick red hair bounced with a cheer that he didn't share.

"Well we've got to go in there sometime I suppose." He knew that his lack of enthusiasm was showing in his voice, but it was hard to feel any differently. Theoretically, since at least two people had got out, it ought to be possible for at least two people to get in, but still it seemed like suicide. The patrols were not constant of course, and even Tribe Fury couldn't look in all directions at once, but to sneak into the city, find shelter, and stay out of the hands of the enemy whilst striving to reach the Mall all seemed like too much to hope to accomplish. There was no way of knowing if the Mall Rats were even still living in their Mall, since it might long ago have been over run. They might be delivering themselves into any kind of danger by going there, just in the hope that their friends were still in residence. It was, however, what Amber wanted - and therefore it was exactly what Sasha intended to help her to achieve. Nothing was too difficult, when Amber was involved. Nothing was too hard, too awkward, too dangerous.

They had talked about attacking a couple of Furies and stealing their uniforms. They had talked about disguising themselves and joining in with work crews; about choosing what seemed to be a less well guarded area and sneaking in - even just biting the bullet and running in. The latter was ridiculous, even without Amber's growing inability to run fast, but they still hadn't entirely discounted it. It was a plan just like any other, and Amber was getting desperate. Now that she was fit enough to make a move she wanted that move made.

Going on the scant information they had got from their two waylaid escapees, they disguised themselves as peddlers in the end. Loading themselves down with fish that Sasha had caught, and with a variety of wild vegetables, they headed purposefully towards the city with the intention of entering it openly. They didn't try to hide from anybody, or to sneak in unseen. They just walked. Perhaps it was this brazen attitude that left them unmolested, though brazen or not Sasha couldn't help a slight quiver in his step. Amber smiled at him.

"When do you think we're going to be challenged?"

"Sooner rather than later." He held up his load of fish. "I hope so, anyway. These things stink."

"Probably look wonderful to a hungry battalion of soldiers, though."

"Yeah. So wonderful that they'll take them and us, and we'll never see daylight again." He smiled at her, typically cheerful, and typically Sasha. "Are you okay?"

"I haven't exactly walked far yet, have I. I'm fine."

"Well don't overdo it." He nodded up ahead. "Welcoming committee?"

"Where?" She caught sight of three gun-toting Furies heading towards them from out of the wreckage of a nearby building, and swallowed hard. "Okay. Well it's now or never."

"Let's hope they like fish."

"And slightly dishevelled vegetables." They quickened their pace, going to meet the three teenagers with as much bravado as they could muster. Amber smiled brilliantly, and let Sasha launch into the kind of welcoming patter that would have put a professional salesman to shame.

"Gentlemen!" His smile was like sunshine. "Might we interest you in some fish?"

"Who are you?" The first of the three was a boy of about seventeen, with close-cropped, auburn hair and mirrored sunglasses. He was built like a professional soldier, with the sort of muscle tone that people in the old world had always aspired to, but if he took any pride in it, it didn't show in his hard face. Sasha was rather taken aback, but he didn't allow his smile to waver.

"My name is Sasha, sir. Sasha the traveller, the wanderer, the purveyor of goods and entertainment. I sing, I dance, I tell stories - and I sell goods. Groceries. And today, I'm also a fishmonger." He held out his stock, trying to position them so that the still wet scales caught the sunlight most artfully. "Finest catch. Only the finest catch for Tribe Fury."

"I don't know you." The auburn-headed soldier was frowning, creating deep lines in his young face. "Are you registered?"

"Registered?" Sasha recalled the two boys who had escaped from the city mentioning something about a registration scheme. It was one of the many things that made him dislike this new regime even more than he might otherwise have done. He smiled on. "No sir, not registered. Not yet, anyway. My partner and I are new to the city. We heard of the new rule here, and thought that it might be the perfect opportunity. We want to be a part of the new order, don't we Amber."

"Of course we do. Order in the city at last." It was surprisingly easy to lie; perhaps because of how much might rest upon it. "I used to live here, and the place has gone to the dogs since the adults died. But now? Now there's proper leadership. So we thought we'd come here, bring goods to trade, and see if there's some kind of... line of communication that we can open up."

"And you want to sell us fish?" The auburn-haired soldier looked away in disgust. "You're not supposed to be able to get into the city."

"I'm terribly sorry, we didn't realise. There was nobody to tell us that, you see. You're the first people we've seen." Sasha grinned winningly. "We haven't broken any laws, have we? That wouldn't be a great start to our relationship."

"Sod that." The auburn boy glanced over the fish, face still impassive but voice now showing some indication of his desire for the food. "You might have got in, but obviously security is good enough to have stopped you from getting in any further. Strikes me that there's nothing too much to worry about."

"Exactly!" Sasha's smile wavered only briefly. "Just as a matter of interest... what would have happened if we'd got in further before you saw us?"

"We'd have shot you." The other boy shouldered his rifle. "I'm Lieutenant Archer. I'm taking delivery of your fish."

"Well of course you are. And pleased we are to hand it over." Sasha beamed merrily, well aware that he wasn't going to be getting any kind of payment for it. "And the vegetables?"

"Keep them. Here." Archer dug into pocket and dug out a piece of paper. "This is a permit. It'll let you get deeper into the city, and sell that stuff to whoever will buy it. Just remember that you're required to give a percentage of whatever you get to head office. And if I don't see you leaving the city again before nightfall - by the same route you took in - you will be found eventually, and your takings will all be forfeit - along with your freedom. Or your life. Understood?"

"Oh absolutely." Sasha dredged up yet another cheerful smile. "Thankyou. We'll see you later then."

"Just make sure that you do." Archer moved aside, handing the fish to his associate. "Before nightfall."

"You got it." Taking Amber's hand, and putting as much spring into his step as there had been merriment in his smile, Sasha began to lead the way further into the city. Hungry soldiers were less concerned with security - that was something to remember for the future.

"That was too easy," commented Amber, once they were sure they were out of earshot. Sasha shook his head.

"I don't think so. For all we know they might let outsiders in now and then, if they have something that can be useful. They need the food here, don't they. Not easy to collect your own when you have a city to conquer, and rebels to fight - and slave labour isn't known for its efficiency. Besides, for all we know they really will make us sorry if we're not out of here by nightfall. They might find us in minutes."

"We should have tried this weeks ago. Everything might be different then."

"Yeah." He offered her a gentle smile. "You'd probably be dead, and your baby certainly would be. Now let's just get rid of these vegetables, and see what we can find out about what's going on."

"And hope that we never run into Archer again. When we don't leave the city tonight, he's going to be gunning for us."

"Yeah." Sasha's smile at last blinked itself out. "Now I remember why I hated this idea."

"You thought of it!"

"True." He shrugged, and relieved her of much of her burden of wares. "But if it gets me shot by a psychotic poser in stupid glasses, I'm denying all responsibility. Now hurry up. We've got a lot to do."

"Yes." She thought of her friends; of the Mall; of the city in general, and it suddenly hit her just how much there really was to do. It all seemed so much harder, now that she was here. Now that she could see the ruined buildings, the gunfire scars, the bloodstains sprayed against walls. "We have, haven't we."

All things considered, it had probably seemed like a good idea to somebody. The Guardian, in all likelihood, since he was the only one of them that Bray knew for sure was insane - but after weeks of making their little strikes, their little acts of sabotage, they had decided that the time was ripe for a proper, out and out assault. On the one hand it did seem like a feasible plan - on the other; the far more sensible other; it was anything but. A powerful strike; a real assault that would show their strength to the whole of the city; could win them support and respsect. On paper, or in words, it seemed level-headed enough. The problem was, thought Bray, as he crawled through an underground tunnel barely two feet high, they didn't really have any strength to show. He and Ebony were the leaders of a band of some thirty people, including the newly recruited Chosen, and although between them they boasted considerable experience in street fighting, compared to Tribe Fury they were little more than a ragged, mad little band of rebels. They had guns enough for all, but nobody really knew how much ammunition they had; and their supply of grenades was severely limited. They seemed to have no chance of making a difference - but the war had to be fought some time. The first blow had to be struck. Bray was as bored with the training and arguing and planning as were the Locos, and it was true that they might as well be risking it all as sitting in their headquarters and wishing for victories that they weren't even trying to win.

So why did it seem such a bad idea now? He reached the end of the tunnel, struggling up into the darkness of a night just falling, and gestured for his companions to follow him up. Ebony came second, smiling at him in her most insinuating and gleeful manner.

"It's a good night for it," she commented. "You should have taken a gun. We'll have a good chance of killing a lot of them, on a night like this."

"I'm not here for the killing." He turned away from her, staring about at the place in which they now standing. A garden, once, designed by somebody famous if he remembered correctly. A tribute to somebody, set in the middle of a collection of offices. Part of it had been visible from the windows of the school bus, but he had never actually stood here before. It was overgrown now of course, and some of the trees had been cut down for firewood, but something of the old splendour remained.

"You're here for the war, Bray. And war means killing." She slapped the stock of her rifle and shrugged casually, brightly. "And maiming."

"And chaos, I suppose."

"What's more chaotic than war? This is the battle Zoot brought us all together for. The ultimate clash between order and disorder. The perfect struggle for power."

"Why would Zoot bring you together for a suicide mission?"

"You're really not onboard with this, are you. This is our chance to strike a blow, remember? Our chance to show everybody that it's possible to stand up to Tribe Fury. The rest of the city isn't getting that message, even with the rumour-mill spreading the word around. We might think we're being heroic by putting sand in petrol tanks, and rigging the pins in grenades - but not enough people know that we're doing it. We have to--" She broke off. "What?"

"Nothing." He had been smiling at her, amused by her enthusiasm, but the smile died now in a rush of guilt. Was he letting his mind drift away from Amber? "I was just..."

"You haven't smiled at me like that since the school dance, a few days before we broke up." She shrugged. "But it's okay. I know it's not me that you're thinking about. And anyway, we're wasting time just talking about it. Aren't we."

"Yeah." Grateful to her for steering the subject onto other areas, he smiled awkwardly. "So, er... we do have a plan beyond staying alive, right?"

"Staying alive isn't really part of the plan. It's more of a... bonus." As ever she gave the impression of one who found all things hard to take seriously. "Haven't you heard, Bray? If you're frightened of dying you're not really alive."

"I'm not frightened of dying." He met her eyes, glad to feel that odd moment of fondness begin to fade. "I'm frightened you won't."

"Yeah, and I love you too." She turned around, looking over her people as the last of them emerged from the tunnel, before sliding effortlessly into the role of fabled orator. "We have a war to fight. We have to fight it well. We have to show Tribe Fury that there are people in this city who are ready to stand up to them. But the question is are we ready?" Her answer was a raucous howl of affirmation. "Can we show this city that we can fight back?" Another howl answered her, and Bray had to grant her a moment's grudging respect. She was a talented leader, and it was clear that her Locos would follow her wherever she chose to take them. Regardless of the likelihood - the certainty - that they would be overheard, she raised her voice still more. "We're going to teach them a lesson, right? The same lesson we taught to the Demon Dogs, and the Spinnakers, and Tribe Circus, and the Red Skulls. What was that lesson about?"

"Power and chaos!" The cry rang out like the bellow of some many-voiced beast. "Power and chaos!"

"The Locos will triumph!"

"Power and chaos!"

"The Locos will destroy!"

"Power and chaos!" It had become a mantra; the perfectly united voice of an eager mob. It was a cry straight from the recent past, and it chilled Bray's blood. This was the cry he had heard when he had been struggling to survive on the streets. It was the cry of all that had ever been wrong with the city since the death of the adults. The cry that went with wailing sirens and screaming children, and Martin with his mad eyes and frenzied hate. Right now though, it was the cry of hope - and of comradeship. A part of him wanted to join in.

"Then what do you say we stop standing here yelling about it, and get out there and do it?" Again the screams and bellows came in answer; again the Locos howled their battle readiness like wolves howling at the moon. Ebony was grinning hugely, and when she turned to Bray he could see that her eyes were wide and bright with the heat of her own power. "Looks like we're ready."

"Looks like it." He drew a deep breath, nervous now that the time has come. "People will have heard. They'll be on their way."

"I know." She shrugged lightly. "So let's go to meet them. Are you sure you're well enough armed?"

"As well as I'm ever going to be." He had no regrets that he wasn't carrying a gun. When it came down to it he didn't believe that he would ever be able to fire one, so he might just as well stick to the bastardised quarter-staff fighting he had learnt in his early days on the street. He had been honing his skills these last weeks, and he was confident enough of his abilities. In close quarters it would be as effective as a gun, he was sure.

"Then come on." She started marching, and he kept step with her automatically. The others were falling in behind, chains clanking, boots hitting hard on the tarmac as they reached the streets. Bray had to acknowledge the tremendous sense of power to be marching at the head of such a band; like running with a gang in the old days, he supposed. Maybe Martin's decision to be a part of all of this hadn't been so unfathomable after all. Ebony grinned across at him.

"Hell of a buzz, isn't it. I'd forgotten, you know. All of this... I've been a Mall Rat too bloody long."

"It is..." Words failed him, and he shrugged. "A buzz just about covers it I guess. They really will follow you anywhere."

"Us, Bray. They'll follow us anywhere. As far as they're concerned it's the two of us leading this little expedition, and if it comes to the time for yelling orders, you'll find that they'll obey yours just as well as they do mine. All excepting the Chosen maybe. I don't know who they'll follow."

"With the Guardian staying back nice and safe at HQ, your guess is as good as mine. He's probably already given them their orders." Bray resisted throwing a glance back to where the various blue-robed Chosen were marching amongst the Locos. "And those orders are probably something to do with stabbing me in the back when everybody else is too busy to notice."

"I wouldn't recommend taking your eyes off them for too long, certainly. My boys don't trust them either though, so don't worry too much. Deep down the Locos know that Zoot was no god." She smiled faintly. "Sometimes the Guardian says things and they seem to make a certain sense... but then I remember Martin falling over his own feet on the dance floor back at school, and I know that it's all cracked. Don't worry. We can handle him."

"I hope so." In all honesty, though, Bray was almost as unsure of the Locos as he was of the Chosen. The Locos were his oldest enemy, and had always hated him in the days when they hadn't known that he was Zoot's brother. Why should that knowledge make such a difference now? Ebony claimed that they had changed their opinion of him, and that his joining them had swung them around - but they had always been so hostile in the past. Still, today their main concern was Tribe Fury, and there would be little enough opportunity for personal feelings with that enemy to face. He wondered how long it would be before the Furies came to meet them. They had been making enough noise; they had passed several roof sentries already. He imagined the conversations that were being barked out over the airwaves, courtesy of those little personal radios, and wondered how big an army would be sent to quell this unexpected uprising. Tribe Fury wouldn't want to take any risks. They would want any rebellion to be destroyed quickly, as an example to all. It didn't seem a question of whether or not the Locos could win, so much as how quickly they would be defeated. Once again Bray remembered the objections he had raised from the beginning of this insane operation - and once again he remembered Ebony's opposing arguments. The city needed a gesture, and it didn't matter how successful it was. It was strike now, whatever the risks - or never strike at all. Maybe somebody would take up the momentum afterwards, and maybe they wouldn't. The challenge was in finding out. He couldn't help thinking that it was a very flawed theory, but it won him around when he replayed it in his head just as it had when he had first heard it bellowed out to their irregular army. Death or glory, just as Ebony had said. Not his usually way, certainly - but that was before everything had changed. The rules were different with Tribe Fury. They had to be. So he swallowed his doubts, tightened his hold on his staff, and marched on with Ebony into the old High Street. It was no surprise to see that the enemy were waiting for them.

It was the sound of fighting that awoke Amber, though gunfire was no longer a strange sound to her. She lay silently on her back, staring up at a ceiling barely visible to her, and listened to the noise. Even through the thick walls and the boarded up windows, the sound still came clearly to her ears. Guns blazing, the heavy thuds of fighting with other kinds of weaponry. Voices screamed and yelled.

"You awake?" Sasha sounded tired, and she recognised the unhappiness in his voice. He hated to hear such things, especially when they were happening so close by. She reached out for him, taking his hand, and squeezed it gently. His close presence was as comforting to her as hers was to him.

"I'm awake." She smiled wryly. "It'd be rather hard to stay asleep."

"What do you suppose is going on down there?" He rolled over onto his side, staring at her earnestly. "It doesn't sound like the usual quick clash."

"I don't think it is."

He sat up then. "Do you think somebody is fighting back? A rebellion?"

"Why? Do you want in on it?" She sat up as well, stretching her stiff legs. She had become used to the comfortable bed that they had had at their camp outside the city, and the hard, bare boards of this abandoned house were extremely unpleasant in comparison. Sasha smiled ruefully.

"I don't think I'd be much good in a fight. Especially not one with guns. But this is what we came here for, isn't it?"

"I don't know. We came here hoping that we might be able to help free the city. Either this is an organised fight that's the start of all of that... or it's very likely suicide."

"But either way we should take a look I suppose." he didn't sound enthusiastic, and she sympathised. The last thing that she wanted was to go out there and watch people die.

"Yes. Yes, we should." She stood up, though she didn't make any move towards the door. "It's getting closer, anyway. We should take a look. If by some amazing stroke of luck this is the start of a proper fight, we have to know. There might be something that we can do to help. Tip the scales."

"The two of us? Without any weapons?" He smiled his familiar, warm grin. "I could play my flute. Soothe the savage beast and all that."

"Somehow I don't think so." She sighed, going over to the window, and peering out between the slats that covered it. It was too dark to see anything save flashes of gunfire and a dark, struggling mass of people. From the look of things there were guns on both sides, which had to be encouraging. Could it be that she had chanced so much by entering the city, only to find that the work she had come here to do was already underway? She hoped so. Still - it seemed to her that there were less guns on one side than on the other; less people on one side than the other. There were no multitudes bursting out of the nearby houses to join in the struggle and force Tribe Fury back. There seemed to be no reinforcements; no voices spreading the tale of this fight. She could see no distant fires, hear no distant gunfire, so this fight was not being emulated elsewhere. If it was a rebellion, it was a lonely one. It would be a quick one too.

"What do you think?" asked Sasha. Amber shook her head.

"I don't think there's anything we can do out there. I don't think this is it."

"Just a little band of no-hopers, huh." He peered out through the slats himself, but couldn't see enough to comment on. "There are so many people down there."

"Not really. We needed more than that to defeat the Chosen. So many of us all fighting together. For a moment I thought..." She shook her head. "But this isn't it. It's not even a start."

"Then maybe we should stay out of it?"

"I don't know." She wanted to think that there might be something she could do, but she knew that in all honesty there was nothing. She was one girl, and though maybe she could make a difference with a speech at the right moment, she could have nothing like the same positive effect against an army. A bullet ricocheted off the wall just beside the window through which they were peering, and both jumped. Sasha smiled nervously.

"Maybe we should leave after all."

"Maybe." Another shot pinged off the brickwork, and she couldn't help but flinch. "People are going to die down there, Sasha."

"Some of them probably already have." He pulled her away from the window. "Make up your mind, Amber. Do we try to help? Or head for somewhere out of the firing line? I'll back you up whichever you choose."

"What can we do to help?" After thinking such positive thoughts, and having almost been ready to run right out and lend her support, the reality had taken firm hold now. Without guns, without sufficient people, without a strategy of some kind, there was nothing that she could do. This time she wasn't going to be marching at the head of a vast army of Gaians, as she had been when she had helped orchestrate the downfall of the Chosen. She felt terrible. So many high hopes, and yet here she was planning to run out on the very people who had displayed the courage to try to achieve something. She was leaving them to die; there was no escaping that. Where were the others? Why weren't the other city dwellers coming out to join them? Guns or no guns, sheer force of numbers might help. They might have a chance then. Sasha squeezed her hand.

"It's a start," he told her. "It means that there's still hope out there. Maybe the others will see this, or hear about it, and realise that it is possible to fight back. Maybe that's why those people are trying something like this?"

"Even though they've got no chance of winning?"

"Maybe they think they have. Maybe they think it's worth the risk. Either way, agonising over it yourself isn't going to help. We have to leave before a stray shot makes it through one of the windows. I don't know about you, but I'm not feeling especially bullet-proof today." She smiled faintly at this equally faint joke, then responded to the pressure on her hand and followed him to the door. The sound of gunfire was constant now, and she heard the explosion of a grenade as well. It was insane to use explosives in the midst of a fight that seemed to be at such close quarters, but apparently neither side of the battle was especially well balanced mentally. They had to be mad. All of them.

Outside the building the sounds of the battle were inevitably louder. A pair of Locos had found a vantage point atop a wall, and were hurling grenades towards the back of the Fury ranks. Ebony had no idea why they thought it a good plan, but she had no intention of trying to reach them to direct their energies elsewhere. The explosions were too far away to bother her, locked as she was in a struggle in the centre of the melée. Her gun had proved useless as a projectile weapon at such close range, and she had resorted to using it like a club. There was a certain sense of accomplishment in swinging the metal and wood, and hearing the sound of it coming into contact with an enemy. Not that it made much difference. They were losing, and on a grand scale it appeared. She supposed it was inevitable, and knew that deep down she had not been expecting a glorious victory - but the reality of the loss was hard to take nonetheless. It added to her anger and to the force of her fighting, but neither made the situation less desperate. Perhaps it was time to think about escape routes. Damage limitation. Who she could afford to sacrifice, and who she needed to survive. Bray was beside her. Even in the crush and the craziness he remained close to her side, battling on with his customary mettle. He laid about him with his staff, no sign left of his earlier show of distaste for the killing. There could be no time for the niceties now of course, when they were pressed in upon from all sides by struggling figures; with blows accidental and intentional coming from every direction. It was a time for instinct and no clear thought; of fast movement or death. Ebony knew that her eyes were feverishly bright, but she wasn't sure how much of the reason was fear and how much was excitement. She didn't think the fear was real. Self-preservation was important of course, but fear was the enemy of chaos. Fear held you back; prevented the last leap into the wildness that all the Locos loved. So it was that she abandoned her thoughts of retreat, and letting herself shout aloud in a singing, ululating cry of sheer exultation, she set about the enemy with greater vigour. Her ears rang with gunshots and the roar of other voices, and there was no space at all for any clarity of mind anymore. There didn't need to be, at least by her reckoning.

For Bray the situation was different, although the lack of any real opportunity to think things through prevented him from dwelling on the unpleasantness. He had lost all sense of self early on - there was no time to focus upon anything save the constant swinging to-and-fro of his staff. No time to think about who he was hitting, and how hard. A skull could crack under the force of a stick as surely as if struck by a bullet. He knew that there would be consequences to endure later - delayed guilt, and echoing afterimages. He had faced it all before. During a fight there was no time to see individual faces, but they were all stored somewhere, ready to come back from the depths of the memory in quieter moments. Bloodied faces and widened eyes; all such young faces of course. Most of these people - this great opposing army - were younger than him. Years younger, some of them. There was no time to think about that either though - not yet. He would remember it later, when he remembered their faces, after everything had become quiet again. If he survived.

The explosion that finally tore away the fog in his mind came from his left, he thought. The side that Ebony wasn't on. He had grown used to the sound of such explosions, in the distance. The Locos had been hurling grenades towards the back of the Fury ranks on and off for some time - a semi-regular incidental music to the battle. This explosion was closer though; close enough for him to feel the heat, and to see a flash of flame. Somebody screamed. With a certain level of consciousness now returned to him, Bray turned his head to look, and saw a struggling figure with their clothes on fire. He thought about going to help, but somebody caught him so powerful a blow between the shoulder blades that he staggered and almost fell. The crush of moving bodies was all about again, as everybody tried to move away from the site of the explosion, and sheer weight of numbers kept him on his feet. A laughing Loco swung his gun around, abandoning his use of it as a club long enough to fire a single shot into Bray's attacker. The Fury fell, and the Loco clapped Bray hard on the back.

"Watch out for more explosions." The Loco's voice was loud and clear, despite the other noise. "Further on back the Furies have fire bombs I think."

"Keep pushing forward." Ebony was there of course, the red paint on her face augmented now with sprays of blood. "Don't let them take the initiative."

"They outnumber us ten to one at least. The initiative is the last thing I'm worried about." Bray pushed her aside and swung up his staff to knock down a Fury who had been about to knife her in the back. "This is crazy. I can't--"

"Down!" Ebony pushed him to one side, but whether that had been to help protect him, or to give herself a clearer run for cover he didn't know. He thought that he heard something whistle - then quite suddenly everything in front of him was a sheet of towering flame. He felt his face go dry in the rush of heat, and felt his lungs contract as the hot air rushed through them. His vision blurred.

"Bloody hell." The Loco who had helped Bray before was gone as soon as he had spoken, fighting his way back from the flames. Bray put him from his mind. Together he and Ebony fought their own way around the fire, but there were other flames now spreading out from the main conflagration. Everybody was falling back from the heat, and for a moment a sort of sanity seemed to return - if it could be called that. Less noise, less jostling, less of a struggle. A moment of a sort of peace, though there was little enough chance to collect their thoughts.

On the other side of the flames, Amber and Sasha took the moment of universal retreat to make their move. They had hoped to get away during the fight, but there had been no way to escape. There were too many people, and no route to safety. They had been about to return to their hideout in the building they had just left, but the first fire bomb turned both their minds to other plans. Being trapped inside a dry old building when there were fire bombs being hurled about seemed worse than insane. Panicked, they had waited for some kind of chance, and it had come with that second firebomb. As the wall of flame leapt up, and the battling forces withdrew, Sasha and Amber held hands and ran. Nobody seemed to notice them, and they headed with single-minded determination for an adjoining street. Only once did they hesitate, when a Loco swung to face them with his rifle upraised - but somewhere a shot rang out, and he fell without a sound. Amber gulped.

"Don't think about it." Sasha started to pull her away, but something had caught her attention through the flames. Ebony. She was as recognisable as ever - small, but powerful, and filled with the confidence and glow of regal authority. The flames painted in red on her face were the same - the black stripe across her eyes and the highlighted tumble of her wild hair. She hadn't seen Amber, for her eyes were elsewhere, focused solely upon the companion beside her. Amber thought, for a moment, that it was Bray, and her heart gave a leap - it looked so like him. He had the height, and the single long plait growing from shaggy, mostly short hair. The same build, but - was it the same face? A black stripe across his eyes marked him as Ebony's partner, and a few fingers of painted flame highlighted his jaw and one cheek. As Amber watched, transfixed, Ebony reached out a hand to him, and he took it, swinging up a bloodstained staff onto his shoulder. Not Bray then. Bray would never paint his face like a Loco, or stride so surely into battle alongside Ebony. Would he? Not a battle like this one, where all was chaos and death, and Tribe Fury were so surely winning? Bray made sensible plans, and fought sensible battles, and he wouldn't follow Ebony into the place where the fighting was thickest. Responding finally to Sasha's urgent tugging on her hand, she ran with him to the nearest adjoining street, and then on down it to peace and stillness. They carried on running until everything was just a distant echo, and then at last they rested. Amber didn't know if she was glad or sorry that the person she had seen couldn't possibly have been Bray. It might have been nice to have got confirmation that he was still alive, even if it was in that terrible place. As it was she was still in the dark about his fate. Perhaps she always would be.

When Ebony had reached out for Bray's hand, he had taken it without thinking. He had forgotten that he hated her. Such things were unimportant. He had not seen the figures on the other side of the wall of flame, and even if he had there would have been no way to reach them. Tribe Fury was everywhere now, save where the flames were barrier enough on their own. He was trapped and he knew it. Trapped, with Ebony and a handful of survivors, with flames circling slowly about them. There wasn't time to think about how bloody stupid this idea had always been, or about what might be about to happen. He couldn't let himself care. Buoyed up by unaccountable enthusiasm from his remaining allies, and trying to banish the visions of Martin from his mind, he was barely aware of his own voice calling out the famous old Loco battle cry. He could hear Zoot chanting it loudest of all of them, and could have sworn that he could see his brother up ahead beckoning him on to continue the fight. That probably wasn't a very good sign, a part of him realised. Seeing dead people; preparing to race headlong for the enemy ranks. He didn't think about it though. He just held Ebony's hand, and went on - right into the very vision of chaos.

Private Michaels had seen fighting and death before. Small skirmishes, a few executions. Some of the minor altercations that had, so one-sidedly, been fought during the take over of the city. Having been sent away with his unit to watch over the fever-struck Amber up in the hills, however, meant that he had missed a good part of that violence, and the battle that raged around him now was the first true such clash that he had ever seen. The other Furies seemed so certain of victory, and it was true that there were vastly greater numbers on their side, but to Michaels victory was an impossible concept to grasp. Reality itself was hard enough to grasp just now. A grenade blast made his ears bleed, and destroyed two of his companions in the blink of an eye. Where was the reality in that? He slipped on the remains of one of them and almost fell, though the grim accident saved his life, for a bullet passed above his head so close that he thought he felt his hair curl and singe in its heat. If he had been standing upright he would have been killed instantly. It was all too much, too impossible for him to comprehend. For the first time since the death of his mother, years before the coming of the Virus, he felt on the verge of tears.

"Keep that gun up. Get up on higher ground and see if you can pick them off." He didn't recognise the person shouting at him, but he recognised authority when he heard it, even if he could hear it only faintly through his bleeding ears. He stumbled up on to a broken wall, and stared out at the sea of figures below him. They were hitting each other with their guns, shooting at random, using knives and stones and anything else that was available to them. The enemy, in their wild face paint, and with their colourful clothes, shouted intermittently about power and chaos. It was certainly chaos that he was seeing now. He levelled his rifle, picking targets without firing. The girl in the centre of the churning mass - the small, pretty girl in her mid-teens, with the aura of leadership about her. Kill her and it might all be over, his training told him. Kill her and the enemy would disperse, with the fighting ended. It would also be a reasonable guarantee that there would be no future rematch.

He didn't see the stone that dropped him from his perch. Didn't even feel it, beyond the knowledge that something had hit him. It struck him in the shoulder, numbing his arm and causing him to drop the rifle before he had a chance to find out whether or not he would ever have fired it. He watched it fall, reached out to catch it, fumbled - fell. The ground rushed up to meet him and he hit hard, in a puddle of rainwater and blood. He tasted the saltiness of both, and spat ferociously. For all he knew it was the blood of a friend in his mouth, and he had to fight to keep control. Somehow he made it to his feet, but only to the concussive blast of another grenade. It didn't sound as loud as the first one, but his ears still sang. He breathed in dust, and smelt blood so strongly that he felt ready to be sick. Somebody had picked up his rifle and was trying to shoot him with it, and he was trying to find somewhere to hide, and he could no longer hear anything, and-- Another explosion knocked him to the ground. He struggled for a moment, certain that he would be trampled if he stayed where he was, but the ground seemed to be moving, and his head was spinning, and together they seemed determined to leave him lying helpless in the mud. He scrabbled hopelessly for a few moments, unable to find the equilibrium he needed in order to stand. Somebody kicked him in the head, though he thought that it was only an accident. It was the incentive he needed to struggle to his knees, though for some time he couldn't manage to get any further than that. Only when something rolled past him, and he realised that it was a smoke blackened head, did he make it to his feet. He started to run then. Behind him he heard more explosions. Glancing back once he saw flames, heard screams, saw figures moving in the very heart of the fire - but he didn't look for long. Drenched in blood, sick as though he would never again be well, eyes opened wide in abject terror, he ran as fast as his twelve year old legs would carry him. He would be shot for desertion if the others caught him, and he didn't believe for a moment that they would not. He just didn't care. The world could dispose of him as it chose - he just wanted to get away from the terrible place behind him.

KC and Chloe had heard the sounds of battle, and were trying to find out what was going on. A fight was possibly a good sign; a movement on the part of the resistance; and they both wanted to see if there was anything that they could do to help.

"It sounds pretty intense," whispered Chloe. KC nodded.

"They're using guns and grenades. Mad."

"It's the Locos, remember? Or at least, the resistance are supposedly Locos, so this must be them." She shivered slightly. "And you know how the Locos fight."

"Yeah." KC sounded as though he still had a certain respect for their old enemies, with their madness and thirst for chaos. Chloe rolled her eyes.

"I didn't mean to be all complimentary about them. I meant that they're crazy."

"Yeah, well if they're getting something done, who cares? And anyway, we--" KC broke off, pulling Chloe into the shadows. "Ssh. Look."

"It's one of Tribe Fury!" They watched as a boy, no older than themselves, came stumbling down the alley towards them. He was covered in blood and was moving erratically, his speed changing, his direction wavering. He looked exhausted, but he didn't stop. Not until he had run some distance past the hiding pair, until he reached a point where the alley took a ninety degree turn to the left. He didn't seem to be able to adjust to the change in direction, and after running straight into an unyielding wall, he stumbled back a few steps, shot a terrified look back the way he had come, then sobbed and fell down on all fours. Chloe gasped.

"He looks--"

"Yeah, well he's the enemy so who cares." Seeing her move towards the boy, KC tried to grab hold of her and pull her back. "Chloe!"

"We should talk to him." She hurried over, but her gentle words and coaxing had no effect on the fallen soldier. He shook his head.

"Crazy. Everything's crazy. Can't hear. Can't see. All dead."

"Tribe Fury are all dead?" asked KC, but the boy didn't answer, at least directly.

"Fools, thinking they could fight back. So outnumbered. And the guns, and then the fire. No chance. Should be glad, but... I don't know." He looked up suddenly, grabbing Chloe's arm. "Don't let them see you. Tribe Fury kill. They'll kill everybody. They have killed everybody, and they'll want to kill me too now. Just run. Keep away. Everybody's dead."

"The resistance," decoded KC, rather unnecessarily. "The fighting...?"

"Sounds like it's just as well that we didn't get there." Chloe turned her head towards the sounds of the battle. "I suppose they're mopping up survivors."

"So much for the revolution." KC kicked the wall, and immediately wished that he hadn't. "Damn! I thought-- It's because it's the Locos. If that was Lex out there, then--"

"Lex? He hasn't exactly got an impressive resistance underway, has he." Chloe sighed, noisily and with anger. "We should leave here. Get as far away from the fighting as possible. We don't want to be caught up in any reprisals."

"True." KC didn't sound as though his heart was in a retreat, but he had the sense not to object. "Come on then."

"Not just the two of us! We can't leave him here, can we. He said Tribe Fury wanted to kill him." She shrugged. "Besides, he might be useful."

"But he's the enemy! Leave him here, Let the locals look after him." KC smiled unpleasantly at the thought, but Chloe just glared.

"He's coming," she said, and bent down to guide Michaels gently to his feet. "Come on. You're safe now."

"You're speaking, but I can't hear you." He frowned at her, wondering how she managed to look so gentle. "But thankyou. I think."

"Just come on." She started to lead him around the bend in the alley, and after a while KC followed. It all seemed crazy to him, but maybe Chloe was right and this boy could be useful. One way or another they would find out soon enough.

Stories of the battle didn't take long to filter through the city. Some saw what was going on, hidden nearby as Sasha and Amber had been. Others heard about it during the course of the night, or the days that followed, or from the official notifications courtesy of Tribe Fury itself. In the Mall, however, Jack heard about it perhaps sooner than anybody. He had been working for some time on one of the old radios left behind in the Mall's electrical goods store, adapting it in the hope of picking up the many broadcasts between members of the enemy forces. It wasn't a difficult task, but it had taken some time to track down all the Fury wavebands, and ensure that the radio could quickly and reliably find them all. He was listening now as word of the battle spread; as reinforcements were called in; as seemingly every Tribe Fury soldier in the city was called in for one last, great rout to destroy the rebels utterly. It was some time before he noticed that he was no longer alone in his room, and he looked up to see Trudy and Pride standing in the doorway.

"The Locos," he told them, in case they hadn't heard enough to be sure. "They attacked Tribe Fury tonight."

"Idiots." Pride turned away, shaking his head. "They have just a few dozen people, according to Racha. It's insanity to go up against the enemy with so few people. No wonder Racha thinks that--"

"I don't care what Racha thinks. He's one of the enemy too, remember?" Trudy started hurrying away, thinking, perhaps, of her old days with the tribe, and wondering if any of her old friends had been involved in the battle. Ebony certainly would have been.

"What's wrong?" Lazing in the main lobby, Lex looked up as she passed. She hesitated. Stories of battle and carnage were always apt to stir Lex up, but he would have to find out soon enough. She sat down, avoiding Tai-San's eyes.

"A war," she said quietly. "If it can be called that. The resistance. The Locos, you know. They attacked Tribe Fury tonight. Jack just heard about it on his radio."

"They did what?" Lex rose to his feet as though suddenly charged by a violent electrical flow. "How many of them?"

"Nowhere near enough." Trailing after Trudy, Pride was muttering about Racha and his opinion of the Locos and their hopeless cause. "They have no organisation, no mass support, nothing but their own energy and enthusiasm. It was a massacre. Tribe Fury are wiping the last of them out as we speak."

"Looks like all Zoot's followers are mad." Luke caught Trudy's fierce glare and blushed heavily, staring at the ground. Jack shook his head.

"They're not mad. Well... yes, okay. They're mad. But they must have had some reason for doing this. Something other than suicide. The Locos were never that mad. They wouldn't just kill themselves like that would they?"

"No." Trudy knew Ebony, even if she didn't know who else ran under the Loco banner these days. "They must have thought they could make the others sit up and take notice. See if Tribe Fury could be taken by surprise, or prove that... I don't know. That it's possible to stand up to them or something. But Luke's right. They are mad, they must be."

"At least they tried." Aiming a violent kick at the old fountain which must have hurt, Lex began a furious pacing. "They're out there doing something, and we're sat in here letting Racha feed us like his tame dogs. Letting him feed us up in the hope that we'll become his own personal entertainment division, with a rebellion to order. The Locos are the ones doing something worth doing."

"Dying is worth doing?" Tai-San shook her head. "No Lex. Only when it's for something worthwhile. How can such a suicide mission be worthwhile?"

"Because it's better than doing nothing at all! They went out there and they decided to show Tribe Fury that not everybody is prepared to sit back and do nothing in this city! They got out there and had a fight, and even if they did lose - even if every single one of them is dead - at least they bloody well tried! Lex's eyes were filled with the lights of battle, and it was painfully obvious to the others that he very much wished he had been there, helping the Locos in their strike. "That should have been us. We should have been doing something like that, instead of spending all this time hiding ourselves away like cowards!" Trudy shook her head.

"It was crazy, Lex. It wasn't heroic, and we're not cowards for not trying the same. What exactly did they achieve out there, except for probably getting innocent people executed as a reprisal? Even if Tribe Fury were caught by surprise - and I doubt that they were - it obviously didn't last long, did it. All that the Locos achieved was death. That always was likely to become their epitaph one day. "

"Trudy's right." Beginning to worry that her husband might be about to do something stupid, Tai-San used her most calming voice to speak her own piece. "Lex, they didn't achieve anything. They were destroyed. It's just like we've been hearing from Racha. This is all flash and fire and no lasting substance. They've accomplished nothing."

"Except to prove that the resistance is too small to do anything significant," put in Jack. "Any serious movement needs to be a twenty times the size if it's going to stand any chance of winning."

"And we're going to help make it twenty times the size if we're hiding in here, are we?" Lex sounded disgusted, with himself and with the rest of them. "Are we're going to do anything of use to anybody if we won't even stick our heads outside the door? Racha thinks we're the best chance this city has. He's one of the enemy, and he seems to have more faith in us than we do."

"He doesn't think we've got a chance." Pride sounded tired with the whole affair, and particularly with Racha and his talking. "He just thinks that we've got more chance than the current lot. He knows we were at the heart of the fight against the Chosen; but that wasn't just us, was it. It was Bray and Amber with you on the outside, with a lot of other support. Plus the others who were helping on the inside. Alice, Ellie, Salene. In the end the whole city was behind us. We don't stand a chance unless we can make something like that happen again."

"Then we've got to make it happen, haven't we." Lex was already heading for the nearest exit, and the clarity and ferocity on his face was horribly clear. Tai-San's eyes opened wide.

"Lex!" She ran after him, but his speed and single-mindedness was such that he was not to be stopped. "Lex, where are you going?"

"To join in!" It was clear that he hadn't thought it through. He had no idea how he was going to meet with the Locos, or persuade them to let him join; always supposing that they were still alive to ask.

"Lex!" Tai-San caught his arms. "This is crazy. You can't go out there!"

"Pride goes out every week to meet with Racha. He's still in one piece."

"Racha has the local guards moved away so that the route is clear for the meeting every week! And besides, things have changed now. Do you think for one moment that they're going to sit back and rest on their laurels after what happened today? They'll want to make sure that nobody else gets any ideas."

"I don't care, Tai-San! I'm sick of cowering in here like a frightened child. I'm sick of letting the world - and the resistance - go by without me. I'm sick of doing nothing, while my city gets shot up and battered and enslaved by these arrogant little sods who think that they own the place. Well I'm not hiding any longer."

"Lex you're angry." Wandering out from the sidelines as though only just arriving at the Mall, Pride tried to put a friendly hand on Lex's shoulder. It was shrugged violently away. "Look, we're all frustrated. We know how you feel. Why wouldn't you want to get out of here? But this way you're only going to get yourself killed. We have to let things cool down for a bit. Then after that--"

"Then after that, nothing. In a few days the rest of the resistance will be dead. Just like Racha said, they don't stand a chance. Any of them who weren't killed tonight will either be in custody tomorrow, or on display in pieces somewhere instead. And then it's all be over. It'll take the heart out of the city. If anything's going to be done, the initiative needs to be taken now."

"How? By one man on his own, acting like he's got a death wish? How exactly are you going to get people behind you? The Independents are in hiding for a reason, Lex. There aren't enough of us to--"

"I'm not just talking about the Independents. I'm talking about the others. The ones who have registered, but who never wanted anything more to do with Tribe Fury than we did. All those kids out there who are facing a reduction of food rations because of the uprising, or who can expect to see their friends killed as part of the reprisals. All those people who have to work like slaves every day. They're the ones that we have to get on our side. Can't you see that? They're the ones that we have to grab the attention of."

"You're not going to grab their attention by getting yourself shot," commented Jack. Lex glared daggers at him and he backed down immediately. Sarcastic Jack might be; but brave enough to stay that way in the face of Lex's wrath he was not.

"Then I'll just have to not get shot, won't I." He looked over at Tai-San for a moment, almost as though he was reconsidering; but she knew straight away that he was not. He really was going.

"Lex..." It was one last try, but all that she got for it was a hard look that might have been trying to be a smile, underneath the anger and frustration. Then abruptly he was gone. She thought about going with him, and almost did, but the quiet voice inside of her that always kept her grounded was too powerful to be infected with Lex's rage. She backed slowly away. Trudy took her hand, but she didn't notice it. She was thinking only of Lex, and of the fact that in all likelihood she had seen him for the last time.

He didn't know where he was going at first. Part of his instincts wanted to take him straight to the hotel, even if it was just to shout his anger at the Furies stationed inside. He wanted to get hold of a gun and shoot the place up, or commandeer one of the tanks - by whatever means - and blast his way through some of the roadblocks. Too long being inactive left him desperate to prove his worth in some explosive fashion, but the few scraps of good sense that remained to him forced him to be a little more circumspect. He had every intention of heading for the hotel though. It was the centre of all of this, and he had to make some kind of strike against it. Maybe it didn't matter if it was doomed to failure. That hadn't stopped the Locos from making their presence felt; from shaming him for his own passivity. He had to do something that mattered, even if it was the last thing he did.

"Better dead than cowering under a rock." He didn't realise that he had spoken the words aloud, although the streets were almost silent now, and his voice rang out clearly enough. Surprised by how quiet everything was, he began to move forwards, keeping to the edge of the street and listening out for any sign of the presence of others. So much for added security, he thought. Where was everybody? Where were the cars and the patrols? The tanks and the guards and the snipers? It was as though Tribe Fury had quite suddenly packed up their toys and gone away. Keeping one eye on the roofs of the buildings, and one eye on the windows around him, he progressed quickly. Lex had always possessed a certain craftiness, but still he was not known for his tendency to plan ahead. He was reacting without any thought beyond his desire to do something more constructive than hiding; his desperation to free himself from the demeaning dependence upon Racha. He just walked, blindly and stiffly, until the anger and frustration inside of him finally reached boiling point. He gave in to it then, hurling rocks and other debris at the buildings around him; smashing the already broken windows; hauling up a manhole cover, and using it to set about an abandoned car. He left it a misshapen wreck, though he didn't feel any the better for it. Damn the resistance. Damn them for doing what he hadn't managed to do, and damn them for failing. He was furious with himself for having spent so long sitting in the Mall accomplishing nothing, speaking to nobody, making no attempt to form his own resistance. He was angry that somebody else had taken the initiative, and had even gone so far as to mount an attack upon the enemy. But why do something so suicidal? Why take on so impossible a task? They were trying to make some grand gesture, he realised; some great statement that would show the others in the city that not everybody was beaten and cowed. He wondered if Ebony had been in the fight. Suicide wasn't really her game, but she was a Loco at heart and always would be. That meant chaos, and the news that had come over Jack's little radio said chaos if nothing else. The Locos had been their old selves tonight, fighting tooth and nail, fearless in the face of certain defeat, screaming their eternal slogan at their far less colourful foes. Lex could see it all even though he hadn't been there; even though he hadn't listened to the radio. Rows of Locos with their faces painted in bright hues, anxious for glory and excitement. He remembered how he had longed to be one of them, in earlier days, and felt those old yearnings reawaken. If he had joined the Locos all those months ago, that would be him now making that stand. Him trying to make the city sit up and take notice. Him ready to die rather than spend his days hiding like a rat. Like a Mall Rat. He flung the man hole cover far away from him, watching it clatter to a noisy halt some way off. What had happened to the Mall Rats? They had fought the Locos and Tribe Circus; found the cure for the Virus, led the city back to civilisation; fought off the Chosen... and now they were scattered to the four winds, with the remainder of them hiding as though afraid, and depending on an enemy for their food. He felt so ashamed that it made his head burn, and made him wonder if he was ready to cry with humiliation.

He didn't know where he was heading. He wanted a fight, but by the look of things everybody had been called away from their posts to help bring the rebellion to an end. Clearly the leaders of Tribe Fury expected no trouble from elsewhere in the city. They felt safe to move away their guards, certain that everybody else was too afraid to start any trouble. The thought made Lex even more angry, but he had nothing left to throw. He punched a wall instead, not feeling the pain of his grazed skin. Was Ebony still alive, he wondered, or had the Furies captured her yet? Killed her? Was she lying with her fallen friends in some little street, ready to be displayed as a lesson to everybody? Lex thought about the promise of reprisals, and wondered how many Furies had died in the battle. Enough, he thought. Enough to make the reprisals terrible. The people of the city would be angry, but probably at the resistance rather than at Tribe Fury. They would look even less favourably upon any future attempt to drive out the enemy. Lex muttered a few choice words. Damn Ebony for doing what he hadn't been able to do. Damn the Locos for doing it now, when there was no chance of success. Damn the whole bloody city, himself included, for not rushing out to join the fight as soon as word of it spread, to join forces with the brave little band of Locos, and give them all a far greater chance of success. Tribe Fury might be gone by now, if the city had taken up the cause. They might all be on their way back to freedom, to their new brand of normality. Instead he was standing in a deserted street, wondering how many resistance members might have survived, knowing that many of his fellow city dwellers wouldn't, once Tribe Fury were through with their revenge. He turned to punch the wall again, eyes misted over with sheer rage - and saw a group of people standing in a row nearby. They were dressed in ragged leather and wore bold tribal markings, and he recognised them only after a moment's confused gaping. Wildcats, the ones that Bray and Ebony had spoken of. The ones that even the Locos were afraid of, who would supposedly tear a man to shreds during a battle. They all carried knives, unsheathed and ready for use. The blades somehow contrived to gleam, despite the darkness of the ageing night. Lex scowled at the assembled group.

"What do you want?" He really wasn't in the mood for a confrontation. Not with these people. It was Tribe Fury that he wanted to fight, and if they weren't going to satisfy him he would prefer just to wander alone and feel sorry for himself, and stoke up the fuel of his already impressive anger and self-reproach. The tribe before him made no sound.

"Just get out of here. I'm not in the mood for games." His eyes drifted over their faces, all set in the same expression. All shockingly cold. It was disturbing, and he felt his spine beginning to tingle. The stories, however hurried, that he had heard about these people came back to him now, and he remembered how he had chosen not to believe them at the time. Bray seemed to know so many of the tribes, and to have had run ins with all of them at some time, and Lex had long ago convinced himself that most of the stories were made up. Standing here now, though, facing this band of Wildcats, he was sure that the stories about them had been true.

"This is our place." Taking one slow step forward, the middle Cat waved his knife menacingly. Lex felt the urge to smirk.

"Your place. Everybody in this city thinks they own somewhere. A street. A cellar. A lousy sewer. But we don't own any of it anymore."

"This is our place." Now that he was closer it was clear that there was something wrong with the spokesman's eyes. The pupils were uneven, and there was a glassiness to his stare. Whatever the guy was on, clearly it made sure that he was never going to give a damn about anything Lex had to say.

"This is Tribe Fury's place, same as the rest of the city." Lex wanted a drink. Failing that, maybe it would be a good idea to try something of whatever it was that had given the Wildcats their unfocused eyes. The whole gang of them moved towards him then, and he smiled crookedly.

"Yeah. Tribe Fury's place. All of it. They own every building, every road, and every grimy, miserable tunnel underneath it." He let his crooked smile become a challenging grin. "They'll come for you, soon enough - because none of us helped out Ebony. The whole bloody resistance is dead because the rest of us hid indoors, so everything belongs to Tribe Fury." He folded his arms, rather pleased with himself for having found the opportunity to voice his feelings to some kind of audience - even if it was an audience whose only interest in him was to see him filleted. They moved towards him again, one step closer, and smiled in perfect unison.

"We don't like trespassers," announced the spokesman. Lex nodded. He had rather come to that conclusion himself. There was a fight coming now without a doubt, and he found himself beginning to look forward to it. There were six of them, all with knives, and he had left the Mall with nothing but his fists to use as a weapon. It seemed unlikely that he would have much a of a chance, but he couldn't make himself care that much. He just wanted something to hit. Something more satisfying than walls, old cars and broken windows.

"Well I'm not going anywhere." He unfolded his arms, ready for them even if he didn't have a chance of beating them. "You want me gone, you're going to have to move me."

"We won't move you. We'll leave you here." The spokesman spun his knife idly, the motion mechanical. "In pieces."

"In strips," added another.

"And chunks," put in a third. Lex had to smile.

"And then you'll eat me I suppose. Just come and fight me then, if that's what you're after. I'll--"

They came at him so hard that he didn't get the chance to breathe - all six of them at once, with their knives a whirling, blurred dance of metal. He dodged to one side, suddenly worried, and felt a knife blade graze his shoulder. Something else caught him sharply on the forehead and the world spun disconcertingly. He punched at something, but whatever it was didn't yield, and almost immediately something else hit back. The air rushed from his lungs and stars danced dizzyingly in his brain. A knife scraped at his cheek.

"No need to all come at once." Whatever his earlier lack of concern, now that they were upon him he wanted very much to survive. It was easier said than done. A powerful blow hit him in the side and he stumbled, and looked up into a tangle of descending fists. It looked like chaos, but there was a weird order to it. Somehow each fist came at him separately out of the tangle. Each fist found its own target. After that the first knife found its target too, and he knew that he didn't have long. He punched outwards and upwards; thought that he heard one of the knives fall. Somebody punched him in the head, and he tried to roll with the blow. It didn't work. The tangle of hands were grabbing at him, holding him, threatening to tear him apart before the sharp little blades could get their own chance to do the same. He tried kicking, but they only kicked him back, and far harder than he could manage. He realised then that he couldn't cause them any pain. They were dead to it. It showed in their glassy eyes and the expressions that stayed vacant even as they were trying to cut his throat. He stumbled backwards, came up hard against a wall, and felt his heart sink. Too late he realised what a bad idea it had been to storm out of the Mall in such a rage. He thought about Tai-San, and wondered how long she would wait before she realised he wasn't going to return.

"Need a hand?" The voice came from somewhere above him, loud and bright like somebody saying a cheery good day in some pleasant place of meeting. Lex couldn't see where it came from, but before the sentence was over one of his attackers was being jerked backwards off balance. He saw the Wildcat disappear; heard a roar of rage from one of the others in the tribe. Another of them was pulled away, and Lex found that he could move again. He threw a punch at somebody, dodged a knife, and quite suddenly saw the rest of the Wildcats hurled aside. He stared down at them, sprawled on the ground with their empty faces fringed with hate, and their peculiar eyes that never seemed to focus on anything. If it was possible to look ferocious and pathetic at once, these people managed it. He wiped a trail of blood away from his face, and turned to see who it was that had helped him.

"Craig." He was being offered a large hand by a tall boy of about seventeen who looked like he might once have been a school prefect. Certainly he was dressed in the remains of a good quality school uniform, complete with blazer and tie, with a striped school scarf looped loosely about his throat. The others with him were dressed the same way, all neat despite the fading condition of their clothes, acting very much like officious sixth-formers as they sent the sulking Wildcats on their way.

"Lex." He shook the proffered hand, and tried not to gape. "Thankyou."

"No problem. It's not a good idea to hang around in Wildcat territory on your own. Usually they hunt in bigger packs than this, and if you meet a bigger bunch then you're a goner for sure. I've seen them rip a person to bits. Don't think there's any reason for it." He frowned suddenly. "Listen to me. Waffling about Wildcats with you bleeding all over the place." He took Lex's arm. "I don't think it's deep. It'd be bleeding a lot more if they'd got anything vital. Still, no sense in taking really unnecessary risks, is there. Come on back with us, and we'll soon get you fixed up." He scowled suddenly. "And I'm waffling again. Introductions, Craig, introductions. Meet my friends. Samantha, Sarah, David and Krishnan. We're the Badlanders."

"Badlanders?" Yet another tribe he had never heard of, but that Bray undoubtedly knew the entire history of. He would have scowled, had he not been increasingly aware that his face was beginning to swell. It hurt. So did his ribs, his arms, and pretty much everything else. "Look... I don't want to put you to any trouble. The streets aren't safe. We should--"

"We'll be inside soon enough; and besides, the streets are plenty safe right now. Tribe Fury are off over towards the hotel, seeing off the last of the resistance. They won't make it back this way before the morning." He smiled coldly. "Nice to know they think we're such a threat, isn't it. Still, that's just one of the things we have to talk about. Right?"

"It is?" Lex watched through blackening eyes as one of the Badlanders made a fair attempt at a field dressing on his stabbed arm. He couldn't quite work out what was going on here. Friendliness was something that he had learnt to distrust, and Craig seemed to smile too much.

"You're Lex," the other boy said, with a smile even bigger than any Lex had seen him attempt yet. "You're one of the Mall Rats. We've been trying to get in touch with you people for ages, but word had it that the Mall had been destroyed. Roof falls and fires and goodness only knows what else? You're not easy people to get hold of anymore."

"You... want to speak to us?" Now Lex really was suspicious. Craig was still smiling though, in a manner that was strangely infectious. Lex didn't try giving in to the temptation to smile back. He was fairly certain that if he tried it his lips would split. He wondered just how bad his face looked.

"Of course we want to speak to you. The Mall Rats led us all against the Chosen. Maybe the rest of the city has forgotten that, but we haven't. Maybe the rest of the city didn't see what the Locos did tonight, but we did. I always hated them, but tonight... tonight I wanted to be one of them, and I think you probably feel the same way." He looked suddenly awkward, like a child trying to talk to a hero. "We're not exactly the biggest tribe in the city, but we have managed to forge some pretty good ties with a few other Independents. Just good luck really. Anyway, we'd hoped... Well it won't be safe for a while after tonight, but I think maybe, one day... with somebody we all know we can trust to help lead the way... somebody like a Mall Rat perhaps?" He shrugged, apparently somewhat abashed. "I'm asking you if you want a chance at driving out Tribe Fury."

"You... what?" Lex licked his dry lips, and tasted far too much blood. It made him thirsty. "How many people are we talking about?"

"I don't know. There are about twelve Badlanders. Maybe half a dozen of the old tribes have showed an interest in getting together, mostly on the condition that the Mall Rats lead the way. You're the only tribe that everybody trusts. The only tribe that nobody's worried about being shafted by. Anyway, I guess there's maybe forty of us in total. It's not a lot, I know."

"But there should be more to come." Krishnan, a particularly good looking boy with the air of the intellectual about him, spoke with a deep and resonant voice. Craig nodded.

"It's just going to take talking, isn't it. I mean, it's difficult, but once you get the ball rolling it's surprising how easily things come together. And like I said, we need somebody we can trust to get that done."

"Yeah." Lex thought again of all the weeks he had spent sulking in the Mall, not getting anything done at all, and felt another burst of anger at himself. He kicked it quickly aside. If other people could get things moving, so could he. He had acted like an idiot in leaving the Mall, but Fate had just seen fit to give him one hell of a second chance, and had done a fair job of swelling his ego in the process. He smiled to himself, and regretted it instantly when his mouth filled with blood. "If I had somebody to work with who knows where to find the Independents, and get me the chance to speak to some of them... I guess maybe we could drum up some support." He frowned suddenly. "But you haven't exactly proved that I can trust you."

"Can't really, can we. Not just like that." Craig smiled at him with such openness that for a moment it was quite off-putting. "You have to take our word, Lex. And you have to take it quickly. Tribe Fury might not be around, but you never know who might be spying for them; and besides, there could well be other Wildcats in the area. We have to get moving. Come with us or don't. It's your choice."

"Yeah." He thought about the possibility of a trap; set by Tribe Fury or who knew who else; and he also thought about how big a fool he would be if he missed out on this chance to finally do something to fight back. He had mooched and sulked long enough. Strangely it never occurred to him how this opportunity had arisen just at the moment when he had most wanted it to; that in so many ways it seemed too good to be true. He thought only about being useful, and getting his chance to be a warrior again; about his timely rescue, and the promise of an army of Independents awaiting leadership. Lex had never been great at thinking ahead. If he had been, everything might have been different.

They ran until they felt that they had no more strength inside them, but even then they couldn't stop. Nobody else was in sight; if anybody else had survived there was no sign of it. No way of knowing which road they had run down, or what state they were currently in. Ebony didn't want to care, but did. They were her people; her tribe. She had only just found them again, and now it seemed that they were utterly destroyed.

"Down here." She grabbed Bray by the arm and nearly dragged him off his feet as she pulled him through a half collapsed doorway. Beyond was a room with half of its floor missing, a fire-ravage cellar gaping beneath. They stumbled over broken rafters to a back door, and out into a tiny, dark alley. Bray collapsed against the wall.

"We can't stay here for long," he told her. "They were right behind us." She nodded.

"I know. But I need to get some breath back."

"You look like hell."

"Yeah, thanks. You look great yourself."

"I know." He put up a shaky hand in an habitual movement to brush back the hair from his forehead, and realised that his face and hair were wet. Blood, of course - what was not so certain was the source. He knew that his shoulder was bleeding from a knife wound, but he didn't know about his head. It was just as likely to be somebody else's blood, still wet after fountaining out of whoever it had once belonged to. There had been a heavy grenade attack when Tribe Fury had finally decided to end things, and as many of their own men had been caught up in it as had Locos. So many people, and so very much blood. "What the hell happened? I mean... I thought... There weren't supposed to be that many of them, Ebony."

"We knew they'd come to face us when they knew we were coming. We knew they'd want to knock us down to size." She shook her head. "But I didn't think they'd be so ruthless. There was no need to send that many people. Half the number could have fought us off, and then at least we'd have had a chance to--"

"To what? Come out of it in one piece? That's exactly what they didn't want us to do." He looked at the mess of blood and smudged paint now on his hand. "We should have thought. Should have realised."

"Yeah." She was avoiding his eyes. "Do you think any of the others made it?"

"As prisoners, possibly. Otherwise no. I'm pretty sure we were the only ones who made it past that first line of soldiers." He started to lead the way onwards along the alley. "Come on. There are people all over the place. We have to get away."

"Find another tunnel entrance. See if we can't find some kind of refuge." She nodded, following him as quickly as she could. "Yeah. I suppose that makes sense."

"Refuge?" He almost shouted the word, and had to adjust his volume quickly. "There won't be any refuge, Ebony. They'll find us, or they'll kill everybody they can get their hands on in the meantime. And the reprisals..." He was shaking his head, ignoring the blood that showered out of his hair onto the walls. "Why didn't we think? They said they'd kill civilians if any of their own people were killed. Ebony, there's going to be a massacre. Another massacre. Only this time we'll be responsible. We have to--"

"What? Turn ourselves in? You think that's going to make any difference? Only thing that'll do is get us killed first. No, we have to... I don't know. Show people that we're still here. Still willing to fight despite what's happened. Show people that--"

"What, Ebony?!" Suddenly he no longer cared about making a noise, and the words tumbled out of him at furious volume. "This was all supposed to show people that we could stand up to Tribe Fury, but all it's shown is that we can't. They wiped us out. We didn't stand a chance."

"With more people--"

"Nobody is going to join us now. We've just signed the death warrants of a lot of innocent people. The only thing we can hope for from the rest of the people in this city now is a lynching. Thanks to you they hated me anyway. Now they hate you too. Congratulations."

"Hey, I wasn't the only person leading the charge today. I wasn't the only person that the Locos were following. Who was out there at the front, leading the charge, wearing his brother's colours? Not me, Bray."

"I know." He looked over at her, battered and bruised under the blood, limping heavily on her right leg, cradling her left arm. She had lost her gun, half of her jacket had been torn or burned from her body, and he could see the sorrow in her eyes without needing to search for it. She was utterly miserable.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he offered, by way of a peace offering. She tried a wry smile, but had to stop. Her lips were split, and it hurt too much to stretch them.

"I thought it might achieve something," she said softly. "I don't know what exactly. The Guardian kept talking about Zoot, and what he would do, and I knew that he was right. Zoot never worried about what might happen. He just did things."

"Which is how he got himself killed," Bray told her, his voice bitter. She nodded.

"I know. But I thought we'd run into a few ordinary patrols. I thought even if - when - we were defeated, we'd get out of there alive, and could flaunt some kind of success. Some kind of glory. We've been fighting them on and off for weeks, and we've always come out of it okay. Nobody ever died before."

"And this time everybody did." He saw her flinch, and felt very sorry for making such a remark. They were her friends, even if some of them had been recruited to the Loco ranks during her days as a Mall Rat. She hadn't known them all personally, but they had been Locos; and that made them friends and allies of a sort. Family almost. He thought about the few that been left back on guard with the Guardian at their headquarters, and hoped that they would find out what had happened soon enough to be able to make a run for it. They might be found, otherwise, if Tribe Fury's rout was extensive enough.

"Where are we going to go, Bray?" she asked. He reached out, not quite sure why, and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned gratefully into his embrace.

"I don't know," he told her. "The streets are full of Furies, and we can't trust the other tribes either. We have to face the fact that we might not be able to go anywhere." He cocked his head on one side. "I can hear gunfire."

"They're trying to flush us out."

"Yeah. They must know which direction we're heading in. We can't go back to base."

"And we'll never make it out of the sector. I can't think of anywhere near here where we can hide out. Do you think they'll try to take us alive?"

"Do you care?"

"I'm not afraid of dying, no. I just don't fancy being run to ground and shot. I can't run much further anyway. I think I've got some shrapnel in my leg."

"Yeah." It was impossible not to notice that her limp was getting worse.

"You could leave me here. Make a run for it. You might get--"

"I'm not leaving you." He was surprised at just how determined he was about that. Was this really the girl he had hated so much just a short time before? "We'll get out of this together, or we'll fight it out together."

"In an alley, with three good hands between us, and nothing but bricks to fight with?"

"Two good hands, as it happens." He managed a very bitter smile. "I might not be a proper Loco, Ebony - and I hope I never am - but I can be just as stubborn as Zoot when I have to be."

"I remember." She slowed to a stiff halt. "What are we running from, Bray?"

"We're not running. We're hobbling." He let her step away from him, so that they could look at each other properly.

"You know what I mean. We're running away from inevitabilities, and there's no point in doing that. We're getting weaker every step. We're both losing blood. Why keep running?"

"Let them catch up, you mean?"

"And maybe make a fight count for something, when we've still got enough strength left to try. Anyway, that's what I'm going to do. You can make up your own mind."

"You're nuts." There was a certain affection in his voice when he said it though, and she recognised the tone of his voice. It was the same way he had scolded Martin when he had tried riding his skateboard down the stairs in their old house. "But I've already told you that I'm not leaving you."

"Sure? Those guns are getting closer."

"Yeah."

"And we've still only got two good arms and three good legs between us."

"Not sure about the three good legs. But yeah." He smiled awkwardly. "Ebony..."

"If you're going to get sentimental on me Bray, now's really not the time."

"I wasn't going to be sentimental. I was going to tell you that you've done some bloody stupid things in your time, and some bloody horrific things too, and I've hated you a lot."

"Well thanks."

"You deserve it, and you know it. But all the same... We've been through a lot together, haven't we."

"I'll say."

"So... if anything happens... Well I've enjoyed some of it. And... whatever happens here... I hope..."

"That we have the chance to fight each other again?"

He shrugged. "Well, I can't think of anybody I'd rather fight. Or fight alongside."

"That might be the nicest thing you've said to me since school."

"I'll try to be nicer, if we get out of this." He smiled then, and she smiled back, ignoring the protests from her lips.

"I will hold you to that you know."

"Yeah." He reached out and took her hand. "Ready?"

"I hope so." And giving his hand a brief squeeze, she led the way back down the alley.

THE END

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