SECTION V

Click Here For Section VI

Amber and Sasha didn't know what to do after escaping from the insanity that was the battle ground. They had run immediately for shelter, but it was a curiously bereft feeling that overtook them then. People had died - many people. They were used to that of course, and both had come to see death as something that held no terrors anymore. This battle - this massacre - was different though, and they both knew it. This was a struggle for freedom; a desperate struggle by a group of city-dwellers against a hated enemy. It had been a battle with at least one familiar face, too. Was Ebony now dead? Amber found it hard to decide how she would feel about that. They had never been close, but they had fought together to drive out the Chosen, and to try to rebuild the city. Now though... Ebony's take-over, her gradual rise as a tyrant, her banishment of her former allies - it was difficult to forgive such things quickly. Dying, though - dying changed a lot of things, even when you were supposed to be used to it all. If Ebony was dead it would be a great loss to the fight for freedom, even without letting personal feelings enter into things - and there was the person who had been with her, too. Amber wasn't able to shake off the memory of that wild-eyed young man with the war paint and hair dye, standing at Ebony's side like a consort. So many echoes of Bray. The ghost of him perhaps, passing through someone who looked so very like him; or perhaps the ghost had been Zoot's instead of Bray's.

They found a place to rest in the end - an old crèche or nursery school to judge by the decorations. An alphabet frieze wound its way around two walls, and giant elephants decorated a third. The tables and chairs were gone of course; off to make fires, or barricades, or just to be furniture somewhere else. The carpet remained though - blue hot air balloons, flying through a bluer sky, and piloted by smiling red teddy bears. It was reassuring somehow. Sasha made them a small fire by breaking off the doors of a cupboard fixed securely to one wall. There would be no notice taken of one more fire tonight, he reasoned, and Amber wasn't going to argue with him. The fire might not burn for long with so little to feed it, but it would be warm and bright for a while, and they could cook some food if they could convince themselves to eat anything. They didn't bother in the end, but sat side by side, their arms around each other's shoulders as they stared into the flames.

"It wasn't pretty," commented Sasha at last. Amber nodded.

"I didn't think I'd feel like this. It's not the first battle I've seen. I suppose it was the hopelessness of it all. They didn't stand a chance, did they."

"Not for a moment, no. I can't imagine trying something like that. I don't think I would ever be brave enough."

"Or stupid enough?"

"No." He shook his head, thinking back to the people caught up in the madness. "I don't think they were stupid. Just desperate, or determined. They probably didn't expect there to be so many of the enemy. Maybe they were just hoping for a small scale battle."

"Just shows us what we're facing, doesn't it. We can't make the mistake of only getting a few supporters, or of setting out before we're ready. If we do, we'll be just like those people that we saw tonight. What a mess."

"History is full of noble failures." Sasha, of course, knew half a dozen relevant stories. "People who wanted something, and fought for it even when they knew they didn't have a chance. People looking for freedom. It's the sort of thing that the city will remember, when Tribe Fury are defeated for good."

"Once upon a time, maybe. These days I honestly don't know. We're all so used to death and fighting, I can't see anybody being remembered for doing it now." She winced suddenly. "My baby is as restless as I am tonight."

"He can feel your unease."

"He?" She smiled at him. "Yesterday it was a she."

"I know, but I've always liked to change my mind a lot. It's an entertainer's privilege."

"Oh." She managed a short laugh. "He, then. What are we going to call him?"

"We?" He smiled then, gently and encouragingly. "Don't lose hope, Amber. By the time he's born, you could well be back with Bray again. They he'll be the one to help you choose a name for your son." He frowned. "Or daughter."

"Well make up your mind."

"Hey, it's your baby that keeps changing its gender." He laughed suddenly. "Good grief, it does dance about, doesn't it. I can feel it moving without even touching your stomach."

"It's either a great dancer or a great little fighter."

"And do you think it'll come out wearing war paint?"

"I don't know. So long as it doesn't come out looking like a Loco, I don't care. Don't forget who it had as an uncle."

"Zoot. Yes, of course. Can't say that I'm sorry I never got to meet him." Sasha looked away, over to one of the windows. He couldn't see through it of course, much less see the chaos left by the battle some miles away, but he turned his head to look all the same. "I wonder what would have happened tonight if Zoot had been out there to lead it?"

"The same. Whatever might have been said since, he was just a person. Just a kid. He might have been a little crazier than some, or a little more determined, but he wasn't infallible. I think he proved that, in the end, when he fell over the railings back at the Mall."

"Going to have to be better than that, aren't we."

"I don't know what we're going to do." She rested her hand on his shoulder momentarily, then lifted it up very suddenly. "Did you hear something?"

"Yes, I rather think I did. People?"

"Might be animals I suppose. There's no shortage of cats and dogs and things roaming the city you know."

"No. That was people." He stood up, going quickly towards the nearest window. It was too hard to see out into the darkened world, though, from inside a lighted room, and he shook his head in frustration. "I can't see anything."

"Might it be Tribe Fury? We're not supposed to still be in the city. If the wrong person sees us--"

"It's alright. We can always use that fight as an excuse. It's other tribes that I'm more worried about."

"Scavengers." She stood up, joining him by the window. "I shouldn't think there's many of them left, thanks to Tribe Fury. Can you still hear them?"

"I can't hear anything." He went slowly to the door. "They can't not know that we're in here though. Not with the firelight showing through the windows."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know." He grinned at her, looking amiably childish as he did so. "You don't usually ask for my opinion. You usually do everything yourself."

"You did originally promise to look after me, you know. If we're about to be invaded by wild gangs of half-starved six year olds, you should be the one going to investigate, don't you think?"

"Well, okay. But if we are about to be overrun by wild gangs of half-starved six year olds, you better promise not to go adopting any of them. We've got problems enough just with the three of us to worry about."

"You don't think that our own little family of six year olds might be fun?"

"No." He tried once again to peer out into the dark night. "I only hope they are just little kids though. Them at least we might be able to fight them off."

"My brave warrior."

"Yeah." He smiled gently at her. "It's at times like these I wish I was a warrior. You'd be a lot safer if I was."

"Not necessarily. Anyway, we don't know who's out there yet, do we. We should probably be finding out."

They opened the door together, peering out into the darkness. Shapes were moving out there, there was no denying that. Three shapes, that froze when a shaft of light broke from the opened doorway. Smallish figures. Those of people probably no more than ten or twelve. Sasha stepped out of the nursery.

"There are a whole lot of us in here," he said, in as stern a voice as he could manage. "And I don't think that you want to try anything. So leave." None of the figures moved. He took another step, the flickering firelight highlighting his rough tumble of red hair, his tie-dyed purple shirt, and the striped scarlet trousers he had made himself. He swallowed hard when one of the figures detached itself from the others and took a few steps towards him. The light picked out a few features then - enough for him to see dark hair and a child's feminine face. He frowned. Was it familiar? And the look on her face - did she recognise him? Or think that she did, for the light was behind him, so she couldn't have seen his face. Another of them was coming forward too now; boyish and stocky, with green tinted hair. Another face that seemed to be familiar. It was opening its mouth, frowning, starting to speak; but even as his lips framed the question - "Sasha?" - Amber's voice was drowning him out.

"Chloe?" She was running past Sasha, and he didn't react quickly enough to stop her, or warn her of potential dangers. "KC?"

"Amber!" The young female voice almost squeaked in delight, and one of the figures rushed forward. "Amber! We've been so worried! When Bray came back on his own, and he was so worried because you'd been ill, and then everybody said it was impossible to leave the city and find you..." She hugged Amber hard. "The Mall didn't feel right without you there. With so many of the tribe missing." She pulled back, seeming to age and mature in those few seconds. "Nothing at the Mall is right anymore."

"Bray?" Amber didn't seem to have registered anything past that one word. "He's alive?"

"Bray?" Chloe was frowning up at her. "You don't... no, I suppose you wouldn't. Well--"

"Excuse me." Sasha came between them, affable face looking oddly closed. "But can we take this inside? Relative safety, you know? Plus very limited fuel being wasted."

"Yes. Of course." Amber looked past Chloe and KC to the other figure, hanging back outside the light. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh. Yeah." KC went over to collect him, leading back a small, dazed looking boy whose face was a mess of smeared paint, mud and blood. "He's a Fury deserter, but we can trust him, I'm sure of it. We sort of picked him up." He lowered his voice slightly. "I don't think he's quite all there."

"He's probably just shook up." Sasha took the boy's shoulders, guiding him towards the nursery. "And no wonder if he was caught up in that battle. Come on inside. Sit by the fire. I'm sure we can find something for you to eat."

"Food?" KC brightened immediately. "We've got some dried fish, and some seaweed too I think."

"And some shellfish," piped in Chloe. "Just nothing to cook anything on. We didn't want to stop to make a fire."

"Seafood? How on earth-?" Amber shook her head. "Never mind, Just come inside, and we'll talk about it over dinner. We have some wild vegetables, Should go well with some shellfish."

"I'll say." Sasha was practically rubbing his hands together with glee. "Some of the shore tribes do great things with shellfish. The traditional way is to eat them raw of course, but if you roast them in--" He stopped. "Yes, I know. Inside."

They made a good meal, for with the company now swelled and more hearty, both Amber and Sasha found their appetites renewed. They cooked the shellfish first, then ate them while the vegetables were roasting, the seaweed steaming gently, and the dried fish reheating just above the fire. Amber told her friends of how she had been reunited with Sasha, and nursed back to health by him, and how she had recovered her strength in a camp just outside the city. In their turn KC and Chloe told of Bray's return to the Mall with Ebony in tow; of the remaining Mall Rats' helplessness in doing anything to fight against Tribe Fury; of Lex's descent into anger and frustration; and of Bray's lengthening forays out into the subdued city in search of ever reducing supplies. The growing paranoia, the constant fear of going outside, and of Lex's eventual decision that some of them would have to do just that; how he had set out with Pride, Ebony and Bray, and how the others had waited, and waited - until, finally, KC and Chloe had given up and struck out on their own. Amber was angry with them for taking the risk, but she could see that both of them seemed to have grown from the experience. All the same, she hated to think of them being so close to that ghastly fight, even if it had provided them with the opportunity of helping the young boy now beside them - a boy who might just prove to be useful, if he knew anything about the workings of Tribe Fury. The boy himself - Michaels, he had managed to tell them, which seemed to strike at memory chords, though Amber didn't know why - was relaxing a little now, huddled close to the fire and struggling to dig the roasted shellfish from their hard little containers. Amber smiled at the top of his bent head, already plotting how he might be of use - when an image floated, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind. Ebony, in the midst of a battle, with a youth beside her who had reminded Amber so very much of Bray, even if he was wearing the war paint of a Loco, and carrying himself like a warrior. If Ebony and Bray had been together at the start of all of this, why shouldn't they be together still? Why assume that Ebony had been the only Mall Rat taking part in that battle against Tribe Fury? She felt her blood run cold.

"The battle," she said, almost not recognising her own voice, and startigly the others with the suddenness of her speech. "Did you know that Ebony was a part of it?"

"We did wonder." KC and Chloe exchanged a look, before KC continued the tale. "There's been a minor rebellion going on for a few weeks now, and the rumour has always been that Ebony was at the heart of it. I suppose if something happened when she and the others went out on their scavenging mission, she might have wound up not going back to the Mall, or she might have left later like we did. There's been no talk of the others though." He looked almost hurt. "There's been nothing on the grapevine about Lex. Nothing about him being in any of the fighting that's been going on."

"I saw Ebony," Amber said, eyes fixed on the fire now. "In the middle of the battle. There was somebody with her who looked just like Bray."

"There was?" Sasha looked up, startled. "When?"

"Remember the sheet of fire? Anyway, I didn't think it could be him - not with the paint, and not fighting alongside Ebony. I thought they hated each other now. But if they've been working together again, then why not fight together too?"

"Ebony rescued Bray from Tribe Fury the day all this started," supplied Chloe. "They seemed to be getting on quite well. With Lex and Pride being so sulky, and Lex's temper being so short, I guess maybe Bray and Ebony were talking more. He didn't want to be with Trudy and the baby so much because he was upset about you, and not knowing if your baby was okay."

"And Ebony was always there, I suppose." Amber's face was set like stone. "Always trying to be the perfect friend, at the perfect moment."

"Well she has always liked Bray." Chloe shrugged. "But KC and me left the Mall before the others got back from their scavenging mission." She looked pale. "Always supposing that they did get back. We haven't been back since to find out."

"They'll be alright, Chlo." KC managed to sound quite sure. "Ebony probably had enough, like us, and left the Mall later."

"And Bray might have gone with her then," added Sasha.

"He was pretty determined not to be doing nothing," added KC. "He really wanted to find you, Amber."

"Nice to be wanted," Sasha said brightly, giving Amber's hand a supportive squeeze. She squeezed back, but only after a moment.

"So it really could have been him," she said at last, her voice flat. "He was standing just a few feet away, and I didn't know it was him. And now..." She looked grey. "Now he's probably dead. Like all of them."

"Dead?" Chloe sounded tearful. "Bray can't be dead."

"They're all dead." Michaels raised his head from his food at last, face horribly pale, eyes empty and vague as their words took him back to the battlefield. "All of them. Blood and fire everywhere. Heads rolling. I saw them."

"Heads... rolling...?" Chloe looked almost as pale as he did. "Real heads?"

"Take it easy." Sasha reached out for Michaels, trying to calm the boy with a friendly smile and a gentle voice, but the young deserter was rigid now.

"Bodies everywhere," he said, his voice shaking. "We got word they were on the move... rebels... been blowing stuff up and fighting our troops. The order went out for all of the local units to go and meet them in battle, but it wasn't really a battle. You've never seen so much blood."

"Bray." Amber put her head in her hands, the food to which she had so been looking forward now forgotten completely. KC rescued it from the fire.

"We don't know he's dead," he said slowly, but he was not used to offering such tokens of support, and his voice lacked conviction. Sasha, still trying to comfort Michaels, looked helplessly at Amber. He didn't know what to say, and wasn't entirely sure whether she would want him to say it anyway. He had always been Bray's rival for her affections, and had been the one who had lost out in the end. Right now he didn't feel like the right one to help her; so he stayed back with the small, shaking boy and his waking nightmares of violence and death. Chloe and KC toyed with some of the food, eating some and leaving more, and gradually, with no more fuel to support it, the fire died away. Only when it was gone, and the nursery was completely dark, did Michaels at last relax and cease his shivering; and on the other side of the ashes, Amber began to cry.

Lex found that he was happy with the Badlanders, although he wasn't sure that he would ever feel at home with them. They were too precise; too exact; too much the good little head boys and girls - the Prefects and head librarians, and all the other kind of school children who were so very much the opposite to his own character. Lex had rarely attended school, let alone bothered to learn anything there. He was the sort least likely ever to be made Prefect; who had mocked the well dressed, well behaved, responsible children, in their neat uniforms, with their little metal Prefect badges. It was ironic really, that here he was being accepted as one of them. They seemed to need him though, and that was better than everything he had escaped from. The Badlanders didn't want to hide from danger in some secret living space. They wanted to fight back. To that end they contrived to introduce him to some half a dozen tribes of similar thinking, sneaking him through burnt out buildings and over low, dilapidated roofs. Tribes that apparently didn't trust the Badlanders alone, but were for some reason reassured by the involvement of one of the Mall Rats. They might have been reduced to no more than a half of their number; they might be hiding like the rats they were named after; but the other tribes didn't need to know that. In these uncertain times the Mall Rats were a name that everybody had heard of, and associated with heroic stands and a push to create order out of the world's new madness. The tribe who had reintroduced currency and trade, peace and co-operation. They were a life-belt to cling to and now, guided by the Badlanders, Lex was the embodiment of all of that. It played nicely to his ego, but more importantly it freed him from the self loathing and impotent rage that had led to his flight from the Mall, and his subsequent near death.

He made a basic speech in each gloomy headquarters - a half-ruined cellar for one tribe, an old bakery for a second, the cells beneath a fallen police station for a third. At each place he found the best place to stand, and spoke to a sullen scattering of too few, none of whom looked like the kind destined to win great wars. Even the ones registered with Tribe Fury were underfed, and shivered in the cold after dark. The Badlanders offered food to increase the hoped for good feeling - dried rice, dried lentils, dried beans - the sort of food inclined to bring Lex out in a cold sweat. The sort that Bray enjoyed, which was reason enough to turn Lex against it, especially just at the moment. Bray, who went out into the city when everybody else cowered inside; Bray, who couldn't even survive a grenade attack, and had got himself killed. Still; Lex didn't need him, and he was determined to convince himself of that. He could inspire troops; he could found a Resistance. The Badlanders would help him, even if the Mall Rats couldn't.

And so he gave his speeches, and promised great numbers rising up against Tribe Fury. He paced up and down in front of his less than adoring audiences, and relived the glorious old battles against the Chosen. One or two hecklers asked questions about the less than glorious scuffles with Tribe Circus and the Locos, but for the most part they listened. They even agreed to help, in the end, although he sometimes wondered how many of them could be trusted. They all promised to spread the word as far as they could, and some even brought forth weapons to add to a general armoury. By the fourth day, when Lex and his Badlander companions set out to find new ears for their plans and speeches, they found that news of their ideas was already beginning to spread, even if largely amongst the Independents. For the most part it was only these already partly aligned tribes that they could speak to anyway, at least during daylight, for everybody who had registered with Tribe Fury was away working or training then, or being schooled. Only at night were there those other than the Independents, when the Badlanders worked hard to find a safe path through patrolling night guards to spread the word to the partially tamed. It was exciting, thought Lex, rather guilty. Exciting to be ferried back and forth like some prince, with guards ahead and behind, being taken to meet hushed groups of people waiting to hear him speak of the planned fight against Tribe Fury. Certainly the groups were numerically small, and there were few enough such meetings anyway - but it was better than nothing. On that fourth day, though, they found that something had changed.

"This is the headquarters of one of the newer tribes." Ever the stiff, correct type, Craig made it sound as much like an official report as always. "I don't know much about them I'm afraid, but I've heard some good things. I think they can be trusted."

"You think?" Lex smiled at him. "It's alright, None of us can really be sure about anyone anymore."

"Exactly." Craig straightened his tie, an habitual move, especially when he was about to meet somebody new. "They call themselves Seagulls. I don't know why - they don't seem to go anywhere near the sea, at least nowadays. Anyway, there were twelve of them before Tribe Fury came. Now they're down to five. I don't know how the others died."

"I don't suppose it matters now." Lex ducked down through the rusting cellar door that Craig indicated to him. Inside was a collection of decidedly unsafe looking stairs, leading to a damp-scarred room. There were five people standing in waiting there, all with their backs to the far wall, and all looking less than welcoming. Lex flashed them all a fine display of his favourite grin, and stepped aside for his four man Badlander guard to enter after him.

"I'm Lex," he said in greeting. "From the Mall Rats. These are the Badlanders. We're here as representatives of a united group of tribes intending to--"

"We know who you are." One of the Seagulls took a very unwilling step forward. "And we don't want anything to do with any rebel movement."

"What's all this about?" Craig advanced further into the room. "We were told to come here. We were told that you were amenable to--"

"We were... But that was before the news was posted." A second Seagull stepped forward, arms folded. "Four days ago the rebels tried to fight Tribe Fury and a number of Furies were killed. There are going to be reprisals. It's just been announced. One hundred of us. One hundred of us are going to be killed - executed, and at random - in retaliation. The rebels did that. Ebony and her Locos. You want to risk that happening again? You think anybody is going to join you when there's that kind of price to pay?"

"Reprisals." The words of Silver's speech came back to Lex now. "Yes of course. They promised reprisals. The food will be held back too. There'll be a lot of hunger. We could use that. The ill feeling against Tribe Fury--"

"Ill feeling against Tribe Fury? The only ill feeling is against the rebels. Against Ebony and her people." The first Seagull looked sour. "Not that they haven't paid for it. All dead."

"You know for sure that Ebony's dead?" Lex's reaction was rather more powerful than he might have thought it would be. The Seagulls showed no response to his emotion though. Instead the third shook his head.

"Not yet, no. Her followers are, and soon she'll be joining them. Here." He held out a crumpled piece of paper, roughly of A4 size, and obviously a poster. Lex snatched it away.

It was well designed, like everything that had to do with Tribe Fury. Handmade too, Lex couldn't help noticing. Presumably some person, or group of people, had worked hard to produce many of the things, all identical. It was enough to make anybody who looked at the poster yearn, in sympathy, for the days of electrical photocopying machines. Until recently illiterate, it wasn't easy for him to make out all of the words, but he wasn't going to let the Badlanders see that he was having problems, so he skimmed though it as best he could. By order of the Lord Brigadier-General Silver, it read, in a practical, but not unattractive, font. The two dangerous rebels, known to the city as Ebony and Bray, are to be executed three days from today in full view of the assembled populace, or their chosen representatives. Their deaths shall be a suitable lesson to all. A small picture of the two condemned, in simple black and white lines, finished the poster. Lex screwed the paper up in a tense and angry fist.

"Executed," he muttered thickly. "Three days from... When did you get this?"

"Today." The first Seagull took the poster back, smoothing out the creases where Lex had crushed it in his hand. "Along with the news about the hundred executions. This changes everything, Lex. Nobody wants to risk more innocent deaths, or risk winding up like these two. Try listening to the city grapevine for a change, instead of parading about the place making speeches about solidarity. Word is it'll be an execution that no one will ever forget."

"It will, huh. Poor Bray." Lex looked back to the poster, suddenly feeling rather sorry for his recent compatriots. He too had been a prisoner at the hotel once, and it had not been a pleasant experience. He could imagine it now, with the boots of marching guards echoing down the corridor outside the cells, and the cold seeping up through the floor. Always dingy, always uncomfortable.

"Bray?" Craig snatched the poster away, glowering at the Seagull boy who tried to retain it. "A 'suitable lesson to all'. I wonder what that means."

"Doesn't matter, does it. We can't let it happen." Though colourless, the drawing of the two captured rebels was faithful, and Lex almost felt as though he were staring into the real eyes of the pair as he looked upon their likenesses now.

"Can't we?" Craig glowered at the poster. "This is a distraction - and for all we know it's a trap as well. They probably think that there's other rebels out here - allies of these two maybe - who'll come wriggling out of the woodwork to save their friends. Where will we be then?"

"Nowhere." Lex took the picture back, and handed it to the Seagull it had been taken from. "But if we free them, think what it'll do to our reputation. Tribe Fury won't look so all powerful if they can't keep their two 'dangerous rebels' in custody, will they. We'll be able to prove to the other tribes that we can hold our own, and we'll get two more decent fighters into the bargain. The only thing it won't do is stop these other executions."

"They're rounding up the people tonight." One of the other Seagulls, so far silent, spoke up now. "They'll be dead by morning. You couldn't stop that with every tribe in the city on your side. All you'll do is get more people killed in reprisals, if you try to rescue them or these other two." In his head dress of white feathers, with his heavily serious expression, he might have cut a dashing figure, had he not been an ungainly thirteen, and with the precocious air of the prematurely old. Lex found him rather disconcerting.

"We won't be getting anybody killed." Irritated by these words, Krishnan, Craig's second-in-command, turned his impressive glare upon the masses assembled. "Well it's none of us doing the killing, is it. The only people to blame for these reprisals are Tribe Fury. Not us."

"I wonder if we can convince the city of that." Craig looked back to Lex. "There's certainly no sense in making matters worse just to try to rescue your friends. You've got to see that that would be crazy. Why risk getting ourselves killed, and ending all of this before it's begun, just to rescue a mad woman who'd kill us all given the chance, and a do-gooder who's always causing trouble? It's not worth it."

"You know them then?" Lex wasn't surprised. At some point since the collapse of the old world Ebony seemed to have fought everybody, and Bray seemed to have annoyed everybody. Tribes Lex had never heard of, hidden in parts of the city he had never seen - all apparently had grudges against the queen of the Locos and, or, the Mall Rats' sometime leader. It was quite a record.

"We've met. I knew Bray once." Craig looked disparaging. "But that's irrelevant. This isn't about old times, it's about now. We can't afford to risk anything in rescuing two people who got themselves into trouble. They've made their bed, Lex."

"Hard luck." He was decided now, just as he had been decided before - facing the massed ranks of the Chosen to rescue Bray on the beach months ago, and shortly after doing so again, to rescue him from the threat of being burnt alive. Sometimes you had to take risks. It was worth it.

"They'll be holding them at the hotel." He nodded once, hard, running through the layout of the place in his mind. He had an advantage there, for he knew the building well. Not just the main rooms above ground - the offices and living quarters of the occupiers, and the garden and leisure area outside - but the underground rooms as well. The storerooms and cellar turned into cells, and the secret entrance way that Ebony had fashioned herself, soon after taking the place over following Zoot's death.

"Lex..." Craig was beginning to simmer, but Lex didn't care.

"I can get us into the hotel, no problem. It would help if I knew the pattern of the guards, but it probably won't matter. We can work something out." He was almost smiling, glad for the chance to play soldiers. "There won't be many guards underground. If we can take them out quietly we can have Bray and Ebony out of there - and maybe other people from the cells too - and be gone in no time. Shouldn't even be any real scuffles."

"Lex..."

"No, I mean it. I'm with you about building a resistance, but what's a resistance for if it's not resisting? This could be our first proper operation."

"And I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm serious. We can't risk manpower trying to save these two. They got themselves into trouble and they can get themselves out of it."

"Craig, that's rather unfair." Krishnan seemed surprised, but Craig merely shot him an angry glare.

"You don't under--"

"You really don't like them, do you." Lex eyed the Badlander leader with suspicion. "What happened? He steal your girl?"

"You think I want to leave them to die just because we had some kind of a disagreement? Come on, I'm not that hardhearted. I just don't want to risk a very limited organisation to save two people."

"Two people who could be very useful. And besides, even if they were complete nobodies, surely this is just what we're supposed to be doing?" Krishnan was frowning, apparently being to suspect Craig's motives as much as did Lex. "We can't leave two people to be executed, especially if it's going to be in some especially gruesome fashion, when there's something we can do about it. We're supposed to standing up to Tribe Fury."

"Which is exactly what Ebony and Bray were doing - which is actually why they're sitting in a cell waiting to be killed as painfully as the Furies can manage. Krish, I'm only thinking of you guys. All of you. We'll be risking a lot."

"Well I think it's worth it. And I'm going." Lex nodded once, as firmly as he could. "They're my friends, and I'm not going to leave them to die. Bray would do this for me. Besides, it'll make the third time I've rescued him from an imminent execution. I think that qualifies me for some kind of silver cup." He looked around at the others, even at the Seagulls who had so far showed no intention of assisting him. "Who's with me?"

"Me." Krishnan ignored Craig's sour look. "I agree with you, Lex. This is worth it, and it's something that we should be doing. If the city really does start turning against any attempts at resistance because of these reprisals, we have to do something to get the initiative back. Leave Tribe Fury with egg on their faces, and we'll be looking good."

"And we'll have Tribe Fury looking to get their own back." Craig shook his head. "This is crazy."

"Maybe." The first Seagull was looking thoughtful. "We've lost a lot of people to Tribe Fury, because we tried to stay independent and they found us. We can't risk anybody else, so there's no way we're throwing in with you over this. But if you manage to pull it off - if you can prove that you can break into the hotel and get out with a couple of their prisoners - then we'll join you in the resistance, and help to spread the word. We used to have some clout with the other tribes around here, and even if all that has gone now, I think there's still people who'll listen to us, at least amongst the shore tribes. Get those two out without triggering off another wave of reprisals, and you've got another section of the city on your side." He held out his hand, surrounded as it was in a bracelet of white feathers and seashells. "Deal?"

"Hey, you got it." Lex shook the hand hard, eyeing the boy up and down as he did so. Scrawny type, he decided, but the kind who looked like he might well know how to handle himself. Most people did these days, after all. He was probably about fifteen, and less cowed than a lot of the city-dwellers nowadays. "How many people do you think you can get onboard?"

"Maybe twenty. Thirty. Depending on how many are still alive. They won't have anything more than sticks and stones to fight with, but I think they'll stand up and do the fighting anyway. With the right leader."

"Good." At this turn of events Lex couldn't help but feel jaunty - and Craig be damned. Maybe war wasn't such a hard business after all.

Jack awoke with a jump, as a heavy weight hit him in the chest. He opened a bleary eye.

"Hnugh?" It wasn't remotely legible, and wasn't intended to be. Above him Pride swam into focus.

"Wake up." The older boy looked angry, which was about par for the course. Pride was always angry. He wished he had run from the Mall in a rage alongside Lex, no matter where it had taken the other boy, and Jack knew it. Lex was free, wherever he was and whatever had happened to him. Free of hiding in the Mall alongside the other Rats - and rats - and free of Racha and his mind games. The infernal weekly meetings, the mocking grins, the gentle encouragements to throw everybody's lives away in order to fight Tribe Fury, and give Racha himself a bit of sick entertainment into the bargain. Lex was free of all of that, and Pride most certainly wasn't; none of which had done anything to improve his mood. Pride hated Racha. The twisted brigadier was only troubling the tribe because of Bray - and Bray was already far from being Pride's favourite person. Bray had got Amber exiled from the city; Bray had got Amber pregnant in the first place, putting her life in danger; Bray had won Amber away from Pride, and broken Pride's heart in the process. Pride had thought that he was long past all of that, but recently his old bitterness had risen to the surface. With Lex gone, things were only getting worse. Jack only understood half of it, but he knew the flat glow in Pride's eyes, and he knew that the Gaian was still thinking of Amber.

"I am awake," he muttered, and tried to sit up. Three large cans of soup rolled off his chest and onto his bed, and he blinked at them stupidly. "Soup?"

"From Racha. More treats for his pets." Pride sat down heavily next to Jack. "I've been out."

"I guessed. A little early in the day for a meeting isn't it?"

"Yes. His idea. He was standing outside the Mall at first light, so I thought I'd better go out and see what he wanted. He wasn't kidding about knowing everything, obviously. I don't think he saw where I got in and out though." His shoulders seemed to slump. "Not that it probably matters."

"He give you any more pearls of wisdom?"

"No. No, he just seemed to be angling for something. Trying to find out if we know anything about the Locos and their rebellion a few days back I think." The older boy seemed to be thinking hard, or wrestling perhaps with something deep inside him. "Jack... What do you think of Bray?"

"He's our leader." Actually Jack had never really believed that; as far as he could see, Amber was the leader. Bray had always been happier when he only had to worry about collecting stores. All the same, Jack was loyal to the often mysterious loner. Bray might be weird and moody, and self-righteous too at times - and admittedly he had put them all in danger in the past with his illicit liaisons with the Locos - but he was still basically a good guy. He came through in the end. Jack looked up to him, the way he had once looked up to the older, more popular boys in school. "He's a good guy, Pride. Why?"

"Because. Because... I don't know." Pride reached into his shirt and pulled out a folded up piece of paper, which he stared at for some time. "If you were captured, Jack, we'd have to get you back whatever the cost. You're probably the one person left here that we can't do without. You're the one who's keeping us supplied with water, and who's fixing it so we'll have electricity again soon. You're vital, Jack."

"Well... thanks." Jack grinned, hesitantly at first, but appreciatively. Pride nodded.

"But I'm not vital. All I do is keep the rendezvous with Racha that was supposed to be Bray's responsibility. Tai-San, Luke, Trudy - they all have their uses, but none of them is indispensable."

"If they were captured we'd try to free them. We'd have to."

"How, Jack? You're no fighter. Neither's Trudy. Besides, she always has Brady to worry about. How could the rest of us hope to rescue anybody - how could we justify saving anybody - who wasn't absolutely vital?"

"I suppose it's all down to perspective." Jack frowned, his own eyes now drawn to the piece of folded paper in Pride's hands. "What's all this about, anyway?"

"Trying to persuade myself that it isn't stupid old grudges making me want to keep my head down." Pride handed over the paper, and watched as Jack opened it up. He knew what it said - had looked at it a hundred times in the short while since finding it blowing in the street outside. Jack's lips moved once or twice as he read the ominous words: '...dangerous rebels...'; '...executed three days from today...'; '...a suitable lesson to all...'. Finally he laid the paper down on his lap, and looked up.

"Bray's alive," he said, with no small measure of wonder. They had heard rumours of Ebony's involvement with the rebellion, but it had been nothing that Racha would substantiate. He seemed to like keeping them in the dark. Bray's fate had been unknown since Lex and Pride had looked their last upon him whilst escaping from Tribe Fury some weeks back. And now here, at last, was proof that he had survived that incident. Happiness and distress flowed through Jack in an awkward tangle of conflict. "Alive for now, anyway."

"You see what I was getting at?"

"But we can't just leave him!" The words exploded out of Jack, and he leapt to his feet in a rush. "Pride, we--"

"Ssh." Pride stood up as well, grabbing the smaller boy's arms and pushing him back down onto the bed. "Jack, I came to you because I needed to talk to someone, and you're the only one left that I can talk to. I could hardly go to Trudy with this. You have to see that there's nothing we can do."

"I don't... I'm not..." Jack's gentle face crinkled into a frown. He wasn't a strategist. He was the one who designed things, and built them when he could. He was a scientist. The others around him thought up plans, fought battles, did the rescuing and the needing to be rescued. All he knew was what seemed right to him. "We can't leave them to die," he said at last, and stood up again. This time Pride didn't make him sit down.

"Do you have any idea how to do this?" he asked. Jack scowled.

"Not the slightest," he admitted. He was thinking vague thoughts of the hotel, which he had visited often enough during Ebony's reign. He knew the basic layout of the place, or thought that he did. How hard could it be to break in and get somebody out? Theoretically all that was necessary was to avoid being seen by any of the guards. Jack was good with theories. Folding the poster back up into neat quarters, he headed off out of his workshop. Pride stared after him. He wasn't the cold type; it wasn't really in his nature to leave anyone to suffer or to die; but he was a realist, and he was far better placed than Jack to see the dangers that they might face in mounting a rescue attempt. Perhaps it would have been better if he had kept the poster to himself - but that was not a possibility. Such secrets as that didn't stay kept. He stayed where he was for a moment, listening to Jack summoning the others; watching from the doorway as they came one by one. Trudy, half-dressed and carrying Brady; Tai-San, looking like she had been another night without sleep, lost in worry for Lex; Luke, coming from the canteen, where he had been busy making breakfast for everybody. Luke was almost indispensable now, Pride had to admit. He seemed to be the only one of them left with any real energy or enthusiasm. The only one of them who could make anything inviting from their meagre stores; the reason why Jack was able to get his workshop running again. Luke encouraged him to think laterally, largely through seemingly ingenuous questions; encouraging him to cannibalise all kinds of unexpected materials around the Mall to build his various projects. He was smiling now as he came down the stairs - the way that he had been smiling ever since convincing himself that the Guardian had died alongside Bray. Well that was one conviction that might be about to take a drubbing, thought Pride. He didn't smile at the thought though. That would be unfair.

"What is it, Jack?" Trudy set her baby down on the floor with a small soft toy, then sat down on the edge of the fountain. Jack shook out the poster, holding it up.

"Bray's alive!" He announced it as though it were a great piece of news - which of course it would have been, without the coda that followed. Trudy gasped at him, speechless with delight, and even the now commonly morose Tai-San managed a smile.

"Alive?" Luke wiped his hands on the apron he had dug out of a dusty cupboard in the canteen. Cobwebs still trailed from the bottom hem, but these days hygiene was one of the least of their problems. "How do you know?"

"Pride found this." Jack handed the poster to him, beginning to look a little sheepish. "It's not exactly great news."

"I'll say. A prisoner of Tribe Fury?" Luke looked up, catching Pride's eye, and seeing the reservations that the older boy couldn't hide. "Jack, this is--"

"Yeah, I know." Jack couldn't help being prickly towards Luke in just the way that Pride couldn't help feeling likewise towards Bray. Luke had turned Ellie's head - Luke had been one of the reasons Ellie had left the city. Still; at least it meant that she was safe now, and far away from all of this, at least until Tribe Fury began to expand beyond the city limits. Luke met his gaze, beginning to frown then changing his mind. After all, he missed Ellie too.

"Here." He handed the poster on to Trudy, well aware that there was no easy way to break that kind of news. "So what's the plan?"

"Rescue him of course!" Trudy's voice went up to a squeak of shock and outrage, and she jumped in a rush to her feet. "He's alive. We can't let them kill him. Or Ebony." She stared at the two hand-drawn faces, much as Lex had done. "Alive. I thought--"

"So did we all." Pride strode over, avoiding Jack's bright eyes. "Listen, we have to talk this through carefully. Breaking in there - assuming that they are at the hotel, since we have no way of knowing - could well be impossible; let alone getting out again. There are only five of us, after all, and Trudy can't go." He held up a hand to forestall her objections. "Trudy, I know how you feel about Bray. We all do. But somebody has to stay with Brady, and that means you." He sat down on the fountain wall, where she had been a moment before. "This is insane. We shouldn't even be talking about this."

"But we are." Tai-San was holding the poster now. "If it was Lex, I would go to rescue him even if it meant going alone. We should do the same for Bray. He's done so much for all of us. He's a big part of this tribe, and we can't afford to lose any more friends." She spoke quietly and firmly, in a way that did not allow for arguments. "Do you have any idea when this poster was released?"

"Must have been yesterday. Tribe Fury don't do things like that at night, and I found it first thing this morning." Pride raised an eyebrow. "Which means we have two days before the execution."

"We could try a raid on the execution place," suggested Jack. Pride smiled at him, appreciating the humour in that suggestion despite his less than cheerful mood.

"And you know where that is? Jack, people who dash in at the last second to snatch people from the gallows tend to have fight choreographers to back them up. That kind of thing can't be done by four unarmed kids who don't know what the hell they're doing."

"So it's a secret job then." Luke ran his hands through his blue hair. "I learnt a fair bit about that with the Chosen. Sneaking here, sneaking there. It's something we were all good at."

"Fine." Pride was thinking of other things, still convinced that this was a stupid thing to do. Some risks, perhaps, were just too big to take. "Then we'll go tonight. Is that breakfast ready yet?"

"Yes." Luke brightened at the mention of food, the contribution he liked to make to life in the Mall.

"Good." Pride pushed himself to his feet. "Then let's eat. We have a lot to talk about. A lot to get ready. We can spend the rest of the day going through our moves."

"Our moves." Jack might have smiled at the words. Surely nobody was less of a military man than he? Less likely a candidate for practising moves and manoeuvres for an operation like this? But it had to be done, and there was no avoiding that. Even if it meant that, come tomorrow morning, Trudy was the only one of them left.

It might have been better to have been killed outright. At least then it would all have been over. When they had walked back together to face the oncoming hordes of Tribe Fury, Ebony and Bray had expected to die. There had seemed no way out, and even if it was not what either of them had wanted, they had been ready for it. When there seemed to be no alternative, there was little point in hiding from the inevitable - but inevitability had proved to be elusive.

The soldiers of Tribe Fury had come at them en masse - fifteen or twenty of them, pouring down the thin street, keeping formation in a precise, fast moving square. They were like a squad of riot policemen, carrying shields and banging on them in a powerful rhythm, trying to put fear into the hearts of anybody ranged against them. Ebony had cracked a feeble joke that Bray had hardly heard, and had squeezed his hand in what they both believed to be a final gesture. Before they had had a chance to martial their thoughts, however; before they could make any attempt at their last - and, they hoped, brave - futile stand, more of the enemy had flooded out at them from many directions. They had been swamped in seconds, borne down under the inexorable tide of yelling, cheering Furies.. Bray remembered being pinned down, flat on his back on cold, hard, damp tarmac; fighting uselessly against an impossible weight of numbers; turning his head in a vain attempt to see Ebony. There had been a wild confusion of noise and a steady battering from clumsy feet and hands - then he was hauled to his feet and dragged away. His feet had barely touched the ground.

And now they waited, both of them, in a gloomy, dirty prison that had once been part of the cellar at the hotel. Bray had been locked in such a room before, when Ebony had taken him as payment for her assistance in saving the Mall Rats from Tribe Circus. Now she was a prisoner alongside him, in a room recently reinforced and deeply disheartening. There was no furniture, no window - nothing but a pair of grey blankets and a poster declaiming the glory of Tribe Fury. It was replaced as often as they tore it down, but tear it down they still did, from time to time. Silver's handsome, proud face became unbearable after a while, beaming his message of presumed supremacy through his painted eyes and smile.

They had learned almost immediately why they had been captured alive, when all or most of their companions had been killed. Tribe Fury planned to make an example of them with a public execution. Something grim, or so they were told. Something so unpleasant, and so demonstrative, that nobody who witnessed it would ever think of rebelling again - and many people would witness it. Attendance was to be compulsory for everybody in the immediate neighbourhood, and all the sectors in the city would be required to send representatives. Fame at last, Ebony had joked. She had once wanted to be on the stage - and now at last she would be. Nobody had told them when it was all to happen though; not at first - they had just had to wait it out in their dark cell, nursing their respective injuries and trying to keep warm. They marked time by the patrols of the guards in the corridor outside, though they had to estimate as to their regularity. Beyond that there was nothing to do save plot impossible escapes and plan unobtainable futures. All in all, it was hard to imagine how things could possibly be worse.

Restless and despondent, Bray shifted stiffly, acutely aware of the pain in his arm. Needless to say Tribe Fury had offered their captives no medicine, nor even the chance to see a medic, and they had been left to their own devices. They had enough drinking water to warrant using some to try cleaning their various injuries, and Bray had fashioned a bandage of sorts for Ebony's more serious leg wound. It didn't seem to want to heal. As far as they could tell, judging by guard patrols and food and water deliveries, they had been locked up for around five days now; so in theory they should both have been recovering. The blood was flowing less often; there was less sign of swelling perhaps. The pain didn't seem to diminish though, and they were both still bothered by it. Moving helped, but there was a limit to how often anybody could limp in circles around a small, square cell. Usually they wound up sprawled on the floor again, either arguing or trying to make each other laugh; or perhaps sharing stories of happier times. Things changed after the first few days though, when they were finally told when they were going to die. They were left then just with wondering how it was going to happen; not that the now had meant a great deal in this place of uncertain time. Life became merely a long wait - a wondering of how exctly they were going to die; a nervous stretch of the imagination over phrases like 'unimaginable pain' and 'something that the city will never forget'. A constant wondering about how much time had passed and how much was still to go; stuck thinking that maybe it would be better if it was all over, just so that there would be no more wondering.

And right now it was quiet, which added to the torture and the discomfort. Not that it was ever very noisy. Ebony was asleep, curled up on one of the blankets, her wounded leg stretched out awkwardly. The hard, dusty floor wasn't much of a bed, but it was as good as anything else when exhaustion took a hold. She moved only occasionally, dreaming only quietly, and he smiled fondly at her as he tried to stretch some life back into his own, rather less relaxed body. His wounded arm screamed its protests, and he muttered irritably at it. It seemed a shame that the painful limb probably wouldn't get a chance to heal now.

The sound of voices roused him from his sleepy ponderings, and he moved as quietly as he could to the door, lying face down just in front of it. The gap beneath the door was big enough to allow him to see something of what was happening outside in the corridor, and he watched with some interest. New prisoners, apparently; not that he could see much above their ankles. They were being herded, though, so 'prisoners' seemed a fair assumption; and as he watched they were pushed into a cell opposite his own. The door thumped shut and the guards marched away. Bray watched them go, for as far as his little viewing range would allow.

"Being nosy?" Ebony sat up slowly, rubbing her injured arm, and trying to look as if it didn't hurt as much as it did. "You're going to have the guards angry at you again."

"Well what are they going to do? Execute me?" He gave up on the crack beneath the door and sat up. "New prisoners. I wonder who they are?"

"Ancient royalty, returned to the city to begin the process of winning back their realm." Ebony shrugged. "Fools who got on the wrong side of the wrong people when they were out looking for food, I suppose. What did you see?"

"Two people. Male and female I think."

"You think? Bray, honey, if you need a few lessons in--" She broke off, not wanting to provoke an argument. Small cells were not places in which to have fights. Bray glared at her.

"I couldn't see above their ankles. You try telling what sex they are. One of them was wearing baseball boots, worn pretty thin. Very big feet, so I'm thinking it was a guy, but you never know. The other was wearing red canvas sandals and red and white stripy stockings. That says 'female' as a general rule."

"Or Tribe Vaudeville."

"Yes, or Tribe--" He broke off, frowning. "Are they still around?"

"No. We wiped out the survivors when Zoot was still with us. I think he sold their leaders to one of the shore tribes to work on the fishing fleet." She shrugged. "So, not Tribe Vaudeville then."

"I guess not. It's somebody though."

"Whoever it is will be dead or working on a slave gang by the end of the week - and since we're going to be dead ourselves by then, there's probably not much sense in wondering about it." She shifted awkwardly, trying to ease the pain in her leg. "I wonder if the others have heard about us yet. Back at the Mall, I mean."

"I hope not. Tribe Fury will be spreading the word, I guess, if we're going to be that much of an example - but with a bit of luck the Mall Rats will be keeping their heads down. I don't want them to know. Anyway, when did you get to be such a defeatist? Who says we'll be dead by the end of the week? Always supposing that it's not the end of the week already."

"Old phrases like that don't have much meaning any more, do they. Though I'm betting Tribe Fury always know what day of the week it is." She fixed him with a particularly straight and honest gaze. "And who says I'm being a defeatist? I'm just looking at this sensibly. Are you up to fighting your way out of here?"

"No." He looked at the ground, feeling his injured arm throbbing in sympathetic rhythm with his pulse. He had been stabbed fairly deeply in one shoulder, and the arm had by now become almost useless. Given a chance to heal properly, he had no doubt that it would be as good as new again in a week or two. He was optimistic that way. For the time being, though, it hampered his movements considerably. One of his legs was hurt too, and although the wound was not nearly so bad as that affecting Ebony's leg, still it would prevent him from doing any serious running. He had run on it at first, before he had been captured, but the days since, given the chill of the cell and the hard floor that he had to sleep upon, had left it stiff and uncooperative. He doubted that he would get very far in a chase without it giving way underneath him. Ebony wouldn't even fare that well. Feeling thoroughly miserable he lay back down again, and peered once more through the crack beneath the door. Beyond, the corridor was still and dim, and faint sounds drifted down from the world outside. A voice, a footstep, the scrape of a rifle as it knocked against something. He listened with half an ear, thinking morbid thoughts, and didn't for some moments notice the pair of eyes staring back at him from across the corridor. One of the new prisoners, whoever he or she was, was peering at him through the crack under the door opposite. The whoever it was looked suspicious and wary, though noticeably devoid of fear. Bray offered a slightly awkward smile, but it wasn't returned.

"What did you do?" he asked, in an attempt to make conversation. It might be nice to have somebody to talk to other than Ebony, even if the attempt did bring the massed legions of the Fury Guard stampeding down upon him. The eyes watching him blinked, frowned, then softened slightly.

"Don't really know," came the faintly gruff reply. "We've been out of the city a long time. We were coming back, and suddenly there were people in uniforms all over the place. We had a bit of a fight I suppose. Too many of them though." The eyes blinked at Bray, oddly soft and placid, despite the gruffness of the voice. "How about you?" There was no answer, for Bray was staring at him in amazement. "I said, how about you?" Bray still didn't answer him. The familiarity of the voice, becoming more apparent with every word; the sudden pressure on his arm as Ebony came to join him by the door - all made his spirits soar for one brief moment; before grim reality made him remember that even familiar voices meant nothing when the odds were stacked so very heavily in favour of the enemy. He dragged up a smile.

"Ryan?"

"Huh?" The eyes narrowed slightly, returning to their previous expression of distrust. "How do you know my name?"

"Because I lived in the Mall with you for who knows how long." Bray's smile grew at the thought of that old sanctuary. "There's somebody with you. Is it Salene?"

"Bray?" Ryan, for it was most certainly he, pressed himself closer to the door, as though the extra millimetre's proximity might give him a better look. "Is that really you? What are you doing here?"

"Bray?" The female voice was unmistakably Salene's, her always easily read emotions typically close to the surface now. "Bray?" A second pair of eyes, fringed by a lock of hair as startlingly red as was Jack's, jostled for a place next to Ryan. "It doesn't-- Well I can't see much, but it certainly doesn't look like you."

"It doesn't?" It took him a moment to wonder at that, until he realised that he must look pretty terrible. It wasn't so much the days of imprisonment, although that certainly hadn't helped. Wasting precious drinking water on cleaning wounds, in the hope of avoiding infection, was one thing; wasting it for simple cleanliness was quite another. His face still bore the marks of battle; namely smudges of soot that had smeared with the blood and the war paint, and mixed with the trails of hair dye that had began to run in the heat of the fight. It hadn't been a good dye, like the one used by Salene, nor good war paint, like the kind used by Ebony; just basic stuff, applied in a hurry before they had marched out of their camp for the last time. He wondered how he looked now; something like he had the time they had all had a paint fight at the Mall, perhaps. That or like a Loco. He grinned uncertainly, and put his hand up to touch the now re-dried riot of colour. "Sorry. I must look a sight."

"You always do." Ebony hadn't been able to resist that one, but Bray didn't bother shooting her his usual glare. Instead he merely focused on his two old friends, delivered to him so unexpectedly, though unlikely to be of any real help.

"We were captured," he said in the end, in answer to Ryan's previous question. "Things have changed so much in the city since you both went away. Salene will have told you all about seeing off the Chosen, I guess? After that, Tribe Fury came. They were so well organised."

"They look it," growled Ryan. "Real military operation. All the proper equipment, too."

"Exactly. We didn't stand a chance. They took the city faster than anybody else could have done. Made all the tribes sign up to a big registration scheme. Work in exchange for food, and woe betide anybody who tries to hold out. Ebony and I were trying to fight back, but... well, we didn't get very far."

"Bad luck." Ryan sounded sympathetic, as he so very often was. A gentler sort it would be harder to find, despite his strength and fighting ability. "What about the others?"

"Still back at the Mall I guess. We got separated a few weeks back."

"But they are still alive?" Salene sounded frightened. "I mean, we saw some pretty scary things. There seemed to be a lot of... blood... on the walls. It was blood, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Ebony shuffled closer, so that she could more properly be a part of the conversation. "There's been a lot of blood lately. A lot more still to come, if things don't change."

"This city seems to lurch from one crisis to another." Salene stared at back them, her face, or what was visible of it, looking pale and sad. "I wonder if the other cities, in all the other countries, are the same?"

"What was it like where you've been these past weeks?" Bray spoke gently to her, knowing her well, and knowing how best to treat her. It was Ryan who answered.

"Gentle," he said, and sounded wistful. Probably he wished he were there now. "Patsy and I were sent to a holding camp. We were weaving robes, of all things. For the Chosen and their initiates I suppose. It was boring, but we were treated well enough. Then one day word came that the Chosen had fallen, and the guards just went away. We didn't know the way back to the city. We were taken away in the back of a covered wagon, and it was a long journey. We didn't even know what direction to start walking in. We passed through settlements. Camps full of peaceful, simple people." He gave a little laugh, as though he were embarrassed to have been speaking in such a way. "It was nice, I guess. No fighting, or scavenging for old tins and packets of dried food. No sheltering in burnt buildings, and living in the debris of the old world. Made me wonder if I shouldn't have stayed out of the city, and never come back with Lex when we left the military camp."

"You've changed." Bray hoped that it didn't sound accusing, but that it seemed to be the compliment it was meant to be. "The Chosen?"

"Maybe." Ryan sounded a little confused, which was familiar coming from him. Some things hadn't changed, clearly. He did sound more sure of himself, though. More mature perhaps. The time away from Lex had been good for him. "You've changed too. You must have. You've been wearing paint. Lots of it. Like the warrior tribes."

"We are a warrior tribe." Ebony's flash of pride seemed to surprise even her, and she smiled a little sheepishly. "Well, we were a warrior tribe. Before the Furies killed everybody else. None of which helps us right now. What are they going to do with you?"

"Do with us?" Ryan shifted uncomfortably, no doubt thinking protective thoughts about Salene. "I don't know. They didn't say. What do they usually do?"

"Remember the blood on the walls?" Ebony's tone was less than pleasant, but Bray's attempt to nudge her in rebuke came to an abrupt end when he tried to do it with his injured arm. He sucked in a sharp breath and had to glare at her instead.

"You might get put on one of the work crews, since you're new to the city." He knew that he didn't sound convinced; largely because he wasn't. "They do have a tendency just to execute people though. If you made an appeal maybe..."

"You're scaring me, Bray." Salene sat up abruptly, vanishing from the crack beneath the door. Her skin felt cold, but she didn't think that it was just because she had been lying on a cold floor. All this time she had been looking forward to returning to the city. She had ridden out on horseback, anxious for the day when she would find Ryan and bring him home. Everybody would be delighted to see them when they came back. The city would be peaceful with the Chosen gone. She could resume her life amongst her friends. Instead she had found the city in the hands of yet another insane tribe, with blood all over the place; unfriendly people with guns; Bray lying in a cell and apparently waiting to be executed. Ryan also sat up, going instinctively to comfort her.

"It's alright," he told her, although he felt a fool for saying it. He had no idea whether things would be alright. She smiled somewhat shakily.

"This isn't exactly the homecoming I'd hoped for."

"Me either. We should have gone with Patsy." He took her hand. "I won't let anybody shoot you. Promise. You'll see. We've all had some narrow escapes in the past, right? But we're all still alive."

"Dal isn't." She smiled more strongly, however, and nodded her head. "You're right. I'm sure we'll be okay."

"That's the spirit." Hearing things only faintly, Bray tried to offer his own support. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the dark, damp ceiling. Cobwebs tracked back and forth, but he couldn't see any spiders. They had probably long escaped. "I'm sorry you got caught up in this. Both of you. You should have been safe outside the city. Some of the others are. Ellie, Alice, the twins. Amber, I think. I hope." He smiled sadly, and Ebony put her hand on his shoulder in one of her periodic attempts to be nice. "What happened to Patsy?"

"She's out there somewhere." Ryan was thinking back to the last time he had seen the young girl, and it showed in his voice. "We got word at one of the settlements we passed through, of a place where a lot of the disabled kids went. They didn't have a great time of it in the cities, you know that, and a lot of tribes didn't want anything to do with them, but supposedly there's a place where a lot of them ended up. Living together in some kind of commune. Somebody said that there was a deaf boy there called Paul."

"Paul?" Bray frowned. "What are the chances of it being that Paul?"

"I don't know. How many deaf kids are there in the country who are called Paul? Anyway, she had to go and find out. If there's any chance of it being her brother she couldn't very well forget about it, could she. We offered to go as well, but she told us to come back here. I hope she doesn't find him just to lead him back here into this."

"Word is spreading. It must be." Ebony was not good at reassurance, but she made a valiant attempt now. "Maybe in a while people will know not to try coming here. They might even get together and come in mob-handed to drive Tribe Fury out."

"Yeah, that's going to happen." Ryan glared at the door. "Do you really think we're stupid enough to believe that? Nobody cares enough to try. Nobody works together that way. Not even out there in the countryside, where they all get along so much better. Besides, the only people who'd try an attack like that are the kind of people who'd only do it so that they could take over afterwards. We'd swap your friends here for something else just as bad."

"And with the Guardian wandering around out there, I don't want to know what that might be." Bray closed his eyes, deciding that he had seen enough of derelict cobwebs. "We have to get out of here. The only way we're going to see off Tribe Fury is if we do it ourselves."

"Did I miss something? Isn't that how we came to be in here in the first place?" Ebony rubbed her injured arm, unable to avoid thinking about the moment when it had been hurt. "It turned out not to be very easy, remember?"

"We didn't exactly have a lot of people behind us. We need to regroup. Take our time. Not be afraid to wait a while."

"Like the two days we have left before they cut our heads off? Or flay us alive? We don't have time, Bray. We don't have support. We don't have anybody to regroup with. All we have is us. You and me. And maybe those two."

"And the Guardian." It was a pitiful list, made worse rather than better by that last addition, but Bray added him anyway. He was one more person who wanted to get rid of Tribe Fury, at any rate.

"Yeah. The Guardian. Who hates us both, and once tried to have you burnt to death in front of half his followers. He could teach Tribe Fury a thing or two about cruelty. If you're looking for support, he's not the best person to be looking at."

"Pardon me for trying to be optimistic, Ebony. It just seems so stupid, waiting here to be killed. Sitting here all this time I almost stopped thinking about how we might be able to escape, but it feels different now." He slid back down to peer once again through the crack beneath the door. "Ryan, that military camp you mentioned. The one where you and Lex were sent to train?"

"Yeah?" Ryan's eyes appeared again. "It was a nice place. I liked it. They taught us all about survival and fighting, just like the proper army. We were going to be the last guard."

"Against us," muttered Ebony, who rather appreciated the humour of that. It had been gangs like the Locos, spreading amongst the city's children, that had inspired the adults to set up the camps. If everything had gone according to plan, Ryan and Lex would have been part of a uniformed army not unlike Tribe Fury, marching into the city to restore order and try to beat back the Locos, the Demon Dogs and their contemporaries. But then, things rarely went according to plan in days of such chaos as those had been.

"Yeah. Maybe." Ryan's eyes darted from one to the other of them. "But what about it."

"You had weapons in those camps, right?" elaborated Bray. "You were trained in all that stuff I mean. Guns. Army drill."

"Yeah. We did marching and target practice and all that stuff. But I don't--"

"The weapons, Ryan. What happened to them?"

"They might still be in the camps up in the hills. Some of the other kids might have taken them, though, when we all disbanded. I always wondered why Lex didn't. But that's all outside of the city, anyway. What good is it to us?"

"I don't know. I just... Ryan, listen. If they were going to take back the city, and keep the peace in all that chaos, they'd have needed a lot of firepower, right? The petrol was running out, everybody was mostly travelling on foot... A gang of kids couldn't have marched down out of the hills carrying all that much weaponry, could they?"

"No. There were a few caches of weapons hidden about inside the city. The Virus starting spreading faster though, and there were so few adults left. They all ran away from the city with their families to try to stay alive, and then everything was nuts. By the time we got back to the city there was nobody left to tell us where the guns were. Lex and I looked for a while. Lex wanted to be a big man, and he thought he could do that with guns, but there wasn't a sign of them anywhere. We tried government buildings... public areas... schools. Nothing."

"I never knew about any of this." Ebony would have sat up sharply if she hadn't suspected that it would hurt too much. Bray flashed her one of his faintly superior glances.

"You were the kind of people who were never supposed to find out. If we could only find them now, though. With guns to back them up half the kids in the city would probably help us. Before we only had the guns we'd stolen from Tribe Fury, and it would take forever to arm ourselves properly that way. But if we could find just one of those arms stashes..."

"And you don't think somebody might already have found them?" Salene didn't like the talk of guns, although there seemed little point in mentioning such reservations. Ordinarily she would never have imagined that Bray would have been talking this way either. "It's not just Ryan and Lex who came out of one of those camps. And if you know about them too--"

"If anybody had found them we'd have known all about it." Bray darted a faintly accusing glance at Ebony, who offered him an innocent and charming smile.

"True enough," she said brightly. "If any tribe had found those weapons we'd have known about it soon enough. They'd have used them, and others would have seen them, and sooner or later the Locos or the Demon Dogs would have got hold of some of them. We had one or two handguns until we ran out of ammunition, but that was just stuff that Zoot took from the police station we got most of our equipment from."

"There were one or two rifles about the place, too, that were in private houses. That's all." Bray was thinking hard. Where would a governing body of terrified adults hide guns for the use of their child army? Plenty of people had wondered it of course - so it would have to be somewhere less than obvious. Somewhere where nobody would ever think of looking. But how could you think of somewhere you would never think of?

"I don't want a gun," muttered Salene. Bray smiled, his mind still on other things.

"Me neither. But if it's what we need to do, we'll have to do it. There'll be plenty of kids who'll be willing to take our guns if we don't want them."

"I'd have one." Ryan seemed quite happy at the prospect, for one who was essentially so gentle at heart. "I was good with guns during training. Especially rifles. I beat Lex at rifle practice."

"Well I can't see that there's any real likelihood of you getting one. Finding this--" Ebony broke off. "Was that the outer door?"

"Yes." Bray whispered a quick retreat to Ryan and Salene, then rolled away from the door. It wasn't good to be found near the doors when the guards came. He and Ebony listened to the passage of a single pair of feet, imagining the coming Fury as he counted off the doors that he passed. They didn't know for sure how many of the cells were occupied, for people came and went, and few of them wanted to talk. The footsteps stopped outside their door though - or perhaps outside Ryan and Salene's. Bray and Ebony exchanged a look.

"It's not feeding time," she pointed out. "Could be--"

"No. They said three days. It hasn't been two yet. There's still time."

"You hope."

"I'm sure." The door rattled open. "I think." They looked up.

There was a figure outside the door, not entirely visible in the dim light of the corridor. Tall, ram-rod straight, standing with his hands behind his back as though he had no need to fear an attack from the two waiting prisoners, he rocked once on his heels and his toes.

"Bray. Ebony." There was a greeting in his voice. A warmth. A sparkle. Bray groaned. Tired, stiff, hungry, hurting, awaiting execution - and now, Racha. Things couldn't really get any worse. A light laugh answered him.

"Now now. Why are you never happy to see me?" The tall figure came closer, blond hair catching the low light levels, and glowing softly. A smile, slight but warm, was directed straight at Bray, and the bright black eyes twinkled with familiarity and flirtation. Racha, it seemed, never changed.

"What do you want?" Bray rose painfully to his feet, and Racha winced in sympathy.

"You're not looking too good."

"It was a big fight."

"I heard. I was impressed. Shame I wasn't there."

"Yeah. Then you could be dead too." Ebony also stood up, though she found that she needed Bray's help to make it all the way up. "Come to gloat, have you? Only we're getting a bit bored with all the people coming to tell us about our executions."

"Executions? Oh, that. Yes, it does seem a waste." The sparkling eyes lingered on Bray. "They're planning to hang, draw and quarter you, you know."

"And you've come to tell us all about it?" Bray made sure that Ebony was safely leaning against a wall, then took a step towards Racha. "We're really not in the mood."

"I shouldn't think you are. But then I didn't come here to gloat." He folded his arms, still noticeably keeping his hands well away from his gun. "You know me, Bray. I like a challenge. I told you all about the rebellion I was hoping you'd lead; but that didn't really get off the ground, did it. I'm a little disappointed to be honest. I've been feeding your Mall Rat friends all this time; doing my best to wind them up, get them angry. You know - I don't think your friend Pride can stand the sight of me."

"Neither can I."

"Now is that friendly?" Racha's own smile didn't waver. If anything it grew. "Thing is, Bray, I was serious when I said that I wanted the entertainment. I want battles and rebellion. I want war. The Mall Rats are a wash out, and the only people who have managed to fight at all are about to get killed. In a very imaginative fashion, granted - and I do have to admit that I'd quite like to see somebody being hanged, drawn and quartered - but it rather works against my interests this time." He beamed. "Besides, we're friends, aren't we."

"Friends? You shot me!"

"Shot at you, there's a difference. And, okay, so I was going to kill you when we first met, but I've explained that." He shrugged. "Come on. If I was to make you an offer, would you choose the hanging instead? And the drawing and the quartering?"

"Probably depends on the offer." Bray looked over at Ebony, who waved a hand to show that she was ready to listen. "Go ahead. What is it?"

"Well..." Racha leaned against the wall, deliberately leaving the door unguarded as though as an invitation. "It's like this. I like a good fight."

"If you want to go one on one it wouldn't be too much of a fight right now."

"No, I noticed that. You should take better care of yourself. But no, that's not what I'm looking for. Just yet anyway. You could always leave that little offer open for another day."

"I don't think so. Get on with it. What exactly is your warped little plan?"

"Warped?" Racha's eyes glittered in their familiar merry way. Apparently it was impossible to insult him. "Silver has plans for this city, you know."

"Don't you mean the 'Lord Brigadier-General' Silver?"

"Yes... he always did like grandeur. Not the most military-minded of the lot of us. But anyway, he plans to crush this city at his feet, as you've probably noticed. You're not his only example, you know. As if disembowelling you while you're still alive, in front of as many citizens as he can gather in one place isn't deterrent enough against rebelling... he's also just had one hundred people taken at random from amongst the citizenry, and shot. Their bodies will be displayed in the front yard of St Francis' Grammar School. Know the one? I see you do. One hundred decaying bodies won't do much for the nice paving and the pretty little colonnades, will they. It's all part of the plan to stop any more attempts at fighting back."

"Which is what you don't want," put in Ebony. Racha nodded at her.

"Precisely. I don't want a dead city, in thrall to its totalitarian leader. I want unrest. Fighting. Chaos. I hear that you know a little something about that yourself, Ebony."

"You've been checking up on me." She sounded flattered, and couldn't help a smile.

"Asking questions. I've heard a lot about you and a guy named 'Zoot'. Some kind of leader? 'Power and chaos' is a nice mantra. My kind of sentiment."

"If you're looking for Zoot," Bray's voice was like ice, "then you've come to the wrong place."

"Friend of yours as well was he? Well anyway, it's not Zoot I want. Just a little of his vision. Which is why I've decided that Silver has to go." He smiled patiently. "What do you think?"

"I think you're crazy." Bray shook his head. "You? One man against Tribe Fury? And I thought our plan was nuts."

"Ah. But you see it wouldn't be just one man, and it wouldn't be against the whole of Tribe Fury. I'm second in command, Bray. I have a lot of support. I've also been overseeing the training of the new recruits, in conjunction with some of my more like-minded colleagues. Now, I can't exactly lay claim to half of the tribe, but certainly a good slice of them are mine, and they're ready to jump when I tell them to. And you're going to help."

"Huh?" Ebony pushed away from the wall, taking a step closer as though by doing so she might be able to discover whether or not he were making some mad joke. Racha, of course, merely smiled.

"Why not? It's perfect. We have a big fight - a civil war. It could last for months. You bring in as many city folk as you can - they'll listen to you, and they'll have to fight on one side or the other, or they'll just get swept away - and in return you get your lives... so long as you can keep them. You get Silver and his stranglehold gone; and you get a far, far better chance than you have now of getting your city back. Well, back to what it was like after the adults died, anyway. It'll be a while before you get it back to how it was before we came. What do you say?"

"You're... mad." Bray was glad of the wall to lean against. "Civil war? With the kind of arms you people have? There are grenades. Tanks! There'll be nothing left. Nobody left. It'll be chaos. Madness. Mayhem."

"It'll be a proper war. Me and my side against Silver and his people. I get my entertainment, you get your chance to fight back."

"Fight back? All that you're offering is a chance to watch my city tear itself apart. There wouldn't be a building left standing. I have friends out there!"

"Turn me down and you die, Bray. Ebony." Racha's eyes, still warm but now showing an obvious warning, moved slowly between the two of them. "Turn me down and in a month there'll be no more chance of a rebellion. One hundred people shot dead in reprisals? Two familiar figures killed horribly? Silver increasing the patrols, sending tanks rumbling down the high streets, shooting every Independent who can be found? Another month and this place will be a mindless testament to military might. Everybody obeying every order, all spark of life gone. I may be offering you chaos, but I'm also offering you freedom of choice. When you've got chaos, you never know what the outcome will be. So what do you say? What would your friend Zoot have said?"

"Leave Zoot out of this." Bray's eyes burned. "Damn you, I wouldn't take up a single offer you could make, and certainly not one that--"

"Bray?" It was Ryan's voice, coming from beneath the door opposite. Bray's hot, angry eyes shot towards the source of sound.

"Keep out of this, Ryan. Salene."

"It's our city too, Bray. And this guy is right. Chaos doesn't beat order I guess, but it beats the kind of order he's talking about. I know I don't know much about Tribe Fury, but if they're planning to crush the city, then fighting back has to be better."

"You want the whole city to tear itself apart? You want the old days back and worse?" Bray was remembering the heat of battle, and how easily he had seemed to embrace its chaos; how loudly he had heard himself shouting Zoot's old battle cry. He had frightened himself, and he didn't want to know just how much of Zoot was within him. Just how much of what had turned Martin into Zoot might be in him too. It didn't help that the Guardian was out there somewhere, wanting to inspire his own kind of chaos, trying to follow the way that he thought was Zoot's. Ryan was silent for a moment.

"I don't want anybody to die, Bray," he said in the end. "But if Salene and I ever get to have the baby we nearly had before, I want it to grow up with a mind of its own, not as part of a defeated underclass. What hope do any of us have being ruled by people like this?"

"Your friend has got a lot of sense." Racha threw a glance towards the door to Ryan's cell. "Maybe I should be speaking to him instead. What do you say... Ryan was it? Would you take up my offer?"

"Not without Bray." Ryan, on the other side of the door, held Salene's hand tightly. He knew how much all of this talk frightened her, and he didn't blame her in the slightest. "I'm no leader, or planner. All I know how to do is fight."

"Then already our numbers are swelling, Bray." Racha held his arms out wide, as though presenting his offer as some tangible thing. "The guards will be along soon on their regular patrol. You don't have very long to decide. Stay here and die, and consign the city to the scrap heap; or give it one last chance to defend itself, and walk out of this door with me now. I have a truck waiting, and a place where we can go. I'll give you a chance to get stronger again - a week maybe, or two. Then you go out into the city, and you give a gun to everybody who'll stand with us. You tell them that the time has come; and I'll tell the same to my friends. One word, Bray. One word and it's death or war."

"Are you really telling me that if I say no you won't go ahead with your own rebellion? You don't need me."

"Maybe. I need the city people you can get on my side, but I might get by okay without you. I want you though, Bray. You're my mascot. My inspiration. The pacifist, struggling for peace, wanting everybody to be nice to each other, but caught in the middle of bigger and bigger wars. You say no and I'll forget the whole thing. I'll follow Silver. I'll find my entertainment some other way - like in hunting down the Independents. The Mall Rats. Your friend Amber. Maybe her baby can be my new mascot. My new little inspiration."

"Why you--" Bray started forward before he remembered that he really wasn't up to a fight. Racha would probably have been faster than him anyway. The Fury grinned merrily, his bright black eyes as bright as they had ever been, mocking Bray as he came to a reluctant halt.

"So what do you say? Shall we turn this city into a war zone? Shall we raise the ghost of Zoot?"

"Yes." Bray hissed the word out between clenched teeth, as furious as Ebony had ever seen him. Only she could see the pain that was in his face as well as the rage. "Damn you, yes."

"Good." Racha threw him a key. "Then let your friends out and let's get moving. We've still got to get out of here, yet."

They had decided to travel by night and lie low during the day, sticking as much as was possible to buildings all of the time. It was almost possible to traverse some areas of the city without ever going outside, for the buildings were close together, and a number of walls were missing or holed. Amber wished she had spent more time out of the Mall in the past, and less time organising work rosters and peace plans, but Sasha seemed to have an in-built sense of direction. He hadn't spent much time in the city, but with KC to lend help where necessary they were able to make good headway. Amber found the going rather harder than she might have expected, and often had to lean on Sasha for assistance over some of the rougher terrain. Michaels wandered along behind them, apparently highly grateful for their company, but convinced every second of the way that he was about to see his avenging former colleagues swooping down upon them. He wouldn't believe that he could ever be safe, and even after Sasha had helped him to clean off his tribal paint, and alter his clothing as much as he could, still he wouldn't believe that he looked like anything other than a desperate and obvious deserter. His spirits were higher though, and he was able to warn them, as they walked, of some of the places where they would be most likely to meet with patrols. He was quite sweetly apologetic, thought Amber, between her slips and struggles, about his lack of rank within the tribe. As a lowly private he was not privy to the ins and outs of troop movements, and only knew what it had been decided that he needed to know. It was better than nothing though, and he did save them from at least one close call. Amber, however, was beginning to lose her interest in such things anyway.

It was harder to walk. Her back hurt more, and the pressure on her pelvis seemed huge. Each step brought more discomfort. Sasha had to help her more and more as the night wore on, and by the time that dawn began to cast its first shadows, she was beginning to think that she wasn't going to be able to walk much further. Sasha frowned over at her.

"Are you alright, Amber?"

"Alright isn't quite how I'd put it." She winced. "This isn't much fun, you know. Don't get pregnant. It isn't worth it."

"I'll give it a miss then." He helped her climb over a pile of fallen roof tiles. "You're looking a bit pale. Are you going to be able to carry on?"

"I don't know." She pressed a hand to her back. "I've been getting these cramps. It's making walking painful. It feels like all the bones around my hips are grating against each other." She stumbled slightly and he caught her. "Ow. The cramps are getting worse. How much longer are we going to be walking for?"

"Just take it easy, okay?" He called a halt, even though they had been hoping to get some way further before the sun rose high enough to really call this morning. KC came wandering back, looking disconsolate.

"I thought we were supposed to be getting somewhere more towards the centre of town? We've probably got another half an hour's walking time before--"

"Amber can't go any further." Sasha gestured for Chloe to join him. "She's in a lot of pain."

"Must be the baby." Chloe was regarding Amber with a critical eye. "Trudy gasped a lot like that before her baby came, and that hurt a lot too. Remember, Amber?"

"Huh?" Eyes now wide, Amber recalled that particular incident only too well. "No. No way. This baby is not coming now."

"When's it due?" asked KC, rather practically. Amber frowned.

"I... well I don't know exactly. Everything got so confused... and the last few weeks have been rather blurred. I'm sure it's still too early."

"Doesn't look too early." Michaels was watching her with a speculatory look in his eye. "You can't get much bigger."

"Huh?" Another spasm of pain rocked through Amber, and she moaned. It was beginning to feel as though this wasn't just cramp after all. Could she really have entered labour? Chloe took her hand.

"It's alright, Amber. You helped Trudy. You know what to do. We don't have any towels, but we could use some of our clothes maybe, to wrap the baby up when it comes, and clean it up a bit."

"I have some... bits and pieces." Sasha emptied his bag onto the floor, coming up in the end with two pieces of what might once have been towelling. "They're clean. Well... it might do for wrapping the baby up in. I don't know where the nearest maternity store is."

"Maybe we can find something." KC caught Michaels by the arm. "Come on."

"Out there?" The other boy's eyes grew round, but he followed KC anyway. Chloe started trying to make Amber more comfortable.

"You should probably leave too," she told Sasha, but he shook his head.

"I can't. You can't manage this on your own. Amber?"

"Don't go." She took his hand, clinging on tightly. "You've been... Well. You've got me this far. I need you now."

"Then I'm here. Um..." He felt helpless. "Look, I know the theory, but..."

"It's all part of nature. It'll do it all itself. Most of it. I hope." She clenched her teeth at another spasm of pain. "Aren't there supposed to be injections? Things to take the pain away?"

"And nurses in nice uniforms, and medical students taking notes, and colour coded identity bracelets." Sasha looked around. "I'd settle just for somewhere a bit cleaner."

"Trudy got really sick because the Mall wasn't clean enough." Chloe looked doubtful. "Maybe you should hold on for a bit, Amber? We might be able to find somewhere nicer."

"It doesn't work that way, Chlo." Amber reached out her free hand for the girl. "I'm sorry. I thought when the time came I'd just nip off somewhere and have it behind a bush or something. It seemed... a lot simpler... when... Ow."

"We should time the contractions," said Sasha, whose mother had had a fondness for medical dramas once upon a time. "And isn't there something you're supposed to do with your breathing?"

"My... pre-natal class wasn't up to much." She clenched her teeth, and held both their hands rather too tightly. "Where did... the others go? Snuck off..."

"KC wouldn't want to help deliver your baby," pointed Chloe. Sasha grinned.

"And would you want him to? He said he was going to look for things that might help, but I don't know what they're hoping to find. This doesn't look like a shopping area, or a residential one. I thought I saw a post office sign a while back, but it's offices around here mostly."

"Hope they're careful... be light soon..." She leant her head back against him. "Just what we need... have to rescue them."

"The baby's first mission." Sasha had to laugh at that. "I wonder if you'd be the first freedom fighter with a baby strapped to her back?"

"I doubt it. Ow! Bloody hell!"

"Don't talk like that in front of the baby." Chloe looked from one to the other of them. "How long?"

"Who knows? Some people stay in labour for... for hours. Days. If the baby isn't in quite the right position--" She broke off. "This hurts. This really hurts. Sasha, what happens if I scream and somebody hears?"

"I don't think there's anybody about. But try to hold yourself back." He handed her one of the towels. "Bite on this."

"Oh, that'll work." Nonetheless she bit down, trying to compose her mind. "We shouldn't have let the others go. They should be keeping watch. They could be... hours."

"They won't stay away that long." Sasha looked in the direction that the two boys had taken, and hoped that he was right. Michaels might be too scared to take risks, but the same could rarely by said of KC. Sasha didn't know him very well, but he knew that the boy was hardly the circumspect type. KC and wild behaviour - and, it had to be said, wild luck - tended to go hand in hand.

In point of fact KC was being sensible enough, careful about where he walked, and doing his best not to break cover. It was still too dark for him to be sure of seeing any guards, but he knew that they had night vision capabilities, and would be able to see him long before he could see them. With that in mind he clung to whatever cover he could. It was easy enough. There was a lot of rubble here, even inside the buildings. A lot of roofing had come down; a lot of chunks of masonry had fallen from a lot of walls. It even looked as though an entire building or two had fallen down. He commented on it to Michaels, who nodded sagely.

"Grenades," he said, as though it were obvious. "See? Blast scars. Shrapnel pieces. Explosions of some kind. Probably Tribe Fury."

"Rooting out dissenters with bombs, huh." His sharp eyes spotted an empty magazine, and he picked it up. "Guns, too. I'm glad I wasn't on the wrong side of this."

"I'm glad I wasn't on either side of it." Michaels scrambled over some loose stones. "There's lots of stuff buried in here. Must have been a big building."

"Bits of computer. Bits of desk too. Probably an office block. Five or six storeys if the other buildings are anything to go by." KC pushed on past the worst of the rubble. "I wonder who it was who made the Furies do all of this?"

"It'll be us next time if we're not careful." Michaels frowned, pointing ahead. "What's that?"

"Looks like material. So long as it's not a body."

"It's a bag." Michaels worked hard to pull it free, then blanched noticeably. "Somebody's still holding on to it."

"They are?" Rather gingerly, KC leant forward. Sure enough, gripping onto the handle of the bag was a pale, cold hand. He swallowed hard. "I wonder who he was. Still, I guess... well it's not like he's going to need the bag anymore, is it."

"Must have been a scavenger. Probably looking through the rubble some time after the explosion, and got caught in a landslide." Michaels seemed to think that he was pointing to obvious signs of this, but it all went over KC's head. Different styles of rubble perhaps. Deciding not to worry about it, he loosened the bag's dangling strap from the grip of its tenacious possessor, then moved well away from the rubble. The last thing that he wanted was to be the second victim of loose stones.

"Does it feel full?" asked Michaels. KC gave it an experimental shake.

"Pretty much, yeah. Want to see what our friend was hoarding?"

"If it's nothing worthwhile, can we give him his bag back? Only he looked pretty determined to keep it."

"Did, didn't he." Although he had been as bothered as Michaels by the sight of the dead hand, KC rather liked the atmosphere of faintly ghoulish humour. "Dying to keep it, maybe?"

"Just open it." Michaels was looking about, nervous again, although they were more or less sheltered from all sides in their current position. "What have we got? Food?"

"No." KC sat back on his heels, disappointed. "Baby stuff. Look at this. Nappies. Old fashioned ones with pins. Baby powder, lotion. And this." He held up a small soft bear by one leg, and a bell in its ear jangled merrily. "What the hell is this?"

"I hope that guy wasn't a father." Rather morose, Michaels took the bag, burrowing down into it. The only food inside seemed to be a few tins of fruit purée and some baby formula. Not particularly appetising to a twelve year old boy. There was something else, though, and he fished it out. "Well this could be useful anyway."

"Hey, let me look at that." Suddenly attentive, KC snatched for the object, holding it close to his eyes. The pale light was stronger now, but dawn was not yet properly upon them, and it was not easy to make out all the details - but it was certainly clear that in his hands he was holding a penknife. It was big; at least five inches long with the blade still folded inside, and was decorated in black and silver. He knew that there was a scuff mark on the other side even before he turned it over; knew that, if he opened out the blade, there would be a scar in the metal near the base. He knew because he had put it there, when he had borrowed the knife two or three months before. It was Bray's knife; and it was becoming increasingly obvious, as he looked it over once again, that this was Bray's bag. There was the badge that Danni had given him, hidden before by a fold of material; there was the patch that Bray had sewed on himself, rather cack-handedly, after tearing the material on a fence escaping from some Demon Dogs, what seemed like years ago. KC thought about that dead, pale hand, and went almost as pale himself.

"What's wrong?" asked Michaels, seeing the change come over the other boy, but not seeing anything that might have caused it. KC looked over at him, momentarily forgetting that Michaels was a new acquaintance, and not somebody who had ever been in the Mall alongside Bray.

"I know the guy that this bag belongs to," he mumbled in the end, remembering now how Trudy had asked for some supplies for Brady. Apparently those supplies had never made it back to the Mall. But that body couldn't have been there that long; could it? Shouldn't it have been decayed had that been the case? He shook his head, and stuffed everything back into the bag, hanging it over his shoulder.

"We should get back," he said gruffly. "We said we'd look for some baby stuff, and I guess that's what we've found."

"Yeah. Hell of a coincidence." Michaels looked back towards the pile of rubble, where their dead benefactor was hidden from view. "Should we... I mean, if that bag belongs to somebody you know...?"

"That wasn't him. I mean... well it could have been. I'm hoping it wasn't. But listen, we've got to keep quiet about him, okay? We found this bag, and you don't say anything about me recognising it."

"Okay." Michaels was frowning, but he didn't question the order. He had been well trained not to. "But if you recognise it, won't they?"

"Chloe maybe. Sasha would have no reason to, and Amber ought to be too distracted. Besides, things like this badge... I don't know if she's ever seen it. She's the important one, anyway. We can't go telling her that the owner of this bag is dead. Even if she does already suspect it."

"That guy was... That was him?" In a flash of understanding, Michaels gaped back once again at the pile of rubble. "That's her baby's father back there?"

"It's his bag, yeah." KC might have appreciated the irony of Bray's weeks old gathering of supplies eventually being used to help his own child - if he had known anything about irony, and hadn't been quite so distracted. "But there's no sense in thinking about it. If that's him dead back there, there's nothing we can do for him. If it wasn't him... then he's still probably dead somewhere else, and there's no sense in upsetting Amber about it."

"Fair enough." Michaels, who had no desire to upset Amber about anything, nodded his neatly cropped head. "Think she's had it yet?"

"I don't know. Hope so. Last thing I want is to walk into the middle of a maternity ward." KC quickened his pace, for now that dawn was coming, it was coming faster all the time. Soon daylight would be properly upon them. "Boy or girl? Loser has to take first watch."

"Boy." Michaels managed a smile that was almost jaunty, before letting it trickle away again. "KC...?"

"Yes." Feeling an awkward question coming on, KC wondered if this was how annoying he could be at times. There wasn't a great deal of difference in age between himself and Michaels, and he wasn't sure which was the elder, but the Fury boy seemed very much his junior in some ways. Perhaps it was nice to suddenly acquire a little seniority - KC hadn't quite decided that. All he knew was that Michaels needed to gain some self-confidence, as quickly as possible.

"Do you think Amber and Sasha like me?" It wasn't the question KC had been expecting, and he frowned.

"Like you? Why wouldn't they? Why would they? They don't know you. You're just a kid who turned up, and helped us all avoid a patrol last night. We appreciate that."

"Yeah, but I'm the enemy, aren't I. I know Chloe doesn't see me that way, but then I doubt she sees anybody that way. And you're friendly enough."

"You're unarmed, and I know I could break your jaw if I tried." It was a line KC had once heard Lex use, and was rather pleased to hear himself saying it now; pleased and proud, for he knew that it had been no idle boast. Michaels might be military trained, but KC was willing to bet that he would win in a hand to hand fight. Michaels nodded.

"Maybe. It's just... I was up in the hills. I was part of the group that separated Amber from her boyfriend before. My unit commander took him - Bray, isn't it - off down to the city, and I was supposed to stay with a few others and watch over Amber. We thought she was dying, and the others decided we had to leave her to it. I didn't want to, but... well you don't get any choice when you're just a private. So we left. I don't think she recognises me. She was in pretty bad shape when I saw her last. But even so..."

"If she recognises you she'll either keep quiet because she's forgiven you, or she'll flip one day and try to tear your head off." Having got on the wrong side of Amber once before, KC could only think back with awe to the girl's furious temper. She had blamed him for letting Tribe Circus into the Mall, leading to the sacking of the place, as well as Ebony awarding herself Bray as thanks for saving all their lives. All in all, KC didn't envy Michaels, if Amber did remember how the timid little boy had featured in her life once before. Michaels didn't look especially reassured. For some reason KC found that faintly amusing. Trying to pull the boy back out of the doldrums, he kicked a likely looking stone in a neat cross pass that rather took Michaels by surprise; but to his credit the boy reacted almost immediately, passing it back with some skill. KC grinned. It was always good to relax occasionally; even in the middle of a war zone, when there could be eyes and guns watching at any time. Passing the makeshift ball back, he broke into a run, and together the two boys traversed the abandoned buildings on their way back to the others. It was only the sound of a baby crying that interrupted their momentum; and they both ground to a halt then, thoughts returning to their bet. KC grinned wickedly.

"Double or nothing on that baby? Loser has to take the next watch, and change the first nappy."

"Yuck." Michaels didn't hesitate though; he wanted KC to think that he was up for anything. "You're on."

"Cool." And, 'ball' game forgotten, they broke once more into a run. There was only one other thought in KC's mind now besides the gender of the baby, and that was the bag that he was carrying. Best not to deal with it yet, he thought. Once Amber was up and about again, maybe. Maybe then he should say something? Or maybe it would be better if he said nothing at all. He had no idea who that was buried in the rubble, nor how he had come to be there, recently dead, so long after Bray had set out to collect the very supplies that KC now held. If Bray had indeed been fighting wars with Ebony, then presumably this was no recent collection that he had made? But then he didn't know that either. All in all, it was best to keep quiet. Best now just to think about the baby. That was plenty for them all to worry about.

Whilst Amber was walking her last few miles before going into labour, Lex and his hand-picked team of Badlanders were forcing their way through the secret entrance to the hotel, taking the shortest route they could find down into the cellars. It was a very surprised Lex, though, who pushed his way into the underground level of the hotel, fully expecting to find a phalanx of guards to fight his way through, only to discover Jack there instead. The smaller boy jumped like a startled gazelle, and almost dropped the makeshift weapon he was holding. A chair leg, some part of Lex's mind registered, before wondering exactly what the boy was doing there holding it. His eyes narrowed.

"Tribe Fury's latest recruit?" he asked suspiciously. Jack frowned.

"Huh? What? Why are you... I mean, pardon?"

"You know this guy?" Stepping past Lex, Krishnan held up his own weapon; a bulbous club almost the size of his own head. Jack flinched away, entirely forgetting his chair leg, and the fact that he had been left on guard. He remembered both at the last moment, and tried to brandish the chunk of wood in an appropriately threatening manner. Krishnan laughed.

"He's no Fury."

"Of course I'm not!" Insulted by the mere suggestion, Jack lowered his chair leg. "I came here to rescue Bray."

"So did we." Lex looked around. "Where are the guards?"

"There weren't any. We haven't seen anybody. Pride said he thought he heard an alarm when we first broke in, but I didn't hear anything. So maybe they're off on some drill." He frowned up at Krishnan. "Who's this?"

"A friend. I think." Lex moved aside, gesturing for his little band of companions to follow him into the cellar. "Krishnan, David, Sarah. Jack. One of the Mall Rats." He reached out, lowering both Krishnan's club and Jack's chair leg. "You said Pride was here?"

"Yeah. He, Luke and Tai-San are off checking the cells. There are quite a few down here." A broad grin crossed Jack's oddly childish face. "Lex, this is great. I can't believe you're here. We thought something must have happened to you. I mean, it's been what? Five days?"

"Something like that. But I always fall on my feet, you should know that." Lex could never keep his natural conceit from surfacing. "Like a cat."

"Yeah, well you'd better be a quieter cat. Pride figures it's best not to let the whole building know we're here." Jack moved a little way down the corridor, to a place where doors were visible set in opposite pairs, branching off into several different columns. Lex didn't remember there being so many, but then the Locos had only ever had need of a few cells. The rest of the cellar had been closed off then; a place of dust, cobwebs and collected detritus. It was part of a military machine now, and all of that was gone.

"You mentioned Tai-San?" he asked, apparently trying to sound indifferent. Jack grinned.

"Yes. We thought we'd bring the biggest force we could, but there's been nothing for us to do. If you listen you can hear people upstairs, so I guess somebody could come down here any time, but it's quiet as..." He trailed off, unwilling to finish off the simile. "Well, it's quiet."

"Or at least it was." Pride melted out of the shadows in the quiet, unobtrusive way he had, that Lex had so often envied. "Hello Lex."

"Pride." Neither looked pleased to see the other. Perhaps they were, or perhaps they weren't. Either way it wasn't something that they would ever show. "So where's Bray? Or did you decide to leave him behind? I know he can be an irritating sod at times, but still..."

"He's not here." Pride was looking about with bright, alert eyes. "Every cell down here is empty."

"You think they're keeping him somewhere else?" asked Jack. Pride regarded him in silence for a second, then held out what looked like a small bead.

"I think it's from Ebony's hair," he said, tossing it to Lex. "Tai -San think so too. They were here."

"Then are we too late? Have they already gone to be executed?" Lex felt his pulse rate stir uncomfortably. "And where's Tai-San?"

"Trying to get some vibes from the cell where I found that bead." Pride's tone of voice didn't show whether or not he shared the girl's belief in such things. "But no, I don't think they've gone for that. I think they've escaped. I heard an alarm klaxon sounding before I came in, and there's got to be some reason why there's no guards anywhere down here."

"Escaped? We came all the way here for somebody who's already escaped?" David sounded annoyed, and Lex couldn't help sharing the sentiment. Bloody Bray. Always doing his own thing.

"Well that was an almighty waste of time," he growled. Jack looked faintly hurt.

"No it wasn't. Found each other, didn't we? We were worried about you, you know. We thought Tribe Fury had shot you or something."

"They still might, if you lot don't keep your blasted voices down." Pride was looking a little nervous. "If Bray did escape, they're going to be pretty anxious to get him back. I'd suggest we get out of here before somebody gets us instead."

"Not a bad idea. Can't say that I want to be executed before half the city in your mate's place." David shouldered his own home-made club. "Do I take it we're going into retreat?"

"Tactical withdrawal." Lex was scowling more than ever now. What would Craig say? He'd smile his slightly superior, Prefecty smile, and point out that he had never wanted this mission to go ahead in the first place. They had risked an awful lot for nothing. "Come on. We should get the hell out of here. Be bloody embarrassing to get caught down here being pointless."

"We've regrouped. Tested the secret entrance. Proved we can get into the hotel. Not all that pointless." Pride glanced back down the corridor at the sound of footsteps. "And there's somebody coming who probably thinks this has been about all kinds of things rather than nothing."

"Tai-San!" Lex moved forward faster than he would ever have thought that he might, pushing past Jack, forgetting the cool image that he liked to project to the Badlanders, ignoring the startled Luke who came into view first. His eyes rested solely upon the second arrival; the owner of the second set of footsteps. Upon his wife. "Tai-San. Babe..."

"Lex." She acted as though she had expected to see him here; as though it were no great surprise; no great reunion. He looked hurt.

"Well aren't you pleased to see me? I could have been dead!"

"You could be, Bray could be, all kinds of people could be or are." Her bright eyes fixed his with one of her most matter of fact stares. "But there's a lot of guards on their way down here right now. I don't know why they're coming, but this isn't the time for greetings."

"Guards?" He brightened immediately, and she saw the desire for a fight light his face.

"Yes. Twenty soldiers with guns against us armed with bits of wood. Not exactly what I would call fun. Shall we take this outside?"

"That makes sense." Krishnan, who had no idea who any of these people were, and really didn't care, began to head back the way they had come. "Which is good, because not much else does."

"It's not so bad." David was apparently feeling optimistic. "The deal was that we rescue this guy Bray, remember? Nobody has to know he got himself out. We just got ourselves an army."

"Unless he was just moved somewhere else, and is going to get killed anyway." Sarah, who was in somewhat less of an optimistic mood, hurried them along. "I hope somebody somewhere thinks this is funny. All this effort for a guy who isn't where he's supposed to be, and who we don't even know anyway. It's a bloody joke."

"Yeah." At the back, only just remembering that they were supposed to be in a hurry, Lex was holding hands with Tai-San. "A joke. Sure."

"I'm supposed to be cross with you. Running out on me. On all of us. Risking everything." She held his hand just a little bit tighter, as though afraid that she might be about to lose him again. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Yeah." He grinned. "Good old Bray. Always getting into trouble. If it hadn't been for him I don't know when we'd have got back together."

"And now what?" Scrambling up out of the cellar, they pressed, in a hurried jumble, into the tunnel that would lead them back outside the hotel. Tai-San still contrived to hold onto Lex's hand, despite the crush and the jostling. "Where do we go now?"

"Like the others said; providing Bray can keep from being publicly executed for a while - and providing the Furies don't want anybody to pay for his disappearance - we can guarantee support. I'll explain it all later, but we can begin to fight back, Tai-San. We could even have our own army. A small one, but an army." He looked excited, and she knew how much this meant to him. Lex had always wanted to be a leader of men; a warrior. It struck her that it was times like these that really made him feel most alive. But then that was Lex. There was no sense wishing otherwise. As the cold of the approaching dawn welcomed them at the end of the tunnel, and as, miles away, Amber sank to the ground at the pain of her baby's birth, Tai-San felt her heart surging with renewed hope. New beginnings; the air was alive with them. The city was turning a corner. And like all the best corners, it was keeping its outcome to itself.

THE END

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