CHAPTER 65
10 years AC
O2 Arena - ‘Safety Zone 4’, London
Nathan watched them loading up the second barge; a human chain of workers leading out of the dome’s rear service entrance across twenty yards of gravel and weed to the concrete wharf. The barges bumped and scraped impatiently as the Thames stirred softly and a fresh breeze rustled through loose corners of cellophane half wrapped around catering packs of Fray Bentos corned beef and Heinz baked beans.
In his hands he held an army issue assault rifle; an SA80. The very same weapon the old man, Walter, had once allowed him to test fire briefly; a small piece of his old life. Around his waist, beneath the orange staff jacket, webbing dangled, pouches stuffed full of thirty-round clips of ammunition.
A real soldier now, eh?
Not for the first time he could feel the magical power that holding a weapon like this gave you. He remembered watching the news one night before the crash, when he was about eight or nine. Some American kid had ambled into his high school with a similar weapon and proceeded to kill every kid in his class. He’d asked Mum why the kid did it and she’d said it was because he was evil.
He knew why the kid had done it now.
It was that sense of invincibility, of immortality, one felt holding the cold steel weight of a weapon like this. One tiny pull on his trigger and he could mow down those workers like skittles at a bowling alley. It was almost God-like power and all of it contained within the impulsive twitch of one finger.
That’s why, Snoop had quietly confided in him last night, only the older boys carried fully loaded guns on patrol. The younger ones were issued with the same weapons, but with an empty ammo clip.
It’s the moment of pause, bro. That’s what he’d said . . . the moment of pause.
The young ones had ammo in their pouches, of course, but the time it took to eject an empty clip, unbutton the pouch, pull out another clip and ram it home was the time a younger mind needed to decide whether it was actually necessary to shoot a worker or simply bark an order at them.
Killers, said Snoop, they’ve been educated by me and Maxwell to kill without mercy. Child warriors, Nathan, the best in the world. Ruthless motherf*ckers, bro, but they need grown-ups like you and me to lead them.
There’d been something conspiratorial in the way he’d said that, softly spoken for his ears only. You and me, bro.
Snoop seemed to be trusting him implicitly. There was a growing bond between them. Last night, as they’d shared a joint and looked out across the moonlit Thames, he’d said, ‘I’m so f*ckin’ sorry ’bout your friend, Nate.’ Nathan knew he meant that. Word was when Snoop had discovered what had happened to Jacob, he’d killed Dizz-ee himself.
‘I really liked Jacob,’ Snoop had added. ‘Three of us would’ve made a f*cking good team.’
Nathan gazed out now at the barge being slowly loaded and felt a painful stab of guilt for shaking Jacob off at the party. He’d been so buzzed-up on the booze, the games, the smokes, the hero-worship . . . Jesus, the boys had been all but carrying him around on their shoulders. And the girls. He could see them making eyes at him - they all wanted to be girlfriend to the second dog; all wanted the kudos and the extra treats that go with that.
He remembered thinking, me and Snoop are the f*cking kings here. He remembered feeling like some kind of God emperor, like a pharaoh, like Alexander the Great. Him and Snoop, all-conquering generals.
And then he’d caught Jacob’s eye across the stage and he knew with absolute certainty that his best friend just wasn’t going to fit in there; that Jacob wasn’t going to be part of this dream. An unkind thought had sneaked in under cover of the booze.
Maybe it’d be better if he went back home?
He pulled on the cigarette, savoured the bitter burn in his throat and watched the smoke flicker out in front of him.
Well he’s gone now ain’t he? You got that.
Something inside him flipped over like a bed partner turning over to face away. Like he had bad breath. Like it was sick of the sight of him. It left him feeling queasy.
Self-consciously he thumbed the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose; an expensive pair of Moschinos that Snoop had given him.
Eyes are like f*ckin’ windows, bro. First rule of command, don’t let the little people look in . . . know what I’m sayin’?
Nathan was glad to be wearing them now. This small scrubby path of quayside was busy with workers and praetorians. He didn’t need anyone seeing his tears. He wiped his nose, hawked and spat on the ground.
‘You a’ight?’ asked Hammer. The boy standing guard with him was almost as tall. His head was bare, shaved down to the skin except for a zigzag of bristles that wrapped round the back of his bullet-like skull.
‘S’fine,’ Nathan slurred coolly. ‘Sun’s well bright, though.’
Hammer nodded, pulling on a cigarette and puffing out a ribbon of blue smoke. ‘Hot.’
They watched the loading in silence for half an hour, and then Snoop joined them on the quay.
‘S’up?’
Hammer nodded and offered Snoop one from his packet. Snoop pulled a cigarette out and took a light.
‘Chief reckons on another day prepping-up before we go.’
Nathan nodded towards the barges. ‘Are we taking all three of those?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Loaded with food and stuff?’
Snoop pulled, exhaled and shrugged. ‘Chief’s idea. We take along as much as we can get on there. No knowing what’s left to forage on the way up, right?’
They nodded.
Hammer looked at Snoop. ‘You gonna tell us more about this place we goin’? Coz I heard Jooz sayin’ it was Alton Towers or somethin’.’
Snoop grinned at Nathan. Kids, eh?
The boys were being kept in the dark. It was easier than trying to explain to them all exactly what an oil rig was, what it looked like, what it did. That, and it kept them all busy guessing, making up their own rumours.
‘Big surprise, Hammer.’
‘Aw, shit, Snoop, c’mon, gimme a clue.’
‘No. Now go an’ help Rascal and the others with packin’ the Toca Rally booths. I wanna talk some shit with Nathan.’
Hammer nodded and swung casually towards the dome’s service entrance; he flicked his cigarette butt at one of the workers as he stepped inside.
‘How you doin’, Nate?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I’m good, man.’
‘You’re okay with this, right? Us goin’ to your old home an’ stuff?’
Nathan nodded. ‘Sure.’
‘We’ll treat ’em good, you know? Ain’t gonna be like no pirate raid or nothing. This’ll be our new home. All workin’ together an’ shit. Pooling what we got.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
Snoop looked at him. A long hard look that suggested there was more that he wanted to say. ‘Me and you, Nate. Know what I’m saying? Me and you.’
Nathan could hear that gently probing tone in Snoop’s voice; a tone of voice that was asking whether he could be trusted, even if he wasn’t using those words.
Nathan smiled uneasily. ‘Sure.’
‘One day . . . you know? Maxwell . . . he won’t be around for ever.’
Nathan turned to look at him. Snoop grinned. He slapped his shoulder. ‘Later. I gotta go see how much more shit we got to bring up from the mezz.’