The Choppers already knew they were there. Of course they did. They had the girl working for them. But this time the advantage belonged to the New.
Jack and Fleeter held back at the tail end of the group as they moved into a shadowy passageway between container piles. The route quickly became as wide as one of London's streets—wide enough for container trucks and mobile cranes, Jack guessed. Sparky and Jenna led, with Breezer and the three Irregulars just behind them. Puppeteer followed, to the side and slightly apart. Reaper had vanished, advancing from elsewhere, and Jack knew that others would be with him—Shade, Scryer, and more.
So these are the New, Jack thought, and a tingle ran down his spine. Tense though this moment was, it was also painfully exciting. He had seen more death and murder than anyone his age should ever see, and he hoped that this might be the first step beyond that.
But he also knew that grudges ran white-hot. The slightest mistake could push one side or the other over the precipice.
After ten minutes wending their way between piled metal containers, Fleeter grabbed his arm and pulled him close. The others paused as well, watching expectantly.
“The open area is around the next junction,” she said, nodding at where two routes met a hundred yards ahead.
“The air's loaded,” Jack said. “Tense.”
“Don't need Spidey senses to feel that,” Sparky muttered.
“They'll have guards,” Jenna said.
“And the sharpshooters I told you about,” Fleeter whispered, pointing up.
“Come on,” Jack said. “Fleeter and I will get out of sight while you move on. But…”
“Of course we'll be careful,” Sparky said
Jenna nodded. “I'll look after him.”
Jack watched his friends moving away from him, and the sinking feeling could only have been dread.
Fleeter grabbed his hand and pulled, edging into a much narrower gap. Then she started to climb. He followed, glancing up and then looking away, embarrassed, when he realised he could see up her short skirt. He heard her chuckling above him, and he concentrated on handholds and footholds. In places it was easy, and elsewhere he had to prop himself across the gap and edge upwards an inch at a time. After a few minutes Fleeter's hand reached down and helped haul him up, and they emerged into sunlight.
Jack rolled onto his stomach and looked around. They'd climbed four containers, and around them many were stacked only two or three high. Fleeter pressed her finger to her lips and pointed, and thirty yards away Jack could see someone lying on a lower box, rifle resting before them. They had one hand pressed to their ear, listening to some sort of communicator. Binoculars sat beside them. Fleeter gesticulated “wanker,” then nodded in the opposite direction. To the east the wide, open area where there were no units at all was obvious. They crawled across the roof of the container, keeping as low as possible, and looked down onto a large expanse of concrete.
There were several Chopper vehicles parked there, Land Rovers and a few of the powerful motorbikes they'd seen only recently. People rushed around, weapons on display. They exuded an aura of confidence. Good, Jack thought. We'll soon change that.
Fleeter tapped his arm and pointed. Across the other side of the open area, which must have been the size of a football pitch, several metal containers seemed somehow out of place. They'd been placed side to side in two distinct arrangements, one consisting of four units, the other three. Electrical cable was strung around them, and around them were the signs of a well-used compound. Oil drums were stacked beside one, pallets held plastic containers of food and water. Spare tyres, a row of portable toilets, stacked bags of rubbish, and there were even several large, open tents.
They're settled, Jack thought. Safe. At ease. He could not hold back the smile. And then from below, a shouted warning.