Dog Blood

tension in the air here, much more fractious and intense than any I’ve felt before. There’s an uncomfortable standoff between civilians and the military, too. I don’t know which side is more wary of the other. Maybe that’s the real reason why the soldiers are here in such numbers?
    We move past a large stone statue, and seeing its distinctive dark outline strikes a sudden chord. For a second I remember this place as it used to be. On the rare occasions I’d get a proper lunch break from work, I’d sometimes walk here to get away from the office and everyone in it. Once or twice I met Lizzie here before the kids were born.
    “There’s Sophie,” Craven says, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow and nodding over to where she’s standing on the opposite side of the square. “Go find yourself a spot.”
    We separate as planned. Each of us will disappear into the crowd until the time to attack comes. It’ll look less suspicious if we’re all spread out, not that it matters; when the fighting starts no one will care who threw the first punch or fired the first shot. I find a narrow gap midway along a low wall, between two sleeping refugees, where I stop and wait. There’s a still-functioning clock on the side of the town hall, just visible from where I’m standing. It’s approaching four. Just over two hours to go. The Prince Hotel is no farther than a mile from here. I’ll wait for a little while before I make my move. If I go off too fast there’s a chance I’ll be seen and followed.
    Trying not to make it too obvious, I look around for the others. Craven and Sophie I’ve already seen. I see Parsons way over to my right and another man whose name I don’t know sitting perched on the plinth of the statue in the center of the square. Harvey is leaning up against the same wall as me, a little farther along. His size makes him easy to pick out in the crowd.
    There’s Julia, too, sitting right in front of me, just a handful of people between us. I catch her eye and, stupidly, almost acknowledge her. She has a dirty blanket draped over her head, all but the top half of her face hidden. Bitch is staring straight at me, watching my every move.

33
    IT’S BEEN PISSING DOWN rain for the last twenty minutes. There’s no shelter here, and I, like everyone else, am soaked to the skin and freezing cold. I’ve been crouching down beside the wall trying to keep myself covered, but the rainwater’s running down across the gentle slope of the packed square now, forming deep puddles around my feet. The conditions don’t bother me-I’m getting ready for what amounts to a suicide attack, surrounded by Unchanged, and a little water is the least of my problems-but when other people start to move around me I know I need to go with them to keep up the illusion. I follow two of them, stepping over the person immediately to my left, who hasn’t moved in as long as I’ve been here. Someone grabs my arm, and I know who it is before I turn around. I can hear him breathing.
    “Is this it?” Harvey asks, his voice low but still too loud. “Is it time?”
    I shake my head. “Not yet, too soon. I’m just getting out of the rainwater.”
    I try to move, but he keeps hold of me.
    “Where you going?”
    “Somewhere drier.”
    “I’ll come.”
    “No, it’s better if we split up. If people see us together they’ll get suspicious.”
    “Doesn’t matter. Not long now.”
    “I know, but-”
    I shut up when the deafening rumble of a sudden, booming explosion fills the air. There’s a moment of silent shock in the square, everyone taken by surprise. It lasts no longer than a second; then all hell breaks loose around me. The mass of people who’d been sheltering on the ground begin to get up and scramble for cover. Is this it? Has the signal to fight been given early? I look around, but, apart from Harvey, there’s no one I recognize anywhere close in the mass of refugees suddenly crisscrossing all around me. My arm is grabbed again.
    “It’s not time,” Julia yells in my ear, shouting to make herself heard over the noise filling the square. “Don’t fight. This isn’t it. Get up toward the statue.”
    I do as she says, sensing her following my every step. I look up and see that a surprising number of the people in the crowd ahead have now stopped and are standing still, looking back in the direction from which I’ve just come. Other panicking refugees continue to weave around them. One of our men is