Them or Us

they’ll be torn to pieces … My head fills with images of them being attacked by a pack of people like me, being ripped apart just because they’re not like us. It’s inevitable—just the way the world is now—but the idea of them being hunted down and killed suddenly feels abhorrent.
    There is an answer. It’s obvious, but I don’t want to accept it.
    “Please,” the boy says, his eyes scanning my face, desperately searching for even the faintest flicker of hope, “just help us to get away.”
    “Okay,” I say, cursing my stupidity as soon as I’ve spoken. “I’ll take you somewhere there are other people like you.”

 
    43
    THIS IS THE VAN they used to bring me and these kids back here after the nest had been cleared out. I find it parked in another part of the factory, left abandoned in an area of open space next to a roller-shutter door, the keys still in the ignition. I open up the back and try to get the kids inside, but neither of them will move. They stare at the metal cage bolted to the wall, no doubt remembering the last time.
    “Get in,” I tell them, gently pushing the girl forward. She doesn’t move. The boy holds her hand. “What’s your name, son?”
    “Jake.”
    “And what about you?”
    “Chloe.”
    “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time. There’s a lot of fighting going on outside, so we need to move fast. I know you’re scared, but if you don’t get into the van, you’re not going to make it. You don’t have to get into the cage, just get into the damn van.”
    Chloe looks at Jake. He scowls, thinks for a second longer, then nods. I help them up, shut the door, then head over toward the roller-shutter. It won’t move. Another fucking padlock. I fetch the metal cutters and try to get it open. It eventually gives, but not without an unexpected amount of effort. I’m soaked with sweat now, and I can feel the sickness returning.
    The engine starts on the third try. I watch the fuel gauge climb. I will it to keep moving, but it barely manages to reach a quarter full. That should be enough to get us out of Lowestoft and clear of the fighting; then it’s just a question of finding Peter Sutton and the Unchanged bunker, dumping these kids, and disappearing. I try to visualize the route to the bunker, remembering how long and featureless the roads around here are. One wrong turn and I could end up back in the center of Lowestoft before I’ve even realized I’ve gone the wrong way.
    “Hold on,” I shout to the kids as I turn the van around and pull away. I watch them in the rearview mirror, huddled together in the corner, freezing cold and terrified but relieved to be free. “Keep your heads down. Don’t let anyone see you, okay?”
    “Where are we going?” Jake asks as I steer through the open door and onto the road, out into the gray light of day.
    “There’s a place I know. Someone showed it to me a few days ago. There are people like you there.”
    “Like the old place?” Chloe asks.
    “Better than that,” I tell her.
    The engine splutters and almost dies, and I remember how unreliable this heap of a van is. I drive away from the factory, accelerating hard, then stop.
    “What’s the matter?” Jake asks, his voice suddenly sounding nervous again.
    “Nothing. Just trying to decide which way’s best.”
    Fuck. I didn’t think this through. Truth is, there is no best way out of here. Heading north around the top of the compound would probably be easiest, but that’s going in completely the wrong direction, and I’d have to drive a huge loop around to get anywhere near the bunker. The best—the only—option is to try to head south and get out over the bridge. For a fraction of a second I consider either dumping the kids altogether or trying to run with them along the beach, but I know both those choices are useless, too. All I can do is start driving and hope for the best.
    I accelerate again, and for the first few yards it’s easy. The roads are still swarming with people, but they’re more interested in surviving now than in anything I’m doing. All I need to do is get over the bridge, I keep telling myself. Once I’m on the other side of the water everything will be easier.
    The people here are herding along the streets like sheep, some moving toward the fires still burning around the courthouse, others heading out of town. The massive column of people and vehicles I saw coming through the gate across the bridge earlier seems now to have