Them or Us

today. Christ, it could have come from anywhere. Overseas, even. No one knows for sure what’s happening in other countries (it’s hard enough finding out what’s going on here), but I’m guessing everywhere else must be in as dire and desperate a state as this place is. Regardless, the fact remains: Looking for the plane and its pilot is going to be like looking for a needle in a pile of a thousand massive haystacks. What if it came from somewhere on the other side of the huge radioactive scar that now stretches much of the length of the country? There’s no point trying to tell Llewellyn; he’s never going listen to me. Instead he’ll just concentrate on his impossible task and won’t question anything. If Hinchcliffe told these morons to kill themselves I think most of them probably would, but it’s more likely they’re going to kill me.
    Llewellyn glances over his shoulder and makes eye contact with me, and my blood runs cold. This bastard seems to be enjoying himself. He can’t wait to be shot of me. The longer I’m around, the more he resents the fact that I’m useful to Hinchcliffe. Fighters can be replaced, but me … I’m unique (unfortunately), and Llewellyn doesn’t like it.
    I peer out of the wire-mesh-covered window to my side and see that we’ve entered the outskirts of what used to be the city of Norwich. It’s an empty, lifeless place now, nothing more than a desolate shell. I don’t know what happened here during the war, but it obviously wasn’t a big enough concern to warrant being nuked. Over the last few months it’s been systematically stripped clean, first by Thacker, then Hinchcliffe. Too large and unwieldy a place to be governed effectively, and not as geographically well placed as the port of Lowestoft, it’s just been abandoned, left to decay.
    A sudden sharp crackle of static comes from the radio. Llewellyn grabs it quickly and talks. I strain to hear what he’s saying, but it’s impossible. He turns around and glances back at me again, and his expression says more than a thousand words ever would. He looks on edge, nervous almost. Now I’m certain that he’s going to try to get rid of me—but why now? Why all the way out here?
    I’m stuck in this van until we stop moving. Stick to the plan, I tell myself repeatedly. Wait until they let you out, then fight, keep fighting, and if and when you get the chance, run like fuck.

 
    30
    THE VAN GRINDS TO a sudden, shuddering halt alongside a ruined department store. Its front wall has collapsed, spilling rubble out onto the street and leaving every individual level of the building open to the elements. We’re parked up on the pavement, hidden by a mountain of fallen masonry, well out of sight. Across the way there’s a road sign pointing back toward Lowestoft, and for the first time ever I almost wish I was back there. Anywhere but here.
    “Out,” Llewellyn orders from the front seat. Chandra grabs my arm. I panic and try to fight him off, but he’s stronger than me, and all my struggling does is encourage his buddy Swales to take hold of my other arm. Llewellyn runs around to the back of the van and yanks the door open, and between them they frog-march me out onto the street, picking me up as if I’m made of paper. Llewellyn has a pistol in his hand, and I don’t doubt for a second that he’ll use it. I force myself not to try to fight just yet, remembering how I used to be able to swallow down the Hate and remain in control even when I was neck deep in vile Unchanged. I did it yesterday, and I can do it now. The element of surprise is all I have left. I have to bide my time and catch these bastards off guard.
    “Llewellyn, I just—”
    “Don’t talk, just move,” he says, throwing my backpack at me, then shoving me hard between the shoulder blades. “We don’t have long. You’re an unnecessary complication, McCoyne.”
    What the hell did he mean by that? I try to ask, but no one’s listening. With Llewellyn behind me, Healey in front, and the other two on either side, they’ve got me boxed in. I don’t understand why they needed to bring me all this distance just to put a bullet in my head. The four men march at a speed I find difficult to match, but Llewellyn keeps me moving, pushing me in the back whenever I slow down. I want to fight. For the first time in weeks, I want to attack and fight back, but all the anger and aggression I used to have, the fury and the rage that used to burn inside me,