The Fear (22 page)

Ryan grinned at DogNut and gave a little waggle of his hips to make the ears dance.

‘How much further, Dog?’ he asked.

‘Nearly there,’ DogNut replied. ‘Is quite close to Harrods.’

‘You really reckon this giant sicko of yours is dangerous?’ Ryan asked, spitting on the dead specimen at his feet. ‘They don’t scare us none.’

‘Trust me,’ said DogNut, nodding his head and walking on. ‘He’s dangerous.’

Ryan fell in step with him.

‘Maybe we should just set his crib on fire?’ he said with a wicked leer. ‘Fry him up.’

Paul heard what they were saying and came over.

‘You’re not burning anything,’ he said. ‘Olivia might be in there. She might still be alive. I have to find her. That’s what this is all about.’

‘Yeah,’ said DogNut. ‘Agreed. I don’t like fire. Our last safe place was burned down when south London went up in flames. Don’t want to risk starting something we can’t control. The sicko’s den is stuffed to the roof with all crap that’ll burn. Any fire in there, the place is gonna go off like a bomb.’

‘So, what’s your plan then?’ Ryan asked, and DogNut started to tell him.

‘What do you mean I stay outside?’ Robbie was furious. He’d had enough of DogNut trying to run the show. The two of them were toe to toe in the middle of the street outside the Collector’s house, virtually spitting into each other’s faces.

‘Cool it, blood,’ said DogNut. ‘We need someone who knows what they doing out here, yeah? Otherwise we flush him out and he gets away. And not just that. He ain’t the only sicko in London. You get me? Once we in there someone got to watch our backs. Once we start kicking up a fuss, making all noise and that, the locals is gonna know we here, and any hungry ones might just be a likkle bit curious. Whoever stays out here is gonna have the most important job, yeah? When the fat man comes out, they gonna have to take him down.’

Robbie’s shoulders dropped. He could see the truth in what DogNut was saying. But he hadn’t given up the fight.

‘So why don’t you stay out here, big man, and I go in?’

DogNut made an elaborate gesture towards the house, sweeping his arm wide and half bowing.

‘Be my guest, soldier. You know where to go when you get in there? Cos it’s gonna be dark. Is like a maze, he got it so full of stuff. You reckon you’ll know where to find him? Yeah? Cos, take it from me, you wouldn’t want to be ambushed by him, and, like,
overwhelmed
.’

‘Maybe …’

DogNut smiled and put an arm round Robbie, giving him a squeeze.

‘This is the best way, brother, believe me.’

‘OK. Forget it. But next time you talk to me before you start making any plans.’

‘Yeah, sorry. Was just me and Ryan got to talking.’

‘So who’s going in with you?’

‘There ain’t a lot of room to move in there, so I want to keep it small, yeah? We gonna send one crew up to the top in case he’s there, another lot can take the ground floor and I’m gonna take the main war party down into the cellar, where he sleeps.’

‘I’m sending a small crew round the back, to the garden,’ said Ryan. ‘Just in case he tries to get out that way.’

‘The kids going into the house need to be ones who’ve been in there before, though,’ said DogNut. ‘Marco and Felix are gonna take the kitchen. Courtney’s taking the crew up to the top. I’ll lead the party down to the cellar.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ said Paul, stepping forward.

‘For real?’ said DogNut.

Paul swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘Of course,’ he said, staring at the pavement. ‘She was my sister.’

‘OK, but we don’t need no hero act,’ said DogNut. ‘You stick with me and you do what I say.’

Paul nodded.

‘I’d better come along too,’ said Ryan. ‘And I’m bringing my best fighter. You’ll need us.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I say so.’ Ryan put an arm round DogNut. He smelt like an animal, what with all the leather and fur and bits of dead flesh hanging off him. That and the fact that he obviously hadn’t washed in about six months.

‘This is gonna be fun …’ Ryan’s face split into a wide smile, his long yellow teeth showing wolfishly.

‘OK?’ said DogNut, and Robbie reluctantly nodded. ‘So that’s me, Paul, Ryan, Ryan’s hunter and, if you want to make sure that your guys are in on it, I’ll take one more from the museum. Who d’you suggest? Someone who ain’t scared of nothing and can fight up close if they got to.’

‘Jackson.’ Robbie nodded towards a stocky kid wearing hoodie and jeans who had close-cropped hair and a face like a potato.

‘He good?’

‘She.’

‘She?’

‘Yeah.’ Robbie grinned and raised his eyebrows. ‘Jackson’s the hardest kid at the museum.’

He called Jackson over. She looked serious and slightly shy.

‘You happy to go inside with the main team and flush the sicko out?’ Robbie asked her and she shrugged.

‘Why not?’ She smiled now and her face softened and she instantly looked like a little girl.

‘How old are you, Jackson?’ DogNut asked.

‘Thirteen. Why? You think I can’t do this?’ Jackson stopped smiling.

‘Didn’t say nothing. Just asking.’

Jackson sniffed. Held DogNut’s gaze. Her eyes were grey and clear. She carried a short spear with a long, extremely sharp-looking head. She twirled it in her hand, like a bandleader with a baton. The tip zipping past a millimetre from DogNut’s nose.

He laughed and stepped back.

‘Save it for the man, soldier,’ he said, and then called the rest of his team together.

‘We’re going in,’ he shouted. ‘And, remember, the show ain’t over till the fat sicko croaks.’

Courtney groaned. She was back in the Collector’s house. The last place on earth she wanted to be. Her feet stuck to the squishy mashed layer of paper and food and excrement that lay on the floorboards, giving the effect of walking through wet mud. The stink of it, rising from the floor in wafts of damp heat, and seeping from the walls, nauseated her. She felt like she was inside the twisting wormholes of some giant sponge that had soaked up gallons of grease and sweat and slime that was all now slowly oozing out. The air seemed to be thicker in here. It clogged her nostrils and the back of her throat, making it hard to breathe. She was panting like a dog, hard and fast, unable to fill her lungs. Her pounding heart was pushing so hard she felt as if her skin might split, and sweat lay on her in a tight cloying sheet, like clingfilm, making her itch. She wanted to scratch herself all over. But she knew she must show no fear in front of the other kids – three of Ryan’s hunters and a fat boy from the museum. They were absolutely bricking themselves so she had to give them courage.

Just like dogs, the kids preferred to hunt in a large pack, and separated from Ryan, his hunters didn’t look so tough. These three stuck close behind Courtney and she reckoned if they did come across any sickos they’d be out of there in a flash. They were very different boys to the cocky, swaggering bunch who’d volunteered to come inside with her. Oh, they’d been warned about what to expect – they’d even laughed about it, boasted about what they were going to do, but as they’d forced the door open and walked into the hallway they’d fallen silent. The Collector had painstakingly rebuilt the towering piles of rotting newspaper and had spent some time jamming human bones into it.

The boys had grown pale and quiet. This was like nothing they’d ever experienced before. There was an alien atmosphere in the house. Alien and evil. Very little sunlight penetrated the building. It hadn’t been so obvious last night when it was dark outside, but the Collector had stacked stuff on all the window ledges, and the panes of glass were so thick with grime and dust that only a few spots of yellowish light showed here and there.

Courtney switched on her torch. It was a relief to be heading upstairs, away from what she knew waited in the basement, even though it brought back painful memories of when six of them had gone up last night and only five had come down. And there would be nothing worse than to be trapped up here again with these strangers, kids she didn’t know and couldn’t fully trust. A big part of her wished she could have stayed with DogNut.

Come on, girl, concentrate.

She may have got the soft option, but she still couldn’t be sure of what she might find up here. What if they stumbled across the mutilated body of Olivia? She’d seen the dead bodies of friends before, but none had been mucked about with the way the Collector had torn up those poor kids in the kitchen.

Up. Keep going up.

She hustled her gang, making her way to the very top of the house without stopping. They quickly arrived at the bedroom with the balcony where they’d had their fight with the Collector. There was much more light in here. The wide sliding glass doors along the back wall were largely clear and there was a big gap in the middle where they’d been smashed. Had that happened in the fight? She couldn’t remember. It had all happened so fast and she’d been in a blind panic.

Because of the broken windows the air in here was cooler and cleaner. With a strong sense of relief she went out on to the balcony and leant on the wall. A movement below caught her eye and she spotted another group of Ryan’s hunters climbing the wall into the garden. They stopped and looked up and then waved to her. Courtney felt reassured that she wasn’t alone.

It was nice on the balcony. Calm and peaceful. Normal. The gardens, though overgrown, looked like any other gardens, a complete contrast to the weird interior of the house.

She knew she couldn’t stay out here, though.

It wasn’t over.

She gulped in fresh air and spat to clear her throat. Turned back to the anxious faces of her little gang. They stood in a line, waiting for their orders.

‘Take a quick look round,’ she said, stepping back in through the broken windows. ‘See if there’s any signs of Olivia. I don’t reckon she’s likely to be up here, but we need to check. Then we’ll work our way down.’

‘And then what?’ asked the museum boy.

‘Then we get the hell out of here, kiddo.’

Paul was shaking so much it was almost funny. His whole body was vibrating, his teeth rattling in his skull. He was gripping his knife so tightly in his hand that his fingers were bone white and bloodless. Sweat ran down his arms, under his sleeves, and dripped on to the floor. He was staying next to DogNut, trying to show he was tough, and not fooling anyone. Jackson was a couple of paces behind them, then came Ryan’s hunter and finally Ryan himself, walking backwards, watching their rear. They were in the basement, slowly working their way through the maze. Jackson and DogNut both carried torches. The beams crawled over the paper walls and the soggy floor, occasionally touching on a bone, or a turd, or a scrap of hairy skin, only to skitter away like startled insects.

As they came to each corner, they stopped and DogNut would carefully peer round, trying not to touch the walls if he could help it.

‘This is some weird shit, man,’ muttered Ryan as they came into one of the little hollowed-out antechambers. This one was filled with old radios and tiny broken human skulls. Baby skulls by the look of them.

‘Ryan don’t like this one bit at all,’ he went on. ‘Should have listened to his mum and stayed at home.’

‘You believe me now, yeah?’ said DogNut. ‘I told you this wouldn’t be no primary-school outing, and you ain’t even seen the guy what built this house of horrors yet.’

‘Maybe we should all stop talking and go a little quieter?’ said Jackson, nudging past Paul to join DogNut at the front. ‘Let’s move on,’ she whispered. ‘The quicker we go, the quicker we get this over with.’

Jackson didn’t speak anything like the girls that DogNut had grown up with. She had an unexpectedly posh accent that didn’t go with the face and the attitude. What’s more, she was confident enough not to put on a voice, didn’t have to pretend that she was someone else. DogNut had spent his whole life trying to sound like the black kids on his estate. That was how you talked if you wanted to be cool. He admired Jackson, but she was alien to him and he didn’t really know what to make of her.

Before they moved forward, she shoved Paul back and put him between Ryan and his hunter.

‘You shouldn’t have come down here, Paul,’ she said softly. ‘You’re not up to this. Try to keep out of the way and not get into any trouble.’

‘But I want to kill him.’ Paul’s face was twisted with a mix of fear, pain and anger. Jackson stared at him.

‘Do you really think you could do that, Paul?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘When did you last kill someone?’

‘Never. But I can start now.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Jackson, and before Paul could say anything else she put a hand over his mouth.

‘Nobody’s going to judge you, Paul. Nobody’s going to think badly of you. Let
us
do it. You just try not to get hurt. That’s what Olivia would have wanted.’

‘I’m going to kill him,’ Paul repeated once Jackson had taken her hand away. ‘And you’re not going to stop me.’

‘OK. But for now stay back here – you’re slowing us down.’

Jackson returned to DogNut and the two of them led the way down the next stretch of passageway.

‘We mustn’t let Paul come in here.’

Marco was by the kitchen door, holding it shut. He and Felix had made sure that there was nothing living in the kitchen and had then quickly secured the room in case the Collector was nearby. They had three kids from the museum with them. Two of them looked like they were about to be sick. The third one was actually being sick. He was bent double, throwing up noisily into a bucket of slops. Marco thought it was funny that he had carefully used the bucket so as not to make any mess, when the room was already covered in filth of all kinds.

You had to see the funny side of things or you’d crack. The kitchen looked even worse this morning. The Collector had added to his vile collection of broken bodies around the table and used poor Olivia’s head as a centrepiece. It was almost unrecognizable, one side of it completely caved in. Marco hoped she’d died quickly.

‘Please,’ said one of the other boys. ‘Please let’s get out of here. I can’t stand it. It’s disgusting.’