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gut.
    At last, there he was.
    She gasped, despite herself. He looked awful. There had been trouble. It wasn’t just the wound in his neck and the blood on his clothes—he was horribly pale, and there was a look in his eyes. A look of despair she had never seen before.
    It was a moment before she realized there were only three others with him.
    Oh no.
    She wanted to run to Arran and throw her arms around him. To comfort him, to comfort herself, to hold on to something.
    He would hate it, though. He had no idea how she felt about him. She mustn’t let him find out. She wasn’t one of the pretty ones. She had a plain, square face and mousy curly hair that tangled into knots so that she had to hack away at it with scissors. To Arran she was just his second in command.
    That was al . She was tough. There was nothing girly or pink about her. If he knew that she’d always fancied him, he’d run a mile.
    Fancy?
    What a stupid word that was. It was more than fancy. She loved him. Another stupid word. Love. What did it real y mean? She knew how it felt. Good and bad at the same time. There was no one else. No mom and dad. No brothers or sisters. There was just Arran.
    But he was hurt.
    They both spoke at the same time. The same words— “What’s happened?”
    So he knew it, too. He could read it in her face. She had screwed up.
    Who was going to explain first?
    Arran sniffed and cleared his throat.
    “We lost Deke,” he said flatly.
    “Oh no ...”
    Arran shrugged. “There were too many of them.”
    Maxie didn’t know what to say. She was glad that Arran had told his news first. It didn’t make hers sound so bad. But it was bad.
    Arran looked at her. “We saw Blue and the Morrisons crew,” he said. “Told us there’d been trouble.”
    “Some grown-ups got over the wal at the back,” said Maxie.
    “How many?”
    “Not sure. Four or five . . .”
    “They get anyone?”
    Maxie nodded.
    Arran looked around, trying to see who was missing.
    “It was Sam,” said Maxie. “Smal Sam.”
    “Poor little bugger,” said Arran. “This hasn’t been a good day.”
    “No. There’s been grown-ups hanging around since you left. I keep expecting them to attack again.”
    “They won’t attack Waitrose,” said Arran, taking his club over to the rack where they kept their weapons. “They never have.”
    “They might,” said Achil eus, who was already at the rack with Freak and Ol ie. “They’re changing. It’s getting tough, man.”
    “It’s al over for us,” said Freak, looking utterly miserable and defeated.

    Achil eus grabbed him and slammed him into the rack, spil ing weapons onto the floor.
    “That was your bright idea, Freak,” he snarled. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you. Don’t never forget that. Deke’s blood is on your hands, man.”
    Arran pul ed him off.
    “Don’t be an ass, Akkie,” he said.
    Achil eus turned away and let his breath out in a dismissive huff, before sinking into sul en blankness.
    “We’re not going to start blaming each other,” said Arran. “It won’t get us anywhere. We’re al in this together. If we start fighting among ourselves it real y is al over. Okay?”
    “Yeah, whatever.” Achil eus wandered off.
    Arran put a hand on Freak’s shoulder.
    “You al right?”
    Freak looked at his hands. Stained red. He wiped them on his shirt and shrugged.
    Ol ie took the dead dog off Arran, who seemed to have forgotten he was stil carrying it.
    “Come on, Freak,” he said. “Let’s see what we can do with this.”
    In a moment Maxie was alone with Arran. She was desperate to explain herself.
    “They came into the parking lot,” she said. “We’d told the little kids not to go out there.”
    “Not your fault,” said Arran.
    “I thought you were going to be so mad at me,” said Maxie quietly.
    “Not your fault,” Arran repeated.
    “I know, but ...”
    “In case you hadn’t noticed, Maxie, I didn’t do so good either.”
    Maxie almost