armed.
The view down Outlaw Hill was lit by motorcycle headlamps and the huge bonfires. James caught glimpses of a medieval style battle, with screams, groans and metal hitting metal.
‘We should be down there,’ Will said eagerly, as he stood beside James.
But James didn’t like it one bit. CHERUB taught you to measure up an opponent and only attack when you knew you could win. In particular he remembered how his friend Gabrielle had almost died after being stabbed in a street brawl and his shorts and T-shirt offered no protection.
‘I’m going back to my tent for a second,’ James said. ‘I’m gonna grab a couple of tent pegs.’
But James really wanted protection. He unzipped his tent and grabbed the jeans he’d ridden up in and a blue hooded sweatshirt from his backpack. This was reinforced with a thin stab-proof lining and he pulled it on quickly.
As James crawled out of the tent he got blinded by three white headlamp beams. The bikes had crept on to Brigands territory from behind the portable toilets. James wasn’t the first to notice and as he put on his trainers several Cardiff Brigands were charging towards the invaders. With the headlamps shining in James’ face he couldn’t tell what the riders were up to until flames erupted over the line of non-Harleys owned by members of the puppet gangs.
The sight of burning bikes set most of the Monster Bunch running out of their defensive positions towards the three riders, who opened their throttles and blasted off downhill. James was one of the first to reach the line of flaming bikes.
His first thought was his own Kawasaki. He couldn’t remember exactly where he’d parked and was relieved to spot it five metres clear of the flames. He’d already seen how hard it was to put out the two flaming Harleys and they’d used up the fire extinguishers from the breakdown truck.
‘Give us a hand,’ James shouted, as he grabbed the bike nearest the flames that wasn’t actually burning and lifted the back wheel to push it away.
The bike was heavy and the heat licked his jeans, but he soon had a Cardiff Brigand dragging the bike from the front.
‘Good thinking, boyo,’ the Brigand said, before shouting orders. ‘Get the other bikes out. Make a fire break.’
It didn’t take long to shift the bikes, but there was no water around so the burning bikes were doomed. One desperate owner tried to beat the flames with a branch snapped off a tree, but it was hopeless. The guy was a Monster Bunch member in his early twenties and it was a horrible thing to watch his bike burn. James knew it was probably the most expensive thing he owned.
But there wasn’t time for sympathy. The attack from the rear had been a diversion; bikers now swarmed into the Brigands’ camp from the front. Someone screamed that they’d been stabbed. James and the Monsters moved warily towards the middle of the camp, where several of the attackers seemed to be holding sticks in the fire.
These caught light instantly, the blue flames they gave off indicating that the ends had been doused in petrol. James realised the Führer’s suspicions about leaving camp were correct. Satan’s Prodigy and the Vengeful Bastards weren’t strong enough to take on the Brigands, but another gang had used the situation to formulate a well planned attack.
A Cardiff Brigand ran towards the fire and gave one of the torch bearers a two-handed shove, knocking him head first into the flames. But this was a minor victory amidst a spectacular defeat as bikers rampaged across the Brigands’ camp using their flaming torches to set light to the tents.
Women gathered up kids and ran into the lane behind the camp. The defending Monsters and Brigands fought bravely but either got knocked down or retreated when the numbers overwhelmed them. There were hundreds more Brigands downhill, but by the time they knew what was going on and ran back up to their camp it would be too late.
James unwound some of the chain around his gloved left fist and ran towards his tent. Tents a few metres away were ablaze and he wondered if he should have gone straight for his bike as he stepped over a small gas camping stove. If one of those got hot enough to explode it would cause serious injuries.
But James was committed. He dived inside his tent, grabbed his crash helmet and hooked his backpack over one shoulder. As he backed out