joined the back of a line, queuing up to pee into the single stall or the urinal. He was the last to go, and even though he skipped washing his hands, James couldn’t catch up in time to see where everyone had legged it to.
Georgie came in from another bedroom. She screwed up her eyes as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and bellowed in James’ ear, ‘Why the hell are you still here?’
‘I haven’t got a timetable,’ James explained. ‘I don’t know where I’m going.’
‘All pupils are on the same timetable,’ she shouted, spraying James with spit. ‘Follow the others.’
‘But they’ve gone.’
‘You’d better learn to keep up with them if you don’t want a punishment. Down the stairs, through the doors and on to the quadrant for morning exercises.’
James sprinted down the corridor, through a door and into a face-full of sunlight. A set of steps on the outside of the building took him down to a dusty patch at the rear of the accommodation block. The hundred and fifty pupils ranged between ten and seventeen years old and stood in four long lines. Everyone wore the same white shirts, but each line wore different colour shorts and socks signifying the building they lived in.
As he joined the end of the blue line, James spotted Lauren standing two rows ahead in yellow kit. Georgie and a couple of other teachers stood up front and started the kids off with some old-school warm-up exercises. They did stretching and toe touching, working their way up to thrusts, push-ups, crunches and star jumps. They had to chant a short sentence between each movement:
‘Good morning, Lord. We are your angels. Here to serve you. Make us strong. Please protect us. Our souls are honest. Our thoughts are pure. We are leaders. We will take humanity. Through the darkness.’
The ten-sentence chant matched the ten repetitions of each exercise. After fifteen minutes of springing up and down in the dirt, James was breathless. His skin was covered in a layer of reddish grit and the lines of the chant were the only things in his head.
After getting two minutes to catch their breath, the four lines were led out through one of the turrets for their run around the perimeter. James estimated that each lap was about a kilometre and a half. They ran a lap in formation at a modest pace, keeping up the chant. At the end of this, the instructors shouted break and the kids were expected to run two more laps as fast as they could. James spotted Lauren and ran alongside her.
‘You OK?’ James puffed.
‘Could have done with more sleep,’ Lauren said, her words jerking as her trainers pounded the tarmac path around the perimeter. ‘And I’ve got grit all down my shorts.’
James scratched his belly. ‘Tell me about it. It’s driving me nuts.’
*
‘What’s your name?’ a kid asked, as the line of dusty boys staggered back across the dirt towards the Blue accommodation block. The kid looked twelve, but was actually a year younger. He had a rugged build and a squished-up nose.
‘James.’
‘I’m Rat.’
James didn’t quite believe what he’d heard. ‘Did you say Rat?’
‘Well, my name’s Rathbone. But if you ever call me that I’ll kick you in the bollocks.’
James smiled, but he was also surprised: Survivors didn’t swear.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Rat asked, apparently pleased to have shocked James.
‘I’m just knackered,’ James said, shrugging listlessly.
Rat nodded. ‘You did good. I’ve seen plenty of new arrivals keel over from the heat when they first get here.’
‘How long have you been here?’ James asked, when they reached the bottom of the metal staircase.
‘Just my whole life,’ Rat said.
He pulled the leather necklace from under his shirt. It had half a dozen beads on it, but he pointed to a gold one.
‘What’s that for?’ James asked.
Rat smiled. ‘It means I’m part of the royal family.’
‘Eh?’
‘Joel Regan saved the best ’til last: I’m his thirty-third and final kid.’
‘Cool.’
Rat shook his head, like James was an idiot. ‘What’s cool about it?’
James found himself lost for words again as they reached the entrance of the boys’ dorm. The lads were stripping off for a shower, but Rat stopped walking in the doorway.
‘Are you queer?’ Rat asked bluntly.
James shook his head. ‘No way.’
‘So you like girls?’
James smiled. ‘Yeah.’
‘Naked girls?’
‘They’re my favourite kind.’
‘Come on then,’ Rat grinned, tugging at James’ shirt.
James looked uncertain. ‘What are you doing?’
Rat tutted. ‘Don’t be a pussy. It’ll only take a minute and I swear, this will blow your