itself.
Eats itself.
He looked back at the pale faces of the workers, gathering in ever larger numbers on the receding quayside, and realised all he’d achieved these last ten years was to duplicate the old world on a much smaller scale; a twenty-acre Petri dish.
The boat chugged heavily and slowly out into the middle of the Thames. Ahead, across the foredeck and the bobbing, excited heads of his boys, he could see the bend in the river, and in the distance the row of shell-like hoods of the Thames barrier.
Nathan watched London drift slowly past them. It reminded him of a riverboat tour of the Thames he and his cousins, mum and auntie had once been on. A warm day like today, ice-cream dripping onto his fist and pigeons pestering them.
From out here in the middle of the river, London really seemed to look no different to the way it had then. The buildings still stood. The tower blocks of Canary Wharf still glinted and shimmered proudly. This far away from the river’s edge, all the small telltale details of dead London were lost; the weeds, the cracks, the broken windows, the overgrown lawns, the rusting cars, the cluttered streets. From where he stood on the stubby aft of the tugboat, Nathan imagined he was nine years old again as the vessel strained its way past Victoria Docks. London bustling in the distance.
He spotted the roof of the ExCel Centre beyond a row of giant freight cranes and dockside warehouses and shuddered at the memory of what had happened inside. He wondered if Leona actually did manage to escape, or whether - the thought turned his stomach - her bones had been added to that pile.
Coming to London had been a mistake. A huge mistake. But he knew they’d had to do it. Not knowing for sure, one way or the other, would have gnawed away at him and Jacob until they finally couldn’t stand it any more and had to go see.
He shook his head sadly. Both he and Jake had thought the dome was nirvana. The beginning of the future; an epicentre of recovery and hope. But, despite all the lights, the arcade machines, the pounding music of party nights, he realised it wasn’t a beginning, it was an end. It was denial, a last blast party with whatever could be scooped together out of the ruins.
He looked around at the other boys stretched out amongst the coils of diesel-stinking rope; all of them excited at their brand new adventure, smoking their cigarettes, stroking their guns with fingers heavy with gold.
It’s like a game to them. Like a computer game. Like ‘Grand Theft Auto’.
Here they were off to some place they knew absolutely nothing about other than Snoop had promised them it would have endless electricity and lots of women to play with. A new playground for them. A new party to go to. And as long as there was somebody coming along who was going to make sure there’d be booze and smokes they seemed content.
What the fuck have I done?
They were all heading to a place he’d called home. Where his mum lived. Where other people whom he’d considered extended family lived. And they were going to have a party there. Oh, yes, it was going to be a party. He could imagine any one of these boys, fired up with excitement, pissed or stoned, cornering his mum in some small cabin . . . his mum pleading.
Nathan felt something in his chest flip and turn with guilt, suddenly realised guilt.
The fuck have I done?
The cold sick feeling spread down into his stomach and started to churn there. He realised Snoop had talked him into believing this was a friendly visit; a pooling of resources, a combining of personnel. And he’d hinted, hadn’t he? Hinted that the rigs would be a new kingdom, under their shared rule. Maxwell ousted and the praetorians in charge with Snoop and him as kings. These boys had been promised someplace even better than the dome . . . and they were going to have it.
‘Oh, shit,’ he whispered under his breath. ‘Oh, shit.’
Chapter 71
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea
Valérie Latoc stood beside the railing and watched Howard and Dennis march Walter, hands bound behind his back by loops of gaffer tape, up the last flight of steps and across the helipad. They held him tightly between them - not that there was anywhere for Walter to