to see some fighting spirit for real.” Rashford backed off, adding, “Why don’t you give your friend a hand up? You shouldn’t leave him dangling there.”
Just then, Sam’s fingers reached the top of the cliff, and March grabbed his wrists, pulling him the rest of the way. When March turned back to Rashford, he saw that the other boys had joined him. They were wearing leather jerkins with red and black bull’s head badges, all holding spears with flags, some with short swords and knives strapped around their waists. Some seemed to have red and black war paint on their faces, some grinned, some scowled; all were skinny, none looked old enough to shave.
“Come forward, March. Don’t be shy!” Rashford shouted.
One other boy called out, “Don’t look so scared. We won’t hurt you—much.” There was laughter, jeering, and some wolf whistles as the boys closed in around them—there was no escape, though really, with the speed of these boys, there was never going to be a chance of escape. March and Sam were now surrounded by a ring of boys—perhaps a hundred of them.
Rashford stepped forward. “As leader of the Bulls, the best and most honorable of the boys’ brigades, I invite you to demonstrate your fighting skills to see if you’re worthy of joining us.”
Sam nodded and smiled. “Yeah, sure. How?”
Rashford smiled back. “By beating the shit out of each other, of course!”
The boys around them had started up a chant. “Fight. Fight. Fight.”
Sam turned to March. “They’re serious. You up for it?”
“I don’t think we’ve got any choice. Just don’t use your knife. We stick to fists.”
“Definitely. I’ll try not to hurt you too much,” Sam re-plied, and backed away, getting in a rather absurd stance with his fists stiffly raised.
“You serious?” March asked.
Rashford, who was walking around the inside of the circle of boys, yelled, “Come on, March. My money’s on you.”
March raised his guard and moved forward. He was older and taller than Sam. He’d win this easy.
Sam grinned at him, rolled his head, and beckoned March forward.
Cocky little shit!
March drew his fist back and sent a hard punch to Sam’s jaw. But Sam dodged his head to the side. March punched again—Sam moved and punched March in the stomach, and he doubled over in pain.
The boys were cheering louder. Rashford was shouting, “March! You’d better not let me down here.”
Sam sent a punch to March’s jaw. March staggered back. The boys were shouting louder. March put his guard farther up, but another punch hit his ear. And then another to his stomach bent him over. Sam danced back and March could just see his feet moving around. Somehow Sam knew how to fight and March had nothing to offer in return. He had to show his toughness, though. He straightened up and ran at Sam, who dodged out of the way. March tried again and the same thing happened. Rashford came to him and turned him round to face Sam, shouting, “Don’t make a fool of me as well as yourself, March.” Then quietly added, “Get him this time. On the nose.”
And this time, two boys had hold of Sam and pushed him to March as Rashford pushed March to Sam. March just raised his fist, and it was more like Sam’s face hitting his fist rather than the other way round. But the result was the same—blood exploded from Sam’s nose. Sam staggered to the side, grabbing his face, and March leaped at him, knocking him to the ground and kicking him in the back.
Sam rolled over and tried to get away, but March fell on him, pinning his arms down with his legs and punching his face again and again. Eventually Rashford shouted, “Enough, March. Enough.” And he was dragged off Sam, who rolled over and tried to get up, but then collapsed again.
Rashford ignored this and said, “We can see that both these boys are fighters. They can join us. There’s just one thing left to do.”
And faster than March could think about these words, Rashford’s fist hit him and pain filled his head, blood filled his mouth, and the sounds of the boys’ laughing and cheering faded as he let darkness fold around him.
TASH
DEMON TUNNELS
FIRST COMES a vision. Shades of red are wrapping you up, soothing your muscles, and warming your bones. It makes you feel wanted, makes you feel strong. And it makes you want to go back. You want to reach out as you tumble through it, through the