Crawlers

11:21pm

Clutching his mop, Ben launched himself out of the door just as, with the same eerie synchronicity that characterized all their movements, the sentries spun round to face him. 

Ben sprinted up the corridor, the soles of his school shoes slapping on the brick-shaped tiles, his heart pounding loud in his ears. He reached the double doors to the stairs just when the sentries opened their mouths and started screaming. 

He skidded to a halt, frozen in his tracks as much by the sound as by the fact he'd reached his goal. The crowd by the security-room door had obviously thinned out at some point over the course of the evening: while there had been nearly thirty people visible on the monitors earlier, now there were 'only' ten, plus Hugo. (Where are all the others? wondered a part of Ben's mind dazedly.) At any rate, the remaining group, a roughly even mix of men and women, certainly made a thoroughly bloodcurdling noise. 

They just stood there at first, their voices rising like sirens until each of them found the highest, most piercing note they could reach, then they held it. Heads trembled. Chins wobbled. Staring eyes threatened to pop out of sockets. Hugo was right there screaming with them. Their hands lifted from their sides. Then, still screaming, they charged. 

As he watched them come Ben's thoughts ran something like this: 

He had to hold them off until Jasmine, Samantha and Lauren were through the doors. He had to do this because he had the mop. Ben was no martial artist, but if he held the stick crosswise, just above waist height, he might temporarily be able to stop the sentries from getting past him, giving the girls the crucial seconds they needed to catch up, get the doors open and get through. It wasn't the most sophisticated plan in the world: it was expediency, pure and simple, with no thought for anything beyond the next few moments. But, as before, it was all he had. 

He grasped his mop in both hands and tensed his arms out in front of him. Then Hugo barrelled into him. 

Ben's legs were braced for the first impact but he didn't stand a chance. As three, four, five adults joined forces with Hugo against the mop handle the soles of Ben's shoes lost their grip, and now he was staggering backwards. 

Ben's vision was a mass of snarling mouths. Suddenly something grabbed at his back and waist and pulled him sideways. He swung round helplessly, struggling to keep his feet, and- 

Crack! 

The ends of the mop met the doorway to either side of him. 

The last second or two had been so fast, Ben had lost track of what was going on. It seemed he was now standing just inside the double doors, still facing outwards. And the girls were behind him. 

'We need the stick!' someone yelled, right next to his ear. 'Push!' 

Ben felt hands shove at his back. He wasn't ready. He fell forward, his elbows bent and he met the hard wooden pole with his unprotected ribs. But he kept his footing, tensed his legs and shoved, adding his strength to that of whoever was pushing him. To his astonishment it actually worked. Taken by surprise, Hugo and the adults fell back for a moment, but it was enough. The pole twisted Ben's wrists, came free from the doorway, was snatched from his hands. Then, while Ben fell back, Jasmine and Lauren slammed the doors shut and Samantha jammed the pole through the handles. 

Crunch. The doors opened less than five centimetres, then stopped. For a moment Hugo's face smeared against the shatterproof glass, grimacing in frustration. 

To Ben's amazement, the humble mop-stick had saved the day: it had held off the sentries and now it was barring the doors. 

Hugo and the adults stood back, allowing the doors to swing fully closed again. Hugo's eyes locked onto Ben's, unblinking. 

Ben's ribs were sore from where they'd made contact with the pole. He stepped back and leaned against a railing to catch his breath. A big part of him didn't seem to want to take his eyes off Hugo, but he tore his gaze away to look at Jasmine, Lauren and Samantha. The girls must have already dropped the hammer and screwdrivers because now they were empty-handed, and breathing as hard as he was. 

'We... did it,' he managed, more in surprise than triumph. 

'Think... that'll hold them?' gasped Jasmine, pointing at the mop handle. 

'Sure,' answered Hugo from the other side of the glass. 'For a while.' 

As Ben and the three girls turned to stare at him again, Hugo smiled. 

'You still don't get it, do you?' he said. 'We're not zombies. And nothing's "eating our brains".' He made little quote marks with his fingers around his own words from earlier. 

Ben felt his skin crawl. 

Still smiling, Hugo said: 'The Queen wants you to know she's impressed. But you won't get far. In fact you might as well give up right now.' 

'And if we don't,' said Samantha, 'what are you going to do about it?' 

Hugo's smile vanished. As one, he and the adults piled against the doors in a brutal shoulder-charge. Crunch. Black metal door handles bit into dark wood. The sentries reared back for another assault; released from their pressure the mop turned, exposing white splinter-marks. 

But Ben, Jasmine, Lauren and Samantha had not hung around to see. They were already running downstairs.

...

'They made it!' said Robert, grinning delightedly at Josh. 

The two boys were standing in the monitor room. After a lot of fiddling and tinkering with the console they had at last managed to find the view of the corridor again in time to witness the escape. 

Robert was ecstatic. 'They did it! They really did it!' he said. Then he noticed Josh's expression. 'What?' 

In answer, Josh just pointed numbly at another of the screens. This one was currently showing the Barbican foyer - and what was going on there. 

'Oh,' said Robert. 'Oh, no...'