He wished he’d brought a shield along with him, but he hadn’t wanted to be too weighed down. Sickos didn’t carry weapons. It was their teeth you had to watch out for. Any small cut could get infected.
The biggest danger was getting bottled up like this. If there were enough sickos, they could get in past the kids’ weapons and DogNut and his crew would be swamped. No, what was the word Courtney had used?
Overwhelmed
.
‘Come on,’ he growled quietly, trying to think of a plan.
If he could take down the mother, maybe the others would back off. If he made an attack now, while they didn’t expect it, if he took the fight to them, he might just be able to finish it before it got going.
He yelled and ran at the mother, sword sweeping down from over his head. But he’d waited too long; she was ready for him. She shrank back to the safety of the other sickos. DogNut’s stroke swished harmlessly down through thin air and he couldn’t risk advancing into their ranks. There must have been at least twenty sickos crammed in here.
He lifted his sword again and bellowed a war cry. The lead mother tilted her head to one side, watching him like a bird. The father with headphones nodded and opened his mouth to let out a strangled yowl.
And then they attacked. Hurling themselves at the kids.
DogNut and the boat crew were used to fighting, and the sickos were unarmed so their first wave was easily thrown back. There was the sound of metal striking bone, hacking flesh, and then a skeletal mother lay dead at DogNut’s feet; a father was crawling away, bleeding heavily from a spear cut to his shoulder; a young mother in a bright yellow tracksuit had lost the fingers from one hand and she was shaking it in confusion, watching the blood as it sprayed up the sides of the alleyway.
So far none of the kids were hurt.
DogNut allowed himself to believe for a moment that perhaps their chances of survival weren’t as low as he’d feared.
He didn’t have long to enjoy the feeling as the bravest of the sickos came forward again: four fathers with bare torsos and grubby shorts. DogNut could see the sweat lying thick on their skin, saliva drooling from their mouths, the whites of their watery eyes mottled red and yellow and brown. They came in a pack, fast and hard. It wasn’t so easy to knock them back this time. In the cramped alleyway DogNut couldn’t get a good swing and was scared of hurting one of his friends with his sword. He spotted Al lashing out with his mace, repeatedly battering one of the sickos who wouldn’t give up. Courtney and Felix were hemmed in, stabbing and shoving. Then Marco’s spear was knocked flying and he quickly drew a long knife from his belt, but the lead mother had been waiting behind the four fathers and she darted out and clawed at his wrist with long fingernails. Marco yelped in agony and tried to stab the mother. Somehow, though, she wrenched the knife from his grasp and was just about to bite his forearm when Al hit her from behind with his mace. She spun round with a snarl of fury but, before she could go for Al, Finn punched her hard in the side of the neck with his good hand. At last she retreated with the second wave of sickos.
All except for one short father who lay still on the ground next to the dead mother.
Two down, eighteen to go.
And now the lead mother was armed. She raised Marco’s knife above her head. DogNut felt his heart sink and his energy drain away. Sickos didn’t usually know how to use weapons, but this mother must have been smarter than the others. And if she was smarter then she was more dangerous. It was now more important than ever to take her out. Easier said than done. She was protected by the knot of fathers around her.
She tipped her head back, shook the knife and let out a long high-pitched wailing scream. The other sickos joined in, hissing and gurgling, the less diseased managing a sort of sick animal whine.
The sight of the mother waving the knife
The biggest danger was getting bottled up like this. If there were enough sickos, they could get in past the kids’ weapons and DogNut and his crew would be swamped. No, what was the word Courtney had used?
Overwhelmed
.
‘Come on,’ he growled quietly, trying to think of a plan.
If he could take down the mother, maybe the others would back off. If he made an attack now, while they didn’t expect it, if he took the fight to them, he might just be able to finish it before it got going.
He yelled and ran at the mother, sword sweeping down from over his head. But he’d waited too long; she was ready for him. She shrank back to the safety of the other sickos. DogNut’s stroke swished harmlessly down through thin air and he couldn’t risk advancing into their ranks. There must have been at least twenty sickos crammed in here.
He lifted his sword again and bellowed a war cry. The lead mother tilted her head to one side, watching him like a bird. The father with headphones nodded and opened his mouth to let out a strangled yowl.
And then they attacked. Hurling themselves at the kids.
DogNut and the boat crew were used to fighting, and the sickos were unarmed so their first wave was easily thrown back. There was the sound of metal striking bone, hacking flesh, and then a skeletal mother lay dead at DogNut’s feet; a father was crawling away, bleeding heavily from a spear cut to his shoulder; a young mother in a bright yellow tracksuit had lost the fingers from one hand and she was shaking it in confusion, watching the blood as it sprayed up the sides of the alleyway.
So far none of the kids were hurt.
DogNut allowed himself to believe for a moment that perhaps their chances of survival weren’t as low as he’d feared.
He didn’t have long to enjoy the feeling as the bravest of the sickos came forward again: four fathers with bare torsos and grubby shorts. DogNut could see the sweat lying thick on their skin, saliva drooling from their mouths, the whites of their watery eyes mottled red and yellow and brown. They came in a pack, fast and hard. It wasn’t so easy to knock them back this time. In the cramped alleyway DogNut couldn’t get a good swing and was scared of hurting one of his friends with his sword. He spotted Al lashing out with his mace, repeatedly battering one of the sickos who wouldn’t give up. Courtney and Felix were hemmed in, stabbing and shoving. Then Marco’s spear was knocked flying and he quickly drew a long knife from his belt, but the lead mother had been waiting behind the four fathers and she darted out and clawed at his wrist with long fingernails. Marco yelped in agony and tried to stab the mother. Somehow, though, she wrenched the knife from his grasp and was just about to bite his forearm when Al hit her from behind with his mace. She spun round with a snarl of fury but, before she could go for Al, Finn punched her hard in the side of the neck with his good hand. At last she retreated with the second wave of sickos.
All except for one short father who lay still on the ground next to the dead mother.
Two down, eighteen to go.
And now the lead mother was armed. She raised Marco’s knife above her head. DogNut felt his heart sink and his energy drain away. Sickos didn’t usually know how to use weapons, but this mother must have been smarter than the others. And if she was smarter then she was more dangerous. It was now more important than ever to take her out. Easier said than done. She was protected by the knot of fathers around her.
She tipped her head back, shook the knife and let out a long high-pitched wailing scream. The other sickos joined in, hissing and gurgling, the less diseased managing a sort of sick animal whine.
The sight of the mother waving the knife
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