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Cochrane, who was peering through his own window, turned back as Sam spoke and stood in the aisle, his commanding bulk enough to silence the closer boys.
“Settle down!” he said. “Thank you, Sameth. Now everyone stay in your seats, and I’ll soon sort—”
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the sound of the driver’s door, as he slammed it shut it behind him. All the boys rushed to the windows, despite Cochrane’s roar, and saw the driver leap the roadside wall and run off through the trees as if pursued by some mortal enemy.
“What on earth?” exclaimed Cochrane, as he turned to look out the windscreen. Whatever had scared the driver clearly didn’t seem so terrible to him, since he merely opened the passenger door and stepped out into the rain, unfurling his umbrella as he did so.
As soon as he left the bus, everyone rushed to the front. Sam, from his position in the aisle, was the first to get there. Looking out, he first saw a barrier across the road, and a large red sign next to it. He couldn’t quite read it, because of the rain, but he knew what it said anyway. He’d seen identical signs every holiday, when he went home to the Old Kingdom. The red signs marked the beginning of the Perimeter, the military zone that the Ancelstierran Army had established to face the Wall. Beyond that sign, the woods on either side of the road would vanish, replaced by a half-mile-wide expanse of strong points, trenches, and the coils and coils of barbed wire that stretched from the east coast to the west.
Sam remembered exactly what the sign said. Pretending he had an amazing ability to see through fogged-up windscreens, he recited the familiar warning to the others. It was important for them to know.
PERIMETER COMMAND
NORTHERN ARMY GROUP
Unauthorized egress from the Perimeter Zone is strictly forbidden.
Anyone attempting to cross the Perimeter Zone will be shot without warning.
Authorized travelers must report to the Perimeter Command H.Q.
REMEMBER—
NO WARNING WILL BE MADE
A moment of silence met this recitation, as the seriousness of it sank in. Then a babble of questions broke out, but Sam didn’t answer. He had thought the driver had run away because he was afraid of being so close to the Wall. But what if he had brought them there on purpose? And why had he run away from the two red-capped military policemen who were walking up from their sentry box?
Sameth’s family had many enemies in the Old Kingdom. Some were human, and might be able to pass as harmless in Ancelstierre. Some were not, but they might be powerful enough to cross the Wall and get this little distance south. Especially on a day when the wind blew from the north.
Not bothering to get his raincoat, Sam jumped down from the bus and hurried over to where the two military policemen had just met Mr. Cochrane. Or rather, to where the MP sergeant had started to shout at Cochrane.
“Get everyone off that bus and get them moving back as quick as you can,” the sergeant shouted. “Run as far as you can, then walk. Got it?”
“Why?” asked Mr. Cochrane, bristling. Like most of the teachers and staff at Somersby, he wasn’t from the North, and he had no idea about the Wall, the Perimeter, or the Old Kingdom. He had always treated Sameth as he treated the school’s other Prince, who was an albino from far-off Karshmel—like an adopted child who wasn’t quite a member of the family.
“Just do it!” ordered the sergeant. He seemed nervous, Sameth noted. His revolver holster was open, and he kept looking around at the trees. Like most soldiers on the Perimeter—but totally unlike any other units of the Ancelstierran Army—he also wore a long sword-bayonet on his left hip, and a mail coat over his khaki battledress, though he’d kept his MP’s red cap, rather than wearing the usual neck- and nasal-barred helmet of the Perimeter garrison. Sam noted that neither of the two men had a Charter mark on his forehead.
“That’s not good enough,” Cochrane protested. “I insist on speaking to an officer. I can’t have my boys running about in the rain!”
“We’d better do as the sergeant says,” said Sam, coming up behind him. “There is something in the wood—and it’s getting closer.”
“Who are you?” demanded the sergeant, drawing his sword. The lance-corporal with him instantly followed suit, and started to sidle around behind. Both of them were looking at Sam’s forehead, and the Charter mark that was just visible under his Cricket XI cap.
“Prince Sameth of the Old Kingdom,” said Sam. “I suggest you call Major Dwyer of the Scouts, or General Tindall’s headquarters, and tell them I’m here—and that there are at least three Dead Hands in the woods over there.”
“That’s torn it!” swore the sergeant. “We knew something was up with this wind. How did they get— Well, it doesn’t matter. Harris, double back to the post and alert HQ. Tell them we’ve got Prince Sameth, a bunch of schoolkids, and at least three category-A intruders. Use a pigeon and the rocket. The phone’ll be out for sure. Move!”
The lance-corporal was gone before the sergeant’s mouth shut, and just as Cochrane began.
“Sa
meth! What are you going on about?”
“There’s no time to explain,” replied Sam urgently. He could sense Dead Hands—bodies infused with spirits called from Death—moving through the forest, parallel to the road. They didn’t seem to have sensed the living yet, but once they did, they would be there within minutes. “We have to get everyone out of here—we have to get as far away from the Wall as we can.”
“But . . . But . . .” blustered Cochrane, red-faced and astounded at the impertinence of one of his own boys ordering him around. He would have said more, if the sergeant hadn’t drawn his revolver and calmly said, “Get them going now, sir, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Dead Are Many
Five minutes later, the entire team was out in the rain, on the road, jogging south. At Sameth’s suggestion, they had armed themselves with cricket bats, metal-tipped cricket stumps, and cricket balls. The MP sergeant ran with them, his revolver continuing to silence Cochrane’s protests.
The boys took it all as a bit of a joke at first, with much bravado and carrying-on. But as it got darker and the rain got heavier, they grew quieter. The jokes stopped altogether when four quick shots were heard behind them, and then a distant, anguished scream.
Sameth and the sergeant exchanged a look that combined fear and a dreadful knowledge. The shots and the scream must have come from Lance-Corporal Harris, who had gone back to the post.
“Is there a stream or other running water near here?” panted Sameth, mindful of the warning rhyme he’d known since childhood about the Dead. The sergeant shook his head but didn’t answer. He kept glancing back over his shoulder, almost losing his balance as they ran. A little while after they heard the scream, he saw what he was looking for and pointed it out to Sameth: three red parachute flares drifting down from a few miles north.
“Harris must have got the pigeon off, at least,” he puffed. “Or maybe the telephone worked, since his pistol did. They’ll have the reserve company and a platoon of Scouts out here soon, sir.”
