Read Page 45

SUNDAY

The dead politician's words still rattle round my head as I wake up. I've slept for little more than an hour but I feel as refreshed as if I've slept all night. I look up at the canopy of leaves and twisted branches above my head. A familiar face stares back at me.Advertisement

'Thought it was you,' says Patrick. 'You managed to get away then.'

I sit up quickly. He reaches out his hand and I shake it. I look around and see that many more people have arrived here while I've been asleep.

'You okay,' I ask as I stand up and stretch.

'Absolutely bloody brilliant,' he replies, grinning from ear to ear. 'You?'

I think before answering. In less than twenty-four hours I've lost everything that used to matter to me. I should feel battered, devastated and empty but I don't. I echo Patrick's sentiment. I feel incredible. I feel alive. My body is full of energy and strength. My mind is clear. I'm ready to do what I have to do.

'Never felt like this before,' I tell him. 'I've never felt this good.'

It isn't long before we move on. The scouts who brought us to this place tell us that there's a small town on the other side of this valley. We'll start there. I know exactly what I have to do. I'm ready now to go into the streets and destroy as many of them as I can find. This battle is only just beginning.

We leave the trees at the bottom of the valley and emerge into a clear and dry morning. The sun is just beginning to rise and I can already hear the sounds of fighting drifting on the breeze. There's a hint of smoke in the air - the smell of their world being torn apart.

Christ I feel strong. I know now that I've finally thrown off the shackles and restraints of the life I used to lead and I'm free to follow my instincts and do what I was born to do. For the first time since I left her I can think of Ellis this morning and not feel any pain. I know that my little girl is out there somewhere, killing for us. I hope I'll find her again one day. I'll tell her how proud I am.

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We move as a pack, powering up the side of the steep hill which looms ahead of us. We reach the top of the climb and I'm barely out of breath. I stand next to Patrick and together we look down onto a truly beautiful scene. In the distance we can see the town, and it is burning. There are already battles raging in the streets. Explosions rock buildings and reduce them to rubble. People are running, fighting and killing.

It's awe-inspiring.

Patrick grins like a child on Christmas morning.

The sun bathes the scene with brilliant, golden light and I can see for miles in every direction. People are swarming towards the town from all sides. With excitement burning in my gut I start to run towards the buildings, desperate to get there, desperate to fight and kill.

We thunder down the other side of the hill, sprint diagonally across a wide and uneven field and then reach the main road into the town. With two others I break into the first building we reach. We smash the front windows of the small, square house and climb in. I find the two elderly occupants upstairs, cowering pathetically in a bedroom. One of them hides under the bed. I grab its foot, drag it out, stand it upright and smash its face into the wall. There's another in the wardrobe. It tries to stay silent but I can hear its unsteady breathing and pitiful whimpering. I pull the doors open, throw it across the room and watch in satisfaction as the other two who are in here with me tear it limb from limb.

By the time we get back outside our bloody attack has been replayed numerous times in numerous houses. Without pausing for breath I run on, desperate to find more of them to destroy.

This is a perfect day.

After so much uncertainty, fear and pain, everything is clear. Everything finally makes sense.

We are at war.

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