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• Extract

For Cass, the life of a Scav is all she’s ever known – scavenging what’s left of London in search of a precious relic no-one, not even her new Russian masters, has ever seen.

But when two survivors from another time show up, claiming they hold the key to the whereabouts of the missing ‘artefact’, scavving will never be the same again. They have six days to find it before their world will come to an end.

A gripping post-apocalyptical adventure set in the ruins of London about a desperate race to find a relic of extraordinary power. Spectacular science-fiction debut from Philip Webb.

For ages 11+.

Released January 2011.

We run, hand in hand, away from the hall, stumbling in the potholes. The well is just up ahead and I can just make out Erin crouching in the shadows. We huddle down next to her, our breath smoking hot and fast. Erin flashes Peyto a filthy look.

        “What were you thinking of? Things are bad enough as they are!”

        “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know what they’d do if they really found it…”

        “Haven’t we got enough to worry about without the whole village chasing after us?! We have to go, right now.”

        “Settle down,” I go. “You ain’t in danger. Things’ll blow over. They ain’t a bad lot, trust me.”

        Erin pulls away. “You don’t understand, Cass. We have to go.”

        “We can’t. It’s far too dangerous…” starts Peyto.

“We can’t leave it there,” snaps Erin. “We’ve got days, Peyto! Days! Not weeks! And now you’ve gone and lost…”

“Calm down, I haven’t lost it. I know exactly where it is. At least I found Wilbur – he was right where he was supposed to be.”

“You don’t know if he’s definitely the one.”

“Wait a second – what about Wilbur?” I go. “He’s the one what?”

But they’re so mad with each other they ain’t listening.

“It’s all right for you,” snaps Erin. “If the ship crashes…”

Peyto leaps up. “Don’t you ever say that – that it’s all right for me!”

Erin’s pacing about fit to explode. “Tell him! Tell him he’s got to listen!” she pleads to me.

        “Whoa!” I go. “Rewind! Lost what? What ship? What’s too dangerous? And what’s this about Wilbur? You knew he was gonna be at Big Ben?” They both clam up.

        “Hey, spit it out.”

        Peyto slumps against the edge of the well. “There was meant to be someone at the clock tower – someone to help us. Wilbur was the only one there. He came there to look for the artefact of his own accord. It makes sense that he would be the one.”

“The one? OK, look, you’ve got that wrong,” I go. “Wilbur ain’t got no more sense where the artefact is than any other scav. He’s just a kid with bonkers ideas, all right? He’s had more guesses where the artefact is than he’s had hot dinners. And they’ve all been dead-ends, believe me. It’s a game for him.” Peyto shrugs but I can tell he’s still seething at Erin.

        “The point is we’re in even more trouble now,” goes Erin, glaring back at him.

I glance between them. “Why?”

        “I left something back where we were scavving.”

        “So? Get it tomorrow.”

        “You don’t understand. I had to leave it there, or the Vlads would have found it when I got scanned at the end of the shift…”

I shake my head. “Ain’t you had enough for one day? I told you already. We ain’t allowed that side of the river till it’s been cleared. They see you, they shoot you.”

        “I’m going,” says Erin, and she means it.

        I back-pedal in front of her, trying to smile. “Slow down, lady! You ain’t even gonna make it across the river.”

Her eyes sparkle with tears as she tries to look through me, all hell-bent on marching to the edge of the world. At last she stops and hangs her head.

        “Bejesus, and I thought Wilbur was stubborn! What’s going on today? What’s so precious you can’t just pick it up tomorrow?”

And that’s when Erin brings something out from under her collar. It’s such a shock, I figure I’m dreaming as she cups it in her hand to show me.

First off I think it’s an animal cos these long tentacles, thin as fishing wire, are waving about where it was clasped around her neck, and they just disappear into the rest of it like when you touch the stalks on a snail. It’s an odd shape, a sort of knot with bulges and stalks and creases. And it’s glowing with the faintest of lights – a shimmer of faraway blue and green, with hairline streaks of cream drawn across its surface in patterns, like the grain of bleached wood. Except it’s much finer than that – all the detail is sharp and layered and sunk down deep inside. And as I gaze at it, I could swear them patterns are moving about, very slowly shifting and mixing. It’s the most weirdest, most stand-out beautiful thing I’ve ever clapped my eyes on.

        “What…the hell…is that?”

        “It’s a flinder,” says Peyto. “I don’t know if this is what the Vlads are looking for, but Erin’s got one, I’ve got one, and…well, one of them is lost. Here. In this city. We think.”

        “Where the hell are you two from?”

And I know they ain’t gonna answer that. Maybe they can’t.

        “You wouldn’t believe us,” goes Peyto. “Unless you went there.”