City of Magic: The Complete Series by Helen Harper (book club recommendations TXT) 📕

words fell away. He was already flapping off, his immense belly – and groin – hanging down grotesquely. Shit. ‘Good luck,’ I shouted. ‘Stop the apocalypse!’

He didn’t respond. By my reckoning, he was heading over to Castlefield, one of the nearby city suburbs. I debated for a moment: perhaps I should follow him. On this bike, however, it would take me far too long.

Something was about to go down. Whatever it was, I’d have to hope that it went well. I crossed my fingers tightly. I might not believe in my own luck but if ever the rest of the world needed some it was now.

‘Come on, Madrona,’ I whispered. ‘We need you to win.’ And then, just in case, I added grudgingly, ‘You too, Monroe. Win the day.’

I picked up the bike and continued on my way.

Chapter Nine

Part of me was expecting the darkened, shadowy supermarket to be full of people. I didn’t know why. It was still hard to comprehend, I suppose, that the events of the past few days had been real.

When I entered through a side door and realised the place was empty, I paused for a moment and marvelled at the silence. Then I grabbed a trolley and began, starting with water. If I hadn’t imagined that dragon, and he didn’t do what he’d promised, it wouldn’t be long before the taps ran dry. The more damn water I could stockpile the better.

When I had packed one trolley, I started filling another. I ignored the fresh produce, a lot of which was already starting to rot, in favour of the canned and long-life food. I could do this. No problem.

Some of the shelves had already been ransacked and I had to pick my way along several of the aisles, avoiding fallen cereal boxes and spilled bags of rice. Still, despite the time it took to navigate my way around, I was extremely pleased with myself. If I tied three trolleys together, I should be able to trundle them back home without too much bother. It would be slow going but I’d manage.

I was contemplating the alcohol section and whether I could fit in a couple of bottles of booze – for medicinal purposes, of course – when I heard glass shatter at the other end of the supermarket. The sound was quickly followed by several voices lifted in glee. I tiptoed to the end of the aisle and peered round to take a look. At least twenty people were gingerly stepping through a broken window, one after the other. From this distance most of them appeared to be teenagers but I spotted the odd older – and burlier – figure. I pursed my lips in disapproval.

‘You want us to take it all?’ asked a young, doubtful voice. ‘It’s going to take days.’

‘Young man,’ drawled a chillingly familiar voice. ‘The whole point is to take it all. It’s simple economics, simple supply and demand.’

I narrowed my eyes, watching as Maximillian Stone stepped through the broken window and smiled genially. Of course he’d be here. He wasn’t going to take the apocalypse lying down, and he wouldn’t allow himself to be evacuated from Manchester either. No doubt he was planning to take as much of the food and water that was still available and store it somewhere so he could sell it at exorbitant prices to those of us who also refused to leave. It was a canny plan – and one that would be a wasted effort if Madrona, Monroe and that nutty dragon managed to avert what was happening. Would that it could be so.

I tapped my mouth thoughtfully as Max’s band of reprobates snagged trolleys and started filling them up. There were loud whoops; most of the kids seemed to be enjoying using the trolleys as dodgems rather than filling them up. All the same, I had to make a decision. I didn’t have long before they reached me – and there were far more of them than there was of me.

I craned my neck. There was a fire exit at the far end of this aisle; all I had to do was grab my three trolleys and wheel them out of here without being noticed. Trying to stop Max in his bid to control all the food in the city was far too risky. I estimated my chances of success at less than one in two hundred; besides, there were plenty more supermarkets across the city. He couldn’t empty them all.

I pushed away the nagging thought that Max was playing the long game and that he was banking on the idea that the government would abandon Manchester for good. I’d cross that bridge if and when I needed to.

Quietly now, but with considerable haste, I moved my nearest trolley towards the fire exit then I ran back, staying on the balls of my feet, and took hold of the other two, one in each hand. I wheeled them back – just in the nick of time.

Three youths appeared at the other end of the dark shopping aisle.

‘Booze!’

‘Lots of it!’

They immediately started piling bottles into a trolley. One of them unscrewed a bottle of vodka and tipped it into his mouth. I opened the fire exit door carefully, timing it so that their voices were loud enough to cover the noise. I started to haul my trolleys out, one by one.

I was manoeuvring the last one, the most important one with the bottled water, while congratulating myself on my stealthy movements when one of the lads swivelled round. His eyes alighted on me and he froze.

I lifted my index finger to my lips, as if trying to engage him in my secret. It didn’t work. He opened his mouth and yelled, his words echoing round the supermarket, ‘We’re not alone!’

The other two boys sprinted towards me. Shit. Shit. I yanked the trolley, snagging it on the edge of the door. I couldn’t leave it behind – we were going to need the water.