Warblegrub and the Forbidden Planet by Andrew Barlow Read Free Book Online Page B

like this…” 395 glanced at the Colonel to see if he was listening, “…far from contact with the poor, which presumably made it easier to ignore their suffering.”
    “I heard that our own greed brought the Exile on us,” agreed Private 856, overhearing them. “My mother told me we wouldn’t share our resources or control our appetites.”
    At the crest of the hill they came to a low fence, beyond which were strange metal structures; domes and towers made of bars and ladders, and a row of little seats hanging on rusting chains, all entangled among the brambles.
    “It’s a playground!” exclaimed a delighted Sarah.
    A quick search of the undergrowth revealed a climbing frame, a slide and a roundabout, but before they had finished uncovering all the amusements, the Colonel summoned them from the far side of the playground.
    “Come and see!” he cried.
    With a machete, he had opened up a view of the city that now lay before them. Stretching away into the hazy distance, the vast labyrinth of crumbling buildings covered every inch of the coastal plain between the hills and the sea. The setting sun glinted on flooded streets and spreading marshland, but most of all on the shards of shattered glass that still clung to the rusting frames of the skyscrapers. The towering apartment blocks and offices, where humankind had once lived and laboured by the million, were all now empty and silent. Like gigantic fungi they sprouted in clusters of varying sizes, with one main mass in the city centre. From the air, they had been impressive but here, looming over the kilometres of sprawling suburbs and industrial zones that still showed through the shroud of vegetation, they took on a new and horrifying aspect; as the shadows rose they became the gravestones of a civilization.
    “Can you imagine living in them?” said Alex with a shudder.
    “Your grandparents did,” Warblegrub reminded her.
    “We’ll camp here tonight,” the Colonel decided.
    They watched transfixed as the sun sank below the horizon. A band of rose-coloured light lingered for a while then night descended. The swollen moon was floating low in the sky and once again the skyscrapers were transformed. Now stark, grim towers of eerie silver light and cold blue shadow, they became a realm of nightmares. Far away, they heard the deep booming call of a lonely marsh bird and imagined unquiet spirits, the ghosts of their ancestors, stalking the deserted streets.

Chapter Nine
    Unable to sleep, 395 decided to relieve Private 585 from duty early. As he picked a path between his sleeping comrades and approached the swings where his friend was sitting, he saw Warblegrub perched on the roundabout.
    “Why this secrecy about names?”
    “We forsook our names when we signed up for this mission,” replied 585 quietly. “It’s symbolic.”
    “Of what?”
    There was a pause then 585 laughed softly. “Can’t remember,” he admitted.
    Warblegrub chortled. “So what is it?”
    There was another pause, and though 395 realised his comrade was about to break his oath, he had wanted to know his name since they befriended each other on the first day’s training for the mission.
    585 glanced round but failed to notice 395 directly behind. “It’s Peter,” he said quietly.
    “An ancient name,” approved Warblegrub. “Petros – the rock. Suits you!”
    395 waited a few moments then announced his presence with a cough and approached. He made no mention of what he had heard but now his friend had a name which could not be forgotten, and he remembered his own with an uncomfortable start.
    Peter accepted his offer gratefully, unrolled his sleeping bag nearby and was soon snoring. 395 sat on the swing with the tablet on his lap, intending to study new data from the satellite. He glanced at Warblegrub, who was staring intently at the city, seemingly annoyed by his interruption. The scudding clouds were trailing shadows over the moonlit streets and canyons, and 395 too was soon