Night, and I stood watching all the children in the world leaving their homes. For a moment the drone of an overhead surveillance plane drowned out their voices; then the plane passed by and their eager conversations and rushing footsteps could be heard again. All those feet, running. Most children couldn’t help themselves. Whatever place they came from, if they had any energy left they always ran the last stretch into Coldharbour ... From a side-street outside Coldharbour, I saw a teenage girl accidentally clatter into a boy. “Sorry” she said, steadying his arm. “Are you OK?” She pointed towards the silver light ahead. “Look, we’re nearly there!” “I know” he said, grinning. “How do you feel?” “Happy” the girl said. “Nervous, as well. A bit anyway.” “Me, too.” He laughed. “But we got here, didn’t we? We made it.”
“Yes. We did.?The girl took his hand, and together they sprinted down the final sloping streets leading the way into Coldharbour. Coldharbour. Until yesterday it had been little more than a seven-mile expanse of mud and rubbish dumps bordering the sea. Apart from myself and five other special children, the only things living there had been seagulls and a good supply of well-fed rats. The only people who ever disturbed the rats were a scattering of bored gang kids with nothing better to do. Not any more. As I gazed out over the mud, I couldn’t begin to count the numbers of new children settling inside Coldharbour. They’d been arriving all night. For hours I’d watched them running here, leaving everything they knew behind. Most weren’t even properly dressed. They turned up in socks, slippers, pyjamas, vests, night gowns, T-shirts or whatever else they’d been wearing when they received the call. Some teenagers had waited long enough to throw on coats or decent
footwear before leaving home, but not many. Attempts were being made to stop them, of course. No doubt some quick-acting parents managed to haul their own kids back indoors if they caught them in time. And as the night dragged on police units also arrived, taking up positions all around the area. In western Coldharbour army brigades had even driven in, hurriedly erecting barricades to prevent anyone crossing the roads over the river. The barricades didn’t work. Children fought their way past. Naturally a few got caught, but most escaped and were soon trying to get inside again. I knew what was happening. I knew because I’d been just the same as these other children. A few weeks earlier, I’d been determined to get here. I’d even hid on the way, hid from my own Mum and Dad, to make sure they wouldn’t force me back home. But, if anything, these new children seemed even more resourceful than I’d been. To get within
Coldharbour they were prepared to do anything: argue, lie, join together, create a distraction - whatever they had to. It was a kind of madness, because there was nothing for us in this place: no home, no food, no shelter. So why were we all here? Because Milo drew us. That’s all we knew. Yesterday evening, shortly after sunset, a child with a body over four miles long and with wings five times that size had appeared in the sky over Coldharbour. A vast silverglowing child, spanning towns and the sea. And the moment he appeared, children couldn’t help themselves: they were drawn to him. It wasn’t a question of choice. There was no choice; they had to reach him.