Read Online Un Lun Dun by China Miéville - Free Book Online Page B

still-shuddering attacker. “That went a bit wrong, then, didn’t it?” He took handfuls of cord and ribbon from Obaday’s paper pockets. “Tie him up!” Jones shouted, and several passengers obeyed.
    “I dunno,” said Deeba doubtfully. “Didn’t look like that to me…”
    Jones looked around. “Well, he’s gone now, straight through the floor. Keep an eye out, alright?” Deeba and Zanna were looking about avidly, but Hemi was gone. “We’ll deal with that later. Have to focus now. That grossbottle’s coming. As quick as you can, stay down and hold on. Rosa! Evasion!”

    The bus veered, pitched, and accelerated. Passengers shrieked. Jones hooked a leg around the pole and leaned out, notching an arrow into his bow.
    With a growl of wings the grossbottle came close. Jones fired. His arrows thwacked into the fly’s disgusting great eyes and disappeared inside. The insect buzzed angrily but did not slow. The men and women it carried aimed a collection of motley guns. Their faces were ferocious.
    One of them called out, “Prepare to be boarded!”
    Jones drew his copper club.
    “You maggotjockeys!” he yelled. “Leave my bus alone!” He leapt out straight at them.
             
    Zanna and Deeba cried out. Jones flew through the air, shouting: “Un Lun Dun!”
    “Look!” said Zanna. Jones’s belt was attached to the bus pole with bungee cord. The tether stretched and Jones grabbed hold of the howdah.
    The startled raiders tried to aim at him. He kicked, then whirled his club at them, crackling with electricity. When the pirates rallied, Jones simply let go of their vessel. The elastic catapulted him back across the air into the bus. He somersaulted and landed perfectly.

    Deeba said: “That was
amazing…
”
    “Tell me later,” he said, and ran up the stairs, the girls following.
    “What was that you shouted?” Zanna said.
    “A war cry,” he said. “Very ancient. The battle call of UnLondon.”
    The top deck was cramped with pumps and gas machines. In one corner was a pile of dirty clothes. Jones aimed an enormous harpoon out of the rear window. He swiveled as the grossbottle veered.
    The bus lurched, brought them almost face-to-face with the grossbottle itself. Jones fired.
    A bolt shot straight between the fly’s enormous shining eyes. It jerked, its wings shuddered, and it dropped away.
    “You got it!” said Zanna. The dirty body of the fly was spinning as it fell. Little dot-figures leapt from its plunging carcass, parachutes blossoming.
    “And don’t come back!” yelled Jones.
    “Conductor Jones,” Deeba said in a strangled voice. “Look.”
    Far below was a patch of waste ground, dotted with crumbling buildings on which enormous insects busily fed. Two more grossbottles—one vivid blue, one a shining purple—rose above their revolting siblings and flew towards the bus, figures visible in the platforms on their backs.

15
    A Sort of Delivery
    “This is the plan.”
    The bus juddered and arced. “Rosa can’t avoid both those grossbottles. We have to get you out of here,” Jones said to Zanna.
    “What about the passengers?” Zanna said.
    “Don’t worry about them,” he said. “I’ll make sure they’re looked after. But the longer those things follow us, the more of a head start you’ll have.”
    The toga-wearing man was gagged, blindfolded, and tied up. “We’ll get him to the Propheseers,” Jones said. “And we’ll meet you there. Okay?”
    “You’re going to make us go on
alone
?” Zanna said.
    She and Deeba stared at each other, aghast.
    “You can’t!” said Deeba. “We don’t know anything about where we’re going!”
    “We don’t know where we
are…
”
    “We just
can’t…
”
    “I know,” Jones said gently. “Believe me, I wouldn’t if I had any choice. We don’t have much time. There are two gangs of skyjackers on the way, and we
have
to get them off your trail. They know where you’re trying to get, but we can mislead them as to