Exit Kingdom

stand. But if it was, then where’s the bodies?
    Et up?
    You ever seen a slug eat someone so clean and mannerly they leave no trace? They ain’t the napkin-usin type.
    So what’s all this then? Abraham asks again.
    This time he’s answered not by his brother, but by a megaphone voice from the balcony above.
    I’ll tell you what it is, the screeching voice says. It’sa couple of addlepates tryin to elbow in on what’s mine.
    *
    The brothers cast their gazes upwards through the grimy light filtering in through the windows. But there’s nothing to be seen behind barricades of airport furniture. The
voice comes first from one place and then another – and the megaphone projects it loud, even though they could have heard the man easily without it.

    We ain’t here to pillage, Moses calls out. We’ll work for food and shelter – if you have a mind for it. Otherwise we’ll take our leave.
    You’ll take nothing! the voice says from above. Now it seems to be coming from the far left, and there are clanking sounds, as of bolts being drawn and chains unwound. You’ll take
nothing! I gave no permission!
    What’s that sound? Abraham asks hisbrother in a low voice, pointing to the left where, on their level, is a double set of maintenance doors. As they watch, the doors shudder slightly, and
then there’s a sound like rat’s feet on cold stone.
    How many of you are there? Moses calls up to the man with the megaphone.
    How many? the voice calls back. He wants to know how many! I been here three years. I got a big marble floor.All I use it for is a calendar. You count the days, don’t you? That’s
how you know.
    Do you think he’s the only one? Abraham says to Moses.
    Could be.
    More activity comes from behind the double doors, and another metallic sound, like a metal bar being shifted aside and clanging to the ground – like a barrier being drawn.
    We better get, Abraham says.
    What’s your name? Mosescalls up to the balcony.
    My name? comes the voice. Then Moses can see some movement behind the furniture barricades. The small shape of a man dressed in colourful clothes moving back and forth in a frenetic way. He
catches glimpses of the man through the niches in the stacked furniture.
    My name? the man continues. He wants to know my name now. If you guess it right I’ll let you live.

    Let us live? Abraham calls up. Man, you best learn some manners or you’re gonna—
    We’ll just leave, Moses calls up, not liking the sound of what’s behind that door. We’re leaving now.
    He moves in the direction of the corridor down which they originally came. But before they get there, a demented laugh comes from above, and a steel gate comes smashing down over their only exit
fromthe food court. Abraham runs to lift it, but the gate is solid.
    All right, listen, Moses calls up to the shape moving back and forth above them. We ain’t here to cause any fuss. We’ll just go peaceful.
    Now the voice comes from directly above, in the middle of the balcony.
    It’s the work of months behind those doors, the man says. Rounding them up, one at a time. Using myself as bait.Months of work. And when you two are dead – well, then, the work
starts all over. But that’s just the nature of time, ain’t it? It goes on ahead, and we follow. Now guess! Guess my name!
    Jesus Christ, Abraham says.
    No, it ain’t Jesus Christ, says the man.
    Then the doors open. There is no drama, no bursting. They sway open slowly, inch at a time, because what’s behind them is in nohurry. Instinct can afford to move slow, because it moves
with a surety of purpose foreign to most things.
    Slugs. A lot of them. They push through the door, stumbling over each other. The first few fall to the ground and climb back to their feet slowly. The ones behind begin to lumber in the
direction of the brothers.
    Okay, Abraham calls upwards. Okay. How about James? Robert? Michael?Frank? Richard?
    Abe, get straight, Moses says and brings a pistol out from his satchel.
    Goddamnit, Abraham says. How many of em do you reckon?
    Fifteen, twenty. Don’t shoot wild, we’re low on ammo.
    Abraham drops his satchel on the ground and unzips it. From it he pulls a blunted shotgun, the barrel sawn off just beyond the stock.
    The first few they take out with quick head shotsto thin the herd. Then Abraham circles around the side of the group and begins tossing obstacles in their way – tables and light aluminium
chairs, artificial plants in clay pots,