‘Where did your brothers go?’ I asked, realising they’d disappeared the minute we reached the encampment.
‘Probably off with their cousins.’
Steam began to swirl from beneath the pan lid and Lou poured the boiling water into two scratched and dented tin cups. She used a twig to drop a little honey into each, before passing me a cup. I cradled the warm metal container in my gloved hands and took a sip. It was scalding, but good.
‘Hello.’
I jumped at the sound of a male voice behind me.
‘Lou? You got that perimeter girl here?’
‘Haven’t you ever heard of knocking, Tam?’ Lou stood up, irritated. ‘You can’t just barge into my . . .’
‘Riley? Riley, you in here?’
‘Pa?’ I stood and turned around to see one of the gypsies – a young man with dirty blond hair and a matted beard. But immediately behind him stood my father.
‘What the hell, Riley. I’ve been going out of my mind.’
‘There was a riot in the main street,’ I replied.
‘Well I know that,’ Pa said.
‘Lou helped me get out. I was going to come back and find you.’
‘So what stopped you?’
‘Just wanted to wait till the fighting blew over. How did you know I was . . .’
‘This young man came and got me. Good job he did. There’s me in the middle of world war 4 doing my nut and you’re out here, happy as you like gossiping over a cup of tea.’
Tam smirked.
Pa handed him some silver and Lou glared at Tam like she wanted to kill him.
‘Let’s go,’ Pa said.
‘Can I finish my tea?’
One look from Pa gave me my answer.
Chapter Four
Jamie
At first it was the same dream he always had. It had never varied in theme or colour or feeling. Only it wasn’t so much a dream as a memory. A nightmarish re-enactment of the day his life had disintegrated. When the whole sodding world had crumbled into the mess it had now become.
But this time the dream was slightly different. This time, instead of the screams and explosions on the ferry, there was silence. And instead of his parents lying dead, it was the girl from the poolhouse and she was covered in blood and coloured glass. In the dream, Jamie closed his eyes to block out the image, but the picture stayed burned into his retinas.
He awoke with the sun on his face before it all came rushing back to him, making him sit bolt upright and open his eyes. But he instantly closed them against the glare of the morning. His heart still raced and his scalp prickled with terror at the memory of the dream. Only it wasn’t a dream. It was real. It was all real.
He buried his head in his arms and groaned. Why couldn’t he have those amazing fantasy-type dreams like everyone else? Why did his dreams have to be a technicolour montage of his worst memories? It was like torture. A nightmarish reality he had to endure night after night. And now his recurring dream included this new reality – the murder of a young, innocent girl. Murder. He, Jamie, had unwittingly murdered someone. A girl who had begun to haunt his sleep.
He needed help. Either that, or he needed to never fall asleep again. An overwhelming rush of guilt threatened to crush him. He should pay for what he did, but how? There was no police force, no prisons, no justice system. He’d been too much of a coward to stay and face up to the girl’s family. He could go back and turn himself in. But he dismissed that thought as soon as he had it. He was too chicken.
Jamie stretched and then winced as a shooting pain travelled the length of his leg, from his hip to his toe. Cracking open an eyelid, he squinted up into the sun-soaked morning. Still too bright. He closed his eye, lay down again and willed himself back to sleep, but it was only a half-hearted attempt. It was dangerous to hang around here. He’d been so upset last night that he’d fallen asleep on rough ground, out in the open. Big mistake. Added to that, his head throbbed and his body felt like he’d had a fight with a grizzly bear and a gorilla and lost.
He remembered last night’s tears of despair. Probably why his face throbbed so much. He also remembered praying. Things must have been bad if he’d resorted to talking to God. Strangely, despite his battered body and the guilt, things didn’t feel quite as bleak this morning. He was alive at least. And the sun was shining, warming his stiff bones. He felt different. Like he could take whatever was coming his way. If there was a punishment waiting for him out here, he would accept it. Jamie took a breath, sat up and opened both eyes.
‘Good morning.’
Jamie’s heart gave a lurch and he leapt to his feet, clutching his bundle. Stupid and reckless of him to have fallen asleep in such an exposed place. He found himself facing a man: short, bald, clean shaven, quite a bit older than him. Not an outsider by the look of him. No, definitely not an outsider. Jamie glanced about to see if the man was alone. He couldn’t see anyone else, but that didn’t mean anything. There was a vehicle parked nearby; an old black AV. Maybe there were others inside it.
‘Who are you?’ Jamie asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
‘You can call me Mr Carter. And you are?’
‘Jamie.’
‘Not a very wise place to fall asleep, Jamie. If I was so inclined, I could have stolen your possessions as you slept.’
Jamie tightened his grip on his bundle. ‘Nothing worth stealing,’ he retorted.
‘Is that why you’re clutching your bag as though it’s full of diamonds?’
‘It’s just my clothes and stuff.’
‘Don’t look so defensive. I’m not a thief.’
‘Good,’ said Jamie. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way then.’
‘Can I give you a ride?’
‘No thanks. I like walking.’ He turned away from the man and tried to get his bearings. The man spoke again:
‘That way is west towards the Talbot Woods Perimeter and that way is south east towa . . .’
‘I can tell my east from my west thanks. I know I look a bit rough, but I’m not stupid.’
‘I’m sure you’re not. You do seem disoriented though.’
‘That’s because I just woke up.’
‘Well, the offer of a lift is there if you need it.’
Jamie waved him away with his hand and made off in an easterly direction, toward the rising sun. He would go to the Boscombe Compound as planned. Try to meet up with that girl.
‘Hurt your leg did you?’ Mr Carter called after him. ‘You’re limping quite badly.’
‘Some woman knocked me over in her AV. I’m okay,’ he called over his shoulder.
‘I’m headed that way and I’ve got fresh bread, fruit and water. You’re welcome to share breakfast.’
Jamie kept walking, but his stomach whined at the thought of fresh bread. He could almost smell it. His leg was becoming more painful with each step. He was mad to even be considering this. How could he trust this man? This stranger. He stopped and turned.
‘Who are you anyway?’
‘Mr Carter, I already told you.’
‘No. I mean, who are you? Where you from? What do you do? Do you always offer lifts to random strangers you find lying on the heath?’
Mr Carter chuckled. ‘No, not everyone. In fact, hardly anyone. But I have a feeling about you. You look like you could use a break and I’m in the position to give you one.’
‘That doesn’t exactly answer my question.’ Jamie took a step toward Mr Carter.
‘Have you heard of James Grey?’ the man asked. ‘Grey’s Church of the Epiphany?’
‘Oh, right, you’re part of the God squad.’ Jamie’s heart sank. ‘I’ve heard about you.’
‘We help people in need.’
‘Thanks, but no thanks.’
‘Have you done things you’re ashamed of, Jamie?’
An image of the dead girl flashed into Jamie’s mind. Shiny beads of blood and glass.
‘I can help you come to terms with those things. I can give you peace. Ab
solution. Are you tired, Jamie? Are you sick of the road and the hostility of your fellow man? Do you crave a warm bed and a clear purpose?’
Jamie wanted to tune out Mr Carter’s voice, but the soft seductive words crept into his brain like a virus. Part of Jamie knew that this man was skilled in the art of telling people what they longed to hear. That he wasn’t doing anything out of the goodness of his heart. That he had an ulterior motive for approaching him. But the other part of Jamie was tired. Bone-weary in fact, and this Mr Carter bloke knew it. Knew how to press his buttons and get him to do what he wanted.
‘Okay,’ Jamie said, giving in. ‘I’ll have breakfast with you.’
‘Good. I have fresh white bread from the compound. Baked only half an hour ago. We’ll split it.’
The drive across the heathland was more uncomfortable than walking had been. Jamie’s bones rattled together and the pain in his leg intensified with every jolt.
‘Not exactly a smooth ride,’ Jamie said. But the food more than made up for the rough journey. The bread tasted like heaven itself. Soft and warm with a thick crusty skin. The water was good too – clean and clear. Not like most of the cloudy crap he usually had to choke down.
Thankfully, Mr Carter hadn’t said a lot on the journey so far. Jamie would’ve laid money on the man trying to preach to him. Trying to convert him. But Mr Carter was quiet. Merely chewed his bread thoughtfully as he drove.
‘So do you live with Grey then?’ Jamie asked through a mouthful of bread. ‘What’s he like?’
‘I live out here, in the open air. Just me and my vehicle. Sometimes I have the company of my brethren, but generally it’s me alone.’
‘So what’s the deal with Grey?’
‘I do his work out here.’
‘Huh?’
‘I find lost souls and I bring them to safety.’
‘Was that what you were trying to do with me?’
‘Maybe. I’m not sure yet. I’m not convinced our life is for you.’
‘Oh.’
Suddenly, it seemed very important that Mr Carter should like him. That he should find him . . . worthy. Jamie’s sleepiness vanished. The world outside was bright and clear. He had a full stomach and a safe ride. He remembered that he’d prayed for guidance last night. He’d actually got down onto his knees and spoken to God. Maybe this man right here was his answer.
Chapter Five
Riley
As we drove back to the perimeter, Pa and I were lost in our own thoughts. Life felt weird at the moment. Like we were all waiting for something to happen. For years, life in the perimeter had been predictable and reliable. Safe. But since Skye’s death, everything had changed. For the first time ever, supplies were running low and the fence didn’t feel as solid as it used to. And then there was the FJ situation.
Putting it simply, FJ was a nutter. It wasn’t all his fault. He’d been abducted by a religious cult when he was a kid and had been totally brainwashed by James Grey’s church. Earlier this year, Luc and I had been captured by Grey, but we’d managed to escape when Luc had shoved a fork down Grey’s throat. Gross, I know, but it had done the job and the injuries had resulted in Grey losing his voice. FJ had been selected to speak on Grey’s behalf and had since become known as ‘The Voice of the Father’.
Back in October, we’d managed to take Grey and FJ hostage. We’d done it to try and prevent them from annexing our part of the country. But FJ had got away. Before he’d left, he’d given me some disturbing news – that he knew who had killed my sister, Skye. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Luc was convinced he was lying, but I wasn’t so sure.
Anyway, after thinking long and hard about it, I’d eventually told my father what FJ had said to me about Skye. Pa hadn’t replied. He’d simply nodded his head and chewed the inside of his lip. Then he’d stood up and walked out of the room. Grabbed his coat from the hook and left the house.
I followed him. Worried about what he was going to do. I asked him where he was going, but he didn’t reply. Just kept walking. But I knew where he was going. I knew what he would do. He marched straight into the Guards’ House and demanded to speak with the prisoner – James Grey.
The guards let Pa into his cell. Maybe if Roger Brennan had been on duty that night he would have talked Pa out of it. But I doubt it. Grey was in a weakened state. His sudden capture had affected his health and we hadn’t expected him to last the winter. He didn’t even make it through the night. Pa saw to that.
Pa sent me home, so I don't know exactly what happened. And I don't think I wanted to know. It was a pretty insignificant ending for the legendary James Grey. He wouldn’t be missed by many, except perhaps his brainwashed followers.
And it turned out we had lost our bargaining chip for nothing, as Grey hadn’t given my father any more information about Skye’s killer.
Pa and I hadn’t mentioned it since. It wasn’t common knowledge that Grey was dead and we wanted to maintain the illusion that he was still our hostage. Otherwise there would be nothing to stop FJ marching straight down here with his army.
FJ – otherwise known as ‘The Voice of the Father’. But the Father was dead now. So what did that make FJ? He was out there somewhere and he was unpredictable, vindictive and dangerous. He also had a big problem with me. But I pushed that uncomfortable thought from my mind.
The AV blasted out deliciously warm air and my fingers burned as they thawed. Pa turned and gave me a smile.
‘Did you manage to get any trades before the riot?’
‘No. The queues were ridiculous and the traders sold out before I got there.’ I didn’t tell him that I’d given away some of my trades to Lou. If he asked, I’d pretend I lost them in the confusion. ‘Pa,’ I began.
‘What?’
‘Do you know anyone with fuel to trade, for the gypsies?’
‘Fuel?’ Pa said. ‘What sort of fuel?’
‘Wood and stuff. For their fires.’
‘They’ll be lucky. Apart from our stores, there’s nothing around for miles. Everything was stripped and chopped up when Grey’s army came through.’
‘There must be some somewhere,’ I said, staring through the glass at the bleak, grey December landscape, the sky hanging low above the frost-tinged earth. All the summer bracken and bushes had gone. It was a barren wasteland.
‘Look around,’ Pa said. ‘There’s nothing. Whatever we have at home, we need.’
‘Can’t we at least give Lou some of ours? She’s got two kids to look after and . . .’
The AV stopped with a jolt, cutting me off mid-sentence. Pa turned off the engine, plunging us into a sudden eerie silence.
‘Riley,’ he said after a few long seconds. ‘Take a good look at the scenery. Because unless you want to end up living out here with nothing, you better put all thoughts of this misguided charity out of your head.’
‘I’m not talking about a lot – maybe a few logs and some bundles of kindling.’
‘A few logs can be the difference between life and death.’ His voice softened. ‘I know I seem harsh, but if it’s a choice between you and a bunch of strangers, I know who I’d pick.’
Pa’s eyes bored into my own, willing me to see his point of view. But I didn’t agree with him. How could I? We had mountains of timber at home. I’d seen it. Why should I have the protection of the fence and the warmth of the generators? What had I ever done to deserve so much? Nothing. I let my eyes drop to my lap. If Pa wouldn’t help them, I would.
As we approached the perimeter, I gazed at the still unfamiliar red brick wall behind the fence. It had been Luc’s idea to build it – a double layer of security. Since Grey had tried to take over the south, we’d had to think about upgrading our defences. They had bombs and weapons which now matched, if not outgunned, our own armoury. An inner wall would buy us time if they attacked again. It also shielded us from prying eyes. Pa had traded a lot for the extra bricks and we’d also had to dismantle several perimeter buildings. But everyone a
greed it was worth it.
Luc was on the gates today. He didn’t usually go on guard duty, but half our guards were currently recovering from some kind of flu virus, so we were short-handed, meaning everyone had to pitch in. I had to admit, he looked really good in a guard’s uniform. Pa drove through the double set of gates, came to a stop and buzzed his window down, letting in the icy air.
‘You okay?’ Luc asked with a worried frown. ‘I heard there was a riot at the compound.’ His eyes flicked to mine and then back to Pa’s.
‘We’re fine,’ Pa said. ‘But the compound’s in a bad way. They’re gonna have to find some supplies from somewhere soon or they’ll tear the place apart. A lot of desperate people over there.’
‘Not good,’ Luc said.
‘No. Anyway, see you later, Luc.’
Luc nodded and then looked past Pa to me. ‘D’you want to come round later, Riley? After my shift? Have something to eat?’
I felt a thud of something in my chest. Nerves? Excitement? Hope? Luc and I had barely spoken since we’d got back from Salisbury a couple of months ago. And, when we had talked, neither he nor I had mentioned us. If there even was an us anymore.
‘Erm, yeah, okay. Sevenish?’
‘Cool. See you later.’ He straightened up and waved us on.
Pa closed the window. He didn’t comment on Luc’s invitation.
We cruised up Glenferness and over the bridge. No one else around. Probably all inside trying to keep warm. We turned into our road and Pa nosed the huge AV into the drive. Ma’s face appeared briefly at the window, a smile before she vanished, and then seconds later the front door opened.
As we crunched across the gravel to the house, Pa shook his head at my mother. Her face dropped.
‘No flour?’ she asked.
‘Sorry, Ellie. No nothing. The whole place is a mess.’
‘Oh, that’s such a shame. I was going to bake a cake. Maybe Rita will have some, but I hate to ask. I’ll pop over there later. Come inside, quick. It’s freezing out here.’
She kissed Pa on the lips and kissed me on the cheek, ushering us into the hallway.
The Perimeter Page 3
