Yellow Death: Arrival: Surviving the plague was only the beginning (The Yellow Death Chronicles Book 1)

by Peter Hall

  So Cal sat on the end of the bed and imagined various escape scenarios. It would be nice to simply slip out into the darkness and disappear. But he had seen Fellman posting guards who would be watching for just that. Even if Cal got to his car unseen, he would be vulnerable to gunfire driving away. Too risky.

  Perhaps he could pretend to join Gibson’s group and then slip away later? Unfortunately, it would be difficult to keep up the deception and, after just one evening pretending to be a combat veteran, he was a nervous wreck. Any plan involving subterfuge was unappealing, since Cal feared Gibson would see through any story he invented. Somehow, he had to get out soon, without relying on his feeble social skills.

  The obvious choice was leaving at first light, taking Gibson as a hostage, allowing him to drive away without being shot at. But the idea of physically restraining Gibson, whilst holding a gun to his head, and somehow getting into his car, was terrifying. If Gibson panicked and started struggling, things could get messy.

  These possibilities churned over in his mind until a gentle knocking on the door startled him. The rainstorm had passed over, but water was dripping noisily outside and he wondered if he had imagined the sound. It was repeated, a little louder this time. Cal opened the door a crack and, standing there, was Sabine. Her long black hair was loose and flowed over her shoulders like an inky waterfall. She was naked except for a very sheer and short negligée, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  “Please, may I enter?” she whispered.

  Cal was taken aback. “I–I’m not–”

  “Please, open the door,” she said with pleading in her voice. Cal stepped back to let her in, closing the door behind her. The exotic, spicy waft of fragrance struck him.

  “W–what are you doing here?”

  “I am here, compliments of Mister Gibson. I am to make you comfortable in whatever way you may wish. Mister Gibson says that he saw you looking at me tonight during dinner. He says that if you decide to stay, then you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

  “I can see a lot of you already—sorry—I didn’t mean that to sound like… like, oh shit. I don’t know what I meant.”

  Sabine stood next to him, almost naked, her nipples pressing through the thin material of her negligée. The room suddenly seemed stifling and Cal began sweating, so wiped his face with his hands.

  Christ! This can’t be happening. He took a deep breath to gather his wits.

  “Okay, now listen, Sabine. You’re very pretty. But I can’t… can’t be doing this. I can’t just–just use you like this. It-it would be taking advantage of you. It just isn’t right. What the hell are they thinking of? Honestly, it’s nothing personal. You’re very beautiful but–but, no. Tell Gibson that I appreciate the sentiment, but no thanks.”

  She frowned. “Please. You do not understand. If you send me away and Mister Gibson thinks I have not pleased you, then I will be punished. It will be bad for me.”

  “Oh, shit!”

  Cal scanned the small room, noting the small bed, small cupboards and tiny desk. Everything was miniature, with only a narrow walkway around the bed. “Oh well, you’d better get into bed then. But just to sleep, mind.”

  She quickly slipped under the sheets and covered herself. Cal sat on the edge of the bed, vigorously rubbing his finger and thumb together for comfort, wondering where he should go.

  Sabine pulled back the sheet on his side of the bed. “Come. There is nowhere else, unless you plan to stand up all night.”

  Cal was wearing nothing except boxer shorts and turned his back to her so he could pull on combat trousers before sliding into bed. Now he was even hotter.

  They lay on their backs in silence, side-by-side whilst avoiding touching, despite the narrow width of the bed. It was awkward and embarrassing. Cal felt the need to say something.

  “Are you French?”

  “Ssssh, the walls are super thin. You must whisper very quiet.”

  “Okay, sorry.”

  “Yes. I am French. I come to UK to study marine science at Plymouth University.”

  “Impressive. Sounds interesting.”

  “It was. Very. Better than washing dishes and laundry.”

  “Yeah. I don’t doubt it. Why Plymouth?”

  “It had largest marine science department in Europe and I wanted to improve my English.”

  “Okay. Your English is pretty good, actually.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been here for nearly three years. Was about to do my finals when the plague came. I try to get back to family, but the lock down came so quick.”

  “Yeah. I remember. It caught us all out. So, how did you get to be part of this crazy outfit?”

  “Please keep your voice down.”

  “Sorry. I forgot.”

  “There are five of us. We are all held against our wishes. I was travelling with a young man named Peter. He was very nice boy. Always smiling. One day we were loading up our car with supplies from a shop and Gibson’s convoy arrived. They accuse us of looting. They say we steal food. Gibson says that as punishment, I serve him for six months. He had no right. Peter was angry and he try to punch Gibson. They shoot him like an animal. So, now I work for Gibson. During the day I cook and clean and… and when night comes…”

  There was no need to finish the sentence. “If I work hard, do good job, things are… bearable? But, if I make mistake, there is punishment.”

  The story confirmed what Cal suspected.

  “Shit. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “Is not your fault. At least I am still alive. Better than Peter. He was only twenty years old.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I was twenty-two yesterday.”

  “Oh, happy birthday for yesterday.”

  Even as the words came out, he realised what a pathetic comment that was and wanted to say something quickly to move on. “Has anybody tried to escape?”

  “No. Is not possible. They remove our shoes and tie us up at night. But, if we tried, they would hunt us down. If they catch us, the punishment would be unbearable. And, if I did escape, it would be so bad for those left behind. Gibson says that if one of us runs away, everyone left behind is to be punished real hard. So, nobody tries.”

  “Oh, I see. So, he’s got you hook, line and sinker.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Just an expression. It means… it means you’re buggered.”

  There was a lengthy pause before Cal broke the silence. “The sex thing. How often…”

  “There are five women and fourteen men. The men are allowed a woman each week if they have followed their orders. You can do the maths. Gibson never touches us. Fellman is the worst. He enjoys to give the punishments. Fellman is a… a…”

  “A sadist?”

  “Yes, that’s it. You cannot imagine what it is like here for us. Tonight I forget to put out the English mustard. Tomorrow I may be punished, or they may forget about it. I do not know. They want me to worry about it over the night. Perhaps I will go hungry tomorrow. Perhaps it will be something worse. Fellman is a bastard. He likes to be inventive with punishments. Who eats English mustard with tinned ham? How was I to know? Pigs. Maybe I will be lucky and they forget about the mustard.”

  There was another long, uncomfortable silence before she spoke again. “Will you accept Gibson’s offer? Will you stay here?”

  Cal considered whether to tell her the truth, and his silence was enough for Sabine. “Ha! You do not trust me. You think I may be a spy for Gibson?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Is okay. I understand. This place is like poison. It makes everyone suspicious. But you give yourself away by your silence. If you were planning to join Gibson, you would have said so straight away.”

  Cal felt foolish. Sometimes, it seemed just about everyone could read his mind. It confirmed he should not try to lie his way out of here.

  “You are safe,” she said. “I am no spy.”

  “You would say that.”

  “If
I were a spy, you have already given yourself away.”

  “Good point.”

  “I am no spy.”

  “I believe you.”

  He turned and looked at her silhouette in the dark, watching the rise and fall of her breasts under the thin blanket.

  “You’re absolutely right. I’m not staying. Gibson’s a nutter and Fellman makes my skin crawl. Their ideas are repulsive. What he’s planning is a protection racket, creaming off the excess from the settlements. They need him like a hole in the head. I plan to leave tomorrow.”

  She turned to face him in the dark. “You must be careful. Gibson will not let you leave. There was another like yourself. He tried to go away and Fellman had him killed.”

  “I suspected that might be the case. Don’t worry, I’ve an exit plan.”

  Well, the start of one anyway.

  “Can you take me?”

  Oh shit. I didn’t see that coming.

  “Sabine. I can’t. It’ll be difficult enough to get away on my own. I’m sorry.”

  She sighed. “I understand.”

  “Listen, if I get a chance—”

  “I say I understand.”

  They lay in silence again for several minutes. Cal heard her breathing. He could smell her scent and sense the minutest movement she made through the mattress.

  He desperately tried to focus on the details of his escape tomorrow and to go over every possible eventuality. Was there any way to bring Sabine along with him? He found it impossible to think straight. An almost naked woman lay next to him. An ogre wearing hobnail boots stomped inside his head and he was drunk. The air was so intolerably hot and stuffy, he struggled to breathe. Bedclothes stuck to him with sweat.

  Cal rolled to his side and stood up. He was desperate for cool fresh air and fumbled with the window catches, but they would not open more than an inch.

  “Sod it!”

  He stood with his back to Sabine, panting.

  “Cal?”

  He turned to face her. “What?”

  “Tomorrow, when you go. Please take me with you.”

  “But… I–I already told you—”

  With one movement of her arm, she swept the sheets away, exposing her body. Her meaning was obvious.

  “You mean… you mean, if I help you escape, you’ll let me…”

  “Yes. Anything to get out of here. Anything!”

  Cal rubbed his face. “But I can’t. It’s not possible. Gibson won’t let me just walk out of here and it’ll be twice as hard if I try to take you.”

  “Then try twice as hard. Are you not a soldier? You have guns.”

  He gritted his teeth in frustration. “Dammit, it’s not that easy.”

  Of course, she would have overheard the conversation at dinner and his fabrications of being an experienced combat soldier. She must think he could shoot his way out, like a wild-west gunslinger. Sabine did not know the closest he had come to real battles were video games. She was pinning her hopes on a fraud.

  But she was desperate. She would literally have done anything to escape, and who could blame her?

  “If I took you with me. If somehow it were possible—and I’m not saying it is—but if I could, what about those left behind?”

  “If I ran away, Fellman would surely punish those left behind. But, if you ordered me to go with you, I would have no choice. So he would not punish the others.”

  Cal wondered if that was true. Fellman sounded the sort who would punish the remaining prisoners to vent his anger—or simply for fun. However, Sabine needed to believe Fellman would not harm her friends, and perhaps she was right. He considered the escape again. Maybe, just maybe, he could actually bring her along. There was extra risk, certainly, but if he had a gun to Gibson’s head and wore his thunder-jacket, they would have to do whatever he demanded—wouldn’t they?

  He exhaled deeply. “God’s teeth. Okay.”

  “You’ll do it? You’ll take me with you?”

  “Yes, yes. I’ll take you with me.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. Tomorrow, you go free. I promise.”

  She looked into his eyes in the dim light, searching for the truth in his words.

  “Good, good, thank you so much. Perhaps… if you get the chance… you help the others too?”

  Cal sensed hysteria rising in him. “Oh yes, of course. Why not? And perhaps I’ll ask for a box of Gibson’s finest cigars and some of his fucking caviar too, while I’m at it.”

  She looked at him quizzically.

  Cal consciously took several deep breaths of the muggy air.

  “Yes, yes, yes. If I get the chance, I’ll try to rescue your friends as well. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Jesus H Christ, how did I get myself into this mess?”

  She nodded. “Okay. Thank you. You can come to bed now.” She patted the mattress next to her.

  “No, no. You don’t have to—y’know… that’s not why I’m doing this.”

  Sabine paused for a few seconds, clearly finding it hard to believe he was not going to take his prize. “Really? So you’re not going to…”

  “No.”

  “You are a rare thing in these times. A man who has a conscience and self-control. Thank you.”

  Besides the headache, Cal realised he was now quite nauseous and craved solitude. “How much longer do you need to stay here—to prove you’ve done your duty, I mean?”

  “I can go now. If you wish. It has been long enough.”

  “Good, thanks. It’s nothing personal, but I’ve got a pounding headache and I really need to get some sleep and that’s not going to happen with you lying next to me.”

  Sabine climbed out of bed, kissed him on the head, and left.

  He flopped down on the bed and sighed with relief. That had been intense. Barely a minute passed before he realised what a terrible mistake he had made by sending Sabine away. They were supposed to be escaping together tomorrow and should have made plans. Shit! He was so knackered, he was not thinking straight. Too late now. He was committed.

  Cal had set his alarm for five-thirty a.m. and he was wide awake after the first note of ‘Mad World’ had played. He peered out of the window. It was just getting light outside, and the ground was soaked from overnight rain.

  He used the bathroom, dressed and prepared himself, including putting on his thunder-jacket. Then he waited and waited, rehearsing in his mind what he had to do.

  At last, he heard Gibson leaving his room and tramping to the toilet. He listened for the toilet flush and sounds of Gibson returning to his bedroom, before slipping out into the corridor. Gibson was shambling back to his bed in his silk pyjamas.

  Gibson half turned as he heard footsteps behind him, yet it was too late and Cal took a firm grip around his neck with his left arm while pressing his stubby revolver against Gibson’s neck. He gripped the trigger for the thunder-jacket in his left hand.

  “Good morning, Royce,” Cal said. “I’ve thought about your offer and decided to decline, so I’ll be leaving now.”

  “Fine, fine,” Gibson croaked. “Just go, please go.”

  “I intend to, but I need to make sure I’ll not get a bullet in the back, so I’m taking you with me. Just for a little while. You’re my insurance policy, understand?”

  Gibson gave a slight nod.

  “Good. Firstly, we’re going outside to my car. Nice and slow, with no sudden movements. Okay?”

  “Yes, yes. Just don’t shoot. There’s no need for violence.”

  Cal moved with Gibson to the door. Gibson pushed down the handle, and they walked out and shuffled around the outside of the motorhome on the way to Cal’s Land Rover. The morning air was chilly and made Gibson shiver. He stepped gingerly on his bare feet. They moved to the rear of the van before a guard spotted them and raised his weapon.

  “No, no,” Gibson said. “Lower your guns, no shooting, no shooting.”

  The soldier lowered his rifle a little, yet remained wary.
Cal’s heart was thumping, and he took several deep breaths to steady his nerves. Three other soldiers arrived and formed a half-circle around them. Cal continued to move slowly with Gibson to his car until he reached the driver’s door.

  “Okay, Gibson,” he said. “I’m going to take the women with me. All of them. I want you to order them out here.”

  “Alright, alright, anything you say. Take them.”

  “Stop right there!” It was Fellman. Cal swivelled to see Fellman gripping Sabine by the neck with a gun to her head—a mirror image of himself and Gibson. Behind Fellman, two more soldiers held women the same way.

  “Let me tell you what’s about to happen now,” Fellman shouted to Cal. “You’re going to lower your weapon and release Mister Gibson. I’ll start counting and, if you’ve not surrendered when I reach five, I’ll shoot this young lady’s nose off. Then I’ll count again, but next time it’ll be a bullet to what little brain this bitch has. After that, I’ll move on to another. I’m sure you get the picture.”

  There was an air of smugness to Fellman’s voice. He was enjoying this. Cal realised Fellman had nothing to lose as he probably cared little for whether Gibson lived or died in this game of dare.

  Cal glanced at Sabine, whose face was contorted in pain from Fellman’s grip. In response, Cal tightened his grip and felt his fingers sink into Gibson’s fat neck. Gibson made a gargling sound.

  A gust of frigid wind blew through the camp.

  “If I release Gibson,” Cal said. “You’ll kill me.”

  “Of course we will. We can kill you any time. One word from me and you’ll have half-a-dozen bullets in your head, but I’d prefer to get Mister Gibson out of the firing line. You’re about to die. The only question is, whether you’re going to watch these five bitches die before you have your turn.”

  Cal swallowed hard.

  Bloody hell. This has gone very bad, very quick.

  “If you kill me, Gibson and everyone in this camp dies as well. Look here, I’m holding a dead-man’s trigger. If I release the button, five kilos of C4 in my flak jacket will detonate. That should be enough to kill Gibson and you and everyone else within ten metres. For good measure, my car has another ten kilos that’ll go up as well. Touché.”