chapter 6
The man was around six feet two inches and even after all this time had somehow managed to keep a beer gut. He twisted Wren’s wrist, causing her to drop the knife as he pulled her towards him and turned her to face Robyn who stopped in mid-stride. Wolf advanced slowly, growling viciously now rather than barking. The man grabbed Wren roughly by the hair and brought the blade of the machete up to her neck. Ruby stroked Tommy’s back over and over, desperately trying to soothe him as he remained crouched on the floor, rocking back and forth. The nasal scream continued like some foreboding siren.
“Can’t you shut that retard and that fucking dog up?” shouted the man before glaring at Robyn. “Drop your swords and kick them over here, otherwise she gets it.”
“Quiet boy. Stay!” ordered Wren, fearful of what the man might do to Wolf if the dog advanced further. The German Shepherd reluctantly stopped moving but continued to glare at the man with ferocious intensity.
No one else was trying to gain entry into the house, and as Tommy paused to breathe before each bout of screaming, the sound of Jax’s howls could still be heard from outside. “Don’t do it, Bobbi,” Wren cried, and the thug pulled harder on Wren’s hair, proving he was the one in charge. “Owww.” Wolf was practically shaking now as all his instincts were telling him to attack, despite his mistress ordering otherwise.
Robyn remained frozen as she calculated her options. She had never been a strategist, that was Wren’s thing, but she had changed a lot from the carefree girl she had once been. If she gave up her swords, they were finished. If she didn’t, they were finished. “What do I do, Sis?” she asked, looking at Wren as tears welled in her eyes.
Wren stared back at her; there were no tears, but her expression was unreadable. “It’s all over, Bobbi. Drop the swords.”
“Yeah, very clever, I’m not an idiot, the quivers and the bow too,” the man said. The swords made a loud clatter as they fell to the tiled floor and the man watched intently as Robyn removed her quivers and finally the bow. Wren could feel some of the tension leave his body as he realised he had won, he had the upper hand. “Right. Now I want you to—”
He did not know what was happening until it was too late. Wren had stealthily reached into her pocket while he had been watching Robyn disarm. He had seen Wren drop her crossbows, he had seen her drop her knife, and in the maelstrom of activity, he had not even had the chance to contemplate the possibility that she might have other weapons on her. She drove the bolt into his flabby stomach with her right hand and grabbed hold of his machete arm with her left, hoping she could put up enough of a struggle to stop him swiping the blade across her neck.
She did not have to worry. As the small arrow entered his belly, the pain was so overwhelming that he couldn’t focus on anything else. He released the handle of the machete as he staggered back. The long blade made the sound of a bell ringing as it crashed against the tiles, and the tall man stumbled into the wall. He looked down to see just the flights protruding from the growing red circle on his otherwise blue T-shirt.
Wren ran across to her sister, as she, in turn, scooped her swords up from the floor. With his mistress finally safe, Wolf went in for the kill. He sprang through the air, clamping his jaws around the throat of Wren’s assailant, who let out a growling scream of pain.
Wren and Robyn both watched as incredulity swept over the man’s face. How could it all go so wrong so quickly? He fell to the floor with Wolf still on top of him. Blood sprayed over the German Shepherd’s fur and screams turned to gurgles as Wren’s captor began to convulse on the ground. It was only when the figure fell still that Wolf halted the attack.
The two sisters remained there a moment longer, their mouths had fallen open. Wolf slowly walked across to Wren’s side and sat down as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Jesus. Remind me never to get into another argument with you while he’s around,” Robyn said.
“Help me. Heeelp meee!” Jax’s tormented pleas still drifted in through the broken windows, and now the attack was well and truly over, Robyn walked over to the front door and unbolted it.
“By my count, there are a couple unaccounted for,” Wren said.
“I’m guessing they were responsible for the screeching tyres we heard,” Robyn replied before swinging the door open and stepping out into the morning sun. A wide circle of blood surrounded Jax, and as Robyn walked across to him, even she was surprised by how white he looked.
“Please … help me.”
Robyn stood over him, looking down with no pity, just contempt. “Not so much of a big man now, are you? You piece of shit.”
“Help me … please.”
Robyn realised Jax was delirious, anything she said now would be for her benefit and hers alone, but that didn’t stop her. “You had a chance. We’re all in this together. We shouldn’t be fighting each other; we should be fighting them. But you were too stupid to realise. You're dying now, and all this could have been avoided. All the crap you’ve done and got away with probably made you think you were invincible, but there was one thing you couldn’t possibly have known when this started,” she said, gesturing around the battleground. Jax fell silent and turned his head towards her. His brow was furrowed, his eyes squinting in the sunlight, but, for now at least, she had his attention. “Nobody messes with my little sister.” Robyn plunged the sword in her right hand straight through his heart. A final jolt of pain spasmed through him, but then it was over. She withdrew the blade, wiped it off on his clothes, and then spat on him before turning to walk back into the house.
She arrived inside to see Wren with rags of clothing she had torn from some of the corpses desperately trying to clean the blood from Wolf’s fur. Ruby was still comforting Tommy, although his tics and moaning were nothing compared to what they had been. Robyn went across to the sink to clean the blood from her face. When she was done, she turned around to regard the gory scene.
“Thank you,” Ruby said quietly, not taking her eyes off Tommy for a moment.
“Wasn’t like we had a choice in the matter, was it? It was them or us,” Robyn replied.
“I mean thank you for not pushing us back out of the door.”
“I’m guessing whatever got you mixed up with these people was something you’d rather not dwell on,” Wren said, wiping her hands on one of the rags and standing up. Wolf shook himself, and a shower of pink droplets rained over half the kitchen. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t want some answers.”
Ruby stood up, guiding Tommy to his feet too. She moved him over to a corner where he climbed onto the countertop and sat with his legs dangling over the side. “We lived just outside of Dingwall with our mum and dad. We’d got through what we thought was the worst of it; then, one day, Dad went out scavenging, but he came back bitten. It was just on his hand. Mum used to be a nurse, she amputated it. She thought maybe that would save him. Needless to say, he turned, taking Mum with him. I grabbed Tommy, and we just got out of there as fast as we could. I had no idea where I was going to go, what I was going to do. I didn’t have any weapons or tools, no food. We drank stream water and slept wherever we could. On the fourth day, they found us. They gave us a chance to join them. I’m not proud of what I did, but it meant we got food in our bellies and at least we were safe.”
Robyn and Wren looked at one another and then Wren continued. “So, you moved into the flats on the outskirts of town with them?”
“Yeah.”
“How long ago?”
“Maybe six months. Look, he was a dick, but it wasn’t all bad. He treated Tommy with contempt in front of the others, but sometimes he could be really caring. He’d bring Tommy books and things. He likes books.”
“Like books,” Tommy echoed as he continued to swing his legs.
“Wow, he sounds like a real catch. I’m surprised it wasn’t wedding bells,” Robyn said snarkily.
“Look, it’s like I said, I’m not proud of what I did, but it beat the alternative.”
Robyn looked around at the bodies littering the floor. “Speak for yourself.”
“So, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the flats anymore?” Wren asked.
“About two weeks ago, a team was out looking for food. They came across another group and, not realising at the time they were massively outgunned, tried to take off with their stuff. Well, someone from this other group must have followed them back. That night, we got paid a visit. It was mayhem. There used to be seventy in Jax’s crew” – she gestured around her – “this is how many escaped, and it was literally with the clothes on our backs. Whoever those people were, they wore military gear, they were organised, well-armed, and they were brutal. We ran into the night, and that was the last time we saw the place.”
“So then you just came here?” Wren asked.
“No. We found this place a few days ago.”
“What were you doing in the interim?”
“Skirting.”
“What?”
“We were giving Inverness as wide a birth as we could. We just went around the outskirts, picking up what we could find, makeshift weapons, clothes, the odd scrap of food, anything. Then we found a vehicle. It had a bit of fuel, but it was enough to help us find another then another, and then we weren’t walking anymore, and we were out scavenging again. This place seemed to be the answer to our prayers, well, my prayers … some of them.”
“I lived here for a few months. It had furniture back then,” said Wren.
“There’s some furniture in the other rooms, but Jax said we didn’t need any in here, that kitchens were for cooking not for eating.”
“He was obviously a budding philosopher, but it’s an open plan kitchen diner, what did he think this space was for, a pool table?”
“Knowing Jax, probably.”
“Where are the vehicles?” Robyn asked.
“What?”
“The vehicles. You said you had three vehicles, where are they?”
“In the equipment barn. I’m guessing whoever did a runner took the Porsche.”
“A Porsche?” Wren asked.
“Yeah, a nine eleven. It was Jax’s pride and joy.”
“Of course it was. When fuel is one of the most precious commodities there is, what self-respecting moron wouldn’t want a car that does twenty miles to the gallon? I’m surprised he didn’t hold out for a Rolls Royce Ghost.”
“Seriously?” Robyn said. “That’s what you’re bothered about, right now? The guy was a knob. God, he didn’t even need to speak for anybody to know that. What does it matter what he drove? The important point is there are two more cars in there, and right now, we really need a car.”
“They’re not both cars,” Ruby said.
“What do you mean?”
“One of them’s a van.”
“Better still,” Robyn replied.
“What happens to us now?”
“What do you mean?” Wren asked.
“I mean me and Tommy. We won’t survive by ourselves.”
“You can’t come with us.”
“Why?”
“Way too dangerous. We’re looking for a friend who might have got herself into trouble,” Robyn said, heading to the door. “Let’s go see what’s in this barn,” she added, turning towards Wren, who cast a sympathetic look towards Ruby then followed her sister out of the door.
Wolf strutted faithfully by their side as they walked around the back of the house to the barn. “We can’t just leave them here.”
“Well, we can’t take them with us, can we?” Robyn replied.
Wren opened the barn door. It had been a long time since she had stepped through it. Memories of that first day after meeting Mike came rushing back to her. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.
“You are frikkin’ kidding me,” Robyn said as she walked in behind her sister.
“What? What is it?” Wren asked with a concerned look on her face as Robyn just stood there in shock.
“This is our van.”
“What?”
“It’s our van. The van we drove north in. When it ran out of diesel, I just left it by the road.” She stopped talking and thought back, realising that when they had been on their trek towards Inverness, she had not even noticed it was gone. Why would she? There were more important things to think about. Parked next to it was a Vauxhall Astra. It had seen better days, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“So which do we take?” Wren asked.
“The van, obviously.”
“Why?”
“Weren’t you listening?”
“Yeah, but it’s a van. It will use more fuel, it will—”
“No. It’s the van that I travelled to Inverness in all the time to see if I could spot any sign of you. It’s the van that allowed us to escape from the hospital, it’s the van that I hoped and prayed would get us over the Inverness bridge without running out of fuel. It’s my lucky van.”
“A lucky van? Seriously, Bobbi?”
“Seriously. Don’t dis my van,” she said, walking up to it and placing a hand on the driver’s door. There were dents and dings in the bodywork where it had been used as a battering ram against the zombies, but thankfully rain had washed the bloody residue away. “This is just what we need.”
“Bobbi, you know how I feel about superstition. It’s not healthy.”
“I know how you feel about most things. I don’t think you’ve ever kept a single thought to yourself.”
“Trust me; I’m keeping one to myself right now. Look, I’m just saying, it’s a van, it’s not the Batmobile, it doesn’t possess any magical powers either, it’s a van.”
“Yeah … my lucky van.”
“Oh, God.”
Robyn opened the door, climbed inside and turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life, and she watched with glee as the dial on the fuel gauge jumped up to the three-quarters-full mark. She turned around to look in the back. Two jerricans were strapped one to each side, and her smile broadened. She revved the engine once, twice, three times, and then turned it off. The exhaust fumes were thick in the air as she climbed out. “I love it when a plan comes—”
“Stop! Please stop. It’s just a van, we’re not in the A-Team, and you are definitely not Hannibal Smith.”
“I’m surprised you even remember that series. I used to watch reruns of it with Dad.”
“Yeah. I’m only two years younger than you, Bobbi. I’d sit on one side, you’d sit on the other, and we used to watch together.”
“Oh yeah. I’d forgotten you were there.”
“Thanks very much. You know how to make a sister feel loved.”
“Anyway, I never really saw myself as the Hannibal type. I’d be more like the female version of Faceman. All the blokes would go wild for me, and they’d do whatever I asked.”
“And who would I be in this equation, exactly?”
“Dunno. Didn’t they have a housekeeper or something?”
“What?”
“Yeah, I’m sure they had a housekeeper. He had like black hair and a moustache. Stuck-up knob who spoke with an English accent and was a right pain in the arse.”
Confusion flashed over Wren’s face before the penny dropped. “Higgins?”
“Yeah, that was him.”
“Higgins was in Magnum P.I.”
Robyn looked at Wren for a second then shrugged. “Whatever, you’d be the female version of him anyway.”
“You know I could set Wolf on you any second just for the hell of it, don’t you?”
They both started giggling. “Seriously. Your dog is amazing, but I’m not going to be kissing him any time soon after what he’s just had in his mouth.”
They both giggled again; then Wren suddenly became more serious. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s a bloodbath out there and we’re in here laughing about it. Have we become desensitised to this stuff? Is it turning us into
them?”
Robyn let out a long, deep breath. “Wolf … he’s family, right?”
“Yeah.”
“They kidnapped him once and then that shitball was just about to take him again and hand you and me to his goons to be their playthings. If I could bring them back to life to kill them again, I would. I had a lot of time to think when I was in that cell and I made myself a lot of promises, the most important one being that if I ever found you, I wouldn’t let anything tear us apart again, and anyone who tried was going to wish they’d never been born.”
“Err … I guess that’s mission accomplished then.”
chapter 7
Robyn stared at Wren then looked around the equipment shed. “You did really well finding this place, surviving all those months by yourself.”
An uncertain smile broke onto Wren’s face as she looked at her sister. “You’ve really changed, Bobbi.”
“Yeah, well, being locked up in a room with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company makes you change.”
“Wow, I bet having I wonder if I’ll ever eat a Pop-Tart again rattling around your brain over and over again must have been a life-changing experience.”
“Very funny. Laugh it up, princess, you wouldn’t have lasted five minutes.”
“Probably. The boredom would have driven me mad.”
“No, I mean you’d have irritated them too much, they’d have put a pillow over your face on the first night,” Robyn said, smiling, before becoming more serious again. “It did change me, though, Wren. It made me realise what was important in life, what was worth risking everything for. Two things kept me going. My friendship with Mila and the thought that one day I might see you again. It’s what made me wake up every morning. It’s what made me carry on when the easy thing to do would have been to end it. I had that piece of broken ceramic tile. Slitting my wrists, cutting my neck, it would have been quick, but I couldn’t. In my gut, I had a feeling that you were still out there somewhere and you needed me.”
The End of Everything | Book 8 | The End of Everything Page 5
