The Gamekeeper

by J Porteous

  Deputy Thwaite had stayed quiet since we had left the room, instead choosing to tread pensively through what little snow was left on the ground. Damp green sprouts of grass fought their way up through the soil. It was good to see them again.

  ‘Another winter over,’ I said.

  ‘But our troubles are far from it,’ she replied. She looked out to the crowd of trees ahead of us, slushy snow falling from their branches and piling on the floor.

  ‘Is that why you brought me out here?’

  ‘It is,’ she said. ‘And I didn’t want anyone in camp hearing my concerns.’

  ‘Alright, I’m listening.’

  Deputy Thwaite looked back towards the farmhouse. ‘We can’t stand an attack like Hope did. We haven’t got the numbers, we haven’t got the defences. What we do have is a site five miles from here which may do better.’

  Those last words gained my interest. ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s a manor house. It’s old, made of solid stone and with large gardens. My thought is that we move there and set up a perimeter.’

  ‘And why have you come to me with this?’

  Deputy Thwaite turned back towards me. ‘We haven’t the strength to defend against a full-on attack. Most of us here are walking-wounded, or children. You call yourself the Gamekeeper, you know snares and traps. If we can use them to keep those bastards away from the manor, or at least slow them down, then it could save lives.’

  ‘I know snares and traps,’ I replied. ‘All too well. But those things are designed for rabbits and voles, not anything bigger.’

  ‘Then make them bigger,’ Thwaite replied. The tone of her voice implied that this wasn’t a request. ‘When daylight comes, I’m going to wake everyone and move them on. When we get to the manor, I’m going to need you to assess the grounds and surrounding woods for the best places to trap, and I’m going to need you to do it without alarming anyone.’

  ‘I’m going to need people,’ I said. ‘There’s only so much one person can do, especially if the cult is on our trail.’

  ‘And you’ll have people,’ Thwaite said, her words as sharp as daggers. ‘Do this or don’t. Run away if you want. I’m just trying to save as many of these people as possible.’

  She was smart, that was for sure. She knew what to say to twist my arm. ‘I’ve got a girl here. I’ve saved her once before, I’m not going to waste that effort.’

  ‘Good,’ Thwaite said. Her stern expression melted slightly, revealing a relieved smile. ‘I knew I could count on you.’

  I returned to the stables and peered in through the door. Jessica and Prism were still fast asleep, slumped against each other. Prism slept without her scarf, revealing the multitude of burns which licked at her jawline and rose in places to meet her cheeks. Seeing them together it was as if they were mother and daughter, both having lived through the same traumatic event. Perhaps that’s the real reason Prism has latched onto Jessica. She sees more than a little of herself there.

  Prism’s head rolled back as she let out a yawn. Her eyes opened and quickly swivelled to where I stood. She quickly pulled her scarf back over her face. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’re moving,’ I said, trying not to make it too obvious as to where I had been staring.

  She looked down at Jessica, then around the room; barren, apart from her bag on top of the rickety table and chairs. ‘When?’

  ‘Within the next hour.’

  Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. ‘Good job we haven’t got anything to pack then, eh?’

  I closed the door and lowered my voice. ‘It’s a manor house, sounds like it could put up a good defence.’

  ‘So the Deputy thinks the cult is coming too?’

  ‘Seems that way,’ I said and looked down at Jessica. ‘And I don’t doubt it for a minute.’

  Prism reached out and gripped my hand. ‘You’ve kept her safe so far, I’m certain you’ll keep doing it.’

  I pulled my hand away. It seemed my apprehension was easier to sense than I thought. ‘Thwaite wants me to check the grounds when we get there, make traps to slow them down.’

  ‘Then she asked the right person if you ask me.’

  I shook my head. ‘You don’t know that. I trap small animals, nothing bigger. I told her that.’

  ‘In this world, we make do with what we’ve got,’ Prism replied. ‘If you’re the best we’ve got for the task, then we’ll have to make do.’

  I smiled at her encouragement. ‘Sometimes you make me feel like I can actually do this.’

  Thwaite’s voice cut through the air, calling everyone to gather what they can carry and to get ready to move. Jessica’s eyes flitted open, and she looked at Prism and I.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked, voice still heavy with fatigue.

  ‘We’re moving,’ I said. ‘Somewhere safer.’

  ‘My feet really hurt.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘And so do mine, but it’s only a few miles then we’re there.’

  Jessica rolled her feet around. ‘Only a few miles?’

  ‘That’s what Deputy Thwaite said.’

  She looked up at Prism. ‘Are you coming too?’

  Prism nodded. ‘Of course. We’ll walk together if you want?’

  Jessica nodded enthusiastically. ‘I’d like that.’

  I stood up and retrieved Prism’s rucksack, securing it in place. ‘I’m going to see if Thwaite needs any help. I’ll see you out there.’

  Those five miles seemed to stretch for an eternity. We kept a slow pace, plodding along through the thick woodland. Deputy Thwaite had sent one of the old security force to lead the walk, while she held up the rear. I kept her company at the back, helping those who fell back where necessary.

  A number of the most able-bodied carried stretchers just ahead of us, carrying those who simply couldn’t walk. It was admirable; Deputy Thwaite had told me that she was going to save as many lives as possible, and she was doing just that. There would have been plenty of people who would have simply left them behind.

  The trees began to clear as we left the edge of the woodland, opening up onto a large open field, the manor house revealing itself. It towered above the open ground around it, its solid stone structure imposing even from this distance.

  I had little doubt that the fields surrounding it were once spectacular gardens, but now they were overgrown and overrun with the plants which had been reined in for so long. Large bushes were now untidy clumps, wild flowers and vines ran rampant over walls and fences, reclaiming what they were so long denied.

  Deputy Thwaite sighed. ‘Strange to see it like this.’

  ‘You know it well?’

  ‘Highchester mansion. Used to come here as a kid,’ Thwaite replied. ‘Family days out. This was always a favourite of mine, but I never thought I’d see it again after the world got burnt.’

  I looked up at the manor as we closed in on it, lichen-crowned gargoyles etched of stone staring down at the approaching crowd. ‘I imagine it was quite the place.’

  Deputy Thwaite gave a wistful smile. ‘It was.’

  I knew that look, the glazed eyes of nostalgia for a world long dead. I knew better to disturb that moment of regression. ‘I’m going to take a look around.’ She didn’t respond.

  I broke away from the main group and wandered the grounds alone. There was a strange serenity which seemed to emanate from the very ground itself. Old statues stood calmly amongst the foliage which wrapped around them, old paths were slicked with moss. The old world was dead, and it seemed quite happy with the situation.

  I turned my eye to the surrounding areas. The overgrowth would work to our advantage; it would be all too easy to lay unseen traps and pits in the areas of long grass, and once they had fallen foul of one of them, it would slow down the advance of the rest.

  I looked back at the manor and could see faces looking out of the third storey windows. The flat ground gave an excellent line of sight, and it would allow us to monitor all approaches. It would make s
ense to trap the way we came most heavily, but the rest of the grounds would be worth trapping too. As I gazed over the open ground, the realisation of the enormity of the task became apparent. I’m going to need more than a few hands for this.

  I made my way towards the mansion to regroup with the others. Some of the group still milled outside, although most were already exploring the interior. I stepped towards the open wooden doors, the carved mythical creatures around the door frame beckoning me inside.

  The entrance hall was dark and cold, the only light coming from the broken windows of the rooms which led off from it. A number of people gathered in the shadows, muttering amongst themselves and tending to their worn feet. I walked past them and made my way on to the stairwell which led to the higher floor.

  I heard Deputy Thwaite before I saw her. Her voice echoed down the empty hallway, guiding me on where to go. As I grew nearer, her voice cut off and footsteps could be heard. A group of survivors walked out of one of the rooms further down the corridor and marched passed me, descending the stairs at a quick pace.

  I peered through the doorway which they had just come through. Deputy Thwaite was sat on a stone window ledge, rubbing her face in her hands. She looked up as she saw me approach. ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, come in.’ She drew a deep breath and paced from the window to the door, and back again. ‘You’ve taken a look around the grounds?’

  ‘I have,’ I replied. I threw a thumb over my shoulder. ‘Where are they off to?’

  ‘A volunteer scout group,’ Thwaite said. ‘I asked for anyone who was able, and they applied. They’re going to take a look around, see what’s in the surrounding area.’

  ‘You think there’s anything nearby?’

  Deputy Thwaite shrugged. ‘Perhaps. There are a number of little villages and towns nearby. I just hope that they’ll find something useful.’

  All we had between us and the cult was distance and these stone walls. ‘I hope so too,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s take a walk.’

  I hesitated. ‘I should really find Prism and Jessica.’

  Thwaite turned her eyes toward me, as sharp as blades. ‘I won’t take too much of your time, Gamekeeper.’ She stalked out of the door, and I followed suit.

  We wandered through the darkened halls, Thwaite running her hand over the stonework as we went. The group we had led here had quickly found themselves at home, filling the old empty rooms and unpacking their bags, spreading their belongings over the floor. Voices were filled with relief and hope.

  ‘Don’t they realise who’s on our trail?’ I asked. ‘The danger hasn’t just disappeared.’

  ‘You’re correct,’ Thwaite said. ‘But any hope they have right now I will let them have. A lot of these people banked everything on Hope, and now that’s gone. They need something to cling to, anything. I’m not about to yank that rug out from underneath them.’

  I looked into one of the passing rooms, two children playing with some old toys while their fretful mother watched. ‘I get that,’ I said. ‘But reality needs to be faced at some point.’

  We descended the stairs, our footsteps reverberating off of the cold stone. Thwaite carried on talking but did not look back. ‘You brought reality here, Gamekeeper, you and your girl. They wanted her, and you took her from them.’ She halted abruptly at the bottom of the steps. ‘I could have tossed you out, both of you. Then perhaps these people would be safe.’

  ‘Are you saying you would have left her with them?’ I said, heat building inside of me. ‘Is that what you’re saying? You haven’t seen them, you don’t know what they’re capable of.’ I hissed in frustration. ‘They were heading this way anyway. With or without us, Hope would have burned.’

  Thwaite’s head snapped around, her eyes brimming with furious tears. ‘I’ve seen more than enough to know what they’re capable of.’ She paused momentarily, drawing in a number of steady breaths. ‘But you’re right, I wouldn’t have left the girl.’ She carried on walking. ‘And if you hadn’t come back to warn us, I doubt so many people would be here now.’

  We took a short walk back along the main corridor before taking a hard right. I found myself staring down a set of stairs which descended into a murky gloom, the old wooden doors propped open with two heavy rocks. Deputy Thwaite trod onwards as if the black maw in front of us was as well lit as the rest of the manor house. I quickly followed.

  The smell of damp and musk assaulted my nostrils. The air was chill, the sensation clamping itself to my skin. I widened my eyes, trying to make any sense out of the darkness. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘This is the cellar,’ Thwaite replied, marching onwards as if the darkness were not even present. ‘And it could be our trump card.’

  ‘How’s that?’ I asked. I turned a corner, following her shadow in the gloom.

  ‘Because of the way this place was built,’ she said. ‘This place was built for a Lord, one crippled by paranoid thoughts. He built the manor as many were, out of the way and with plenty of land, but he had one final trick up his sleeve.’

  As we wandered further through the cellar, a glimmer of light broke through. Up ahead was a doorway, framed with light. Deputy Thwaite quickly gathered pace and marched towards it.

  ‘What is that?’ I asked.

  ‘A passageway, a secret escape from the manor. The Lord had a route beneath the surrounding hillside burrowed out, and at the end of it is a door opening up to open country on the other side.’ We approached the door, a large and foreboding thing wrought from hard iron. Deputy Thwaite placed her hands on the bars. ‘If we need to, we can flee down here and out onto the other side of the hill.’

  ‘Won’t they just follow us?’

  Thwaite shrugged. ‘Probably. But it’s a risk we’ll have to take. If we can slow them down with your snares and traps, then perhaps it will buy us enough time to escape completely.’

  The sense in Thwaite’s plan slowly seeped into my head. The traps were mere distractions, something to keep the cult occupied while as many people escaped as possible. It would mean more ground between the cult and the group, which could only be a good thing. The question was, when would the cult give up their chase?

  ‘They’re after the girl, nothing else,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I could trick them, get them to follow me? They know I took her.’

  Thwaite paused momentarily, staring through the bars at the open fields on the other side. ‘That’s admirable, it really is, but that girl needs you. And, even if you don’t want to admit it, you need her.’

  Her words cut me deep, but only because they were true. Before I found Jessica I was a husk, a shell of a man wandering the wilderness; not truly living, merely existing. I was beaten and bruised with death nipping at my heels; yet, somehow, this was the most alive I had felt in a very long time. I followed Deputy Thwaite’s eyes out onto the freshly green fields, speckles of the remaining snow still dotted in patches here and there.

  ‘I’ll set your traps,’ I said. ‘These people need a chance, and they’re not going to get one if the cult catches us.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Thwaite said, a breath of relief coming with the words.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘This is a thank you from me, for not giving up on us. The world needs good people like you, Thwaite, now more than ever.’

  Thwaite snorted a laugh and shook her head. ‘Believe me, I’m not that good.’ She turned away from the fields and back into the darkness of the cellar tunnels. ‘Tell me what and who you need.’ She stepped back into the gloom.

  I followed the sound of her footsteps, my eyes newly adjusting to the dark. ‘As many people as possible, and as much time as I can get out of them.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be no shortage of volunteers.’

  Between the injured, the young, and those who were already out scouting the nearby area, there had been all too few volunteers. There were thirteen of us in total, not nearly enough to cover as much ground as I would
have liked.

  The main tactic I had decided on was covered pits. They required little resources and could be used to deadly effect. I drew out a crude plan on where they should be placed and how deep, concentrating mainly on the overgrown fields at the south of the manor, with fewer pits the further around the manor we went. The north side was not trapped at all.

  With only two spades the rest of the volunteers had to make do with pots and pans to scoop the earth as well as they could. A few young teenagers were put to work whittling branches gathered from the surrounding woods into spikes. I did not tell them what their intended purpose was, but from the look in their eyes I could only assume they knew.

  After a few hours of solid work, the already tired became the freshly exhausted. I called a halt to the work when the scouts returned, letting those weary souls rest for a moment. The scouting group carried little with them, but I followed them inside to see what came of it.

  The group murmured among themselves as they ascended the stone stairwell, the objects they did manage to scavenge clanking against each other as they swung from their rucksacks. I followed swiftly behind, anxious as to what information they had brought back with them.

  Deputy Thwaite looked up as they walked in, the hopeful expression on her face fading slightly as she saw theirs. ‘What? What is it?’

  One of the men stepped forward, throwing down his gathering of tools: hammers, spanners, and garden forks all dropping into a messy pile. He scratched at his unshaven beard, fingers rasping through the dried hairs. ‘This is the best we could get.’

  ‘Was there nothing else at all?’

  The man shrugged. ‘An old petrol depot, but there’s no way we could have carried any of it back. The barrels would be too heavy.’

  Thwaite looked down at it. ‘It’s better than nothing I suppose.’

  ‘It practically is nothing,’ the man said, voice tensed. He pointed a blackened finger towards the window. ‘We’ve got nothing to defend ourselves with, and those maniacs are on our trail. We have to keep moving.’ Those who surrounded him muttered in agreement.

  ‘We’ve got injured and children here,’ Thwaite bit back, stepping towards the man. ‘We go at their pace or we’re going to lose some of them. They’re tired and afraid, they need hope. They can’t walk forever.’