by Wood, J N
Four loud bangs in quick succession exploded around us. I involuntarily ducked down. Roy was in the same position, crouched down next to me with his hands over his ears. I looked up to see four freshly made holes in one of the doors.
‘Let’s go,’ I said.
He nodded, and staying in our crouched positions we made our way to the side of the lorry. We ran the full length of it, leaving the car park and running towards the edge of the lake.
‘Where are we going?’ I shouted.
‘Away from here.’ After a few seconds, he said, ‘Wait, wait, wait.’
I looked over my shoulder to see Roy slowing. I stopped and turned around. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘I got a quick look at the map in there,’ he replied, pointing behind him. ‘There’s not much north of us. We need one of those cars.’
‘They’ll soon get out of there.’ A split second later three more shots rang out. I gestured to the car park and said, ‘See.’
Roy spun around and started back up the slight incline. ‘I’m going for a car.’
‘What the fuck?’ I said.
I hesitated for a second, and then chased after him.
Fuck’s sake.
By the time I caught up with him, he was already opening the door of the Ford Fiesta.
‘This is the one he was trying to sell us wasn’t it?’ Roy asked breathlessly.
I’d been staring at the back of the lorry, trying to see if the doors were open. ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Well, he said it was a Ford.’
‘Get in Chris.’
I looked back to the car to find him sat in the driver’s seat.
‘Get in,’ he shouted. ‘The keys are in here.’
I climbed in, saying, ‘They’re the two guys that got me and Jack this morning.’
‘Yeah I guessed that when one of them thought he recognised my voice. The Irish thing for you put me off though.’
‘That’s the second time somebody has assumed I’m Irish. I don’t sound Irish do I?’
‘No,’ Roy replied. ‘Not at all.’
Roy put his foot down, pebble dashing the other car behind us. We drove around the lorry. I was expecting to see Logan and Milos stood at the back, leaning out with their guns aimed at us. Both doors still looked sealed shut.
‘Thank fuck for that,’ I muttered.
We were soon travelling down the dirt track. Once we’d gone over the summit, I could see the main road at the bottom.
‘I thought you were going to jump out straight away,’ Roy said. ‘I was all set to go.’
‘I thought about it. I think I panicked and froze slightly.’
‘Those forged identification papers would have come in really handy,’ Roy mused.
‘Fucking Milos and Logan. Absolute fucking arseholes.’
‘Only quarter of a tank,’ Roy noted. ‘Hopefully that will get us to a petrol station.’
‘We can’t keep this car for long,’ I suggested.
‘I doubt Custard is running a reputable and legal business,’ Roy said. ‘He’s not going to report us to the police.’
‘Once Milos and Logan discover Willard, if they haven’t already, then who knows what they’ll be willing to do.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t have killed Willard.’
‘I didn’t fucking kill him. Did Jack tell you that?’
‘Yeah,’ Roy replied. ‘But only because he said it would annoy you if I mentioned it.’
‘Twat.’
‘Me or Jack?’ Roy asked.
‘Both of you.’
When we reached the main road, Roy turned right onto it. I pulled out Jack’s phone and found the map.
‘Let’s dump the car at the next big town we get to,’ Roy suggested. ‘Like you say, probably not worth the risk with those two guys chasing us.’
A car appeared from around the bend, driving towards us.
‘Shit,’ I exclaimed. ‘Look normal.’
‘I am looking normal. We’re out of the evacuated area. We’re just two people driving around.’
‘Yeah I suppose,’ I replied, as the car drove past us. The driver didn’t give us a second glance. ‘I’m not used to this.’
‘Neither am I,’ Roy said. ‘Hopefully we have nothing to worry about now.’
‘Jinxed,’ I said.
‘What do you mean?’ Roy asked.
‘You just jinxed us by saying hopefully we have nothing to worry about.’
‘No. We’re fine now.’
‘Double jinxed. We’re double fucked now.’
We passed a few more cars going in the opposite direction, and had been in the middle of five cars for the last twenty minutes. I didn’t say so, but I was constantly on edge, thinking one of the cars behind us was Milos and Logan, intent on revenge. I’m sure Roy was thinking the same thing. I noticed him checking his mirrors a lot.
Looking at the phone, I said, ‘Should be coming up to Logan Lake. I don’t really want to stop there. How much fuel do we have?’
‘Loads left. Why not stop there?’
‘The guys on the lorry were called Logan and Milos.’
Roy shook his head. ‘I don’t think there’s a connection.’
‘Kamloops looks bigger anyway,’ I said. ‘And it’s not much further.’
‘And you don’t know anyone called Kamloops? I didn’t realise you were so superstitious.’
‘Neither did I. Just feeling a bit paranoid at the moment, that’s all.’
We drove through the town called Logan Lake. The majority of people on the streets wore face masks. I didn’t see Logan.
‘I doubt we’ll be able to buy another car,’ Roy said, once we were through the town and alongside a lake called Logan Lake. ‘Not without ID. We also can’t board a flight without ID. That leaves us with trains and buses. We’ve got enough money at least.’
I googled bus stations in Kamloops. The results told me there was one. ‘Bus it is then. I doubt they’ll want to see any identification there. Might do with trains.’
‘Talk about jinxing,’ Roy said.
As we neared Kamloops, I told Roy we needed to get to the Travel Centre. ‘It’s just off this road. Google says it’s quiet at this time of the day.’
I told Roy when to turn off the road and we entered the car park. Google can’t have been taking recent events into consideration. The place was heaving with people and vehicles. We left the car at the far end of the car park, illegally parked, but it’s not ours so fuck it.
I strapped my baseball bat to the side of Sandra’s backpack, normally where walking sticks would be attached. ‘Does this look weird?’ I asked. ‘Walking around with a baseball bat stuck to my bag.’
Roy frowned down at The Smasher. ‘I really wish you’d cleaned more of the blood off it.’
‘People will think it’s just part of the design.’
‘I very much doubt that. It looks like real blood. But apart from the blood, yes it does look a bit weird. I’m sure it’ll be fine.’
As we made our way around all the vehicles, I noticed a crowd of people congregated around a large advertising board, or at least something that looks like an advertising board. From the angle we were at, I couldn’t tell what everyone was so interested in.
‘Is it a big TV screen?’ Roy wondered.
As we got closer I figured out what it was. Both sides of a huge wooden structure, probably intended to be an advertising board, were filled with pieces of paper of various sizes. Some had photos of faces printed on or taped to them, and some only text, typed or handwritten. Face mask wearing people slowly stepped from side to side, scanning the notices.
‘What is it?’ Roy asked.
‘I think it’s a wall of lost people,’ I told him. ‘Or people trying to find lost people. Same thing I suppose.’
‘Is there going to be one of these in every town?’ he asked.
‘Probably every decent sized town or city this close to the border.’
‘Do you want to leave
a message for anyone?’ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘Nah. You?’
‘No, unfortunately not,’ he sighed. ‘Let’s get away from here. It’s too depressing.’
We crossed the rest of the car park and entered the bustling Travel Centre.
‘Chris,’ Roy said.
I turned to see him pointing to a soap dispenser on the wall. He pressed his palm against the lever underneath but nothing happened. He tried again three more times. Nothing.
‘Empty,’ he told me.
A sign on the door read Please do not enter if you have a fever or a cough. Wash your hands regularly, and keep two metres away from the nearest person.
Inside they were not sticking to the rules. It was like a competition to see who could shout the loudest. One very irate woman, she must have been a member of staff, was screaming at the top of her lungs for people to form an orderly queue.
‘Welcome to hell,’ Roy said.
A man wearing a pink shirt with a nametag approached us. ‘If you need tickets, please buy them online.’
‘We need to pay with cash,’ Roy told him.
Pink Shirt’s masked face dropped slightly as he pointed us to the back of a queue. We joined the long line of people and waited for our turn. Whenever I tried to keep a bit of distance from the person in front, the people behind us would get so close they were almost touching. As we slowly moved closer to the front, accepting that nobody was taking heed of the distancing rule, I noticed people handing items over to the staff behind the glass fronted counters. I pointed this out to Roy.
‘Hopefully it’s just their bank card,’ he said. ‘Or a cheque maybe.’
‘Who’s still using cheques nowadays?’
‘Things have changed a bit now,’ Roy stated.
‘Should we ask somebody?’ I whispered.
‘Probably not. It would end up being a plain clothes cop or something.’
We were second in line and desperately trying to listen to what was being said by the woman behind the counter. She leaned forward and spoke into her little mounted microphone. Static and hissing was all I heard from this side of the glass.
‘Did you hear?’ I asked Roy, as the person in front slipped something through the thin gap under the glass. ‘What did she hand over?’
‘No I didn’t hear it. It’s too fucking loud in here.’ He leaned to his right to try and get a better angle. ‘Just going to try and see it when it gets handed back.’
The employee slid the item back to the customer. The woman’s hand flashed out and grabbed whatever it was and slipped it into her handbag.
‘Well?’ I asked Roy.
‘I didn’t see it,’ Roy whispered. ‘She must be embarrassed about it for her to grab it like that.’
The lady in front took whatever she’d purchased and walked away, leaving it clear for us. We stepped towards the glass. The woman behind the counter looked at us blankly, her mask sat just below her dead eyes.
‘How far east do the buses go from here?’ I asked.
‘Depends where you want to go,’ she replied, rubbing her eye with a gloved hand.
I glanced at Roy and then back to the woman, who looked like she was staring straight through me. ‘Quebec City?’ I queried.
Her eyes seemed to focus on mine and her brow furrowed. ‘Nothing goes that far from here.’
I thought she might continue but she just stared at me.
‘Okay,’ I slowly said. ‘Shall I repeat my initial question or can you remember what it was?’
Her eyebrows suddenly raised and she looked like she was about to respond, but Roy beat her to it. ‘Do you go to the next state?’ he hurriedly asked. ‘Alberta or even Saskatchewan?’
I looked at Roy, impressed with his knowledge of Canadian states.
‘Two single tickets to Calgary?’ she flatly asked, staring into nothingness again.
‘Yes please,’ Roy replied. ‘That’s perfect. How much?’
I put my hand in my pocket and felt the two hundred dollars.
‘First of all I need to see Canadian ID or POE.’
‘Sorry? What?’ Roy asked, leaning in closer to the glass.
She looked into Roy’s eyes. ‘Passport, driver’s license or POE.’
‘P…O…E,’ I repeated, trying to figure out what it meant.
‘Proof of Entry,’ she slowly said, and then keeping her eyes fixed on mine, pulled out a radio from under the counter. Raising it to her mask covered mouth, she said, ‘Counter Staff to Border Security. We have two foreign nationals with no POE. I repeat. Two foreign nationals with no POE.’
‘We’re just going to pop back to the car to get our Proof of Entry forms,’ Roy said with a forced smile. He grabbed me by the elbow and started to pull me away. ‘Back in a sec.’
Maybe I shouldn’t have said POE out loud.
We spun around and started walking. The people closest to us in the queue stared and backed away as we moved through them, the two metre rule suddenly coming back into effect.
‘I’m going to go out of the left exit,’ Roy said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘You take the right. Don’t run unless somebody starts chasing you. Meet back at the wall of the lost in half an hour.’ With that he was gone, slipping through the mass of people.
I tried to glance in every direction, looking for security making a path through the crowds. I couldn’t see them so I continued to head for the exit. Forcing myself to calm down and walk at a normal pace, I squeezed through the throng of people.
As I placed my hand on the door handle, a voice called out behind me and my heart sank. ‘You at the exit, stop right there.’
I didn’t turn around, just barged through the doors and started running.
I pushed two very annoyed people aside as the voice behind shouted, ‘This is Border Security. Stay where are you are.’
Chapter 11: Buckets
I ran across the paving area immediately outside the double doors, dodging and sidestepping the mass of people milling about. I heard the doors open behind me and loudly crash into the metal barriers on either side. I risked a look over my shoulder. Two blue uniformed men were moving shocked people aside, both with hand guns drawn.
Fuck me.
I faced forward again and ran straight into somebody. It was a small guy with a wiry frame. I hardly felt the impact, but he was catapulted away from me. The moustached man stared at me as he flew backwards through the air. My eyes met Milos’s blackened and bruised eyes. His nose looked broken in a couple of places. The obvious hatred for me was terrible.
And he probably doesn’t know Willard is dead yet.
He hit the road just as a bus was passing by. I don’t think Milos even knew what hit him, his eyes never left mine. Screams echoed around me as he tumbled and rolled under the wheels. An immense splattering of blood accompanied a sound similar to a watermelon being smashed into the ground. The bus skidded to a halt, dragging Milos’s obliterated body under the back wheels and creating a huge bloody skid mark on the tarmac.
My hands covered my mouth. ‘Holy fucking twat balls,’ I muttered through shaking fingers.
That was really fucking horrible.
I just made that happen.
My stomach lurched and a hot acidic taste filled my mouth.
‘You mother fucker,’ a voice roared out over the many horrified screams reverberating around me.
Logan was standing about ten feet away from me, his eyes burning into mine. He was very visibly shaking. The short distance between us was filled with people running back and forth.
Fuck me indeed.
He moved a shaking hand around to the back of his jeans. I switched directions and ran away, barging people out of the way as I went.
‘Put the gun down now,’ I heard a voice cry out, instantly followed by two gunshots. I couldn’t be sure but it felt like they were fired at me.
I’m still running so they can’t have hit me.
Four more gunshots rang out, and then two di
fferent voices both shouted, ‘Stay down,’ and, ‘Don’t go for the gun.’ They repeated the phrases a few times, overlapping each other.
I glanced over my shoulder. Logan wasn’t visible, and the two Border Security guys were rushing over to where Logan had been. I joined the many people running away, pulling my hat off and throwing it away. I spotted Roy’s head in the distance, bouncing up and down above the crowds and chased after him.
I didn’t fancy sticking to the plan and coming back here in half an hour.
I repeatedly shouted his name when I was closer to him. He eventually heard me, slowing down until I was by his side.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked. ‘When I heard the gunshots I thought they might have got you.’
‘I think Milos and Logan just died,’ I told him.
Roy’s stopped suddenly. With a grunt of pain and a shout of annoyance, the person behind ran into his back, forcing him to start running again.
‘Don’t stop,’ I said. ‘We need to keep moving.’
‘What?’ Roy replied, once he was back in step with the escaping crowds.
‘Milos is definitely dead. I think Logan is.’
‘We were only apart for one minute. What the fuck happened?’
‘I’ll tell you later. Right now we need to get out of here, or hide somewhere.’
‘Back to the car?’ Roy asked, and then shook his head. ‘Milos and Logan literally just died? Here?’
‘No let’s dump the car. We don’t know anything about Custard. They might be together somehow.’
‘Did they get shot? Have you got a gun? Did you shoot them?’
‘No I don’t have a fucking gun. You’d know if I did. I think the security guys shot Logan.’
‘Fucking hell,’ Roy muttered. ‘Thanks Border Security.’
‘Yeah quite good timing really.’
‘Where shall we go?’ Roy asked. ‘Pub? I could do with a drink.’
‘We’re illegal immigrants being chased by the Border Security and maybe some weird guy called Custard.’
‘Yeah, and?’
The pub did sound tempting.
