by David Moody
“None taken,” she says, glaring at him. Matt realizes he needs to bite his lip, but the arrogance of the hordes of killers waiting out there to kill makes him … makes him hate them.
“So people like you and me,” Franklin continues, “we’re pretty much screwed whichever way you look at it.”
Matt agrees. “I guess so. Even if you manage to evade the first wave of attacks, it’s only going to be a matter of time before they get you.”
“Exactly.”
“And if you’re outside the city in any kind of numbers, you’re an easy target. You won’t have a hope in hell.”
“Again, you’re right.”
“But there’s more to it than that,” Jayce says. “We’re just as bad. You can mock Joseph all you like, but him and Simon and Selena helped me to see past the killing and regain my focus. I’d already decided to try and pull back from the fighting, but the time I spent with them opened my eyes to the futility of it all. I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”
Matt’s worried. “Sounds ominous. Go on.”
“I don’t reckon the Hate will dry up once all you people are gone, I think it might change, but it’ll just continue. It’s the law of the jungle. We’re already seeing stronger Haters dominating those who are less inclined to fight. There are some who can’t do anything but fight. Brutes, they’re calling them. Violence is all they know now, all they understand, and all they want. But a Hater who doesn’t share the same desire to fight … now that’s a problem. In some people’s eyes they’re almost as bad as you Unchanged.”
“I doubt that.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Nothing surprises me anymore,” Matt says.
Back to Franklin. “So think about what Jayce is saying. What happens if the Haters think they’ve got rid of all of us? Will the killing just stop? I happen to think she’s right. This is their way of life now. They won’t just go back to their old jobs and routines, because they’re gone. The old world’s finished and there’ll just be a vacuum left in its place. We’re both of the opinion that they’ll turn in on themselves. We think the other side will just splinter, then splinter again, then splinter again and again and so on until there’s just the worst of them left alive. Or, better still, none left alive at all.”
“Sounds feasible. So what’s all this conjecture got to do with this place?”
“Because we think at the rate things are going there’s a good chance they’ll wipe themselves out. It might take six weeks, six months, or six years, but that’s how we see it going down.”
It all feels uncomfortably plausible to Matt. “So this place is your bunker, and you’re planning on keeping your heads down and sitting it out?”
“Exactly right.”
Jayce leads Matt even deeper into the large basement. It’s filled with equipment. Piled high with food. “We’ve been planning this for some time.”
Matt’s finding it difficult to take it all in. “I can see that. Christ, there’s more food here than there is left in the whole of the city.”
“You’re probably right.”
And still there’s more. In another section of the basement are rows of metal-framed camp beds as well as other supplies, clearly military in origin. Weapons. A full-on arms cache. Franklin explains. “There was an army barracks not far from here. Place was overrun pretty early on, but the focus back then was on people, not equipment. Looting this stuff after the event was as easy as nicking tins of food from supermarket shelves.”
“So again, who’s it all for?”
“Ordinary folk like you and me. People we have connections with. Decent people.”
“According to who?”
“According to me and Jayce and a couple of others.”
“How many?”
“Around fifty at the moment.”
“All based around your convent?”
“Nope, elsewhere.”
“So Estelle doesn’t know about this?”
Franklin and Jayce look at each other. “Estelle’s not in the picture anymore,” Franklin admits.
“What happened to her?”
He shrugs. “Disappeared. Didn’t show up one morning. Let’s be honest, anything could have happened, and we’re never going to find out. She probably saw sense and fucked off. Either that or someone did her in. She was very good at pissing people off.”
“So is there anyone left in charge now?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough, though. Joseph’s shenanigans are bound to attract attention.”
Matt paces around the room. “So who exactly does know about this?”
“You, me, and Jayce, and the people we’re taking.”
“That’s all?”
“Yep, that’s all, and right now we intend on keeping it that way. The fewer people who are involved just now, the better.”
“Not Joseph?”
“Nope. No one at the convent.”
“So I’ll ask you again, why are you showing me?”
“Needs must,” Franklin says. “I already told you, there’s no denying the fact you’re good at what you do. You managed to survive on your own for a decent length of time, and I’ve seen you in action. Rather, I’ve seen how you avoid action. Like I said, I keep trying, but I just can’t get rid of you.” He pauses, leaving Matt to decide whether he’s being sincere or sarcastic. “I know that you understand how the Haters think, so you know what you need to do to keep yourself out of trouble.”
“Doesn’t exactly feel that way at the moment.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t. Take it from me, though, compared to the other people who’ve come and gone since everything kicked off, you’re damn good. Better than you probably think. You got caught out on your own during that last hunt, and not only did you make it back in one piece, you also managed to track us back to the convent and break in. You know what you’re doing. Fact of the matter is, I want you to help us get our people out of the city. This job’s too big for just me and Jayce.”
“You want my help?”
“Yep, that’s right.”
“But there must be other people…”
“There was.”
“So where are they?”
“You’re the only one left. We’ve lost a lot of key folks recently … Graham, Chris Greatrex … all the original crew are dead.”
Matt wanders around the stores, trying to take in the enormity of what he’s hearing. “So do I get an invite if I agree to help?”
“Of course.”
“I have to say, though, I don’t think you’ve got a hope in hell of surviving out here.”
“So what’s your current survival plan?” Jayce asks him. “You must have one? Someone like you wouldn’t not have a plan.”
“Truth is, I don’t. I thought I did. Right now I’m struggling to see a viable way out.”
“So what have you got to lose by helping us?”
She has a point. “Nothing, I guess. Or everything. Depends how you look at it.”
“Try looking at it positively,” Franklin tells him. “So what do you think?”
“What about my girlfriend? What about Jen?”
“She can come, too. There’s more than enough room down here. We need all the help we can get.”
“There’s a family living with us. A woman with a couple of kids and another guy on his own.”
“You can bring all of them.”
“Okay, so if I do decide to help, what plans have you made for getting your people out to this place?”
“This way,” Franklin says, and he beckons for Matt to follow him back upstairs. He’s led back across the work floor to the farthest corner of the building. It still feels strange to be walking freely in such an open space. Matt checks over his shoulder continually, but the only person there is Jayce.
There’s a decent-sized truck parked in an internal loading bay. “I reckon we could get as many as a hundred folk in this thing,” she sa
ys.
“Yeah, but can you drive it?”
“I parked it in here, didn’t I? Took it from the distribution center next door.”
It’s clear this isn’t some hastily thrown-together plan. The logistics are sound, but there are more than a few complications that Matt can think of. “Okay, let’s back up a little. What do you think’s going to happen when you rock up outside the city in this thing? Are you going to wait at some prearranged point for everyone to get on board like you’re taking a frigging coach party to the beach?”
“That’s where we want your help. Our people are already waiting at a rendezvous point. We’ll get the lorry in and out quick. Literally a couple of minutes. We rock up, as you put it, we load up, and we fuck off.”
“And when is this going to happen?”
“When it’s time. Can’t be any more specific than that. We need to judge it just right so that there’s enough going on in town so that we can get away without attracting too much attention, but not so much grief that we’re stopped from getting out. We’re only going to get one shot at this.”
“So are you in?” Jayce asks.
Matt’s pacing. He nervously circles the truck, making them wait although he already knows what he wants to do. He doesn’t think there’s any alternative. He wants to keep Jen safe and, with the best will in the world, there’s little chance of that happening in the city or anywhere out in the war-torn wilderness. He thinks this place might just be the salvation he’s been too scared to start looking for.
“Fuck it, I’m in,” he tells them.
30
A family meeting in the kitchen. Late. Dark. Mrs. Walker’s kids are asleep in the room next door, but there’ll be no sleeping in the rest of the house tonight. Matt’s just given them a no-frills, spoiler-free version of Franklin’s plan. He’s told them about the safe zone he visited earlier today. They’re conflicted; trapped between horror and hope.
“You promised me you wouldn’t go out there again,” Jen says.
“Yeah, and I also promised I’d keep you safe.”
“And you expect us to buy into this bullshit?” Jason says. “An underground paradise.”
“Believe me, it’s no paradise, and I don’t expect anything from any of you,” Matt answers quickly. “I’m offering us all a potential way out. I think it’s the best option for all of us. I also think it’s probably the only option, if I’m honest.”
Jen doesn’t look convinced. She’s sitting opposite, chewing her nails, just staring at him. “I can’t do it.”
“You can. You have to.”
“I can’t go out there.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, love, you know that.”
Mrs. Walker has her head in her hands, massaging her temples. She’s been looking down at the table since this impromptu meeting began. She’s exhausted. Face drawn. Graying hair scraped back. “You’re seriously suggesting I take my children out into a war zone?”
“No, I’m suggesting we take them through a war zone to get to a place of safety. Look, I know how this sounds, but—”
“You’re telling me you think being out there is safer than being in here?”
“Yes, and you’re still working on the assumption that the city is safer than anywhere else.”
“It is.”
“At the moment, perhaps, but there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way. Listen, we just need to—”
“You’re seriously telling me I should trust you and take my children away from the safety of this house and take them who knows where to hide underground in a building for what could be months? Years even?”
“Like I said, I know how it sounds. Fact is, though, that’s what’s on offer. You come up with a viable alternative and I’m all ears.”
“I don’t think I can do it,” Jen says again, her nervousness increasing.
“You can,” he tells her, trying not to let his frustration show. “You have to. And yes, Mrs. Walker, the same goes for you and your kids. If we want to have any chance of staying alive, we need to leave. Wait long enough and this place will be as much a war zone as everywhere else.”
“When do we go?” Jason asks.
“Don’t know yet. We’ll know when the time’s right.”
Mrs. Walker’s still not buying it. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Matthew, I just don’t know if I believe you enough to be prepared to risk my children’s lives.”
“You’ll be risking far more by staying put. At least this gives us a fighting chance.”
“Why does it always have to be about fighting?”
“Figure of speech.”
“Or a Freudian slip? You’ve not said anything to convince me. We’re safe here, as far as I can see. Protected. I’ve seen you getting ready to board the doors and windows up and make the house more secure. Why should we give all of this up?”
Matt looks around the table at the faces staring back at him. “Okay, I’ll level with you. There’s something else you need to know. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think there was any point. Maybe I thought that if I didn’t tell you how bad things are, that you’d be able to make a decision without feeling pressured or coerced.”
“Cut the crap, Matthew, and tell us everything,” Mrs. Walker demands.
So he does.
“This camp’s overfull, you know that much already. You also know that there’s no more food. There’s not a lot of water, either, apart from the standing rainwater, and I wouldn’t recommend you drinking that. I haven’t seen a working standpipe in days.”
“Just tell us what we need to know,” Jason says.
“It’s still early in the season, and there’s every chance the temperature will increase again. With the heat and humidity, there’s probably going to be more chance of disease.”
“Not if we stay here in isolation,” Jen interrupts, clutching at straws.
“What you probably haven’t realized because you’ve been locked away in here, is that the military support looking after us all in this camp has reduced massively. They’ve pretty much all gone. Given us up as a lost cause. We’re being left to our own devices, and add the lack of food and water and potential hygiene issues into the mix, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Yes, but when the soldiers get rid of the Haters, we’ll be able to leave the city safely,” Mrs. Walker argues. “We should just wait a while longer.”
Matt tries not to lose his calm. “If they get rid of the Haters. We don’t have any real idea what’s going on out there. All we know is what we can see, because all communication channels are broken. We don’t know what’s happening in other parts of the country or other parts of the world and because we don’t know, hunkering down somewhere safe is the best option for all of us right now. The place they took me to today is isolated and it has supplies. Enough for everyone.”
Mrs. Walker’s not listening. “I think we should stay here.”
“Have you not heard a word I’ve said?”
“Yes, but I’m still not convinced.”
“The Haters are closer than you think. They’re massing outside the city in huge numbers, just waiting for the camp to be compromised. We saw them, didn’t we, Jason?”
“Yeah … I mean, it looked like Haters, but—”
“Cut the crap. We were on the roof of the Royal Midlands Hospital and we saw Haters gathering out beyond No Man’s Land. I saw it again today on the opposite side of town. More of them. Hundreds more. Thousands.”
“And are they going to attack?” Jen asks, terror writ large across her face.
“They might, but not yet. They’re waiting because they know at some point the shit’s going to hit the fan in here. The camp will implode before it explodes, I think. Fact is, we’re under siege, and as soon as we’re compromised, they’ll strike.”
“So you’re saying we’re fucked whatever happens?” Jason says.
Now Jen’s in tears. Mrs. Walker’s struggling to keep herself toge
ther. Jason looks bizarrely angry, like it’s all Matt’s fault. Matt’s exasperated. “You know as well as I do that this is our only option. I can get us out of here and past the Haters to the safe place. We might need to leave tomorrow, but it might not be for another month or more. All I want you to do is get ready to leave here the second I give you the word.”
31
On Franklin’s orders, Matt returns to the convent next morning to work. Franklin and Jayce want him close. He’d rather be just about anywhere else, but he knows that, for now at least, it has to be this way.
In the few days since he was last here, the place has changed dramatically. His natural assumption was that more CDF fighters would have wound up here, but that’s not proved to be the case. The convent feels almost as deserted as the overrun CDF compound. The recent floodwaters have swept through the surrounding area leaving much of it clear and yet, unusually, no one’s moved back to reclaim the space. It’s almost like the population senses there’s something not right about what goes on here, like they’re keeping their distance for fear of contamination.
Volunteers and soldiers alike are thin on the ground and Matt’s roped into helping Joseph. One of the Haters almost broke her bonds last night. She’s tied to the bed again now, tranquilized with industrial-strength meds, but in the short time she was loose she made a real mess of her bedroom/cell. Joseph and Matt are working together to clean it, tiptoeing around her semiconscious body. “Her name’s Diane,” Joseph says, gesturing at the prisoner. “That’s about all we know. She was brought in a couple of days ago. It’s important to remember that many of these people are unwilling victims of this god-awful war, same as we are. Okay, so they’re aggressive and capable of doing bloody terrible things, but I believe they must want the fighting over as much as we do.”
“You still think that?”
“I do. I’ve studied their behavior, same as you. I couldn’t do any of this if I didn’t understand them.”
“Yeah, but there’s understanding and understanding, isn’t there? I watched them and learned from them so I could avoid being killed, not because I want to know what makes them tick.”
