All Roads End Here

by David Moody

  “Does he believe the shit he’s spouting?”

  “Completely. And it is shit, I’m under no illusions.”

  “So why are you involved?”

  “Same as you, I reckon. Because right now this feels like my only chance of staying alive. Unlike you, I don’t have anyone else left worth caring about. I’m a selfish fucker and I make no apology for it. I just don’t want to die, that’s what it boils down to.”

  Franklin suddenly seems freer with his words. More honest. Less aggressive.

  “So does any of what you’ve seen change your mind?” Jayce asks Matt.

  “Do they know what you are?”

  “Nope. And keep your voice down because we want it to stay that way, right?”

  “Sure. So what’s your motive, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “You still think I’m going to screw you all over.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  “My stepbrother is down here, as it happens. My dad slept around, and Nathan was the result. He’s eight years old and he’s an absolute little shit, but right now he’s all I’ve got left.”

  “Now you answer her question,” Franklin says. “Does any of what you’ve heard change your mind?”

  Matt shakes his head. “Not at all. Way I see it, my options are still exactly the same regardless of whether or not your man Darren is insane. I can get out of the city and take my chances in the wilderness and risk being hunted down by Haters, or I can sit tight at home and wait to be killed when the shit hits the fan in the camp. Or I can hide out in the middle of nowhere with all you folks and have a slight chance of keeping Jen safe and us not dying.”

  “Yep, that’s about it.”

  “I’m not sold on the ‘new start for humanity’ bullshit, though. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Neither are we. It’s not a deal-breaker.”

  “You just need to get ready and stay ready,” Franklin tells him. “Prime your girl and whoever else you’re bringing along, and keep working in the convent so we don’t get that lot asking awkward questions. When the time’s right we’ll take one of their vehicles, bring it here and pick up a welcome party, then get them over to the base.”

  “Then you and me bring the truck back to the camp,” Jayce continues. “We load up the rest of this lot, then get the fuck out of Dodge.”

  “We’re only ever going to get one shot at this,” Franklin tells him. He points at Jayce. “She’ll drive, because having her behind the wheel is just about the only way we’ll get through the Haters in one piece. You keep us moving and I’ll keep us safe. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  33

  “They brought this fella in a few days back, just before the heavens opened,” Joseph says, peering into the cell through the half-open door.

  “You’re still bringing fresh Haters in, even now?”

  “Fresh? Don’t talk about them like they’re dead meat, Matthew. They’re people, just like us. Anyway, why wouldn’t we be?”

  “Forgive me, it’s just that this place seems a lot quieter than when I first arrived.”

  “Things are changing by the day. It’s a struggle to keep up sometimes. But you have to, you understand me? You have to stay ahead of the curve.”

  Matt feels uneasy this morning, here under false pretenses, but Joseph too seems different. He’s not himself. Jittery. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Joseph immediately replies, his voice unexpectedly brusque.

  “I can finish up here if you want. If the Hater’s still sedated then I could—”

  “Don’t be so damn naive. You really think you’re qualified to be on your own with one of them yet? You think you have the ability to be able to reason with the unreasonable, to hold your nerve and put your neck on the chopping block like I do day after day after day?”

  “Jesus, Joseph, I was only offering to help. I’m not the enemy here. I’ll go find something else to do if it’s that big a deal.”

  “You do that.”

  Matt turns his back but he’s only gone a few steps before Joseph calls him back.

  “Matthew, I’m sorry,” he says.

  “So are you going to tell me why you’re acting so shitty this morning?”

  Joseph waits. Thinks. Checks the landing is clear. “Can I trust you?”

  “Of course you can,” he answers without hesitation. Joseph shakes his head.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Put it this way, you can trust me as much as you can trust anyone these days. You can trust me because I keep coming back.” Matt decides to engage full-on bullshit mode. “There’s nothing for me here except a lot of risk and the chance of taking a little food and water back to my girl, but I want to learn more about what you’re doing here. I’ll be honest, I’m far from convinced of your reasons and your methods, but the one thing I’m sure of is that right now you’re the only one still trying anything different. I’ve survived as long as I have by avoiding trouble. I think you’re doing the same thing, just going about it in a different way.”

  Joseph chews over Matt’s words, then makes his decision. “Come with me,” he says.

  He takes Matt to a vacant cell and shuts the door. Doing everything he can to remain outwardly calm, Matt’s nervous as hell. He can’t afford to get mixed up in any more trouble.

  “There’s something going on here.”

  Matt swallows hard. “What do you mean?”

  Joseph answers in hushed tones. “I can’t be sure, but I think some of the military have an ulterior motive for staying.”

  “What, other than staying alive?”

  “It’s more than that. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s since Estelle left. Look, just call it a hunch, a gut feeling. I don’t have anything more to go on than that. Most of the CDF cleared out while they could. I don’t know why the others have stayed behind.”

  “Who do you suspect?”

  “I don’t know for sure … Franklin, maybe. Some of the troops.”

  “Jayce?”

  “Do you know about Jayce?”

  “That she’s a Hater? Yes.”

  “She’s proof positive that what we’re doing here works. No, she’s completely on the level. I know that girl inside and out, better than she knows herself. She couldn’t hide anything from me if she tried.”

  “So what do you think’s going on?”

  “I’m under no illusions as to how quickly this camp is disintegrating. This place remains relatively secure and not much overlooked. It’s forgotten and tucked away, which I guess is the main reason I’ve been able to get on with my work here.”

  He pauses. “Go on,” Matt urges.

  “Franklin and the others … they had an opportunity to leave, and they didn’t take it. They seem almost too keen to be left behind, does that make any sense?”

  “Not really. You’re going to have to give me more to go on than that.”

  “I think they have their eyes on this place. Get rid of me and get rid of the Haters, keep hold of the remaining stockpiles of supplies and weapons we have here, then wait for the rest of the camp to burn itself out.”

  Matt bites his lip. If only Joseph knew how close he was. “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because you’re an outsider. And because I know Franklin can’t stand the sight of you. I had to speak to someone, and you’re the safest bet.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “What can I do? I’ve felt like this for a while now, but I can’t risk what I’m doing being jeopardized. It’s too important, you understand? The fact they abandoned their main base in the city and moved everything here was proof positive I’m right.”

  “I can see that now,” Matt lies.

  “Fortunately I do have some support in other quarters.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. There’s no doubt the Civil Defense Force is becoming less effective by the day, but there are still remn
ants of an overall command structure in place. I have contacts, and they listen to me. I’ve already reported my concerns.”

  Again, Matt has to force himself not to show any emotion.

  “What was their response?”

  “They’re going to do everything in their power to enable my work here to continue.”

  “How?”

  Joseph shrugs. “I’m waiting to hear. Until then, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, and hopefully their response will come in time. They know how important this is. I’ve got support at the highest level—the highest level that I know is still functional, anyway. You have to understand, what’s happening here is too big for us to allow it to fail, Matthew. Everything and everyone else is expendable, you and me and the rest of this camp included.”

  34

  Joseph’s prayers are answered unexpectedly next afternoon. Matt’s out in the courtyard with Jayce. They’re cleaning soiled sheets in rainwater that’s been collected in a water butt when the air is filled with noise. Though never quiet, the city-camp has a distinctive and relatively constant sound track which is easy to become accustomed to; the noise of the people, their movements and malaise, forms a steady, ever-present background drone. Matt’s innate desire to stay alive means he’s attuned to even the slightest change in frequency or pitch, reacting before most people have even looked up.

  “Hear that?” he asks Jayce.

  “I hear nothing.”

  At first it’s just a subtle variation in the crowd noise, but it’s moving, getting closer like a slowly approaching train, definitely heading in this direction. Matt pictures people parting like they did when he rode the garbage truck through town, diving out of the way. But there’s barely been any traffic on the clogged-up roads around here over the last couple of weeks, so what the hell is it that’s coming toward them?

  The muted roar of engines grows over the hubbub, and now Jayce hears it clearly. The vehicles—because there’s no question there’s more than one—pull up outside the convent gates. Before anyone else can react, Joseph’s already there. He slides the gate open and lets them in.

  “Where’s Franklin?” Matt asks Jayce.

  “No idea. I’ll find him. You stay here.”

  Here is the last place Matt wants to stay. “You think that’s such a good idea?”

  “Yes. Don’t alert any suspicions. You said Joseph trusts you, so let him see that he’s right. Stick with him. Let him think you’re on-side and find out what the fuck this is about.”

  Matt would try and argue, but Jayce has already gone. He knows she’s right, and he also knows that to disappear now would make him look as suspect as he suddenly feels.

  Three vehicles enter the compound: two jeeps with a grubby but remarkably ordinary-looking sedan wedged between them. Times past, a Ford Mondeo like this would have been ten-a-penny—a nondescript sales rep’s car you’d see in large numbers on virtually any UK road. Matt can’t remember the last time he saw a car like this in use. It’s been months.

  Joseph has quickly closed the gates again and is now standing a short distance away from the Mondeo. Matt feels obliged to show his feigned support, and he moves to stand alongside the other man, shoulder to shoulder. “What is this?” he asks.

  “Support and protection, I hope,” Joseph replies.

  There are three soldiers in each of the jeeps, and one driving the Mondeo. The Mondeo driver gets out and walks around to them. Joseph tries to introduce himself but he’s trying to talk to the monkey, not the organ grinder, and his approach is rebuffed. The soldier opens up the back of the car, allowing an unimposing and diminutive figure to emerge out into the light. The respect being afforded to this little gentleman leaves Matt in no doubt whatsoever that he must be the main man. He straightens himself up, runs his fingers through his short, graying hair, then strides over to Joseph and Matt. He looks at both of them. “Which one of you is Joseph Mallon?”

  “That’s me,” Joseph immediately answers, moving forward and offering his hand. His normally booming voice sounds disconcertingly unsure.

  “Your message was passed to me, Joseph, thank you. You did absolutely the right thing. We can’t let anything get in the way of what you’re doing here.”

  “Thank you…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m General Sahota.”

  “Pleased to meet you, General. Very pleased.”

  “Good. And who’s this?”

  “This is Matthew Dunne. He’s been assisting me.”

  Sahota and Matt shake hands. “Good to meet you, General,” Matt says, though right now this feels anything but good.

  “Likewise,” Sahota replies with a bank manager’s grin writ large across his face. “Thank you for all the support you’ve been giving to Joseph. From what I hear he’s a very modest man. I don’t believe even he’s fully aware of the potential impact his work will have. It could change the entire direction of this war.”

  “I’ve no doubt.”

  Sahota turns to address Joseph directly again. “How many subjects do you have here at the moment?”

  “Four.”

  “And how many have passed through your doors in total?”

  “Another seven.”

  “All successfully treated?”

  “All but one.”

  “Yes, I did hear something about that. There will always be those who don’t suit your approach.”

  “It’s a huge disappointment when that happens.”

  “I’m sure it is. I know you’ll have done your best, though.”

  It occurs to Matt that small talk is a dying art, because the three of them are now standing looking at each other, not knowing what to say. Sahota’s guards constantly survey their new surroundings, automatic rifles held ready but pointing down. Several of the few remaining CDF soldiers already posted at the convent have appeared to check out the new arrivals. Matt senses a bragging contest brewing: my gun’s bigger than yours …

  “Well this is all very lovely,” the general says. “I expect you need to get back to your work, Joseph.”

  “I should do, yes.”

  Sahota goes to walk toward the main convent building, then, almost as an afterthought, turns back to face Joseph and Matt again. “I’m going to be staying here for a while. A few days at least. I’ll need a room.”

  “You can have Estelle’s old office. Here, let me show you the way.”

  With that Joseph leads General Sahota into the building. His armed guards remain outside. Keen to put some distance between himself and all the weapons which are currently on display, Matt returns to the laundry work he was doing, scrubbing at a couple more soiled bedsheets before hanging them out to dry. He saves the water, ready for it to be used again tomorrow.

  He’s carrying the bucket over to one of the store buildings when Jayce jumps out at him from behind a wall. “Christ’s sake, Jayce,” he says, heart thumping. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Not interested. If you see Franklin, tell him to meet me by KFC.”

  “Tell him yourself.”

  “I can’t. I’m leaving.”

  “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

  “Stupid fucking question. What do you think I mean? I can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?”

  “That guy you were just talking to.”

  “General Sahota?”

  “Whatever.”

  “What about him?”

  “Do you know anything about him? Did Joseph say where he came from or what he’s here for?

  “No, nothing. He’s CDF top brass, apparently. Why?”

  “Because he’s like me. He’s a Hater.”

  35

  Matt’s only made it halfway home from the convent when he’s jumped in the street. They must have been waiting. They must have seen him leave the convent before today and clocked the fact that he usually goes out carrying more than he took in. He curses his own stupidity, because no one has routines anymore except him. Why didn’t he vary his rou
te or do something else to be less predictable? The fuckers pin him down and rip his rucksack off his back before kicking him in the gut for good measure and leaving him lying in the stinking gutter in several inches of stagnant water. Bastards. He picks himself up and brushes himself down, more annoyed than hurt. He then checks the pockets of his trousers and the inside of his jacket where he’s stored most of his stash. Thank Christ he had some degree of forethought in anticipation of such an attack. His muggers won’t be best pleased when they realize his bag’s a decoy, filled with useless crap. That’s the problem with most people in this place, he reckons. They still don’t understand that they need to think before they act. He knows that’s true, because he can still see the little shits who did him over, and they’ve just been fleeced by a crowd of nasty-looking bastards who are even bigger and hungrier than them.

  Jen’s frantic when he gets home with a black eye and blood down his shirt, but that’s the very least of Matt’s concerns. It takes him a couple of minutes to realize his minor injuries are the lesser of her concerns, too. There’s an awful atmosphere in the house, and it’s deathly quiet, too. Something’s very wrong here.

  “What is it, love?”

  She can’t bring herself to answer. Jason appears in the kitchen doorway. Unusually, the door to the lounge is shut.

  “We didn’t know,” Jason says. “Honest, we didn’t hear a thing. Jen just went in to check everything was all right first thing and…”

  Matt stops listening, because he thinks he already knows where this is going. As he moves closer to the lounge door, Jen backs farther away.

  The smell inside the room is sweet and wrong. The temperature is lower than expected, the silence deafening. Mrs. Walker and her children are lying in bed together, one child either side of their mother, all three of them dead. There are empty medicine packets lying around. “Where the hell did she get all these pills from?” Matt asks, pointlessly shaking an empty plastic tub and equally pointlessly checking the label.