16
S'aven was becoming the catalyst for discontentment all over the country. The desolate countryside was suddenly swarming with people fleeing the troubles. As soldiers guarding the remote areas of Britain were called to protect the precious capital, their abandoned posts were consumed by the local gangs and tribes, keen to establish a foothold in their home districts. Those old enough to remember watched the transition with apprehension. The moves being made were almost a replica of those made by the guerrilla movement that sparked the Red Forest wars, and, if the militia remained distracted by the brief uprising in the capital, they would lose their stronghold in the north of the country. The S'aven riot was destined to be quashed, but in its wake would be the potential for another civil catastrophe lasting years.
Army vehicles occupied the main motorway into London, while the opposing lanes transported hundreds away from the city and into the unknown. Some of those seeking refuge would have places to go, perhaps friends in the gangs trying to seize control of the northern territories. Others would be taking their chances, hoping that the darkness outside the south wasn't as menacing as that which had fallen on S'aven. Charlie's vehicle broke away from the throng, taking one of the byroads out into the wilderness.
“This is bad, isn't it?” Rachel said as they detached from the refugees.
“It's about as bad as it gets before war breaks out,” Lulu said from the back. She'd been distant on the journey, and Charlie couldn't blame her. Although they were heading across familiar territory with a mission in sight, Lulu was lost and left with nothing. Her reputation was in pieces. Her club had been breached. Her protection was over. This was the end of an era for S'aven. First Riva Morris, S'aven's first lady, had been murdered, and now its bit on the side was in ruins too.
“We're not far,” he assured her, praying John had kept Roxy alive.
They hit a couple of bends before they reached an overgrown lane. Charlie took it and drove cautiously across the torn-up terrain. He held his breath, knowing the next few seconds would reveal the fate of John and Roxy, and in turn their own. The car struck a dip, and then suddenly there was the old cottage biting into the foliage. The building had no roof, no windows, and the door had been boarded up. It wasn't useable, but there was a working well at the back of the garden, and water was a commodity you couldn't snub.
Charlie parked the car. They'd driven for two hours, and the morning was starting to break, but it was still dark around the cottage, and even the car's beaming headlights did little to dispel the shadows. “Stay inside,” he told them as he got out.
He edged around the house. His steps crunched on debris from the crumbling brickwork no matter how careful he tried to be.
“You know, you could have just sounded the horn. It would have been fucking subtler,” John said from behind him.
Charlie cursed under his breath. Not again. He turned to see his brother leaning against the car bonnet, eyebrow arched. The others were already out of the car, smiling at him like they hadn't just made it out of a war zone.
“What kept you?” John said, a smug smirk briefly touching his lips.
“We had to find a car.”
“And what, you decided to hunt for the biggest piece of shit S'aven had to offer? It's a fucking Fiat.”
Charlie ignored him. “You guys get into any trouble?”
Roxy tossed his cigarette into the dirt. “Nothing we couldn't handle, right, Johnny boy? What about you, Mother? Was Charlie a gentleman? Was he honourable?”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Did you manage to pick up any supplies? Weapons? Anything useful?”
“I got a police baton,” Roxy said. “And, you know, we've got John. He's like a Swiss army knife soldier. Twenty weapons all rolled into one tightly coiled male model.”
That wasn't going to be enough, not for the journey they needed to take. “What about food? Tell me we've at least got something to eat.”
This time Roxy was silent. Charlie looked to his brother, and he could see from John's eyes that they had nothing.
“Hey, we got out with what we could.” Roxy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You're not exactly laden with supplies.”
“So we've got nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep, and nothing to defend ourselves with.” Rachel sighed and drew her arms around herself. “And we're standing in the middle of nowhere while the whole country falls apart. I do love our little adventures.”
“Don't be so cynical, pet. We have got a bag full of money,” Roxy pointed out.
They were right to be uneasy. Charlie and John had traipsed through the wilderness with just the clothes they were wearing before, but it was hard, and they'd been a lot younger. And they weren't witnessing the start of another civil war back then, either.
Angrily, Charlie kicked the car. They were so close. They had money. They had a lead. But there was going to be another delay.
He turned to his brother, knowing the same fire he felt inside was burning even stronger in John. They were so ready to start hunting for Lilly, to wait even a day longer was going to be torture. John raised his brow again and then gently tipped his head. Charlie understood. They had only one path left to take. A final card they'd saved for a rainy day.
“Then we've got no choice,” he said. “Time to head to Blackwater.”
Lulu removed her vibrant purple wig and leant on the bonnet of the car beside John. “Charlie, if you don't need the second car, I could sure use it.”
“What?” Roxy snapped. “What do you mean you could use it? Have you seen it? It looks like a tissue box that's been left out in the rain. You will drive in style with us. No arguments.”
“James, don't be snippy, it doesn't suit you.”
“I might say the same about you and defeatism, Mother.”
She turned away from Roxy. “Please, Charlie, I'm not going to be welcome in a place like Blackwater.”
“Of course you can take the car. It's the least we can do. John will hot-wire it for you.”
“And where the hell are you planning on going?” Roxy folded his arms, pouting like a toddler.
“China.”
Roxy snorted. “You've lost your marbles, you old bat. What the bloody heck do you think you're going to do in China?”
“I have contacts over there. Business contacts who will help me start again.”
“Don't be so fucking ridiculous, woman, what business contacts?”
“Never you mind. Despite what you might think, James Roxton, you don't know everything about that club or me. I've been planning the move for a while now. Of course I never intended to lose Lulu's, but that just means I won't have to train new girls. Those that I can find can come with me. We have border passes, passports. It's time for a fresh start.”
Charlie could see Roxy wavering between petulance and despair. He put his hand on Roxy's shoulder, hoping he was offering the right amount of support and control.
“Do you need help, Lulu?”
Lulu laughed. “Charlie Smith, trouble follows you everywhere you go. No offence, pet, but I'll be much better off without you. All of you.” Still, she embraced him with genuine affection. “Besides, you have something much more important to do. You go after your baby girl, don't worry about an old has-been like me.”
“You're being a total and utter diva, Mother, I hope you realise this.” Roxy turned away.
Next, Lulu embraced Rachel. “And you, my darling, keep your eye on these boys. Mark my words, the only reason they're all standing here now, alive and well, is down to you. Thank you for saving my son. It's a debt I will never be able to repay, but if you ever need anything, you can call on me.”
“Thank you,” Rachel whispered.
Even John got a hug, and although Charlie couldn't hear what was said, he suspected it was a threat about not shooting Roxy again… unless he deserved it. Finally, Lulu turned to her son. These two had been big players in the seedy undercurrent of S'aven, bound together with love and tolerance. But it was cle
ar now their paths were drifting apart. Everything was changing, their relationship was just another casualty.
“Have you finished pouting, James, or would you like a couple more minutes to stomp your feet and throw your toys?”
Roxy grumbled something Charlie couldn't make out.
“Listen to me, my boy, it's time for you to step up and take some responsibility. You're a good boy, even if you try not to be. And it's time for me to go. I don't want to see my town fall. I'm old, too old to keep playing the same games. I want to enjoy what's left of my life, and I have the opportunity to do that. No son that loves his mother would deny her that. Now come here and give me a cuddle before I go.”
Their embrace was long and heartfelt. The bond between the Roxtons had always been strong. Charlie remembered first meeting Lulu and how imposing she had been on her son's life in his younger days. But as she grew wiser and he grew older, their roles reversed, and he became as interfering as she had been. Time apart suited them, but the distance she was suggesting would be hard for them both.
When Roxy pulled away, he was welling up. He waved his mother on and went to take his place in his own vehicle. A few feet would soon be miles. Charlie helped Lulu into her new car and slipped her a couple of notes to ensure she had enough to buy her way to wherever she was heading.
John started the car for Lulu. He removed the snubnose from his ankle and passed it to her. As he closed the door, Charlie felt an abrupt ending come crashing down around them. The world as he had known it, his world with Sarah and Lilly, was now totally over. Darcy was gone. Lulu was gone. S'aven had fallen.
17
An hour after the police had raided Lulu's, rumours echoed through the city of a massacre at Riva Morris' place. The great Riva was dead; although nobody had seen her body, her absence was all the proof they needed. Riva had brought about stability in S'aven, nurturing her town into something strong and proud and defiant against London's elite. Her death left a growing vacuum that was transforming the very essence of Safe Haven. She had taught her people they were worth more than what London credited them with. She had given them identity, pride, ambition, martyrdom.
Soon, once-faceless men and women were speaking out and taking leadership roles in their little town. Riva's armed forces were joining the stronger groups, adding a professionalism that would threaten the walled-in government. Riva had made her small kingdom so strong, it would become her legacy.
The government militia had started to pre-empt the threat, protecting the capital and keeping the blockade and curfew in place through ruthless enforcement. But they were short-sighted and underestimated their enemy. The government, and those within its command, believed that the people on the outside wanted to get in, that London, with its mystique and luxury, was a coveted prize for the poverty-stricken. It wasn't. Those in S'aven; those in the north, in the west, in the east; those segregated, left to starve, left to suffer—those people didn't want in. They wanted redemption.
There were still Londoners on the wrong side of the fence, and they were starting to stand out. With Lulu's obliterated in the riots, there were few places left to hide. The curfew forced people inside, it forced them to go underground, and when they did, those looking to make a profit started whispering. From building to building, street to street, the Londoners were being ratted out. They were no longer welcome.
In their little abandoned station, Mark and Adams kept themselves locked away. It wasn't worth the risk trying to cross back over, even though the gates were offering trapped London residents a one-hour window at first light. Adams made them stay put, and Mark was more than comfortable with the decision. The last thing they needed was to be caught running to safety only to have the door slam closed in their faces.
His comfort was helped by the possibility of Agent Stone dropping by again too. Although he hadn't seen either of their superiors since the police station, he had received two personal messages from Agent Stone, both of which he'd kept to himself. The first had just been a quick enquiry about where he was staying and a warning to stay hidden. The second was more personal. Thinking about you, stay safe.
Whenever Mark got the chance, he'd read the second message again, knowing it meant so much more.
“Hey, look at this.” Adams nudged him, drawing him back to the control room and a hazy computer screen. “Two girls have been found dead. Both of them washed up within a few days of each other on the riverbank.”
Adams pressed closer to the screen, his eyesight failing him.
“One of the girls was the daughter of the sheriff in Blackwater. That explains why they flagged it up on their system, they want this bastard caught. Same type of deaths as before too. No bruising on the external neck. It's him. That's where he is.” Adams rose, suddenly invigorated.
“Where are we going?”
“Blackwater. Come on, before he leaves. Bring everything we have, we're going to need it.”
“Should I call Agent Stone?” Mark said, unable to disguise the hopefulness in his voice.
Adams' lurched forward, as though he'd been winded. He turned to Mark, an unusually stern look on his face. “You don't call in HQ unless you've got a Reacher in custody, ready to be shipped. Ever. You understand, don't you, Bellamy? They're not here to help us or work with us. They collect our prisoners, and, if we're lucky, they do it without much fuss and bother.”
Mark said nothing. Agent Stone had made it clear she wanted them to work together, and he couldn't help but wonder what they would accomplish if they were given more than an outdated, cramped office and limited facilities. The Institute brought in hundreds of Reachers. They were experts. It didn't make any sense to keep them out of the loop.
“The sooner we get out of this place the better. I'm going to get a vehicle sorted. You get things packed up. We'll leave straight away.”
Mark nodded and waited for Adams to leave. As soon as the door closed, he grabbed his phone and called Agent Stone. She picked up after the second ring.
“Hey, it's me,” he said, then cringed when he realised she probably didn't recognise the sound of his voice. They barely knew each other, and as intense as those snatched moments were for him, he didn't know if she felt it too.
“Mark?”
His heart skipped a beat.
“Is everything okay?”
He took a breath to calm himself and try to sound professional. “There's been another murder. Our Reacher, the one we were hunting, we think he's in Blackwater. We're moving out now.”
“Do you think it's Charlie Smith?”
“I don't know. It could be.”
“Be careful, Mark. If it is, he's dangerous. And keep me posted. I'm here if you need me. One call and I'll bring the cavalry. We have people up there, we can reach you quickly. Don't take any risks.”
The keypad outside started to chime. Adams was coming back.
“Thank you. I've got to go.”
“Mark, I mean it. Be careful. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you.”
With a growing fuzziness in his stomach, he hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket before Adams caught him.
“There's no chance we're getting out of here easily. Roads are blocked and no vehicles nearby. But they've opened the train station so people can get out of the city. Couple of hours in a cramped carriage and we'll be there.”
Mark nodded, trying to keep the smile from his face.
* * *
A single train line connected the north and south of the country. The sporadic trains were normally filled with people trying their luck in S'aven, but the troubles had forced a turnaround. Now the platforms were heaving with refugees desperate to get away before the real problems began. The line connected the country's strategic towns and cities, but already these places were beginning to refuse visitors looking for refuge. Travellers were taking a risk, abandoning their homes and lives in the hope somebody northward would take them in.
The five-carriage train wouldn't hold everyone,
and Mark and Adams had to fight for their corner. Adams pushed on ahead, but Mark found himself trapped at the back of the second carriage. A mother and her three children wedged themselves around him before another family enclosed them all. The heat was already becoming unbearable. So many bodies trapped in such small metal containers. Mark could feel the air growing thin. He pressed himself against the wall of the coach as the train started to move. If the train tipped or crashed they'd all be crushed, but the thought was a comforting distraction from his real concerns.
This was the first time since being incarcerated that he'd left S'aven and London. He'd never been further than the S'aven wasteland, nor had he any desire to. Sure, there were pockets of civilisation running like vertebrae along the country's spine, but there were also huge cancerous tumours throughout her body. Somewhere among them was a dangerous Reacher capable of killing women with the power of his mind. Somewhere out there was Rachel.
The train rolled along the track, exposing ruined towns and cities that once thrived with industry and population. It was a brutal reminder of the potential awaiting S'aven and London. War had devastated entire counties, turning communities into piles of rubble in less than a year. The train line cut through it all, a surgical scar from a futile cosmetic repairing of civility.
Somehow Rachel had survived out here through a murderous winter. And continued to survive. To prosper, even. Would he be able to do the same? He didn't think so. But then he didn't have powers. He thought of her curled up alongside Charlie Smith, and his stomach clenched. He'd been good to her. He worked hard to give her a place to live, food to eat. But it wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, and knowing that hurt more than he ever thought possible.
The journey was long and arduous. Hundreds of people—mostly families—battled the heat and cramped conditions. When the train reached Blackwater, the relief came out in a collective sigh as the train exhaled a carriage of passengers into Blackwater station before carrying on north. There they were met by the local law enforcement, ready to take a cut from those wanting to stay and a bigger cut from those intent on leaving.
Every Storm Breaks (Reachers Book 3) Page 10
