by Devon Ford
Slowly she looked around, fearful that whoever was guarding her was watching and waiting for her to make a move so that they had an excuse to kill her.
She saw nobody.
As carefully as she could, she lifted one stiff leg over the central transmission tunnel, followed by the other, as she slid herself over to the driver’s seat. The sudden stab of familiarity hit her then, and she realised she was in their Land Rover. Too exhausted, too frightened and half insensible from her treatment, she remembered that there should have been three others with her.
All warnings from her subconscious via the parrot were forgotten, and she started the engine. Not waiting the find out if the engine sparking into life had attracted any attention, she forced her left foot onto the clutch, snatched a gear with her left hand, and planted the throttle to drive away.
Dropping the binoculars to hang on the cord around his neck, Leo turned to Sabine and smiled.
It was not a warm smile, she doubted he was capable of genuine emotions, but she gathered that he intended it to be.
“Bite, little fishes,” he growled.
STAND READY
Inside Sanctuary was a buzz of activity. Of the contingent originally from their inland farm who had migrated to the coast in order to bolster the fishing strength over the winter, a dozen were chosen to be issued with, and trained in the basic use of, some brand new assault rifles.
The previously peaceful pacifists took the news well with no exceptions, willing volunteers all, and although none felt as though they would find themselves in peril they were happy enough to fire an entire magazine over the sea in single shots under tuition from Mitch, Leah and Dan before being given two full magazines and sent home. They would soon have to resume the planting cycle of vegetables and other crops, just as they had done the previous year.
Dan marvelled at this and wondered if he hadn’t taken charge of their old group back home, if the others still there would have formed such a well-structured cooperative system without instruction. Shaking that away as an irrelevance, he watched as the relatively large group walked up the approach road inland to head to their homes and loved ones. Soon, the flow of supplies would begin to reverse and they would see new harvests of fruit, vegetables and other stuff he didn’t know how to grow coming to the impenetrable fortress.
The town’s defences were set, and he had even allowed test firing of both heavy machine guns. They worked, and that was all he needed to know. They could hardly afford to expend the rare ammunition unless they were forced to defend themselves. The anti-tank rockets were a matter for much discussion, and it had been agreed that they would only be used in dire emergencies by people who knew what they were doing. Which, if he really thought about it, was absolutely nobody; they were all pretty much making this up on the spot.
Polly was in the process of forming a guard rota, but seeing as most of the firearms-capable residents were from Dan’s group she was trying to organise more from the town’s population to volunteer.
Deciding that it was time, he eventually made the back-breaking climb to the fort and resupply the defenders who spent much of their time in the clouds, given the poor weather at that time of year. Briefly discussing the best way to carry the arms and ammunition up the intensely steep stone staircase, it was quickly decided that Neil would wait at the foot of the cliffs on the approach road and attach a bundle to the rope they planned to drop from the parapets when they arrived.
Stripping down to his t-shirt and equipment vest and making sure they all carried a bottle of water, Dan set off with Ash behind him. Leah and Mitch followed, along with a couple others rostered to swap with the existing defenders and allow for some time off. One of these was carrying a large backpack of personal items, and since he had asked to be sent to the fort to save his embarrassment, Dan had seen or heard nothing of Olivier.
Standing at the bottom and looking up, the dark shaft revealed only a pinprick of light at the top. He knew that the pinprick was in fact a full-sized door, and the impossibly small size of it betrayed just how far away they were. Adjusting the grip on his new rifle in his left hand, he shifted the weight of the long coil of rope over his right shoulder.
Head down, arse up, he heard barked from the furthest recesses of his memory, back to when he struggled as a teenaged recruit on long forced marches.
He smiled at the renewed meaning of that saying, repeated it to himself and thinking each word in turn with every footfall on a new step.
Head.
Down.
Arse.
Up.
Within a few minutes, despite setting an intentionally steady pace, his skin prickled with sweat and his breathing had become rapid. There was a reason, he thought sourly, why people in the gym always looked so exhausted after using the stair machines.
Calling a halt at what he felt must be the quarter way mark, he sat on a step and handed the heavy coil of rope to Mitch who was due to carry it next. Taking long pulls from the tube on the shoulder of his vest and working to empty the small water bladder built into it, he poured some water from his bottle into his palm and let Ash coat his outstretched hand with hot, greasy drool. Wiping his hand on the dog’s coat he was rewarded with a sticky hand now covered in loose fur, and not a dry hand as he intended. Sighing to himself he wiped the hand on the leg of his fading black trousers. The shiny swathe it left dried his hand, but successfully left the residue making his hand feel sticky. Ash seemed unconcerned about spoiling Dan’s laundry schedule, and instead looked at him for more. Deciding that he’d already got covered in dribble, he had little else to lose. Pouring Ash another handful of water, the dog tickled his palm as the massive tongue shot out to retrieve the precious liquid.
Climbing to his feet and feeling the dizzying sensation of gravity pulling him inexorably back to sea level, he wobbled slightly. Glancing back up the staircase with a steadying hand on the rough stone wall, he felt that he may have underestimated the distance covered.
Repeating his new mantra over and over in his head, he led the group upwards until, many minutes and three more stops later, they emerged wheezing and sweating into the cold sunlight.
They were in the sky, and the view was unparalleled to anything he had ever seen before in his life.
“That is why… they don’t walk… to work every day,” Mitch said between big lungfuls of air before drinking from a bottle and draining it. Although fit enough and certainly fitter than the average person, Dan, Mitch and Leah were in need of a quiet place to sit down for five minutes before being able to think clearly or speak. It was not only the leg-cramping, lung-bursting climb but the rapid increase in altitude which combined to temporarily ruin them.
A bowl of water was brought for Ash by a young Frenchman, little more than a boy really, who regarded the big dog with fond eyes. Ash, capricious as ever, returned the admiration as the boy had brought him something.
As an instant character judge the dog’s instincts were unmatched, unless someone brought him food then that judgement became clouded.
Greeting the defenders, which were – to Dan’s mind – too few to make any real defensive difference, he toured the ramparts which were in good repair and obviously kept clean and clear. There was an assortment of weapons on display, none of which were much use apart from one impressive hunting rifle with a large optic. The owner of that gun sported a huge moustache and spoke no English, but through a translator Dan learned a little about him and he felt reassured that the owner was as capable as his gun.
The long rope was linked to two others by sturdy knots and cast hard over the wall where it sailed through the air and fell to whiplash against the stone cliff face below. Neil’s frantic and exaggerated waving, as reported through a watcher using a rifle scope, meant that more rope had to be found as it was not long enough. A brief pause until a long length of chain was found gave time for awkward silences, but eventually their tether was fixed to a large bundle containing the ten new rifles destined for use in the
fort.
The defenders were assembled and taught the basics of how to handle, fire, reload and clear the weapon in the highly unlikely event of a jam, whilst below the first of three more bundles containing ammunition and other supplies were being hauled skywards.
Dan, Leah and Mitch spent the remainder of the morning working with them to ensure they were comfortable with the guns. Neil’s final package included the small radio set complete with battery pack and the car alternator charging system they had pioneered in post-apocalyptic France. This allowed two-way communication with the gatehouse, where similar sets were proudly in place to speak to the sea-facing gun battery, the watchtower and now the fort.
As the last package inched its way up the cliff face, someone spoke in urgent French and grabbed Dan’s attention. He did not understand the words, but he understood the tone.
Trouble.
Running over to the fire step and leaning out to look down, despite his feelings of discomfort with heights, Dan raised his weapon to use the telescopic sight. Seeing Neil retreating at speed towards the gate was the first activity his scope found, and he panned the barrel to his right to find the cause of the sudden panic.
The moustached man said a single word which Dan did understand, even though he saw it as soon as his brain translated what he heard.
“Voiture.”
There was indeed a car. It was instantly familiar, yet so out of place that it couldn’t possibly be there. No matter how hard Dan looked at it as he followed its progress through the optic, he could not deny that it was really there. He even recognised the custom modifications Neil had made to it by adding an extra fuel tank to the roof.
“That’s impossible,” he said aloud as he was flanked by Leah who also took aim with her own gun to see the approaching vehicle.
Leah gasped but said nothing. She knew why Dan was so incredulous.
The last time they saw that Land Rover, they were sailing away from the south coast of England.
“Simon?” Mitch said incredulously from Dan’s left, where he too used his new rifle’s scope to magnify the image. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
Nobody had an answer, but all three made for the stairs to find out.
It came to Dan’s mind that anyone who believed going down stairs was easier than going up them, was an idiot. They were an idiot who had never even dreamt of a staircase as big as this, either.
Not only did each downward step cause their already burning leg muscles to ache more, the fear of losing his footing made the experience infinitely more stressful; tripping down those stairs would almost certainly result in a mild case of death.
He reached the bottom ahead of the others and jumped the last few steps to land with both feet. Hitting the deck heavily and biting his tongue in the process, he realised that his dead legs were not going to forgive him for that stupidity as both had collapsed on impact.
Forcing himself unsteadily upright he heard a question shouted from behind, but had no breath to answer that he was fine and merely waved an exhausted hand to signify that he wasn’t damaged.
Deciding against any more attempts to run, he hobbled as fast as he could manage towards the gatehouse.
From behind the heavy wooden doors he could hear the unmistakable tone of the diesel engine, and unthinkingly threw the heavy locking bar out of position to open the gateway.
“WAIT!” bawled a voice from behind him, making him pause briefly and reassess. His brain could conjure no conceivable reason for their old vehicle to be there, nor how it crossed the channel, or how it had found them despite the thousands of miles they had covered in between.
Deciding that he needed answers to these questions more than he needed to wait, he threw open the door and froze.
Twenty feet away, sat stock still behind the wheel, were the wide eyes and greasy blonde hair of Lexi.
UNTOLD DAMAGE
Later, much later, Dan’s mind wandered to consider just how autonomous driving was. Like riding a bike. Even when someone was catatonic, dehydrated, and completely absent from the world they could still operate the controls as though they were extensions of themselves. That thought seemed almost irrelevant, like a self-imposed distraction designed to protect the mind from the horrors it had witnessed.
It had taken him near on thirty seconds to come to terms that he was actually facing the young woman he had left in England so many months ago. She was, undeniably, right there in front of him, but he had no idea how any of the necessary factors to make it possible for her to be here had come to pass. She sat behind the wheel, eyes wide and knuckles white as her bony hands gripped the worn leather. The engine idled until the foot holding down the clutch gave way and the car jolted forward to stall and rolled until her instincts cut in again and her right foot stabbed onto the brake. Dan had leapt aside, and pulled open the driver’s door.
The girl inside didn’t respond or even turn to look at him as he reached over her to pull on the handbrake.
The first thing to hit him was the smell. She clearly hadn’t washed in a long time, but it was more her actions – or lack of actions – which really disturbed him.
“Lex,” he said, half as a question and half as a statement of disbelief. She didn’t respond.
“Lexi,” he said more intensely, shaking her right arm gently.
Her breathing changed, like she had awoken or was startled, and she switched her gaze down to meet Dan’s eyes.
He gasped involuntarily. If the eyes are a window to the soul, then he stared through the window into emptiness. He saw glassy, bloodshot orbs devoid of all life shining back at him. Shaking her arm again he repeated her name with intensity as though he could will her to return to the present. For a flash she was back, the glassiness in her eyes turning instantly to tears as the floodgates opened.
Collapsing into hysterical sobs she fell from the cab and into his arms. He held her weight easily, feeling her bones through her filthy clothes, and hefted her up to carry her like a child. Negotiating the gap in the heavy gates he bawled for Kate.
Leah, sweating and red-faced from her rapid descent from the fort, stared wide-eyed for a second until she gathered her wits and decided that questions could wait. Turning on her heel she sprinted away to fetch and prepare their paramedic to receive the incoming patient.
Bundling into the main hall and prompting startled looks from the few people present, she scanned the room and saw that Kate was not there. Turning again she ran towards the rooms designated as the medical centre for their community and saw Kate coming from the room. Opening her mouth to ask what was happening, instantly gathering that there was a problem, Leah spoke first and cut her off.
“Lexi’s here. Alone. Dan’s bringing her up, unconscious,” she said, succinct and breathless.
Kate said nothing, other than to mouth, what the fuck? in silent response to the unexpected information. Turning back into the room she selected a cleared space and began to grab the necessary equipment to monitor a patient’s vitals with deft and experienced hands.
Seconds later the door burst open and Dan entered carrying the limp form of the girl nobody expected to see again. Kate’s eyes stung from the acidic aura emanating from her but her professionalism pushed that unwelcome discomfort aside.
“What happened to her?” she asked the room in general.
“Don’t know,” Dan said, breathing hard. “She pulled up at the gates and was catatonic then she passed out.” He was about to tell Kate to check her eyes but she was ahead of him, shining a tiny torch into them and tutting instinctively at how bloodshot they were.
Working fast and smoothly she checked the young woman over and settled back to regard her sleeping form critically.
“She’s exhausted. Literally,” she announced. “Malnourished, dehydrated. The only time I’d see someone like this is when they’ve been trapped somewhere,” she finished as she was inserting a needle in Lexi’s bare arm to flush her body with fluids.
“Or held cap
tive,” Dan said ominously, glancing at Leah. Unbidden, she nodded and turned away heading for the gate to renew the guard.
She issued orders and watched them until they moved with a purpose, albeit an uncomprehending one. Snatching up the radio sets to the tower and the fort in turn she brought their eyes in the sky up to speed and finished with an instruction to stay alert.
Deciding to clear the obstruction in front of their gates she ordered the archway opened and drove the truck carefully through the narrow gateway and into the tight, cobbled streets inside.
The smell inside the cab was bad, forcing Leah to lean out of the window for fresh air. Parking it near to the small docks away from the gatehouse, she killed the engine and glanced around the cab. Something was off, other than the smell.
There was no equipment, no bags, nothing in the car. For people who habitually carried their ‘go’ bags everywhere they went containing the necessary survival equipment should disaster strike, that was just plain weird.
Climbing down from the cab she walked to the rear door and pulled it open, finding a blanket covering a large lump. Whipping it away, she found the source of the smell wasn’t just Lexi.
Under the blanket, swollen faced and horribly bruised, lay an unconscious Paul.
~
All eyes, despite the warnings from Leah, were focussed inside the walls after the commotion she raised on finding Paul. From high on the cliffs looking down onto the fort and the walled town below stood four figures, each looking through binoculars or weapon mounted optics.
“Let’s see how your rot takes now, Sabine,” said the expressionless man in his gruff voice.
“Let them worry for now,” she answered, “then we send them another gift.”
None of the others answered, merely turned away to return to the second phase of their plan.
