by Tim Flanagan
'Do you think it could be more of Coker's gang?' asked Georgia.
'Maybe. I think we need to be more cautious. If it's more boys from the prison, they may be better armed than before.'
Steven flashed his headlights at Tracker's car then turned into the farm entrance. Tracker must have understood as he stopped his car and reversed back down the road so that he could also drive into the farm.
'What's wrong?' he shouted through the car window at Steven.
'I saw a lorry in the distance coming towards us. It could be more of Coker's boys.'
'Let's hide the cars and keep out of sight of the road just to be safe. I think we should avoid them as much as possible. Coker may have heard about our little run-in with his boys and arranged patrols of the road to Harrogate. The boys knew we were heading to London and may be planning to take our supplies.'
Behind the farmhouse were several barns and outhouses. One seemed to have no sides, just thick iron posts that supported a brown rusty corrugated roof. Beneath it sat a tractor, protected from the rain together with various spare parts. From the amount of moss, rust and cobwebs that covered the tractor, it didn't appear that it had been used for a long time. Steven carefully reversed behind the tractor whilst Georgia gently woke up Annie.
'Stay in the car,' she whispered. 'We could have more trouble.'
Annie nodded. Once Steven and Georgia had got out she locked the doors and windows.
Tracker had managed to position his car behind some stacked hay bales. As Steven and Georgia ran over, they found him lying on his stomach watching the entrance to the farm through a small gap in the evenly stacked hay.
They waited, silently watching, not daring to move despite the straw feeling coarse and itchy through their clothes.
'I can hear something,' whispered Tracker.
They strained their ears, listening intently to the sounds around them. Wind blew in the trees, one of the barns had loose roofing which rattled slightly making a rumbling sound like distant thunder. But, there was also the slow gentle hum of an engine that was getting louder as it drew nearer to the farm. The driver of the lorry was pressing the accelerator just enough to keep the engine turning over whilst moving cautiously along the road.
Steven, Georgia and Tracker watched as the red cab of a lorry slowly emerged from behind the farmhouse and into view. In the driving seat was a middle-aged man with a cap shielding his eyes from the low morning sun. As the lorry edged forward the driver looked intensely into the entrance towards the farmhouse, outhouses and the bales of hay. After several seconds the driver depressed the accelerator and the lorry began to glide past the entrance.
Georgia began to breathe a sigh of relief as the rear of the lorry disappeared from sight.
But then it stopped.
The gears crunched as the lorry was put in reverse and it began to roll back down the road until the cab was level with the entrance once more. Again, the driver looked curiously into the yard. After a few seconds, something in his mind told him to stop and investigate. He reversed the lorry into the entrance, blocking the only way out.
He turned the engine off and banged the flat of his hand against the metal of the cab door twice. On hearing this signal the back doors of the lorry swung open and at least ten people jumped out, their heavy boots sinking into the churned up mud. Georgia looked nervously at them. Every single one was armed with either a shotgun or a hunting rifle.
5. The Farmhouse
The driver stepped out from the cab and went to stand with the others. From their vantage point amongst the hay, Steven, Georgia and Tracker could clearly see the people that had emerged from the rear of the lorry. Each wore waxed leather jackets, thick trousers and sturdy walking boots. Apart from their appearance, there was something else that was different to the boys they had met earlier. Amongst the ten people, three were women and one was a young girl of about twelve. Unless Coker had already begun recruiting women and children, it seemed unlikely that this group was part of the gang from the prison. But, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be just as dangerous. Steven, Georgia and Tracker lay waiting - watching to see what the group intended to do. Something had made the driver stop. Perhaps he had spotted their cars driving down the road in the distance, or maybe they had left tyre marks in the softer parts of the soil around the entrance. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter - their presence alone could be a threat.
Half of the group went up to the back of the farmhouse and politely knocked on the door. There was no answer so the person at the front tried the door handle, but it was locked. Two of the men quietly discussed something then pointed up to one of the windows.
'Charlie!' shouted one of the men at the back door.
No reply came from the house.
'Charlie!' he tried again.
Two others went to the entrance of the farm and watched the road in both directions, their guns pointed and ready to use if necessary. The driver and the remaining people talked amongst themselves, but all the time remained alert to every little sound. They constantly watched the surrounding fields, tracing their eyes along the top of the dry stone walls and jumping at the slightest movement on the horizon. They gripped their weapons nervously.
A younger, more athletic member of the group had leapt on to a water butt and was using the drainpipe to reach a window that appeared to be slightly open. Old dry ivy clung to the brickwork and provided the boy with some leverage. He managed to pull the window out with his fingertips then lift himself into the farmhouse. The others waited, silently staring up at the window. From amongst the hay bales Steven, Georgia and Tracker also waited, hardly daring to breathe.
The lock in the back door clicked and the boy that had climbed through the window now stood with the door open so the rest of the group could enter. There was a sombre look on his face.
The driver started pointing at the yard, including the barn where Steven had hidden his car. He was clearly giving instructions to the other three men to check for something, but what it was, was not yet obvious. If they came too close, Steven, Georgia and Tracker would be discovered.
The three men began advancing across the yard.
'What shall we do?' Steven whispered to Tracker.
'They're very nervous,' said Tracker. 'That makes them very dangerous. Even if we gave ourselves up, they're more likely to shoot first and ask questions later.'
Suddenly a scream came from inside the house.
Everyone in the yard turned around and readied their weapons.
From the back door one of the men ran out of the house cradling a bloody mess that was what normally would have passed for as his hand. Behind him leapt a large collie dog, chasing the man, blood in the fur around his mouth.
The driver of the truck levelled a hunting rifle to his eye and released a shot. The dog collapsed onto the floor. Georgia took a sharp intake of breath, an instinctive reaction to what she had just seen. She cupped a hand over her mouth and hoped that Annie had not seen it from where she was inside the car.
The man whose hand had been bitten sat on the ground exhausted and in shock. Two of the others who had entered the house rushed out with towels from the kitchen and began bandaging the hand as tight as they could.
'What happened?' the driver asked a woman.
'The dog attacked Flin. He was only checking to see if Charlie was alive.'
'Is Charlie in there?'
The woman nodded. 'I think he's dead. He's got a lot of wounds on him that look like they could have been caused by one of those things last night.' She glanced over to the dog. 'It's a shame you had to kill poor Bess. She'd been with Charlie since a pup. Wouldn’t normally hurt a fly.'
'These are far from normal times. Any sign of those boys from the prison?'
'It doesn’t look like they've been here yet.'
'OK. Show me Charlie.'
The driver was led inside whilst the others crowded around the man with the injured hand and began helping him back into the lorry. For
now, it seemed that the three men that should have been checking the yard, had become distracted and either stayed nervously around the house or followed the driver inside.
It wasn’t long before the driver came back out from the house.
'Take all the food and weapons you can find,' he shouted. 'We don’t want the prisoners getting their hands on guns if we can help it. We move on in one minute. We've already made too much noise here; you never know who may have heard it.' He looked around nervously, but the horizon seemed the same as it had done ten minutes earlier.
Relieved, Steven, Georgia and Tracker waited until every man, woman and child had pulled themselves into the back of the lorry and driven over the brow of the next hill before daring to move from their spot.
Once again, they were on their own. The yard was empty and the body of the dog lay in the mud, its tongue hanging limply from its jaw. Tracker was the first to venture down from the hay bales and walk into the open. He had counted all the people back onto the lorry, so he knew there would be no one waiting to surprise them. He also knew that the sound of a gunshot would have travelled a reasonable distance and he too was nervous about others hearing it and deciding to investigate. Creature, or prisoner.
Tracker entered the farmhouse.
The back door opened directly into the kitchen. On the floor were fresh drops of blood from the man the dog had attacked, but there were also smears of older, dry blood that appeared to have been caused by something that had been dragged across the floor. In a utility room next to the kitchen was the body of the man the others had called Charlie; an elderly man with a weathered and lined face and a white layer of stubble around his chin. He sat upright against a washing machine, head lifelessly slumped to the side. At his feet lay a jacket, torn and tattered by long scratch marks across the back.
Through the open back door, Tracker could hear the gentle hum of a car engine creeping across the yard. Taking a cautious glance through the kitchen window, he saw Steven and Georgia in the front of one of the Range Rovers. Steven got out, but left the engine running.
'I found some jerry cans in the barn with petrol in. I thought we might need them so I've put them in the back of the car,' Steven said as he entered the kitchen and saw Tracker in the utility room. 'Poor guy,' he continued, looking down at the body. 'The dog was only protecting her master. It sounded like they knew him. Who do you think they were?'
'They sounded like local farmers,' replied Tracker.
Steven nodded. 'They obviously knew about the boys from the offenders prison too.'
'Yes. But, it also sounded like they were trying to avoid them as much as we are. The quicker we can get away from here, the better. I don’t want to be caught in the crossfire when those two groups meet.'
Steven and Tracker moved quickly through the house looking for anything that had been left that might be useful. All of the weapons had been removed from a hunting cabinet and a lot of the food tins had gone from the kitchen cupboard leaving nothing but rusty circular marks and pouches of dog food. They did find another analogue radio, a pair of binoculars and two old walkie-talkies in a drawer that looked like original versions from the second world war. Each handset was thick and heavy, dust had become ingrained in the holes of the speakers and flecks of old white paint speckled the black casing. They also took any batteries they could find, as well as a camping stove, a box of matches and a small toolkit, then left the house.
'Do you think we should continue on this road or take some of the smaller roads across country?' Tracker asked Steven as they stood in front of one of the cars.
'This is the main road. It's the quickest way to get to the A1 and down to London. If we head for the smaller roads, the journey will take even longer. As it is, it's taking a lot longer than we thought. Once we get onto the A1 it should be easier.'
Tracker nodded and passed the walkie-talkies through the open window to Georgia.
'See if you can get those working,' he said.
They cautiously drove out of the farm entrance and back onto the main road.
6. A Field Trip
The road towards Harrogate would pass Bewerley, the small town where the young offenders prison was located. The two Range Rovers pulled off the road and into a long driveway that took them down towards a small cottage that was perched on the brow of a hill. Away from the eye of the road everyone seemed to relax slightly. The drive to get to London was taking a lot longer than any of them had expected. It was already approaching lunchtime and they hadn’t even got to Harrogate, or joined the A1 yet.
Steven got out first and began taking a cautious look around the garden of the cottage for any signs of danger. The house itself was locked. A plaque on the wall announced the cottage name as 'Dale Cottage' followed by four stars that had been awarded by the English tourist board.
'It's a holiday cottage,' Steven said to Tracker as he began looking up at the windows. 'Doesn’t look like there's anyone staying here at the moment.'
Georgia and Annie got out of the car to stretch their legs whilst Shirley began searching through some of the bags in the back of the car for food and water.
Across the rolling countryside they could see an off white building that looked like nothing more than a series of rectangular blocks. Even from that distance they could see rust and dirt streaks running down the concrete surface of the building where water had drained off the roof, or dribbled along metal girders leaving deposits of iron.
Tracker removed the binoculars from his coat pocket and began scanning the horizon, concentrating his gaze on the sterile building that was Bewerley Boys Young Offenders Prison.
'How close would this road take us to the prison?' Steven asked Georgia who was more familiar with the area.
'It's set off the main road by about 200 metres, but the road is unprotected. They would see us coming.'
'They've set up a block in the road,' added Tracker. 'It looks like it's manned. Unless we want to have another run-in with the prison boys, I suggest we try and avoid getting too close.'
'What other roads could we take?' said Steven.
Georgia unfolded a map and flattened it out on the manicured grass.
'There are a couple of very small roads that could take us around, but the smaller the road is, the greater the chance of it being blocked. All it would take would be one abandoned car to force us to turn back.'
Shirley brought a packet of biscuits over, together with a couple of bottles of mineral water.
'There's also a road just here.' Shirley pointed a bony finger to an area on the map south of Bewerley in an area that looked like an empty field. 'It's an old by-way that cuts across this field and joins back up with the road further down. It's hardly used because the stream crosses over it, but it shouldn’t cause too much of a problem for these cars.'
'Although we will be exposed, it might be our best bet,' replied Tracker. 'If we're lucky, no one from the prison will notice us.'
He put the binoculars to his eyes once again and scanned the building on the horizon. Each side of the rectangular blocks was punctuated with black square windows. A tall square tower stood to the side of the main building, its single window looked down on a wire fenced yard. Each black flat roof was covered with spongy moss and lichen that made it appear thick and rounded taking the sharp edges off the structured buildings. On the roof of the tower was a silhouette of a black figure watching the surrounding countryside. Through the binoculars, Tracker could make out the shape of a gun slung over the guard's shoulder and by the way he was reaching up to his face, he presumed that he too was using binoculars.
They agreed that it would be wise not to stop for too long. Steven took the antibiotics from his bag that Coldred had given to him, and handed them out to everyone.
'The creatures that attacked us last night are the product of an alien bacteria that has evolved and grown,' Steven explained to Shirley and Annie. 'But, the bacteria can kill us just as easily as the creatures themselves. It's a good idea fo
r you to take these in case you have been exposed to the bacteria.'
They all took them without question. Their world had changed and anything that gave them an advantage to survive was welcome.
'Part of me feels sorry for the boys at the prison,' said Georgia.
'I know,' replied Steven. 'They don’t understand what is happening around them. They think they're safe if the creatures don’t get them, but if one of the boys unknowingly takes the bacteria inside the prison, they will all still die.'
'How many antibiotics do we have?' asked Tracker.
'Not enough to save everyone. Before all of this happened, the government were supposed to start a mass vaccination program today. Hospitals and doctors' surgeries should have stockpiles of it ready for distribution. Once we hit London, we should try to collect as many of the antibiotics as possible. The fate of every survivor depends on being protected against the bacteria, as well as the creatures.'
Whilst the adults had been talking, Annie had been searching through some of the bags in the back of the car. She pulled a large round metal shield from one of the suitcases that Steven and Tracker had packed in Butterwick Hall. In her hand was a highly polished circular disc with celtic inscriptions around the rim and a large oval knob in the centre. Annie danced playfully around the garden pretending that she was in a great battle. Georgia smiled as she watched the little girl, pleased to see her acting like a normal child after appearing so insular when they found her. In the sun, the shield glittered and shone; light danced across its surface.
'It looks like something is happening,' said Tracker who was looking through his binoculars at the prison once again. 'There's a lot of movement. Two trucks are being loaded with boys in the exercise yard. It looks like....' Tracker paused, making sure he was right before saying it aloud. 'It looks like they're pointing in this direction. But they can't possibly have seen us.' Tracker pulled the binoculars away from his eyes and looked at Steven, then he noticed Annie dancing with the shield. The sunlight flickered and jumped off its surface as she moved around the garden.
