by Vance Huxley
“The TV promised non-lethal unless we wave guns. I doubt that will happen with anyone coming off the bypass, not after the scan.” Harold started down, watched by soldiers inside another sandbagged strongpoint. “Come on, before anyone else gets here.” The walk had taken a little longer than he’d expected. All the group were reasonably fit these days, but weren’t used to such a long, steady walk. The sixteen from Orchard Close followed another group through the gate in the mesh and across a wide, flat yard to the actual store entrance. Above the door a sign announced ‘TesdaMart – the authorised retailer for all your needs.’
“That’s got to be Tesco and Asda combined.” Seth nursed his injured arm and frowned. “Are they all that’s left, or have the others opened stores?”
“Who knows, maybe they’ve just used the names because they’re familiar? Like Harold said, we’re all mushrooms now. Bloody hell, how many guards do they need for shoppers?” Jon, one of the later arrivals at Orchard Close, pointed at the men behind sandbags on the store roof. “They’re a bit like overkill considering the armoured car?”
“Not overkill.” Liz looked carefully at the armoured car. “Not any sort of kill I hope. Is that a water cannon or the other sort, Harold?” Everyone in Orchard Close was nervous about the weapons on armoured vehicles after seeing them used.
“Water cannon, Liz. There’s a big bowser for water on the back if you look.” Harold called out to the man at the rear of the group ahead. “Where are you lot from?”
“We’re from Cadillac’s territory. Who’s your boss?” The man glanced nervously towards the front of his group as he spoke but slowed.
“Boss? We’re from Orchard Close, along the bypass about five miles. So where do you people live?” Harold frowned as he spoke, because a boss sounded like one of the enclaves where a gang had taken charge. The Army had supposedly cleared them all out.
“We live about three miles that way.” The man pointed northwest, deeper into the city but also closer to Orchard Close. “You must be on the north boundary.”
“The Army told us about boundaries. How big is your area?”
“Oy, you. I told you no gobbing off to strangers. Now get your arse in here.” The man Harold had been speaking to shrugged apologetically and scuttled off towards the rest of his group, now at the store entrance.
The swarthy muscular young man who had spoken swaggered over, gently swinging a baseball bat. “Who are you lot?”
“Orchard Close. You lot?” Harold knew the type after turning a few away, a self-appointed guardian who protected and controlled a group of people. A guardian who would keep them safe from others, but at a price.
“The Hot Rods. Where is Orchard Close?” The man looked over the group and sneered. “You came along the bypass? That means you’re unarmed and that’s dumb.” He laughed. “Someone might rob you.”
Harold sighed. “We also outnumber you sixteen to one and if you’ve got a gun, someone up there on the roof will blow your head off. Where do the Hot Rods live?” Harold knew where the other man had said but was curious how this one had brought a baseball bat.
“Our territory starts just over there, past the line of houses along the road outside. TesdaMart claim that first strip.” He waved his baseball bat. “So we don’t have to worry about going on the bypass.” He thought a moment. “Where did you say your mob are from?”
“Your northern border, I think.”
“Right. In that case Cadillac will be over to see you at some time. He’s the boss.” Behind him the last of his party were going inside.
“Your friends are leaving you.”
“Not really.” The man pulled his coat aside to show two machetes. “I’m keeping these safe while the rest shop.”
Harold hoped that meant no weapons inside. “I’m Harold. We’re going in now, so see you later?”
“I’m Cooper. We’ll probably be gone but I’ll let Cadillac know about you.”
“Thanks.” Harold led the rest past. He was unsure if letting Cadillac, whoever that was, know about Orchard Close was good or bad.
* * *
Once through the rotating steel doors Harold took a few paces and stopped to wait for the rest. Emmy came up beside him. “Just like the pictures on the TV. Do we shop for undies or food first? You might not care about food after we’ve asked your opinion about frillies.”
Harold smiled because this was standard teasing from the girl club. “Food because we don’t know what the coupons will buy yet. Then we innocent males can avert our eyes while you lot squander the rest.”
“You won’t say squander if you ever get to see any of them. Now where is the meat because I’m fed up of salvaged burgers and rabbit?” Patricia, a trainee nurse of twenty-eight and one of the oldest on this trip, had ended up their only medic. “I’ll need a look at what medications are on sale but don’t hold out much hope.”
“No, not after the ambulances taking away everyone like Mum, everyone needing regular medicine to live.” Finn, their electrician, hadn’t liked that much but with no medication available his Mum, Mary, had little option. Finn had been told she wouldn’t be allowed to contact Orchard Close, which worried him.
Harold looked round, and his group had all come through the doors. “We need a list of prices, of everything.” Harold smiled at the complaints. “Use the little recorders and then we’ll get Hilda to write them up and collate them.” The groans turned to smiles because the scavenged battery powered pocket recorders both saved paper and were easy to use. Hilda, in her early forties and an ex-clerical worker, really did like making and collating lists. She said that put the world in order. “We’ll aim for food first, and then work down the list.” He led off to where a big sign, hung from the roof far overhead, claimed the vegetables were.
Shortly afterwards a silent group looked at the offerings. “Anybody know what any of those are?” Holly peered at one heap of limp greenery. “That looks as if someone grabbed a handful of weeds.”
“That’s kale. It isn’t popular, but it’s edible. Sort of like cabbage but not in a nice neat ball?” Patricia looked at the rest. “Potatoes and swede of course and cabbage and Brussels sprouts. Leeks, onions, parsnips, beetroot, and I suppose these are some sort of winter greens.”
“The leafy stuff is winter lettuce? How come lettuce is growing now, in winter?” Emmy was curious as well as decidedly unimpressed. “If there’s no fuel to import them, where are they being grown?”
“That’s not real lettuce. Those are squash.” Bess pointed.
Seth lifted a grill and peered at the veg behind it. “I don’t like salad on a good day, but these look a bit wilted.”
“Those are different sorts of beets.” Heads turned towards Patricia and she waved a booklet. “There’s a list of what’s here and how to cook it.” She scowled. “The rotten sods are charging a coupon for the booklet.”
Harold looked over the pricings. “More to the point, how many coupons will the veg cost?” Concentrated working out followed to see just how much a coupon would buy.
“Don’t get excited, Harold. We won’t be raiding the pantie store if the rest of the food is these prices.” Emmy looked glum.
“Maybe that’s even more exciting?” Seth was grinning.
“I’ll tell Berry you said that.” Liz’s smile widened. “I’ll tell her Dad, Nigel.”
“Christ, don’t do that.” Seth looked truly worried. “He’ll never let me get Berry on her own, even if Berry agrees.” The teasing continued as a selection of vegetables were put into packs, spread out to keep the individual weights down. The smiling and occasional laughter died down as they came around a corner to the meat shelves.
“That’s far enough.” The young man looked them over. “We’ll be cleaning this lot out.” He smiled. “We’ll sell you some?”
“How come? After all we’ll have to pay as we leave.” Harold could see half a dozen people filling big packs with tubes and packets. “Where’s the meat?”<
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“That’s it. Pastes and dried and a few cans. You give me some coupons and then you take your food through and pay for it on the way out.” The young man smiled. “Sort of a tax.”
“Nope. We outnumber you two to one so I guess we’ll just shop for ourselves.” Harold started forward again. He assumed the bloke was just trying it on but the man’s face hardened. His hand dipped inside his jacket and brought out a small knife. “Wrong. This evens it up.”
Harold sighed. He was in a good mood, and really didn’t want to spoil it. The lull after the fighting for Orchard Close died down had been lovely, even if he still had dreams about it sometimes. “Everyone else go and get what we need. I’ll stand here and talk to this bloke.” The knife wielder looked startled and Harold glared straight at him. “We don’t want trouble. They’ll get the food and you’ll threaten me with the knife. If you turn to go after one of them I’ll kick you.”
The others started going either side, and the man glanced at them, unsure. Emmy flipped her hood back as she did, and smiled as his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to object to being bypassed but only managed to splutter “you’re a... that’s, er, different.” The yob stared at her hair, which was in long thin beaded plaits at one side of her head and cropped close at the other.
Emmy laughed. “You were right, Soldier Boy. Signature hairdo and bit of scarring really do appeal to the bad boys.” She patted the startled man on the cheek. “Sorry fella, you’ll have to get in line.”
Seth scowled and pushed forward but the young man had turned back to Harold. “Soldier Boy? Are you that soldier type up north of here? Got your own place?”
“Orchard Close is north, and I used to be a soldier.” Harold tensed a bit and cursed the habit some residents had of using Soldier Boy as a nickname, especially when Harold refused entry to some bunch of undesirables.
“Right. Sorry mate.” The knife promptly went away! “I didn’t realise you were another gang. We heard about you.” He stood back and waved Harold forward. “The boss told me to scare anyone without protection so he could move in.”
“You were lucky he’s in a good mood.” Liz came past, smirking. “Usually when someone threatens him with a weapon he offers to shove it up their ass.” Harold didn’t, usually, but neither did he tend to back down. Liz now called it his macho bastard technique.
The bloke grinned. “Yeah, we heard. Some asshole said his mate waved a gun at you and you told him that. Then you beat three of them to death, and later on you shot someone else through the eye.”
Holly turned from putting tubes of meat paste into her pack. “A lot more than three now, on both lists. I think Casper is keeping count.”
The young knifeman laughed. “I’ll let the boss know it was true. We took the piss out of the pussy and he kept running. Are you really SAS?”
Harold grinned. “I’m not allowed to say. Official Secrets Act.” He wasn’t SAS, by a very long way, but the yobs and assholes he’d had to deal with seemed to be deterred by the very idea so he wasn’t denying it.
“That means you are or you’d lie and say yes.” The twisted logic suited Harold so he just shrugged. “Did you meet Cooper, outside?”
“Yes, he offered to rob us.” Harold laughed. “I said no.”
“Wait until I tell him. He’ll be pleased he didn’t try.”
“So are you a Hot Rod? Who is Cadillac?” Since this one seemed chatty, Harold tried for some real information.
“I don’t know what Cadillac’s name used to be. There’s him, Cooper, Bugatti and Charger, all named after cars. Then there’s Big Mack after the trucks, because of how big he is. I’m working on getting a real Hot Rod name so I’m still Kev.” Kev frowned. “Cadillac is a mean bastard but he looks after us, the Hot Rods.”
“So where does he live, then maybe I can drop by?” Harold wouldn’t but a location would be helpful for avoiding this gang.
“Don’t do that. They’ll shoot you on sight unless you turn up unarmed and you don’t look that stupid.” Kev thought for a moment. “If you lot are just off the bypass like pussy-boy said that’ll be three or four miles from the Mansion, maybe less. We control a couple of small blocks of housing nearer to you than that. You know, poor innocents who need protection.” He grinned. “From us, for starters. Where are you exactly?”
Harold debated briefly but Orchard Close couldn’t be hidden. If they’d got a road map the road names would be marked on there. “We live at the next junction up and we’ve got a mile this way.”
One of the men loading bags came up behind Kev. “We’ve got what you said, Kev. What next?”
Kev sneered at him. “Here. Find the games consoles, because Cadillac needs a couple of new games.” Kev handed the man a list. “Any two of these for now.” He turned back to Harold. “See you, Soldier Boy. Gotta keep an eye on this lot.” Kev swaggered off.
Emmy came back from raiding shelves. “That gang seem well organised and it’s happened very quickly. We asked some of the people filling bags and they pay these Hot Rods for protection, out of their coupon ration.”
“Crap. It didn’t take the yobs long to adapt, though the Army should have smashed any gang enclave according to what the TV said.” Harold frowned because the TV was a long way from the whole truth, but he’d hoped that part was true.
“Not an enclave, Harold. The shoppers live in four streets that were just lucky and didn’t get wrecked or lose their water or electricity.” Her lip lifted in disgust. “These Hot Rods have a stronghold, and just come out to collect rent because they claim the houses are in their area.”
“Ah. The officer asked about our area and put down a mile each way. Apparently some people were more ambitious.” Harold stared after Kev. “Let’s hope they’re not too ambitious.”
Emmy looked the same way and her voice echoed Harold’s concern. “I really hope not.” She perked up. “Ooh, corned beef.” Moments later Emmy waved a can at Harold. “What’s spam? How do you cook it?”
“Spam? My grandad told us about spam and it wasn’t a happy memory.” Susan, the thirty-year-old divorcee, took the can. “He reckoned fried or in sandwiches, and chopped up in mashed potato. Corned Beef for people without taste buds.”
Seth came back from the aisle waving a packet. “These look like dog chews. Dried meat it says.” He looked round. “We’ll take for ever like this, so why don’t we split up? I need an ink pad for thumb marking coupons and that doesn’t need sixteen shoppers. Does anyone want any pencils and pads while I’m there?” Seth turned.
“No, we all go everywhere in a group because if there’s another Kev you don’t want to be alone.” Harold ignored the half-hearted complaints, because he meant it. That yob with a knife had shaken him a bit because even the shops weren’t safe, despite the guards with guns. “There’ll be nobody nipping off to the shops on their own.”
“What about if we need the loo?” Alfie shrugged at the stares. “Just saying. After all getting mugged in a public toilet wasn’t exactly unknown before all this trouble started.”
“Good point.” Emmy smiled. “Though we’ll probably scare the crap out of anyone in there, going in mob handed.”
Bess sniggered. “Good, they’ll be finished sooner.” The entire group headed towards the stationery.
* * *
“You can look if you like, Harold.” Harold would have thought Holly was teasing, except for the disgust in her voice. He turned. “You’re not going to get excited even if I do cartwheels in these.”
“She is joking, isn’t she?” Seth’s quiet voice from behind Harold echoed his own thoughts. The pants and bra were plain but Harold was very sure that Holly or any of the girl club dressed in them, cartwheeling or not, would definitely be exciting.
“We’d all get excited if you cartwheeled in a set of thermals, Holly.” Harold grinned. “Are you adding cartwheels to the morning exercises for the girl club? I’ll warn all the blokes.”
“It’s a thought.” Emm
y held up a similar pair of plain panties. “We could put some pink on them. All the men seemed to like Holly in pink.” Holly blushed because that had been a pink tutu worn as a Halloween ‘angel’ costume and yes, the single men liked it. “I could draw something festive on these for the Christmas party.”
“You could draw holly on them?” Sal sniggered. “Holly could just put Holly inside hers.”
“Party?” Bess spoke up. “Um, when we were shopping, did anyone see any mistletoe?”
The women reverted to teasing Bess, and asking if she still needed mistletoe to kiss her new boyfriend. Nobody thought so, since a fiery, very forward Bess had laid claim to Matthew rather than the other way round. Like a score of others, Matthew hadn’t come along because he hadn’t recovered from a wound received while defending Orchard Close.
Harold took the opportunity to look at the rest of the clothing. Plain styles and plain colours more or less covered it for males, females and children. Nothing designer, and in fact all the labels he could see said TesdaMart on them. Then Harold looked at the prices and judging by the number of coupons each person received to live on, new jeans were going to be a major expense.
After they checked the prices, the women decided to skip underwear or any other clothes this time round. Harold’s forays with his small scavenging party before the big mob attack had included women. As they worked through abandoned housing gathering food and other essentials the women raided wardrobes and drawers as well as makeup boxes and toiletries. Even Bess, who had arrived with nothing but what she wore, had plenty of clothes for now.
* * *
“Any more last minute shopping?” Harold looked round and everyone shook their heads. “Then I’ll go first in case someone ambitious is waiting outside and I want you, Alfie, in that aisle.” Harold pointed to the side. “Everyone else gets into the same two queues so there’s no break, with Seth, Conn and Jon to watch the back.”
Lillian nudged Conn. “I’ll guard you.” At more or less twice his weight, that might be true.
The group stood across the two aisles until the last person disappeared in through the door at the end and then filed in, eight into each one. The aisles were narrow corridors, separated from each other by a tall metal wall. The door light turned green and it opened a little, so Harold pushed and went in.
