by Vance Huxley
“Really?” Jeremy inspected Matti. “Now I know why Patty keeps her raincoat firmly closed. Are you half-naked under yours?” The banter about what various of them might or might not be wearing under raincoats kept everyone amused until the clothes shopping had finished. They all headed for the checkouts where they were able to use one each today because no other shoppers were waiting. The shoppers went into the individual locked rooms, had their purchases scanned, fed their coupons into a slot, and were let out into the yard and the rain.
* * *
Patty at least still seemed to be in a good mood after the joking inside. She tried to cheer up the rest as the group came out of the compound gate and paused on the road to the bypass. “I’m singing in the rain, just getting soaking wet. I rub myself in spam, so I’ve not gone rusty yet.”
Emmy giggled. “Stop it Patty. If I open my mouth to laugh I might drown.”
“It’s sing or cry, and if I cry the extra water will drown us all.” Patty squinted upwards. “I’d say it must stop soon but I said that at least a fortnight ago.” She laughed. “It’ll wash some of the soot away after Liz’s spring rites night.”
Emmy nodded towards Alfie. “At least now Liz has had a fix it’ll be safe for Alfie to get a bit sweaty at the Easter dance, even with all those muscles.” Liz the smith liked muscly men, especially blacksmiths, but thought chasing Alfie would class as cradle-robbing despite his physique.
“Stop it you two and huddle. Not just to hide the packs while we stow the iron bars, but to stop the packs filling with water.” Harold was only partly joking because there were some items that really shouldn’t get wet. “We’ll have to shuffle goods about because nobody wants to be carrying all Curtis’s potatoes.”
Curtis grinned. “If there’s enough we can rip up the big car park to plant them.”
“Don’t start that. We need a clear field of fire across that tarmac.” Harold rolled his eyes. “Gardeners!”
“Watch out buster. Don’t you give my main man... look out!” Harold staggered forward as Emmy cannoned into him. They tumbled over the packs with Emmy on top.
He heard a cry of pain, then Alfie shouted, “There.” Harold saw the young man running at full pelt towards one of the derelict houses the Mart owned, and movement at a window. Then Jeremy, Bernie and Patty obscured his view, running after Alfie. Harold struggled free, relieved to find Emmy unhurt. He set off towards the house with his three foot iron bar ready.
Even as he did Harold heard an anguished cry of “Curtis” behind him, but he couldn’t stop to check. Not until whoever Alfie saw had been dealt with. Harold jumped through the house window, already cleared of any remaining glass by those in front, nearly falling over a man. The man, still getting up off the floor, reached for a machete. He wasn’t one of Harold’s people so Harold hit him across the head with the iron bar before glancing around. Jeremy slumped in a corner while nearby Patty wrestled with a gangster. Alfie had his man pinned against the back wall but the gangster’s machete arm had almost wriggled free. Harold headed towards him.
“What the fuck…?” The new man appearing in the doorway at the back raised his crossbow. Harold threw his iron bar, hard, and ran in after it. A crossbow bolt went past someplace overhead as the man flinched before crying out when the bar struck and Harold bulled him back through the door. Harold grabbed the crossbow with one hand, a handful of jacket with the other, and kept driving forward across the hall into the next room. His opponent smashed into the far wall, giving Harold a chance to knee him good and hard in the solar plexus. Not the nuts because Harold remembered that if this was a Ferdinand, he might be wearing a box.
The man doubled over, his grip slackening enough for Harold to wrench the crossbow free. Since he’d lost the iron bar, Harold beat the man over the head with the captured weapon until he crumpled. Harold stomped on his head to make sure, then whirled at a cry of “Jeremy!” Even as he ran back towards the front room Harold registered that the cry had been rage, not pain or fear, and definitely feminine.
Harold scooped up his iron bar as he came through the door to see Doll and Matti helping Patty, beating on her opponent with their shorter iron bars. Bernie, though bleeding, retreated slowly while still keeping his opponent occupied. Alfie’s opponent had his machete free and now tried to hang onto Alfie as the youth tried to back away. Alfie pulled back hard, yanking the man off-balance as he swung but the bloke raised his machete again for a chop at Alfie’s right arm, the one still being held.
Harold’s bar came down on the man’s upper arm and even through the thick jacket he heard a clear crack as the bone broke. Alfie yanked his own arm free when the man screamed and reeled away in pain. The youth’s own iron bar came down twice, hard. “Thanks Harold.” They both turned towards Bernie’s opponent but the man staggered back, dropping with a set of flights sprouting from his chest. The crossbow Patty had picked off the floor must have been loaded. Beyond her Doll still beat on a recumbent figure while Matti knelt, tending to Jeremy.
“Enough Doll. He’s had enough.” Well past enough from Harold’s quick glance. “What’s the matter with Jeremy?”
Matti looked round, tears still trickling down her cheeks. “I don’t know. Where were you?”
“Dealing with another in there but he’s out cold.” Doll nodded, picked up a machete and headed through to check. Harold turned to Bernie and Alfie. “How are you two, and what happened to Jeremy?”
“Jeremy came in first, because he runs like a bloody whippet.” Alfie pointed at the one Harold hit on the way in. “That one there had another bolt loaded but had to bash Jeremy with the crossbow. Jeremy sort of ran him down anyway. I took a swipe at the next bloke to stop him chopping Jeremy, and he ducked.” A white-faced Alfie held out his left hand. “I tried to punch him in the face but he turned his head. I punched that bloody helmet instead so I can’t use my hand just now.” Alfie shrugged. “Then he grabbed my wrist and since I kept going, we ended up against the wall.”
“I saw. Bernie? Do you want someone to tighten that, or can you manage one-handed?”
Bernie looked up from his arm but kept winding the strip of cloth round it. “You can tie it off it a sec, please. It’s a long cut right through my sleeve but not deep so I reckon I’m better off binding my shirt and jacket onto it to stop the bleeding until we get home.” He grinned. “That practice worked. I nearly got his eye with a jab before he got out a knife as well.”
Harold nodded, before heading across to check on Jeremy. Matti looked up, tears on her cheeks. “It’s his nose, just his nose. I’m going to slap the hell out of him back home, just for frightening me.” She turned back to Jeremy as Doll came out of the back room, throwing a machete and knife onto the floor.
The machete Doll still carried dripped red. “He’s cold now.” She checked the other gangsters but they were cold as well, or cooling anyway. “You ruined that crossbow back there.”
“We can’t take them anyway.” The rest looked at the weapons now scattered about and frowned, because weapons were valuable. “Now let’s see who this lot are.” Harold wanted to check on Curtis, and Emmy’s state of mind, but first he had to try and identify the shooters.
Unfortunately nobody recognised the men, and their clothing bore none of the distinctive emblems gang members wore. The only weapons that might have been pointers were a Geek Freek crossbow and a GOFS-made machete. Although the construction of one and the design and steel in the other were easily recognisable, the other weapons were pre-crash meant for gardening or sports. Patty brandished the crossbow and the machete. “These could have been bought anywhere.”
“The rest are rubbish, but we shouldn’t leave them for some oik to find.” Doll looked at the heap of weapons. “Except that broken crossbow. You’d better ruin it properly though.” Harold beat it against the chimney breast, thoroughly twisting and bending the crosspiece,.
“Harold?” A pale-face June looked through the window. “Can you come please? Curtis is hurt, b
adly.”
Harold climbed through and limped across the overgrown garden. He looked at the small group ahead, clustered around the packs and a prone figure. “How badly?”
“Very, we think.” June, a small woman nearing forty and definitely not a fighter, sounded distraught. She took another few steps. “Maybe dying.”
Harold missed a step because he didn’t want to do that again, watch someone he knew die. “Maybe?”
“Emmy is on about the pair of them going up to the Army. She’d rather go to a camp with him if the Army can get a doctor.”
Harold bit back his first comment, about what a sergeant once told him about the camps including not sending women in there. “Hey Emmy. What happened?”
“When I pushed, the bolt missed you but hit Curtis. Look. There’s blood in his mouth.” Emmy stayed on her knees but moved aside a little for Harold to see.
“Not a lot of blood. I’ve seen more.” The crossbow bolt still pinned Curtis’s bicep to his body since the bolt had carried on into the side of his chest. “It has to have missed his heart, and maybe just nicked his lung.” Harold assumed Curtis would be dead or spitting blood if the bolt had struck his lung properly.
Emmy looked up, her cheeks wet. “But he’ll die anyway Harold. Lenny and Patricia can’t deal with this, can they? They’re not doctors.” She tried for a smile. “I’ll take him to the Army.”
Curtis had laid quiet but now he croaked, “No” and reached across with his other hand.
“I agree with Curtis.” Harold softened his voice. “You can’t go, Emmy, it’s a really bad idea. Curtis might survive but even then you’ll be separated while he’s fixed. Then he might be sent someplace else, to a different camp. That’s if they’ll take you.”
Emmy opened her mouth to protest but June spoke up. “Think about the baby.” Emmy looked stricken.
“You’re pregnant?” Harold stared. He was about to ask if Emmy was insane but got hold of himself.
Emmy nodded, managing a little smile through her tears. “There were all those puppies and kittens, and everything settled down, and I told you once. I wanted a nice steady bloke and rugrats, the whole bit.”
Harold nodded. “I’ll go up to ask the Army. Someone ask the others to bring out the weapons so we can sell them to the mart guards.” With luck the guards would offer some cigarettes that Harold could trade elsewhere, as they had another time. Harold put a hand on Emmy’s shoulder. “We can always sneak out and rescue him at some time if this mess doesn’t get sorted. Piece of cake with your bad girl look and my scowl?” Emmy nodded, but she wasn’t convinced. Nor was Harold as he limped up to the Army post, because they’d never find Curtis again even if the gardener survived.
“Can I speak to the sergeant please?”
The soldier with the detection wand scowled. “Why? Are you coming through or what?”
Harold kept his voice calm and polite. “No, we’ve got a badly wounded man. Please ask the sergeant.”
The corporal currently scanning IDs frowned. “Why? One bloody animal more or less won’t matter.”
“He’s our gardener but some scroat stuck a crossbow bolt in him. He’ll die without real help. I was told once you’d get medical help if the wounded person was willing to work off the debt.” Harold shrugged. “Curtis will be a lot more use on your farms than the arse who shot at him.”
“Is he wounded as well?”
“Yes, fatally. Now what about Curtis?” Harold cursed silently, that had come out a bit sharp.
“A gardener? Hang on.” The corporal went into a sandbagged shelter, and the sergeant came out.
“A gardener? Where from?”
Harold handed over his pass. “Orchard Close.” The sergeant scanned it.
“Wait one and we might be able to help.” He went back into the shelter, but came out in minutes. Long slow minutes to Harold, but not really that long to the rest of the world. “The ambulance is on the way if you get him up here.”
“An ambulance?” An Army lorry had taken a wounded gangster, Razzle, away for treatment when he’d been injured. Harold hadn’t seen a real ambulance since just after the crash.
“You don’t want it?”
“Too bloody true I do. Can I run back down?”
“In this instance yes. Get him up here sharpish because it won’t be long.” Harold stared for a few seconds, turned, and started to run. The sergeant meant it, and Harold began to believe Curtis had a chance.
Halfway down he started to shout, “Yes, hurry. Get a door to carry him,” and several different variations. By the time he panted and limped to a halt, Alfie, Patty and Doll were carrying a door from the nearest house. “We’ll have to be very careful.” Harold put a hand on Emmy’s shoulder. “They’re sending a real ambulance, Emmy, so he’s got a real chance. Now give him a hug and a kiss to keep you going until he gets back, because every minute counts.” Harold held her eyes. “Remember, Emmy, it’s just until he gets back, not goodbye.”
The sergeant had told the truth. Even as four of them carried the door through the gap in the sandbags, covered by wary soldiers with rifles, blue flashing lights came up the bypass. “Carry him over the central divide. You’re allowed just this once.” The rifles meant be very careful even this time. “Come straight back or the ambulance will leave without him.” Emmy bent and kissed Curtis before the four of them came back to the sandbags. The sergeant took one look at Emmy’s streaming eyes and let them stand there as the medics quickly loaded Curtis. The ambulance turned round and screamed off down the bypass. “That’s it. Back down there or go home.”
“Thanks sarge.” Harold shepherded Emmy down the slope where the rest of them had sorted out the packs and stowed the iron bars.
June looked at the group and back up to the bypass. “They really took him? In that ambulance?”
Harold still had trouble believing that even if he’d just watched it happen. “Yes June. From the way the medics treated Curtis, they will try and save him.”
“Thank all and any gods for small mercies.” A few muttered amen to that.
“Are we really giving these weapons away?” Doll looked over the machetes and knives.
“Selling, with luck.” Harold looked over the heap again and frowned. “Where’s the baseball bat, the crossbow and the bolts?”
Doll looked shifty but Patty spoke up. “Well hidden in those houses. We even took the crossbow apart first. We also hid that good machete and the best two knives just in case we need serious backup sometime. If some scroat finds them fair enough, but if not weapons might come in handy one day.” Harold nodded because Patty might be right.
The mart guard looked down from the tower as Harold came closer. “Near enough. What do you want?”
“Why didn’t you shoot? He was stood in that window pointing a crossbow.” Harold pointed.
“Not at me.” The guard eyed the group around the packs. “What are you going to do with all those knives and machetes? We’ll take them if you like?”
“Since you don’t seem too worried about who gets hurt down here, you’ll probably sell them to some other nasty little scroat.” Harold should keep his mouth shut but this bloke seemed to be a real ass and right now Harold hadn’t quite worked off his temper. “You could at least knock the damn houses down.”
“Too expensive according to our bosses. Anyway, the scum are too smart to shoot at us, since there’s a machine gun and an armoured car back there.” The guard nodded towards the weapons. “You can’t take weapons on the bypass so we’ll come and get them anyway once you’re gone.”
“OK. Luck with that.” Harold turned and stomped back to the group. “You heard the bastard. He’s not the happy smiling type we’ve dealt with before so I’m leaving sod all. We can break the machetes, but what about the knives?”
Patty pointed at a manhole in the road. “Let them scrabble through shit if they’re that keen.” She picked up a machete. “I’ll lever the lid off. Then you can explain how to break t
his.”
“Easy. Stick it in a drain grating at the side of the road, then bend it back and forth. It’ll snap eventually. You might even build a bit more muscle for that crossbow of yours.” Harold picked up a machete. “For me, it’ll work off some annoyance. Otherwise I might just climb that tower and feed him the damn thing.”
“I’ve got some annoyance to work off.”
“Me too.”
“Can I share?”
* * *
The group walked back in silence. Harold had a lot to think about. Firstly that Mart guard had been downright belligerent. In the past some had sneered and made comments, but others had smiled and sometimes even joked. Lately that had changed. Shopping while men pointed guns wasn’t restful on a good day, but Harold had always assumed they’d hesitate before shooting an unarmed woman. Now he’d started to wonder.
Worse than that, Harold had a real dilemma. Emmy thought she’d pushed him out of the way of the bolt, and might resent Harold being unhurt while Curtis could be dying. On the other hand Harold knew where he’d been standing, and the scroat hadn’t aimed at him. If Emmy hadn’t pushed, the crossbow bolt would have hit her.
On top of whether to tell her, Harold had to wonder who the hell wanted to kill Emmy, specifically? Most gangsters wouldn’t count a woman as a fighter, and would try to capture rather than kill her. Einstein from the Geek Freeks, a neighbouring gang, would love to kill or capture Emmy but in that case there’d have been three or four crossbows in there, Geek ones. With that firepower the fight would have gone the other way. By the time the group were getting near home, Harold had made one decision. A higher proportion of men would go to the mart, or out scavenging. He wasn’t losing another, and especially a woman.
The sergeant beckoned Harold as the group lined up to leave the bypass and go down the road home. “Did he make it?”
Harold stared at the sergeant. “Curtis? He was alive in the ambulance. How did you know?”
“We received a message asking me to confirm that Orchard Close had a decent gardener, someone who knew how to actually grow things. Considering the acres you lot have cultivated, I said yes.” Sarge glanced at the rest of the party, filing through the sandbags to walk down the short stretch to Orchard Close. “She looks upset.”
