Bean and his wife started their married life by setting up home in a cave near the coast and lived there for the sum of twenty five years.
The clan quickly grew as Bean sired eight sons and six daughters. Eighteen grandsons and fourteen granddaughters soon swelled their ranks, most of these the products of incest.
If this wasn’t bad enough, Bean and his family, who’d always had little taste for honest labour, began robbing and murdering travellers who happened past their tidal cave. The bodies were brought back, dismembered and eaten. Leftovers were pickled and discarded body parts would sometimes wash up on nearby beaches. These body parts and disappearances didn’t go unnoticed and before long James VI of Scotland decided to lead a manhunt with a team of 400 men and several bloodhounds.
It didn’t take them long to find the Bean’s home sweet home. Body parts lay strewn around the cave, thus leading to the execution of the Bean family. The men had their genitalia cut off along with their hands and feet and were allowed to bleed to death. The women and children, after watching this, were subsequently burned alive.
Poetic really, that the cannibal family we’d dispatched had received more or less the same treatment. The old man had blown his own foot off and the screaming banshee woman had definitely been licked by the flames of the house. A fitting end for sick bastards. I only wish I’d taken the time to blow the old man’s cock off as he hobbled out of the back door.’
‘Mate, that’s worse than what I said to Sonny.’ Darren said as I told him my thoughts.
‘I’ve learnt it from the best,’ I replied.
The next two miles were enjoyably uneventful, that is until we reached a crossroads. This was the point in the journey where we were supposed take the planned detour south. Unfortunately, a road block barred the way. Not just any road block; this was another macabre work of art.
Someone had taken the time to dig a large trench across the road and had then filled it with long sharpened steel spikes, each sporting a deeda head, still champing away, looking like beached goldfish.
‘There’s another trench to the north!’ came a voice from the back. Davy and Jason had spotted it through the viewing slits.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Sarah as she pushed her head through the gap between the front seats.
‘Someone is trying to funnel us forward,’ Darren replied. ‘That’s the road to Rothbury.’
‘Just turn around, we’ll find another route,’ Sarah said panicking.
I looked over at Darren questioningly. This wasn’t the decision for an amateur to make even though I knew we couldn’t go back. There wasn’t another route we could take without going through fields and drystone walls. The Mastiff might make it but I doubted the Land Rover could.
‘Goose, Maverick. Come in, over.’
‘Go ahead Maverick, over.’
‘Planned route is blocked. Option two is in play. We take it slow from here on out. Suspicious activity ahead. If it’s dead we plough through. If it’s alive follow my lead. Josh, take out your pistol and be ready. I need you to cover the passenger side. Andy, have you got you sawn-off? Over.’
‘Affirmative Maverick, sitting in my lap. Over.’
‘Cover it and push the muzzle against your door. Over.
‘Affirmative Maverick. Muzzle against the door. Out.’
Andy was getting good at this.
‘Carter, pop in the back and give Dave and Jase a crash course on the SA80. Cocking firing and reloading. Open the cupola and tell the boys to be ready. We don’t want aiming. Just wild strafing. I just want to get whoever is out there diving for cover. But that’s only if I shout ENGAGE. I doubt there’ll be any left after my sneaky plan.’
Darren took a small switch out of his top pocket. The same small switch he used to blow the fuck out of the lighthouse.
The look on my face prompted a giggle from him.
We moved off slowly, Andy following inches from our rear bumper.
The approach road that ascended a hill leading to Rothbury had open fields on either side of it and looked clear of any antagonists or ambushes. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being watched. Cattle grids had been placed strategically in the asphalt. This was an ingenious way of snagging any wandering dead that happened upon the road. We saw proof of this when we crossed over the first grid. A long-expired deeda had become entangled in the grate and had been flattened thereafter by vehicular traffic. I wondered if the people who put them there were aware the deedaz were changing and that their clever traps would soon become obsolete.
Finally, we reached the summit of the hill. From here the road descended and disappeared into a wooded plantation.
I knew this area. I’d been here on a few occasions.
Before Rothbury, on the left-hand side of the road, was a National Trust estate called Cragside. Created by Lord Armstrong, the main house was the first house in the world to be powered by hydro-electricity. The grounds of the estate were vast and filled with mazes, playgrounds and picturesque walks. It soon became one of the most popular tourist attractions in the Northeast of England.
‘If anything’s gonna happen, it’ll happen here,’ Darren said as he scanned the trees for danger.
We turned a bend in the road and got our first glimpse of the estate.
A manmade lake lay in front of a group of buildings with a road to the entrance gates meandering from them. I remember the buildings being a cluster of shops.
A vast tent city now sat on the grass between the lake and the buildings. Men, women and children could be seen going about their business. Fire pits burned, clothes were hung out to dry, children played. If I didn’t know better I’d have thought the people across the way were happy holiday makers enjoying a camping break.
The only thing out of place was the fact everyone wore white. Everyone other than the big fat smiling man who was standing in the middle of the road as we approached the slip road to the entrance.
He wore the dress robes of a priest and had a mop of blonde blow-dried hair plonked on the top of his melon-sized head.
Darren slowed the Mastiff to a stop, a few metres from the holy man. The priest looked up, brilliant white-capped teeth glowing. It was the second time that day I’d seen a sweet sickly smile like that.
‘I think the creepy priest wants something,’ I said to Darren.
‘Well, I’d better not keep him waiting,’ Darren said as he climbed up through the cupola.
‘Can I help you Father?’ Darren shouted down.
The priest looked up at Darren, his face showing a glimpse of frustration that Darren hadn’t exited the vehicle as expected. He made a quick glance at a building to our right. This told me that he wasn’t the only problem we had. I only hoped Darren had spotted the pious man’s mistake.
I could have been wrong, but I was sure Angelina trembled in my hands, indicating that she was champing at the bit for action. Or it could have just been me. I was surprised that instead of feeling fear, I felt excitement at the anticipation of combat.
The priest quickly regained his composure.
‘Welcome my son. Please come down and join me so we may talk.’
‘I’m fine up here padre. We’re just passing through.’
‘Son, you may not know it but the Lord has sent you to us for a reason. To join us so we can share each other’s worldly possessions until he comes to judge us.’
‘Sorry Father, the only reason we’re here is because you and your flock of sheep have blocked the main roads back there.’
‘The Lord commanded the road blocks so as to guide the sinners to our holy congregation and the promised land.’
‘Is that a fact?’ Darren asked.
‘Yes my son, he has sent you here to share the end of days with us. To share your bodies, your minds, your souls. To share everything. Luke 3:11 says. ‘John replied, “if you have two shirts, give one to the poor. If you have food, share it with the hungry.” You see my son, God commands that yo...’
> ‘I’ll just stop you there, SON. One, we aren’t staying. Two, you’re not having our stuff. Three, I’m a Hitchens child. And last but not least, I am not your fucking son. If I was, you wouldn’t be so pig ugly, you big, fat, sweaty, Donald Trump-looking motherfucker.’
I visibly grimaced at Darren’s remarks. So did Father fatty, just before he bellowed ‘SINNERS!’ at the top of his voice.
Twelve armed men suddenly appeared from the trees to the left and right off us. A further two men emerged from the building to our right and quickly had us in their sights. I checked the side mirror and saw that two of the twelve men from the trees had trained their weapons on the Land Rover.
Darren calmly closed the cupola and returned to the driver’s seat.
‘I thought that went quite well,’ he said as he picked up the radio, laid it in his lap and squeezed the send button.
‘Goose, Maverick. Don’t pick up the radio. Just try and click the send button once if you can hear me. Over.’
The radio emitted a squelching sound.
‘Good. It’s time for operation “shock and awe”. I know you’ll still have the gun pressed against the driver’s door. On the count of two, I want you to pull the trigger and take out the guy on your side. The panels on those things are thin so the shot will go straight through. Slider, at the same time you get two rapid shots off with the pistol at the guy on Bobby’s side. All of you, on the count of three, cover yourselves as much as you can. Click to acknowledge. Over.’
Another squelch came through the radio.
‘Operation what?’ I asked Darren.
‘It’s a surprise,’ was his answer.
While all this was going on the priest was shouting out orders to his congregation. To our left more followers had been mustered and were running up the road from tent city.
‘OK, guys in the back. Remember what I told you. Hunker down in the centre of the cabin. Stay away from the walls.’
‘Am I the only one who doesn’t know what the fuck is going on Darren?’
‘You were sleeping in the tower at Boulmer when I planned it. It’s not my fault you’re a lazy bar steward. Just get down when I say three,’ he said, as he held the little detonator switch in his hand.
By this time the priest was veritably fuming at our disobedience and was screaming at us to come out under the threat of God’s wrath.
Darren pressed the send button on the radio.
The priest shouted ‘READY!’
Darren said ‘one’.
The priest shouted ‘AIM!’
Darren said ‘two’, and then two loud bangs came from the rear of the Mastiff.
Darren said ‘three’ and the priest shouted ‘FIRE!’ simultaneously. I slid into the footwell next to the dogs in a flash and wrapped my arms around the canines.
Darren flicked the switch.
A thunderous bang which rattled my teeth echoed through the Mastiff, rocking the huge beast on it wheels. The following silence was deafening and at first; I thought Darren had finally ruined my eardrums.
I peeked my disoriented head above the window, trying to understand what the fuck had just happened.
As the smoke cleared I noticed that what little there was left of the religious zealots was smeared on the grass around the perimeter of the truck.
Body parts and blood hung and dripped from every tree.
One of the priest’s lackies had unintentionally shielded the fat priest from the majority of the blast. The rotund man of God was in the process of dragging his ample frame to the side of the road, covered in blood.
I was still trying to fathom what the fuck had happened when, all of a sudden, we started moving forward. I turned to see Darren smiling his devil grin as he powered through the gears of the indestructible Mastiff. I quickly checked the side mirror, which was heavily cracked, to see how Andy had fared and found him tailing us closely as we drove away from the decimated cult.
‘What the fuck happened there Darren?’ I asked as we sped towards Rothbury.
‘You know those clumps of sod and grass on the side of the Mastiff?’
I vaguely remembered seeing something of that description the day before when we were at Boulmer. Then I realised what they were. Claymores. Cunningly disguised with grass and mud.
‘Isn’t that a bit fucking dangerous for us mate?’
‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘The Claymores have a directional charge so when they go off the explosion fires out towards its target. Plus, the Mastiff has a bar amour wire cage which absorbed the recoil of the explosion. We were as safe as houses in here. I put two on each side and one on the front. That’s three and a half thousand metal balls we’ve just “shared” with the Lord’s followers.’
‘Yeah, but surely Andy, Bobby and Josh could have been hurt?’
‘That’s the beauty of the Claymore. They fire the balls out in a cone. They were safer than us.’
I shook my head at the cunningness of my best friend. Once again his skill and knowledge had saved us all and left behind a wake of utter and absolute carnage.
Minutes later we arrived on the outskirts of Rothbury. Darren killed the speed and crawled slowly through the town, which we were glad to find was empty; well, apart from the fifteen-foot crosses scattered throughout the area. Each holding a crucified deeda that moaned at us in frustration. Further evidence that Father fatty bumbum and his brethren had totally lost the plot.
‘I’m a bit worried about Bellingham, Carter.’
‘Yeah, I was thinking the same. We’re going to have to take it slow from now on. These roads could be filled with traps and ambushes. By the time we get there it’s going to be early evening. We need to take more care and should scout the place on foot before we go through it.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
I checked on everyone in the back to see how they were doing and was surprised to see everyone positively chirpy. The brush with death had seemingly had little effect on our passengers. I was definitely surprised to receive a shy smile from Jenna as I left to go back to the passenger’s seat. WTF?
As I sat down my emotions must have been on display.
‘What you grinning at? You look like a Mackem who’s won a pund on the lottery.’
‘Nothing mate,’ I replied jauntily.
The stern look on Darren’s face showed he wasn’t happy with my sunny disposition. It was a ‘get your fucking game face back on and stop be being a soft shite’ look.
Of course, he was right. Again. These mind games she was playing with me were going to get us killed. She had her chance. She chose to be aloof, distant and cruel. I wasn’t falling for it. Not just yet anyway. We had bigger problems.
‘Sorry bud,’ I said as I spread the map out on the dashboard.
‘Not just yet mate,’ came the reply. I smiled to myself.
Chapter Nine
I plotted the route to Bellingham and stabbed my finger on the map at a place I knew.
‘There, that’s our next port of call.’
‘Is it safe?’ Darren asked.
‘Probably not, but we won’t know until we get there.’
‘True.’
The snail’s pace we travelled at made what was usually a twenty-five minute journey five times as long, though we did stop a few times to stretch our legs, let the dogs do their business, scout out suspicious vehicles stranded on the route and take out the odd pack of deedaz that ran after us.
The Knowesgate Inn was an old hotel situated on the A696. It had fallen into disrepair in the nineties and I had often wondered, when driving past the place, if it was still. Next door to the hotel was an equally rundown petrol station. Darren pulled in and parked the Mastiff around the back of the hotel.
‘This looks romantic,’ he quipped.
‘Nothing but the best for you, lover.’
Sarah popped her head between us. ‘Are we here? What the fuck is that?’ she said as she noticed the hotel.
‘That, my dear, is our home for
the night,’ I said as I donned my hatchet and machete, then loaded and cocked Angelina. Sarah scrunched her nose up as if she could smell the interior of our digs already.
Darren told the guys to stay in the truck, look after the dogs and wait. We climbed down and walked over to Andy, who’d pulled up next to us.
‘What a shithole.’
‘Dad, language!’ Bobby scolded.
‘Sorry pet. What’s the plan? Is it empty? What am I saying? Of course it is. Who’d want to stay in a fucking dump like this?’
‘Dad!’
‘This is your fault,’ he said looking at me and Darren. ‘I never swore before I met you two reprobates.’
Darren held his hands up then pointed a finger in my direction.
‘It’s been clinically proven that people who swear a lot are more intelligent. I read that on Facebook. So it must be true and anyone who disagrees can fuck off!’
‘Carter!’ Bobby shouted.
Josh interceded at this point saying, ‘Don’t look, but I think I’ve just seen a curtain twitch.’
We stood there frozen to the spot.
‘Which window?’ Darren asked.
‘First floor, end window. North side.’
‘OK, Andy, laugh.’
Andy laughed as if Darren had said the funniest joke ever.
‘Nobody is that funny mate.’
Andy turned it down a notch.
‘Carter, you’re going to move over to the back of the Mastiff and crawl under it towards its front. As I’ve parked it close to the hotel whoever is up there won’t see you. Skirt around the side of the hotel to the front entrance. I’m going to walk over to the garage and pretend to go for a piss. I’ll meet you there. Andy, sit tight and act cool. We won’t be long.’
I walked calmly over to the Mastiff and opened the back door then closed it again. Whoever was up there would think I’d just climbed inside. I hoped.
A minute later I met Darren at the entrance. He had the door open in seconds using his go-go gadget lock picks and we stepped inside.
At first appearance the place looked deserted, until I spotted a small camping stove next to a large open fireplace at the far end of the room. I caught Darren’s eye and nodded in the stove’s direction. It was still lit. A pan sat on top bubbling away. I scanned the room looking for the phantom chef while Darren covered the stairs.
It's Grim Up North (Book 3): The Journey Page 9
