by Vance Huxley
“OK. Another beer?”
Harry recognised a change of subject when it hit him between the eyes and went for two more cans.
* * *
They watched the news, and the mounting list of cities and large towns where there was civil unrest. “This place never got a mention. Doesn’t that count?” Harry waved at the window where sporadic fireworks sounded.
“Wait until tomorrow, Friday. The weekends are worse for some reason. That makes no sense because the TV says the unrest is the unemployed and gangsters.” Sharyn watched the news a bit longer. “Be careful when you go to the rifle club. I’ve got a baseball bat you can take.”
Harry was startled, then smiled. “I’ve got something better. A poncy stick.” He laughed at Sharyn’s look. “A little memento from Stones and his mates.”
“Has it got a cannon in one end, or bloody great spikes on it?” Sharyn was staring at the pack as Harry opened it. “What did those idiots give you?”
“Stones did it really, I reckon. When I got the medal.” Harry turned with the stick.
Sharyn gave low whistle. “That’s definitely as good as a baseball bat. I thought it was your shoulder and hand that were hurt, not your leg?”
“It was Stones who had the broken leg so he has one as well. Watch this.” Harry cavorted around the room waving and jabbing with the weapon while Sharyn fluctuated between disbelief and hilarity.
“Stop it or I’ll end up waking Daisy and she doesn’t need to see that demonstration. She’ll want a toy version and Wills will lose an eye.” Sharyn sniggered as Harry propped the stick against the kitbag. “That should do the job. Was that prancing from films or have you really practiced?”
“This was Stones, remember, so we had to practice a lot too bloody hard. He’s still in Kuwait as far as I know.” That took away Harry’s smile.
Sharyn glanced at the TV, the source of all knowledge these days. “Well the news said everyone, the Army, is home now. Except for the Falklands, for the oil, and Gibraltar which is probably just to keep sticking it to Spain. Or maybe because the Navy needs the parking space. Stones might not be coming back.” She paused. “Tessa will be gutted.”
“Yeah, that’ll be no fun for her. She won’t get married quarters if he didn’t come back.”
“She married him?”
Harry laughed at Sharyn’s expression. “No, not Stones. But he does refer to her as his missus and put her down as a dependent. Told me he sent her part of his pay to help with Eddie. You do know she had a boy and Stones is the daddy, all official on the Army records?”
“Yes, I used to see her shopping now and then, but she’s moved across the city to live with her dad. You should look her up.” Sharyn smiled. “Though there’s that girl in London so maybe not.”
“Stop it. Stones might still be alive.” Though a seventeen year old Harry did have a bit of a thing about Tessa when he saw her with Stones. Lonely dreams of a frustrated teenager sort of thing.
“Of course, and the last thing she needs is pestering by a pimply youth.” Harry didn’t have pimples now, but Sharyn had once again tweaked him nicely.
“Where’s the best place for plywood?”
Sharyn also understood a change of subject when it hit her on the head.
* * *
“The Dog and Stoat looks a bit rough.” Harry eyed up the boarded windows on the pub.
Mr Pilsworth glanced at Harry. “How long is it since you saw it?” His eyes narrowed. “You can’t have been old enough.” The tall, spare man with grey hair had relaxed a bit after seeing Harry’s ID but still wasn’t comfortable about showing a stranger the rifle range.
“Seventeen when I last saw it, but I was a tall seventeen. After all, it’s not that far from the range.” Mr Pilsworth twitched so Harry continued. “I really can drive straight there, so I’m not trying to rob the place.”
“I looked it up. You really did buy the rifle for the club. Why?”
“I was sixteen so I couldn’t get a licence. Mum was a bit keen on the bottle so she certainly wouldn’t get one. This way I had a decent second hander that wasn’t as badly abused as the other club rifles.” They were inside now and Harry waved at the pumps. “A pint please.”
“Sorry mate. That one doesn’t work. Not many of them do because the deliveries are a bit iffy. We’ve got a crackin’ home brew.”
“Pint of home brew please, Sam.”
Mr Pilsworth didn’t seem to have any hesitation so Harry took the plunge. “I’ll risk one as well, please. Is it brewed in a bathtub then?” Harry thought that through as the pints were poured. “How does he produce enough for a pub?”
“Her and him, two of them. They’ve got a microbrewery that supplies a good few places and that’s all you find out.” Sam smiled to take the sting out of his reply and rang in the cash.
“Blimey, most producers like advertising.”
“Not since two microbreweries had midnight visitors and all the bloody stock went missing. One was trashed and the other poor sod was working late. The savages killed him.” This time Sam didn’t hide the sting. “Where have you been?”
“In London, with the Army.”
“Bunch of wankers. They sit on the bypass and watch the assholes burn the place down.” Sam didn’t think much to the Army. Put like that, those left in London probably weren’t keen.
“They aren’t allowed to help. I left to come and help my sister, since they’ve got too many soldiers now.” That didn’t match up with pulling out of the population centres either. This trip wasn’t making Harry feel better about the situation. “You’ve still got police though?”
“They won’t stop unless there’s actually a murder going on in the street in front of the car.” That was Mr Pilsworth so it wasn’t just Sam who was bitter. “Can we sit down because I’d like to check something?”
They sat and in a quiet voice Mr Pilsworth asked. “Do you genuinely know where the range is? I’m sorry, but I’m absolutely paranoid that someone will get what’s left and kill some innocent.”
Harry told him, and briefly described the inside. “Now you can tell me just how bad it is here. This area sounds worse than where my sister lives.” Mr Pilsworth explained, and it was a lot worse. The smashed windows in most of the houses on their way to the range, and several burned out cars, bore mute testimony to that.
Mr Pilsworth got out of his car, glanced around and then unlocked the gate, and both drove into the yard. As soon as he got out Harry had his first question. “When did the gate go up?” Mr Pilsworth turned from locking them in.
“Two years ago when one of the members was mugged while getting into his car. Luckily he wasn’t someone with their own rifle.” Mr Pilsworth went down the three steps and the door now had a steel plate across the whole front. The engraved plate on the old door that had announced what was inside here hadn’t been refastened. There were two locks, and as soon as they were inside Mr Pilsworth drove two big bolts home.
“Has anyone tried to get in?” Harry was a lot more worried now.
“Twice though I don’t think they knew what was in here. Just someone with a crowbar looking for an empty lockup to rob.” Lights came on as Mr Pilsworth flicked switches. “Don’t come here at night, and don’t tell anyone where it is or bring them with you.”
“I can’t come anyway without you.”
“Yes you can.” Mr Pilsworth unhooked keys from a board. “The rest have their own keys and since you know where the place is you may as well have a set as well. Please be careful to shut all the doors before shooting, Mr Miller, because that means nobody can hear you. Unless you’ve got some sort of big cannon you’re going to bring here?”
“No, I just wanted to keep my hand in. What about buying ammunition?”
“The charges are up there, for air pistol and two-two rifle ammo. That’s all we have. There again, you know that.” He looked at the lockers and a list. “There’s the rifle you want.” He unfastened the locker. “There are club
rifles in those three, and the air pistols in the end one. The rest are empty now. The ammunition is through here in a floor safe.” Mr Pilsworth laughed. “Under the rug of course. Make an entry in the book and stick the cash in the box in the safe.”
After showing Harry the safe and the combination, Mr Pilsworth stuck out a hand. “Well I’ll be off. Please bolt the door after me, and get out before dark.” Harry shook the man’s hand and bolted the door as asked. Then he sat for a while to digest the news on how bad this area was. The whole place was definitely edging towards a London scenario.
Harry popped off thirty rounds just for the relaxation, and the cool quiet of the range worked its magic and relaxed him. Then he locked up and drove home.
Sharyn had bad news. Three of the four living on the ground floor weren’t willing to have their windows boarded up because they wouldn’t live in a cave. Worse still, the news announced that a second city, Glasgow, was being sealed off the same way as London. Army engineers were shown putting up mesh fences and bulldozing a clear zone along its length. The pictures also showed a mob with firearms trying to storm an Army checkpoint.
That night Harry’s dreams started again. The screaming faces charging him and the hate-filled ones pointing rifles at his friends, and one after another he shot them.
* * *
Five days later Sharyn was waiting as Harry came into the flat. “Can you come to a meeting please, Harry? Susan will be looking after Daisy and Wills because I want to be there as well.” Harry was nicely chilled. He was just back from his second visit to the range and a pint of home brew.
“What’s the panic?”
“A group of yobs chucked a brick through Mr Bungle’s flat window, and tried to throw a petrol bomb after it. Well, they did throw one but he’s got a proper fire extinguisher for emergencies so he put it out.” Sharyn threw up her hands. “Now everyone wants their bloody windows boarding up, right now.”
“A window? What about the main doors?”
“They threw a couple of bricks at that but the glass is tougher. Health and Safety regulations. At least Finn fixed them so Clarence can’t open the doors now or he probably would have.” Sharyn was collecting toys for Wills. “Organise Daisy will you, because otherwise she’ll complain because it’s Uncle Harry time.” Daisy did complain and was mollified by promises of an ice lolly later.
Harry waited in the corridor while Sharyn peeled Daisy off him and then handed her to Susan. “So where is this meeting?”
“Thank you Susan. I’ll cast your vote.” Sharyn turned. “In the foyer. It’s the only place big enough since some will sit on the stairs. We’ll take the lift this time.” That was a dig at Harry for using the stairs to keep fit.
Harry hadn’t seen so many people at one time since arriving. A quick look round and he made it thirty-four now he’d arrived. “Hi Sharyn. Is this the soldier boy?” A short, balding, portly man in blue overalls waved as they came out of the lift.
Sharyn laughed. “Harry, meet Rob. Rob, meet Harry.” She looked around the assembled residents. “In fact, everyone, meet Harry my little brother.”
“Little? Cripes, have you got a big one? A jolly green one.” That was a dark haired woman in her early twenties who was wearing an apron with scorch marks on it. She wasn’t exactly tiny herself, only just under six feet Harry thought.
“No Liz. Just the one and he’s only just over six feet. He just looms a bit next to me.”
“Hi Liz. Hi everyone. Sharyn said there’s been a fire.” Harry didn’t need Sharyn taking the piss in front of everyone, and she’d start if there was a chance.
“There was but Mr Blu... Mr Baumber put it out.” The lady with the blue rinse smiled and shrugged off the slip of the tongue. “But if that was my window I don’t have one of those big extinguishers. By the time I’d got the one from the corridor the whole place would have been ablaze.”
“Worse still, what if they’d come in through the window?” The arms the elderly man had around the woman with him were a clear indication what he was worried about protecting.
“We need the windows boarding up, and Sharyn said that was your idea the first time round, Mr er?” That was blue rinse and Harry wondered if she was the yes or a no the first time round.
“Harry.”
“Oh, that’s informal. Harry. Can you board up windows?”
“If I’ve got the plywood and some help.”
A stout man had another worry. “What about the damage to the window frames?”
“Better than having the flats on fire Mr Baumber.”
The mystery voice made the objector, a stout man in a brown smock, pause for a moment. Mr Baumber then continued. “But the council will insist on being paid. I can’t make it official.” He hesitated. “I can forget to report it? Blame the phone?”
“Good man” and various other comments came from the company.
“We need to go and buy the gear before dark. Has anyone got money because I’m not sure how much it will cost?” Harry looked round. “Though I’ll chip in because being up on the fourth floor I don’t fancy the first floor catching fire.” Initial reluctance gave way to offers of money as people thought that one through.
“I’ve got petrol in my van though we might need two vehicles.” Rob smiled. “I don’t fancy taking my gear out of it to make room, not if we’ve got to get moving by dark.”
“I’ve got a pickup.” Harry shrugged. “It’s got diesel as yet. Who’s got tools?”
Finn stuck up a hand. “I reckon between me and Rob we’ve got enough drills and such. I’m sure a lot of people have a hammer or a screwdriver but we’ll need screws or nails.” Other hands went up to volunteer tools or help and then the crowd was moving.
“Come on, soldier boy.” Liz smiled. “I’ve got plastic but no cash so I’ll need a lift to Homebase.” She noticed Sharyn’s little smile and lifted eyebrow and laughed. “He’s safe with me. I like my men with a lot more muscle. Body builders, weight lifters,” her eyes opened wide and she put more expression into the last word. “Blacksmiths.”
A hand squeezed Harry’s bicep. “Plenty there for me, dearie.” Harry looked down startled and Blue Rinse smiled and headed off up the corridor.
“She does that.” Harry looked at Sharyn as she spoke and his sister was grinning. “Karen has got Mr Baumber running scared. She keeps inviting him in for a night of gin rummy, gin, and debauchery, and nobody is certain she doesn’t mean it.” Harry received a sister-hug. “Now go and do your thing, solder boy.”
Liz was chatty but really did like muscly men, and especially blacksmiths, and bemoaned the lack of medieval fairs and the like in the last few years. Harry did find out about the apron. “If you want a twee little bit of metal scrollwork to fasten to Sharyn’s door I’m the go-to person.”
Liz smiled. “Or some real Twisted Sister artwork, all twirly bits of wrought iron and brass? No big brutal stuff like that stick, though I could probably make one. Might not manage such a good job on the crest or the engraving. What’s it say?”
“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
Liz laughed and pointed at the stick. “Maybe if you’ve got a pen that size. Turn left at the traffic lights. Don’t wait because they won’t change.” Sure enough the other traffic was ignoring the red light. Harry pulled into the car park and the first thing that was obvious was that Homebase had been dipping into their own stocks. All the big windows were boarded up.
Harry was a bit worried about that so he found someone with a name badge straight away. “Have you got any plywood left and where is it, please?”
The young man glanced at the group behind Harry. “Maybe. It depends on how much you need because everyone’s got the same idea. Down there, at the back.” He headed off, obviously determined not to be commandeered into the loading.
“We’ve got the transport.” Rob and Mr Baumber had a low trolley each and the group soon found the plywood.
“How much do we need?” They looked at e
ach other.
“All of it? We can always sell any that’s left over.” The rest glanced at Liz, at the heap, and agreed.
“Hey, you can’t take it all.”
“Because? It is all for sale.” Harry looked at the two men and wondered if he should offer them some. Then he thought of the number of windows on the ground floor.
“But what will we do? What about our windows?” The older man wasn’t giving up.
“Take some off an empty building.” Everyone turned to the young man coming past with a basket containing boxes of screws. “If they’re empty, who will stop you?” Then he was gone towards the checkout.
“That’s stealing.” But the younger man was now pulling the arm of the older and talking quietly, eventually leading him off towards the nails and screws.
“So why aren’t we stealing ours? Though it doesn’t actually seem right.” Rob was definitely unsure now.
“Because we can afford it, we’ve got enough here, and we haven’t time to run around for the amount we want.” Harry was pleased that Sharyn wasn’t here or she’d be raising an eyebrow to mock him or asking where he got that lovely motor.
“Screws are over here.” Liz was done with the discussion and she was right, they needed to get moving. Not only that but the nails and screws were taking a beating as well so the group loaded up with a good selection. On the way out Harry picked up the three remaining pick-shafts.
“What are they for?”
Harry smiled at Mr Baumber and hefted one. “For the first toerag who climbs through a window?”
“Go soldier boy.” Liz liked the idea. “Why not a big hammer?”
“Because only a blacksmith could swing it.”
She laughed. “I’ll look out for one, and a hammer.” The woman on the checkout wasn’t happy at taking part cash and part payment from three separate credit cards, but couldn’t find a reason to say no. The ply and lengths of timber were loaded and the convoy reversed their course.
