Fall of the Cities: Planting the Orchard

by Vance Huxley

  The noise caused a few to hesitate and scrabble for pistols, which gave Harold his targets. Casper was prioritising as well though Harold needed to do something with the shotgun loads. One man staggered and dropped his pistol, but kept coming with his machete. The other one Casper hit was closer, already shooting, and the packed birdshot knocked him straight down.

  Harold shot three before he had to defend himself from a machete. All were men who had stopped to aim properly and the heavy, high-powered bullets took each one off his feet. Harold grinned as he took the machete blow on the solid wooden forestock of his rifle. Déjà vu except for the lack of sand, and it wasn’t a plastic and tin rifle this time. Harold stepped into the blow, hooking the butt round to smash the big brass plate into his opponent’s face. The man staggered back two steps spraying blood from his mouth and nose and Harold followed.

  He brought the rifle back over his shoulder, butt foremost, and this time drove the brass into the man’s forehead. He went over without a sound. Harold turned and saw Liz and he was going to be too late. Her attacker already had a machete raised. Liz turned her head away from the attack as she took a wild swipe, and the man avoided the blade with a smile. He stepped in, machete already coming down and Liz was still looking away.

  Harold was pulling his rifle round as fast as possible, working the bolt to feed in a round but too slow, much too slow. Then the man’s eyes went wide in surprise as he was plucked off his feet. Casper had him by the collar and heaved, and man flew backwards and down. Casper’s batting arm was already well into its swing as the man landed, and the target barely managed a short scream. Liz looked round, eyes wide and horrified, but Harold was already looking for more targets.

  Four of his people were down, but so were all the others, the enemy. All of Harold’s wounded were still moving, so Harold ran forward along with Casper, Holly, Toby, Sal, Emmy, and Seth, machetes and spears raised. There was no mercy as they worked through the wounded. Though two with crossbow bolts in their legs put their hands on their heads, and the machetes halted.

  Holly went past them heading for where the leader had fallen, with grim determination and a raised spear. “Don’t kill him yet.”

  She paused at Harold’s voice, glanced back at him, and looked down. A voice was raised, either pleading or plain begging. Holly bent down and picked up a discarded machete. She swung and it came down hard. The man screamed, and then whimpered as Holly looked over at Harold. “Not dead. Not yet, but he won’t be using that damn knife again.”

  Casper was dealing with the captives, using belts to tie their arms behind them. Harold, along with Emmy, Toby, and Sal, went to look at their own wounded. Matthew had a bullet in the shoulder which Toby and Sal started plugging and wrapping up. Liz had already strapped her sheathed machete as a splint for Curtis’s shin. He’d passed out as she did. Liz moved over to help Emmy with a sling for Finn’s arm, avoiding looking at anyone else.

  Harold knelt next to Rob. “Good job you didn’t duck or it would have been your head.”

  “Yeah. Though I need to lose weight, not be such a big target.”

  Harold was looking at the hole in Rob’s front and out the back. “I’m not Patricia, but that’s well to the side of the vital stuff I reckon. Though we’d better give you the luxury trip home.”

  “How? Ow.”

  “Just cleaning it. Wait until Patricia starts.” Harold chuckled. “The luxury trip is we carry you.”

  Rob winced, and not from pain. “Seriously? Are gut shots really bad? The TV films always go on about them.”

  Harold smiled and hoped he was right. “Not out to the side like this. Through the middle is a problem, where the aorta and intestines and kidneys and such are. This has probably missed the lot. One really good thing, it went right through and out the back.”

  “Two holes is good? Aargh. That bloody hurts.”

  “Think yourself lucky the bullet isn’t still inside or Patricia would dig it out. Anyway, if it makes you feel better, you aren’t hurting anything like as much as that asshole who started it.”

  That stopped Rob worrying about his wound, for a moment at least. “Holly didn’t kill him?”

  “Not yet. I asked her not to she only hit him once, with a machete. He’s alive because I heard him scream afterwards.” As Rob smiled, Harold jerked his belt tight over the dressing.

  “Ooh. Ow, I really hope it hurts more than that. Now what?”

  “We put up a boundary marker.”

  Harold stood and went over to the two captives with Casper. “Tie them to lampposts, Casper, leave an empty one in the middle.” Casper looked puzzled. “Boundary markers.” Casper grinned and he and Seth got them on their feet. The captive pair hobbled to their lampposts as Harold went to see asshole.

  Asshole wouldn’t knife anyone ever again, even if he lived. Harold had, as he’d intended, hit the man’s good shoulder. The transfer of energy when the bullet hit the bone must have ruptured or shattered everything needed to make it work again. Holly had done something similar to the other shoulder with the machete. The sling the man had fashioned after Gabriela hit him had been removed, and Holly was folding it up.

  “I thought Gabriela might like it, to take with her. I considered his head but she wouldn’t want that on her pyre.” Holly looked down. “Can I start chopping yet?”

  “No.” The man shouldn’t have looked relieved at Harold’s reply. “He needs tying to a lamppost with his friends.” Holly was puzzled but perfectly happy to help the man to his feet. She pulled him by an arm which elicited a scream, and the man’s enthusiastic compliance with getting up. He tottered across to the lamppost in a haze of pain, then cried out again as his arms were tied back with his belt.

  Harold looked at the three. “We need something tight round their waists.”

  “Why?” Holly looked from one to another.

  “So the bodies don’t slip down.” Harold knew he should just shoot them, but somewhere inside he wanted a bit more. Execution at least. So they knew what was coming. So they could know they were dying, like Gabriela did, if only for a few moments. Holly, Seth and Harold soon cut shirts and jeans off bodies and bound all three firmly so they wouldn’t slip down.

  One of the men with a wounded leg had to ask. “What’s that for?”

  “So your body doesn’t slide down and spoil the message.” The man stared at the young blonde woman with the vicious smile and bloody spear and machete.

  “We surrendered. You can’t do that.”

  “Why not? You do what you want. Tell you what, we’ll make it legal.” Holly turned to Harold. “We should try them. We’ve got a jury.”

  “They’re a bit biased.” Though the idea appealed to Harold.

  “Only jury we’ve got.” Casper raised his voice. “You lot are sworn in as a jury. You heard the prosecution evidence back there with Gabriela.” Casper turned back to the lampposts. “Anything to say in defence?”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  Harold smiled. “Aiding and abetting. The sentence is death.”

  Holly smiled and pointed at the blood spatter from the man’s leg wound. “Littering the pavement. The sentence is death.” She turned to the other two, “Any defence?”

  “You can’t do this.” That wasn’t too clear because this man must have been Toby’s victim, and his cheek was torn open.

  Holly looked at the one who had just spoken. “Of course we can, you stupid shit.” She glanced at the next lamppost. “The one in the middle isn’t interested in answering.” Holly was right, he was only half-conscious. “Verdict everyone?”

  “Guilty.” That rolled back from everyone without hesitation.

  “So how do we execute them, Harold, bearing in mind this one still owes Gabriela?” Holly gestured at the centre man and hefted her machete. “I should do it, because after all you claimed me didn’t you?” The eyes looking at Holly were glazed with pain, but Harold could see the shock hit as the man realised who this was.

 
; Harold called out to those around his own wounded. “Toby, can I borrow your rifle please? To save on the big ammunition.”

  The youngster hurried over. “Yes, of course Harold. Here’s some rounds.”

  “I only need two. Remember to pick up any brass on the road so I can reload them.”

  “I’ll look around, Harold. Once you’re done.” Toby stepped back a little. “I want to see them die.”

  Harold loaded and stood in front of the left man, about ten feet away. He aimed the rifle. “Hey, look up.” The man did and Harold shot him through the left eye. Then he walked down the street and repeated that with the one at the other end, through the right eye. “Pull the crossbow bolts out of their legs and his arm, so we can use them again.”

  “This one tried to take Gabriela. Attempted rape so I should cut his nuts off. That would be a clear message to any others?” Holly’s suggestion got through and the man raised his head despite the pain in his shoulders.

  “No!”

  “I wonder how many said that to you.” Harold decided his evil half had played enough today. The asshole was dying of blood loss right now, but Holly was right about the message. “You can cut off his nuts, but cut his throat first. Pull his pants down before you cut, so whoever sees him understands.” Harold walked away before he was tempted to torture the bastard first.

  The man’s voice was loud behind him, protesting, and Harold paused when there was a long, sobbing scream. Then it was cut off and Holly’s voice sounded from behind Harold. “Sorry, I got confused. I cut off his nuts first.” There was a world of satisfaction in Holly’s voice so Harold let it ride. When she joined him in stripping the bodies of weapons and undamaged clothing, the manic glare had gone from the young woman’s eyes. Perhaps that scream had been enough revenge.

  Chopping off the heads on the other bodies was a messy and gruesome chore, but those doing it agreed heads helped mark the boundary. The nine heads were placed in a line in front of the three lampposts. There wasn’t any paint to write ‘Keep Out’ but hopefully the message was clear enough.

  * * *

  Those still unhurt used timbers from the houses and jackets from the bodies to make a stretcher for Rob. When Emmy offered her arm and shoulder to help him get back, Curtis developed a massive smile and Harold a small one. Harold was remembering being asked how to deal with a grieving woman. Being her patient could work best of all. A patient in a greenhouse would be bonus, since Curtis would no doubt keep up his gardening.

  Harold and Casper carried the stretcher, with comments about people going on diets. The return trip was slow and once he thought they were near enough to risk it, Harold sent Holly and Toby ahead to let everyone know what had happened. Almost full dark had fallen when the group arrived back, and Gabriela’s body was nowhere in sight. The two men had been stripped of boots and anything else useful but they had been left among the weeds.

  Susan came running across the gardens to see Rob as soon as the stretcher broke cover, and Harold had to warn her to leave the jackets covering him. Harold’s rifle and the captured firearms were under there, and an Army scope would be able to see them even in the dark. Patricia was waiting in Rob’s or Susan’s ‘our’ house. Maybe this would finally settle the pair’s reluctance to admit their relationship, since according to Patricia any woman willing to deal with a man’s bedpans wasn’t a platonic friend.

  The group split up with people going off with small groups to explain what happened and Harold tried once again to talk to Liz. Once again she avoided him, which was worrying. Harold understood. Liz had found she couldn’t hack at another human being. Given everyone’s background and upbringing that wasn’t strange, but Liz needed to understand that.

  * * *

  Harold had to fend off invites to this house or another before he could go home. Sharyn made him a cup of coffee while Daisy bounced all over him. “Uncle-Harold story tonight.”

  “I know luv. Just let me have my cup of coffee.”

  “I’ve drawn a dog because Betty used to have a dog. Can we have a dog? Please?”

  “I don’t know if there are any for sale now. I’ll look out for one.”

  “A big, fluffy one. Can you draw dogs?”

  Harold looked up and smiled at Sharyn as he accepted his drink. “I can probably learn, Daisy.” Though he was wondering about dogs. Apocalyptic films all claimed that packs of them should be running about hunting people. Apart from an aged poodle there were no dogs on the estate. There had been a general drift towards cats in recent years but a complete lack was still strange. Then Harold was too busy learning to draw dogs to worry about where they were.

  Sharyn was waiting after Uncle-Harold bedtime story with a bowl of soup, bread, and questions. “Now I want to know, little brother. Did you set the boundary?”

  “With a line of heads, sis. I think Holly finally got it out of her system.”

  “Good.” Sharyn thought a moment. “Maybe good. How did she do it?”

  “She got to the right man. Nearly hacked an arm off and tied him to a lamppost, and we had a trial. There were enough for a jury.”

  Sharyn had a little smile. “What was the verdict?”

  “Death for the three we caught alive. I shot two of them.” Harold gave a little laugh. “Through the eye with a little rifle to save big ammo.”

  “The other one?”

  “He’s the one who killed Gabriela. I told Holly to cut his throat and then cut off his nuts for attempted rape.” Harold smiled. “Her idea but without the throat cut.”

  Sharyn winced a bit. “Ouch, but appropriate. Did she do it?”

  “She did it the other way round, but didn’t leave long between them. Sort of a compromise.” Harold sighed. “I was tempted to do much, much worse.”

  He received a sister-hug. “We would all have helped tonight, and felt bad tomorrow. How is Holly now?”

  “A lot better. Can you keep an eye on her please?” Harold wanted someone watching for any reaction.

  “I’ll ask Liz.”

  “Liz has a big problem. She broke. When it came to it Liz can’t carve up people, which makes her a nicer person than me but she doesn’t believe it. I’ll bet she’s worried about letting us down.” Harold sighed again, it was that sort of talk. “I’ll ask Casper, though she’ll be embarrassed with him as well. He saved her life.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Sharyn sounded doubtful. Liz wasn’t really the weepy confiding type.

  “Explain that making nasty sharp stuff is actually more useful to us. We’ve got others to beat heads.” Harold sniggered. “Oh, don’t say much but watch how Curtis responds to Emmy nursing him.”

  “Oh? Really? Is she coming out of it already?”

  “No, but he’s sort of manoeuvring to be there when it happens.” Harold explained the advice.

  “Pretty damn good for a thick squaddie. Are you offering shoulders?”

  “Firstly I’m worried about taking advantage. Secondly I wouldn’t tell you in a million years.” Harold went for his third sigh. “Where is Gabriela?”

  “In number six where she lived. She’s laid out in the front room, all cleaned up and made up and dressed pretty. A couple of her friends are sitting with her, and I’ll bet Holly joins them once she’s cleaned up. Possibly Emmy as well if she can get clear of her patient.”

  “Holly’s got a present for the pyre. She brought the sling he needed after Gabriela hit him.”

  “Yes, despite Gabriela’s anger, she went for his arm.” Sharyn sighed this time. “She was too nice, deep inside. You wouldn’t have hit his arm and he’d have never reached the knife.”

  “Training and bad experiences.”

  “Yes, so you’ve said. Want to talk?” Harold did, for a while, and explaining him losing his temper to someone else helped. So did admitting that killing was easier now which was worrying.

  “As long as you don’t do that stuff without emotion. Freddie used to say that was really bad.”

  “He was
right.” Harold explained dreams, and that he was going to see dead people when he slept, and Sharyn hugged him long and hard. Then they sat a while and chatted about Daisy, and Wills, and very little of importance. Peaceful and normal things. Harold dozed off for a while until he was shaken awake.

  “I was going to wake you to go to bed, but now there’s a phone call.”

  That woke Harold up properly. “Who?”

  “Casper. He says he’d like you to go to the terraces at yon end, near the big car park. No need for a rifle, but you should take a look. Wear a jacket, because they’ve still got broken windows.”

  “Broken roofs as well, some of them. I can’t take the little rifle anyway because Finn still has it I think.” Harold put on a winter fleece. “I’ve no idea how long I’ll be. Don’t wait up.”

  “All right, see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  The night really was chilly as Harold walked through the inhabited houses. The next buildings were habitable but empty so a sentry sat at the end of them to stop yobs starting a fire. One day, hopefully, there would be people to fill all the houses. There was a light on in the upstairs of one of the terraced houses and someone waved so Harold waved back. The curtains were then closed, cutting off most of the light.

  Harold went up the stairs and into the back room, a little bit puzzled. Though he realised what the reason for privacy might be when he went in. Misplaced shame. “Hello Liz.”

  “Hello Harold.” Liz looked embarrassed. “I needed to talk to you, sort of private. Do you fancy a beer?”

  There were two open bottles on a little table and two chairs. Harold could take a hint that big. “I’d love one, though that’s a bit cloak and dagger. Has prohibition arrived?”

  “No, idiot.” Liz sat as well. She was also wearing a thick jacket against the cold. “I couldn’t face everyone so I was going to hide here tonight. Then I realised some people deserved an explanation.”