by Vance Huxley
Harold turned to answer. “That’s just the street I live on.”
“So what? We need a name for the enclave and half those in the other houses say they’re Orchard Close residents. Your old group.” Matthew shrugged. “It’s easier than ‘this estate’ or ‘our group of houses’ or a list of streets.”
“I can see how you boss them about.” Conn had a little smile now.
“We get the job done. I’m the go-to man for sorting out soldier trouble. I’m hoping your lot have the go-to man for a few other things. We’ve got a plumber, an electrician, and a brewer.”
“Really? A brewer? I’m going to love this place!” Conn was thinking. “We’ve got a general handyman, and Pippa is a genius baker. Cakes mainly, but she can rustle up a lovely loaf of bread as well.” Conn looked round. “It was all a bit rushed, and I’m not sure what some of these did. The mob came over the barricade and then vehicles were going over the gardens in all directions. These cars and the two vans sort of congregated and the Minutemen dropped in front and rear as guards.”
The older woman from the original negotiators spoke up. “I’m Janine. The guards weren’t exactly welcome though they were a comfort. Those who didn’t bring much were a bit worried about how we were going to pay them.” She looked around. “I worked in a laundry so I’m afraid the best I can offer is nicely ironed clothes.”
“Get settled in, sort yourselves out, and we’ll all talk tomorrow. I really would appreciate anyone who can use a crossbow properly, or a firearm, and people who will stand with a spear if necessary.”
“You sent the four best at that away. The rest of us were discouraged from that sort of thing. We really can just pick a house?” Conn was looking at the houses with more interest now.
“Yes. We prefer more than one living in each one though it isn’t a rule. We’ve found that two or more stops people getting depressed in the evening.” Harold knew that worked for him. Living with his big sister had downsides, but he was sure the incessant cheerful chatter from Daisy kept him from brooding too much. “Choose one with electric heating or ask for Betty and she’ll fix you up with electric fires. Then look for a TV or kettle if there isn’t one.”
“The gas is off?”
Harold shrugged. “The TV says so and we’re not risking it going out and coming back and something going boom. So we’ve turned the gas off to every house.”
“OK.” Conn hesitated. “Are there rules about the single women all sleeping in this girl’s club?”
“No, why?”
Conn glanced along his group and spoke quietly. “I’ve sort of got a friend. Maybe it’s time to make it more permanent?”
“Only if she agrees.”
“Bloody hell yes. Look at the size of me.” Conn smiled and went off, and the woman he was talking to soon afterwards was definitely in no physical danger from him. She was big enough to beat him up instead, or tuck Conn under one arm and carry him off.
“Come on sis. You can apologise to Liz on the way back. She’ll have to wait for her test subjects.”
“She’s already here. She followed me to hear the macho bullshit. Liz says it’s reassuring.” Sharyn sighed. “How many more groups like this will we see, Harold? How many more can we take in?”
“We’ve just taken fourteen including the two kids. We can take more without leaving the originals in a minority and perhaps making someone ambitious.” Harold frowned. “Maybe I need a quiet chat with my sister about how many we can take.” Sharyn hooked her arm through his and they went home.
They decided that another dozen wouldn’t be too much strain, and would help with the defence if it came to that. By nightfall five had already been admitted. One couple and two women with a four year old girl. All five were perfectly happy to accept the rules and were shown to houses. All were running from a mob that had overrun where they lived. Their cars were parked in the front gardens on the main road and the fuel tanks were drained.
* * *
Hazel had been sent upstairs to read, or just worry, and hopefully sleep. “She doesn’t need to see this.” Harold gestured at the TV where the line of fire stretched and contracted, swelled and faded, as more of the city died. “Veronica was spared last night because her parents wouldn’t let her watch. Hazel might worry about it, but that won’t be as bad as seeing just how bad the riots are getting.”
“That’s beyond a riot, but not an insurrection either though that’s the government line.” Sharyn watched in disgust as the blurb came up at the bottom of the screen for at least the fifth time.
“The authorities have ascertained that the cowardly attacks last night were an organised rebellion. Criminals and other unprincipled citizens including religious zealots combined in an attempt at taking over the entire city. The valiant attempts by the representatives of law and order averted this, at the cost of their lives. The mass of accomplices are now leaderless, lashing out blindly at the innocent citizens around them. Because of Human Rights legislation, the Armed Forces are not allowed to intervene. We are attempting to modify the laws to allow the Armed Forces to rescue the innocents.”
Harold raised his fist but hitting the settee wouldn’t help. He’d tried it. “Lying bastards. I was in the Army. We formed lines and bayoneted civilians in London. We went into housing estates with snipers and machine guns backing us up. The lying bastards.”
“You’re right, it’s bullshit. Human Rights doesn’t say that the Army should shoot people trying to escape from this lot.” Sharyn was close to weeping, again. “For some reason they want this to happen. Why, and who is running the country? There’s never a mention of a politician’s name now, just the government.” Her voice sharpened. “What about the King, or Queen? Christ, we don’t even know which we’ve got now.”
“In practical terms they’re powerless anyway. We’ve spent years gradually making the monarch powerless. A Head of State responsible for everything but who can’t interfere. A politician’s dream.” Harold gave a short laugh. “Unless, according to what some barrack’s lawyer said after a couple of beers, there is no government. Then the Armed Forces answer to the monarch.” His smile was grim. “We still swear allegiance to the monarch, not Parliament.”
“So where are they? Last we heard there’d been a terrorist attack on the Royal Family. That was a year ago, and there’s been nothing since.” Sharyn turned to Harold “Seriously? The King, or the Queen if none of the men made it, can order the Army about?”
“Theoretically, and most of the squaddies I knew would rather follow them into a bad place than the bloody politicians. After all, a good few of us served with or near a Royal at some time. Not so many bloody politicians’ kids up on the sharp end.”
“Ooh, you’re a Royalist.”
“Well I know which I’d rather have at my back when it hits the fan. Definitely HRH Harry for starters even if he’s a bit old for it now.” Harold watched the TV, where the blind monster of fire and death had lunged south. Now the estates that had been torn apart on that first night, when the city was sealed, burned again. “Not that I reckon the Royals would have much say anyway. I reckon they’re dead, or somewhere that is sealed off for their own protection and, guess what, has no phones or radio links.”
“If they got Charlie’s whole family, it could be Queen Beatrice or Eugenie.” Sharyn paused. “Hah, it could be Princess Anne. She would pin some ears back even if she’s a bit creaky now. I suppose we’ll never know.” Sharyn gestured at the TV. “If that lot heads this way we’ll be dead anyway.”
“I know sis. I’m actually reassured by that officer on the bypass and the extra soldiers. That mob hasn’t hit the Army yet. They keep swerving away from the boundary. I fervently hope that the lunatics keep doing that until they run out of energy or rage or food. If not I hope that the Army has some sort of master plan.” The next part was in a much lower voice, almost a whisper. “I’d even welcome a tank up on the bypass, and I’ve seen what they do to crowds.”
“En
ough. We go to bed, we try to sleep, and catch up tomorrow. I’m not watching another hour and a half of this because that’s all they’re showing.” Sharyn stood up and turned off the TV. “That’s if you actually get undisturbed sleep.”
Five times during the night the little radio called Harold down to the barricade. Another seven people were admitted, but two heavily armed groups were sent away. The fighters and weapons would have been welcome, but neither group would agree to the impromptu rules. Both wanted preferential treatment and first pick of resources. One group also wanted women for the fighters as part of their pay.
* * *
By four am the escapees stopped coming and everyone not on sentry duty slept. Harold woke at seven but stayed in bed for a little while trying to get back to sleep. He gave up eventually and got dressed because although tired, he was too wound up to relax. The view out of the bedroom window didn’t help.
This morning the columns of smoke were much closer, and spread across much of the western horizon, across much of the city. There was a taint of burning in the air itself now even if the light rain seemed to be keeping the smoke from reaching Orchard Close.
After breakfast Harold went down to the barricade. “Where is Karen?” He’d suddenly realised that neither Karen’s blue rinse nor Stewart Baumber had been at the barricade yesterday, or last night.
“She’s having a bad time. The last lot of tablets aren’t doing the job. Patricia is doing her best but she says there’s not enough specialist medicine.” Betty shouldn’t be here on the barricade anyway, but she’d brought hot coffee.
“Christ, Betty, why didn’t she say?”
“Because you can’t fix it, and you’ve got enough problems just now. Just to stop you running off to Patricia there’s three, four now, in trouble. Mary, Karen, and Harry need something stronger than Ibuprofen and Paracetamol, and one of the new men is a diabetic and out of insulin. Sandy, another new one, is borderline with his arthritis but can manage. Both Mary and Karen have other problems as well as pain and their medication has run out. Switching to something else has caused them a lot of problems.”
Betty patted Harold’s arm. “Now you keep us safe while Patricia does her best. The rest of us can manage on the pills you brought. Once things settle down, we can all try to find a proper solution.” Betty collected empty mugs and headed back up the road. Harold turned back to the barricade and tried to clear that news from his head.
“Harold, what do we do about that?” Holly provided a distraction.
“What?
“A dog. It’s hanging about at the end of the lane. It seems to want to come up here but it’s frightened.” Harold stepped onto his box and a chocolate Labrador was at the end of the lane, trotting back and forth on the main road. The dog sniffed the cars, and started to follow the scent of the occupants. Then it stopped, looked at the barricade, and backed off. “It keeps doing that.”
Harold frowned. “Maybe it’s frightened of the barricade. Who had a dog, before all this happened?”
“I did, why?”
“Sal? Do you fancy a chocolate Labrador, second hand and decidedly wary of barricades?” Harold kept his voice light but he’d always had a soft spot for strays. Birds with broken wings, dogs with three legs, that sort of thing.
“I might. Is it a he or she?”
“Bitch.” Holly sounded certain, then Harold remembered she’d got the binoculars up there.
“That was uncalled for. I’d make a good mummy for her.” Sal sounded happier now. “What have we got to tempt her in? Oh, what do I feed her?”
“Rat and cat? At the moment Holly and the trapper squad take them out of the traps and throw them away.” Harold hadn’t thought of food when he made the offer. “Is there dog food in any of the houses?”
“Some. I think number seventeen still has a stack of tins and some packets of dog food. I was waiting until we ran out of meat before putting it in the stew.” Rob looked round at the faces glaring at him. “Joking, I was joking for God’s sake. I was saving them for Rascal.” Rascal was Hilda’s ancient poodle, much too old and creaky to be rascally now.
“Never mind.” Harold wasn’t sure it was a joke and if not, Rob had the right idea. Food was food. “Nip up the road to seventeen, Sal, and get a tin. Tip it in a dish and go out round the side to tempt her closer. Look around for a lead and collar or some rope.” As Sal set off Harold called after her. “Hurry, because if someone comes up the road you leave the dog, right?” Sal started trotting.
Harold watched the dog. She really didn’t like the barricade. Once again he wondered about the lack of feral packs. “I’d expected more dogs.”
“Maybe out here on the edges, but there won’t be many in the middle of the city. The council banned them from their estates ten or eleven months ago.” Harold stared at Billy as he continued. “It started with flats because there was a health scare. Too many dogs were crapping near the people, even if it was cleaned up. A year after that the ban was extended to everywhere the council owned and social housing.”
“A lot of private landlords followed suit. Dogs weren’t allowed in any of the parks, or in the city centre, or any pedestrian precincts.” Seth sounded grim. “My Mum had to take hers to the RSPCA and they were absolutely packed out.”
“There were a lot of rumours about what happened to them. About even the RSPCA putting dogs to sleep in job lots with mass cremations. The dogs must have all gone somewhere.” Billy scowled. “There were marches and some people probably kept their dogs anyway. We were expecting cats would be next.”
Seth disagreed. “No, because people would just turn cats loose and the place would be overrun.”
Harold thought that had happened, in effect. “We’re getting them in the traps, so there are cats out there.”
Billy looked thoughtful. “We should tempt some in. Rats and mice will be a problem so cats might be dead handy.”
“But how do we feed them, to keep them here?” Holly sounded reflective. “I wouldn’t mind a kitten. We had one once and they’re funny.”
“We can use the bits taken out of the rabbits when they’re gutted, and there will be rats and mice to catch. After all we want hunters, not another Fluff.” Harold looked at the dog again. “Anybody who works out how to catch one without losing fingers, let me know.”
“Sandy could make a trap. If we catch something else it becomes cat or dog or human food.” Billy smiled. “We could keep rabbits as well. For food.”
“It’s a plan.” Harold listened to everyone talking about what animals could be kept and why. The dog had already been a bonus because there wasn’t so much speculation about the riots. Though there were still plenty of glances towards the smoke hanging over the city even if that was partly obscured by the rain.
* * *
“Rover.” “Chocolate.” “Mutt.” “Sal’s bitch.” “Lucky sod.” “Greedy.” “Fang.” “Wags.” The suggestions rolled in. Sal, now inside the barricade with a thin Labrador bitch on a collar and lead, looked up and smiled. Looked up because Sal was on her knees stroking a happy, wriggling doggy back.
“Lucky. Definitely Lucky. Aren’t you girl?” Lucky thought so from the tail wagging. Once around behind the barricade the dog had become very, very friendly. She wanted to say hello to everyone and didn’t mind the attention even while bolting down a tin of dog food.
“With luck, once she’s settled, Lucky will also be a guard dog. Her ears will be better than ours.” Billy had a big smile as did everyone else nearby. It was something about that frantic wagging and sheer happiness.
“First rule. Pick up the crap, right?” Harold didn’t want to be scraping his boots clean. “Second rule, we find out nice and slow how Lucky is with kids, because Daisy is going to want to swarm all over her. So you don’t let the two meet except when Daisy has a minder.”
“No problem Harold. I’ll take her to the girl club.”
“Well she is a bitch.” Matthew mock-ducked as a couple of female
hands threatened a Berrying. “Taking her there should make sure a lot of blokes want to spoil her.”
“Good idea Sal, take her there as soon as that dish is licked.” Harold gave a little smile. “Someone off-duty can keep an eye on her until she’s settled.” It was a subtle hint that Sal was on duty just now. Licking took mere seconds. From the way Lucky bounced around on her lead and followed Sal up the road, settling might be a done deal.
* * *
The good mood lasted through two sets of arrivals. One was a small convoy and didn’t like the setup or the rules or maybe losing their vehicles. They went back to the roundabout and headed south. The second was three people on foot. Two men and a woman, who had simply run with what they were wearing. They brought a warning. The younger man looked up at Harold from just outside the barrier. “They’re about a mile away. I don’t think this place will stop them.”
“We had a barricade and they came right over it.” The woman was late teens, maybe early twenties, and the marks of tears were clear on her face. “We could hear screaming and fighting behind us. So we ran.”
“We’ve got nothing.” The second man was in his twenties, maybe, and had an arm around the woman. “We’ve got nothing but the Army won’t let us out, so you’re our last hope. Give me a club or something and I’ll stand on your barricade and fight.”
This trio had attempted the bypass and been rejected by the Army, as had all the others. They had also been told to seek sanctuary and now that was part of the opening speech from the bypass. One man, earlier, hadn’t believed the warnings. His body was laid in the roadway just inside the exclusion zone.
Harold couldn’t turn them away even if the numbers were climbing too fast. “Come round the side, past the van with the painting on it. You’ll be searched.”
“If you can find anything, you’re welcome.” His smile was bitter with no humour at all. “We really do need sanctuary.”
Sharyn came to take Harold home to eat and rest. Harold agreed after she said he should, because he probably wouldn’t rest tonight. “We’re already past the agreed number, Harold. How do we feed them all?”
