Roman stood silently in front of Samuel. The news of his pending execution seemed not to bother him in the slightest.
“Did you hear me?” said Samuel. He took a step towards Roman so that the two men were almost nose-to-nose.
Roman brought his spear arm up and drove it towards Samuel’s thin waist. Frank was too slow to react and too far away. Oh, Jesus, God, no.
The shaft of metal moved quickly.
Samuel twisted to one side.
The spear missed its target and stabbed thin air.
Samuel grabbed the wooden shaft and shoved the metal tip down on his desk. Then he snapped it in two with his other hand. The spear tip skittered across the desk and Roman lost his balance. Frank rushed forward and grabbed him in an arm lock, while Dunn hurried forward to help him.
As Roman struggled, Samuel shook his head pityingly. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. I was going to give you a quick death, a beheading, but now I might just tie you up from the stern and leave you to starve to death.”
“Do whatever the fuck you want,” spat Roman. “You’re a dead man. I promise you.”
Samuel grinned. “I’ll die when I’m ready, not when you decide. That’s the difference between you and I, Roman. I have the power over life and death. Frank, take him to the brig.”
Frank yanked Roman by his arm and swung him around. As he did so, Roman head butted petty officer Dunn right in the face, re-breaking his nose. The man fell to the floor bellowing. Frank stepped over the crying officer and led Roman away. In his gut he had the horrible feeling that everything was beginning to fall apart.
HUGO
Hugo held his daughters close as they watched the fires burning on the shore. The frigate had fired several shots from a mighty cannon on its starboard side. The shells had looked like fireworks heading into the night sky, but when they returned to earth they brought no joy or mirth, just death and burning. It is an atrocity. I do not understand why the captain would do this.
“What happened, Daddy?” asked Sophie. “Why is there fire?”
Hugo shook his head. “I do not know, my sweet. Something very bad has happened, but I do not know why.”
“Weren’t there people on that pier?” asked Daphne. “Are they dead?”
Hugo thought about lying, but couldn’t. “Probably.”
Daphne started to cry. “It was the big boat that blew them up. Was it protecting us? Were the people on the pier, bad, papa?”
“I don’t know. We should go inside and think of other things. Would you like to play Canasta?”
Both girls shook their heads, but they at least went into the cabin. Hugo did not want them looking at the fires and thinking about death any longer. What on earth happened? What did the people on the pier do? Were they behind the murder I witnessed?
Hugo glanced about in the darkness at the other boats all around him. Some of them were filled with gawping spectators, mumbling amongst themselves and pointing at the shore. Hugo did not want to be a gawper himself, so he went inside the cabin.
Houdini had been frightened by the explosions and had scarpered inside already. He was curled up on the armchair, shaking. Hugo swatted him down to the floor and took his seat. “Sorry, mon ami. My legs are older than yours.” Houdini went and curled up under the coffee table.
Daphne and Sophie curled up under the duvet on the sofa and held each other. They were so delicate and frail. The yacht had been their shelter for almost an entire year now. They’d spoken little with anyone besides Hugo. Am I doing the right thing for them? The world has ended, the dead walk, and I am keeping them cooped up on this yacht and acting like all is well. The fleet has made us all feel safe, but are we really? In the last few days I have witnessed murder all around me. The Kirkland is not the centre of civilisation I thought it was. There are other people out there in the world. People like those on the pier. Why are we destroying them? Are we making enemies? Will we remain at sea forever, fighting anyone we find on land? Is that what I want for my daughters?
Hugo rubbed at his forehead and blinked slowly. He looked at Sophie and Daphne. “Girls, are you happy?”
Daphne and Sophie looked at him, puzzled. “Papa?”
“Do you feel happy and safe aboard the éternuer?”
Sophie shrugged. Daphne looked like she wanted to speak, but couldn’t.
“Tell me, Daphne. What do you think about our lives?”
“I hate it, papa. It is… ennuyeuxe.”
Hugo sighed. “You find it boring?”
Daphne nodded.
“What else?” asked Hugo.
“I find it sad,” Sophie added. “I miss things, lots of things. There are no toys or games, no fleurs or grass. It is just boats and grey sea. There is no point to any of it.”
“Would you rather be somewhere else?”
Both girls nodded.
“Where?”
“On the land,” said both of them together.
“You want to go on the land? It’s dangerous out there.”
Sophie nodded. “We could still stay on the boat, but we could stay close to the shore. We could find a quiet beach and go play. We might find other people like the ones that were on the pier. It’s better than floating around in the middle of the sea.”
Hugo thought about the people on the pier and what had just happened to them. Yet, what his daughters were saying made sense, they could hug the shore and stick to the beaches, maybe even move inland via a river. If there were people on the pier, there could be people other places, too. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be part of the fleet anymore. The thought of leaving had overtaken him.
“What would we do for food?” he asked.
“Poisson,” said Sophie. “If we stick close to the shore we can live off the sea, same as now. We have rods.”
Hugo sighed. Even if they caught fish, they would still be at the mercy of thirst. If they couldn’t find fresh water to last them days at a time they would all die. Once again, Hugo thought about the people at the pier. While they may have been obliterated by the Kirkland’s gunfire, the area in which they lived must have been somewhat safe. They may have cleared away all of the dead. They could have stockpiled supplies. Maybe it would be safe to land on the beach and check it out.
What if they’re still alive?
Then I offer them my help. What the frigate did to them was terrible. I am not their enemy. I do not condone the actions of the fleet.
But what if they’re dangerous?
Then we die a quick death instead of a slow, weary one at sea. I want to keep my daughters safe, but I also want them to live. I need to give them more than saltwater and petrol fumes.
“It is almost light,” he said. “Lie down and get a little more sleep. At dawn we will head ashore to look for survivors at the pier. If there are, maybe we can think about joining them.”
Daphne and Sophie both cheered. Hugo felt sick to his stomach. He stepped out of the cabin and looked out at the distant fires. The flames were beginning to die down; the rain and sea spray helping the situation. While it was too dark to see if anyone still lived, Hugo could see that not all of the pier was damaged. The structure had been vast and long and the barrage had not covered the entire area. There was a chance that people had survived. They must have been surviving on the pier since this whole thing began. The sea is not the only safe place. But if they live, are they friendly? Why did Mr Raymeady fire on them? I need to find out before I can know what to do.
Despite knowing nothing of the community on the pier, Hugo hoped the best for them. But after what the Kirkland had done, Hugo was worried that the people on the pier would see him as their enemy. He was about to take his daughters into peril, after so long protecting them, but they were lucky to have survived this long. Hugo had faith that people were still good and that the people on the pier must be better than those on the Kirkland. If I am wrong then I am about to make a mistake. A huge, terrible mistake.
The sun began to rise and Hugo prepared to set sail.
; GARFIELD
Remarkably, as they’d cut through the fields and woodland, Garfield and the foragers had come upon Stonehenge. Despite its myth and allure, Garfield had never visited the national monument before and found it ironic that it’d taken the end of the world to get him there.
There was a building erected nearby that contained a small museum and gift shop, as well as a moderately-sized café. They’d all been pleased to find it well stocked with snack food and bottled pop. They covered up the broken window through which they’d entered with a large tablecloth, then settled down in their sleeping bags for a few hours. The Army base was nearby, but Garfield had wanted to wait until daylight to catch up on the sleep they’d never got last night. No one complained and within minutes everyone was snoring loudly. It was cold, Garfield pulled his long woollen coat over the top of his sleeping bag. The coat was two sizes too big, but it was warm. Poppy had lugged it over to him from where she’d found it in an old Laundromat on the outskirts of Western-Super-Mare. Garfield had hated it at the time and felt weighed down by its bulk, but he could tell the gift meant a lot to Poppy. It was one of the first signs of affection she had shown after the horror she had gone through at her home. Eventually the coat had grown on him. The pockets were deep and the wool thick. The thick cuffs had even protected him from a zombie bite once. He’d been sure he was done for until he rolled the coat up his arm and saw that his skin was untouched. He hardly ever took the coat off since then. It reminded him of Poppy, and to keep his guard up.
Garfield had lain awake for a while, going over his past mistakes and the ones he hoped to avoid in the future. He thought about Poppy and how she was doing, but inevitably, sleep had yanked at his eyelids and pulled him down into its well of darkness.
When he awoke, he was startled to see Sally standing over him. The man held a large knife in his hand, which made Garfield immediately reach for the one he had hidden inside his sleeping bag.
“Settle down there, fella,” said Sally, turning the knife in his hand. “It’s made of stone not steel. I found it in the museum. It’s a relic or something.”
Garfield looked at the brittle stone blade and sniffed his sinuses clear. “It’s useless. Put it back.”
Sally shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
“It’s part of our history. It was here thousands of years before we were. There might not be many people left, but those who survive will be grateful one day for the history left to them. That knife is more important now than ever.”
“Looks like a bit of old stone to me, mate.”
Garfield huffed. “It’s proof that mankind endures. People made that thousands of years ago and here we are looking at it today. It shows that we can make it through this.”
Sally laughed. He examined the knife with newfound interest. “You always so profound in the mornings?”
“Only when I wake up at the most ancient site in Europe. It tends to put things in perspective.”
“Yer, it does, I suppose.” Sally dropped the knife on the tiled floor where it quickly broke into pieces.
Garfield balked. He wriggled out of his sleeping bag, leapt up, and got in the Australian’s face. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Just proving a point.”
“What point, you idiot?”
“That mankind is fragile and that holding onto history is a waste of time. Sentimentality will only get you killed. As much as you try to hold on to the past, some fella will come along and smash it, so why bother?”
Garfield swung at Sally, but the man was too quick and ducked. Before Garfield had the chance to swing again, Kirk ran over and grabbed him. “What the hell are you doing, Garf?”
“He’s a piece of shit,” Garfield shouted at Kirk. “He needs to go. We’re done with him.”
Sally stepped back, looking wounded. His hands were out in front of him as if he meant no harm. Kirk shoved Garfield back a step while Lemon took Sally by the arm and ushered him away.
“The guy is trouble,” Garfield told Kirk.
“No, he’s not. He’s just been surviving on his own too long. He lacks manners, but he’ll fall in line.”
“I want him gone. He can’t be trusted.”
“No one can be trusted,” said Kirk. “Sally stays. No one has a problem with him but you.”
Garfield felt his cheeks reddening. “I am in charge here, Kirk.”
“Maybe, but when it comes to taking in new survivors we’re a committee. We’re not going to kick a guy out on his arse, just because you don’t like him.”
“Fine. On your heads be it,” said Garfield, shrugging away.
Sally walked towards him. There was an amiable smile on his face and he was laughing. “Sorry about that, cobber. That old lump of stone just fell right out of my mitts. I didn’t realise old junk meant so much to yer. What is it they used to say? Those who can’t make history, study it.”
Garfield threw another punch. This time it connected, almost as if Sally had decided not to try and avoid it this time. The man stumbled backwards and flopped to the floor dramatically. Kirk grabbed Garfield in a chokehold.
Lemon rushed to help Sally back to his feet. The Australian brushed himself off. “Now, is that anyway to treat a mate? Crikey, what’s your bloody problem?”
“You’re my problem. I don’t know what your game is, but I’m on to you.”
Sally shook his head and walked away. “Bloody mad pomme bastard.”
Kirk let go of Garfield and shoved him hard in the chest. “You’ve lost the plot, Garf. We don’t fight each other in the field, ever. That’s rule one.”
“That only applies to family.”
Kirk sighed. “Sally became our family the moment we took him with us. That was your decision if you remember. You need to cool it. I’m taking over until we make it home.”
Garfield snarled. “Like hell you are. I lead this group.”
“You’re not leading anything. What happened at the Jubilee was a complete balls-up, and now you’re throwing punches. We’ll discuss things when we get home, but for now you’re a liability.”
“Sod you, Kirk. Nobody wants you as leader. They follow me.”
Kirk looked at Garfield like he was a lost child. The man was arrogant and foolish, but it didn’t seem like he was acting out of spite so much as pity. “Are you so sure of that, Garf? They blame you for Squirrel and Danny, and they all like Sally. If you want to play the popularity vote, you’ll lose. We can put it to a vote right now, if you want, but I would rather you avoid the humiliation and just accept that I’m in charge until we get back. Then we can vote for a more permanent solution, when things have settled down. It’s for the best.”
Garfield had to fight the urge to punch Kirk in the mouth, but he was right. The foragers had lost faith in him when Squirrel and Danny died. He’d let them down, and out here in the wild, people couldn’t afford to be let down. They would forgive him in time, right now emotions were high. If there was a vote, the group would put Kirk in charge out of anger for the brothers they had lost.
“Fine, you take charge,” Garfield said. “But if I find out that Sally is planning anything shady, I’m going to kill him.”
Kirk’s expression darkened. “You kill anybody, it will be because I say so.”
Garfield slumped in utter confusion as the others gathered up their stuff around him and got ready to move out. What the hell just happened? I’ve only been awake ten minutes….
Everyone headed out through the broken window and marched across the tarmac to where the minivan waited. As he followed after them, Garfield glanced at the great circular outcropping of standing boulders that made up Stonehenge. He felt an ominous doubt in his gut. Stonehenge was a ruin, many of its stones broken or missing. Nothing survived forever, not even hard stone. It made him realise how fragile life was, and both how little and how much it mattered. Nothing Garfield did would matter in a thousand years, but it mattered more than anything right now, this minute and the next. He wou
ld make it home safely to Poppy, no matter what, and if anyone tried to jeopardise that, he would leave them broke and abandoned like the great boulders of Stonehenge. This trip has been bad from the start. Sooner it’s over the better.
When Garfield went to get in the minivan, he found it full. With Danny and Squirrel gone, everyone managed to fit inside now, but there was no room for one more. Garfield sighed and hopped up into the horsebox. There was barely any room amongst the forager’s tools and backpacks, in addition to all of the supplies they’d scrounged from the museum, gift shop, and café, so he was forced to squat awkwardly. This is insane. I went from the front seat to this in less than a day.
A wooden tenderiser mallet lay amongst a pile of things Lemon had scrounged from the café’s kitchen. Garfield managed to shove it down inside his trouser pocket for safekeeping. Can never have too many weapons, he thought. Especially now, with Sally poisoning everyone against me. We used to be a tight unit until he arrived. Now I’m sat in this horsebox like an unwanted guest.
Kirk started the engine and got the minivan moving. Garfield rocked backwards onto his butt and fell amongst a pile of magazines. He settled back against the sidewall and plucked a couple of them up. He thought about the magazines he’d given Poppy several days ago, and how she’d disliked them. Maybe she would like these ones more. They were British History books from the gift shop. I’m sure Poppy told me once that History had been her favourite subject at school. Garfield leafed through the magazines with a smile on his face. Poppy would enjoy looking at the pictures of druids, Saxons, and knights. These are perfect. He couldn’t wait to take them back to her.
As the minivan made its way across the fields in the direction of the Army base, Garfield started collecting up the magazines that he thought Poppy would like most. They bent and flexed in his hands as he leafed through them and something suddenly occurred to him that got him thinking. A man can never have too many weapons, but there are other things he needs too. Things that will make a difference if things continue getting worse.
Garfield got to work.
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