Outside - a post-apocalyptic novel

by Shalini Boland

  ‘You're right.’ I sigh. ‘I don’t know how you were so calm back there. You didn't freak out at all. I don't know how you thought of that thing with the fork. I feel ill just thinking about it.’

  ‘It was a spur of the moment thing. An opportunity. And well, you saved me from psycho raiders, so I thought it was only fair to save you from religious nutters.’

  ‘Cool.’

  We drive on in quiet contemplation, each adrift in our thoughts. After a while, I speak.

  ‘I know it's probably too late to ask this question, but do you think it's too risky to carry on? I mean if I knew what it was really going to be like ...’

  ‘Put it this way, if we head back home we'll have to go past James Grey's place again and then we'll have to try and get past the raiders, who'll want a bit of revenge for the shockplate thing. And didn’t you say you drove over a couple of them?’

  ‘I'm so sorry Luc.’

  ‘Why are you apologising? It's not your fault.’

  ‘I mean for suggesting we come on this trip in the first place. It's been a nightmare and we haven't even got anywhere near finding out about Chambers.’

  ‘Riley, don't be stupid, I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to. I think we had to make this trip ... Hey!’

  I have rather annoyingly started to cry. Luc pulls over to the side of the road and switches off the engine.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ I sob. ‘And now I feel really pathetic for crying. I feel so guilty.’

  ‘Guilty about what?’ Luc’s eyes widen with worry.

  I feel like such an idiot and a drama queen, but I can't put into words the panic that’s clutching at me and the guilt that’s hovering above me, ever present, always poking and prodding at me. Guilt for putting him in danger. Guilt for falling in love with him instead of concentrating on avenging Skye's murder. Guilt for making my parents sick with worry. Everything. I choke back another sob. Now I feel like a fraud for getting his sympathy with my distress.

  ‘Hey, Riley, don't cry.’ He clumsily tries to wipe away some of my tears. ‘We're so close to Warminster. It would be a waste if we gave up now. Maybe we can get some information when we get there and then we can, I dunno, either follow it up and try to get Chambers, or … we can accept the trail's gone cold and head straight to your grandparents' place. Okay?’

  I don't reply.

  ‘Okay?’ he repeats. He’s staring at me and holding my fingers in his, but I can’t look him in the eye.’

  ‘Okay,’ I agree. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘And stop saying sorry, you've got nothing to be sorry for. Anyway, we haven't got enough supplies or fuel to get back home. Or even to get much further than Warminster. So, we've got to stop at Century Barracks to re-stock. Are you ready for us to get back on the road?’

  ‘Yeah, let's go.’ I sniff and wipe my soggy face with the back of my hand.

  On the way to Warminster, we see little sign of life. Dense, overgrown greenery borders the road, concealing the surrounding countryside. The route occasionally leads past a walled compound or perimeter of some kind. We can only wonder and guess at what lies behind their blank exteriors. Are they like our own Talbot Woods Perimeter, where the inhabitants live in relative peace and safety? Or do they hide something more sinister? After recent events, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.

  How strange to think of all these hidden communities dotted around the country. What problems do they face? What are their means of survival? These are all thoughts and questions that have never troubled me before.

  It suddenly dawns on me, the dangers Luc’s father faces in his job. I’ve never before questioned what he does for a living. It’s just something he’s always done - organising security for wealthy compounds and setting up new perimeters. But it’s now occurring to me that each time he scouts for new business he’s travelling into the complete unknown and risking his life. He has no notion of what he’ll find inside each one. This danger is going to be Luc’s career too and I’m starting to fear for his long-term safety.

  I’m also realising that, for most people, living inside a secure perimeter doesn’t come easy or cheap. The majority have risked something big in order to afford to keep their families safely inside.

  By the time we approach the Century Barracks at Warminster, it’s late afternoon and I’m exhausted. My eyes are heavy with sleep and my body feels like it’s got no bones. I’m taking a turn at the wheel and it’s a lot more tiring than I thought it would be. Luc’s taking a nap on the back seat. When we reach the turning which will take us up to the entrance, I stop the AV and shake Luc’s arm.

  ‘We’re here,’ I say. ‘Wake up, Luc.’

  He opens his eyes and stretches out across the back seat. ‘Can we wait here a minute, while I wake up and get my head straight?’ he yawns. Pillow creases line his cheek and his hair sticks up on one side.

  ‘Yeah, course,’ I reply, pleased to take a moment before we meet yet more strangers. I’m still freaked out from the last few days, and from this morning's events, in particular.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Luc says, catching my expression. ‘I’ve been here before with my father. They know me. The Major seemed like a really decent bloke from what I can remember.’ We’ve already discussed what we’ll say when we arrive and decided that Luc will do most of the talking.

  ‘Good. It’ll be nice not to have any drama for a change.’

  I shuffle across to the passenger seat and Luc climbs into the front. We both check our appearances and I help Luc to smooth his hair down. We’ve removed our guards’ robes but Luc is still dressed in his grey outfit from Salisbury and I looked ridiculous in navy jogging bottoms, and a white cotton nightshirt.

  I’m nervous but excited that we may finally be able to get some positive information on where Chambers might be. This could be the first step towards justice for Skye - the very reason we embarked on this journey. I try to put all the drama of the past few days out of my head and focus on the evening ahead and on how the army is going to help us.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Riley

  *

  After the repeated terror attacks all those years ago, most of the British Army was recalled from overseas to take care of the increasing threats to public safety. But quite soon afterwards, our government more or less collapsed into nothing. The cabinet ministers fled in panic from a decimated and dangerous London.

  A new emergency Security Council established itself in the capital, made up of ambitious minor politicians and business tycoons whose empires had been destroyed. But the predominant members of this Security Council were, of course, the military men.

  Over the years, the armed forces have been reduced to several ragged units scattered throughout the country, only as good or bad as the generals who lead them. The local Dorset Barracks liaises amicably enough with our Talbot Woods Perimeter guards and so I’m assuming the army is welcomed by most of the population.

  A few secure compounds refuse to acknowledge the army’s authority and deny them access but in these situations the army’s policy is to back-off. Anything could be going on behind those walls, but the soldiers don’t interfere. They’re now the only remnant of legitimate power left in the country and they do a passable job of preventing the total disintegration of society. But chaos and terror are always simmering away beneath the scarred surface, ready to erupt given the tiniest exit to explode out of.

  We drive alongside a double layered barbed wire fence until we reach a set of closed metal gates. The armed soldier at the checkpoint moves his finger up and down to tell Luc to open his window. I notice two other soldiers with machine guns lightly trained in Luc’s direction. My nerves kick in. The soldier bends his head slightly, to hear what Luc has to say.

  ‘Hi, my name’s Lucas Donovan and this is Riley Culpepper. My father is Eddie Donovan. We’ve come up from the Talbot Woods Perimeter on the South Coast. Could we speak to Major Driscoll please?’

  ‘Turn off your engine please and wait here,
’ the soldier says, ignoring Luc’s question. He goes into a small hut and speaks on the radio. I can’t hear the content of the conversation. While we wait in the AV, three soldiers approach us.

  ‘Can you vacate the vehicle,’ one of them says.

  I look at Luc and he nods at me. We get out of the AV and stand by the hut as they thoroughly check over our vehicle.

  ‘It’s just routine,’ Luc says. ‘They would do it whoever we were.’

  ‘Okay,’ I reply, only slightly reassured.

  They complete their task quickly and efficiently, even using small mirrors on sticks to check the underside of the vehicle. They finish their search and take the machine gun which we hadn't been able to fit in the hidden compartment.

  ‘You’ll get this back on exit, Sir,’ says one of the soldiers to Luc, completely ignoring me.

  Next, they pat us down, making us stand with our arms out. It’s humiliating and I flush with discomfort. When they’re done, my heart rate speeds up. What if they don’t believe our reason for being here and they contact Luc’s father? We can’t be turned away now that we’re so close to getting somewhere. But I needn’t have worried. The soldier in the hut soon returns.

  ‘You’ll be escorted through in a moment, Sir. Please get back in your vehicle.’

  After about five minutes, we see two soldiers in a jeep driving towards us. They turn their vehicle around before they reach us and the soldier at the checkpoint, motions for us to follow them.

  We drive through what appears to be a small well-tended, but bleak, town, made up predominantly of black and green prefabricated buildings. It’s good to be gliding along a smooth road for a change and my body welcomes the transition from the relentless bone-jolting it’s become accustomed to. We pull up behind the jeep in front of a long, low, single-storey brick building. The two soldiers exit the jeep and come to greet us. We both get out of the AV and stand awkwardly.

  ‘Hello, Lucas, Miss Culpepper, I’m Major Robert Cornell and this is Captain Michael Lewis.’

  The Major is a tall, thick-set man in his fifties, with a florid face and broken veins that suggest he likes a drink or two. The Captain is of a similar build, but with a healthier tanned complexion and small, piercing blue eyes, which he trains on Luc and me with suspicion.

  ‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ the Major continues with false cheer. ‘Good to meet you. What brings you all the way up here?’

  ‘I’ll be meeting my father, Eddie Donovan, here. He should arrive tomorrow. Would it be possible to wait for him?’

  ‘Your father? That is a surprise.’ He smiles at his colleague as he shakes Luc’s hand and nods in my direction.

  I take an instant dislike to both of them. It’s as though they’re in on some private joke at our expense and I feel out of my depth and ill-at-ease.

  ‘I met Major Mark Driscoll when I was last here with my father,’ Luc says, his voice strong and confident.

  ‘Yes,’ replies Cornell. ‘He is no longer with us.’ He doesn’t elaborate. Does that mean he’s dead or merely stationed elsewhere? ‘You must be tired after your journey.’

  Another soldier appears at our side and Major Cornell gives him orders to show us to our accommodation.

  ‘A bit basic I’m afraid, but with such short notice …’ He tails off. ‘Anyway, freshen up and Rogers here will bring you to dinner at twenty hundred hours. Until then.’

  Rogers shows us to a small dilapidated terrapin which is to be our guest quarters. It consists of a bedroom with two single beds and a grotty bathroom that smells damp despite the hot summer. But it’s spotlessly clean, even if it is in dire need of redecorating.

  We each take a well-deserved hot shower and then sit on our beds to rest for an hour or so, until we’re summoned to dinner in the Officers’ Mess. But then, out of the blue I have panic attack. I feel light headed and overwhelmed.

  ‘Luc, I don’t feel well.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s my head … it’s pounding and I feel like I’m going to be sick.’

  But the truth is I can’t bear the thought of dining with the two officers we met earlier. I’m exhausted with no reserves of energy left to talk to strangers.

  I can tell by the set of his jaw that Luc’s not happy with me for wimping out at the last minute and leaving him to go on his own. I don't blame him. I would've been more than annoyed.

  ‘You better stay here then,’ he says, not looking at me. ‘I’ll go on my own.’ But then his face softens a bit. ‘Look don’t worry, Riley. I’ll try and get the information we need. Just ... just try and get some sleep.’

  He takes my hand and briefly kisses my cheek to show he isn’t too cross with me, and goes out to join the soldier who will escort him to dinner.

  I feel guilt and relief at the same time. I just know there’s no way I could face the brashness of those men in my current emotional state. Not for the first time, I wish I was back home with my family, grieving for Skye in safety. Poor Luc has to take it all on his shoulders now, without any support from me. At least he vaguely knows these people.

  I stare out of the window and see soldiers everywhere. I realise I haven’t eaten for hours, but I’m too scared to venture out to the AV on my own to get food. Then I remember that even if I did get an attack of bravery, I don’t think we’ve got any food left and I don’t have the keycard anyway. I think longingly of the proper evening meal Luc will now be eating and hope he’ll smuggle some out for me. Still, I’d rather be hungry here in this room, than socialising with a roomful of soldiers.

  This was supposed to be my opportunity to do something for Skye, to find information and be brave. God, I’m a wimp. But after the events with the raiders and then Salisbury, I have lost my courage. I literally feel weak with fear at the thought of having to speak to anybody else I don’t know.

  I pull the thin orange curtain closed, lie down on one of the beds, on top of the scratchy brown blanket and fall asleep.

  *

  I can’t breathe and I’m struggling to remember where I am in my semi-conscious state. I feel like I’m suffocating and now, with rising panic, I realise someone’s hand is covering my mouth. I open my eyes.

  ‘Mmmphf!’ I try to scream, but the huge hand is clamped too firmly. Bewildered and terrified, I stare into the dark eyes of a black, uniformed soldier. To him, I must look like a frightened pony - eyes wide in fear and hyperventilating through my nose in noisy puffs.

  ‘Quiet!’ he whispers loudly. ‘You’re in ...’

  ‘Mmmmph!’ I try to yell for somebody to help me. His hand is still over my mouth and I do my best to open it so that I can bite down along the side of his forefinger. But he gets wise to this straightaway and squeezes my mouth closed with his fingers, bruising my cheeks painfully.

  ‘For Christ sake, just listen a minute or you’re gonna get hurt,’ he hisses with a strong country accent I can’t place. He pulls my face up close to his and I try to twist away. He looks African or Jamaican. I’ve never even seen a black man before.

  Sleep still clings to me and I feel disorientated, wondering where the hell I am and why I’m being attacked. Then it all comes flooding back: I’m at Century Barracks, Luc is at dinner with the big brass and I went to bed early. Now, here I am, being jerked awake by this huge soldier who’s in my room with his hand crushing my face. I stop struggling for a moment, so I can breathe through my nose and also because I need him to relax the grip he’s got on my cheeks.

  ‘God, that’s better,’ he relaxes too. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you scream or they’ll have us both.’ He glances anxiously towards the door. ‘You’re in the crapper if you stay here. I can help you and your boyfriend get out, but we haven‘t got much time. They‘ll be here in a minute and you won‘t like what they got planned for you.’

  His words start to register and a new kind of fear replaces the one I felt just a second ago.

  He seems genuine. Scared and anxious, but with a k
ind-ish face. But, what do I know? He could just as easily be a mad man out to kill me. After the last few days, my mind is all over the place. I can’t believe I’m facing yet another bad situation.

  ‘Right,’ he says, ‘I’m gonna let you go and then I’ll back away from you. Please God don’t scream or we’re both finished, okay?’

  I nod and show what I hope to be assent in my eyes.

  ‘And letting go, and backing away,’ he says slowly with a sardonic half smile.

  We stare at each other warily, for about five seconds.

  ‘Right. Hello Riley, I’m Denzil. Here’s the short version.’ He speaks quickly and quietly. ‘As of about three months ago, Luc’s dad became Century Barracks’ number one enemy. I don’t know the details, but he must’ve done something to seriously piss of the Major because, for weeks now, they’ve been planning some kind of retaliation.

  ‘Your bloke obviously has no idea of this or he wouldn’t have brought you within twenty miles of this place. They can’t believe their luck up at the mess hall and they‘re humouring him till they decide what to do. They knew he was lying about meeting his dad, and now they’re dreaming up how they can use him to ruin Eddie and get some revenge.’

  ‘God, we‘ve got to get him out of there,’ I whisper back. ‘But do they know who I am? My father’s on really good terms with the army. He‘s one of their main suppliers.’ Even as I say the words, I know they sound pompous and pathetic.

  ‘Who knows you’re here?’ asks Denzil.

  I don’t reply.

  ‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘They’ve guessed you’re AWOL. Your parents would never in a million years let you out of your Perimeter alone. Right now, you’re a fine-looking young female in a barracks full of frustrated men, whose boyfriend’s family business is seriously irritating them. I don’t fancy your chances.’

  ‘Okay.’ I swing my legs off the bed, so glad I’d kept my clothes on. ‘How do we get out?’ I hear the shake in my voice. ‘What’s the time? Is Luc still eating with them?’ I bend down and slip my flip flops onto my feet. ‘Why are you doing this anyway? Helping us, I mean.’