by G. P. Moss
Anne stops at another door at the end of the corridor - I can’t help but groan inwardly at the thought of further explosions. Thankfully, it’s not locked. The air is okay down here - there must be a ventilation system. I check myself regularly for any changes to how I feel. Airborne poisons should have dispersed and disintegrated by now but I’m not taking chances. Hopefully, the air is recycled so we’re not breathing in any historic horror, waiting down here for nosy trespassers to fall foul.
As usual, Sister Evie is behind me as I take the back of the stretcher, always checking, even though we closed the door and would likely hear footsteps or giant paws on the cement floors.
She’s the most conscientious person I’ve met, never showing signs of complacency. Although Alex and Anne seem to be militarily experienced, Sister Evie is the person I would want with me in an unknown environment - which is pretty much everywhere these days. Thinking of Anne, or Sister Anne, giving her correct title - for a Sister she seems to have an awful lot of tactical knowledge. Something tells me that healing wasn’t her first profession.
Anne and Alex have stopped in one of the side rooms. I look in to see two metal-legged rectangular tables and four wooden foldable chairs, still neatly placed as if waiting for a meeting to begin. Whether it began or not, the four large human skeletons to each side of them are evidence it was interrupted. They’re still clothed, in civilian, rather than military clothing.
Alex searches through the jacket pockets. Removing small, digital satellite telephones and identity cards, he places them sombrely on one of the tables. The phones are useless - even the last satellite communications were lost many years past. He passes one to each of us - he already has one. Useless now but you just never know what the future will hold. He picks up the identity cards one by one, inspecting them closely.
“Government officials. Probably high ranking, though whether this happened just after the mess or a while later, it’s difficult to say. The phone batteries are long dead so there’ll be no dates to look at.”
Before Alex says anything else, I know what’s coming - I admonish myself for thinking otherwise.
Anne is already gathering the remains in four separate plastic bags for removal. Instead of going back the way we just spectacularly came, it’s agreed we move forward until we reach another exit - we’ll bury them nearby. Leaving the bones for the moment, we head along the corridor until another set of steps leads to a room and an outer door. Before the steps, another door blocks the way but this too is unlocked.
Leaving further exploration for now, Anne climbs the steps first. There’s a table and chair in the entrance room but nothing else. As we put Rags on the floor, Holly steps up to help Anne slide the heavy bar across - the door opens easily as we cover with Glocks from the side.
I’m grateful there doesn’t appear to be an unwelcoming party waiting for us, just more gravel and concrete. As I turn to my left I see what the others are staring at - the next corridor must go straight under the hill. Anne, Alex, and Holly are already climbing up, to see what’s on the other side.
Now we’re in the open, Sister Evie and I have our rifles ready again. This has already proved to be a hotspot - we’re not taking chances. Alex tries to keep up with the other two but he’s not as quick, trying to remain steady holding the handgun as he climbs. He doesn’t seem to be wincing in pain the way he was so hopefully the sling will be off soon.
As soon as the hill summit is reached, the three of them get down on the ground. As I make it to the top with Sister Evie, I can see why. Below, in the distance, are the boundary fires of a town.
“It’s Longton, I’m sure of it,” Alex says.
Chapter Thirty-Two
There’s no sound, but by instinct I turn, to see Rags sitting by the entrance to the tunnel steps. I want to run, but instead I walk slowly over to him and smile – probably the widest my mouth has ever stretched in happiness. I think it’s too early for him to be walking around but he knows what’s best for him. I feel as though a vital part of my life has returned. Can a heart feel joy? I finally have the answer to that question.
If we head right, carrying on for several miles, we’ll be close to the place Storm and I were at before we changed direction for the coastal way. We walk so many miles each day that it feels like we’ve covered half the country. We haven’t, of course – it just feels like it. Now we have real bearings, we head back down to find tools so we can give the officials a proper burial. Alex reckons there must be basic digging equipment nearby.
I head back down the steps, turning left. As I shine the torch along the corridor, the wide beam shows a wide, hard plastic cabinet, still screwed to the wall. Its front is cracked but otherwise intact. Two folding shovels are clipped to the back with two packs of coiled rope. Tidy and effective.
I say a quick prayer of thanks to the diligence of the military but then, being underground, who wouldn’t have a nearby means of digging out in the event of catastrophe? I take all four items, giving the rope to Anne while I start to dig. Sister Evie digs too while the others collect rocks of a suitable size to cover earthen mounds.
As the last stones are piled on, Alex takes a moment to say a few words of gratitude for their service. Whatever they did, we’re grateful. Gratitude keeps us going. It rewards us. I know there are times when I don’t feel this way, and that’s allowed. What’s not allowed is to wallow in ingratitude. It’s harmful and if allowed to continue it can be toxic, delaying or destroying worthwhile plans and lives of fulfilment. Mum taught me that.
Instead of going over the hill, we decide to see how far the corridors go. From the hilltop, there don’t appear to be further shelters. There are buildings but they look more like farmhouses than military installations. Still, you never know. Since glimpsing the boundary fires, Holly seems more animated, lively. She must be thinking of her dad. She doesn’t mention it and neither do I. Perhaps I should – I think of mine often - both could still be alive.
I glance back at the graves one more time and wonder how many more people we’ll have to bury. Focus, Mercy. As we pass under the hill, I expect it to feel different, closer, and claustrophobic but it’s the same. Around fifty yards in, we come across a surprising room. It’s a large kitchen, full of large stainless steel appliances. A long, heavy looking cooker dominates a far wall while fridges and freezers line another.
It’s weird seeing them like this. Ones I’ve come across before have been burned or at least smashed up. Apart from the dust, these look new. No way am I looking inside though. I made that mistake once - never again.
We search cupboards for anything still edible. There’s some emergency jerk ration packs at the back of one – emergency in the days before the mess, nowadays the staple diet of all of us. I love it though, even after all these years. I’ve tasted other food – some deer when they reappeared briefly in the valley. Venison, Johnny called it. The fruity taste of the jerk though, I never get sick of it. Fruity and chewy, that’s the best way to describe it. I’m also aware that one day there won’t be any. Hopefully by then we’ll be growing enough vegetables and fishing the rivers and seas again. Once they’re clean. If all that’s left are contaminated monsters, then we’re in trouble.
I change my thoughts. I’m sure, that when I’ve been by the rivers, and I’m not just thinking this to make myself feel better, I’ve seen flashes of silver from the corner of my eye that look like fish. I wonder if there’s salmon. I never had it but Mum described it. The colour, texture, and taste. I chew some jerk to rid myself of thoughts that make my mouth water in anticipation. I’ll keep the vision though, store it in my future-bank. It’s always helpful to dream of what you want.
I take several zippable plastic bags – great for keeping guns and ammunition dry. There’s nothing else of use so we press on further under the hill to a place or places unknown. Except for Alex. I bet he didn’t come this way though. His sling is hanging lower now – by the end of the day I know it’ll be off – I just hope
it doesn’t become infected again. I shudder to think if Anne also possesses surgical skills and silently pray she doesn’t ever have cause to use them. Rags is walking, slowly and carefully but it’s a massive improvement – I honestly thought he’d die.
After another few minutes, I’m guessing we’ve cleared the hill by now and are back closer to the surface. We’re extra vigilant, looking out for any signs of hidden passageways or further exits. The further along we travel, the closer we’re getting to Longton. I ask Alex what he was doing there, all those years past.
“Signals training. It was a bit weird. There was no base there, just a set of classrooms in a large building. A secret installation but in full view is the best way of describing it. I heard there was an odd partnership - a convent owned the building - code and prayer. I didn’t think much of it at the time - most of the stuff we learned was off the grid anyway.”
We arrive at another door, another set of concrete stairs to its right. This is much different. The ten or so steps stop, directly under a ceiling. Anne reaches the top, pushing on the roof above. I’m wondering if this opens directly onto level ground. We’re all surprised as it opens, slowly but surely. Expecting a blast of sunlight, instead it remains dark apart from the narrow beam from the headlamp. It’s a risk for Anne as we can’t cover her while she climbs through - I just hope there’s nothing else there. I see her head appear at the trapdoor - she’s telling us to follow.
We’re in a brick building, the size of a large shed. Dirt-covered breeze blocks line the walls - a heavy door faces us, several feet from the hole we just emerged from. Anne feels the lining of the door. It’s some sort of insulation - designed to keep heat in, or out. Alex steps forward to have a closer look at the large door. No light penetrates through so whatever is on the other side will be a complete mystery - if it can be opened. A large wing nut on the largest bolt I’ve ever seen, protrudes from the door.
“I’ve seen these before,” says Alex, quietly. “They’re used inside large freezers as a safety device in case anyone gets locked in. Unscrew this bolt and the padlock or whatever else is keeping it shut, falls out on the other side, opening the door.”
Anne steps forward. As she starts to unscrew the nut, we draw our Glocks.
The long bolt finally slides free from its housing, resulting in a dull thud on the other side of the door. Pressing down on a diagonally placed flat steel lever, the heavy door also reveals itself to be at least six inches thick as it opens easily on a long, wide, single hinge. A sudden wave of fresh air with an almost blinding flash of sunshine, greets us as Anne holds the door steady, stopping it from swinging all the way open. A heavy padlock, still closed, lays on the gravel and baked-mud floor. Once again, she puts herself in possible danger by being first out with little cover. As soon as she’s fully out, she looks quickly around before waving to us to do the same.
The door is attached to the stone farmhouse we could see from the hill. To our right is the hill itself, around five hundred yards away. Ten feet in front of us is a panelled dark wood door leading into the house. My heart races faster as I try to control my breathing - the Subs could have come from here. Holly and I cover with handguns as Anne tries the door handle. Alex and Sister Evie guard the back. The Sister takes long strides before kicking it open with a heavily booted kick. Wood cracks and splinters as the door slams against an inside wall.
Nothing is disturbed. As I move to enter the house, I briefly look up to see a small flock of large black birds fly overhead - they don’t hover but continue towards the town. While we tread cautiously around a long, wide kitchen, Sister Evie goes back outside to check if we’ve attracted any attention. There’s no door separating the kitchen from a large, square front room. Wire mesh and plastic cover the windows, appearing undamaged. It’s an odd thing that only a mile away we were facing a large group of Subs yet there’s very little damage here.
Alex looks through his field glasses towards the boundary.
“I can’t see any movement outside the fires now - just people going back and forth, humping fuel presumably.”
We agree that it’s too dangerous to make direct contact with the town this way. We don’t know if they’re a friendly bunch or not. Almost two decades of siege can make people more than a little paranoid and along with the weird sightings at the boundary, this is one place to approach with extreme caution. If we attempt contact from any angle, if they’re hostile, it will be simple for them to pick us off, even with rudimentary weapons.
It’s getting late in the afternoon now and the light’s beginning to fade. We would always build a fire perimeter before staying anywhere overnight, except when bad weather prevents us but this will send a clear signal that we’re here.
Anne believes it’s too risky not to have the fire. I agree they would likely have seen some flame or smoke from beyond the hill as we burned the last Subs. Whatever happens, we set off on specific missions. If we start skirting or avoiding everything we don’t like, then we won’t get far. Though Sister Evie and I have seen figures which appear to be this side of the boundary, they weren’t heading this way - in the opposite direction in fact, towards the west. We go outside to collect fuel for the perimeter. As the whoosh of fire takes hold and spreads, we head back inside to continue the exploration of the house.
I head straight upstairs to look around the single bedroom. A dusty mattress lies on the floor to the side but nothing else furnishes the room except a powder-blue fine steel waste paper basket sitting upright in an alcove. Sweet wrappers and a drinks bottle lay alongside screwed-up pieces of lined paper. The drinks brand is the one I saw at the railway shed - probably a common make in the days before the mess. Unscrewing one of the sheets of paper, my heart begins its unwelcome rushing charge. As I struggle to control my breaths I call for Holly. It’s the same handwriting as in the journal. Michael Thompson, at some point, was in this house. Holly’s father made it further than could be reasonably expected at that time.
Chapter Thirty-Three
We need to decide. Sister Evie, usually the quietest when she’s not kicking doors down, speaks up.
“I think we should head back to the shelter corridors. We don’t know how they’re coming from the town but it’s as bad a scenario as we can get right now. The perimeter fire is burning but if it goes down, we could be attacked from all sides. That and we don’t know how many will come.”
Alex disagrees.
“I know what we’re seeing is unheard of, but it’s a chance to take out some more Subs. Or, a compromise. The shelter entrance is just next door so we could take the first wave out, then go.”
He takes off the sling as if to say this time he’s a full part of the team. Sister Evie looks doubtful but she just nods. I’d rather we just go now, leave them to it and find out exactly where that corridor finishes. We prepare our weapons. We won’t fight from the house - there’s too much confusion in the heat of battle. The last thing we need right now is one of us shooting another by mistake - you can’t say sorry after a bullet’s ripped through your friend’s chest.
We decide to keep a line of five, spread out, five yards between each of us. As the last Sub falls, we’ll break to the left, coming quickly around the side of the shed, through the door and back into the tunnel. Sister Evie will ram the bolt back through the door before closing and tightening the wing nut. We’re ready.
A look through the glasses shows me the Subs have changed direction again, bunched up and moving towards us with purpose. I wish we’d taken the Sister’s advice as my stomach begins to knot and my heart beats like a thousand drums. Rags stays inside, out of sight. I feel an extra responsibility to achieve success. If our line’s breached, Rags will die. No way.
The light is fading fast as we hold our line in front of the farmhouse. I have a full clip loaded with two more in my side pockets. I pray that sixty rounds will be enough. I can’t believe I look back on the days when a sword and crossbow was adequate, as fond memories. Those days contain
ed their fair share of evil but compared to this advancing horde of horror, they were nothing. Alex also has a rifle this time. Three hundred rounds between us. If a rifle jams, we’re to discard it immediately and use a Glock.
They’re around two hundred yards away as a small squadron of black birds screech their way across the sky above us. The horrid nonsensical shouting of the Subs now reaches fever pitch as they start to spread. I feel my finger automatically apply the two-pressure squeeze as I hold tight despite the recoil.
I fire quickly, emptying a clip, immediately slamming another home. They’re falling fast while they’re still bunched but gain momentum as they spread further out. We don’t let them come too close before they’re taken down in their screaming rage.
I don’t see any left standing as Alex signals for us to start the run around the side. We manage to get through the door as Sister Evie places the bolt to the hole. She drops the whole thing, shouting as she’s grabbed from behind. The female Sub is wounded but it’s not stopping her punching and kicking the Sister as she tries to cover her face. It falls back with a shot to the head from behind me.
Anne half carries, half drags Sister Evie in before placing the lock and bolt to the hole, pushing it right through. She’s just back inside as the door slams on another Sub. The new wave arrives, hammering, and kicking at the door as I turn the nut as fast as I can, sealing us off from the monsters outside.
Alex and Anne help Sister Evie back down the steps while I help Holly bring down all our sacks. We head back down the corridor to find a room for the injured Sister so her injuries can be looked at better. She’s taken violent blows to her head and neck so it’s important she’s made as comfortable as possible. As they sit her on a chair, Holly supports the top of her back as the large torch is wound and set facing away from Sister Evie’s bloodied eyes. I feel sick inside and angry at Alex for not listening to her. All that macho stuff put our lives at risk, causing a terrible injury to one of us.
