by Pete Aldin
"As is the case with all viruses," Claire was saying, "it's the very young and the elderly that are at most risk."
"The elderly: that'd be me," Nance piped up, drawing a ripple of nervous laughter. Although she was in her late sixties, Elliot considered her one of the fittest people on site, a lifelong workhand, hard as stone.
Rit called out from the servery window, "And Heng. He's older than the rest of us put together."
More laughter, brighter this time. And some cussing from Heng in the corner.
Claire continued, "So we're at the point of needing medicine. To protect Heng and Nance mainly." This time the laughter was decidedly more relaxed. Elliot thought it good leadership. "As you know, we've scoured every inch of the two veterinarian's rooms near here. Every pharmacy and doctor's office. Every farm. We don't have what we need. Antivirals to fight the bug. And if this goes on much longer, we'll be out of acetaminophen and ibuprofen for the fever. And before you all tell me that's impossible to find those things now, Woodsy has an idea that's worth following up. Woodsy?"
The ex-cop stood. Elliot's stomach clenched. Jimmy, two years older than Lewis, but nowhere near as together, straightened in his chair. Nance and Neil watched Woodsy with respect. Others sat back, eyes wide with interest. Woodsy outlined the plan, explaining that as a cop he knew the government facility's door codes, about how they would use chiller bags to transport whatever they found back to Settlers Downs. "But I need help, folks."
Who would help him? Who could help him? Elliot had already been inventorying the room. Most people like Rit or Kim or the two Daves would be perfectly fine defending The Downs against incursion. But very few of them made decent scouts, despite Elliot's best efforts at training them, and infiltrating hostile territory was a long way outside their skillset.
A few were so hapless, they were barely able to contribute meaningfully to the community: Alyssa, folded into a corner of the kitchen worrying at the tea towel; Tania, who'd never recovered fully from her ordeal in Waxer's van; Neil, who was likely to hit his thumb more times than the nail, to break the eggs when closing the coop; and Jimmy, who spent a lot of his time alone doing God knew what and the time they did monitor rereading old comic books. Few of those remaining were competent enough for a mission of this magnitude. And the ones who were, were also the ones Elliot would least like to lose. The best choice for Woodsy, and worst choice for the camp, would be Sturgis with his Australian Navy experience.
"I need two people," Woodsy was saying. Eyes had dropped, opting out of consideration. Elliot was disheartened to see Sturgis chewing his lips as he thought it over while Tina gripped his hand tight, willing him to stay.
Jimmy shot to his feet, arms crossed over a puffed-out chest "I'm in, Woodsy!" The outburst was uncharacteristic in volume, though typical in intensity. He bobbed on his feet, eyes blazing with zealot fire. Perhaps he hoped to come across a few leftover Death Druids he could stab to death.
A few people murmured approval, perhaps relief. Elliot cursed. Well, the kid was as stupid as the man he idolized. Let him go. Elliot had done enough rescuing in his life and rarely been thanked for it.
Woodsy tossed the young man a wink. "Thought you would be, matey. Good on ya. Just need one more, folks. Rules are rules. Only three people outside the fences at once."
Smartass prick. I was the one came up with that rule and he knows it.
"Course, I can go ask the sentries if no one here feels up to it. It's perfectly—"
"I'm in!"
Heads turned. Elliot gaped.
Angie was on her feet.
Christ Almighty.
"Wonderful," Woodsy beamed. "Brave girl."
What was she thinking?
"All right," said Claire as she waved Woodsy toward his seat. "That's three."
She's crazy, she can't do this!
Claire continued, her voice dull in Elliot's ears, "We'll let you get set up to leave by lunch. Kitchen crew can prep traveling food for them."
Holy Christ, that fool will get her killed. Or worse!
"Everyone else can work out duties and cover those people going on mission and in quarantine. But any symptoms, come see me at my cabin immediately."
"I'll go, too," Elliot said.
Claire didn't hear him at first. She kept on talking for another ten seconds while faces turned his way until finally she picked up on it. She fell silent like the rest of the room.
"I said I'll go, too."
Woodsy came to his feet. "You said last night you didn't want to."
"Changed my mind."
"We only need three."
"Four's better."
"The rule's no more than three outside the fences at any one time."
"And you made that rule, Elliot," Nance chimed in.
"Then I'll be the first to break it." Elliot stared down the crowd, avoiding Angie's fierce gaze. "Besides, this is a bigger mission than scouting for Mars bars and tampons."
Some murmurs of objection to his choice of subject matter, but Elliot didn't care.
Woodsy turned his attack on Heng and then Claire. "Can we discuss this privately?"
"Why?" one of the Daves asked.
Claire said, "Sure," then pointed at the door. "I'm heading outside anyway."
Elliot followed her out and waited until Woodsy joined them a few metres away from the door so that people wouldn't have to brush past Claire if she was infected.
As people began leaving the Centre, Woodsy stage-whispered, "We don't need a fourth person."
"More the merrier," Elliot said dismissively.
Claire said, "If you want to drop someone, drop Jimmy."
"Amen," Elliot said.
"The lad wants to come."
"Then four it is," she said. "I trust you boys will cooperate."
"Cooperation's my middle name," said Elliot.
Woodsy stormed away without further comment.
Jimmy's head poked from the Centre before he located Woodsy and jogged off after him.
Claire jerked her head to steer Elliot out of earshot from anyone at the door. "I mean it, Elliot. You need each other. And we need both of you."
"Message received," he said. Noticing Angie in the doorway, trying to push past Neil and Nance with murder in her eyes, he added quickly, "Gotta go get the Rover prepped. I'll see ya."
He turned and walked.
Fast.
6
Splashing through puddles, he'd made it no more than twenty paces before Angie braked his progress with a fistful of his shirt. Her hair had grown out from the buzz cut she'd had the first time they'd met. That had been in the back of a sheep truck, both captured by allies of the Death Druids. Her new blonde locks would have reached past her shoulders if she hadn't gathered them into a samurai-style topknot. Several times he'd enjoyed the site of those locks spread across his pillow. But that had been in moments where Angie was happy or horny. Right now, she was about as far from happy and horny as a person could be.
"Morning," he tried.
"I don't need you tagging along!"
"Never said you did."
"But you thought it." Her finger was in his face, a long-nailed muzzle aimed between his eyes. "No sign of you volunteering, then the moment I put my hand up, you had to come, too. You don't think I'll make it without you? I'm some dumb blonde who can't handle herself?"
"I know first-hand you can handle yourself." Her eyes widened, but he cut her off. "In a skirmish. I meant in a skirmish."
"I don't need you."
"No, but Jimmy does."
She blinked and pulled back. "Jimmy."
"Yeah. Jimmy. That's why I stepped up." You lying bastard, he thought. "That poor kid is a mental case. And his mentor doesn't know his ass from his elbow."
"...Oh." She shoved hands in pockets. "I thought ... But why didn't you stand up before I did? When Jimmy did?"
He shrugged. "Gettin' slow in my middle age."
"Yeah, right."
"Anyhoo, Woodsy on
ly wants three, so you could drop out. Stay back and defend the farm."
"You're doing it again, you bloody chauvinist."
"What chauvinist? I said defend the place. Didn't you hear me say that? I'm saying they need your abilities and hardness here."
"You said four is better. I'm going on that mission."
"Fine. Of course you are."
"In fact, I can keep an eye on Jimmy myself. So maybe we don't need you. Woodsy wants three."
"Or we could talk Jimmy into staying here."
"In which case, there'd be no need for you to go."
Goddamnit.
An old frustration burned beneath his skin. It was a face off. She'd outflanked him, left him nowhere to run. So many relationships—so very many relationships—had come to their end this same way. Only this wasn't a relationship. Was it? Not with a capital R, surely. They had a working relationship, getting crap done. And occasionally he invited her to his tent, or she turned up of her own volition. But it wasn't a big R relationship. So there was no reason for him to feel outflanked. No reason at all for déjà vu.
"Well?" she said, the word like a single-syllable kick in the balls. "You gonna stand there staring into space or you gonna reply?"
"I got your reply, Angie."
"Oh, nice."
"Listen, I get you don't want to spend a week-long road trip with me. But it's not really up to you."
"Nope. It's up to the Council. And they might still decide you're of more use here."
"You're telling them that?"
"I'll tell Heng. Sure."
"Then you and Heng can kiss—"
"You live here?" She'd stepped in close again, but he refused to retreat. There was apple skin in her teeth and her breath smelled like fish. But with her blood up and her hair up, she was damned beautiful. "You live here, you listen to the Council."
Quietly he said, "Maybe I don't want to live here anymore."
"What!"
Wrong move. "Or maybe I need a vacation. And this trip is just what the doctor ordered."
She was staring at—no, staring into him. God, he hated that. As if she'd found the video of last night's conversation with Claire and was replaying it.
He finally took that step back. "And why am I explaining myself to you?"
Her hands were on her hips now. He almost said something about her stance being a little cliché, but over the past three years he'd gotten better at resisting suicidal acts.
Like walking into a field of claymores?
She leaned in and with fish breath she said, "You come on this trip, you treat me like an equal. And you do not tell me what to do."
Her long legs carried her away, and fast.
"Good talk!" he called after her.
She flipped the bird over her shoulder.
Real good talk.
⁓
He backed the Land Rover into the garage beside the small fire tanker-truck that Dave One had arrived in. There was no sign of either Dave here this morning. By the time he'd loaded some tools and checked fluid levels and battery charge, Woodsy had appeared at his side.
"Yes, officer?" Elliot asked him, wiping grit and grease on a rag.
"License and registration?" Woodsy joked, trying for affability and charm.
Elliot wrung the rag between his fingers while working hard on swallowing his pride. Claire had told him to cooperate. Woodsy might be an asshole, but that had also been several people's diagnosis of Elliot over the years, girlfriends especially. The last thing that Angie would tolerate, and Jimmy would benefit from, would be spending a week caught between two alpha males engaged in a piss-fight.
He tried for small talk: "That's not what you guys said over here, was it? I mean, that's what American cops said."
"No, we said something different." Woodsy shrugged, losing interest in that topic. "Look, I didn't mean to imply I don't want you along. I'm thinking more people uses more fuel. The Rover's not huge and the passenger seats could hold more cargo if..."
"... if Jimmy stayed back. Sure. I agree."
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah, Jimmy. You said we need three. You, me and Angie. We're older and more experienced than the kid. We're better off without him."
"He's tougher than you think."
"Oh, trust me. First time I met him, he'd just stabbed one of his abductors to death, so I know he's tough. But he's erratic, undisciplined and untrained."
He expected Woodsy to wind up again. To claim Elliot was loading the mission two against one. Presuming he knew about Elliot and Angie. Instead, Woodsy dug deep for more charm, patting Elliot's shoulder and glancing around in conspiratorial fashion. "It's important for Jimmy to come. The kid kind of looks up to me. I'm like a father figure to him."
"A father figure."
"Sure. Like you were to Lewis."
Were.
Unaware of the gaff, Woodsy kept talking while he opened one of the firetruck's cargo bags and rummaged. "Jimmy is all right. He's starting to come good. He's not the coolest guy around, but he does what I tell him. He's good at climbing and skinny enough to worm his way through cracks you and I can't. And this trip will give him that experience he needs."
"Kim took Jimmy scouting a few months back, before you arrived. The kid fell off a ladder. A month before that he set a campfire in the back paddock and it took ten of us to put out the blaze it started."
Woodsy pulled an eighteen-inch "hooligan bar" from the fire truck. He brandished the fancy crowbar and affected a wry grin. "Well, he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he'll never get sharper if we don't keep honing him."
"As I said, I think he should—"
"He's coming, Elliot. My mission. My choice."
"That so? It's your mission? Not our mission?"
"All right, I shouldn't have said that. Let's not measure penises here. We can both lead it. I'll listen to your ideas. I'll value them."
"Angie's, too?"
Woodsy's frown was there and gone a moment later, but Elliot had seen the assumption, the lack of respect for her. He didn't know her like Elliot did. Why she would think Elliot didn't respect her ability and her courage and her smarts, Elliot didn't know. Because he most certainly did. And Woodsy would get a hell of a shock when he saw her in action for himself.
"Angie's, too. Of course. But I know where the meds are. I know how to get in. so I'll have to lead some of the time, of course."
"And Jimmy will follow your lead?"
"He'll follow all of us. But best we stay on the same page so he doesn't get confused." His pat on Elliot's shoulder was meant as a period to end the discussion. He weighed the hooligan bar again and nodded. "This will do nicely if the faculty doors aren't powered. Emergency services used these babies in car crashes and house fires to—"
"I know what's it for," Elliot growled.
"Fair enough. Course you do. We'll also need a cordless tire inflator and a jump start kit."
Elliot pointed his chin at the 4-wheel-drive's cargo space. "Got 'em."
"Good man. Great minds, eh? Well, I'm off to the barn to put some supplies aside. If you like, you can back the car over there ... "
Elliot watched him go. He had lead in his gut and a headache shelling the inside of his skull. "Sir yes sir," he muttered. Then frowned, focusing on someone he hadn't noticed until then.
Krystal stood in the middle of the driving yard with rain plastering her thin raincoat to her shoulders and an umbrella keeping her long hair dry. The teenager had one of those old paper-cone face masks Elliot used to see a lot around South East Asia. Woodsy offered her a wave as he passed fifteen feet to her right. She copied it, then turned anxious eyes back on Elliot. How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard? And why wasn't she with Lewis?
He stepped to the edge of the cement floor, of the shelter. "You okay?"
He'd rarely spoken to the girl. She'd come in a year ago, quickly pulled into Lewis's orbit—a good thing all round, for her and for The Downs. Her closeness t
o Lewis had prevented her addition to Elliot's regular contact list, but she never seemed angry toward him. He'd always thought her intelligent and kind. Like Lewis himself.
She ventured closer. "If it's a bad time...? It is, isn't it? Sorry."
"No, no. Just finished up here. But you're supposed to be in quarantine."
"Figured I'd be safe around you. You've been away a few days."
"Yeah, but I've been round others for twelve hours or more since I got back."
"Oh."
"It'll be okay. I haven't been that close to them. Come in here out of the rain, but don't touch anything and keep that mask on." In case I'm sick and don't know it yet. "So. What up?"
A few steps closer, to the edge of the cover. Elliot backed off to give her room. She said, "It's Lewis."
"Lewis?" Last thing he expected her to say. He went back to the engine cover on the car, shut it.
She came on in, both hands on the umbrella, shoulders hunched. "He...he's mad at me. And I dunno what to do about it."
He's mad at you?
"You're asking me what to do about it? Like I'd know."
She winced. "I kinda wanted to ask you about that, too."
"So, ask."
"Well," she started. She shook the umbrella and folded it. "What is it between you two?"
"He never said?"
"Uh-uh. And everyone else seems to respect you, so you can't be a bad guy. He won't talk about it."
"Pretty simple. I lied to him. I did a stupid thing there. Or maybe the right thing. I thought it was at the time. These days I have no idea."
"What did you lie about?"
"I lied about Alyssa. I'm not proud of this." I also lied about executing a pedophile named Jock, but that's another story. "When I came across Lewis ... He tell you anything about us?"
"Some other people did. I know how you met. What you did for him."
"What we did for each other. He helped me, too: when I hurt my ankle, when I hit a blocked road." When I'd forgotten how to laugh. "Anyway. The story is that when I first came across him, I'd already been at his home. He and she had been taken from there by bikers." Krystal was nodding. She knew this part. He skipped ahead. "I started out taking Lewis to his grandparents. I was sure his sister was alive somewhere with those bikers, but I didn't tell him. I told him she was dead."
