When There's No More Room in Hell 3

by Luke Duffy

  For a while, they sat in silence and thought.

  Finally, Molly began to speak in a breaking voice that rose and fell in pitch as the emotion continued to force its way through her.

  "She was my best friend and I will never stop missing her. I will love you always, Sally."

  She kissed her fingertips and patted the white tablecloth before rising to her feet. She paused for a moment and stared down at the grave, and then she turned, and began to make her way out from the shade.

  She stopped and waited on the other side of the low hanging branches, waiting for Andy to join her. She could hear him climbing to his feet and the echoing cracks and groans of his body as he clumsily fought his way through the foliage and out into the light of the garden.

  Finally, he emerged, the branches lashing at his face and catching him on the side of the head, almost knocking him over. Molly smiled briefly at the sight and, rather than seeing, a walking horrifying dead man coming towards her, ready to attack, she saw an unfortunate and vulnerable soul. A man that had shown a great deal of care for her, more than anyone had done in a long time.

  She realised that his appearance no longer frightened her, even though she was standing close and with his lifeless eyes peering down at her. Even his smell, though far from pleasant, was no longer as repulsive as she had first thought.

  Andy was her friend. He had proven that to her, and already she began to feel safe around him.

  As they walked slowly towards the house, she stopped and turned to Andy, looking up at him and smiling as he gazed down at her expectantly.

  "We need to fix your knees or your legs will fall off," she announced, still wiping the remaining tears from her reddened eyes, but Andy just stared at her, dumbly.

  Molly looked down at the large gaping hole in his abdomen and pointed. He followed her finger and instinctively reached his hand across his stomach to protect the wound, his expression turning to one of concern, as he suddenly remembered the damage that he had sustained the previous day.

  "I think we can fix that too. Come on, Andy, I have an idea."

  19

  "How is he?" Marcus asked as he looked up from the table, watching Helen walking towards them after tending to Stu's wounds. He turned back to his stripped down rifle, the parts spread out on the table in front of him, and continued cleaning.

  "A mild concussion, a few cuts and bruises, and he won't be pretty for a while. His nose is badly broken and his eyes are swollen, but he'll live," she sighed heavily and pulled a chair out from the table, sitting down next to Steve.

  Steve looked at her and saw how worn out she looked. Her hair was a mess, standing out in all directions, looking like it had not seen a comb, or a bottle of shampoo, in a long time. Her hands, normally immaculate and manicured, were grimy with blood staining the nail beds and the pads of her fingers. Her face looked drawn and her complexion was pale and grubby from the events of the last few days.

  No one had a real chance to wash and freshen themselves up since leaving the makeshift bomb shelter in the basement, and they had all taken on the appearance of a group of war veterans, fresh from the front, and in reality, that was exactly what they were.

  Still, it did nothing to dull the feelings that Steve held for Helen. He saw through the grime and dust and never lost sight of the beauty that forced itself through the thickest layers of dirt and fatigue, but he knew that there was more to it than just physical attraction and lust. He loved Helen dearly. There was no doubt in his heart, and he truly believed that during all the chaos and horror, he had somehow found his soul mate.

  He had discovered a woman who was able to accept him and all his faults. He was even comfortable just lying in bed beside her, watching the sun come up and pour its bright beams through their bedroom window, while talking about unimportant matters and giggling like children.

  She never failed to make him laugh, and on so many occasions, he had reduced her to a quivering wreck with laughter at the silliest of jokes or comments.

  Steve nudged her chair with the toe of his boot to catch her attention. She turned to look at him, blinking heavily with tired eyes and smiling lazily. Steve grinned back and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

  "I'll run you a bath later, candles and all. Then, a good long back rub. How does that sound?"

  Helen smiled sheepishly, embarrassed slightly, feeling like a teenager again. She turned to him with a smirk.

  "You're on," she purred with a wink.

  Marcus nodded, satisfied that Stu was in the best possible hands.

  "What about the others? I think Jim lost quite a bit of blood."

  Helen shook her head. "They're all patched up and Jim's shoulder wasn’t as bad as it first appeared. He has a fractured radius too, and considering he is built like the gable end of a five pound note, without an ounce of fat on him, he was lucky that the round passed through his flesh without shattering his collar bone."

  "Hussein's knee is bad," Jake added as he approached, drying his hands on a towel and dropping it onto the table as he sat down.

  "How bad?"

  "Well, he won't be running a Marathon in the near future," Helen said as she added her expertise. "It's badly twisted and I think there is cartilage and ligament damage. He needs to keep it rested. It may never be right without proper care."

  "It's Kieran that I'm most worried about," Steve added to the conversation. "He's just lost his best mate and he's hardly spoken a word since he got back. He just locked himself away in his room."

  Marcus shrugged. "I feel for the poor guy, I really do. We've all lost friends, but it's something that we just have to grin and bear, and get on with it."

  "Yeah, but…" Gary began as he sat listening at the far end of the table. "You're looking at it from the perspective of a soldier, Marcus."

  He paused before continuing in his usual mild, but wise, manner.

  "You’ve experienced loss on a big scale, even before all of this began. The likes of us," he nodded at the others sitting around the table, "Jake, Helen, Steve and I, even crazy Lee, losing friends is new and something we never expected to face in such proportions, and especially so brutally."

  "True," Marcus sighed.

  "We need to keep an eye on the poor fellow and help him through his grief," Gary reasoned. "Karen is mothering him and trying to get him to eat, but we all need to do our bit and stand by him while he comes to terms with his loss."

  "As always, Gary," Helen smiled, "you're the father to us all."

  She reached across and scooped the cup from Steve's hand, emptying the contents in one gulp, feeling the lukewarm liquid slide down her dried throat.

  "Cheers," she gasped, and immediately pulled a face. "Jesus, what kind of tea is that?"

  Steve grinned at her, feeling a sense of satisfaction that she had swilled back his drink, hoping for a reaction from him, without knowing what it was.

  "Special tea," he beamed, "half of the brew was whisky. My Nan was a huge fan of topping up her tea with a generous helping of the 'special stuff'. After today, I thought I could do with a little kick to my brew."

  Helen wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, still grimacing at the aftertaste.

  "It's disgusting, that's what it is," she groaned as a shudder ran from her shoulders to her feet.

  "Each to their own, I guess. Here's to our Nan," Marcus grunted as he slugged back his own 'special tea'.

  He smacked his lips and gasped with pleasure.

  "So," Jake began, "what's the meeting all about? Have we missed anything? Where are 'Fly-Girl' and 'Fly-Boy'?"

  "It's not a meeting, as such," Gary replied. "Kelly and Joey are outside, checking over the helicopter."

  Jake looked at Marcus with concern. "I thought they were supposed to be under watch? Do we trust them now?"

  Marcus shrugged and rubbed his face with his palm.

  "If they want to leave, they can do. I'm not going to hold them prisoner and, after today, I think they’ve earned a littl
e respect and understanding from us."

  Helen looked at Marcus, studying his tired face as he stared down at the contents of his cup. It had been a long day for all of them, but Marcus looked far more exhausted than anyone else did.

  "You sure that's wise?" she asked. "I mean, after watching you throw Stephanie out of the helicopter, they may think they could be next and take off."

  "Eh?" Gary gasped, glancing from Helen to Marcus. "What do you mean, 'threw her out'?"

  Helen looked up, feeling uncomfortable for her slip of the tongue over the true fate of Stephanie.

  "Sorry, I thought you knew," she said, sheepishly.

  Steve leaned back in his chair and let out a long and loud sigh. He looked across at Gary and shrugged, raising his eyebrows indifferently.

  "Like Marcus said, we couldn’t let her live," Steve said, searching Gary's face for a hint of understanding.

  "Come on, Gary, you knew Stephanie just as well, if not better, than the rest of us. That bitch would not have left it at that. Look at the mess we're in because of her."

  He held his hand out, pointing through the large foyer windows and towards the area of the wall and gate.

  Gary held up his hands and shook his head vigorously.

  "Hey, I'm not judging you and I agree; it was the right thing to do. I was just surprised to hear it because I thought you were letting her go. I had already thought to myself that she could still be a threat to us if she was set loose, so believe me when I say it, it was justified and necessary."

  He looked at each of the people around the table in turn, locking eyes with them to express his sincerity and support in their actions.

  "I don’t think we should make this public knowledge, though," he continued, "some people here may see it as a little excessive."

  Gary paused for a moment, a frown creasing his brow as he thought about Steve's words.

  "What do you mean; 'the mess we're in'? I know we're surrounded, but how bad is it?"

  "Pretty fucking bad," Marcus grumbled.

  "They're coming in from all directions and there's more on the way," Helen began. "You know yourself, it only takes one of them to know we're here and in no time, there are thousands of them. The whole of the south, east and west walls are packed with them and their numbers stretch out far beyond the roads leading to this place."

  "There's an exodus of them headed this way from the outlying villages, towns and cities. Jason and Stephanie must have put a lot of fucking effort in to screw us over. It must have taken weeks of hiding and sneaking about with all those things running around out there," Steve pointed out.

  "And we've lost the CCTV, too," Jake added, matter-of-factly. "Not sure what the problem is, but it just seems to have finally given up the ghost."

  "Could be the amount of weight against the gates," Helen offered. "Maybe the wiring has been damaged?"

  "So," Steve concluded, "we're surrounded by those things, the gate is on its last legs and close to collapse and we can't see it happen because the cameras have packed up?"

  Gary rubbed his face and nodded. "Yeah, that’s about it."

  "Great," Steve snorted. "I don’t want to sound all doom and gloom here, but we're not exactly in the best of condition. We've just lost another one of our men and four others are injured, one of them with a gun-shot wound."

  "Maybe we're running out of luck?" Jake suggested. "I mean, Stu and the others went out for vehicles and supplies, and came back with nothing but injuries and minus Stan. That’s not mentioning the amount of ammunition that was used up during the rescue."

  "And that is what we need to think about," Marcus added. "This place can't hold out forever. Eventually, one of the gates will collapse with the amount of weight those pus-bags can bring to bear," he nodded towards his brother.

  "You said yourself that the hinges of the main gate are starting to give and that tanker we jammed up against it will only support it for as long as the gate remains intact."

  Steve nodded as he leaned back and rocked on his chair.

  "Wasn’t that part of what Stu was supposed to be doing?" Jake asked. "Finding a possible place where we could run to?"

  Marcus nodded. "Yeah, but in case you haven't been keeping up on current events, Stu got side-tracked."

  Jake squirmed in his seat at Marcus' facetious reply.

  "Tell him, Jake," Gary prompted him encouragingly, nodding towards Marcus. "Tell him what you were telling me this morning."

  Marcus looked at Jake questioningly. "What? Tell me what?"

  Jake was reluctant to speak in case he embarrassed himself again, but eventually, and after extra coaxing from Gary, he leaned forward and exhaled loudly.

  "Right, okay," he began. "This will probably sound stupid to you, but it's just an idea and seeing as we're short on them, it's a start."

  Marcus smiled wryly at Jake's discomfort. "Jake, stop flapping. I'm just teasing you," he grinned. "You're the only male 'sausage wallet' we have around here, so I have to take the piss from time to time."

  Steve snorted and Helen shook her head, grinning down at the table from the expression Marcus had used to describe Jake and his sexual orientation.

  Jake also smiled at Marcus' 'no punches pulled' and vulgar manner.

  "Okay then," he continued, feeling more relaxed. "There's a holiday resort about a hundred miles or so north of here…"

  "A 'holiday resort'?" Steve interrupted.

  Jake glanced across at him; already feeling like his suggestion would be mocked and discarded without a second thought. He looked back at Marcus, studying his face for a reaction, but, as usual, Marcus revealed nothing and would show no reaction until he had heard the full facts and considered it first.

  Marcus held up his hand, silencing Steve. "Let's hear it, Jake."

  "Yeah, a 'holiday resort'," he continued, raising his voice slightly and asserting himself with more confidence. "It's up near the Lake District and in the middle of nowhere. You know the Lakes, they're secluded as it is, and this place is off the beaten track."

  Marcus watched him intently, his elbow resting on the table and his hand supporting his chin. "How do you know this place? You been there?"

  Jake nodded, encouraged by Marcus' question and the fact that his idea had not yet been dismissed.

  "Yeah, I was there a few years ago, with my ex. It's one of those country retreat hideaway sort of places. The kind of place where couples go to relax and take in the scenery, or even families for the outdoor adventure thing. The place has everything."

  "You got a brochure?" Steve joked from the opposite side of the table. "You sound like a holiday rep, Jake."

  Marcus remained impassive and spoke in a monotone voice as he cross-examined Jake. "What about defences? Is the place secure?"

  "That's the best part of it." Jake had become more animated and confident as he began to work on his sales pitch. "There's only one main road leading in to it and most of the…," he trailed off and looked up at the ceiling, placing his hand in front of his face and making something that resembled 'The Sign of The Cross' and mumbling to himself.

  'Never, eat, shredded, wheat…,'

  Marcus grinned as he recognised the phrase and realised that Jake was using the old teaching aid to help him remember the directions of the points on the compass.

  "…the east side," Jake blurted enthusiastically. "Where the road is, it's walled, similar to what we have here, to stop people from just going in without paying. There's barriers and gates there too, the big heavy steel railing type."

  "And what about the rest? Is that walled too?" Steve queried, leaning forward from his chair as he began to take an interest in what Jake was saying.

  Jake shook his head.

  "No, it's mesh fencing, surrounding the whole resort and beyond it, it has a thick pine forest and mountains. Seclusion and wilderness was the whole idea of the place, untouched and all that sort of stuff."

  Marcus grunted and sat upright, placing both hands on the table. The
others remained silent, watching Jake and Marcus alternately, waiting for the verdict.

  Finally, Marcus nodded. "Sounds like it's worth considering, at least," he stated to the assembled. "How big is this place?"

  "Big," Jake replied, opening his eyes wide to add weight to his statement. "I'm not sure of the square mileage, but there are hundreds of lodges and holiday homes there. It's a popular place." He paused before correcting himself. "It was a popular place."

  "Gary," Marcus said across the table, "how many people do we have here?"

  Gary looked up for a while, conducting a mental count. "Uh…twenty-four, including Kelly and Joey, I think."

  "Have you counted Johnny?" Jake asked, concerned that the strange and humble man could be forgotten because of him rarely being around for long.

  "Of course," Gary snapped back at him.

  "That’s a lot of people to move north in one group," Marcus surmised. "The heli will only carry a maximum of eighteen people, if I remember correctly."

  "Yeah, that's right," a female voice said from behind, confirming Marcus' educated guess.

  They all turned to see Kelly and Joey standing in the foyer, watching them as they wiped oil and lubricant from their hands.

  "Eighteen, including the pilot and co-pilot, and that’s pushing it on fuel," Joey added with a nod.

  Marcus wondered how long they had been standing there, listening. He decided not to start at the beginning and hit them with the relevant questions that he needed answers to.

  "What's the range on a Puma?" he asked as he turned in his seat to face them.

  Kelly shrugged and approached the table.

  "Depends," she said, pulling up a chair, helping herself to a cup of whisky from the bottle on the table.

  She sipped it at first, closing her eyes and savouring its flavour, and then threw the cup's contents down her throat. She smacked her lips and gasped as the fluid burned in her throat and warmed her chest.