by Vance Huxley
He looked around Orchard Close as he came down the road to the gates, surprised and relieved there wasn’t more panic. As Harold reached the gates, he found out one reason. The panicky ones seemed to be clustered around the cars. “Will we really be safe? Where will we be, exactly?”
“The location is a secret even from me, which means you’ll be as safe as you can be in this city. There’ll be people with guns in case you are discovered. If anyone fancies heading for the Hot Rods instead, I’ll send you in a car right now. The way to the GOFS is already cut off.” Harold waited patiently as some argued, but as he expected nobody fancied joining the Hot Rods. Even the three ex-Hot Rod wives weren’t risking going back. Eventually twenty-six adults and eleven children under twelve climbed aboard the cars. Heavily-armed guards joined them as drivers because with the diesel cars and vans the convoy had over forty vehicles.
“Hey, where’s the diesel going?” Charger looked understandably baffled because the bowser had been hidden away but now sat in plain sight, attached to the Cadillac. “That’s the forge!” Sure enough, the horsebox had been brought back outside the walls when the tank went in. Liz had packed her magic induction cauldron with her other blacksmithing gear in the towing minibus.
“Liz reckons she’s got plenty of cast stuff and fettling work to last four days, so she’d rather hide the gear where a stray explosion doesn’t burn it. The same with the diesel bowser. Half a dozen people have been filling the five-gallon drums that once held our fuel reserve, so we’ve got plenty to make Molotovs if we find more glass containers.” Harold glanced back up the road behind the ex-Hot Rod. “I half expected you to send Lily and Cherie to the Mansion. ET and Spanky will look after them.
“They won’t go.” Charger shrugged, but he had a little smile. “Something about Lily always wanting a cottage in the countryside and Cherie fancying a pony. Personally, count me in for the fight. It’s about time I lined up on the same side as the angels, even if some are Demons.”
“I’m pleased to have you.” Several of the guards agreed with the fight part and Charger helping, so there wasn’t a morale problem, not yet. Within minutes the long line of vehicles straggled off up the road to the traffic island, gradually tightening up into a proper convoy.
* * *
Harold expected a complaint about the number of refugees, but the reception committee were more interested in the rest of the convoy. “But don’t you need the diesel? Or the forge? Gangs are fighting over diesel. Aren’t you worried we’ll just run off to the GOFS with all this lot?” Callum looked baffled as the long line of vehicles drove slowly through the gap in the rubble at the rear of the estate before parking out of sight of the road. “You never said there’d be this many.”
“On the bright side, you’ll be able to strip your houses bare and cart it all away.” Harold waved a hand at the convoy, casually dismissing them. “If you run off to the GOFS and we win, Vulcan will hand everything back. If we lose, I hope the General finds out and chokes.”
“Win or lose, I hope he’s dead.” Umeko raised her hands, miming shooting a rifle. “Just one clear shot, please Lord.” She pointed towards the horsebox containing the forge. “If you steal that, Liz will come and beat on you and remember she’s a blacksmith. Last time she beat two Hot Rods to death with her bare hands.”
Callum looked suitably impressed, though a few of the Riot Squad were trying not to laugh. Liz still looked embarrassed if anyone mentioned what she’d done, especially puking on the bodies. At one stage she’d been worried about turning into a homicidal maniac. Meanwhile the last vehicle disappeared through the gap, leaving the transit vans and pickups the Riot Squad would use to get home. Harold would take the vehicles into Orchard Close, through the hole in the back wall, to park across internal roads as a secondary defence line. “Fill in the gap in the rubble, sharpish, before someone follows us. We’ll help because I want to wait here a bit, then any watchers back home will think we took everyone to the Mansion.”
With Callum chivvying the local residents into throwing the bricks back into the gap, the barrier soon looked as if it had never been moved. Harold left the locals loading up the vehicles, warning Callum to put out watchers to make sure nobody saw them leave. According to Millicent, several men had already been out and found a suitable place in the middle of nowhere. The diesel vehicles would leave as soon as they were loaded. The electric vehicles would go tonight with the residents, because nobody would hear them leave.
* * *
By the time Harold came back to Orchard Close, he could see a difference. Stretchers were taking patients to the houses near the steps over the walls, ready for the exodus, while several women were carrying tents across the exclusion zone. Food, drink and medicine were going with them because the women were setting up a temporary hospital in the woods. There’d be a crowd under there while they all filtered through the one small tunnel under the wire. A quick query told Harold that the sergeant had advised the women to spread out under three arches, rather than make one big target beneath the underpass.
Just outside his door Harold found five kids waiting for him, ranging from Millie at seven to Georgina at eleven-years-old. The five were armed with the two remaining pistol crossbows, poncho-type armour obviously cut from damaged vests and belts with a variety of knives. “We’ll guard the children, in case the scroats get over the wall again.” Daisy looked defiant and the others were definitely up for it.
Harold didn’t even ask about the kit they’d found. There were spare weapons laid all over the place after Caddi’s attack, and several ruined armoured vests, ripped up by bombs or blades, were stored in a shed. “Your mum told you, it’s too dangerous.” At least Sharyn had warned him; Daisy had volunteered to stand on the wall with her crossbow next time. “You aren’t really big enough to be guards, not against gangsters. That’s why mum tells you to eat up, and Patty makes you exercise with sticks.”
“But if the scroats reach the little kids, everyone else will be dead!”
Harold stared for a moment, completely stunned. Daisy’s lip trembled, and now he could see the kids were scared stiff and desperate, not determined. “No we won’t. You’ll all be safe, and we’ll retreat if there’s too many. Who told you that?”
“Mum told Louie that Tilly promised. They’ll have to kill her to get inside the walls.” Sukie’s defiance might still be hanging on in there, but the grip on her knife had turned white-knuckled.
“I heard Fergie tell Bethany. She’s putting a bomb under her armour because the, er, the scroats aren’t getting her alive.” Daisy glanced at Georgina, who nodded so she’d heard as well. “Logan said he would burn the whole Close to stop the scroats getting anything useful. Joey heard him.”
“They don’t mean it, not like that.” Though Harold felt fairly sure at least two did. “Come on inside, all of you. I promise, it isn’t that bad.” He got them inside sharpish because Harold knew he was useless with kids. He needed Sharyn and Tessa to help him sort this out.
Both women tried but too many of the defenders had been saying similar things, and the gangsters had already got over the walls once. In the aftermath, most people had been busy trying to save the wounded, then salvage what they could and fix the rest. The children had more or less run wild for a few days until school started again, and even then they were short two teachers, Faith and Hilda. Several had seen their homes invaded, and their parents held hostage. Daisy had seen the gash on her mum’s face and bodies scattered all over her lounge before being sent back upstairs. Now these five were terrified of being defenceless if the gangsters came again, and they didn’t believe the Riot Squad could stop them.
“All the children will be safe, along with your mums, because you will be going under the wire. You will hide in a wood, where nobody can get you.” That came as news to Tessa, Sharyn and Mercedes as well, because he’d only mentioned hiding the wounded, so Harold explained properly. Even then the five youngsters weren’t totally convinced, despit
e Mercedes trying to help.
“The mothers and little ones in the wood will need guards, ’Arold.” Mercedes turned her head towards Harold and flicked her eyes towards the children. “We need all the fighters on the wall, so if we could find four or five who aren’t really fighters, but are willing to protect them?”
Harold jumped on a way to calm the children down, but minutes later wished he’d hesitated. The mothers arrived, warned by phone, so now he had to explain the knives and hiding in the woods to a succession of horrified or irate women. When Harold confessed he’d agreed the five youngsters could guard the youngest and the wounded, all hell broke loose. “Armed with real knives and crossbows! I think not!” Susie glared at Sukie, who had lost the last of any defiance when her mum stormed in.
“Why not, as long as they aren’t waving them about?” Mercedes turned to the culprits. “Nobody has cut themselves, have you?” Five heads shook in denial, but Harold noticed Joey put his gloved hand behind his back. Mercedes turned back to the mothers. “I wish someone had given me a knife before the Crash. Better yet if they’d taught me to use it!” Several women opened their mouths but the sheer emotion in Mercedes’ voice stopped them. A few were visibly calculating how old Mercedes must have been. Too young, early teens, and they also knew what had happened to Mercedes at least twice since and that she hadn’t recovered yet. Mercedes pushed harder. “I’m sure you’ll feel better with them there, so you can concentrate on looking after the rest? Everyone will feel safer.”
The very strong emphasis probably did it, as the irate mothers realised just why their kids were carrying sharp metal. Mercedes had also reminded them the children would be with their mothers, safe in the woods not running around loose. “But those knives stay in sheaths, right? And you stay right where I can see you!” Olive wasn’t going to take no as an answer, and her daughter Georgina knew it. There would have been more of a row, but every mother wanted to get their own child home to get to the bottom of it.
As Sharyn headed upstairs with Daisy, a relieved Harold rested his head against the wall. Tessa volunteered to call round and bang heads, adult heads, once the dust had settled a little. In a sane world all the children and some adults would have counsellors, but right now anything that made them feel safe had to be a win. “Though first you’d better tell us why you keep increasing the number of people who can go under the wire.”
“I didn’t have chance to work out who should go because Sarge didn’t give me a number. I think we can send as many want to go, as long as we aren’t too blatant and hide away from official Army notice when his boss turns up.” Once Harold finally had time to explain properly, Tessa and Mercedes helped him work out just what he could get away with. The pair of them thought several days’ worth of food and any delicate or rare equipment should be stashed under the bypass.
“The fit residents and kids can leave at the last minute, when you’re sure we have to, but we’ll move enough bedding now. We can put more tents in the wood to keep everyone dry, the ones that weren’t too badly damaged by Caddi’s scroats.” A little smile flitted across Tessa’s face as she glanced up and across towards the soldiers. “After all, there’s a clearing in that wood where some naughty people cut the trees down at Christmas. The stretchers should go right now because getting them under the wire will take time. I’ll call the coven to sort out enough food and drink for everyone, a week’s worth if possible. There won’t be much from this house because Sharyn and Sarah have just helped me move most of it up to the loft. If you organise some ply we can cover it, just leave a gap for our bedding at the last minute.”
Now that the mothers were safely out of the way, Mercedes reached behind the settee. “Look, ’Arold, personalised armour.” She pulled out a curved sheet of steel, with smaller curves like a half-bra at the top. “A present from Liz, to go under my armoured vest, so if I get a knock it won’t cave in my ribs. It’s even got pretty red tapes to hold it in place. Now you can stop wittering about me being on the wall.”
Harold gave up on persuading Mercedes to hide under the bypass, at least until the actual moment arrived. “Not on the wall. You stay in a strongpoint, because if there’s a breach you can’t run. I know there’s some who are insisting it doesn’t matter, they won’t run anyway, but please don’t do that to me.” Mercedes still looked reluctant, so Harold finally confessed. “If you die on the wall, so will I because I’ll go apeshit. If you can’t run, I won’t run.”
“The rest of them need your ’Arold alive, and thinking, so don’t let him do that.” Sharyn needn’t have spoken, because Mercedes wasn’t listening.
Two steps, much quicker than the doctor would have recommended, and she hugged Harold, harder than she should. “Don’t.” A little shudder ran through her, then Mercedes relaxed again, and when she spoke her voice had recovered. The pain was gone, replaced by a teasing note. “In the strongpoint then, because I need you alive and well. Otherwise, how will I get a proper bath?” With a glance at Sharyn, Mercedes pulled Harold towards the bedroom to check something.
By the time the pair had finished lip-checking and talking, both of them had extracted a promise. Mercedes would stay in the strongpoint, but only on one condition; ’Arold must retreat there if the attackers breached the wall. There’d be no last stand in the gap.
* * *
All across Orchard Close the fighters were ready long before dark. Weapons and ammunition were stacked in the chosen houses on the perimeter and the strongpoints, along with pipe bombs. Not all of the bombs and ammunition because Harold had sent some across the exclusion zone, to stand off the mob if necessary. He kept his fingers crossed as he asked a few other key people to make certain preparations, though none of them knew the true reason. Some of those preparations involved extra ammunition and weapons, in boxes labelled as food.
“No more gardening, Emmy. I need your gnomes to dig for victory.” It was a weak attempt at humour, but Emmy tried for a smile.
“What’s the real reason?” She leant to look past Harold, to where Terri and Cleo were waiting hopefully. “You two? Is it anything to do with those spikes you’ve been persuading my gnomes to sharpen?”
The young women looked both guilty and triumphant, so Harold cut in. “Yes, and now they need people who are good at digging, to make holes for the spikes.” He moved out of the way, refereeing the discussion until Emmy got the idea then leaving them to it. Half an hour later a line of people were working their way across the fields, digging random holes. Behind them more helpers either set spikes or scattered greenery to disguise the result. As requested, wiggly lines of stakes marked clear paths.
Beyond the diggers, some of Alicia’s new team were moving garden ornaments, while surreptitiously stuffing them with bags of amateur explosive. The barrows also held reels of wire, unravelling behind where Finn’s apprentices trampled them into the dirt. Alicia now had four people helping her to prepare and mix explosives, promising a steady supply of boom until she ran out of materials. Three more volunteers, non-combatants, were making pipe bombs. This time Kharon the clockmaker volunteered to help with the actual fusing, instead of just supplying clockwork. Elise had tried to create a radio detonated fuse but the limited number of channels, as well as others using them, defeated her.
Throughout all the preparations, a fierce debate raged. Some thought there’d be enough guns to kill the attackers, so there’d be no need to leave the walls. Others expected the attackers to reach the walls, but they disagreed on the best time to run for the strongpoints. Harold repeated, again and again, that a few nutters climbing a wall wasn’t a disaster because strays could be killed. When the first gangsters came through a breach in the defences, everyone should run, because there’d be hundreds following.
To stop one possible breach, the guards at the entrance wanted to stack bricks behind the gates since there weren’t any loopholes. A good idea, actually, but Harold insisted he wanted them working so he could counter-attack. Eventually he had to tell Till
y exactly what would happen. She volunteered to remove the hinge pins after dark, but in return she claimed a place defending the opening. At least part of the attack would concentrate there so she’d have a good chance to kill scroats, with her rifle and then when they closed.
More amateur killers came up with their own ideas, some really good ones. Shotgun shells were stapled to doorposts or furniture in empty houses, with simple springs and catches, spares that would have become parts of musket or grenade mechanisms. Now, attached to a string or tripwire, they’d be booby traps inside empty houses. Nail bombs were placed above doors or hidden in kitchen cupboards, with strings or tripwires to detonate them. Boards with long nails driven right through were waiting by entrances, to be laid points-up at the last minute.
The joiners, led by Frederick, had their own refinement. The eight planks across the trench in the garden, at the Orchard Close end, were cut almost through so they’d collapse if anyone ran onto them. Any long off-cuts of wood were sharpened as stakes then planted in the trench, with the scrap wood spread along the bottom. Big planters were placed on the wood, filled with oil, diesel and paraffin. Wires from the sabotaged planks would make sure the bomb taped to the side went off at the right time.
Harold really hoped the General would hold off one or two more nights; the longer the better. At least half the residents thought the General’s gangs would fall out before getting here, hopefully fight each other. Some of that might be wishful thinking, but everyone knew it was a real possibility. Despite that, nobody let up on the preparations because now everyone knew the deadline. Four days, maximum, three now, but most thought it would be sooner.
Groups of workers descended on the three stronghold houses. Harold explained he had to assume that a big group would get inside, somewhere, which would flank the rest. He still couldn’t mention the rockets that might blow through even the thickened perimeter walls. Upstairs in the reinforced houses, shooters thickened the lower walls as rests for rifles and extra protection for shooters. From here they could fire over everyone’s heads, out into the fields, or provide covering fire if the defenders had to retreat. Medical supplies, bedding, food and water went into those three cellars, a place for the badly wounded where stray rounds wouldn’t find them. Casper and Mack helped Harold inspect the structure of the houses, placing a few extras here and there.
