Last Man Standing

by Vance Huxley

  “So that leaves Tessa. I’m good with that, and the rest will go along.” Bethany nodded to Tessa and stood up to go. “Make whatever deals you need to. I’ll get on with collecting our dead and the weapons.” She limped out, using a proper crutch now.

  “You’ll need a proper name to go with the job.” Ken smiled, pointing to the women in question. “Killer Queen and Demon are taken.”

  “Emmy’s call-sign has always been Bad Girl. Tessa should be called Biter.” Mercedes had a little smile, at last. “I think ’Arold would like that.” Patty laughed and Ru sniggered, but maybe due to painkillers rather than humour.

  Tessa gave a sad little smile. “I’d rather go with Apprentice. Though once you’ve all recovered I expect to retire.” The agreements from the Orchard Close contingent never mentioned what sort of apprentice, and the GOFS and Barbies didn’t ask.

  * * *

  While a horde of fit, rested men and women descended on the enclave and began clearing bricks, shifting the dead or collecting weaponry, a dozen drove a selection of people carriers, estate cars and SUVs up to the gates. Vulcan picked up a dozing Patty, so Emmy led him away. The GOFS man came back a little later to say she was sleeping, accepting a mild teasing about putting Patty to bed and leaving. The four gang leaders walked around the compound with Tessa and Emmy, directing their people to where they’d do most good.

  One hundred and forty pairs of hands, fresh hands, worked wonders, especially when a section of back wall came down so the vans could drive in to remove dead scroats. The Barbies didn’t mind helping with the bodies, especially the Pink Panthers. With various comments about how filthy and disgusting the bodies were, they stripped off the provocative pink women’s underwear worn on top of the usual clothing. That was kept carefully separate from the protective clothing they collected, while the filthy disgusting remained in the fields for now. As more bodies were stripped another messenger came with details of the ambush. The Barbie talk turned to claiming their own lingerie store. About a hundred and fifty Pinkies hadn’t gone home, nearly every decent fighter they’d had.

  When more cars pulled up, Cleo and Ava pushed a small, very reluctant man in through the gates. “He didn’t want to come in when he saw the Barbies and GOFS, so maybe he’s lying. We could find out?” Both of them brandished Rambos very obviously.

  “Hello Rhys. Didn’t we warn you what would happen if you threatened Barbies?” Beetch had arrived as one of the lazy labourers, worried about Logan. Logan had been one of Harold’s shooters, on the wall, but he wasn’t among the bodies so he could be in a cellar. Beetch had been rounding up more help for digging when she saw Rhys arrive. Now she had a Rambo in her hand and an absolutely savage smile. “Don’t worry love, we’ll get him to talk. It might not be a job for the squeamish.”

  Ava stepped in front of Beetch. “Squeamish? I was Cooper’s sex toy, and Cleo was Caddi’s before he sent her to the Hot Rods brothel. Gina will want to help because she was Chevy’s. Believe me, we’re all up for making some bloke suffer. He’ll talk. He’ll scream and beg to talk.”

  “I’ll talk now, honest. I’ll tell you everything. I can tell you all the weaknesses, the best way to attack all the gangs. I can find out information, special information. I surrendered to Orchard Close. Soldier Boy doesn’t believe in that sort of thing, torture.” The man, Rhys, had his eyes fixed firmly on Doll, who had been allowed out providing she kept her arm in a sling and didn’t bang her ribs.

  Any hope that the young blonde might be sympathetic were soon kicked into touch. “In that case, you shouldn’t have tried so sodding hard to kill him!” Doll’s good arm shot out, pointing back into Orchard Close. “I’ll just nip back in there and let Mercedes know what you said, the bit about knowing how to attack enclaves. She’s good with a knife and needs some stress relief.”

  Between Rhys promising to tell everything, and Gofannon insisting Orchard Close, the Barbies and the GOFS needed his information, the man survived for now. Ski stopped nursing an unconscious Fergie long enough to donate real handcuffs, which were firmly nailed to a timber in the wall above a doorway in a nearby house. Cleo gave Rhys a push, and his feet scrabbled for grip. “You just stand there tippy-toe for a bit. Don’t make a noise, or someone will nip in and shut you up. We’ve got important things to do right now, but then there’ll be a lot of us wanting stress relief. You should spend the time thinking of everything Tessa, Ken and Gofannon might want to know because if you hesitate?” She tapped him on the nose with the flat of her Rambo.

  “We won’t get him.” Ava looked back as they left the house. “I’m tempted to nip back and cut just a little bit off. Maybe more than one.”

  “We could lift him a bit more? I read somewhere if he can’t reach the ground enough to take the weight off now and then, being hung up by his arms will kill him.” Cleo’s happy smile didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s supposed to be excruciating, a type of crucifixion.”

  “It won’t help.” Gina had come to help and see if the other two had been wounded. All three had cuts and bruises, but their most serious problem was bruised and swollen fingers from repeatedly firing pistols. “We triaged the wounded here, which means we slaughtered the shits. Even that didn’t help.”

  “I’m going to talk to Bethany when I get the chance. Tilly reckoned Beth’s been where we are, but she got over the worst.” Cleo looked down the street. “But first I’m going to get some satisfaction by stripping the bodies. I might have to cut some things free, or just cut things.”

  There was plenty of very good quality clothing being collected from bodies, along with footwear, weapons, armour and coupons. Most of the clothing inside Orchard Close had damage, but small holes that would patch. Those who had laid outside during the shelling didn’t donate much, just armour, helmets and weapons because any normal clothing had been shredded. The GOFS were after good boots, jeans and shirts, though a few wanted to take frillier Pink Panther presents home. Most of that had survived because the Pinkies had led the attack, so they’d mostly died in the fields. For now all the plunder went into houses, one for clothes, one for weapons and armour.

  The wounded gangsters found in the houses, corpses now, weren’t as badly damaged as those who had laid out under the shrapnel. A good number had nasty wounds in their feet or lower legs, so the bombs, mines and traps had worked. Their armour and upper clothing was bloody after the triage but mostly undamaged. Many of the bodies in the streets were in swathes and clumps, where first the defenders and then the first salvoes caught them. That was particularly true around the three heaps of rubble. Those corpses formed tangled heaps in some cases, where the first shells caught the crowded gangsters still assaulting the three houses. Despite the shells, the bodies at the bottom of heaps were almost intact except for the original bullet hole, and being soaked in body fluids.

  * * *

  Up on the bypass, Sarge became more and more puzzled. The captain still hadn’t asked about the women, why they were under the bypass, and he still seemed content to wait for the automatics and rifles. When Tolly, the lieutenant, called him across to the captain’s Land Rover, Sarge thought his time had run out. Instead, the captain asked him to get in the vehicle and drove the three of them off down the bypass.

  The captain parked where Sarge could see a small wood, which was a bit pointed. “I’m absolutely certain you haven’t got an even faintly good reason to explain your actions, have you Sergeant Stokes?”

  “No sir. Except common decency.” If he was going down, Sarge reckoned he might as well have his say.

  “But you don’t need reasons or excuses if you are following orders. We are about to indulge in some time travel.” The captain got out, as did the lieutenant, and beckoned for the sergeant to follow. A dozen steps later he glanced back at the vehicle. “That should be far enough, just in case. Sergeant Stokes, a couple of weeks ago I received strange orders, very strange because they weren’t actually orders. Someone way up the tree, nosebleed high, is interested
in your soldiers and Orchard Close.”

  “We didn’t...”

  “I know you didn’t fraternise, not the way it’s usually meant when the phrase is used. You were left here instead of being posted elsewhere deliberately, to see how much effect it had on you and the enclave. That was news to me.” The scowl gave a big hint how the captain felt about being one of the mushrooms. “More to the point, I was told the Army should be a little more pro-active with this enclave.”

  Interrupting officers wasn’t usually a good idea, but Sarge couldn’t help himself. “You mean I could have opened fire if you’d told me about it? Sir.”

  “No, I don’t believe so, though last night those orders were repeated with a lot of emphasis. I think you can get away with a couple of bursts of rifle fire in the future, but only in an emergency.” The captain heaved a long sigh, turning to look back towards Orchard Close. “Someone wants to recruit those women, quite seriously.” The captain laughed briefly at the startled look on Sarge’s face, but the lieutenant managed to suppress his surprise. “No, not into uniform. Sooner or later, if all goes well, some spook will offer them a new life. It won’t be a few peaceful acres and they’ll be nowhere near here. They’ll be given buildings and plenty of land, but in an area the government wants kept clear of unrest.”

  This time the officer waited long enough for Sarge to figure he wasn’t interrupting. “I can’t see them wanting to be good little serfs. They’ll never be yes sir, no sir types, not after this. I wish I’d known, sir.”

  “I don’t think the powers that be expect too much subservience, as long as there’s no open rebellion. I’m guessing Orchard Close are meant to be tough enough to look after themselves if trouble comes calling, so this fracas has probably reserved their ticket. You already did what you are now allowed to do, Sergeant, and possibly a little more. That’s the time travel part. Yesterday, before this bloodbath, I called you in for a very private chat, off the record. This chat, the one we are having right now.” The captain glanced sideways as the lieutenant bit off some sort of exclamation. “You were at this mythical meeting, Tolly, so pay attention. We’ll skip around exactly where the women hid, and how many, but I’ll have questions to answer about the number of armed people under the bypass. Do you understand, Sergeant?”

  “I was obeying orders and won’t mention exactly where the women and children hid. I’ll still be on a charge for letting armed civilians across the zone.” Even as he said it, Sarge tried to make sense of the whole thing. The official line had stayed the same since day one, no fraternisation, no interfering with what happened inside the wire, and nobody in the exclusion zone. “The survivors will be relieved.”

  “You will be reprimanded, not charged, but please look worried at the official enquiry, at least until you hear the result. The survivors will never know, and this time if you exceed your orders, Beelzebub and the demon Murphy combined couldn’t save your charmed hide.” The captain produced another of those long sighs. “My orders weren’t actually orders and weren’t confirmed in writing. Nor are yours because the rest of the Army and the civvies will never know.” He turned back towards the Land Rover. “Understood?”

  “Yes sir.” Absolutely not sir, Sarge thought, not without a couple of pints and a long evening staring at a wall, thinking. Even so, it was a relief because he’d really expected the stripes to be history, perhaps with time in the glasshouse to rub the message in. A reprimand? Definitely a win under the circumstances.

  “So when we talk to whoever is in charge down there, Sergeant Stokes, remember that. We will be annoyed and insist on the weapons being handed over, and we will definitely treat them as potentially hostile. Even so, we’ll give them time to get organised and collect the weaponry for us, providing nobody runs off with automatics. To be honest, having seen those ladies in action, I won’t be taking chances.” As the captain opened the Land Rover door, he nodded towards the lieutenant. “Speak to Tolly if you need clarification, off the record of course.”

  As Sarge got in, the lieutenant muttered, “But not until I get some clarification.” The captain drove back in silence, dropping Sarge off by his sandbagged guard post. After telling the corporal it was nothing, just a private chewing out, Sarge spent some time on his first instalment of deep thinking.

  * * *

  Meanwhile Mercedes had gone back to those clearing the bricks and timber, looking for ’Arold. The searchers had already found one Army rifle, an AK and a police automatic, all battered, which they kept well out of sight for now. So far only one friendly body had turned up, Alfie, though there were quite a few gangster bodies coming out now. The house must have been overrun before it collapsed. Mercedes concentrated on the house nearest the gate, though she became very specific about where the workers should dig on all three.

  Even the most hardened Barbies baulked at clearing the garden trench, the one near the main compound. When the eight planks broke, Frederick’s little contribution to sneaky and nasty had turned the trench into a furnace, a sea of flame, making any sort of escape or rescue impossible. Already some people were suggesting filling in the trench, sacrificing any weapons rather than face removing the half-cooked gangsters.

  As the survivors and their helpers worked on the aftermath, they kept glancing up at the bypass. Sooner or later those soldiers would want to talk, but at least the Army didn’t seem to be preparing an invasion. Gradually most of the long guns and automatics were smuggled into the dance room, where all the other captured weapons were being stacked. Tessa went out to the farm to inspect the literally hundreds of pistols, crossbows, shotguns and rifles, most of them stacked in one lounge. Rhys had explained why so many had been taken from the gangsters and stored, which also explained why most weren’t very good quality.

  For now Tessa started putting the worn, the rusted, the adapted fakes and those with crude repairs, anything she felt sure Harold would have scrapped, in one heap. The possibly fixable heap would shrink if Harold hadn’t survived. From the size of the heap of ammo, Tessa had a lifetime’s work just stripping the rounds and reloading the good brass properly. She’d barely started when she was called back to look at all the weapons being salvaged.

  Liz, limping because she’d fallen down a flight of stairs while avoiding bullets, still had her assistant. The pair of them were in the dance house, inspecting blades of various sorts and any crossbows found in Orchard Close. They’d probably still be busy tomorrow. Shrapnel hadn’t had much effect on the steel blades, but as usual some had bent in combat while others had been in fires. The sheer volume of weaponry stunned even the Barbies, enough so their bosses warned the rest not to pinch any. With enough weapons to arm every fighter in all three gangs from scratch, Ken believed Tessa would give away more than anyone could steal.

  Patricia had sneaked back from the woodland with the first instalment of medicines and dressings, with Lenny close behind. Now Sharyn came under the wire, bringing Harold’s stick and a message. A soldier, one of Sarge’s usual squad, had come to the wood and spoken very loudly to a tree, without looking for the tents. The Army captain up on the bypass wanted to talk to Soldier Boy.

  * * *

  When she heard, Mercedes came across to where Tessa and Sharyn were talking and collected the stick. “You have to go, Tessa, but I’ll come as bodyguard. There’s plenty of diggers fitter than me.” Behind her a small Asian bundle of energy urged the diggers on, so there’d be no slacking. Marge had arrived, and Susan, both looking for their men even if they were digging in different heaps. June and Janine would have been digging for Finn, but Lenny needed them as nurses. June had needed her own nursing first. She might be blind in one eye, after being caught in a blast while carrying bombs and loading pistols. One of the usual nurses, Celine, still needed a nurse herself, still unconscious because she’d joined the attack as a shooter. Roy sat beside her, heartbroken because although he’d tried to shield her, wielding a mace left-handed, a bullet got past him.

  “It’s only t
he Army, Mercedes.” Tessa couldn’t understand the problem. The Army weren’t going to kidnap anyone!

  “You don’t go up there without a bodyguard. The Army don’t respect you like they did ’Arold, so I’ll come to keep it all nice and polite.” Mercedes wasn’t taking no for an answer, though she removed all her other weaponry.

  Tessa really didn’t enjoy the trip up the access road because her bruises and strains objected, painfully, and her eye stung and throbbed. Even those who hadn’t been in hand-to-hand had been shot at and got too close to exploding bombs. They’d also been diving into houses and onto rubble to take cover while shooting, throwing, running and jinking much too hard. Mercedes used ’Arold’s stick to walk with because her wounded leg had stiffened, and her ribs were hurting. They both made it eventually, though the welcome wasn’t really worth all that effort.

  “That’s far enough. I asked to talk to Soldier Boy, so where is he?” The captain didn’t look happy.

  “Under the rubble where the Army dropped a bloody great shell on him.” Tessa took a big breath to steady herself. Not only was that the wrong tone, but Mercedes didn’t need winding up any more.

  The captain didn’t seem to care. “There are Army weapons down there.”

  “Maybe you should have killed the nutcases carrying them, out in the fields before they got inside. Then you could have collected your bloody weapons without blowing our houses to bits.” Damn, Tessa resolved to try harder. The captain looked affronted. “Look Captain, I know about your rules, but down there we’re still trying to dig our men out. With luck we’ll find a few still breathing, but until then I’ve been stuck with representing the rest.” Tessa had been half watching the sergeant. He was looking at Mercedes but when he turned back to her, Tessa saw the recognition. “The sergeant knows me, by sight at least in spite of the eyepatch. Now can we sit down, because it’s been a very long night and day?” Tessa touched the patch over her eye, hopefully just inflamed when debris from an explosion hit her.