Reaper

by Jon Grahame

  There were three houses, all Victorian, one detached.

  He looked to Jenny and said, ‘You try giving a call.

  If there is anybody left, they might respond to a woman’s voice.’

  ‘Hello!’ called Jenny. ‘Is there anybody there?’

  ‘Sounds like we’re holding a séance,’ murmured Sandra, and she smiled at Jenny.

  The young woman grinned back, not taking offence, glad of a reason to grin.

  ‘Reaper!’ said Kate, with urgency.

  Two boys had emerged from the sports pavilion, one tall, one small. They were holding hands and their posture was uncertain. Jenny put the carbine on the ground and walked towards them.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘We’re friends. We’ve come to help.’

  Reaper and the two girls stayed where they were and watched Jenny get closer to them, her voice dropping to a level where they could no longer hear what she was saying. She reached the boys and spoke intently to them, then gathered the small boy in her arms. He was still hesitant, but then he put his arms around her in a tight clasp. The taller boy visibly relaxed and accepted an embrace. They broke apart and Jenny turned and shouted, ‘They haven’t eaten for two days.

  They’re starving.’

  The trio walked towards them and, as they got closer, it was apparent they had been living rough for a long time. The taller boy offered his hand to Reaper and said, ‘James Marshall. Thank you for coming, sir.’

  Reaper shook his hand, ‘I’m Reaper. That’s Sandra and Kate.’

  ‘This is Tom Mason.’

  Tom looked about eight. He was doing his best to sniff back tears. He held out his hand and Reaper shook it.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Tom.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Please, sir. We’re hungry.’

  ‘There’s food in the car,’ Kate said, taking the little boy’s hand and leading the way.

  Jenny picked up her carbine and said, ‘They’ve been staying in the pavilion for two weeks.’

  Reaper didn’t blame them. It was a better option than the school of death.

  *

  The two boys ate and drank, revealing details about themselves and how they’d been living. James Marshall was fourteen and a little reserved but, once his hunger had been appeased, Tom, the younger lad, was quite happy to accept a cuddle from Jenny. Reaper asked James if the school had an army cadet unit. The boy confirmed that it did and led the way to the single-storey brick building that had been its HQ. Inside, Reaper found a dozen .22 rifles and 500 rounds of ammunition, and four semi automatic Cadet GP rifles.

  James had been in the cadets.

  ‘They’re ex British Army,’ he said. ‘But they’ve been modified. They only fire single shots but they’re self loading.’

  Their ammunition was the same as that used in the police carbines. There was not a great amount but there was also plenty of blank ammunition, which could be used in practice.

  Reaper drove the MPV to the school armoury and loaded the weapons and ammunition into the back.

  Then they left for the settlement, James and Tom travelling with him and Kate.

  Chapter 10

  EACH DAY JAMIE HINCHLIFFE WENT OUT looking for other survivors in the countryside and nearby villages.

  His forays brought in more men, women and children – and cats and dogs – and he made contact with two much smaller groups that had formed in distant hamlets and which were already attempting to become self-sufficient communities by working the land and caring for animals.

  Caroline, who had been a keen rider, was volunteered by Jenny to look after the horses in the hope that it might coax her out of her introversion. Helen, under gentle pressure, agreed to look after the children, with the view to starting a school with rudimentary lessons.

  Pete had acquired an extra long wheelbase van and made trips for supplies that could be stockpiled that included tinned foodstuffs, clothing, bedding and household goods. He brought tools and workbenches from a B&Q and, on other trips, trail bikes for cross country forays, and two quad bikes. Reaper commented that when the oil ran out, real bikes might be useful and, on his next trip, he brought a load of mountain bikes, including some for the children. He also brought back a shiny red Harley Davidson X1200.

  ‘I always wanted one of these,’ he said. ‘What a way for your dream to come true.’

  Reaper had been practising daily on his own with the throwing knives and was reminded of the man with the crossbow who had attacked him and Sandra at the supermarket. It was another item to mention to Pete and, pretty soon, they had a stock of crossbows and bolts, longbows and arrows and a couple of target butts.

  ‘You’ve just added another string to your bow,’

  Sandra said to Reaper, when she saw them.

  He laughed.

  ‘All we’ve got to do now is learn how to use them.’

  Reaper and Sandra organised escorts for other foraging parties who wanted to visit Scarborough. They took Jamie and the Reverend Nick to visit Ferguson and Dr Malone at the castle and met their small band.

  They were living in both the Master Gunner’s House, which had been a tea room before the pandemic, and two large caravans that were parked alongside.

  It was a good defensive site but, Reaper thought, limited in its potential. Ferguson, a physicist from the University of York, and the Reverend Nick had an immediate rapport because of their shared pacifism, although Reaper sensed Dr Greta Malone was getting a little tired of Ferguson’s belief in the painless attain-ment of a utopian future of equality and mutual respect.

  Reaper and Sandra visited the resort of Filey, further down the coast. Sandra drove the MPV along a narrow street of shops towards the sea front. She slowed because of a lorry that had been abandoned across the road ahead. When a bullet hit the tarmac ahead of them, they realised this was a barricade, rather than an accident. Sandra reversed swiftly and parked round a corner. Reaper judged the shot to have been a warning.

  He got out and shouted that they just wanted to talk but another shot chipped the brickwork above his head and a man replied, ‘Go away and leave us alone!’

  When their further efforts to make contact brought the same results, they did as the man had suggested and drove away.

  They diverted down a parallel street and saw that side roads had also been blocked off by cars and vans left broadside to stop vehicular progress. Whoever was behind the barricades was serious, so they didn’t push the issue. If they wanted to remain isolated that was their business. Maybe they would feel differently when the supermarket stocks began to run out.

  The diversions they had had to take led them onto a crescent of tall white Victorian buildings that stared grandly out to sea, with landscaped grassland tumbling down to the promenade below and the wide expanse of Filey Bay. This was an old-fashioned seaside town that looked as if it had been proud of the fact: the sort of town where families had come on holiday for generations.

  ‘This is a nice place,’ said Sandra. ‘Genteel.’

  ‘Time for lunch?’ Reaper suggested, and she stopped at the south end of the crescent near the White Lodge Hotel, the nose of the car facing the sea, and they got out. The day was overcast but warm and they could smell the brine. The ever-present gulls swooped at their unexpected arrival.

  ‘I wish one of those chip shops we passed was open,’

  Sandra said. ‘But I’ll settle for one of your sandwiches instead.’

  They rested against the car bonnet as they ate and drank coffee, occasionally taking a look behind them to ensure their safety. The gulls became even more interested in them because of the food and, when they finished and threw the last of their crumbs and bits of sandwich onto the grass, the turf was swarmed by birds.

  ‘It’s strange how things turn out,’ Sandra said. ‘Here I am, humping a gun, sidekick to the Reaper.’ She smiled. ‘A regular Starsky and Hutch. Or is that Laurel and Hardy?’

  ‘You know your old stuff.’

&nb
sp; ‘I told you, mum was a fan.’ She sighed. ‘And all I wanted to do was go to uni.’

  Reaper looked at her in surprise.

  ‘University?’

  ‘Don’t sound so shocked. At first, I was going to go to the local FE college. I’d gone into it. I could have taken a foundation course. Improved my education.

  Things were hard round where I lived and I didn’t want that kind of life. I’d messed around when I was younger, but my mum had pulled me round and I had a job. We planned it together. A foundation course and then, maybe, uni.’

  She said it as if it equated with entering the kingdom of heaven.

  ‘Your mum must have been special.’

  ‘She was. I miss her.’ she said, still looking out to sea. ‘I never had a dad. He left when I was little. I never knew him.’ She looked at Reaper with a smile.

  ‘Now I’ve got you.’

  ‘Everybody needs somebody. How are you getting on with Jamie?’

  ‘Okay.’ She sounded unsure. ‘I know it’s not been long but I really like him and I think he likes me. It’s just that . . . what happened.’

  ‘You don’t know how you’ll react if you go to the next stage.’

  ‘That’s part of it.’

  ‘And you don’t know how he’ll react if you tell him.’

  ‘What do I do, Reaper?’

  ‘It’s your decision . . . but it’s hard to live with a lie.’

  ‘So I should tell him?’

  ‘He’s a good man. I think he’ll understand. If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.’

  ‘Ass?’ She laughed. ‘Don’t you mean his arse?’

  ‘I thought we were Starsky and Hutch?’

  They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the moment with only nature’s sounds on the breeze.

  ‘What about you, Reaper? What about you and Kate?’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘Pretty much. Are you going to make a move?’

  ‘I don’t know. I carry a lot of baggage. I don’t know if I should. I don’t know if I deserve to.’

  ‘Deserve to?’

  Sandra was young but he was at ease with her and felt she partly understood him. She’d been through a lot. Why not tell her? At least some of it.

  ‘My life ended a long time ago. My daughter was raped and committed suicide. I found her hanging from the hook behind her bedroom door.’ Sandra’s hand shot up to her mouth. ‘Yes . . . just like Stacey.’

  Mum and dad, I’m sorry, she said in the note. I love you. Emily had left a diary that explained in simple terms why a fourteen-year-old would want to end her life. She couldn’t continue to carry the guilt, depression and disgrace of being raped and beaten and then having her character maligned in court by her abuser’s barrister. Death was preferable.

  ‘During the trial,’ he said, ‘the local newspaper printed the details. Of course, she wasn’t named, but her friends knew. She was not spared. They used all the lies the bastard told. I complained and the editor said the verdict would vindicate her; it would tell the public who had told the truth. But the lies were printed, just the same. The judge even suggested she might have partly provoked the attack.’ From a pocket of his Kevlar vest, he took a small head-and-shoulders photograph of his daughter, which he gave to Sandra. ‘She was only fourteen.’

  Sandra looked at the picture for a long time before she said, ‘She was lovely.’

  She handed it back and he replaced it in the pocket.

  He sat back on the car, his right hand resting on the car bonnet. Sandra touched his hand and he took her fingers in his and he smiled sadly at her, to let her know it was all right, even though it never would be.

  They held hands and he looked back out at the grey ocean.

  ‘Then my wife got cancer. She was already suffering from a broken heart, but the doctors said they were not connected. Margaret died six months ago.’

  In her illness and grief she had turned to religion.

  The grief turned to anger, and he was the only target.

  She had been demanding and he had grown to resent her. The resentment made his love for his lost daughter all the more powerful.

  ‘We hadn’t had a happy marriage. It wasn’t one of those hearts and flowers affairs. The best thing about it was Emily. When she went, the reason for living seemed to go, too.’

  ‘What happened to the bloke?’

  ‘He went to prison. Not for long. Then he was out and living it large as if nothing had happened. He was a nine-carat bastard. The thing is, I was a copper. Just an ordinary bobby. I enjoyed my job. Enjoyed helping people. I took a firearms course because my superior thought I had the right temperament, but I didn’t like it. It wasn’t for me. I was happy being a bobby with my own patch. I knew the people and I believed in the system. Then the system let me down. It let my daughter down. And that bastard was back on the streets.’ He looked into Sandra’s eyes. ‘I stopped being a copper when my daughter died. There was no point.

  I no longer believed. Then, by chance, I saw him in the street and decided that justice needed to be done.

  I killed him.

  ‘It was no big decision. I had no reason to live and didn’t care if I died. I wanted him dead and didn’t mind going to prison for it.’ He shook his head. ‘I even planned on suicide by police. Point a gun and have them shoot me. But they didn’t. I got arrested and then the pandemic went into overdrive and I was last man standing in the police station. I’m a murderer, love.’

  Sandra moved into his arms and they held each other; the man with no reason to live and his new daughter.

  They moved apart and she said, ‘You’re no murderer.

  You did what had to be done for your daughter. And you did it for me. I’m lucky you were last man standing.

  I’m lucky you found me. Those people back there are lucky you found them. The rules have changed. You said so yourself. We’re making them up as we go along.’

  He smiled. ‘When this superbug thing happened, I thought it was God’s way of providing me with a purpose. A strange theory to have, because I don’t think I believe in God. I thought I had been left alive to protect others, give others a chance. The chance Emily didn’t have. An act of atonement, if you like, for not saving her. For not loving my wife. For committing murder. And if I’m here to atone, should I be allowed to have feelings that I gave up long ago?’

  ‘Of course, you should. You deserve feelings, too, Reaper. You’d be less of a man without them. And besides . . . you have nothing to atone for in my book.’

  He looked into her eyes and said, ‘How old are you?

  You’re beginning to sound like a wise old woman.’

  ‘Listen,’ she said, punching him on the arm. ‘I could have gone to university. I could have been a contender!’

  It lightened the mood and, picking up their carbines from the bonnet of the car, they got back in the vehicle.

  Sandra had reversed into the road and begun to follow its curve away from the sea front, when two men came out of the White Lodge Hotel. She stopped, and they watched the men come hesitantly down the steps from the entrance.

  ‘Keep the engine running,’ Reaper said. ‘And your eyes open.’

  Sandra’s carbine was in the back of the car, so she took her Glock from its holster and lay it in her lap.

  Reaper got out of the car, cradling the carbine. The men stopped partway across the car park. They held their arms away from their bodies, their hands open, no weapons in sight. One was fortyish and overweight and his chins wobbled. The other was late twenties, medium height and lean build, black wavy hair and even white teeth.

  ‘Hi!’ the younger man said, and the pair came closer.

  The fat man was sweating with nerves. ‘We haven’t seen anybody for days. Are you the rescue squad?’

  ‘Are you alone?’ asked Reaper.

  ‘Yes, just the two of us.’ They stopped a few yards away. ‘I’m Jason Houseman. This is Milo Montague.

  Milo was a
financial advisor. I was in property.’ He shrugged and gleamed another smile. Reaper guessed he was the sort of bloke who had never been short of girlfriends. ‘We’re both redundant now. But what about you? We were watching you from the hotel. Are you police? Military?’

  Reaper said, ‘There are barricades down the other end of town. Do you know anything about them?’

  ‘You mean Crackpot Charlie. That’s Charlie Miller.

  He was a butcher but now he fancies himself as some kind of prophet. He’s gathered himself a new family, if you know what I mean. A couple of nubile girls and some other misfits and they’ve tried to turn the place into a fort.’

  ‘Were you with them?’

  ‘I didn’t fit in so I left. I told you. He’s crackers. I think he’s got a thing for the girls.’

  ‘Are you both from Filey?’

  ‘I lived here,’ the fat man said. ‘Had a flat on The Crescent.’

  ‘I had a house at Flixton, a few miles away,’ said Houseman.

  ‘Family?’

  ‘Divorced,’ said the fat man.

  ‘One of life’s bachelors,’ said Houseman.

  ‘Are you armed?’

  Houseman said, ‘Good God, no.’

  Reaper had reservations about the pair; maybe it was the smile, maybe he was jealous of another good looking younger man. The windows in the car had been down and he knew Sandra had been listening.

  He backed up to the car and leaned down to speak through the window.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Not a lot, but if we are here to kick-start civilisation maybe we should offer them the chance. It takes all sorts.’

  Which is what Reaper had been thinking himself.

  He straightened and faced the two men.

  ‘We have a community. It’s inland. Anybody who is willing to work is welcome. If you come along and don’t like it, you can leave. If you like it, you can stay.’

  ‘And you are?’ asked Jason Houseman.

  ‘We’re the law. I’m Reaper. That’s Sandra.’

  Houseman crouched to stare through the window and gave her a white smile.