Hope: After It Happened Book 4

by Devon C. Ford

  The horizon ahead of them was dominated by the higher buildings of a more built up area that, despite his normal rules of avoidance, Dan was heading straight for. He wanted to be equipped, stocked and on the road inside of three days.

  As they approached the outskirts, a few abandoned vehicles presented an opportunity to start ticking off the list. A large van for transporting their equipment would be ideal, and more than a few were present. On closer inspection all of them had perished tyres and one had been transformed into a surreal greenhouse as the open window had let in the elements and now the seats had become a bed of weeds. They gave up on checking anything left out in the open, and the odds of finding vehicles which had been left under cover greatly reduced their chances of quick success.

  A brief conversation about these diminished odds made them turn away from the town and return to the industrial areas instead. After three hours and a significant amount of energy expended in breaking in they found a suitable vehicle to start their temporary fleet. High-sided and long wheel based, a white Mercedes Sprinter stood proudly in one of the units, largely untouched by the brief passage of time which had destroyed so many like it left to the mercy of the weather. Predictably, the battery was dead and the two men hunted around the unit for anything to get it started with. They were out of luck, and would have to return with a mobile charger pack. The unit had vending machines which were ruthlessly pillaged for their contents. At the very least they would need another vehicle like this to have enough room to move their people and the gear they had brought, and even then it would be in little or no comfort.

  Dan felt suddenly very foreign; all the posters and signs around him were predominantly in French and his basic understanding of the language left him mostly guessing. Even the van being left-hand-drive was strange. It hit him again just how far they were away from home, or at least the home they had built and left.

  They began to work their way back towards their boatyard, checking the other buildings along the way. By the time they had made it back the sun was already sinking. The metal gates were rolled back by Adam, neither of the returning men noticing that they slid along almost soundlessly in comparison with their earlier departure.

  Jack was in the same spot by his crafted barbeque, seemingly not having moved since the day before, only this time instead of fish the smell of roasting meat floated to Dan’s nostrils.

  His raised brow was met by Marie’s smile and an explanation that Mitch had shot two rabbits and a deer whilst they had been gone. The prospect of fresh meat had gathered a small crowd as they relished the smell in the air. Dan turned to face the crow’s nest and sketched a small salute to the soldier he couldn’t see, thanking him for the provisions. He asked Adam to take over from Mitch until sun down, and the eager young man jogged away, only too happy to comply. He had taken to his new role easily, and Dan wondered why he had never asked to become a Ranger before. He was comfortable doing the job he had been given, he imagined. Only the prospect of new adventures had prompted his willingness to be trained in the more violent skills possessed by members of the group. The heavy burden of his choices and responsibilities made Dan question some things, such as would Adam have been caught unawares like Joe was. Could Joe still be alive if he had recognised Adam’s abilities?

  Shaking away the what ifs, he turned to see a welcome sight.

  Leah was up and on her feet, walking slowly towards him. She looked smaller and younger without the ballistic vest, although he saw she still wore a Walther on her hip and was no doubt carrying a couple of knives somewhere. He beamed at her improved state and asked her how she felt.

  “Still a big groggy,” she replied, sipping from a cup before offering him some. “Headache from hell but I can move my neck more now, which is nice.”

  “Well I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he replied genuinely. “When will Kate let you back out to play?” he asked, worried that he was pushing her too hard again.

  “Tomorrow,” she answered with a smile. “She said, ‘we’ll see’, but it’ll be tomorrow.”

  As the sun dropped the whole group assembled for their portion of meat to supplement the canned food. As they ate, Dan reported on their scouting.

  “We’ve found one big van and one smaller one. Both will need some work to get them going and we’ll need something else with more seats if we want to travel in comfort, but we should get on our way as soon as possible.” Nods from the faces watching him made him continue. “We need to siphon off the remaining fuel from the boat and take the starter packs to get the vans back. That’s tomorrow’s plans and I need Neil, Jimmy and Leah to come with me first thing. Mitch will stay here in the nest to keep watch and everyone else carry on getting the kit organised.”

  As usual, they melted away to their own corners and conversations for the evening.

  HOSTILE TERRITORY

  The morning went as planned, and Mitch watched the two motorbikes carry the four bodies away from the compound. Adam wheeled back the metal gates and threw a small wave in his direction before he went to get some sleep after keeping watch during the night.

  He settled in for another motionless day in the heat, having added a tarpaulin to the nest to fend off the worst of the sun.

  Leah held tight to Dan as they weaved their ungainly way towards their first objective. The two cleared the building in their familiar, intrinsic way as each knew the other’s thoughts and barely needed to communicate. The smaller van was started after a while and it coughed into life as it barked out a black cloud of unburnt fuel. It was left running as renewed life pulsed around the engine, like it had been brought back from the brink of death by a kind of mechanical resuscitation.

  Jimmy drove it back to base escorted by Neil, leaving the other two to continue on to the second prize. Again, the routine of clearing the building served to sharpen Leah’s skills as she had been laid up for a few days. The bigger van started more easily, and the teenager climbed behind the wheel.

  “Never driven a left-hand-drive,” she said to Dan.

  “You’re fourteen,” he answered, “you shouldn’t have driven anything yet!”

  She thought about that, then nodded to herself.

  “Good point,” she accepted.

  They followed the return route expecting to be back by midday, when everything changed.

  ~

  Mitch heard Jimmy’s return long before he drove into sight. He brought the van into the compound and turned it to park by their adopted building where it could be easily loaded. He returned to his methodical scanning of the countryside, settling back into his rhythm as he half listened to the conversations heard from below him.

  A flash of movement caught his eye, making him instinctively twitch the scope back to it.

  His first thought was that it must be Dan and Leah coming back.

  His second thought, immediately afterwards, was that it was coming from the wrong direction.

  Adrenaline surged through his body like high-octane fuel dumped straight into an idling engine. Switching to the big rifle he called a loud and authoritative warning down to the others.

  “GET INSIDE,” he bawled, “INCOMING VEHICLES.”

  Stunned silence followed his shout as the group stared in his direction before common sense and self-preservation startled them into action. Like rats in the dark bathed in sudden light they scattered in panic, leaving only Jimmy, Neil and Adam scrambling into cover.

  He snatched up the small radio next to him and tried to raise Dan. Twice he called into the mic with his ingrained calm and succinct speech. Twice he received no answer. For now, they were on their own.

  He watched as the movement became a convoy of three vehicles heading directly towards them, sun glinting from windscreens. As they neared and the heat haze dissipated, Mitch could make out that the lead car was marked like a police vehicle. He racked his brains to try and remember anything about the Belgian police and came up with nothing other than that they had local and national forces
like much of Europe. Not that jurisdictional matters held sway any more, but it was his soldier’s instincts to try and know as much as he could about any potential enemy. Knowledge was power, but a height advantage and a big rifle always helped.

  Painstakingly, the convoy made its slow approach and split up as they neared. One vehicle remained at a distance, the other looped off road to the open ground on his left and the last made straight for the gates.

  He switched his aim between the two closest cars, waiting for signs of hostility. He grabbed for the radio again and called Marie. She answered from the building below him over the sounds of anxious chatter in the room.

  “Keep trying to get hold of Dan,” he told her, “and keep everyone inside.”

  She acknowledged him, and proceeded to call Dan and Leah in a calm voice; clear and precise.

  The vehicle parked facing the gates was clearly visible in his sights now. The words ‘Police Fédérale’ were emblazoned across the front in white lettering over the dust covered drab blue paint. The passenger door opened and from inside came a man wearing the black and blue of a police uniform. He wore a heavy vest not unlike their own, and carried an automatic Steyr rifle. He hefted the ugly gun with no malice, but the threat was still very evident.

  ~

  Eight miles away the radio crackled uselessly in a pouch on Dan’s vest, drowned out by the noise of the motorbike he rode following Leah driving the van.

  ~

  The man dressed vaguely as a Belgian federal police officer strolled towards the gates, unconcerned. Confident. Arrogant, almost. His uniform showed signs of wear and Mitch doubted that the wild beard would have been within the uniform standards when his state of dress still mattered. He stopped well short of the perimeter and called out in French. He didn’t hear the words, not that he could have understood them if he had, but the voice was harsh and guttural. Watching him through the scope, Mitch wondered if others saw them with the same fear as he saw these men now.

  Adam shouted something back from behind his barricade of barrels and wooden pallets, probably to tell the man he didn’t understand him. It frustrated Mitch that he couldn’t hear the words, it left vital information out of his assessment. He could do little from where he was unless the shooting started, then he could pour fire at them mercilessly with his height advantage and commanding position; the heavy rounds from the big rifle could cut through the skin of the cars with horrific ease. He scanned to the other vehicles, no movement.

  He put himself in the position of the intruders. What would he do if he was planning to storm the compound? He wouldn’t walk up to the gates in broad daylight for starters, and if he had then he would’ve sent others to flank their position. He stayed calm, assessed the facts, and hoped his conclusion that they weren’t hostile was correct.

  He had to wait until he was in play, and every second ticked by in slow torment.

  ~

  Adam had cowered behind the barricades they had built and glanced over at Jimmy who wore a look of terror. Adam thought he probably wore the same look. A glance over the makeshift wall showed a big man in uniform walking towards them holding a rifle he had never seen before. He ducked back down and waited for the shooting to start. He completely embarrassed himself when the man shouted to them.

  “We don’t speak Belgian,” he called back.

  A gruff laugh sounded in response.

  “What about French? There is no Belgian language! Who are you, and where did you come from?” he growled back.

  Adam looked over the barricade again. The man was smiling, just not that kindly.

  “We’re from England,” he shouted back. Another laugh returned, as though the explanation of their origins suddenly made sense of their ignorance.

  “That explains your trespass,” he said, stumbling over finding the right word. “This area is controlled by my unit. We have established,” another pause as his brain searched for the correct vocabulary, “borders. This is our area and you are not here with our permission.”

  Adam was about to answer when the man continued.

  “But no matter! You did not know, so this is ok. Now, who is your leader? Send them out to speak to me and we can make arrangements.”

  Adam didn’t want to say that their leader was out stealing vehicles from this man’s territory. His silence as he thought did not impress the man.

  “I am Commissaire Divisionnaire Alexandre Renard. I formally order you to surrender your commander to me so that we can come to terms. You have ten minutes.”

  With that, he turned and strode purposefully away from the gates.

  ~

  Leah’s sharp eyes nearly cost Dan his life. The alien shape on the horizon morphed into a vehicle from a distance far enough for their approach not to have been noticed with any luck. Her sudden braking nearly took Dan off the motorbike, forcing him to swerve desperately to avoid ploughing into the back of the van.

  His terror was short lived. By the time he had stopped the bike and turned to demand an explanation he saw she was out of the van and gazing intently through the scope of her carbine. Whatever he was going to say to her evaporated instantly as he swung up his own gun to see what she was looking at.

  A van, parked facing the gates of their compound. Dan scrabbled at the Velcro of his pouch to free the radio.

  “Mitch; Dan,” he said in a low, disciplined tone.

  “Here. Can you see them?” came the instant response.

  “Yes. What’s going on?”

  “Not sure, can’t hear them from up here. Two other vehicles; one in the distance, one to the south just sitting tight. One just came to the gate carrying a Steyr.”

  Dan absorbed this information quickly. His group were loosely surrounded by an armed and organized enemy, at least he assumed they were an enemy. As he was digesting it, another voice came over the radio.

  “Dan; Marie.” She sounded stressed, but was clearly forcing her words to come over the radio as controlled.

  “Here. Go on,” he answered.

  “Their leader is some kind of policeman and he’s given us ten minutes to give him our leader to talk. Says we’re on their territory.”

  “Ok,” Dan replied, closing his eyes briefly to think. “Everyone sit tight, I’ll go and talk to him. Marie, keep everyone else inside out of sight and Mitch stay sharp in case it goes noisy. Understood?”

  “Yes,” said Marie.

  “Roger,” came Mitch’s voice.

  His mind racing, he turned to Leah to ask her to do something dangerous. Again.

  Calling the girl to him, he explained what he needed. She absorbed it blankly, seemingly without emotion, until she envisioned how he hoped it would play out. A slow smile spread across her cheeks as she understood her part in the show.

  TEMPORARY REPRIEVE

  Lizzie was ripped from her uncomfortable sleep by a shout from Alice. Recently she had been so exhausted that sleep came instantly whenever she closed her eyes, but it was a restless sleep that was only ever a blink from consciousness.

  She was instantly awake, flying from the chair she occupied and found herself staring down at Steve’s eyes.

  Which were open.

  He stared at them blankly, taking long and slow blinks to clear his senses as the fog of his battered brain tried desperately to make sense of what had happened and where he was. Lizzie snatched the tiny light in the top pocket of her scrubs and checked his pupils, making him wince at the harsh light and close his eyes again.

  A rasping groan escaped his dry throat. Alice gave him water with a straw and saw the evident pain and pleasure he took simultaneously from the cool liquid running down into his stomach. His mouth and lips moved with seemingly great effort as he tried to speak. Both women bent down to him to hear what he had to say.

  Agonising seconds passed as he tried to get the words out, until finally a hoarse whisper sounded faintly.

  “How long,” he managed before a racking cough forced his eyes to close tightly with
the torment his body went through.

  Lizzie snatched up keys to a locked cabinet and quickly prepared a syringe of morphine. Only she and Kate knew of its presence, and it was a secret entrusted to her when she became the head of medical. She carefully applied it to the drip in his arm and gave the bag a gentle squeeze to flush the drug into his system with a small push of the saline solution behind it. Instantly Steve’s eyes grew a little wider and his tense body relaxed as the pain ebbed away.

  She didn’t want to give him much, just enough that he wouldn’t be in agony. There wasn’t much of a supply to keep him going for long, but she didn’t doubt his ability to take some pain. His pupils shrunk slightly, and a sigh of almost satisfaction escaped his mouth.

  Too much, as he lapsed again into unconsciousness. Only this time it was sleep, not coma.

  “Go tell your Dad,” Lizzie instructed Alice.

  As the girl skipped away Lizzie carefully locked away the morphine and returned to her chair, dozing off instantly into a deeper sleep than she had experienced in over a week.

  NEGOTIATIONS

  Commissaire Divisionnaire Alexandre Renard was not a patient man.

  He was not a man to suffer fools, either. A former paratrooper in the Belgian armed forces, his ruthless efficiency and borderline brutality had made his ascent through the ranks of the federal police swift and notable. After the collapse of society he had enlisted every survivor he found and pressed them all into a daily regimen of physical activity and strict order.

  They had established a defensible home, farming, trade, supply routes and eventually agreed borders with other factions to prevent conflict over resources. Some groups he had encountered did not agree with his terms, and their numbers had mostly added to his own group. He was not a cruel man, but his leadership style was undeniably more harsh than Dan’s.