by Vance Huxley
“I will, and thanks.” The gun wasn’t much compared to the weaponry already in Orchard Close, but it was a huge gesture and the officers had to be taking a big risk.
Both officers stiffened a bit. “Wear the jewellery in case it all goes wrong. Whoever takes it will wear it as a trophy,so we’ll know which little gobshite to arrange a nasty accident for when we get back.” The Captain glanced down at Harold’s side. “The stick will help. We’ll be sent in to teach the savages a bit of respect eventually. We’ll look for hints like that, when deciding who would make a good object lesson.”
“Will do, sir.” Harold had never thought of that happening. He’d hidden the medal so no gangster ever found it, but if Stones’s lot were going to take it personally? They were a bit wild off duty, but that wild? Harold let his smile show now. “Are the British Army head-hunting now?”
The Lieutenant’s tone said probably. “Not officially, but some are still a bit wild at heart.” The sergeant lookedtorn,probably becausethis would make a good story in the NAAFIbut he shouldn’t tell anyone. Harold hoped Sarge would at least keep his mouth shut until his unit moved away. A quick round of salutes and the officers left, but the sergeant had a million questions.
Harold explained the lorry ambush in Kuwait, the fight and his medal. “I don’t like fighting.” Harold thought Sarge would laugh out loud. “Seriously, I can only shoot because I used to be in a rifle club, and I sure as hell never stuck anyone with anything before.Then came London, and Calais. So, when Sis said she was on her own?” Harold shrugged. “I came here to help her.”
“So all the bloody animals?”
“Think I’m Regiment or something similar because I had to do a couple of things. I gave them a shooting demonstration.” Sarge’s look sharpened, because that wouldn’t mean pistols. “You know someone down there can shoot, but nothing has ever come near you or any other soldier up here.” The sergeant nodded and relaxed again. “Look, if you’re really worried about this?” Harold nodded towards the box, still inside the bag on the sandbags.
“It doesn’t matter if I am. An officer gave you it so I’m golden. We all feel shitty about leaving the civvies to the animals, and even if the animalsget itthey’ll never find more ammo for that thing. That .38 must be some officer’s from the war.” He chuckled at Harold’s expression, puzzled because nobody had shown Sarge what was in the box. “I recognise that box. We took it off a toerag a couple of weeks ago. He’d probably found it in a ruin and tried to smuggle it along the bypass. I sent it off to gun heaven, but somebody got to it before the crusher.” The sergeantglanced over at the guard post. “We appreciate the chips and soup, and the girls cheer the blokes up a bit. I tone down any reports of rifle fire, and ignore some of the training we see, but there’s bugger all we can actually do to help.”
“Just empty a few clips to cover the women’s escape if someone attacks and breaches the walls.It’ll take a lot of men, but a few gangs might combine because I’m letting in too many refugees.” Harold nodded towards Orchard Close. “You’ve seen our refugees. A lot of them are just what the gangs are looking for.” The large number of women were obvious from up here.
The sergeant nodded, briefly. “I’m sure there’ll be a whole series of accidental discharges if the time comes, especially if the woman are running for the tunnel.” Sarge looked embarrassed at the surprised look from Harold. “I never said this, but some of the Army is getting a little bit pissed offabout things like treating ordinary men and women as the enemy. Or keeping them penned in the cage with the man-eaters.The offer still stands.Get the women and kids under the wire, and if you get warning, the men can come as well.” He glanced towards the squaddies, safely out of earshot.”Our automatics will stop them following you across the zone, then we can blow the shites to pieces. Without collateral this time!” The sheer venom in the last part startled Harold, there had to be a very nasty story behind it. “Now sod off while I spin this lot some crap about back pay and personal kit you left behind.” He looked significantly at the small backpack.
“Any chance of a hint about when you are leaving?” Harold half expected Sarge to deny it, even after the Captain said the regulars were going.
Sarge thought about it, then sighed and gave. “Just unconfirmed rumours you never heard of from me. Confirmed now that Captain accidentally let it slip.” They exchanged wry looks; that wasn’t a mistake. “We will be retraining over next winter, back with our units, in preparation for some mystery operation. You might hear something a bit more precise nearer the time. Now you’d better sod off before I cry and you kiss me better.” Harold did as he’d been told.
*
After a bit of thought, Harold sewed a pocket on the side of the mattress on his bed, against the wall where it wasn’t visible, and put the loaded .38 revolver in there. Harold had been thinking about how conveniently Paddy,the Murphy gang boss, had died just before Caddi attacked his gang. Other top Murphies had died mysteriously since then,and the Murphy stronghold had carelessly left their gate open. Mack had reckoned Caddi planned to go for the Ferdinands after the Murphies, and one of their top men had just bled out in Mercedes’ bed, also more than just convenient. Harold didn’t expect a midnight visit from Mercedes, or not for his ears, but Caddi might send someone else to remove an annoying Soldier Boy.That would be Caddi’s style, a knife in the night. Now, if anyone unexpected disturbedHarold in his bed they’d get six .38 calibre shocks.
More than that, the weapon would be a backup for Tessa and Sharyn,because he showed them where he’d put it. Harold put the rest of the .38 pistol rounds from Caddi in his room as well. He didn’t need them for the adapted shotgun now Dealer had sold him rifle rounds. Caddi might try to take hostages, but with both the pistol and the musket, Tessa and Sharyn should hold a few scroats at bay until help arrived.Tessa reckoned the pistol would come in handyanyway, forHarold to back off his other woman and get some sleep. Despite some teasing about that, both women ran through using and reloading the .38 until they were confident. Harold’s bedroom stayed locked because of the kids, but Sharyn and Tessa already knew where he put the key.
When anyone asked about Harold’s trip to the Army, it had been about the number of refugees arriving. Harold told Tessa and Sharyn, and the squad leaders, that the Army would be leaving before winter. He told the same people what else came in the wooden box, under the weapon. The box felt heavy, very heavy, a couple of stones at least, and looked much deeper than it needed to be. The original intent might have been to create a space to keep valuables,but not the sort it held now. When a curious Harold prised out the bed that held the pistol, he was greeted by lines of gleaming brass circles. The gift hadn’t been anything like a token gesture.
His benefactors had filled the whole space with two layers of genuine, new, original 9 mm pistol rounds, twelve hundred of them. A thousand rounds were hollow point, the other two hundred were full metal jackets. All of it was better than almost any other ammunition in the city. The jacketed roundswould go clean through any of the homemade armour out thereexcept Dealer’s car. The hollow points with full original loads behind them would blow through most homemade personal protection. Even if they didn’t penetrate, the recipient would feel as if he’d been hit by a sledgehammer.
The ammo stunned Harold because some of the British Army werewell off the reservation, and their officers had joined them. Now Harold wondered how many other ex-squaddies were getting a quiet hand with stopping the Barbarians. The Captain said they were visiting here and there. Did that mean the Army were going to try and save some enclaves? Even if there weren’t enough suitable gifts among confiscated weapons,some of theSpecial Forceshad spare weapons stowed away,the sort without any records. Those like Stones had small private armouries, handy if Harold or Tessa had known where he’dkept them. Harold filled six clips with metal jackets and twelve with hollow point,then switched pistols about so each squad leader had a weapon that fired them, for emergencies. He’d ask Dealer for more c
lips to fill with the rest.
*
Harold didn’t have much time to think about the Army, because the refugees kept coming until the number of residents topped three hundred. His fighters could read the signs, they pushed for more and more training. The new refugees were immediately put on the task of clearing the area around the Farm, the new housing, and working on the actual buildings themselves. Once the houses were habitable the walls would go up, but until people lived there, Harold wasn’t creating a fortification that near to Orchard Close. Harold looked over the tents, the extension leads to give them light and heat, and the milling crowd of strangers, and finally voiced one big worry. “Caddi will try to put a spy in among them. Maybe he has already, but I can’t turn the poor sods away.”
Patty laughed out loud, but it had a bitter edge. “Six so far. Emmy wins the pool, because she reckoned with all these arriving so quickly you’d finally catch on.”
“Six? What, spies? Who?” Harold looked closer at the crowd, but they all looked like innocents to him.
“Not here, we don’t think.” Patty patted him on the back. “Four women and two men so far. They are all under anonymous heaps of bricks out near the borders.” She wasn’t laughing now. “We’ve been watching from the beginning and the first two were easy. None of their supposed neighbours recognised them.”
“What about the others?” Harold felt truly stupid now, because he should have guessed Caddi would put someone among the flood of new people.
A steely glint showed in Patty’s eyes. “Caddi used their relatives to apply pressure. The refugees picked up on two of them.The others were a bit too desperate to get information. These refugees are as suspicious as we are, Harold. They watch each other, because under the Murphies they lived with informers.”
It wasn’t informers that shocked Harold. “You killed them in cold blood, even if Caddi forced them?”
“Yes. That’s why we don’t tell you. You’d give a weeping woman a pass, then she’d run off to Caddi and spill the lot.” Patty looked him in the eye. “The scroats are not getting us that way and no, I won’t tell you about the next one. You keep training us to defend the walls, we’ll watch for the back-stabbers.” She sighed, then plastered on a smile. “Now look happy and say hi to the latest three.”
Harold thought about it, but didn’t have the nerve to ask Sharyn if she knew. Patty had hit the nail firmly on the head;he’d always worried that Caddi could get a female spy past him if she looked like a refugee. Harold did as Patty told him and concentrated on defending everyone. To do that he needed even more of the high quality steel weapons, so whichever fighters were based in the Farm could arm and train any willing refugees.
Between arming the fighters and replacing the weapons Caddi took as payment for the forge, Liz hadused up enough of the rail wagon springs to force Harold into launching his raid. It would have to be soon, before Caddi overran the location. To get his loot home,Harold had to let the GOFS into the source of the steel. Even if he could beg, steal or hire enough transport for this raid, he’d have to cross GOFS territory twice without a single sentry spottinghim.Caddi’s howl of rage when he found the robbed wagons would alerteveryone afterwards, but hopefully too late. Harold sent word that he wanted a meeting with a senior GOFSto discuss steel, for mutual advantage.
Harold didn’t expect Wayland, the GOFS smith, to come to Orchard Close the following day. The man asked if he could talk to Harold’s blacksmith, or at least meet him, but Harold assured him that wasn’t necessary.He’d tell the GOFS where the metal came from in return for help in getting more. Wayland promised to set up a meeting as soonas possible. With a laugh he admitted buying a Rambo to test it, and worrying Harold had found the Murphies’missing farrier or a real swordsmith. Wayland didn’t stay overnight, though he asked again if he could meet the smith. From thelittle smile, Harold thought Wayland had guessed Liz’s secret.
*
Gofannon didn’t arrange anything, because the next GOFSconvoy arrived at Orchard Close the following day with Vulcan aboard. Ogou visited now and then, and Wayland, but official business usually happened in GOFS territory. Harold made it to the gate in time to meet the GOFS party as they came through. “Welcome. This is a big surprise. I expected to be heading over to see you.”
Vulcan nodded, with just a hint of mischief in his smile. “Yes, that would be the usual arrangement. The thing is we’ve been hearing stories from the likes of Cy, and second-hand from Barbies as well. We were definitely curious after your last visit. Your bodyguard was a bit unusual, and still is.” He bowed a little towards Patty. “Still as decorative as ever, but a couple of the lads mentioned that your women weren’t quite as genteel these days.”
Harold answered cautiously, because that sounded like a complaint. “Depends on how they treat the woman.”
“True, and both agreed it was their own fault and neither of the young women took permanent offence. The way my men were, well, I suppose chastised, intrigued me. One ended up on the groundbeing offered a hand up. The other ended up on his knees with his hand being held in a very painful manner.” Vulcan laughed again, he seemed to be in a terrific mood. “He reckons he’d have knelt anyway if she’d asked him. They both apologised to me for causing trouble, so I think the message went home.”
“I never heard a word. The girls usually deal with trouble themselves.” Harold nodded towards Patty and her crossbow. “The couple of times things got serious, we retrieved the bolts and buried them. The last fatality inside the walls, except the one in The Pub, was over a year ago.”
Vulcan had been frisked as they talked. Now, as they headed for the Embassy, the GOFS gestured to the men and women walking about. “This is what I wanted to see. In the past, anyone out of order found themselves surrounded by annoyed residents with, as you said, crossbows and a bad attitude. Recently the women have been dealing with it themselves, very efficiently. The only other women who do that are Barbies, but they tend to use a blade.”His eyes sharpened as couple of people wearing bandages came past. “We know that Patty, and presumablyother women,helped to carve up those visitors.Those pictures had a sort of Barbie flavour.”
“I told them to cut up the bodies, as a message, and there were men as well as women in the fighting.”Harold had worried about how far they’d gone,because some of the trainees were very, very intense and had got carried away. “You thought we’d got Barbies living here?” Maybe Vulcan thought Barbies had helped out and carved up the bodies, perhaps because there were some visiting most days.
“More that your women were turning into Barbies. Someone like her might pass as a Barbie fighter.” Vulcan gestured to a woman on the wall nearby, fully armed for her sentry duty. “But the others definitely aren’t, despite the Rambos and some bigger blades or pistols. Even that one on the wall hasn’t got that manic edge.” Vulcan smiled at Patty, bowing slightly. “Lovely as you are, having to fight you would be a little bit disturbing. The thought of fifty or a hundred like you, combined with the Barbies, could give a man sleepless nights.”
“Not me. The Barbies keep offering me a job but I like it here. My boss gives me some lovely toys to play with, but I don’t have to let anyone near my underwear. Unless I want to of course.” Patty smiled back at Vulcan, giving him an obvious once-over. “You should come to one of the dances. We’re always short of blokes for the last waltz.”
Harold kept his face straight, because he wasn’t actually sure if Patty was chatting Vulcan up or winding him up. Neither was Vulcan from the look on his face,then he laughed. “If you save me the last dance, I could be tempted to do just that.”
“Oh no, that would depend on how you boogie. I never make promises because that stops them trying so hard.” Patty wore a happy little smile now, but Harold still wasn’t sure why.
“Having to work at getting a dance would be a novelty, but worth the effort I’m sure. I would love the chance to find out.” The party went inside where Vulcan gravely greeted Sharyn and Tessab
efore sending Ogou to The Pub. Ogou looked puzzled, because as a top GOFS, he expected to attend. “I want to cut down on competition for the attention of all these lovely ladies.” Vulcan had probably been a real smooth operator back in the day. The GOFS man looked to be mid-twenties, so possibly twenty during the Crash, and suddenly well-spoken to the women. Harold remembered Patty mentioning Vulcan’s manner when she visited the GOFS.
When given the options, Vulcan asked for beer. “I have to fight for this at home.” He sipped appreciatively. “The ladies truly are lovely, but I have other ulterior motives. I am alone in here so that we can talk about secrets. Will we?” Vulcan’s eyes included all the people there in a discreet question. Could all these be trusted?
“All our top people know.”
The secrecy part settled, Vulcan went straight to the point. “Wayland says the new weapons are down to the steel, rather than the smith, and you’ll tell us where to get some of it. Why?”
There wasn’t any point in Harold lying. “I need transport, and extra troops would be handy in case someone objects.”
Vulcan looked a very happy boy. “If we supply transport and troops, we’ll want sixty-forty.”
Harold shook his head. “If we ask the Barbies they’ll accept forty-sixty to get the steel. Then they’ll sell the steel to you in exchange for good machetes and maces.” He chuckled at the grimace on Vulcan’s face.
“Ouch. True as well. If they had good, tempered steel we’d trade for some.So rather than arm the Barbies even better, how about fifty-fifty?”
That brought smiles from everyone here. “All I ever wanted. We’ll bring some jacks, butthe more the merrier. Your cutting gear is better than ours.”
