Angel

by Jon Grahame

  By the time he got back to the house, Sandra was kitted up and the two girls were dressed and ready for what the new day might bring.

  ‘We’ll go back to the pub and see the girls,’ Reaper said. ‘The whole town will have heard the shooting and know something major happened last night. Maybe we can entice some of them out.’

  ‘We’ll follow you,’ said Bradley. ‘After we’ve finished packing the car.’ He shrugged. ‘No point staying here, now.’

  Reaper wasn’t sure of his motives and Meg seemed more eager to visit the scene of the previous night’s mayhem, but she agreed with his suggestion. Andrea came with them in the Astra.

  ‘Don’t be long,’ Reaper warned.

  Reaper drove the short distance to the pub and hotel and the bits and pieces that remained of Bits and Pieces. He stopped the car in the middle of the road and, for a moment, they didn’t get out. The generator was still on and the girls and women had cleared some of the debris and were eating breakfast on tables in the sunshine. The body of the middle-aged woman that had been hanging from the lamppost had been removed, but three more women had been hanged from other lampposts in her place. The people on the terrace, a few men among them, stopped eating. Some got to their feet and nervously held guns.

  They got out of the car slowly. Three women came from the pub and called to Andrea and she ran into their arms. Someone shouted, ‘They’re back,’ and someone on the terrace began clapping and this built up into a general round of applause. Reaper had experienced bizarre moments since the end of the world but this had to be among the weirdest. He and Sandra self-consciously acknowledged the rather restrained acclamation. Two of the women led Andrea away and the third approached them. She was the spokeswoman from the night before. She offered her hand.

  ‘I’m Tanya Metcalfe. We met last night.’

  Reaper shook her hand. ‘Reaper,’ he said. ‘This is Sandra.’

  The two girls shook hands and Tanya said to Sandra, ‘You were brilliant.’ She glanced back at Reaper. ‘You both were.’

  The women probably needed a heroine more than a hero. Reaper could understand that. He glanced at the bodies that swayed in a gentle breeze.

  ‘What happened?’

  Tanya’s eyes slid away for a moment. She didn’t want to look at the bodies.

  ‘Not all the women here were reluctant. Most suffered and some were coerced. Some took to the life with enthusiasm. They embraced it. They were part of it.’ She shrugged. ‘Retribution got out of hand. Maybe someone should have tried to stop it.’ She meant she should have tried. ‘This morning, I think everyone is sorry it happened.’

  Reaper could hardly complain if the survivors had instigated their own justice in the euphoria and probably hysteria of deliverance from a living hell. His own justice had been dispensed with righteous finality the night before. What was done was done. Time to move on. He raised his nose at the smell of cooking. The men and women at the tables had resumed eating.

  ‘Who are the men?’ said Sandra.

  ‘They were captives. Used to do work the gang didn’t want to do or couldn’t do. One’s a motor mechanic, another an engineer. We’ve got a dentist, too. And a baker. There are nine of them. The others were used as labourers.’

  ‘How many women?’ Sandra asked.

  ‘Twenty-two. Three are in their forties. They were used for washing, mending. Domestic duties. Useful stuff. The rest of us are aged from thirteen to twenty-eight.’ She looked at Reaper defiantly. ‘We were used for entertainment.’

  ‘Not any more,’ he said, his nose still twitching.

  ‘Hungry?’ asked Tanya.

  ‘Very,’ he said.

  She led them across the terrace to a table inside the pub.

  ‘Omelette okay?’ she said.

  ‘Sounds good,’ said Sandra.

  The young woman left them to go to the kitchens as they took their seats. When she returned, she joined them.

  ‘We collected the guns, like you suggested. They’re in the dining room. We moved the bodies from down here. They’re in the yard at the back. We did a count. There were twenty-six in the gang, including Tyldesley.’

  He was pleased she hadn’t referred to him as Mad Dog.

  ‘We did a body count, too,’ Reaper said. ‘We got twenty-five. So we’re one short. All things considered, that’s not bad. If the one we missed has any sense, he’ll be hiding or running. Either way, I can’t see him being a threat.’

  A man in his forties came from the kitchen. He carried a tray on which were cups, knives and forks, butter, condiments, a pot of coffee and a loaf of bread that was still warm. He unloaded it onto their table and shook their hands.

  ‘Malcolm,’ he said, in introduction. ‘Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know how you did it but what you did was a wonderful thing. I’ll bring the omelettes.’

  Sandra and Reaper exchanged a bemused look. Then the food came and they ate.

  Once the edge had been taken from his appetite, he said to Tanya, ‘It might be useful touring the town and letting people know the old regime is dead. Some kind of loudspeaker would be good. Get them to come out of their hiding places. You’ll have to get together to start organising.’

  Tanya said, ‘What about you? Where will you go? Where did you come from?’

  Sandra said, ‘We’re from a community near Scarborough. We’ve gone back to the land. People from all over, different occupations, lifestyles. We’re farming, starting schools, finding energy sources.’ She laughed. ‘We’ve got a mad scientist who wants us to use wind power and solar energy.’

  ‘That sounds incredible. How many of you are there?’

  ‘Two hundred?’ Sandra glanced at Reaper. ‘Three hundred?’

  Reaper said, ‘We’re based at what used to be a holiday village on a country estate. The place is called Haven. We’ve expanded into the farms and villages nearby.’ He took another mouthful and interpreted Tanya’s look. ‘If you want, you can join us. You all can. There’s strength in numbers.’

  Tanya nodded. As well as liberation they were being offered a new home that had already been established.

  ‘But first, you should get local citizens to come out of hiding. Tell them Tyldesley is gone. That they have to decide what they want to do.’

  ‘There’s a loud hailer Tyldesley used. When they had sport on the beach.’

  ‘We heard about that,’ Sandra said.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get someone to start touring the streets and telling people the news.’

  She left and they continued eating and drinking excellent coffee.

  ‘Do you think they’ll come with us?’ said Sandra.

  ‘I think it’s their best option. We’ve already got a toe-hold; they’d be starting from scratch.’

  They finished the food and strolled out into the sunshine. A man and a woman were standing across the street, watching what was happening at the pub with fascination. Two women and a child were further up the street, approaching slowly and warily, as if ready to run if the vibes suddenly changed.

  ‘They’re coming out already,’ said Reaper.

  ‘Do you think we might scare them away?’ Sandra said, and he had to admit that, kitted up and draped with guns and knives, they were probably an intimidating sight.

  They returned to the terrace where they could watch what was happening unobtrusively. Others had finished eating and were rummaging through the upstairs rooms of the hotel and in the nearby guesthouses where Reaper supposed some of them had been living.

  ‘I’ll go and get some more coffee,’ he told Sandra, and found Malcolm in the kitchen. He noticed Tanya was in the dining room, holding what looked like a meeting. When he returned with a tray Sandra said, ‘Two cars have gone out to spread the news. I suppose now, we wait.’

 
‘Seems like a good idea.’

  They sat and drank coffee and watched the world organise itself. After a while, Reaper said, ‘Where’s Bradley and Meg?’

  ‘They’ll be here. He daren’t not be here.’

  As if the words were an invocation, the Ford Focus turned into the street and stopped. Meg jumped out and began walking quickly towards them. Sandra raised an arm in greeting. Bradley got out of the driver’s side but, before he could catch her up, the girl was grabbed by somebody who leapt from between two parked vehicles.

  ‘Who the hell …’ said Reaper.

  The man held Meg from behind with one arm around her shoulders. In the other hand he held a gun that was pointed at her head.

  ‘Christ,’ said Sandra. ‘Is that …’

  ‘Duncan,’ said Reaper.

  ‘Come on out, you bastard! You know who I want!’ shouted Duncan towards the pub. His voice was close to hysteria. The hand holding the gun shook. Although Reaper had thought him fay, he was tall, and his grip around Meg’s shoulders seemed firm.

  Behind them, Tanya said, ‘Oh God. It’s Duncan. He’s the one that got away.’

  Not a victim, then.

  Sandra slipped away to one side, Tanya the other. Reaper, now alone, got to his feet and walked to the edge of the terrace.

  ‘It’s me you want,’ he said. ‘Let the girl go.’

  ‘I’ll let her go when I’m ready!’ Duncan screamed. ‘When I’m ready. You are a bastard. You have ruined my life! And now I’m going to ruin yours. Get down here! Now!’

  Reaper stepped down from the terrace, leaving his carbine behind. He took two paces and stopped.

  ‘You bastard!’ hissed Duncan, his mood switching from high hysterics to pure viciousness. ‘Who asked you to come here? Who sent you a fucking invitation to the feast, eh? You were not wanted, not needed.’ Spittle came from his mouth and suddenly his mood switched again and he was crying. ‘You killed him. Shot him. You shot Mossa! My Mossa.’

  ‘Let the girl go,’ said Reaper. ‘You can have me. Just let her go.’

  ‘I will,’ he shouted, almost back in control of himself. ‘Well, I might. It depends how I feel.’ He snarled the words. ‘But first you have to do what I say. Simon says. We’re going to play the game. You know it? And Simon says drop that gun belt.’ Reaper hesitated and Duncan screamed, ‘I said drop it!’

  Reaper took his time unfastening the belt. Then he held it in one hand while he unclipped the straps that held the holsters to his thighs. Slowly, he held out the belt with the holstered guns in front of him to gain Duncan’s attention, crouched low, despite the pain from his thigh, and laid it on the ground. The longer this pantomime lasted, the better chance Sandra would have of getting a shot at this madman.

  He stood up and held his arms away from his side. If Meg gave him half a chance, he might be able to take him with a throwing knife. He had practised the move often enough: grasp one of the knives ensconced on his left wrist in the fingertips of his right hand and one backward flip with accuracy and strength, and he could make him a new windpipe. He had done it before. But not with an innocent in such close proximity.

  ‘Now take off that vest!’ Duncan said, a shade calmer and less strident now that the handguns had been relinquished. He began to laugh. ‘I’m going to strip you, you bastard. And then I’m going to shoot your dick off.’

  Reaper pulled apart the Velcro fastenings on the Kevlar vest, held it out in front of him, and dropped it on the ground. Meg struggled and Duncan pulled her more viciously and ground the barrel of the gun into the side of her head. The girl screamed in pain and fear and Bradley stepped forward.

  ‘No,’ the teacher shouted. ‘She’s done nothing. Let her go.’

  In the periphery of his vision, Reaper saw Sandra behind a vehicle, the carbine at her shoulder, waiting for a clear shot.

  ‘Fuck off!’ Duncan shouted at the teacher, momentarily diverted, but Bradley stepped forward, arms outstretched towards the girl. Duncan moved his gun hand, pointed the weapon at this new threat – and shot him. Bradley was flung backwards. Duncan looked surprised at what he had done as Meg wriggled from beneath his arm and flung herself sideways, causing him more consternation and confusion.

  Now, Sandra! Reaper urged silently, but he saw that Tanya had stepped forward and was blocking Sandra’s line of fire. He plucked a throwing knife between his fingertips but, before he could launch it, Tanya was blasting Duncan from close range with a revolver. It looked like a .38 snub-nosed Smith and Wesson, notorious for its inaccuracy but which, from three feet, was totally deadly.

  Tanya kept firing until all six chambers were empty, each bullet dancing Duncan on his tiptoes with a look of confusion frozen on his face. After the final shot, he fell backwards and was still, his blood pooling around him.

  Reaper returned the knife to its sheath on his left wrist, picked up his belt and put it back where it belonged around his waist. He picked up the vest and carried it in one hand as he walked towards the tableau before him. Sandra had joined Tanya and put an arm around her shoulders. Tanya was crying silently, tears flowing down her cheeks as they both stared at the body of the man she had killed. Meg was crouching near Bradley who lay on his back, blood bubbling from his chest. He reached out a hand but the girl didn’t take it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and his fading gaze found Reaper. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, and died.

  Andrea came from the crowd and took Meg by the shoulders and led her away. The girl was dry-eyed and composed.

  Reaper looked down at Bradley without emotion. At least it was one problem solved.

  Chapter 5

  THEY HAD A CONVOY WHEN THEY LEFT. Forty of the town’s hidden citizens abandoned the shadows in which they had lived and gathered outside Bits and Pieces. They came singly, in couples and small groups. Others, they said, still preferred to stay safe and anonymous until they were convinced that Mad Dog’s gang had really gone. The former captives kept to themselves. The divisions were already apparent. Did the abused feel shame at what they had suffered or anger that those in hiding had escaped? Did the newcomers feel superiority, guilt or gratitude at not being victims? Reaper knew the complex emotions that could follow the end of a tyranny. It needed time before a normality of sorts could prevail.

  He told them about Haven. He said anyone who wished could return there with him and Sandra. Or they could stay in the town and create their own community or go travelling, as others had done, in a search for their own peace of mind. There was a lot of empty countryside out there, he told them, and the future lay on the land. He warned them that towns and cities would not be totally empty; that there would be survivors like themselves who might be possessive over warehouses and stores. Whatever their wish, the choice was theirs.

  Of those who had remained hidden for the duration of Mad Dog’s reign, only two men opted to come to Haven. The rest decided to stay and build their own lives. Seven of the captive men also chose to stay, along with the three women in their forties who had been used by the gang for domestic duties. They had no sexual history to complicate their rehabilitation. One of the men and two of the women opted for the open road, perhaps to seek a place where no one knew their past. Seventeen of the women, plus Meg, wanted to go to Haven. They were taking home twenty-one new souls.

  The next morning, that number was reduced to twenty when they found the body of one of the women who had made a different choice. Unable to face a future after her horrific recent past, she had taken an overdose of pills on her first night of freedom.

  They formed their convoy of vehicles and took only bottled water and food for the journey north, as well as the armaments and ammunition. Sandra took the lead vehicle and Reaper the rear, so that they would lose no one on the way. But when they reached the bridge across the Humber, a car containing three women pulled over. He stopped a
longside, lowered his window and looked at them questioningly. The driver shook her head.

  ‘We’ve changed our mind,’ she said. ‘We’re going south.’

  He nodded and did not attempt to dissuade them.

  ‘Don’t forget where we are,’ he said. ‘You’ll always be welcome.’

  She nodded her thanks.

  ‘Good luck,’ he said. He thought they would need it.

  ‘You, too.’

  He drove on and didn’t look back.

  They reached Haven and he followed the last car through the entrance in the high stone wall. James Marshall, the fourteen-year-old they had found in a public school near Scarborough, closed the gates behind them and wrapped the chain around the metal to make it look as they were locked and the place abandoned. James was young but he was a deadly shot. He had trained at his school as a military cadet.

  On the hill in the lee of a copse of trees, was the camper van in which Reaper and Sandra had left their own inland city behind and headed here, picking up survivors along the way. The van was now used as a guard post. Standing outside it was Jenny, the blonde schoolteacher, delicate as an English rose, still only in her twenties.

  Both she and James wore the same blue combat trousers, tee shirts and Kevlar vests as Reaper and Sandra. They carried sidearms and carbines. Special Forces. Sandra had given them the name when it had all started and that was how they were known: Special Forces. Arif, the young Asian with attitude and a sense of life, had been one of them. That life had ended on the grass outside the van, the first victim of a night assault by superior forces. Reaper had found his body. In the same action, when they had fought back, Jenny and James had stood side-by-side, exchanging fire with the enemy. In the same action, Sandra had lost Jamie and he had lost Kate. Had it only happened a few short days ago?

  He hadn’t thought returning would be this hard. He drove to the top of the hill along the narrow road and stopped. The original manor house was in the bottom of the valley with farm buildings and stables spreading from its rear. A purpose built village of twenty holiday cottages had been created on the near slope. The road ran between them and ended in a village square and crossroads that was marked with a six-foot stone cross on a plinth. The last building at the bottom of the hill was The Farmer’s Boy. That was where Kate had lived.