The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum

by Sharp, David H

  Willoughby’s voice came back over the handset. ‘We’ve found them, repeat we have found them.’

  Davis swallowed hard, this was it. Show time had begun.

  ‘We will move away from the area, come back in the morning.’ Willoughby then signed off.

  Travers hit the steering wheel. ‘What the fuck!’

  ‘Come on, you heard the boss, let’s go.’

  Travers shook his head. ‘Madness; we should strike now.’ He turned the truck around.

  ‘They will still be there in the morning.’ Davis stretched her legs in the foot well. ‘Slowly, slowly catchy monkey.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Travers was not a happy man.

  Davis sat back, now she had to break the plan to Waters. Slot Willoughby tonight? Travers too? There were plenty of questions to be answered. Maybe call in at Taunton on the way back, slot the Doctor. Davis loved that idea. All three in one swoop, that would put her in a strong position. The Doyen and then her. She smiled to herself.

  ‘Get in, get back to the cottage!’ Angel sprinted across the lawn towards the children.

  She had been chopping onions when the noise of the helicopter shook the kitchen pots and pans.

  Whoever they were, Angel didn’t want their position compromised.

  Had they seen the kids?

  She gazed up into the evening sky, the black dot had now disappeared.

  Roger was close behind her. ‘What the hell was that?’

  Angel turned to him. ‘Trouble.’

  Chapter Twenty One

  The Doyen cleared everyone out of his temporary office and closed the door. Doctor Robert, a little put out at being cut short and ushered away, stood by the water fountain. Irritated at not being heard, he frustratingly tapped the clipboard he was holding whilst waiting to re-enter the office.

  The Doyen picked up the handset of the two way radio. It was slightly inconvenient that Davis should get into contact with him during such an important meeting. Nevertheless, he thought it imperative to get back to her.

  He squeezed the handset. ‘Davis, can you hear me?’

  Static screeched out of the small speaker of the main unit, which was sat on the desk. He knew that using this type of radio was pushing it. Just less than fifty miles was on the limit of the radio’s coverage. Both antennae needed a clear line of sight, so he was hoping Davis was in reaching distance.

  The tall mast on top of the Taunton compound was erected when the Pureblood’s took over the small hospital, some eight weeks ago. It had provided great coverage from all over the South West, but it was Davis who needed to find high ground to connect to it.

  ‘Davis, are you there?’ The Doyen asked again. Still white noise filled the room.

  Emma Davis moved to the top of the small hill. Using the fading light as cover, she had taken the radio from the truck only ten minutes previous. She had already tried to contact the Doyen, but only static was being received. Davis had noticed slightly higher ground to the east, so she had hot-footed it over to the summit of the small hill.

  Her heart rate rose as she spoke into the handset. ‘Sir, can you hear me, over?’

  She could hear clicking. ‘Sir, are you receiving me, over?’ She looked across the moor in anticipation for an answer. It was bleak; murky and bleak.

  Again there was more clicking.

  ‘Taunton, this is Davis, anyone there, over?’

  ‘Davis, very nice to hear from you.’

  The Doyen’s voice made her jump. ‘Sir, can you hear me, over?’

  ‘Loud and clear Davis. You can stop the overs; all this radio talk is so annoying.’

  Davis smiled. ‘Understood sir.’

  ‘What’s the news? Have you carried out your full mission?’

  ‘Not yet sir.’ Davis looked around to make sure no one had followed her. ‘We have a slight problem,’

  The radio went quiet for a few seconds. Then the Doyen’s voice crackled back into life. ‘I don’t want problems Davis. Only solutions.’

  ‘Understood sir.’ Davis knew he could he impatient. ‘It’s far too big a problem for me to solve without seeking your advice first.’

  ‘Okay, shoot.’

  ‘Infected. Lots of them.’ Davis winced as she spoke. She knew this wouldn’t go down well.

  ‘The same ones that were released from here?’

  ‘Yes sir, but a lot more.’

  ‘More?’

  ‘Yes sir, there must have been some that slipped our net as we swept up from Cornwall.’ Another wince, as she was basically saying his plan had failed.

  Again there was more silence.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘This just underlines the incompetence in Willoughby. How could he have been so blind?’

  Davis was slightly surprised. The Doyen usually kept a close council. Very rarely did he let his true feelings slip.

  ‘The whole area needs a complete re-sweep.’ The Doyen continued.

  ‘It’s not that bad sir.’ A little smoothing over was needed. ‘We haven’t seen any infected, apart from in this contained area. Should be easy enough to wipe out; one quick strike and they would all be eliminated.’

  ‘And the renegades?’ The Doyen asked.

  ‘We have spotted a very small community on the outskirts of Newton Abbot, sir. I’m sure these are the ones responsible. No other signs of uninfected life have been detected.

  ‘So you wish to know your next step? Who to take out first?’

  ‘Yes sir.’ Davis turned; she thought she could hear footsteps.

  ‘Three different options.’ The Doyen mused. ‘Willoughby, the infected and the main target, the renegades.’

  Davis spotted some sheep moving below her. That must have been the noise. ‘I think I know what I would do, but I needed to clear it with you first.’

  ‘Go ahead, tell me.’

  Davis took a deep breath. ‘Take out Willoughby first. Travers and Gilman may be collateral damage, as I can’t see how they won’t twig. Then capture the renegades. Bring them back to base. After that, send out a party to eliminate the infected. Job done.’

  ‘Good, that sounds about right.’ The Doyen was impressed with Davis. ‘Do you think the other two need to be taken out? Can’t you get Willoughby alone?’

  ‘Travers is all over him like a cheap suit. Gilman is all over Travers. It’s a real arse licking ménage a trois.’

  The Doyen almost laughed. ‘Well, see what you can do. We need all the hands we can get. Pity to lose two sets for the sake of that useless oaf Willoughby.’

  ‘I will try my best sir.’ The words came out of her mouth, but she didn’t believe them. ‘If I can keep the damage down, I will.’

  ‘Very well, I expect good news tomorrow.’

  ‘You will get it, over and out sir.’ Davis then switched off the radio.

  Again she could hear shuffling. Damn sheep.

  Carefully placing the radio into the canvas ruck sack, she picked it up and turned around. There she was met by the menacing eyes of Chris Travers. He was clenching a pistol in his right hand, it was pointing straight at her.

  ***

  Jack checked the last of the lights, the one on the main landing. He pressed down the plastic switch. The bulb burst into light, showing up the many cobwebs caught up on the coving.

  ‘Are they all working?’ Roger’s voice called up from the cellar.

  Jake could just about make it out over the noise of the generator. ‘Yep, all present and correct.’

  The footsteps pounded on the stone steps and Roger appeared in the hallway.

  ‘It works like a dream.’ Jake pointed to all the lights burning away.

  Roger rubbed his hands together, trying to remove the worst of the oil. ‘As long as we can supply fuel, we have electricity.’

  ‘The television is working!’ Naomi burst through the sitting room door.

  ‘What’s on?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Nothing, just blue screens’

  ‘Better than the
shit they usually churn out these days.’ Roger smiled.

  ‘But we can watch DVD’s.’ Naomi replied.

  ‘Good call, I would love to settle down to a good film.’ Jake nodded.

  ‘Which one?’ Roger asked.

  ‘What?’ Both Naomi and Jake asked.

  ‘What film would you choose? If you had the pick of all films.' Roger had a glint in his eye.

  ‘That’s easy.’ Naomi said. ‘Dirty dancing, every time.’

  The boys looked at each other half smiling.

  ‘It’s impossible to pick just one.’ Jake complained.

  ‘Sorry, just the one.’ Roger was loving his little game.

  ‘Pulp fiction.’ Jake pointed at Roger. ‘No, The deer hunter. No!’ He shouted. ‘This is impossible.’

  ‘Time is running out. You’ll be left with nothing.’ Roger laughed.

  ‘Arghhh! Okay, okay.’ Jake had his head in his hands. ‘The Long Good Friday. Final answer. That’s what I would choose.’

  ‘Nice choice.’ Roger shook Jake’s hand.

  ‘You two are weird.’ Naomi looked them both up and down. ‘I’m going back in there. Away from your strange games.’ She disappeared back into the sitting room.

  ‘Not a fan of Bob Hoskins then?’ Jake laughed. ‘Anyway what’s your choice?’

  ‘Oh that’s easy.’ Roger replied. ‘The third man.’

  Klaudia handed Angel a glass of cold white wine.

  Angel sipped it, savouring its freshness. ‘It’s good to have a fridge back.’

  ‘Do you think they saw?’ Klaudia asked.

  ‘Saw?’

  ‘The heli, helio, the helicopter.’ Klaudia struggled with the last word, but just managed to get it out.

  Angel sighed. The thrill of the cold drink disappeared with the thought of the helicopter. ‘I would have thought so. The kids were in full view.’

  Klaudia poured herself a large glass of wine. ‘What next?’

  Angel shrugged. ‘They will be back. Whoever they were.’

  ‘We will go out and investigate tomorrow.’ Roger, who had been listening at the kitchen door, walked into the room.

  ‘Where?’ Angel asked.

  ‘The rocks.’

  ‘Why the rocks?’

  Jake followed Roger into the kitchen. ‘Because if they saw the kids, you can bet your bottom dollar they saw the Infected at Haytor.’

  ‘And?’ Klaudia stood next to Angel.

  ‘That would be anyone’s priority. A shed load of half dead humans rampaging all over Dartmoor. They need to be dealt with first.’ Jake searched for a clean wine glass.

  ‘He’s right.’ Naomi, who had been sat at the kitchen table, threw her hat into the ring. ‘We should have dealt with them straight away. They are too dangerous to be ignored.’

  ‘Then we head up there tomorrow?’ Roger looked at everyone.

  ‘I will stay and look after the kids.’ Klaudia gulped down her Pinot Grigio.

  ‘Good call.’ Angel backed Klaudia instantly. There was no way she was staying behind and playing nurse maid.

  ‘Where is Harry?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Gone, hopefully.’ Angel cut in.

  Roger gave her a glare. This was a time for unity.

  ‘He’s sulking.’ Naomi poured herself lemonade. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Has he tried it on with you?’ Angel was straight on Naomi’s case. ‘Has he tried to force himself upon you?’

  ‘Bloody hell Angel, give it a rest.’ Roger was fed up with the constant sniping.

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ Naomi brushed the comments off, trying to subdue a full blown argument.

  ‘Shall we concentrate on the job in hand?’ Jake opened up a cold beer. The last thing he wanted was his girlfriend and his best mate at loggerheads. He thought they had both gone past that stage.

  ‘Jake is right.’ Jeremiah now entered the kitchen. ‘Put your petty differences aside.’ He became a little more animated. ‘Look where arguing got me and Sharon.’

  ‘Don’t upset yourself.’ Angel went to help Jeremiah to a chair near the table.

  ‘No!’ He barked. ‘We must unite, as one. Whatever this Harry has done in the past it must end, today.’

  ‘Hear, hear.’ Roger added.

  ‘And some of us must be more sympathetic to the feelings of others.’ Jeremiah looked at Roger.

  ‘We need to be a complete unit, a well-oiled machine.’ Jake sipped his lager. ‘We must triumph over the evil that men will do.’

  ‘Jake speaks sense.’ Jeremiah sat himself down. ‘We are living in a land where sex and horror are the new gods.’ He looked around at all the faces now staring back at him. ‘Right wing groups of all various sizes and strengths will pop up everywhere, trying to fight and destroy anything that is different to them. They will try and take power.’ He clenched his fist. ‘We must stop this, it’s imperative for the future of our country.’

  ‘Okay, I understand.’ Angel sat beside Jeremiah and held the old farmer’s hand. ‘Let’s leave the past in the past.’

  ‘We need to fight as a unit, with total trust in each other.’ Jake sat beside Angel. He was proud of her. It wasn’t easy for Angel to swallow her pride.

  Jeremiah took Jake’s bottle from his hand and took a large gulp of the cold beer. ‘A shepherd should smell like his flock. Not of the air freshener that pollutes his office.’

  ‘Hear. Hear.’ This time it was Naomi who agreed with Jeremiah. She clinked her glass of lemonade with the bottle of beer he was holding.

  ***

  ‘Point that gun somewhere else.’ Davis could see the intent burning in Travers’s eyes.

  ‘What the fuck were you talking about?’ Travers shouted.

  ‘Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to listen into conversations?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ Travers took a step closer to Davis.

  ‘Calm down.’ Davis needed to defuse the situation. ‘I was signing in, back at Taunton.’

  ‘With the Doyen?’ He waved the gun to his right, moving Davis from the canvas bag. ‘Talking about killing us lot, back at camp.’

  ‘What!’ Davis shouted back. ‘That’s utter madness. I didn’t say that.’

  ‘I fucking heard you.’ Travers smiled, almost demonically. ‘You were going to kill us. Just like that.’

  ‘That’s absurd.’ Davis moved her hand slowly down to her side. ‘How the hell would I survive out here on my own, with that lot roaming the moor?’ She motioned he head over to the rocks in the distance.

  ‘I fucking heard you!’ Travers screamed, stretching his arm so the gun drew closer to Davis’s face. ‘Kill us all in cold blood.’

  As quick as a wink Davis pulled her revolver from its holster and shot Travers straight between the eyes.

  Travers flew backwards, with half of his face flying through the evening sky. Like a lead balloon he dropped to the heather. His gun went off in his hand, letting off another loud bang.

  ‘If you’re going to shoot me, then shoot me. Don’t arse about.’ Davis said as she crouched down to inspect the gruesome wound her gun had made. Travers was dead, he never stood a chance.

  Emma Davis looked up. She could hear the commotion coming from their makeshift camp. The others had obviously heard the two gun shots. She had to think fast. Kill them all now, or make out that they had been attacked.

  ‘What the hell has happened?’ Gilman was the first to arrive. ‘Oh my god fathers.’ He saw Travers, his face half mutilated, lying dead on the ground.

  Davis stood up. ‘Fuck it.’ She muttered. With that, she took aim at Gilman’s head and fired. Kill them all, she had made up her mind.

  ‘What the fuck is going on?’ Willoughby arrived to see a dead Travers. Gilman was still rolling across the moor, blood spurting from his temple.

  Davis said nothing. Again she took aim, but this time she paused. She could see the fright in Willoughby’s eyes. He knew he was going to die. She squeezed the trigger.

  W
illoughby was dead.

  ‘Jesus H Christ.’ Waters could see what had happened and dived to the floor to take cover.

  Davis gritted her teeth. This was the toughest one. Did she need to kill Waters?

  ***

  ‘Have another drink.’ Klaudia passed Jake an unopened bottle of lager.

  ‘I’m fine.’ He held his hand up to reject it.

  ‘Go on, we’re having fun.’ She started dancing to the music that was playing on the record player.

  ‘I haven’t seen one of these for years.’ Angel looked at the old music centre.

  ‘I have loads of old vinyl.’ Roger stopped himself. He nearly said back home, but he knew that had all changed now.

  ‘I never had one.’ Angel lifted the lid to watch the record revolving. ‘I went straight into CD’s.’

  ‘You can’t beat a bit of vinyl.’ Roger thumbed through the collection that Jake’s uncle had amassed.

  Both of them turned when a loud shriek came from Klaudia. She was now dancing with a wine glass in her hand, lifting her skirt up to her thighs.

  Roger raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s a bit of a live wire after a few drinks, isn’t she?’

  Angel was watching Jake. He looked nervous. Klaudia was trying to dance with him, but he wasn’t having any of it. ‘I’m going to rescue my boyfriend.’

  ‘It’s like the big party before battle isn’t it?’ Jeremiah was sat on the armchair next to the music centre, watching everything unfold.

  Roger chuckled. ‘If there was a photo copier here I would give very short odds on who would be copying their more private areas.’ He looked over to the now can canning Klaudia.

  ‘She seems like a game girl.’ Jeremiah sipped his wine.

  ‘Girl?’ Roger nearly choked on his lager. ‘She has to be fifteen years older than me.’

  Jeremiah smirked at him. ‘Imagine what she was like twenty five years ago?’

  Roger’s eyebrows got even higher. ‘I dread to think. Plus she’s so quiet normally.’

  ‘But we don’t really know her do we?’

  ‘You have a point.’ Roger looked over to Naomi and Harry James, who were in deep conversation. ‘Let’s hope they can sort out their differences.’

  ‘They will.’ Jeremiah topped up his glass. ‘She has a good head on her young shoulders. She’ll do what’s best for the group.’