“You’ve obviously been spending way too much time around Emma.”
“No, you just irritate me sometimes. We’re in this together, and the answer is right in front of your nose,” she replied, pulling one of her crossbows from her backpack. “We dip the bolts, so no hand-to-hand stuff is necessary.”
“Okay, that might work.”
“Of course it’ll work. I’ve got some bolts with wooden shafts. We’ll carve divots near the heads and that way even more tissue will enter the body.”
“Okay, that’s pretty clever.”
“It’s pretty simple, but at the side of your idea, it’s positively genius.”
Mike let out a long breath. “I really wanted to avoid getting you involved in the front-line stuff.”
“Look, Mike, I understand why you are the way you are. I heard about what you went through growing up … the way you protected your mum and your sister. It was admirable … heroic even. But I’m not your mum or your sister. I can take care of myself, so there’s no need to treat me with kid gloves. I lasted out there for months. I’ve faced death a hundred times, and I’m not afraid to do it again, especially when my family’s at risk.” She pulled a Swiss army knife from her pocket and levered open the blade. “Now come on,” she said, dumping a dozen bolts down in front of them, “let’s get to work.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Jacobs smiled as he stepped out of the Rodman 1250, one of the prizes they had claimed from Kyle. His team was busy unloading crates of weapons and ammo as Troy grasped his number two’s hand and shook it hard.
“Everything go smoothly?”
“Like a well-oiled machine,” Jacobs replied.
They both turned to look at the larger vessels out in the bay and the smaller ones heading in with more personnel, more food, more supplies, more everything. The village was already bustling with armed men and women, many of whom were a little disappointed that there would be no grand conquest, that not a bullet would be fired to claim this strategic piece of coastland.
“Our base of operations is across at the village hall, but the check-in for all the new arrivals is the pub. We’ll head there now; then I’d be grateful if you’d come back here and oversee the rest of this side of the operation.”
“Of course.”
The pair of them walked through the village as familiar faces greeted them, grateful to have solid earth beneath their feet. Mercer was in the car park of the Haven Arms. Several tables had been dragged outside, and clipboards covered them all. His deputies surrounded him as the new recruits filed into the car park to be allotted assignments and temporary accommodation. He broke away as he saw Troy, or the Admiral, as he had been respectfully nicknamed, approach.
“How are things going here?”
“Well, sir, I’ve got another team across at the campground. We’ve stripped out eight trailers and designated those for supplies, although I don’t think that’s going to be enough. We might need to use the tall ships for storage until we can sort something more permanent out.”
“And housing?” Troy asked.
“Sir, for the time being, we’re giving everyone temp digs at the ground. I think after we get today out of the way we can do a proper assessment of what’s available.”
“Excellent! Good work, Mercer. And the evac?”
“Shep’s on top of that, sir.”
The three men looked over to a tall woman with tied back blonde hair. She was wearing khaki and looked every bit the soldier she was. She had served in the army and then like so many been lured by well-paid opportunities in Africa and the Middle-East until going to work as the head of security for a rich banker who had played a pivotal part in the subprime mortgage disaster. She had finally taken a lucrative role on the bodyguard team for a petroleum executive. Elizabeth Shephard, or Shep as she was known, was not someone to be trifled with, and when she was given a task, everyone knew it would get done.
“Shep,” called Mercer.
Shep looked across and seeing Troy and Jacobs went to join them. “I was just asking how the evac’s going.”
“Sir, a full sweep of the village has been carried out, and I can confirm it is clear. The east and north checkpoints have been vacated and are now under our control. I currently have one vehicle patrolling the coast road. It will be arriving back with us shortly and then I’ll be taking over. The evacuees number nearly five hundred by our estimates, but the going is slow. There are a number of wheelchair-bound as well as some older and less mobile individuals who are just slowing the whole thing up.”
A smile crept across Troy’s face. He could sense the irritation in her voice. “Well, Shep, it sounds to me like you’re doing everything you can, barring shoving a rocket up these people’s arses.”
“Well…”
“What is it, Shep?”
“These people, sir, it’s just delaying the inevitable. In here they were protected; out there, they don’t stand a chance. It’s survival of the fittest, let’s just—”
“Put them out of their misery?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me think about it.” Shep nodded and went back to work. “Jesus Christ! Boys, let’s hope none of us ever get sick, we know where we’ll end up.” Mercer and Jacobs both laughed. “Right, I’m heading back to the hall. You’re both doing outstanding work. Keep it up.” The two men nodded, Jacobs and Mercer walked back to the tables, and Troy retraced his steps to the village hall. There were just two armed guards watching the prisoners now.
He walked back inside to hear raised voices. Angel had tight hold of Lucy’s hair. “Cheap hooker? Cheap hooker? You just keep talking, you fucking bitch, we might just keep you back for entertainment for the boys. We’ll see who’s a cheap fucking hooker then.”
“Get your hands off her, you fucking old slapper,” Emma shouted.
Angel’s eyes flared even wider. She released Lucy’s golden hair and almost ran to the other side of the table. “Oh, you think you’re funny, you little shit. Well, let me tell you—”
“ANGEL!” Troy boomed. “Stop this!”
“You don’t tell me—”
“You do just as I say. Stop this now.”
Angel was shaking with anger as she glared first at Emma then at Lucy and finally Troy. She stood there for a full minute before marching to the office, bursting through the door, and slamming it shut behind her.
“So, you thought you’d have a little sport with Angel while I was gone?” he said, making eye contact with Lucy. She did not respond, but there was a defiant smile behind her eyes, which enraged him. But of course, Troy being Troy, he did not show it, he simply smiled and brought the radio up to his mouth. “Shep, this is Troy, come in. Over.”
“Sir, this is Shep, go ahead. Over.”
“Shep, I’ve been thinking about what you said. All those lame and old folks who are slowing down the convoy—give them an expedited pass to the other side. Over.” The entire council turned towards Troy, convinced that he was merely tormenting them or the term expedited pass meant something other than what they feared.
“Sir, to be clear, are you telling me to kill them? Over.”
“That’s what I’m telling you, Shep. Contact me when it’s done. Over and out.”
“You can’t do that,” George hissed.
“You people just aren’t learning, are you? I can do what I want. I told you to stay quiet, I told you not to antagonise me. I’m gone for a few minutes and you’ve got poor Angel into a rage.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed into slits as she regarded Troy. “You’re a monster. If you think you’re unique, you’re not. We’ve met your kind before. There are thousands like you, self-serving serpentine little pissant. Let me guess, abused by Daddy? You think the world owes you something?”
The smile on Troy’s face broadened, and he sauntered around to where Emma was sitting. He grabbed the chair and dragged it across to the stage. “Put her up there,” he said, nodding to the spot where Hughes had been injected with
the deadly concoction.
The room fell silent, and despite the warmth outside, a chill shivered through it. “I’m sorry,” Lucy said in a panic. “I’m sorry, it was my fault. Don’t hurt her.”
Troy walked back to where Lucy was sitting and grabbed her hair the same way Angel had held it a short time before. “Apology accepted, but this is your last warning. You people piss me off once more and your attractive friend over there is going to get the needle.”
Lucy ignored the pain she was in. She could feel strands of hair being plucked from her skull, but that was nothing. Tears appeared in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll stay quiet. I’m sorry.”
Troy unclenched his fingers, and Lucy slouched forward. Her tears dripped onto the grey Formica surface of the table, and she wept in silence.
✽ ✽ ✽
The former residents of Safe Haven continued in one long procession towards the North Ridge. The minibus that had checked in on them made another appearance. “That layby up ahead, stop there. We’re sorting out transport for the old and disabled. No kids. Just old and disabled. Anybody struggling to walk, anybody in a wheelchair, we’re going to take care of them.”
Talikha nodded. “Thank you, that is very gracious.”
The man stared at her to measure if she was being sarcastic. When he was happy she wasn’t, he smiled. “Sure … gracious, that’s us all over, isn’t it?” he said, looking back into the minibus. Laughter erupted from behind him and for a moment Talikha looked confused but then considered her language and thought that, given the circumstances, gracious may have been a bit of an overstatement, so she smiled too. “Mind what I said now. Next layby and someone will be along directly to give them a helping hand.”
The minibus sped off again, and Talikha and the rest of the townsfolk carried on as instructed.
She, Kirsty, Richard and David halted there and passed on the message. They realised due to the sheer volume of people that not everyone would be able to fit in the layby, so, after a very brief respite, Talikha, Kirsty, Sammy and Jake continued while Richard and David spread the word among the others. In the end, there were over thirty wheelchair-bound, differently-abled and old folks left. Richard and David stood with them. The news that transport was going to be provided was gratefully received. Some of these people had chronic back complaints, and the time they had already spent in their wheelchairs had meant that most of the journey had been agonising.
David glanced at his watch. “It’s been a while, but they probably won’t be much longer. Look, there’s no point in us both waiting here. You go ahead. I’ll catch up when they’ve gone. You never know, they might be good enough to drop me off.”
“These people don’t exactly strike me as good Samaritans,” Richard replied.
“No, maybe not, but they want us out as quickly as possible, so it would be in their interests.”
“True … I suppose. Okay, are you sure you’ll be all right here?”
“Of course I will. Now, chop, chop, Talikha and Kirsty need you.”
“I’ll see you soon then.”
“See you soon,” David replied. He watched as his friend jogged to catch up with the others. Richard turned back once to wave, and David reciprocated.
“You’re like a fucking married couple, you two,” blurted Angus Macdonald.
David smiled. “I realise friends are a foreign concept to you, Angus, but that is all we are—very, very old and dear friends.”
“Still say you act like fucking Terry and June,” he replied, pulling a hip flask out of his pocket, unscrewing the top and taking a drink before handing it over to David.
“Don’t mind if I do,” David said, accepting the silver flask and gulping a mouthful of the peaty flavoured whisky. He handed it back to Angus. “Nice drop.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t suppose we’ll find any more of it, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Come on now, Angus, you never know what the future might hold.”
“What, like being made to leave the house and the village where you’ve lived all your life, where you brought up your children? Being made to go on a death march into the unknown to face God only knows what, that kind of future? Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
“You’re very much a glass-half-empty type, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m a flask-all-empty type,” he said, finishing the remainder of the whisky and flinging the engraved silver container over the road. It skimmed across the surface like a pebble on a lake then disappeared over the edge to the waiting rocks and sea below. “Last scotch I’ll ever taste.”
“Come on, Angus, we don’t know that.”
“I fucking know it.”
David caught a glimpse of an elderly woman who was listening in on the conversation. She rolled her eyes and David smiled. He loved the people of this town. There were all different types. Some grumpy, some sweet, some happy, some sad, but deep down inside they were the same. They were good people who had been through hell and come out on the other side, and he felt sure in his heart that they would be doing that again. So they had to leave their beloved Safe Haven behind. A place wasn’t what made a town, it was people who made a town, and there was no town that he would rather be a part of.
A few minutes passed and polite conversation fluttered around. They wanted to talk about anything other than what was happening to them. The talking stopped as the drone of an engine became audible. A few seconds later, the by now familiar sight of the minibus came into view. It pulled up on the opposite side of the road, and the front and back doors opened. Eight men and women climbed out; the leader, a blonde-haired woman in sunglasses, walked across the tarmac. She angled her head to look over the top of her sunglasses at David.
“This everybody?”
David was transfixed by the huddle of guards on the other side of the road. “Err, yes, these are the people who are struggling a little.” He looked around her towards the minibus. “I think it’s going to need a few trips if that’s all you’ve brought,” he said with a weak smile.
The woman raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. “You look okay. Why are you here?”
“Well, I said I’d stay, just in case. I was hoping you could drop me off but, given the circumstances, I’ll catch up with the rest of them on foot.”
“Go on then. Catch up with them.”
“I can give you a hand helping the older ones in if you like.”
The woman smiled. “Well, aren’t you just a sweetheart? No, we’ll take it from here. Get going.” The smile disappeared.
“So are the rest of your team going to stay here while you ferry the others? You know, in case they need anything.”
“Jesus H Christ, you are dumber than a bucket of rocks. Now, get out of my sight before I lose my good humour.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Go, David,” Angus growled. “Go for God’s sake.” David looked back at him. “Don’t you see, son? They’re not here to help us; they’re here to kill us.”
A flurry of frightened murmurs ran around the small crowd. The woman who had smiled at David earlier began to sob. Angus’s words were confirmation; it seemed that David was the only one who did not understand the gravity of the situation. He turned back towards the blonde-haired woman with a nervous smile on his face. “You’re not going to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, her eyes said it all.
“I’m giving you one last chance to get out of here,” she said, pushing the glasses back up to the bridge of her nose.
“No. You don’t have to do this. Look, we can reach the checkpoint. It might take us a bit longer, but … you don’t need to do this.”
The woman shook her head, turned and walked back to the waiting minibus. “Do it!” she said, climbing into the driver’s seat.
The guards immediately raised their weapons and issued a controlled volley of shots. A few seconds later, all that could be heard were the echoes of the final cracks. David was the last to fall. Sadness overwhelmed him.
He stumbled and looked down to see a rapidly growing red patch spreading over his T-shirt. Then he turned to see friends and familiar faces lying dead. Finally, he focused on Angus. The old man had been right; they had both drunk their last whisky. David’s legs were starting to feel weak, and with his remaining energy he looked back towards the firing squad. They had lowered their weapons and were all looking towards him with mild amusement. He staggered forward, one, two paces then collapsed. The side of his face smashed against the tarmac, and he felt his cheekbone fracture, but there was no accompanying pain. He felt nothing but cold.
“Now what?” asked one of the guards.
“Now, tip ’em over the edge. I don’t want to be seeing that sorry bunch of assholes every time I drive past.”
There was still a little life left in David, although his thoughts were incredibly jumbled, as someone grabbed hold of his ankles and dragged him to the edge of the cliff. Sharp pieces of gravel tore at his flesh as he was pulled across the road. Then suddenly he felt himself being lifted. There was a rush of air beneath him, and his body spun. He was flying. Was this what death was, living childhood fantasies of flying without wings? His body flipped and somersaulted, and then David understood precisely what was happening. He saw the jagged black rocks rushing to meet him. He tried to scream, to wake himself from this terrifying nightmare, but couldn’t, and in that instant, before a craggy wedge of granite smashed through his skull like a turbocharged axe blade, a single tear of sadness for what Richard, Ruth and the others were about to face appeared in his eye.
chapter 22
The whole procession came to a stop as the shots rang out in the distance. Richard had only just caught up with Talikha and Kirsty and now, as frightened screams and worried mumbles spread through the gathered throng, his heart began to beat faster.
“What was that?” he asked, wide-eyed.
Humphrey whined, and Talikha looked at him. She knew exactly what it was. She had seen the worst in mankind before. When the man in the minibus had pulled alongside them, Talikha had felt in her bones there was something untruthful about his words, but she had been alone in that thought as others believed it was the most natural thing in the world. The echo of the shots that rang out over the bay told a different story, however. She had been right all along. “We must carry on,” she said. “We must carry on and get to the North Ridge as fast as we can.”
Safe Haven (Book 6): Is This The End of Everything? Page 18
