by Vance Huxley
Charger looked apprehensive because Caddi wanted him to get an explanation. The Hot Rod probably toned down the actual demand, but even so telling him to piss off would only cause trouble. Caddi would be offended, and the nutter might even kill someone, ambush them, out of sheer nastiness. So instead, Harold explained there wasn’t a problem if the watchers didn’t report every movement over the radio, to any scroat out there who might be listening.As he pointed out, they could come and sit in the canteento spy in comfort.
Charger looked relieved, leaving straight away without a beer. The radio messages from the spies droppedoff after that soeither Caddi accepted the point, or his watchers had now realised just how vulnerable they were.
The next person to talk to Harold about the attack went all around the subject to make his point, because he couldn’t speak openly. The sergeant on the bypass tried to let Harold know he’d seen the rifles, illegal weapons, without actually admitting it. Going by what the TV showed, the NCO should have called in either artillery or an air strike, and reinforcements so he could invade the enclave and capture any rifles.
Harold arranged for extra chips and beer to go up to the soldiers from now on. They were a thank you for the warning, and because despite his standing orders,Sarge hadn’t even fired a warning shot. A serious discussion led to all the rifle and shotgun users agreeing they would try and shoot from inside houses in the future. Meanwhile, the joiners looked into ways of making a simple frame, a cover for the firing steps if necessary. To help with that, the Coven asked the sewing circle to go through the salvaged curtains and bedding. With luck the women could make a screen to hang on the frame, so even drones wouldn’t be able to see what weapons were being used.
*
Two days later, Mercedes turned up with two Hot Rod escorts. There were a good few glowers,from people who thought that the Hot Rods were somehow responsible for the attack. Doll must have been very quick with the search, becauseMercedes marched up the road while Charger and a bodyguard were still being inspected. No joking or teasing this time, Mercedes didn’t even take off her coat. “How many were hurt? How many are women?”
Harold could see the anger in her eyes anda little something eased inside him.If Caddi had been involved, Mercedes didn’t know. “Seven hurt, two died andthree are serious enough to be in hospital for a while.Three were women, a gardener and the two decoys. Only oneof the men will be left with a serious long-term handicap.We killed all the scroats.”
Mercedes looked around.”Where are they, your injured?” She steadied up a little, and looked a little bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Can I visit the sick please, ‘Arold?” A real Mercedes smile broke out. “I haven’t got a little white nurse dress and white stockings, but the girls won’t mind that, will they?”
“No, but the blokes will be heartbroken.” Patty smirked, looking at Harold. “Unless you’ve come to kiss them better? One of the wounded is near enough to start now. One who didn’t put himself on that list.”
“Not all of them.My lips belong to ‘Arold andI would love to kiss him, then kiss him better, if I could get him alone?” The little warm spot in her eyes appeared and went, and her voice softened. “Two dead, no more?” At the curious looks,Mercedes shrugged very slightly. “A big pyre or so I heard.”
“One big and two smaller. We didn’t want the scroats to stink. They were all dead before we burned them, which is a pity.” The sheer venom in Patty’s snarl caught Mercedes’ attention.
“Why, what did they do?”
“Had a party to make sure the decoy women would run.” Patty suddenly looked wary asfury blossomed in Mercedes’ eyes.
“The bastards are never satisfied. Are you sure you got them all?” Her hand twitched towards where her belt knife would sit. “None of the wounded got away?”
“Not a chance. Those big bullets don’t take prisoners.” Casper stood blocking the road as it became obvious that, instead of heading for the Embassy or the canteen, Mercedes wanted the hospital. The hospital, originally the house Patricia lived in, stood outside the usual allowed areas.
Mercedes hesitated at Casper’s folded arms and the ‘Keep Out’ sign. “Please, ‘Arold?” Her eyes twinkled and she posed just a little. “I’d strip for an extra search, but this isn’t exactly private.”
Harold didn’t have the heart to argue. “I’ll have to stay close?”
He’d hardly finished speaking before Mercedes put an arm round him. “You’d better get a grip then.” Harold put an arm round her waist and headed for the hospital. “Do you know who did it?”
“Not yet. They aren’t local, so I reckon someone hired them in.” Harold hesitated, then told her. “The coupons were from scores of different people and the weapons were a mix.”
“I’ll ask around, andif I find out who I’ll let you know.” Several people exchanged glances because that wasn’t expected. “In fact, if I find them I’ll send their ears. I am sick of the way women are treated these days. Stolen and passed around like bloody trophies. The bastards are worse than animals.” Nobody nearby would argue with any part of that. There were no other Hot Rods in the group now as her escort were only just leaving the gate, and anyway,gangsters weren’t allowed near the hospital.
Harold looked around those near enough to hear, and leaned over towards Casper.”Make sure nobody passes that gem to anyone else, especially Hot Rods, will you?”Casper looked around and nodded in understanding. Caddi definitely fitted the group Mercedes described, and wouldn’t like a public statement like that.
Mercedes calmed down by the time the group arrived at the hospital, morphing into a cheerful, sympathetic young woman. She asked Patricia about everyone and spoke to every invalid. Each one of the wounded received sympathy and jokes, to their bafflement and then delight. Mercedes apologised that she hadn’t brought flowers or grapes, and left them smiling. Harold saw her eyes while she spoke to them, and it wasn’t an act. Whoever had been buried behind those dead eyes had started to break free.
As they left the hospital Mercedes sawCharger, waiting nervously at the ‘Keep Out’ sign, and turned back into her Hot Rod persona.Waiting wasn’t optional, because Casper had gone back there with three others and a bad attitude. Mercedes raised her voice. “Too late Charger, ‘Arold has already given me a full medical inspection. I stripped him down to check his wounds, and kissed them all better.” She laughed at the look on the Hot Rod’s face. “I couldn’t get him anywhere private enough, or we’d still be in there and you’d hear at least one of us screaming.”
Charger looked relieved. “Sorry, but you know, Caddi told us.”
“Oh yes, I’m not to be trusted alone with Soldier Boy.” Her hand in his hip pocket squeezed Harold’s ass. “Am I safe alone with you, ‘Arold?”
“Absolutely not, Mercedes. I hope that makes you keener, not worried?” Harold returned the favour, since Mercedes had wanted to know what his hand felt like in her back pocket.
“Ooh yes.” Mercedes sighed and snuggled in a little. “I suppose I’d better get back, or himself will have a cardiac. What a waste, I never even had any delectables stroked.” She carried on chattering down to the gate, then insisted that ‘Arold stroked her jeans over her ass with both hands, just to keep her going. A bemused Harold watched her walk down to the cars with a finger pointed at what he should watch.
June/July
Dudley Zoo / Precinct Nineteen:
Precinct Nineteen and the Dudley Zoo residents had reached a balance. The extra acreage Precinct Nineteen controlled meant that more of the young zoo animals matured for meat, and the Zookeepers could support more of the mothers just for milking. The children drank real, full cream milk while the fresh meat reduced reliance on the Marts. The residents still needed some essentials, but now they could leave a couple of months between shopping trips. Less trips meant taking less risks and expending less ammunition, especially as the additional numbers meant a stronger convoy. The protein and the milk, and their secure positions, even led
to a steady influx of refugees. Not gangsters, ordinary people who saw a chance to buy a decent life for their families by trading their old skills. With the extra labour, more land could be farmed, and many of the old warehouses were cleared to provide pasture.
Some of the neighbouring gangs began to bury their old hatred of the police to trade for milk and meat. That didn’t suit the Cabal, so local agents were sent new instructions.
* *
Sutton Park:
After a brief period of unrest, while families relocated from the ruins to the edge of the park, the gangs settled down. The forcibly removed civvies realised that they were safer, and if they worked in the nearby park their kids could get real meat and milk. The extra labour dug over more of the park for crops, the part not used for rearing stock or preserving wildlife.
The eight gangs began to realise just how knowledgeable their new tenants were. Better still, the park wardens knew the area intimately, and were perfectly happy to show the fighters the best places to put guard posts and lookouts. In return, the gangs agreed to leave the less edible wildlife alone rather than use it as target practice. It wasn’t much yet, but the barriers between conquered and conquerors began to weaken. The boundaries between the gangs were definitely crumbling, especially after mixed forces lived together for up to a week. They acted as families while setting the traps, and some of the liaisons continued after the operation ended.
The gradual coming together wasn’t entirely unplanned. A very few people, definitely not the type to work for the Cabal, were intent on welding all the gangs and residents into one integrated community. They hoped that if the result acted relatively civilised, that would be enough to stop the Army attacking them. These select few had a couple of alternatives, just in case the Army attacked anyway, but were keeping them secret for now. They were determined that this enclave at least would survive.
* *
Conan:
Conan wasn’t worried about snipers, or any other sort of attack, but the knock at his door made him wary. The rest usually left him alone when he was in this sort of a mood, but this knock sounded brisk and confident. Conan even knew the reasons for his mood. Between the Lambs of God and that fucking Bitch, it seemed as if the whole world had conspired to defy him. He’d had to storm another enclave, suck up some losses, just to get the edge off. The men were muttering, and sooner or later one of them would take a shot at being boss. “Come in.”
“Hi boss. I’ve got a proposition.” The heavily armed man wasn’t a typical Barbarian, clean-shaven and relatively neat and tidy. He’d been here a while, and had made a couple of suggestions that worked out.
Conan searched his memory for the man’s name. “Sylvester? What do you want in here when I’m supposed to be planning? Unless you’ve come up with a way to get into that compound and have a Lamb of God barbecue.”
“Oddly enough, I might have. You won’t like it because you’ll have to make a deal with the God-botherers, but it should do the trick.” Sylvester smiled confidently in spite of Conan’s scowl. “The thing is, I’ve got an in with the Mart guards and know which assholes can be bribed.” He smiled at the incredulous look on Conan’s face. “Yeah, you don’t trust them.Nor me, but I know a couple from way back, and I know where we buried the bodies.”
“Bribe them to do what, exactly? Hang on.” Conan opened the door and called to a passing Barbarian. “You, stand outside this door. It’s closed for business. You let anyone in I’ll cut off your nuts.” The man didn’t flinch, that wasn’t an unusual threat from Conan. He took out his machete and stood a bit clear of the door when Conan went back in, so the mad bastard didn’t think he was trying to listen in. With luck, whatever it was would cheer the crazy fuck up a bit.
* *
The General:
While the Bloods picked up small enclaves and extra fighters, the General looked closer at both the SIMS and Orchard Close. Both had exactly the sort of fighters he needed, the steady sort who’d stand and trade bullets and arrows all day without breaking or launching a mad charge. There were steadier types in among his fighters, the sort that tended to keep clear of the Bloods when they weren’t actually fighting. He needed more of them,under their own commander so he could use them and the Bloods separately. Patton wouldn’t like the idea, he’d either think he was being replaced or resent splitting the command. Either way, he’d kill the other bloke and probably try for everyone else because that was Patton’s way. The General looked again at the sheaf of notes from Rhys.The mass of information had its uses, even if he’d need a bloody civil service to keep track if it kept growing at this rate. He sent a runner for Rhys.
When the spymaster arrived, he thought he knew what his boss wanted. “Caddi is still in the middle of his war. If we go now, we go alone and those dykes will fight, and so will the GOFS.”
“I’ve complained about all this shit a time or two, how you make a file even if I’m not interested in an enclave.” The General waved a sheaf of papers. “I apologise. I’ve been looking at the rejects, the ones that are too tough just now because we’d lose as many as we gained. I want to take out Napoleon.” He laughed as Rhys sucked air between his teeth, the exact noise a mechanic made before telling the punter the repair would cost a fortune. “I don’t want to conquer. You’ll love this. I want you to make him an offer he’d be bloody crazy to turn down. He gets to keep his men, and his rank. After all, Napoleon is a good solid general’s name.”
“Like the MiB? You want another commander, this time one with troops that are personally loyal?” Rhys shook his head firmly. “Bad idea. He’ll start looking for promotion. Worse, him and Patton might face off, the Bloods against the rest.”
“No, he’ll surrender, not buy in, because if he doesn’t we’ll make an example of the families of his soldiers. This file says the officers and steadiest men are loyal because their families get privileges.” The General ran a finger down the figures. “We’ll split out his nutters for Patton, and do the same with our other men. Then we’ll put our solid men in with his, so they won’t all be loyal to him. Make Patton his boss, that’ll give him a problem if he wants promotion.” He tapped the stubby automatic by his chair, a present from the MiB, and chuckled. “The office ponces only had guns, so letting them join as allies wasn’t a problem. I doubt they could find anyone to follow them, let alone the Bloods.”
“Shit yes. I don’t think I could find anyone else to take Patton’s job, or leastways not one who isn’t as bloody crazy as the Bloods are. His second in command usually lasts two or three months before one of his own men tops him.” Rhys bent over the papers. “The Bloods will be pissed if they miss a fight.We’ll have to have them there, wound up ready to go, or someone like Napoleon won’t roll over.”
“Which will keep Patton busy, slapping them down.” The General sat back with a big smile. “Well? You can do all that devious shit you like, blackmail and threats, treachery with a smile, all wrapped up as a box of goodies.”
“It’s probably doable, with care, because he’s got to know we can take him if we pay the blood price. I can’t let him realise you need him, not if he’s got to surrender.” Rhys took the papers from the General and began to read. “It’s a nice prize anyway, even if you end up topping Napoleon after he’s surrendered.”
“No rush, there’s still plenty of little stuff to keep the Bloods occupied once they’ve healed up. I don’t want to rush this, because we’re moving into the big league now.” The General leant forward across the small table and lowered his voice. “I daren’t have another fuckup like the one at Christmas, or getting knocked back when we tried that night attack across the water. Patton for one might fancy his chances on his own. Even if he just took off with the Bloods, we’d be screwed.”
“He wouldn’t….” Rhys reconsidered. “He might, because of how many of his men we lost. That loyalty goes both ways. Okay, slow and steady it is until we’ve got enough men, and the right ones, to take Soldier Boy.”
* *
Professors:
Midway between the SIMS and Sutton Park, just south of the motorway, the Professors and their students had beaten off a sudden rash of small attacks. Just as bad, none of the gangs would let the students through to the Mart. When a van sporting the colours of Benny’s Boys approached the border, flying a white flag, Prof expected another extortion attempt. Benny’s Boys had barricaded any roads between the Professors and the nearest Mart, and kept asking for women or territory to allow any vehicles through.
“It’s Benny himself, with only two bodyguards.” The border guard sounded shocked, because the gang boss usually sent a lieutenant and a score of fighters to any meeting. “Hang on, he’s shouting.” Moments later the guard came back on the radio, sounding even more shocked and puzzled. “He wants to meet Prof, one on one, and he’ll disarm and come inside if we give up a hostage.”
By now, the student manning the radio in the main accommodation had called for the Prof, and the senior fighters. One of those, a college rugby player called Chad, turned to the old man in a suit and a teacher’s robe. “I’ll go as hostage, Prof. This has to be important.” He turned to two of the other fighters. “You stay close to Prof all the time.If anything looks off, don’t hesitate. Kill the swine.”
“As a last resort, Chad. We don’t want to lose the team captain.” Prof turned to the radio. “Tell Benny we agree, but he will be searched. Chad is on the way as a hostage.”
*
Five minutes later, because Prof authorised the use of precious diesel to send a vehicle, a very inquisitive gang boss walked in through the front doors of what used to be a shop. Despite the heaps of produce on the shelves, the sandbags and determined, heavily armed guards would deter any casual shoppers. Prof met him just inside, holding out a hand. “Hello Benny. We haven’t met but I’m Prof, the senior lecturer.”
