by Haywood, RR
Thirty
‘We’re on our way.’
She stands still. Her eyes clamped closed as she fights to compose herself from the rush of emotions surging up at first hearing Mr Howie’s voice then at hearing Nick. The pressure had been growing but not a reaction she had shown until now. Not a flicker of worry or concern but an icy cold determination to do the right thing for the right reasons. For Billy. For all the children here and so Howie and the others would have somewhere safe and decent to come back to.
We do the right thing. Mr Howie said we have to do the right thing otherwise none of this is fucking worth it.
At each pitch and toss and as the pressure grew so she recalled those words and remembered the decency of Nick. The honour of doing the right thing. She killed many that night and the offset had to be to rebuild where death was given. Take something dark and bad, something evil and tainted and make it clean. Make it worthwhile and do it for the right reasons.
There were many motivations driving her on. Billy was first. The other children a close second. After that was a mix of thinking of Mr Howie and how they had to have somewhere good to return to. They were out there killing the things to keep them away from the fort. They were a small group of people bound by honour and decency that were putting their lives on the line. Nick was part of that group and he saved her brother and you repay the kindness that was given. Mr Howie will have somewhere safe and clean and decent to come back to.
She thought about other people too. People like her who had fled homes to run terrified through the open land to reach the promise of the fort. It had to stand for them and for everyone else who made the decision to try and reach it.
Then there was Pea and Sam and the devotion they had shown to her and the way they stepped up when the world was falling apart around them and then there was Joan. A seventy year old woman who had more energy than everyone else put together.
As the days wore on so the motivation also became about doing it because it was being done. It gave something for everyone to work towards and a hopeless sense of loss became a positive energy that spread and grew with Lilly the linchpin holding it all together.
Each of those motivations took turns to become the primary driving force and the end of the eighteenth day saw a different group of people that woke up in the morning. The rain stopped halfway through the day. The sun came out and the warmth and light flooded the land. The sea glistened. Smiles began to appear and as the day drew to a close so they sat about bathed in firelight with the glow that comes from a gruelling but rewarding day of intense work.
Not Lilly though. As that day wore on so she felt a growing pressure inside. A feeling that something big was coming and it made those blue eyes grow cold and hard. It got worse too. As Howie fought the infected through the towns to reach that final battle so she became more restless and filled with a need to be doing something. To be somewhere. As night fell so it got worse still. She paced and fretted. She walked up the vehicle ramp to stare out across the sea as though searching for Nick with a heart pounding and a body flooding with adrenalin.
Then the girl was taken down. The girl that screamed in the flat next to Howie that made them all drop to weep. Lilly dropped too and she wept. She wept for something she knew nothing about but from a feeling inside. The next instant she was on her feet glaring with lips pulled back and the knuckles on her hands white from gripping the assault rifle. Pack. Be pack. Little ones. Images and sensations and the essence of things pushing so strong through her mind and heart. She felt it. She felt the rage and the instinct. She felt the pulsing flow of energy but had no clue what it was from or for. Pea had climbed the ramp to check she was okay and quietly backed away on seeing the utter violence radiating from Lilly’s eyes.
Then it was gone and inside there was only relief and the hours of darkness during which she once more held her brother and the rifle and slept with one eye open.
Now she opens those eyes and feels that pressure bubbling up to be released. She has coped. She has coped well and will always and forever continue to cope but there is a difference between coping and having those you know understand be close to you.
Mr Howie is back. His voice came through the radio. Paula will be with him. Clarence and Cookey and Blowers. Nick. Her Nick.
She bites it down. They don’t need to see her weak or upset. She doesn’t know what they did yesterday only that it was big and somewhere deep inside a voice she doesn’t understand tells her she held the line and did not yield.
Thirty One
‘Fuck me, are you seeing this?’ I call out and feel everyone behind me rush forward to peer through the windscreen to the sight ahead.
The bay is there. The long golden horseshoe with the idyllic blue waters lapping at the shore. The fort in the distance over the sea. The houses by the shore are there too but everything else looks different.
‘Slow down,’ I say to Marcy, needing time to take it all in and it makes my heart beat faster. At seeing so many things that none of us were expecting to see.
People everywhere. Lines of people carrying clothes and bags full of food and bedding from the houses to be stacked in trailers and wheelbarrows. Vans and pick-up trucks being loaded with bed frames, desks, tables and chairs as the houses are emptied of anything usable. From the other access road are more lines of people and vehicles carrying more gear from the industrial units and boat building warehouses further back from the blown out estate.
Everything is being stacked on the shore. Piles of sheet wood, timber, lengths of wood and metal, boxes of nails, screws, ropes, building materials and tools. Mounds of bedding and clothes being sorted and more chairs, tables and bed frames stacked high and deep.
Boats everywhere. Small boats being unloaded on the beach at the fort. More boats on their way to the fort and more on their way back and yet more already anchored and being filled. Ribs, fishing boats, rowing dinghies and everything in between and further out to sea there is a little flotilla of vessels all with the distinct shapes of people fishing over the side with rods.
‘You seeing this, Clarence?’ Paula murmurs into her radio.
‘Yeah,’ he replies, clearly as shocked as we are.
I scan from the houses down to the beach then back again. People stop and turn to see our vehicles as word spreads from those who have radios. Hands are lifted, people smile and wave. I thought we wouldn’t be welcome back after what happened with Lani but everyone we see seems happy to see us.
That alone is impressive. Seeing such an organised thing in action but that’s only on the southern side of the road. On the northern there is a huge yellow excavator being driven by a man with a roll up wedged between his lips flattening everything in sight. A few houses have already been flattened and he’s busy working his way down as the people work rapidly to taje anything usable. It’s immediately obvious what the plan is and already I can see portions of hedgerow and fencing have been taken down to open the view out down to the marine industrial units further back.
‘Clear line of sight,’ Blowers mutters.
‘HEY!’ A woman calls out, waving with a huge beaming smile on her sweaty face as she walks down the road towards the shore.
Marcy waves back, almost timid and scared in response to such a positive greeting.
‘MR HOWIE!’ A man’s voice shouting in greeting and I turn to see a bloke waving from the front of a van waiting to pull out with a fresh load ready to be moved to the shore.
‘Fucking twilight zone,’ Cookey whispers, ‘did we die last night?’
‘Think we did,’ I mutter back.
‘It wasn’t like this when you left then?’ Charlie asks
‘Fuck no,’ Blowers scoffs, ‘fuck knows what this is.’
‘Oh my god,’ Cookey says pointing to an old woman on the beach with a pistol on each hip and an assault rifle strapped across the front of her chest, ‘is that Dave’s mum?’
‘Fuck…’ I shake my head and blink then look again. An old
woman armed to the teeth and acting like Paula by clapping her hands at people to make them work faster.
Marcy stops. We have to stop. We’ve run out of road and otherwise we’d be driving down the beach and into the sea if we kept going, which actually seems like a good idea right now for how freaked out we all are.
‘Dave’s mum’s coming,’ Marcy says as the old woman strides towards us.
‘I don’t want to get out,’ I say.
‘We should go,’ Blowers says behind me, ‘I’m actually scared…’
‘Pussies,’ Cookey says, ‘I want to meet Dave’s mum…can we get out?’
‘Yeah,’ I say slowly and ease the door open to drop down to a world of noise. People calling to each other and big plant machinery working not far away. Engines idling with throaty diesel noises.
‘Welcome back, Mr Howie.’ I turn to see another bloke lifting an arm in greeting.
‘Cheers,’ I call back and that verbal response seems to set everyone else off and we get calls and greetings from all sides at the same time.
Marcy comes round the front to my side. The back doors open, the lads and Paula all come forward. Clarence, Roy and Reginald all join us. Even Meredith stays close, clearly unsure of what to make of it all. We stand there. Armed to the teeth and still bloodied from our last fight and without realising it we’ve all put our bags on with our axes tucked down, pistols in holsters, knives in belts, assault rifles held and from instinct and natural movement we get into our fighting circle and stare round in pure amazement at the voices calling out.
‘Welcome home.’
‘Welcome back.’
‘Are you all okay?’
‘They’ve brought survivors…’
‘…People in the bus, get some water…where’s the doctor?’
‘Coming,’ I turn again to see Doctor Anne Carlton rushing towards the bus with a large medical bag gripped in her hands, ‘get them off…Joan! We’ve got a whole bus load.’
The old woman shouts back, ‘Sam? Sam?’
‘Here,’ Another woman with a pistol on her belt and an assault rifle strapped to her chest like the old woman comes out from behind a huge stack of bedding, ‘oh hi,’ she shouts at us, ‘welcome back….I’ve got something for you, hang on,’ she adds and ducks out of sight.
‘Sam can you process the new ones?’ Joan shouts.
‘Give me a minute, Anne is there. Anne? You okay for a minute?’
‘Fine,’ Anne shouts back as the survivors start dropping from the bus into the arms of people waiting with bottles of water and soft words of comfort.
‘Pea?’ Sam’s voice calls out.
‘Coming,’ again we turn and see another woman with dark frizzy hair and a mixed race complexion running from one of the boats towards us, ‘welcome back, Mr Howie…are you all okay? It’s good to see you again.’
‘Er… yeah, um…bloody hell,’ I say, ‘what the…I mean…’
She stops near us and wipes the light film of sweat from her forehead, ‘not the same as when you left eh?’ She says with a huge smile, ‘wait till you see inside.’
‘Inside?’ Marcy asks as I’m too stupid to form words from being too stunned.
‘The fort,’ Pea says, ‘Lilly has done so much.’
‘Hey,’ Sam walks towards us carrying a case of Lucozade, ‘Lilly said you like Lucozade…’
‘Fuck me,’ Nick mutters. The case is still sealed in the plastic covering with a handwritten note on the top reserved for Mr Howie do not use.
‘We managed to keep them a bit chilled too,’ Sam says as she converges with Pea who rips open the outer plastic film to start pulling bottles out, ‘kept them stacked in a few inches of sea water in the shade,’ Pea adds. Both of them wear pistols on their hips and like the old woman their rifles are strapped across their chests in the way Special Forces soldiers do. They look competent but more than that, they look friendly and genuinely pleased to see us all.
Pea comes forward with her hands full of bottles and I notice the way she flicks her gaze at our faces as though a bit awestruck and shy. She goes for the lads first, handing slightly cool bottles out as we just stare with slack jaws.
‘Thanks,’ Nick says twisting the top off his bottle and looking at Paula who just shrugs.
‘Cheers, what’s your name?’ Cookey asks with his big grin, ‘Pea?’
‘It is,’ Pea says, smiling back at him as she hands a bottle to Blowers.
‘Vegetable or piss?’
‘Blinky,’ Paula groans.
‘Vegetable,’ Pea says, ‘Roy? Lucozade?’
‘Thanks,’ he says, taking a bottle.
‘Rough out there was it?’ Joan’s brisk, clipped voice asks as she strides towards us while brushing her hands together as though to rid the sand from her skin.
‘Could say that,’ Paula replies, ‘Paula,’ she takes a step towards Joan with her hand held out.
‘Joan,’ Joan says shaking hands smartly, ‘nice to see you all back. You’ve got the Lucozade then? Lilly was very firm about it being here for when you came home.’
‘Mr Howie?’ Sam at my side handing me a bottle from the case. I take it and mumble a thanks as she steps past me to Marcy.
‘Thank you,’ Marcy says.
‘Nasty cut there,’ Joan says, stopping in front of Charlie, ‘I’m Joan, I don’t think you were with them when they left.’
‘Er no, no we met up a couple of days ago,’ Charlie says politely.
‘Understood,’ Joan says taking in the weapons on both Charlie and Blinky, ‘part of Mr Howie’s team now though by the looks of it.’
‘They are,’ I say, ‘er…what the hell has happened? Where’s Maddox and his crews?’
‘Boss,’ Clarence calls my attention and nods out to the fort, ‘seen that?’
‘What?’ I look over the sea to the fort, ‘what mate?’
‘No hole.’
‘Fuck,’ I exclaim not realising the hole isn’t there and from here the fort looks completely normal, ‘you fixed it then,’ I say.
‘No they just hid it,’ Marcy says with a look at me.
‘With mirrors,’ Paula adds.
‘Funny, I was taken aback,’ I tell them both and everyone else before they can start making comments.
‘Fixed yesterday,’ Joan says, looking over to the fort then back at us, ‘mortar is still drying but it’ll hold. It’s braced on the inside with scaffolding poles to keep it secure.’
‘Marcy is so pretty.’
We all look round to see Pea blushing bright red from the overly loud whisper to Sam. ‘Sorry,’ she winces.
‘Thank you,’ Marcy says giving her that massive beaming movie star smile of perfect white teeth.
‘So vain,’ I cough into my hand.
‘Leg humper,’ she coughs back.
‘Sugar yay,’ Cookey says and belches after taking too big a swig, ‘sorry…but fuck that’s nice. Your missus is awesome, Nick.’
‘Fact,’ Blowers says.
‘She’s not my missus,’ Nick says with a slight blush in his cheeks.
‘Fuck off,’ Cookey scoffs, ‘she so is…just like me and Charlie will be one day…’
Charlie sprays her mouthful on the ground as she chokes from the laugh coming up as the drink went down, ‘I’m so sorry,’ she sputters trying to wipe her mouth.
‘Mads is sick?’ Mo asks in a flat voice as his eyes flick to the fort with a dark expression.
‘He is,’ Joan states, ‘the doctors say he will recover.’
‘Where’s the crews then?’ Mo asks.
Hesitation and glances between the three armed women, ‘I think,’ Joan says pursing her lips, ‘that you should let Lilly explain.’
Something has happened. That much is obvious and I look round again to the survivors showing palpable relief at being surrounded by people who aren’t armed to the teeth and covered in cuts and bruises with chunks taken out of their ears and faces.
‘And Lilly?’ Paula asks, her t
one friendly but hinting that bad things will happen to everyone if Lilly is not absolutely perfectly okay. The three woman look slightly alarmed in the instant change at the hardness coming over us.
‘Lilly is fine,’ Sam says quickly, ‘she’s in the fort, er…there’s boats if you want to go over now?’
I take a long refreshing drink of Lucozade original and ponder the exigencies of life and the world and all that it means to be human and part of the organic process of living. Or rather, I absorb the sugar and feel a nice rush going through my brain.
‘What we doing then?’ Clarence asks, finishing his bottle, ‘splitting up in case something nasty is happening?’
‘Yep,’ I say and drain my bottle.
‘You going over and me rescuing or the other way round?’
‘Um, I’ll go and you rescue.’
‘Fair enough,’ he says, ‘what’s Dave doing? Going with you?’
‘I am,’ Dave says.
‘I’m keeping Roy then,’ Clarence says, ‘Roy? You alright with that?’
‘I am,’ Roy says.
‘Mr Howie, can I stay with Clarence yeah?’ Mo asks.
‘Sure mate, anyone else want to pick a team?’
‘Nick will go with you,’ Clarence says.
‘Fuck yes,’ Nick says, ‘or…yes if that’s alright, Boss?’
‘If I said no would you stay here?’
‘No,’ he says with a grin.
‘I’ll stay here with Clarence,’ Blowers says.
‘Sure?’
‘Yep, Cookey? You with me?’
‘Looks that way buttmuncher.’
‘Paula? You’d better come with me,’ I say.
‘Yep,’ she says and takes another glug from her bottle, ‘this is nice. I never really liked Lucozade before.’
‘Blinky? Charlie?’
‘Sir, can I stay with the lads, Sir, Mr Howie, Sir?’
I shake my head from the too many sirs, ‘yeah no worries, Charlie? You need to see the docs so you’d better come with us.’
‘I’d like to see the fort,’ Charlie says.
‘Marcy, you can come with me and…fuck I forgot who’s going with me now. Paula?’
