The End of the World Running Club

by Adrian J. Walker

  “We don’t want to push it,” said Grimes. “Let’s get back to the Angelbecks’ and wait. Is it this way, Brian?”

  “Angelbecks’?” said the young boy, leading us back down the alley. He looked back over his shoulder. “That’s where Abi lives. Can I come?”

  The boy suddenly bounced from the wide belly of Jenny Rae, who had appeared at the end of the alley flanked by two guards. He gasped, staggered back and stared up at her in shock. She lunged forwards and grabbed him by both arms, steadying him and fixing him with her cold eyes. Then she turned to look at us.

  “Thought I told you to stay on the other side of the square,” she said.

  “It’s not his fault,” said Grimes. “He didn’t know. Let him go.”

  Jenny Rae turned back to the terrified child. “What have I told you about strangers, Brian? Eh?” she said. The boy wriggled helplessly in her grip. “Eh?” she repeated, louder. Then she raised a hand and slapped him hard on the head. He fell to the ground in silence, clutching his ear.

  There was a vacuum of shock in which nobody moved or spoke. I wavered on my feet as I let the last few seconds sink in. Then Grimes cried out in protest and leaped forwards to help the boy. I took a breath and followed.

  “Get your hands off him,” said Jenny Rae.

  Grimes ignored her, already on the ground whispering quietly to the wounded child. I stopped as one of the guards nudged the barrel of his rifle against my chest, pushing me back in line.

  “Now,” said Jenny Rae. She motioned to the other guard, who stepped forwards and pulled Grimes away. She fell back into Bryce’s arms and raised her arms as the guard trained his gun warily in her direction.

  “Get up,” spat Jenny Rae. Brian struggled silently for a few seconds, still holding his head, slipping in the dirt. “Get up, boy!” She yanked him to his feet and hurled him out behind her into the square. “And go home!” she shouted after him as he ran, head down, his legs spinning beneath him. Jenny Rae turned back to us with her hands on her hips.

  “What did you do that for?” screamed Grimes. “He’s only a boy, he didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “Give us our packs,” said Bryce. “Then open that gate and let us out.”

  The first guard took another step towards Bryce and Grimes. The second one joined him, swinging his gun slowly between the rest of us. Jenny Rae raised a hand to stop them. Bryce growled. “Fine,” he said, “keep the packs. Let’s get out of here.” He turned towards the gate, still holding Grimes. Two more guards appeared at the opposite end and raised their guns.

  “They will shoot,” said Jenny Rae. Bryce stopped and looked down at his feet, breathing in and out through his nose like a cornered bull.

  “Just let us go,” I said. “We’re not here to cause trouble.” Jenny Rae narrowed her eyes and took a step towards me.

  “I think it’s best if you all stay inside for the time being,” she said. “Safer for everyone I’d say.”

  We were escorted back to the Angelbecks’ house, where another guard was made to join the one already stationed at their gate. “I’ll send word when the truck’s fixed,” Jenny Rae said, but her sly smile was long gone as she marched away from the house.

  We spent the rest of the day drinking tea in the Angelbecks’ kitchen. None of us particularly wanted to talk. Eventually I went back into the lounge and closed my eyes, reasoning that at if we weren’t moving, at least I could rest. I woke from somewhere north of sleep in a darker room. Bryce was lying against the arms of the sofa, his eyes shut and his thick arms coiled like rigging around his chest. Richard was standing at the window, looking pensively through the curtain at the guards. I walked through to the kitchen and found Grimes and Abigail looking through a book at the table. Harvey was watching them from a chair in the corner. Susan Angelbeck was standing in the small space before the stove, pulling blackened pans and cheap utensils from cupboards.

  “What time is it?” I said. Grimes looked up.

  “Late afternoon,” she replied.

  “What? And no word about the truck?” I said.

  Grimes shook her head.

  “Laura’s helping me with my homework,” said Abigail.

  I nodded, furious with myself for having slept for so long. We had almost lost another day.

  There were some footsteps on the stairs and George Angelbeck appeared at the kitchen door.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  “George, we need to go,” I said. “Now.”

  “I agree.” I turned to see Richard standing in the door behind George. “Those guards have been told to keep us inside. I don’t believe Jenny Rae has any intention of letting us go. Mr Angelbeck, please, can you tell us what is happening here? Why are you living here? What do you do for that woman? Why would she want to keep us here?”

  Mrs Angelbeck clattered a pan loudly on the stove.

  “Now, now,” said George. “You’re jumping to conclusions. I’m sure Miss Rae will get your lift ready before long. It’s not easy you know, fixing cars, not any more. It’s not as if they can just order parts willy nilly.” He laughed and held up a placatory palm. “Things take a bit longer than they’re used to, I’m sure you understand. Just calm down and I’m sure you’ll be out of here before you know it. And in the meantime, relax, take a rest, put your feet up.”

  “I don’t want to rest,” I snapped. “I want to get moving, we should have been past Birmingham by now. We’re running out of fucking time!”

  I thumped my fist pathetically on the table, holding back at the last minute as I caught Abigail’s eye. Her pens bounced and rattled against the plastic.

  “Please,” said George. “Calm down.”

  “I will not fucking calm down!” I shouted. “We’re prisoners, can’t you see?” I looked at Abigail again. “Sorry,” I added, crossing my arms.

  “Mr Angelbeck,” said Grimes. “What exactly are you doing for Jenny Rae?”

  There was another loud clang from the stove.

  “I er…” began George. “Well, I just, er, you know…”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake just tell them, George!” Susan Angelbeck swung around and stared wild-eyed at her husband. In one hand she brandished a spatula. “Tell them!”

  George Angelbeck stopped dithering and looked back at his wife. His throat rippled in a gulp. Then he took a long, quivering sigh and sat down.

  “OK,” he said. He fished around in his shirt pocket and pulled out a grey cloth, took off his glasses and began to polish them. “OK.” He took another sigh.

  “I worked as a consultant to chemical companies before,” he said. “Used to be a plastics expert - still am a plastics expert. When we found our way here, to this…place…she, Jenny Rae I mean, asked everyone what they could do, you know, what they could do to help.”

  He replaced his glasses and sat back in his chair. “She was looking for people to fix plumbing, rig up systems to collect water, get a generator going, doctors, mechanics, engineers…military.” His voice tailed off and he stared into the space just above the table. Then he looked suddenly up at his wife as if something had just occurred to him. “Darling, do you mind if I…?” He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and looked up at his wife. She shook her head and he lit one, placing the pack on the table.

  “Oh please, help yourself,” he said. We shook our heads as he blew a trembling puff of smoke into the room. “Right, right, anyway, everyone who could add something to the mix was allowed to stay, taking on the houses that had been left behind by those in the estate who hadn’t survived. If you couldn’t help, you had to leave and find somewhere else.” He looked out of the window towards the fence, then to Abigail. He smiled. “The city was still dangerous then, as it is now, especially for children. Most people had to take their chances on the wasteland.”

  I remembered the family I had seen as we had crossed from the city, huddled round fires, barely surviving.

  “Which put us in a pickle.” He looked around at us. “Not much ca
ll for a plastics expert when running water’s your number one concern, is there? So, I lied. Told them I was an explosives expert. I don’t really know why I chose that particular trade, probably because I knew a bit about it when I was younger. I used to be into military history see, read quite a few books about bombs and what have you. With my background in chemistry, I thought that maybe I could just…wing it, you know?” He thumbed the table and looked up for some acknowledgement, then stubbed his cigarette out and ran a hand through his hair. “It worked. She let us stay, gave us this house. Now I have a job. I work for her. She pays us in food, electricity, protection, education for Abi, everything you want from a society.”

  “Everything apart from your freedom,” said Bryce, who had appeared at the door. “Not exactly free to leave I’d bet, not now you’re on the team.”

  “Explosives?” said Grimes. “What kind of explosives? What are you doing for her?”

  George sighed again and closed his eyes.

  “Tell them, George,” said Susan Angelbeck. “Tell them what you have to do.”

  George’s face fell. He leaned forwards on the table.

  “Land mines,” he said at last. “I’m helping her to build land mines.”

  “What?” said Harvey. “Bloody hell, mate, what does she want with land mines?”

  “The Settlements, did she tell you about them? After the riots stopped?” said George. We nodded. “Well, things weren’t quite as amicable as Jenny might have made out. Some of the other estates weren’t as happy with their lot as the rest. There are still fights over territory, still ambushes at night. We’re expecting one any day soon. Jenny wants to protect the estate by laying mines beyond the fence.”

  “What’s wrong with those big bastards with guns out there?” said Bryce. “Why can’t she just shoot anyone who tries to get in?”

  “Her reasoning is that land mines send a clearer message. It tells them that we’re organised. Dangerous.”

  “We?” said Richard. “You really are part of the team, aren’t you George?”

  He looked around the room at our stunned faces, landing on his wife’s. “I don’t want to do this, don’t you see? I have no choice. She’s a very, very persuasive woman. Each of you would do the same.”

  “Would we?” said Richard. “What if one of those people out there steps on one of your little science projects? A mother? A child?”

  “They know not to come too near,” said George flatly.

  “You hope they know,” said Richard. “You hope.”

  George stood up and puffed out his chest, turning on Richard. He jabbed a finger in his face. “Now you listen to me. I’m doing the best for my family under impossible circumstances. What would you do? Take the moral high ground? Put your wife and daughter in danger? Everything’s changed, don’t you see? We all have to do things now that we don’t want to do. I used to do bloody crosswords on Sunday mornings. I used to have milk in my tea. I used to build model airplanes and listen to Classic FM and take my bloody dog for walks. I didn’t think I’d end up building land mines in the arse end of the world for someone who should be on fucking Coronation Street, did I?”

  He shrank back from Richard and leaned against the kitchen work surface.

  “Didn’t think I was capable of it,” he said, lighting another cigarette. “Turns out you don’t have a clue what you’re capable of. Not a clue.”

  We sat in silence for a while. The smoke from George’s cigarette had formed a thin cloud above the table. Susan stood with her arms braced against the two surfaces at either side of the cooker, as if they might close in on her if she let them go.

  “Where do you get the materials to make land mines?” said Grimes.

  “The city,” he said. “Mostly industrial estates.”

  “Is that where you were today?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. “We drove to Stockport today, found some cabling in an office.”

  Bryce bristled and folded his arms. “I knew it,” he said.

  “Drove?” said Grimes.

  George seemed unfazed by his slip.

  “Yes, drove,” he said. “There is no broken car. We have four trucks and they all work perfectly.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m afraid you’re right. Jenny Rae has no intention of letting extra muscle go when we’re facing an ambush from a rival estate.”

  Bryce moved further into the crowded room. “Well I’m no fighting for her,” said Bryce. “Put a gun in my hands and I’ll shoot her.”

  “She’ll find a way of changing your mind,” said George wearily. “She always does. Look, I’m sorry this is the way things are, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “There has to be something you can do to help us,” said Grimes. “A way through the fence? Something about the guards? Their shift patterns?”

  “There’s nothing I can tell you. And if there was, I’m sorry but I wouldn’t risk my family’s safety by sharing it with you. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get an early night.”

  “George,” said Susan. “What about dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry, you eat my portion.”

  George picked up his cigarettes from the table and shuffled to the kitchen door. He stopped when he reached Bryce and stared into his chest until he moved. Then he trudged out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Susan returned to her stove and soon after served us a soup that had nothing to do with any kind of meat or vegetable. We ate it silently and then Susan went upstairs too, taking her daughter with her, leaving us alone in the kitchen again.

  DARK

  None of us felt like sleep. We stayed in the candlelit kitchen and talked in hushed voices about various ways we might escape. Bryce wanted to wait it out, to play along until whatever ambush Jenny Rae was expecting to come our way, then to break out in the confusion. But we had no idea how long that would mean staying. We were already three days behind and the distance we still had to travel seemed more insurmountable by the minute. Harvey wanted to fake a heart attack, thinking that he would be taken to a doctor and that we might be able to escape in the confusion. He suggested that his own escape wasn’t necessary, that he would stay if he had to. None of us was comfortable with that.

  Richard’s idea was to ambush the guards. We would arm ourselves with whatever we could find in the kitchen and then make enough noise to draw the guards into the house, overpowering them and stealing their guns so that we could shoot our way past the guards at the fence. It seemed unlikely to work, but it was the best we could come up with. We were discussing the details when we heard a creak on the stair.

  We stopped talking and turned to the kitchen door. There were some soft footsteps in the hall and then Abigail appeared at the door. Her face glowed orange in the small candle she was holding, the light flickering across her skin and finding hollow cheeks to cast shadows in where there should have been puppy fat. I opened my mouth to speak, but she held a finger to her lips.

  “My bedroom window opens onto a ledge at the back,” she said. Her voice was steady and open, like every child’s when carefully stating facts. “If you walk along the ledge, it leads you onto the roof of a tunnel. If you follow that roof it will lead you down onto an alley that takes you to the lowest part of the fence. It’s broken. If you’re lucky, you might be able to avoid the guards.”

  She looked around at us. “Follow me,” she whispered. “And be quiet.”

  We followed her up the stairs, keeping our eyes on the small circle of light hovering above us. When we reached the landing she pointed at an open door into a small dark room and waited whilst we all walked in. She followed us, holding the candle near to the window whilst we opened it. Grimes started to say goodbye, but Abigail’s finger once again touched her lips.

  Getting through the small window was difficult, especially for Bryce, who fell out last with a loud thump onto the bitumen surface below. He grabbed his ankle and held his head down between his legs, stifling the pain. I helped him to his feet and we follo
wed the others down onto the tunnel.

  “Was that the same ankle?” I whispered. “Can you walk?”

  “Aye,” he said. “Shut up.” He shook off my arm and reached into his pocket. I heard a chink as he pulled out a miniature. He tore off the cap and poured it down his throat.

  Richard turned back.

  “Can’t you keep sober for one fucking second?” he snarled.

  “Quiet!” hissed Grimes. “The guards will hear you!”

  Bryce raised his middle finger at Richard and put the empty bottle back in his pocket. I looked up at the window and saw Abigail’s curtain fall back into place. I raised a hand to the window, seeing nothing behind the glass.

  We walked on down the roof, almost blind in the near complete dark. The only light came from the distant fires burning on the wasteland and whatever trickles of moon had made it through the clouds.

  “Now what?” said Richard when we reached the end. We heard a noise, footsteps rounding the corner and coming to a stop beyond a fence. A beam of torchlight appeared on the ground and scanned the road inside.

  “Down!” said Grimes. We fell to the rooftop, hiding behind the red-bricked lip just as the beam swept harmlessly over the top of us. It returned, hovered around us, then swooped away and blinked out. The footsteps began again and disappeared as the guard continued his patrol.

  “That was too close,” I said. I moved to get up but Grimes grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

  “Wait,” she said. “Stay down.”

  I peered over the rim of the wall. Footsteps sounded again, this time two sets. They stopped and two flashlight beams span around the walls of the houses beneath us. One blinded my eyes and I ducked my head down.

  “Shit,” I said. “I think they saw me.”

  I heard a guard’s voice. A sentence ending in ‘dogs’.

  “Christ,” said Richard. “Back. Back the way we came. Keep down.”