Other than firing off a couple of warning shots to those trying to leave, Lewis’s men had not tried to enter the stadium or hurt anyone inside, but they’d made it very clear that no one was to leave. There was no reason to doubt the Captain and his men just yet, but Brett would have felt less apprehensive about the situation if he knew their endgame. How long were they planning to keep everyone rounded up at the stadium? What would they do once people started running out of food? Was the Army still responsible for protecting people, or had it become a different entity entirely? Brett thought about the movies he’d seen about the Gestapo rounding up Jews and decided that perhaps the situation wasn’t entirely dissimilar from Nazi Germany.
Perhaps it’s time I went and spoke to Captain Lewis myself.
###
Brett headed over to the turnstiles in the East Stand. They only allowed people inside, not out, and the large wooden hatch-door was used to let crowds out, but it had been barricaded by the soldiers outside. The same had been done with all of the stadium’s exits, including the delivery bay off the kitchen. The only way to speak to Captain Lewis was to approach him at the turnstiles and talk across them, while keeping your distance.
When Brett got there, he was met by the steely gaze of a squaddie. Brett didn’t know the man’s rank but his arm featured two chevrons, which was less than he’d seen on the uniforms of others, but one more than on others.
“Halt!”
Seriously? Halt? Why not, “who goes there?”
“I’d like to speak with Captain Lewis. I have the list he requested.”
The soldier nodded but did not leave his post. Instead he stuck a dirty finger in his mouth and whistled, before performing some bizarre hand gesture to someone unseen.
After a few minutes, Captain Lewis arrived in front of the turnstiles. The man was fully-kitted in olive-green combat uniform, including helmet. The man was taller than any of his men and his bony face was covered by thick black stubble.
“Where is Father Long?”
“He’s busy,” Brett replied. “He asked me to gather this list for you.”
“Excellent. Good work, chap. Hand it over.”
Brett kept a hold of the handful of papers. “What do you want it for?”
The Captain glared at him for a moment, but then seemed to soften. “I need to know who we have in there. Their families will want to know. Now do as you’re told, lad, and give me that list, there’s a good chap.”
“What about supplies? Are you going to get us food? How about some blankets?”
The Captain shook his head. “I will make a request to my coordinator, but that’s not something I can promise.”
“Then what the fuck use are you to us?”
“I beg your pardon, young man? I suggest you show a little more respect for my rank.”
“I’m a civilian. Your rank doesn’t mean shit to me. In fact I wipe my arse on it. If you’re not going to help us then we’re not going to help you.”
“Go and get Father Long immediately.”
Brett stood still.
“Do you hear me?”
“I told you,” said Brett. “I don’t take orders from you.”
Lewis took several steps and closed the distance between them. “You’re playing a very dangerous game here, young man. In case you didn’t notice, the world is a scary place right now. It’s chaps like me that are the only thing protecting you right now.”
“Then tell us what’s going on,” said Brett. “How long do you plan on keeping us here? People are getting anxious.”
“Look,” Lewis said, sounding a little more open to reason as he realised that his bluster would not work. “I will look into getting you some supplies, but you need to calm down and stay inside. Now, how many of you are there?”
Brett thought about Ethan’s theory about being attacked and chose not to answer the question. “You get us some food and blankets, then we’ll talk.”
Brett turned around and took the list of names with him. He didn’t know whether to fear Lewis or not, but right now it seemed like it would be best to keep his cards close to his chest. If the Captain was just following orders then there would be no way to know what he was planning do.
As Brett re-entered the East Stand eating area he was met by a commotion. There were people gathered in a group outside one of the burger bars, while a middle-aged man tried to hold them back. The man’s name was Steve and Brett had not seen him so worked up before.
“Steve, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“They’re trying to get my little girl.” Steve screamed at the crowd surrounding him. “You’re all a bunch of monsters.”
“She has it,” said a brunette in her thirties. “She has The Peeling.”
Brett looked at Steve and saw that the man was terrified and sweating. “Is it true? Is she sick?”
Steve nodded. “But she’s not contagious. You heard what the news said when we still had the TVs. The infected are not contagious; it’s the carriers that pass it on.”
“We don’t know shit,” someone shouted from the crowd. “We don’t know what causes it. We need to get the girl out of here before we all end up catching it.”
Brett turned to the baying crowd and raised his hands to keep them back. “Steve is right. If his daughter is ill, then she’s no danger to us.” He turned back to Steve and tried his best to smile reassuringly. “Come on, take me to her and we’ll see what we can do for her.”
“She’s hiding in the back. These animals scared her to death.”
Brett followed Steve into the kitchen area of the burger bar, entering through a staff door. The area was cold, and getting colder since the electricity had gone off. It wouldn’t be long before the entire building became unbearably frigid as there was no way to close off the entrances to the pitch side and the cold air outside was free to whistle in through the corridors.
At the back of the kitchen area, lying on an aluminium preparation table was Steve’s daughter. Brett could not remember the young girl’s name, but he’d noticed her a few times over the last few days. She was about eight-years old, thin and gangly like her father. She wore a pink t-shirt that left her bleeding right arm exposed. The flesh on her wrist was peeling away, hanging loose in a great wet flap. There was no doubt that she had The Peeling. She was semi-conscious and moaning.
“I noticed a rash on her yesterday afternoon,” said Steve. “I can’t believe how fast it moves. Whatever this thing is, it’s pure evil.”
Brett looked closer at the girl’s wound and noticed dozens of thin, red tendrils running beneath the surface of her skin. It was almost as if he could see the virus moving and spreading up her arm, rotting away more healthy cells with every second.
“I don’t even think she has a week,” Steve sobbed. “My poor, sweet darling.”
“I’m sorry,” Brett said. “I wish I could do something for her.”
“There’s nothing you can do for her,” said Ethan, strutting into the room. Reverend Long was hurrying up behind him. “She’s already dead. We need to think about those who are not.”
“Get out of here,” Steve pleaded. “Just leave us alone.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. We need to deal with this now.”
“For God’s sake,” said Brett, then noticed the Reverend. “Sorry, Father.”
“God forgives you.”
“I’m not doing this to be horrible,” Ethan said. “I’m just being the pragmatist here because nobody else wants the job. Your daughter could end up killing us all, Steve. We need isolate her, or…”
“If you’re about to suggest killing her then I would just shut your mouth,” said Steve. “No one is hurting my daughter.”
“I was going to suggest having the soldiers outside remove her.”
Steve shook his head and leant over his daughter, sobbing and snivelling. “I won’t let them have her. You’ve seen what they do to the infected. You all saw the piles of bodies and the executions
in the streets.”
“And right now, we’re all safe from that,” said Ethan. “But your daughter is a threat to us staying here.”
“I agree…” said Brett.
Ethan grinned. “Thank you!”
“But we’re not going to turn on each other. Steve, you need to take your daughter away from everybody else. I’ll help you take her up to the Press Box. Nobody goes there and it’s away from everybody else. You can look after her there until…well until it’s over.”
“I also think that is for the best, Steven,” Reverend Long added. “I will come and check on you as much as I can.”
“This is bullshit,” said Ethan. “If this thing is airborne then we need her completely out of the stadium. We can’t risk breathing within a hundred meters of her.”
“Be quiet,” the Reverend ordered, more forcefully then his usual manner would allow. “Don’t you ever get tired of conflict?”
“Conflict is the world we live in, padre. If you don’t all start waking up to reality then there’s no hope for any of us.”
“It’s been decided,” said Brett. “Steve is going to take his daughter upstairs and keep her there. There’s no danger.”
“Fine. But I swear you’re only going to get more of us killed.” Ethan stomped out of the kitchen.
“Thank you,” said Steve. “It doesn’t really matter I guess, but at least now I can make sure my daughter dies with some dignity.”
Brett took Reverend Long to one side and spoke quietly, so that only he could hear. “We need to do something about Ethan. He wants to be in charge of everything like this is just one of his businesses.”
“If that’s what people want then they will follow him. If not then they won’t. It is not my place to influence people’s opinions.”
Brett sighed. “But he’s going to make bad decisions. I can feel it.”
“Maybe so, but I am not in charge of anybody here. What would you have me do, young Brett?”
“You need to make sure people are busy. Get everyone working together and focused on something. Then people will be too busy to listen to Ethan and will feel too secure to take any stupid risks.”
“Perhaps you’re right. There are lots of things we could be doing. We need to ration food and search the building for blankets.”
“We also need to set up a barricade. I’m not sure I trust Captain Lewis and I don’t want to make it easy for his men to get in here.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that, but if you think it will make everyone feel better… We should also find out if we have any Doctors or nurses amongst us, although it’s doubtful with the Government having enlisted them all.”
“Okay,” said Brett. “I’ll help Steve get upstairs and then I’ll get to work.”
###
Despite having been in the stadium for three days now, no one had fully searched the grounds. The first thing Brett did was to gather up volunteers – none of which included anyone with medical training – and split them into several groups. He made a point to avoid Ethan and the small contingent that followed him around like lost children. He knew the man would just try to take over things if he knew what Brett was doing.
There was now a group that would search for food, blankets, and first aid kits, and another group that was to look into starting a fire on the centre spot of the pitch. Brett’s group was in charge of constructing barricades at all of the exits.
The stadium had four main exits, one for each of the stands. There were also a couple of small staff entrances leading outside from the kitchen and also from the club offices. They were blocked those off first: the one in the kitchen was now covered by a heavy freezer unit and the office exits were blocked with chairs and tables (with the remaining ones being taken for the centre-pitch fire). The group were now in the middle of manoeuvring a ride-on floor buffer to the turnstile entrances in the Clark Stand. The Clark stand was where the Away supporters would usually be located and it backed onto an enclosed car park. It was here that the military and a small police force had positioned the majority of their vehicles. Several tents had also been erected, which Brett assumed housed the soldiers when not on duty. It was crazy, but he felt like he was holed up in the middle of Helmand Province, not a rundown district of Birmingham.
Of all people, Emily was the one riding on the machine. She had once been employed as a part-time cleaner at a leisure centre and had driven one of the floor buffers daily. Truth be told, the teenaged girl seemed to know what she was doing.
“Okay, if you just pull it around here and park it in front of the hatch doors at the centre. They open inwards so the weight of the machine should be enough to stop anyone coming through.”
“What about the turnstiles?” someone asked.
“I don’t think there’s any way to reverse them. Maybe gather up some broom from the Janitor’s closets and trap them in the mechanism as a precaution.”
The people in the group did as they were told and Brett suddenly realised that he was giving orders to a bunch of strangers. This time three weeks ago, he’d been unemployed, an embarrassment to his parents, and hoping to get noticed for playing his guitar like a rock god. Now he didn’t even have a guitar, both his parents were dead, and he had found himself in a position of assumed responsibility – as modest as it was. Brett had always felt like he had talents to offer the world, but it turned out that everything had to turn to shit before he actually got off his arse to try and do something. He felt pretty ashamed of himself now. He’d done nothing with the last twenty-three years of his life, and his parents had both died of infection without ever having been proud of him. Of all the millions that had died over the last fortnight, Brett didn’t feel like he deserved to be one of the ones still healthy.
Well better late than never to start making myself useful. I’m trying my best now and that’s what matters.
“Hold it right there! What’s going on?”
Brett turned around to see that one of the soldiers outside had walked up to the turnstiles and was looking through at them. He did not look happy and his rifle was slightly raised.
“We’re making the place secure,” Brett replied matter of factly.
“Why? You are all perfectly safe.”
Brett huffed and took the few strides necessary to take him face to face with the soldier. “Nobody is safe anymore. The rules have changed and you know it. The world has gone fruitloops, and you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t trust you just because you’re wearing a uniform.”
Much to Brett’s surprise the soldier actually smiled and lowered his weapon. “I suppose I can understand that, but I can tell you right now that Captain Lewis is not going to be happy about this. He’s going to insist that you move all this stuff away from the doors.”
“Well the Captain can bite me. Where is he anyway?”
“He’s off duty. I am second in command. Lieutenant Bristow. Who are you, lad?”
Brett answered, despite himself. “Brett.”
“Good to meet you, Brett. You’ve obviously got a strong head on your shoulders to organise people like this.”
“It would be much better if you and your men helped us. We can’t survive here forever.”
“Have you asked Lewis for help?”
Brett nodded. “For all the good it did. When are you going to let us go? We don’t even know what’s happening in the world anymore. Did you cut the power on us?”
“No. The power’s out in most places. The stations are undermanned and it’s not safe to run them without adequate man power. Things are…pretty bad all over.”
“No kidding.”
“No, Brett. I mean things are far worse than they were even a few days ago when you came here. There’s no order left anymore. Lewis hasn’t received commands in almost forty-eight hours now. The men are getting restless.”
Brett raised his eyebrow. “Why the hell are you telling me this?”
The Lieutenant shrugged. “I suppose because I don’t
think there’s going to be much difference soon between you and I.”
“Then why are you keeping us in here?”
“Believe me you wouldn’t be any happier out here. There’s nothing but death and panic on the streets. People with the infection have started wandering around like crazed lunatics. The pavements are red with blood. Way I see it you people have it better than anyone. This stadium is a paradise in comparison.”
Just then, Emily returned with a handful of broomsticks and mop handles. They were taller than her and it was a comical sight.
“You want some help there, Em?”
“I’m fine, thank you. Did you say you wanted them jammed in the turnstiles?”
Brett took a step back from Lieutenant Barstow and nodded. “Yeah, make sure you jam them up nice and tight. If this is going to be our home, then we’re damn well going to protect it. You can tell your Captain I said that, Lieutenant.”
The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Will do. You all take care of yourselves.”
Brett reorganised everyone and prepared to leave. He was even more confused about what to think of the army outside now. Lieutenant Bristow seemed a lot more trustworthy than his superior. In fact it seemed like the man barely considered himself to even be a soldier anymore.
I guess the rules have changed for all of us.
###
It was a couple of days later when Brett heard the shots.
Ethan was the first on his feet and alert. Brett could hear the man shouting from somewhere in the grounds. Ethan and those close to him slept in the executive boxes at the top of the ground, while the other small groups of people were dotted around the various stands. Steven and his daughter were alone in the Press Box. The little girl would moan and cry long into the night. Once or twice, her father had joined her.
Brett got up from his bed on the floor of the East Stand staffroom. Emily was lying nearby and quickly sat up. The girl had been bedding down next to him for a couple of days now and had been getting gradually closer each night.
The Peeling Trilogy Page 6
