The Undead (Book 23): The Fort

by Haywood, R. R.

  He parks up at the end of the row and gets out into a wall of heat and noise and fumes. Something happening in every direction and he spots the red haired woman getting out of a car and walking off back towards the camp.

  ‘You want a Snickers, Miss Lilly?’ a boy shouts, ten, maybe eleven years old. A wide grin showing some of his teeth missing. His hands and arms smeared with grime, but he looks absurdly healthy and is clearly having a great time. ‘We’ve got a box of them…’

  ‘Thank you, very kind,’ she shouts back, slowing in step as the kid ducks into the side of a small van and comes out to throw a Snickers over. ‘Nice and cold,’ she calls, holding one of them up.

  ‘Aye, got a fridge we have,’ Bobby grins, giving her a thumbs up before launching one at Norman who wasn’t expecting it and reacts too slow, fumbling and knocking it across the ground. ‘What was that?’ the kid asks with disdain, waving a hand as he goes on about his business.

  The day grows hotter too with every passing hour. A searing sun glaring down without mercy or care and in the fort, Tommy watches Pamela closely. Taking in her bulk and the way she waddles as she works. Sweat pouring down her face and her clothes look filthy, but what gets his interest most is the way she goes into all the store rooms while showing new people about.

  ‘And so, like this is your little patch,’ Pamela says, bringing the next group over.

  ‘Is that it?’ a woman in the group asks, looking at her large brood and then at the small patch.

  ‘I dunno,’ Pamela mumbles, losing all interest as she walks off and spots Tommy grinning at her. She slows to look behind, thinking he must be smiling at someone else because people never smile at Pamela. She puts it down to everyone being a judgemental twat rather than the fact she hasn’t washed in days of staggering heat. Pamela doesn’t like washing. She does, however, quite like the dark unused rooms within the fort. She doesn’t even mind the bugs or spiders and happily shoos the rats away when they scuttle too close. She even woke up with one sat on her big belly a few nights ago and just farted then went back to sleep.

  That’s how she stayed safe when everything went so wrong in the fort, by crawling into dark places and hiding. She did think to maybe tell someone there were a few hiding places when it got really bad, but then she didn’t want to ruin it for herself, so she kept quiet.

  She aimed for the room at the back last night but stopped when she saw someone else go inside it. She snuck over and peered in to see a crying man fasten a rope to the ceiling then drop from a box to gargle and kick as he died. Pamela felt funny watching him and thought maybe she should shout for help, but she didn’t. She went in when he fell quiet and checked his pockets for food, but he didn’t have any so she went off and crawled under a big length of tarpaulin in another room. Now she blinks at the meaty tattooed guy smiling at her and slows her pace.

  ‘Alright love,’ Tommy says, friendly and nice. ‘You look hot.’

  ‘Like so hot,’ Pamela says, nodding and wobbling her chins.

  ‘They working you hard are they?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says, scratching at her arse. ‘Lenski’s like do this, do that, don’t stop…’

  ‘That’s a fucking joke that is,’ Tommy says with a heavy sigh. ‘Been watching you go up and down all bleeding morning. Come and have a sit down. You want a drink of water?’ he asks, clearing space within his patch. ‘Go on, five minutes won’t hurt will it…’

  Across the water, Norman helps unload the contents from the vehicles bringing goods back from the houses. His slippery office shoes sinking in the hot sand. His white shirt soaked with sweat, the tails pulled out, the sleeves rolled up. There is only work. Only the sanctity of it that gives blessed relief from the utter horror deep within.

  More people arrive. He takes their names and details and shows them down to the boats then goes back to carrying things. More caravans arrive. He helps wave them into the camp, showing them the route to take. The chaos doesn’t end, and if anything, it just gets worse as the day gets hotter.

  Mid-afternoon and he wades into the sea to steady the prow of the boat, offering a hand to Anika jumping out. Taking her to Ann’s shady umbrella office.

  ‘Anika is here, Ann…’ he says.

  ‘Oh bless you,’ Ann says, close to tears, overwhelmed by everything as she hugs the young Indian woman.

  ‘We’ll be okay, love,’ Anika says kindly, an experienced nurse clearly used to dealing with overwrought doctors. ‘Let’s have a cuppa and you can talk me through it…’

  Norman walks away to work and keep working. More vans and pick-ups waiting to off-load. The drivers under pressure to empty their vehicles and get back so Peter’s men can flatten the structures. Everyone under pressure. Everyone hot and stressed and rushing about without any real order or structure.

  ‘We can’t fucking cope!’ Sally shouts on the beach as she finally snaps and launches a bottle of water across the sand. ‘Just dumping shit then fucking off for more…what we supposed to do with it?’

  ‘Take a break,’ Pea calls out, rushing onto the sand from the road. ‘Sally! Go on now, go and sit down…’

  ‘IT’S TOO MUCH,’ Sally shouts. ‘It’s too much…I can’t…it’s just…’ Norman watches her break. Seeing the very second the emotional surge takes over as she simply crumples to sob.

  ‘ANN!’ Pea yells out, rushing to Sally as Ann and Anika run out from the umbrellas to give aid. Everyone stopping working to watch.

  ‘What we doing with all this?’ the driver Sally shouted asks. Stricken to the core with worry etched on his face that he made Sally so upset. ‘Lilly said…she said it’s got to be cleared and we can’t stop. Peter’s lads are waiting to knock it all down…’ he looks for someone to tell him what to do as his imploring eyes fall on Norman. ‘What we doing mate?’

  ‘Er,’ Norman hesitates, glancing about at the absolute chaos and the beach strewn with so many piles of things.

  ‘Lilly to the beach, what’s the hold up? I need those vans back here…’

  Norman edges closer, thinking to tell Pea or Ann that Lilly is calling.

  ‘Lilly to the beach…can you hear me?’

  ‘Norman, can you tell her we need a few minutes,’ Ann calls.

  ‘Sure…er…’ he fumbles with his radio, finding the button to press. ‘It’s Norman, er…Ann is busy and Sally is…’

  ‘Norman, it’s Lilly. Where’s Pea and Sam?’

  ‘Pea is with Sally and Ann. Sally is er, she’s not very well. Sam is helping Joan on the road. We’ve got caravans turning up and vans, it’s pretty mad down here…’

  ‘I need those vans back...’

  Norman can hear the tightness of her voice. The pressure growing upon them all. Pressure unrelenting. He looks to the vans stacking up waiting to dump their loads and the few workers on the beach struggling to cope with what they have already. There are simply not enough people. Then he spots more new arrivals coming towards them. Some in vehicles. Some on foot. Sally now broken and weeping hard. Ann and Anika trying to get her into shade.

  There are too many piles of stuff here and too many smaller tasks underway. They need to focus on as few things as possible. ‘Lilly, it’s Norman. It’s too manic here…’

  ‘It’s bloody manic everywhere,’ Kyle cuts in. ‘Just do what you can…we need those vans back out…’

  ‘We can’t,’ Norman says. ‘There’s nowhere to put it all…Sally is hurt and…there’s piles of stuff everywhere…the vans can’t get in because they’re dumping it too close to the road…’

  ‘That’s not our fault,’ someone shouts on the radio. ‘We’re told to get it unloaded and get back…don’t fucking blame us…’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that,’ Norman says quickly. ‘I just mean if we re-organise the beach we can make it faster…’

  ‘Norman, it’s Lilly. Can you do that please…’

  ‘Me? Right…er…I…not on my own. Jesus, no chance…’

  ‘This is Lilly. Anyone not busy
go to Norman on the beach…Norman, we’ll be with you in two minutes…’

  A surge of worry rises in Norman that he should have kept his mouth shut. What is he doing here? Why is he on this beach? Why is everyone staring at him? He blinks at people heading over from the road. Sam and Joan. Drivers and people from the vans.

  A shout in the camp from Tyson. ‘WE NEED A HAND ON THE BEACH…’

  Norman turns his head, watching as a few more men head out from the camp towards him. A pick-up weaving through the vehicles backed up on the road. Lilly and Kyle in the back. Peter and more of his men jumping out.

  ‘Where do you want us?’ Lilly asks, and he blinks again, his mind empty and blank. Without a clue of what to do. A woman in front of him. She looks austere and stern. A bottle of water in her hand.

  ‘Drink,’ Joan says, pushing the bottle at him.

  He gulps quickly, wetting his mouth and throat.

  ‘Better?’ she asks.

  He nods.

  ‘Get on with it then. Can’t stand dithering…’

  ‘Er…we don’t need so many piles here. It’s too chaotic…clear it all back into one big mound over there. Food stacked in one place. Wood for building in another then everything else. That’s it. Three clear sections…we do that, and we can turn those vans around in half the time…’ he trails off as everyone looks at the beach strewn with debris and crap. A silence of a second.

  ‘You heard him,’ Joan snaps, clapping her hands. ‘Three sections…come on! Chop chop!’

  Everyone works. Lilly, Peter, Kyle, Joan. Everyone. Men from the camp grabbing stuff from the many mounds, hefting it over to the far side to stack and dump then rush back for more. Joan harrying them on. Lilly, Kyle and Peter urging them to keep working. Faces pouring with sweat. Clothes sodden and Norman in amongst it all, but work is good, work stops the pain inside.

  ‘We need to call it a day,’ Kyle says as another van drives off towards the beach. His sleeves rolled up showing his arms knotted with muscle, covered in old tattoos. The top few buttons undone. His pistols still worn but he looks beat. They all do. Peter the same. A long day yesterday then he was up most of the night organising the camp and now another day of solid work.

  Pea yawns, her feet burning in her boots. Her skin feeling raw from so much sweat and motion in the heat. Sam sags against the side of a van, her head bowed. Joan remains upright, not showing any signs of fatigue despite her age but she feels it inside. My god she feels it inside and it’s only pure grit and courage that prevent her from showing it.

  Lilly stares about. Norman’s re-organising of the beach made it all work a lot better and progress has been made, albeit not enough and too slow. Lilly would work through the night, but she spots the expressions of the people around her, exhausted to the bone and so weary they look like could drop right now and so she nods, knowing she pushed as much as she dares for today. ‘Enough for now, we’ll pick it up tomorrow…’

  Gasps of relief. Peter nods, signalling his men to shut down and head back. Engines cutting off. Men dropping from driving plant machinery and they simply head down the road as one group. Not speaking for no words can be given right now. They are too hot, too tired and too drained.

  ‘I know you’re all done for,’ Peter says as they walk down to the now much larger camp. ‘But will you show your faces in the camp, just so they can all say hello and know who you are.’

  They’ve nothing left to give but they nod and murmur agreement all the same. ‘Of course,’ Lilly says. ‘Ann? Anika? We’re calling in at the camp…join us? Norman? You too please if you will.’

  That a sixteen-year-old girl can require the presence of a doctor, a nurse and a lawyer without raising question is neither noticed or mentioned. It is just the way of things now and Norman heads over, joining Ann and Anika as they tag onto the filthy and very drained ad-hoc delegation going into the camp.

  ‘Quick brew?’ Peter asks them quietly.

  ‘Ach, we’d love that, Peter,’ Kyle says, sensing this is his part to play now, a wink at Sam, a nod almost hidden.

  ‘We’d love a cuppa,’ she says with a big smile, getting the silent message loud and clear. ‘This looks great in here…’

  ‘Lovely,’ Pea says. The three of them taking the lead while Lilly remains quieter, somewhat aloof and reserved but watching everything.

  ‘Have you learnt to catch yet?’ a young voice asks, prompting Norman to look down at the smiling kid with the missing teeth from earlier who threw the Snickers at him. ‘Do you want some food? My ma’s just made a rabbit stew so she has. I’ll get you a bowl…’

  ‘Er,’ Norman says, thinking to politely decline as the lad runs off.

  ‘Made a friend?’ Ann asks him. ‘And you really need to change your clothes, Norman. You look dreadful. See Colin when we get back.’

  ‘You could do with some sunblock too, love,’ Anika says. ‘You’re gonna peel something awful if you keep burning. I’ve got some aloe-vera gel in my bags if you need it…’

  ‘Right,’ Norman says, feeling a tug on his arm.

  ‘Stew,’ the lad says, beaming a huge grin at him while holding a bowl out with a spoon already in it. ‘My ma made it.’

  ‘Yes, you did say,’ Norman says, feeling somewhat touched by such a simple act of kindness and he looks at the child. ‘Thank you…’ he says sincerely.

  The lad shrugs. ‘You look like shit mister, thought it would help…’

  Ann snorts a laugh. Pea and Sam the same as the lad walks off leaving Norman holding the bowl. ‘Is it nice?’ Sam asks. ‘It looks nice…try it…’

  Norman tries it. Tentative at first but then the taste hits. The seasoning and rich flavours and he nods eagerly, eating more. ‘Delicious…’

  ‘Bobby?’ a woman calls, walking into view from behind a caravan. ‘My lad give you the stew did he?’ she asks, glaring at Norman.

  ‘Er yes, he did,’ Norman says. ‘Sorry. Did you want it back?’

  ‘No! I don’t want it back. Got the manners of an ape has Bobby. Come on, got plenty more round here. Peter, I’m taking ‘em for a stew now.’

  ‘Right you are, Kathy,’ Peter calls. Motioning them to follow her into a clearing with a big central fire underneath a big metal pot. Mix and match bowls filled with stew and handed round with spoons so clean they can see their reflections gleaming in them.

  ‘We shouldn’t take your food,’ Lilly says.

  ‘Ach, get off now, we’ve plenty to go round,’ Kathy says.

  The food is delicious. Heartening and rich, filling their stomachs quickly. Tyson and Patrick stroll over. Others they saw during the day. Weapons on belts or in reach. Candles and lights shining as the light fades. Muted conversations, men laughing. Life rolling on and people living.

  ‘Is there many more to arrive, Peter?’ Kyle asks.

  ‘A few maybe. We’re different families…different groups. Some are tucked up here and there nice and safe and don’t feel the need to come here. We’ll see…maybe when we get the wall up we’ll get more. They’ll see it’s safer.’

  ‘Soon as possible,’ Lilly says. ‘The wall I mean…’

  ‘YOU DUMB PRICK…’ a female voice shouts from somewhere close making Lilly tense from the aggression in the voice.

  ‘Jesus,’ Peter groans as Kathy closes her eyes and sighs while shaking her head.

  ‘Mary! Will ye just calm down…’ a male voice yells. The sounds coming closer through the twisting lanes of the camp.

  Lilly watches on, reading the reactions of everyone else in the camp, all of them tutting and shaking heads, rolling eyes and muttering but not showing signs of fear or worry as the shouting flame-haired woman Lilly saw before comes steaming into view.

  ‘Mary,’ Peter groans. ‘It’s been a long day…’

  ‘Mary!’ Willie yells, running behind her.

  ‘Mary, will ye calm down,’ Elvis shouts, rushing with Willie.

  ‘I’ll not calm down,’ Mary yells. ‘I can shoot better than th
ese wankers, Peter, and I can bloody hit harder too…’

  ‘Mary,’ Peter says, a jaded, weary tone to his voice.

  ‘Cooking? I’m not bloody cooking…I can carry a gun and be a guard you sexist fucking pricks…’

  ‘You’re a mentalist,’ Willie shouts. ‘We ain’t giving you a gun…’

  ‘I’ve got my own gun. Do ye want to see it? I’ll go and get it shall I and we’ll see who can shoot better and it won’t be you you fecking ginger prick…’

  ‘We’ve got the same hair colour you daft bitch!’ Willie shouts back. ‘We’re related.’

  ‘No, you ugly shit. I’m a redhead, you’re a ginger prick, there’s a bloody difference…’

  ‘Mary, ye too angry to be a guard…’ Elvis says to a few more murmurs of agreement.

  ‘Right, back with you now and calm down,’ Willie says, moving towards his sister.

  ‘Don’t bloody touch me, Willie,’ Mary warns, backing away.

  ‘I will bloody touch you, Mary.’

  ‘You’ll not be bloody touching me, Willie…’

  ‘Pack it in,’ Peter shouts.

  ‘Mary, have some stew love,’ Kathy calls.

  ‘Fight him, Mary,’ Bobby yells.

  ‘Bobby! Shut up,’ Kathy shouts.

  ‘I mean it, Willie,’ Mary says, coming to a stop. ‘Elvis, you’d best not be helping him now. I’m warning you both fair and square. You can all hear this. I’m being provoked I am…’

  Willie stops, rolls his eyes, huffs and shakes his head. Elvis the same. Lilly watches. Norman too. All of them holding bowls of soup and thinking the argument is now over, only it isn’t and Willie, with a mischievous glint in his eye, reaches out to poke his sister in the arm.

  A pause. A heartbeat. Peter groans and Mary punches Willie in the face, knocking him off his feet.

  ‘Oh shit,’ Sam whispers.

  ‘GO ON MARY!’ Bobby yells.

  ‘Shut up, Bobby,’ Kathy shouts as Elvis moves to restrain Mary and gets punched in the face too. One hit and he goes down with a thud, both the men groaning on the floor as the camp explodes in uproar with a couple more men running in to try and grab Mary but she darts back, weaving and slamming fists out, sending them flying until enough of them go in together, grappling the yelling girl out and past Lilly and her group.