The Undead (Book 23): The Fort

by Haywood, R. R.

  Even when he went on the anti-immigration rallies and anti-austerity marches and anti-anything parades he was put at the back out of the way.

  Now look who is in charge. Eh? That’s right. Tommy’s here. This is a new world with new rules.

  What he needs to do is build support and get enough people on side and eventually make them upset the balance of power. Then he can sweep in and calm it all down and grab power while he’s there.

  Yeah. That’ll work. Get some big drama going on. Stir it all up and save the day.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Day Twenty three

  ‘We’re from a fort up the coast,’ Lilly says, standing between Peter and Mary at the head of her group of thirty or so armed and very tough looking men. ‘We’re here for containers to build a wall…

  A sea of bodies behind them stretching up the road. The gates to the compound now open and she looks at the terrified people. Bedraggled and thin. Cheek bones showing. Hair lank and greasy. Twenty three days of barely surviving in a commercial port truck diner. ‘We have doctors, food and security,’ she adds as they all look to each other. ‘We can take you in if you’re ready to go now, but you must go now...’

  ‘Actually,’ Mary says, cutting in. ‘Can any of you drive lorries now?’

  The man in front of his group stands silent and stunned. Looking past the armed group to the bodies. The sight of it all. The way they did it. So fast. So violent. He blinks at Mary and nods. ‘Most of us can,’ he says weakly.

  ‘Great. Get ready then, we’re going now…’ Lilly says.

  ‘What, right now?’ the man asks, caught out by the speed of events.

  ‘Aye,’ Peter calls. ‘We’re going now. I’ll not keep us at risk in the open longer than needed…and that gunfire could be drawing them from all over the city. NOW. GO… Willie, Elvis…get in there and get ‘em moving…and find a mobile crane.’

  A few minutes of chaos. Into the truck park. Into the offices for the port workers to find the keys to the trucks and they pour out, running across the super-hot tarmac in the super-hot air to climb into the cabins of super-hot trucks. The air filling with noise and black smoke from heavy diesel engines firing up after more than three weeks of being idle. The people from the diner feeling terrified and rushed, urged on, shouted at to get moving. Truck drivers with shaky hands and wild eyes taking their families into their cabins while sensing this is a safer option than staying here.

  ‘We ready?’ Lilly shouts, noise everywhere. Engines rumbling. The air thick and choking. A thumbs up from Peter. From Willie and Elvis. More from the other lads and she turns to see Mary waving from a truck.

  ‘COME ON, BLONDIE…’

  She runs over, clambering up the passenger side and into the cabin. A great sense of urgency. To get going now because this is not a safe place at all.

  Peter takes the lead, his truck jolting and bouncing, air brakes sounding, thick smoke spewing. Carnage again. Everyone pulling out at the same time with trucks clipping each other, shunting walls, smacking into the edges of the truck park office building. Shouts and yells but it doesn’t have to be pretty. It just has to be done.

  Onto the exit road, bouncing over the roundabout then bouncing over the bodies. Skulls popping. Ribcages bursting. Bones snapping and the speed builds, shaky, jolty, messy but functional.

  ‘YES!’ Mary calls out, grinding gears while jolting and bucking the truck. The wheel looking so huge in her hands. ‘We bloody did it…’ she shouts, grinning at Lilly.

  ‘We did,’ Lilly says, the thrum of adrenalin still spiking inside. A fleet of trucks behind them.

  ‘You’re a bloody legend, Blondie,’ Mary shouts, leaning over to rub Lilly’s shoulder in the excitement. ‘Eh? Right up there we were. Two ladies. Fighting and shooting and talking to survivors and getting the trucks all going. Damn! Now I see why Peter bloody loves you so much. I can understand it now I can. Willie too, and Elvis and Tyson and Patrick. All of ‘em going on about Miss Lilly this and Miss Lilly that. Haha! If I were a bloke I’d have the total hots for you too.’

  Lilly smiles, somewhat sheepish, somewhat flushed, somewhat still feeling the rush of the fight and she laughs when Mary grabs her hand and lifts it up, whooping and calling out in victory.

  Willie reaches the shore road first. Driving the mobile crane pilfered from the docks with Peter’s truck behind him and the rest stretched out in a long convoy all slowing down with much jolting and shuddering but still hearing the cheers coming over the radio.

  The trucks come to a stop. Crunches and bangs sounding out before the doors open and they start dropping out into the heat and chaos of the bay.

  ‘How many did you get?’ Kyle asks.

  ‘No idea,’ Lilly calls back. ‘Probably close to forty I’d say…everything okay here?’

  ‘Fine,’ Norman replies. ‘Lots of new arrivals. Have you looked inside the containers?’

  ‘We just grabbed them and got back,’ Peter replies.

  ‘Could be stuff inside we can use…’ Norman says.

  ‘Okay,’ Lilly says. ‘Norman, can you get up and manage the contents from the containers…I think you probably know more than anyone right now what we need in the fort. Sam, Pea, can you two take over on the beach processing new arrivals and getting the wood over…everyone else just jump in where you can…’ she pauses, drawing air. ‘Peter, you make a start on the wall and I’m going back out…hold on. Let me speak…’ she pulls a map-book from her pocket, flicking through the pages. ‘I found this in the truck…there’s an advert for a retail park a few miles from here. It’s got outdoor stores…which will have tents…’

  ‘You want to do a run on it?’ Peter asks. ‘I’ll get some lads with you…’

  ‘I need you all here managing this…I’ll go with Mary.’

  ‘Lilly,’ Sam starts to say, as everyone speaks out in alarm at the idea.

  ‘No, listen…two of us in a van. In and out. Quiet and fast…’

  ‘Don’t all look at me like that,’ Mary says. ‘This is the first she’s mentioned it…’

  ‘Ach, you might be right,’ Kyle says. ‘A light rapid unit going in fast and quiet is probably the best way…will you let me come with you?’

  ‘We don’t know what your immunity is,’ she says. ‘And I’d rather the fort had you here in case something does happen.’

  ‘If you’re thinking like that then why risk it?’ he asks.

  ‘Because we’re not going to just survive and scrape by. We’re going to live and there’s no rewards without risk…and this risk is negated by what I have learnt from this experience of going out with Peter. I can move fast. So can Mary. I’ve weighed it all up and it’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘Ach, you are bloody related to Henry. I bet on it. I don’t know how…and if not then you bloody should be. Right. Okay, good luck to you and the slightest noise then get the hell out…’

  ‘Mary, swap with me,’ Joan says, offering her assault rifle over.

  ‘I’ve got a weapon,’ Mary says, lifting her Lee Enfield.

  ‘That is a bolt-action rifle with a ten-round magazine. This is an automatic assault rifle with a thirty-round magazine, and I want both of you back in one piece…besides,’ she says, offering a quick smile. ‘I haven’t fired a Lee Enfield in years.’

  ‘Ah, I’ll have to ask Tyson, Joanie. It was his you see, or our grandfather’s anyway and he gave it to Tyson. I was gonna give it back after I’d pissed him off for a bit…’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Tyson calls over. ‘Mary, take an assault rifle and don’t fuck about with Miss Lilly…are ye sure we can’t come? I think you might need some men to fight for you…’

  ‘YOU SEXIST PRICK!’ she shouts, her face flooding with instant anger as several men snigger.

  ‘He’s winding you up,’ Peter says. ‘Don’t bloody bite all the time.’

  Fast and frantic. Everyone rushing to work. Orders being shouted. Engines starting. The mobile crane firing back up. Fumes
and heat, sweat and work.

  ‘Bobby, we need a big fast van,’ Mary calls, jogging into the blackened former estate.

  ‘Got a Mercedes or a Transit,’ Bobby shouts back.

  ‘Transit,’ Mary shouts. ‘Can’t beat a transit,’ she tells Lilly.

  ‘I shall keep that in mind.’

  ‘Mind you, Mercedes vans are good too. Ach, damn. Now you’ve got me thinking. Bobby? Which one would you use?’

  ‘Transit, Mary. There’s no choice really.’

  ‘Aye, he’s right. You’re right, Bobby. Transit it is.’

  A shiny new, only partially dented and scuffed Ford Transit is promptly delivered from Bobby’s growing fleet of vehicles and once more they load up into the cabin and head back out on the estate road.

  ‘I just realised I didn’t ask if you minded doing this,’ Lilly says.

  ‘Are you bloody joking? I hate your company,’ Mary says. ‘But why us? Why not send Willie and Elvis? Or Tyson and Patrick?’

  ‘For the reasons I said,’ Lilly says.

  ‘Is that right?’ Mary asks, giving her a sideways glance. ‘Not for my amazing company then?’

  ‘God no,’ Lilly replies, rolling her eyes. A smile between them, an unspoken energy flowing. A silence of a few seconds. Cheeks flushing a little as both look out the windows to the world going by.

  ‘It’s hot isn’t it,’ Mary remarks, blasting air through her cheeks.

  ‘It is,’ Lilly says, looking away with a smile still touching her lips.

  ‘Is too hot,’ Lenski mutters, wiping a hand across her forehead with the realisation she just spoke to herself in English rather than Polish. Then she realises she is doing it all the time now, and is even thinking in English sometimes too, but in an organic way. Like when she thinks of a conversation with Lilly or Pea. She’ll remember it in English, and the other thoughts and notions that stem from that interaction will then also be in English.

  She stares down at the three sheets in front of her on the table in the main office while clicking the lid of the pen on and off, a habit now formed. A blur of motion from the side. Something surging into view that lands on the table with a soft thud and immediately squats down on the sheets of paper to purr and demand attention. Lenski smiles, fussing the cat as another one strolls in through the main door and heads towards the back with the absolute surety that the whole of this fort is just for him.

  A few minutes later and she slides a few of the sheets out from under the protesting cat and steps out into a gut punch of heat and heads to the food rooms and just that small motion makes her sweat and breathe harder. The heat is beyond anything she has ever experienced. She reaches the food rooms, stepping gratefully into the shade to see Agatha and Sunnie in muted conversation.

  ‘I have list,’ Lenski says, handing one of the sheets over. ‘Is list of names for the people to live in these room, yes? Tell them to empty tents so I use them again…’ she pauses, detecting the atmosphere between the two women. ‘What wrong?’

  ‘It’s probably nothing,’ Sunnie says, taking the sheet.

  ‘Few new people getting funny with us,’ Agatha says. ‘Saying they been told they’ll get hurt if they don’t give us their food, and some are refusing to hand anything over…’

  ‘Where this come from?’ Lenski asks.

  ‘No idea,’ Sunnie says.

  ‘And I’m sure we’ve had a bit of stock going missing,’ Agatha adds. ‘From the back rooms. Just a few gaps appearing on the shelves…maybe I’m wrong. It’s too hot to bloody think…’

  ‘Okay. I look into this,’ Lenski says. ‘You tell me if hear other things.’ She walks on, aiming for Colin’s rooms. ‘Colin?’

  ‘Colin reporting for duty,’ Colin says, red-faced as ever as he rushes over to offer a mock salute. ‘Ready to receive orders…’

  Lenski smiles. She likes Colin. His gentle humour. His eagerness to please. ‘I have list…people to sleep in your rooms.’

  ‘Roger that. Wilco. Understood loud and clear,’ he says, taking the sheet. ‘Blooming good idea too, Lenski.’

  ‘Is all okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ he says with an affable nod. ‘Hotter than anything and we’re literally all sweating into puddle…’

  Lenski nods, not really understanding about sweaty puddles. ‘Is all good then? You hear anything bad?’

  ‘Er, well there have been a few comments here and there now you mention it. A few new groups didn’t want to share their stuff. I said they don’t have to and it’s not like a prison camp or anything. Then this one chap said he heard the woman that found her dead husband got a kicking. I said that never happened. Then Joanna, she works in my team, she heard some rumours from one of the new groups saying Muslims started the infection…’

  ‘Who say these things?’

  ‘No idea. It’s all third hand silly rumours, but it’s hot I guess and everyone is finding their place so there’s always tittle tattle…anyway, have you seen my notice board?’

  She listens to him for a minute then moves on, heading over to the central section and the bedlam of work underway.

  ‘John, I have list…Pardip, for you too…’

  ‘What’s that, love?’ Pardip asks.

  ‘Your family, they take our old rooms. I move us into back of offices and John, you are with Kyle and Norman by the front gates…you have Muslim men working here now?’ she asks, looking at Maleek, Bashir and another one sorting through the wood. ‘They have trades? They builders?’

  ‘No idea,’ Pardip says. ‘They don’t speak English and we don’t speak…er…whatever they speak. Where are they from?’

  ‘Afghanistan,’ Lenski says. ‘They say to me when they come in. I never ask for skills though. I make mistake…I ask now…wait please…’

  She rushes off, cursing herself for being too caught out at the sights of the robes and how different they look and not asking if they had skills.

  She feels it then. A transition of mood. An instinct inside as it were, and it makes her slow and take in the immediate world about her. At the new groups of people hiding from the sun under sheets and shelters. Sullen faced, moody and quiet. But then everyone is like that when they come into the fort. The world is over, millions have died, and everyone has suffered and lost. But no, this feels a different sort of sullen.

  She looks to the big ugly tent Tommy put up yesterday. She saw him doing it with his big fat belly hanging over his shorts, and in truth she simply didn’t give a shit or have time to worry about what he was doing. Now she spots a young woman come out with the same sullen, cowed and distrustful look on her face as everyone else. Tommy comes out behind her, ogling the woman’s backside as she opens a packet of cigarettes.

  The sight makes Lenski glance about, seeing more people sucking on cigarettes and small clouds of smoke rising from under the shelters. A few cans of soda seen opened on the ground. A heavy looking woman eating a Mars bar. Another eating a packet of crisps. All of them quiet.

  Another glance to Tommy, seeing him smirk as she passes. An arrogance in his manner. A cunning too. Something unkind and unpleasant.

  ‘Is too hot for this,’ Lenski mutters, ignoring him as she reaches the Muslim family patch. ‘Damsa, I sorry. I make mistake. I not ask what skills you have when you come here…is my fault. Is so busy and hot…’ Lenski says as Damsa rises to her feet and walks over. ‘I say truth too and say you are first Muslim people in these clothes I speak to…’

  Damsa offers a smile, grateful for the honesty while glancing beyond Lenski to the harsh glares and looks coming from everyone else. ‘Maleek is working now,’ she says, motioning the building site. ‘Bashir and Tajj are with him…his brothers.’

  ‘Yes. I see this…’ Lenski says thoughtfully. ‘Where you learn English?’

  ‘My father was a translator for the American army in Kabul…Ameer, he is better…’ she says, smiling at the serious expression on her son.

  ‘Is good English,’ Lenski says. ‘I ask now,
you have skills? Any of you?’

  ‘My father’s a carpenter,’ Ameer says, blanching slightly at Lenski face palming herself while sagging on the spot at the same time as muttering several very rude words in Polish.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Damsa asks.

  ‘I not okay. I am idiot,’ Lenski says. ‘We are desperate for builders yes? Maleek is a carpenter. I not ask this…’ she rolls her eyes, tutting at herself. ‘I borrow Ameer please? He translate for his father…I bring him back, is safe yes?’

  Damsa nods, looking again at the harsh glares coming from everyone else as Lenski sets off with Ameer.

  ‘Lenski Benski!’ a shout, a yell, Milly, Amna, Billy and Rajesh running fast through the tents and patches of ground, slamming into her legs. Subi not far behind them.

  ‘I work now. Busy. Come, we go see John…this is Ameer. Ameer, these are other smelly children. All smell. All bad…’

  ‘It’s like seeing one of them adverts…’ Tommy calls out with that smirk, adding a wink when Lenski looks at him. ‘United colours of Benetton eh? All them different coloured faces. Nah, it’s nice to see. Kids eh? Gotta love ‘em…’

  Lenski stares. Tommy smiles, and she walks on, leading the children over to the building site. ‘John, Pardip. I say sorry. I make mistake. Maleek, he is carpenter…’

  ‘I know he is!’ Simar shouts from somewhere.

  ‘How do you know?’ Pardip shouts out, looking for his brother.

  ‘Cos carpenters are all like Jedi warriors,’ a grinning Simar says, popping up from the framework holding a mallet as an also grinning Maleek pops up next to him holding a set square. ‘We’re all connected on a deeper level than you lot…and that’s not a religious thing either. We’re as one…’ he adds, waving the mallet between his own head and Maleek’s. ‘Anyway, I got this now, Lenski. Cheers for that. Ameer, is that your name? Alright, I’m Simar. Tell your dad cheers for helping cos my stupid brothers and big John don’t know the difference between a nail and a screw…and also, do your uncles know good wood from bad wood? And if they do, can they go over to the beach and only send us the good stuff…’