‘It bloody wasn’t,’ she snaps, striding after him as they join Kyle opening the next container up, slamming the big metal doors open. Boxes inside. Chinese markings on the sides that none of them can understand. All three go inside and at the same time they pluck knives from belts to slash the boxes open, tearing at packaging to see what’s inside. Their blood up. Eyes set and hard.
‘What the feck,’ Kyle says, pulling a long curved rubber thing out with another smaller knobbly bit poking out the bottom. Lurid green in colour and he spots a twisty thing on the base, frowning as he turns it that makes the vibrator hum and jack rabbit up and down while the knobbly bit at the base spins.
‘What the hell is that?’ Norman asks, pulling a box out to look at the picture on the side. Something pink and kind of looking like a body part, but inflatable and weird. ‘Is that a vagina?’ he asks, showing it to the others. ‘That’s a vagina…’
‘I think it is,’ Kyle says, holding his jack rabbiting, spinning, thrusting bright green dildo as Lilly stares at a box in one hand containing an assortment of cock rings and a butt plug in the other, her head moving from side to side as she looks at them in turn.
‘That’s a butt plug,’ Norman says, nodding at the butt plug. ‘Apparently,’ he adds quickly. ‘That’s not a gay thing…straight people use them too,’ he tells Kyle and Lilly. ‘And er…right…interesting…’
‘Blow up dolls,’ Kyle calls, opening another box.
‘Whips anyone?’ Lilly asks, pulling one out from a box. Long and black with a thick handle. She widens her eyes, flicking it back and forth a few times before turning to wave her arm harder. ‘How do they work?’
‘Flick it harder,’ Kyle says, watching as she does it again. ‘No, harder…really hard…like straighten your arm and…’
‘I think it’s in the wrist,’ Norman says. ‘Try it from the wrist…’
‘Definitely the arm,’ Kyle says, leaning past her to pull another whip out as he lets it unfold and starts trying to make it crack. ‘Not enough room in here, try it outside…’
‘Wrist. I’m telling you,’ Norman says, taking a whip and following them out. ‘Like this…’ he flicks his hand out, frowning when the whip just flops about as the men nearby stop to look over with shrugs and confused glances to each other.
‘I’m getting it,’ Lilly says, flinging her arm about harder.
‘Aye, that’s better,’ Kyle says, trying with his.
‘Ha!’ Norman says when his whip goes straighter than before. ‘Definitely in the wrist…’
‘What’s the hold up?’ Peter asks, stopping at the open doors then darting back as Lilly cracks a whip at him.
‘I did it!’ she says. ‘Did you see that?’
‘Do it again,’ Kyle says, the two men watching her do it again. Flinging her arm up then down and out while moving her wrist. ‘Got it…yes!’ he shouts when his whip cracks.
‘I gotta try this now,’ Peter says, dodging the cracking whips to grab one from the box
‘Mine’s not doing it,’ Norman says, flinging his arm up and down. ‘Is it broken?’
‘Harder,’ Kyle tells him. ‘Go on! Harder now. Crack that fecking whip…’
‘I’m trying…’
Mary reaches the estate, marvelling at the length of the wall and the colours of the containers. Reds, blues, yellows and greens. A noise ahead. Harsh cracks. A container on the ground. The doors open. She rounds the end and comes to a dead stop at the view of sweaty men cracking whips as Kyle holds a whirring jack-rabbiting bright green dildo with a knobbly base. Norman next to him waving his inflatable vagina as he frowns at his whip not cracking. Then she spots Lilly in the middle, her face glistening as she smiles while holding a butt plug in one hand and cracking a whip in the other. ‘Oh hell. Now that’s not helping at all…’ she mutters, turning swiftly about to head back to the beach while blasting air from her cheeks. ‘Not good, Mary. Don’t even think it…’
A few minutes later and the sex-toy container lifts into the air and pauses while one end is hoisted up for the boxes to slide out, dumping the contents on the ground before being slotted into place and the wall extends by another twelve metres as the afternoon rolls on.
Chapter Eighteen
Day Twenty Three
Time becomes paradoxical. A thing of uncertainty. A measurement of the passage of existence that can no longer be relied upon to be accurate because on the one hand, it’s trundling on so painfully slowly, where everything takes more effort and requires more focus and the later the day gets, the worse it seems to become.
However, time also speeds up with one hour seemingly dragging for five then suddenly it’s done and gone and those people scurrying about the bay and in the fort like feverish ants all feel a sense of panic that they are not working fast enough and that somehow, they will run out of time.
There is a storm coming you see, and that approaching eventuality becomes the marker to aim for. The wall must be done before the storm. The canteen must be built before the storm. The new tents must be pitched before the storm. The shelters must be taken down before the storm.
And then, like clockwork and like every other day that has gone before, and yet coming with a sense of surprise, they start to run out of light as the afternoon wanes and evening takes its place, heralding the approaching night, and that alone prompts a fresh burst of energy.
‘COME ON,’ John shouts, his voice deep and booming. Clapping his hands to gee his team on.
‘Come on guys,’ Colin calls, his voice lighter and maybe not so deep and booming and his hand clap doesn’t quite generate the same thunderous noise, but the intent is there and he spurs his team on to strip out the old tents and get the new ones up while re-organising the way they are pitched, the lines and rows, making it better, tweaking and altering.
‘COME ON,’ Mary shouts on the beach, clapping her hands as she works with Bashir, Tajj and the boat drivers to get more supplies over to the fort. A glance up to the sky just hinting at fading light.
‘Come on,’ Ann urges inside the marquee tent, gripping Simon’s arm as he squirms and writhes in agony. A dislocation that needs popping back in. Anika holds him down, grim faced and nodding at the doctor who wrenches with an explosion of force and a crunch of bone. Simon screams out once then gasps as he sinks back.
‘COME ON,’ Lilly claps her hands hard, buoying them up. Another container down. Another twelve metres of security. She runs for the next. A mass of men trudging behind her on legs that have never felt so tired and heavy.
‘Come on,’ Tommy snaps at Pamela in his little room, grabbing at her clothes to tug them down so he can remove the stolen goods. His breath stinking of beer. A few empty cans already littering the floor. Karl, Matty and a couple of others in there with them, watching Tommy pull Pamela’s breasts from her bra. Beer cans in their hands, a small bottle of whiskey being passed around. ‘Good girl,’ Tommy says, his voice too harsh, his eyes too glaring. He pats her arse too hard and pushes her too roughly out of his section. ‘Go on, get some more…’
‘Come on through,’ Damsa says on the shore outside the main gates of the fort. The last boat full of people all clambering out. She goes forward to help, her sisters with her, helping lift children and giving steady arms for people to hold. ‘My name is Damsa…I’ll take you inside…’
‘Thanks,’ one of the men says, tall and bearded, pale and drawn from three weeks of hell. ‘Is it safe here? We heard it’s safe…’
‘It is safe, we have food and medicine and guards,’ Damsa says, smiling at them in turn. Soft and gentle, her whole manner so full of understanding and empathy for the fear and worry they are feeling. ‘Are you hungry? We can get you some food. Let me take your baby while you get out,’ she says to a nursing mother.
‘Thank you, she’s so heavy…’ the mother says, looking ready to drop.
‘I can carry her, it is fine…are you ready to come through? Please, don’t worry. Everything will be okay…’
‘That’s enough,’ Pardip says to him, his head hanging low.
John nods. They’ve done what they can.
‘Bugger,’ Colin says, looking up at the darkening sky, his workers all dragging their feet and looking so very worn out. ‘Okay guys, we’ve done what we can…let’s call it a day…’
‘You know what?’ Mary says on the beach, shaking her head slowly as Bashir and everyone else look at her. ‘That’s enough it is. Enough. No more…Ann? We’re done out here…’
Ann steps out, nodding over. ‘Same, we’ll start packing up…’
‘Why pack?’ Mary asks her. ‘You’ve a wall keeping it safe now…’
‘That’s a very good point,’ Ann says, looking at the wall.
‘COME ON,’ Lilly shouts, running alongside her new wall. Still as energised as before. Driven and relentless. She’ll work all night if she has to. She won’t stop. She’ll never stop.
‘Lilly,’ Norman says.
‘SO CLOSE,’ she shouts out, clapping her hands. A few more containers and the first level of the wall will be done.
‘Lilly,’ Norman says again, his tone making her blink at the sorry sight of his face coated in grime and muck, at his sodden clothes. At Kyle leaning against the container wall with his hands on his knees. At the other men around them. Some sitting. Some lying down. Others almost swaying on their feet. The digger drivers hunched over their steering wheels. The crane driver yawning. Peter, Willie and Elvis still with their heads up but only through sheer will power. ‘That’s enough, Lilly,’ Norman says. ‘Enough for today…’
Frustration inside. A surge of irritation that the world isn’t doing what she wants. That she cannot finish what she started right now. A flash of immaturity perhaps. A flash of something for sure.
‘Not bad though,’ Peter calls out, nodding at the last container laid and he turns as he looks back down at the wall stretching behind them. Nearly a kilometre of containers in a long curve.
‘Aye,’ Kyle says. ‘Not bad at all…’ he looks at Lilly with a message sent from his eyes to hers. Telling her not to be a tyrant. Telling her not to drive men to the point they break.
She draws air and nods, forcing the irritation away. ‘It’s very good,’ she calls. ‘We’ll call it a day and pick it up tomorrow. Thank you…I mean that too…it’s an astonishing achievement.’
Pamela walks back through tent-town, scowling at the way it all looks so different already. New tents are up. Some of the shelters have been taken down. She hurries on past the empty Muslim family patch, figuring they’ve all been given a swanky new super enormous tent, or maybe even the best rooms in the walls. Then she spots two of them walking past with armfuls of gear. Then another one behind them calling out as she rushes to join the first two.
Pamela frowns and moves on towards the gate, having heard a new family was coming over. The light now going from the sky. The night coming. That’s good. She can go back to Tommy’s tent and get drunk with them all. She’s hungry too and her belly feels weird from eating too much stolen snack food.
She reaches the office, seeing Lenski outside with Sam, Pea and Joan. Stuff on the ground. Bags and boxes of new things being stacked and sorted.
‘Hiya,’ she calls out, waving a hand. A glance from Pea who goes straight back to work. Sam doesn’t even look. Joan glares for a second, tuts and turns away.
‘Where you go?’ Lenski asks her, spotting what looks like chocolate smeared up her wrist.
‘Eh? I was…I had to…I was working and…’ Pamela stutters the words, caught out at the harsh voice.
‘Is busy. I not find you…you hide in Tommy’s tent all day, leave everyone else to work. Is lazy…I call you on radio all day…’
‘I was fucked…I mean I was…the boys and…’ she trails off at seeing Damsa and another couple of the Muslim women walking towards them with a new family. The women carrying babies, children and bags. Damsa talking as she leads them in. A clipboard under her arm. A bag on her shoulder and cradling an infant child.
‘…and there are shower cubicles all around the walls. The water is cold, but you can wash. We have toilets in the middle and you can see where the food is cooking…’ Damsa says, pointing over to Agatha and Sunnie working hard to get the evening meal ready. ‘And in a minute I will show you to Colin’s noticeboard, it has a map so you can find everywhere….and this is the main office. May I introduce you to Lenski, Sam, Pea and Joan…’
Pamela glares. Unblinking. Unflinching. Lost for words and thoughts at the sight of a Muslim in a black robe talking English and holding a baby. How dare she. How dare they. That was her job. The poor new people. They must be terrified being greeted by Muslims. She glares at them, expecting to see fear and worry, and she does see that, except the fear and worry isn’t aimed at the women but at the fact that everyone they ever knew is probably dead and they are now refugees in a strange place. Then Pamela blinks with another thought. A realisation even. Sudden and profound.
‘Can I go then?’ she asks. Nobody listens or responds or even looks at her and she eases away, back-stepping before turning and heading off with a grin. This is great. She doesn’t have to meet new people anymore. She can hang out with Tommy in his tent and eat choccy bars and drink beer and maybe he’ll finger her or something. It’s about time the muzzies started work anyway. Loafing about doing nothing all this time.
‘What?!’ Tommy snaps in his room a few minutes later. ‘Are you being fucking serious?’
Pamela nods, wobbling her chins. ‘Lenski was totally like fuck you fatty, go fuck off and eat mud while my new bezzer friends take over and I was like, but me and Lilly got fucked and raped and she was like fuck off fat cunt, and that Muslim woman that speaks English, she was like sticking her finger up at me and mouthing fuck off fatty…’
Karl and Matty share looks and shrugs, neither thinking that sounds quite true but who cares? They drink beer and watch as Tommy goes even redder in the face.
‘But it’s cool though,’ Pamela says, grinning at Tommy. ‘I can hang out now…fuck ‘em yeah? Let the muzzies do the work…’
‘You stupid fucking bitch,’ Tommy says slowly, shaking his head at her. ‘Who’s gonna get the stuff now?’
‘Eh?’
‘The stuff. From the store rooms? Who’s gonna get it? Are you that fucking stupid? Jesus Christ…fucking fat bitch…and that scrawny fucking crack whore too.’
‘Oh but…’ she pauses, frowning at what he just said. ‘What crack whore? Can I have a beer now?’
Tommy grabs another can, opening it as she steps in with a smile, thinking it’s for her but he moves away, tutting and muttering before drinking deep. She shrugs, grabs a can and flops down near Karl and Matty. ‘Fucking muzzies,’ Tommy mutters. ‘This is them taking over…I’m telling you…’
‘I’m telling you,’ Norman says as they walk back through the camp towards the beach. ‘That’s nearly a kilometre of containers put down. That’s a staggering thing to do. Even if the whole end of the world thing hadn’t happened it would have been hard…’
‘Night then, see you tomorrow!’
‘Night, Willie,’ Norman calls back as the lads from the camp drift off.
‘Goodnight,’ Lilly says, turning to wave at them before looking at Norman and Kyle.
‘We’ll get the bottom layer finished in the morning then start another on the next row,’ Norman continues.
‘You’re right,’ Lilly says, exhaling deeply. ‘I was just frustrated.’
‘I’m not criticising you,’ Norman says quickly. ‘We need that drive…’
‘Yes we do,’ Kyle says emphatically.
‘That energy you have,’ Norman says. ‘Honestly, it’s essential…I mean that. I doubt we’d have got half of this done today…’
‘And don’t forget you got new ten
ts too,’ Kyle says.
‘What we’re trying to say,’ Norman continues. ‘Respectfully of course, is not to be too hard on yourself.’
‘Understood,’ Lilly says.
‘And that’s not patronising you either,’ Norman says. ‘It did sound a bit patronising…but my god it’s so hot.’
‘I shall forgive the patronising on the basis of the heat then,’ she says, offering a smile that he takes in good humour.
‘Will ye hurry up now,’ Mary calls from ahead, holding the boat ready.
‘Coming coming,’ Norman shouts back as they rush over the sand and climb in to sit on the low planks, groaning with tired legs as they all talk and greet each other after a very long day.
‘Bloody hell,’ Ann says, glancing back at the bay, as they can all turn and gawp at the sight of the wall. A solid multi-coloured line snaking across the land and disappearing from view behind the camp then reappearing on the far side, edging towards the sea.
‘You think that’s impressive?’ Norman asks. ‘Wait till you hear about the butt plugs…’
The chat comes back as the boat powers on, reaching the shore so they can spill out and trudge in through the gates.
‘Welcome to the fort,’ Lenski says, waiting for them with mock politeness. ‘I show you tour yes? Come please…’ she steps over to the side, through a recessed doorway and into a set of rooms. ‘They are all clean now yes? We have many beds in here. More rooms back there with bedding too. Place to store clothes and things. We have light too. Jaspal, he put solar panels on the walls and feed wires into here. The light is not strong but is enough. I get furniture soon…’
‘It’s incredible,’ Lilly says. ‘Who is it for?’
‘Single men,’ Lenski says. ‘Norman, Kyle, Alf, John, men who work who give hard effort, they have beds in rooms now. They share space…plus we keep them near the gates so they can fight the zombies if they come through. Yes?’ she adds with a grin.
‘Hey now, she’s got some smarts,’ Mary laughs as Norman and Kyle take it in. The pitted concrete floor. The rough walls. The bedding all mix and match. A low table to one side scratched and dented with bottles of water on it. Norman compares it to what he had and thinks about Robert and his home. The pain is still there, so raw and terrible but maybe not so bad as it was. He’s too exhausted to think about it much and this room now looks very inviting. Comforting and homely even.
The Undead (Book 23): The Fort Page 22
