UKD3: UK Dark Series Book 3

by Chris Harris

  I still wasn’t happy with the explanation and my face must have made that plain, because he added, “Look, the boy was terrified and we needed to get that gun out of his hands before an accident happened.”

  He paused, then went on “And to be fair, I knew none of us would be able to shoot him, so I had to show him it was me before something unfortunate happened.”

  He smiled ruefully, “Kim is not going to be happy with me.”

  We followed the boy to the warehouse and scrambled over the remains of the barricade he’d dismantled when he came out to us.

  Just inside the door lay another body with dried blood pooled around it.

  The stench was overpowering.

  The all too familiar smell of death and corruption was like a wall we had to physically push through to continue.

  The boy was waiting for us to catch up.

  “How can you stay in here with this smell?” I asked him, fighting down a wave of nausea. The boy seemed unmoved by it.

  “We don’t. There’s a den on the roof. We use a ladder from the top shelf of the racking to climb up. It’s safe up there. We’ve got enough food and I was only going to go back into the building if we ran out.”

  He led us into the middle of the warehouse and pointed to a rack that stretched up to the high ceiling.

  “It’s up there. Wait here if you want, I’ll bring her here.”

  Diane asked, “How old is your sister?”

  “Six.”

  She shook her head, passed her weapon to the person next to her, and started to shrug out of her tactical vest, which was weighed down with extra magazines and equipment.

  “I’ll come with you. She must be terrified, poor thing.”

  Harry did the same.

  While Harry and Diane were getting ready, I asked him his name.

  “Isaac,” he replied solemnly. His sister, he informed me, was called Lottie, and he’d turned ten on his last birthday.

  We watched as the three of them climbed the racking, using the cross supports at the racking ends like a ladder.

  The boy was much more agile and kept having to wait for Diane and Harry to catch up.

  Once they’d disappeared from view about thirty metres above the ground, we took a look around.

  As we walked to the end of the rack, the smell of death intensified. I entered the loading bay area of the warehouse where the families and groups had constructed their main living area, with separate areas created for each family, to afford some privacy.

  Every separate area was occupied by bodies covered in a variety of blankets, rugs or coats.

  The entire community lay dead.

  The fact that everyone had lived in such close proximity to each other had helped the disease to spread like wildfire before they’d had any idea what they were dealing with.

  The children had to have been born with some natural immunity to the bacterium. It was the only possible explanation for why they had been spared.

  But what they must have gone through, watching helplessly as everyone who had been close to them died a painful death, just didn’t bear thinking about. And, I thought grimly, we still didn’t know the story about the “the bad men” who had come yet.

  On closer examination, the warehouse still contained a vast quantity of food, with pallets lining most of the racks. The shields that had been added to the racking supports had prevented the rats from climbing them and protected the food, but there had been no defence against the disease-ridden fleas they had carried.

  Gumin and his men had been so efficient in scouring and emptying the surrounding area that most of the original supplies in the warehouse remained untouched.

  Food was by far the most valuable currency we had now, so the contents of the warehouse would have to be moved.

  Ten minutes later a sound from above drew our attention, and we watched as the two adults and two children climbed down the racking towards us.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  As soon as they were back on the ground, we all moved outside to escape the smell.

  The two children still looked terrified. This was understandable. Aside from Harry, the rest of us were still wearing masks. We must have looked like beings from another planet.

  Up close, we could see that the children were in poor condition. They were filthy from head to toe. Their tear- streaked faces were covered in grime and their hair was badly matted. They looked so small and vulnerable, standing before us and holding hands, it would have taken a very hard heart not to have softened at the sight of them.

  Isaac stuck as close as possible to Harry. As we sat down, someone started to boil a kettle on a camping stove so that we could all have a hot drink. Then, as gently as possible, we managed to draw out most of their story.

  The disease had spread rapidly through the tight-knit community.

  Just two days after the first case, everyone had been either ill, dying or dead. Lottie and Isaac were the only ones without symptoms.

  As young as they were, they had tried their best to help but they had lost everyone who mattered to them. Too young to understand or to know what to do, they had stayed on there.

  They had moved to the other end of the warehouse, away from the corpses, and made a little area to live and sleep in. Isaac had done his best to look after Lottie.

  Two days before our arrival, they were woken by the sound of voices. Thinking that someone was coming to help, they hurried to meet them.

  The people they encountered were not rescuers. They were four men in masks, and they were searching the bodies for anything of value. Realising that something was wrong, Isaac stopped short, but before he could grab her, Lottie squeezed past him and ran right up to them.

  Isaac stayed hidden and watched in horror as she was slapped, grabbed and tied up. Too young to comprehend what the men were saying they were going to do to her, but fully understanding that her life was in danger, he sprinted back to their den.

  He was a smart boy and had already gathered up all the weapons the community had and put them in a safe place away from his sister. He had been scared she might hurt herself if she found one and accidentally fired it.

  He had spent many hours watching the adults handle the weapons, and he knew what to do. Grabbing the one he was most familiar with, he picked up two loaded magazines. He put one in his pocket and inserted the other one into the gun and pulled the charging handle.

  The sight of Isaac walking towards them, pointing a gun and shouting in his squeaky voice that they were to let his sister go momentarily shocked the three men.

  Then they burst out laughing, not believing he would have the guts to pull the trigger or that he would even know how to load a gun.

  But everything he had witnessed since the world had gone dark had hardened him up. He’d seen his parents murdered and witnessed the horrors Gumin had inflicted on others. The only thing he had left in his life was his sister, and he wasn’t about to let anyone hurt her.

  He gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger, killing the first man instantly. The recoil almost knocked him off his feet and by the time he had recovered the other three men were running full pelt for the exit.

  Young as he was, he gave chase, knowing he needed to stop them, but a ten-year-old boy carrying a heavy gun could not outrun three cowardly adults, intent on saving their own skins.

  Just as they reached the door, he rested the gun on a pallet of food, aimed it just as he had seen others do and pulled the trigger again.

  The gun must have been on full auto because it spewed forth enough bullets to kill another of the men outright and shatter the hip of a third. The fourth man, untouched, kept running.

  Once Lottie was untied, they cautiously approached the men. Two were clearly dead, but the third had managed to drag himself out of the door, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he pulled himself across the yard towards the gate.

  They couldn’t take him prisoner and they had neither the means nor the experience to treat hi
s wound, but Isaac had enough humanity in him not to want to pull the trigger. As they approached the injured man, he panicked, twisting towards them and begging them to help him. The twisting must have ruptured an artery because the flow of blood increased and his cries and movements rapidly became weaker. As they watched silently, he died in front of them.

  The young boy had more sense than most grown-ups.

  One of their attackers had escaped and he knew he could return at any time. He also knew that he was likely to bring others, and that he wouldn’t be able to fight them off again.

  He thought hard about what they should do. He didn’t want to leave the warehouse. It was the only place he knew and he was more afraid of what was outside the fences than of what might happen if they stayed.

  Following Gumin’s defeat, a lookout post had been constructed on the roof. It had rarely been used, as it involved a perilous climb up racking, followed by an equally hazardous ascent up a ladder from the top of a rack, to get through an open roof light.

  Undaunted, Isaac climbed up to inspect it. It was perfect.

  The small but cunningly disguised lookout post had been reinforced with sand bags and gave a clear view over the front of the property.

  Further back inside, a shelter had been constructed to provide protection from the elements for the sentries, who could stretch their aching backs and muscles after long periods in cramped conditions.

  Despite its lack of use, it had survived the winter reasonably well and Isaac realised immediately that it would be a perfect place for him and his sister to hide.

  A few hours later, he had hauled up bedding and enough food and other supplies and equipment to last them for a while. But it was only when they had pulled up the ladder and effectively “raised the drawbridge” on their castle that they felt safe.

  To relieve the boredom, they spent most of the day in the lookout playing imaginary games.

  When they caught sight of us the following day, they immediately thought it was the lone survivor returning with more help. Without hesitation Isaac prepared his weapon and got ready to defend their home.

  The tears streamed down his face as he described his relief on recognising Harry and the realisation that their ordeal was over. The fact that he had managed, against all odds, to keep his sister safe reduced some of us to tears too.

  I decided not to show him the bullet hole in my shirt and how close he had come to hitting me. This ten-year-old boy had shown more courage and determination than most adults would have done.

  The harsh reality of our new lives was forcing everyone to re-evaluate the way we lived and the way we raised our children. In the past, we had cocooned our children. Death, although common in far off, war-torn countries, had been dealt with in a safe and sanitised way. Now death and all its associated horrors were unfortunately common occurrences and you could no longer shield the young ones from it. But this young boy had killed three people and was ready to kill again to protect himself and his sister.

  I couldn’t imagine what a psychologist would say, but it was clear that careful thought would have to be given to helping him recover.

  Life was now about survival, but those of us who still valued our humanity were determined to preserve a level of common decency and mutual respect. We sincerely hoped that we would succeed.

  Harry gave Isaac and Lottie a brief, “child friendly” version of what had happened to us and why we were camping out in the woods nearby. He concluded by asking gently if, providing it was OK with them, they could come and live with us from now on.

  They readily agreed. I admired the way Harry handled that situation. Those children had shown a level of maturity and independence way beyond their years, by surviving for so long on their own. They had even had to kill to protect themselves and therefore they deserved to be treated as adults: capable of making their own choices.

  We helped them to gather what personal possessions they had, and after securing the doors to the warehouse as best we could, we headed back to the woods.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  We had maintained contact via radio throughout the day, so the others knew that we were on our way back. We had also let them know that we would be bringing back guests who had been exposed to the disease and therefore everyone would need to wear their masks on our arrival.

  Harry decided that as he had already exposed himself to risk, there was not much point in putting his mask back on.

  We had all relaxed a little. Harry was carrying Lottie on his shoulders and we were walking along bunched together. The basic rule was that you had to be vigilant at all times, as danger could lurk around every corner.

  But we had forgotten that.

  Four of us were discussing what should be done with the food in the warehouse. The most feasible idea was for the base to mount an expedition. They had the lorries and they had forklifts, and they could transport these using low loaders.

  It would take a lot of work to pull it off but the base was more than capable of handling it in terms of resources and manpower.

  The twin booms of both barrels of a shotgun being fired made us all dive for the nearest cover. I looked round to see Harry lying on the floor, holding his leg and screaming and swearing in pain, Lottie, who had been on Harry’s shoulders, was also screaming. Worryingly, another of our group, Gary, was lying motionless on his back.

  I had thrown myself to the ground and raising my rifle, I fired blindly in the direction I thought the shot had come from.

  Everyone else followed suit. As I was changing magazines I glanced back at Harry, He was crawling painfully towards shelter, trying to keep the still screaming Lottie behind him, in an effort to shield her with his body.

  A boom and the blast of shot passing close to my head forced me to roll quickly to the nearest cove behind a garden wall.

  “Harry! Talk to me! Are you OK?” I yelled frantically, between bursts of rifle fire from us and booms of shotguns from our unknown attackers.

  “Yes, yes. I’m OK,” he shouted back. “Just got pinged by a few pellets. Hurts like hell but I don’t think anything vital’s been hit. Lottie’s OK as well. Banged her head a bit when I fell but she’s all right.”

  I tried to call to Gary but got no response.

  Now Harry had Lottie in a safe place, he took command. He quickly established that apart from Gary, who did not look good, we were all behind cover and able to fire our weapons towards the enemy.

  Our attackers had gone quiet, possibly because the sustained fire from our automatic weapons had given us fire superiority and had them ducking for cover.

  Silence reigned. I thought quickly. Time to act.

  “I need to check on Gary. Everyone get ready to cover me. Is that OK Harry?”

  “Yes, Tom. And you showing yourself might get them to break cover.”

  It took me a few moments to mentally prepare myself before running into danger one more time. I closed my eyes and took a few breaths then shouted for everyone to get ready.

  Then I ran as fast as I could and slid to a halt beside Gary, expecting to hear the boom and feel the pain of the shot. But it never came. Gary’s face was a bloody mess. I was becoming accustomed to seeing gunshot wounds and he looked as if he’d taken the force of a heavy gauge shot gun cartridge full in the face.

  Incredibly he was still alive, but barely. The range from which he had been shot must have saved his life. He was unconscious and his breathing was shallow and laboured. I felt despair. There was nothing I could do. Part of our training had included emergency field medicine, so I knew what not to do if something like this happened.

  For one thing, I knew that morphine supresses breathing and as Gary’s breathing was already shallow, it would be too risky to give him any.

  “He’s alive but he’s not good,” I shouted, “I think he needs more than what we can do for him.”

  “Right,” shouted Harry, “let’s clear them out. You know the routine.” With Harry directing us, the group leapfro
gged forward. Harry led the way, limping badly and hopping from cover to cover.

  Within five minutes it was clear that they had gone. Spent shotgun shells scattered on the ground were the only indication that anyone had been there.

  After we’d checked the surrounding area to make sure they had really gone, Harry positioned everyone to provide all round security and hobbled over to where I still lay, holding Gary’s hand, and talking to him in an effort to reassure him.

  He took one look at Gary and the mess that had been his face. “He’ll need to be evacuated to the base hospital. They’re the only ones who can deal with this.”

  “I thought they were on lockdown because of the plague?”

  “They are. The only exception is a medical emergency. And this I would say, falls into that category.”

  He raised Colonel Moore on the radio and put in his emergency request for a helicopter medevac.

  Although the base had several working helicopters, it had been decided to restrict their use to an absolute minimum. Fuel was not a problem, but spare parts were. Routine maintenance was required after every flight and it soon became apparent that at some point in the future, the scarcity of parts would ground them. For that reason, every flight had to be authorised at the highest level to husband their limited lifespan for as long as possible.

  Medical emergencies were obviously at the top of the list, so Colonel Moore lost no time in authorising the flight.

  “You wouldn’t be asking unless it was necessary. If one of our own needs help, the answer is yes. It should be with you in an hour,” was his curt reply.

  Gary couldn’t be moved; we would have to wait for the helicopter and medics to arrive.

  We sat around feeling incredibly vulnerable. We had just been attacked and now we found ourselves in an exposed position in the middle of an urban street. Apart from the people who were trying to make Gary comfortable, everyone faced outwards, weapons held ready.

  Russ spoke up, “We’re sitting ducks here. Let’s push some of the cars into a better position to give us all some cover.”