“What do we do?” Naomi asked, the question solidifying all of Lavender’s doubts.
“I don’t know,” she said forlornly, “I really don’t know.”
“We need to walk some more,” Naomi ventured, “even if we don’t know where to find Carson, we can’t just stay here. I don’t want to stay here,” she added, a note of fear creeping into her voice.
She was right, of course, “Let’s just keep going then,” Lavender said, a little more kindly, “Not much else we can do, eh?”
They ventured further into the wreckage. Lavender caught a glimpse up ahead of the steep, sloping sand dune she had rolled down in her flight from the Thinker. Beyond it lay the amusements, the promenade and the sea. She had no desire to go back that way. She paused again, Naomi leaning against her, and looked around.
To her right lay a low, brick-built building. One half of it seemed to be a set of public toilets; the other, some kind of office. She marvelled that she hadn’t noticed it before, but then when she had first passed by that way, she had been a little distracted.
It was the only solid building in sight. Night was drawing on, they were both cold, tired, hungry and running out of ideas. They had to investigate it, no question.
Naomi saw where Lavender was looking. She turned to her and nodded. Not another word said, they set out towards it together.
As with every other pane of glass hereabouts, the building did not sport one single, intact window. Someone had gone to the trouble of tacking boarding up across one, which for the most part was still in place. Foregoing the arrows pointing to Ladies, Gentleman’s and Disabled toilets, they opted for what they now saw was the site manager’s office, rounding the corner to find a doorway, the door still in place but warped beyond usefulness. It bore the cautionary sign ‘No Unauthorised Persons Beyond This Point,’
Lavender gently removed Naomi’s hand, untying the hessian sack, immediately feeling the cold when it fell from her back. She twisted the coarse material round her fist, ready to swing the sack like a club if there was anything waiting to greet them inside.
“You wait here until I give the all clear,” she told the girl. Naomi nodded, already looking around for something to use as a weapon. Lavender gave a quiet murmur of approval as the girl selected a length of planking, testing it for weight and versatility. There were a few wicked nails sticking out of its end.
Lavender put a cautious foot over the threshold, peering into the gloom. Nothing rushed out at her, there were no tell-tale moans, no stench of death or corruption. Emboldened, she stepped further into the ransacked room.
Just as outside, nothing in here had been left whole. Computer monitors, keyboards, the desks they once sat upon were all cast to the ground, shattered. When Lavender’s eyes adjusted, she saw there was a second door up ahead, this one surprisingly intact and firmly closed.
Closed doors in strange places was something Lavender had come to dread and desire in equal measure. There was a wonderful feeling of security in being able to simply shut a door, even if it was flimsy, ill-fitting and unlockable. There was also a deeply disturbing aspect to opening one when you had no idea who or what lay behind it. Too many doors had been opened onto nasty surprises. She did not relish the thought of opening this one. She had no choice but to do it.
She approached it as silently as she was able, alert to the smallest sign of movement or sound as she went. She leaned her ear against it; nothing.
Screwing up her courage, she rested grasped the handle, took a deep breath, and turned it.
There was a panicky moment as a small barrage of rats evacuated the space, running horribly over her feet, making her screech involuntarily and hop about, terrified they would climb her legs. Hungry rats, enough of them together, were a dangerous proposition in themselves. They paid her no interest, escaping into the outer room as if they had just been waiting for someone to set them free. Some disappeared into the snow beyond; a few scurried immediately back inside, to huddle under the debris of the broken room.
Nothing followed them out. Cautiously, Lavender poked her head through the now open door.
The room was empty, aside from a few rodent corpses here and there. There was a desk, still upright, a swivel chair behind it, its cloth cover beginning to suffer from the effects of mould. Behind it, a calendar, several notices and a corkboard littered with official-looking paperwork and various memos hung on the wall. Miraculously, the room was for the most part intact.
Best of all, on a row of hooks set into the wall alongside the door, hung a small collection of jackets. Two were a bright yellow high-vis colour, two were a dour grey with a company logo embroidered on the left breast, and one was a navy-blue fleece, the same logo emblazoned upon it.
“About time we had a bit of luck,” Lavender said to herself. She went back to the outer doorway, where Naomi leaned against the wall, plank in hand, like a diminutive security guard.
“We have to give up on Carson for the night,” Lavender decided, suddenly too weary to take another step, “All clear here. Come on, let’s get inside and get some rest while we can,”
The girl’s face flooded with relief, she followed Lavender inside, ignoring the rats that scuttled under foot as she went.
*
The first thing they did upon getting inside was to shut the door firmly. Between them, they manoeuvred the desk into place in front of it, the best they could manage for a barricade. Lavender now saw that the windows in here were the two that had been boarded up from outside. Grateful for that, she turned her attention to the row of jackets, eager for warmth.
Lavender put on the fleece, topping it off with a grey jacket, before handing Naomi the other jacket and a high-vis one to go over it. The jackets were far too big, completely covering their hands, swamping them in warm folds of cloth, but neither of them complained. That done, Lavender fished about in the sack, pulling out two tins that Naomi had stolen from Joel’s supply. She handed one to Naomi, along with the tin opener. They ate with their fingers, Lavender having a meal of macaroni cheese, Naomi sausages and beans. They licked their fingers clean, setting the empty cans to one side. Lavender put the tin opener carefully back into the sack.
The floor beneath them was cold and dirty. In a moment of inspiration, Lavender crossed to the cork board and lifted it down, suspended as it was upon two hooks by a length of wire. She removed the wire, coiling it before slipping it into her back pocket. She took the pins and notices out, setting them in a pile on the table, then found a spot in the corner, away from the draughty windows, where she set down the board.
“Good idea,” Naomi said, seeing what she intended.
“Sit,” Lavender commanded. The girl did as she was bid. Lavender retrieved the remaining jacket, the other high-vis yellow vest, then joined the girl on the corkboard. The two of them settled down, curling into foetal positions, allowing as much as possible of their bodies to rest on the warmth of the cork. Lavender draped the jacket over their lower legs. She tucked her hands under her head, ignoring the way the shallow frame of the board was digging into her skull. It was the best she could do; the best, in fact, that she had managed for a long time. Relishing the bodily warmth of the girl beside her, she ignored the spiteful little voice at the back of her mind; the one that was telling her it was a welcome respite to be free of the burden of caring for Carson for a while.
*
He was confused. He knew he was cold, he knew he was hungry. He knew his fist hurt and his feet ached. He had a nagging feeling that he was missing something, someone, but couldn’t quite put his finger on who, or what.
The sand dune he was struggling up was slowing him down, adding to his frustrations. He was at the seaside, then. He liked the seaside. Perhaps his mother was around here somewhere. Maybe that was it; he was at the seaside, he was lost, and his mother was looking for him.
He would be in trouble when she found him, that was for sure. He shouldn’t have wandered off, h
e knew that now. Or would she be glad to see him? She might even buy him an ice-cream. He liked ice-cream very much, and he was so hungry.
Someone was waving at him. Was that his father? He couldn’t tell. It was a man. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded friendly, his voice was soft and reassuring. It would be all right now. He knew this man; he was sure he knew this man, and it would be all right now.
*
Lavender woke first, taking a moment to remember where she was. She turned, grimacing at the stiffness in her back, stretching cautiously, trying to gauge what time of the day or night it was.
She stood, feeling the familiar early-morning pressure on her bladder. She would find a suitable corner in the adjoining room to relieve herself, then suggest Naomi do the same. It wasn’t as if they were planning on staying here a second night. At such times you were vulnerable; it was always better to go under cover, if you could find any. Better still, with someone watching your back.
Reluctant to wake the girl but feeling the need more urgently, she scraped the desk away from the door a few inches, just wide enough to slip through. The temperature in here was far lower, the room exposed to the elements as it was. The light had the pallor of pre-dawn about it.
Hoping she wasn’t about to expose herself to a nest of rats, Lavender crossed to the furthest corner and relieved herself, being as quick as she could about it. She hurried back to the relative warmth of the other room, to find Naomi was on her feet, a worried expression on her face.
“Sorry,” Lavender apologised, “I didn’t mean to wake you,”
The girl shrugged, “I thought we’d probably be making an early start anyway, if we’re going to find Carson,”
Her hand strayed to her face, touching gingerly at the mark Carson had left on her. Her lip was more swollen, the bruising coming out further, making purple-blue patches across her cheek and lower jaw.
“Where did you go, just now?”
“Call of nature,” Lavender explained, “I wouldn’t just take off and leave you Naomi, okay?”
Naomi considered a moment, “Okay,” she nodded in return, “My turn now then,” she added.
“Your turn?”
“Call of nature,” she smiled, sub-consciously rubbing her small but growing belly.
“Can you get through there?” Lavender asked.
“I’m not that big yet!” Naomi laughed, the sound high and childlike in the chill air.
Lavender laughed too; it hid a welter of bitterness she was finding ever harder to conceal.
*
The snow didn’t appear to be any deeper than when they had taken shelter from it. If anything, it had begun to show signs of thawing; dark patches appearing here and there, creating a piebald effect on the ground. The first weak rays of sun were showing through, offering them little extra warmth, but causing tinny plunks and planks as metals and plastics reacted to its touch. Lavender huddled under her jackets, hugely grateful she had found them. She sported the sack again, now a little bulkier since she had shoved the spare jacket into it. It occurred to her it might make a half-decent pillow, when they next had the chance to rest.
She was exhausted. Not simply physically so, but bone-deep, through to her very soul. If she didn’t find Carson soon, she had a feeling she never would at all. She should be desperate at that; striking out at a pace Naomi would struggle to match. Yet her legs felt heavy and leaden, and she had no clue which way to go.
They trudged on in silence, Naomi wielding the nailed plank she had found the night before. Lavender cast her eye as she walked, looking for something that could act as a weapon. They were heading across the fairground, skirting the Ferris Wheel, heading in a direction they had not gone before.
Clifftops
They found an exit from the fairground, a double-gated driveway, wide open, which lead onto a narrow road lined with bushes either side. As with most roadways now, the bushes had been left to nature. They encroached upon the space a good deal, almost meeting in the middle in some parts. Naomi put the nailed plank to good use, holding back the pricklier branches so that she and Lavender could pass through unscathed. Eventually the road widened, becoming a more obviously recognisable roadway though the edges were lost to undergrowth. The road sloped gently uphill, the snow lying across it in uneven patches. From where they stood, it was impossible to tell what lay over the crest of the hill.
“This is no use at all,” Lavender said forlornly, “Carson could have gone absolutely anywhere,”
Naomi chewed her lip, hesitant, “Lavender, I don’t want to be mean or anything, but he could be dead by now. You do know that, don’t you?”
Lavender’s heart sank; of course she knew it, “We’ve been through too much together Naomi. I can’t just give up on him,”
“But what if we don’t find him up ahead somewhere? Are we going to come back to the fair and pick a different direction? How long are we going to look for? We’re in danger too, you know. It’s been ages since we’ve met any other living person. The only thing back that way for sure,” she jerked her head, “is Joel, and I’m in no rush to bump into him again!”
Lavender considered, a sick feeling in her stomach, “Okay, this is what we’ll do. We see what’s over that hill, then we decide on what to do next. We’ll take it step by step today, no rash decisions, no wasting energy unnecessarily. We assess each situation as we find it, but always with a view to finding Carson if we can. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Naomi said a trifle too quickly, as if afraid of upsetting her.
Against the soft backdrop of the snow, her breath curling in the air, Naomi struck a poignant pose in the early morning light. Lavender’s eyes strayed to her belly, buried now beneath the layers of jackets. She looked small, afraid and fragile, yet she was carrying hope inside her; a living promise for the future.
She knew in her heart she was facing a choice; she had known it ever since she had learned that the girl was pregnant. On the one hand there was Naomi; a young, healthy, as far as anyone could be healthy in this dystopian mess, strong girl carrying new life within her. On the other hand, there was Carson; a confused, irrational, often violent man who was not always cooperative, not even when their lives depended upon it. A man who had once been her best defence in any kind of fight. A man she had come to love and who she had learned to fear, when he was at his worst.
The girl was right; he could already be dead. He most likely was, if she was going to face the brutal truth of the matter. Pointless and stupid to wander about aimlessly, hoping to find him. Already going back on the agreement she had just struck with the girl, Lavender made another silent decision; whatever was on the other side of that hill, they were going over it together, and forging on, Carson or no Carson.
She struck out, feeling like the worst kind of traitor.
*
There turned out to be nothing on the other side of the hill but more road; a causeway that stretched and wound snake-like for seemingly miles ahead. They were flanked each side by fields, all tall with grass, weeds and other foliage Lavender couldn’t name. The air was fresh, cold and heavy with the salty scent of the sea. Lavender could hear the distant hum of the ocean, and at times the road bowed outwardly enough to show them glimpses of rocky cliff edges. They were following a cliff top road then, away from the paltry beach and the dismal fair.
Lavender suddenly realised that their surroundings had changed subtly. Where a few trees had begun to bend prettily over the road way, they were now walking under a full canopy of trees, their branches arching high overhead, snow sifting down in dusty clouds now and then as the wind shook them. There was what at first appeared to be a wide lay-by ahead of them. When they reached it, they saw it was in fact a driveway leading into a holiday resort, two large signs flanking the drive on each side reading ‘Welcome to Clifftops Caravan and Camping.’
The drive widened, its sandy coloured gravel now dusted with snow. Lining it on each side were rows of white
washed blocks of stone, like cheerful headstones. A robin sat prettily on top of one. It delivered a few startlingly loud notes of song at their arrival, then fluttered away to safety.
Lavender and Naomi stopped at the head of the drive.
“What do you think?” Lavender asked Naomi, “Worth investigating?”
Naomi shrugged, her eyes everywhere, obviously nervous, “Maybe,” she said, non-committal.
“We have to check it out,” Lavender said decisively, “we can’t afford to pass up anything that might offer us tools, food or shelter, however unlikely it might be,” as she spoke, she adjusted the weight of the sack on her left shoulder, getting a firm grip of the coarse material in her hand, in case she needed to swing it hard. She pressed on, her feet sliding on the loose gravel beneath the snow.
“Keep that plank ready and your eyes peeled,” she warned as she began to walk.
Her voice was low, and she understood that she had subconsciously adjusted her tone because she had the distinct impression they were being watched. Too late to turn back now, she kept her suspicions to herself, though she imagined Naomi, as sensitive as she was, probably felt it too; the sensation of eyes upon them.
The driveway widened, a small roundabout up ahead; an island of flowers that had gone to seed long since, the withered blooms bowing under the weight of the snow. Beyond, it stretched up to a car park the same width as the long, low building behind it, not dissimilar to the one they had spent the night in at the fairground, though it was a good deal bigger. A signpost stood in the centre of the roundabout, indicating which route to take for Beach, Laundrette. Park Centre. Playgrounds, Leisure Centre and Reception.
Wordlessly, Lavender chose Reception; the arrow pointing dead ahead. She strode on, hoping Naomi was keeping up behind. The feeling that they were horribly exposed and vulnerable to attack was growing by the second. The sooner they reached the building, gave it the all clear and got out of sight, the better as far as she was concerned.
There was a barrier across the road at the entrance to the car park, a small grey hut with a booth and a teller’s window adjoining it. Following her instincts, Lavender skipped the hut and barrier and stepped off the drive onto the grass verge, the snow immediately clinging to her calves and ankles. She ignored it, glancing behind to check Naomi had followed suit. She had, the girl almost on her heels, the plank held at the ready across her body, a frightened expression on her face.
Mindless Trilogy (Book 3): Brutal Truths Page 9
