by RR Haywood
‘Dave to Mr Howie.’
‘You did me.’
‘I am calling you. Dave to Mr Howie.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Radio check has been completed. All radios are working.’
‘Nick, Roy, is that drone ready?’
‘We need a test flight,’ Roy says.
‘Here? Now?’ I ask.
‘If that’s okay?’ Nick asks.
‘Will it take long?’
‘Er no, just a few minutes but like, we need to know how to fly it,’ he explains.
‘Yeah course, no worries. Did you explain to Reginald about using it?’
‘Indeed they did, Mr Howie. Arial reconnaissance will greatly increase our ability to plan ahead.’
‘Brookley is next, what do we know about it?’ I ask while Nick and Roy dither about getting the drone ready.
‘The ancient village of Brookley,’ he begins, ‘is named after the family of the same name. The Brookleys were famed for royal connections in the Elizabethan period and still retain their family home at the Brookley stately home which is open to the public at certain periods of the year.’
‘You been reading a guide book?’ Clarence asks stepping in beside me as we all slowly gather at the back to watch Reginald and Charlie at the desk inside.
‘Indeed I have,’ Reginald says, ‘it passed the time while you were dealing with your unfortunate incident with young Nicholas to whom I believe some congratulations are in order.’
‘Cheers, Reggie,’ Nick shouts from a few feet away.
‘Reginald,’ he says automatically, ‘and yes, I have been scouring the map and have concluded that Brookley is a small village roughly the same size as Foxwood.’
‘Which one was Foxwood?’ Cookey asks, ‘was that the one with the pond?’
‘Yes it was,’ I snap, ‘not big then?’
‘No, not big at all,’ Reginald says, ‘however there is a large village green dominating the centre of the village which, from the tourist guide, has led me to believe is solely retained for community use so it will include a cricket pitch, benches and most likely be without a bordering fence. The green is a large diamond shape and the main road splits to run on the northern and southern perimeter of the green. Both sides are fronted by what appears to be dwelling houses of private residence but it is the northern edge that contains the post office, public house, small library and no doubt a village store. Did Charlie mention the importance of the post office?’
‘No,’ I say with an inward groan at what could be another lengthy explanation. The man is transformed though. The nerves are gone, his feet are steady and his hands don’t keep going to his neck either. His voice is different too. The nervous overly polite nuances are gone and although his voice is still cultured and BBC clipped there is an undertone of confidence in there.
‘Post offices will have a secure inner area used for the storage of cash,’ he says, ‘this is important as it may offer a temporary secure and defensible refuge should one be required.’
‘Good idea,’ I say, ‘did everyone hear that? Good, where can we expect the opposition?’
‘Now that is a difficult question to answer given the consideration of the road splitting to run north and south along the green.’
‘Does the road re-join at the far end?’
‘Yes indeed it does, there are side roads feeding from the main road on both the north and south but according to the map, the northern side has the largest section of housing behind it whereas the southern side appears to be open land with some farm buildings further out. Common sense dictates that any force would be retained on the northern side where they can be hidden but we also have to factor that our opponent wishes you to succeed in your endeavour.’
‘So? Which side?’ I ask impatiently.
‘If it were me and I were intent on attacking you properly I would create an obstacle on the southern side and force you to take the northern road. However, any obstacle will be entirely obvious and questionable, therefore I suggest we take the southern side where fewer host bodies can be hidden which in turn means any larger force secreted on the northern side will have to cross the open green to reach you.’
‘Southern road then,’ I ask, ‘so forgive me asking a stupid question but that’s the left road yes? We’ll see the road split right and left and we take the left?’
‘Yes,’ he says without blinking and managing to convey in that one word that I am perhaps the stupidest person he has ever spoken to, ‘the left.’
‘Got it,’ my attention is diverted to a low thrumming noise coming from the drone and I look over to see Nick and Roy each holding an oversize handset.
‘You fly and I’ll get the monitor rigged up.’
‘Uh huh,’ Nick replies focussing on twitching the two sticks poking out the top of the handset and watching as the drone lifts up an inch off the ground then sinks back down.
‘Excuse me,’ Roy squeezes through us and into the back where he attaches a cable from the handset to the monitor on the desk and starts going through the preset channel feed selections. The quadrant of images blinks out to be replaced with a screen smudged with grey light, ‘I think that’s it,’ he mutters, ‘I think that’s it,’ he says again more loudly.
‘Roy thinks he’s got it,’ I pass on to Nick.
‘Uh huh,’ he says and makes the drone lift six inches into the air then holding it in a hover. Another twitch of his thumbs and it glides a foot or so forward then stops and banks left, stops and banks right and then stops again, ‘yeah you little fucker,’ he chuckles, ‘got you, yep ready,’ he shouts back.
‘Nick said he’s ready,’ I relay.
‘Is he flying?’ Roy asks focussing on the screen, ‘I’m not getting an image.’
‘He’s about six inches off the ground.’
‘Ah, tell him to go higher.’
‘Roy said go higher.’
‘Higher?’ Nick asks, ‘we can do higher,’ the drone hums louder and rises with incredible speed metres into the air. Cheers from the group and I look round to see the monitor and the image of all of us gathered at the back of the van. It takes a second for perspective to kick in and my mind to process the image. Us from above and in perfect movie quality detail. We all wave at the drone and watch ourselves doing it with Roy grinning widely. The clarity is outstanding and the width of the panoramic view is excellent. As Nick takes the drone higher we start to see the tops of the roofs and the buildings beyond with the layout of back streets, alleys and rear yards.
‘Watch this,’ Nick says and brings the drone down to the level of the top window in the flat above Maplin. He inches closer, learning the controls and the subtle movements needed as Roy manipulates the camera to turn up so we can see through the glass into the living room of the flat, ‘can you see in, Roy?’
‘Perfectly,’ I say, ‘how long does that battery last?’ I ask concerned about draining it now.
‘We’ve got another one on charge,’ Nick says, ‘are Charlie and Reggie going to be operating it?’ He asks with a glance at me.
‘Could do, we’ll be outside the village but it makes sense if they can do it.’
‘Charlie,’ Nick calls her over as he brings the drone down to a gentle landing on the road. He hands the control over and starts explaining the movements as Roy does the same in the van with Reginald and the seconds tick by that form minutes and the itch demands to be scratched as that feeling transmutes into a nagging irritation that has me exhaling and suppressing the urge to ask them to hurry up.
‘Patience is a virtue,’ a soft whisper and Marcy’s hand resting gently on my arm as she gives me a warning look.
I nod back and work to alter my outward appearance and show patience instead of irritation but I don’t feel it. We’ve been here only for a short time but already it feels too long. We need to get on, keep moving. There is an urgency that I don’t understand but it’s there and cannot be ignored.
Fuck’s sake. I look between
Roy showing Reginald the virtues of the DJI inspire drone and all the amazing things it can do while Nick and Charlie chuckle over the way she operates the sticks on the handset. Everyone chatting amiably, enjoying the respite and being able to remain still in this invasive heat.
‘Just take your time,’ Nick coaches Charlie as she starts making the drone rise up and I want to shout out to not fucking take your time. Push on. Get on with it. Stop fucking about. Roy and Reginald laughing at some intellectual joke. Charlie bringing the drone down with a thump and Nick telling her it’s okay as the feet are designed to absorb impacts.
‘Sharp and pointy,’ Blinky says laughing at something Cookey said to her.
‘Try it again,’ Nick urges.
‘You zoom in using this button and…’ Roy explaining in the back of the van. Paula sitting on the back ledge talking to Clarence. Blowers leaning against the back of the van as he laughs at something said by Mo Mo. Fingers digging into my wrist and Marcy is glaring at me now.
‘I need a word with you,’ she says, ‘in there,’ she nods to Maplin and her tone doesn't leave any room for conversation so I follow her over and through the broken glass into the shade of the store.
‘What?’ I ask her but she walks further down the central aisle ignoring me, ‘Marcy, what?’
Only at the back of the store and hidden from view at the front does she stop. ‘What?’ I ask her again and the impatience shows in my voice.
She folds her arms, plants her feet and fixes me with a look, ‘stop rushing them.’
‘Do what?’
‘Stop rushing them,’ she repeats, ‘your impatience is pouring off you.’
‘No it isn’t,’ I scoff with even more irritation and go to walk off.
‘Howie,’ she snaps grabbing my wrist again, ‘you’re staying here until they’re ready.’
‘They’ll fuck about for ages if I’m not there.’
‘So? Let them fuck about then.’
‘We’ve got to get on.’
‘Yes and we will but your foot was tapping, you were snorting air out your nose like a bull and glaring round with angry eyes.’
‘What? Was I fuck…’
‘And you rolled your eyes like five times in a minute.’
‘I did not…’
‘And if I saw you doing it they would have too, don’t make them feel guilty for not going at your bloody pace all the time.’
‘Marcy.’
‘Don’t Marcy me,’ she says in a fierce rush of words, ‘Nick just got cut and found out he was immune…everyone was bloody sobbing five minutes ago…Christ, Howie. Let them have a few minutes to settle down.’
‘But…’
‘And,’ she cuts me off again, ‘you freaked everyone out by doing that thing in our heads and God alone knows what that’s all about but please, just take it easy and slow down.’
‘Slow down? We don’t have time to slow down…’
‘Yes we do. We have as much time as it takes for Charlie to work out how to fly the drone and Reggie to learn how to operate the camera and if they need a drink after that then they can have one, and if Cookey needs to take a poo and read a bloody newspaper then he can do it!’
‘What?’ I burst out laughing at the image conjured in my mind.
‘The point is they’re all here for you and Charlie and Blinky only joined you yesterday and Paula and Roy were thinking of leaving and Reggie has only just found his testicles again so he needs a bit of time for that confidence to grow and…’
‘What?’
‘I ran out,’ she shrugs and smiles warmly, ‘but the difference will be between rushing in and getting the job done by the skin of our teeth or taking a few extra minutes and doing it well.’
I give a humph to show my general distaste for the common sense being displayed.
‘Don’t humph me,’ she says and laughs, ‘dry humphing.’
‘Very funny.’
‘If Reggie is right then the infection is getting ready in Stenbury and there will be lots of them which means we’ll be very busy and I don’t know if you noticed but it’s very bloody hot and we’re all struggling as it is.’
‘Yeah,’ I say with a sigh, ‘fair one.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yeah but…it’s like a burning itch…’
‘You can probably get some cream…’
‘Eh? You sound like Cookey.’
‘Sorry. What were you saying? You’ve got an itch? Where is it?’
‘No, like an itch inside…’
‘Haemorrhoids? Like I said, you can get some cream. Want me to check?’
‘What? No!’
‘Sorry, you’re being serious. Go on.’
‘No forget it.’
‘Oh don’t sulk, you said you had an itch.’
‘Yeah to get going, to keep moving…like…like something bad will happen if we don’t.’
‘I see,’ she says with narrowed eyes, ‘tell me about your childhood.’
‘Oh fuck off,’ I turn away, ‘I’m being serious,’ I add as she starts laughing.
‘You look serious,’ she says trying to stop the chuckles then bursts out laughing when I try and glare, ‘oh stop it,’ she waves a hand at me so I try and glare harder with my all out killer mean look but that just sets her off even worse so I give up and shake my head at the injustice of it all.
‘Oh dear,’ she says once the laughing has eased, ‘you’re all pent up.’
I shrug but don’t say anything, ‘is there anything I can do?’ She asks quickly.
‘Er…’
‘I don’t mean like that,’ she groans at the panicked look on my face, ‘or…well we can if you want.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You sound like Charlie now.’
‘I’m lost.’
‘I said we can if you want.’
‘Can what?’
‘Whatever you want.’
‘Eh? Hang on…did you mean…did you say…’
‘I bet you were an evil manager to work for.’
‘What?’ I say floundering as she flits topics again.
‘All pushy and motivated,’ she says, ‘I hated working for people like you.’
‘I’m not pushy!’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘No, I mean I am now but I never used to be. I was a lazy turd.’
‘Well then, be more old Howie and less new Howie.’
I go to reply but nothing comes out so I shake my head instead and blink a few times in confusion.
‘Where are you going?’ She asks when I turn away.
‘Back outside.’
‘But they’re not ready yet.’
‘Right,’ I say looking down at the ground, ‘but listen, the longer we’re here the more they can prepare…’
‘Let them prepare, preparation is a good thing.’
‘Not us. The other side. They’ll prepare.’
‘So what? You’ll win.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Howie, if it means we camp out overnight or go back to the golf hotel and attack Stenbury tomorrow then so be it. Oh don’t look at me like that. What deadline is there? Why the all-out rush? We need to slow down and think about what we’re doing a bit more.’
‘No. We need to get on and kill them before they get clever and kill us and everyone else.’
‘Masks,’ she says and stares at me.
‘What about them?’ I ask with a sigh.
‘Maybe if you slowed down and thought a bit more you would have thought about wearing masks and eye protection.’
‘Yes maybe and maybe we would all be resting cosy in a farmhouse somewhere or maybe we’d all be dead or maybe we’d…’
‘Stop ranting.’
‘I’m not ranting.’
‘You were building up. Just bloody calm down.’
‘That’s the worst thing to say to someone who’s not calm.’
‘I don’t care,’ she fires back, ‘actually go for it, rant
in here, jump up and down and shout if you want but you’re not going back out there until they’re good and ready.’
‘I cannot wait,’ the words come out and this time the real glare is there as the darkness sweeps through me and she recoils in horror at the look in my eyes.
‘Howie,’ she whispers stepping back.
‘I cannot fucking wait,’ it’s still there, a pulsing energy coursing through my system, ‘do you understand?’ I step to close the gap created when she recoiled away from me, ‘I cannot wait. I will not wait.’
‘Howie, stop it…’
‘Why are you delaying me?’ I growl the words out as the darkness within threatens to consume me.
‘You’re scaring me,’ she says holding her ground but swallowing in sudden uncertainty.
‘Scaring you? I’ll fucking do more than that if you try and stop…’ My words cut off at the ringing slap delivered across my face and I snap my head round to glare at her as she whacks me again with fear in her eyes.
‘MR HOWIE…’ Dave charges in with his pistol drawn at the sound of the strike.
‘Stand down,’ I bark the words out, ‘we’re fine.’
He stops at the end of the aisle glaring down at Marcy for a second before lowering the pistol and walking away.
‘Don’t ever threaten me,’ she whispers when he’s gone, ‘don’t you ever threaten or talk to me like that again.’
I take a breath and feel the stinging sensation across both cheeks as she draws her own steadying breath, ‘I’m sorry for hitting you,’ she says tightly, ‘but don’t ever threaten me again.’
I nod. I know I was wrong for saying it but that anger, that pure fury driving me is still there and it won’t go away. I need action. To be going. To be killing and Sarah’s words come flying back to me, you’re enjoying this, you’re getting addicted to it. On the top of the wall in the fort and I can feel that day now. I can feel the urge to fight and keep fighting only it’s stronger now than it was back then. Am I enjoying it? Am I addicted? She tried telling me to stop, to only do what was needed and no more. What is needed? How much is enough?
‘It’s hot,’ I mutter as the sweat glides down my forehead and again go to walk off but again she’s there, gripping my wrist and credit where credit is due but Marcy is both brave and stubborn as hell.
