Sanctuary: After It Happened Book 5

by Devon C. Ford

  Clicking her fingers to be followed, Leah glanced over and met his eye; the gesture wasn’t meant for the dog’s benefit but for his own. With a silent curse and much forbearance, he did as he was told and followed her as she made her low, slow approach to the building.

  Slipping silently between the forsaken vehicles shadowed by the big dog, she became more aware of Henry’s total inability to move quietly. Fighting down her urge to reprimand him again, she reminded herself that she needed the idiot to carry back all the heavy supplies they were there for.

  As her boots crunched impossibly loudly on the detritus littering the floor of the entrance lobby, she felt herself relaxing: the place had no sense, no feel, no buzz of human presence at all. That could either be a good or a bad thing as it depended on why there were no humans left around here who would have interest in medical supplies. Her mind drifted off to the abandoned supermarket and the foul pack of dogs who had claimed it as their territory.

  Knowing that she would be able to search far more effectively as just girl and dog, she deposited Henry to hide behind the reception desk, giving strict instructions to do absolutely nothing under any circumstances. Creeping further into the decaying building, she tried door after door to search for a supply room.

  Every minute she was away from Henry, she felt more safe, as though the boy were a magnet for danger. Contrastingly, every second she was away from him made him feel more and more exposed, as though she represented safety and protection from the appalling sights of the world they inhabited.

  As she checked one room, Leah tried not to look at the desiccated remains of the three people still in their beds. The one thing of interest, however, was the wheeled trolley which sat proud and dust-covered in the centre of the small ward. Looking around for the necessary keys, she decided that she had no stomach for searching dried corpses and elected to use the small crowbar tucked down the back of her vest just as Dan did when he cleared a building.

  Splintering the wood easily, she saw a stack of tablets which would no doubt be useful. Wheeling the cart to the door, she left it in the corridor and continued her search. At each room where she located useful items, she repeated the process and placed them in the corridor for one single sweep to gather it all and be done. Glancing at her watch revealed that she had been searching for almost twenty minutes, and out of some small shred of compassion, she felt the need to check Henry hadn’t run away out of fear or done some other kind of damage. Returning to the entrance lobby, she gave a small, low whistle for his attention and waited until the fearful eyes peeked over the counter which he had been hiding underneath. Twitching her head for him to follow, he made yet more noise as he tried to rejoin her side.

  Holding a single finger to her lips just as he opened his mouth to speak silenced him instantly, not that they couldn’t speak but more that she had little interest in hearing what he had to say right then. He followed her as instructed and began to load the selected items into the large rucksack as quietly as he could manage. She deposited him in a small office room as she extended her search and repeated the same pattern by returning for him to collect what she had selected. Pulling out the paper list from her pocket, she mentally ran through what she had already picked up.

  “That’ll have to do,” she whispered to herself, prompting both boy and dog to snap their heads up to her as she spoke. Shaking her head at both of them, she arranged her equipment and led the way for the return journey, praying that they had got everything Kate needed to save Jack’s life.

  BROKEN THINGS

  Dan had driven at the very limits of the vehicle for the last hour since he had crushed the foolish motorcyclist. Bizarrely, he was more annoyed at the loss of the bike than for the life he had taken; the person was nothing to him, just another unfriendly other who had foolishly crossed him, but the fact that he was on Dan’s motorcycle stung him deeply.

  He accepted that it probably wasn’t the loss of the vehicles that hurt him most, but that his family was in the wind and only God knew if he would ever see them again. Still gripping the wheel tightly with his face set in a mask of pure hatred and fear, he drove on, desperate to make the rendezvous point and find them all smiling waiting for him. He chuckled to himself at the mental picture of them greeting him and laughing at his expense for him thinking the worst.

  Realising that he was careering fast along the road with no concentration on the immediate frightened him back to the present with a jolt. Slowing down and checking the mirrors for the millionth time in the last hour, he shook himself out of the torpor he had settled into. He should make the emergency rendezvous point by nightfall; from there, he could only guess at the next step so he concentrated solely on getting there.

  Ditching the faster main roads at the next available exit, he once again drove through the toll booth barrier and snapped it away with a small surge of satisfaction for his anti-establishment attitude despite the total absence of any authority who could punish him for his meagre crime.

  Try as he might, he could not stop his desperation and paranoia insidiously creeping into the forefront of his thoughts. Stifling a sob of terror and loss, he stopped the car suddenly and skidded to a stop on loose gravel at the side of the road. Killing the engine, he took a dozen deep breaths and forced himself to stay calm.

  Failing utterly, he scrabbled clear of the cab and nearly lost his footing on the soft ground. Drawing in one great lungful as he dropped to his knees, he threw his head back and roared a scream of pure anxiety that tore the air and echoed back to him long after he had finished. Dropping his head, he stayed slumped where he was, like some lethal pressure had been vented before it destroyed the machine from within. Still collapsed where he landed, he remained in place, the only signs of life being the occasional sob as he cried in silence to pour out the last of the useless fear and panic at losing everyone he knew.

  He would never have let any of them see him like this. Only Neil had even come close to viewing Dan go into meltdown, and that was at the very beginning when none of them knew what they were going to do. The child inside him longed for the comfort of his loved ones, for his fluffy big pet dog, for his friends.

  Only they weren’t going to magically appear to him.

  Only his actions now could dictate the terms of him being reunited with them and, he chided himself acidly, that would never happen if he carried on having a tantrum like a toddler at the side of the road crying to himself.

  Get up.

  Get behind the wheel.

  Man up and do something about it.

  His inner voice bullied him into action, forcing him off his knees and making him dry his tears and wipe the pointless shame from his face. Crying about it achieved nothing, he told himself. Only action would have any effect on his situation.

  Putting back on his mask of being able to cope with even the slightest change of plan without regressing to acting like a violent child, he stood tall and climbed back into the Land Rover.

  “You’re still breathing,” he said to himself in a low voice. Unhappy with how weak he sounded, he cleared his throat and tried again.

  “You’re still breathing. You’re alive,” he said again with more anger and passion. “You’re alive and so are they.”

  Slamming a hand onto the wheel in petulant anger, he turned the key and drove away hard, determined to make the ERV point before they did.

  CHANGE IN PERSONNEL

  Steve woke in the morning, sweating as he usually did, to find himself alone. Jan was usually one of those people who slept for about three hours and seemed no worse for wear so finding him absent was a concern.

  He was utterly fundamental to Steve’s plans and someone he not only needed but wanted with him. From hearing how he spoke about his interactions with the others, it was clear to Steve that his lazy charisma made him popular at mealtimes and, although Jan told him that conversations were listened to and frowned upon by the guards, people crowded to sit near him. Knowing what Jan planned to do, co
upled with his conspicuous absence, made Steve very nervous indeed.

  Struggling upright and limping heavily to the sink in his room, he poured himself cold water from a jug and washed away the sweat from the night’s uncomfortable sleep. He was in pain, which was a further concern for Jan’s non-attendance as he always brought Steve’s morning dose of painkillers. Washed and wearing fresh clothes, he sat on the bed and waited.

  And waited.

  Just as his patience was about to break and he planned some rouse to call in the guard inevitably posted outside his door, the door opened and in walked a young female. The flash of recognition threatened to burst out of his mouth until the warning look she gave silenced him instantly. Playing the invalid again, he leaned back on the bed and moaned softly just as the guard followed her in. He stood just slightly too close and clearly made her uncomfortable, but she resolutely ignored his leering presence and tended to Steve with a feigned lack of compassion. Handing him two tablets and a cup of water from the small tray she carried, she watched on as he took them without making eye contact so as not to give anything away.

  Placing the tray down, Alice made a point of taking her time checking his pulse and blood pressure while he stayed still with a thermometer under his tongue. Scribbling notes on a piece of paper as she worked, she glanced up at the guard whose eyes never left her face other than to wander to other parts of her body when she wasn’t looking.

  Seeing how he looked at her made Steve feel simultaneously angry and sick, but he was certain that the young girl had a better handle on the situation than he did. He wasn’t quite sure what his part in the charade was just yet, but he resolved his nerve to wait and see how it played out. He remembered how he had been told that the girl, well, the young woman he admitted to himself now, had joined Dan’s group just before he did under violent circumstances. He wondered if her father was here too, still bearing the horrendous scars as witness to the brutality of others.

  Desperate to ask for news, to talk to her and seek some comfort in familiarity, he had to force himself to remain oblivious to her presence. After she had prevaricated as long as possible with the short medical process, she turned abruptly, knocking the small tray she had brought with her to the floor at the feet of the guard.

  Through instinctive reaction, the guard immediately bent to pick it up as she had hoped he would. In that second of opportunity when his eyes were not on her, she snatched something from her pocket and shoved her hand into the small cavity between the mattress and Steve’s lower back. As fast as a striking snake, her hand was back at her side just as the guard straightened wearing a sycophantic smile, as though the small gesture of chivalry would impress her in spite of his constant ogling.

  Smiling back at him and nodding a shy thanks, she walked from the room with her head down and, Steve suspected, an intentionally suggestive snap of her hips as she left the room. The guard’s eyes had not left her backside the whole time she moved, and the sickening smirk adorning his face made Steve bite down his anger as the armed man turned his gaze back to him. The smirk became a sneer, and just as abruptly as he was disturbed, he was once again alone.

  Waiting thirty seconds, breathing steadily and listening to the sounds of muttered conversation outside the door until it faded into relative silence, he allowed himself to reach under his back and pull out the small scrap of paper.

  With a shaking hand and squinting eyes, he looked at the thin paper bearing the blotted ink, waiting for the words to wash into focus and provide meaning. Written in obvious haste, he read slowly:

  Steve, we didn’t know you were still alive until recently. Most of us are still here but some people have gone missing. We’re guarded everywhere we go and get split up if we talk too much. We’ve been put into jobs. I’m still in the hospital wing, but anyone who won’t work gets taken away. We don’t see them again.

  We were so happy when we found out you were still here. Lizzie was really worried about you especially. I don’t know what to do, but we can’t live like this. Get better and help us. Please.

  A

  Realising that the message was written on poor-quality toilet roll, he read it over three more times until he was sure of everything she had said. Getting up from the bed with some difficulty, he went to his wash bowl and carefully disintegrated the message until it could offer no evidence to be used against Alice or himself.

  With his head awash with facts, some newly learned and most simply confirmed, he tried to walk carefully around the room as he tried to figure out what the immediate future might hold. Where was Jan? Had they figured out that he planned to help overthrow Richards? Why had Alice been sent? Was it just a replacement for an innocent bout of illness or was it part of some game they were playing with him? Would the door burst open at any point with armed men coming to bundle him out for summary execution as a traitor? Was Jan already in a cell somewhere awaiting his fate?

  The swirling possibilities made his mind spin so much that it hurt his head. Guzzling down some water to try and abate the pain building behind his eyes, he turned as the door opened once again without warning.

  Frozen in fear that this was to be his arrest, his look of relief must have seemed laughable to the young guard who presented him with a plate of food. Nodding his thanks as he limped heavily over to the chair, he ate hungrily as he realised for the first time that he had not eaten that morning and it was already after midday. Without Jan, it was obvious that he would not be going anywhere, so he instead resolved to work on his health for lack of anything better to do.

  Getting slowly to the floor, he began to try press-ups but found that he could only manage a few before collapsing under the drastically reduced weight of his upper body. He tried to repeat the exercise with his knees on the floor but stabs of white-hot pain seared down his damaged leg; he persisted as far as he could before lying flat on the floor to catch his breath. Turning onto his back, he tried to do some crunches only to find the similar sensation of being weak as a kitten. As he lay on his back panting, the door once again burst open and the guard stopped in his tracks to see Steve flat on the floor and clearly struggling.

  As he stood and looked down at him, Steve conjured up the lie immediately to give an easy understanding to what the guard saw.

  “I fell,” he said in between gasps of breath, adding fictional pain to his false claim before seeing, with great relief, that his pretence had been accepted. Grudgingly, the younger man slung the rifle on his back and walked over to drag Steve upright with as little compassion as he could muster. Without another word, he left him sitting on the edge of the bed and walked away, returning with another plate of food and a small paper cup with two tablets in. That would be his nightly drugs then, he thought sadly, annoyed that Jan’s unexplained absence had meant a drastic reduction in care and medication.

  Eating the food and drinking a large cup of water to wash down the tablets, he lay on his bed and wished that someone had left something to read. As he lay awake for most of the night listening to the muted sounds of the outside world, he waited for whatever ill fate was bound to land squarely on his shoulders.

  ALL FOR NOUGHT

  Shortly after Leah had left, Mitch regained his consciousness and immediately regretted it. It felt as though there was a concrete slab resting on his chest and every breath brought a fresh wave of nauseating agony. Each expansion and contraction of his ribcage lanced molten misery to every extremity and brought a forgivable sob from his mouth. Neil stirred at his side and leaned over to look in his eyes.

  Mitch opened and closed his mouth before the smallest of coughs closed his eyes in torment. Seeing him struggle for words and eager to reduce the pain he felt, Neil told him what he thought he wanted to know.

  “We got away after you threw that grenade. Jack’s hurt bad and they’re trying to save him now but half of the medical supplies were left behind. Leah’s gone for more,” he said softly, stopping to hold up a placatory hand when the soldier’s eyes widened to hea
r that Leah was outside alone.

  “She’s got Ash and she’s taken Henry to carry for her,” he said, cutting off any attempts at an interruption.

  “Wasn’t a grenade,” Mitch whispered, sucking in a gasp of air as the pain in his chest renewed in the absence of adrenaline.

  Neil couldn’t hear the words he used so leaned in closer for him to try again.

  “It wasn’t a grenade,” Mitch said through gritted teeth, sure to enunciate every word carefully. “White phosphorus. Old one.”

  Neil sat upright and frowned in thought; he hadn’t seen one since early in his own military career. White phosphorus burned with a devastating intensity unless totally starved of oxygen, and he could only imagine the terror of the attackers as they roasted in the chemical fire. His mind wandered back many years to his own training, being told that they should never use white phosphorus to clear trenches because it was illegal, but that they would be really effective if someone accidentally dropped one on the enemy.

  “Where did you get one of those?” Neil asked, shaking himself from the grim reverie.

  “Didn’t. Jack’s,” Mitch answered before coughing again and screwing his face tight with the fresh tsunami of suffering. His hand fluttered at the leg pocket of his trousers, prompting Neil to open it to help him.