‘It was his turn to clean up and he left all the tins on the kitchen counter,’ Beth sighed. ‘The wheelie bins are right outside. They’re literally on the way back here. He’s so frustrating.’
Before Kerry can open her mouth to sympathise Preston is back, holding a book with a ginger cat on the cover, and he sits down next to Gabriel so they’re sitting in a line along the length of the mattress, their legs under the duvet.
They sit in silence, soaking up the company and enjoying the peace. Beth cleans her glasses and watches Kerry sketch while the boys read. It reminds Kerry of the old days, when she, David and Aggie woke up before their parents and sat on the sofa in a line much like this, watching Disney movies without talking. It’s like an old Sunday morning. The irony that Kerry loves rainy days like these is not lost on her.
It’s almost a disappointment when lunchtime comes. When stomachs begin to rumble Kerry, whose turn it is to prepare food, sets her sketchbook down and descends the ladder. The first thing she does upon entering the kitchen is dispose of the morning’s tins, a task Preston had failed to carry out. The wall calendar in the kitchen tells her it’s Friday, so she reaches for a wide variation of tins: stewed steak for Preston, beans and veggie sausages for Beth and Gabriel, and hot dogs for herself. Every Friday they’d have a big lunch of their favourite tinned food: a small luxury for a small life.
She empties the tins into bowls, including a bowl of sweet corn for the group to share, which will ultimately be eaten entirely by Gabriel. Lunch is carried out into the cafe on a tray and set down at their dining table, and as Kerry pours glasses of water the door swings open to admit someone.
The intruder is a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick jaw, dressed in a hooded jumper, jeans and hiking boots. His long grey hair is tied in a ponytail and his thick dark eyebrows make him look constantly stern. He isn’t visibly armed, but Kerry knows better than to think he’d come without weapons. This is Steve, their informant and – this term is used very loosely – friend. He offers Kerry a thin-lipped smile.
‘Knock knock,’ he says gruffly.
‘Hey Steve,’ Kerry greets him with a smile of her own. ‘Uh, what brings you here?’
‘Usual,’ he grunts. ‘Is Beth about?’
‘We’re just about to sit down for lunch. Do you want to join us?’
‘What’s on offer?’ Steve asks suspiciously, peering into each of their bowls.
‘It’s Friday Lunch,’ says Kerry, gesturing around with both arms, ‘anything is on offer. We have Irish stew, minced beef, all day breakfast, soups, beans... What do you like?’
‘Surprise me,’ he says, helping himself to a seat.
No one seems to know where exactly Steve lives. From the information they’ve gathered in snippets they know that he used to own a roadside inn, his rusty old jeep always has a full tank and he lives with his handicapped niece Andrea. For all they know, though, Steve could still live in this inn, boarded up and booby trapped, or he could pitch tents here and there, always on the move. Whatever the case, Steve is tough and smart, and from the stories he’s told Kerry believes he could probably survive anything.
The others stalk in while Kerry is opening a can of stew for Steve, and he receives a warm welcome from Beth. Preston and Gabriel trust the man as far as they can throw him, so they grunt their greetings and get a similar hello in return.
‘So,’ says Beth, sitting down between Steve and Gabriel, ‘how have you been?’
‘You know me, Bethany,’ he grunts, digging into his stew as soon as it’s placed in front of him, ‘I’m coping just as well as anybody else. I’ve been dealing with a – ugh, I can never get used to you lot and your cold food – a, uh, new scavenger group. They’re new in both senses, mind you, new to the area and new to scavenging. They’re from that recently abandoned place.’
Preston’s face hardens. ‘How close to us?’
‘Untwist your pants, mate, they live on the other side of me. I’ve already told them to avoid you lot, I know what you’re like.’
‘What are they like, then?’ Kerry asks.
‘Bit spooked,’ says Steve. ‘It’s difficult to establish a business relationship with them when they don’t know which way is up. They seem all right, though. Maybe they’ll last, maybe they won’t. I don’t see any shame in seeking out a safe city if you can’t handle the Outlands.’
Preston and Gabriel share a look that everyone else pretends not to notice.
With their guest as an excuse, dessert is served after lunch. It’s only custard, but it’s another rare treat in the middle of the day. Preston and Gabriel discuss the Fellowship between spoonfuls. Only when dessert is finished, and Ratbag licks the dregs of Preston’s bowl, does the small talk cease.
‘So,’ says Beth, sitting back in her chair and lacing her fingers together, ‘I assume you’re here with information. Do you want to discuss price, or is this another IOU situation?’
‘Actually,’ says Steve, smacking his lips, ‘the price I’m asking is quite high.’
‘How high would that be?’ growls Preston.
‘And how good is the information?’ Gabriel adds.
‘Shut up,’ snaps Beth. ‘What do you have, Steve?’
‘Fetch me that calendar, boy,’ Steve instructs Gabriel, who glares at him.
Under Beth’s warning gaze Gabriel does as he’s told without argument, taking a pen with him for good measure. He carefully unhooks the calendar from the wall and slaps it and the pen on the table in front of Steve, then hurls himself back into his chair, huffing. Steve ignores him and draws a star on today’s date: 18th October 2024.
‘A food lorry,’ he announces. ‘It’s due to pass by later today. You’ll have plenty of time to prepare and catch it.’
‘Okay, so what do you want in return?’ Beth asks.
Steve sighs. ‘Like I said, it’s a big ask.’
‘Spit it out,’ Preston snaps.
‘I need medicine,’ says Steve, and he seems to deflate, his chin thumping his chest. ‘Andrea got hurt bad, a few days ago. We were ambushed by Outlanders passing through, and she was run through with a knife. It seemed to be healing at first, but then it got infected.’
‘I take it this medicine won’t be on the lorry,’ says Kerry, making a finger steeple.
‘No,’ says Steve.
‘And you’re not just here hoping we’ve got some on us.’
‘You’ll have to enter a Quarantine Zone,’ Steve sighs.
‘A Quarantine Zone,’ Preston repeats. ‘Do you know what happens to Outlanders like us in so-called civilisations like those?’
‘Only if you’re caught breaking the law,’ Steve points out.
‘Oh,’ says Preston, ‘so you have fake travel papers and passports for us, do you? And you’re expecting us to go unarmed.’
‘Not exactly,’ Steve admits.
‘Thanks Steve,’ says Preston, getting to his feet and lifting the cat with him, ‘but we’re not long back from a stock-up so we’re good for food. Your price just isn’t worth it.’
‘Please,’ cries Steve, leaping to his feet too and almost knocking over the table. ‘I’ve been to my other contacts already and they’ve turned me down. I have a plan that’ll get you safely into a Zone with very little risk. My niece, my only companion, is going to die if you don’t agree to help me. You lot are our only hope.’
‘Okay Princess Leia,’ says Preston, rolling his eyes as the others look on, confused. ‘Obi-Wan’s listening. Tell us your grand master plan.’
Losing composure is something Steve never does, but here he is with teary eyes and shaking, clenched fists. The sight unsettles the girls, but Preston and Gabriel appear unsympathetic. Steve takes a few deep breaths and unclenches his stiff fists.
‘The food lorry,’ Steve explains, speaking slowly. ‘It’s due on the A27-’ He checks his watch, ‘-three hours from now. The road connects to routes to two different active cities. I reckon the four of you could ambush the lorry
and take what you need. Then you split up-’
‘I don’t like this,’ Beth interrupts.
‘Calm down and listen to the nice man, Mummy,’ says Preston, who nods for Steve to continue.
‘You split up,’ Steve resumes. ‘Two of you take your supplies back here, and the other two head for a Quarantine Zone in the lorry. If anyone asks why you’re missing stock, tell them you were ambushed on the road. If no one asks, ditch the lorry and head for a pharmacy. I have money and a list of the items I need. You buy them, and then...’
‘And then what?’ says Kerry quietly.
Steve sighs again. ‘And then you’ll have to find a way out of the city without a passport or travel papers.’
Silence falls for a moment as the group processes this. Preston paces with Ratbag, the cat swinging its tail calmly in his arms. Gabriel taps the table with his fingertips, frowning. Kerry and Beth seem to be having a conversation composed completely of facial expressions. Finally Beth sighs.
‘Questions,’ she says.
‘Of course,’ says Steve.
‘Where are these two Zones?’
‘They’re both approximately thirty-five miles away. There’s one to the East and another to the West. It’ll take a little under an hour either way in the lorry.’
‘How much money are you giving us? Will we have insurance money in case we, say, need to bribe someone?’
‘I have a hundred quid,’ says Steve, ‘and hopefully the lorry driver will have a bit in his wallet too. Prescriptions are about fifteen quid each these days, I think.’
‘Inflation’s a bitch,’ says Preston with a whistle.
‘How long do we have?’ Beth asks, ignoring Preston.
‘I’ll return in two days,’ Steve replies, drawing a star on the twentieth, ‘and every day after that. I don’t want to risk missing you; I don’t know how long Andrea can last.’
‘Why can’t you just go?’ Gabriel injects.
‘I have to look after my niece. I can’t leave her.’
‘Okay,’ says Beth slowly, ‘and what are you prepared to owe us if we do this?’
The bike trailers rattle behind them as Beth and Preston pedal the bikes, each with a passenger on the seat. Much to Kerry’s disgust, she’s sharing a bike with Preston and the rain is getting heavier. She’s looking forward to having a bath later, definitely not envious of those who opted to go in the lorry.
Slick with water, the road is two lanes wide, mirrored on the other side of a partition. Abandoned cars have been stacked on the grass on either side of the motorway, a relatively new cleaning service granted by governments so their citizens could travel if they wanted to. Some cars are rusting, and others seem new.
Satisfied that this part of the dual carriageway is as good as any, the Furious Four dismount and set about emptying the trailers. The bicycle trailers are designed to house two infants side by side, but the group has found them useful for transporting cargo. One trailer, as they’ve discovered, can carry six litres of water if they need it – which they always do. The trailers are packed with all the guns they own: Preston’s golden pistols, Gabriel’s revolver, Beth’s rifle and Kerry’s sawn-off, plus all the ammunition they could possibly need and a length of rope, which Kerry loops around herself like a sash.
According to Steve’s calculations, their journey from the Sanctuary to the A27 should’ve taken twenty minutes. If that was the case, and if the lorry’s going to be on time, they have roughly ten minutes to wait. They take a lane each, the two on the left facing west and the two on the right facing east.
‘I still can’t believe he only offered free information,’ grunts Preston. ‘Three free passes – cheers, Steve, you stingy bastard.’
‘It’s better than nothing,’ says Beth, and Preston rolls his eyes as he lights up.
‘And we couldn’t just let the poor guy’s niece die,’ adds Kerry.
‘Why not let her die?’ says Preston through a cloud of smoke. ‘She’s nothing to us.’
‘But Steve isn’t,’ Beth points out.
‘Speak for yourself,’ snaps Preston. ‘We’re scavengers, Bethany, which means we look out for ourselves. If Steve wanted hired smugglers he should’ve offered more payment.’
‘You’re just selfish.’
‘Yes I am.’
Already fidgeting on her feet, Kerry resists the urge to sit down on the ground. Despite the mild envy that Beth and Preston will soon be amongst people again, she doesn’t kid herself that they’ve picked the easy option. Quarantine Zones don’t treat Outlanders kindly.
There’s nothing she wants more than to go home and hide under the duvet with her sketchbook. She doesn’t feel any pressure to keep Gabriel alive; the Sanctuary is armed to the teeth and he can take care of himself. In fact, she’s quite looking forward to spending the evening with him. They’ll be two excited kids with the place to themselves while Mum and Dad are away.
Across the partition Gabriel and Preston alternate between kicking gravel at each other and play-fighting. On Kerry’s other side Beth is picking dirt from under her nails. They seem to be waiting forever, and every sound makes Kerry tense. Then finally something rumbles behind her, and she turns to face the approaching lorry on the opposite side.
In a flash Kerry and Beth vault the partition, joining the boys on the eastbound road, and the group readies their weapons.
‘Remember,’ says Beth over the growing rumble, ‘minimal damage to the lorry. Take him alive if you can.’
Everyone glances pointedly at Preston, who grins innocently and shrugs.
Only one man sits in the cockpit, and the fear and confusion on his face becomes apparent as he coasts towards them and their raised weapons. Kerry had been expecting a fight or some sort of resistance but as the driver brakes and the lorry begins to slow, it seems too easy.
As it hisses to a stop a few feet away, Beth and Kerry exchange a knowing glance, and Beth drags Preston with her to the rear of the container. Brandishing their weapons, Kerry and Gabriel coax the poor, frightened man out of the driver’s seat and march him to the roadside. Clearly new at his job, the driver is terrified beyond belief. Kerry wonders if he’s ever left his Zone since the outbreak. As she decides to go easy on him she realises that he struck very lucky indeed – any other Outlanders would’ve slaughtered him in the middle of the road and left him there.
The bike trailers are gradually filled by Beth and Preston as Kerry sets about tying their captive to a lamp post. Gabriel’s gun stays trained on the driver until he’s secure, and then he disappears to help the others take what they need from the lorry.
‘Are you going to kill me?’ the driver asks in a surprisingly level voice.
‘Not if you behave,’ says Kerry.
‘I have a baby girl,’ says the driver, and Kerry feels a pang as silent tears streak his cheeks. ‘That seems to be the sort of thing you say to a potential murderer, pleading with their better nature and all that. Not that it’s a lie,’ he adds quickly.
‘What’s her name?’ Kerry asks.
‘Her name is Hannah.’
‘I always liked that name,’ Kerry muses. ‘I thought there was something irredeemably cool about having a symmetrical name.’
‘She’s just started crawling,’ the driver sniffs.
‘You’ll see her again, mate, don’t worry,’ she assures him.
It isn’t long before the bike trailers are packed and the others join Kerry by the lamp post. Preston lights a cigarette, eyeing the lorry driver hungrily, and Beth hands Kerry a knife. The driver’s eyes widen at the sight of the knife and he drops his head, disappointed.
‘That’s it,’ says Beth with a small shrug. ‘It looks like we’re all ready to go.’
‘How long will you be gone?’ Gabriel asks.
‘No more than a day,’ Beth says warmly, pulling her son into a hug and kissing the top of his head.
‘’Kay,’ he grunts, pulling away.
‘You should give us your gun
s,’ says Kerry.
‘And you should go fu-’ begins Preston.
‘She’s right,’ says Beth. ‘It won’t be easy to get replacements if they’re confiscated.’
‘I’d like to see someone try.’
‘Pres,’ says Kerry as Beth opens her mouth to insult him. ‘We all know you can handle yourself, armed or unarmed. Gabe and I are counting on your return. Please.’
‘Sentiment,’ spits Preston, but he hands his guns over to Kerry anyway.
Kerry makes a silent prayer as the lorry slides away with Preston at the wheel. The sound of rain assaulting the glass window fades as they go. She can’t picture this going without a hitch, but if anyone can keep Preston in check it’d be Beth.
She turns the knife over in her hands as Gabriel mounts his bike, gesturing for her to follow. Beside her, the lorry driver still bows his head, most likely saying prayers of his own. Sighing, Kerry kneels beside him and slots the knife into his fist. He looks up with glassy, confused eyes.
‘I imagine it’ll take you a while to walk,’ she tells him, ‘so I’d get started now. Cut yourself free and head home. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can do.’
The cat is pacing the forest floor restlessly when Kerry and Gabriel return, his paws squelching in the soft earth. The water buckets are overflowing and the remains of their lunch still sit on the dining table as they unpack the bikes. They’re exhausted, but Kerry still manages to prepare dinner for them, which they eat in silence, and Gabriel collects the buckets.
It’s eerie without the others. There have been previous times when the group has separated, and it’s always like this. It’s like purgatory, like time is frozen. They spend their time waiting to reunite, just about functioning. This time is no different, and like the times before, Gabriel sleeps in the girls’ room in the absence of Beth and Preston.
‘So,’ says Gabriel, setting his book down beside him and stroking the cat in his lap. ‘Do you think Mum and Preston have ever, you know, done it?’
Looking up from her drawing in surprise, Kerry sputters, ‘How do you know about doing it?’
‘Preston,’ Gabriel giggles.
‘Of course,’ Kerry sighs. ‘Of course it was Preston.’
After The End (Book 1): The Furious Four Page 8
