by Dave Lacey
“Where are the others?” Jack asked. “I’m guessing they’ve been able to speak?” Bradley nodded his answer.
Jack brushed him aside and marched off to the medical services bay. Along the way, people either looked at him from the corner of their eyes, or looked at the ground as he passed. He knew what they were thinking: Thank God it’s not my son or daughter. As he reached the confines of the medical section, one of the medical staff came rushing forward to see him, or head him off, he couldn’t decide which.
“Hi, Jes.” It was Emilie Walker. She had lived just a mile from him before the war came, and he’d never known she existed until a couple of years ago. She looked different in her blues. A hairnet kept her long brown hair off her strong trustworthy face, her green eyes clear and unblinking as she put a hand on his chest.
“I guess you’d like to know what we know?” she asked him, bobbing her head slightly to attract his gaze. He’d been looking over her shoulder at the occupants of the beds. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She put a hand on his arm and gestured with the other towards her makeshift office. His eyes followed her hand, and he reluctantly walked towards it. She moved behind her desk, but didn’t sit down. She leaned both hands on the top of the surface and braced herself for the start of the conversation.
“What’s going on? I’d like to see my father, now please.” Jack folded his arms across his chest and stood rigid.
“I’m afraid you can’t right now–”
“The fuck I can’t. Who’s gonna stop me?” Jack unfolded his arms and leaned on the desk, broaching her space.
“Well, if you’ll let me finish, I’ll tell you.” She glared at him, until he stood back upright again, spluttering and shaking his head. “I realize what’s happened, I really do. But I’m afraid your father is unconscious, and he’s going to remain so for the next few hours.” Emilie watched as Jack’s face dropped and his mouth formed a silent oh. “I think he’s going to be okay, but he took quite a blow.” She paused to let this sink in, and Jack’s surprise turned to a scowl of anger.
“How? Who did it?” he blurted. “Christ, Emilie, this is all too much to take in.”
“I know, Jes. It’s shocked us all,” she replied. “Obviously, we don’t know who did it right now. If we did, we’d know more about all of this. But for now, just know that this doesn’t seem quite like the disappearances of before. This is something different.” Her face softened as she looked at his slumped shoulders and drooping head. “Your dad’s going to be okay, and you can speak to him when he surfaces,” she told him.
“Okay.” He fumbled like a blind man for the chair, and sat down hard on it. “What happens now?” He looked up at Emilie, his eyes wide and a little vacant. His eyes strayed just past her, beyond the plywood and Perspex constructed office they were in, to the beds beyond.
“Well–” she started, but was silenced when Smithy burst into the room.
“There you are,” he exclaimed. He looked at Emilie almost as an afterthought. “Sorry, doc, you in the middle of something here?” Smithy asked, his eyebrows lifting.
“Well, no not really, I think we’re about done for now.” She looked from one to the other and sighed. “If you can take Jes–” Smithy cut in.
“It’s Jack actually, and you can call me Smithy from now on. Please.” He smiled at her.
“Well, whatever. If you can take him and keep an eye on him for a bit, I’ll get someone to come find you when his dad comes round.” She smiled back, but it was humourless. Smithy frowned at her, his eyes searching.
“Marc’s unconscious at the moment, and he’ll remain so for the coming few hours I would think.” She looked past Smithy. “I’m coming now,” she said to someone else trying to get her attention. The meeting was over; there was always somebody worse off.
“Thanks, doc.” Smithy patted Jack on the shoulder. “Come on, chuckles, let’s get you back to your digs.” He helped his friend to his feet and led the way.
Chapter 9
Within ten minutes of Marc, Jack’s father, waking from his induced sleep, Jack and Smithy were there. Emilie allowed them in to see him, but scolded them with regard to how long and how aggressively they questioned him.
“Jesus Christ, Emilie, he’s my dad. I’m not about to shine a light in his eyes and pull out his fingernails,” Jack told her, his face registering both surprise and disgust.
“I’m just warning you,” she added and moved off.
“Bloody hell, Dad, you look like shit,” Jack told Marc when he caught sight of him.
“Thanks, son, just what I needed. You bring any food? I’m starving, but the quack won’t let me eat. She says I might be sick after the blow to the head.” He looked mildly disgusted with this embargo.
“No, sorry, we ran here when we heard you were awake.” Jack and Smithy grabbed seats and sat down next to the bed. Jack was still pale from the tension of the previous few hours.
“Where’s Junior?” Marc asked them. Jack rocked back in his seat a little, hiding his surprise. He had assumed his father knew what had happened, clearly not.
“What do you mean, Dad?” Jack asked. He didn’t want to cause his old man any undue stress.
“I mean, who’s looking after him? I haven’t seen him since I blacked out,” Marc said, closing his eyes against the pain in his head. Jack was caught in two minds. Tell him? Don’t tell him?
“He’s with someone right now, don’t worry.” Jack could feel Smithy’s eyes on him, and knew he would work it out for himself. “Do you remember anything about what happened, Dad? Anything?” he tried his best to keep his features neutral. His father’s face screwed up with concentration as he cast his mind back.
“Not really. There was some movement in the darkness...and then I just felt a really sharp crack on the back of my head. I was out like a light.” He clicked his fingers, trailing off at the end, his face clouding. They chatted for another few minutes, before Jack decided they had to get moving if they were to keep the trail warm if not hot.
“Dad, we gotta go. Me and Smithy need to find the rest of these gaps and close them off.” Jack closed his fist as he finished the sentence. He turned, and as he did so his father stopped him.
“Wait, son! That’s it, we’d just noticed another cleft in the wall. It was dark, and we noticed a funny fold in the wall. We were about to explore when it happened.” The sudden memory had enlivened Marc, but it had come and gone, and he slumped back in the bed, exhausted. Jack patted his father’s arm, and he and Smithy left the room. When they were outside the medical bay, Jack spoke, his tone urgent.
“We need to get out there now. Before the trail goes cold.” His hand chopped the air to emphasize his point. “We need to speak to the others that were there, to find out exactly where they got jumped.”
“Okay,” replied Smithy, who was having to hussle so as not to fall behind. “How come you didn’t tell the old man about Junior?”
“No point,” Jack replied over his shoulder. He’ll find out in time, but I’d rather he was feeling stronger when he does.” Jack’s pace continued without pause.
“You know your sister’s going to want to come with us?” Smithy said.
“Shit, you’re right.” Jack stopped and turned towards his friend, a deep scowl twisting his features. “You need to work your charm, little man.” Smithy barked a laugh.
“Ha, get fucked. There’s no way I’m taking the shit for that.” Smithy was shaking his head and laughing. “You think you can stop her, go ahead and give it a whirl. Me, I’d just accept that it’s not going to work out that way and move on.”
Jack fidgeted, flexing his hands in frustration, before his shoulders slumped in acceptance.
“Right, fine, whatever. You’re a rock, Mr Smith,” Jack said, hands on hips.
“I must say,” said Smithy, smiling, “you’re very calm about this. And I thought we’d have been mobilized quicker than this by now.” It was Smithy’s turn to frown.
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br /> “Yeah, well, two things. One, inside I’m a mess. And two, I get a feeling he’s fine, and that rushing won’t help us right now. We need to do this once, properly. If we mess up...” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Smithy reached out and grabbed his arm in a tight grip.
“Okay, good. Let’s go then.” Smithy said.
An hour later, after having visited with the other workers who’d been in the tunnel, they were kitting up when Millie burst into the armoury. The earthen walls were lined with metal stack shelving, which held all the weapons and ammunition they owned.
“I assume you were about to come get me as soon as you’d kitted up, yeah?” She paused, hands on hips, her head cocked to one side, her eyes alight. “You weren’t going to just slope off hand in hand like you always do?” Smithy turned, ready to launch into a diatribe, but Jack placed a hand on his arm.
“No, we weren’t. We figured you would find us before we left, as you have,” he said, calmer than he felt.
“Bullshit. I know you two, and I know–” She stopped as Jack held up a spare bag, loaded with kit.
“Your bag, ma’am,” he said, in conversational tones. Millie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, as she looked at the bags they had already. Only when she was satisfied there were three did she relent.
“Right, good, well then.” She nodded, attempting to maintain the higher ground. Jack smiled.
“Let’s go,” he said finally. The three of them moved out, bags slipped onto backs, expressions stern and unrelenting. Millie spoke after a couple of minutes from the front.
“Why just the three of us?” she asked without turning.
“I won’t risk someone else’s life for my son. We never sent anyone to look when the other kids went missing. We maintained it was pointless and couldn’t risk more lives. I had four volunteers, I turned them down.” He paused briefly. They were into the Hub, and their path was lined with anxious faces, tinged with a hint of relief. People were patting Jack on the back as he passed, and there were muted words, but there was little in the way of hope. They knew the risks; they knew what was at stake; and so did Jack.
“Plus, too many and we couldn’t manage it right. I figured Smithy would come.” Millie turned to look at him, her face twisted with incomprehension. It was the use of Smithy rather than Toby that had thrown her. “Don’t ask, we’ll explain at some other time. And I knew I’d have to tranquilize you to stop you. So I got used to the idea of three. It’s a good number.” Millie grunted from the front.
“Yeah it is, even if we are carrying dead wood.” She looked beyond Jack to Smithy. Smithy smiled and shrugged his eyebrows.
“So long as you still respect me in the morning, you can say what you like, sugar.” Smithy grinned.
Five minutes later, they had left the last of the community behind them, their collective noise fading into the background. Jack stopped, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. He held it, and allowed everything behind him to fall away like water from a shower. It cascaded from the top of his head, and he felt it pass over his arms and hands, legs and feet, until he felt calm. He breathed deep again, then opened his eyes.
“Let’s go,” he said, barely above a whisper. They had an estimate of where they thought the fold in the wall, the crevice that had allowed the abductors to spring their attack, could be found. From the description given, it was approximately a mile and a half from the entrance to the tunnel. Three quarters of an hour after Jack’s brief pause at the head of the tunnel, they found it. The offshoot cut back from the main one at an acute angle, almost back in the direction they had approached it from. It was no more than a fold of earth, maybe eighteen inches wide.
“I can see why we missed it all the other times people have been down here,” Smithy said, one foot on a raised mound of earth, one hand planted on the knee. “It’s not an obvious one is it?”
Jack knew what he was doing, making excuses for the tunnel workers. He was right, too; unless you were actively searching for it, you’d hardly know it was there.
“Yeah, well, here it is. And we know it’s here now, and we know that at least some of the missing kids have gone through this one,” Jack said, hands on hips, looking the cleft up and down. Millie brushed past him, and turned at the entrance.
“This is no time for panic attacks, bro, we need to go now.” Without waiting, she plunged into the deeper darkness. The two men followed cautiously. With their lamps held out in front of them, it was easy to see the tracks on the floor of whatever had passed this way before. And, with relief, Jack could see that the last tracks were human, and one set was small and had been partially dragged.
As if to confirm what he was seeing, Millie spoke from his right. “Not ‘Landers. These are human prints.” Her face was grim as she spoke.
Though they were relieved it wasn’t ‘Landers that had taken Junior, their own experience and personal thoughts led them down paths they’d just as soon not tread. Neither Smithy nor Millie spoke. Neither wanted to say what they were all thinking. But, eventually, Jack said it out loud.
“Yeah, I know. We have three options here, and I have no idea which one gives us the best outcome. The Grabbers, the perverts, or the lunatics.” Jack smiled an ironic smile. The Grabbers, as most local communities called them, were humans who captured other humans for the sole purpose of offering them to the ‘Landers.
The perverts spoke for themselves, and the reference to lunatics was to the wild groups of humans who hunted, tortured and killed other humans. It was difficult for Jack to decide which group he preferred to be holding his son.
“Still, there’s no blood, so he was alive when he left here,” Smithy offered, looking at the floor. When he looked up, the expressions on the faces of the other two told him he’d spoken instead of thinking. Millie punched him in the shoulder, hard. “Ow, Jesus woman. I’m sorry. I thought that was a good thing.”
“It is, but there are other ways to deliver news, you gimp,” Millie informed him, her face close to his, her eyes on fire. She prodded his forehead with a finger as she continued. “Use this next time, before you engage the mouth.” She gave one last prod to his chest and walked past him. Smithy looked at Jack, arms spread wide in question.
“Never mind, shorty, let’s move on,” Jack said, smiling in the darkness.
Millie led the way, her lamp held at head level, her eyes roving the ground for more information. They continued until the air changed. Instead of the consistent, moist warmth of the tunnels, they felt a cold draught of sweet fresh air. It was so very noticeable after the amount of time they spent underground, even for those that went on the night sorties. All three stopped when they felt it, lifting their heads and noses, testing the breeze with their senses.
“It’s like a drug,” Millie muttered from a yard in front of Jack. She sounded a little like she was drugged. But Jack felt it too, the first drink after the long, parched summer. Then he broke the trance and spoke.
“Okay, we’re near the outlet, let’s stay quiet and cool. No sense in giving ourselves away.” He nodded at Millie, who turned and continued. Within five minutes, they had reached the mouth of the small outlet that granted access to the surface. Jack reached out a hand and placed it on Millie’s shoulder. She turned, and without speaking Jack took her place at the head of the small convoy of three. He knelt on the cold firm ground of the crossover point, the breeze stirring up debris and whirling it into the air before dropping it again seconds later, running over his hands and face like soft, icy ribbons.
“See anything?” Smithy asked from the rear, his voice barely audible. Jack’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. He wasn’t looking directly at anything, but rather scanning for anything moving or out of place.
“Nothing yet,” he whispered over his shoulder, the breeze carrying it back to Smithy. Slowly, Jack stood upright and moved a few feet out into the open. They followed his lead and moved up behind him. It felt strange being out in the open, without Alpha Company, without a list
of items to look out for. He could feel Millie's eyes on the back of his head as he sat watching the scene before him.
Chapter 10
“You okay, bro?” she asked after a pause.
“Mhmm. It’s very quiet,” he said. He felt uneasy, as though someone was watching them. And now, Jack Junior’s disappearance seemed real. It hadn't before. Until now it felt like it was happening to someone else. He realized that he must have appeared quite aloof and unconcerned to others.
His attention was drawn back to the space in front of them. He scanned the overturned vehicles, the half collapsed houses and the odd human bone, and shivered at the cold. The temperature stayed remarkably consistent underground, within a few degrees every day regardless of the season. So when they came above ground, it hit hard. Jack waited, trying to concentrate on what lay before him. Time to move. He stood up and gestured forward with his right hand, his eyes still roaming the scene.
The three moved quietly, fanning out into a loose arrowhead formation. Jack at point, Millie and Smithy either side of him and behind. They jogged, bent slightly at the waist, eyes and weapons moving left to right in a slow, purposeful arc. Although it might look to a casual observer that they were not following any particular path, Jack was scanning the ground for spoor. The gang they were pursuing had left obvious tracks, perhaps because of their arrogance, or perhaps they were ignorant enough to think that they wouldn’t be followed.
It meant they were sloppy, and if they were sloppy they could be caught and punished. The wind rose and fell all around them, its voice keening like a sloppy orchestra. Without warning, Jack stopped and held up his right hand with the fist clenched. He was staring at the ground. The smaller footprints had ceased. He took a minute to scout the ground for fifteen feet in all directions. He was looking for any sign of violence. After five minutes or so, he had found none.
