by Dave Lacey
He gripped his thigh in both hands and squeezed hard, trying to force the tension out of his leg and arms. It didn’t work. He flipped through his bag and found what he was looking for – a full bandage. He ripped open the cellophane wrapper with his teeth, knelt on the good leg and leaned forward. He pulled up his trouser leg and removed his shoe and sock. The ankle was already changing colour. He took the bandage and started winding it as tight as he could bear around the bottom of his leg and under his heel. It needed support. It also needed rest, but that wasn’t an option. He finished, then swathed it further in electrical tape.
His sock wasn’t too difficult to get on, but his shoe was almost impossible. After a series of winces and grimaces, he was ready to stand back up. He did so, and tested out the injury. Surprisingly, it felt okay. Not great, but okay. So long as he stayed away from any deviations in the terrain, he would probably be able to walk for a good while.
As he made to leave, a shout came from the hill behind him. “If you can hear me,” the leader called, “just know that we’re coming for you. I’m going back for reinforcements, but we will be coming for you. I won’t stop until all of you are dead.”
Jack pulled a face. What had he done?
The echoes died away on the wind, and Jack stared at the back of his hand as it rested on the tree trunk. He reckoned maybe he would have a five or six hour head start. But they would be moving much quicker than him once they re-joined the pursuit. And Jack thought he must be at least three or four hours behind his own team. It was going to be tough. Both groups would be moving quicker than him, and he figured the chasing group would send out chasers. It was a tactic used by the Zulus a long time ago. They would send out runners, who would run themselves into the ground.
It didn’t matter that they wouldn’t quite catch him, the idea was that he would move quicker trying to escape them and consequently exhaust or injure himself. Then, when the chasers fell back, the main group would gradually reel him in. Unless he could reach his own group. A further problem was that he would have to stop when it got dark. A wrong step in the dark, and he would probably make a further mess of his ankle, and he already thought the ligaments had been strained.
A shiver ran down his spine. For a brief moment, he had allowed himself to think what might happen if they caught up with him.
Chapter 26
Millie couldn’t stop herself turning back to look at the horizon behind them, willing her brother to be there. But he didn’t come. Smithy stayed by Millie’s side as they trudged along, mile after mile. She could see it was gnawing away at him too, but they spoke little.
During the early afternoon, they heard the distant boom of explosions and the higher, harder sound of large calibre weapons. They all turned to face the way they had come. The air seemed to stop moving. They could hear nothing but the distant artillery sounds, the buzz of insects and twenty something sets of lungs emptying and refilling.
Nobody spoke for a full three minutes. Millie could hear Smithy breathing beside her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder. The lie of the land put them above the fracas. It felt like they could be on top of the world where they stood. The air was too hazy for them to see anything, but the sound was enough. A nervous cough came from one of the party, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Millie felt the urge to move, to run and find her brother.
It was all she could do not to bolt. Her legs tensed, and she clenched her fists. They couldn’t stop me, she thought. And as though he had sensed her thoughts, Smithy squeezed harder on her shoulder. “There’s no point,” he said, his voice soft and understanding.
“How do you know?” she asked, her throat tight and dry with tension. “How do you even know it involves him?” she continued, jerking her head towards the sounds, her eyes squinting against the sun.
“You’re right. So if it doesn’t, there’s definitely no point in you running off to see what’s going on.” For once, Smithy’s logic was undeniable.
Millie grimaced at his words. Her left hand came to rest on the pistol at her hip. “I really hate it when you’re right,” she said, her teeth covering her bottom lip.
“Well, we’re both lucky that hardly ever happens then.” He took a step towards her, slipping his arm around her middle. She let him hold her a few seconds. “We should go,” he said at last. “If he’s not involved, or if he survived whatever that was, he’ll catch us in his own time.”
Millie nodded absently, her eyes not moving from where she thought he might be. “C’mon then, there’s no point hanging around here,” she agreed finally. She reached down for her pack and slung it over her shoulder. As she did so, she turned and came face to face with Smithy. He grinned and planted a kiss on her lips.
“He’ll be fine. If I’m not worried, nobody should be worried,” he said, moving to pick up his own bag.
“You two would make a lovely couple,” Millie said to his back as he turned. He stood up, turned and looked at her. He pushed up his lips, paused then nodded.
“I know, but then you’d be lost without me. There’s only one of me unfortunately.” He closed his eyes, speaking with the utmost sincerity. “Just ask the other girls in the tunnels of love.” Now and again, this was how he referred to life underground.
She punched him playfully in the arm. “You really are a massive tool,” Millie said as she walked off.
Three hours later, the party pulled over to eat and rest. They sat, lay or squatted around a natural mound in the earth. It afforded them a spectacular view across Cheshire. In the distance, they could see what remained of the Jodrell Bank dish. The light was beginning to fade, and they were currently discussing whether to call it a night. Millie was all in favour of doing so, but felt a little obvious in saying it. If they stopped now, and Jack was on his way, he stood a much greater chance of catching them tonight. If they continued to move, they might do so for another three or four hours, in which case, it would make his job that much more difficult.
In the dark, even with a compass, he could walk within a couple of hundred yards of them and never know it. As they sat eating, Millie watched Bill. It would be his decision whether they would move on or not. He looked across at her as she watched. She turned her head quickly, not wanting him to catch her staring. But he had. Now it was a question of whether or not he cared. She chewed the beef jerky. It was tasteless to her, just something to distract from her thoughts. She looked up at the sky, willing it to darken quicker. If it was dark when they finished eating, the likelihood was that they would stay. She sipped from her water bottle, another distraction.
Finally, Bill stood. He stretched and coughed to get people’s attention. “Okay, I think we’ll stay here for the night. Carl, Mitch, you can take the first watch. We...” Millie closed her eyes and stopped listening. She felt some of the tension go out of her shoulders and arms. Her head tilted back and she took a deep breath through her nose, savoured it for a few seconds, then released it. She waited until Bill had finished speaking, then rose to find a suitable privy. Now she was relaxed, she noticed how the lack of light pollution allowed the stars to shine. It was a breath-taking sight. When she came back to the group, Smithy was waiting for her. “Good news huh?” he asked.
“Yeah, very. All we need now is for him to have survived whatever that was.” Millie replied.
“I know him, Mill, he’ll be fine,” Smithy said.
Millie smiled.“I do hope so.”
Jack decided to stop. He had popped a couple of painkillers, spaced two hours apart, and made decent progress. They were not in rich supply, so he had to go easy on them. It had helped, but gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain had helped more. Finally though, as the curtains closed on the day, and the stars revealed themselves, he had to stop.
One rabbit scrape, or a small mound of earth, would spell the end for him. If his ankle went over again, he would struggle even to get back home. He found a small niche, the diseased trunk of a huge oak. It had degraded over time, and a hole ju
st big enough to accommodate him and allow him to rest comfortably had opened up.
The air was cooling rapidly now. He could feel it on the nape of his neck as he made himself comfortable. He took a scarf from his bag and fixed it round his neck. He took out his small rations pack and wolfed down the beef jerky and beans. It tasted as decadent as foie gras and caviar. He used his finger to get as much of the bean juice as he could from the empty tin, then washed it down with gulps of water and another painkiller.
He had started to shake a little before eating, but the food in his belly now settled him. The drama of the day and his full stomach, not to mention the painkillers, had a soporific effect on him.
Within minutes, he slumped asleep in his hidey hole. Dreams came to him quickly, in which he was running from something monstrous, but his legs wouldn’t move quick enough. He could feel the energy in them, but he couldn’t make them work quick enough. Then he realized he was dreaming, and forced himself out of it.
He woke, and it was still dark. Small sounds came from different points in the darkness. A soft breeze through the dead forest. The scurrying of small feet across the ground. The occasional sound of a bird calling to its kin. He fell asleep again, and this time there were no dreams. Jack slept solidly, right through to dawn.
When he woke, the sun was a pale smudge across the eastern horizon, just a hushed promise of warmth and light. Jack pushed himself out of the nook to find that his whole body had stiffened horribly. The tension and forced marching had done it, he figured. And age. But the moment he really dreaded was the testing of his ankle.
It was always worse, the first day, especially after abusing the injury by walking ten or so miles on it. But he couldn’t put it off any longer. Using his hands and good leg to take the weight, he pushed himself to his feet. He almost cried out loud. It was excruciating. Through the pain and gritted teeth, he told himself that after breakfast and another painkiller it would be much better.
He hobbled to a tree stump and sat down heavily. He winced, hovering his bad leg off the ground and hissing through closed teeth. He took out his ration pack and ate a tin of tuna with his fingers, followed by water and another pill. Jack closed his eyes and leaned back, extending his leg, his breathing ragged. “This is going to be shitty,” he muttered to himself.
The sun was up now, and, though still low in the sky, it warmed his face. After five minutes of basking there, and taking his bearings, he stood, hopping slightly on his good leg. Then he put his weight down and growled through the pain. Without giving himself time to rethink, he grabbed his bag and began to walk. He knew which direction to head, although that would not guarantee that he and his fellows were on an exact path to intercept each other.
But in the light, they had a decent chance of seeing each other from a distance. Then, as if someone were reading his mind, a flare shot into the sky. It wasn’t a pre-arranged signal, but Jack felt also a flare of hope. There was a branch lying on the ground, and he bent awkwardly to pick it up. With his hunting knife, he quickly cut away some of the thin end and smaller branches. He tidied up the thick end, using it as a walking stick. With the stick, and the sight of the flare, Jack set off with renewed energy.
Millie smiled with satisfaction as the flare went up into the brightening sky. Bill approached, a dark scowl spilling across his face. “Millie, what in God’s name are you doing?” he demanded.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she replied, jutting her head forward on her neck.
“For fuck’s sake, that little stunt has told every unfriendly within a six or seven mile radius exactly where we are.” His voice was as strained as the chords in his neck.
But Millie was in no mood to back down. As she tucked the flare gun back into her kit bag, she said “And? They can’t pinpoint us from that, and anyway we’ll be off and moving in a couple of minutes. I just wanted my brother to know we are here, and roughly where we are.”
Bill held out his hand. “Give me the flare gun. Now.” His face settled into an implacable mask.
Millie snorted and shook her head. “No. Bite me,” she said, hands on hips, eyebrows raised.
Bill’s expression didn’t change. He just stood waiting, holding out his hand.
“Give him the flare gun, Mill,” Smithy said, his voice quiet. He looked away from her as he said it.
“Erm, no. And you’re supposed to be on my side, you dick,” she said, her eyebrows now lowered menacingly.
Smithy snapped. “Side?” he shouted. “There are no sides in this group. We’re all on the same side. Jesus, why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult? Just admit you’re in the wrong, and let’s move the fuck on.” Smithy’s face had taken on a brick red colour and his eyes shone with anger. Millie looked at him for a moment longer, then swallowed. She nodded and zipped open her kit bag. She took out the flare gun and shoved it into Bill’s gut, without taking her eyes from Smithy, who matched her hostile glare.
Smithy spoke. “Can you give us a few minutes guys?” he asked. They backed away, continuing about their business. Eventually, Bill turned away, walking back to where his kit was. Millie opened her mouth to speak, but Smithy cut her off. “No, this time you don’t get to piss on my chips. You’re at fault, not me. You’re the irresponsible one. You’re out of order, and at some point you’ll realize that and feel like a fool.”
Again Millie moved to speak, but Smithy beat her to it. “No, you put these people’s lives at risk. You.” He pointed at her chest. Millie stood, her eyes brimming slightly, her teeth bared and fists clenched. She could feel her finger nails digging into the palms of her hands. “It was such a selfish fucking thing to do that I can hardly bare to look at you.”
Smithy stood, glaring at her, breathing through his mouth like he had just finished a race. “‘I’m Millie. I just do what I like and fuck everybody else.’ Well it’s time you grew up and thought of other people instead of just yourself and what you want.” Millie had to try very hard not to cry right now. Her anger had gone, and she swallowed hard. “I want him to make it too, and I know he will. He’s tough and resourceful. But there’s no way I would have done something as st–”
“Yeah, I know, stupid,” she managed, spitting out the words, avoiding the trip in her voice that emotion threatened to betray. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think. I was worried about my brother.” Her vision was beginning to blur now, she could feel the back of her throat clogging up too.
“Oh, but I think you did think about it,” Smithy said. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing. And you knew somebody would stop you if you told them, so you just went ahead and did it anyway.” He turned before Millie could speak, or cry, and walked away.
As Jack walked, he considered the flare. And with each step came the certainty that his sister had fired it. And as this realization hardened in his gut, his head told him it was a foolish thing to do. And he imagined that, by now, somebody else would have made her aware of this. But deep down he was grateful. It had spurred him on. He was making good headway, and the searing pain had eased somewhat.
His ankle was by no means repaired, but it would hold for now. The stick helped. So too did the fact that the land rose and fell only gently. At times, when he reached a hill top and the sun shone on the land below him, it lay undulating before him like a pack of lazy lions.
He stopped for a few minutes, took another painkiller, and plotted his position and next steps. His mind wandered back to the flare. If the chasing pack had seen it, and he had a feeling they would have, then it had also given them an idea where to go. But the more he thought about it, the harder he found it to believe that they would continue the chase for much longer. How many miles would they go before it became a waste of time and resources? The group had not been so large that they could afford to miss the armed members for too long.
He shook his head as he made off again. No, at some point, reason would dictate that they would cut their losses and turn for wherever they called
home. Even if their leader had revenge in his heart, the others wouldn’t just go along indefinitely. But then, another voice spoke out, What if they do? He shook his head and continued to walk. It was warm again now, and, as he moved, he took off his top layer and tied it round his waist. He turned onto a path that cut across at the bottom of the small hill he was descending. As he rounded a bend, he heard voices up ahead. As quick as his injured leg would allow, he let himself fall back against the bottom of the slope.
The slope hid him from the people up ahead. His breathing sounded loud and harsh to his own ears. He closed his eyes and tried hard to quieten it. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it sounded like no more than two or three people. Edging his way round, Jack sneaked a peek. Dressed in ragged clothing, dirty and dishevelled, three people stood arguing in the middle of the path. For a second, Jack felt like Dorothy meeting her three companions for the first time. He stifled a giggle. Conscious of the fact that every second he wasted closed the gap behind and opened the gap in front, he waited to hear what they were arguing about.
“Yeah, well, it was my idea, so I get to say what happens,” the tallest of the three said, his voice louder than was strictly necessary. He was very thin, in fact they all were. It was a modern fact of life. As he watched, Jack pondered how they were finding food. Then came two realizations. One of the strangers was a woman, and they were arguing over a dead animal she was holding. Jack wondered absently what it might be.
“So what if it was your idea, Eric? We all helped. I was the one who caught the damn thing,” she said, brushing her red hair from her eyes with the back of a slender hand. “We should strip it and eat it. I understand your point about trading it, but they’re bad people, I can feel it in my bones.” She sighed, rocking onto one hip. “I think they might take it and chase us off. What do you think, Marl?” she asked the last member of the trio. Marl was obviously the other man, slightly taller than she was, with a put-upon air.
