by Dave Lacey
“Don’t you fucking dare speak to Duke, you rotten little whore.” Spittle flew through the air as he struggled for some modicum of control. “Now, one of you fucks tell Duke where you have come from, and why you are here, in his realm?” Vinnie knew the score. Duke would find out where they came from, then he would go, with his own crew, and take everything from them.
After he had had his fun, he would slaughter what there was left of the community. They were liars, thought Vinnie. They did know. Everybody within thirty miles knew. Everyone knew what the penalty was for venturing into Duke’s territory. God alone knew how desperate this lot must have been. They were emaciated, riddled with sores and the Lord knew what else. Poor bastards. One of the men looked up.
“We have nothing. We have no food. No medicines. Nothing.” He, paused, choking back a sob. “Our children are dying, we can’t help them. We needed...help.” Duke reared back, looking down at the man over his nose. One could almost be forgiven for thinking he was experiencing pity. But Vinnie knew better. This was just a prelude.
“Ah, some honesty. Duke likes this greatly. Now, my pretty, where is your community? Maybe we can help.” Duke smiled. Vinnie thought he might just throw up.
Chapter 29
Jack kept telling himself he was doing okay as he skipped over the ground. He figured he was moving at a fast walking pace. It was enough to keep him ahead, but he had no idea by how much. Is there anything more terrifying than being chased, and not knowing where you pursuer is? He thought to himself as he kept moving. He expected to hear a shout from behind him at any moment.
His hand was painful, but manageable, but his breathing was becoming a little ragged. Tiredness and lack of sustenance fatigued him. There was little sound from his environment, so all he could hear was the sound of his feet striking the earth, his breathing, and the steady thump, thump, thump of his stick.
He looked ahead, and his spirits quailed. Pretty soon, the path was going to head uphill. And it was steep. He considered ditching his pack, but decided he might need it again. He felt the beginning of the slope beneath his feet. It burned the bottom of his thighs. His breathing lost its rhythm, becoming shorter and burning his chest. Sweat ran from him in torrents, soaking his clothing. He began to be irritated by all of these things, which only released more adrenaline. He could feel his pulse thumping in his temple. His mouth became dry and his lips puckered. And then he was through it; he had reached the peak.
He stopped. Bending at the waist, his lungs pumping like bellows, he leant his left hand on the join between thigh and knee and held the stick with the other for support. Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging them. His legs began to shake. Lack of sugar and exhaustion he guessed. He knew he couldn’t stop for long. But, oh how it hurt. And resting was so good. The sun was beginning its descent now too. It was only late afternoon, but he could feel the air cooling. The view was spectacular as he stood upright. A wide vista of rolling hills, bare yet still better than his subterranean world. Here and there he could see the odd indication of man’s prior ambition. The remnants of Jodrell Bank, or a bent and twisted tower block. He dropped his stick and laced his fingers together behind his head. This opened up his ribs and allowed him to take deeper breaths.
He took a few seconds to look at the view. Then he picked up his stick and started off again. Moving down the slope was almost as difficult as coming up. Controlling his pace was vital. If he allowed it to gather too quickly, he risked a catastrophic fall. His ankle was throbbing now, a steady, constant reminder of how badly he had damaged it. Then the path levelled out, and he was back to his loping gait. His mind switched off, and his body went into autopilot. It kept doing what he expected of it, while his mind took flight. And so it was a huge surprise when, twenty minutes later, he heard a shout from up ahead.
The shock was like a huge hand that had pushed itself into his sternum. He lost his momentum abruptly, and his body thrummed with tension. He had been so lost in his own world that the shout had felt like an electric prod. Grasping for his thoughts, he threw himself to the ground at the side of the path. He lay on his front, and watched as his sawing breath disturbed the ground litter.
“I said, who goes there? Friend or foe?”
A familiar voice? Maybe, he wasn’t sure. He decided to give it a go. “Well, as I don’t know who you are, it’s hard to give a definitive answer to that,” Jack said between gasps. “However, as my enemy is still behind me, as far as I know, that probably makes you more likely to be a friend.”
“Jack?”
The relief of hearing a friendly voice flowed through Jack. “Bill?” he shouted back. Jack got to his feet, the pain and exhaustion making it harder. Bill burst through the cover he had been crouched behind, and ran to Jack and embraced him like a brother.
“Jesus, man, but you do make life hard for yourself,” Bill said, laughing and slapping Jack on the back.
Jack laughed too, through the pain. “Aye, I know. But trust me, it’s never intentional. I guess my new friends made it here then?” Jack asked, his eyes looking up at Bill through his fringe.
Bill smiled and nodded. “Indeed they did. Interesting bunch,”
“They are. Not sure where I would have been without them though.” Jack avoided Bill’s eyes. He knew he had to tell him about their uninvited guests coming from the rear. Clearly, it was on Bill’s mind too.
“And our friends, the ones you stayed behind to rid us of?” Bill asked, his eyes guarded, his jaw tensed.
“Yeah, the thing about that is…they’re behind me. I don’t know how close.”
Bill’s face registered surprise. Then his face darkened. “Jesus, still? What happened?”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, “but they were more organized and better armed than I’d thought. They were flanking me, and they would have taken me, but for the ‘Landers.”
Bill’s eyes opened wide. “Please tell me we don’t have a ‘Lander problem too?” he said, his lips pulled back in disgust.
Jack was quick to shake his head. “No, no they cleared off. It was one of them that did my ankle. But we’ve not got time for that I guess. Look, this gang, they could be minutes, or an hour behind me. They’re not going to just go away.”
“Okay, let’s move then. I don’t want another fire fight or any more bloodshed for the day.” Jack looked at him quizzically. “Yeah, that’s a story for another day too, Jack.” He turned to Nick and gave him some orders. “We need to get out in front of them, and then we need to have a think about things,” Bill said, his eyes drifting down to Jack’s ankle.
Jack scowled, but Bill was right –, now was not the time.
Twenty minutes after Jack arrived, the whole team was on the move. They weren’t travelling as fast as Jack had on his own, which made life a little easier for him. After a further twenty minutes, Bill led them off the path and down into a river valley. They began to wade through the shallow water. They went upstream, which was more difficult, but less obvious, than going downstream. Jack smiled at Bill’s thinking. Their tracks would be lost in the flowing water, and the cold was helping to reduce the inflammation in his ankle, numbing the sensation for a while. It was heavenly. The frown left his face and the tension went out of his shoulders. The sound of the running water and the noises made by a large party of people soothed Jack after his bout of loneliness. However short it had been, it felt far better to be back among people again.
He smiled to himself. The sun was in its last throes now. And the air was taking on a chilly tone. He shivered and fastened up his jacket. Though the pain in his ankle had abated, he could no longer feel his feet. He estimated they had maybe a two or three mile lead on their pursuers, but this was based on pure guesswork. He also thought that they would stop and camp in the next thirty minutes. Taking that and the previous three days into consideration, they had maybe covered forty miles. So still three hundred or so to go. His smile disappeared. Three hundred miles was a sobering thought.
“How f
ar do you think we have to go?” Millie asked. She’d sidled up next to him, and had obviously been reading his mind. He started a little, taken by surprise.
“I was just thinking that very thought,” Jack replied, a rueful smile on his lips. “Over three hundred miles I reckon.” He sighed. “The flare, was it you?” he asked, as the memory stirred within him.
Millie rolled her eyes and pulled on her pack straps. “Yes, so please don’t lecture me. I had enough of that at the time, and I’ve been on the naughty step ever since.”
“You’ll get no lecture from me. It was rash, but it came at the right time, I can tell you that much.” His words placated Millie a little.
“So what happened?” she asked.
“What, with the others?” Jack asked. Millie nodded. “Well, I fired a few warning volleys over their heads and they scattered like amateurs. Then they gathered themselves. They began to flank me, and they would have taken me, had it not been for the ‘Landers. They swooped in and caused havoc.” Jack took a breath. “I covered myself in earth and hid. The ‘Landers chased one of the gang towards me, and one of them stood on my ankle. Then they left.”
“That’s it?” Millie asked.
“Oh, not quite. As I was making my exit, the gang leader told me he’d basically hunt me down until he found me. Or killed me, or tortured me in some horrible manner. Something along those lines.” Jack winked. “So, we have three hundred miles in front of us, ‘Landers all around, and a small army behind us, intent on killing me.”
“Oh, and we killed another bunch of people just before your friends arrived. There were two survivors. So we probably have another gang wanting our blood,” Millie said, her face serious.
Jack laughed, though there was little humour in it. “An auspicious start then.”
Jack was right; within thirty minutes, the call came to end the day’s march. The group trudged up the embankment, cresting the rise and moving away from the river. No fires were allowed, so they removed their shoes and socks and hung them on bushes to dry. Jack was famished. Millie opened her pack, and handed him another breakfast in a tin. It barely touched the sides. He lay back, still dreaming of food, but savouring the last taste of it on his tongue. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of camp.
Within seconds, Jack drifted off to sleep. He was so exhausted, and so deep was his slumber, that the next thing he knew was the wakeup call. He had slept through the changing of watch guards, implemented after the attack on their camp. Smithy’s was the first face he saw, in the dim light of dawn. He smiled and handed him another opened tin of food, tuna, followed by fruit. He could feel the change in his body, just from the food last night and this morning. His ankle was sore, but much better for the icy touch of the river.
“What time have we got?” Jack asked Smithy, as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“Six fifteen,” Smithy replied. “Good to have you back,” Smithy went on.
“Jesus, I could have slept for a few days more. Help me up will you?” Smithy pulled him to his feet. “You took your time coming to see me,” Jack said, putting away his things and not making eye contact. Smithy sighed.
“I’ve been sort of helping Bill in your absence,” Smithy said, hands on hips. Jack nodded and finally looked at him. He made to move forward and grimaced, hissing through clenched teeth. When he opened his eyes, Smithy was shaking his head.
“What?” Jack asked him.
“There’s no way you’re going to make it another three hundred miles on that,” Smithy said, his face full of disbelief.
“Not without my magical little friends.” Jack rummaged in his pack for painkillers.
Smithy lowered his voice. “I’ve got some stronger ones. But you can’t tell anyone. They’re for emergencies only.” Smithy turned to his own pack, sifted through the contents, then held out two pills.
“Hmm, codeine, my favourite.” Jack smiled, popping them in his mouth and swilled them down with water.
They set off soon after, and within twenty minutes Jack was floating along on a cloud of morphine-fuelled happiness. All pain forgotten, he was just enjoying the walk. Smithy forced him to use the stick. Without it, he would damage his ankle further. And they vowed that once they were clear of the chasing pack, they would fashion him some proper crutches. Either that or source some real ones from a medical facility.
They rested briefly at around six o’clock. Jack had popped another couple of codeines around one o’clock. His mood was good, and his body felt great. Bill made his way through the line and stood before him, appraising his condition. He smiled as he looked Jack up and down. “You okay?” he asked.
Jack smiled in response, then nodded. “Sure am, boss. Feels fine.” Bill gave both Smithy and Jack a knowing looking, his eyebrows lifting only a little.
“I think we’ve covered around twenty-five miles today. It’s been our best day by a long chalk. And we did it with you on one leg.” Bill puckered his mouth, turned his head slightly and looked askance at Jack. “It was a test of sorts. And, much as I’m loath to admit it, you passed.” Jack breathed out; even through the drugs, he had known what was happening. “For now. We’ll take another measure in a few days.” Bill turned and looked into the distance. “I reckon we’ve put a good bit of time between us and the chasing group. And I reckon we’re probably somewhere between Stafford and Birmingham.”
“Don’t worry about me, Bill. I’ll be just fine.” Jack nodded once, affirming his words.
“We’ll see,” said Bill. “But just so you know, if at any point I think it’s too much I’m cutting you loose.”
“I understand completely. Shall we keep moving?” Jack replied with a grin.
They continued for another hour, until it was dark. They made camp, eating in relative silence. The guards were allotted, on a rotational basis. Tonight, Jack would take second watch with Millie. They sat, chatting in whispers between midnight and four o’clock, then slept again. Rising at eight in the morning, they were on the march by half past. Having already taken his codeine, Jack found it just as easy going. He figured if they really pushed it, which it appeared they would be, they could reach the northern end of Birmingham by sundown.
Jack made his way through the pack, arriving at Bill’s side. At first, they walked in silence, noticing the land levelling out, which allowed them to increase their pace.
After ten or fifteen minutes, Bill spoke. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks, it’s good to be back. For a while, I didn’t think I’d make it.”
“Yeah, me neither. We heard the sounds of battle, when the ‘Landers found you. At least, we think we did.” Bill stopped as though he were about to say more.
“Go on,” Jack said. “How much do they want you, Jack?” Bill asked. Jack knew exactly what he was talking about.
“A lot. He wanted me before the ‘Landers came. The one I killed, that was his brother.” Jack fell silent. He stared into the middle distance, then went on. “He said they’ll follow until he gets me. But somehow, I don’t see his followers staying the distance. He might though, alone.” Jack finished, worried he had said too much. He looked at Bill from the corner of his eyes. Bill just stared straight ahead.
“Well, either way,” said Bill, “he’s going to get more than he bargained for. If they catch us, most of them will die, if not all. If he’s alone, well, it won’t end well for him, but it will end. There’s nothing you could have done to avoid this, so don’t give it too much thought.”
Jack frowned at Bill’s hollow words. “Look, Bill, there really was nothing I could do. They were better armed and more organized than I’d thought. I almost died,” Jack finished, knowing it sounded pathetic.
“I know. I agree.” Bill said.
“Look, if you’d rather, I’ll stay behind and face them, myself,” Jack said through gritted teeth. He wanted to grab Bill’s jacket and make him listen.
“Don’t be a fool. Just let it go now. Neither of us wants to
think about it any longer.” Bill pulled a face. “Look, what’s done is done. I’m just annoyed that we have something else to think about. Don’t pay too much attention to me.”
The truth was, Jack did care what Bill thought, but he couldn’t let this get in the way of their mission. After a while, he spoke. “How long do you think it will take us to reach the Eden Project now? At our current rate that is?” Bill didn’t answer immediately. Jack wondered if he was being cut out of the loop. But eventually Bill answered.
“If we have no more incidents,” Jack looked at Bill sharply, looking for traces of sarcasm but finding none, “then I think we could do it in ten more days, give or take. If we hit problems, maybe twice as long. And I’m pretty certain we will hit more problems.” Bill said, arching an eyebrow.
Chapter 30
For the next three days, however, there were no incidents. They walked, they stopped, they rested, and they ate. Then they walked again. The going was good, though it rained on the middle day. And they made almost a hundred miles. An invaluable distance, and one they couldn’t have hoped for after the trouble they had first encountered. Jack’s ankle was a bit of a mess, but they had managed to find some crutches and a few other supplies in a hospital during one of their stops.
The crutches gave Jack new life. They took all of the weight off his bad leg, and allowed it to rest and heal. It also meant he could take fewer painkillers and save the precious codeine. Once he got used to the motion, he was able to move quicker. It was torture on the rest of his body though; on the first day, he had wanted to cry. His back, shoulders, under his arms and even his neck felt as though he had been running into walls for a day. By day two, his body loosened and he felt better equipped.
