Occupation

by Dave Lacey

  “Maybe, but what would that make us?” Bill asked, looking straight ahead.

  “Alive,” Jack said. “It would have given us a much better chance of surviving this whole, shitty enterprise,” he continued, limping along as best he could. “We left behind a madman. Who conceivably will not stop until he kills us all, and even then he may not stop.”

  “Well it’s too late now,” Bill said, showing no signs of remorse. “They’ll have cut his bonds and he’ll be tracking us through the tunnels.” Bill went on. “We’d better hope we make it back to the truck without any more contact then. I’m not sure the guys could take any more adrenaline today,” Jack said, his mood settling.

  They continued on, Debbie guiding them through the miles of tunnels, back to where they had left the truck. As they got to within two miles, the lights went out. There was a yelp of surprise, and a few muffled curses as people fell or bumped into things.

  “Okay people, take it easy,” Bill called in the darkness.

  “Torches?” Jack asked beside him.

  “Yeah, I think we have around one for every four people or so,” Bill replied, fishing in his pack for his own. “Okay, we have five torches. Let’s use three for now, and keep two back in case the others fail,” Bill said. The torches came on, and the team moved forward.

  “You know this probably means they’re close don’t you?” Jack asked.

  “Maybe, but we don’t have too much farther to go. And I don’t think they’ve thought this through. Their trucks won’t be as close to the exit as ours is.”

  Jack nodded. “That’s true. I just hope we can put a good bit of distance between us and them,” Jack said, sighing. “This whole trip has been bad enough a third threat.”

  Chapter 36

  Marl, Eileen and Eric, were making good time. They were about halfway to Liverpool and the community that awaited them. The roads though were far from safe. They used the M6 motorway for the most part. Littered with the skeletons of cars past, it afforded them a bit of cover as they moved. The road was the most passable route for now, but when they got within fifty miles of the community they would probably move over land. Cutting across the corner where the M6 met the M62 would save them some good time.

  As they rose on the third day of their new journey, the rain came. It began light, almost refreshing, then it pummelled the ground, a million wet dashes on the road before them. They ran for shelter when it became obvious it was not easing. An articulated lorry still had some of its roof. They huddled in the corner where the roof met the bulkhead. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than standing out in the deluge.

  “What was that?” Eileen said, laying a hand on Marl’s arm, her head moving as though she were sniffing the wind.

  Marl froze, keeping still and quiet so they could both listen. But nothing came. Nothing except the thunder of raindrops on the plastic roof.

  “Must have been the rain,” Marl said, but Eileen squeezed his arm. She raised her other hand to her mouth and placed a finger over her lips. Marl frowned. Eric frowned too, and was about to speak when the other two shook their heads. “What?” he mouthed silently. Eileen half stood, half crouched, and moved towards the open side of the truck. Marl swallowed nervously, his lips felt dry and his tongue too large for his mouth.

  Eileen dropped down at the side of the truck, landing without a sound. Eric turned to Marl and frowned again. Then, as Eileen began to move off, he pointed a finger at his own chest, then in the direction of Eileen. Eric dropped down beside the truck. Marl felt bad now. Something was definitely amiss. He thought he had an instinct for trouble, and his senses were tingling now. But he remained locked in the truck. He tried to shrink down further, so nobody would notice him there.

  After a couple of minutes, Marl moved towards the edge of the container. He was ready to leave the shelter of the lorry container, but he might take a look and see what he could. His agonizing progress took him to the edge, where he hung out a little, holding onto the corner strut. The rain was raising a mist as it hit the ground, and it was so heavy that visibility was reduced to around fifty yards.

  He could see Eric and Eileen moving at a half crouch between the hollowed out cars. And then he saw them. Outsiders. A group of humans. And they looked feral. They were using a similar tactic to Eileen and Eric, though they were not quite as low to the ground.

  There were so many of them. At least thirty, as far as Marl could see. And neither Eileen nor Eric had seen them. The outsiders approached them silently from the opposite side of the carriageway, around eighty or so yards from their position. A small window in the rain allowed Marl to catch a glimpse before they were hidden again. They wore their hair long, one of them in an afro.

  They must have seen Eileen or Eric or both at some point, that’s the only thing that would explain their caution. They were moving like predators. Their arms carried weapons, and their legs were bent at the knees as they moved in a crouch. They were stalking. Marl pulled his head back in. His hand flew to clamp over his mouth, his eyes above it wide with terror.

  What can I do? He asked himself. Tell them, another voice answered. He knew he had to, but his own survival instinct begged him not to. It warned him that he if he did that he too would have to run, and he would never make it, not now. He was tired and hungry, and he just wanted to sleep. But they were his friends. Tears came quick to Marl, their heat surprising him. They blurred his vision more than the rain had. They blinded him, both from what he could see, and what he should do. There was no time left. In the next thirty seconds, they would spring their trap and capture Eileen and Eric.

  It was now or never. Galvanized by this knowledge, by the impeding moment of judgement, Marl acted without conscious awareness. He pulled his hand from his mouth and shouted to his friends. “Run!” he shouted. Eileen, Eric, run!” Keeping the truck between himself and the enemy, he climbed down and ran for the barrier at the side of the carriageway. He turned once to look, to see if his friends made it. He wished he hadn’t. He stopped, one leg over the barrier, the rain lashing his face, washing away the tears. His friends fell beneath the outsiders’ knives. There had been no shouts, or calls from the outsiders. It had all happened in a chilling silence.

  His free hand, the hand not holding the strap of his pack, rested upon the cold, wet steel of the barrier. A small voice inside him said, Go back, help them, but another, louder, voice told him it was no use. They were already dead. And the loneliness Marl had known his whole life came back for him. It settled on him like a black shroud. Then he turned and made off into the bushes that edged the motorway. As he went, hoping they hadn’t noticed him, that they wouldn’t follow him, he realized he was going the wrong way. He was heading back towards the south. He stopped, moving back along the side of the road, as quietly as he could.

  As he drew level with the outsiders, he stopped. He should have waited where he was, let them pass. But he watched. The outsiders rummaged through the bloody mess that had been his friends. Marl suppressed his anger, squashing it until he could file it away for later use. He was soaked now. And as he watched, he realized Eileen had the map. Even if he headed north, he didn’t know where the community was. After another minute or two, they pulled out a piece of paper. “You think this is where they were headed?” the woman with the afro asked the man who appeared to be the leader.

  “I think this might be more than that,” the leader said, taking the paper from the woman’s hand. “These fuckheads were definitely with him. Doddy found the tracks. I want that asshole. He killed Mikey. I want to gut him slow, I want him to feel every inch of my knife. And then I want to kill his family.”

  “So what do you think this is?” the woman asked.

  The leader stood smirking for a moment. “I hope,” he began, “that it takes us to the end of the rainbow.”

  Marl felt an oily sensation in his belly, as he realized the group knew that the map would take them right to the heart of Jack’s community, to his family. Marl slid
down the slope towards the bulging river below. After ten or so minutes, he moved along the bank, heading south. He had to tell Jack. Even if he died trying, Marl would have to tell Jack what had happened.

  Bill’s team climbed from the belly of London and tracked back to their truck. It took them a little while, but finally the warehouse hove into view. They clambered over the truck, pulling off the canvas and detritus they had used to disguise its shape. They began climbing into the back, while Jack, Smithy and Bill pulled themselves up into the front. Millie climbed into the back with three of the women, including Debbie.

  “How much fuel?” Jack asked, as Bill turned over the huge diesel engine.

  Before answering, Bill tapped the fuel gauge, just to be sure. “Half a tank,” he replied. He put it into gear and reversed. The heavily laden truck lumbered backward, then came the hiss of airbrakes. Finally, they moved forward, attempting to put some distance between them and their pursuers.

  “This is going to be tight, huh?” Smithy asked, staring straight ahead out of the windscreen.

  “It is. With this much load, I don’t think this baby will get us all the way home. But even if it takes us halfway, I’ll be pleased,” Bill said.

  Jack nodded, his arm resting on the threshold of the open passenger window. “Yeah, halfway would give us a huge advantage. Plus, if our friend Duke does follow us, he’ll have no idea which way to go once we’re out of the truck. He’ll be flying blind.” Jack smiled. It felt like weeks since he last done so. The three sat in silence for a while, as Bill threaded them through the rubble and twisted metal skeletons of vehicles that littered England’s capital.

  “What happens if this doesn’t work?” Smithy said, his voice soft and small, almost like a child’s. Jack glanced at his friend, he looked tired.

  Bill exhaled deeply. “That’s the golden question, Smithy,” he said.

  “Christ, cheer up, sunshine,” Jack chimed in. “Let’s hope it does, let’s hope it gives us our shot at redemption.” Jack turned to look out of his window. It looked very much how he imagined parts of London must have looked during the blitz. Row upon row of half broken buildings resembled a mouthful of diseased and broken teeth.

  “For now, let’s just hope we make it back to your place intact. That would make me happy enough for the time being,” Bill said.

  “You think they’re even still up there?” Smithy said, again sounding like a little boy.

  “The Moon base people? I do,” answered Jack. “And I think they will come good. They’d better. They’re the only chance we have.”

  Marl trudged along the carriageway. Suffocating with visions of the gang he had evaded, and what carnage they might wreak if they found their way to Jack’s community. The fact that they he knew they were heading north, intent on revenge, helped clear his mind of doubt. If he headed in the same direction, at some point they would come across him, and he would be dead. The timings were all wrong, he knew that. By the time he found Jack and the others, if he found them, the outsiders would already be within fifty or so miles of the community.

  Marl knew that Jack and his team would never make it back in time, but he had to try. The rain had stopped, but he was still wet, and so cold. The last light died an hour after he began walking, but he kept going. Sounds came at him out of the darkness. After the earlier disastrous encounter, his nerves were shredded. His mind went back to his two friends, and tears followed quickly. He bit down and marched on. At around three or four the following morning, he finally rested.

  There was some food in his bag, and he ate it almost mechanically, not tasting or enjoying it. But he knew it was vital to eat. Then he slept a little. His sleep was riven with dreams, almost feverish, which tormented him. His friends needed help, and his feet were trapped in molasses. Hard as he tried, he could get no closer. He drifted to the surface of the nightmare, realized it was a nightmare, then woke. He decided he wouldn’t tempt the nightmares again, so he began walking once more.

  Dawn came two hours later, with a blend of pink and peach, followed by duck egg blue. Only in nature could those three colours look right together. Marl trudged on, his belly grumbling, his bag empty of food. He fell into a kind of walking coma an hour after the dawn.

  At midday, he had to take cover under a car. Unusually, but not unheard of, a daytime ‘Lander patrol came down the motorway. Luckily, he had heard it coming and was able to take cover and watch as it passed overhead. It seemed to Marl like it was looking for something, or someone.

  Sure, they always were looking for something, but this time it looked as though they were expecting someone to be there. After five minutes, he crept out of his hiding place, dusted himself down and continued on his way.

  “He has some sort of relationship with them,” Debbie told them. They had stopped on the M1 for a break, and to catch up with the people in the back. They had started talking about Duke and how persistent he might prove to be.

  “What sort of relationship?” Jack asked, but he thought he knew the answer already. It happened all over the country, probably the world. Gangs interacted with the ‘Landers, forming mutually beneficial relationships that usually meant death for innocents.

  “He gives them people, now and again,” Debbie continued. “He does other things for them too.” Her expression was glum, and she scratched absently at her cheek.

  Bill’s brow wrinkled. “Okay, so it’s not just Duke we have to watch out for. It’s entirely possible he’s alerted the ‘Landers, and they’ll be looking for us too. From the air.” Bill ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek.

  “I guess they’ll run daytime sorties too then?” Jack asked.

  Bill nodded. “I guess,” he replied.

  It started to rain. Heavy and persistent, it added to the heavy, dark mood that had descended.

  “Okay, we need to get moving,” Bill said, turning and instructing the others in the team. Then he turned back to the small group in front of him. “We’ll drive for another couple of hours, till it gets dark. We’ll continue onto the M6, and if we can, before it gets too dark, we’ll look for a motorway bridge to park under.” Bill sighed, then went on. “That way, their heat detection systems will find it harder to see us.” Then he muttered more for himself than anybody else. “It’ll give us some sort of chance,” he said shaking his head.

  The truck rumbled to life, and they were on their way, Jack driving now. It was not easy, driving on a motorway where a great number had perished eight years before. The motorway was strewn with abandoned vehicles, and some that hadn’t been abandoned. Flaky, dried out remnants remained in some of them – people caught trying to escape.

  “Where were they going?” he asked aloud.

  “Huh?” Smithy stirred at Jack’s voice.

  “Where did they think they were going? These people who’d gotten as far as the motorway.” Jack paused, then went on when no answer was forthcoming. “I mean, what made them think driving somewhere would be the answer? It wasn’t the brightest decision they ever made.”

  “What should they have done then?” Smithy asked, frowning.

  Jack let loose a breath, lifting his hands from the wheel and giving an exaggerated shrug. “Well, not this. Christ, get underground, stay in your house, anything. But don’t go out into the open. Don’t drive on the fucking M6 of all of the devil’s creations,” Jack said, shaking his head.

  “Not everyone’s as clever as you, Jack,” Smithy said, his expression sour.

  “You don’t have to be particularly clever to work that one out,” Jack said, pulling a face.

  “People panicked. They were terrified. They did the only thing they could think of doing. Getting away from the news, and where they thought the threat would come from.” Smithy shrugged lazily.

  “Maybe, but, still, what a place to die,” Jack said, looking about at the desolate strips of concrete and tarmac.

  Smithy nodded, a lugubrious expression on his face. “’Tis true. But then, I’m not sure the
re’s a good place to die. Where are we anyway?” he asked Jack.

  “We passed signs for Coventry ten minutes or so ago,” Jack said.

  “We gonna make it?” Smithy asked after half a minute of silence.

  Jack sagged a little in his seat. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I really don’t know. For ten minutes at a time, I think yes. Then for the next ten, no.” Jack slowed the truck and pulled hard on the wheel to avoid the skeleton of an old truck. “We have an angry madman behind us, his friends above us and God knows what in front of us,” Jack said. “It’s hard to say.”

  Marl came to a major junction. He had to make the biggest decision in as long as he could remember. Carry on, or move on to the M42? His decision wasn’t predicated on how quickly he could get to where he needed to go. It was based solely on which direction Jack and his companions would be returning from, if they had made it. He stood, his coat and the pack weighing heavy on his back, his heels aching from the hard walking. His face hung slack as he stood staring down the road. Finally, he dropped his pack, rummaged in the small front compartment, and fished out a coin.

  “Heads, M42. Tails, M6.” He tossed the coin into the air, missed it when it came down and watched as it hit the floor and rolled. It ran about six feet before it came to rest. He stepped up and looked down at it. “Okay, here we go then,” he muttered to himself and set off again.

  Chapter 37

  That night, before it became too dark, Jack pulled into the cover of a flyover. They left the truck and walked up the steep concrete ramps then dropped down into a six foot deep gulley that ran the full width of the flyover. It provided excellent shelter from the elements, and from anyone who might be looking for them, human or otherwise. They made two fires, and settled down to eat.

  While the others were eating, Bill set out to do a little reconnaissance.