In Stony Cove, the best Knickerbocker Glories were served at the Sandy Dunes Ice Cream Emporium. Whatever other memories had been expunged from Freddie’s mind, the memory of the Sandy Dunes Ice Cream Emporium’s Knickerbocker Glory was, it seemed, sufficiently resilient to persist.
It took a few moments for Jonathan to make the connection between the words “Knickerbocker Glory” and the Sandy Dunes Ice Cream Emporium. But once that connection had been made, he realised that their best hope of finding their designated rendezvous was to let Freddie lead them there. Given Freddie’s uncertain grasp on reality, this was a gamble. But as they had very little choice in the matter, it seemed a gamble worth taking.
Freddie may have been slow witted but he was remarkably fleet of foot. Once the idea of going to the Sandy Dunes Ice Cream Emporium had taken root, he was off along the path around the perimeter fence like a whippet. Jonathan had to run to keep up with him. He then tried to slow Freddie down because the path along which they were running was narrow, uneven and dangerously close to the cliff edge.
Although reluctant to use a torch for fear of giving away their location to anyone who might be in pursuit, Jonathan was forced to do so. Within about two minutes they had arrived at the north-east corner of the fence. At that point some stone steps led down to the beach on the eastern side. They were just about to descend when there was a sudden blaze of light behind them. The lights of the Camp were operational again. Either the damage to the generator had been less severe than they had hoped and the power had been restored by switching back to the feed from the second diesel storage tank or else the Camp had a backup generator that they didn’t know about.
In the nearest watchtower they could see the beam from the spotlight cutting through the blackness. The light was being swivelled on its pivoted mount in order to illuminate areas beyond the perimeter fence.
Sebastian, Geoff and Leila rapidly followed Freddie down the steps where they would be hidden from sight. Just as Leila went down the steps, a beam of light passed overhead. Leila made it just in time. They breathed a sigh of relief. Now they had to try to get beyond the range of the spotlights. It was then that Geoff noticed that Bobby wasn’t with them. Looking back up the steps which they had just descended they saw the small dog standing there, legs tensed, back bristling, barking in the direction from which the spotlight had been shone.
“Here, Bobby! Here, boy!” called Geoff. The dog turned and trotted happily down the steps towards him.
“You don’t think they saw the dog, do you?” whispered Matteo.
“Does it matter?” Jonathan replied, “It’s just a dog, after all. There must be hundreds of stray dogs around here.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Jonathan shrugged. “So do I.”
The Might Of The British Army
“Bad show all round, Smedley. Bad for morale. Bad for discipline.”
“Bad for your career prospects too, Charles, wouldn’t you say?”
“Not first names, Smedley. Not in these circumstances.”
“Sorry, sir. The point I was making was that an escape from a Camp that is supposedly unescapable-from is sure to reflect badly upon, well…”
“Point taken, Smedley. Point taken. But these are extraordinary and ruthless people.”
“Who? The chaps who escaped?”
“Dangerous extremists. Terrorists, one might say. Persons inimical to the rule of law and so on and so forth.”
“Actually, sir, I don’t think there really is any rule of law at the present time.”
“Well, if we allow this sort of thing to happen, there never will be! We must stamp it out with an iron fist.”
“Forgive me for saying so, sir, but I rather fancy that may be a mixed metaphor. Perhaps we could stamp it out with an iron foot?”
“You are being ridiculous, Smedley. Care for a chocolate digestive with your tea?”
“Are they milk chocolate or dark chocolate?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’d prefer dark chocolate.”
“They’re milk chocolate.”
“On the other hand, I am not averse to milk chocolate.”
Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Digby strode purposefully to the window of his office and, teacup in hand, he stood erect with his shoulders thrust back in military fashion. He glanced out upon his men much as the Duke Of Wellington must have glanced upon his men before they gave that bounder Napoleon what-for at Waterloo.
“Marvellous sight, don’t you think, Smedley? Well-disciplined ranks of men assembling before an historic battle against some of the most notorious and vicious enemies of our great country.”
“They are three young men, a woman and a dog, sir. Hardly all that notorious and vicious.”
“Tip of the iceberg, Smedley. Take it from me. Even now, they may be assembling a militia of merciless mercenaries dedicated to our destruction. You heard the bombs go off, didn’t you.”
“They blew holes in the bowling green just to the north-west of the Camp, I understand. Rather amateurish devices, I gather. Made from weed-killer packed into bicycle handlebars.”
“You see, that’s the sort of thuggish, uncivilised behaviour we have to deal with. A bowling green! Of all that represents the civility and humanity of our great nation, what could be more symbolic than a bowling green?”
“A cricket pitch, perhaps? Or a rose-covered thatched cottage in a small country village?”
“It was a rhetorical question, Smedley. I wasn’t asking for suggestions.”
“So what do we do next, sir?”
“Oh, I’ve asked Sergeant Major Edwards to organise a few men to go and retrieve them.”
“‘Crusher’ Edwards, sir? Do you think that’s wise? He is not what one might call an entirely stable fellow, if you want my opinion.”
“I don’t want your opinion, Smedley, but even if I did, I doubt that it would be of any great assistance. Oh, Sergeant Major Edwards might have a few odd quirks of personality. But he’s dependable enough in a tight corner. If anyone can find them, I’m sure he can.”
Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Digby and Captain Archibald Smedley stood by the window, drinking tea and nibbling milk chocolate digestive biscuits, watching the scene of mayhem below them as armoured vehicles went hither and soldiers went thither while Sergeant Major ‘Crusher’ Edwards swaggered about shouting like a bull with a megaphone.
“Makes you proud, doesn’t it, Smedley, to see the might of the British Army with its well-ordered, finely trained discipline brought together in a moment of national emergency to find, vanquish and triumph against our enemies and strike fear into the heart of all who would conspire against us?”
Captain Archibald Smedley took a bite from his digestive biscuit and made a gurgling noise somewhere in the back of his throat.
“What was that, Smedley? I didn’t quite catch it.”
“I said, it’s a sight I shall never forget, sir.”
“Well said, Smedley. Yes, very well said.”
*
“They got a dog, you say?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major. A scabby, smelly little thing it is.”
“And you seen this dog, has you, Private Nobbs?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major. Standing on the edge of the cliff it was. I seen it when the lights came back on. It had a nasty look in its eye.”
“I don’t care what sort of look it had in its eye, Private Nobbs. What I care about is why you didn’t tell me about seeing the dog?”
“I just told you, Sergeant Major.”
The intimidating bulk of Sergeant-Major Evans leaned closer to the diminutive, cowering form of Private Nobbs, much as a hippopotamus might lean closer to an annoying field-mouse. Seeing the danger in which it found itself, the sensible field-mouse might conclude that keeping very still and very quiet would be a good strategy to ensure its longevity. Thus it was with Private Nobbs.
“You just told me!” hissed Sergeant Major Edwards, “That, you ’orri
ble little nerk, is where you made your first mistake. You seen this smelly mutt half an hour ago but you didn’t think of telling me until now! Do you know how far a dog can go in half an hour, Private Nobbs?”
“No, Sergeant Major. How far?”
“In half an hour, a dog can go… it can go, well, have you ever seen greyhounds racing around a track after a stuffed hare?”
“No, Sergeant Major.”
“Well, if you had, you’d know they can go a bloody long way in a bloody short time.”
The fragrant smell of pipe-smoke wafting up behind the Sergeant Major was the first indication of the arrival of an officer. The officer in question was Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Digby. Lieutenant-Colonel Digby had a knack of sneaking up behind unsuspecting Sergeant Majors unnoticed due to the silence of his hand-made, leather soled shoes. The pipe smoke, however, gave him away.
“Everything arranged, Sergeant Major?”
Sergeant Major Evans stood to attention, clicked his heels together in the Prussian manner and saluted. “Sir!” he bellowed.
“Really, Sergeant Major. No need for formality, you know. This is a holiday Camp, not Sandhurst.”
The Sergeant Major relaxed, “As you wish, sir.”
“So what’s the situation now? All under control, I trust.”
“We believe we know how they has absconded, sir.”
“What was it? Bribed one of the guards? Dressed up as serving girls and escaped in disguise? Something of that sort?”
“The roof of the First Aid Room, sir. Clambered up, made a bridge across to the railings, lowered a rope down the other side.”
“Good Heavens! Very inventive. Commendable resourcefulness. Don’t you think, Smedley?” He turned to the lanky figure standing at his side.
“Oh, absolutely, sir. A bit of a blasted nuisance. But skilfully done.”
“Trouble is, of course, the top brass are bound to make quite a stink. Not the two idiot boys, what are they called? Freddie and Matthew?”
“Matteo, sir. A name of Italian origin, I believe.”
“Pretty far gone, the both of them, I am told. The contagion. Or the treatment. One or the other has totally raddled their brains. Sad cases. If they’d been the only ones to have got away, frankly, nobody would very much care. It’s the other three, though. You know the ones. Colonel McPherson sent them to us, you may recall. One of them is of more than usual interest, I understand.”
“Really, sir? Which one?”
“Ah, that I cannot say. All I know is that they come as a set. Colonel McPherson would be most upset if we lost any of them. I am relying on Sergeant Major Evans to make sure that we don’t. Try to get them back before breakfast, Sergeant Major. It would be most unfortunate if they got away.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“I’m sure you can be relied upon, Sergeant Major. It would be most unfortunate, most unfortunate, for all concerned, if they got away. I trust you understand me. They must be brought back at all costs. No matter what it takes.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Carry on, Sergeant Major. I say, Smedley, now that the power’s restored, perhaps we might look in at the Pig & Whistle bar, have a small nightcap, perhaps.”
“It’s rather late, sir, gone one o’clock I think.”
“Oh, the licensing laws don’t apply in an emergency, old fellow. A small gin pahit would be just the thing, don’t you think.”
Sandy Dunes
They had walked in darkness. To the right of them was the rhythmic sound of the surf lapping over the sand. Behind them they could heard a distant hubbub of car engines, people running, people shouting. Soldiers were being assembled. Soldiers would be looking for them. And if they found them, what next…?
As they walked, they realised that the darkness was not as total as they had thought. To what extent it was the light from the stars scattered across the sky in a density that town-dwellers in the world before the Great Snow would have thought impossible, and to what extent it may have been light overspill from the town and Camp in Stony Cove, it was impossible to say. But quite soon their dark-accustomed eyes were able to discern the towering outline of the cliffs rising to their left and the ghostly shimmering light playing on the ocean to their right while up ahead the smooth beach rose up to form great, tussocky dunes.
From time to time, they glanced nervously behind them. There was no possibility that a wheeled vehicle would have been able to follow them. Even if it had been capable of driving over the sand it would not have been able to descend the steep cliff path that was the only access to the bay from the direction of the Camp. But soldiers on foot would have been able to make that descent. And if they had guns and night-vision goggles they would have been at a distinct advantage.
“How far now?” Jonathan said, “To the Ice Cream Emporium?”
“Ice cream,” Freddie said.
And on they walked, unsure even if they were going in the right direction. Unsure if Freddie really understood where they wanted to go or how to get there. They had no choice. There was nowhere else for them to go.
At last they arrived at a place where a great sand dune rose in front of them. There was no obvious path over it so they turned to their left, away from the edge of the sea. Soon they came to some smaller dunes. They climbed over one of these, slipping in the sand as they did so. On the other side were yet more dunes. Freddie led the way, jumping over the sand like a gazelle. Jonathan, Leila and Matteo, stumbling and slipping behind him had a hard time keeping up. Geoff and Bobby trailed behind them. Over one dune they went, around another, then in amongst some other dunes. Then, as they stood there in the star-sparkling blackness, they realised that they had lost Freddie.
“Shit!” said Leila, “What do we do now?”
“If we shout…?”
Jonathan interrupted Matteo – “Don’t you dare. We have no idea if there are soldiers following us.”
Finally Geoff and Bobby staggered down the slope of a dune. Geoff was panting with the exertion. Bobby, on the other hand, had energy to spare. The dog clearly thought this was all a great adventure. The next moment, Bobby darted off around a big dune just ahead of them.
“Oh no,” said Geoff, “Now we’ve lost Bobby too.”
But seconds later the dog was back, jumping up at Geoff and wagging his tail.
“I think he wants us to follow him,” said Jonathan.
So they followed the dog. And that’s how they found both Freddie and the Sandy Dunes Ice Cream Emporium. It was a dismal, dank place that smelled of stale urine and death.
“You’re late.” Jonathan shone his torch towards the voice. It was Sebastian. He had his arm around Freddie’s shoulders. Freddie had his arm around Sebastian’s waist.
“I was worried something had happened,” Sebastian said, “Were you followed?”
“We don’t think so.”
“Were you seen?”
Jonathan hesitated. He remembered that Bobby had been above the edge of the cliff, on the path near to the perimeter fence, when the lights in the Camp had come back on. “I don’t think so,” he said.
“Good. So follow me. It’ll take us half an hour or so to get there. We could get there quicker but I’m taking you a roundabout way where I don’t think we’ll be followed.”
“Where are we going?” said Jonathan.
“Just a place. A safe place. It’s the basement of an old building. Nobody goes there. Nobody knows we are there. Oh God, I can’t believe we did this.” He brushed a dangling lock of hair away from Freddie’s eyes, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
“The feeling is mutual,” said Leila.
Then Sebastian’s manner suddenly changed. Until that moment, the focus of his attention had been on Freddie. Now he shone his torch over the faces of all the other people: Jonathan, Leila, Geoff, Matteo. “Where’s Ben?” he said.
The Day They Came
“It’s all right. No, really, I understand.”
Glo
ria had a round, rosy-coloured face with dimpled cheeks that were made for smiling. Tonight her face was shadowed with sadness.
“I’m so, so sorry,” said Matteo, “I did everything I could to get him to come with us, but…”
Gloria tried to smile but it only made her look sadder. “Really. Don’t worry. I nursed Ben. I know how bad he was. He was bright as a button in the days before. Before everything changed. Then he got sick and I looked after him. But then some soldiers came.”
“We all lost people,” Helen said, “People we love.”
They told their stories then. Helen told them about her fiancé, Donald. How he’d come to her flat the morning after the Great Snow, how he’d been sick and as cold as ice; how she’d nursed him back to health and how he’d been one of the lucky ones because he’d caught the disease and recovered from it. And then his luck ran out because a soldier had seen him, walking on the beach; the soldier had seen Donald’s red-rimmed eyes and shot him dead.
Keith told how he’d slept through the snowfall. Dave had been ‘out of his head’ he said, when the snow came and when he saw how the world had changed, it felt as though he was on a bad trip from which he’d never come down. And Sebastian told them about the day the soldiers had taken Freddie.
Jonathan told them his story too. How he’d been sick with flu when the snows had come and how he’d fled from his village in Cornwall with Geoff and Bobby the dog, how they’d met Leila and eventually how they’d made their way to Cambridge.
The Exodus Plague | Book 2 | Imprisoned Page 20
