They’ll be preoccupied with the recovery of the food from the warehouse and they haven’t given the all-clear in terms of the plague yet.
Once all that is in order I suggest that you, me and young Harry here go for a bit of a bimble and see what we can find. Would that be all right with you? I could do with stretching my legs for a few days.”
We all agreed to the plan and although they offered to stay with me, I insisted on them returning to the party. We’d spent the last few weeks, and indeed the previous six months, living cheek by jowl, and sometimes the only chance to get a little time to yourself was on guard duty.
Becky and the children were already tucked up in bed, exhausted after such a long day. I managed to filter out the noise of the festivities behind me and concentrated on the road ahead, watching for any potential threat and whiling away the time by thinking and planning.
At the meeting the following morning, a few people were nursing sore heads. Pete, who was looking particularly unwell, took us all through the revised rota and the “to do” jobs list.
It was clear that with our reduced numbers things would have to change. Before the plague had hit, everyone was constantly occupied. The schedules Pete had set, although not onerous, had made efficient use of everyone’s available time. Downtime or rest time had been factored in, but most people still occupied themselves during these hours with home-based activities or maintenance.
Without televisions or any of the other myriad distractions that seemed to eat up hours of our time before the event, people made the most of the daylight and spent their time doing something useful. We only got together and relaxed at the very end of the day when the darkness made most jobs impracticable.
Pete rightly decided to begin by getting everything back in order after the chaos of the previous weeks. Any patrols or non-essential expeditions outside the perimeter were put on hold. We simply didn’t have enough people now that a third of our community had been lost to us. The rotas divided our duties up efficiently between restoring and maintaining security and repairing the damage caused by the rats.
We set to work re-planting all the devastated areas and hoped fervently that the weather and conditions would remain favourable, and that we had been given the right advice from the base as to what to plant. Fingers crossed, it wouldn’t be long before we could begin harvesting some fresh produce.
The food provided by Chris on his foraging trips, and the fresh meat provided by the hunters, only complemented the food supplies we had stored. They certainly didn’t provide enough to supplement what we had. But the fact that things seemed to be growing, reassured us that we stood a very good chance of becoming self-sufficient again.
The rabbit population hadn’t suffered too badly from the rat invasion, with only a few new-born rabbits being killed. Butch and his original harem, still proudly displaying the ribbons we had used to identify them, were producing an ever-increasing colony of offspring. We had to keep reminding the younger children (and some of the people who were old enough to know better) that we weren’t running a petting zoo. That cute fluffy bunny you were cuddling earlier was likely to end up in the pot.
McQueen was still taking his duties very seriously and we had several broody hens sitting on eggs. We knew it wouldn’t be long before chicken would also be back on the menu.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Unsurprisingly, Becky was initially resistant to me taking part in the mission to track down Rick. Naturally, she was worried about me. But even she had to concede that I was the obvious choice to accompany them.
I knew him by sight and would also be able to identify members of his family and all the Coles who had left with him. Some of the other residents could say the same, but I was probably the fittest and best trained out of all of them.
And I really wanted to go. I knew it was my chance to get even with Rick for betraying us, and particularly for what he had done to Mary.
Becky, as usual, saw straight through me. “You’re still a little boy. Even after the dangers and realities of what we’ve faced out there, and all the fights and battles you’ve been involved in, there’s still that part of you that wants to go and play army with your mates, running around with your faces camouflaged, waving your big guns about.”
I couldn’t think of a smart reply. She’d admitted that I was the obvious choice, but as always, to cover her anxiety, she couldn’t resist the chance of making fun of me.
Three days after our return to the compound, Paul, Harry and I hefted our heavy rucksacks into the back of the Land Rover. We were going to be dropped off about halfway to our destination, then we would make the rest of our way on foot. The base had been monitoring the enemy carefully, so we knew it was safe to do so.
The activity at the warehouse had attracted their attention, and a group had been spotted observing the operation from the roof of a nearby building during one of the regular UAV flyovers between the base and the warehouse.
Colonel Moore had worked with this knowledge and had slowed down the recovery operation to keep their attention on them, rather than on us at our compound.
Additional soldiers had been surreptitiously arriving on the lorries, and extra security had been set up for the others, who were told to carry on as if everything was normal.
Intelligence had confirmed that a group from the destination we were making for had been observed there on a daily basis. They were always on the same building and they kept up a constant surveillance of the activities at the warehouse. They never varied their routine. They left before dark and made no attempt to approach the warehouse.
The base admitted that it was baffling. Only a few of the men were armed with what they believed were shotguns, and they never ventured any further than the building they were observing from.
We had no idea what their motives were, but the fact that they hadn’t approached the soldiers seemed significant.
In the past, when the base had first sent out the convoys to make contact with other groups, the people who had been receptive to what they had to say, had almost invariably needed help and had been grateful to encounter the first sign of any authority they’d seen since the event.
The people who had avoided direct contact, and tried to hide from the convoys were, in most cases, up to no good. OK, there were always exceptions to the rule, but in general that was what they had found.
The group in Alvechurch was unlikely to be any different. They had already attacked us without provocation, but it was likely that this initial assault had been unpremeditated.
Almost certainly they had heard our poorly disciplined, noisy approach and seized the opportunity to ambush us, beating a hasty retreat once they realised that they were outgunned.
The best guess from the “experts” was that the group lacked military, training and had come up with no better plan than to keep an eye on what was happening.
After saying goodbye to our people at the compound, Chris and Russ dropped us off at a Junction on the M42 motorway, about three miles from our destination. Taking a moment to watch them drive off, we tightened the straps on our Bergens, checked our bearings and headed off.
The chances of our being spotted were slim, but following Paul’s lead we were careful to use every bit of natural cover and therefore made slow and cautious progress, before halting at a pre-determined spot from which we could get a good view of our targets.
It took us most of the day to travel the three miles and even Harry was muttering under his breath about his aching muscles and back, as we crawled the last half a mile to a small copse of trees. Paul told us (well, mainly me) that we would be following a strict no noise, no fire and minimal movement procedure when we arrived at our proposed OP (observation post).
The OP was not a disappointment. It gave us a fantastic view of the location, and some fallen trees covered in secondary growth provided excellent cover. Following Paul’s hand signals, we set up and secured the position.
The plan was to continu
ally observe and make notes of everything we saw for forty eight hours. The duties would rotate between the three of us, with one on watch, the other keeping a check on the entire perimeter to avoid being taken by surprise and the third, resting or sleeping.
We had some extremely high-powered, low-light binoculars and a long-lens camera that could take photos or videos.
I was told that if necessary, it would also transmit images in real time via satellite back to the base. The low-light binoculars were amazing. Even with very little background light, they could turn night into day.
Food was to be eaten cold and the only leeway he gave us was allowing us to perform our “ablutions” further back in the woods, rather than into the plastic bags we’d brought with us (this was only because the location provided such good cover).
Once everything was ready, we set about our mission.
They had made their base in what I remembered had been a small country hotel. From memory (Becky and I had visited it a long time ago) it had a range of outbuildings that had been converted into additional accommodation. As a local man, Rick would probably have been familiar with the place. If I’d had to choose a good place to accommodate a large group, then this would have been the logical choice for me, too.
Six vehicles were parked in the courtyard but until they were moved, we wouldn’t know if they were operational or had been there since the event.
They all looked in reasonable condition, with clean windscreens and inflated tyres, so it seemed likely that the gang members had been using them.
I studied the place through the binoculars. A few people could be seen walking around. There were a few women hanging out washing and others doing similar domestic chores, but there was very little activity at all until the light began to fade.
A group of men appeared and walked up the driveway. They were all carrying rucksacks and most were carrying a shotgun. They headed straight for a large outside table that we’d noticed earlier, which, somewhat bizarrely, had been placed in the middle of the drive just outside the front door.
Then there he was.
Rick strode out of the house, his wife by his side. My pulse quickened with rage as I watched him greet the arrivals like long lost friends. His face loomed large in my magnified vision, and I watched him smile and hold out his hands in an expansive and welcoming gesture.
I remembered that smile. Every time he had tried it on me I’d thought it was the most disingenuous thing I’d ever seen. Some of the people in the road had been fooled by it and had thought he was the best thing since sliced bread, but he’d only ever tried it on people he thought might be useful to him. He’d been a shameless social climber.
I had sussed him out early on and, being a terrible big mouth, word had soon got back to him from one of his sycophantic friends that I thought he was a bit of a prat.
From that point, he had stopped bothering with me. But by the look of it, he’d managed to work his weasel charm on this group of people. He was acting like their leader.
We watched closely as they all emptied the contents of their rucksacks on to the table. They were clearly a scavenging party offering up what they had managed to find. I imagined his grating voice as I watched him congratulate a guy who’d had some success and watched him glare disapprovingly at someone else, who clearly hadn’t managed to find much.
His wife stood at his side, thin lipped, and making notes on a pad.
I thought back to when I’d known them on the road. As a couple, they’d been perfectly suited to each other. Lucy was constantly complaining about everything and reacted to what most of us would call everyday events, such as your child playing sport after school, as a potential crisis. Every time, she seemed to need a cast of thousands to help make it happen. Initially, we had helped occasionally when asked, but it hadn’t taken us long to realise that it was a one-way street and our good natures were being taken for granted. At this point we distanced ourselves and let her get on with it. The last straw had been discovering that while we were looking after her son and giving him tea after school because she was so busy, she’d been going to the gym after work!
The haul on the table didn’t amount to much.
As we all knew, most of the available food had already been claimed or scavenged, so if they were relying on scavenging as a way of feeding themselves, they were in trouble. No wonder they’d been watching the food warehouse so avidly. One of their number had seen its contents and they wanted it badly. They had failed twice and now they were having to sit by and watch it being emptied.
But why was Rick in charge of a group like this? Through the binoculars, I could see that the scavengers were all men and they all looked decidedly unpleasant.
He’d always been very persuasive, but how on earth had he got them to follow him?
The men split up. Some of them went into the main house and the rest headed for the accommodation in the outbuildings, at the centre of which was a courtyard.
Half an hour later, a large fire was lit in the courtyard. That attracted what must have been most of them outside again. Most of them were holding bottles and they all took turns drinking from them.
The glow from the fire made it reasonably easy for us to make out their faces in the growing gloom.
A bell rang and they all trooped into the main house for what we could only presume was meal time. A short time later, they gathered around the fire again and continued drinking.
A few women appeared carrying more bottles and it was clear from how they were being treated that they were not loved or respected partners.
As we watched for the next half an hour, things began to make sense.
The women, who were all young and attractive, were there to serve the men and to provide for their needs. This then, was how Rick had managed to assert control. I pictured his wife hand-picking frightened and vulnerable girls, offering them food and shelter, and then drawing them into what amounted to sexual slavery. I trembled with anger. Some of them were just teenagers. It was uncomfortable to watch.
Rick appeared and was greeted by a cheer that was loud enough for us to hear from our vantage point. He was carrying another crate of bottles, and proceeded to hand them out to the men, smiling and laughing and looking (to my mind) even more repellent than normal.
The women (some of them girls really) didn’t try to fight off the advances of any of the men and after another hour or so of drinking, couples were seen disappearing back to the accommodation. Finally, there were only ten men left and they continued drinking around the fire.
We noticed with satisfaction that not one guard had been posted. By two in the morning, everyone had either gone to bed or had passed out drunk by the dying fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Before dawn broke, Paul woke me up so that we could talk things through.
Although nothing was stirring at the house and we’d have to have been shouting for them to hear us, the three of us sat together looking outwards for any trouble, and speaking in hushed tones. Harry, who had been keeping watch while I slept, spoke first.
“That’s the biggest bunch of idiots I’ve ever seen down there. I don’t know how they’ve got this far!” he whispered incredulously. “They’ve got no sentries, no discipline and absolutely no respect. I don’t know what that Rick’s told them, but if they’re willing to act as his muscle, he must have spun them a hell of a yarn. And as for how they’re treating the women, it’s as bad as anything we’ve seen or heard of.”
His voice hardened as his fury built, “I don’t know about you, but I’m for going down there now and taking them all out while they’re sleeping! Why do people act like this? Some of those girls down there must be underage.
I know something like this can bring out the worst in people, but there just doesn’t seem to be any middle ground; either you pitch in to try to make the best of the situation – be willing to help others and contribute to building something new, or you use what’s happened as an excuse to be a co
mplete bastard and take exactly what you like from whomever you want, and to hell with the consequences.”
He shook his head, “As far as I’m concerned those men down there fall into the second category and they deserve what’s coming to them.”
Paul and I exchanged glances, then nodded in agreement.
Paul, speaking softly, replied, “I’m with you there, Harry, but we can’t storm in there like Judge Dredd dispensing justice. There are too many of them. We’re better trained and better armed than they are, but if it’s just the three of us, I can’t guarantee success.
If just one of them took us by surprise, we’d be in serious trouble.
I suggest we continue our surveillance today as planned, and get an accurate idea of their numbers, habits and routines. Then we can come up with a plan to deal with the bastards!”
Harry, tired from his long shift, yawned and bedded down in the back of the OP, while Paul and I continued watching. A gentle kick every now and then stopped his snores from getting too loud.
After the drinking of the night before, we weren’t expecting them to be early risers and they didn’t disappoint. It was after ten before two groups left. We presumed that one group had been despatched to keep an eye on the soldiers at the warehouse and that the others, who were all carrying rucksacks, were going scavenging.
Of the groups that had left, we counted twenty men in total.
After another hour of careful scrutiny, the only other men we observed were Rick and two others.
As these were by far the largest and roughest looking of all the men we had seen, I imagined that Rick, typically, had made them his lieutenants and given them extra privileges to keep their loyalty.
Once we’d satisfied ourselves that including Rick, there were no more than twenty three men, we concentrated on finding out about the women.
They were coming in and out of the house and they all seemed to have their allocated tasks. As before, none of them gave the appearance of being under duress and the men paid them little attention. It seemed to me that they could easily have made a break for it if they’d wanted to, but something seemed to be stopping them.
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