Yellow Death: Arrival: Surviving the plague was only the beginning (The Yellow Death Chronicles Book 1)

by Peter Hall

  CHAPTER 12

  Cal Meets Juliet

  TIMELINE: 14 months after Yellow Death

  “No one would choose a friendless existence on condition of having all the other things in the world.”

  Aristotle (385–322 BCE)

  Cal’s Land Rover crawled at a walking pace through the pretty village of Holsworthy. After the Yellow Death, Cal tried to avoid towns and villages. They were littered with corpses which attracted wild animals and feral dogs. Furthermore, empty towns seemed creepy—who knew what might be round the next corner? However, it had been fourteen months since the Yellow Death and scavenging was becoming difficult. Population centres were the best places to find anything worthwhile. He drove in ‘creep’ mode, using only the electric motors. The car windows were lowered, and he listened for the sounds of other people.

  Holsworthy had been a typical small Devon market town, with thatched cottages from the Middle Ages nestled next to modern bungalows. They all had one thing in common—their neatly manicured gardens had become overgrown to the point where it became difficult to tell where one finished and another started. Mother Nature had begun to inexorably reclaim her territory from the upstart humans.

  Coming up ahead was a major road junction dominated by a convenience store and petrol station complex. Cal braked to get a proper view. ‘Davy’s Supastore’ was a large multi-purpose affair that used to be the hub of the town. Dirty, faded signs advertised groceries, an off-licence, post office, pharmacy, bakery, and café, which claimed to sell the best cream teas in Devon, served with scones baked on the premises. The thought of them made Cal feel hungry. Devonshire cream tea—that’s something he was unlikely to enjoy again anytime soon. Four petrol pumps stood under a covered area, one of which showed damage from someone trying to get at the precious contents.

  Several vehicles were parked around the store. However, one stuck out as deserving special attention. The yellow Nissan Pathfinder SUV was a recent addition and stood out. Although caked in mud and dirt, it had recently been driven. It was easy to distinguish vehicles that had stood still since the Death by the accumulation of grime and debris covering them.

  He slowly reversed the Rover into a minor side street fifty yards away and watched the store through his windscreen, ready to drive away at the first sign of a threat. Despite being mid-November, the sun shone in an almost cloudless sky and the slight breeze was pleasantly warm. Since the Yellow Death, the weather systems seemed to have gone crazy. The summer had been miserable, and now they were experiencing a winter heat wave.

  Cal imagined how this place used to be. Buzzing with life. A focal point for locals and tourist traffic tempted by the aromas of coffee and warm pastries. Families would be crowded around the picnic tables, their dogs patiently waiting for scraps of food.

  The store was already showing signs of decay. The windows were filthy, and signs displaying special offers were peeling and fading. Weeds poked out of cracks in the tarmac. Various planters on the forecourt displayed dead and decaying vegetation. The overflow from a blocked gutter badly stained one wall. A hanging sign warning that CCTV was in operation swung and squeaked with each gust of wind.

  Ten minutes passed without any sound or movement from the shop. Cal was tempted to drive on. That would be the safest choice.

  “When faced with two options, favour the boldest,” he mumbled to himself. “Okay, let’s go and say hello. It might actually be somebody nice.”

  He donned his thunder-jacket and shouldered his combat shotgun. His advance towards the store was slow and deliberate, stopping several times to look and listen. Still no sound or sign of movement. The shop appeared desolate and cleared out, so he wondered what anybody could be doing inside all this time.

  A quick scan of the Nissan Pathfinder was revealing. No weapons could be seen, but the SUV was loaded with supplies. A stack of boxes covered the passenger seat, so the driver was a loner—ideal. Many of the boxes seemed to be medical products. He noticed a hairbrush and tube of moisturiser on the dashboard.

  The main door to the store had been forced wide open, making his entry easy and quiet. Once inside, he heard movement from the back—and humming. Sounded like a woman.

  A loud crash broke the silence, followed by the splintering of glass as something fell on the floor. “Dammit!”

  Definitely a woman’s voice.

  The store had a strangely unpleasant smell—musty, like wet cardboard, with a hint of decay. Before the Yellow Death, the narrow corridors and high shelving would have made it seem cramped. However, with the shelves now empty, it looked barren and sad. A few crumpled boxes littered the floor, along with rodent droppings. If Cal needed paper towels, pickled gherkins, or cake cases, this was the place to be. Otherwise, the shop was a disappointment. He passed the newsstand with the headline on a yellowed copy of The Times declaring, ‘New Hope for Plague Cure’.

  Yeah, that turned out well.

  As he moved towards the back of the store, the light became dim and he waited for his eyes to adjust.

  The woman was behind the counter of the in-store pharmacy. He watched her going along the shelves, throwing items on to a growing pile of drugs in a shopping cart. This was not random looting—she was picking items with care. He noted from the back view she had a trim figure with long, fair hair in a ponytail sticking out through a red baseball cap. She wore a white sleeveless T-shirt and faded jeans. Her bare arms and clothes were covered in grimy stains from working in the dusty shop. On the countertop behind her was an automatic pistol.

  She disappeared around the corner and he picked up her gun, swiftly removed the bullets and put the empty pistol back on the work surface. Cal stepped into the middle of the store, where he was easily visible.

  She came back around the corner, dropped the stack of boxes she carried and grabbed her pistol, holding it with two hands and straight arms, pointing directly at him. “Don’t move!”

  “I wasn’t moving.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Cal.”

  She tightened the grip on her pistol. “That’s not what I mean. What are you doing here?”

  “I wondered what was going on in an empty derelict store, that’s all.” Cal nodded towards the shopping cart full of medical supplies. “You must have quite a headache?”

  She frowned, looked at her gun, then shook it up and down. “This is too light. You’ve taken the bullets out, haven’t you?”

  He nodded. “Well done. Not many people would have noticed that.”

  She lowered the gun. “Fuck.”

  “Relax. I don’t mean you any harm. I just didn’t want to get shot by accident. Of course, I’d rather not be shot at all, if that’s okay?”

  Cal put the handful of bullets on the counter top.

  She gave a small smile. “I don’t normally shoot people before we’ve been formally introduced. Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, creeping up like that. Couldn’t you have shouted ‘hello’ when you came into the shop?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d be friendly. You might have shot me on sight, either deliberately or accidentally.”

  “Fair enough. What did you say your name was?”

  “Cal.”

  “Cal?”

  “Yes. Just Cal.”

  “Okay, just Cal. I’m Juliet. Juliet Davenport.”

  “Are you stocking up with medical supplies?”

  Juliet tensed as if being accused of a crime. “Is that a problem?”

  “No. Not at all. Just curious, that’s all.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Listen. I’m thirsty and filthy and this place stinks. So how about we get some fresh air and have a cup of tea?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The cup of tea. The British national drink since 1750. It could be said that tea was one of the building blocks of the British Empire. When a visitor enters the home of a Brit, they will inevitably be offered a cup of tea. Tea is bound into the DNA of every true Brit and provides the common g
round between strangers.

  Cal sipped his tea. “Ah, that’s nice, but I miss fresh milk.”

  “Oh, please don’t start that,” Juliet said.

  “Start what?”

  “For the last two weeks, I was travelling with a couple who constantly moaned about what they missed since the Yellow Death. It was like some bizarre game to them. Their names were Winnie and George, but I called them Whiney and Grouch—not to their faces, of course.” Juliet switched to a high pitched whinging voice, “Oh, I do miss watching Eastenders. Oh, I’d kill for a cream cake. Oh, wouldn’t it be nice to eat a banana again?” She switched back to her normal voice. “I split up with them yesterday. I didn’t tell them the real reason, of course.”

  “It’ll get a lot worse,” Cal said.

  “What will?”

  “Stuff we’ll have to do without. We’re still living off the excesses of a previous civilisation. ‘Dead Man’s Legacy’.” He held up his mug. “This tea probably came from India. Coffee comes from God knows where, hot chocolate—”

  “Enough! You’re depressing me. Look, when proper tea runs out, we’ll make nettle tea, or rose-hip tea, or something like that. When coffee runs out, we’ll grind up roasted acorns. People are inventive and adaptable.”

  “Have you ever tasted rose-hip tea?”

  Juliet shrugged. “Once. It was horrid.”

  They were on a patch of long grass behind Davy’s Supastore, enjoying the sunshine of the clear late-autumn afternoon. Juliet sat cross-legged. Cal was crouching, which was the best he could do, given the fact his back was stiff from awkwardly lifting a crate the previous day. Every few minutes, he had to change position to relieve the pressure on his lower spine, but he tried hard to appear casual.

  Juliet was in her early thirties, with an intelligent face and lively blue eyes. Cal was immediately attracted to her.

  “Where’s your car? I didn’t see it out the front.” Juliet said.

  “Oh, it’s parked about fifty yards up the street. Standard procedure. I like to creep up on people.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that.”

  “Sorry about that. There’s some very nasty people about. I’ve found it’s best to, well, be safe than sorry. Perhaps you should think about being more careful yourself, travelling alone. You are on your own, aren’t you?”

  “For the moment, yes.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. You shouldn’t tell strangers you’re alone. You should have said you were with a group of ex-SAS soldiers who’d return in a few minutes carrying machine guns.”

  Juliet laughed. “And if I’d made up that story, would you have believed me?”

  “It’s the principle I’m talking about. You need to look out for yourself, nobody else will.”

  “You seem to travel alone. I suppose that’s all right because you’re a man?”

  “No—well, I am a man, obviously. But I’m a trained soldier with a shit load of weapons and I’m very, very careful. I wouldn’t park my vehicle outside the shop and I wouldn’t leave my only weapon on the counter.”

  “Maybe that gun wasn’t my only weapon.”

  “No?”

  “I’ve got my winning smile and charming personality.”

  Cal shook his head. “Oh, Lord. Just how have you survived this long?”

  Juliet went silent and stared into her empty mug. Cal feared he had soured the mood and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “Listen, I’m sorry—”

  “No, don’t say anything. You’re right. I should be more careful and I used to be. But it’s difficult to keep it up—always looking over your shoulder. Avoiding strangers when the thing you want to do most of all is to just have a friendly chat with another human being. I’ve seen some bloody appalling things since the plague—it’s sickening what people do to each other. Each time I come across an atrocity, I get extra careful.. But it doesn’t come naturally to me. After a while, I start to let things slip. Like today. I know putting my gun on the counter was stupid, but it’s so inconvenient to carry it all the time.”

  Cal sympathised, but his compulsive personality meant he never cut corners where security was concerned. He would feel naked without a gun somewhere on his body. He decided that discretion was the best policy and not offer any further criticism.

  “Is there any more tea?” he said, trying to change the subject.

  “Sure, here you go,” Juliet said, handing him the pot. “I’m quite aware it’s risky being on my own, but being with others doesn’t guarantee safety. Take Whiney and Grouch, for example. They were so noisy, you could hear them a mile away and they’d be hopeless in a fight. I didn’t feel any safer with them. They were more of a liability. About a month ago, I found a coach that looked like it was coming from London. It had been attacked and there were ten bodies on board.” Her face screwed up at the memory of it. “Being in a group didn’t help them. At least when I’m on my own, I don’t attract too much attention.”

  “Except for the bright yellow SUV. That was how I found you, by the way. More tea?”

  Juliet held out her mug for Cal to fill it. “I’d rather be travelling with somebody else,” she said. “But I’ve decided until I find someone I can really trust, I’m better off on my own.”

  “Here, have a spoonful of horrible powdered milk.”

  “Thanks.”

  Cal stared into his mug, watching the milk powder dissolve, turning his drink from black to orange. “Travelling in a group has advantages, but I agree you must find the right people.”

  Juliet sipped her tea. “So, you’ve not met anyone in all the time you’ve been travelling?”

  “Not really. I’m a bit of a loner and I’m extremely security conscious, as you’ll have already gathered. Anyone I hooked up with would have to go along with my procedures. There was a young woman a few months ago… She asked if she could travel with me, but I said no. Perhaps travelling alone had become such a habit, I didn’t consider it properly. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out, but I should’ve given it a trial for a few days. It was a missed opportunity. Other than that, I’ve not found anyone I’d like to pair up with.”

  “Wow. So you’ve been completely alone for, what… fourteen months?”

  “Yeah. Just as well I like my own company.”

  A cool breeze wafted through the trees and Juliet shivered. “I’m getting a bit chilly. If you don’t mind, I need to get a fleece from my car. Back in a minute.”

  While Juliet was busy at her car, Cal’s mind was free to cogitate. Juliet seemed to be a capable, young, fit, intelligent woman who was travelling alone! Unbelievable. So she travelled in a stupid bright yellow SUV—that’s hardly the crime of the century. Juliet said she wanted someone to travel with, but it had to be the right person. Could he be the right person? Has Christmas come six weeks early this year? He told himself not to get carried away. This was crazy thinking. Why should she want to join up with him? Surely she would prefer another woman or a mixed group? Juliet knew nothing about him and had probably learnt to be wary of lone males. Besides, how would she take to all his security procedures?

  Juliet returned, wearing a blue fleece and striped bobble hat. She sat down cross-legged and poured another mug of tea, adding a spoonful of milk substitute. “I think I’m actually starting to like this powdered milk.”

  Cal’s eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

  Juliet grinned. “No. I’m joking. It tastes horrible.”

  “Agreed. For a moment there, I was worried you’d gone insane. I might try taking my tea black.”

  “Perhaps you need to make friends with somebody that owns a cow?”

  “Good idea. I’ll put it on my ‘To Do’ list.”

  “So, what did you do before the Yellow Death?” Juliet said, as she finished her second mug of tea.

  “I was a soldier.”

  “Oh right. That must be useful given our present situation?”

  “It comes in handy. What about you, what’d you do before everything went pear-
shaped?”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  “Really? You’re really a doctor?”

  “Yes,” Juliet said and smiled. “Why’d you find that so surprising?”

  Cal paused for a moment. “So far, I’ve not met a survivor whose previous job’s going to be one iota of use in this new world. I did meet a dentist once, but he was killed. So you’re a doctor—that’s brilliant. We’re going to need doctors. You’re worth your weight in gold.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “We are talking medical doctor, aren’t we? Not a doctor of mathematics, or something like that?”

  “No, no. I’m a genuine medical doctor. Before the plague, I was a paediatrician at the Royal Devon and Exeter.”

  “Was that why you were collecting all those drugs—because you’re a doctor?”

  “Yep, the tools of my trade. Obviously, there’s other things I could use, like x-rays and MRI scanners, but we can kiss them goodbye. At least I can do some good with the right drugs and some basic pieces of equipment.”

  The Sun’s heat was fading fast and neither of them wanted more tea. Their break was coming to a natural conclusion, but Cal was surprised to be feeling quite comfortable chatting with Juliet. Instead of looking for excuses to end the conversation as normal, he could have happily talked with her for hours.

  Another chilly breeze rustled the nearby hedge. Juliet put her cup down. “Sorry, but the temperature’s really dropping now. I need to move on and find somewhere to camp.” She rose to her feet.