‘He’s a child of a bad union is all,’ said Mann, ‘innocent in himself and certainly no devil.’ Mann pulled the blankets back over Pad’s feet and then reached out to tousle the boy’s hair. ‘He is harmless.’
‘He is a sign.’ Said Ma May, ‘A sign that the Bird Man is on his way, a hawk trailing death behind him.’
‘Bird Man?’ Asked Mann.
'I'd seen a warning of his coming, this confirms it.'
'Seen a warning?' Gunnar said warily.
Ma May touched one hand to the mirror on her chest. 'In the clouds.'
The old woman claims to be a cloud reader, thought Mann, perhaps Gunnar was right after all when he pegged her as cunning folk. His heart sank a little at the realisation though clearly Gunnar wasn't phased to have his suspicions confirmed.
‘Perhaps she means you.’ Gunnar said. Mann shot Gunnar a warning look but Gunnar continued, ‘Bird Man? That has to be you, with the virus.’
Mann stood up angrily, ‘Enough.’
Gunnar’s face darkened, ‘No. I reason she should know why there is a price on your head. I don’t trust her and anything that keeps her wary of us keeps her away from us.’
Ma May looked keenly from Gunnar to Mann, ‘What does he mean?’ She asked.
‘He hits out because I warned him Rosie was trouble and I was right.’ Mann replied, hoping the change of tack would baffle the old woman.
‘She left because she feared you.’ Gunnar’s voice was rising in volume.
‘She left because she knows who I am and where we are headed, and that is all on you.’
Gunnar crossed the room quickly and pushed his face into Mann’s, ‘I made a mistake.’ He shouted.
‘Not your first.’ Mann bellowed back, and a fleck of spittle left his mouth and landed on Gunnar’s cheek. Mann watched it happen in horror and made to grasp Gunnar, to protect him somehow. Terror flared in Gunnar’s eyes as he twisted away from Mann, wiping frantically at his face with his cuff.
No one in the room moved, even the boy Pad kept his silence while Ma May watched the unfolding scene with sharp eyes. Mann looked to her and told her to put her mask on and cover the boy’s face. She hesitated for a moment. ‘Now,’ Mann barked.' Ma May swiftly pulled her muffler into place and covered Pad’s head with the blanket, forcing his face in the crook of her arm.
Mann could see Gunnar only in profile, his face downcast, his chest drawing shallow, shallow breaths, trying hardly to breathe at all. Mann muttered a prayer and realized he hadn’t been counting, had no idea how many seconds had passed. Gunnar brought his hand up to his face to wipe away sweat from his brow, his breathing began to deepen and he turned a dark face to Mann.
‘Gunnar, I…’ Mann began, but Gunnar was heading for the door, pulling his muffler up to cover his nose and mouth.
‘I’ll check for the girl at her brother’s house.’ Gunnar said and stepped out of the hut door and into the dawn without a backwards glance. There were a few moments of silence before Mann glanced at Ma May to see her wrinkled old eyes were bright with questions.
Chapter Fourteen
Keen sat on the edge of the cot and pulled her blanket more tightly around her shoulders to ward off the chill. She was lodging in the same small stone room John had called home for the five years he had lived at the Abbey and she wondered how he had borne the cold through the Island winters. She smiled, perhaps his webbing undershirt had kept out the worst of it.
She felt a twinge from the kink in her back that the cot had given her while she'd turned restlessly in it last night. She remembered John had had no trouble finding sleep here. She had sat awake and watched him while he slept, watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the flicker of his eyelids as his mind wove dreams, the sudden furrow of his brow as those dreams turned dark.
She stood and crossed to the window and peered out into the grey dawn light. She wiped at the mist on the glass in hopes of a better view of the traveller in the pasture beyond. He had arrived nearly two hours earlier with a request to search for a registry claim, a request that wouldn't be refused provided he observed the quarantine first. Jakob had woken her with news of the traveller’s arrival and advised her to lie low until he had gone, but she didn’t feel much inclined to hide away today.
She poured some frigid water out of a jug into a large plastic washing bowl on the dresser and placed a towel beside it. Then she set about pinning her hair up. When she took stock of her feelings she became aware that she had awoken with a clear head for the first time since she had arrived here, for the first time since she had killed Amir. She tensed, waiting for the wave of disabling guilt to crash over her. Her husband had betrayed her, and John, had tried to kill them both in a jealous rage, but still, putting a bullet into his head had haunted her dreams and her days since. But now when she thought of him all she was aware of was a leaden weight in her chest. Perhaps this is how it would be from here forwards, perhaps she would carry this weight always, perhaps she deserved to, but today its presence seemed dwarfed by her concern for John. She had no idea where he’d got to on his journey, whether he was safe, whether the man Gunnar, who claimed allegiance but could be a fraud, still ran true. She felt suddenly trapped inside the Abbey where she had always felt so safe and loved. She felt she needed to be on the move, not sitting and waiting for news, but moving back towards John.
Through the window, she caught sight of Jakob making his way through the grey dawn light to the lytch gate to give entry to the waiting traveller, and she felt a thrill of anxiety and excitement at this new arrival. She checked her thoughts, examining her fluctuations of temper and put her hand to her stomach. She supposed it was the baby playing havoc with her emotions.
Chapter Fifteen
Mann climbed out of the car to get a better view of Gunnar atop the hill. Ma May had pulled the vehicle over into the curve of the motorway before it rounded the hill and came into view of the checkpoint she knew to be ahead. It was clear that the military used this stretch often as all the abandoned and burned out vehicles had been bulldozed off the road onto the shoulders at either side, where weeds grew up to claim them.
Mann looked back into the car to watch the old woman settle Pad who had awoken when the motion of the vehicle had stopped. She had evaded all Mann's prompts to discover more about her past, had told him, 'I long ago buried my sorrows under an Elder tree, and that's where they will remain.' She was clearly good with children though, and had only offered up that she used to mind young ones after the calamity, while their parents and guardians worked to reclaim what they could of their lives. She had told the children stories of the world as it had been and played games with them, jump rope, hopscotch and Ma May I? Mann liked the tale, he had asked her if she intended to keep and care for Pad as it was unthinkable that Gunnar could. She had shaken her head firmly.
‘He will be hard to place though.’ She added. ‘Because of the stigma.’
Mann chewed again at the worry of letting an old woman and a child travel with them. Earlier, she had brooked no argument about their journeying with Mann and Gunnar. The car was hers, she had said. Rosie Mullen had made off with the flat bed truck that had belonged to her brothers, and Ma May foot down refused to loan them the car they were now journeying in, indeed, until she had led them to it, camouflaged under netting between the trees near her hut, he and Gunnar had not even known it was there. Gunnar had whistled when she’d pulled at the heavy folds of the netting and it had slid sinuously to the ground to reveal a large vehicle capable of carrying six or more people, its like favoured by the military for that reason. ‘Don’t tell me you ambushed a patrol.’ He’d said in jest and Ma May had made no reply, had left that image hanging in their minds.
‘You’ll lend the keys?’ Mann had asked.
‘No.’ She had replied.
‘Then this is a joke?’ Gunnar was exasperated. His mood had leavened a little since that morning, but there was still some bite in his voice.
Ma May turned
on them with a glint of steel in her black eyes. ‘You think I've survived by being the weak old woman you persist in seeing? There are some who lived to regret underestimating me. Will you stand amongst them?’ Mann felt the sting of her words even though he had scarcely doubted her and he watched Gunnar shift uneasily under her stare. He knew that Gunnar may not have warmed to her but he was above bullying an old woman.
‘Pad and I will come with you because the Mullen girl will trade what she knows about you with the authorities and they will sniff out my home like bloodhounds.’
Listening now to Ma May sing Pad a lullaby about a twinkling star, in a voice as dry as sand, Mann decided he was pleased to have her close by. Earlier, left little choice by Gunnar’s careless outburst, he had told her his story, and after listening in silence she had simply said ‘Perhaps your tattoo can be fixed.’ She had used a hot needle to sear the offending glyphs from his arm and then eased the burning pain with cooling herbs.
Mann turned at the sight of Gunnar making his way back down the hill, his long oilskin coat flapping in the breeze. Mann was thankful for Gunnar’s company too. They might have roared one at the other earlier but it didn’t seem to have shaken their pact. Mann didn’t feel he had the strength to deal alone with what lay ahead of them. His faith seemed to diminish by the mile the further he moved away from Keen, like fuel dripping out onto the road from a cracked tank.
Gunnar reached his side, ‘Two guards.’ He said.
‘Then we'd best get on and brave them.’ Mann said. As he ducked to enter the car, Gunnar grabbed at his sleeve, Mann straightened again with a questioning look on his face.
‘Your collar.’ Gunnar said. Mann put his hand to the grimy white dog collar at his throat. ‘The crone and the boy will help cloud focus,’ Gunnar continued, ‘but after that broadcast, all checkpoints will be on the lookout for a preacher.’
Mann considered Gunnar's words for a moment, and found the decision only needed a moment to make; he pulled the dog collar from his neck and dropped it into the leaf choked runnel beside the road and then climbed into the car, pulling the door closed behind him.
Chapter Sixteen
'Quite the carny.' The older of the two guards, the one called Baxter, said as he pointed at the gathered group before him and smirked at his young lackey, Bills, who sniggered in response. There was something about Baxter that reminded Mann forcibly of Dr Penn, his bulk, his ruddy face, even his voice had the same West Country burr, though Penn's voice had never held the troubling tone that Baxter's did. Perhaps the guard spent too much time isolated and bored at the checkpoint, desperate for diversion. Baxter was clearly a man who enjoyed wielding what small power he had, enjoyed people's nervousness and fright. A gust of a breeze brought his rich, rank stink to Mann's nostrils and he was repelled by it.
Mann and Gunnar stood beside the car, parked up on the hard shoulder, a little away from the checkpoint hut on the central reservation. They held their hands up behind their heads as they had been ordered to do, Ma May stood beside them cradling Pad, a vacant smile lighting the boy's face.
'And where might this motley crew be heading?' Baxter asked as he turned a mocking eye on Ma May and Pad.
Gunnar narrowed his eyes, 'Eastwards.'
'Just Eastwards?'
'Just Eastwards.' Gunnar's lack of explanation clearly rankled with the guard, as had been his intention.
'IDs.' Baxter growled. 'One at a time.' He added swiftly and levelled his rifle as both Mann and Gunnar had made to lower their arms in unison, 'Starting with you.' He said, poking at Ma May with his gun. She grunted as the rifle dug into her ribs. Mann shifted anxiously but a calming look from her settled him. Hefting Pad up onto her shoulder she carefully edged back her left sleeve to expose the tattoo running along the inside of her forearm. Baxter glanced briefly at it betraying a slight flicker of disappointment that the ID appeared current. 'And the Dent's?' He said, indicating Pad. Ma May put steel into her voice as she answered, 'I judge him underage yet.' There was a spark of amusement in Baxter's eyes, this information clearly held a promise of further sport for him, though he just nodded sagely as if he was in complete accord with Ma May's decision. He turned to Mann. 'You next, and make it slow.' The old guard took a pace back as Mann lowered his arms and pulled up his sleeve to show his tag. Baxter moved forward to peer at Mann's arm. 'What jumble is this?'
Mann looked down at the scabbed and weeping burns on his arm where the incriminating glyphs had been erased. 'A dirty needle. It became infected. I mean to get it re-worked when we hit a town.' This was the story Ma May had suggested after she had done her work on him. It was a good cover and it might have flown at a different time at a different checkpoint. Baxter looked directly into Mann's face and flashed stained teeth in a humourless grin.
'Bills,' he said over his shoulder, 'Call in an ID check, lad.' The young guard nodded in response to Baxter's command and backed quickly away from them, across the tarmac and through the door of the checkpoint hut behind.
'Is there a problem?' Mann fought to keep his voice neutral.
'Routine.' The guard replied as he backed off slightly, swinging his rifle slowly to and fro to be sure he had both Mann and Gunnar covered. Mann glanced over at Gunnar and Gunnar raised his eyebrow. He was asking the same question of Mann that he had asked when the Mullens struck. Can we take them? Mann hesitated a moment, torn between sense and diehard sentiment. As if reading both their minds Ma May took a sudden step forward, it was a small movement but it was enough to distract Baxter who swung his gun around to cover her. As he did so Mann snapped to and grabbed the gun's barrel, pushing it high into the air, Baxter hadn't even time to loose off a shot or a cry of surprise before Gunnar was behind him, reaching around and opening his windpipe with a quick flash of his blade. Mann released his hold on the gun's barrel and Baxter fell, stone dead, to the ground.
Gunnar turned to Mann 'I'll get the lad.' Mann grabbed Gunnar's arm. Gunnar frowned, 'He's witness John.'
'I know.' Mann said, and indicated the body of Baxter at their feet. 'He reminded me of someone I knew, Doctor Penn.' Gunnar gave Mann a blank look. 'He cared for me in the tank, before Russell's time. He was an honourable man.'
'John this man was a threat to us. His flunky still is.' Gunnar shook his head impatiently and took a step towards the checkpoint hut. Mann grabbed at his arm again and stopped him in his tracks. A look passed between them and John Mann began a slow walk over the cracked road to the hut.
Chapter Seventeen
Rosie Mullen shivered in the cold darkness of her cell. She bitterly regretted her decision to trade information about the devil preacher for the promised reward. She had thought to walk into the army station, tell what she knew and leave with money enough to get far away and start a new life. A new life in London perhaps, where she had heard that the streets were paved. She had only a twinge of qualm about leaving Pad behind, she’d never felt a mother's love for him. She’d carried him for nine months and delivered him but despite the fact that Will, or Todd perhaps, was his father he had never felt like family to her. She didn’t regret handing Will and Todd into the hands of Gunnar and the devil preacher either, they had both earned every second of a slow death, though she shivered now at the memory of Will's bulging, terror fogged eyes. She did, however, regret that Donal had had to die too. She’d gladly share the reward with him if he were to appear now and take her away from this cold place.
It had been a shock to her that the soldiers here were so indifferent to her, or if interested then unwilling to chance acting. A situation she was unused to in her short life. Gunnar had been a soft touch, as she knew he would be, and she found herself hoping that they might meet again somewhen. There was a tilt to his smile that had promised much. She supposed he’d be angry with her at next meeting but she felt sure that her whispered promises would dissolve his anger.
Colonel Smith, the old fart in charge of the base, hadn’t been much use to her either. For sure, she'd twice caught h
im eyeing her titties but it hadn't bought her any advantage. He had noted her information about Mann's whereabouts with a distinct lack of interest, though granted she'd withheld the best of it, and then he had refused to pay out the reward until he’d spoken to his superior. On his return later he'd told her the reward was payable only when Mann was in custody. Well then, she’d said petulantly, she’d take her tale to another army post and another Colonel with the authority to pay up front. She may, when she remembered the scene now, have questioned the old man's manhood, gelded she'd called him and she supposed that had been unwise. She’d been marched to this cell and told that another official wanted to hear her report first hand, and so she had waited and waited.
She shivered again as she recalled her brothers telling her that people were known to disappear into army keeping never to be seen again, especially tinkers like them. A cold tear tracked down Rosie Mullen’s cheek as she sat in the dark and tallied her regrets.
Chapter Eighteen
The Darkening Days of John Mann Page 4