CHAPTER FOUR
“Gonna be another scorcher!” Bill picks up a log from the pile neatly stacked beneath the tarpaulin. The sky, viewed through the canopy of trees surrounding Bramwell, is already a bright blue, and the clouds that brought thunderstorms and rain during the night have been blown away and replaced by wisps of moisture high in the atmosphere. Nelson brushes against his leg as he reaches for another log. Bill strokes at the dog’s head.
“Want your breakfast, ey, boy?” he asks as he piles the logs against his chest and reaches for a final piece of wood. “Me too. Come on then.” Chattering to the dog as it trots by his side, he returns to the kitchen.
Already warm as he drops another log into the stove’s greedy furnace, the kitchen will be stuffy by afternoon, but without it there’d be no hot water or regular source of heat for cooking. He breathes deep as he closes the stove’s door; the smell of the place has undertones of cinnamon and lavender, and a reassuring wholesomeness. He could live in this house forever, be happy, cossetted by its homeliness, particularly with Clarissa at his side. Kettle! Stay on task, man. Get the kettle on and make her a cup of tea and then feed Nelson. “What am I going to feed you, aye, boy?” He frowns at the thought of opening another can of tuna and feeding it to the dog. Jessie would not be pleased if he scraped more of her precious tinned food into the dog’s bowl. He’d go to town later and see if there was anything left in the shops. Sam would be the man to talk to about that.
As he places the kettle on the stove for his first brew of the day, he’s startled by a knock at the door. Who, for heaven’s sake, could it be at this time in the morning? It couldn’t be past eight. Who even knew they were here? Leaning out of the window as another light tap comes at the front door, he’s surprised to see Sam, his face flushed, chest heaving with hands on hips, expectant. Behind him, propped up against the porch’s wooden trellis is a pushbike. How did he know they were here? Bill knocks on the window, waves, then opens the door.
Sam’s cheeks are flushed, hair bedhead style, his eyes puffy. “Morning, Sam. You look like the wind blew you here!”
“Morning.” Sam’s chest heaves as he catches his breath. He laughs. “I wish.” Mottled skin twists and stretches along Sam’s neck and jaw. “Baz told me you were back.”
“Yeah, last night.” Bill resists the urge to ask Sam about his accident. Michael had filled him in on some details: the fire that had ripped through the house, the woman that couldn’t be saved, the heroism that had nearly killed Sam and landed him in intensive care at the Burns Unit. Futile, desperate efforts that had led to an enquiry into his conduct and ‘early retirement’ from the Fire Service. “Come on in. I’ve just put the kettle on. I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Lovely. But I haven’t got long.”
“Oh? Busy eh?”
“More than I’d like to be, that’s for sure.”
“So is this a social call or-”
“Both,” he replies. “But tell me about your night first.”
“Sure,” Bill replies and busies himself making the tea and recounting the night’s drama, the discovery of the terrorist cell at the block of flats, the dog that had saved Bill’s life, the murder of the Prime Minister’s daughter, and ultimately, the very gruesome death of Bin Sayeed himself. “We got back before sunrise so I’ve had a few hours kip. Jess is keen to know how the town is managing; she wants to get the water purification system up and running, but she’s still fast asleep.”
Sam nods. “She’s got a lot of knowledge, that girl. I’ll call a meeting later.”
“Sure.” Bill strokes at Nelson’s head. The dog sits close, head resting on Bill’s knee, watchful of the stranger in the kitchen.
“Beautiful dog.”
“Deceptively so. He’s a beast if you piss him off.” Bill pulls at the dried blood clotted in the fur beneath Nelson’s ear.
Sam raises his brows as he watches Bill rub the dried blood between his fingers, flick it to the floor, then take a sip of tea.
“Now tell me why you’re here, Sam.”
Sam coughs and sits up in the chair, fingering the handle of his mug. “Two things. I’ve come to see Michael - Jessie’s not the only one with a certain set of skills - and about this afternoon.”
Bill laughs at the reference. “She’s more of a Liam Neeson than I am, that’s for sure.”
“They’ve got you down as Thor in the town.”
Bill snorts. “And this afternoon?”
“The food distribution.”
“Food distribution? You’re getting organised!”
Sam nods but doesn’t meet Bill’s eyes. “Yep.”
“Michael’s asleep in the living room; I’ll let him know you’re here in a minute.”
“Thanks.”
“So, how’re you distributing this food and why do I need to know?”
“Well, there’s a good few butchers in the town and they’ve all agreed to donate their meat.”
“Oh?”
“Without chillers and freezers working, the meat’s just going rotten so we’re planning to distribute it among the townspeople.”
“Laudable.” Bill ponders. “Raw meat?”
“Yes, and I know what you’re going to say, ‘How will they cook it?’ Well, we’ve got that covered too.”
“I was going to ask if I could have some for Nelson.” The dog perks up at the mention of his name. “But now I’m intrigued. Tell me about cooking it.”
“Every year there’s a Bike Night held in the town and most of the butchers, and some of the restaurants, have large barbecues they sit outside their shop fronts and cook for the bikers and visitors. I’ve arranged for them to be set up in the local park in the afternoon.”
A queasy knot twists in Bill’s stomach. “You’re going to barbecue the meat and hand it out to the people in the park?”
“That’s right. We’ve organised some entertainment too. Martha thought that a band and some games for the kids would be a bit of light relief. We’ve got some pretty talented musicians locally.”
“It’s a great idea.” Bill nods but bites at his lip. “But - and I don’t want to throw cold water on the idea, Sam - have you considered just how many people this event will gather together?”
“Well-”
“There are over ten thousand people in the town, most of them living on short rations, and getting pretty damned hungry.”
“I know that, Bill. That’s why I’ve convinced the butchers to hand over their meat.”
“Have you got enough meat to feed everyone? I mean every single person in this town?”
“Well-”
“Have you got enough, Sam, because if you haven’t ...” Bill stops as he imagines the chaos that could ensue, “then you’d better have some pretty hefty security organised.” Bill watches as the Adam’s apple in Sam’s throat bobs. He hasn’t! He hasn’t considered the implications of feeding only a portion of the people who would turn up. The knot in Bill’s stomach tightens and a dull ache begins to throb at the back of his head. He scrapes the chair back from the table as he stands. “I’ll let Michael know that you’re here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Sarah laughs at the grimace of disgust on her teenage daughter’s face as she walks across the garden with the bucket of water. It sloshes and spills on her bare feet.
“Careful,” Sarah chides gently. “That’s the only water we’ve got.”
“Oh, Mum!” Amy raises her brows with an exaggerated sigh. “The water will probably be back on tomorrow.”
“Perhaps,” Sarah returns, “but if it’s not-”
“Then it’ll rain,” Amy counters. “This is England. It always rains.”
“Maybe.” The sky, purest blue and brilliant, carries only the faintest wisp of white. “But it doesn’t look that way to me.”
“Mum’s right, Amy,” Gabe says as he joins Sarah on the patio. “Looks like we’re in for a dry summer.” He slides his arm across Sarah’s shoulder and she’s glad, for the thousan
dth time, of her husband’s gentle and calming, love. She leans into him, and a little of the tension that has settled over her since the realisation of just how vulnerable they all were, shakes off.
“So where do I put it?”
“Just there,” Sarah points to the area next to the round drum of the barbecue. “So glad you didn’t listen to me and get the gas one I wanted.”
“Uhuh,” Gabe replies. “Steak just doesn’t taste the same without coals beneath it.”
“Gas is cleaner, that’s all I was thinking.”
“Sure, but real men don’t cook outdoors with gas. It’d give the boy a bad edication,” he says with a laugh. Used to his bad jokes, she pokes him in the ribs and joins his laughter.
Joe runs across the grass and slides his arm across Gabe’s back. It only reaches halfway, instantly making the boy seem small and the man huge. “Are we having steak, Dad?”
“No, sir, we’re not,” Gabe’s glance to Sarah holds a pained expression; a reference to their earlier conversation.
As she’d thrown Maurice’s ‘present’ back over the fence for Megan to deal with, and scanned the inedible garden, the family’s complete unpreparedness for disaster had hit her hard; the shit had hit the fan and they, Sarah and Gabe, had failed their own children.
Sharing her concerns with Gabe had been a relief. She explained that, for the past days, since the blackout, she’d managed to put together reasonable meals from the cold cuts of meat and salad stuff they’d had in the fridge, but they were down to two packets of dry pasta, one small bag of rice, a packet of cheese sauce mix, and a variety of tinned beans and tomatoes that she had no way of making edible for the children. He’d agreed that as soon as the power was back on they’d start planning how to make their home a little more disaster proof. In her mind Sarah was already tearing up the grass and borders at the end of their long garden and tilling the earth to make it ready for vegetables.
“I’m hungry, Mum.” Amy’s complaint breaks into Sarah’s thoughts.
Her maternal guilt stings just a little sharper. “There’ll be steak later, sweetheart. Uncle Sam is organising a fun day at the park.”
Amy groans. “Not interested,” she sighs with exaggerated dissatisfaction.
Sarah rolls her eyes at Gabe’s amused smile. “Well, you’ve got no choice in the matter. We’re going. He’s doing a barbecue and the whole town’s invited.”
“The whole town?”
“Yes,” Sarah suppresses a laugh at her sudden interest. “Including the Thompsons.”
A blush stains Amy’s cheeks. “But ...” Amy pauses, suddenly a wide-eyed and startled deer. “I need to wash my hair!”
“Well, then you’re in luck,” Sarah continues, “because we’ve got some water you can use.” She gestures to the bucket at the girl’s feet.
“That! I am not going to wash my hair in that. It’s for watering the plants.”
“Not anymore,” Gabe returns.
“Ew!”
“It’ll be OK,” Sarah placates, “we’re going to boil it first—to kill all the bugs.”
“Ew!” Amy repeats.
“What bugs? Let me see.” Joe pushes past Sarah and cranes his neck to look into the bucket. “I can’t see any bugs.” He pulls back disappointed.
“You can’t see them,” Gabe explains. “They’re microscopic, but there are probably thousands of bacteria, parasites, viruses and other stuff-”
“Ew, Dad!” Amy interjects. “Parasites—like worms that grow to ten foot in your belly.”
Gabe laughs though Sarah peers into the bucket of water with a flash of terror. Apart from washing in the stuff she had begun to realise this may be their only source of drinking water.
“No,” Gabe explains. “No ten-foot intestinal worms; they’re at least twenty.” His throat rumbles with a low chuckle as he pokes at the coals.
“Dad!”
“Other stuff?” Sarah asks.
“Don’t worry, honey. Whatever is in there will be killed when we boil it. It’ll be good for washing.”
“What about cooking.”
“Sure, it’ll be good for cooking.”
The tension eases a little. They had the barbecue and a source of water for cooking, at least for a few days.
“We can have cheesy pasta tonight in a tomato sauce,” she says with relief as she mentally scans the cupboards in the kitchen; the last of the milk with a dehydrated cheese sauce and the remaining packet of tagliatelle.
“What about drinking? Can we drink it?”
“It’ll need boiling for about fifteen minutes to make it clean enough to drink.”
“Oh,” Sarah says looking at the still tepid pan. Her mouth was already very dry and from the complaints the children had been making they were struggling with the lack of liquid too. “Can we put another, smaller pan on so that we can get drinking water quicker? I’m dying of thirst.”
“Literally?” Gabe teases.
“You know what I’m like without my cup of tea in the morning,” she replies.
“Yeah, she’ll start growing fangs,” Joe adds with a cheeky grin.
“And hairs on the back of her hands,” Amy adds with a small cackle.
“Alright you two.” Sarah laughs as they both descend into giggles. “Careful or I’ll bite!” She growls with a comical snarl and swipes at them with imaginary claws.
A click catches Sarah’s attention and then the neighbour’s door opens. Megan steps out onto the path. Light plays on the silk folds of her dressing gown, bringing the fuchsia peonies, blossoming across her bosom and belly, to life. A frown creases her brow until she notices the family on the patio.
She waves and tightens the dressing gown’s belt. “Beautiful morning ... I thought I could smell smoke.” Megan takes a step closer to the low fence. “Bit early for a barbecue.”
“We’re boiling up water for washing and cooking.”
“What a good idea! I’ve loaded up the dishwasher but of course it’s completely useless. Where did you get your water from? There’s not a drop in our taps.”
“The rain butt,” Gabe replies.
She looks across her own garden. “Will it be safe?”
“Yep, and if it’s boiled for fifteen minutes you can even drink it.”
Sarah notices the crestfallen look on Megan’s face. “What wrong?”
“Well, we have some water in the butt, but don’t have a barbecue.”
Sarah wants to invite her over, but that would mean sharing their precious resource and access to water was already at a critical level. “Gabe,” she says in a low voice that she hopes won’t carry. “What do we do? Should we invite her to come for a cup of tea?”
“It’s the decent thing to do,” he replies turning his back to the woman.
“Yes, but-”
“I know—we can’t share our water.”
“What if she brings her own water.”
“We can boil it for her.”
Sarah sighs with relief. Gabe always understood. “Megan,” she calls. “If you bring a pan of water over we can boil it for you.”
“Oh, Sarah! Would you?” The look of sheer relief that floods Megan’s face assuages the guilt Sarah feels for not offering a cup of tea from their own supply.
“Of course,” Gabe replies, “come on over.”
As Megan disappears back into her house to find a suitable pan, Amy and Joe run onto the still dew-sodden lawn and play catch. The sun is bright and morning air soft, without its usual crispness, but a tightness sits across Sarah’s chest as she watches her children dance across the grass throwing the ball high and catching it with joy.
“You know, Gabe, this blackout isn’t all bad. Look at those two. It’s so nice to see them playing together. If the electricity was still on they’d be glued to the television or one of their devices.”
He pokes at the burning charcoal. “That’s fine for now but if this power outage continues for much longer we’re going to be in serious trouble, Sa
rah. We have one barrel of rainwater. Some people out there won’t even have that and it’s likely they don’t even know how to make it safe.”
“I know.” The grip across her chest tightens. “I felt so bad about not asking Megan over for a cup of tea, it just wasn’t neighbourly, but ...”
“I know. You didn’t want to share.”
She sighs with relief. “No! I absolutely did not want to share our water. It’s all we’ve got and-”
“It’s OK, Sarah. I understand. We did the right thing. We have to protect our own.”
Sarah strokes Gabe’s back as the neighbour’s door re-opens and Megan steps out with a smile, pan in hand. The cat jumps up onto the fence next to her and then jumps down into Sarah’s flowerbed.
“Oh, Maurice. Naughty boy!” Megan chides. “Won’t be a minute,” she calls over the fence. “Just getting the water. How much should I get?”
“Just the panful will do.”
CHAPTER SIX
Sam’s legs ache as he pedals down the last stretch of road before reaching ‘home’. The weight of responsibility makes him catch his breath as the Police Station comes into view. Outside is a group of young men and women talking to the Protectors he has posted on permanent rotation outside. He hadn’t banked on there being so much opposition to the terrorists being held in the town—seemed like everyone had an opinion of just what should happen to them. He wished now that he’d taken Bill’s advice and housed them somewhere less central. However, at least the cells here were secure.
He takes a breath and makes his best effort to look in control as he swings the bike onto the side entrance to the station and wheels it to the back. The situation at the front with the group appeared to be under control. He had every confidence in his men, they were all more qualified than him to be doing that particular job: of the four, three were ex-military and one was still in service. If anyone could keep the Police Station secure it was them.
More pressing, and what was really preying on Sam’s mind now, was the communal barbecue. The look in Bill’s eyes as he’d asked about the amount of meat that was available for the people that would arrive to be fed had set off in Sam a response that he could barely control. His heart had begun to trip painfully in his chest and his hands trembled. He’d stuffed them into his pockets to hide their tremble and almost sighed with relief when Bill left the room to let Michael know he was there. For those seconds he’d pressed down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him; the desperate need to get back home and disappear beneath his duvet, lock himself away from the world. Inhale. Exhale. Stay Calm. The therapist’s soothing voice repeated in his mind. Focus for a moment. Choose an object. Any object. He’d stared at the large white dog, and its huge brown eyes. Now let all other thoughts disappear. He’d taken deep breaths and stared at the dog, examining its fur and snout, the blood that made it shine pink, and the rising panic had subsided. With relief he realised he was getting better at avoiding full-blown panic attacks. When the dog had plodded across to him and sat by his side then nudged at his hand with its head, he’d felt the tension flow out of him and, by the time Bill returned, his heartbeat had slowed. He’d stroked the dog and marvelled at how relaxed it made him feel to pet it. Perhaps that’s something he should do—get a dog. Come to think of it, Judy, his therapist, had mentioned about it before but he’d been in no place at the time to even consider taking on that responsibility.
Blackout & Burn: A Complete EMP Thriller Series Page 59