Deadweight

by Forster, Paul

  Muffled voices surrounded her but she couldn't make out what they were saying, Amy thought it sounded like at least one male voice and maybe two women or even children. Feeling started to return, the numbness began to wash away. The pain grew as the feeling returned. She still couldn't move, they had bound her arms and legs with wire, as Amy opened her eyes, she saw her captors a family of three, a mother, a father and a young boy. They had taken her back to a tent, it was probably a six-man tent, it was dark and dirty.

  “What do you want with me?” She was groggy, the words were slurred. Amy looked around the tent, two adult sleeping bags, a Crystal Palace children's sleeping bag and a pink one with a unicorn printed on it. “Where's your daughter?” The father examined the taser and pointed it at Amy.

  “You took her. You're supposed to protect us, not take a little girl from her mother. From her family.” A sad anger ran through the father's voice as the mother gave the boy a loving squeeze.

  “I didn't take your daughter. If they took her it's because she's infected, they will treat her. They'll do everything they can to make her better.” Amy remained calm as she began to feel more like herself, but well aware of her situation.

  “They are executing people, we all heard it. We’ve seen the bodies and the breathed the stench from the fires, don't tell me you're helping people. You're fucking murdering us.” The father stood up and looked outside the tent checking for anyone who cared about the brazen abduction of a female police officer. The camp continued as usual, with nobody sparing a shit for anyone else.

  “We will trade you for her. You're one of them, they'll give Maggie back to us for you, she's my little girl.” The mother was desperate but protective, not willing to let go of her son.

  “They won't do it. I wish they would, I wish they could but the number of infected are increasing. If your daughter is infected, they are you're only hope. If she isn't they will bring her back, I promise.”

  “That's bollocks. Either they bring her back or I'll slit your throat in front of them.” Anger now overtook any hint of sadness in the father's voice.

  “They will let you do it. Then kill you, your wife, and your son. Their priority is maintaining authority in the camp and that is it, if you stand up to them they will stamp you down! Let me go, I'll see if I can find out some information about Maggie.” Amy held her hands out towards the father, hoping he'd see sense and free her. He picked up the baton and struck Amy in the head. Again a sharp pang of pain and numbness. Again everything went fuzzy. Again everything went black. Amy didn't know if she would ever wake again, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  THE FATHER HUGGED his wife and son in the tent's entrance. She was crying, and he tried to comfort her but failed miserably. She rested her hand on the boy who just stared at Amy, gagged and bound she was coming around.

  “Please don't, she might be right.” The mother pleaded, the father had made his mind up.

  “That's why you and Liam are staying here. I have to try, I can't... I can't just do nothing. If I don't come back, stay strong for him, look after him. Do whatever you need to do.”

  The father ruffled his son's hair before hoisting Amy on to his shoulder. He had the baton hanging out of his belt, taser shoved in his pocket and he picked up a crude blade. It was rough, as uncomfortable to hold as to look at, created from used tin cans and wood offcuts it wasn't the work of a fine craftsman but of a desperate man. As a stabbing implement, it would be unlikely to be effective for long, but he'd made sure the blade was razor sharp, slashing was its purpose. And for that it would prove perfectly adequate should the need arise. He gazed upon his remaining family and left the tent hopeful it wasn’t the last time he’d see them, aware it probably was.

  Walking through the overpopulated camp, the other civilians upon noticing Amy bleeding and slung over the shoulder of a knife wielding man, wisely gave way. The soldiers at the checkpoint had become far too lazy and relaxed, a grunt toward the average civilian sent them scurrying off back to the hole they had dared to creep out of. They smoked and talked amongst themselves, the reserve soldiers lost a little discipline every day, much like the civilians. They hadn't noticed when a strange man approached and stood only fifteen-feet away. The father stood and waited to be noticed. And waited. After what seemed like an eternity, he dropped Amy roughly to the floor. She stirred but wasn't conscious as he pulled her up and held the blade to her throat, he announced himself.

  “You have my daughter. I have one of yours!” The soldiers turned and raised their rifles at him, but seeing all he had was a police officer, seemed less panicked, less concerned.

  “Slot her, I don't care.” The young soldier wasn't battle hardened, but like everyone else he'd seen a lifetime's worth of misery and suffering, he no longer felt the need to pretend everything would be okay, or that any of these people mattered.

  “I'll do it! I want my daughter back now!” Their attitude shocked him, but he only had one hand to play and he had to play it.

  “I don't give a fuck if you're demanding the fucking Queen. If she's infected, she's in there and she ain't ever coming out.”

  The father dug the blade in to Amy's throat, a single drop of blood ran down her neck as he pulled her hair back so the tiniest of wounds was more visible.

  “Look mate, I don't give a shit about her, but we will shoot you. Your girl is gone, killing that copper will not change that. But it will give me an excuse to put a round in your fucking face. I've only shot those hungry bastards, a fresh one like you will be much more fun.” The soldier shouldered his rifle and pointed it at the man taking two steps forward. “Walk away. Now!”

  The knife began to feel very heavy. He held it firm, but he could feel it beginning to slip from his grasp. A father loved his family, he loved his daughter and even if she were to die, he was damn sure he'd do everything he could to make sure she didn't do it alone.

  “I just want to see my daughter, she's only four, she doesn't understand.”

  The soldier had grown tired. He pulled the trigger once, a round entered the man's throat forcing him to stumble back letting go of Amy and dropping the knife. He clutched his throat, but it did no good. He was already dead. He collapsed to the floor, coughed and spluttered then stopped moving entirely.

  Any civilian foolish enough to have stayed to witness the interaction now made it their business to run and hide.

  “For fuck's sake Jimmy, now we will have clean this shit up.” A soldier pointed out.

  “Matt, call it in they'll get it sorted.” One of the soldiers approached Amy who was face first on the ground, he lifted her by her collar and turned her to face the others.

  “Marks out of two, I'd give her one.” A few childish laughs from a few of the soldiers as Amy was dragged clear from the body and dumped unceremoniously on the other side of the checkpoint. The incident was being called in as Jimmy stood over Amy.

  “Kyle, what do you reckon?” Kyle approached and eyed Amy up and down. “I don't know Jimmy, she's a cop.”

  “So? You didn't have a problem fucking that fifteen-year-old girl or that mother of three in front of her kids. She's got a cracking arse and is already tied up. Sounds like a win to me.” Jimmy copped a handful of Amy's buttocks and nodded in approval.

  “Okay, let's do it.” Kyle relented.

  “We're taking her in, back in twenty.” Jimmy announced to the other soldiers. “Maybe twenty-five.” Kyle corrected.

  They made their way through the camp.

  “Where do you want to do this? Same place as last time?” Kyle already wanted the deed done, every moment with her risked discovery, carrying her through the camp would look suspicious, but easily explained. Taking her to a tent in a civilian area might look odd, but as long as they weren't seen by anyone official, they would go challenged.

  “Nah, I've got a new place, Smithy set it up last night. Nothing but junkies and scum, they won't bother us.” Jimmy was confident.<
br />
  The tent had tape all around it, a warning to avoid entering. It was enough to dissuade any civilian but meant nothing to soldiers, police or anyone else in authority. There they could have their fun.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  FOR THE SECOND time today, Amy was regaining consciousness. This felt so much worse than the last time, her head pounded she couldn't see anything but she was sure her eyes were open. She couldn't hear properly, everything was muffled, breathing was hard, and she felt a pain between legs.

  “Bollocks, I think she's waking up.”

  Amy was bent over, face buried into a pile of bedding in the tent's corner, her hands still bound underneath her. Her trousers had been removed and her top ripped open. Jimmy was behind her, on his knees with his trousers down by his ankles, he was reaching forward and fondling Amy's breasts as he continued penetrating her.

  “Jimmy, I think she's awake!” Kyle was panicking, he tried to pull Jimmy away from Amy, but Jimmy swung back.

  “Fuck off, I'm nearly done!” he continued thrusting at Amy.

  She started to realise what was going on, she tried to scream but the blankets obstructed her mouth. She threw herself to the side and could see Jimmy, a sweaty disgusting mess of a man. She tried to fight him off but struggled to get her bound hands to lash out with any strength. Jimmy easily held them as he continued raping her, but now her screams filled the tent. Jimmy punched her in the face but she didn't stop, if she could fight him off, she was making damn sure someone might hear what this animal was doing.

  “Jesus Jimmy, stop!” Kyle paced up and down.

  “Shut up, shut the fuck up!” Jimmy was hurrying his pace and getting angry. Kyle couldn't take it anymore and ran out of the tent.

  “Just us now officer.” Jimmy got in closer.

  Amy tried to connect her head to his face, but he pulled back and treated her to a cocky grin.

  “Get off me! Get the fuck off me!” Amy tried to remain strong, not cry. She wasn't used to feeling helpless, to be unable to look after herself and had never felt so betrayed by another human being. She didn't know this man, but he was committing the most heinous action against her for no over reason than he was a horny arsehole. Jimmy was nearly there, he knew it. Amy feared it.

  Jimmy's throat exploded as the buckshot entered the side of his neck and exited the other side. Amy was splattered with blood as Jimmy fell limply to the side. She looked at the tent's entrance, a man, a civilian holding a sawed-off shotgun. Christ knows how he got it into the camp, but thank God he did. He was old, grizzled and rough around the edges. He picked up a blanket and covered Amy.

  “Filthy fucking rapists, I never had any time for them then, and I don't now.”

  He bent over and pulled out a knife from Jimmy's scabbard and handed it to Amy who struggled to free herself, but succeeded. Amy put her trousers back on and fixed her shirt before staggering to her feet, still covering herself with the blanket. She looked in disgust at Jimmy and stamped hard several times on his exposed penis.

  “Sorry I put his throat out so you couldn't do that why he was still breathing. Are you okay?” He seemed genuinely kind, with a touch of the old school villain about him. Amy didn't think she had been crying but wiped her eyes just in case. “

  Thank you.”

  “Boris, everyone calls me Bo.” Amy nodded. Bo picked up Jimmy's rifle and looked at Amy. “I guess keeping this is out of the question?” He handed it to Amy with an additional magazine from Jimmy's body and helped himself to a pack of cigarettes, a Yorkie and a packet of boiled sweets. “You might not let me take the shooter, but you wouldn't deprive an OAP of a few fags and something sweet for her indoors?” He gave his best east end charm.

  “Do you have somewhere I can go, I can't go back, not yet.” Amy was shattered and didn't trust anyone, but this ageing crook with his illegal firearm seemed like a safer bet than the authorities. Bo smiled.

  “It's not pretty and you'll have to put up with my old lady, but it's better than here.” Amy finished straightening herself up and covered the rifle under the blanket, Bo popped his shotgun under his coat and led Amy out of the tent.

  Considering that this was a layer of the camp that was a level closer to the centre, it was just as bad and desperate as her usual patrol. They walked through the camp and Bo nodded to various people he was obviously familiar with.

  “Those pricks, they'll kill us all. I've told Babs, we were better off outside but she says we're old. I told her, we're old, not daft. You can't trust people when everything goes to shit. You don't want to be relying on people you don't know. But, you know, we’re old.” Bo put on his best fake whiny voice and shrugged his shoulders.

  They arrived outside a tent, tatty green canvas, besides a single potted plant, a pink rose that had seen better days, it much like those around it. Bo widened the opening and announced himself.

  “Babs, I hope you're decent, we've got the old bill here, someone's reported your cooking as the cause of the plague. I've agreed to testify in exchange for some clean socks and a Kitkat.”

  Bo and Amy entered, it was clean and tidy, the few available surfaces had pictures, some of Bo and Babs, others of children, grandchildren and random friends throughout the years. Where possible, homely touches had been installed, an old blanket doubling as a rug, a poster print arranged on the wall with two old cardigans to take on the appearance of curtains surrounding a window with a beautiful view of the countryside.

  “Was that you and that stupid bloody pop gun?” Babs wasn't angry, she was frustrated.

  “Some blokes were going at her, I had to help, didn't I?” Bo looked to Amy for confirmation, before she could respond Babs cut in.

  “You’re a daft old man, you should have got one of those nice young soldiers or a policeman.”

  “They were soldiers.” Amy piped up.

  “And she's one of the filth. No offence.” Bo added.

  Babs offered a smile and gently took Amy by the hand and shoulder.

  “I'd offer you a cup of tea, but we don't have any. Would you like a glass of warm water with a slight plastic aftertaste?” Babs led Amy to a white plastic garden chair, she gratefully took a seat and placed the rifle on the ground.

  “You can stay here as long as you need love, but at some point they will find that prick without the throat and figure they're a pig down. No offence.” Bo sat on a simple camp bed and broke open the shotgun and removed the spent cartridge carefully before replacing it with a fresh one. “I've been thinking Babs, maybe it's time we looked to move out of the city, head to the coast for our last few years. We always liked Bexhill, that sea air would be good for us.”

  “I'll pack up the flat and start getting the Marina loaded up shall I?” Babs retorted.

  “What do you need sweetie? Is there someone we can talk to for you?”

  Amy thought for a moment, there was only one person. “A scientist, her name is Diane.” Amy wasn't sure, but she was short on people she trusted.

  “Is she a friend?” Babs smiled, hopeful.

  “An acquaintance.” Amy corrected. “But she seems like good people, I think.”

  “What's her full name?” Bo got back to his feet, the work of an retired villain was never done. Amy felt embarrassed the only person she felt she could even remotely trust was a woman whose surname she didn’t even know.

  “I just know her first name, she's a white coat. She's in her mid-forties, dark blonde hair.”

  Bo shrugged “I guess I have some asking around to do then. You stay put sweetheart and Babs will take care of you.” Bo stashed his shotgun back under his coat, gave Babs a peck on the cheek and left the tent.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  DIANE WAS BACK testing samples, she had insisted upon it. She was done with dealing with the dying, those turning and the aftermath. She hadn't been afforded any time to recover from her ordeal, not that she wanted it. The clock was ticking, and she had nothing to do except stare at samples through a microscope. S
he knew that a cure was too far away, that no matter what they did, it would be too late. The boils on Derek were above Diane's pay grade, that sample was taken to a more respected team and they seemed excited. It was just another sample that would show what the damned plague was, but not how to stop it. Having given up, she was just winding down the clock, slowly getting used to the idea there were only days left. She just hoped when it happened, it would be quick. Maybe if she had got in the way of a stray bullet, it could have all been over already. A younger man in a white coat approached Diane, tapped her on the shoulder, startling her.

  “You're wanted at the front, something about your uncle.”

  Diane had an uncle, a lovely gay man who lived in Montreal with his Canadian husband. She had very much enjoyed the wedding and had visited uncle Jack and uncle Corey twice. However, they were very much in Canada when she spoke to them a few weeks before the outbreak. The likelihood of either of them turning up here seemed remote. The chances of them somehow making contact was equally unlikely.

  “My uncle? Are you sure?” The younger white coat shrugged his shoulders.

  “Aunt, cousin, I dunno. They'll tell you.” Diane thought twice about going, but it couldn't be any less fruitful than looking at more samples. She made her way out of the tent.

  Diane walked up to the entrance to the research area, a soldier was waiting for her. He motioned for her to follow him and she complied.

  “Your uncle is a colourful character.” The soldier smiled. Jack was certainly that. “He's had the boys in stitches, we needed a laugh and he's giving it.” Diane was puzzled. They walked through another level of security and she saw several soldiers standing around an old man enjoying himself, holding court. It wasn’t Jack.

  “Diane sweetheart, I can't believe it's you!” Bo gave a big smile and beckoned her in for a hug. “Your cousin Amy has been worried about you, she's with your auntie Barbera, do ya think you can pop out for a visit?” Bo looked at the soldiers as if asking permission.