Tipping Point (Project Renova Book 1)

by Terry Tyler

  "Believe it." Phil's expression was grim, to say the least. "She got one of her 'friends' to reveal that the 'A' List were getting the vaccination first, but he wouldn't say that they were actually trying to kill us off." He smiled. "That was the trouble; she was getting one little piece of info here, another there. Doctor A told her about the manipulated virus—though that appeared to be the extent of his knowledge—while Sir B told her about the vaccination programme, and so on and so forth. There's so much we still don't know." He smiled. "We've got Doctor A's assistant to thank for our vaccines, anyway. Unfortunately, Gia pushed Sir B too far, asked one too many questions, and he stopped returning her calls; we suspect he raised the alarm about her, and that's what led to her getting caught. Then she learned something of great importance, or so she said. But—well, you know. She never got to us."

  "D'you feel bad about that?" Ouch. Sounded like I was saying her disappearance was his fault. But he shook his head.

  "Going against those in power is always dangerous; she knew the risks, made her choices and went above and beyond the call of duty, because she thought it was worth it. She wasn't as careful as we warned her to be, unfortunately."

  "What do you think happened to her?"

  "Oh, I imagine she's dead." Phil stood up, the subject done. "Sadly, I think she left us wide open, too. We hope Jeff, Dex and Naomi are safe somewhere, but maybe we'll never know about Scott."

  I like how Phil doesn't mince his words.

  I tell myself that this means he will not lie to me.

  "Dex is okay," I say, whenever they talk about the missing four. "He's clever, he's always three steps ahead. "I know he's safe. Wherever he is, he'll get here."

  "He will," says Phil, and sometimes even pats my shoulder in reassurance.

  Because I have faith in and like him, I choose to believe him.

  I show that photo of the Unicorn group to Kara, the day after I find it in her room, and she has that look in her eyes. That please don't ask because you don't want to know expression she's been wearing every time I talk to her since Lottie and I arrived back in August.

  Or am I just imagining it? But she rarely meets my eyes.

  Perhaps she just doesn't like me.

  "Oh, that. I forgot it was there," she says, too casually.

  "It doesn't upset me to see it." I smile, so she'll know I'm not going to get tedious. "I only had a few actual photos of him, and Lottie wouldn't let me stop to find them when we left Shipden. It's good to see this."

  Kara changes the subject to winter clothes. It's not terribly cold yet, but more so than usual for this time of year, and Lottie and I don't have much in the way of warm clothing. I've mentioned it a few times, and she asks me if I want to go and look for some today.

  "Are there any clothes shops round here?" I ask. "I don't feel up to braving Newcastle."

  "There's not much in Jarrow, but we could try the Cuthbert Centre just outside Durham; I'm thinking they would've got their autumn stuff in before everything went to pot. We'll check it out, shall we?" She pauses. "Just the two of us. I don't fancy keeping teenage girls under control, not with all those clothes shops."

  I can see Lottie out in the garden, helping Phil, Heath and Jax reinforce the fence. She's wearing Kara's fleece, jeans with holes in the knees, and muddy walking boots we took from a camping shop.

  "Your call, although I don't think she'd be a problem." I feel mildly annoyed with Kara for assuming my daughter is uncontrollable and clothes mad, just because she's a teenager. She's neither of those things, not any more.

  It's a bright, sunny day and I enjoy the journey. I have the window open because Kara's smoking, but I don't mind the cold blasts. Going out in a car is a treat, these days. We hardly see anyone, and when we do it's just the odd person shuffling along, laden with backpacks and bags.

  "Wonder where he's going." I point at a guy who looks like someone's husband, someone's father, dressed in a royal blue cagoule and walking boots, as if he's on a climbing holiday.

  "Just looking for somewhere to be, I suppose," Kara says. "Other people, a place to have something resembling a life. Most people who've survived will have lost some or all of their families; it's why you see so many aimless drifters."

  The fields and trees look beautiful in the autumn sunshine and the sight makes me feel at peace, but when I look back at the cagoule man he's crouched at the roadside, head in hands.

  "Then there are the suicides," she continues. "People who've lost everyone and think there's no point carrying on."

  "Oh—do you think there's a lot of that?"

  "Yep." She nods towards a built up area on the left. "Here we are."

  The Cuthbert Centre is not one of those horrible, sprawling retail estates you get lost in. It's small, old fashioned. All is silent as we drive up the slip road.

  "Oh dear," Kara breathes, putting her foot down on the brake just before we turn into the car park. She reverses back round the corner, and edges up onto the kerb, behind a tree.

  "Oh dear, what?"

  She undoes her seat belt. "Can't you see them?"

  The car park is empty apart from a few army trucks at the entrance. I've grown so used to seeing them everywhere since the summer that they hadn't even registered.

  "I wonder if they're here to gather supplies? For a refugee centre, or something." I peer out. "It might even be a refugee centre."

  "In which case they're not going to be happy about us helping ourselves."

  "Oh. Yes." Kara sometimes has the Dex effect on me; she makes me feel silly. No, I make me feel silly. For not noticing stuff. Not being cautious. I've got to stop giving myself a hard time over it.

  "Let's check it out, anyway," she says. "They can hardly have a problem with us taking a few clothes."

  As we cross the car park, we see a soldier (plus rifle) and a policeman (plus rifle) on the door. When armed policemen became the norm on all city streets after the benefit riots, many protested; Dex reckoned the riots were used as an excuse to introduce them throughout the country. But we're used to seeing them, although it still shocks me a bit. Mum says it's getting like America.

  (Mum. Mummy. Mum and Dad)

  (Stop it.)

  "Morning, ladies!" the soldier calls out, all smiles, blinking in the sunshine. "Can I ask what your business is?"

  He looks about twenty-five, maybe younger. Big chap, fair, sporty type. The policeman is thinner, older. Sly face. He's busy checking us out.

  "Let me do the talking," Kara says, and I feel irritated. Like she's so sure I'll say the wrong thing. She smiles at them both. "Just having a look around the place. You know, sitting at home, no telly, no internet, no job to go to; we thought we'd get out and about a bit."

  "Sure!" He lowers his gun, and Mr Plod, taking the cue, does the same. "You had the shot?"

  We raise our wristbanded arms.

  "Good girls. I'm guessing you want to see if there are any ripe pickings in here, am I right?"

  Kara laughs. "Guilty as charged." She puts her hands up. "Is looting still a crime, or is it all survival, now?"

  "Depends. What you after?"

  "Just clothes. Me and my friend, we need a coat each. For winter. And a couple of jumpers, boots, that sort of thing."

  Mr Plod is looking me up and down with great interest. Can't think why. My hair needs washing, and I'm wearing too-baggy combat pants and scruffy trainers.

  "Winter's drawing in." I follow Kara's lead and smile, directing the words at him. "I came up here in a hurry, to find my friends, and I left all my warm clothes at home!"

  Soldier Boy laughs. "Okay, okay. I can't see anything wrong with these ladies picking out a few bits, can you, Harry?"

  Kara nods. "Thanks, we so appreciate that; didn't want to have to go into Newcastle. Have you been put in charge of this centre, then?"

  He grins at Mr Plod. "Not exactly. Just keeping order."

  I think Soldier Boy likes the look of Kara, which can only be to our advantage. He le
ans against the door, legs crossed, relaxed.

  "Okay, I'll be straight with you. We've turned this place into an unofficial refuge; we've got power—though it's limited—and there are no less than three furniture shops, so beds and sofas for all. There's Argos, chemists, clothes shops, hardware, you name it. We've got the kitchen facilities in the restaurant, and there's a well-stocked bar. We keep the place as clean as we can, and we're careful about who comes in."

  "Nice one." Kara laughs. "Why didn't I think of taking over a shopping centre?"

  He winks. "Got the idea from Dawn of the Dead."

  Laughter all round.

  "Do you come from a barracks nearby, then?" Kara asks.

  "Not exactly. Up the country a way. But being told what to do by a drunken Major Snooty Bollocks, routine and rations, and that's when he's not trying to feel you up, the disgusting pervert; no, fuck it—pardon my French—a few of us went AWOL. It's all going to shit there, anyway. So we joined up with Harry here and some of his boys. No one knows when someone's going to come back and take charge, so we might as well live our own lives, mightn't we?"

  "Too right," murmurs Harry, and gives me a smile.

  They seem friendly. Not threatening.

  "D'you have hot water?" I ask.

  "Limited, but yes. We've taken people in, too. Twenty or so. Got a nice little community going." Soldier Boy looks at his mate. "So I reckon we can let the ladies go in and help themselves to some winter togs, don't you?"

  "First things first, right?" says Harry.

  "Eh? Oh, yeah!" He smiles, moving towards Kara. "I nearly forgot! Are you carrying?"

  "What?"

  "Weapons, darling. Can't be too careful these days."

  "Oh, no—no, we're not."

  "Mind if we check? Sorry, we've got to do this."

  "Go ahead."

  We stand with our arms out, and Soldier Boy runs his hands over both of us. I'm tense, but he's just patting us down, like I've seen cops do on TV.

  "They're clear."

  They stand aside to let us through. As we walk in, slowly, I hear Harry's radio crackle; Kara touches my arm, gently.

  "Slowly," she whispers, without looking at me. "I want to hear what he's saying. Look around. Like you're checking the place out."

  Crackle crackle. I strain my ears.

  "Joe? Yeah, we've got two coming through. IC1 and IC3." He lowers his voice. "Ver-ee nice! Who's up?"

  I'm not sure I like the sound of that.

  "Oh dear," Kara breathes, more to herself than me. "Shit, shit, shit. I think we're in trouble. Ssh."

  We take a few more steps; I see Next off to my right, and Gap.

  "Look, over there." Kara's exclamation is loud, girlish.

  "Great!" I presume the tone of Kara's voice is for the benefit of our hosts, and follow suit. "Let's go and check them out!"

  The sun shines through the glass roof; it's warm and bright inside, giving the impression of summer. On our left is an open café area. A central hub houses a coffee machine, counters, with shelves and cabinets that would have held sandwiches, paninis, croissants. On either side are tables and chairs, interspersed with large planters containing dead or dying foliage. Many tables are occupied; the buzz of chatter and laughter ebbs away as we saunter past.

  Ah. There's a definite atmosphere. I don't like it. It's like we're on show.

  "Hi, guys!" Kara links her arm through mine, which is something she would never normally do. "Keep walking," she hisses to me. "Slowly." She smiles at the café occupants; I wave. "Look in Gap's window," she whispers, and affects an uncharacteristic giggle. I do as I'm told, staring in, not seeing anything.

  They're all watching us, and I can feel that something is about to happen, but I daren't think what.

  I just wish I wasn't here.

  "What d'you think's going down?" I whisper.

  "Hey, never mind the coats, I've got to have those jeans!" she announces, loudly, grabbing my arm to bring me even closer to her, pointing at the display. She moves her head a little closer to mine. "There aren't any women," she whispers. "Or children."

  "Eh?"

  "Have a look in the reflection. He said they were taking people in. But there aren't any women."

  I do as she said, and a ripple of fear courses its way down my spine.

  "They're all staring at us."

  "I know. This is no refugee community. It's a boys' club of the worst kind, and I think they've got us lined up as the entertainment."

  Panic floods through me. "Oh, fucking hell. Can't we just say we've changed our minds?"

  She gives a little laugh. "Yeah, right. Like they're going to let us just leave."

  "We could try—"

  "No. If they think we're scared and want to get away, it'll be ten times worse. Trust me."

  "What do you think they're going to do?" I already know, though. I just don't know how many of them. I start to shake.

  I'm actually scared I'm going to urinate.

  Kara puts her arm round my shoulder. "Keep calm. They've got guns, remember. Give me a minute." She takes a deep breath. "Turn round and smile at them. Then look and see if you can see a shop called Sleep Tight. Bedroom stuff. I can't remember exactly where it is."

  Suddenly there's music. Old R&B I don't recognise, blasting through the sound system.

  I turn and see about twenty pairs of male eyes boring into me; some are just staring, others are muttering to each other, laughing. One of them catches my eye, blows me a kiss. I smile, just, and cast my eyes down the arcade. "Six shops down, on the other side."

  "Good." She waves to Soldier Boy and Harry, who are still watching us; a few other men have appeared, too. Macho types, most of them. "Hey, there!" she sings out. "You sure this is okay, then?"

  Soldier Boy saunters towards us; he makes a welcoming gesture. "Knock yourselves out, ladies! It's a bit dark in there; Vic, Tom, you're up." He winks at them. "Can you take your torches in so the girls can do their shopping?"

  Vic and Tom are lounging on seats in the café area, legs splayed and grinning. They stand up, and one of them says, "Our turn, right?" Several of their cronies find this most amusing.

  They're not letting us in on the joke, though.

  "Coats are over here!" Kara announces, opening the door of the shop. She grabs my arm. "Let me do the talking. I've got this. Follow my lead, even if you think I'm doing the wrong thing."

  Then Vic and Tom are behind us, too close, so close we can't talk privately.

  One of them flashes his torch over me. "Hey, beautiful. I'm Vic. You want to try anything on?" He winks. "We can stand guard by the changing rooms, if you want. Fix up a lamp in there, maybe even a heater if you're going to strip off!"

  Kara glances back. "Bet you'd love that, wouldn't you, guys?"

  Is she encouraging them? "It's okay." I force myself to smile, but back away. "We just want coats."

  Vic folds his arms. "So, you ladies set up somewhere on your own?"

  "No—" I start to speak, but Kara flashes me a look that says I'm doing the talking, remember?

  "Yeah, it's just us." She takes off her jacket, pulls a long, black parka off a rack and slips her arms into it. She actually gives a twirl. "What do you think?"

  Tom puts his head on one side. "Nice and warm, but not very sexy!"

  She smiles at him. "Well, these days I'm thinking more about practicality than looking sexy."

  Vic picks a pale suede jacket off a rail. "This would suit you," he says to me.

  "Not very practical, though," I say. "Or warm."

  Too late, I realise I've fed him just the right line.

  He leers at me.

  "You two haven't got any menfolk around to keep you warm, then?"

  Back in the old world, if a fella said something like that, I'd just give him a 'drop dead' look and walk on.

  I get the feeling that wouldn't go down too well here, though.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. They're big guys. It's dark in here. They
have guns. There are twenty more like them outside.

  To my horror and amazement, Kara wanders over to me and puts her arm round me. "That's okay. We've got each other."

  What the—?

  "Whoo-hoo!" Vic whoops, as if he can't believe his luck, and grins over at Tom. "Like that, is it, eh?"

  "Can be. Depends." She's simpering. Flirting. I've never seen her like this before.

  "But you like guys too, right?" Tom says, eagerly.

  "Sure. Not many men around these days, though. Not ones I'd look at twice, anyway." She bends over to scratch her leg and I notice she's undone some buttons; the guys gawp at her cleavage.

  What the hell is she playing at?

  "Plenty to choose from here!" Vic moves forward, Tom after him.

  Kara laughs, loud and harsh. "And it's the end of the world!"

  Vic puts his thumbs in his waistband, his pelvis jutting forward. He flashes his torch onto his crotch. Oh my God, he's got an erection. "So, d'you like what you see?"

  She folds her arms. "Fancy yourself as a bit of a fast worker, do you?"

  "Never done me any harm!"

  Tom leers at me through the dim of the shop. "You like guys as well as girls too, then, eh?"

  I don't know if I can speak.

  "Sure she does." Kara reaches out, and touches Vic's chest. "You work out?" She's doing that flirty thing with her eyes again.

  He moves closer to her. "Horizontal workouts are my favourite."

  Oh, crap.

  She turns to me and jerks her head in Vic's direction. "He's a one, isn't he?"

  Vic grins. "But you like it, right?"

  She actually runs her tongue over her bottom lip. "Maybe I do." She puts her hands on her hips. "Actually, guys, I'll let you into a secret. I don't mind the new world—we're free, so anything goes, doesn't it?"

  Vic and Tom both like this.

  "You're talking my language, darling. Where you been all my life?" Vic's moving in, his hand on her waist. "Tell you what. Cards on the table. Do you two want to go somewhere an' have some fun? We've got music, booze, and I might even rescue a bit of our top grade weed, 'specially for you." He laughs. "Have a party before we all starve to death, right?"