by Terry Tyler
"Why the hell not?" She looks at me. "Yeah?"
I know it's an act, but it's completely convincing. Surely she can't intend us to have sex with them in order to get out of here?
That's when the horror of our situation really hits me. They can do what they want with us. We won't be able to stop them. Tears of terror well up in my eyes, and I blink them back. I can't cry. Especially now I see what Kara's doing. She thinks it'll be easier if we go willingly. I can't think of any other reason for her acting like she is, unless she has a plan, but I can't see it, we can't fight them off, we can't run away—oh, thank goodness I didn't bring Lottie. Thank goodness, thank goodness.
"Shall I go get us some champagne?" Tom says. "We can have ourselves a time!"
Kara holds my hand, tightly. "Sounds good. Tell you what, though. Let's party in style. How about we nip over the way to Sleep Tight?" She nods her head in the direction of the shop. "They've got these mocked up bedrooms in there, and there's one with a big four poster, with curtains; I saw it a few months ago, and I thought, I so want that bed!" She clasps her hands to her chest and swoons, as if she wants nothing more in the world than to romp about in a bedroom furniture shop with these two apes. "It's been the setting for my fantasies ever since!"
Vic chortles at this. "Oh yeah, I know that four poster; that's where Leon's been kipping down, ain't it, Tom?"
Kara bats her eyelids at him. "I'm sure Leon won't mind."
I make a desperate effort to smile and look up for it, because I know that's what she wants me to do.
"Hey, who'd have thought it would take a global pandemic to make my dream come true?" she says, and the men find this hilarious.
"What about your friend here?" Vic touches my hair. "You the quiet one, eh? You know what they say. The quiet ones are the worst. That true, is it?"
He's tall, fit and good-looking. If I was single and saw him in a pub, back before Dex, I'd have checked him out. Right now, though, he's making my flesh creep so badly it's practically crawling out of my clothes, I am utterly terrified, and every nerve in my body is telling me to kick him away from me, run as fast as I can, and scream and scream and scream for help.
There isn't any help any more, though.
No 999 to ring. Nothing.
I force the words out. "Something like that."
"Let's hear it for the end of the world!" Vic puts an arm around each of us, the coats forgotten. "Tommo, nip and get us a couple of bottles of fizz and four glasses." He kisses me on the cheek and I have to clench my fists to stop myself recoiling. "Sorry if it's a bit warm, ladies; Leon says chilling drinks is a waste of the power supply."
"That's okay; it's ages since I've had bubbly!" Kara bats her eyelids at him, and I hope she isn't going too far with the ditzy slapper bit; she doesn't look like the sort of woman who would call champagne 'bubbly'.
Vic and Tom are too thick and too horny to notice.
We hear cheers and cat-calling as we leave the shop, and when we get to Sleep Tight, Kara leads Vic by the hand through the dark shop to the mocked up bedrooms. The four poster has curtains round it, as she described, and a lamp on the bedside table, which Vic switches on.
"Let's get rid of all this shit," Vic says, sweeping a pile of clothes and porno mags off the top. My heart is beating so, so fast, as he and Kara sit down. He begins to stroke the back of her neck and she throws her head back.
"Oh, that feels good!"
"Come on," he says, patting the other side of the bed, grinning at me. "Don't be shy!"
Tom appears with the champagne and four glasses, and they make a big deal about opening it, Kara squealing as the corks pop.
We clink glasses and drink, chuck banter back and forth (at least, Kara and Vic do), while Vic nuzzles Kara's neck, Tom slides his hands under my jacket, and I think I'm going to freak out.
"Hey, let's not be in a hurry!" Kara says. "Let's get to know each other first, right? We've got all the time in the world!"
"Sure have," says Vic, pouring out more champagne and swigging it down in one gulp. "But let's not wait too long." He laughs. "It's been a long time!"
He dives in to chew at her face, and Tom slugs his drink down, too, sitting down on the other side of the bed, pulling me with him by the hand. He makes a grab for me, gripping me round the waist and clamping his lips on mine. Oh my God, I want to be sick. His mouth is slobbery, and he reeks of fags and uncleaned teeth.
"Slow down," I say, turning my head to one side.
"I can't, babe," he insists, "you've got me too hot." And he grabs my arse, pushing me down to lie next to him, grinding his pelvis against my thigh and undoing his shirt. "Touch me," he says. He smells. Unwashed body, unwashed clothes. I'm panicking, I think I'm going to cry, I can't do this, I really can't. I can't see Kara, because he's holding me so tight and my face is pushed into his greasy chest, but I can hear Vic's heavy breathing and the sounds of clothes being ripped open.
Tom's revolting soft lips are all over my neck, his hands are creeping over my body, and I don't think I can bear it a minute longer, but I can't see Kara, I need to catch her eye so I can let her know, but I can't, I can't see her—
A scream rents the air. A male scream. It doesn't stop, and Vic is yelling, "Aaaaah! You fucking bitch, what have you done? Tom, get here, I'm bleeding! Oh fuck, Jesus, no, what's that fucking bitch done to me?"
The filthy, stinking octopus lets go of me, and the next minute I feel a hand grab my wrist so tightly it hurts, I'm yanked away, and I hear Kara's voice shouting, "Run!"
I run.
Glancing behind me I get just a flash, nothing more than a fleeting impression, of Vic collapsing on the rainbow patterned quilt, holding his hand to his chest, blood pouring onto his white shirt, and Kara is dragging me out through a side door, past a little office and a load of mops and buckets which I manage to knock over, clatter clatter clatter, and she's pushing on the bar of a fire escape, but it won't open, and I shout, "The bolts!" and she's reaching up and down, hands shaking, to release them, while I look back, in panic, and we're kicking at the door, pushing it, and at last we're out, out into the sunlit morning.
"Run, don't stop!" she shouts, and I charge after her, across the tarmac; a few cars and overturned shopping trolleys register in the corner of my vision but nothing else matters except reaching the end of that open space and diving into the cover of the trees, where Kara is heading; she's much more athletic than me. She's lost her jacket and the wind is whistling up my untucked shirt onto my bare skin, I've never known fear like it, it's spurring me on to run faster than I ever have before, I can almost feel it pumping through my limbs as I listen out for gunshots behind us, for footsteps, for shouts. But none come.
We reach the trees but Kara doesn't stop, she's galloping over the mud, over the carpet of mushy, brown leaves, the conkers and squashed berries, pushing through branches in her way, and I concentrate on nothing but her, I don't even look to see what's under my feet, I run and run, until my chest is hurting, badly, and my legs feel weak, as if they're going to buckle under me, and we come out on the side of a deserted B road.
Kara stops, bending over, gasping for breath. I do the same, then flop down on the grass verge. My chest hurts, badly.
"What did you do?" I manage to pant out.
"My knife." She leans back and puts her hand on her chest. "I put it in my boot before we got out of the car; it was going to be that or a smashed champagne glass." She exhales, trying to regulate her breathing. "I was weighing it up, smashing a glass would have taken a couple more seconds, and if he was on the ball he could have grabbed my wrist."
"D'you think you killed him?" Puff, pant.
She grins at me through the gasps for air, pulls the knife out of her jeans pocket, and wipes blood off onto the grass. "No. I stuck it in here." She touches a place just below her clavicle. "Fucking hard, though!"
"I thought they'd come after us."
"I reckon we've got at least five minutes' head start." She takes
a breath. "I'm thinking Tom'll spend a minute taking a look at him, then another one getting back to the front of the shop, then they'll take another three to organise themselves."
"Do you think they really will come after us?"
"Yes. Won't know where to look, though, will they?" She straightens up, hands on hips, bending backwards, stretching. "We can't go back to the car, though. That's the first place they'll try." She points in some vague direction behind us. "Come on, let's get back amongst the trees."
I feel safer once we can't be seen from the road. We drop down onto a muddy path. "I wondered what the hell you were doing when you started propositioning them."
She gives me a knowing sort of smile. "I know."
"Did you know the way out of the shop, or was it just luck?"
"I knew. Last year I was there with Auntie Sylv; she was taking bloody ages deciding between some headboard or other, and I was gagging for a cig. The shop assistant said I could go out the back, rather than all the way out through the mall."
"Thank God for that."
"Indeed. I'm pissed off about leaving my jacket behind, though, it was my favourite. Pity about those coats, too."
"Fuck the coats. I'm sweating." We both laugh.
"We need to find a vehicle," she says. "If they're looking for us they'll be driving, so we need to get away, quickly."
Fear rushes through me again, and I listen. There's nothing, yet. "Maybe they went the other way."
"Let's hope so. Because if they find us, it's over."
Over the road I see a few houses, in the distance. "Shall we go that way?"
"Just let me get my bearings." She stands up and looks around. "Yes. My guess is that if they're looking for us, they'll be keeping close to the dual carriageway back towards Newcastle, or Durham, with a bit of luck. I think we need to go the other way. Towards Edmondsley, find a vehicle."
We cross the road. "Perhaps they'll just patch him up, take the piss out of him for getting stabbed in the shoulder by a woman, and that'll be that."
Kara likes this. "Let's hope so."
We find a car after about half an hour, on a narrow country lane. It's occupied, but the occupant is dead, curled up in the passenger seat, wrapped in a duvet. The smell is phenomenal, I've never smelt anything like it, and as we heave him out of the car I can taste bile in my mouth and begin to retch; I throw up the protein bar and tinned fruit cocktail I ate for breakfast.
I try not to look at the body; it's gone a horrible greyish-green colour.
"How long do you think he's been dead?"
"I don't want to think about it." We get into the car, and the stink is disgusting, so we wind down the windows; Kara finds some Deep Heat inflammation spray in the glove compartment and sprays that on the seat where the body lay, which is almost worse and makes us cough and splutter so much we start laughing, helplessly, and have to open the doors until that smell subsides, too. There are cigarettes in the glove compartment, too; she lights one, and I welcome the smoke.
We drive off, feeling safer with every corner we turn.
On the way, I think about what the current state of lawlessness in the country actually means. It's terrifying. Anyone can steal, maim, kill or rape without being brought to justice, without having to account for it.
This realisation makes me dizzy with fear. It means there is no protection for anyone, anywhere. That the only way to stay safe is to run, or to fight back.
Everything I experienced back in Shipden, before I understood that the tipping point had already been reached and our world had become a different place, comes back to haunt me.
I remember Mal, telling me that fuel, food and weapons were the new currency. Weapons. We would need them, now, whenever we went out.
"I don't think we should tell the others about this," Kara says, invading my thoughts.
"Okay. Why not, though?"
"Because it will scare Lottie, but mostly because it'll make Phil over-protective about me going out on my own."
"Yeah, I get that. Not a word, then."
She shivers. "It's really put the wind up me."
The sun's still shining, the sky is still blue, and I see pheasants in a field. The beauty of the day makes what just happened feel like a bad dream. Kara is drumming her fingers on the steering wheel; I can tell she's got something to say, and is wondering how to say it.
She talks, but keeps her eyes on the road.
"I had a brother in the armed forces. Daniel. He told me the taking of women is still seen as the privilege of the conquering army, by some. Not that it's talked about, ever, but they all know it goes on. Now, those inclined that way have free rein to behave however they like. They'll recognise each other, band together, like that crew back at the Cuthbert."
I nod. "That's what I was just thinking about." I open my mouth to ask where Daniel is now, but remember that she said 'had' a brother. Past tense. So I say nothing.
"It's going to happen, but I don't want us to be scared of going out." She looked round. "We don't do victim mentality, right?"
"Right."
"We just need to be more careful than we were today. Today, we were stupid."
"Let's not beat ourselves up over it. We know, now."
"Uh-huh." She frowns. "Vicky, can we not talk about it anymore? It was horrible, but we won't let it happen again."
"Works for me."
We change the subject. Trouble is, agreeing not to talk about something doesn't mean you're not still thinking about it.
Chapter Sixteen
Dex's Secret
I sleep badly for several nights, and my dreams are haunted by our experience in the shopping centre, all mixed up with missing Dex; in one dream he rescues me (though he turns into Heath in the middle of it), but mostly I'm searching for and can't find him.
I wake up thinking about him, about our lack of communication in those last few months, and my confused feelings of resentment, and guilt that I caused that lack. A few days later I try to talk to Kara about it, when we're busy in the kitchen.
She's not the ideal person, but I need to talk to someone and I can't burden my daughter with this, Phil is far too busy, and Heath, though sympathetic, doesn't know the situation.
"He was only trying to protect you, you know that, don't you?" Kara says, but that sign's appeared above her head again. The one that says there's a whole bunch of stuff I'm not telling you.
There's this weird atmosphere between the two of us. Always. I like her, but I have reservations. I don't think she sees me as an equal; I'm damn sure she thinks I won't be able to cope with whatever it is she's hiding. I don't know. Can't put my finger on it.
Sod it. I'm going to ask her. Surely what we went through the other day has made some sort of bond between us. Sisterhood, and all that.
"Kara, if I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?"
I can almost see her thinking, oh dear, do I have to?
"If I can."
I put down my cloth. My heart is thudding. Come on. Just say it.
"Was there something going on between Dex and Gia?"
She looks relieved. "No. No, I promise you. He only met her a few times." Her smile is kind, genuine, but I'm not sure; the fact that he only met Gia a few times means nothing. People sleep with strangers every day.
"Okay." I'm clutching the edge of the sink like it's going to save me from falling overboard into a dark, stormy sea. "What is it, then?"
"What's what?" She looks away, busying herself putting cutlery into the drawer.
"What it is that you and Phil aren't telling me. I know there's something."
"I don't know what you mean." She has her back to me now.
Now I feel annoyed as well as scared. "Kara, please. We're living together in this house. We have to get on, right? How can we, if you're keeping something from me?"
She turns round and shuts the drawer, leaning on it and folding her arms. "Okay. As long as you don't shoot the messenger."
She
looks so uncomfortable. Must be something big. I'm shaking.
"Go on, then."
"It wasn't Gia." She's staring at me. "It was Naomi."
I fall back against the sink. My hand flies to my stomach. "Naomi?" The humourless vegan? Oh, oh, of course. How clever of you, Dex, to put me off the scent like that. I try to remember that picture. A thin, dour looking woman with dark hair cut in one of those very short bobs that look really silly unless you've got exactly the right face. I can't remember if she has, or not. Oh, that lying, sneaky bastard—and all the time, I was so busy being suspicious about Gia—
I remember that night he went to get the vaccines. He met her, then, in King’s Lynn, he said. He was gone for about five hours. King's Lynn is no more than an hour's drive from Shipden. Or maybe he never went there at all. Maybe she was waiting in a hotel down the road.
Other times. The best shirt. The cologne. That night he came home from Jeff's, when he kept hugging me and saying he was sorry. And I'd thought he was just sorry for going away so often. The phone conversation on the day before I saw him last; he was travelling up with her, wasn't he?
"Naomi? Her? Really?"
Kara steps forward and puts her hand on my arm, tentatively. "Not for very long, and I honestly, honestly don't think it's serious. Was serious."
Furious tears stream down my face. "What? If he's screwing someone else, that's pretty damn serious to me. The fact that we intended a long-term future together, and all the time he's—oh, God—"
"I mean I don't think he has strong feelings for her."
"I know what you mean." I clutch my stomach. I feel sick. She puts both her hands on my shoulders and makes me look at her. "If it's any comfort, I know he really cared—cares—about you and Lottie."
I'm sick, gutted, murderous, heartbroken. I look away. "He cares about me? What the hell does that mean? You care about your dog, your old auntie, your friends. We were happy together. I thought he loved me."
She sticks her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "I think he does. This thing with her—oh, you know, it's like when people work closely together away from home, it's the shared experience, just something that happens, I'm sure it doesn't mean anything—"