No Dominion: An action-packed post-apocalyptic thriller (Plague Times Trilogy)
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Stevie wondered if the younger child’s disappearance could be an ill-thought-out prank. The islands’ teenagers had an odd, collective sense of humour that excluded the adults. She glanced at the list she had made of homes with children. She had spread a map of Orkney Mainland across Breda’s kitchen table, but knew the island too well to have to refer to it.
Joe Archibald walked into the kitchen. He was a tall, good-humoured man; gentle, but capable of holding fast in a crisis. He took his hat off, like men must have done in the old days, when hat-wearing was the norm and women to be treated with formal respect.
‘Someone said you were looking for me.’
Stevie was relieved to see him.
‘Can you go to Candice and Bjarne’s place and check on Willow, please? There’s been a bit of tension there, so watch how you go.’
‘Bjarne been playing up?’
‘Possibly.’
Joe nodded as if he had heard all he needed to know. He shoved his hat back on and made for the door.
‘Joe.’ Stevie called him back. It seemed like an age since she and Alan Bold had been careering through the dark to fetch Willow. ‘Step into Magnus McFall’s place on the way and make sure Shuggie is with him. You might want to take Magnus with you, for backup.’
Joe smiled. ‘Magnus McFall is the last person I’d take to Bjarne’s farm. There’s been bad blood there ever since Mags’s lad took a fancy to Bjarne’s lass. Anyway, Brendan went to fetch him a while ago, when the search started. They’ll no doubt be here soon.’
It was as if his words conjured the men’s presence. The kitchen door opened. Alan Bold stepped into the room followed by Magnus and Brendan. The night air followed them in, a fresh chill tinged with peat.
‘Speak of the Devil and smell smoke.’ Joe gave Magnus a friendly clap on the shoulder. ‘I’m away to see your nemesis.’ He tipped his hat onto his head and stepped back into the darkness.
‘Where’s he off to?’ Alan Bold’s hair was a tangled forest, his face ruddy with cold.
Stevie said, ‘He’s going to get Willow.’
Alan looked at Magnus. ‘Tell her what you just told me.’ He hurried after Joe, slamming the door behind him.
Magnus McFall smelt of whisky. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sank wearily into it. They sat in silence and then Magnus asked, ‘Have you seen Shug or Willow?’
Stevie looked at him. ‘No. Are you worried about them?’
Magnus wiped a hand across his mouth. Stevie saw the misery on his face and wanted to tell him to keep whatever his bad news was to himself. She said nothing and after a while Magnus began to speak.
Eighteen
Connor sat on a chair in his mother’s kitchen, tears and snot running down his face. A lantern glimmered on the table beside the boy, illuminating his pale skin, his half-formed features. There was a splash of purple on his cardigan that looked like blood, but which Magnus knew was rhubarb juice.
‘Connor, no one’s accusing you of anything.’ He had not told the boy of Candice and Bjarne’s deaths yet. Magnus reached into his pocket for a hanky to give the boy, but he had lost it somewhere along the way. He considered passing Connor his scarf, to wipe his face with, but the wind was rising, the weather growing wild, and who knew how far he would have to travel that night. ‘There’s been some odd goings on. Little Evie is missing. So are some of your pals. We need to know where they are, so we can make sure they’re okay.’
Magnus had expected Stevie to go with Alan Bold to view the bodies, but the deputy had taken Brendan and Joe, and promised to report back. Stevie had stuck with Magnus. She was standing just out of his sightline, leaning against the kitchen units, watching him question the boy. Magnus tried again.
‘Connor, have you any idea where Shuggie and Willow might have gone? Did they take little Evie away as a joke? You won’t get into trouble if you tell us. I promise.’
Magnus had described the murder scene to Stevie and the others. He had told them about the dead farm dogs, the way the contents of Bjarne’s skull had been splattered in front of his body, mentioned the self-help book on the floor. Describing Candice’s body had been harder. His voice had faltered but he had forced himself on, seeing her red curls made lustrous again by blood. ‘I don’t think they suffered,’ he had said. ‘It looked too quick for them to have realised what was happening.’ But how could he know?
Magnus took his scarf off and passed it to the boy. ‘Wipe your face and take a deep breath.’ He had not told Stevie or the others why he had gone to Bjarne’s place. He had left the Glock out of his account too. It was stupid. The boy was bound to refer to the gun. Magnus would be left looking shifty; worse than shifty, guilty. It was his own fault.
Connor lifted Magnus’s scarf to his nose. He blew into it vigorously and then held it out to Magnus. ‘Thanks, Mags.’
‘That’s all right, son. You keep it.’
‘Really?’ The boy gave a ghost of a smile.
‘It’s yours now.’ Magnus leaned forward, aware of Stevie Flint’s eyes on him. ‘I’ve got some sad news, Connor.’ The boy held Magnus’s gaze. His eyes had grown larger, his mouth smaller. He must have been around four years old when the Sweats had taken his birth family. He knew the pitilessness of circumstance and feared it. ‘Do you remember when we met in Bjarne’s place?’
‘Yes.’ The boy nodded. ‘You were—’
‘I was there.’ Magnus cut him off before he could mention the gun. ‘I probably looked a wee bit strange.’
‘You did, you—’
‘I’d had a big shock. I wanted to get you out of there, before you had one too.’
‘Rocky and Satan were dead. I thought you—’
‘I know you did, son. But I didn’t touch Bjarne’s dogs. Somebody did though. The same person that killed them shot …’
The boy clamped his hands over his ears. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’ The tears were coursing down his face again.
Magnus took the boy’s hands in his and held them. ‘Candi and Bjarne are dead. Someone shot them.’
He let Connor’s hands go and sat quietly while the boy sobbed into them. The kitchen was cold. A soft glow leaked in from the adjoining room where Connor’s mother sat, reading her Bible by the light of a candle. Magnus wondered why she had not stayed with them. He would not have stopped her. He cast a look towards Stevie, her face half hidden in the shadows. She held his gaze until he looked away. The sound of the boy’s weeping filled the room. Magnus battened down an urge to get to his feet and walk from the kitchen. ‘Connor, son.’ He rubbed the boy’s arm.
Connor looked at him. ‘Did you shoot them, Magnus?’
‘No, son. Shooting people isn’t my style. I was angry with Bjarne, but I had no problem with Candi. I went there to make sure there would be no more fighting between Bjarne and Shug.’
Stevie shifted behind him. Magnus had not told her about Shug’s beating or his argument with Bjarne.
‘You’re sure they’re dead?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
The boy nodded. He had seen enough deaths to know that sometimes there was no doubt. He took a deep shuddering breath. His mouth pursed, as if he was locking his lips.
The wind gusted outside and the flame in the oil lamp flickered. Magnus wondered where Shug was and hoped he was sheltering somewhere. He did not like to think of him outside in the rising storm so soon after his beating. He could not imagine the boy stealing away the toddler. They would find her safe somewhere.
‘You get around, Connor, you see things.’ Magnus tried to smile. ‘Has anyone mentioned taking little Evie away from her mum?’
The boy shook his head.
‘Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill Bjarne and Candice?’
‘Apart from you?’ The boy’s question was guileless.
‘Apart from me.’
‘The new folk?’
He was like a poor arithmetic student, guessing at answers, but Magnus said, ‘What ne
w folk?’
‘That blonde woman and her men.’
Stevie Flint spoke for the first time. ‘They’re under quarantine on Wyre.’
Connor looked away. ‘She said it was boring.’
Stevie stepped out of the shadows. ‘Who said it was boring?’
‘The blonde woman – Belle. Willow said she isn’t very bonny, but she is. She only has one eye, but that doesn’t stop her being pretty.’
Connor had been in the Stromness Hotel when the trio had arrived, but there was immediacy to the statement that made Magnus ask, ‘When did you last see her?’
Connor’s mouth pursed again. ‘I promised not to tell.’
Stevie said, ‘It isn’t always bad to break a promise. Whoever killed Bjarne and Candi is still out there and little Evie is missing.’
The boy flinched. ‘Will it be like the bad days before the Sweats saved the righteous?’
Magnus cast Stevie a look. He gave the boy’s arm a reassuring squeeze. ‘Not if we find whoever did this. Tell us about Belle and her men.’
Connor’s shoulders slumped. ‘Willow and Shug went to visit them. It was Willow’s idea, but Shug does anything she says.’
It was true. Magnus had found his son’s devotion to the girl irritating and amusing in equal measure. He had thought he would grow out of it. Now he wished he had given Shug a talking to. He had never raised his hand to the boy, never thought he had the right to hit him. He asked, ‘Did you go with them?’
Connor’s eyes were lowered. ‘Willow wouldn’t let me.’
Magnus gave the boy’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.
‘Boys and girls pair off when they become teenagers. They want to be alone together. It’ll happen to you sooner or later.’
‘No it won’t.’ Connor’s voice was fierce with remembered hurt. ‘Anyway, they didn’t want to be on their own. They wanted to visit the strangers and they didn’t want me to go with them.’
Stevie drew out a chair and sat opposite Connor. ‘Why did Willow want to visit the strangers?’
Connor shrugged. ‘She wanted to know what it’s like.’
‘What what’s like?’
Connor’s voice was patient. ‘What the world is like. She wanted to know what it’s like in other places.’
Stevie asked, ‘And what did Belle say?’
Connor’s eyes teared. ‘They wouldn’t tell me, but then they came over.’
‘You saw Belle and her friends on the main island?’
‘They had a beach barbecue. Moon and Sky were there too. So was Adil.’
All three children were missing.
‘A barbecue?’ Stevie sounded bemused. ‘When?’
Connor shrugged.
‘A couple of days ago. They built a fire and roasted some fish. I hid on top of the dunes but Willow saw me and shouted at me to get lost. I thought Shug would tell her to let me join in, but he pretended not to see me. Willow threw a stone and the others laughed.’ There was a loose thread on the cuff of Connor’s jumper. He plucked at it, his eyes downcast. ‘I didn’t go away. I had as much right to be on the beach as anyone. I sat on the dunes, where they couldn’t see me, and watched.’ Connor raised his eyes and looked at Magnus. ‘Willow says I spy, but I don’t. I just want Shug and me to be pals, like we were before.’
Magnus gave the boy’s shoulder another squeeze but it was Stevie who spoke, taking on the bad cop role, as if they were on a TV show, from back when crime could be considered entertainment.
‘If you were up on the dunes, how do you know Willow asked Belle what things are like beyond the islands?’
Connor looked at his cuff again, the unravelling thread. The boy was a poor liar. Keeping quiet was his only defence against self-incrimination.
Magnus said, ‘You’re not in trouble, Con. You’re a good help. We need to find Shug and the others, especially little Evie.’
‘I want you to find Shug and Evie, but I don’t care about Willow.’ Jealousy tightened Connor’s features. Magnus caught a glimpse of how the boy might look when he was older: prominent chin and cheekbones framing deep-set eyes.
A breath of cold air gusted beneath the kitchen door and through the window’s untrue frames, sending the light within the lantern dancing and shadows jagging across the walls. A child of Evie’s age could easily die from exposure on a night like this.
Magnus put some steel into his voice. ‘Answer Stevie’s question. How do you know what Willow asked Belle?’
‘She was always going on about it.’
A picture of Jesus with his burning heart in his hand hung above the unlit stove. Connor glanced at it and Magnus knew that there was more. He prompted the boy. ‘And?’
‘And I was hungry. I knew they wouldn’t give me anything to eat. But I thought maybe if I got closer, I could grab something and run away. I hid in the seagrass and crept down, like a commando.’ He looked from Magnus to Stevie, staring them both in the eye. ‘It’s not true what Willow says. I’m not a spy. I was hungry.’
Stevie said, ‘What were they talking about?’
‘They were drinking and smoking. One of Belle’s men put his arm around Willow. Shug’s face went red, the way it does when he’s about to fight someone, but Willow didn’t seem to mind. Belle told the man not to act stupid and he let Willow go.’
Shuggie was a brooder, prone to long silences and introspections. Magnus knew he would not easily shrug off the insult or Willow’s betrayal.
He said, ‘What did Belle say about the cities?’
Connor’s stare was defiant. ‘They need young people.’
Stevie took a sharp intake of breath; the quick sound of someone being stabbed in the guts. ‘Are you sure that’s what she said?’
The boy’s chin jutted out. His voice grew belligerent. Soon he would be a teenager.
‘Everyone here, all the grown-ups, are always going on about how dangerous everywhere is once you get off the islands. All you talk about is gangs and looting and guns and fighting. It’s all lies. Belle told us the cities are back. They have electricity. People are driving cars again and at night they play music. Proper music, not the rubbish Magnus and Brendan Banks play on their stupid guitars and banjos. People dance. They’re warm and they always have enough to eat.’
Stevie said, ‘We have enough to eat here.’
‘Maybe you do, but me and mum don’t always.’ Connor glanced at the adjoining room where his mother sat and lowered his voice. ‘There’s only the two of us. Maybe everyone thinks we don’t need much. But we need more than we have.’
Magnus felt ashamed. Connor had often eaten at the croft and he usually sent him home with something for his mother, but since Shug had taken up with Willow it had happened less often. He felt a blast of annoyance at his son.
‘I’m sorry, Con. We’ll make sure you’re both better cared for. I promise.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m going to the city too.’
‘You’re staying here.’ Connor’s mother stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her Bible hanging loose in her hand, like a weapon. She was a small, thin woman with grey hair, cropped short like a man’s. She looked at Magnus and Stevie. ‘Have you finished?’ Her voice was dry as cigarette papers. She looked at Connor. ‘I never thought you would bring trouble to my door.’
Stevie got to her feet. ‘He’s not in trouble, Mrs Taylor.’ Connor’s mum was always Mrs. ‘We thought he might be able to help us find out where his friends have gone.’
The woman looked through her. Her voice was imperious, edged with a hint of whisky-slur. ‘Connor has a long day tomorrow. It’s time for him to go to bed.’
Magnus stood up, but he kept his eyes on Connor’s. ‘What city are they headed for?’
The boy’s voice was small. He hung his head, all defiance gone. ‘Glasgow.’
‘Did Belle mention little Evie?’
‘No.’
‘Or anything about taking a child, a baby?’
The boy shook his head.
<
br /> His mother said, ‘He’s told you all he knows. He needs to go to bed now, if he’s to be any use tomorrow.’
Magnus’s eyes met Stevie’s. The kitchen was cold and neither of them had taken their coats off. He took his cap from the table and pulled it low, over his ears.
‘I’m sorry we disturbed your evening, Mrs Taylor.’ He shook Connor’s hand and pulled him into a hug. ‘You do as your mother says. Whatever Belle might have told you, the cities are not good places. There’s no electricity, cars, lights or dancing.’ The words conjured pictures in Magnus’s mind. He felt how the children might be mesmerised by them. He squeezed Connor’s shoulder, trying to ground them both in the reality of survival: hard work and long, cold winters. ‘You’re better off here.’
Connor pulled away. His eyes met Magnus’s.
‘Why wouldn’t they take me with them?’
Nineteen
The islanders met in the chill nicotine dawn, in the offices of the New Orcadian Council. The old gift shop was too small to accommodate them all comfortably and they were forced to huddle together, most of them standing, all of them haggard from cold and lack of sleep. They had scoured the mainland through the night, the search party growing as those in outlying districts were woken and drawn into the quest. Five of the school-age children on the island, including Shug and Willow, were missing. Those who remained, with the exception of Connor, were younger kids, who would burden a group wanting to travel fast.
‘Not as big a burden as Evie, she’s only eighteen months old. She won’t be able to walk far,’ Alan Bold had said as their small contingent of searchers made their way home to Stromness in the back of a cart, the rain running through their clothes and onto their skin. The sleepless night had turned his complexion waxy yellow. ‘She has special value to whoever took her.’
Alan Bold, Magnus and Stevie had travelled in the middle cart of a convoy of three. Stevie had stolen a glance at Magnus. His head was bowed, eyes closed, but the steady jut of his neck told her that he was not asleep. She said, ‘Belle didn’t strike me as the maternal type. If she’s got little Evie, my guess is she’s taken her to sell, or exchange for something she needs more.’