by Luke Kondor
Though Glenn had no further information when people asked where that city resided.
When Mr Gallanders arrived at Iggy’s house ready to receive his second layer t-shirt, he found Iggy lying flat on the grass outside staring up at the sky. His lips were moving but his skinny frame was as still as a corpse. When he at last acknowledged the man waiting expectantly in the patch that he was likely to call his front garden, Mr Gallanders assured him not to worry. Seemed there was some commotion in the centre of town earlier that day. Before Iggy had a chance to tell him that he had already encountered the strange tattooed men, Mr Gallanders had already stormed off in a monologue that involved several threads of narrative that would have made no sense at all to the general public, but which Iggy absorbed without question.
Yes, of course, they were some long-lost relation to Henry. Yes, of course, they have come to reunite and to share the practices of the military in order to train a town-wide revolt against the outside world. Yes, everyone was sick of hiding, and these scavvies were indeed the answer.
But it wouldn’t be until Veronica overheard Sophia Barnes whispering behind her hand to Gloria Jameson that someone would stop and take action. “Apparently, they’re here on top secret business. Seems the ‘Scarred Man’ is exactly what we suspected. Experimented on by scientists looking for a cure for the rot, and when it failed, he was sent right back into our midst.”
“Oo-er.”
“That’s right.”
Veronica marched straight to the admin building, ready to confront Henry and the Irish fellows who had had him on a leash all morning when she found the office empty, but for Anton.
She paused, then puffed her chest.
“We need to sort this out.”
Anton struggled to lift his head. If he had been tired on the way back from King’s Hill, it was nothing to how he felt now. Blood-red hammocks hung from his eyes, and his five o’clock shadow had long since past its cutting time. He seemed to struggle to focus on Veronica standing just a few feet from him. “What the hells am I supposed to do about it? Eh? Wants me to go outs and tell them all to leave, one by one? ‘Goodbye friends, thanks for stopping by, but we don’t have enough space for you at breakfast so do you mind just taking the hikes?’ I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s going to fly somehow.”
Veronica flared for a moment, then seemed to get her exasperation under control. She pushed her arms in front of her as though she were pushing away an invisible object, releasing a long breath along the way. “Well, we have to do something?”
At that moment, Henry came through a door to a side office. If Anton had known he was there he had shown no sign. The lights were off as Henry closed the door behind him. A stony silence washed the room.
“Dad… I…”
Henry held up a hand for silence. He looked thoughtful, tired, as though the weight was all too much for him. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw her father like this.
“Look… Veronica… Anton… I know this is unpleasant. But please believe me… they gave me no choice. We’ve got hundreds of Hopefuls to think about—”
“Bullshit,” Anton said, an unseen anger exploding inside. “There’s always a choice, Henry. Veronica’s right. There’s hundreds of us and less of them, you coulds not have invited them into our homes. Maybe you thought it was the best decision, but I swear to Gods your pacifism is going to be the deaths of us all.”
“Look at them,” Henry said, voice rising. “Those people out there are murderers… rapists… scoundrels… heck, I bet over half of them have dirty-tongue.” Anton and Veronica flinched. ‘Dirty-tongue’ – an expression some survivors had given to the cannibals of the post-rot world. A word they hadn’t used in a long time. “All they asked for was one thing in return for a guarantee of the safety of this town. If that’s the price to pay for safety, then I’m happy to make it. They have what they want, they’ll take him away, and we’ll be left alone in peace.”
“Those are their terms?” Anton folded his arms.
“Those are the terms.”
“You sold him out,” Veronica mumbled, fighting tears. “Daddy, you sold Colin and sent him down the river to die. What kind of mess is this? What’s happened to you? What’s going to happen next? They’ll decide they want more and demand to take me too? Then Anton, then whoever the fuck else they decide to?”
“I trust them,” Henry said, his eyes betraying the opposite.
“You trust them? Henry, they’re scavvies. Not just one, but a whole bunch of thems. Veronica’s right, you think Paddy and his inbred fuckers wouldn’t thinks twice about taking her? I’ve already seen the looks they give her as theys go past, as though they’re already imagining the things they’d dos to her.”
Here Henry whipped round and fixed Anton with an angry stare. “Those animals out there are the wolves at our door and I made the decision… as the leader of Hope… to throw the Millers a bone and choose the way of peace. I’d rather one man die than an entire town slaughtered. You saw what happened at King’s Hill. You returned with three survivors… Three! I don’t know about you, but I like these odds a whole lot better.”
Veronica delicately stepped forward, seeming to fear the emotions her father was feeling. She placed both hands on his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes, her own eyes glistening. “Dad… you gave away Colin. Colin is a good one – maybe one of the best to cross our borders. Who else volunteered without question to scout King’s Hill? Who was it that flamed the rotters at Ditton and ensured Anton and the others made it back safely? We need him. He’s…”
“He’s a Hopeful,” Anton finished.
Henry looked from his daughter to the tired man beside him, mouth opening and closing as he thought about what to say next. He wasn’t used to this, to not knowing the next plan of action. To having his motives questioned. He had never considered himself a leader before the rot had ravaged the world, but found his role pretty easily thereafter. Could he have finally bitten off more than he could chew?
Henry deflated. “What the hell do we do, then? That Paddy fellow has already been telling everyone that they’re staying for dinner.”
And that’s when the three of them hatched a plan. Where the Millers currently were, they had no idea, but the words were spoken fast, the plan made, and all too soon Veronica and Anton headed off around the town to spread the message to all Hopefuls.
Henry remained behind for a while, staring out at the scavvies and Hopefuls passing each other through town. He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath as he opened the door to find the Miller leaders. “Remain hopeful… remain hopeful.”
~ 26 ~
Out of all the Hopefuls, Joanna took the news of Colin’s capture the hardest.
She hadn’t known what to do when she heard the commotion over by the gates and saw Colin’s unconscious body being dragged through the town and off to some unknown corner. She felt sick. The sight of the face she’d nearly kissed only two nights before was enough to cause her throat to double in size.
She thought about running to him but knew better than to make trouble for herself and Sunny. She recognised that the two carrying him were scavvies instantly. One a burly looking fella in one of those military vest tops with a crude drawing of a naked woman’s body painted on its front. The other a shorter, younger individual whose eyes made her feel instant discomfort. She could only imagine the horrors swirling in his head. His face was relatively clean of tattoos compared to the other but he was inked enough to force Joanna to step back behind the cabin, pulling Sunny with her.
She watched as they carried Colin off and up the hill, the same path she’d seen him slip up on during his first run with the dog. Once they were gone she walked over the bridge and towards the direction she had seen them leave. There were a few scavvies dotted about, as well as a few Hopefuls. She tried her best not to draw attention to herself and to act casual but was grabbed by Veronica emerging from the admin cabin before she could give chase.
“Jo,” Veronica said with a bright smile as she came over and hugged Joanna. The minute her lips were next to Joanna’s ears, she whispered. “Follow me. Now. Don’t arouse suspicion.” She withdrew and held Joanna at arms’ length, speaking in an exaggeratedly theatrical manner. “How are you?”
Joanna feigned her own smile with a “Fine thanks, and you?” and the three of them walked towards a cabin adjacent to the road that the scavvies carrying Colin had disappeared down. Veronica led them into the shadows behind the cabin, checking to see if any scavvies had noticed them disappear. When she was satisfied the coast was clear, she began talking in hurried whispers.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Long story, and I don’t really have enough time.”
“Colin… is he—”
“Not now. Listen—”
“Is he dead, Veronica?!”
Veronica paused a moment, seeing the emotion in Joanna’s eyes. “I don’t know, and I know it’s horrible not knowing what’s happening, but if you want any chance of us finding the truth, I need you to listen, okay?”
Joanna’s face hardened. She was surprised at how strong her own feelings were. It was confusing what she felt for Colin in that moment. Sure, they’d almost kissed once, but that was about the size of it. She thought back to words that she had heard from her days at the bunker, spoken through cracked lips and missing teeth. ‘In times of duress, we bond more fiercely’.
Had the events of Ditton factory forced her to find something in Colin that wasn’t really there? Was it all part of the fight or flight reflex to hold onto anything familiar as the world broke around them?
“Good,” Veronica said, lowering her voice and casting her eyes about for any eavesdroppers. “We all need to stay calm. We all need to act as if it’s just another day in Hope. Anton and I are spreading news around camp of our new arrivals, and that they certainly won’t be staying long.”
If Joanna wasn’t mistaken, she spotted a small twitch of a smile play on Veronica’s lips.
“Who are they?”
“The Millers. They’re travel-folk.”
“Scavvies?”
“Shhhh. Yes, but don’t say that around them, Jesus. They say that they’re only here for Colin, but we know better. Given the scavvie raids that just took down King’s Hill, I’d be surprised if they upped and left come morning. That’s not exactly their style.”
“Oh God, Colin…”
“I know… I know…” Veronica said, checking over Joanna’s shoulder. Sunny stood silently, holding Joanna’s hand, staring somewhere into space.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“We’re going to give them the benefit of the doubt. Play it safe. Act like nothing is the matter. Paddy is already announcing that they are to head the tables at tonight’s dinner and mingle with the Hopefuls. We sit. We wait. When the time is right… we revolt.”
Joanna opened her mouth to speak when Veronica snapped a finger to her lips. There were deep voices nearby and the sound of footsteps on gravel. Veronica pulled Joanna and Sunny deeper behind the cabin and waited, listening to the lyrical voices of the scavvies.
“’Tis a beautiful place though, ter be sure. Wouldn’t mind stickin’ around here and takin’ a wee holiday now.”
“Aye. Shame it’s not on the cards now that Uncle Paddy has the Bolton lad, eh?”
Joanna looked at Veronica, eyes wide.
“What’s he even going ter do with him, eh? Wouldn’t it be easier ter just off him and be done with it? Hey! You! Watch who yer staring at, right?”
There were some sniggers as they heard the surprised sounds of someone gasping and running. The voices and footsteps began trailing away.
“Pricks, the lot of em.”
“Bolton?”
“Oh, aye. All I know is that Thomas and Paddy have some score ter settle. And Diana mentioned something about him being treated like the dog he is in the meantime.”
“She’s a strange kind of lass.”
“Oh, aye.”
Only after the voices faded into nothingness did Veronica and Joanna dare to move again.
“Did you hear that? A score to settle? What the hell are they on about?” Veronica said running fingers through her hair.
Joanna racked her brain, finding a tiny nugget of something that she wasn’t even sure could be a link. The last time they had encountered a scavvie, he had been on the ‘good’ side – at least until he was given the chance to slip away and almost murdered Colin alone in the woods. His name was Stephen… Stephen…
“Miller,” Joanna gasped. “Oh God.”
“What is it? Joanna, what’s going on?” But Joanna was already jogging away, dragging Sunny along with her. “Where are you going?”
“Where else would the Millers take a dog?” Joanna said disappearing around a corner.
Veronica fell out of sight. Joanna heard her calling once, and then she was gone. She wouldn’t mind, surely. Veronica had said it herself, she had things to do, people to see. A whole town to inform of an impending mutiny.
Sunny trotted along at a fair pace beside Joanna as she kept off the main paths and headed towards the outskirts of town. There had been a time when she was a fast runner, a natural. But since pairing with Sunny it seemed she had gotten used to the weight slowing her down. She hopped fallen tree trunks and crept around cabins as they made their way towards the kennels.
*
The sky turned grey as they approached the outer cabins. Squirrels chased one another above their heads. Spider webs clung to the gaps between the trees, and a faint mist of polite rain began to fall. Maybe not enough to soak through their clothes but certainly enough to cool them both down and dampen their foreheads.
Joanna found the kennels easy enough. The sound of the dogs barking and hollering at the presence of these newcomers was as big a homing beacon as she could have hoped for. She brought Sunny to a spot just sheltered by trees where she could look ahead but was sure no one would see her.
The kennel door lay open and someone sat on the floor out front. The younger scavvie she’d seen carrying Colin before. Compared to the others, he looked almost… normal. As though if he were to knock on her door on a Sunday morning she’d have no clue of his affiliation.
The scavvie sat and stared ahead of him with a blank expression, reminding Joanna of the way Sunny might zone out into the ether, lost in some distant faraway spiritual plane of existence. Even the roaring of the dogs did little to break the man’s thoughts.
A welling of anger bubbled inside. Joanna found herself half-tempted to barge in there unannounced. To break Colin out of whatever little prison they’d decided to hold him in She knew she could be fast at times. She had fled halfway across a county, dragging a boy alongside her before Chicory and Lee had got anywhere near them not too long ago. If she could just—
Just what? You don’t even know he’s in there. You’re just going to storm in, rattle the cages and hope for the best?
Joanna looked down at Sunny. “What do you think, Sunny? Do you think we can take him?”
Sunny looked up at her without registering a word said. Joanna sighed. Had she expected anything less?
Somewhere in the wind above them, she heard a magpie chattering. The first magpie she’d heard in years.
“Come on Joanna, think…”
The scavvie stood up, stretched, and leant his back against the kennel wall. He cast his eyes around briefly, then seemed to resign to the fact that there would be no one nearby. The outer layers were not where the action was. The rest of the scavvies were rolling around town, talking, chatting, scaring the crap out of the Hopefuls.
And here he stood. Alone.
For an odd moment, Joanna felt something like pity. That is until there came another explosion of dog barks at the sound of a second man shouting.
Joanna clapped a hand to her mouth to keep herself quiet, hoping to hell that it wasn’t Colin in pain but knowing deep down that she
would recognise that voice until the day she died. The same roaring voice of the man who had flamed a rotter that had been coiled and ready to strike them all at a factory in Ditton.
Joanna thought hard about her next move. She either needed to find some way to distract the scavvie outside the kennel, or wait for him to abandon post – which didn’t seem likely.
Whatever she did, it would have to be soon. She’d seen scavvies do some terrible things in her time.
Terrible things indeed.
~ 27 ~
Colin felt his tooth eject as he spat out another mouthful of blood. It tinged as it hit the mesh of the cage. The same cage he’d found himself in a couple of days back, wrestling with a confused and frightened Dylan. Colin tongued at the wound, feeling the extra room in his mouth. The blood tingled with the taste of a blown fuse.
The bedding on the floor stunk of dog piss. The undistinguishable gruel that Patrick had thrown into a bowl now slopped over at a strange angle in the corner. Grey sludge spilling onto straw. The putrid stink of it was overpowering.
Though there were some that thrived in the filthy conditions. Blue bottles buzzed around in delight, dancing, vomiting, laying eggs, doing whatever the hell it is that flies do.
Colin pressed his head against the back wall. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this exhausted. His legs ached from the miles accumulated in canicross over the last few days. His body had been tenderised with countless blows from the angry Millers that pried him away from his returning party without so much as a word of explanation – although Colin had a fair understanding of what the Millers would have to hold against him – and he was fairly sure he had a concussion. Even the beating that he’d taken from Stephen, and the miles he’d journeyed to run back to Ditton, had been nothing compared to this.
A short while ago Colin had tried to stand, but the moment his legs locked a white-hot pain shot from his hip to his knee and he screamed in pain. Even if he were to get up and somehow have the chance to run, he wasn’t sure his body would take it.