by RR Haywood
Maddox knows the van needs turning on now to get the power flowing. He could offer to do that. He could take the first step to bridge that gap.
Nick walks past him, unable to even glance at Maddox as he goes into the van, starts the engine and gets the power into the cable before going back into the coffee shop. A nod of satisfaction at the lights coming on. He draws his fingertips over the buttons, murmuring softly as he works out what button does what. Like Roy with a bow, Nick feels a connection to things like this. The mystery of them is exciting and unique. The figuring out of systems, circuits and the mechanics of things. He susses it out and works a way to get the grinder going to grind the beans then where that goes to get the water through as Maddox watches on and Blowers shakes his head for the thousandth time.
‘Is what it is,’ Blowers murmurs.
‘Yep,’ Blinky says, making Blowers aware he spoke out loud.
Like Roy with a bow, like Nick with electrical things, like Charlie with Jess, like Dave with knives, soldiering is what Blowers does. The instinct of it. The feel of it. The hundreds of things that make up what soldiering actually means.
His mind is ever running. Mo is with Paula and Marcy as they source the supplies they need. Mo is highly competent and Dave Trained so that means they are safe. Blinky is midway between them and the door. Cookey on the door. Nick is close. Charlie is outside. The other elders are down the street. The angles are covered. The entry and exit points are within sight.
That same mind also works out where the weaknesses are. The back of the shopping centre will be accessed by the service road that runs from the bend in the main street. That back area will have entrances and exit points and as yet, it has not been checked. That cannot be helped. They do not have enough units to deploy to all points so line of sight is the next safest option.
‘Blowers?’ he turns at hearing Paula call his name.
‘Here,’ he calls back.
‘Mo’s got into the outdoors shop,’ she says, walking into view at the end of the corridor. ‘We’ll get clothing and kit from there…there’s a Boots on the other side. Mo can get into that next so we’ll have wipes and a clean up here before we push on…that okay?’
‘Yeah sure.’
‘Howie still down the road?’
‘Yeah I think so…he hasn’t come up yet anyway.’
‘Nick? You got that machine on?’ She calls down.
‘It’s on,’ Nick shouts back. ‘Be ready in a minute…found long life milk too…I reckon I can make a proper cappuccino.’
‘Yeah?’ she smiles, ‘have a go…’
‘The spoke thing steams the milk right?’
‘No idea,’ Paula says.
‘Yes it does,’ Marcy shouts from further back, making Blowers wish they wouldn’t shout out like that when so much of the area is still unchecked. ‘Long metal bit, put the milk into a metal pot then turn the dial to get the steam going.’
‘Yep, got it,’ Nick shouts back.
‘Sorted,’ Paula says, walking back down the corridor to the outdoors shop. ‘How you getting on?’
‘Yeah fine,’ Marcy says, pulling wicking tops from the display stands. ‘We’ve got enough here for a few days…’
‘I’ll do underwear,’ Paula says, moving off towards the socks and undergarments.
‘Argh,’ Marcy spits and pulls back with a hand rubbing her face.
‘Cobweb?’ Paula asks, coming to a sudden stop as she checks round, up and anywhere that could hide a spider.
‘Third time now,’ Marcy says.
‘Lots of flies,’ Paula says, shuddering again and suddenly wishing to be outside. ‘You okay with spiders?’
‘Me?’ Marcy asks. ‘I bloody hate them…’
‘Same,’ Paula mutters, steeling herself to continue to the underwear selection.
‘I cannot wait to get changed,’ Marcy says. ‘Dry clothes, cold wet wipes and a bucket of moisturiser…and make-up remover, and cotton buds…and hairbands…my skin is sooo dry and sore right now…’
‘Yep,’ Paula says, working fast to shove packets of socks and underwear into a large basket. ‘My thighs are chafing. Are yours?’
‘Oh don’t,’ Marcy says. ‘We should get those cycle shorts things…don’t they stop chafing?’
‘Probably.’
‘Know what else I want?’
‘What’s that?’ Paula asks.
‘Perfume.’
‘Perfume?’
‘Yep, really really expensive perfume…couldn’t afford it before…’
‘Fair enough,’ Paula says. ‘Beats smelling of sweat I guess.’
‘And a diamond necklace.’
‘A what?’ Paula laughs.
‘With massive diamonds…and earrings…and a watch…’
‘Bracelet?’
‘Totally and rings too…proper blinged up.’
‘Innit blud,’ Mo quips from his position at the door, they both smile over at him, at the serious way he holds guard with his rifle slung and his pistol gripped in both hands lowered but ready.
‘Think Howie will mind?’ Marcy asks.
‘What’s that? Getting a diamond necklace?’ Paula asks, moving to grab another basket she starts filling with more kit. ‘We’ll need trousers too.’
‘Over there,’ Marcy says, nodding over her armfuls of wicking tops. ‘Think he’ll mind if we rob a jewellers? Get some diamonds and…’
‘Ha! Put a ring in his hand, stare for a few seconds then just walk off,’ Paula jokes.
‘Oh he’d shit himself,’ Marcy laughs. ‘Should do it for fun…when he’s in a better mood though. But seriously, we’re getting perfume. Nice perfume. And aftershave too. I love the lads but they stink…not you, Mo Mo, you don’t smell.’
‘Thanks,’ Mo says. ‘There’s a jewellers over there,’ he adds.
‘Is there?’ Marcy asks, walking over to peer out. ‘Oh yeah, you think you could get inside it?’
‘Yeah,’ Mo scoffs then coughs to be more serious and grown up. ‘I mean yes, yes I can.’
‘You’re so sweet,’ she says, grinning at him. ‘Paula, we’re breaking into a jewellers when we’ve done this.’
‘Okay, Marce,’ Paula says, smiling as she works. ‘We’ll take everything from here into that Boots and get some wipes, cleaning stuff and get them up in two’s and three’s to get changed and cleaned up.’
‘Roger,’ Marcy says, staring at the trousers. ‘What sizes?’
‘Just grab loads…I’ll sort them in a minute.’
*
'Fuck yes,’ Nick says, holding the metal pot full of long life milk under the spout that spurts steam and churns the milk into a frothy pot of goodness. The first one was awful. The second was terrible, the third and fourth not fit for human consumption but this is the apocalypse, this is the end of days so it doesn’t matter how many cups he uses.
Maddox has even moved inside to watch and as with all young men, he thinks he can do better and bites the urge to make suggestions.
‘How’s it going?’ Blowers asks, walking in to burst out laughing at the sight of the used cups scattered all over the counter.
‘Yep,’ Nick says focussing on the milk in the pot. ‘I’m a fucking barrister…’
‘Barista,’ Maddox says, unable to stop the correction coming from his mouth.
‘Whatever,’ Nick mutters. ‘Is the boss coming up?’
‘Not yet,’ Blowers says.
‘Give him a shout, I’ll get four made up for him, Clarence, Roy and Dave…Cookey?’
‘What?’ Cookey shouts from outside the café by the main door.
‘Come clear this counter.’
‘I’m watching Charlie.’
‘I can see Charlie from here,’ Nick says, turning to look at Cookey then pointing at the windows at the front.
‘Fair one,’ Cookey says, walking through the busted in door. ‘Latte frappuccino skinny sunny side up with a heaped serving of cunt for Maddox.’
Maddox c
ould have cleared the side. Another chance comes and goes. Another shot of stubbornness mingled with an ever-growing sense of dislike for himself that he twists into a dislike for them.
‘Boss? It’s Blowers. You coming up?’
‘Oi,’ Nick blurts, ‘not now for fuck’s sake…’
‘You just said to call him,’ Blowers says.
‘I haven’t made the fucking coffees yet.’
‘Yep, we’ll come up now. Everyone okay?’
‘Yeah fine, Boss. Er…no rush though…’
‘Oh that was smooth,’ Cookey says, shaking his head at Blowers.
‘Fuck off,’ Blowers sighs.
‘No rush?’ Howie asks through the radio. ‘What’s Cookey done?’
‘Eh?’ Cookey says, ‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘I’ve got a longbow.’
‘Oh Roy’s got a longbow,’ Nick says.
‘Er…okay, Roy,’ Blowers says, looking at Nick and Cookey with an expression of what the fuck do I say?’
‘I’ll show you when I get up there.’
‘Er great, we’ll er…look forward to that.’
‘You sound almost excited there, Blowers,’ Marcy quips through the radio.
‘Wait till you see it firing,’ Clarence says.
‘Don’t tell them that,’ Roy says. ‘I want them to see it without knowing.’
‘Right,’ Clarence says. ‘Ignore my last.’
‘Now that is a fucking coffee…’ Nick says, pouring the frothy milk into the cup.
‘Where’s the chocolate shaker?’ Cookey asks.
‘Oh yeah, have a look…see if they got those things to make shapes…’ Nick says.
‘We should do a cock shape,’ Cookey says.
‘I’m not serving Dave a coffee with a cock on the top,’ Nick says, pouring more milk into the pot for steaming and making frothy.
‘Got it,’ Cookey says, holding the chocolate powder shaker up. ‘Blowers, put your dick over the cup so I can do a template.’
‘You want me to put my cock on Dave’s mug?’
‘Er…yes?’ Cookey asks.
‘I’m not putting my cock on Dave’s cup.’
‘Use that one in your pocket.’
‘What?’
‘The one you took from Meredith…the one you kept…for stroking at night…that one…use that one…’
‘No,’ Blowers says. ‘I’m keeping that one.’
‘Use a bit of cardboard…’ Nick says.
‘Fucking good idea,’ Cookey says.
‘Fuck’s sake, you can’t put cocks on their coffees,’ Blowers groans.
‘Fucking can,’ Cookey laughs, tearing a section of cardboard from a box under the counter. He pulls his knife and gets to work, slicing a template of a penis with an oversized head and two big balls at the base.
‘Next one,’ Nick says, pouring the frothy milk into the next cup. ‘Hurry up, they’ll be here in a minute.’
‘I’m trying,’ Cookey mutters with the upmost concentration.
‘Blowers, get some hot water in that mug for Reggie.’
‘Which one?’
‘That one…got the peppermint teabag in it.’
‘Got it…er…where’s the hot water?’
‘Put it under that nozzle and push the middle button.’
‘This one?’
‘Is that the middle one?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then yes, that one you fuckstick.’
‘Fuck you,’ Blowers mumbles, pushing the middle button in and smiling as the hot water comes out.
‘So cool,’ Cookey says, holding his cut out willy and testicles up.
‘What’s that?’ Nick asks.
‘The cock and balls for the chocolate,’ Cookey says.
‘You need the other bit,’ Nick says.
‘What other bit?’ Cookey asks.
‘The fucking other bit…the bit you cut it out from…the chocolate goes through the hole you made not on the bit you cut out.’
‘Oh,’ Cookey says, nodding as he catches up. ‘Oh yeah….so this bit then?’ he asks, holding up the cardboard now with the hole in the shape of the willy and testicles showing.
‘Yep, put it over the mug and shake the chocolate over.’
‘Sorted,’ Cookey says, doing as Nick said. He holds the cardboard over the top of the rapidly flattening once frothy milk and shakes the chocolate shaker with a fast frenzied action that sees chocolate power flying everywhere. ‘Oh my god…look at that,’ Cookey says, bursting out laughing at the perfect shape of the genitals on the cappuccino.
‘Brilliant,’ Nick says.
‘Fucked up,’ Blowers laughs. ‘Do the next one.’
‘I am,’ Cookey says.
‘Pouring,’ Nick says, pouring the last lot of milk as the sound of the Saxon reaches them.
‘They’re coming,’ Blinky calls through.
‘Yep,’ Blowers calls back.
‘Ha!’ Cookey says in triumph at the next perfectly formed chocolate powder genitals on the next mug.
‘Quick,’ Nick says.
‘I am,’ Cookey says, laughing as he shakes the shaker.
‘They’re here,’ Blowers says, looking outside to see the Saxon pulling up behind Roy’s van.
‘Ah fuck,’ Cookey says, shaking harder.
‘They’re out the Saxon,’ Blowers says, watching Howie, Dave, Clarence, Roy and Reginald jump down. ‘They’re looking round…they’re coming in!’
‘Done it,’ Cookey exclaims, stepping back to admire his handiwork as Nick bursts out laughing at the sight of the four cock adorned cappuccinos and one peppermint tea.
‘What’s this?’ Howie asks, walking through the main doors then into the café as his eyes follow the power cable across the floor and up to the counter and the three lads standing guiltily behind it trying not to laugh. ‘What the…is that coffee?’ he asks, sniffing the air.
‘You got power in here?’ Clarence asks, stepping through behind Howie and Dave.
‘Got a longbow,’ Roy says, coming through to show them his longbow.
‘Your coffees are served,’ Nick says, grinning from ear to ear as Cookey turns away from laughing so hard and Blowers bites his bottom lip.
Reginald walks through, his keen eyes taking everything in. Seeing Maddox scowling and the lads behind the counter trying not to laugh. Unity. At all costs there must be unity.
The elders go forward, slowly advancing the line towards the counter with suspicious eyes and wary notions.
It’s too much for Cookey. He laughs so hard he turns red and drops down as Blowers turns away and Nick starts to go.
‘Twats,’ Howie bursts out laughing as Clarence brays and Roy grins at being included in another joke. ‘Fucking idiots,’ Howie says, still laughing.
‘Brilliant,’ Clarence says, picking one of the mugs up to stare at the top.
‘First time a penis has been in my mouth,’ Roy says.
‘Blowers said that once,’ Cookey says from somewhere behind the counter.
Maddox turns away. It was stupid, childish and just immature. A waste of time. A waste of effort. All that stuff about pushing on and working hard and they spend more time fucking about than doing anything else but now more than ever he feels isolated and rejected from the main. The way they laugh and joke. The sight of Clarence chuckling as he takes a sip and Reginald smiling as he sniffs his tea and Dave staring as devoid as ever. Maddox doesn’t know Dave well enough to see that within that expressionless stare there is a hint of amusement.
‘Nicely done,’ Howie says, lifting his mug. He takes a sip and groans audibly and long. ‘Proper coffee…who made it?’
‘Nick did,’ Blowers says, still chuckling.
‘Spot on, mate,’ Howie says.
‘Look at you lot,’ Paula says, striding into the café. ‘Smells nice though.’
‘Tastes nice too,’ Howie says.
‘Right, well grab a chair and relax for a bit. We’ll be here for
while,’ Paula says. ‘Lads, got enough to make some more?’
‘Loads,’ Nick says.
‘We’ll be up the corridor getting kit sorted…’
‘We’ll come and help,’ Howie says, turning from the counter with his mug of coffee.
‘Nope, we’re fine,’ Paula says. ‘Let us have a few minutes…is it okay if we get Charlie in?’
‘We can sit at the front and keep watch,’ Clarence says, walking to the big plate glass windows to look up and down. ‘Yeah it’s fine. Got a good view.’
‘Charlie, you come inside, love,’ Paula transmits.
‘On way…are we here for a while? I’ll leave Jess out if we are…it’s too hot in the horsebox if we’re not moving.’
‘That’s fine. Grab a coffee and come up to me and Marcy…Seriously,’ she says, looking at Howie, ‘drink your coffee, relax for a few minutes.’
‘You sure?’ he asks.
‘I’m sure, lads, grab a coffee, Blinky? You come down and grab a drink. It’s already late so we won’t get anything done today. We’ll call you up for clean kit when we’re ready.’
Twenty
All the paths of your life lead to this point now.
This is where you are in time and space. This is the present so look back with reflection and see the route you took and feel the pain of each step be it right or wrong.
Days of fighting. Days of running. Days of heat and sufferance to do what must be done and achieve what must be achieved. Days of peril, anguish and strife that culminated in a return to the fort where they, for one brief evening, found peace.
Then they woke and fought and killed and ran and sweated and did all the things they did before. They did it without complaint too. They did what must be done. They achieved what must be achieved and so they will after this too. They will keep going until the bitter end.
Today though. Today has seen Howie execute six people based on the reactions to the emotions of a group of survivors. He took life that was not infected. He took life from people that posed no threat to him or his group and in so doing he took a step into a world none of them have ventured, and that brings a disquiet of mind, an unsettling of a mood that is only made worse by the presence of Maddox.
A strange thing happens. A strange feeling of melancholy, of distraction and complacency that are all born from the paths of their lives that lead to this point now. So now, they seek the company of men. The company of women. The company of their kin of soul, spirit and mind. They bring forth a break in the chase and a pause in the frenzied nature of their existence.