We nodded. We were both exhausted after the past few days, but we understood the importance and the need for urgency.
“Will do,” Annie agreed.
“Remember, don’t tell anyone about this. Have Joe bring the boxes to me, I’ll arrange somewhere safe to store them.” Sally sat back in her chair, deep concentration on her face.
As we left the room, she called out behind us. “When you are dropping the rest of the supplies off at the hospital, can you tell Lex to come and see me, please?”
It was clear that Sally intended to tell Lex about our find. They’ve been best friends since before the outbreak, and Lex is a doctor and head of the medical team. It made sense for her to share the burden of knowledge with someone and Lex was the obvious choice.
That was two days ago, and now we are racing through the countryside. I’m on Robbie, a thoroughbred Irish Draught cross. His beautiful fine features and shiny coat make my smile every time I see him. Annie is on Petunia, an attractive dappled grey Connemara, both horses strong and willing. I’ve ridden Robbie a few times, and while he can be skittish, particularly when he sees a puddle and diverts us off route to stomp in it, he is a beautiful horse. Fast, strong and reliable.
We stayed last night at one of the safe houses that have been established between our two zones. These houses have been used for years by people travelling between the two areas. We’ve been on the go for three hours this morning, and Annie assures me we've only a few more miles to go to reach Zone G.
“I’ve not met Brian yet and don’t know anything about him, so when we get there, let me do the talking,” Annie tells me. I want to protest, keen to play a part in this mission, but Annie has years of experience. It’s hard to believe that less than a week ago I hadn’t even left our zone.
We approach the outer gate of Zone G slowly. “We need to show we’re not a threat,” Annie explains. “Normally when we visit we would have carts with us, so they might be suspicious about why it’s only us and the horses.”
She lifts an arm up to wave at the guard on duty, he waves in response and signals for us to approach. We dismount from the horses a few hundred metres away and make the final approach on foot. The same guard walks out to meet us.
“Hi,” Annie says reaching out a hand to shake, “We need to meet with Brian, it’s urgent.”
The guard takes Annie’s hand and shakes it, “Okay, let’s get you booked in, where are you from?”
“Zone E,” Annie replies.
The guard drops her hand like it is burning him and the expression on his face changes from friendly and welcoming to hostile, “Wait here,” he says, in a way that makes it clear it is an order, not a request.
I look at Annie, surprised at the change in demeanour, but she keeps her face neutral. We are kept waiting for nearly an hour, and I am getting restless. The horses don’t seem too bothered though, heads down and grazing on the luscious green grass.
Eventually, the same guard comes back to us, “Brian will see you now. You need to take the horses to the stables and check in your weapons at the armoury. Brian has requested that if anyone asks, you do not say where you are from. Understand?” He speaks in a perfunctory manner, keeping his tone steady, but the look of utter hatred in his eyes betrays him. I wonder what we did to upset him.
“We never normally have to give up our weapons,” Annie says casually to the man. Her words sound friendly enough, but I’ve known her long enough to note the hard edge to it.
The guard shrugs, “New rules,” his tone leaving no room for argument.
Annie takes the horses to the stables while I take our weapons to the armoury. We agree to meet outside the town hall building, which is visible, even from the inner gate.
I find the armoury and knock on the closed door. After waiting a few seconds for a response, I gently push the door open.
A young man is sitting at a workbench, furiously scraping a knife down a whetstone. I stay silent as I watch him work.
For the last few years, I’ve been so absorbed in my apprenticeship, that I’ve never found the time for a boyfriend. Naturally, I’ve experimented, as teenagers tend to do, but I've never been in a proper relationship. Even if the desire had been there, the choice is limited. With so few people in the zone, I know everyone my age or thereabouts, I’ve grown up with them. Seen them through their best times and their worst. The eligible and suitable men in the zone are more like annoying brothers than potential suitors. Besides, the career I’ve chosen does not lend itself to relationships.
However, I’m standing here watching the stranger take his anger out on the knife, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hair flops over his eyes, and every few seconds he blows it away, a pointless exercise as it immediately falls back in place. I feel an unfamiliar sensation flutter away in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly nervous, I worry that he has seen me come in and is waiting for me to speak, wondering why this strange girl is just staring at him.
“You’ll have no knife left if you keep going at that speed,” I say, then curse. A simple “Hi” would have been just fine. He looks at me with such anger that I take a small step backwards, then he lets the knife fall from his hands. It clatters noisily on the hard stone floor. He bends down quickly to retrieve it and as he rises, he bangs his head on the workbench.
Ouch, that looked painful, “Are you okay?” I ask.
He’s gone bright red, and I don’t know if it’s from anger or embarrassment, but he rubs the spot he hit, “Yeah, I have a tough head,” then he forces an uncomfortable smile. It doesn’t look natural on his face and makes him look a little deranged.
“Right …” I say, then remember why I am here, “Anyway, I’ve been told to come here and check these in.” I dump the weapons on the workbench in front of him, and I’m pleased when he makes a beeline for my Dad’s knife. I watch him as he studies it, turning it around in his hands.
“I don’t recognise this one. Is it new?” he asks. The fake smile has now been replaced by a look of admiration.
“It was my Dad’s,” I tell him, “I guess it’s new here, I’m from …” I stop myself in time, remembering that I’m not supposed to tell anyone where I am from, “Well I’m not from here, you won’t let anyone else take it will you?”
He’s still holding the knife, staring lovingly at it, “No, don’t worry I’ll look after it. Do you want me to sharpen it for you?”
I sharpened the knife last night, so I decline his offer, with a laugh, “Um … I’ve seen how you sharpen knives, so thanks, but no thanks.”
“Oh, okay,” he replies. I must have offended him because he’s gone red again. He runs his finger over the indented cap badge, “I’ll look after it, I promise.”
“Thank you,” I say, then anxious to get away before I upset him anymore, I turn to leave the room.
“What’s your name?” he calls out to my retreating back and as a little flutter stirs in my heart, I turn back to him, expectantly, “For the inventory … you know … for the knife.”
I’ve only just met this guy, so why does a wave of disappointment rush through me. I was hoping he wanted to carry on talking, but obviously, he’s back to business now. “It’s Sammie, Sammie Winter.”
“Okay, thanks, Sammie, mine is Luca, maybe I’ll see you around later?” he says. The flutter is back.
“Definitely,” I smile back at him, then realise I might sound too keen, “You have my knife,” I add, then wink. Wink? I have never winked. Clearly the last few days being around Joe are rubbing off on me. Embarrassed, I quickly turn around and hurry out of the door. I walk past an old man who nods at me in greeting. I nod back, distracted.
Putting all thoughts of my idiotic behaviour to one side, I head for the building that Annie had pointed out as the town hall. I’m relieved to see her waiting for me outside.
“Shall we?” she asks and nods at the open double doors that lead into the building.
“Yep,” I reply and step through the threshold. The en
trance hall is magnificent; tall ceilings finished with beautiful plaster cornices, the walls panelled in mahogany with portraits hung in golden frames. It’s a far cry from our dingy little council building where the only art is a mural painted by school children years ago, welcoming visitors to the zone.
“You’re here to see Brian,” a surly looking woman addresses us. Her hair is tied into a neat bun, her features are sharp and her nose pointy.
She wears a blouse buttoned all the way up. In our zone, everyone dresses casually. Some of the men still own shirts that they dust off for special occasions but otherwise, a T-shirt is a formal as it gets.
“We are indeed, would you be able to show us the way please?” Annie replies, and I smile at the formal politeness of her words.
“Follow me,” the woman replies and leads us up the staircase that makes up the main focal point of the entrance hall. The stairs split in two, the woman chooses the left-hand side. We duly follow, my hand stroking the opulent wood of the bannister as I ascend.
We arrive in a long dim corridor, where the woman knocks on the first door on the right, “They’re here,” she says.
“Thank you, Petunia,” a voice booms from the other side of the door. Annie glares at me, forcing me to stop the giggle that is threatening to burst free at hearing the woman sharing the same name as one of our horses.
We enter the room, and I stare around open mouthed. This room is massive. A large fireplace takes centre stage, but it has close competition. The desk is huge. Mahogany of course, with gold leaf detailing on the tops on the legs.
A bookcase crammed full of classics sits between the two windows that look out onto the town square.
“Nice office,” I blurt out, earning another glare from Annie.
“Thank you,” the man behind the desk says, as he extends a hand out to me, “I’m Brian.” I take his hand and shake it. His palms are sweaty and it takes every ounce of willpower not to immediately wipe my hands on my trousers, “Sammie,” I reply.
He offers his hand to Annie, “Annie,” she says, shaking it.
“Pleasure to meet you, Annie and Sammie,” he smiles warmly at us, “Please do sit down,”
Annie and I sit in the comfortable leather chair across from him. I notice immediately that the chairs are quite low to the ground, as I need to look up to make eye contact with him. I want to fiddle with the underside of the chair to see if I can raise it, but I notice that Annie sits primly upright and takes no notice of the obvious height difference.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, ladies?”
“I’m Annie and this is Sammie, we’re from Zone E and we need your help.”
The man regards Annie as she speaks and breaks out into a smile when she has finished, “Naturally, I will do anything within my power to help another zone,” he says and pauses.
“Than…” Annie starts.
“Pray, may I ask the exact nature of the help you require?” he interrupts her.
A flash of something crosses Annie’s face, but it is so quick it is gone instantly, “I believe you have a trained virologist within your zone. We would like to bring him back to Zone E with us for a short while.”
“I see,” Brian replies, “and may I enquire as to the exact reason for your request.”
“You may,” Annie replies, and I stifle another giggle as she leaves a long pause before continuing, “Zone E has come into the possession of some medical notes and vials of liquid that we believe may be related to the ZN-134. We would like a virologist to take a look and let us know what it is.”
“I see,” Brian says again. He leans back in his chair and scratches his chin thoughtfully. His reaction unsettles me. While Annie has held back on some of the facts, surely any news of this nature would invoke some sort of reaction. It is as though he is putting on an act to avoid giving anything away.
He finally sits fully upright, “Our virologist, David, is getting on a bit in years, but I will ask him if he is happy to go along with you. If he is, you have my full blessing. Do you by any chance have an example of a vial with you?”
I reach down for my bag, but Annie replies quickly, “No. Without understanding what we have, we thought it best to leave it behind, just in case.”
He narrows his eyes for a second, then smiles, “Of course, better to be safe than sorry,” he laughs, “and did you find many of these vials?”
Annie shrugs, “A few boxes full.”
Brian nods, “And finally, am I correct in assuming that you are not making the existence of these vials public knowledge?”
“You are,” Annie replies, “Only a handful of people know of our find. Am I correct in assuming that you will also use the same discretion?”
Brian smiles thinly, “Naturally, one wouldn’t want to cause unnecessary excitement until we find out what you have. Now then, it will take a day or two to arrange everything, so I would be delighted if you would make use of one of our guest residences.”
“That’s very kind,” Annie replies, her tone still not quite natural.
“Wonderful,” Brian claps his hands together, “I will ask Petunia to show you to suitable accommodation.”
He rises from his seat, making it clear our conversation is over.
“May I ask one question before we leave?” Annie says as she rises.
“Of course, my dear,” he replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes.
“Why have we been instructed to not tell anyone where we are from?”
Brian stiffens for a second, then relaxing almost instantly, he smiles, “We have had a small problem with some of our youth, wanting to move to go outside and explore other zones. If they find out you are from a zone, they will no doubt pester you to take them with you. You understand, don’t you?”
“Perfectly,” Annie nods.
I follow her out of the room, replaying the entire conversation over and over in my mind. Brian seemed nice enough, but something niggles at me. Maybe it was Annie’s reaction to him, lying about the vial I have in my bag. Maybe it was something about his manner. I’m desperate to be alone with Annie so we can discuss it.
I wait until Petunia has shown us into our guest room before speaking.
The room is basic, especially after the opulence of the town hall. We have twin beds, a small kitchen area and a bathroom. Hopefully, we will only be here for a maximum of two nights. It’s very cramped for the two of us.
“Um…” I start, wondering how to broach the subject with Annie.
“I know,” she says, “something wasn’t right there.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” I reply. “Do you think he will let us take the virologist?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, “Everything about that conversation just felt wrong. Did you notice how his smile looked forced?”
“Yep. I expected more of a reaction about the vials too.”
“I did downplay our find a little, but I expected him to ask a lot more questions and at least negotiate for a share of them if they do turn out to be a vaccination.”
“Mmm,” I flop onto the bed, “So I guess we’re stuck here for a few days then.”
“Looks like it,” she replies.
Annie lies back onto the bed and closes her eyes. I guess the conversation is over.
“Do you mind if I go and take a wander?”
She smiles sleepily, “I forget how exciting it must be for you to see a new zone, go, have fun. I think I’ll just sleep for the afternoon.”
Picking up my bag, knowing that I’d feel better if its precious cargo is close to me, I bound out of the room. She is right. Everything about this zone fascinates me. But the real reason I want to go out is just in case I might bump into Luca.
The streets are relatively quiet. I guess most people are at work. I head up and away from the town hall. The further away from the centre I get, the more tired and dirty the houses look. In E everyone takes great pride in keeping their living spaces neat and
clean. Here there are cardboard boxes used as curtains, and front doors that look as if they’ve not been cleaned in years.
The sound of people shouting and laughing drifts over to me and curiosity drives me to head towards the source of the noise.
It’s a field. A few hundred people are exercising together. I like that. The community getting together to do something healthy. I’ll mention it to Sally when we get back, maybe we could learn a thing or two from this zone. As I get closer, I realise the exercise is boxing, everyone paired off into couples and taking jabs at each other. There is a bench opposite the field, so I sit down and watch.
Instructors go from couple to couple, giving hints and correcting techniques. Maybe this is a new activity, because the overall quality is generally poor. Many of the pairs seem intent on just hitting each other and not worrying about defence. For others, energy is being wasted by throwing punches that are not even close to connecting with their intended target.
I watch one pair that appears to be totally mismatched in terms of skill. A skinny boy with a bright red face throws punches and jabs wildly. His opponent has his back to me, but I can see that it takes him little effort to dodge the onslaught. Every now and then he miscalculates and moves into the punch rather than away from it. When his fist connects with his opponents, the red-faced boy dances around gleefully. I lean forward and stare intently at the two. It’s not an accident. The opponent is purposefully letting himself get hit. I smile, thinking what a lovely thing to do. Although the red-faced boy will never get any better if he doesn't learn from his mistakes
The opponent steps back and holds one finger out to the red-faced boy, who relaxes instantly, rubbing at his aching arms. The opponent turns briefly to push his hair away from his face.
My heart leaps. It is Luca.
Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I get up and wander over to the field. I stand on the side and watch the pairs in the distance. After a few minutes, I start to feel awkward so I casually glance in the direction of Luca. He hasn’t spotted me, or he has and doesn’t care that I am there. Oh well, here goes nothing.
Safe Zone (Book 2): The Descent Page 11