by RR Haywood
‘I think it’s highly possible, once we’ve got the opinions of the experts…’ she sighs, taking her hat off to use a tissue to dab at her flushed face, ‘that’s the other problem….Howie doesn't like taking the opinions of the experts, thinks he can do it all himself.’
‘Really? He seemed alright to me,’ the man says with a slightly shocked expression.
‘Yeah that’s how he comes across doesn't he,’ she stares at him earnestly, ‘I honestly thought he knew exactly what he was doing, we all did but you know…after last night and all those innocent people being shot and stabbed to death, especially the babies…well, I’m not so sure now.’
‘Babies?’
‘Sadly so, between you and me,’ she lowers her voice, stepping in closer, ‘there were quite a few children gunned down last night, no sign of blood or bites on any of them.’
‘Shit,’ the man gasps, ‘we all thought there were biters in here.’
‘Well,’ she steps back with a shrug, ‘that’s what Howie said but…no one actually saw a biter,’ she says, using the same terminology of the man to form a sense of allegiance.
‘Fuck, oh god…sorry I didn’t mean to swear.’
‘Don’t be silly, I’m on your side, I’m all for you chaps getting the right recognition…this fort wouldn’t be anything without the hard work you guys are doing which is why I thought I’d best mention the placing of the gun now, before you put all that effort in…that’s the other problem with Howie, he expects everyone to be working flat out all the time…and where is he?’ She stands back with her arms slightly raised, making a point of looking about.
‘Gone for fuel ain't they?’
‘So they say,’ she replies, ‘how long does that take? What’s he doing out there all this time? Just him and his group…just seems strange to me, but then,’ she shakes her head, ‘what do I know, I’ve just been a police sergeant for twenty years…’
‘No, yeah…course,’ the man nods at her, ‘so…maybe we should hang on then…before we get the gun fixed in.’
‘I would,’ she says kindly, ‘you all look hot, get yourself a drink in the shade, you need a break you know, especially in this awful heat.’
‘Yeah…yeah we are hot. We’ll get a drink then and wait for someone to let us know where to put it.’
‘Good idea, a nice cup of tea sounds good, I bet there must be some biscuits knocking about somewhere, I’ll see if I can get some sent over to you.’
‘Really? Biscuits? Bloody hell, that’d be lovely.’
‘Just between us though,’ she winks with a smile, ‘we don’t want everyone wanting biscuits do we…got to keep them safe for the real hard workers.’
She walks off with another wink, smiling as she looks out over the top at the flatlands. At the slope she pauses mid stride, staring across the fort at Chris stood talking to someone with that bloody dog at his side.
The dog that gives Howie all the power, just because he went out and got it, him and that bloody Chris. Neanderthal men running around like brutes. She spent years fighting male dominance in the police and now it’s all gone back to how it was with violent bullies running the show.
She heard the noise last night when it first started. The shots being fired, the shouts and screams but she waited, too terrified of moving closer. In the police there was always brave men to do that kind of thing. Pub fights, violent domestics, armed assailants and drunken public disorder. She’d done her two years frontline and then spent the rest of her time working office departments and specialist units before moving into the relatively safe custody department with the high desk she could sit behind. Organisation and administration, those were her strong points. So when the fighting started within the fort she was only too willing to hang back and wait for the worst to be over. Later claiming she was at the far side of the fort and within the rooms, out of earshot.
She hated the way everyone looked up to Howie. He was young, not even thirty years old and he had everyone in his pocket and he wasn’t even a police officer, just a stupid supermarket manager. And that group of his, the way they called him Mr Howie and boss. More and more people were calling her by her first name while more and more were calling him bloody Mister.
Resentment and jealousy course through her soul, not that she’d ever admit to having those feelings, not even to herself, instead they’re manipulated and translated as righteous anger. A sense that it’s being done wrong, and she is the one to fix it. That and the grief she feels at losing not only her own friends and associates, but now Steven and Tom make for a dangerous set of views that are quickly spread around the fort.
Chris pauses after speaking to the survivor, sharing a few words of comfort and listening to the other man’s problems for a minute before promising he’ll do the best he can, the same promise he repeats time and time again. Not just words either, but meaningful promises. As the man walks off he glances across the fort, spotting Debbie stood at the top of the slope, easily recognisable with her police hat perched on her head.
He sighs deeply, shaking his head with a deep sense of sadness as he understands why he hadn’t seen her for several hours and with a deeper sense of sadness at what damage she would have caused talking to people.
He needed to take action, he knew that but she was still a police sergeant and that meant something to Chris. She held rank and had proven herself highly capable at getting things organised at done, but the cost now was too high.
Looking round the fort, at the vast sea of tents crammed into the centre, at the many people walking or stood round chatting he suddenly felt the weight of the burden making his broad shoulders involuntarily sag from the pressure. Right now he wished he was out with Howie and Clarence, sat in the Saxon and doing the dangerous job instead of trying to placate so many different characters.
Still, at least they’re safe in here.
That’s something.
Twenty-Nine
‘Pull over,’ Clarence splutters.
‘Here?’ Nick asks.
‘Yeah here,’ I add, my voice comes out hoarse and my throat feels rough, like it’s been burnt.
Nick slows the Saxon, automatically edging to the side of the road, a habit long ingrained to save blocking the carriageway.
Once stopped we burst out of the vehicle, coughing and wheezing from the fumes trapped inside. The air is hot and uncomfortable but at least it’s not tainted with burnt oil fumes like the inside of the vehicle.
Lani carries out a case of water bottles and dumps them on the ground, ripping the plastic cover away to start handing the bottles round. Clarence drags the headless corpse out and throws it into the bushes like it’s a rolled up carpet being dumped.
‘Heads up,’ Nick Blowers tries to joke as he pulls the head out but starts coughing instead, dropping the head and toeing it away to join the rest of its body.
‘Fuck,’ Cookey gasps, a long drawn out noise full of awe as he stares back up the hill. We’re on the reverse side of the hill we went up to get away from the burning refinery. The descent has thankfully given us some fresher air and taken us further from the fire.
We stand in near silence, breathing heavily and coughing to clear the stench from our airways. The outside of the Saxon is filthy, covered in a thick greasy layer of grime that clings to every surface. Like dirty oil watered down and filled with grit.
Beyond the crest of the hill the thick broiling mushroom shaped cloud still blooms skywards, highly visible not only to us, but to everyone within a fifty mile radius probably. The explosion must have been felt everywhere, it was like an earthquake and I’ve no doubt the fort would have at least felt it and be able to see the smoke.
‘How long will it last?’ A strange voice breaks my thoughts. I snap my head round to see the girl stood with us, staring up at the cloud. She looks different. Drained and pale but composed.
She looks at me with a level gaze, pale blue eyes within a porcelain white face and framed by light blonde hair. Small build
but there’s a strength in those eyes, a look the same as Lani has.
‘How long will it burn for?’ She repeats. I break eye contact and look at Dave.
‘Few days,’ he replies with a shrug.
‘My mouth tastes like a gorilla’s taken a dump in it,’ Nick moans, he takes a pull of water, swilling it round his mouth before spitting it out onto the hot road. It soaks away within seconds, leaving just a dark stain.
‘Me too,’ Cookey says, chomping his mouth as though eating something distasteful.
‘You okay?’ Lani asks the girl.
‘Yeah,’ she nods, staring at the cloud, ‘they’re all dead aren’t they?’
‘Who?’ Lani asks.
She shrugs, ‘everyone, everyone that was in that place.’
‘Yeah,’ Lani says quietly looking away at the cloud.
‘Good,’ she whispers, ‘I should feel bad but I don’t…I feel glad and I hope they fucking suffered.’
‘Can’t argue with that,’ Blowers says after a pause.
‘I’m Howie by the way,’ I hold my hand out and then feel a pang of shame knowing what she just went through, she looks at my hand and takes it with a quick shake.
‘Lillian…’ She drops my hand.
‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You’re Lani…is that right?’
‘Milani, but yeah…Lani.’
‘Thanks for helping me,’ her voice trails off, ‘I…er…’
‘Forget it,’ Lani says quickly, ‘it’s done.’
‘Okay, but thanks though…were the others all killed?’
Lani nods slowly but holds eye contact with the girl, ‘sorry.’
Lillian sighs and nods back, ‘yeah, I thought so…’
‘Were they your relatives?’ Cookey asks.
‘Don’t fucking ask the poor girl that!’ Blowers says quickly.
‘Shit sorry Lillian, I…I didn’t think…’
‘He never bloody does,’ Blowers adds.
‘It’s okay,’ Lillian says, ‘no they weren’t…my family live in the north, I was at University here…I did know them all but…’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Cookey says again, ‘I’m Cookey,’ he holds his hand out respectfully. She takes it the same way she did mine, a short quick shake and release. The others introduce themselves one by one, offering a quick handshake apart from Dave who just stands staring at the cloud.
‘Dave,’ he nods at her after a pause, ‘I don’t like shaking hands but Mr Howie keeps making me do it,’ he then offers his hand out with a quick glance at me.
‘Oh…you don’t have to,’ she says with a glance at me.
‘Thanks,’ he drops his hand quickly and still wipes it on the back of his trousers, despite having not made contact. A habitual reflex I guess.
‘Lillian, we’ve got a safe place along the coast, an old fort…’ Lani explains, having already made the connection with the girl she takes it on herself to say who we are, and why we came here. The girl listens, nodding intently. Visually they are the opposite, Lani is dark with tanned skin whereas Lillian is very pale with light hair. Their build is similar, Lillian perhaps being slightly heavier. The eyes though, they are the same. The same level gaze of someone who has been through hell and realised it didn’t break them. The same eyes as the rest of us have.
‘You’re welcome to come with us,’ I add when Lani finishes.
‘Thank you,’ she says simply.
‘But we’ve still got to get a fuel tanker yet, so there’ll be a delay before we get back…is that okay?’ It wouldn’t make a difference what she says now but politeness counts.
She nods and looks at Lani, at the pistol on her belt and the assault rifle held in one hand. ‘The guns you took off the men…can I have one?’
She looks at me with that same level gaze, I stare back for a second before glancing at Clarence who shrugs, up to you.
‘If we run into those things…or something else happens…I want to defend myself.’
‘Okay, yeah that’s fair enough,’ I nod, ‘Dave will show you how to use one.’
‘Can’t Lani do it?’ She asks.
‘No,’ I shake my head firmly, ‘Dave does it, Lillian you are not at risk from any of us, I’ll make that clear now…I get what you just went through and in normal times there would a period of recovery and grief but these aren’t normal times…’
‘I understand,’ she cuts me off, ‘sorry I shouldn’t have asked…I didn’t mean any offence to Dave.’
‘It’s not really possible to offend Dave,’ Cookey quips then quickly backs away with a grin as Dave glares at him, ‘sorry…sorry I was only joking…’
‘You must have a death wish Cookey,’ Clarence mutters with a grin.
‘Good film, I love Charles Bronson,’ Blowers adds.
‘I bet you do,’ Cookey says.
‘Oh fuck off,’ Blowers sighs as Lillian looks at between them with a puzzled expression.
‘You get used to it,’ Lani says, ‘it’s non-stop…really I mean non bloody stop…’
‘Oh you love us really Lani,’ Cookey laughs.
‘Careful,’ Nick laughs, ‘she’ll cut your head off.’
‘See what I mean,’ Lani says, ‘they’ll be mentioning that for the rest of the day now.’
‘What? You cutting that blokes head off?’ Cookey laughs.
‘You mean the head you cut off?’ Blowers joins in.
‘Okay okay,’ I cut in, ‘Dave would you show Lillian how to use a gun please mate.’
‘Pistol and rifle or just rifle?’ He asks.
‘Rifle will do for now, you can do the pistol dry fire when we get going.’
‘Okay Mr Howie…Lillian, come with me please,’ he slips smoothly into his sergeants role, leading the girl to the rear of the Saxon.
‘Got a smoke Nick?’
‘Do you want a packet boss?’ Nick replies.
‘Nah, I’ll just keep asking you.’
‘Okay,’ he taps one out and hands it over as I fish about for a lighter.
‘Here Mr Howie,’ Cookey holds his out.
‘Cheers mate,’ I light the smoke, coughing from the harsh pull of smoke after the thick smoke we just went through.
The three lads stand in silence, smoking away and staring at each other.
‘Lads,’ they all look at me, ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking but take it easy…after what she’s just been through, yes she’s very pretty but take it easy…understand?’
‘Yes boss,’ Nick nods.
‘Got it,’ Cookey says seriously.
‘Me too,’ Blowers adds.
‘You think she’s pretty?’ Lani cuts in with a glare and a sharp intake of breath from Clarence.
‘Careful boss, she’s got a knife,’ he says as the other three burst out laughing.
‘Well no I don’t think she’s pretty…but er…well the lads here obviously think she’s pretty so you know I was just saying…you know from their perspective.’
‘Definitely,’ Blowers takes it up with a serious nod.
‘I was just saying how pretty she was and the boss said he didn’t think she was pretty at all,’ Nick says with an air of pure innocence.
‘Men,’ Lani shakes her head.
A shot rings out from the back of the Saxon, we all flinch reaching for our weapons before relaxing with wry grins. Then we wait at the side as Dave quickly puts Lillian through the basics. Four of us remembering back in Salisbury when Dave did the same with us.
‘All done Mr Howie,’ Dave calls over, walking round to the side with the now armed Lillian with him. ‘I’ve given her the same weapon as us so there’s no issue with ammunition.’
‘Makes sense, we ready to go?’
‘I don’t know if it helps…but you said you’re looking for fuel?’ Lillian says holding the rifle across her chest self-consciously, but already I can see the simple act of holding a weapon makes her feel better.
We all stop to stare at her, she looks rou
nd at each face sensing the sudden change from easy going banter to serious faces.
‘Er…there’s a depot opposite the place I stayed in…there was always tankers parked up there at weekends…I don’t know if there’ll be any there or not…’
‘Worth a go,’ I reply quickly with a smile, ‘do you know the way?’
She nods, ‘maybe ten minutes from here…not far, but the place was crawling with those zombie things.’
‘Aahh,’ Clarence grimaces, ‘I hate that word.’
‘Ignore him,’ I say, ‘so there was loads of zombies yeah?’ I ask placing emphasis on the zombie word.
‘Was that zombies?’ Cookey joins in with a grin.
‘Someone say ZOMBIES?’ Nick laughs.
‘Little shits,’ Clarence mutters, climbing into the passenger seat.
‘Loads,’ Lillian says after another puzzled glance at the lads.
‘Loads as in how many?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know…hundreds I think…they were everywhere.’
‘What was that? Hundreds of ZOMBIES?’ Cookey shouts.
‘Cookey,’ Clarence shouts with a warning tone firmly edged into his voice.
We load up and pull out, following the main road until we’re directed by Lillian to pull off and head into the built up area of the main towns that border Southampton.
The lads ask her questions, friendly and non-invasive and done with their usual light-hearted banter. We find out her family was from the south but moved up north for her father’s work. She stayed down here to finish college and then go for university, studying business and finance and living in student accommodation. One older brother who was in the army and posted to Germany when the outbreak started.
As with Lani, she explained it in a blunt fashion with no emotion, which is something we’ve become used to. The feelings those conversations spark are just too painful to deal with. So why bother.
The inner towns are the same as before, only the decay is starting to show more. The burnt out houses and cars look old and charred instead of freshly burnt. The cadavers in the road are decomposing in the high heat, literally melting into the surface of the pavement and roads.