by RR Haywood
With the two women checking everything that passed them, and with Maddox and Darius on the ground it was done with relative ease and far quicker than they had given themselves credit for in the planning phase.
By late morning they were ready. Loaded up and walking through a now stripped out and emptied set of units. The tables and chairs in the central area looked forlorn and sad, a space used for large groups to gather and meet, now empty and their footsteps ringing out on the concrete floor.
The rear area looked even worse, now littered with rubbish and debris. Items dumped and left and the grass flattened and dead were the tents had been up for almost two weeks. It looked so big now without the life inside it. Vast and empty without the colours and noises, and the kids running about or sat talking.
It served a purpose and got them through the first stage of the disaster but it was time to move on, and if the fort refused them they could just come back, or find somewhere else.
They walked round to the front and up the walkway towards the now open gates. The houses they had worked so hard to claim now emptied and open.
The long line of vehicles stretched down the road, the crews stood in their units near their assigned vehicles talking nervously, smiling with excitement while looking back at the compound with a sense of regret and longing.
The estate survivors coming with them were ready, the families stood separate and away from the crews, keeping that respectable distance.
Maddox led his small group past the vehicles, checking each one was ready to go and who was driving, and did they have the keys, and did the vehicle have fuel.
As each vehicle was checked he gave the order to load up, walking on to the next one while the kids started clambering inside behind him.
He’d even planned the convoy placement. He would have to go in the front with Lenski, and he wanted Darius and Sierra close to him. But that meant a huge long line of vehicles stretched out behind him. Mohammed was spoken to, being one of the more serious and switched on crew chiefs he was picked to bring up the rear and made sure his radio was working with fresh batteries.
And now it was done. The estate exodus was underway. A way of life was being left behind with the promise of something better ahead of them. A safe place with other people. It would be hard to start with, but Maddox knew deep inside this was the best course of action.
He climbs into the driver’s seat of the first van, getting a thumbs up from Darius behind him in the second vehicle. Switching the engine on he grins and shakes his head, smiling at Lenski sat next to him still hugging her clipboard.
‘Why you smile? This is stressful and hard,’ she says with a groan.
‘Done now,’ he remarks casually, ‘all done.’ Easing the handbrake off he selects first gear and pulls away, using the mirrors to watch behind as the vehicles pull out one by one.
Thirteen
‘Holy fuck,’ Paula whispers with a very rare use of swearing. High above the town on the crest of the rolling downs she looks down to the coastal town and the deep blue shimmering sea stretching off to the horizon.
Late afternoon and after hours of solid driving, heading through village after village and following the trails of crawlers and trampled verges she reached this point.
Two things draw her attention and cause a quickening of her heart rate. Far in the distance, off to the right she takes in the huge plume of smoke billowing from something. So far she can’t see the land it comes from but big enough to still be visible.
The second thing that draws her attention, and the cause of the profanity is the town resting between her and the sea. An average coastal town tucked into the base of the rolling hills. Picturesque and scenic. White washed houses dotted amongst the open playing fields, stone built cottages forming quaint and narrow streets, spiralling round in a haphazard way to the town centre. Large and urbanised. With the binoculars she can see the long straight central High Street, set back from the shore and running adjacent to the beachside.
She sweeps across the town, taking in the cricket pitch, the football grounds, the open air swimming pools, the large gardens of the big houses and the postage stamp gardens of the inner town cottages.
Paula lowers the binoculars and rubs her eyes, hardly believing what she’s seeing; convincing herself it must be a mirage, the heat playing tricks with her mind. She squeezes her eyes shut and counts to thirty. Opening them gradually and taking in the immediate surroundings, the grass field sloping down away from her. The hedgerow bordering the field. The tyre tracks across the grass where she drove through. The trees nearby, the bushes and rocks.
Nodding her head she accepts what she is seeing, everything as it should be, no leprechauns or fairies flying about. So her eyes are seeing normal images that her brain is processing.
Satisfied, she pushes the rubber skirt of the lenses to her eyes and looks again. Purposefully starting to the far right at the brown smudge. Yep, that’s still there. Gradually she works back along to the town beneath her. Taking in the long lines of things working their way in. The streets clogged with motion of bodies slowly working their way into the centre.
The playing fields covered in shuffling figures, long lines of bodies strung out on the feeder roads that lead into the town. The winding cottage lined streets filled with things. Every street, every spare bit of land, every road covered in things.
Thousands upon thousands of them. More than that, countless numbers bunched together. The High Street is jammed full and still more of them moving in towards it. Like the crowd of a festival undulating, or the busiest of city centres with everyone moving at exactly the same pace.
Paula had followed them to here, working through the villages and towns until reaching the coast. As she worked along she realised the roads were full of them so she worked inland, aiming for the downs and using the four wheel vehicle to cross open country. Stopping at the top of the sweeping field to look down.
‘Holy fuck,’ she repeats, the looking glasses glued to her eyes. Must be hundreds of thousands here and more heading in. The immediate roads are full; the outer roads still show long lines. Why? Why here?
Paula forces herself to examine the town, what is here that makes them want it so badly. An ordinary coastal town, nothing special or unique about it. It could be anyone of a hundred towns like it. Golden beaches that sweep along the gentle curvature of the land, small piers and jetties, a harbour full of white masts and pleasure cruisers, car parks, streets, roads, houses, shops. And everywhere full of the things.
Leaning her back against the side of the truck she kept looking, sweeping left to right and taking in every street.
A dull pain flashes across her forehead, warning her that she’s been staring now for a long time, straining to watch and utterly absorbed in the slow shuffling movements of the figures drifting in towards the town. Lowering the glasses she lifts her eyebrows high to stretch the muscles of her forehead out.
Sighing deeply she checks her immediate surroundings and moves to the back of the truck, dropping the tailgate to once more pull the camping stove out. Maybe too much coffee? Her hand hovers over the jar, trying to decide if she should have herbal tea this time.
Options weighed, advantages and disadvantages calculated, a decision reached. More coffee is called for. This is an extreme time of extreme actions and it needs caffeine and quite possibly a cigarette.
They haven’t showed any reaction to her presence. Can they see her from that distance? Without binoculars she’d just be a dark speck on the side of the hill. Mind you, best not hang around too long just in case they decide to come this way.
Sitting on the tailgate she stares down at the town with the naked eye, holding the coffee mug in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. The pain in her forehead eases while she tries to work out the significance of this place.
Paula leans her back against the side of the vehicle and draws her knees up, the feeling of isolation hits her more than ever but still, the sense of challeng
e is there. A whole town rammed to the rafters full of them. She looks at the feeder roads planning traps to lay there and a town this size would have a decent DIY store too. She frowns with the realisation it could have the best stocked and biggest DIY store in the country but with that many things down there it might as well be on the moon. No way she could get to it without clearing a decent path first, but with so many they would just keep pouring in.
This needs a plan. A decent well thought out plan. She stares idly out to sea, smiling at the thought of a big navy ship with big navy guns that would just flatten the town within minutes. Or a tank, that would be good. But no tanks and no navy ships. No anything other than what she can make or find.
Cigarette stubbed out she once more lifts the glasses and starts re-examining the town. One coastal road in from the right side or the west, and another in from the east. One more coming into from the north and that’s it.
The section closest to the shore looks the oldest, with smaller cottages built close together. Must have been a fishing village once and then just grew as the populations increased. Not even a rail line though which meant it would have only grown once the advent of cars became popular.
What does that matter? Who cares how old the place is? But all information is good information she reminds herself.
About to lower the glasses she snatches them back up. Her eyes taking in an image that her brain takes longer to process. Longer than it took for the hands to receive the signal to take the binoculars away. Pressed against her eyes she leans forward and looks again. Rapid movement caught her eye. Movement that was faster than anything else and therefore stood out.
Somewhere near that field there, the big buildings bordering it. The municipal layout suggests a school or college. Figures darting along the edge of the field. Two large and several smaller ones. Must be adults with children. She watches one of the adults move ahead to the edge of a building. They all wait and then run forward to join the first figure. The second adult in the rear.
A road next to the school holds hundreds of shuffling things all heading past just metres from the people. They must be able to see them.
The figures drop down at the back of the building and wait. Paula scans the area, seeing every road filled with shuffling bodies. Trapped in every direction, they should stay quiet within the buildings and hide. But then it will be dark in a few hours and being in a town jammed full of those things at night isn’t an option. How have they survived this long? Especially with children that make noise and cry, let alone the smell they would create.
Paula stiffens, sitting up straight as she notices an escape route for them. If they cross the fields keeping to one side behind the row of trees they could make the far end and the copse of trees. Through the small housing estate and then just one road to cross before they’re out into the fields. The road has the shuffling bodies at both ends but if they move one at a time and quickly they’d make it, or stand the best chance.
They can’t see it from their position, but being on high ground Paula can see the route easily. Her mind whirls trying to think of a way to communicate with them but there isn’t anything. Even if she flashed a mirror against the sun she’d only give her position away and not be able to tell them anything.
But she has the pistol and the machine gun, she could get to them just as they could get out. The thought of being with others is outweighed by the fact that she can’t just leave children trapped in that town if she can see a way out.
And only two adults with them. What are they doing there? Why didn’t they get out before?
There’s no choice, she has to act and do it now. She knows it and throws the last dregs of her coffee from the mug before packing everything away.
She can’t just drive down, she’d been seen easily. Work away to the west and then come back in from ground level, use that field and hide the vehicle before going the rest on foot. In the driver’s seat she turns the vehicle slowly round and heads back along to the gate, then through and steadily getting lower until the town falls from view.
Once satisfied she’s clear from sight she drives straight down the hillside and works her away back along towards the outer edge using fields and narrow farm tracks.
Finding a five bar gate that leads into the fields that border the small estate she stops the vehicle and gets the gate open. Closing it behind her once the vehicle is through. She parks up close to the hedge in amongst a copse of trees with low branches.
Making herself ready she checks her pockets for the facemask, eye glasses, ammunition, flare gun and then the police rifle and pistol. Knife tucked on the back of her belt and no bag this time so she can stay light and move quickly.
With the vehicle keys safely in her pocket she moves along the hedge in a steady crouch, finding a sty she pauses, listens and only goes over once satisfied there are no odd noises.
The sty leads to a narrow track with fences on both sides. Twisting round she looks up the hill at where she was parked and works out her location. These fences must be the gardens of the houses on the small estate.
Paula moves swiftly down the footpath, pausing at the end to peer out and check both sides. At the ends of the street she can see a steady flow of things walking past and heading into the town. Hunkering down for a few minutes she takes turns to watch both ends of the street, taking in their motion and the way they keep their heads forward. Not one glance to the side and no heads turning to look down the street.
She looks ahead and picks out the route; across the pavements and get between the parked cars, then across the road to the rows of the parked vehicles on that side. No footpath on the other side so it will have to be through the gardens. She spots a low fence leading into the rear garden of a detached bungalow and picks out the features that will provide cover; that low wall, then those bushes. Once she’s in the driveway she’ll be blocked from view.
Now or never. The risk has been weighed and calculated and determined that the odds are in her favour.
Staying low she moves out and makes it to the parked vehicles, dropping down between two hatchbacks and looking through the windows to the ends of the street. Perfect, no indication of being seen.
Again she gets across the road and between the next row of vehicles. Still no reaction. She waits for a full minute this time, making sure there isn’t any kind of delayed reaction.
Then across the pavement to the low wall, check, clear to the bushes, check, clear and into the driveway up the path and over the fence.
Dropping to the ground on the other side she grins stupidly, feeling like a commando from a low budget movie and wishing she’d put some black stripes across her nose and maybe had a big tattoo done on her upper arm, something black and tribal, and a change of name of course, Paula doesn't sound very macho or tough.
Paula the secret ninja commando runs across the garden, making little huh huh huh noises in her mind, only stopping when a fit of giggles threatens to come out audibly. Bloody hell, she shakes her head thinking maybe she’s spent too much time alone.
At the rear fence she climbs up in the corner and peers over into the next garden. That house must face onto the playing fields. She clambers over and drops down into the flower beds, holding steady while she stares at the windows and back doors.
No movement, no noise so she creeps on with a strange urge to try a commando roll across the floor but dismissing it just as quickly. Grow up for god’s sake, this is serious stuff.
Down the side of the house and she drops down, smiling at the road ahead of her and the edge of the playing fields on the other side.
Perfect. Bloody perfect. All she has to do now is get across here, stick to the edge and find those people then lead them back out. Tea and medals all round.
She waits at the side of the house, staring across the fields to the building line trying to see the figure again. No sign of them. They must have gone back round to the other side thinking they were trapped.
The ends of this
road bend away from view and with no foot traffic in sight she bursts out from the house and sprints across the road, up the slight bank and down onto the fields, immediately going left to the tree line.
This time she doesn't stop, realising she is now committed and speed is the key. She moves fast, going at a steady jog and controlling her breathing, pleased that nothing on her person makes noise.
With a hundred metres to go she stops and waits, getting her heart rate and breathing fully controlled before the final sprint to the back of the building. Examining the structure she remembers what she saw from the hillside and that the closest line of the walkers was to her left, so she needs to go round the building to the right. This is the back of a set of classrooms by the looks of it, so those people could be at the side, round the front or somewhere inside one of them.
Why couldn’t they just stay there and bloody wait? She runs the hundred metres flat out and makes the back of the building, amazed at her level of fitness and how much easier she finds running now.
Without pausing she moves down the line to the edge of the building and peer rounds, frowning at the empty ground.
Ducking round she works along to the front, the rifle held ready with her finger pressed against the trigger guard, something she’d seen on movies and figured it must be the right way of doing it and prevents accidentally firing the weapon and giving your position away, or shooting yourself for that matter.
A scream splits the air, coming from the front of the building. Paula drops to her knee with the rifle up and aimed. Eyes fixed on the corner. Another scream, then more. The unmistakable sound of terrified children being hurt. Instinct kicks in and she moves forward taking long steps with the gun aimed and ready and her finger now holding the trigger.
The screams and wails fill the air, blood-curdling and full of pain and agony. She moves faster, heart hammering in her chest. Movement as someone bursts round the edge of the building sprinting towards her. The suddenness of the action sends a tiny jolt through Paula, she squeezes the trigger sending a round into the forehead of the little girl running with her tiny hand clamped to the wound on her neck.