Only the Few (Only The Few Book 1)

by L. N. Denison

  Without warning, it turned dark as the dust storm rode in at full strength, blocking out the late afternoon sun. Knowing the grit in the howling wind would shred her, staying within the confines of the munitions tent until the storm passed became her only option.

  She took off her smock, rolling it up into a ball to form a pillow, then brought the weaponry to her temporary bed. Although she was exhausted, sleep wasn’t an option. The last screams of Jones, and Charlie’s panicked face all rolled around her mind when she wasn’t concentrating on something else. The ration packs were looking very appetising, but the need for water outweighed the need for food or sleep. The most logical place to look for a canteen of water would be the ration pile.

  She began rummaging through the stacks of foil wrapped rations. The liquid refuel packs would help, both with her hunger and thirst. Grabbing one of the foil packs, she ripped it open, and squeezed it into her mouth.

  After her quick meal, she finally lay down for a well-needed rest, safe in the knowledge that the cavers had given up their search, as surely they would’ve reached the camp by now if they’d continued their hunt. The thought that they had Jones and the catatonic private as a food supply to keep them occupied made sleep elusive for what seemed like hours.

  ~

  Hyde woke in a sweat, shaking and fearful of her surroundings. Her dreams had been plagued with cavers, who had been slowly eating her alive. The feeling of their teeth biting into her flesh had been so vivid. Knowing it wasn’t real didn’t help her subconscious let it go. Resigning herself to having to live with the nightmares, she got up. She grabbed another ration and opened the tent flap, squinting as the sun blinded her. A vast sea of grey nothingness took up the clearing. At least Charlie’s body was hidden now. Pushing the past days out of her mind, she concentrated on the future and getting help.

  Hyde looked out across the camp and spotted the obvious dust mounds that covered the remains of her unit; the people she’d eaten, slept, laughed and worked with since before the bombs had dropped. But it was the smaller dust mounds dotted around the camp, ones that looked like they could be concealing a radio, that grabbed her interest. We only took the handheld radio with us. James, our radio operator’s body is under that pile over there, so the radio should be around here somewhere.

  After several failed attempts at digging, she’d located the last unaccounted-for members of her team, but no radio. Hyde was ready to give up, sure that the radio had been taken by the raiders, until she spotted something poking through one of the mounds, aided by the sun shining directly upon it. She ran towards the obscured object, leaving her newly acquired rifle and bergen behind, and dug out the object with her filthy hands. Yes! It’s time my luck changed. Once exposed, she checked the radio over, excitedly, without picking it up, a sudden realisation hit home. What if the dust has clogged it? Hyde was always the pessimist, but she’d rather be that than disappointed all the time.

  “Come on, please work,” Hyde whispered, reaching forward to grab hold of the robust metal object in both hands. With slow precision, and a huge amount of apprehension, she turned the on switch... nothing. Shaking it in frustration, her heart fell as the thing rattled. As she wasn’t a tech expert, she pronounced the radio dead at the scene.

  What do I do now? I’m fucking screwed! The only thing left that could have helped get her back home was permanently out of commission. Yes, there was the SA80 assault rifle, with its five clips of ammo, and the claymores, but the extra back up would’ve been nice. As Hyde got to her feet, she pushed that unhelpful thought away as she dusted herself off. Time to get to work, Hyde.

  She would need all her wiles and training to protect herself against Mother Nature and the scavengers that had overrun an armed military unit, even though the cavers appeared to have given up the hunt. It was a bloody long way home and the sooner she started, the better.

  Hyde headed back to the munitions tent to retrieve the rifle, bergen and to hunt for a compass. There had to be one knocking about somewhere. Rummaging through the equipment the scavengers hadn’t thought worth taking, she managed to find some useful items, but no compass. The discovery of a couple lightweight tarpaulins cheered her up. They would come in handy for shelter.

  “If I were a compass, where would I be?” she asked herself then groaned at her stupidity. There was probably one in the bergen already. Patting down the bag, she found what she was looking for in a pocket. She gathered up the tarpaulin rolls, the claymores and all the ammo she’d found and packed them into the bergen before filling the remaining space with rations. Grabbing the heavy canvas ruck and rifle, Hyde headed towards the exit of the tent.

  It wasn’t going to be easy getting back to her barracks on foot while keeping an eye out for cavers and scavengers. Unlike the barely human cavers, it was impossible to distinguish a scavenger from other survivors. It was probably how they’d overrun the camp. The bastards had probably presented themselves as survivors and her colleagues had welcomed them; finding survivors had been their mission after all. Once the soldiers’ guard was down, they struck.

  Reaching into the right-hand side pocket of the bergen, Hyde pulled out the compass again. It was well-worn, but functional. Getting away from the Dales and the caves couldn’t come soon enough. She could vaguely remember visiting this area as a child on holiday with her family about fifteen years ago. Back then, the caves were a tourist attraction, not a haven for cannibalistic abominations. Before the world as they had known it had ended.

  CHAPTER 3

  The once green and picturesque Yorkshire Dales had become a dust bowl. Little in the way of life, flora or fauna, had survived the blast of the hundred or so bombs that had hit simultaneously across the country. Only the odd, wise animal who’d hidden from the continual dust storms, or some of the sturdier trees fought on. Most of the few human survivors of the initial blasts would die within five years from disease, starvation or cavers. To stay alive, they had banded together to form their own underground communities. In a sense, they were no better than cavers. They were certainly just as dangerous to the unwary. Dead was dead, whether your killer ate you afterwards or not.

  The forthcoming journey promised to be fraught with danger, but it would be easier to overcome any obstacle with the SA80 in her possession. There was quite a way to go before exiting the known ‘Black’ areas. Now that the dust storm had passed, there was a real possibility that the cavers could be on the hunt for her again. Taking the time to properly bury her colleagues could risk her life. Telling herself they’d understand, that they’d do the same thing in her circumstances, she set off.

  Initially, she moved to higher ground, hoping that the vantage point would reveal any pursuit. For what seemed like hours, she scanned the wasteland for pursuers, but saw nothing. Visibility started to become difficult as the sun sank over the brow of a nearby hill, and the need to rest took control. A deep sense of loneliness washed over her, and she reprimanded herself. She was alive enough to feel lonely, unlike the rest of her unit.

  Every step took her farther away from danger, but as she’d found to her cost, the cavers were crafty, stealthy beings. Just because she hadn’t seen anything, it didn’t mean they weren’t there. Not able to sleep, she pushed her body onwards, continuing to make her way towards the peak of the rock she’d been climbing, passing manmade hollows that would shelter her along the way, but she chose to carry on rather than sit in the dark with her nightmares.

  When she started seeing hollow fibre pillows and eiderdowns spring up out of nowhere, she knew rest was needed before the hallucinations got worse or she collapsed, whichever came first. Finding a flat area of straggly grass, she set the bergen and rifle down and flopped to the ground. She lay back for a moment, covering her face with shaking hands. The constant hiking had taken its toll on her worn-out body and her emotions. Everything she’d been through fought past the mental barriers and tears began to flow uncontrollably.

  Pull yourself together Hyde, you can grizzl
e later. She shook herself from the self-pitying funk and began to loosen up the tight, burning muscles that’d caused her to slow down. Her body begged for a proper rest, but she could see to walk in the faint moonlight and carried on a little further.

  After stopping to eat her congealed corned beef hash ration pack and guzzle half a litre of isotonic vitamin enriched water, she packed the evidence of her respite away and carried on with the climb. It’d be awhile before she either felt secure enough, or was exhausted enough, to rest properly.

  ~

  Every sound, every gust of wind was met with a nervous twitch of her rifle. As much as she wanted to keep putting distance between her and the cavers, she was going to have to stop. The build-up of dark clouds obscured the moonlight, making visibility more difficult, plus the weather was taking a turn. The wind picked up, bringing a chill with it, and it started to rain, getting heavier as the seconds passed. She looked around for something secure enough to fix a tarpaulin; an old tree stump, anything. This scenario hadn’t been planned for, and it hadn’t occurred to her that there may not be anything to tie a tarpaulin to. She was going to have to find an unoccupied cave for the night. Is there such a thing as an unoccupied cave? She didn’t know. Feelings of dread and insecurity rattled around in her mind, knowing that she was going to have to double back and head towards one of the caves she’d passed along the way. The idea of having to turn back and maybe face her aggressors again wasn’t an attractive idea, but it was necessary. Without proper shelter, she could die of exposure.

  Mind made up, she turned on her heels and headed back toward one of the dugouts she’d passed a while ago. It would be safer than taking her chances in larger, natural caves. The thought of offloading the forty-pound weight that dug into her shoulders gave her some much needed energy.

  Straining her eyes in the dark, Hyde could see the dugout a few yards ahead. Thank fuck for that! A small but gratifying smile danced across her lips. Unburdening herself of the bergen, she almost dived into the entrance, dragging her equipment in with her. Breathing a deep and heavy sigh, Hyde felt safe, for now. She pulled out a foil-wrapped protein drink, ripped it open and downed it in an instant. Then she grabbed one of the tarpaulin sheets from her pack and stripped the top layer of her uniform off, feeling the autumnal chill straight away. The hairs stood to attention on her arms, and her nipples hardened to the cold. Taking the underwire from the threadbare bra she was wearing, she pinned the plastic sheeting in place to create a makeshift doorway. The earth was soft enough to push in the wire, but hard enough to hold the tarp firm. Putting her khaki and brown under body armour combat shirt and windproof smock back on helped alleviate the cold; she sat up against the side of the dugout and draped the second tarp over her legs. Despite the unnervingly strong wind that made the edges of her makeshift door flap, she felt safe enough to relax and try to sleep.

  ~

  Corporal Hyde’s sleep cycle was cut short by voices from outside. Quickly grabbing her rifle, she disengaged the safety, and pointed it toward the tarpaulin doorway, drawing a deep breath, then exhaling it slowly. The tarpaulin began to rise. She inched her way to the back wall of the dugout, pulling her knees to her chest to make sure that whoever it was couldn’t grab her feet and pull her out.

  A man’s hairy hand reached in and started to feel around, narrowly missing the bergen. The jacket was military issue, but she didn’t trust that enough to show herself. Scavengers had looted her unit’s camp, and others might have suffered the same fate. This was just as likely to be an enemy as a friend. The hand retracted when another man’s voice called out. “Move out! cavers approaching!”

  Should I risk going outside? There was safety in numbers, but on this occasion, she didn’t think it applied. Her instincts were spot on. No sooner had she decided to stay hidden, the sounds of rapid gunfire and shouting came through the thin tarpaulin that concealed her location. The camo-clad men were no match for the cavers that descended upon them. An eerie silence followed sharply cut off screams. The sound of heavy objects being dragged could be heard from within the dugout. Poking her head through the gap in the tarpaulin, Hyde saw cavers pulling their unconscious victims to their deaths; a scene she was all too familiar with. Thoughts of what would happen to those people paralyzed her. She vividly recalled the pain written all over the faces of her comrades; the smell of blood; the colourless dead eyes of a man she respected and the screams as flesh was torn from terrified victims. Poor bastards, I wish I could help them...wait, I have a rifle!

  Gathering her bergen, and flinging the SA80 over her shoulder, Hyde checked the remaining rations and rearranged the claymores so that they were within easy reach. Sliding her arse out of the dugout, she stood awkwardly and slung the heavy pack on her back.

  She knew which way the cavers had headed. Their victims had left drag marks with their bodies and small traces of blood splattered on the ravine surface. They were probably the same group that had caught her patrol. How many of those ugly bastards were there to contend with?

  Soon she could see at least three flesh-eaters, about fifty yards ahead. One was leading the way and two others were pulling their victims by their bound feet. The two men were either unconscious or dead. Being as they hadn’t made any attempt to escape their captors and bearing in mind that all four members of her patrol had made it to the cavers’ lair alive, she was betting on unconscious. No one had been there to save her colleagues, but she could save these men.

  Now within range, Hyde opened fire, cutting down all three cavers where they stood. She ran up to the two men and started untying their feet and hands. One of the cavers twitched and groaned. She shot it again, then did the same to the two still caver bodies. Flicking her gaze between the three barely human beasts, her hands trembled with adrenalin as she waited for them to move again. They didn’t, even when she kicked them. Sightless, dead eyes stared at the night sky. She started to breathe again.

  “Who are you?” One of the victims called to her weakly, drawing her out of the adrenalin rush. She turned around and stared at his pale face, unable to make out his features in the darkness. His companion was still unconscious.

  “Answer me, please?” he groaned.

  “Corporal Catherine Hyde, who are you?” she answered brusquely, throwing all army etiquette out of the window.

  “Who do you think you are talking to, corporal?” the soldier said weakly. “I am Captain Malcolm Judd of the Royal Fusiliers, please don’t talk to me like that again.”

  “How am I to know that you’re a captain? You could’ve stolen that uniform.” The silence turned uncomfortably awkward after a few seconds.

  “Look in my breast pocket, you’ll find all the proof that you need.” He pointed to the area with emphasis.

  Hyde reached down and undid the pocket, watching Judd’s every move. There was something about him that felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  She pulled out his army I.D. and gave it a brief glance. Yes, he was a captain but the card had expired a little under a year ago. He couldn’t have been out here this long, surely? Hyde didn’t question him about it. Her job at that moment was to get both men out of the open in case the cavers had friends lurking around. They were sitting ducks out here and there would be time for questions later.

  She lifted him to his unsteady feet, and the captain began to teeter, then fell back on his arse. Hyde left him to recover for a little longer and tried to revive the other victim. It took a while, but she managed to wake him with a few slaps to the face. In his groggy state, all it seemed he could do was blink at her stupidly. She didn’t know how she was going to get them both to safety. They were both incapable of walking any distance at the moment. Getting them back to the dugout till morning was the only option. It would be cramped, but at least they would be somewhat safe.

  CHAPTER 4

  For hours, Hyde sat staring at the two sleeping soldiers, wondering what they were doing out in the Dales. Although she was captivated by the
captain’s rugged features and jet black hair there was an unsettling aggressiveness about him. Maybe it was the two-inch scar that stretched the length of his left cheek, or the permanent sneer etched on the upper left hand side of his mouth, but there was something not right about him. Stevens, on the other hand, had a face only a mother would love, pitted and chubby, with a wicked cleft lip and shaggy blonde hair that fell over his left eye. With her body beginning to cramp up, Hyde tried to straighten out in a space that was only made to house two people. Tiredness weighed down her body as if it were filled with concrete, but sleeping in the company of people she didn’t know, or trust, would be beyond foolish. For starters, she wasn’t about to give the pair of them the opportunity to take her weapon.

  The one who called himself Captain Malcolm Judd began to stir, blinking open his emerald eyes. He focused on Hyde as she reached for her rifle and pointed it at him.

  “Why are you here?” she asked while simultaneously keeping an eye on the other man, who appeared to be a corporal, judging by the two chevrons attached to the arms of his tattered shirt. “You can’t be part of a rescue mission, I didn’t have a radio to put the call through.”

  The captain didn’t seem fazed by the rifle pointed directly at his head, or the uneasy silence that followed. His eyes were full of venom, piercing hers, making her feel insecure, forcing her to look away briefly. Lunging, he pressed the rifle hard against her chest forcing her onto her back, and then snatched the weapon with one swift movement, not giving her the opportunity to fight. The next thing, she was looking down the barrel of her own semi. Why did I look away? Fucking idiot! She chastised herself for her own stupidity—much to the amusement of Judd, who watched as Hyde’s face contorted in frustration while he pushed the barrel against her cheek.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, soldier. I just want you to listen to what I have to say,” Judd said with authority.