I’m on his side. I don’t care what grand plan Jeremy had for me. Whatever happens, I’m going to try to help this man.
Immediately, he felt a strange sense of elation. As if he’d finally got rid of a torturous itch. He needn’t be at Jeremy’s mercy any longer. There was someone else here now, someone he sensed might be a good man.
“There you go.” Walscombe sat in a chair, observing them as they ate. Jeremy, who hadn’t received anything, joined his hands beneath his bearded chin and stayed silent.
“Thank you very much, sir,” said Sean. He meant it. The coffee was disgusting and the butter tasted off, but it didn’t matter. He appreciated it.
“Sure,” Walscombe said, somewhat surprised. “Tastes like shit, but it’s better than nothing, I guess.” Then, he turned towards Jeremy. He seemed to consider a thought for a minute, then, muttering All right, then, he rose, went back to the table, and came back with a cup of tea for Jeremy.
Come on, he’s gotta be a nice bloke, thought Sean, despite the fact he wasn’t entirely happy with Jeremy getting what he wanted.
Walscombe handed the steaming cup over to the old hippie, with the same guarded caution one would use when feeding a tiger.
“That’s wonderful, Walscombe, thank you very much indeed,” said Jeremy, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of what appeared to be a tasteless yellowish brew.
They sat there for a minute, and everyone seemed to relax a little. Sean enjoyed the harmless sounds of people eating—the ringing of a teaspoon against a cup, the muted crunching sound of the crackers being chewed. For a fleeting second, things felt normal.
“How long have you been here alone?” asked Sean.
Walscombe chuckled. “A long time, kid.” There was a twinkle in this man’s eyes now. Faint, but present. His lips curled into a little smile. “A long fucking time.”
Something in the way he said it, in the timing he’d used, perhaps even in his American accent, made Sean laugh. It was unexpected, but nice.
With a slow, cautious movement, Walscombe laid the gun on the table beside his own cup of coffee. The two older men held each other’s gaze.
“Listen guys,” began Walscombe with a sigh, “I dunno what you’re here for. Don’t care. But I’ve seen enough death to last me ten lifetimes. So here’s the deal.” He paused, passing his tongue on his lips.
He looks so tired, thought Sean. Never seen a man as tired as this.
“There’s enough space to fit us all comfortably. Food won’t be an issue for a long while. It’s, like, the most boring place on the planet, but it’s safe. If you want to stay, you stay.” He turned to Jeremy, and added, “If you want to leave, you leave.”
Checkmate was fidgeting in his seat, nervously eyeing the gun. Jeremy was thoughtful. He blew a bit of steam from the cup, then stroked his long dirty beard. Speaking slowly, he said, “We’ve come a long way, Walscombe. A long, dangerous way to get here. To do what we were sent to do.”
Walscombe sniffed. “Yeah. I get it. But now you’re sitting at a table with a man with a gun.” He shook his head. “Look, I don’t want it to be that way, okay? As I said, you’re free to go. Not sure how you got here in the first place, don’t wanna know. But you find a way to get back to the guy who sent you here, and tell him you couldn’t do it. Whatever it was, you couldn’t do it.”
Jeremy let out a laugh. He wiped a small tear from his eye. “My boss isn’t the kind of person who would just shrug that off, believe me.” He laughed again, as if this were the funniest conversation in the world. “Oh, if only you knew him.”
“Okay,” said Walscombe, leaning forward. “So you don’t go back. Man, it’s not like he can fire you, right? This is the post-impact world, remember? Just vanish.”
Jeremy let out a long sigh, his gaze fixed on the table.
Is he actually considering it? wondered Sean.
“The kids can stay here, if they like,” said Walscombe. “As I said, it’s saf—”
Jeremy hurled the cup of boiling tea at Walscombe’s face. He let out a scream of pain, his hand darting to the table, fumbling blindly for the gun.
Sean felt his whole body turn to stone, as he watched Jeremy shove the table forward, ramming it into Walscombe. His chair tumbled over, and Walscombe was on the floor, panting and cursing.
Jeremy leapt over the table, effortlessly grabbing hold of the gun as he did so. He pressed it deep into Walscombe’s cheek, the skin taught and red.
“Yes!” cried Checkmate, beside him. He fist-pumped the air and smiled at Jeremy. “You got him!”
Sean felt like crying.
“Now,” Jeremy whispered menacingly, as Walscombe looked up at him with impotent rage. “Now, you do what I say, you filthy Yankee cunt.”
Chapter 15
Paul
Paul stumbled out of the castle and into Bately’s misty streets.
Raising his collar against the bitter cold, he thought back on this strangest of days. The joy of seeing Alice, spending time with her. The terrifying thrill of placing a bomb inside the castle. The nightmarish vision of the end of all humanity, in the Warden’s words.
“Now, it’s time for my question,” the Warden had said, as they sat at a grand table, while Alice played with a stray cat that had somehow found its way into the castle. “This so-called ’Wraith Queen,’ any sign of her?”
Paul considered his words carefully, before speaking. “They talk about her,” he said. “But no sign of her, so far. The Pack dreams of her arrival, how she’ll come and save them from… you, I suppose”
“Tell me about the Pack.”
Paul had revealed as little as possible. They had been in touch with other packs, he told the Warden, but few of them were left. “Do they pose a threat?” the Warden asked him, raising an eyebrow. Paul thought of Mojito and his vanguard of what was perhaps a large army. Larger than the Warden’s? He did not know. Plus, he didn’t want to share any information that could help this man.
“They’ve been decimated,” Paul said. “They are hungry, sick and isolated. Whatever supplies they have, they’re quickly running out.” He shook his head, “No, I don’t believe they pose a threat to you.”
“Excellent.” The Warden smiled, his gaze drifting back to Alice. “I have a celebration to prepare, and I’d rather focus on that, at the moment, than on those rotting thugs.”
“A celebration?”
“Of course. Tomorrow night. Alice’s birthmark, this marvellous sign, must be revealed to all. My men are already informing the local population about the gathering. It’s going to be a very meaningful moment.”
They’d spent a long while talking, until the Warden had been merciful enough to let him spend some time alone with Alice, albeit under the watchful gaze of two guards. She’d asked about Adrian, and he’d lied. “The doctors tell me he’ll be fine. We’ll find a way to get you out of here, Alice. Don’t worry.”
Now, walking along the streets of Bately, he wondered if there was any chance of that happening at all. The Warden would never give up Alice, the symbol he saw on her skin. She was too valuable to his narrative. Given that, how could he ever free her?
He walked past the prisons, where the Warden had told him his friends were being held (“Don’t worry, we’re not treating them too harshly.”) As soon as he’d caught some sleep, he’d go and visit them. Now, all he longed for was a place to lay down his head, and rest.
But before that, he wandered over to the tents where Adrian was being treated. He desperately tried to gain some information, but the black uniforms ignored him. With nothing left for him to do there, he walked off, in search of a bed.
In the distance, he noticed his church—what remained of it—and something tightened in his chest. The destruction of the world, his world, was all there, in that image: the burnt, blackened remains of an empty church. He looked away.
Where would he sleep? That was what he needed the most, now. Lucy and Mathew would surely put him up for the nig
ht, but he wasn’t sure if they were still in the house Edward had occupied.
He stopped, finding himself standing in front of Cathy’s clinic. It was strange, somehow, to see it more or less intact. He peered inside, cupping his hands beside his temples. It was dark, empty. He tried the handle. The door opened with a creak.
A ghostly silence filled the empty clinic. The last time he’d been there was just after the ’wraith attack, when the children had gone missing. It felt like a lifetime ago. Everything did.
Paul stumbled over to the sofa in the waiting room, let himself drop down on the cushions. He lay there, in the darkness, wondering how Cathy was faring in the cells. As he tried to make himself comfortable, he asked himself, Has she slept here, recently? It was nice to think so.
Just as sleep began to set in, he heard a voice. It was a quick, urgent whisper.
“Paul, open up.”
He sat up, dazed. Squinting through his remaining eye, he made out a silhouette standing at the door.
“W-who…?”
“It’s me,” the voice said. “Ana.”
* * *
She’d walked these roads before, creeping through the shadows like a thief. But back then it had been to visit sweet, good-hearted Luke, rather than on a secret mission for a ’queen.’ And the most she had risked, back then, was a few threatening words from the Bately Guard. Perhaps a slap, being pushed around and kicked out of town, but nothing more.
She shuddered at the thought of what would happen if the Warden’s men found her—a ’wraith, walking through their town. Best not to think of it. Concentrate on keeping your head low, she told herself. Find Paul, talk to him and get out of here.
Luckily for her, a thick white mist had rolled in from the sea. It was hard to make out the features of the few people who were out and about, and most were wearing scarves and hoods to protect them against the bitter cold. Unless they stopped her, she’d be okay.
She found Paul quickly. There were few places she knew about, in Bately. Most of them through Luke—his house, of course, the church, the Castle, the clinic where that nurse (Cathy or something) had helped him cope with the harsher symptoms of the Affliction. That was where she headed first, as it was the only place she knew about that made sense.
As she turned the corner onto Main Street, she spotted Paul. A little bit of luck, at long last, she thought. He was opening the door to the clinic.
She waited for a patrol to walk past, her heart thumping in her chest, then cautiously walked to the door and asked Paul to let her in.
Now, she sat opposite the tired man, each with a cup of warm tea in their hands. Paul had found one last teabag, tucked in the far back of a cupboard. They’d dipped it in both cups. It was a weak brew, but a comforting one nonetheless.
Paul smiled a weak smile at her, and she returned it. She had to admit, she liked this man. And seeing him like this—worn, sick and wounded made her feel for him.
“How are the children?” she asked, when she felt it was finally time to tackle the issue.
“Well…” said Paul through a sigh. “They’re alive. For now.”
Ana felt warm relief flow through her. She brought a hand to her mouth, “Oh, thank god.”
“It could be better. Adrian is being monitored by the Warden’s medics. They appear to have good equipment, but I haven’t managed to find out how he’s doing.” He took a sip of tea. “Alice is in the Warden’s hands. She’s being cared for. She’s not happy, but she’s safe and well.”
Ana reached out and brushed his knee with her fingers. “It could be worse, Paul. A lot worse.”
He nodded. “Why are you here? they’ll kill you if they find you, Ana. They hate ’wraiths.”
“I know. It’s the Queen, she sent me on a ’mission.’ I’m a scout, meant to collect information about the Warden. I thought the quickest way would be asking you what’s new, around here.”
“The Queen? They’ve arrived?”
“Yes. There are lots of them, Paul. Lots.”
“So you’re on a mission for a queen,” he said.
“Yeah. Just like James-bloody-Bond, I am. Except for all the fancy gear.”
Paul smiled. “What is she like, this ’Wraith Queen?”
“Surreal.” Ana chuckled weakly. “She made me a general, apparently.”
Paul smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Not sure there’s anything to celebrate.”
“What are they planning?”
Ana put down her cup and looked at him. “They’re coming, Paul. Planning the attack as we speak. They want to take down the Warden once and for all.”
He buried his forehead in his hands, massaging it slowly. “What are you going to do?”
“I can’t stop them,” she said. “This is happening, whether we like it or not.”
They sat in silence for a while, each digesting the fact.
“But,” Ana continued, “we can try and save as many people as possible, before the Queen and the Warden have their subjects butcher each other. Get them out of town.”
Paul shook his head. “Ana, things have changed in Bately. The black uniforms you see wandering around… a lot of people wearing them are from town. They’ve been recruited. I’m not even sure they’ve been forced to. They’ve bowed down to the Warden. Maybe they’re scared, maybe they’re relieved to have someone in charge.” He shook his head. “No… it’s too dangerous. We’d get caught instantly.”
“Okay, the children then. Your friends. We can get them out, right?”
“Yes… But do we even know when the attack is going to take place? Can you sneak back into town and warn us?”
Ana shook her head. “No. I mean, I’m not sure I’ll get another chance. Especially with Mojito breathing down my neck, with his stupid sailor’s outfit. He really doesn’t trust m-” she paused. “Paul? What is it?”
At the sound of the word sailor, the priest had suddenly appeared distracted.
“It’s… I don’t know whether this matters, but… you know about the Southern League?”
Ana nodded. She told him she knew what everyone else knew—that it was a supposedly safe, peaceful area in southern Europe. Italy, Greece, not sure exactly where. People said they even had sunshine, down there. “But it’s all rubbish, isn’t it?”
“Possibly,” nodded Paul. “But remember the prisoner? The one Mojito’s scouts brought along with them?”
Ana remembered all too well. Especially his screams. “Yes. Yes, I do. Go on.”
Paul cradled the now lukewarm cup of tea in his hands, and began relating what the prisoner had told him. The boat, large enough to accommodate them all. The sea voyage to the Southern League.
“Do you believe him?” Ana asked when he’d finished.
“I think I do. Yes.”
She nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “When is this supposed to happen?”
“The day after tomorrow. In the morning.”
“How are we going to free your friends, snatch Alice off the Warden and get Adrian back before then?” Ana asked.
Paul raised his hands in the air. “I don’t know.”
Ana peered at him. “Paul, we don’t even know if this is true, do we? I mean, you say you believe the prisoner, but the League might just be a myth, a joke.”
He considered her words for a beat. He took in the gloomy abandoned clinic, then stared into the cup he held in his lap. “I’d rather chase a happy myth, than live in this nightmare,” he said, finally.
He’s right.
“Okay… if there were any way to speed up the attack, have it take place tomorrow, we could try to free your friends and the children during the chaos. But how am I going to talk the ’Wraith Queen into attacking so soon?”
“Wait!” Paul almost said, spilling his tea on the floor and making Ana jump.
“What?”
“Tomorrow… tomorrow night, the Warden is going to hold some sort of celebration. A speech or something. He wants to showcase
Alice, her birthmark.” He waved a hand at Ana’s confused expression. “It’s some insane idea of his… it doesn’t matter. But the thing is, it’s going to be a large gathering. I’m pretty sure he’ll want all his people to witness this. And—”
“That would be an ideal time to schedule an attack,” Ana finished for him.
Paul nodded thoughtfully.
“You’re sure this is tomorrow?”
“Yes, at night. I suppose it’s more dramatic, at night. He told me he’s busy waiting for news from abroad.” He glared at her warily. “I might be wrong… but, as crazy as it sounds, I think he’s coordinating a nuclear strike.”
“What? Where?” asked Ana incredulously.
“Everywhere.”
Ana cracked her knuckles. That thought was simply too big to contemplate, right now. They had enough on their plate as it was, without having to add a global nuclear strike to it. “Okay, okay. Let’s focus on one thing at a time here.” Paul rubbed his tired eyes and dipped his chin. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” continued Ana. “If I can convince the Queen my information is solid, I might manage to get her to launch the attack tomorrow. I’ll tell her it’s too good an opportunity to miss.” She nodded, mostly to herself, trying to gather confidence. “Where is it your friends are being held?”
“In the old castle prisons.”
“Okay, I know where they are. When the attack starts, we do our best to lay low. We meet at the prisons, if we can manage that. There’ll be chaos, I’ll try to slip away, ’wraith general or not… then, we free your friends.”
“What about the children?”
“The Warden seems to have taken a shine to you. Once we’re all together, you take someone along and get to Alice. The others will collect Adrian. Then, we head towards the rendezvous location and wait for the morning. And this boat of yours. ”
If Adrian’s well enough to come away, Ana thought. If we survive long enough to actually meet at the prisons. And if you somehow do actually manage to snatch Alice from the Warden. And, of course, if the boat actually turns up.
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