Fall of the Cities: Putting Down Roots

by Vance Huxley

  “What? Called? Who are you?”

  “Orchard Close, and according to the map the Army has, this is ours.”

  “Army? Are you one of those gangs?” The man sounded a mix of cautious and puzzled now. “In that case, why haven’t we seen you before?”

  “You have, on the TV, but the Army had to move all the bodies and wouldn’t let us out. You must have seen the Army?” Harold sighed. “Look, why don’t you and I meet in the middle and talk instead of shouting?”

  “Ooh, macho stuff. Talk loud enough so I hear,” Liz grinned.

  She was interrupted by the voice again. “All right. Nobody shoots, Ok?”

  Harold answered the mystery man rather than Liz. “No problem because I’ll be out there as well.” Harold lowered his voice to answer the worried looks. “It’ll be a miracle if they hit me from there with a handgun, and I’ll be watching for the first hint of a rifle barrel. I want to find out how many there are.” He glanced left and right at those still carrying injuries. “We’re not up to a big fight, not without some reinforcements.” Harold stood up and raised his voice. “Meet me in the middle of the road. Let’s see you.”

  The man who came out of a house door wore a motorbike jacket and jeans, and carried a handgun. Harold took the gun out of the back of his belt and held it openly because they were safe here, with ruins blocking the view from the bypass even if the Army had a real sniper up there. Harold limped out as an excuse for taking his stick and as they came closer to each other the man looked at the gun, and past Harold at the ruins. “How many?”

  Harold grinned. “Nine here but I can bring the rest. In fact if I pull the trigger you’d better have a lot of backup in there.” He shrugged. “Anything up to sixty.”

  “Yeah, but at least half this lot are women, and some are wounded.”

  “Wounded means they all fight if necessary.” Harold smirked and raised his voice, “Holly, this bloke thinks the women don’t count for the macho stuff.”

  “We’ve got lamp posts if he wants a boundary line to show him different?” Holly paused. “Be really careful what you say next, mister.”

  “Christ, she’s armed to the teeth!” The man relaxed. “Bet she’s your woman, right? That’s why she’s got that lot.”

  Harold raised his voice again. “Everyone start waving weaponry because he thinks Holly is my girl.”

  “In your dreams. Unless that’s a serious offer?” A couple of other women echoed Holly’s snigger. Harold wasn’t sure what people waved behind him but could see the fight go out of this bloke.

  “We just want someplace to stay, right?” He looked past Harold again. “Fuck it, if we can have a woman between us we’ll join up?”

  “If you say that louder, these women will tie you to a lamp post and execute you.” Harold smiled, “If you use crude language again it’ll cost you the gun, or possibly your nuts. If you don’t fancy those rules, just back off to the boundary.”

  “Where is the boundary?”

  Harold called back and arranged for a sketch map after all the marks were transferred to another. “Now you keep a really civil tongue in your head because the last man to give Holly crap really did lose his nuts, and was alive to feel it. I also want to see all of your lot. Just outside the doors will do, so I know who to shoot if you come back. Don’t do anything stupid.” Harold opened his coat to show the rifle.

  “Ooh, flashing your weapon, Harold?” Holly must have looked past Harold at the man and his four friends, now stepping into view, because Harold could hear the sneer without seeing it. “You’ll never see the big rifle or hear the bullet coming.”

  “Hush Holly, that’s supposed to come as a surprise.”

  The man shrugged. “Give us five minutes, all right, and we’ll f…, be clear. We just want someplace to live.”

  “Then join up someplace because eventually all the enclaves will meet, and there’ll be no clear space left.” The man nodded acknowledgement and backed away, watching Holly rather than Harold. When Harold turned he realised why. Holly had put a real Liz special in her crossbow, with a head covered in little spines to make the bolt harder to pull out.

  When the pair of them re-joined the rest, Liz gave Harold a little tap on the chest. “Not up to the usual standard.” Then she turned to Holly. “I can’t thump you on the chest, and anyway it isn’t macho from you.” Liz sniggered. “The offer certainly wasn’t.” Then she sobered and ignored the blushing Holly. “We should mark the boundary, without heads.”

  “True, we’ll do it with spray paint. Everyone watch out for cans though we won’t get to the border today. Today we search the next few streets properly to get a real idea of what might be left. If the electricity is on, check out the freezers.” Harold sat down. “Right now we have a drink and give them chance to get clear.”

  *   *   *

  Sometime later a distinctive burst of sound cut short the searching. “That sounds like pistols and then a shotgun, and Casper went that way. All non-fighters head back home sharpish with what we’ve got. Shooters come with me.” A distant crack that sounded like a two-two rifle punctuated Harold’s words.

  “Will the others be safe without an escort?” Holly glanced at Liz while trying not to be obvious. Liz simply couldn’t hit people even in self-defence.

  Harold pointed. “We go back together as far as that wide road, then it’s a straight run through the ruined part for them and an easy route for us towards Casper.” The searchers were already gathering, coming out of houses and garages, and quickly split into two groups. “Straight back, Liz.”

  “I’m a mouse, and so is Hazel. We’ll run.” Liz shuffled the pack on her back. “All right stagger, since you’ve lumbered us with the loot.”

  “Not all of it, just enough so we can move quickly.” Harold looked round. “Are you sure you’ll be all right Tim?”

  Tim waved his sound arm and the handgun. “The best place for defending is out here, not right on our doorstep. I’ll shoot because I’m not letting anyone that close to Toyah again.” While Toyah gave Tim his thank you and said goodbye Harold looked over the others. “Holly, no macho crap, and the same from you.” Billy, unscathed but for small cuts and bruises, nodded and brandished his two-two rifle. “Come on, at a good fast walk.” Harold set off at his best pace, and his leg wound actually made him the slowest.

  *   *   *

  “At least they’re talking.” Holly spoke quietly although the voices were still some distance, as were the occasional shots.

  “Better still, shouting, so those other shots weren’t our people being captured.” Harold had slowed to a walk, moving along the fronts of the houses while using them and the front garden hedges and fences as cover. “Keep in tight and your heads down.”

  A few minutes later the shouting became clearly audible. “Just back off. You’re inside our boundary.” That voice definitely belonged to Casper.

  A stranger’s voice answered. “It ain’t marked, and if you can’t stop us it’s not a proper boundary anyway. Give us that shotgun and you can go home.”

  “Not a chance. Last chance to leave or it costs you your guns.”

  The stranger laughed. “Fuck off. Come and get them.”

  “I warned you about the language. Now it’ll cost you the machetes as well.” Casper sounded utterly confident.

  “Casper has got the macho bit right.” Holly barely murmured that as she crept up close behind Harold.

  “No, he’s keeping them occupied until we arrive.” Harold sniggered. “And he’s got the macho bit right. Liz won’t be happy she missed it.”

  “What do we do, Harold?” Holly glanced back. “What if there’s too many?”

  “First we find out. We’ll go through here and up the backs of these houses, nice and slow because they’re not attacking Casper so he’s safe for now.” The four of them moved up until they were level with the voices and occasional gunshots, then crept into a house and upstairs to get a decent look.
Seven men, most with handguns and all carrying machetes, were in a half circle around this side of a small supermarket’s car park. Movement, and then shouting from inside, explained how Casper had been caught out.

  Casper was still keeping the men occupied, though that couldn’t last forever. “Time’s nearly up. What’s your name so we can put it on the marker?”

  Even as Casper spoke a man halfway round the arc fired at the supermarket, while one at the end nearest to Harold moved in a bit closer. Sooner or later the gangsters would be close enough to rush and Casper might not have enough fighters to stop seven. A voice from further across spoke but Harold couldn’t see who. “Just keep yapping. I’m gonna really enjoy explaining our rules to you if you survive.”

  Harold put his lips close to Holly’s ear. “Can you hit the second one along, in front of next door?”

  Holly tapped her crossbow. “Yes, with this.”

  “Find a good spot here or next door and wait. When you hear my rifle, nail him. Then if the bloke this end doesn’t surrender when asked, do your best with the pistol but only use six.” Harold thought that the incoming would keep the bloke’s head down even if Holly didn’t hit him with half a clip.

  “I’ll want lessons after this, with a handgun.” Holly flashed a quick smile.

  “Done. Now keep your head down and get in place. Nice and quiet.” Harold beckoned Tim and Billy close and spoke to them. The three of them left and one at a time crept into a house.

  Harold played fair because he still didn’t like shooting people in the back without warning. He had a clear view of the speaker now, a medium height, slim built man with short light brown hair and dressed in a pair of overalls. Someone had written Bugatti across the back in thick black marker. “Oy, Bugatti. Stay very still.”

  Bugatti didn’t, he dropped, rolled and tried to bring his pistol up and round but the roll took him into a doorway. Harold cursed silently and shot the next man along in the neck as he tried to aim at where the voice came from. Moments later there was a short scream from back towards Holly, the crack of another two-two rifle, and a half dozen shots from a handgun. Then two more handguns as Holly and Billy joined in and there was more screaming. Harold shot at the man on the far end as he reared up trying to find a target with his shotgun.

  “Cease fire.” Harold bellowed and his people did, though one of those below carried on so Harold shot him through the wrist he had sticking out of cover. The gunman dropped his weapon and started rolling about and clutching his wound. “Surrender or we kill the rest.”

  “You’ll do it anyway.” Harold could see movement in the shadows, but not a target. “At least if you come to get us we’ll make you bleed.”

  “No Bugatti, but at least two will bleed out if you don’t give it up soon.”

  “Shoot them Soldier Boy, right through the eyes. They shot two of ours without warning.” Casper sounded mad as hell.

  “Soldier Boy? Hang on. What happens if we give in?” Bugatti suddenly sounded a lot less belligerent.

  Harold shrugged mentally. That name was starting to be an actual asset. “Casper? How are our people?” If they were dead Harold would take his time and kill this lot. A voice at the back of his head pointed out it wasn’t necessary but right now Harold didn’t care, if he’d lost more people.

  “Not good, but they should be all right if we get them both home. The bleeding has been stopped. That lot opened up without warning.”

  “Are you willing to let them go? We’ve killed some of them and wounded most of the others.” Harold had calmed down a bit, and wounded survivors might be a better message.

  “The survivors pay a fine for foul language. Especially him, the one you’re talking to.” Casper laughed and Harold could hear that some was sheer relief. “Have you got Holly with you?”

  “Hi Casper.” The wounded man on the end looked towards her voice but made no move towards a weapon. He concentrated on cutting open the bloodstained sleeve of his jacket.

  “Enough chat. You heard them Bugatti, and now you know you’re surrounded. Surrender and pay the fine and you can go home. Otherwise I work my way round while this lot keep you pinned and shoot you all dead, one at a time.” Harold tried to see how many were left alive.

  The one he’d shot first stopped kicking and gurgling. Both the wrist shot man and the man on the far side, the man with a shotgun, had dropped their weapons and were nursing hands. The one with a crossbow bolt in his back wasn’t moving while the second of Holly’s targets concentrated on trying to staunch his wound rather than shooting. Tim had either hit his man or scared him half to death since the man crouched with his hands on his head. Billy had definitely hit his man, leaving the bloke doubled up round a gut wound.

  Harold laughed, though it came out a bit forced. “You’re the only one not wounded, Bugatti. I won’t even have to shoot most of the rest if you leave it a bit.”

  “Give it up Bugatti, for fuck’s sake. I’m bleeding to death!” The youth in front of Holly looked up towards where Holly’s voice had come from. “The bitch is going to nail me with a crossbow.”

  “That’s another fine for foul language.” Holly sounded absolutely serious. “Shall I finish this one, Soldier Boy?”

  “F…bloody hell, no! I surrender.” His handgun clattered on the tarmac and then the young man in front of Tim threw a machete out into the road. The shotgun at the other end flew through the air followed by another machete.

  “Fucking pussies!” A few moments silence followed. “All right, we surrender, but Cadillac is going to carve your lot a new one.”

  “Cadillac? You must be Hot Rods and so you know about Orchard Close and our boundary. Step out with your hands on your head. The rest of you, get rid of any other weapons now.” Bugatti looked furious when he did step out of the doorway, but he stood very still until Tim had searched him.

  Holly came downstairs to keep an eye on her second victim, while Billy kept him covered and advised him to keep very still. She hacked off a branch and threw it to the white-faced youth so he could tighten the cloth around his arm. “Here. I don’t want you to bleed out until you’ve paid the fine.” She kept her crossbow on him while he tightened the impromptu bandage and got to his feet.

  Harold and Billy came down to join the rest after Casper and Alfie came out and pointed weapons at the Hot Rod survivors. Eventually five Hot Rods stood, disarmed, in the middle of the supermarket car park with the gut-shot man on the ground nearby. Bugatti gestured to him. “What about Razzle?”

  “He can go to the Army? They might fix him.” Casper grinned and waved his machete. “Or I can put him out of his misery.” Casper had definitely cheered up a bit at the sight of the opposition, especially the corpses.

  “You’ve got bandages.” Bugatti gestured to Casper’s wounded, who were both bandaged up and one could even walk. Zach would need a ride home because he’d been shot in the leg.

  “Yes, we’ve got bandages. We found them in our supermarket, in our territory. You can use bandages from Hot Rod territory.” Alfie sounded determined. A ninth Hot Rod out in the ruins had Alfie’s two-two bullets in him, and one reason Harold’s second victim had quit fighting after a hand wound might be the bullet already in his shoulder. Alfie pointed his two-two at the gut-shot man. “I can stop him moaning if it annoys you?”

  “Shit no! Where do we give him to the Army?” Bugatti looked at the firearms. “How do we get near the Army?”

  “Just over half a mile that way.” Harold pointed. “We’ll have plenty of crossbows to keep you honest, and even more behind the wall. Now pick him up and let’s go.” Bugatti and Tim’s target, who had been unhurt but terrified by the bullets from behind, picked Razzle up. He screamed once and then mercifully passed out. When a pickup arrived carrying Orchard Close reinforcements because of the shooting, Razzle went in the back.

  *   *   *

  “Hey there, Army!”

  “Do not step into the exclusion zone.”

 
Harold cupped his hands and yelled back. “Tell the sergeant we found a wounded man and we don’t want him.”

  After a short pause the bullhorn bellowed. “Who is he?”

  “A stray, sergeant. We found him out in the ruins.” Harold tried to sound serious. “He’s been shot somehow.”

  “Nothing to do with that little fire fight we heard a bit back?” Sarge did sound amused.

  “No idea. The TV said anyone who was seriously injured could be taken for treatment, but wouldn’t come back.” Harold did wonder, after the comment about the orange-clad prisoners, if Razzle would be shot out of hand.

  “Yes, if he recovers he’ll work on the farms to pay for the treatment. Will he do that?”

  “That or die, Sarge, he’s got a gut injury.”

  “Send him up and make sure whoever comes is very well behaved and clearly unarmed.”

  “No problem.” Harold turned to Bugatti and the other uninjured man. “Strip to your boxers and carry him up.” Bugatti stood hesitating for long moments, but stripped eventually. The pair left Razzle laid on the road outside the sandbags and came back with their hands on their heads.

  “You can get dressed and go home now.” Harold pointed south. “If I find you within a mile of here again, I’ll kill you.”

  “Cadillac will burn this place.” Bugatti still seemed confident.

  “Tell him to come and talk first; it’ll save him serious losses.” Harold stood and watched the four leave, and hoped this Cadillac would actually agree to talk before shooting.

  *   *   *

  A familiar voice shouted “Harold, Harold!”

  Harold put down the gun he was cleaning, stretched wearily and stood up. “Yes Hazel.”

  “There’s a posh car at the entrance and a man wants to talk to the Soldier Boy. He’s got a crossbow and a machete and a great big man with him.” Harold put a handgun into the back of his belt, under his jacket, and opened the door to leave his little gun room. Then smiled because Hazel stood right in front of him, more or less hopping from foot to foot.