by Vance Huxley
“That won’t be necessary. An unarmed woman in clothing that shows she isn’t concealing a weapon will do it.” At least the harsh edge had gone off the sergeant’s voice. “I will check how your women dress and how you treat them, because I have very low expectations of anyone inside the city. Please walk down very slowly.” Harold could recognise goodbye and did walk down very slowly. He also walked round the corner before giving a wall a damn good kicking. Men only on shopping trips until the soldiers changed again, because there’d be no weapons smuggled past this lot.
Though first another surprise awaited him. “Why is she here?” A vaguely familiar woman and young girl stood waiting inside the gate, with a suitcase and a rucksack.
Emmy looked uncomfortable. “She wants to talk to you. That’s Elizabeth, Willtoo’s mum, and that’s his little sister Pricilla.”
“Hello Elizabeth, Pricilla.”
“I waited to apologise. Will wanted to go with the others to those GOFS but I didn’t want Pricilla there. Not with what you said about women. The women who went there already had fellas.” She gave a big shuddering sigh. “He was a wild one, Will, especially since the crash. I thought a decent place with rules might straighten him out. I thought it was working.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “He was really chuffed when that little Asian girl, Suzie, let him walk her home. Then he started getting upset about that name, Willtoo. I told him, stop reacting and they’ll quit.” She glanced at the girl. “I’ll go, but can Pricilla stay?”
“No mum. I’ll come with you. Don’t leave me on my own.” The girl hugged her mum, tears streaming down her face and Harold looked from one to the other, baffled.
“Who said you had to go?”
“Nobody, but Will killed that old man and kidnapped that Matti.” She sniffled. “Someone said he shot at you, and you killed him.”
Harold opened his mouth to say he didn’t kill the youth, but he’d make a better target for Elizabeth’s anger than Bess. In any case, her Will wasn’t the problem. “Will did those things, not you, and Will is dead. That’s the end of it if you let it be. I don’t mean not grieve, but will you hold a grudge?”
“Maybe, a bit. I understand why but it’s hard. The others, they’ll feel the same way about me because of that old man.” Elizabeth turned to her daughter. “You have to stay Pricilla. There are bad men out there.”
“You can both stay. I won’t turn a woman out into that.” Harold lowered his voice to speak to Emmy. “Will there be a lot of bad feeling?”
“Not if you kill that scroat Jon. Some might think she should have sorted her kid out but I remember mama trying to keep track of my brother.” Emmy glanced at the pair. “You can’t turn her out, not out there Harold.”
“I won’t and you explain the rest. I’ll get the gate shut and you organise enough people to convince the pair of them to stay.” Harold frowned. “Unless she really does hold a grudge and then sorry, but she has to go.”
“Fair enough. I’ll get Berry, Liz or Patty to sort out anyone with a real problem.” Emmy waved Lilian and Susan nearer and the trio descended on Elizabeth and Pricilla. Harold got the gate closed and worried about if he’d just made another mistake.
For once the rain held off while several people said their piece, and Harold lit Sandy’s pyre. Before that Casper and Alfie waited in the ruins while Elizabeth told her son’s body that he’d been a fool, and wished him well. Then they collapsed the wall of a ruined house onto Will so the wild animals didn’t get to him. Since that was all Elizabeth asked for, Harold couldn’t bring himself to refuse. The following morning, early, Pippa and Matti scattered Sandy’s ashes after the Army agreed that neither looked threatening.
* * *
Everyone near the gate looked threatening when the next Hot Rod arrived. Charger didn’t look comfortable as Holly, Harold, Emmy, Billy and Casper glared at him. “I’m a messenger, all right? Cadillac sent me to bring the minibus and let you know. He can’t find a runner, so maybe the bloke went to the GOFS or kept going right past our lot and went further south.”
Harold bit back the first response, because he couldn’t prove Cadillac did anything. The letter from Jon, handed over by Doll, didn’t mention names. It did say some foul stuff about a lot of people living here and Jon was racist as well as resenting women in charge and being rejected for an older man. Jon had slandered every young woman he knew, and the older men were all perverts or forcing the women. Harold had burned the thing and said nothing to any of them.
“In that case, if I see him on Hot Rod territory he’s hiding so I’ll just shoot the little scroat. Or does Cadillac believe the rubbish Cooper was spouting, that I can’t really shoot?” Harold was ready to deal with that one after Cooper’s reaction.
“Well Cooper said your big gun missed a few, and the four men we shot up a while back said what they sold you was a poser job with only four bullets.” Charger shrugged. “Just saying, OK?”
Harold raised his voice. “Alfie?” Alfie went through the door and returned with the Blaser rifle, assembled. Harold took it and smiled at Charger. “Does this look poser, Charger?” He slid the clip out. “These are big bullets for a poser job, and look, a lovely telescopic sight.” Harold put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a fistful of loaded 308 rounds. “Lots of ammo. Let Cadillac know that if Jon gets in range he’ll be a head shorter.”
The Hot Rod nodded. “I’ll tell him I’ve seen that rifle and the ammo, and I know sod all but it looks dangerous to me. The guy who said poser was dying anyway, so maybe someone heard wrong.” Charger took a breath. “So now that’s settled, can I get a beer because none of this is on me?” He smiled, a totally genuine one. “Your girl club owe me a beer for fixing their ride. Tell them to be more careful where they park in future.”
“We will and it’s worth a beer.” From that Holly seemed to have taken Charger’s personal innocence at face value, or be happy about the minibus being fixed. Almost fixed, the steel would be going back inside and the paint job needed a lot of TLC. Harold had asked, again, and the girl club were adamant. Steel on the outside would spoil the look, and wouldn’t surprise some nasty little toerag if he ambushed them.
Smiling, Holly watched Charger being driven away and Sal bringing the minibus up and around the side of the enclave. Then she frowned. “You never mentioned getting our weapons back.”
“Cadillac will plead innocence. He might even send one for repair eventually and I’ll refuse because it’s stolen property.”
“They’re all stolen.”
“Not from me.” All the corpses had been carrying stolen weapons, but Harold knew he hadn’t got them all back. “I’ll know them because most of the missing ones are the oddballs, mostly calibres I didn’t have much brass for or single shot target pistols. That’s why they weren’t in the guardhouses. The three dead ones were carrying nine mills so we got six of the eight back. The rest of the nine mills are all in guard houses or personal weapons anyway. Though I would have traded guns for one life, because the lot weren’t worth Sandy dying.”
“Maybe they just killed Sandy because they were arses. Sal is certain if they’d got her and Bernie tied up, Jon would have killed Bernie and taken her.” Holly hugged his arm. “Now people are worried how many more are like that, waiting their chance.”
“None. Tell everyone all our bad apples took their chance and those of us left here are solid.” Harold smiled as best he could. “We have to believe that or we’ll fall apart, so be confident. Give them that flashing smile and make everyone believe.”
“This smile might need topping up. You do know the best sort of recharge?”
Harold did, and it was both a joy and a wonder to him. Holly really hadn’t minded kisses getting more intense, and now he no longer had to beat himself up about pushing her limits. “Level four?”
“At least.” Better still, kisses like this seemed to be keeping his nightmares away and might even stop Sandy coming to accuse him at nights.
Chapter 8:
Lucky Lucky
Billy pointed. “He wants to bring that inside, right inside and not give it up. Says he’s got a sale for it.” The young man dressed like a Geek boss carried a big metal crossbow with a winder on the side.
“I’ve unloaded it. She said I could have two of those jumpers like yours and four scarves with Geek Freek knitted into them.” Though the man in the suit and smock looked a lot less certain now.
Harold smiled and turned to Holly. “Nip and get Patty please, luv. Tell her to bring the jumpers and scarves because her migraine cure has arrived.” He turned back to the Geek. “You’re a new one, top boss or whatever. Come into this house, here, and let me look at that thing. Patty doesn’t know much beyond pointing one of those but I do, and it had better work.” Harold reassessed the weapon. “Though it’ll make a good club if all else fails.”
“It will work. I’m one of the Geek Freek managers, Galileo, and helped Tell to make this and it’s a beauty. Look, there’s five thin plates here held together with these steel bands and they create a hell of a lot of tension. That’s why we use wire instead of a bowstring.” Galileo rabbited on as they went inside number three and Billy followed with a shotgun.
“How long before those plates are bent permanently?” Harold thought the rest of it looked solid enough, providing the weapon wound and released properly. Galileo was right about tension, those steel plates should throw a bolt with a lot of power. How much power would need testing. Harold smiled and clicked his radio. “A special crossbow bolt to number three please.”
Galileo didn’t sit, he was too busy explaining his pet project. “The plates will bend a bit eventually, but look at these two slots in the front. Undo those, reverse the front bit and you’re bending the plates the other way. They’ll last for ever. The slots will take the back of a machete. Oh.” He’d put his hand to the empty sheath at his side.
“Here, let me.” Harold assessed the setup as he unscrewed what were two bolts. The plates would slide a little against each other and need a bit of grease now and then, as would the winder. A simple catch and trigger to release did the rest of the job. No safety, no frills, but a real brute metal approach that worked.
“Where is it? Ooh, that’s bloody huge. How heavy is it?” Patty tossed the bundle she carried onto an empty chair and held out her hands. “Gimmee, please.”
“Hello Patty. This is Galileo and he seems to think you want that.”
“I do. Look at the thing, Harold. I could brain the little scroat with it if I miss.” Patty hefted the crossbow. “I’ll have to beef up a bit. Maybe I can spend some time beating metal, making arrow heads?”
“First we’ll find out if the thing works. Thanks Holly.” Harold accepted a crossbow bolt, a real Liz special.
“I was told you wanted it.” Holly eyed the crossbow. “Does that thing actually work?”
“Let’s go and find out. What sort of damage do you reckon Patty can do with this?” Harold held up the bolt and Galileo’s eyes widened and he smiled.
“I’d heard about those. I’ve no idea but it’ll put an ordinary one through a house door clean as a whistle from across the street.”
A few minutes later Harold hacked at a chunk of old roof beam while Patty finished her deal. As Galileo left with his payment Harold finally extracted the bolt head from the mangled timber. “We might be interested in more at that price.” Harold pointed at the timber and sniggered. “The head would go clean through an actual leg so getting the bolts back will be easier, though he’d still lose the leg with all the artwork ripping through.”
Patty glanced down and around, coloured a bit, and shuffled her feet. “I sort of paid more than that, Harold. I gave coupons, quite a lot.” She sounded more defiant than apologetic now. “My coupons, not Orchard Close’s.” Her embarrassment or defiance vanished in a beaming smile. “But look at the thing. That’ll stop any little bastard from…. well, you know.” Patty’s smile had gone again.
“Oh, it’ll stop him. It’ll probably stop his car if need be.” Harold hesitated then conscience pushed him. “I don’t want to rain on the parade but you’ll have to practice, really practice. That won’t shoot like any of the others and it’ll be slow to reload so make sure of the first one.” Harold grinned. “If you hit the scroat anywhere with the first you’ll have all the time in the world to reload.”
“Cripes, too true. It is heavy though.” Holly eyed the weapon up. “Alfie still can’t sort out that fancy bow but he’d handle one of those dead easy. Maybe we could swap?” She patted Patty on the back. “Alfie can explain how to get muscles like his.”
“Bloody hell no, Liz or Casper would be eyeing me up. Don’t worry Harold, I’ll practice until one is all I need. Is there any way to fix up a moving target?” Patty sniggered. “We could add it to the list of fines. Five minutes as a moving crossbow target?” She hefted the crossbow again. “Surely one like this would suit Casper?”
“He’s useless with a crossbow, pistol or rifle which is why Casper uses a shotgun. He lets the spread correct his aim. It’s got to be his eyes but we haven’t found an optician yet so we just save any spectacles we scavenge and hope.” That worried Harold since four residents wore specs full-time and if their eyes got worse there was nothing could be done.
“Hell yes, I treat my specs with tender loving care. They’re supposed to be reading glasses but work just fine for knitting.” Patty turned to go. “I’ll go and pay my tithe to the coven and I don’t regret a coupon, not one.” Everyone paid a regular tithe now, in coupons and a few hours gardening or extra scavenging if they had no extra skills. That covered the bulk buying of food and items such as buying thread and growing the basics and entitled everyone to a share of the crops. Those with skills donated some time or goods free, but paid extra tithe on earnings from outsiders which paid for cement, putty, new machetes, or a bolt of cloth to make cheap clothes. Whatever coupons the residents had left could be spent as they pleased, though the lack of shops limited the choice. One particular skill didn’t bring income but Harold wanted to exercise it as soon as possible, on Jon.
* * *
Harold knew he was being stubborn but he wasn’t risking losing someone else. “I should go alone.”
“You need someone to watch your back.” Holly had a stubborn set to her jaw.
“I won’t risk you.”
“But you’ll risk yourself.”
“It’s my job. Are we having our first argument?”
Holly smiled but still looked stubborn. “Yes, we need a councillor. Liz.”
“Patty.” Harold shrugged “Both, at least.”
Which didn’t take long, and Barry and Casper also joined them in the forge. “Why am I here?” Barry looked round the rest.
“Sanity check.” Holly poked Harold in the chest. “He wants to sneak off on his own and shoot that scroat Jon.”
“He needs shooting.” Barry frowned. “What’s the problem? It’s been over a week so he’s already had time to tell them anything he knew.” Barry felt bitter over Cadillac getting information on pipe bombs even if Bernie only gave the traitors the Permanganate version, not the truly nasty stuff. Since Bernie had been a bit sparse on the health and safety part everyone hoped Jon lost a hand at least.
“Harold waited so the bastard thinks he’s safe and shows his face.” Holly pointed at Harold. “Him going on his own is the problem and my objection.”
Holly barely finished before there were more objections and they settled into two sorts. Casper glowered. “You might be superman or the gay angel, but you haven’t got eyes in the back of your head. What if you can’t find him and have to sleep someplace? I’ll come and watch your back.”
“No, one of the women should see the little er, scroat die.” Liz glared at Harold. “We’ll believe you killed Jon but you won’t give Sal and Matti and Doll the gory details. They need those. Hell, I do.” She suddenly smirked. “As therapy. Just like caning
therapy, unorthodox but effective.”
“They won’t want to see this.” Harold knew that sometime he’d dream about Jon dying, and didn’t want that in someone else’s head. “Nor will they want to live rough, camping out and eating cold food for days because there’ll be no fires.” Harold looked around the disbelieving faces. “You surely don’t expect me to just wander over there, shoot him and come back? I can’t be sure of seeing the scroat, maybe for days.”
“But the visitors say Jon is there. You get in sight of the place and use that rifle. Pow.” Patty frowned. “No?”
“Some of the Hot Rod visitors talk about a new man named Jon-athon with a big pause in the middle and a smirk so he’s there. Now I’ve got to find someplace I can see the gates, and wait for Jon to come out of them. Either that or hope he shows at a bedroom window inside.” Harold looked at the puzzled faces and then understood. “None of you have been there, the Mansion has a six foot wall all the way round the houses.” Realisation dawned on them all.
“So he’s safe.” Liz looked at her hammer, probably considering hitting something. “Those three women need closure Harold. Anyway, if you can’t be sure of seeing him, why is it suddenly important to go now?”
“The weather forecast is good for three days, with light winds so I can shoot further and still hit him. If the winds pick up I’ll come home and try again.” Harold smiled without any humour. “The further away I shoot Jon from, the more of a wake-up it is for Cadillac. With luck he won’t try any more cute tricks.”
“Take a woman. No Holly, not you.” Holly closed her mouth and Patty continued. “If anyone catches sight of you from a distance it’s a man and woman wandering about or going into a building. Not Holly or she’d distract you. Holly, could you resist kissing this lump for three days?”