by Vance Huxley
“As long as you don’t keep Lenny or the van or the rest of our wounded. I will be truly pissed off.”
Christie shrugged. “Fair enough, but your people wear a blindfolds when we get near to Beth’s, and your medic answers doc’s questions before he leaves.”
A big smile split Harold’s face. “Deal. Matti, ask Lenny if he can work on the move.”
Matti ran to the van and moments later the answer came back. “Five minutes, tops, then yes as quick as possible.”
Christie nodded. “I’ll send an escort car and another driver for the transit. She’ll blindfold your bloke when they get nearer.” She put her wig back on and her teeth flashed white in her dark face. “I’ll pass the glad word about the deal so nobody gets out of hand. The escort vehicle will be full of our wounded anyway.” Christie turned and began to jog back to the rest of the Barbies.
“Harold.” Casper touched his shoulder. “The GOFS have two that are pretty bad. Can Lenny plug them up or something?”
“Bring them in with a top GOFS because there might be a little problem.” Harold had a talk with Vulcan. The GOFS warchief left to talk to the Barbies, to try and arrange for his wounded to stay in the van until it arrived back to Orchard Close. Vulcan didn’t think the blindfold healing option would be on offer. The transit van would be crowded since Doll, Finn, Nathan, Jeremy and Matti, with Matthew as the driver, would be going with Lenny, two GOFS and the three Barbies. Louie reckoned he didn’t need an ambulance for his ear.
* * *
The radio call interrupted the arrangements. “Soldier Boy? If you’ve finished the orgy with those fucking lunatics, we need a quick word.” Caddi didn’t seem happy to have survived. “And bring my fucking rifle.”
“In a bit, Caddi. Calm down, or you’ll need a trip to the Barbie doctor for your blood pressure.” Harold wasn’t taking the usual crap, not over the open radio channel. The Barbies were certainly listening because Ken waved. She climbed into a car heading his way, slowing for Vulcan to catch a lift by standing on the bumper.
Vulcan gave a thumbs up as he jumped off the car. “My pair will be allowed to stay in the van if they wear blindfolds. Right now Gofannon will be going to see what’s twisting Caddi’s knickers so I’d best turn up as well. Bring your bodyguards, Soldier Boy.” Vulcan clapped him on the back. “Celebrate, the mart is still standing and so are we, or most of us.”
Ken claimed a lift in Harold’s truck with her one bodyguard. She’d come in the car carrying Barbie wounded so it could set straight off for Beth’s. Vulcan also claimed a lift in the armoured truck, allegedly so Ken didn’t get all the bragging rights over riding a tank. Harold remembered Caddi’s greedy eyes, so he left the trailer hooked up. Emmy came out of the transit van, taking her rifle into the trailer, so with those in the truck bed he had ten bodyguards even if they weren’t visible. Though after the transit left Harold would have to cram in twenty-five people and two bodies to get everyone home. Vulcan offered to organise a lift home for any of Harold’s people who needed one after they’d looted the nearby bodies.
Gofannon waved them over as Harold pulled up, while behind him Caddi scowled as Ken hopped out of the back. “Do you have anyone badly injured, badly enough to go to the Army? There’s a car going to ask, with a couple of Ferdinands, a Hot Rod, and two Murphies who need help fast.”
“No thanks, ours are dead or will make it.” Harold crossed his fingers.
“Ours as well, thanks.” Ken smiled at Caddi, but not sweetly. “What else needs sorting out?” She looked over towards the soldiers and helicopters, still hunting down scattered figures or herding a few towards captivity. “I’d rather get far, far away before they start getting more ambitious.”
“Loot?” Bull waved a hand at the spread of bodies. “Weapons, ammo, shoes, boots, clothing, maybe even coupons. There’s a fortune there.”
“Whoever bled to kill them, strips them.” Ken looked towards the mart. “We’re not going too far out there until we see what the Army think is their new exclusion zone.”
“But all the best bloody firearms are further in near the mart, the rifles for starters. There’ll only be pistols and maybe shotguns closer in.” Caddi scowled. “Fuck it, I want my ammo back at least.”
Harold grinned at him. “I’ll trade some of whatever loot I get for propellant. Powder?”
“Can’t you..?” Bull shut up as Caddi shook his head. “All right, maybe. Depends what we get here.” Everything including underwear looking at how the nearby Ferdinands were stripping corpses.
“What the fuck!” The half dozen shots and the clanging of lead on steel brought everyone’s heads round.
“Hold fire!” Harold shouted because four rifle barrels showed from the bus loopholes, another rifle along with two shotguns poked out of the truck, and Patty popped up with a scowl and her crossbow aimed. He looked where they were aiming, at a group of Ferdinands. Harold turned to Bull. “I want whoever that was.”
“How do you know it’s one of mine?” The defence had to be automatic, since Bull looked as shocked as anyone. The Ferdinand looked at all the rifles. “I didn’t organise that because I’m not fucking suicidal.” He turned to his men. “Lower those guns you fucking idiots. It’s armoured.” Half a dozen Ferdinands who had raised their weapons lowered them.
Harold thumbed the radio. “Emmy? Anybody hurt?”
“No Harold. One round came through a loophole but we’re fine. Just tell the Ferdinands that we know who we want, and we’d just as soon shoot through the front row.” Everyone with radios heard her, and a ripple of movement left one man standing on his own with a pistol in his hand. “Do we just shoot him now, Harold?” Three men behind the target scattered to the sides, quickly, while he looked around desperately.
“I’d rather ask the twat why he did that.” Bull looked bloody furious.
“Yeah, that could be interesting.” Caddi raised his voice. “Disarm that little shit so we can have a chat.”
The man paled even further, looked at the Ferdinands moving towards him and shouted “No!” He put the gun barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
“Fuck. Messy.” Franco, the Trainspotter with the dreadlocks spat. “He didn’t want to talk to you Caddi.” The small group beat the subject to death for a few minutes, but concluded the bloke just didn’t want to suffer whatever Bull had in mind, or Caddi, or possibly Emmy. The last part came from Wellington, raising a laugh from all those who knew about her.
As Harold headed towards the trailer to collect Caddi’s rifle, Wellington intercepted him. “If a woman arrived with permission to run, what would you do?”
“Be suspicious. How would I know she’d got permission?” Harold frowned. “I’d have to think it was a setup from your lot.” He felt a hand push something into his pocket, hidden from the rest by Wellington’s body.
“Proof. She’ll bring the same.” The Geek warchief raised his voice. “We’ll trade repairs on your crossbows or new crossbows for repaired firearms or decent machetes.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Harold delivered the rifle and empty clips to Caddi, ignoring the abuse for not saving all the brass. On the way back to his truck Harold put a hand in his pocket. Wellington had passed him an envelope. Harold left it for later.
“Hang on, I’ll get a lift back. It’ll give me a chance to sweet-talk Patty.” Ken paused before climbing into the back to inspect the side of the pickup. “Do you need more paint to touch that up? We’ve got plenty at Beth’s.” Harold looked at the vehicles properly and they’d both need paint, because hundreds of rounds had hit though most either splattered or scraped off strips. A bit of paint seemed a good price to pay, because every other gang he could see had more dead and wounded than Orchard Close.
* * *
Everyone considered one warning shot to be downright tolerant of the Army. The Army rifles aiming towards the man who’d gone too near were explanation enough. The scavengers or looters took note, staying a very generous three hund
red and fifty yards from any mart or Army personnel while they stripped their own section of corpses. When Harold arrived back, the bus and truck passengers joined the rest to scavenge. They couldn’t collect all the crossbow bolts because Patty started shooting at nearly three hundred yards, lofting her shafts into the crowd. Casper reckoned he’d nearly wet himself when her crossbow first twanged just above his head.
Harold’s people collected what firearms and ammunition they could see, checking pockets, as well as picking up all the decent machetes, knives, hatchets, empty brass, crossbows and bolts. Few of those from Orchard Close had the stomach for stripping clothes from bodies beyond taking warm coats and good footwear. Less than an hour later Harold’s people just wanted to go home, so Harold told the GOFS and Barbies they could have anything else.
Everyone seemed subdued on the trip back, possibly due to the news from the mart as well as their personal reactions to the fight. The car with white flags had been allowed to approach. The Army took the wounded including another eight with the usual proviso, they wouldn’t be back. The second part of the meeting worried everyone more.
A representative from TesdaMart had thanked them all for their help and promised to ask the government to keep the mart open. Unfortunately, that would be down to the Army and the government because the building had been damaged and both guards and soldiers killed. Nobody trusted the government’s benevolence.
* * *
Once he had parked up, Harold walked home to wash. He drew pictures and read with Daisy, then when she went upstairs to play with her horses Sharyn wanted to know what happened. Harold didn’t know, except what Emmy told him. He spent most of the time explaining that all he could see of the fight had been framed by the loophole, up to the very end. The armour had worked really well, but that did cut down on any appreciation of the wider picture. Harold assumed Casper and the others behind the steel plate in the centre had a better idea. He told Sharyn to ask Emmy for the real story.
The mood in Orchard Close lifted a little at dusk when the transit van arrived back with a worried but hopeful Matti. Doll had survived the trip, as had two of the Barbies and one GOFS. Surprisingly Cy, the badly injured GOFS, had been accepted for treatment on the same no-peeking proviso as Doll. According to Malibu, the boss Barbie, two lives for the two seriously injured Barbies who made it to Beth’s alive counted as a fair trade. Two lives if the GOFS survived since he hadn’t roused yet and had a bad gut wound. If Cy made it home he’d be a legend, doubly so since his ‘date’ with Patty.
After reading Wills-story and Daisy-story, Harold still couldn’t settle. He called into the hospital again to check on the wounded. Finn would keep his arm but with a second wound he’d never get full use back. Finn seemed remarkably cheerful about that, pointing out he could still 003½ with one hand, or maybe only 002 if it slowed reloading. Nathan might never grip properly with his right hand because a machete had hacked into the back, but reckoned that wasn’t a problem. Learning to use his left hand would keep him too busy to mope, and might get him some girl club sympathy. Harold thought the medication might be helping Nathan and Finn to cope. Louie claimed that losing half an ear counted as a win if a bullet or crossbow bolt came that close, but still might get him some hero credit at the next dance.
Jeremy had gone home, allegedly for a beating because his sprained ankle had worried Matti so she needed the stress relief. Lenny seemed down about losing two casualties, four with the Barbie and GOFS in the van, but he eventually admitted he couldn’t have saved either even with a fully equipped ambulance. At least there had been few hand combat or minor wounds this time. The numerous grazes or cuts from either spattered lead or people banging against armour only needed cleaning and an antiseptic pad on them overnight.
Harold walked the walls, speaking to the guards, but still felt restless. On the way he studiously ignored Hazel and Alfie going into the guardhouse with their arms around each other. He went to load brass because they’d used an awful lot. The loose brass in the trailer had been scooped up with a shovel when they got back. At least the loot included a good few replacement pistol rounds, though not as many as Orchard Close had expended. The looted ammunition, probably underpowered, could be taken apart later and he’d make them back up properly.
Harold would reload his own brass first, because the captured empties would probably need annealing and resizing which would cost some of the precious propane. That at least made Harold smile a little. He was seeing more weapons for repair with rounds either split, jammed or exploded inside the chamber. Nobody else knew the brass deteriorated, or about his special rounds, or so Harold thought. Liz would be using up some charcoal to harden steel rods, because all the special rounds were gone. They’d been used first to ensure penetration and maximum damage to anyone they hit at long range.
Sharyn had promised to ring Harold if the news mentioned the mart, but the phone stayed silent while he worked. After making up some rounds, Harold started cleaning Orchard Close firearms. Eventually he yawned, realised he’d worked well past midnight, and decided to sleep at the gun room house.
Harold went through to the little bedroom set up for him and put on his electric blanket, then headed for the shower. His mind still ran over the day, wondering if he should have parked at a more acute angle. Harold stood under the water jet debating if a better angle might have saved Doll and Stu when the light went out! He cursed, wondering if there’d been another power cut, then jumped when two hands ran up his back and down his arms.
“Shhh, the shower fairy is here, or maybe elf. The fairy is sleeping with his dog.”
“Patty?”
“No fair. I’m supposed to be the one with Batty vision.” Patty sounded a little breathless, her hands slipping round to soap Harold’s chest. His back suddenly had a personal Patty-sponge, very personal because she had undressed first.
She’d completely thrown Harold since Patty hadn’t seemed that bothered about men yet, certainly not ready for shared showers. Though she’d mentioned moonlight and Harold had wondered briefly, that night he’d walked her home? “Fancy a toy-boy after all?”
“Mmm, sort of.” Patty giggled. “I want to celebrate being alive, but not a party sort of celebration.” Her hands kept soaping, or maybe just wet stroking. She sighed, hugging tightly for a moment. “I’m also a bit sad. Stu and Phillip and Doll, and then all those poor sods who only wanted someplace to live.” Patty giggled again, very un-Patty-like. “Something, maybe the sheer shock of surviving, made me feel lonely. I fancied some loving, the really personal sort of loving and remembered being told several times that you keep secrets. Then I thought I’d find out if you’d done your usual after some strife, stayed over here. You seem to be feeling lonely as well now. Perhaps you should turn round?”
Since by then Harold had reached behind to soap some of Patty, he could hardly deny that. Some breathless mutual soaping later Harold chuckled as Patty turned the water off. “Do Batty eyes need a light or do I have to get dried in the dark?”
“Not quite. No lights, but it’s not you you’re drying and I’m not drying me. Is that bed warm?”
“The electric blanket is on.”
Patty sighed. “Thank all and any Gods. I worried that you might be all hardy soldier and spurn such comforts. Though as long as the chill is off the sheets, I reckon we can warm up properly now.”
* * *
Harold’s surprise shower certainly stopped him worrying about how he’d parked the truck, and banished his usual paranoia about what else he might have done differently. In the morning Patty reckoned she’d sorted her loneliness for a while, then she smiled and threatened Harold with a hunting Patty-Bat in the night if he opened his big mouth. A still bemused Harold promised not to howl at her window during full moons.
The drizzle throughout morning seemed right somehow, because nobody felt triumphant despite winning. During the day everyone made an attempt at chores, but the sight of two pyres being raised meant nobody could real
ly concentrate. An hour before dusk Harold came down from the bypass where the sergeant had reluctantly agreed that two women could spread the ashes. Sarge had only agreed because of the line of little markers already in the exclusion zone, or possibly because of Harold’s comment about the dead preferring scroats bleeding on them to pissing on their graves. That comment seemed to work quite well.
Harold looked up at the light rain with dark, low cloud scudding across the sky, then back down to address the mourners. “Phillip and Stu came here, to our walls, asking for sanctuary. We welcomed them. Yesterday they left the safety of these walls to put themselves in harm’s way. Not to defend Orchard Close itself but to prevent others from stopping the food that our children will need this winter. They didn’t ask for anything in return, but at some time this winter please remember what they paid to ensure your warm bowl of soup or your fresh bap.”
Pat’s John and John’s Pat, to differentiate them from other Pats and Johns, came forward to speak about their son Phillip. About how proud they’d been when he spurned the gangs, when he chose to stay home to do the decent thing to protect his parents and friends. With a small group from their church they prayed briefly for his soul, then for Stu and for Doll’s recovery. Others from their group of refugees or from the rest of Orchard Close spoke a few words about Phillip. His No Place Like Gnome hat went on the pyre with a tear from Tilly.
Roy spoke up for Stu, about his life before the General smashed their world, and about Stu’s determination to dance on the General’s grave. About how nine friends became seven, then five and now four but the four still hoped to watch the bastard’s army die under these walls. He thanked everyone for welcoming them, before bidding his friend goodbye, as did the other three in his little group. Then they stood stunned as others came forward to speak up, among them a couple of gnomes Stu had helped with the gardening, some of the refugees from the General, and several of the extended girl club.