Whatever it had been, Freda had realised something. She had feelings for Harris. And he might possibly have them for her.
And she felt guilty for it, for not concentrating on Gareth before herself. Freda forced her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep and drown out the guilt with darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
September 15th, 2063 – the Present
The morning was brighter than the day before, with only a few white clouds blotting out the sun every few minutes and casting long shadows across the battered pavements and roads. The air was fresh and sharp, and Freda breathed it in eagerly as she closed her eyes and tilted her head up towards the mild warmth from the sunlight. I haven’t known this many nice days. Maybe the winter is finally coming to an end. The high street bustled with noise and colour once more, with people chattering to one another loudly and striding by with purpose to wherever they were going, some pausing to look in at the goods for sale in the windows. A cocked smile spread over her lips. I expect it’s not that different to how it was before the Big Hit. Despite the Purists, Freda was starting to like the city more and more.
“Are we ready?”
The sound of her friend’s soft voice made Freda turn around with her eyebrows raised. “Reilly? You’ve decided to go?”
The blonde woman placed a hand on her hip, leaning heavily on one leg as she gave Freda a look that dared her to argue about it. Reilly had tucked her hair into the same purple beanie-hat she had worn before, leaving only a few wispy strands out to blow around her face. Her eyes looked more sunken than they had before, and her skin was sallow around her cheeks, but there was a vigour to her that Freda couldn’t remember having seen before. “Yes. And before you say anything, I’d like to point out that I did think about it. All of last night, actually.” Reilly’s clear blue eyes were calm as she added more softly, “I need to do this, Freda. You have to understand. If I do one thing before I go, I’m going to find out why this happened to me, and to Cary.”
Unable to stop a worried sigh rolling from her lips, knowing whatever she said would sound condescending, Freda adjusted her rifle strap against her shoulder self-consciously. She glanced up towards the green-painted door of the guesthouse, wishing Harris and Toby were there to help convince Reilly to stay. “Reilly, are you sure you’re…well enough to go? I mean, we don’t know what’s waiting for us there, and Toby mentioned bandits—”
“Wouldn’t you go if Gareth was waiting for you there?” Her friend’s eyes burned with need. “If you were dying, and you knew Gareth might be waiting there for you, would you wait here for everyone else to get him? Or would you go yourself?”
The logic was sound. Both of them knew what the answer would be. It wasn’t about right and wrong, or sensible and reckless. It was just one thing. Hanging her head, Freda relented, putting one hand out to grasp Reilly’s shoulder. “You know I would. You’re right. I can’t stop you going.” A lump came to Freda’s throat as she stared back at Reilly, her emotions knotting uncomfortably in her stomach. “I just…I don’t want anything to happen to you. Anything bad. I know you’re going, but…” Freda gritted her teeth as she squeezed her hand against Reilly’s bony shoulder. “But we just met. And I want you to be okay. There might be a cure there, or something. I don’t want to lose one of the only few friends I have in the world.” Her voice fell quiet at her last words, and she cast her eyes down to the crumbling pavement edge, the dark grey bricks glaring back obstinately.
“Oh, Freda. I’m not going anywhere yet.” Reilly pulled her into a hug, and Freda didn’t resist, wrapping her arms around the thin woman and squeezing as tightly as she dared. Reilly’s bones were now poking through her skin so much that she seemed fragile. Just another fun part of the Illness—weight loss, no matter how much the victim of the sickness ate.
From beside her ear, muffled by her hair, Reilly said something else. Freda pulled back with a worried frown. “What?”
Reilly smiled warmly, tilting her head coyly. “I said you’re my best friend, since Cary’s been gone. I didn’t have anyone after that, either. Now we’ve got each other. And Harris.” The smile brightened into the blonde woman’s trademark grin. “And if we do find a cure in that damn place, I’m never leaving the side of either of you again. You’ll have to bake cakes and do girly things with me.”
Freda gave a groan, smiling gently. She had to play along, even if it was poignant and sad that neither of those things would probably happen. It didn’t matter. It was worth it to see Reilly happy. “Fine. But I draw the line at makeovers.”
There was a bang as the door opened behind them, and both women turned to see Harris step out with Toby at his back. The taller man was dressed in a blue shirt, his plaid one now stuffed into his rucksack for later repair, a thin black jacket pulled over the top of it to keep out the cold. He stepped out confidently, dipping one eyebrow at Reilly in question as Toby brought up the rear. Toby seemed less confident, dressed in a large brown parka-coat that hung almost to his knees, a hunting rifle strapped across his back. As it was hung the wrong way around, Freda didn’t have much conviction that he knew how to use it well, either.
Harris stopped short of Reilly. “You’re coming with us, then?”
“Yup. Is that a problem?”
Toby fumbled his hands together. “You really should stay. What if you start to feel more sick?”
Folding her arms over her chest and sucking her cheeks for a second, Reilly turned her head nonchalantly at Toby with a dry expression. “Then I’ll throw up quietly. This isn’t your decision, guys. Now, are we going, or what?”
Before waiting for the others to respond, she set off at a brisk pace along the high street, casting a look over her shoulder as the others fell into step with her. Harris marched ahead to walk alongside her, and Freda couldn’t help feeling a pang of irritation. Ever since their near-kiss the night before, he had gone out of his way to avoid her, it seemed. Harris had awoken long before she had, and she had risen to find him already washed, dressed, and downstairs getting breakfast with Toby. Then he had needed to check his supplies and shotgun before they left, disappearing out of the room whenever she came close.
Pushing aside her hurt feelings as she listened to the steady clap of her boots against the road, Freda took a sideways glance at Toby. He was still staring over at Reilly, so attentive that he almost tripped over a pit in the road surface. His round cheeks were red with exertion despite only having walked with them to the city’s main gate, struggling to keep up with their fast pace. As the guards either side of the gate nodded over to them as their small group passed and went out into the wastes beyond, Freda grinned to herself. There was something funny about how worried he was about Reilly. “Toby, why are you so bothered about Reilly?”
“Huh?” Her question caught the younger man unawares, and his mouth opened and closed as he didn’t respond. “Well, I…I mean, aren’t you guys?”
“Yes. But she’s our friend. You’ve only just met her.”
Choosing to ignore her for a second, Toby cleared his throat noisily and jabbed a stumpy finger towards a smaller road leading from the main one. It delved into a myriad of ruined buildings sitting to one side of the great wall around York, most of them grown over with ivy and thick weeds. “Here, we turn along this road. This leads into the outer section of the city. Er, we need to be careful when we go in. Like I said.”
At the front of their small group as usual, Harris gave Toby a solemn nod, before turning and starting along the small road. It was obvious it was less used than the main one, covered in a thin layer of black dirt soaked by the rain. Not ready to give up with her line of enquiries, Freda slowed her steps until she was level again with Toby. “You didn’t answer my question.”
If they hadn’t been marching into bandit-infested territory, she might have laughed at the beetroot-red that spread from the base of Toby’s neck, over his cheeks and up to his forehead. He gave a casual shrug. “I…like her, okay? I don’t care abo
ut her illness. She’s pretty, and seems really nice. Not everyone is. And I want her to be okay.”
Freda did chuckle, but it was soft and under her breath. “I thought as much.”
“It’s not just that.” Toby’s brown eyes went round as he leaned in towards Freda, excitedly continuing, “I’ve heard from a doctor who’s been there that there really is a cure in the Brit Bunker headquarters, because they were doing research into the Illness and—”
“Wait.” Freda put her hand up as she spoke, stopping dead still as she gave Toby a cold look. Both Harris and Reilly noticed the absence of her footsteps, and turned around to march back. Standing in the shade of a large building that looked as though it had once been flats, broken windows covered with boards, she shook her head slowly. “You never told us you knew a doctor who had been in the headquarters.”
Leaning against the burnt-out trunk of a tree, the sunlight dappling through its wiry branches, Reilly bent down to scratch her leg as though it was itchy. She pulled a face. “So what if Toby does know a doctor who’s been there? What difference does that make?”
Freda’s fingers wrapped tighter around her rifle, the mechanical hand following her other hand exactly. Her eyes were unblinking as she watched Toby squirming under her gaze. It was a guilty motion. Her gut was twisting, and it only ever did that when something was amiss. “Because he failed to mention it back at the guesthouse. If there’s a doctor, and you know him, does he live in York?”
Flashing wide eyes around at the three of them, Toby took a nervous step back, almost hitting a wrecked street bench behind his legs. “Well…sort of, yes.”
“So why couldn’t we go and see him? If he’s a doctor and he thinks there’s a cure, surely he might already have some?”
Mouth flattened into a straight line, Harris came closer, tilting his head to one side as he surveyed Toby’s flittering movements. “She’s right. Why didn’t you tell us? It might be easier than making us march through this place.”
“L-Look, it’s not that simple!” Toby stammered, staring back at Freda’s weapon as though it had already been fired. He sank down on the creaking boards of the bench, letting his gun fall down in front of him. He latched his fingers together, sinking his head into them for a moment. “He isn’t always in York. Besides, I only met him once. When he stayed with us.” His chest rose and fell heavily as his breathing sped up. “Everyone stays away from him. Even the Purists are wary, and they’re not scared of anyone.”
The sunlight shifted over Reilly’s face like a kaleidoscope as she tilted her head, her body stiffening at his words. “Why?”
“There’s rumours. Rumours that he’s…that he’s unhinged. Not well in the head.”
There was a scuffle of noise some way ahead of them on the road, and Harris looked up sharply, training his gun in the direction of it. When the noise died away and no one—or nothing—appeared, he gave a heavy sigh. “It’s irrelevant, then. He probably couldn’t help us, anyway. But,” he added in a brighter tone, still turned away from the others as he scanned the distant horizon with his weapon, “at least that makes it sound like there will be something to find in Brit Bunker’s place.” He peered over his shoulder at Toby, his eyes full of ice. “But hide anything from us again, Toby, and we’ll have more than words. We don’t know you, and that means I don’t know if I can trust you, okay? Now, let’s move. I don’t want to be out here longer than we have to be.”
Toby nodded silently, avoiding the three penetrating gazes on his back. Freda’s gut still squirmed though, her instincts crackling with tension.
“Everyone stay quiet. We’ll move along this side of the road, behind the barrier. If we go slowly, they won’t see us.”
Reilly and Freda both nodded at Harris’ instructions as he pulled back against the corner of the yellow-brick house. The bricks had been more cheaply made then the ones gracing the buildings in York itself, and the house was pockmarked where the wind and rain had beaten it over the decades. Toby stuck his hand up as though he was in a classroom, shaking as he pulled his gun closer to comfort himself.
Freda could see Harris restraining himself not to roll his eyes as he hissed, “Yes, Toby?”
“We’re not actually going to go past them, are we? Shouldn’t we find another way around?”
“We already tried that. There isn’t. Now, be quiet and follow me.”
Toby closed his eyes for a second, cursing under his breath as he flattened himself against the wall at the rear of the group, just behind Freda. Although his constant nerves were irritating her, she shared his concerns. The bandit camp ahead hadn’t exactly been in their plans, but there was no other way around. They would have to pass them without being seen, or risk a heavily outnumbered fight. Several against four. Well, three and a half, maybe. If Toby remembers which way around his gun goes.
Harris went first, ducking his head as he moved slowly from the corner of the house and along the hedge running alongside it. He peered around the corner, before crooking a finger over his shoulder for the others to follow, turning and looking towards their target. A large bus was blocking the road, but it provided the perfect cover from the bandits, followed by a high wall that bordered the pavement on the other side. All they had to do was make it across to the bus, and do it without being seen.
Freda peered over the top of the hedge, being careful to keep out of sight as she looked back across at the camp. The bandits were using what looked like an old government building, its sides covered in grey slabs of concrete, its plain windows lined perfectly at regular intervals along the walls like vacant eyes. There were chairs and patio umbrellas set up outside with a rusty barbeque. It would have been a peaceful sight, if not for the blood smears and skins of dead animals hung from the torn edges of the umbrellas. In large red letters, painted across the double doorway into the building, were the words ‘BANDITS TERITORRY. PREPAIR TO DIE’. Although it wasn’t the time or place, Freda itched to correct them on their spelling and grammar.
Some of the bandits were sat or stood outside, some smoking and talking to one another, while others to the far side looked as though an impromptu boxing match had been set up. Two of them pummelled one another with bloody fists while a circle of their comrades stood around, shouting and whooping with vicious delight. A few others were stood a short distance from another of the yellow-brick houses, firing into it for target practice with various guns. A piece of glass smashed, echoing across loudly, and Freda ducked down as the shock of it rattled her for a moment. She breathed in and out a few times to calm herself, before shuffling forward after Reilly.
Timing it well, Harris darted across the small three-foot-long gap that existed between the bus and the hedge, pausing and pressing his back against the rusted metal as he reached it. There was a tense pause, and he cocked his head slowly around the corner of the vehicle, watching the camp intently. None of the bandits even looked up. His lips puckered as he blew out a breath, and he crooked a finger at Reilly. She nodded, before darting a single look over to the concrete building and racing over to Harris’ side. Keeping her head down, she looked back and flashed Freda a thumbs-up.
Okay, guess it’s my turn. Remembering the man crouched behind her, Freda twisted her head just enough to whisper, “Don’t bottle out, Toby. Go after me.” She just saw him nod his head out the corner of her eye. Sweat formed along her fingers as she rubbed them anxiously against her knees, the rough fabric of her jeans grounding her as she pushed her trepidation deep down. The noise of the bandits seemed louder now it was her turn to pass through the small gap where she might be seen, and it was making her heart flutter in a way that made her head ache. Freda arched her head around the corner of the hedge. None of the bandits had changed position—except for one. One of the men who was smoking had turned his body around so now he was leaning against the concrete wall, staring straight at the small gap. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.
She gazed across at Harris and Reilly in exasperation, and
Harris frowned and gave her a questioning tilt of the head. Trying for a moment to be creative, Freda lifted her hands and made a smoking motion towards her mouth with one, while jabbing a finger with the other towards the camp. The uncertainty that passed over both her companion’s faces told her they understood what she was trying to say. Harris sighed deeply, resting his head for a moment against the bus and staring up into the sky, as though it would give him some inspiration. Freda’s heart sank when she realised it hadn’t, as he stared back at her and gave a rough shrug. He had nothing.
Freda licked her lips, risking another glance through a hole in the hedge. The bandit hadn’t moved, and worse, the others around him had now gone inside the building. So there was nothing to distract him. Great, two choices. I can sit here and wait for him to move, and possibly for more to come out. Or I can try and run across, and hope he thinks it was nothing. But she could feel Toby’s presence close behind her, and she sighed. But two of us trying the same thing? No, it wouldn’t work. And I can’t sit and wait, either. She bit her lip.
“Hey, what’s the hold up?”
Freda twisted her head, leaning one hand gently against the dried twigs of the hedge as she looked into Toby’s saucer-wide eyes. “One of them is looking straight at us. We can’t run across with him watching.”
“Fuck.”
I share the sentiment. Freda fingered the strap of her rifle for a second, her mind racing through the possibilities of what they could do. Then she thought about how stupid all of the ideas were, before looking over at Toby again. She took in the way his throat bobbed as he looked back at her, his nervousness plain. “Toby, do you feel up to helping me do something crazy?”
We Are The Few Page 18