“My plans?” he cackled.
“Yeah.” Simon looked at his guest’s hands and noticed that they were dirty. “What are you gonna do, mate?”
Dicko hunched his shoulders. “Do what I’ve been doing for months: Survive. I do have plans, though.”
“Oh?”
“Well, there has to be some kind of—”
“Daddy?” Imelda spoke up and lowered her head.
Simon sighed, “You shouldn’t really interrupt adults when they’re speaking, babe.”
“I’m sorry, daddy,” she whimpered, “but I feel sick.”
“It’s not important anyway,” the man that called himself Dicko reached over, smiled and patted Simon on the shoulder. “You see to your little girl.”
Simon stood up and said, “Come on then, babe.”
Both father and daughter exited the house at the front, walking down the path and Imelda bent over the grass and released some white vomit. Simon stood by her side and rubbed her back. She vomited a little more, and then coughed and spat a couple of times to get the lumps out of her mouth.
“You okay now?” he asked her, still rubbing her back.
“Uh-huh.”
Back in the old days whenever Imelda had vomited in the house, usually during the night, Simon and Diana would go to the bathroom and find her crying after the ordeal.
On this day there were no tears. This had been the first time she had been sick since they had been out on their own, which was surprising, considering what they had to eat and the uncertainty on how filtered the water that Simon collected actually was.
She had complained that she had felt nauseous on a few occasions, but this had been the first time she had been sick.
“Do you want to stay out here and get some air? Or do you want to go back inside?”
She never answered his question. Instead, she said, “Daddy?”
“What is it?”
“Is that man staying with us tonight?”
“Erm...” Simon paused for thought and was unsure how to answer. Dicko had never asked to stay, but the thought had crossed Simon’s mind. If Dicko was a threat to him and his daughter, then why on earth did Dicko save Simon’s life? That thought alone was enough for Simon to be sure that Dicko was a good guy, although brutal when he could be.
“Well?” Imelda was waiting for an answer.
“Well what?”
“Is he staying with us?”
Simon shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t think so. Why?”
“No reason,” she said.
“We don’t even know him. How do we know he’s not a bad man?” Simon was sure that Dicko was okay, but said it to his daughter anyway.
“I don’t think he is,” the young girl said with confidence. “I like him.”
Simon smiled. So do I. How can I not like him? He saved my life. “Come on.” He playfully nudged his daughter and kissed her on the top of her head. “Let’s go back inside.”
Chapter Thirteen
Next Day
The morning was a dull one, and Simon was the first to rise. He wanted to sleep on the sofa, but Imelda didn’t want to sleep alone so she slept on the sofa and Simon nodded off in the armchair. With everything that had happened with getting a beating and then Dicko killing Simon’s assailant, he found it difficult to sleep. His mind wouldn’t switch off.
He walked into the kitchen, his knees cracking as he did this, and felt his sides. He lifted his black T-shirt up and couldn’t see any bruises as such, but he did feel tender in that area, and then it hit him.
He could have died yesterday. Imelda would have been on her own.
Or even worse.
That man could have gone into the house, after killing Simon, went upstairs to where Imelda was sleeping... No! Don’t even think about it!
He owed Dicko, or whatever his name was, and he owed him big time. Which was why he decided to finally pluck up the courage to ask the man if he wanted to stay the night. Dicko had politely declined Simon’s offer and said that he had plans, but he’d see them both in the morning sometime.
Dicko was a vague character and didn’t give much away as far as his past was concerned, but Simon liked him.
Simon decided to take a step outside and gazed around at miles of fields. Maybe tomorrow he was going to have to take another trip to the pond.
He remained standing and closed his eyes as the wind tickled his face. It was peaceful, and it was days like this that he was glad to be alive. He looked up to the murky sky. It looked similar to what it looked like after the bombs fell.
Simon felt something touch his hand, and he gasped and jumped at the same time. He turned to his side and saw his little girl staring up at him.
“You frightened me,” he said with a smile.
“Sorry, daddy.”
“You okay?”
She nodded her head, but she wasn’t convincing her father.
“What is it?” he asked her.
“I was thinking about our guinea pigs.”
Simon smiled.
“Do you remember, before school,” she began with a rare smile on her face, “that me and Tyler had to clean out the cage, then feed them after it was clean?”
“Of course I do.” Simon stroked Imelda’s soft cheek on the right side of her face with his finger. “I used to pay you and Tyler ten pounds a week and give you the money every Saturday.”
“That’s right. Tyler was always messing around and he let me do most of the work, but he would still get paid.”
“He used to put the bags in the bin,” Simon said.
“Yes, but it was me that picked up the poo and scooped up the hay that Alvin and Ham Sandwich had peed on.” She lowered her head and added, “Tyler used to pull my ponytail when I was trying to clean out the cage.”
“I know, babe. He used to tease you terribly.”
She lowered her head and said in a quaver, “I would give anything to have just one more morning like that.”
“Oh, Imelda.”
Simon turned and crouched down so that he was eye level with his little girl, and the pair of them hugged. He rubbed his hand up and down her back and they both slowly broke away from the embrace. He looked at her and could see two trails across her plump cheeks where tears had fallen.
He kissed her on the forehead and said, “I love you, Imelda.”
“I love you, daddy.”
Both father and daughter could hear dragging feet coming from the side of the house. Both looked at one another and froze, unsure what to do. Simon patted his pockets and realised that he had no weapon on him. He grabbed Imelda and they began to make their way towards the back door into the house, but a figure had already appeared from around the corner. It was Dicko.
“Morning, folks.” He held his hand up, making Imelda smile and Simon sigh with relief.
“Thank God,” Simon gasped.
Dicko looked at both of their faces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you both.”
“What’re you doing ... creeping up like that?”
“I didn’t think you’d be up so early and outside. What’s up?” Dicko snickered, “Did you shit the bed or something?”
Simon rubbed his face and groaned. He was in two minds whether to reprimand Dicko for talking like that in front of Imelda. Dicko had saved Simon’s life only yesterday, so Simon decided to keep his mouth shut and let him away with this one. But any more cussing in front of Imelda, and he would have to have a polite word. Imelda began to moan that she was hungry and Simon told her to go inside and see what was in the bag.
“I think there’s a tin of sardines in the bag. A few tins of beans as well.”
“Ew,” Imelda moaned and added as she went inside the house, “I think I would rather starve.”
“We’re not far off it,” Simon murmured.
“I was going to talk to you about that, funnily enough,” Dicko spoke up.
Simon narrowed his eyes. “About what?”
“I’m
going to disappear for a while.”
“What for?”
Dicko rubbed his dark beard in thought and said, “I don’t know how far I need to go or how long it’s gonna take me, but I’m gonna try and get a set of wheels.”
“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Simon questioned. “If people, desperate survivors, hear the engine, you’re opening yourself up to be attacked. It’s one of the main reasons why I—”
“We’re in the countryside,” Dicko began, interrupting Simon’s rant. “But we’re only a couple of miles from Silverburn, the shopping centre. There’s a supermarket next to it. There could be an endless amount of supplies there. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of living off scraps.”
“I can’t see there being anything for us, especially after this length of time.”
“You never know.”
“Even if we did get stuff,” Simon began, unsure about Dicko’s plan. “It’s not going to last forever.”
“I know. That’s why we take a trip to the homestore first, the one in Darnley, a couple of miles from Silverburn.”
“Why do we need to go to the homestore?”
“Why do you think?” Dicko chuckled. “What are in these places?”
“Erm...” Simon thought for a few seconds and shrugged his shoulders. “Paint, lawn mowers, kitchen units...”
“And they also sell packets and packets of vegetable seeds and the tools that we need to make vegetable patches possible, like forks, spades...”
“Wait a minute.” Simon scratched his head. “We only met yesterday, and you’re talking about making vegetable patches.”
“True, but I have a deal for you.”
“Deal? What kind of deal?”
“You and Imelda trust me, right? I can see that. Let me stay near here and we can share the land. If we make this trip to the homestore, set up patches somewhere in the back, we may have something special here. It’s spring. It’s the perfect time to grow ... shit.”
“Grow ... shit?” Simon smiled at Dicko’s remark.
“Okay, so I’m no Alan Titchmarsh. Also, if we get thugs coming here to rob or kill us, I’ll come in handy. You know I can handle myself. Oh, and I also saved your life, so you owe me one.”
“Jesus, mate. Talk about emotional blackmail.”
Dicko scratched at his hairy chin and Simon knew he wanted to say something further, but seemed reluctant to do so.
“If you’re going out there, then I’m coming with you,” said Simon.
“That’s not going to happen.” Dicko shook his head. “What about the house, Imelda?”
“I’m not sitting about here while you’re out there busting your arse for us two. It’s not fair.”
“You’re giving sharing land with me. It’s my way of paying you back.”
“It’s not even my land,” Simon said with a chuckle, but then his face turned sombre. “I’ve been walking these streets for months. There’s nothing out there. I’m coming with you.”
“If I go on my own, there’ll be more room in the car to put supplies in.”
“And if I go with you, we could load up the car a lot quicker.”
Dicko rubbed his forehead and thought for a minute. He shook his head and asked, “What about Imelda? You can’t leave her here.”
“She’s coming with us. If she’s going to be living in a world like this from now on, she’s gonna have to get used to it. Besides, I’m her dad. I won’t let anything happen to her. And if other survivors see us and we have a young girl in tow, we’d look like less of a threat, don’t you think?”
“Erm...” Dicko couldn’t think of anything else to say. He agreed with Simon about his less of a threat theory, and was also convinced that it would be a simple journey, going through wastelands and barren roads to get where they wanted to go, but Simon also had a point about leaving Imelda on her own.
Simon asked Dicko, “So when’re you thinking about going?”
“Easy, Tiger,” Dicko snickered. “It might not be until tomorrow. If we’re gonna do this, it’s best to have the whole day so we have plenty of daylight to play with.”
Simon nodded. “Okay.”
“But I need to get wheels first.” Dicko playfully punched Simon on the top of his arm and walked away, going in the same direction he had come from. “Wish me luck.”
Chapter Fourteen
Simon and Imelda shared a tin of beans whilst Dicko was out looking for a vehicle. Eating the last tin that he had in his bag was tempting, but he held off. Imelda was moaning that she was still hungry, so he reached into his rucksack and handed her the packet of out-of-date Frosties. If they came back empty handed from the trip to Silverburn, they would have to go elsewhere to find food, even if it was just a trip to the woods to see if it had berries, mushrooms, or even an orchard somewhere. A hydrated human could last weeks without food, apparently, but Simon’s growling stomach was in no mood to put that to the test.
After the beans and a small drink, Simon told Imelda to relax on the couch until Dicko came back.
“I’m always relaxing,” she moaned and pouted out her bottom lip, clearly bored.
“Have a lie down.” Simon sat in the armchair and took out the paperback book from his bag. He had forgotten where he was in the book and couldn’t remember the last time he read it. He opened it in the middle, but Imelda spoke up before he could start a sentence.
“Is that a book about a shark?” she asked, gazing at the front cover. “What’s it called?”
Simon smiled and said, “Didn’t we have this conversation a few weeks ago?”
“I don’t know.” Imelda hunched her shoulders. “Did we?”
“It’s Jaws. Daddy’s favourite film. It was the first book I ever read.”
“How old were you when you read it?”
“I don’t know. I read it when I was little.” Simon hunched his shoulder and scratched his dark beard as he began to think. “I think I was about eight … or nine. I’m not sure.”
“Why did you take it with you when we left the house?”
“I began to read it again. I started reading it at work, during my break times. I used to take the rucksack to work. It must have been at the bottom of the bag when I packed some clothes and food, before we left.”
Simon began to read the page and only had two minutes of peace when Imelda asked him another question.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Could I read it after you’re finished?”
Simon clocked the words ‘yawning vagina’, near the part where Matt Hooper was about to sleep with Chief Brody’s wife. He cleared his throat and said, “It’s not for your eyes, babe.”
“Oh?”
“Maybe when Dicko comes back with a car and we get to Silverburn, we’ll try and pick up some reading books and colouring books as well.”
“Silverburn?”
Simon smiled and realised he wasn’t going to tell his daughter until Dicko arrived. Maybe it was better to tell her now. At least it would give her time to get used to the idea. He had no idea how she was going to react. She could freak or...
Simon puffed out a breath and mumbled, “Sod it.” He stood up, leaving the paperback on the arm of the chair, and went over to Imelda and sat next to her.
“Dicko has come up with a plan that could keep us alive for a long time,” Simon began. “Dicko has gone out to get a vehicle, then when he comes back we’re going to take a trip to Silverburn, where that supermarket is, and fill the car up with supplies.”
“Do I have to go?” Imelda asked.
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Dicko needs me to go, and I’m not leaving you here on your own. We can’t just let him do all the work and then eat and drink what he’s brought back with a clear conscience.”
Imelda looked confused by Simon’s ramblings and said, “But we gave him dinner last night.”
“Yeah, but he saved my life.”
Simon hadn’t
told Imelda what had happened outside the house and Dicko killing that man, and wanted to keep it that way. Thankfully, she never pressed him about how Dicko had saved his life.
“If we have to go with Dicko,” Imelda began. “Does that mean we have to leave the farm empty?”
“I suppose it does.” Simon had never thought of that. He looked at Imelda’s confused face and said, “I don’t like doing this, especially because we can’t lock the doors when we leave, but food isn’t going to just turn up and land on our doorstep.”
Imelda lowered her head and Simon placed his arm around her shoulder. “Are you okay with that?”
She nodded.
“Are you scared?”
“A little,” she admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine if you and Dicko are with me.”
“Yes, you will.” Simon smiled.
Imelda smiled and dropped her head and said, “I was thinking about that scary man by the pond.”
“Oh?”
“What if he comes back?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know for sure?”
Simon leaned and kissed the top of Imelda’s head. “I just do.” He went back over to the armchair, sat down and closed his eyes. “I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a while.”
Imelda never responded.
*
“Daddy, I can hear a noise coming from outside.”
Simon sat up and widened his eyes. He had dropped off and was immediately angry with himself for doing so. He had had a terrible night’s sleep, but with an eight-year-old girl to care for it was no excuse.
Simon rubbed his eyes and groaned, “What kind of noise?”
“Not sure.” She screwed her face up and tried to think.
“Was it an animal or…?”
“Sounds like a car.”
Simon walked over to the front window and peered from behind the curtains. He saw a Mazda turn up the drive, at the side of the house. Simon smiled and knew who it was, despite not seeing the face of the driver.
He headed to the back door, to greet the man that bizarrely called himself Dicko.
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