“Probably not.” Simon lowered his head like a child after being reprimanded by its parent.
Changing the subject, Dicko cleared his throat and said softly, “So what’s the purpose of this trip to their small camp?”
“I don’t really know.” Simon hunched his shoulders. “When Helen decides she wants to go back, I thought it’d be best if just me, Yoler and Imelda went. Is that okay with you? Don’t wanna be leaving this place unguarded.”
“It’d be interesting to see what kind of set up they’ve got.” Dicko nodded in agreement.
“It will,” Simon agreed.
“Besides, I’ll probably get to see it another time.”
“Of course, and there’re a few new characters to meet.”
“But what’s the point? To make new friends?”
“I suppose just knowing that there are good people about kind of dampens paranoia we have in survivors in general. Maybe in the future we could help each other out, regarding food, and anything else that pops up.”
Dicko nodded, but wasn’t too keen on the idea. Helen and the boy seemed nice, but he was concerned that if these survivors came across rough times and needed a place to stay, then their own food supply would suffer. If things got so bad, would they feel obliged to put these people up? If that were the case, then that would mean more mouths to feed.
Simon could feel his tooth throbbing in the back of his mouth again. He winced, gave his mouth a quick rub and then nodded down at the made patch of soil, ready for seeds to be planted. “Are you gonna add to that while we’re away?”
“I did say to Yoler that I could give it a go, but I don’t think she trusts me.” Dicko chuckled gently and added, “Maybe she’s a control freak.”
“Or maybe she thinks that you’ll fuck it up,” Simon laughed.
“More than likely.”
Yoler exited the house and onto the back garden, smiling at Simon and Dicko. Helen wasn’t far behind her.
“Where’re the kids?” Simon queried Yoler.
“Upstairs,” she said. “They can have half an hour and then we’re gonna take Helen and David back.”
Helen smiled and said, “Thanks. They seem to be getting on really well. It’s good for the pair of them.”
“I agree.” Simon nodded. “It’s been a while since she’s had company around her own age. We should definitely do this again.”
Dicko yawned and was growing tired of the small talk. He looked over at Helen and asked, “So Helen, what’s your story? Are you still married, or...?”
Both Yoler and Simon verbally blasted the man for his rude question and gave him a cold glare.
“What?” Dicko held both of his hands up as if someone was pointing a gun at him. “I’m just intrigued, that’s all. Just trying to make conversation with our guest.”
“It’s okay,” said Helen, and gave off a little giggle. “I’m not offended.” She took in a deep breath and told them all, “It’s just me and David. My husband died before it all happened.”
“I’m sorry,” Dicko said.
“He died of a brain haemorrhage four years ago,” she said sadly. “David doesn’t even remember him. He says he does, but I think he just says that so he doesn’t hurt my feelings, bless him.”
The group fell silent and Helen turned and looked at the opened back door and through into the kitchen. She saw Imelda and David running out, both giggling, and both of them stopped running once they reached the four adults.
“That’s the first time for a long time I’ve seen Imelda smiling,” Simon said, looking at David.
Helen nodded. “Same here.”
“Right, you two,” Yoler clapped her hands loudly to get the attention of the two youngsters. “I hope you two have been to the toilet, because we have a camp to go back to ... wherever it is Helen and David stay.”
“Are we going now, mummy?” David moaned. He was clearly having a good time at the farm, and now these adults were about to ruin it.
“I’m afraid so,” his mum replied, “but Imelda, her dad, and Yoler are walking us back. They’ve showed us round their place, so we’re going to do the same.”
“Are we ready?” Simon looked over at Helen and smiled.
She nodded.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The five of them slowly walked down the grassy incline and headed for the small cluster of trees.
Once they were on flat land and were near the trees, Yoler spoke up.
She said, “I like this walk. I could get used to this.”
“You like this walk?” Simon narrowed his eyes at Yoler. “Why?”
“It’s just a nice change, Simes. I’m used to walking through barren streets, going through homes that are abandoned, stepping over bodies that have been dead for months. It’s like the lands, streets and towns are now full of ghosts, rather than people.”
They walked, all side by side, and Simon spoke up and mentioned that Yoler had told him about animal coil spring traps.
“Well, we’ve never come across any where we are,” Helen remarked. “And we’ve lived in the woods for a while.”
“Okay,” said Simon and turned to his daughter, “but you’re still walking behind me and following my lead. I’m not taking any chances.”
They entered the small cluster and were out at the other side and near the pond in minutes. Yoler was now leading the way and went right to walk around the pond. Helen, Simon, Imelda and David were close behind, but they all stopped once Yoler held her hand up, like a captain to his platoon, and everybody remained motionless and quiet, patiently waiting for an explanation from the twenty-six-year-old female.
“I thought I heard something.” She turned and gazed at the two adults, and then the two children. To their credit, both kids looked relaxed and were behaving impeccably.
“Like what?” Simon put his hand in his pocket and was getting ready to take out his knife. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want Imelda to see him carrying a knife.
“Movement,” was Yoler’s short answer.
The rustle coming from the woods was to their right, at the other side of the pond, and the noise was growing, getting louder. Whatever was inside, it was getting close to revealing itself, or themselves.
Yoler pulled out her knife and took a few steps forward, and then they all saw what was in the woods. An Alsatian dog stepped out of the wooded area and growled as soon as its eyes clocked the five humans. Its black and faded red fur was matted in old blood, and the adult members of the group were certain that the blood was from other living things that the dog had attacked.
“Don’t move,” said Yoler, raising her arm to the people behind her. “This has happened a few times before with me.”
“We had a couple of them in our camp a few weeks ago,” Helen whispered to Simon.
“What happened?” he asked her nervously, dreading the answer.
“Donald and some of the others managed to chase them away?”
“Will it go away?” Simon called out to Yoler.
“Maybe,” was her short vague answer. “Just keep still.”
The dog cautiously stepped towards the group, snarling and gnashing, saliva running from its mouth.
“What’s wrong with it, daddy?” Imelda groaned. “Is it ill?”
Simon placed his arm around his daughter and could feel her whole body shuddering. “It’s not ill, babe. It’s starving.”
The canine took a few more careful steps further and stopped once Yoler stood up and made herself tall. The snarling and gnashing began to subside and the animal retreated, taking two steps back, then turned around and trotted off back into the woods with the greenery eventually swallowing the animal up.
All five relaxed and released relieved breaths out. Helen asked both minors how they were feeling and their responses suggested that they were both okay.
“Half the time we come this way, something seems to happen,” Simon moaned.
“It was just a dog.” Yoler shrugged
her shoulders. “It’s not what I’d call a major worry.”
“No? What would you call it then?”
“It’s a normal way of life now,” she said, shaking her head at Simon. “In one day I was attacked by a lone man, was attacked by two Canavars, and shot at by a farmer who claimed I had got too close to his land, and then he set his dog on me.”
“In one day?”
Yoler nodded with a smile.
Helen placed her hand over her mouth on hearing the story from Yoler, and asked the young woman, “So what happened with the dog? Did you manage to shake it off?”
“The mutt caught up with me. It was very quick.”
“Were you hurt?”
“Nope.” Yoler flicked her hair, moving her fringe from tickling her eyelashes. “Fortunately it was just one dog. They’re not so dangerous on their own, but if there were a pack of them...”
“So you killed it?” Helen asked.
Yoler nodded. “And it tasted delicious.” She then began to move, heading to the woods. The other four followed.
Two minutes had passed, and the only words that had been spoken were strong words to the two kids. David and Imelda had been playfully poking one another with their fingers as they walked, unaware that the situation they were in could be dangerous. A minute had passed and the kids began to giggle behind the adults; this was followed by moaning about the walk and that their legs were tired. This resulted in David and Imelda being reprimanded by Helen and Simon.
It wasn’t the time for horseplay, and it appeared that the dog incident had been quickly forgotten about by the two infants.
Yoler was still leading the way, listening to Helen’s instructions where to turn, and the two kids were behind Yoler, Simon was at the back of the line and Helen was in front of him, behind the two children.
Simon asked Helen, “How do you know where to go? All I can see is trees and bracken.”
“I don’t know.” She hunched her shoulders and giggled in unison. “I just do. We’ve made this journey a few times when we go to the pond and collect water.”
“I suppose we would have met eventually, if that’s the case.”
“Probably.” She turned around and smiled at Simon.
He then lowered his head, smothered with guilt. What are you doing? It was clear that she was attracted to him, but as soon as the thought of being with Helen for a brief second skated across his mind, the image of Diana and Tyler being taken down by the gang of Canavars polluted his thoughts. He whispered, “Sorry” to his wife and thought that there was no reason why he and Helen couldn’t be friends without intimacy.
Helen smiled and said to Yoler, “We’re nearly there.”
“Really?” Yoler scratched her head and look confused. “I can’t see piss all but trees.”
Helen laughed, “Yes, we’re well hidden. Just wait until you pass that huge sycamore.”
As soon as Yoler did so, she saw a large bald guy standing next to four homemade huts and a large cabin. It was Donald. There were washing lines tied to trees, a fire with a pot on a metal grid, and a couple of people skulking about. The set up didn’t seem as good as the one that Yoler and Simon had back at the farmhouse, but these people had made this from scratch. The farm was already there and Simon had just happened to stumble across it.
“I thought you’d got lost,” Donald growled. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Helen chuckled, which seemed to have angered Donald.
Helen turned to Yoler and Simon and said, “Let me introduce you to everyone.”
“Er ... okay,” said Simon.
“You know Donald,” she pointed at the miserable looking man and then clapped her hands. “Everybody come out! There’re people here for you to meet!”
Seven people had gathered in the middle of the area where they stayed, some exiting the small huts that they were staying in. There were ten people in all, including Helen, young David, and the grumpy Donald Brownstone.
Yoler noticed that the small area had thin rope around the circumference of the small camp and had tins and chimes attached to the rope. There were small manmade huts, but there was also an impressive looking cabin that was to their side. Yoler guessed correctly that the cabin had already been there when the group had turned up to this particular part of the woods, and had built their small huts near it. The rope was tied around the trees and was at knee height. It had obviously been put there to warn the campers of any intruders, especially during the night.
Helen began introducing the people to Yoler and Simon, but there were far too many names to remember. It looked like a reasonably young crowd and it appeared that Donald was the eldest at just forty-three years old.
She reeled off the names to Yoler and Simon: Hayley Bertrand, Gavin Bertrand, Jason Martins, Harriett Henderson, John Duncan, Jamie Monk and Gary Monk.
A young woman approached them and asked them if they wanted some soup. She nodded over to the large pot that was sitting on the fire.
“No thanks,” Simon politely declined her offer.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Yoler wandered over and another woman by the name of Hayley, another blonde, gave Yoler a bowl and began to serve the soup.
“What kind of soup is it?” enquired Yoler.
Hayley smiled and said, “It has a bit of everything.”
“Of course it does,” Yoler laughed and began to slurp the soup once Hayley had passed her a spoon.
“Sit down,” Helen smiled and pointed at the others. “Sit around the fire, everyone. Let’s get to know our new friends.”
Chapter Thirty
For many minutes they conversed with Helen’s people, most of them sitting around the fire. Out of all of them, apart from Helen, Simon liked Gavin the best. He was a dark haired fellow, and was incredibly polite. His sister, Hayley, was also a nice woman. She had blonde hair and both had told Simon and Yoler that they had no kids and were both fortunately single when it all kicked off. Simon told them all about his own family and they seemed genuinely sorry for his loss.
“At least there ain’t many of the dead about these days,” Hayley said. “At least that’s something.”
Simon shook his head at Hayley and signalled her to keep it down. He looked over his shoulder and was relieved that his daughter was playing with David, out of earshot of what the adults were talking about.
“What’s the matter?” Hayley asked.
“I told Imelda that they’re not around anymore,” he said softly.
“You told her that?” Donald folded his arms, began to snicker and shook his head. “What did you tell her that pish for?”
“Because we hadn’t seen one in ages.” Simon was getting annoyed with Donald Brownstone. “What’s it to you anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter whether you’re seven years old or seventeen, a person should be told what’s really happening.”
Helen could see that Simon was getting annoyed and she tried to change the subject, but no one was listening to her.
“She knows what’s happening,” Simon snapped. “We were all cowering in my basement as we heard the bombs fall.”
“But you do know what really happened, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Simon nodded, not entirely sure what Donald was getting at. “It started in that medical centre, in Newcastle. That was when the outbreak occurred. That was the start of the … Canavars.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about months after, when the dead roamed our lands, and every other nation was shit scared, paranoid of it spreading. So they left us to fend for ourselves, and people, millions of people, died. A lot of them reanimated and turned into those freaks, leaving us with an estimated ratio of ten to one, in the dead’s favour.”
“We’re aware of this,” Yoler scoffed. “Why are you telling us things that we already know?”
“Before I met up with this lot,” Donald pointed at the people from his camp, “I was with a friend of mine and we met
up with a stranger.”
“A stranger?” Yoler queried.
“I don’t know whether he was crazy or not, but he claimed to be a deserter from some regiment. He had heard that our major cities were nuked by the powers overseas, and the rest of our lands were bombed to nullify the danger. Then soldiers from NATO, or whoever the fuck it is, were going to go through our land and wipe out the remaining threat.”
“I think you’ve been reading too many books,” Yoler said with an imperfect smile.
“It’s true.”
“I don’t believe that’s what happened?” Yoler laughed. “Anyway, I don’t think that nukes were used.”
“I don’t care what pish you believe, darling. I think it makes sense.” Donald twitched his nose and added, “I was also told that escaping from the UK is impossible.”
“Of course. The waters are freezing and the…”
“I’m talking about the English Channel. That’s the only realistic way of escaping, especially from Dover to Calais. But the English Channel is swarming with boats. Any survivors escaping would be killed. Even the Channel Tunnel has been blocked up at both ends. Not that it makes any difference to us, being six hundred miles away.”
“I think your information is bollocks.” Yoler paused and then added, “Don’t you remember the first week, when we had power, when this thing was global? Didn’t you watch TV when it kicked off? It’s not just a UK problem. This thing was … is global.”
“I know that, but it’s not as bad in other European countries, or so I’ve heard.”
“Now, you seem to be guessing.” Yoler shook her head at the bald forty-three-year-old. “And as for the nukes…”
“I’m telling you now,” Donald snapped. “Our cities were nuked. I’ve heard stories from other survivors who witnessed the cities from afar getting hit. They nuked the cities because, obviously, the more populated the area, the more of the dead. Have you seen what it does to people? When the Americans dropped the bombs in Japan, the victims that were hit were burned instantly to ashes. And imagine what it was like for folk in this country who lived on the outskirts of the city, with the radioactive dust and ash created when a nuclear weapon explodes. Fallout may get entrained with the products of a pyrocumulus cloud and fall as black rain, which is rain darkened by soot and other particulates.”
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