by Luke Duffy
Yan and Sini had followed Marcus after reaching their home town and seeing that everyone had either run or died there. They reached the field of the impaled dead and noticed the tracks formed from the SUVs in the dirt and the unknown trucks that accompanied them. They followed, and come across the farm complex the night before. They watched the comings and goings through the night and listened to the torture and decided that they would attempt a rescue the next day.
Sini had found only his girlfriend in the ruins of their town. She had been hiding in the loft of her home and they soon realised that they would find no one else, and decided to try and join back up with Marcus.
Sandra was used as a decoy. Sini and Yan knew that the prospect of a woman to beat and rape would put the rebels off-guard and bring the majority of them into the open, easy prey to be gunned down, and they sprung their ambush. Yan had moved to the right flank and while Sini drew their fire, he was able to pick the rest off from his position.
The team was reunited, and they immediately began to collect weapons and ammunition from the dead rebels. Sini walked into the interrogation room and looked down at Vlad’s body and whistled.
“You really didn't like this man, did you Marcus?”
Marcus shrugged. “The fucker was gonna impale us.” He looked down at the body with disdain and spat. “We better round them all up before they all come back.”
Sini turned to him. “Don't worry about them; me and Yan will take care of that, you see to the others. I think Jim is in serious need of Stu’s med skills, Marcus.”
Marcus nodded and left the room.
Stu had already carried Jim into another room and lay him down on a cot, stripping him and assessing his wounds. He looked up at Marcus as he entered; a grave look on his face.
“He isn’t doing too well, Marcus. I don’t think his skull is fractured, but he definitely has a serious concussion, at least two broken ribs, a fractured jaw and sunken cheek bone. His eyes are so swollen I can’t get a proper look to see what damage has been done.”
Everyone was in a bad way. Marcus moved through the house with Ian, hobbling and wincing with pain, checking each room and ensuring that there was no one left alive from the rebel group. Specifically, they looked for any evidence of other rebel forces in the area, maps showing their dispositions and radios with call signs and frequencies. They couldn't find either in any of the buildings they searched.
Marcus felt relieved.
“This means they were on their own, Ian. They aren’t part of any higher organisation and no one probably knew they were here or even existed.”
Ian screwed his face up. “Yeah, so, what you getting at?”
Marcus smiled. “It means we have free bed and board for as long as we need it while we recover. There isn’t likely to be anyone coming here, especially other rebel forces. We’re out of the way and not likely to be stumbled across.”
The realisation hit Ian and a grin spread across his bloodied and battered face. “So does that mean I can have a shit in a real toilet then instead of the bushes, or my trousers ‘cause you won’t let us pull over?”
It was decided, they would stay and recuperate. Jim needed a lot of attention, attention he wouldn't receive if they were back on the road and pushing hard across Europe. With the state he was in, he was no use to the team and his condition would probably worsen if they were travelling.
“This is Sandra,” Sini presented his pretty brunette girlfriend to Marcus. “She is coming with us.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “With us?” he asked.
“Well, I have no reason to stay here, so we may as well come with you.”
Marcus nodded his approval, and smiled at Sandra. He turned back to Sini. “What about Yan?”
“You know him; he always does whatever I do. He was like that when we served in the army together. He doesn’t have any close family anyway, why do you think he rarely went on leave? He was saving most of his money to move to the States and become a porn star or something like that, knowing him.”
They recovered their vehicles. Ian’s SUV was beyond repair. It had taken too many rounds in to the engine. Even the armour was damaged in places and it had taken on the appearance of a colander. They began stripping it out to use what parts they could salvage, to refit the other vehicles.
Marcus got to work on the Codan.
“Steve, this is Marcus, you there?” He waited for a reply. It took a long time to get the Codan to work properly again but eventually he was able to hear the faint reply from the other end.
“Marcus, thank Christ. We've been worried about you bro.”
Marcus smiled and began to explain the situation. He refrained from going into too much detail and ambiguously referred to the incident as ‘trouble with the locals’. He gave them their location and intentions, explaining that they would be going firm and staying at that location for up to two weeks then pushing on, headed across Hungary, Austria, Southern Germany and into France. It sounded a lot easier than it would be, and Marcus knew that there were a lot of miles to cover and possibly more trouble, similar to what they had already encountered.
After the brief conversation with Steve, he had his usual ten minutes with Jennifer and the boys. They all sounded strained, but relieved to hear from him. Marcus could tell that Jennifer had been at her wits’ end, wondering what had happened to him.
That night, Marcus took his first bath in over a month. He dipped his foot into the hot steaming water and felt the tingling heat race up his leg. He placed both hands on the side of the bath and slowly lowered himself. The water gave him a shock as it reached his backside and as he sat his breath was momentarily taken away from him as the water swished up to his chest.
Every sore and niggling ache and pain screamed at him in protest from the hot water. His body ached from the weeks of travelling and scurrying about in the wilderness. Now, he had the cuts and bruises from the countless beatings he had sustained over the last few days to add to the moment of agony before the pain settled in the hot water.
As he splashed his face, he almost howled. His lips screamed at him and threatened to explode while his cheeks and eyes throbbed as they swelled up again with the heat. His beard was matted thick with dried blood and snot and his hair was a greasy mess of tangled, overgrown locks. It took forever to get himself washed. But once he was clean, all the pain and suffering seemed worth it.
Now it was time to shave, and get some kind of haircut.
He walked into the room where Stu was tending to Jim on the bed. The cool air felt good on his freshly bare face. For weeks he had forgotten how it felt to have a smooth chin and the sensation of a breeze on his skin.
Stu looked up from Jim as Marcus entered. He did a double-take, and his eyes showed surprise at the sight of him.
“My God, Marcus, you look like a new man.”
“I feel like one,” he replied, “but it was fucking agony getting this way. I never knew that shaving with a blunt razor could be so painful. You should try it, you look like a tramp. How’s our patient doing?”
Stu turned to look at Jim. “Early days yet mate, but we should have a more solid answer after tonight hopefully.”
Marcus nodded, rubbing his smooth chin, understanding that the first twenty four hours would be critical to Jim’s recovery. “Go get yourself sorted, Stu. I’ll keep an eye on him for a while.”
Stu left to get cleaned up.
Marcus moved over to the cot where Jim lay. His breathing was shallow and his body was still.
“Jim buddy, you've got a lot more sightseeing of Europe to do yet, so get yourself well. You hear?”
For twelve days they stayed at the farm. They collected weapons, ammunition, repaired their vehicles and filled up on what supplies, fuel, and equipment they thought they could use. By the end of their stay, they looked like a ragtag bunch of mercenaries in a mixture of clothes and vehicles.
They discarded their M4 rifles and opted to use the more robust, larger cal
ibre AK47s that they took from the dead rebels. They were low on ammunition for their old rifles anyway but there was an abundance of rounds and magazines for the AKs. They also took one of the smaller rebel trucks, fitting it out as best they could with a machinegun and communications equipment, but it would be used mainly to hump and dump the majority of the ammunition and supplies.
Jim was in much better condition; still not back to his old self, but far away from death’s door. He still had trouble moving about as his ribs slowly healed and his face still bore the marks of a broken nose and jaw. He was placed in the back of the truck and Sandra was tasked with watching over him while Stu and Ahmed rode up front in the cab.
Marcus, Sini and Hussein were back in their old SUV, only this time, Hussein would stay behind the wheel, freeing up Sini to man the guns when needed while Ian and Yan took over Stu’s old SUV at the front of the convoy.
They moved out, headed for the border with Hungary. They had to pass through the field of impaled dead again and Marcus felt a shudder run through his entire body as he avoided looking directly at the elevated corpses that stared and moaned back at them as they passed.
28
A cool breeze was blowing in from the open ground in front of the house. The dark sky was completely devoid of any cloud cover and the tiny twinkling lights of millions of stars were stretched across the heavens, like a scattering of diamonds over a black silk sheet.
Lee had always loved summer nights. They had been his favourite since he was a young boy, and now he sat on the roof of the house, leaning back in his chair and savouring the moment. Without the ambient noise and light of the days gone by, the night seemed all the more complete. Nothing stirred. There was no glare from street lights and no steady murmur of the hundreds of cars as they travelled the roads in the distance.
The gentle wind rustled the leaves in the trees around the house, and the occasional hoot of an owl or squeak of a mouse could be heard in the underbrush. But it wasn't the noises of the nocturnal animals that suddenly caught his attention and made him sit upright. It was the unnatural and unmistakable sound of a door closing. Whoever was responsible for the sound was doing their best to go unheard. But Lee distinctly heard the click and the almost inaudible thud of the wood as the door met the frame.
The noise came from his right, toward the back of the house. Lee rose from his chair and made his way over to the edge of the roof, taking gentle steps, careful not to alert whoever was below to his presence by crunching too heavily on the gravel that coated the flat areas of the roof.
He reached the edge and peered over and into the gloom. At first he saw nothing, but a moment later his eyes adjusted to the change and he was able to make out the foot of the trees, the dark line that marked the edge between the long grass at the side of the road and the tarmac, and the figure walking away from the house.
It looked like a man. The gait was unmistakably masculine. He couldn't tell who it was. All he saw was the silhouette as they walked along the road and hugged the grass verge, remaining obscured in the dark shade of the trees.
The figure stopped, Lee could see a very faint cloud of misted breath escape from his mouth as he slowly turned, looking in all directions. It was then that Lee realised who he was watching.
Tony.
His movements were unmistakable and Lee couldn't understand why he hadn’t recognised Tony the moment he saw him. For weeks, he had watched him like a hawk and scrutinised his every move. Even though no one had found any reason to distrust the man, Lee always had a gut feeling about him and it niggled at him constantly.
Now he was watching him again, in the middle of the night, skulking away from the house and into the darkness. To Lee, just by that very act, there was reason enough not to trust or like the man.
Lee rushed back through the door that led onto the roof from the inside of the house and pounded his way down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor. He paused at the rear door and sneaked a look through the window, careful to make sure that Tony hadn't seen him or suspected he had been noticed.
Lee couldn't see him anymore, and he slowly turned the handle and crept out into the gloom and after Tony.
Following the path that he suspected he would have taken, Lee trod carefully. Avoiding the crunch of stones and the snap of twigs beneath his heavy feet, he crept along, blinking into the darkness for any sight of his quarry.
He continued blindly, hoping to pick up a sign or sight of Tony. He was about to give up when, from somewhere up ahead, he heard the faint deep grumble of someone clearing his throat. Lee quickened his pace, hoping to close the gap to a distance where he could see him with his naked eye without having to rely solely on his hearing.
A minute later he could see the hunched shape of Tony, fifty metres ahead of him. He was walking, hands in his pockets, and Lee could now hear another sound in the air. Tony was humming a tune. He couldn't tell what tune he was humming, but Lee got the impression that he didn't have a care in the world and was just out for a nighttime stroll.
For a moment, Lee doubted his own judgement. Maybe he was just out for a walk? Maybe Tony enjoyed the summer nights just as much as he did? Lee shook himself. No. His gut feelings about the sinister side of Tony were still there. He was going somewhere specific and Lee wanted to see where.
Tony headed for the restaurant and gift shop area of the park. He left the gloom of the trees and made his way to the Information Centre, still humming away to himself.
Lee stopped in the darkness of the woods and watched as Tony crossed the open area and began to fumble at the side door that led into the Information Centre. He paused as he pushed the door open, glancing about and checking for anyone in the area before disappearing inside.
Stepping out from the trees, Lee quickly crossed the open area and into the shade of the building. He followed around its exterior wall, hoping to see some sign or hear a noise that would pinpoint Tony’s location for him.
Toward the back of the building, he heard the sounds of footsteps inside through the thin corrugated iron and plasterboard lined walls. It sounded like Tony was in the manager’s office.
“Ah, hello again.” His voice was muffled through the wall, but Lee could make out what he was saying without any undue effort.
“I hope you've been good while I've been away. Have you? You know I don’t like you misbehaving. We must always keep order.”
Lee screwed up his face in confusion. Who could he possibly be talking to? Is he using a phone or talking to himself? Does he have a pet? Lee wondered.
“Yes, if we don’t have order, we have anarchy. And that will not do, will it? You do understand, don’t you?”
There was a pause as he continued in a calm friendly voice. “That is why I keep you here, to teach you the ways of the new world. You are pure, you have been taught by me, the right and wrongs of the new era. If I were to mix you in with all the whores and scum up at the house, you would be polluted and no better than the filthy, impure creatures that roam the streets. Believe me, it won’t be long before those festering inbred swine at the house are staggering about as they rot on their feet too.”
Lee couldn't see what was going on, but he was hearing plenty and what he heard turned his stomach and boiled his blood. He moved around to the other side of the building and paused below a window that he suspected would look into the room where Tony was. He slowly raised his head to the bottom of the ledge and paused again, listening for Tony’s voice and ensuring that his movements hadn't been detected.
His eyes cleared the ledge, and in the glow of candlelight, he saw Tony pacing the room, a long cane clutched in his hands as he spoke. He seemed to be ranting, but in a hushed voice. Lee turned his head, straining his eyes to see what Tony was ranting at.
He focused and saw something in the gloom.
His eyes bulged, a cry knotted in his throat and his stomach tightened, as if someone had reached into his abdomen and twisted his guts in their clenched fist. His anguish
turned to rage, he gritted his teeth and staggered back from the window, shaking his head. He steeled himself, and then stormed toward the door.
Steve's eyes shot open. At first, he wasn't sure what it was that had awoken him until the blur of sleep subsided a few seconds later. He could hear shouting, crashing, and banging. And screaming.
He sat bolt upright and reached for his trousers at the side of the bed and quickly pulled them on, hopping to the door as he buttoned them. Without bothering to pull on his t-shirt, he bolted out into the corridor, where the commotion became louder. He stopped and looked to his right, checking that the noise wasn't coming from any of the other bedrooms.
It was coming from downstairs, in the lobby.
He bounded down the steps, taking two at a time until he skidded to a halt in the open area in front of the main door.
Before him were two men. One was on the floor and the other stood above him, his arm pulled back, about to land another punch.
Steve watched as Lee’s fist shot forward and pounded into Tony’s head with a sickening thud. A scream echoed through the house and Lee cocked his arm, ready to strike again.
“Lee, stop!” Steve was holding his hands out to his friend, pleading with him.
Lee looked up with wildly shining eyes and a ferocious snarl. He was panting with the effort of the obvious beating he had inflicted on the man at his feet. He lowered his arm to his side, and stepped back, slightly, but not too far to give the floored figure the chance to wriggle away.
Steve slowly approached, still looking into the eyes of the madman that had possessed the body of his friend, Lee. He was confused and concerned and wondered what could have happened to make Lee turn into a maniac. He knew there would’ve been something, but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine what.
The man on the floor groaned and rolled onto his back. His face was a mess. He was covered in blood and thick strings of it dangled from his mouth. He spluttered and turned his head and spat. Steve heard the tinkling sound as three white teeth skittered across the tiled floor, leaving dots of bloody spittle in their wake.