Death is a Welcome Guest: Plague Times Trilogy 2

by Louise Welsh

  ‘Jesus.’ It was as if Malachy had just taken in what the priest was saying. ‘You were going to let us execute Jeb Soames for murder.’

  ‘Every life is a sacrifice to the Lord. Jeb Soames too was worthy, as are we and all of those people out there.’

  Malachy said, ‘We brought them here to re-establish law and order, but you planned to poison them. No wonder they’re baying for our blood.’

  It had been quiet outside, except for the occasional shout, but now banging came from the back of the house. Paul hesitated and then hurried in its direction.

  Magnus sensed time running out. He said, ‘Why did you shoot Jacob?’

  Father Wingate intoned, ‘The path that the Lord asks us to follow is often hard and stony. I have cried bitter tears …’

  Paul strode into the hall. ‘They’re breaking up the platform.’

  Malachy sounded hopeful. ‘Maybe they’re taking their anger out on it?’

  Paul shook his head. He touched Belle’s shoulder. ‘If I were you I’d take a chance and leave now, make sure they can see that you’re carrying the boy. He’ll be your protection.’

  Belle whispered, ‘I don’t trust them.’

  The priest was still reciting scripture. Magnus slapped him again. The old man started to cry. Magnus said, ‘I told you, if you don’t answer me I will take the sword Will was going to use on Jeb and shred you to pieces.’

  Father Wingate’s voice was thick with tears. ‘Jacob and I were each other’s spiritual advisers. After Henry’s death I sensed a change in him. He talked of survival but I knew that, deep down, he too wanted to give himself over completely and utterly to God.’ His eyes met Magnus’s, and it was not only tears that made them shine. ‘It was a joyous moment when I was able to tell him how I had helped two souls on their way. You remember the night.’ Father Wingate nodded to Will who was standing by the stairs. ‘There had been an altercation, Jacob was tired and I could tell that he was desperate for peace.’

  Will said, ‘And so you told him what you’d done.’

  Tears were caught in the wrinkles in the old man’s face, but his smile was saintly. ‘He didn’t take it in at first, but when he did he put his gun on the table and said that I should be the next one to go.’ Father Wingate lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘I knew what he really wanted. I watched him cross the garden. It was almost dawn and he made the perfect target, standing opposite my window, all dressed in black against the white wall.’

  Will said, ‘You shot him?’

  ‘The Lord guided my hand and steered the bullet towards his blessed release.’

  The dogs’ whining became more frantic. They started to scrabble at the door. Paul had been sitting on the stairs, watching the crowd congregating outside. He got to his feet. ‘Can you smell something?’ Smoke was beginning to drift through from the back of the house. ‘They want to flush us out.’

  Will said, ‘This place is built of stone, it won’t burn easily.’

  Paul said, ‘Smells like it’s fucking burning to me.’

  Malachy muttered, ‘I still say we should give them the priest.’

  Magnus was leaning against the staircase, trying to absorb what Father Wingate had told them. He looked at Malachy. ‘You’re the face of law and order. It’s you they’ll want.’

  Paul ran through to the kitchen and came back, his face flushed. ‘They must have used some kind of accelerant. It’s taken hold. They got two Calor gas canisters from somewhere …’

  Will said, ‘Jacob was saving them for the winter.’

  ‘Good for Jacob.’ Paul’s grin was desperate. ‘They’ve rolled them into the centre of the flames. We don’t have any choice. We have to go out through the front.’

  Magnus said, ‘There’s a door at the side.’

  Father Wingate chirped, ‘The tradesmen’s entrance.’

  Paul nodded. ‘I think they used some of the planks from the stage to nail it shut. These canisters explode at high temperature. We don’t have much time.’

  Magnus put his rifle on the floor. ‘I’ll go first.’

  Belle said, ‘Tell them there’s a child in here.’

  Malachy said, ‘Pick up your gun.’

  ‘He’s right.’ Paul gave Magnus a tight smile. ‘The only way to get through this is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid style. All guns blazing.’

  Magnus said, ‘You’ve forgotten how that movie ended.’ He left Mr Perry’s rifle propped in the hallway, opened the front door and stepped towards the waiting crowd.

  Forty-Five

  Magnus walked out into the afternoon sunlight, his hands in the air. The dogs dashed onto the lawn and made for the back of the house. He guessed they were heading for the woods beyond and wished that he could go with them. He remembered the drugged girl in the alleyway, the night of Johnny Dongo’s O2 gig. Trying to save her had set him on the road to here. He could not regret it, even though she was probably dead by now anyway. So many people were dead. Perhaps his part of the story had always been meant to end here.

  Magnus braced himself for the sudden impact of a bullet and it occurred to him that it was a shame to die on such a beautiful day. He thought, I would have liked to know how it all turned out. Now that he was closer to the small crowd he recognised a couple of the men from Malachy’s crew. He saw their guns and raised his hands higher. ‘Nobody knew about the poison except for the priest.’

  A woman with an open face and braided hair said, ‘Someone should pay.’ Her voice was low, but it carried as clear as ice water.

  Magnus ignored her. ‘There’s a young girl called Belle with a small boy in the house. Will you promise not to harm them?’ A couple of people nodded. It was not enough for his liking. He tried to summon his stagecraft. ‘I didn’t hear you. They’re innocent. None of this was their fault. Do you promise not to hurt them?’

  More voices answered this time and he called to Belle. She came out slowly, her face tight, holding the child in front of her, too much like a shield for Magnus’s liking. She reached his side just as someone asked, ‘Who’s this guy anyway?’

  One of Malachy’s men said, ‘He’s a buddy of the child-killer they were going to execute. I heard they met in prison.’

  The atmosphere changed. Belle took Magnus’s hand. He pulled it free. ‘Keep on walking.’

  Belle whispered, ‘I’m scared they’re going to kill you.’

  He felt bad for thinking she might use the child as a human shield.

  Someone shouted ‘Murderer!’ Belle caught hold of his sleeve. Then everything happened at once. The small crowd surged towards the house. Paul ran through the front door, shouldering the rifle Magnus had left lying in the hallway. There was a pop and a series of explosions from the rear of the building as one gas canister, and then the other, exploded. The crowd scattered and a Transit van spun from the side of Tanqueray House and skidded to a halt at the front door. The van’s side panel was open. Magnus grabbed the child from Belle and threw him inside. He pushed her in next and jumped on board. Paul followed close behind. Magnus shouted, ‘Drive, drive, drive!’ and Jeb pressed the pedal to the metal.

  Epilogue

  Magnus was not sure that the distant sliver of dark edged between the sea and sky was land. The wind grabbed at the chart he had found stowed in the boat’s cabin. He smoothed it against the wheel and checked the route against the compass embedded in the centre of the helm. He thought he was on course, but vision grew tricky confronted with a view of air and water. The eye saw land where there was none, boats where there were only black waves and breaking foam. Magnus focused on the dark edge of shade that hinged the sea to the sky and drew his cap low over his forehead. It was a long time since he had sailed and he had never, not even when he and Hugh had been in their fishing phase, sailed such a distance.

  Magnus could imagine Hugh making fun of the orange life jackets he had strapped himself and the boy into. They had never bothered with such precautions when they were lads, but it seemed important no
w, even though the chances of anyone fishing them from the waters were slim.

  The boy was tucked in the bunk below. Magnus did not need to see him to know that he was either sleeping, or staring into space. He had coaxed him to eat almost half a bar of chocolate that morning before they had set out, but neither of them had eaten since. He wondered if he should go below and check on him, but stayed where he was, feet anchored to the rolling deck, hands grasping the wheel. There were moments when he felt awkward around the boy; a representative of an adult world that had screwed everything up.

  Jeb had given his guard the slip in the confusion of Raisha’s shooting and hidden beneath the execution platform, concealed from view by the Union Jack skirt draped around its edge. ‘I thought I was seeing things when I spied you running across the grass with that rifle in your hand and then I realised you’d been there all along, ready to take out those nutters for me. That was a bit of a fucking suicide mission, wasn’t it?’

  Magnus had not disabused him, but he caught Jeb watching him once or twice during the drive and wondered if he suspected the truth.

  The horizon was coming into focus. It was definitely land. Magnus tried to suppress an electric leap of excitement. He had come too far to get shipwrecked on treacherous rocks. He traced a finger along the route to South Ronaldsay marked on the chart.

  Belle had persuaded them to take a detour somewhere near York, following a series of colourful banners that led to what looked to Magnus like a folk festival. The boy had already elected to sit squashed next to him in the front seat. He had edged closer to Magnus at the sight of the small cluster of tents and camper vans, worried by the prospect of strangers.

  ‘It’s all right, Shug.’ Magnus was driving but he had given the boy’s small hand a quick squeeze. ‘They’re hippies. They smoke the pipe of peace.’

  Paul said, ‘I bet that’s not all they smoke.’

  Jeb was sitting on the other side of the boy. Magnus glanced at him, wondering if he was remembering his time among the environmental activists whom he had betrayed, but the big man kept his eyes on the road.

  Belle said, ‘Why did you call him Shug?’

  ‘It’s short for Shuggie.’

  ‘Ah, that makes perfect sense – not.’

  Belle took a comb from her bag and started to pull it through her hair. She had been subdued since their escape from Tanqueray House, but now Magnus sensed nervous excitement crackling from her, like electricity before a thunderstorm.

  ‘It’s another name for Hugh.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘I had a best friend called Hugh. This wee lad reminds me of him and as we’ve got to call him something, I thought Shug might do the trick.’ He looked at the boy. ‘What do you think?’

  The child’s face remained impassive, but he leaned his head against Magnus.

  Magnus smiled. ‘Aye, I think he likes it.’

  Belle had found a mirror and lipstick in her bag. She looked at her face and dabbed her lips red. ‘You’re becoming more Scottish.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yes, the further north we go, the stronger your accent gets. You’ll be speaking Gaelic soon.’

  Magnus said, ‘The only Gaelic I know is uisge beatha.’ He guided the van to a halt. People from the camp were walking over to greet them. Belle opened the door and leapt to the ground, not bothering to ask for an English translation, her face split by a smile.

  Magnus whispered, ‘It means water of life.’

  The five of them camped there overnight. Jeb had insisted that now was the time for his cast to come off and, after scouring the small site, Magnus had managed to borrow a craft saw from a man who had been a carpenter before the sweats. Jeb’s leg was pale and had lost muscle. It seemed at first that they had removed the plaster too soon, but then the carpenter turned up with a makeshift crutch he had fashioned and Jeb hobbled a circuit of the camp.

  Magnus was packing their gear back into the van the next morning when Belle announced that she had decided to stay. He had not spotted any other children at the camp and some of its inhabitants had a hungry look that made him uneasy. ‘I can see why you want to be with folk your own age,’ he said, making an effort to keep his voice reasonable. ‘But I’m not sure this is the best place for the wee lad.’

  Belle laughed when she realised his assumption. ‘I can’t look after a child.’ She was smiling, but there was an edge of panic in her voice. ‘You know me, Magnus, I’m far too selfish. Anyway, it’s you that he’s fallen in love with.’ It was a typical hyperbole, designed to get her what she wanted, but Magnus felt a leap of gratitude. Belle said, ‘Raisha would want you to look after him.’ Magnus hoped that she was right.

  Belle was a grown woman, in charge of her own life, but Magnus was relieved when Paul said he was staying too, though the campers were mostly younger than him and he and Belle not an item.

  ‘He’d like to though, wouldn’t he?’ Jeb had said, with a grin. He smiled more now, Magnus noticed.

  It was cold on deck. Magnus rubbed his hands together and blew on them, wondering if there was a pair of gloves tucked somewhere in the cabin below. Something broke the water on his leeward side, huge and black. Magnus swore. He killed the engines, his heart beating a tattoo. ‘Shug!’

  The boy must have heard the urgency in his voice because he came up on deck straight away, rubbing his eyes. Magnus was relieved to see that he had kept his life jacket on as he had told him to.

  ‘Look.’ He pointed at the shining mound of black as it broke the water again. There was another beyond it and another beyond that. Magnus laughed, though there was danger in the sight. ‘Minke whales.’ The boy stood by his side and leaned his body against Magnus. His head rested against Magnus’s ribs. ‘Do you know what they are?’ The boy stared out into the sea. Magnus started to explain, but how did you explain a whale? ‘They’re big sea-beasts. Gentle creatures, harmless.’ Unless they tip the boat, he thought but did not say. ‘We’ll find you a book on them when we get there. I’m betting you’re a good reader.’

  He looked at the boy, but Shuggie kept his eyes trained on the school of whales, swimming towards their mating grounds in the North Atlantic, and gave Magnus no clue. The boy had not spoken in the time they had been together, though once or twice Magnus thought he had seen his lips moving when he was playing alone.

  ‘You speak when you’re ready, son.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair and then, thinking he might be cold, took off his cap and put it on the boy’s head. ‘Most folks talk too much anyway.’

  The van had felt quiet without Belle’s chatter and Paul’s attempts to impress her. The roads were quieter too. He and Jeb had stopped three times, lowered the van’s windows and exchanged news that was no news with other survivors.

  Most of the world was dead.

  There were fires in the cities.

  Tribes were beginning to form in the countryside.

  Women, guns and food were currency.

  It was best to be careful.

  Magnus suspected that children might be currency too and so each time they had encountered someone, he had told the boy to hide in the back of the van beneath a blanket. He and Jeb kept their guns loaded and near to hand.

  Magnus let out a cheer when they passed the Old Man of Hoy, the skinny finger of rock, narrowed by aeons of wind and rain, pointing tall and steadfast at the sky. The boy caught some of his excitement and jumped up and down on deck, one hand clamped to the too-big hat on his head.

  Magnus saluted him. ‘Not far to go now, Cap’n.’ Fear of what he might find when they got there knotted his stomach.

  Newcastle had lit up the night sky, a blazing orange glow. Magnus and Jeb had been forced to take a detour and found themselves on a hill above the town. They got out and looked down on the furnace. They were miles away, but the throat-scraping stench of blazing chemicals and charred flesh reached them.

  Magnus said, ‘What do you think causes the fires?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Jeb’s voice was soft. ‘Elec
trical faults, arson, a power surge. Maybe they’re a good thing. They’ll dispose of a lot of bodies and help clear the place of infection.’ He nodded at the van where the boy lay sleeping. ‘You should wake him up. This is the kind of sight he’ll remember for the rest of his life.’

  Magnus shook his head. ‘I think his memory bank is probably full enough for now.’

  Jeb said, ‘You could be right. Do you remember the Angel of the North?’ He did not wait for Magnus to reply. ‘I wish we’d been in time to watch it burn. I hated that smug bastard.’

  It amazed Magnus that he could still laugh. But they laughed a lot on the journey, even though he felt the loss of Raisha, the loss of the world, heavy and cold, like a stone in his belly.

  It was deep in the night when Jeb told Magnus about Cherry. The boy was curled beneath his blanket, asleep in the back of the van and they were driving through the dark, along a narrow country road bordered either side by dry-stane dykes.

  Jeb said, ‘Raisha died a good death.’

  Magnus kept his voice steady and his hands on the wheel. He stared into the blackness; on the alert for the shining eyes of a rabbit, deer or pack of roaming dogs. ‘I can’t think of it like that.’

  ‘You should try. She died trying to warn people what Wingate was doing. It was fast too, she didn’t suffer, not like the poor sods he poisoned or people who caught the sweats.’

  Magnus was driving without headlamps, for fear of attracting unwanted attention. It was tricky anticipating the road’s turns in the dark. He pressed the brake pedal gently.

  ‘Do you still miss Cherry?’

  Jeb was silent. Magnus wondered if he had overstepped the mark, but then the other man said, ‘Part of me is glad that Cherry and Happy escaped all this, but a bigger part wishes they were here.’ He paused. ‘What happened was my fault. I was sick and tired of the deceit. That’s the real reason I told Cherry I was with the police. I should have known she wouldn’t be able to handle it, but I told her because I thought it would make me feel better.’ He drifted into silence again. Magnus thought the subject was closed, but then Jeb said, ‘It was like she was possessed. She screamed at me to go. I tried to calm her down, but everything I said made things worse. Eventually I went into the bedroom and packed a bag. When I came out, Cherry was sitting on a chair on the balcony with Happy in her arms. I don’t remember what I said, but she turned and looked at me. Her hair was wild. I thought of it today, when we watched the city burning. She looked beautiful, but I was sick to death of everything.