Dark of Dawn 4Horsemen: Book one in the Dark of Dawn Series

by Sebastien Woolf

  It was decided that the foraging party would venture out the next morning. They were given instructions of what to look for and to only return with items that would truly be of value, tradable goods. With that Jon brought the meeting to a close.

  Siobhan had chosen herself to join the foraging party, yet something still bugged her about the overall predicament they were in. She struggled to put her finger on precisely what it was that worried her, but could not quite get there.

  Turning in the direction of her tent she set off to join the others who had left before her. She had only taken a dozen steps before she was unexpectedly accosted by a complete stranger. Siobhan was taken by complete surprise and was stopped in her tracks. Short thick dark fingers grasped her sleeve.

  “I ‘eard wat you said back der darlin’,” came a deep female voice, which had a distinctively calypso inflection. “I need ta warn ya’. Deese are bad people ‘ere and dis ez a baad place.”

  The middle-aged woman was short in stature with a plump frame, a round face with chubby cheeks and her skin was as dark as night. She wore a bright yellow dress that was decorated in a colorful floral pattern which bloomed with vivid reds, rich blues ad splendid greens.

  “You and yer friends eez not safe ‘ere,” she continued.

  Shaking herself free, Siobhan glared at the woman. “What the hell?”

  “Leeson to me girly. You eez right to question everyting ‘ere.” The woman’s bright white eyes bulged as she spoke. “Do not trust dem people and do not ever do dis work. It is evil. Dey eez evil I say!”

  Siobhan did not know how to react, she was completely stunned and totally confused. At the same time she was transfixed by this mysterious woman, there was something about her that made sense. She was mesmerized.

  Josh and Zoe arrived just at the nick of time. They had been on their way back to the tent and had seen Siobhan being bailed up, doubling back to see if she was alright.

  “What’s going on?” asked Josh.

  “Ummm… I’m not quite sure,” replied Siobhan.

  The plump woman continued to gesticulate, clicking her chubby fingers in an arc across Siobhan’s face. “All of you must leave dis place.” Her head swayed from side to side on her thick neck as she spoke. “I warn you, dey will get you to do anyting if you cannot pay yer rent.” She repeated the most important word of her last sentence again slowly with emphasis. “Anyting!”

  “What the hell are you on about woman?” asked Josh. He was completely lost. “I haven’t got a clue what you are saying.”

  The woman snarled, grabbed at Siobhan’s sleeve and pulled her close. Whispered something in her ear before releasing her grip. Siobhan’s eyes bulged, her mouth dropped open and she simply stood there, staring.

  “Come on,” said Zoe, gabbing Siobhan by the wrist, dragging her friend away. “Are you ok?”

  Siobhan did not reply.

  “Hey,” said Zoe with concern in her voice. “What did that old battle axe say?”

  Siobhan blinked. “Sorry. Yeah, well that was weird. She said that we aren’t safe here and that we should not trust anyone. She also said that people die here, which was pretty strange.”

  “Woah, that’s pretty messed up,” said Josh, “but people die everywhere we go, so that’s nothing new. As for not trusting anyone, we just need to keep to ourselves until we figure out what to do next.”

  “Yeah for sure,” said Zoe, just being her usual upbeat self. With her arm wrapped around Siobhan’s waist she tightened her grip, leaning forward and kissing her softly on the cheek. “Now, let’s just forget all this and go do something exciting. I’m in the mood for an adventure.”

  Siobhan was still troubled. There was something about this woman’s final words that resonated loudly with her. Beware the Collector. What did it mean? This was to trouble her for the rest of the day.

  Thick white billowing cloud wafted through the noon sky high above the stadium, casting shadows over the arena below. Silhouettes and shapes swept across the playing surface, darting, sidestepping and scoring an endless number of touchdowns at each end of the ground.

  All of a sudden a loud buzzing sound cracked and spluttered through the stadium speakers. Moments later a voice followed, delivering a simple but important message that boomed out loudly for all to hear.

  “Attention!” came a female voice reverberating through the stands. It sounded a lot like Ashley. “Today is rent day for those of you at the southern end of the stadium. Please make sure that you have your offerings ready for when the Collector calls.” There was a momentary pause. “I repeat, that is rent for the southern residents today. Thank you and enjoy your day.”

  Another loud crackle was followed by a click and the message ended.

  Almost immediately two gates at the center of the arena opened a procession of people all dressed alike poured onto the grassy surface. A motorized cart emerged, one which had once been used to ferry injured players from the pitch during football season. The stretcher had been removed and in its place a large metal container had been bolted in place. Behind the wheel sat the unmistakable frame of the big man known as Goliath.

  The southern end of the stadium quickly became a hive of activity as residents everywhere gathered together their offerings in preparation for the ritual of rent payment. For those with a stash of goods this was not an onerous task, others however, struggled. This may well be their final call, unless they found a way to pay today they faced eviction.

  Goliath steered the cart through countless rows of tents as the procession meandered onwards. The metal chest behind him filled rapidly as trinkets, jewelry and other objects clattered against the steel walls. A smaller plastic container that sat on the front seat next to him began to pile up with perishables that had been deemed acceptable for payment.

  At the head of the cavalcade was a scrawny older man with grey stubble and hair. He wore a black and white striped referee’s shirt and by his conduct he was easily identifiable as the person in charge. Upon arriving at each tent the man would then mark off in his ledger along with a brief description of the offering received.

  He was known as the Collector, a man whose approach afforded little or no mercy. Like his shirt he took a black and white stance on payments for as far as he was concerned you either had a fair offering or you didn’t. There was no in between, no wiggle room, no negotiation.

  Those who paid their dues were marked off in his register and nothing else was said, but it was a different story for the small number caught short. He gave few graces, being a man of little compassion. There were no excuses that would wash with him, for he had heard them all and he would make certain that residents paid their dues one way or another.

  The Collector and his company strode through the crowd with absolute authority and for the most part they were greeted with respect and a degree of reverence. Compliance was the order of the day and regardless of their length of tenure at the Stadium, everyone paid their way.

  Despite this there were however, still a few grumblings of discontent, with these protests emanating from a disruptive minority who always seemed to cause trouble on rent day. Eventually, after some less than gentle persuading these dissidents too eventually parted with their possessions, albeit with much reluctance and a huge degree of resentment. This was far from a revolution or uprising, it was more a grumbling than anything. Both the Commissioner and the Collector viewed it as nothing more than spot fires, minor outbreaks that they had to quell before they had a chance to spread.

  Several hours passed and the collection squad were left with only a small handful of shelters to call on; they were ahead of schedule and Goliath in particular was pleased that they had made such good time. Glancing down at his watch he thought about his pregnant wife who was waiting for him back at their suite. He hoped that the few remaining calls would go without a hitch so he could finish his shift early. Pulling a Polaroid photo of his wife from his shirt pocket it ignited a broad smile that covered Goliath’s e
normous face.

  Metal objects clunked against the steel walls of the container as Goliath brought the cart to a stop. The big red tent before him was the final destination on today’s run, the clatter in the back announcing their arrival.

  Standing at the entrance to the tent was a tall thin man, he would have been fifty, maybe fifty-five, but looked older. The Collector advanced, meeting a tirade of abuse as he stepped forward. The man appeared visibly upset and became animate quite quickly, gesticulating furiously and his voice gaining greater intensity with every word he spoke.

  “What part of no don’t you understand,” yelled the man, as he stuck out a long skinny finger, waving it in the Collector’s face. “We are sick to death of this regime and having to pay for everything. Someone needs to take a stand!”

  Silence immediately surrounded the tent the moment he stopped yelling. Those in neighboring dwellings held their breath waiting for the next outburst, or the Collector’s wrath in return.

  “You are all crooks. All of you! No exceptions.” Looking around the man included everyone in the collection party with a sweep of his hand. Goliath blinked in dismay at the very thought of being called a criminal.

  “I understand your concern,” the Collector said, in a relaxed and somewhat dispassionate tone, “but I am afraid Mr. Maxwell, you either pay our rent or you will be removed. It is that simple. You know the rules, you’ve been here long enough.”

  “You have no right to…”

  “I have every right Mr. Maxwell. Now, what will it be?”

  “You are thieves. We will not bow down to your authoritarian rule any longer.” The man roared his discontent at the Collector. “We are taking a stand. It is time to put an end to this once and for all.”

  “Very well Mr. Maxwell, it would seem that you have a very important decision to make. I suggest you consider your options very carefully.”

  “Get fucked!” The cuss was delivered with venom.

  With a sigh the Collector immediately drew a line through the Maxwell’s name in his ledger. Turned to his men and motioned with his head. “Remove them!”

  Another flood of abuse followed which fell on deaf ears. The Collector signalled for Goliath to follow him as he set off to leave the arena. Their work, as unsavory as it could be sometimes was over for another day.

  Two guards manhandled Mr. Maxwell and led him towards the exit. He continued to protest and verbally abuse the establishment until finally the reality of what was happening struck him. He was now in the red zone and there was no turning back from there. “Sarah!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Inside the big red tent a woman could be heard sobbing. Two more of the Collector’s men stood guard outside, watching her and her two children frantically pack their belongings into backpacks and satchels and as soon as she was done the men escorted the family from the arena. In stark contrast to her husband’s exit she kept her dignity intact, holding her head high as she ushered her children ahead of her. A deafening silence filled the arena.

  Scenes like this were not rare, but were certainly not frequent enough to be commonplace either. No-one ever knew what became of those who were banished, except that they were never seen again.

  For the Armstrongs the reality of exile hit home, it was quite disconcerting and very frightening. Their impression of this sanctuary suddenly changed, nothing would ever be the same. They all stood around processing what had just happened, contemplating their own future. Jon felt vindicated with his decision to forage the next day. Siobhan on the other hand pondered what the woman in the bright yellow dress had told her. Beware the Collector.

  Eventually, the stadium and all the residents of tent city returned to a state of normality. The bazaar filled up again and the hum returned.

  “Josh, come quick!”

  Tyler’s voice startled his older brother, causing him to leap in fright and he thrust out a hand to stop a rack of jewelry that he had knocked from toppling over. Josh smiled at the merchant as he righted the stand.

  “What the hell bro,” Josh said, turning to his sibling.

  “Sorry mate, but dad wants you back at the tent.”

  “Why, what’s the drama?”

  “I’m not really sure, but it might be something to do with that family that were evicted today.”

  “Ok. We were done here anyway.”

  As they made their way through the bazaar towards the exit they passed the Collector who was finishing up with his paperwork in the concourse. Goliath sat behind the wheel of the cart and upon seeing them he saluted with two fingers from his forehead.

  “Howdy.”

  They all gave him a smile.

  Just then a group of guards passed by, escorting a woman who looked visibly distressed. She hung her head in shame as she walked past the group, heading towards the suites and corporate boxes.

  Zoe could not help herself. “Is she being evicted?” she asked Goliath.

  “No. She opted to work.”

  “What sort of work?”

  “Ummm… let’s just say that what she will do tonight will not only cover her rent, but it will keep a few of the boys happy too.”

  “Oh gross!” exclaimed Zoe loudly.

  The calypso woman’s words resonated once again with Siobhan. Beware the Collector.

  35

  Hearts of Stone

  Tyler spun around in fright, he was certain that the bushes on the on the far side of the carpark had just stirred. For the past ten minutes that he had been standing guard, nothing had moved. Until now. Even the wind had seemingly stood at ease during his watch. Raising his rifle Tyler stared down the scope and as he panned the landscape ahead of him he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

  Just beyond the abandoned vehicles in the carpark the overgrown hedge rustled once again. Zooming in Tyler half expected to see a bloodthirsty rotting living corpse burst from the bushes at any time. It never came.

  Eventually the rustling subsided. Tyler waited several more minutes before deciding that he needed to investigate the disturbance further. He turned and tapped on the large glass façade that covered the entire front of the shop. Inside the electronics store behind the glass, the others in the foraging party were busying themselves in their plunder.

  Josh turned his head in the direction of the knocking to see his brother at the window holding up two fingers indicating he was going for a two minute walk around the perimeter. Josh gave him two thumbs up, winked and then went back to filling his bag.

  Earlier that day Jon had given the small group specific instructions on what to look for. They had to make this expedition worthwhile so batteries, watches, gadgets, clothes, shoes, plastic containers and weapons were at the top of the list. Jon saw these items as having high trade appeal at the markets, not to mention their value come rent day.

  Josh had been assigned group leader of the eight member team that day. With him inside the store were Siobhan, Zoe and Colin, with Tyler out on watch from their group, whilst Vincent, Lily and Bryan from the Oasis rounded out the numbers.

  They had chosen this particular shopping strip for it appeared to have been relatively untouched and the location was as safe as could be expected. Finding the right spot to loot had proven to be more difficult than first thought, with almost every shop, store, warehouse and storeroom in a ten block radius of the Stadium having been ransacked and emptied. It became apparent to Josh that foraging for supplies close to the gate was not going to bear fruit at all, they needed to search further afield and this little shopping center had proved to be a gold mine.

  Blinking in the sunlight Tyler stepped off the curb, making his way slowly and cautiously through the carpark towards the shrubbery. The air around him was still and nothing moved, it was eerily quiet. He was certain he had seen something and there was no way the hedge could have moved on its own.

  Adrenaline pumped through Tyler’s veins as he edged closer to the hedge. He held his rifle in an assault position i
n front of him, his finger was poised on the trigger in readiness. Taking cover behind a vehicle he crouched down low and tried his best to compose himself, which proved to be much more difficult than he had envisioned.

  Peering through the windows of the vehicle he checked that the way was clear. Nothing moved. The only sound he could hear was the thumping of his own heart, which pounded against his chest like a hammer on tin. Inhaling he stood upright, pointed his rifle ahead of him and began to edge his way forward. He felt like he was a Commando on a daring raid.

  Spying an opening in the hedge Tyler made his way cautiously towards it and stepped onto a walkway. His eyes darted all around him in fear. Each step was planned and executed with precision in order to avoid making a mistake and accidentally giving himself up. His well-worn Chuck Taylors provided him with extra stealth with their rubber soles helping him sneak silently forward.

  Reaching the opening Tyler’s heard pounded harder, louder, faster. Any faster he thought and it might leap clean out of his chest. As he readied himself to face whatever it was on the other side, he wished dearly that he was anywhere but here. Back at the house was his first thought, enjoying a swim in the family pool, or munching away on his mother’s legendary cheese rolls. As wonderful all that sounded he snapped back to reality, this was not the time for daydreaming.

  At that moment a hand grabbed at his shoulder. He shat himself, fell to the ground in fright landing heavily on his back. Instinctively he raised his rifle swung around and prepared to defend himself.

  “Chill bro, it’s just me.”

  Tyler’s entire body was shaking. The rifle twitched in his hands.

  “Relax man.” Josh pushed the barrel of the rifle out of the way, reached down to help his brother up. “Dude, it’s just me.”

  “What the fuck man!” Tyler was visibly distraught. He was annoyed and completely embarrassed. “Not fucking cool you prick!” he exclaimed, getting to his feet and dusting himself off.