Fall of the Cities: Planting the Orchard

by Vance Huxley

“Nothing. We’re rough, tough soldiers and the Sarge would have hysterics if we even complained about them.” Harry was grinning as he said it but Cynthia’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh well, it’ll have to be the old fashioned remedy then.” Harry had a hot cup of coffee in the hand towards Cynthia or he really couldn’t have resisted catching her. She stepped in, ducked her head, and kissed the bruises on his shoulder. A real Cyn smile blossomed and her lips quickly met Harry’s before she stepped back. “Does that feel better?”

  “It makes me consider getting more bruises. Then waiting before picking up my coffee.” Harry put the coffee down. “Do you want to kiss this one now?” That one was on his chest, just below the kissed ones.

  “Just the one.” Cynthia stepped in again and bent to kiss it, and Harry’s arm closed round her.

  “Gotcha.”

  “Oh dear, help. What can I do? Scream, scream.” Cyn was smiling happily and not attempting to escape, and Harry really was tempted.

  “If I wasn’t due on duty, I might take a chance on Sarge right now.” Cynthia brought her head down and forward as Harry hugged a little bit. This time her kiss was hot, and definitely full of promise, and went on much too long for Harry’s peace of mind.

  Cyn was smiling as they both broke for breath. She sniggered. “If you do that again another morning, I might jam a chair under the door handle and not take no for an answer.” The next kiss was shorter but just as full of promise. “It’s been much too long since I was kissed like that by a big strapping bloke.” She pulled a face. “Much too long since I was kissed properly at all.”

  “Really?” Harry had to let go soon, because Cyn really felt lovely inside his arm like this. “Are the blokes round here blind or stupid?”

  “Ugly, dirty and usually belong to a gang so they don’t believe in asking if you get in range.” Cynthia shrugged. “The decent ones on the estates leave or keep well out of sight.” She looked Harry over. “Maybe into the Army?” She pulled away a bit and Harry let her go. “Marvellous. I find a bloke I don’t want to get away from, and he lets me go.” Cynthia pouted. “Get some leave soon, Harry Corporal Miller.”

  “I wish. I really wish.”

  That apparently deserved another very short kiss and then Cynthia was at the door. “I’d better go, or you won’t have time to find your undies.”

  Harry looked at the clock as the door closed and swore to himself, then smiled. That had been worth a bit of rushing about. Then he started rushing.

  * * *

  The following morning the kiss arrived before the “Good morning Harry Corporal Miller.”

  “I could recommend that sort of an alarm clock.” Harry opened his eyes as Cynthia broke lip contact.

  “That was happy Valentine’s Day, except I have to hurry this morning” Cynthia sat on the edge of the bed. “But first.” She pulled the cover down a bit and leaned over, kissing each bruise. “Sometime I really want to see the rest.”

  Harry had both arms round her by the time their lips met and both were breathing heavily by the time they stopped for breath. “This really is dangerous, Cyn. Definitely Cyn when you kiss like that.”

  “Whenever we can find the time and place we’ll find out, Harry Corporal Miller.” A quick kiss and Cynthia was on her way. She had to hurry “because someone mentioned how long I took yesterday.”

  * * *

  More riots followed but a week later some of the sheer rage had gone out of the crowd. This time the crowd broke early which meant Harry got some decent sleep. The knock on the door was a shock. So was another voice in the room. Menzies? What had happened to early morning coffee?

  The door opened even as Menzies finished his mumbled complaint. Sarge stepped into the room and looked at Harry. “Get up and dressed, sharpish. How easily do you go apeshit?”

  “Takes a bit of doing.” Harry knew it sounded defensive but he didn’t like that side of him. It had never happened before he joined the Army, but twice since. While he was thinking that Harry was already pulling on his clothes.

  “How about a mate getting beaten up and maybe a girl getting a bad time?” Sarge was dead serious. “I can’t make this official because if what I hear is right, the girl shouldn’t be here.”

  “Cyn?” It was out before Harry’s mouth got organised.

  “Probably sin, but voluntary with your mate Maynard. Now a big nasty bastard says she’s on the game and he wants some. He can’t get to you or hasn’t got the balls.” Sarge gave a little smile. “Some of us have reassessed you.”

  “Shit, Suggs.”

  “Corporal Arsehole Young seems to have forgotten he is in the British Army. I can do this officially, but then I have to look closely at who the staff are and I’m guessing it’s a bad idea.” Sarge still had his little smile. “You’d better hurry.”

  Menzies butted in. “Go on, Harry. I’ll explain the staff and follow.” Harry started for the door.

  “Where is he?”

  “Car park because your friend is taking a non-smoking fag break, if you get my drift. There was mention of carving up so you might want to take something, but I’d rather you didn’t kill him. Not too bloody either or the questions will be persistent.” Sarge had a question in his eyes but Harry wasn’t sure what it was.

  Carving, so a knife or bayonet. Harry smiled though it probably wasn’t pretty. “Will my poncy stick do?”

  “It will be perfect.” Sarge eyed the big brass end. “No blood at all. Right, you have some news for me, Menzies?” Harry got out of the room while Menzies was still working out how to explain the staff arrangements. Harry ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “Where’s Maynard, or Marcie?” There was a lot of hesitation and a couple of glances at the back door. “Shit.” Harry opened the door and stepped out.

  He stopped two steps outside as the door shut and let his eyes adjust. There was some light from the windows at the back of the hotel, but the car park was gloomy. There were a lot of deep shadows around the outbuildings and waste skips and as his eyes adjusted Harry caught movement. “Maynard? Or is that you, Suggs?”

  “That’s a shame because now I’ll have to wait for my freebie. Unless you just want a share of the whore?” Suggs gave a little laugh as he stepped out from the shadow by the waste bin. “She’s been persuaded to give free samples so I’ve put my name down for the first.” Suggs had an arm around Marcie and a bayonet in the other hand.

  Harry looked at Marcie, but she appeared unharmed though definitely frightened. “Where’s Maynard?”

  Marcie started to answer but the bayonet came round in front of her face. “I told you, your mouth isn’t for making a noise, right?” Suggs looked at Harry. “Maynard will be keeping out of this, so it’s you and me.”

  “So let her go.”

  Suggs made a point of looking Harry over. “Just that poncy stick, as Sarge calls it? The medal won’t help you now, pay puke, and you’ve forgotten your rifle. Step clear of the door and I’ll consider it.”

  Harry took four steps, covering half the distance between them. “So let her go.” Harry was starting to get that edge but he wasn’t going to lose it this time. He didn’t need to, not for one asshole with a knife. Stones and the training had seen to that.

  Suggs considered for a moment, then threw Marcie back behind him, into the shadows. “You try to come past me, whore, and I’ll cut you. You just stay there until I come back.” Then he smiled at Harry. “According to the rumours you don’t like this riot control shit. So you are going to desert tonight, puke. I’m sure anyone with a brain will get the message, but nobody official will.”

  “Oh dear, help, I’m going to be bored to death.” Harry grinned at the other man’s expression. Suggs really didn’t like Harry taking the piss.

  Suggs’s shock turned to anger. “You shout for help and I’ll carve the whore real good. You keep quiet and I’ll just get my dick licked and keep her for the future. I’m sure a straight type like you will go for that.”r />
  “I wasn’t going to shout, Suggs.” Harry took another step and put his stick up to rest over one shoulder. “As long as you don’t cry when I spank you.” He might not like killing, but Harry had been on the town with Stones and other squaddies enough times to know how this was done. Annoy the other prat, then crack him good and hard when he loses it a bit. The trouble was this one had a bayonet, a seven inch bladed knife, so Harry had to hit him good and hard first time.

  Suggs moved forward and crouched a bit, and Harry took a long step. He swung the stick over and down and Suggs moved his head back beyond reach. So Harry bent forward and twisted his waist so his shoulder went forward. The end of the stick poked Suggs hard in the eye because Harry had kept going, taking another step. Then he swept the stick down to the side and knocked Sugg’s knife hand wide. The next step wasn’t one because Harry used the leg swing to kick Suggs hard on the shin with his Army boot. Easier than getting at his nuts but Suggs’s open eye went wide with shock and pain.

  A good crack on the shin always got someone’s attention, this time long enough for Harry to turn a bit. One more step and he shoulder charged Suggs in the chest. That put Harry with his right arm conveniently poised to grab Suggs’s knife arm, and bring the stick in his left up and down smartly. “Oops,” Harry murmured, “might have broken that.” The crack as the stick hit the base of Suggs’s thumb certainly released the bayonet. Harry stepped clear and kicked the bayonet towards the hotel door.

  He faced Suggs, who was trying to decide between putting his left hand to his eye, using it to cradle his broken right hand, or hopping because his leg was on fire. “Enough yet, Suggs?”

  “He might have, but we haven’t.” That wasn’t Suggs! Another squaddie stepped out, holding Marcie, and from near the outbuildings came another with a bayonet to Maynard’s throat. A rag was tied round Maynard’s mouth. The man with Marcie curled a lip at Suggs. “Fucked that up pretty good, didn’t you? Now we’ve got to kill these two to be sure of getting him. Fucking hard man?” He spat.

  Harry put his right hand on the stick just below the boss, and the left slid down just below the fancy trim. Harry tensed. He could probably kill these three if he went a bit apeshit, lost it, and remembered his lessons. But it would have to be kill to get them all, and Maynard might die, and Marcie. “Trade you Suggs’s knife back for you letting that pair go? A private and a young lass against a corporal and two privates, who will a court martial believe?”

  “Nice try but no. Though if you toss away the stick and kneel, I’ll let the girl go when we’ve done. Nobody will believe a whore.”

  “I’ve got another suggestion.” Two figures came from the shadows to the side and Harry recognised Sarge and Menzies. They’d come round the side of the hotel and Sarge couldn’t have waited for much explanation. Harry smiled a little because Sarge had a bayonet as well and it looked very comfortable in his hand.

  “How about Suggs goes up for pulling a knife on an unarmed soldier. Bayonet against a poncy stick.” Sarge grinned. “The fact Suggs got the crap kicked out of him won’t count. We’re under Martial Law so I reckon I can get you shot, Corporal Arsehole Young.”

  Sarge swung his eyes to the other two. “If you stupid pricks wave those blades this way, you’ve threatened a sergeant in front of witnesses. I can maybe get you shot as well if you push it.” His face hardened. “Now drop the fucking things!”

  Both bayonets hit the floor. Suggs was staring wide-eyed and even in the dim light Harry could see how pale he was. His eyes darted about, looking for a way out. “No Suggs, or I’ll let Corporal Miller hit you again. I want to see what he does next.” Suggs settled for looking from Sarge to Harry and back again. He’d decided to cradle his hand, and one eye was swelling up nicely.

  As he was released Maynard stepped away and then turned and swung, a total haymaker. Telegraphed and a big wide swing, gathering speed all the way, and the man should have easily ducked it. Unfortunately he was looking at Sarge and simply didn’t realise until much too late. The soldier went over backwards with a short yell and then rolled about with both hands to his face. Maynard gave a short exclamation as well and doubled over, clutching his hand.

  “You two stay where you are.” Sarge glared at Suggs and Private Forbes, who had released Marcie. “Let me see that, Maynard.” The private made for Sarge still nursing his hand, with his face twisted in pain. He yelped as Sarge inspected it while Marcie more or less danced around behind him, wanting to help or something.

  “You are an idiot, Maynard. If you’re going to protect the honour of young ladies you should take some lessons. Don’t hit people in the head with your fist or you’ll break things. Take a tip from Harry, use a poncy stick.” Sarge seemed to be enjoying that bit, which was a bit odd since the poncy stick thing was his own doing. “Get that seen to. I think there’s a nurse waiting if you turn round.”

  There was, Marcie darted in and the first part of nursing was a kiss that might have anaesthetised Maynard’s brain. Then she carefully cradled his hand and stroked it. Harry smiled and Sarge caught it. “Before we discuss that sort of nursing, let’s deal with these three.” The Sarge’s smile wasn’t understanding at all.

  “You three have been a wart on the Army’s backside for a while, but a careful wart so I never caught you. Now listen up because there’s two choices. One is that I have Corporal Young shot or he goes into the glass-house for a long, long time. You pair will join him for a lot of it as accessories, kidnappers, and general arseholes. Understand?” There were two sullen nods though the one now sitting up still had his face in his hands and might not really be listening.

  “The other alternative is that you all volunteer for the Border Protection Detail, stopping the bloody refugees from storming the port of Calais and stealing the ferries. Before you do that you will sit down at breakfast so everyone can see the state of you pair. Just so everyone realises why you want to run away, and that they should all remember their manners.” Everyone was staring at Sarge now because that was letting them off!

  “There is a proviso of course. If I hear the slightest hint, the very breath of a hint that the staff here are not all kitchen staff, we go to option one. I for one have got used to happy smiles and decent grub, and will be truly pissed off if it stops. Do you understand, Young?”

  “Yes Sarge.”

  “Forbes?”

  “Yes Sarge.”

  “Gallaher?”

  “Mmph Pharw.” The third man’s head nodded since his smashed lips weren’t working too well yet.

  “Piss off and get cleaned up. You can buy new bayonets when you arrive with your new unit because you lost these. You can also be walking wounded with them instead of cluttering this place up.” The three left, Gallaher still holding his face and Suggs limping and nursing his hand. Harry, Menzies and Maynard were looking the question at Sarge.

  “No, I’ve not gone soft. We’ve been asked to send our troublemakers to Calais. The new unit really will stop refugees, but with just a shield and baton since it’s technically France. For that reason, even when the refugees chuck petrol bombs and bricks and try to stick them with knives, nobody can shoot. The bullet would go into an allied country so it’s not allowed.” Sarge had a wide smile. “They’ll look like that most of the time and will be expected to stand to even with black eyes and broken teeth.”

  He sobered. “Even so, I might not have let them off even with that, but for the effect on morale. Since now I know just how many bloody staff we’d lose.” Harry got a glare for that. Then Sarge glared at Maynard. “How did they know you’d be here?”

  “Er, well.”

  “I asked him.” Marcie had her head down. “Maynard has been very nice so I wanted to say thank you. Privately.” Even in the low light her face had darkened with a blush. “For Valentine’s Day, because he never tried, to, even though?” She shrugged.

  “Really? Did you like thank you, Maynard? Exactly how often did you go AWOL out here?” Sarge was unhappy n
ow, and Maynard suddenly thought he knew why. What Sarge thought he’d been doing to Marcie.

  “Just five minutes, maybe ten? Marcie asked me to look at something out here last night, and then she wanted to kiss me.” Maynard was almost wriggling in embarrassment. “She, well, then I wanted to kiss her again tonight.” Maynard looked at the others and then at Sarge. “Don’t blame her. I won’t kiss her again?” Harry didn’t think that was going to be down to Maynard or Sarge either.

  Sarge’s smile was certainly a lot happier. “Just don’t let it interfere with your duty. Light duty supervising the kitchen but you don’t get sick leave. I don’t believe I’m saying this but next time you need a kiss find somewhere private inside. The bloody broom cupboard or something. Somewhere nobody will see you. Right?” Two heads nodded rapidly. “Now go and get your hand looked at, Maynard. Find a broom cupboard for ten minutes first so Suggs and his mate aren’t with the medic.”

  The remaining three men watched them go, two heads together with Marcie’s arm round the soldier. “Christ Almighty. Innocence and a hooker with a soft heart, fair makes me weep. Is he a virgin?”

  Harry stared. “What? Christ Sarge, how would we know?” Though most of the men thought yes.

  “If they find a big enough cupboard I don’t reckon it’ll be in question any more. Pick up the bayonets will you, Menzies.”

  “Oh, right Sarge.” The change of subject caught him out but then Menzies put away his own bayonet and set off across the car park.

  “Can I test the weight of that poncy stick, Miller?”

  Harry sighed. “Yes Sarge.” He handed it over.

  Sarge weighed it in his hand, then tapped it with his bayonet before putting the blade in its sheath. “I thought it did too much damage for the force you seemed to use. The damn thing is way too heavy but it explains a broken hand. What’s it made of?”

  “Steel tube.”

  Sarge looked closely at the wood grain effect along the length. “Good work that. I wouldn’t want to arm wrestle after seeing you handle it, but then I saw you throwing people about when you went after the concrete thrower.” Sarge had his little smile back. “Though I didn’t see you do what I thought you might. Or rather I think I did but in his eye. Someone was puzzled by Mr Balaclava’s body. So was I when they told me he’d been found.” Sarge’s little smile broadened. “I’d asked them to look out for him since you were so sure he wouldn’t be a problem.”