by G. B. Hope
He pulled Jerry to his feet. They continued on the way they had been going.
‘As soon as we get a landmark,’ said Jerry, ‘we can re-adjust the plan.’
Michael indicated right ahead of them.
‘Is that a big enough landmark for you?’
They were strolling towards what seemed to be a massive flying saucer amidst the fog. Gradually it took the form of a sporting arena. Jerry consulted his map, and pointed out where they were to Michael.
‘Oh,’ said Michael, ‘anyone for tennis?’
They were drawn in through wide-open gates. In front of them stood the imposing Arthur Ashe Stadium.
‘Wow, we’re at the US Open,’ said Jerry. ‘Shall we try to go around it?’
‘Let’s look around. There might be some food somewhere.’
Twenty minutes later, after wandering through the deserted bowels of the building, finding concessions stalls stripped by human locusts, and all the vending machines smashed open and raided, and after becoming slightly disorientated, they found their way back out to the light. Of all the surreal moments for Michael, since waking up in that Hartford motel room, here was another one, a big one; walking out onto the blue tennis court, like ants, staring up at the towering stadium all around them. Jerry whistled, and the echo went about. The net was actually up, the umpire chair in place. It was the wrong time of year for the US Open, but some tournament had been interrupted by the event.
‘This is awesome,’ said Jerry. ‘I’ve seen this so many times on TV.’
‘It’s massive, yeah.’
From behind the umpire chair, Michael came up with a pair of racquets and a tube of tennis balls. He offered a racquet to Jerry.
‘Come on, Jerry. I know we’re shattered, but we might as well.’
‘I’m with you.’
‘I’ll be Maria Sharapova and you can be Serena Williams.’
‘Thank you very much.’
They went to their own sides of the net and proceeded to have a brief game. It was funny how energy can always be found for something more entertaining than long-distance walking. They had some fun, their shoes squeaking ridiculously loudly in the empty arena, with Michael finishing it all with a big smash.
‘Where’s the ballboy running to me with the towel!?’ Michael asked in mock annoyance.
It was time to go. Michael placed his racquet down on the court, imagining foliage eventually creeping in to hide it over the years. Jerry despatched his racquet high into the stands with a massive clatter. Michael admired the vastness of the empty stadium once more, then followed Jerry back under cover.
***
Stephen Ziegler had his instructions from Ivanovic, and he carried them out to the letter, and even above and beyond what was required. In the early hours of the morning he broke into the garage of the vacant property where Mr Manning had constructed the trolley, on which to transport Liam away. He emptied out the jerry can of gas he had with him, stood back and threw down a lit match. Everything in the garage was destroyed in the resulting conflagration, and the complete house went as well.
Everyone woke up, to stand outside and watch the fire through the trees. Ivanovic and Allison joined them, with her yawning and pretending to be greatly annoyed with the interruption to her beauty sleep. Mr Manning, along with some others, went to investigate. He returned ten minutes later with the news.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Allison, without even any pretence at sincerity.
Danielle reacted the fastest, and the worst, to the catty comment. She had not known Allison throughout the walk from Salem. As far as she was concerned, the woman had no right to be there, and especially no right to assume a position alongside the creepy Ivanovic. Before Liam could restrain her, she strode over to confront the woman.
‘Do you think this is funny, you stupid bitch!? Who do you think you are? Why did you get off that fucking boat?’
Allison retained an aloof demeanour, turning slowly to Ivanovic. He was expecting another request from his woman to control the ranting Danielle, so was himself caught off guard when Allison launched herself nails-first at Danielle’s face. Danielle managed to avoid having her face scratched to shreds. In fact, she put in two quick slaps before the two of them were wrestling like something off a Jerry Springer show. It took three people to separate the screaming banshees, all messy hair and panting rage. Liam claimed his sister, and his group moved away. It was decided, then and there, that they would walk out in the morning, even if Liam had to hop on one leg to the Maria.
THIRTY EIGHT
Charlie took it on herself to take care of the damaged, shy, enigmatic new arrival, the boy who went by the name of H. She made sure he started eating properly again, went for walks out in the neighbourhood with him, and talked him into taking part in some of the candle-lit board games which the group had brought back into fashion in the evenings. All the time he continued to keep his hoodie up, and his head down, not really speaking to anyone else. He was at least clean, although not bathed personally by Charlie, but he still wore his facial hair.
The two of them found a surprising interest which they could share. In the games room/den in Mr Stickford’s house they came across a pool table. Still hiding inside his hoodie, H played game after game against Charlie, pleased at how adept she was at the sport - for a girl. It was during these games of pool that he told her what had happened to him since the event started, and it was touching and emotional for Charlie to listen to. The main thing that seemed to upset him was being separated from his four friends. In that snug room he really opened up to Charlie, and she felt honoured. They connected like soul-mates who had known each other for years.
H potted three balls in one shot, causing Charlie to scream in mock-indignation. Then her heart melted as she saw H smile for the first time.
***
Liam and Mr Manning spent the night taking turns staying awake on watch, in case the firebug, Ziegler, tried to outdo himself. As the sun started to rise, Liam hobbled over to Sabrina and woke her with little kisses on the mouth and cheeks. She opened her eyes and smiled her beautiful smile at him. She looked absolutely adorable. Liam stared down at her. Then he ripped her blouse open (buttons pinging all over the room) and kissed her from her throat all the way down to her navel, without exposing her breasts.
‘Wake Danielle, will you,’ he told her, standing and shuffling off.
Absolutely astonished, but very happy, Sabrina searched about her for a fresh top.
Soon, everyone was up, having a hasty, cold breakfast, and then they prepared to set off. Mrs Manning had strapped up Liam’s bad ankle, and he would walk out on it, and improvise something once they were clear if the pain was too much.
Now that the world had moved backwards a few hundred years, people got up with the sun, so everyone in the compound was there to wish them well on their journey. Ivanovic and Allison were there as well, technically, over on his front porch, watching the departure. Ziegler lingered on the sidelines, cradling his Heckler & Koch, looking nervously back and forth between the gathering and Ivanovic.
Both Liam and Mr Manning, while accepting the hugs and best wishes of their compatriots, were aware of the two sides of the coin to their leaving - aware of the tension. Mr Manning carried his loaded shotgun. He fully intended to shoot Ziegler if the man attempted to block them. Liam leaned heavily on Sabrina. Danielle and Mrs Manning carried what slender possessions and provisions they were taking with them.
Everyone drifted beside them as the departure took place. Danielle hugged Elaine and then Kat, all of them extremely emotional at the separation. Promises were made to find each other when life returned to normal. Liam glanced back at Allison - her arms were crossed, but her face remained impassive. He was too far away to sense her fury, but Ivanovic was fully aware of it. The man knew he was at a critical point in his role as leader, and as Allison’s lover. He kept watching Ziegler. Ziegler kept watching him. All the time he felt Allison’s blood boiling. He had to decide: let
them go, or there and then, take martial law control of the compound.
***
Michael and Jerry walked through the night. Blisters were now their main topic of conversation. Occasionally they saw local residents. Once or twice they saw light within people’s homes which looked to be electricity, but when they got nearer it proved to have been the glow of a paraffin lamp. The last group to cross their path comprised half a dozen paramedics, out helping the public, even though their positions no longer officially existed. These good people provided the last little bit of directional advice. As dawn broke, Michael and Jerry were pretty sure they were in the correct neighbourhood. They just had to stumble upon the right road.
Michael thought back over his journey - thought of who he had been when he woke up in Hartford, Connecticut. He thought of the initial puzzlement and fear, meeting that Australian girl, and then being the cause of her horrible death. He remembered the hours on the road. The vastness of everywhere. Then the terrible decision to shoot that man at the Country Club, to save Ferguson, and all that followed. At least he had been brave enough to bring that nightmare to a proper conclusion. But now he prepared himself for disappointment. Surely his luck in the hotel would not repeat itself. He found he was sweating through his Harry Styles Is My Boyfriend tee-shirt, even though the morning was cool and they were no longer walking with purpose. What if Danielle had moved on?
They approached the scene where a Jaguar had crashed into the back of a bus.
‘That’s a shame,’ commented Jerry, before returning his attention to reading house numbers and street signs.
‘Jerry, let's sit for a few minutes. I don’t want to find my Danielle while I’m all wired like this. Let me get myself together.’
***
Ivanovic made up his mind. He gave the nod to Ziegler. Ziegler moved his machine-gun into the ready position. Nobody was leaving, and a new order was going to be set in place. It was all decided. It was the way it should be. Ziegler’s main focus was the old man with the shotgun. He would be covered and disarmed first, then everyone herded back to face the leader.
But before the plan could be activated, there came a loud voice, a call through an old-fashioned loud hailer. It was unintelligible, but impossible to ignore, coming closer through the trees. Everything was put on hold; the attempted departure was stopped, the denial of departure was stopped. All faces turned to see the bizarre sight of an Old West-style covered wagon, pulled by two horses, with two men on the buckboard. The man riding “shotgun” was the one shouting through the loud hailer. He was alerting residents to the presence of mobile medical assistance and governmental advice. On the side of the wagon, as it curved round, they could see a painted red cross.
The wagon came to a stop in front of the gathering, as if all the people had left their houses to see what was going on. Ziegler moved aside. Ivanovic and Allison strode forward to meet the visitors. The two men on the buckboard waved a greeting and started to get down.
Liam and Mr Manning shared a look. Here was surely the cover they needed, the distraction, for a safe departure. And it got better when an armed member of the National Guard got down from the back of the wagon, along with three other men. One of the three was dressed in a doctor’s white coat, while the other two were casually attired.
‘Michael!’ shrieked Danielle, overcome with shock and emotion. ‘Michael!’
Liam did a double-take at the scruffy man in the silly white tee-shirt, then recognised him as Michael Clavell, just as Danielle threw herself into his arms.
Michael received Danielle into his embrace and felt emotion like never before in his entire life. Tears sprang to both their eyes as they kissed and grappled at each other’s faces, as if desperate to believe it was true.
‘You found me,’ gushed Danielle, unable to contain nervous laughter. ‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’
‘Are you all right, baby? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I love you so much.’
‘Oh, Michael.’
‘I’m here now.’
‘Where’ve you been?’
‘Long story, darling.’
‘Let me look at you.’
More kissing, more high emotion, then she stepped back to see his grimy, unshaven face and longish hair. She read the message on the tee-shirt.
‘And what’s that?’
He laughed, pulling the stained tee-shirt out in front of him.
‘I’ll tell you later.’
‘You saw the message I left on the hotel mirror?’
‘Yep. Clever girl.’
Michael looked at Liam. They did the high five that turned into a grapple and embrace.
‘You found her,’ said Michael, almost crying into Liam’s shoulder. ‘You only went and found her!’
‘One of us had to,’ joked Liam.
Liam almost forgot the situation with Ivanovic, what with Michael to be introduced to Sabrina and the Mannings, and with the men from the government shouting out who they were. Michael shook hands with Mr Manning, kissed Mrs Manning and Sabrina (assuming they were related) then introduced Jerry. People were asking questions of the men from the wagon, crowding round. Michael asked Liam how he had hurt his leg. Mr Manning was trying to make his point that they should leave. Ziegler strained desperately to see Ivanovic, needing advice. Michael locked eyes with Danielle, remembering how beautiful she was. After all he had been through, he could not believe how happy and relieved he felt within himself.
‘Hello, Michael,’ said a female voice, off to the side.
Michael wondered who had said that. There were a lot of agitated people around him. The men from the Government, who he and Jerry had hitched a ride with a few miles back, were handing out six-packs of bottled water. Danielle was laughing about the bizarre tee-shirt he was wearing, asking again how he came by it. Did he have news of Harry Styles? Liam was leaning into Mr Manning, talking and nodding, agreeing on something.
‘Hello, Michael.’
Michael focussed on the woman who was addressing him. Attractive, striking, intense expression. Then he recognised the face.
‘Allison?’
THIRTY NINE
It was incomprehensible to Michael’s tired mind. It was like a car crash moment, when the world goes by in slow motion. He was aware of both Liam and Danielle slowly realising what was happening. Jerry watched on intently. Sabrina was there, nonplussed by it all.
‘Who is she, Michael?’ asked Danielle. ‘Who is she?’
Michael looked imploringly at Danielle, hoping for help in understanding the situation. They were all on Long Island, amid some crazy, unexplained phenomenon, five thousand miles from home, and there, right there in front of him, was the woman Michael had finished with, back in London, so that he could be with Danielle; it was his ex-girlfriend, Allison Davies.
‘Allison!? How are you here? Why are you here?’
‘Because I love you, Michael. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m here only for you, Michael. Only for you.’
Liam stared in astonishment at the woman who had followed him off the stricken cruise liner, while Danielle looked ready to explode. But Allison appeared almost trance-like.
‘But how?’ implored Michael.
Allison pointed at Liam, without looking at him. ‘I was coming to you, when I bumped into him, telling me all about you and her. It was fate, Michael.’
With absolutely no change in her expression, Allison produced a knife from out of nowhere and made a lunge for Danielle - attempting to murder the woman who had stolen the man she loved. It was Jerry, perhaps less mesmerised than the others, who threw himself between the two women. He took the point of the knife into his chest, only a little way, but it was clearly devastating, as he collapsed to the floor.
All hell broke loose - Danielle punched Allison hard on the bridge of her nose, causing blood to spurt up into the air. Allison went down in a daze. Someone screamed, a great deal of jostling took place, Michael and Liam reached out to protect Danielle, hav
ing to follow her down after Allison, where she intended to continue her onslaught – and then a panicked Ziegler opened fire, wildly into the gathering. It was only a short burst but it devastated the back of the National Guardsman, flinging his bloodied body to the ground, while Mrs Miller was hit in both shoulders and Zahira Manning wounded in the left arm. The group spread in screaming terror, people ducking, or scooting across the floor. Mr Manning was the only one to keep his cool, taking definite aim at Ziegler and blasting the man backwards with both barrels.
A brief calm descended, allowing Michael to kneel and check the lifeless body of Jerry, whose shirt front was awash with his blood. Depression and fury rushed throughout Michael’s being. Allison Davies! Allison bloody Davies!
More gunfire; more screams. This time it was a handgun being fired into the air. Ivanovic was exercising his authority. He would have order in his world. Allison scrambled to her feet to move to his side, looking at him proudly.
‘There will be no more of this disorder!’ called Ivanovic.
Michael stood from his friend’s corpse, bearing the air rifle. Taking quick aim, he shot Ivanovic right between the eyes. The man collapsed in agony. He was not mortally wounded, but would not be moving again until someone with medical training performed minor surgery on him.
Michael hated the idea of leaving Jerry, but it was time to go, and they were going in the Old West wagon, right then and there. Mr Manning, who had been administering first aid to his wife, then assisted her into the back of the wagon. Michael turned to Danielle, indicating the horses, knowing she had some equestrian experience as a girl. She nodded. Liam looked to Sabrina, who moved up against him, letting him kiss her left temple.
‘Let’s get to the Maria,’ Liam whispered to Sabrina.
Michael helped his girlfriend up onto the buckboard wagon seat and handed her the reins.
‘No!’ screamed Allison. ‘You’re not going with her!’