Ousted: A thrilling debut novel of survival and humanity

by James M Hopkins

  “If it is safe for you to come out, I will lift the corner of the duvet, otherwise don’t come out for anyone. That includes me. Got it?”

  “Yea, Okay.”

  Mina ran down the rest of the stairs to see through the glass in the door a grey-green Land Rover on its way towards her. It had no roof or doors other than similarly coloured roll bars behind both rows of seats.

  Shannon, carrying Zeke, followed around a hundred feet behind Leighton as he led the way down the hill into the town, now cleared of the army presence. The going was slow as he paused to look out with his scope every dozen paces or so. It was certainly a time to display caution, but it didn’t stop Shannon from feeling frustrated and conspicuous.

  Shannon didn’t stop as Leighton did and he didn’t make a fuss this time. When she caught up, she whispered to him, “I want to stay close. We are too open where we are.”

  “Okay, let’s get down into the town, but you stay away from the green. I don’t want you to see the carnage on the streets too closely, I’ll deal with that and get what we need,” Leighton returned in equally low whisper.

  Leighton ushered Shannon and Zeke against the edge of the collapsed houses as they moved towards the green. He halted Shannon and Zeke behind the last building before it, placed his bags down and went on alone carrying one of the axes in his hand. She remained with the bags and took a seat on a low portion of the wall, bringing Zeke to her breast.

  The strewn bodies came into view as he rounded the corner and the sight froze him for a moment. He threw a glance back at Shannon, who was engrossed in Zeke’s company. He looked back at the bodies and fought the urge to retch.

  The male bodies in front of him still wore the terror of their final moments sharply on their faces. The whole scene was laid out like a photograph. A snapshot of time played out by these dishevelled, mannequin-like beings. Not that they were beings any longer. Some held hands over their chests as though still trying to stem the blood flow long after the blood stopped flowing. Others were simply splayed out, limbs in all directions and clearly well distanced from consciousness before the concrete pounded up against their backs.

  Leighton turned away and rubbed at his eyes vigorously with his fingers. He leant against one of the large barrels and tried to spot the closest soldier. He just needed the gun. A proper gun. He cleared his mind and slowly turned around scanning his eyes blankly, trying not to truly see the farmers’ bodies until his eyes fell upon the army camouflage covering another body.

  Grace could hear the car pull up outside from her position under the bed. She heard the engine cut out and tried to work out where Mina would have hidden. Her biggest worry was that she hadn’t, either in time not to be found or because of a choice not to. Then she heard the front door open. It opened calmly and that meant the Mina had probably been the one to open it. ‘You fool,’ she thought to herself.

  Mina stepped out the door with her palms open, hands held wide out to her sides. She knew she could protect Grace and leave her with plenty to eat if she met the troops head on. They wouldn’t assume that a second person was living with her, so she could talk her way around any questions they might have.

  She complied willingly with everything they needed as they asked where she kept the food and she showed them down to the basement. They handcuffed her to the oven door handle and never even asked whether anyone else was there as the two of them went back and forth between the basement and their vehicle, clearing it of as much of the vegetables – particularly potatoes – as they could be bothered to carry. Each time they passed her they gave an angry glare to ensure that her compliance remained true, though it was not as if she had much choice now. She just continued to sit on the cold kitchen floor with an arm hanging loosely next to her head.

  Grace just listened on as heavy footsteps moved below her. There were a few laughs between male voices and fewer words spoken. She never heard Mina’s voice, she had either been left outside, hurt or even killed. She hoped for the best. She hoped she was hidden, but she knew in her heart that it wasn’t the case.

  A while later, Grace heard light footsteps creeping up the stairs. ‘Mina,’ she thought. the footsteps continued into the room. At the foot of the bed, Grace finally saw Mina’s ankles come into view and her heart jumped with excitement.

  Mina opened the wardrobe on the other side of the bed and knelt to pick up a pair of Dr Marten’s black boots. As she was knelt, in her finest whisper she said, “They’re here,” and pointed to the floor. “I need to go with them, it’ll keep you safe. I hope not to be long. Maybe a few days until I work an escape of some kind. They seem a bit – erm – thick.”

  Grace went to retort, but was shushed with some intensity.

  Mina kept on her long flowing skirt, but pulled some thick black tights on underneath and slipped on the Dr Marten’s, doing the laces up tightly. She changed out of her shirt and swapped it for a thicker cotton shirt which had a pattern in reds and blues which clashed a little with the lighter pastels and yellows of the skirt. She put an equally colourful, warm woollen jumper that was oversized and covered the body of the shirt, but displayed the collar. Finally, she picked up a warm wool poncho in black and grey that draped over her shoulders and came down to around her knees, covering the array of colours that she had underneath. She adjusted herself in the mirror and then quickly scrubbed off her make-up.

  A yell came from downstairs, “Hurry up! You have sixty seconds before I come up there and drag you down.” It made her jump and she left the wipe on the table. She quickly rooted through one of the drawers and took a sheet of sixteen Tramadol tablets and thrust them down the neck of her clothes into her bra.

  She took the last few seconds of her countdown to lean down next to the bed. “Stay safe, Grace.” Then after a small pause she said, “I love you.”

  She stepped out the bedroom door onto the landing as a first heavy boot landed on the bottom step. The sight of her at the top, stopped any more. “Get your arse down here!” the voice bellowed, loud in the confined space of the stairwell.

  Chapter 41

  Tariq had spent the best part of an hour leant with his back against a thick pine tree. The bark was rough and uncomfortable, but far more comfortable than standing or sitting straight would have been given how his body ached. He dozed for a few minutes at a time – the sense of danger and vulnerability kept him from sleeping fully – and he felt significantly better.

  Suddenly, he heard an engine start and he rose quickly, hunkered on his heels and ready to move. The engine idled, not far away. He would never have heard it in the old world that was full of bustle and traffic noise that generally faded away into the background of white noise, but in this new environment where the sound of nature ruled the airwaves, it stood out clearly.

  There were trained killers on the loose in this area and he knew that some innocent – if either of the sides in the firefight earlier could be considered so – had died already today. ‘What if someone needs help?’ he thought. This thought drove him to action.

  He moved east through the treeline until he caught sight of a lone house with that Land Rover parked outside. He was peering through the canopy of the wood as the treeline descended steeply towards the scene. Two men in the recognisable camouflage stepped out of the main door of the house, pushing a young woman out ahead of them in a grey poncho. She walked gracefully towards the vehicle and got into the back of her own accord. The two men looked at each other and one of them leant over from outside to fiddle around with something near her before they got into the front two seats and started to manoeuvre the vehicle around and drive back down a rough road.

  Tariq continued towards the house to source himself a good place to recover fully and a clean bed to sleep in. The side of the valley was very steep and he had to hold on and switch his grip from branch to branch as he struggled to keep himself upright. Just before the land levelled off, he came across a long tyre swing hanging from far above and could see the house under th
e canopy of the trees.

  Ahead of him, he saw a woman step out of the door. She was leaning heavily on a kitchen stool and as he took her in from head to toe, he noticed a thick cast around her leg. His heart felt heavy and he moved quickly to see if she needed help. As he burst through the edge of the trees, she turned and looked at him in fear and shock and he pulled up quickly, holding his arms out and ducking his head to show submission. She looked as though she was about to turn and run – not that she would get far – and Tariq took a few steps forward. He looked around him before speaking in a projected voice, “Are you okay? I promise I will not hurt you, but you look injured. Are you okay?” he asked.

  Grace inspected him, an image of disgust painting her face. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I am Tariq,” he started. “-Al-Noor. I live in London. I work as an intern at a paper studying to be a journalist. I am twenty-three.” He thought for moment. “I suppose you can stick that all into past tense now,” he joked. “Except for the age. I have ID on me if you want proof.”

  “That would be good. Walk slowly so I can see you.”

  “Absolutely. Absolutely,” he said convincingly, taking slow steps forward and holding his upper body still and free of any rapid movements. When he was close, he motioned to his bag, “It’s in there. I honestly want to help you, that’s all.”

  “Okay, I believe you. Where are you from? You don’t sound British.”

  “I am Egyptian. Can I ask your name?” Tariq tried his best to sound friendly, but felt almost as scared as the injured woman appeared.

  “Alright, I am Grace. This doesn’t get you out of showing me your ID.”

  “No problems, one moment, Grace.” He slid his hand easily into one of the inner pockets of the bag and pulled out his passport. “It’s nice to meet you, Grace. Do you know who the woman was that just left with two of the soldiers?” He asked, handing over the document.

  “All right, Tariq,” she said, inspecting the passport. “That was my good friend, Mina. It’s good to meet you.” She held out her hand and Tariq shock it, bowing his head slightly as he did so. Up close, the reddened eyes and gaunt face didn’t detract much from her underlying handsomeness.

  “Why did she go? Does she know them?” Tariq asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. You need to come in, Tariq. I’m a bit shaken up right now. I need to get my head together.”

  Moving out onto the green, Leighton quickly found his way to the soldier’s corpse. The gun was lying less than a foot from him and Leighton picked that up first as to delay looking at the man in detail for as long as possible. He was the most likely person to have anything of worth on him. He would need extra supplies and so planned to pick ammo off his body.

  The man’s face had blood splattered up it from the shot that he had taken straight in the chest. The front of the shirt was crisp to the touch, dried under the blood that had oozed over most of it. The first breast pocket snapped open and Leighton carefully slid his fingers inside. It contained only a metal lighter, a small dent in it not penetrating too deeply. Leighton flicked it on, it still worked and he put it to one side. The second pocket opened with the same effect as the first, but the contents was already visible. He pulled out a small binder, with laminated cards attached. A distinct hole went all the way through every page in the lower right-hand corner of what Leighton now saw was a detailed map. He flicked through them hastily. There were some places of interest and each edge held the numbers of the map pages that would line up with them. He would be able to lay them together later to get a full picture of the area.

  The trouser pockets were free of blood, though he had to straighten out the corpse’s left leg to get into the main pocket on that side. He found two full magazines to fit the rifle, the bullets seemed huge in comparison to the pellets that he had grown accustomed to firing. The other pocket contained an all-purpose blade and multi-tool which Leighton also took and a laminated photograph of a blonde woman which Leighton quickly turned over and placed down on the open palm of the corpse. Leighton felt a distinct tension pick up in his chest.

  Shannon took a step around the edge of the building to see her husband lifting his own body up to standing. His stayed hung for a moment, a hand visibly covering his eyes from her view of the back of his head. Zeke tried to look behind him at his father, but Shannon placed a firm hand on the back of his head and pushed it towards her breast. A rifle was hanging from a strap clasped in Leighton’s other hand and his pockets bulged awkwardly on both sides of his jacket. Leighton seemed a statue as he was stood. Shannon felt as if viewing a grim painting. Her husband, rifle in hand, stood over a corpse with many others splayed across the street and pavements in front of the pub.

  A glimpse of movement caught her eye and she snapped her head to the left. Her eyes darted between points. Decimated buildings, abandoned cars and fallen lampposts in the distance, limp limbs lining the road in the foreground. She saw it again and managed to focus in. An Alsatian dog prowled towards her. Even from distance and front on to the animal she could see its hunger. Gaunt shoulders rose and fell like pistons either side of a large, bony head. Its eyes seemed sunken into its skull and its dry and greying tongue lolled over the side of its sharp yellow teeth. It looked straight at Shannon. Leighton still hadn’t moved an inch from where he was stood, she wasn’t even sure if he was aware of her being just behind him. He certainly wasn’t aware of the dog.

  It kept a steady walking pace towards her, eyes unmoving. She edged away from the open doorway at her back, panic filled her from the soles of her feet. She edged slowly towards Leighton issuing a light cough to attract his attention, her eyes never wavering from the lock of fear they had with the dog’s own. The lightest touch of her fingers on Leighton’s back caused him to flinch wildly. He dropped the rifle to the floor, spun and taking an awkward step back away from her, tripped over the soldier’s corpse and landed flat on his back.

  In neither of the couple’s line of vision the dog started to speed up. It saw the larger human fall and decided to try its luck.

  Shannon gasped and leant over to give Leighton a hand back to his feet. As she did, Zeke came away from her breast and said, “’Oof,” pointing a middle finger directly at the hungry beast.

  “Leighton, get up. Look,” Shannon said pointing across the green at the incoming animal.

  “Shit,” he replied. He leant over the body to pick the rifle off the ground, getting to one knee as he did so. He let the magazine fall out into his hand to see the glint of a bullet lying on top and with a quick, sharp motion shoved it back into place. The dog was trotting now straight towards him, teeth bared. He stared down the barrel and slowly pressed the trigger, but it resisted him. He turned the gun on its side and flicked the safety off and on again. He stared down at the dog a second time and more rapidly pulled the trigger down. Rather than a loud crack and powerful recoil, the gun did nothing but eke out a sombre click. Something was wrong with it. He looked back up at the dog, pushed Shannon back towards the building and inspected the seemingly useless gun in his hand.

  About thirty metres measured the space between him and the jaw full of saliva covered teeth. The dog skipped its feet as it picked up to a full run, still not deviating from its direction. Leighton judged the space between himself and the house. Twenty metres now. Too late to run. He scanned the ground in the opposite direction. Ten metres. “Shit,” he exhaled and rolled to one side getting both hands onto an abandoned shotgun as he did.

  The blast felt deafening and his ears instantly started to ring. The animal’s front legs buckled and it slid to a halt a few feet from where Leighton lay. Its back legs kicked, throwing the torso into the air. A raspy sound bellowed and heaved and Leighton scrambled himself away. The thrashing continued far longer than Leighton was comfortable with. When the creature stopped, he could see the chest still rising and falling erratically. He stood himself up and with two hands tightly wrapped around the grip of the shotgun he bought it down hard on
the dog’s neck. He had aimed for what remained of the head, but the sporadic movements of the animal made it difficult. The breathing became hoarser and now held a faint whistle deep within the sound. Leighton raised the weapon directly over his head and with a woodchopper’s motion he finally struck true. Stillness remained.

  Leighton let go of the gun where it was and checked in all directions from the green before picking up the rifle again and scarpering into the open doorway. Shannon was not there and Leighton slumped on the bottom stair. Guilt burned at his chest and he let a sweep of images flood his brain. A tsunami of horrid things he couldn’t undo. With no time to steady himself before the flashbacks hit, he was engulfed. Engulfed in flames and water with nothing that would douse the flames and no light guiding him to the surface. He wept. Shannon, leant with her back up against one of the large barrels and surrounded by death, wept too.

  Half an hour passed Shannon and Leighton by, while they sat where they were with bodies strewed around them. It was Leighton that managed to recover first and before rousing his wife from her trance, he picked up a different rifle and another two magazines of ammo which now hung out of his jacket pockets.

  After picking Shannon up off the ground, he loaded them both with the bags from around the corner and ushered her in the direction of the western road that he had confirmed on his new map was the best way to get towards his parents’ farm. Shannon didn’t speak a word the whole time. As much as Leighton was worried, he understood and he needed to get them safe as soon as possible.

  They walked past the church and past more buildings that now barely resembled the original plans designed for them. When they were about to leave sight of the green, Leighton told Shannon to keep moving while he turned around, released the safety and fired a successful test shot into the closest barrel. He checked through his lens and saw that it was dead centre.