by Ryan Casey
It seemed more like the action of a man unsure of his position and status than a man fully in control.
“How…how did you…”
Riley was the one who started to talk, but what could he say? It had been ten, eleven days since he’d washed up on the Silverdale coast. Ten, eleven days since the storm pummelled the narrowboat, battering it and leaving them stranded. He’d given up hope that Claudia and Chloë were alive a good eight days ago.
But here they were, staring back at him, speechless and tearful.
“Want some water?” he asked. He looked at the bottle on the table at the side.
Claudia and Chloë didn’t respond. They just stared back, still in shock.
“I…” The mob’s voices continued outside. Even though it was winter, Riley realised this caravan felt stiflingly hot. Or was that just him? Probably just him.
“You’re with—that man. He’s Rodrigo? You’re with him?”
Just hearing Claudia’s voice, even though it was rough and her lips were cracked, crystallised the fact that she’d survived in Riley’s mind even more. “Yeah, I…When the boat crashed. Ten days or so ago. They found us, this group. They—”
“You’ve been here from the start?”
Riley nodded. Claudia sounded fearful. Not for herself—for Riley.
“He…We were with—with another man. He…Rodrigo. You have to be careful. He’s—he’s—”
“There’s two sides,” Riley said, staring Claudia right in her puzzled eyes. “I get that there’s two sides. Rodrigo and Mike. Mike and Rodrigo. So you were with Mike?”
He wanted Claudia to say “no.” He wanted her to tell him that she and her daughter were just out there wandering, and the guards outside the Heathwaite’s gates had got it wrong about seeing one of Mike’s cars driving away.
He wanted her to deny all knowledge, but he knew deep down he was clutching at straws.
“Mike looked after us,” Chloë cut in. She offered a shaky smile that was a shadow of the one that used to beam across her face. “He…Rodrigo. Mike says he…said he did bad things.”
Riley’s stomach burned, a sickly feeling tanging in his mouth. He nodded and tried to smile at Chloë, but it was no use. The pair of them had been with Mike, that much was a fact now. Even if they weren’t really on his side, then Rodrigo seemed gunning to prove a point. A point of defiance. A show of leadership that he’d been so clearly struggling with for some time. That confession to Riley on the balcony—the confession of the stripped rank and the emasculation of his life’s passion. He wanted something back. He needed something back.
And that something was sat right opposite Riley.
Another missile hit the front of the caravan. This one made a cracking sound on contact, and voices stirred outside.
“What are…What’s going to happen to us, Riley? Please. Please, if you know this Rodrigo, just let—let my daughter go. I’m enough. I’m…Please.”
A shiver drenched every inch of Riley’s body. He didn’t like this. The way Claudia was…she was begging him. Begging Riley for her life and her daughter’s life. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the reunion they deserved, none of them.
Whether Rodrigo liked it or not, Claudia and Chloë were one of them. The people outside the caravan had to understand that. The things they’d been through collectively, they ran deeper than any other allegiance Riley would likely establish in the rest of his life.
And here were the remaining two fifths of that allegiance begging for their lives.
Riley grabbed one of Claudia’s cuffed hands, then one of Chloë’s. He stared at the cuffs, and how tightly they were digging into their wrists. The three of them, so close but so far away. They were surrounded. There was no way out. No running away.
“I…Rodrigo. I don’t know what this Mike told you but he’s—”
“He was holding Mike’s son,” Claudia said. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “And—and the things we saw, Riley. The things he did. Bodies castrated. Set creatures upon us. And—and those creatures today. Mike didn’t want bloodshed. He just wanted to—to scare the people here. Scare them so he could take this place.”
The voices flared up outside again. Chloë looked at Riley with curiosity, like she was unsure whether she was about to be told off by a teacher for chewing gum in class, or something.
“Those voices,” Riley said, rubbing his fingers down Claudia and Chloë’s hardened hands. “They aren’t voices of people who are scared. They’re voices of people who are angry. And I know what Mike told you…about his son, Stevie. And the bodies. But I met Stevie. I knew Stevie. And Stevie was happily working for Rod—”
“He was being used by Rodrigo,” Claudia said. “Don’t you see? He kept Stevie close to get back at Mike. And when he was done with him, he threw him to the—the creatures.”
Riley wanted to argue. Tell her that wasn’t the case. But how did he know? Sure, Stevie had been unlucky to die—or so it seemed. For all he knew, Rodrigo might’ve wanted the whole lot of them to die on that “search for Claudia and Chloë.”
How much did he really know about Rodrigo, and how much did it really matter when it came down to one thing—man vs. man?
“Bad things have happened on both sides,” Riley said. “And Rodrigo, he has a lot to prove. He’s scared. Scared of losing this place. And that’s why he’s rallying these people. He wants them to be angry. He doesn’t want them to know the full story. But maybe if I can talk to them and—and get through to them that you aren’t bad people. Maybe if I can unite us then—”
“Just help us, Riley,” Chloë said. Her voice was shaky. Lacking confidence. “Help us. Please.”
Riley wanted to wrap an arm around Chloë and tell her everything was okay, but the door opened, and the sound of the mob’s angry, scapegoating chants resonated around the room.
“Alreet, that’s enough I think,” James—one of the guards, bulky and bucktoothed—said.
Riley let go of Claudia and Chloë’s hands. Feigned distance. He felt tears welling up in his eyes as he reached for the water bottle, poured some in each of their mouths, which they dribbled down their chapped, cut lips.
Then, he grabbed the duct tape and applied it to their mouths. They let him. They let him do it for some reason, perhaps because they understood that making a scene—protesting—was not going to get them out of here.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try something. I’ll get you out.”
Claudia stared back at him with tearful eyes.
Riley couldn’t deny the doubt behind them.
Riley stepped out of the caravan, James’s hand on his back. James locked the door to the caravan. Riley’s head spun as he looked around at the crowd of people, growing in number, growing in anger. People he knew. People he’d small-talked with about the weather, about flowers and holidays and current—well, previous—events.
Now, they had nothing but anger in their eyes and voices. They wanted somebody to blame, and Rodrigo had given them that. Amazing how quickly a group of seemingly normal people could transform into an angry mob when they needed to out their frustrations.
“Okie dokes,” James said. He patted Riley on the back, gesturing him to step down the steps.
But Riley couldn’t. He couldn’t just walk away. That would be admitting failure. Claudia and Chloë—they’d just ended up tagging along with Mike in the same way Riley, Anna and Pedro had ended up tagging along with Rodrigo. He had to try and convince the group—convince Rodrigo—that Claudia and Chloë were harmless. Completely harmless.
He felt an idiot being the one to have to do this, and of course he wasn’t comfortable with it—when had he ever been comfortable with mass public speaking? But he had to try. There was no other option.
“Everyone,”
Riley said. When the word left his mouth, he realised just how feeble his voice sounded as the mob continued to shout and point and curse.
Riley lifted his hands. He could see Rodrigo watching from a distance, frowning, but not doing anything to intervene. He didn’t want to lose Riley. He was a decent man underneath. Just…confused. That’s all it was—confusion. Confusion could be put right.
“Please, listen…listen to me,” Riley said, lifting his hands even further.
A few of the voices receded.
“What is there to say?” an old woman, Barbara, said.
“If they’re Mike’s then they almost killed us. Best deal with ‘um while we can. Scare Mike off.” An old man, this time. Jeff, he was called. Didn’t appear to have a sinister bone in his body, not before today, not before right now.
The vein on Riley’s neck throbbed and pulsated. He felt dizzy, standing there, all these people looking up at him and waiting for him to say something.
Rodrigo was one of those people. So too, now, were Anna and Pedro.
“I…” Riley said, then cleared his throat. “You’re well aware now of…of some of the bad things Mike has done since leaving Heathwaite’s. And that he’s out there. And yes, the two women in that caravan were with Mike—”
A few voices kicked off again. Anna and Pedro’s eyes widened. Rodrigo nodded.
“But,” Riley said, shouting a bit louder, well aware that Claudia and Chloë would be able to hear him. “I…Something tells me this isn’t the right way to go about it. Vengeance. Revenge. Whatever. It’s—it’s not right. We—”
“Mike shoulda thought o’ that before he went and killed all them innocent people!” one man shouted. As he did, a few people around him cheered, and the mob flared up again.
Riley was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. These people wanted blood—they wanted revenge. It was Christmas in five fucking days, and all they wanted right now—men, women, children—was to see a mother and daughter punished for something they were only passively involved in.
There was only one thing for it. Only one thing he could say as the mob got more and more agitated.
“The two women in the caravan are called Claudia and Chloë,” Riley shouted. “I know that because I was with them before I came to Heathwaite’s. So too were Anna and Pedro.”
This time, the mob really did go silent. Confused glances. Anna’s cheeks blushed as people turned to look at her and Pedro.
Rodrigo kept on watching Riley, allowing him to continue, giving him his podium.
“It’s…it’s a mother and daughter, for Christ’s sake. A mum and her kid who have been through more shit than most of us can imagine. I swear. We were together in Preston and—and that mum in there lost one of her daughters. That girl in there, she lost her sister. And—and I don’t even want to go into the details of what happened when we reached Fulwood barracks. Suffice to say we’re all lucky to be here with our sanity intact.”
More silence from the crowd. A sense of understanding gathering around the place. A sense of realisation that those two women inside the caravan weren’t just slabs of meat to be punished to get something out of their angry systems—they were humans. Real humans with real lives.
“And I don’t deny they got mixed up with Mike. They don’t deny they got mixed up with Mike. You think if they were really such a threat they’d just go all out and say that? Really?”
A few voices piped up again, but nothing on the shouts of the mob before.
Anna nodded. Pedro nodded. Riley was doing good. He just had to keep on going here.
“Those two women in there, Claudia and Chloë, they were the two people I was looking for when I first arrived here. And just think about it—they got washed up on shore, Mike’s group comes along and offers them a safe haven. They’re hardly going to turn that down, are they? They can only believe what they hear. And…and I think he must’ve told them a lot. It must’ve taken a lot for them to trust him after what happened to us back in Preston—”
“Then why were they attackin’ us?” Barry shouted. Barry had a thick Lancashire accent, and always spat when he spoke, reminding Riley of an old History teacher he used to have at school.
A few voices flared up with Barry.
Quick, Riley. Think of something. Keep this under control.
“Who knows what Mike told them about us? Stevie was over here, wasn’t he? Who knows what Mike said? He could’ve told them we’d taken the place by force and kicked him out. He could’ve told them we were fucking serial killers, or something. That’s just it—there’s no real truth anymore. No real honesty. Just…just the truth we believe.”
Riley could feel himself blushing when he said these overly cheesy words.
Anna’s cheeks were red for him too.
But that was better than before. Some of the mob was leaving. All of them had calmed down. Progress—real progress, right in front of him.
“We don’t have to retaliate against Mike by attacking two innocent people—a mum and her daughter. By all means we can find a way to get back at Mike some way or another, but what exactly is this going to achieve? Because I see it achieving nothing other than satisfying some blood lust for a few days. Trust me, you don’t want to do this.” He thought back to Jordanna, to Stan, to Trevor…all the people he’d left behind, and how that was ingrained on his psyche, forever. “Trust me.”
“And why should we trust you, exactly?”
The voice came out of nowhere. It cut through the silence like a creature’s teeth through flesh. It was a short man called Robert. He was right at the back of the mob. He looked around when he said the words. By the looks of things, he was a bit surprised they’d escaped his mouth himself.
“What do—”
But Robert continued: “You. Riley. Anna. Pedro. What—what happened today. What happened with the creatures all stacking up around the gates. What happened with—with Allison’s dog. And all this about—about Dave being some plant for Mike. Not doubtin’ you, but what if…what if that’s shit? What if you’re the plants? How do we know we can trust you? Aside from the bruises on your face, what proof do you have?”
It was in that instant that Riley saw every single face in the mob turn, like somebody had hit a switch, or they’d all witnessed a game-changing plot twist in a film that made them doubt everything they thought they knew about a character.
He knew at that moment that nothing he could say would ever get that wide-eyed, suspicious doubt out of their eyes.
And Rodrigo was still doing nothing to intervene. He just waited for Riley to finish. Waited for him to do what he had to do.
All of a sudden, Riley felt incredibly out of place. The sweating started to come over him. His throat began to tighten. His fists were clammy. He wanted to go back to his caravan and bury himself under his quilt covers. He wanted to go back to before today—any time before today at Heathwaite’s—and he wanted to live under that illusion of normality again. The normality that had taken him so long to learn to trust.
He couldn’t let that fall apart, not again.
But now more voices sparked up.
“We can’t let Mike bully us out of here,” a young woman with a dog on a leash called. “This place is ours. He—he had his chance, right?”
“Right!” a number of people added.
Riley was out of things to say. He needed a breather. He needed time to figure out what was next. He needed time to think.
He walked down the steps. The mob barely parted for him. They pushed up against him, actually, not angry but just curious. He could still see the doubt in the faces of most of them. The doubt that admission of friendship with Claudia and Chloë created. He could see it, and he knew it wasn’t going away any time soon.
He felt a hand on his shoulder as he approached Anna and P
edro, who looked staggered, shadows of their former confident, delighted selves as Riley delivered his battle speech.
He turned around. The man with his hand on Riley’s shoulder was Rodrigo. He nodded at Riley, stared him right in the eyes.
“I don’t doubt you,” he said. “I just want you to know that. I trust you. But I can’t say the same for everyone. You know that now.”
The crowd grew more agitated. Pressed up towards the caravan again, like excited teenagers queueing for a concert. Well, an angry concert.
“Please, Rodrigo. They’re good—”
“We’ll go easy,” Rodrigo said. “Just for you, cause I see these people mean a lot to you. But you know as well as I do that these people here need someone to punish for what almost happened today. We’ll go easy on them. And then they go their own way.”
He half-smiled at Riley, patted him once more on the shoulder, then walked away from the mob and towards his caravan.
“This is bad, bruv,” Pedro said.
Riley watched as the guards held back the crowd of angry faces.
We’ll go easy on them. And then they go their own way.
It was bad. Very bad.
Chapter Three
“So what the hell are we going to do?” Anna asked.
Riley, Anna and Pedro sat in a derelict caravan, well away from the mob, and well away from their own caravans. Just a paranoid measure Riley had taken. The way the mob had looked at him upon the suggestion that he was in some way a traitor or a plant…he couldn’t let that suggestion manifest.
And if it did, he didn’t want to be there for when it exploded in his face.
“Seems pretty simple to me,” Pedro said. He sat beside the window, peering out of the pink curtains, uncharacteristically twitchy.
“Care to enlighten me?” Anna asked.
Pedro looked at her, then shrugged. “Well, it ain’t our fault what happened with Mike and this lot. And Claudia…Chloë. Well, we ‘aven’t seen ‘um in a while. Who’s to say they…”
“Are you suggesting we allow Rodrigo to kill them?” Anna said, her voice flaring up.