The Fall Series (Book 3): The Fence Walker

by Cross, Stephen

  Dalby nodded. “I know, Ellie. And think about this, have you thought about why he didn’t want you to save Mac?”

  Because he was a coward. The way Dalby looked at her, however, suggested he thought something else. She shook her head.

  “Maybe he wanted you for himself. Have you thought about that? An older man, seeing you with Mac, on his own. Maybe he thought he could do a better job than Mac.”

  That made sense. Of course it did. The way he had looked at her, the way he tried to get her to look after Annie; trying to make her another mum for Annie. Trying to maneuver her, manipulate her into liking him. She felt ill inside, remembering the times she had been alone with him.

  “You’re still upset, Ellie. But you’ve been through a lot. Amy told me your story. The business back at Mac’s pub, living in the Wilds with a baby. You’re strong. You're a fighter. You’ll get through this.”

  She would. She knew she would. It would take more than some coward pervert like Jack to end her.

  “Jack… He was in charge of the Fence, wasn’t he?” said Dalby.

  “It’s all he ever talked about. Fence this, Fence that. He had maps all over the chalet. Went crazy if we ever moved his stuff. Said we didn’t understand. Mac thought James needed to get someone else to do the job, but James wouldn’t listen to him. Guess we were ‘too new.’ Not part of the originals.”

  Dalby smiled. “Well, no one is newer here than me.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “So things are going to change. They are changing. We have a few surprises lined up, but most of all, we are going to get things working around here. Make things safe. James had a good handle when there were only a few people, but he’s not used to the larger numbers, especially keeping control; law and order and the such. I don’t need to bore you with the details, but I want you to know that people like Jack aren’t going to be allowed to get away with the things they are doing, the things they have been able to do. Do you understand?”

  “No, what do you mean?”

  “Well, Jack assaulted you for one. That wouldn’t have flown in the past, would it? So no reason why it should now. You could also say he is guilty of Mac’s manslaughter. Criminally culpable. He let Mac die and stopped someone else, you, who was trying to save him. Third, the Fence he built was obviously not up to scratch. Over a hundred people died because of his bad work. I don’t think someone should get away with that, do you?”

  "No, they shouldn’t. No way."

  “The people want answers,” continued Dalby. “They are angry, and so they should be. We need to find who is to blame for what happened. I think we know who that is, don’t we?”

  Ellie knew. Jack. It was obvious. “It was Jack.”

  Dalby shrugged. “That’s what I thought, but I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going off the rails with my accusations, you understand?”

  “It was Jack alright. He shouldn’t get away with it.”

  Dalby took on a grave expression. “The question is, what do we do? We have him in a safe place, but what do we do with him? I’m no judge, I don’t know if we have anyone here who is and-”

  “You have to decide,” Ellie interrupted. “You’re in charge, aren’t you? It’s up to you to decide. The people will be expecting you to make the decision. You’re the leader.” Ellie leaned forward onto the desk. “You’re the judge,” she said, surprising herself with the low, almost flirtatious lilt her voice took.

  Dalby leaned forward himself. “What would you do? What do you think should happen to Jack?”

  Ellie felt strange. Something spilling through her system, a warm, toxic feeling, like she was drunk or on tablets, but with a sharpness and clarity of mind. Power.

  “An eye for an eye, Major,” she said. “Just like the bible says.”

  When Andy returned from his drunken midnight ramble, Ash was asleep. He didn’t want to wake her and risk further ire, so he slept on the couch. Although there was not much sleep to be had - his mind replayed what he had seen, or what he thought he had seen - a soldier, guarding Jack in a deserted caravan deep in the woods.

  By the time Ash woke, Andy was bleary-eyed and with a sore head.

  “Morning,” said Andy as Ash walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

  “Are you going to tell me what last night was about?” she said, leaning back against the units. He liked that about her. To the point.

  “I’m sorry.” He sat up, then still not feeling right, like he was lounging, he stood up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from last night. I really don't. I guess things are going on in me that I don’t realize. A lot of anger. Whatever it is, I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t look angry. “Have you got a problem with me? Have I done something to piss you off? It was a pretty targeted attack, Andy.”

  “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with here, I guess. With the loss. The way people are treating each other. The separations forming. But I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “We need to stick together.”

  “We do.”

  “I’ll give you a pass. Just one, that’s all you get. Don’t talk to me like that again. If you have problems, talk to me about them. Or go and get drunk and moan with whoever.”

  Andy gave a sheepish smile. “Cross my heart.”

  “I’m making a coffee, you want one?” said Ash, busying herself.

  “Sure. Look, I need to talk to you about last night after I left here.”

  “If you are going to tell me you went and got hammered and had a great time, I’m not interested.”

  “I did get drunk, but there’s more than that. I saw something last night.”

  Ash poured the coffee and brought the cups over. They sat down. “What did you see? Dancing elephants?”

  “Apart from those.” He smiled and took a sip of coffee. The caffeine immediately cut a swath through his cloudy head. “I went for a walk, to the far end of the camp, past the end chalets, into the wood.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Ash shook her head. “Are you stupid? After everything that happened the other day.”

  “Yeah, hold on, listen to what I saw. So I saw a light deep in the woods, where no one ever goes. I went to have a look.”

  “Did you have a weapon?”

  “Never mind that,” he said. He put his cup down, his hands becoming animated. “So I got closer to the light.”

  “You went off the path in the middle of the night with no weapon?” Ash shook her head and closed her eyes. “Jesus.”

  “It was creepy, but listen. I got to a clearing. The light was from a caravan, some old knackered thing, looked like it had been dredged from the bottom of the sea or something.”

  “Countryside is dotted with them. Old tinkers, farmhands.”

  “Yeah, but guarded by soldiers?”

  Ash put down her coffee. “Go on.”

  “I thought that’d get your attention. There was a soldier, one of Dalby’s men, guarding the place. I think he heard me because he started looking around. Didn’t see me though. He told whoever was in the caravan to close the window, and I saw him.”

  “Saw who?”

  “Jack.”

  A moment’s silence.

  “Jack?” repeated Ash.

  “The crazy Fence guy himself. What’s he doing in a guarded caravan?”

  “Thinking about it, I haven’t seen him around since the attack,” said Ash.

  “That’s because he's being held prisoner in the woods,” said Andy. “Why else would there be a soldier there?”

  “What about Annie, did you see Annie?”

  “No. And I haven’t seen her since the attack either.”

  “It doesn’t mean that-” said Ash, her voice trailing off.

  “Mean what? You don’t know, do you? It’s just weird.”

  “It is.”

  “Ok, let’s think about this,” said Andy, his headache being pushed to the
back of his mind as he forced his brain to work. “We get attacked by hundreds of zombies, the Fence has given way. This guy Dalby turns up, and his guys clear us out, rescue us. Now, things are happening fast. Where’s James in all this? Don’t see much of him anymore.”

  “You think Dalby is taking over?”

  “A coup. A military coup.”

  Ash looked askance at Andy. “That sounds stupid. A military coup of a holiday park.”

  “You think so? What else is there in this world now? This is probably a sizeable population. It's empire building.”

  “What’s that got to do with Jack?”

  “I don’t know. But what I do know is that if Jack is being held prisoner, there has been no trial, no announcement, no nothing. I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Ash sat quietly for a minute.

  “What you thinking?” said Andy when she showed no sign of sharing her thoughts.

  “A lot of people are angry with Jack. A lot of people blame him for the Fence breaking, for the horde getting in.”

  “You think he’s there for his protection?”

  “Maybe. There’s another meeting tomorrow in the sports hall, isn’t there? Dalby has an announcement.”

  “You think we wait and see what he says before jumping to conclusions?”

  “That’s what I think.”

  “Ok, I can go with that.”

  Mrs. Rutledge led Sarah though to the sports hall. A large and empty room, light sand colored floor, plastic roof rattling with the sound of rain. It reminded her of her many painful P.E. lessons as a child. She never was sporty.

  “We usually have classes in here,” said Mrs. Rutledge. “Things are on hold at the moment due to the attack. It all got a bit scary in here,” Mrs. Rutledge visibly shuddered, her eyes wide open. Sarah wondered how this woman had survived the Fall. “Also, the Major will be having a meeting here later this morning. We will be starting the school up again tomorrow I imagine. It gives the children something to do, and education is so important. We don’t have all the equipment we need, but the Runners are getting more, and we make the best of what we can. It’s keeping their little minds occupied, you see. Structure.”

  “It all sounds wonderful,” said Sarah. “You’re doing an amazing job.” She meant every word. This woman may be terrified of her own shadow, but she obviously had some deep reserves and a real desire to help. Admirable.

  “Do you have any teaching experience?” said Mrs. Rutledge.

  “No. I have one daughter, but…” she trailed off.

  Mrs. Rutledge nodded imperceptibly. So many losses, they tended to be sympathetically passed over in conversation without further details being required.

  “I worked for a large company, I was a Finance Director,” said Sarah, feeling embarrassed for some reason. How vital her old job had seemed. Strutting around the boardroom, talking about mergers and acquisitions, meetings with corporate blow-hards, while her daughter was being picked up by the au pair, asleep by the time she got home.

  What a waste.

  “I didn’t spend as much time with her as I should and…” Sarah felt herself welling up. She covered her face. Tears. Where were they coming from, in front of this old woman she didn’t know? She’d spent so long hanging out with Crowe and his military aloofness and stoicism that she thought she had forgotten how to cry. She hadn’t.

  Mrs. Rutledge put her arms around her. “Oh dear, there, there. I know.”

  They stood for minutes, Sarah enjoying the envelopment of the old woman’s arms. The temporary safety and relegation of responsibility. Like a child, like a little girl. The little girl she had lost.

  “I’m sorry,” said Sarah pulling away. “How very silly of me.”

  Mrs. Rutledge shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s all to be expected.” Mrs. Rutledge took a moment’s pause. “Ok Sarah, I think you can help here. We need all the help we can get, and you seem like a lovely woman.”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Sarah. Guilt now appeared. Mrs. Rutledge had been so kind to her, no idea of Sarah’s ulterior motive, her little spy mission.

  “Especially after everything that happened,” said Mrs. Rutledge. “We lost an excellent teacher.”

  “Oh? Who was that?” Said Sarah, pushing for information. That was her mission. She felt dirty and a little bit evil.

  “Harriet. She was a young girl, but she was great with the children, and especially that little boy she had taken on. Poor Adam. They haven’t been seen since the attack.”

  “Adam?” said Sarah, with a little too much enthusiasm.

  “Yes, did you know him?”

  “Erm, yes, I think so. About eleven, blond hair?”

  “That’s him. So terrible. You never get used to the deaths, do you? Especially the little ones.”

  “No,” said Sarah. “You never do.”

  Crowe got up from the couch, marching almost to the bedroom.

  “What’re you doing?” said Sarah.

  “Packing,” he shouted from the bedroom.

  “Packing? What’re you talking about?”

  He appeared with his bag. How had he got it packed so quickly? Probably lived out of it. Ready to shift out any minute.

  “Adam is dead,” said Crowe. “That’s the end of the mission. Let’s get the fuck out of this place. I don’t like it. It smells bad.”

  “You seemed to like it a few days ago.”

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “These soldiers… I don’t like the smell of them. That’s enough for me,” said Crowe.

  “Well, I like it,” said Sarah. “And anyway, we can’t go, we don’t know it’s the same Adam.”

  “We don’t?” said Crowe, his face taking on the incredulity it always did, even when asked to make a cup of tea. “Adam, young boy, blond hair. Sounds like him.”

  “We need to get a positive ID.”

  “Why didn’t you show her the photo then?” said Crowe, his impatience showing.

  “What do I do, just pull it out and say is this him?”

  “Why not?”

  “How do I explain that?” said Sarah, exasperated.

  “Why does it matter? You scared of something?”

  “No, it’s just that, with Dalby and…”

  “See!” shouted Crowe, triumphant. “You think this place stinks too. Something going down here. Look, we pack up, we get out of here before things start to go south. We tell Allen what’s happened and we get away from here and set up by a nice beach down in Cornwall, away from any people.”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous,” said Sarah, now angry. For some reason, Mrs. Rutledge’s face was in her mind.

  “What’s ridiculous about it?”

  “We can’t just run out of here, we have to…”

  “Have to what?”

  “… Have to report back to Allen before we leave. This is a mission, right? He’s the commanding officer, isn’t he? You can’t just make an executive decision.”

  Crowe paused. She saw the conflict in his eyes, his brain whirring like an overloaded computer. He dropped the bag. “Fuck’s sake woman. Ok, but we report back to him today, clear?”

  “As day.”

  “We go now,” said Crowe.

  “No, not yet,” said Sarah. “Let’s see what Dalby has to say at the next meeting.”

  Crowe shook his head and looked at the ceiling. “God save us. Ok, if that’s what you want.”

  “Allen will be interested in what Dalby has to say.”

  “I think he’ll be more concerned that his son is dead,” said Crowe. “But you win, let’s go to the meeting.” He walked back into his bedroom with his bag.

  Andy and Ash took their seats in the middle of the sports hall. The rain was heavy now, and its thumping on the plastic roof of the sports hall was somehow therapeutic. Similar to the relaxation apps that Andy used to listen to on advice from his counselor, after the death of his wife.<
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  A healthy buzz of excited conversation hummed through the collective of the residents of Tulloch Bay holiday park. It seemed everyone was here. How many now, thought Andy, nine hundred or so? A sizeable amount of people. Enough to build a good army with.

  The last concert Andy had been to before his wife had died had been Muse. She had loved them, even before they were famous, she used to say. He remembered the happy excitement in the crowd beforehand as if something significant was about to happen. It was the same here, now, in this post-apocalyptic sports hall. The community that had just lost one hundred of their own. Was it right that they were excited, or not? Andy didn’t know.

  Silence ran from the front of the crowd to the back like a Mexican wave. Words stopped in mid-flow. The sound of stomping boots. Dalby walked onto the stage. James stood to the side of the stage, looking older than ever. Andy doubted anyone had noticed him.

  Ash took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Andy quickly looked at her and smiled.

  Dalby took to the podium. The audience erupted into a loud cheer, applause. Dalby allowed it to breathe just long enough, then raised his hands to signal rest. The audience complied.

  “We’re still here,” he said, with a smile.

  Another burst of applause that Dalby let ride.

  “We’re still here,” he shouted, before signaling for quiet again. “This looks to me like we’ve got a community, somewhere to call home. It doesn’t matter what they throw at us, it seems we got it handled.

  “You know, in my time in the army I’ve seen many battles, both lost and won. The difference, the only difference, isn’t the skill of the soldiers - who can shoot the best, who can run the fastest or carry the heaviest weight. No. It’s not even who has the biggest guns, or the most bullets. None of that. Do you want to know what it is that separates the winners from the losers? It’s the ability of the squad, the platoon, the battalion, to work together as a team. To act like one. One single being, one breathing living entity. Those who stick together, live together. That’s it. That’s the secret!”