The Fall Series (Book 3): The Fence Walker

by Cross, Stephen

  He kept running, cursing Dalby. The image of Sarah, battered and beaten, burnt in his mind.

  Dalby stood at the entrance to the substation staring at the dead soldier on the ground, his skull caved in and bleeding. Whoever it was, they had a gun now. Fuck that; he knew who it was, it was the man who had been with Sarah. The one they had to tried to capture, but who Chris had missed.

  “This is on you,” he said to Chris. “You let him get away.”

  “Sir, I tried-”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you tried!” bellowed Dalby. The collection of soldiers with them visibly shook. Silence and stillness followed.

  Dalby turned and stomped into the substation, down the stairs, to the room.

  Harriet, Adam, Andy, and Sarah.

  “You’ve got quite the little rebellion going on, haven’t you?” he said.

  No one spoke.

  “So, are you going to tell me who is leading this merry little band?”

  Andy spoke. “There is no rebellion, we aren’t trying to overthrow you if that’s what you think.”

  Dalby stared at Andy. A fucking pilot, thought he was still the red fucking baron or something.

  “You’re all going to hang.”

  “You’re crazy,” said Harriet, her voice wavering, sounding scared. Good. Dalby wanted to hit her, but he knew how to hurt them all at once, and with more pain than a simple beating.

  He walked over to Sarah.

  “You didn’t take it well, did you?” whispered Dalby. “Chris didn’t have to do much. He said all he did really was tickle you. You folded like a pack of cards.” He leaned in closer. “You know what, we’ve found your daughter.”

  Sarah’s eyes opened, she stared at Dalby “Clarissa? Where?”

  “Don’t listen, Sarah,” said Harriet. “He’s lying.”

  “We have her,” said Dalby “And we’re going to kill her. Once I’ve finished with you, we’re going to kill her. Because of you, and because of what you’ve done.”

  “No,” said Sarah in weak moans, her head turning from left to right. “No, please, don’t hurt her.”

  “He’s lying!” shouted Harriet.

  Dalby turned to smiled at Harriet. “All good things come to an end.” He leveled his boot and kicked Sarah in the head. A loud thump as the leather hit flesh hit breeze block.

  Harriet screamed. Andy yelled and rattled at his chains.

  Dalby kicked again, and again. He leveraged himself against the wall and kicked with all his might. Spit flew from his mouth. His foot ached. He started to yell. Again, and again. His boot cracked through something, and then it was like he was kicking a ball of moss. He looked down to see his black leather boots covered in grey, bloody mush.

  Sarah’s head hung limp.

  Dalby stared at the wall. Spittle dripped from his mouth. The sound of wailing and crying behind him. He turned to look at Andy. The pilot put his head down. Andy was angry, yes, but his fear presided over everything. Andy was terrified of Dalby. Dalby smiled.

  “You will all hang,” said Dalby, and he marched from the room. “Someone clean up the mess in there,” he barked to the soldiers in the corridor. “I need some sleep.”

  Tin cans rattled. Allen sat up and grabbed his rifle. He poked his head out of the tent. Rustling in the undergrowth nearby, the perpetrator shrouded in darkness. Couldn’t be a fox, he had set the lines too high for that. The sound was close, so it wasn’t a zombie; they couldn’t have got to the perimeter this quickly.

  That meant people; much more dangerous.

  A shadow charged through the trees, it would be on him in seconds. Need to be ready to fight. Allen threw himself out of the tent and got ready. Tense the legs, tight grip, ready to swing the butt of his rifle.

  “Whoa, Sarge, it’s me!” shouted Crowe as he bounded out of the trees into their clearing.

  Crowe. Allen relaxed, lowering his gun. “That’s not approach protocol, Crowe. What’s happened?”

  “Some crazy shit, Sarge. Dalby has gone full Colonel Kurtz.”

  Crowe’s clothes were ripped. He looked tired, disheveled; Allen recognized lack of sleep. Crowe had a wild look in his eyes, and his ankle was covered in blood. He also had a machine gun. Interesting.

  “Let’s wake Abdul,” said Allen. “Get ourselves a cup of tea, and you can tell us what happened.”

  “Never mind that,” said Crowe. “Your son, Adam. I think I’ve seen him. We found him.”

  Allen would remember that moment for the rest of his life. As if a bolt of electricity had shot through his spine. He dropped the gun, and his legs went weak. He lowered himself to the ground. Crowe was talking, but he didn’t hear the words. Adam was alive. Beyond all his hopes, all his dreams, had he found him? Could Crowe have made a mistake? Abdul was talking now. Excited, fast voices. Something about Sarah. What if Crowe had made a mistake? No, Allen had believed this far. He would continue believing. The second he stopped believing was the second he lost Adam. He had to believe stronger than ever.

  “Stop!” said Allen. The other two men stopped talking as if switched off, and looked at Allen. “Stop… Start again, Crowe. At the beginning.”

  Early morning and the Runners gathered in the parking lot of Unity as they always did. Several small groups stood around tables set up by their respective trucks, large 4X4s idling in the gray murk of the early day.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit much, all this,” said Warren waving his arm around the car park. His old tanned forehead creased as he squinted. His long vision had been getting worse over the past year. He’d have to start trying out the collection of glasses they had, see if anything suited him. Wouldn’t do to not be able to see zeds coming.

  “What you mean?” said Charlie.

  “The soldiers. Dotted everywhere, watching us.”

  A nearby soldier looked up and glanced at Warren.

  “Keeping us safe, Warren,” said Charlie.

  Warren wondered about Charlie. Young, yes, but was he as stupid as he sometimes made out? Warren didn’t know. Maybe that was just how it was. Charlie, nineteen and naive; the world, even in its apocalyptic state, was only a simple world. For Charlie, things were as they seemed.

  “The curfew,” said Warren. “Is that keeping us safe? We did fine without before.”

  “Yeah,” said Dean, putting his map aside. “But that was before the attack, and before this rebellion.”

  “We don’t know much about that either do we?” said Warren. “Even if there is one. What if it’s just an excuse? The attack was in the daytime.”

  “But the traitors,” said Charlie. “That’s why we got the curfew.” He raised his eyebrows at Dean as if he couldn’t understand how stupid Warren was being.

  “You really think that Andy and Ash did what they said? That they’re trying to take over?”

  Charlie jumped down from the truck. “It’s what Dalby said, isn’t it? They got the lights on. They saved us from the traitors. Why wouldn’t we believe them?”

  “Come on, you were drinking with Andy just a few nights ago. You really think he’d be trying to kill people here?”

  “Dalby said it.” Charlie was standing up straight now. Still a few feet away from Warren, but Warren knew an aggressive stance when he saw one. “That means he get’s my vote. You can’t know everyone, can you? For all I know, with this talk, maybe you're one them.”

  Warren noticed eyes in their direction. Nearby runners’ interest piqued. A soldier too was watching them.

  “Careful,” said Dean quietly.

  Warren shook his head. He was too old for this bullshit. “Careful? What of? Speaking out of turn? I call it like I see it, Dean. You know that. Charlie - you’ve worked with Andy and me for over a year now. And then this Dalby character rolls in, puts on the lights and everyone thinks he’s some sort of God. Andy and Ash disappear, we got a curfew and now some rebellion going on right under our noses. You’re stupid and naive, Charlie. Look around you.”

  “
Hey,” shouted Charlie, taking a step towards Warren. “You’re the stupid one if you think the man protecting us is making stuff up. I think you’re the one making stuff up. I think maybe you’re with them!”

  Dean stepped in between the two of them, his hands resting on each man’s chest. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s just keep our cool.”

  A new voice. “We got a problem gents?” It was a soldier. Warren recognized him, the young scouse one. Seemed to be a bit of a big shot recently.

  “No,” said Warren, “No problem.”

  “You sure?” said Chris. “Seems like you were making some pretty wild accusations.”

  Warren glanced at Dean, whose eyes were wide open with, what, fear?

  “No,” said Warren. “Not me. Just blowing off some steam. You know how it is.”

  Chris stared at Warren for a moment. His eyes moved to Dean, then to Charlie. “What’re your names?” he said.

  Warren gulped. “I’m Warren.”

  “Dean.”

  “Charlie. I think you’re all doing a great job. Dalby’s the man as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Major Dalby,” said Chris, quietly.

  Charlie smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, Major Dalby. The Major.”

  A quiet sat upon the parking lot. Eyes in their direction. Nervous shuffling of feet.

  “Ok,” said Chris. “Back to it.” He turned and walked back to the perimeter of the parking lot.

  “Nice one,” hissed Charlie through his teeth, as he climbed into the cab.

  It was going to be a long run.

  Chris walked into the chalet he shared with Terry and Amy. The baby was still there. That bloody baby. Sitting on the couch with Amy, as if it was Amy’s. Always fucking crying, or something. Terry sat next to Amy, his face all smiles, cooing with his stupid long hair and bald head, look at me I’m a fucking crazy professor. Ain’t got the brains for that pal. Or the muscles now. And who’s the first lieutenant? Not you, baldy balls.

  “That baby still here?” he said, not bothering to hide his displeasure. He was past that now. Besides, he had more important things to worry about. He would be out of here by tonight.

  “He’s lovely,” said Amy.

  “Nothing wrong with a baby, Chris,” said Terry. “He needs someone to look after him.”

  “What about his mum then?” said Chris.

  “She’s not well,” said Amy.

  “I just saw her with the Major an hour or two ago. Seems fine to me.”

  “Well I don’t now then, Chris,” said Amy sighing and rolling her eyes,

  These are your friends, said Chris’s nan.

  Don't need friends anymore, do I. Not like these.

  What, swapping your friends out for this major are you?

  “Chris!” It was Terry. He was shouting.

  “What?”

  “You gone soft in the head? Staring into space like you’re some special case. I’ve been talking to you.”

  “If I was soft in the head, I wouldn't be a first lieutenant, would I?”

  Terry shook his head. He glanced at Amy.

  “Look,” said Terry, “we’re wondering if this is a good idea.”

  “Is what a good idea?”

  Terry looked uncomfortable. Good.

  “Us, you know, all living here together. Maybe, what with the baby being here a lot, and with my Nate, maybe, you’d be better off with some other young lads. You know, other lads you could have a laugh with and that. Not worry about babies and all that.”

  Trying to get rid. You’re turning them all against you.

  Nan was a pain these days, always going on. But still, Chris took pause. They’d all escaped Liverpool together. Been through some pretty tight skirmishes. Been in the Wilds for a few months. He’d saved Terry’s son, Nate.

  But things had changed.

  “Listen,” said Chris, “It don’t matter anyway, I”m moving out anyhow.”

  “You are?” said Amy.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a mission. From the Major, like.” Terry tried to look impressed. He was putting it on. Nob’ead. “I’m hunting down the rebels. Getting my own squad. Leaving tonight.”

  “You’re going back to the Wilds?” said Terry.

  “Well, I’m not going to find the rebels sitting on the beach am I?”

  “You sure about this, Chris?” said Amy. “You remember what it’s like out there?”

  They didn’t have a clue. “It’s not about what I like, is it? It’s a mission. The Major picked me. Sorry about that Terry, that you’re still only a second lieutenant. But the Major wants me to take a squad out and hunt the rebels. Just deal with it.”

  Terry stood up. “Chris, calm down, and think about what you’re saying? I don’t know where you get this idea that I’m bothered about you being a first lieutenant. But we got a good thing going here, you don’t need-”

  “I don’t need you to tell me what to do! Either of youse. You forget, Amy, if you hadn’t stuck with me back at the estate, you’d be dead by now, shuffling around eating fucking brains. And you Terry, if it weren’t for me, your son would be lying at the bottom of a fucking valley, his bones all fucking broken.” Chris imitated some sort of deformed creature, pulling his arms around and pulling faces. He started to laugh.

  “All right, that’s it,” said Terry. “You can fucking do one. I’ve had it, get the fuck out. Go on your fucking mission, prick.” Terry made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “I’m fucking done with you. Fucking first lieutenant nob’ead more like.”

  Chris stopped his impression and stared at them both for a second.

  Well that’s that, isn’t lad? Well done.

  “Whatever, Terry lad.” Chris marched to his room, where he started packing the things he would need for his mission.

  Allen aimed his binoculars at the holiday camp. Called ‘Unity’ now, according to Crowe. It was early morning, but there was movement already. The Runners and the Fishers were first to rise. The scurry of activity around the small harbor and parking lot was a daily event. It seemed they went out every morning, whatever the day, whatever the weather. Four fishing boats, around twenty men. Eight trucks for the Runners, about 50 men and women. A well-resourced industry. Supplies and food and goods, instrumental to the survival of the community.

  Allen had expected to see an uptick in the Runners on the arrival of Dalby; instead, there had been an uptick in the security detail. More guards, more military vehicles. The fence had been bolstered in the first week.

  The trucks rolled out of the main gate, one after another, a convoy. The distant roar of the engines hummed and vibrated like a symphony as the different vehicles spilt off on their respective routes, spreading throughout the countryside to various shopping centers, industrial estates, and hospitals. Allen guessed that at least one truck was on an exploratory detail as every day, one would return much later than the others. Stretching the reach. The ever growing community consuming more and more just to stay in the same place.

  Abdul came and sat next to Allen, a steaming cup of tea in his hands.

  “Do you think we can get them out?” said Abdul.

  “Sure we will. Just got to be smart about it. Dalby isn’t stupid. But we have surprise. Very valuable.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  Allen lowered his binoculars and turned to Abdul. “Of a sort.” He looked up as Crowe joined them, also with a cup of tea.

  “I’ve been watching the substation," said Allen. “Four men now on each entrance. How long did you say it took before reinforcements were there?”

  “Couldn’t have been more than a minute. Will be quicker now, I reckon.”

  Crowe was right. Dalby would be recruiting more soldiers. Increasing the guard, improving the communications.

  A new engine sound alerted Allen. He picked up his binoculars again. A jeep was leaving the holiday park. “That’s new,” he said.

  “Who’s in it?” said Crowe.

  “Looks like four soldiers.
Where are they going?”

  “You know what I think?” said Crowe.

  “I think I do,” said Allen as he watched the truck turn left on the main road, heading towards the town of Tulloch.

  “Does someone want to tell me?” said Abdul.

  “They’re looking for us,” said Allen.

  The three sat in silence for moments, until the distant buzz of the engine died away, swallowed up by the buildings of the town.

  “What do we do?” said Abdul.

  “If we want to get into that substation,” said Allen. “We’ll need more firepower.”

  “We have one gun,” said Crowe, nodding to his semi-automatic.

  “Guns aren’t the only firepower,” said Allen. “People can pack a punch too. Especially a group of Wild hardened veterans.”

  Crowe smiled in realization. “You’re getting extra troops?”

  Abdul looked between the two men. “You mean the camp? Our camp?”

  “Lewis and Singh, and I can think of a good few others who’d be up to the task,” said Allen.

  “But it’s thirty miles away,” said Abdul. “We’ll never get there and back in time. They’ll kill Sarah, and…” Abdul paused, not saying what he was going to, but not needing to. He glanced awkwardly at Allen. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

  Allen rested his hand on Abdul’s shoulder. “You up for it?”

  “For what?” said Abdul, although he knew what he was being asked.

  “I need Crowe with me, here. We’re going to site rep the whole place, find how to get in, monitor the guard patterns. Maybe intercept this squad looking for us.”

  “Intercept?” said Crowe, his eyes lighting up.

  Allen shrugged. “Nothing’s off the table. So, Abdul, you think you can do it?”

  “You think we’ll have the time?”

  “It’s the only shot we got.”

  Crowe and Allen watched Abdul. Waited.

  “Ok,” he said eventually with a deep intake of breath.

  “That’s my man,” said Allen.

  Crowe patted him on the shoulder.

  “You tell Lewis and Singh what’s happening. We need numbers. Whoever’s up for it. You get there as fast as you can. You get back here as fast as you can.”