That wasn't how it happened, at all, thought Ellie as she left the shop and stood in the empty street again. Not at all.
Harriet held on tight to Adam, aware her heart was thumping hard, her breathing short and dense. She was used to heightened situations in this new world; her and Arthur - thinking of him hurt - had fought all sorts of people, zombies, and escaped the worst of perils. But as they sat, waiting in the harsh glare of the ever-present industrial lights, waiting for the door to open, Harriet realized she still didn’t do violence well. Most of those around her seemed calm, waiting with stoic peace for the inevitable fight that was soon to occur - along with the possibility of death.
But then how did she know they were good with it? She looked at Andy. She looked closely. He turned and smiled at her, but his smile faltered and shook for a second. He was nervous too. Close inspection of Dean revealed a tiny bead of sweat under his hairline.
They were all scared of the escape.
They sat in silence, poised. All eyes on the door. Their pupils, rendered tiny by the horrible white of the light, gave them the look of an army of mole people, frozen in time, like one of those silly ‘How we use to live” exhibitions, with plastic cavemen and women staring at plastic fire.
“You ready, Adam?” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand. “I am. Are you?”
She smiled. “I am, Adam.”
Nine men, one woman, and one child.
The sound of footfalls from the corridor outside, the scrape of boots against bare concrete. Voices. Muted laughter. Keys in a lock.
The atmosphere in the room tightened as if squeezed by a giant hand. Wound tight like a spooked cat, ready to burst forward.
The door opened. Beyond only darkness.
They always pushed the gun in first, ready to shoot. Andy leaped from his position behind the door and grabbed the barrel. A shot went off in the room, Harriet’s ears rang in pain.
Andy pulled at the gun barrel, and the soldier, not letting go, hit the wall. Three men jumped on him, a tangle of limbs. Another gunshot. A second man ran into the room. Another shot, another pounce of the many-limbed tangle. This one fell like a broken rugby scrum.
Harriet retreated to the corner of the room. More scared than she thought she would be, engrossed with a cold terror. Adam was pulling against her grip, but she didn’t let him go. She didn’t want him to get involved. The guns were too real.
A shot. The sound of a man grunting in pain. The sickening thuds of bone against flesh. Both soldiers were on the ground, being kicked and punched. Two more bodies lay on the ground. Charlie was one, the young man who had arrived with Warren and Dean. Blood poured from his head. The other was a young man, a teenager. Harriet hadn’t spoken to him. The young man’s eyes were open with a kind of dumb wonder as if death had freed him from the horror of life.
It had all happened so quickly.
“Come on, love,” said Warren, suddenly in front of her, his hand grabbing hers. “We’d better go.”
She got up, one last glance at the dead bodies, the blood, and then her and Adam were in the corridor, carried along in the train of bodies towards the stairs. Total darkness, her eyes unable to function without the burning of the lights. Red and white splurges floated in and out of her vision. A hand grabbed her hand, and she gasped for a second, then realized it was Adam’s small hand. He guided her through the dark.
“Adam, slow down,” she said. “Careful you don’t fall.”
“I’m ok, I’ve had my eyes closed for the last hour.”
A draft of cold air, shouting from ahead, but good shouting. “This way, come on. Move!” It was Andy.
She climbed some stairs, Andy was at the top, he had one of the soldier’s guns. “Come on, go, go, go.” His eyes flitted from the escaping group to the night outside. Dean stood there, also with a gun, sweeping it from left to right, breathing heavily, scared. Jittery movements.
The stars. Harriet had thought at one point she would never see the sun again, but realized it was the stars she missed the most. Their million-speckled beauty and majesty. So small, but together so beautiful.
They ran out into the night.
“Here they come!” said Dean. He let off a shot. It was answered by several. The man standing next to Harriet, the man who had been running beside her a few seconds ago, fell to the ground.
“Run!” said an anonymous voice. She already was. “This way.’ She followed the sound, Adam by her side.
Their escape punctuated with the dull timbre of gunfire. The desperate and terrible sounds of bodies falling. Too many. Please though, don’t let it be me next. Like a wild animal, running scared, eyes white with terror, the hunters talking pot shots, their glory, her complete fear.
The ground became soft, and they went over a small rise. It was deeper on the other side, and they charged down, Harriet glancing to see only six or seven of them together. The dip gave them a brief respite from the gunfire.
The Fence approached.
Andy and Dean ducked onto their knees and faced the rise behind. Warren grabbed Adam, lifted him from her arms and threw him onto the Fence. It wasn’t too high, only designed to keep out the zombies. Adam scurried up, Harriet climbing beside him. They reached the top at the same time. Gunfire erupted from behind. She jumped off the wall, her brief seconds on the top like hours, so exposed.
“You ok?” Harriet shouted up to Adam.
No answer. Adam wasn’t on the top of the wall. He wasn’t next to her.
“Adam!” She shouted, leaping back towards the wall.
Hands grabbed her. It was Warren. “Hold on love, you don’t want to go back up there.”
As if to underline Warren’s warning, another body appeared on the top of the wall. It was only there for a second, then fell backward with a cry of pain.
Harriet didn’t care, she tried to get back up the Fence. “Adam!” Still no answer. Still Warren holding her back. She pushed at him, squirmed, trying to get out of his grip.
A fast flurry of gunfire. Then silence.
She watched the top of the wall, waiting for a soldier to appear, night vision goggles, grenades, explosions, death.
But it was Andy and then Dean. They jumped and landed with a thump on the ground.
“Harriet?” said Andy.
“Where’s Adam?” she screamed.
“I didn’t see him,” said Andy.
“We can’t go without him.” Desperation seized her. The world and all its dangers turned into a mist, the only thing in focus was her need to find Adam.
“We have to go,” said Andy. “More are coming.”
Voices and shouts and gunshots from beyond the fence.
Andy grabbed Harriet by the shoulders. “I didn’t see him, that means I didn’t see a body. He must still be alive. From what I’ve seen of him, he can look after himself.”
Could he? He was just a boy, a little boy who had seen so much horror in his short life.
“Look, we get to that lookout Sarah told us about, and we find his Dad. Then we all come back and get him. That’s better than us four going back over that wall. We do that, and we’re dead, all of us.”
Another element of focus in the mist. Andy’s words. They made sense. She would have to trust Adam - it was him that had kept her alive with his common sense and tricks learned from his Dad, so many times. She had to believe he would make it.
“Ok,” she said quietly.
“Good.” Andy gave Harriet a quick hug.
The sound of scuffling and shouting from the other side of the wall.
“We have to go.”
They ran into the woods.
As Harriet escaped from the camp, Ellie was in the bath. No one else had baths as it used too much gas; the rationing didn’t allow it. Not a problem for Ellie, however. She had plenty of gas and all the electricity she wanted. So too with food and drink. First pick of clothes. Her wardrobe was lined with Gucci, Chanel, Prada, the real spoils from the Runs. Now that the
infrastructure was in place and being run so tightly by the Major, the market for luxuries was on the rise. Clothes, designer shoes, hand carved furniture. iPads and iPhones, so people could transfer their photos from their phones onto larger mediums. Then some bright spark realized that they could put them on big flat screens instead, so the market for the latest smart televisions boomed. Then DVDs, box sets. The light entertainment industry had only been out of action for a year or so. Didn’t take long for humanity to resurrect it.
Which was just as well. The curfew had been extended to an hour before dark and an hour after sunrise, on pain of prison. A second offense would mean exile to the Wilds. Her man kept a tight reign on things, that’s for sure. He had to, of course. They lived in dangerous times.
Like Jack, the terrible woman beater.
Ellie let her head sink under the water. Sound morphed into a dull bubbling throb. She closed her eyes and let the hot water envelop her completely.
Jack, the murderous insurgent.
She thought of their early days together in the chalet. Jack's long unkempt hair, his wonderful and happy daughter. His odd affectations and inability to hold a conversation.
Why was the Jack she heard about in the stores and on the streets nothing like the man she had known?
Sure, he had fucked up and probably got Mac killed, but that was through cowardice, not malice. The man was a coward, she knew that, but he wasn’t a monster.
Ellie emerged from the water and opened her eyes. The world flooded back in. It was quiet, so quiet, without her son. Without his little baby chatter, his awkward limbs as he tried to crawl and now walk. His grinning little fat face.
She got out of the bath, gripped by a strange anxiousness. Who was she? How had she given up her child to another woman? But she hadn’t given him up, Amy was just looking after her - that was what the Major had said. She could go and visit any time she wanted. No good to have a child around the place, not when he was trying to run Unity. It’s hard enough keeping everyone together, keeping the whole thing from falling apart, without having to worry about a child.
Ellie looked in the mirror at the end of the bath. Deep into her eyes, deep into the pupils. A stranger stared back at her. She began to cry.
She had to get her boy back.
Dalby came back late in the night. His boots thumped on the floor, flung down with force. He was angry. Something had happened.
She sat up on the bed and took several deep breaths. The door to the bedroom opened. Light beamed in. The shadow of Dalby stood there, like a stone golem, motionless and featureless. His breath fast and deep.
“The fuckers have escaped.”
“Which fuckers, dear?” said Ellie, her chest beating like a drum.
“Which fuckers? The rebels! Jack’s lot, you stupid bitch, who do you think?”
“I just wanted to check. There are so many fuckers around.” The words were coming out of her mouth before she was thinking them.
The shadow at the door’s head tilted to the left, like a puppy’s asking for treats. “Is anything wrong, Ellie?”
Now her brain fired into action. Don’t say anything, it was saying. Just smile, lie back and think of England. But she had to override these thoughts, or nothing would change. She was suddenly part of a life she didn’t want.
Just spit it out.
“I want Eddy to come back and stay with us.”
There. Done.
Nothing from the shadow at the door. Silence like a ghost.
“Well?” said Ellie. Her voice was quieter now, timid. She cursed herself silently. Stop being so fucking timid. I’ve done things, things that many people couldn’t have done. I don’t need to be afraid of this man.
Dalby became visible as he stepped into the room. His face wore a smirk. He sat on the bed beside Ellie and put his arm around the back of her neck. She squirmed, again without thinking. She stopped her muscles, stop moving body, stop moving.
“What did I tell you?” he said quietly.
His hand was tightening around the back of her neck. Squeezing a little.
“You’re hurting me,” she said.
“What did I tell you?!” he shouted, the sudden burst of volume making her jump.
“That Eddy couldn’t stay here,” she blurted out, automatically.
“Eddy can’t stay here!” shouted Dalby. “That’s what I said. I don’t need a sniveling, shitting, crying little baby in the chalet. I need sleep, I need comfort, I need peace. That’s all I need from you. Out there, nothing stops. I do and I work, every day, all day. I hold this place together by the thinnest of fingernails. The stability of Unity may seem solid, but it’s like tissue paper, with people and events pulling here and there, and it’s me, running around the edges making sure that all the forces are balanced, that everything is even, that one side doesn’t get an advantage on the other and rip the tissue to pieces. This Chalet, this is where I get my rest, this is where I recharge. I don’t need anything I don’t want.” He leaned in, close to her face. “Do you understand?”
Ellie was shaking. Something was inside her, pushing its way up through her throat, from her stomach, deep down. “I can’t do this!” she shouted. For a second, she saw surprise in Dalby’s eyes. She closed hers; she didn’t want to see his next emotion. “I can’t live without my son. It’s not worth it; the comfort, the safety, the protection, whatever it is you promise, I can’t do it. I’ve become something horrible.” She opened her eyes. Fury in Dalby’s. “Either Eddy come’s here, or I go.”
Everything went black, and Ellie was suddenly on the floor. Her head hurt, her ears rang. Stars in her eyes. Pain. Then something hit her in the abdomen. She doubled over as nausea enveloped her body.
“You think I give a fuck about you? Whether you stay or leave? You’re nothing to me; you’re a fucking toy. Get up!” He was yelling. Louder than she had ever heard. “You are nothing! Get out, before I kill you, before I fucking kill you!” he grabbed her hair and pulled. Ellie scrambled to lift herself off the floor, fearing he would rip her scalp off.
Dalby pushed her against the wall. His face was red. Spittle hung from his mouth in globules. His eyes were red. Was he crying?
“Get out! Get the fuck out! I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone!” He pushed her out the door. He kicked the back of her legs. She bumped against the walls as she stumbled, unable to move fast enough. “Get out!”
The chalet door was opened, she was outside, she was on the floor, the skin on her knees and elbows cut and stuck with gravel, her face stinging from the hard floor and the cold.
“Fuck you, bitch. You’re going to fucking die on your own.”
The door slammed shut, and the light disappeared. A few false starts and Ellie managed to get to her feet. It was cold, she was only in her nightie.
To Amy’s. She had to get Eddy. She had to tell him she was sorry, that Mummy was sorry, that Mummy had gone mad.
Gunfire exploded around his head, so Adam kept down and ran as fast as he could. This must have been what his Dad had felt like in Iraq, in Afghanistan. Always keep cool, his Dad had told him. Sometimes you just gotta go with it and trust that what will happen, will happen. No use panicking lad, that’ll never do you a jot of good.
Adam threw himself behind a car, its tires flat, its body rusty. He peered out and saw Harriet fall over the fence. He had got lost somehow in the fuss and noise. He had slipped on the fence, fell, and ran, but in the wrong direction. Pretty stupid. Not the sort of mistake his Dad would have made.
His Dad would be able to give him more training when he found him. Because he was alive. He had traveled across the country to find him. It didn’t surprise Adam - he knew his Dad would do that.
He ducked in behind a nearby chalet and started to scramble through the yards and gardens, climbing over walls, ducking under fences. Most lights were off, and he was extra careful at those with the lights on. The gunfire became sporadic, then eventually stopped altogether. Either Harriet and th
e others had got away or… No, they had got away. There was no ‘Or.’ He’d already lost Arthur, he wasn’t going to lose Harriet too.
He was in the woods. He didn’t know how he got there, but there he was. He sat up against a tree, nicely hidden in the dark, and breathed deeply. He wasn’t scared of the dark. There were worse things in the world than darkness. Ok, time to take a sit-rep.
No food, no supplies, no water, no weapons. But he was in the walls of the camp, (no way he was calling it Unity, stupid name by that idiot Dalby. No way Dalby was a Major either.) There wouldn't be any zombies within the camp, or he had to assume that. Sometimes you had to make an assumption, the best guess. It was impossible to know everything.
So, two choices. Adam could leave the camp and try and find his Dad, or he could stay in the camp. Easy choice. He started to walk towards the edge of the camp, some fifteen minutes away through the thick forest. Find his Dad. His feet fell softly into mulch and discarded pine needles.
He stopped.
Just because you think of something first doesn’t mean it’s the best thing to do. Think about it. In here, there were no zombies. Outside, there was. He didn’t know where his Dad was either. Up on the hill somewhere. What happened if he couldn’t find his Dad? What happened if his Dad made the assault on the camp and Adam wasn’t there. He might miss him.
His Dad knew he was here, he expected to find him here.
He had to trust him.
He sat down by another tree. It was hard to do; his feet wanted to keep walking, his insides yearned to move, to get closer to his Dad. But if he went with them, he would be ignoring everything he’d ever been taught.
He breathed slowly, calming himself down, using the mediation practices his Dad had taught him. Important to keep your mind clear.
He jumped at a sound behind him. He snapped his head around and saw a small lumbering black and white shape snuffling through the bushes. It was a badger. Adam smiled. He’d never seen a badger before. It was funny. Big, fat, strong looking, but also funny. It stopped and looked up, and for a moment the two locked eyes.
The Fall Series (Book 3): The Fence Walker Page 30