by Vance Huxley
“She had some sort of a breakdown but came out of it killing mad. The lass came over here with a knife, wanting to see Trev alone. She’s got a broken arm that’s in a temporary splint but won’t go for more treatment, or at least not until this one is on the heap outside the gate.” Penny laughed, without any humour at all. “We aren’t stopping him getting away, just keeping the little shit alive for you. Celine, Alicia, Elizabeth’s lass Pricilla, Hazel, we’ve had half Orchard Close asking for a few minutes with him and not just fighters.”
“I just need to make sure what happened, who he spied for, then we’ll deal with that part.” Harold turned to the wounded man. “You want to tell me about it, Trev?”
Penny reached down and ripped the pad from Trev’s face, stepping back as blood sprayed. “Speak up, shithead. Just remember what we told you.”
The confession wasn’t clear because Trev had to breathe through his mouth, and his bleeding lips obviously hurt when they moved. Elise had done a real number on those and his nose with her teeth. Trev’s confession came out quick and comprehensive though. Harold hardly had to ask any questions. The traitor didn’t work for the General or anyone but Caddi, and didn’t have an accomplice. He hadn’t any idea how many muskets or other weapons there were, because Caddi hadn’t pushed him to ask about them.
Right from the start the gang boss had only wanted Trev for the actual attack, to mislead Harold and then drug the Orchard Close guards. The special directional radio didn’t reach the front lines, but Caddi used it to feed Harold genuine information for a while. While he gathered the men for Orchard Close, Caddi used the radio to fool Harold into thinking some Murphies were still fighting. Caddi supplied the drug for the guards, in the chocolate, then Trev faked an extra channel on the radio to get Harold out of the house.
Just as Caddi had bragged, Trev had been paid in sex with young girls at the Mansion. Trev tried to mitigate what he’d done by saying he wouldn’t touch children, ever. He claimed that the girls were all teenagers, at least thirteen, probably. Harold wanted to kick the bastard’s hip himself. Caddi had asked what Trev would really like, and he’d asked for Elise. Trev had fancied her ever since she started as his apprentice, so he kept sending her out without the dog then comforting her. Harold stopped him then, before Trev said any more and he gave the sick shit to the women.
Trev was a dead man as soon as it could be organised properly, despite apologising even as he spilled everything. He’d also begged Harold not to give him to Elise, or Bethany, or Alicia, or…. The list was impressive. Harold couldn’t understand why the confession was so eager, and detailed, because Trev was digging his own grave, literally. Once he’d done, Harold turned to Penny. “It’s crazy. He seems to want me to kill him right now. I’m bloody tempted as well.”
“He does.” That big smile didn’t match the look in Penny’s eyes. “We wouldn’t let anyone kill him but we let a lot of women come and talk to him, a few at a time. They handed over any guns or crossbows and stood over there.” She pointed to a spot about three metres away then sneered at Trev, now whimpering and crying again. “Bethany and Elise told Trev if he missed out the tiniest detail, you’d promised the women could have him. Half a dozen of them took turns to explain how long it takes to skin a human alive, and where to start, and which bits to peel first so he doesn’t die before they’re done. Others explained how long they could slow-roast him on a spit while keeping the nasty little shit conscious. I was impressed, and now I’m hopeful.” Penny gave another humourless laugh. “The rest of the Riot Squad are sharpening knives or building a fire, in case he misses something out or lies.”
Harold had no idea if a man could be skinned and roasted alive, but Trev wouldn’t find out. He’d be executed after a trial, because right now the survivors needed to be reminded they were civilised. Harold even tried for a proper trial but he couldn’t get a jury. Everyone he asked said the bloke was guilty, so why bother? The most restrained wanted to shoot Trev right now, while the rest had a whole range of fatal suggestions that would take a lot longer.
The actual execution had to wait because Harold limited the firing squad to twelve people, then had to wait while all the volunteers drew lots for the chance. He made it very clear he didn’t want groin or belly shots from the firing squad, heart only because this would be a civilised execution, not torture. He even insisted on executing Trev now, even if it was already dark, because he didn’t think the women would let the traitor live until daylight.
Trev screamed as if he was being tortured when he was hauled upright, because the weight of his legs pulled down on his shattered hip. He passed out for a while, so three big men held him up and tied him to a lamp post. Harold waited until Trev came round to pronounce sentence, so perhaps he was feeling a bit uncivilised as well. The firing squad used crossbows to save powder. Only one went into Trev’s groin so Harold couldn’t be bothered to try and find out who did it. The rest went into the traitor’s chest, just as instructed, but all on the wrong side which really wasn’t worth quibbling over. Trev didn’t last long with eleven shafts through his ribs and one lung, even if his heart still pumped, briefly.
Elise headed the queue to spit on the body. Harold left the crowd to contribute with strict instructions there was to be no mutilation, though the stray crossbow bolt had done what most of them intended anyway. Logan promised to get Trev cut down and thrown out with the other bodies, once everyone had finished spitting or pissing. Harold headed home to see Mercedes.
* * *
Mercedes still slept, so Harold had a hot drink while Sharyn told him about Elise, Fantasia, and why Pete wouldn’t be a problem. “Elise’s dad died about two months before she arrived here, killed by a gang looking for loot or women. They took Elise, her big sister and their mum. It ended up like Abigail, with Rory. When her mum swore Elise was too young they said not really, but left her alone on condition the other two did what they were told.”
“All right, you can fast forward, I get it.” Because Harold remembered what a mess Abigail had been after being controlled through her son. She’d expected Orchard Close to reject her baby girl because a gangster fathered her.
“Not totally. Her mum and sister reckoned it wouldn’t last. When they were all locked in a room with a patch in the ceiling plaster, the three of them tore a hole with their fingers. Not a big hole but Elise is skinny, so they crammed her through into the loft. Her mum and sister wouldn’t fit. Elise took off roof tiles, got outside and ran. That’s why she clams up around men and didn’t talk to even the women.” Sharyn shook her head gently. “Elise blames herself for not getting her mum and sister out.”
“I hope someone explained.” He really hoped so because Harold didn’t think Elise would listen to him.
“June told her what she did to survive, then Bethany told her what she’d been forced to do. Bethany got through to Elise, because that girl went through some really grim shit on the way here. I think it helped that by then Elise had got good and mad.” Sharyn paused, then spit it out. “Trev has been grooming her.”
Harold almost stood up, then remembered Trev was dead so he couldn’t hurt the man. “He told me he kept sending her out without Thandia, then hugging her when she came back a nervous wreck.”
From her tone of voice, Sharyn might be wishing she could still get at Trev. “Well now she’s thinking hard, remembering, and he’s been touching, rubbing against her. She’d wondered a couple of times but thought it was her being paranoid because of what happened to her mum.”
“Why didn’t she tell anyone?”
“Because Trev told her everyone here had to do their part, to keep Orchard Close safe. That his work was very important. How if people made a fuss, or didn’t contribute, they had to leave. Elise thought Trev was so important that if she said something, and it turned out to be just her imagining, she’d be thrown out.” Sharyn laughed, a short, harsh noise. “It’s a pity we didn’t bug Thandia. A mastiff is near enough to a St. Bernard, Elise’
s old dog, that she told the mutt everything.”
“She used to say that, about wanting to be useful, every time anyone asked how she was. I can’t get at Trev now so why do I need to know all this?” Because Harold would lie awake nights now, wondering how he’d missed it, and he already had too many ghosts.
“So we can all watch for another Trev, and so you understand Elise and her new attitude.” This laugh from Sharyn had real humour. “She’ll have to put some weight on and build some muscle, but it wouldn’t surprise me to see that lass in the Demons one day. She’s ashamed she let Trev get away with it, fighting mad, and ready to die for Orchard Close. Not suicidal, but because Elise reckons Orchard Close is wonderful. She wants to do whatever it takes to keep the place safe, especially from another Trev or Caddi.”
“How good is she with radios?” Harold had suddenly realised that without their expert Orchard Close would be relying on Marconi, the Geek radio man.
“Probably better than Trev thought because of how much she worried about being thrown out. Frightened or not, little Elise soaked up everything she could so she’d be valuable in another enclave. She reckons she can fix most things in a hand-held, and she’ll do her best with anything more complicated.” Sharyn got up and went through to the kitchen. “Only small beer, but you might need it. Don’t ask Tessa about her brother, Pete.”
“I did, twice I think. She reckoned it’s not a problem. Did she let him go?” If so, Harold hadn’t the heart to make a big deal about it. Her brother being a slimy little toad wasn’t Tessa’s fault.
“Not really. Tessa had a long talk with Fantasia while they kept the kids occupied until the bodies were moved. The lass knew she was Pete’s reward, that she was his woman now, but you came home and interrupted before he did more than inspect his new toy.” Sharyn sat and handed Harold his drink. “I found that out later. Tessa didn’t say much when she came downstairs, just asked the guards to take Pete out to the back garden. You were away killing Caddi’s drivers, and she’d got the .38, so the guards made Pete lie flat on his back and left them together. Pete couldn’t speak too well after you smacked him in the gob with that stick, but the guards reckoned he wanted Tessa to get him off the hook.”
“Fat chance.” Harold reconsidered. “Not right off the hook, but I’m not sure what to do with him. You know, with him being Tessa’s brother.”
“And you being a soft touch. Worry not, little brother, Pete isn’t your problem. We’ll never know what they said to each other after that, but it wasn’t long before we heard three shots and a shriek. I got there just after the guards. Pete half-sat, curled up in a ball, until Tessa kicked him in the head and knocked him back flat again. That’s when we heard her say, ‘But that’s just the kids.’”
“What was?”
“From the blood, the three shots that blew his wedding tackle into oblivion. We all watched, gobsmacked, while she finished the job. ‘Then you sold Sharyn,’ and Tessa shot Pete in the gut, ‘And that young girl up there,’ and she shot him again, ‘And me.’ That emptied the revolver, so she reloaded calm as you like and finished with ‘And last you sold Harold.’ The last one went through Pete’s head, but I doubt he understood much after he lost his nuts. Tessa told the guards to throw the body out with the other garbage and hasn’t mentioned it since.” Sharyn glanced at Harold. “That’s a hint.”
“Oh, I can recognise one that big. Don’t mention Pete.” Harold needed a change of subject and found an obvious one. “Is Fantasia that lass’s real name?”
“No. Caddi thought that Sarah would be too boring a name for her job, conning young men into spending coupons. Sarah preferred Fantasia to the other options, the brothel or becoming Cooper’s or Dodge’s personal woman. She really is a pretty lass.” Sharyn turned to reach down and heave something onto the chair arm. “You can put her down as Sarah when she goes into the book.”
That baffled Harold, so he got up and collected the book. “Cripes, it’s heavy. I thought it might be a bible at first. What on earth would anyone need with a diary this big? It’s out of date now, anyway.”
“We, the Coven, want you to record everyone in there, every person who joined Orchard Close from the first day.” Sharyn must have read Harold’s reluctance in his face because she spoke before he could. “Everyone, including Gabriela and Toby. We want a record so that one day, if some of us survive, all those people won’t be forgotten.”
Put like that, Harold liked the idea. “Okay. I’ll start while I’m sat watching over Mercedes.”
“Yes, sorry, I know that’s why you came home but you needed to know the rest. If she wakes up, Patricia has a request. Mercedes won’t let anyone clean her properly, bed bath her.” For once Harold’s big sister looked embarrassed. “She keeps saying she wants your hands on her, so she can remember them and forget all the others.”
Harold smiled a little because Mercedes had told him that, about wanting his hands on her so she could remember them. His smile faltered as he realised she’d never mentioned the last bit, not before. “I’d better take some water in there.”
“Use the radio, channel four. Just say hot water. If you take it in there now, it could be cold by the time she wakes up.” Sharyn’s hesitation vanished as she moved on to the practical side. “Patricia doesn’t want any pressure on her ribs under that big bruise. She prodded the other side a bit while Mercedes was out of it. The rib where the bullet hit hasn’t shattered, or broken enough to feel it. Now that the wound is cleaned up you can see the track where the bullet went in at an angle, and one piece came back out further across her chest. You’ve to leave the bite on her chest and the gouge marks on her thigh strictly alone, but get the rest as clean as possible. The bullet hole must stay open, to drain.” She waved her hands as if shooing off flies. “Well go on then, scat. I’ll bring something to eat in a bit.”
Harold scatted, to find that someone had put a little table next to his easy chair and the bed. It was big enough for the diary as well as his plate and mug.
* * *
By the time he finally dozed off, Harold had been introduced to a whole new experience. He’d never bed-bathed anyone, ever, but when Mercedes woke up she’d been adamant. She wanted Caddi’s dirty fingerprints off her, off anywhere he’d seen let alone touched. “I might hurt you. I’ve never done this before.”
Mercedes smiled, just a little one. “You’ll be as gentle as you can. You’re supposed to be gentle, because it’s my first time.” A softer version of her old wicked crept into her voice. “If you’re worried, ’Arold, you can ask me to ask you to? It’s been a long time since you did that.”
“Mercedes, will you ask me to give you a bed bath, please?” Harold smiled, a real one because asking brought back memories. “Please be gentle, because it’s my first time too.”
“You’ll have to take off the quilt, and sheet, so they don’t get wet. Who knows what you’ll find under there?” This time the wicked crept into her smile as well.
“I think I’m supposed to take off all your clothes for a bath?” Harold let a hint of question leak into his voice. He still didn’t know if Caddi had actually raped her, in which case she might not fancy any bloke stripping her.
The smile at that hadn’t any reluctance at all. “Hard luck, too late. Though you’ll win the betting again.”
Harold tried to be gentle as he uncovered Mercedes, and he tried to keep smiling. Smiling was hard, once he peeled the sheets back and got a real look at the dressings, bandages, bruises and scratches. The big sponge Mercedes offered, along with a slightly embarrassed look, meant that she didn’t actually want hands on her after all. As Harold sponged her, he found that wasn’t totally true. With a little smile he washed her arms up to her elbows by hand, as requested, and agreed they were definitely delectable. The bath probably wouldn’t have passed any hospital exams, but Mercedes smiled and whispered a couple of little jokes. Eventually Harold announced that she was a clean diamond again, before very gently checking her lip
s. They’d be no good for serious action for quite a while, according to Mercedes, but he had to check progress.
Neither of them mentioned the broken bullet, or the blood Mercedes coughed up and spat into a cloth, or how much the coughing hurt her. Instead, Harold told her about Pete, Trev, Elise and Fantasia, then about Patty and Vulcan. Mercedes thought Patty should go for it. “After all I trapped a gang boss, and that turned out better than expected.” By then Mercedes had to take her tablets, which sent her back off to sleep.
* * *
Despite the dead faces in his dreams and sleeping sat up in a chair, it was daylight by the time Harold woke up. After a quick breakfast he went outside to get stuck into the clear-up, again, but several people were already waiting. When Harold recognised Pat’s John, he assumed they wanted to talk about religion. They did but not about actual services. “We’d like to bury the dead please, Harold.”
“I’m sorry but we can’t, John. I’ve explained before, that the scroats will deface the graves or worse.” Harold wouldn’t put it past some of the locals to dig bodies up and leave them on the doorstep, or something equally gross. “Right now I doubt we’ve got enough fit people to dig the holes. Even the walking wounded are concentrating on clearing up or caring for the badly wounded.
“There aren’t many we know for certain would prefer burying, but we don’t want them where the heathen, sorry, the gangsters, can get to them. It isn’t just me this time, there’s three faiths involved here.” John’s Pat gestured to include the group. “Relatives will dig the holes after they’ve done their other work. We think there’s room between Orchard Close wall and the exclusion zone. You could move the cars somewhere else? Nobody is likely to try and steal them if they’re parked close to the walls.”
Harold didn’t explain a car made a great step up for intruders, because he could find another place for cars if he had to. He tried to estimate how many graves would fit on the strip over his back-garden wall, without the person with a spade having to step onto the exclusion zone. “How many, because we can’t put the spoil on the exclusion zone. No gravestones, because the Army might object to them in case a sniper hides behind one.” Which sounded stupid but the current Army regulations were way past stupid.