Last Man Standing

by Vance Huxley

  “You gave us the offer, and we refused.” Vulcan glanced at the map, but just to check and it seemed accurate. He noticed that all the estates, the groups of non-gang residents who paid rent, were marked and labelled.

  “This is a different offer. If you don’t allow us through we will destroy Beth’s, then the Castle.” Ken opened her mouth to speak but a raised hand interrupted her. “And you’ll threaten to cost us too many men for us to survive. That used to be a genuine threat, but not now. The rest of the penalty, if you don’t give us passage, is that we’ll line up the civvies in your estates and kill every fifth one, man, woman or child. It’ll be messy because I won’t waste ammo on them, though to be honest you won’t care by then. When I say destroy your strongholds I mean blow to pieces, burn to the ground, and kill everyone inside.”

  Ken put a hand on her pistol but Vulcan rested his hand on top. One of the two guards with police sub-machine guns still had his weapon pointed at her. The other aimed at Vulcan, as he had been doing since he walked into the tent. “That’s a big claim. Forgive me if I’m not convinced.”

  “I’ll convince you. I could take both your enclaves right now, despite the cannon and those big throwers on the Mall roof, but it’ll warn that Soldier Boy bastard what he’ll be facing. You’ll slow me up as well, and with enough time he might find an answer or get away. I’d rather pay you off and hit him before he can get set.” The General leant back in his chair with a big smile. “Part of the deal will be that you don’t tell him what you see today.”

  “If we let you through we can’t be sure someone won’t sneak off to tell him, because we’re going to have to tell our own people. That’s if you really can persuade us.” Ken moved her hand away from her weapons because the General sounded too certain. He wasn’t just winding her up or insulting her.

  “I suppose one of them might get through, but my scouts set off as soon as you arrived for this meeting. They’ll be between you and Soldier Boy before you get home. That’s how certain I am.” The General gestured towards the beer bottles and mugs on a small table. “Would you like a drink, or shall I get on with the convincing?”

  “I’m not thirsty.” Vulcan nodded agreement, and the pair followed Patton out of the tent.

  The big man led them across the road to a nearby intact house, then upstairs, from where Vulcan and Ken could see over the ruins at the rear. He pointed. “That’s the General’s Army. Not all of it, some is still arriving. He’s also sent invites to the Trainspotters, Baggies, Ferdinands, Hot Rods and Fishers. There’s men from six gangs down there, about seven hundred so far.” Patton picked up a stick with a red rag on the end and waved it out of the window. A thunderous roar answered him, as the men below waved pistols, shotguns, crossbows, clubs and machetes.

  Neither Vulcan nor Ken were really listening because both were stunned by the numbers of armed men. Worse, most seemed to have firearms while everyone wore some sort of protection. Caddi allegedly had three hundred fighters at his height, but they’d have been swept away by the numbers packed into the huge car park. It took Ken three tries, but she made it and kept her voice level. “By the time you’ve buried us, and the GOFS, Soldier Boy will be set. He’ll finish off anyone we missed.”

  For a moment Patton gripped his machete hilt, his knuckles white, then he relaxed. “I don’t reckon so, not with my Bloods and those Children of Cain, but the General don’t want to take the chance.” He turned, nodding towards the door with a nasty grin on his face. “Before you leave the house, check in each room. Pay attention to the extra brickwork and ply to strengthen the walls and windows.”

  Both Ken and Vulcan were shooting glances at each other by the time they came out of the door. “It’s a strongpoint, but why?” Ken kept her voice down as she looked around.

  “Since we were asked to look, I suppose we’ll find out.” Vulcan kept his voice down as well, even though they both knew Patton at least could hear them. “Presumably to guard the big surprise.” Ahead of them, the General and both guards were waiting outside the tent, along with the chairs, set out in a row to face the house.

  “Impressed?” The big grin was at least part smirk. “I reckon I’ll get at least another hundred fighters, maybe two before we march. Still, I’m sure you think you can kill a lot of them.”

  “I know it.” Ken glared at Patton. “Even Bloods or whatevers.”

  “Maybe, but you won’t get the chance. Your throwers will be destroyed, or the people will be killed time and again from outside their range. I know you expect to hold the entrances to Beth’s, but you won’t have enough people because we will punch holes through the walls all the way round. I can do it without losing a man.” The General turned to Vulcan. “The Castle is strongly built. You can hide that cannon from overhead fire, but we’ll aim right into the strongpoints. Once again you’ll run out of crews, and meanwhile your gate and walls will be breached. We’ll blow holes into the school hall, the brothel, the library and your canteen, right through the stone, without losing a man. Sit down and watch that house.” As soon as the pair sat he pointed at the reinforced structure and raised a radio. “Open fire.”

  Vulcan and Ken stared in shock, then horror, as rocket after rocket came roaring in. Unlike mortars, or the sugar rockets that used to be on the internet, these missiles had almost flat trajectories. The ply across the windows blew in first, then the warheads started smashing clean through the reinforced brickwork. Within minutes the house had been turned into a ruin, with the roof and most of the walls collapsed and the rest on fire.

  “Cease fire.” The rockets stopped, followed by a long silence broken only by the crackle of flames and the occasional sound of falling brickwork. “I will do that to Beth’s, then the Bloods, Pinkies, Children of Cain, Jets, MiB, Julius’s men and assorted others will pour through the breaches. There’ll be a dozen breaches, or a score, and by then half your fighters will be dead or injured.” He turned to Vulcan. “Can your cannon keep firing through that? Can you defend your walls when there’s a score of holes punched clean through and the buildings are burning?”

  “No, but we won’t just roll over, and we won’t attack Orchard Close.” Vulcan glanced at Ken and shrugged. He had to make a deal, to save the GOFS from total destruction. “Your people leave our estates alone. No visits from Bloods or the like, even afterwards.”

  “And we want paying. If you’re coming through, it ain’t a freebie.” Ken looked pale, because most of Beth’s consisted of tall, relatively thin brick walls. Those rockets would punch right through, turning the inside into a raging inferno.

  “Of course. I am also willing to negotiate a place for you and yours in my Army, like Julius and his men. You won’t agree now, but once Soldier Boy is done for I’ll ask again. Both of you have good fighters, and I’ll need reinforcements. You’ll have to tell your people you’re letting us through, but don’t mention the rockets to anyone.” With a glance at Patton, the General added, “And remember, no double-cross later. I’ll kill the one in five, then turn the Bloods loose to have their way with the survivors.”

  “What about the Geeks? Wellington won’t ignore you.” There wasn’t any point in avoiding the question because the General had to know. The missing gang bothered Vulcan, because it suggested that the General didn’t think he needed to frighten the Geeks. Vulcan opened his mouth to ask if the Geeks had signed up, because the likes of Hawkins and Einstein were nasty back-stabbing shits on a good day.

  “The Geeks, especially that sneaky little fucker, will be too busy surviving to help anyone else.” The General’s hand closed into a fist, as if crushing something. “Wellington thinks Shrek is gathering men to slice a piece off the Kutters before the Geeks finish them off. Instead, I’ve paid him to hit the Geeks, an all-out attack once I send him the word. Right about now my men are telling the Kutters who killed their boss and all those fighters, then explaining how I’ve paid their buy-in to join Shrek. With the extra men from the Kutters, and those Shrek’s been ab
le to hire in, the Geeks will run into a shredder. Once I’ve done with that Soldier Boy fucker, I’ll hit Wellington from behind. The Bloods have a score to settle, so the Geeks will be extinct or pregnant when they’re done.” There wasn’t any real reply, because if it all went as the General planned there couldn’t be any other outcome.

  Ken and Vulcan argued and negotiated, nailing down the routes for the General’s Army so they avoided estates while pushing up the price, but there wasn’t much room to manoeuvre. The General knew they had to make a deal. The alternative was that everyone they knew at home, all their friends, would die along with an unknown number of innocents in the estates. Ken argued fiercely about the injured Orchard Close fighters in Beth’s, but the General wouldn’t give an inch. None of the wounded could go home. The Barbies could recruit them afterwards, but no reinforcing Soldier Boy. When both negotiators pointed out they couldn’t keep the rockets a secret from their people forever, the General told them four days would be plenty.

  When the cars finally dropped them off, and a relieved Rhys and Julius were picked up, Vulcan and Ken only spoke to each other briefly before heading home. Ken daren’t even mention her little precaution with the Orchard Close wounded, in case someone had loose lips. She managed a small smile at the thought of all the extra shooters in Orchard Close, but it was a very small, brief one. Both the GOFS and Barbies were about to break a treaty, and betray people they’d come to think of as friends. Then a lot of those friends would die.

  * * *

  In Orchard Close, Harold had no idea what had happened at the meeting. When darkness fell he finished fixing Dealer’s guns and called it a day. He had a big surprise when he came home. “I don’t think he likes it.” Mercedes smiled at the look on Harold’s face.

  “No, that’s shock. It’s the same look as when I insisted he washed behind his ears.” Sharyn had a big smile as well.

  Tessa looked from Mercedes to Harold. “Cripes. I’ve always wondered about the best way to get a bloke helpless. He’s dumb and stood stock still, so that’s near enough.”

  “But.” Harold didn’t get it. Surely it was too soon?

  “Injured and out of action doesn’t mean I can’t practice. I thought I’d better start softening you up now, just in case I still can’t catch you when Doc gives me the okay.” Mercedes smirked and stuck out her hip a little bit, moving very carefully. She glanced down at the flared red miniskirt and the length of leg below it. “No boots, but this came back with my other gear and I remember you seemed to like it. I wondered if I should wear it to the wedding, but you’re supposed to concentrate on the ceremony.” Her smile widened as Harold stood there, still speechless because he’d had a couple of interesting dreams about that skirt the last time Mercedes wore it. “All my underwear had been ruined, so you’ll have to guess what goes under this.”

  Harold shook his head. He knew he had a big stupid smile, but he didn’t care. There were stitches and dressings showing, and plenty of marks and fading bruises, but the girl from the bathroom was back, the one with the smiling eyes. “I was never totally sure what went under it before but now I’m hoping I’ll find out, eventually. Will you be asking me to check delectables? Just remember, my sister is here.”

  Mercedes looked triumphant and very happy with the effect. “Well ’Arold, since you just asked me to ask you, how can I say no? Just a few for now, but you know you can check anything, anytime, in the bedroom.”

  “Hey, slow up. Sister here. Yeuk! Get a room.” Sharyn mimed two fingers down her throat.

  Tessa dissolved in laughter, but only after pointing and getting out, “They’ve got a room.”

  “Now come and sit down, ’Arold.” Mercedes sat on the settee, patting the next cushion. “We thought you looked a bit fraught and needed something to cheer you up.” Harold sat, still dazed. Despite all the crap heading this way he definitely felt more optimistic, or maybe just plain happy.

  * * *

  Happy lasted three hours, more or less, until a phone call told Harold the Demons were watching a small, very faint hot spot. The warm spot had blinked a light at them, twice, then shortly afterwards twice again so it wasn’t sneaking. He hurried across the garden to the Annex, to have a look. So far the whoever had blinked three more times. “Send two flashes with a torch, not quite at the spot, but only when the radio says flash. Get another Demon, and four or five others back in the main compound, to do the same at the same time but pointed at different places. That way nobody else will know where we are looking. That hot spot is a messenger for us.”

  Ru looked at Harold, then out into the darkness, then back at Harold. “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been waiting for a message from the Barbies or the GOFS. From the cautious approach I reckon there’s unfriendly eyes out there, the sort that might have stopped the usual messenger.” Harold sat by the phone and set into organising enough rifles to deal with whoever else might be out there, if they interfered.

  Five minutes later, after another double-blink from the gardens, Ru flashed her torch twice. Four quick blinks answered immediately. “Whoever it is has moved closer, heading straight for us but very slowly. That’s still a very faint hot spot for a person.” Bethany swept her infrared across the gardens. “No others, except the occasional hints from the ruins.”

  “They’ll be the bad guys, or most of them are.” Harold raised his rifle, now fitted with the Starlight Army scope, and began to search in the area indicated. “Got him. Somebody has taken a lot of trouble to hide from infrared, with lots of padding that must be insulated, even across their face.” He fiddled with the sights a little, getting the image clearer. “No weapons or they’re all under the wrappings, so not a sniper. Send a patrol, Ru, in a loop that cuts round behind our visitor. Collect whoever it is once you are between them and the ruins.” Ru called out for six women and set off for the side of the Annex. A few minutes later the patrol came into view, shining brightly on infrared. Using just plus and minus numbers, no context, Bethany talked them onto the right track.

  Harold went to meet the patrol when they came up a ladder at the other side of the Annex. As the eight figures clambered over the wall he could hear muted laughter and a couple of giggles. Ru turned as he came closer. “Do you have any handcuffs, Harold? She refuses to be searched without them.” It had to be Ski! One of the Demons murmured, and Ru smiled, then continued. “If you haven’t, the lasses will have a whip-round to find something suitable.”

  Sure enough Ski’s voice answered. “Whips? I don’t mind bungee cords in an emergency, but whips are a bit hardcore.” The whole group were heading for the nearest house where, once inside, the muffled figure began to peel off coats, jackets, scarves, and under them the foil thermal blankets that medics used to hand out to runners. Finally a woman’s face appeared, definitely Ski even if short, light brown hair framed her face instead of a blonde wig. “Super-secret message stuff, Harold. At least ten of our lasses tried, three pairs for you and two pairs for the Geeks, but me and Vinnie are the only Barbies I’m sure reached the edge of your fields. We met a pair of GOFS who’d run into trouble, and one joined us. We decided I’d try to get across the fields while they both watched my back.”

  “In that case you’d better come over to my house, where you can relax and have a drink. Do we need to go on full alert?” The approach had been cautious, not urgent, but Harold wanted to be sure.

  “Not tonight. I’d appreciate the chance to relax because it’s going to be a bit bladder-loosening when I head back out.” Ski looked back towards the ruins, and home. “I hope the watchers don’t close the exit.”

  Harold looked at what was, especially now that she’d ditched the crazy Barbie gear, a teenage lass about seventeen or eighteen. He thought about her crawling back out into the dark and even if he could now see she’d brought knives, he couldn’t do it. “Sleep over. I’ll send out a patrol tomorrow, in cars and armed to the teeth. They’ll drop you off deep inside the ruins, anyplace you want.
”

  “Really?” Despite the banter, Ski had been worried because everyone could see the difference when she relaxed. “Thank God for that! Can you send a message? A blink and a double-blink to say I made it, then four long flashes to tell them where to wait until I join them. We worked out several possibilities, including shooting which would tell me to stay here permanently.”

  “Who is out there? Apart from bad guys?” Ru glanced at the other Demons. “And who are the bad guys?”

  “The General sent men out this morning, to stop you getting any news about the meeting. Cy is out there, but I brought his message. The bloke that was with him is wounded so he’s heading back to the Castle. Cy doesn’t know how many other GOFS tried to get through. The General put out a lot of scouts in pairs, and if it wasn’t for Vinnie I would be dead.” Ski glanced at a smear of blood on her jettisoned clothing. “She used to be a cat burglar, a genuine sneaky type, shinning up drainpipes and all that stuff.”

  “Did she bring Splash?” Harold thought the Staffy cross he’d sold the Barbie might be handy for scenting an ambush.

  “Too noisy. The dogs are taught to shout ‘stranger, stranger’ as loud as possible, every time they scent one. I’m pleased I’m not going back out there tonight.” Ski gave a long shuddering sigh, then her familiar smile reappeared. “To your house? Overnight? I thought you were fixed up? If you’re cheating, I’ve heard Mercedes is good with a knife.”

  “Calm down, she’ll be there as well. Any more trouble and I’ll ask Fergie to tie you down.” Ski kept sniggering about that as Harold escorted her through the gate and across the garden towards Orchard Close proper. She sniggered again when Harold pointed to the caravan and told her it was the only spare bed. “Though if Fergie gags you once you’re tied down, you won’t be able to complain about the draughts from the bullet holes.”