After It Happened (Book 3): Society

by Devon C. Ford

  “There’s still the matter of compensation to be discussed” Patrick announced in a commanding tone “The death of one of my boys and the destruction of three cars”

  “Compensation?” asked Dan incredulously. Patrick nodded, wobbling his jowls and the ludicrous crown as his head moved “No. There will be no compensation. You can go now, but you had better not consider coming back”

  Pat wasn’t so easily dissuaded “All I ask is for some weapons to defend ourselves” he blurted out, all confidence gone.

  “To bully and steal you mean” Marie bit back.

  “I have a rule; I never put a gun in the hands of anyone I don’t trust. I don’t trust you.” Dan said simply.

  “You can leave now” said Marie, turning her back and walking out.

  Dan smiled and gestured with his arm the way to the front door. A deflated King and his useless bodyguard shuffled out, marked every step by Ash and followed by Dan. The bodyguard nervously stopped to retrieve his knife, still watched by the big dog. Dan considered telling Ash to leave him, but decided to let the dog enjoy himself. He was a killer, but he also enjoyed his amateur dramatics.

  He followed them to their car, and as Patrick was walking to the rear door he spoke softly to him.

  “Tell them whatever you like to save face but seriously; don’t come back. We have over seventy people and I can arm more than half of them. Don’t think you can take us on because you can’t. We want to be left alone, and trust me; you don’t want us to have to come calling”

  Patrick looked at him and nodded once. He sat down heavily in the back of the car a breathed out a long sigh of defeat. He had come expecting his royal status to carry weight, only to find a larger group of people who were far better equipped and organized than his own. He had showed his hand, and found himself facing better cards. Luckily he had gambled nothing on this round, and doubted he could afford to sit down the green cloth again.

  HOLD YOUR FIRE!

  Steve threw himself behind the engine block of an abandoned car and screamed at Emma to get down.

  Rounds pinged and whined off the metal as three or four people shot at his hiding place.

  “STOP SHOOTING!” he bellowed. Three times he repeated this until he heard shouts and voices coming from the blocked road ahead. He had got out to see if he could force a way through or drag clear an obstruction using the winches on his Land Rover, but the way was thoroughly blocked. Almost deliberately so, he thought, just as the first shot tore the air. It probably wasn’t intended to hit him, but that made little difference when being fired at.

  Emma had ducked down in the foot well of the truck, despite Steve’s instructions to never hide in a vehicle if someone shoots at you. They ignored her, concentrating their fire on his position until they finally relented.

  “What do you want?” came the faint shout in an unmistakably Scottish accent.

  “We just want to get past. We’ll go another way just please don’t bloody shoot!” he responded, blood pumping hard around his body.

  “Put down your guns” came the instruction. Steve was annoyed. He had brought enough weaponry to cope with losing his personal weapons, but it was a matter of principle not to allow himself to be robbed.

  “We mean you no harm, we are literally passing through. We don’t want any trouble!” he shouted back from his hiding place.

  “Hands in the air and come out now” shouted a new voice, this one closer and full of authority.

  Steve held both hands up and slowly rose with the carbine dangling on its sling. He saw a big man in green camouflage pointing a military rifle at him. Everything about him – his clothes, his stance, his voice – made Steve think he was a trained soldier. He tried a new approach.

  “I’m Flight Lieutenant Steven Bennett of the Royal Air Force” he declared, standing tall and investing his words with an entitlement which bordered on arrogance. The man responded, only a slight flinch as he fought down the urge of ingrained obedience to senior officers.

  Enlisted man, Steve thought.

  “What’s your purpose here… Sir” the man asked in a quieter voice.

  “Like I said, we’re passing through” he replied. “We’re from a group a week’s journey to the south. I’m taking someone to the highlands”

  Still the man hesitated, keeping his weapon trained on Steve’s chest.

  “Look, we’re friendly. We just want to be on our way” he tried again.

  “Sorry Sir, can’t let you do that” replied the soldier stiffly.

  “On whose orders?” Steve invested the question with all the commissioned officer-like tone he could muster, seeing the man struggle with his sense of duty.

  “Sir” he barked “With respect, I’d ask you to remove your weapons and come with us voluntarily”

  Steve sighed and slowly reached down to unclip the carbine. The soldier indicated for him to put it on the bonnet and add his sidearm and knife next to it.

  “Please call your friend out, Sir.” He instructed politely “tell them to keep their hands up and move slow”

  Steve called out to Emma, repeating the instructions. She came out and stood by his side. The soldier lowered his rifle a little but kept it at the ready. He assured them that they would be treated well as long as they showed no hostility, stuttering over his words as he seemed a little transfixed with the attractive young woman who had emerged scared from the Land Rover.

  They were searched and allowed to lower their hands before they walked with the soldier and two others through a gap in the deliberately piled-up vehicle barricade. They walked for about a mile before emerging through a tree line to see rows of large green tents lined up neatly against the wall of a big distribution warehouse. Activity flurried everywhere, and Steve lost count of the people but guessed he had seen almost a hundred of them.

  Neither tried to engage the soldier in conversation, Emma preferring silence anyway and Steve electing to save his breath for the organ grinder.

  They were walked into the huge hanger and into an outer office which previously would have belonged to the manager of this place. It now belonged to the commander of this group, with a heavy military theme running throughout. They sat and waited, even being offered coffee, until the door to the inner office opened a clean shaven young man smiled at them. He looked to be about mid-twenties, fit and wearing a three starred epaulette on the chest of his uniform.

  “Captain Richards” he said in his soft Scottish accent, shaking their hands “Formerly of the 51st Infantry, but now it seems I am officer commanding the 1st Battalion of Survivors” he smiled at his own joke, clearly having made it before on numerous occasions.

  “Flight Lieutenant Steve Bennett, RAF” he replied, adding “Retired” before he could be pressed instantly into active service by this enthusiastic young man. The young officer’s face lit up to find a fellow officer’s mess buddy.

  “Emma” she said quietly, taking the offered hand shyly.

  “What were you flying?” he asked Steve, inviting them both to sit opposite his large desk covered in papers. “Merlins mostly, Sea Kings to oil rigs most recently”

  “Wonderful stuff” replied Captain Richards, brain working overtime behind his smiling eyes. “What brings you to our camp?” he asked.

  “Your soldier frog marched us here at gunpoint” Emma said, quiet but indignant.

  “I can only apologise for that, I am truly sorry for the manner in which you were detained” he said, full of sincerity “As you can imagine, there are some who don’t play nicely with others” he shrugged, offering no further explanation.

  “We’ve met our fair share” said Steve “Tell us about what you have here, please”

  Richards looked delighted, the perpetual mask of politeness and contentment on his face staying firmly in place.

  “We have almost one hundred and fifty survivors on the strength. We’ve established medical services and have sufficient stores stockpiled to sustain us for quite some time. We are lookin
g to move in the future to an area we can easily occupy and grow supplies” he said, giving very little away “What about yourselves?”

  “Over a hundred of us, a week’s journey south. Medical services and farms established. Well-armed and entrenched as we’ve suffered some attacks” Steve said, embellishing the figures slightly as he wasn’t sure about their host just yet.

  “Excellent!” Richards said as something flashed in his eyes “Would you consider joining us?” he asked, taking them by surprise. Steve answered carefully, not wanting to offend the brash man twenty years his junior.

  “We are well established and settled, but thanks. We’ve put a lot of effort into adapting our home and I doubt anyone would want to leave”

  Richards nodded but said nothing. Steve was starting to trust him less.

  “We seem to be in luck!” he said, changing the subject with startling suddenness “We have a helicopter nor far from here and now we have someone to fly it!”

  Steve was taken back by the change of topics, and by reflex asked what it was.

  “Chinook!” declared Richards with glee “Bloody massive beast it is!”

  Steve told him, regrettably, that he had never flown one. “They’re not the easiest things to control; you’d need another pilot and crew to get one of those in the air. What about maintenance?” he asked, knowing that without significant skilled work there was no way even a small craft would ever fly.

  “I’m sure there are some manuals lying around” Richards said with arrogant dismissal of the problems facing his plans to get a helicopter in the air.

  “It’s not that easy, really” Steve started but was cut short with an irritated wave of Richards’ hand.

  “We’ll discuss that later. Tell me why you’re here” he ordered with a false smile. Steve was wary. He didn’t exactly trust what he was seeing here; it was too military and Richards was deploying far too much effort in to looking happy with life. He thought quickly but was unable to come up with a reason for their trip that didn’t involve the whole truth. He looked at Emma, who met his gaze and shrugged.

  “Emma is a scientist and she wants to find a lab she knows to run some tests” he said simply.

  Richards’ eyebrows raised but his smile stayed fixed in place. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs as he fiddled with a pen in his hand.

  “Tests?” he said lightly.

  Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat “Yes. I want to check if the – if whatever it was – will mutate. There’s a very small percentage of natural immunity and a mutation could wipe us all out permanently. I need the lab because I know it’s got the equipment I need to run the tests”

  Steve tried to keep his face neutral as she smoothly lied next to him. He wanted to conjure a story like that as he didn’t want to inflame the situation by mentioning biological warfare. Emma was providing exactly that and it was coming out seamlessly. No doubt there was a lot of truth in the things she was saying because it all sounded so realistic, but it was all news to him. Richards listened intently never once letting his mask slip as Emma made her explanations. When she finished Steve chimed in.

  “So we’re hoping to get on our way as soon as possible” he added.

  Richards thought for a second then sat forward with sudden movement. He stood, dropped the pen on his desk and invited them to tour his command with him. The invitation was less of a suggestion and more of an instruction, but Steve played along with the pretence of them being guests. They were led amongst the rows of tents, all neatly lined up in uniform rows. Richards struck Steve as a man who liked straight lines and obedience.

  “Winter was hard on us” he explained as he paced in front of them “had to move everyone inside the hangar. It was a very unproductive time” He invested the word ‘unproductive’ with scorn as if the insult was a serious one.

  “Operations have gone well though, on the whole. We’re close to the point where we can send an advance party ahead to scout where we want to relocate.” He stopped and turned to face Steve.

  “I’ll not mess you around” he said intensely “I want you to join us. You’ll be given appropriate rank and have the pick of anyone you need to get me a bird in the air” Steve was dumfounded by the suddenness and directness of the man. He was also silent because he realised his first instinct wasn’t to decline. Richards turned to Emma before Steve could say a word.

  “And yourself too; we have a medical team and your expertise will be valuable” he said.

  Steve didn’t know how to respond. Before he had a chance Richards let him off the hook.

  “You can go and do your thing first, obviously. I’d be pleased if you stayed with us tonight and I’ll provide an escort for you in the morning” he turned and walked on, giving no indication as to whether they should follow. They did, and Steve caught Emma looking at him with clear concern showing in her eyes. He thought the invitations and the offers of shelter and an escort weren’t negotiable.

  They were driven back to their Land Rover and followed their guide back to the camp via a smaller road. Steve locked everything but his sidearm away hidden in the vehicle, and was conscious to keep the weapon tucked under his clothes. They settled in for an awkward night.

  THE BODYGUARD

  Their evening wasn’t unpleasant. The people all went about their business in a subdued manner and Steve was reminded of the times he had spent aboard large Navy ships. They were allowed to mix freely with the hundred or so people, and Emma had found a fellow medical science type. They talked for a couple of hours about their theories and findings before Emma outright asked about Richards.

  She was assured that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, but the way of life she described was basically military rule. They brought requests and suggestions to Richards, who had brought a handful of very well equipped soldiers and lots of military hardware to the fold. It was a very tight ship they lived on, but they were protected, safe and there was a plan.

  They were given a tent with camp cots and showed where to get washed and after their evening meal, and Steve had relaxed sufficiently to not feel the need to keep the gun close.

  Richards found them at breakfast and resumed his recruitment attempts.

  “I trust you slept safely?” he asked, wearing his rigid smile. Steve first thought it was a pretence; that Richards was more likely to force his will on people than respect an individual’s choice. He was starting to realise that he was just a little awkward, and the smile was a bit of light social armour.

  “Fine, thank you” Steve said “I’d like to get on the road as soon as possible though”

  “I thought you would” Richards replied and turned over his shoulder “Andrews!” he called out. Andrews came up and saluted before standing himself at ease. It may be a tight military run camp, but the slightly relaxed drill formalities spoke of a compromise for efficiency. Andrews was about Steve’s height and build but at least fifteen years his junior. Dressed in camouflage fatigues like Richards and carrying a sidearm on his right leg.

  “All ready, Sir” he said, nodding greetings to Steve and Emma.

  “Andrews here will see you safely to your destination, not that I think you’re incapable at all!” Richards said with genuine humour in his eyes.

  They shook hands and promised to return with their answer on the way south. They followed Andrews out to the vehicles and saw a military Land Rover parked next to their own. Andrews put on a tactical webbing vest and loaded his rifle; a British army SA80 with a scope. He didn’t ask for the destination, just got behind the wheel and waited to follow. Steve had to wonder whether they were being guarded or protected.

  Their journey resumed its normal pace as the weather closed in. This far north they saw the damage that winter had caused to some of the roads as huge potholes carved chunks of the roads away. Normal cars would struggle to negotiate some of the bigger bits of damage, and Steve guessed that nothing short of an off-road vehicle would be able to travel within two years in some
places. They made a couple of stops, both times Andrews was alert and capable, covering with his rifle and providing backup for Steve. When they finally stopped for the evening after a bumpy day’s travel Steve tried to get Andrews talking. He expected a brick wall of short answers and was surprised when he opened up. His name was Mitchell, he preferred Mitch, but the military habit of surnames had stuck.

  He had never shed the bounds of army service despite the end of the world, and seemed fiercely loyal to Richards. He wasn’t his Captain; in fact, of the eight army personnel there only one was from Richards’ unit originally. Mitch was one of six trained infantrymen who had been cobbled together to form the blades of Richards’ survival camp.

  “It’s not that bad. We’ve had hard times and a few insurgent issues, but on the whole its good” he said genuinely “and when the plan comes together we’ll be stronger and hopefully pick up more people on the way. It’s no small task to get this many people across country nowadays”

  “True, it isn’t” Steve agreed, sipping the coffee made on the camp stove “Tell me about this helicopter” he asked.

  “Airfield fifty miles from base. Chinook inside a hangar with some other fixed wings” he replied.

  “Any other helicopters?” Steve probed.

  “None. The chinook seems to be in good nick though, when we found it we locked the place down tight for winter. It’s been sealed up ever since then so should be well preserved.”

  “It’d need a full service; all the fluids would need changing” Steve said to nobody in particular, the thought of flying again clearly occupying his mind. “Tell me about the ‘insurgents’ you mentioned” he asked.

  Mitch explained about the raids; attempts to steal their supplies by a group in the night. They had captured some of them and offered them a place at the table so they didn’t have to steal. Some of them took the offered inclusion, others didn’t.

  “It went on for a few months. I think in the end we killed enough of them to make it too much bother” he finished.