Angel

by Jon Grahame

  ‘You and Reaper could just walk away. Be sheriffs in another town.’

  ‘What about Haven?’

  ‘Haven would work for me. But at least the people would have their lives.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Steel. I think we’re finished here. Tell your gunman in the cycle lane to go home. And do the same yourself.’

  Steel’s expression changed. He punched the air and ducked and shots were fired too quick to be counted.

  ‘Got him,’ James said.

  Sandra was aware that a bullet had gone high and wide above her head. Tanya had also fired but Steel was out of sight and the steel panel on the front of the Hummer began to rise, like the blade of a snowplough. A burst from Smiffy’s machinegun clanged against it. Smiffy changed his trajectory and aimed below the steel, hoping for a ricochet against the tyres. Others also fired, along the barrier. The Hummer reversed at speed.

  ‘Let it go!’ said Sandra.

  Pete Mack left his firing position behind a car and looked up at her.

  ‘Don’t you think you should come down from there now? If they have anybody else out there, you make a pretty good target. Even for an angel.’

  He grinned and she blushed and realised she hadn’t flinched when the shot was fired. She had been determined not to show fear but making herself a sitting duck was taking bravery or foolhardiness a tad too far. She climbed down and jumped the last bit, into Pete’s arms.

  ‘Looks like we’ve got another war,’ he said.

  Reaper made radio contact as soon as he was in range and was reassured by Pete that they were all safe and the situation was under control. They kept watch but, from what Susan told them, it seemed unlikely that Steel would launch a full-scale attack.

  ‘His convoy is too big,’ she said. ‘They say it’s like a travelling circus. Trucks, caravans, tents. He started in Sheffield, gathering hard men. He didn’t kill anyone for the fun of it. If people got out of his way, he let them go, but he took whatever he wanted. If anyone objected, he killed them. He moved out of Sheffield late spring. It’s not so good in the cities any more. That’s what his people said, the ones who came to talk to us.

  ‘Steel isn’t his real name. Apparently, he ran a nightclub, before the plague. He was a hard man himself, and a wrestler for a short time. Called himself the Man of Steel, as in Sheffield, steel city. He liked to be with the bouncers on the door. First there if there was trouble. Generous with his fists. That’s how one of his blokes described him. Anyway, they began to move a couple of months ago. They stopped at Rotherham, then Doncaster. Recruited more people and, if anyone had any hoards, he took them. At Doncaster they faced another hard gang. It could have been a bloodbath but Steel and his second in command challenged the two leaders of the gang. Just the four of them. Knives, axes whatever, but no guns. Steel and his mate won and the gang joined him.

  ‘Then he went east to Gainsborough, down to Lincoln, and up to Market Rasen. That’s when he first sent people to talk to us. When he was in Market Rasen. Well, not so much talk as tell us he was coming to take over the refinery. We could look after it for him but we should now consider it to be his. Last week, he moved the whole caravan to Cleethorpes. A summer holiday at the seaside, they said. I think that’s where they planned to stay but they heard about Haven. They’d heard whispers before, asked us if we knew about you. This land of milk and honey, somewhere in the north. We said no. We hadn’t heard about you. But somebody in Cleethorpes must have told him because he’d decided. Steel came to see us himself five days ago and he told us. “A good place to spend winter. And who knows,” he said. “Maybe a good place to settle.”’

  Sandra said, ‘His main force is still in Cleethorpes?’

  ‘It has to be. The two who left us only gave him short notice about what we were up to. We almost made it. Another half hour and we would have been across the bridge and we could have held him off. We had a load of home made bombs, explosives. We could have kept him away until you got here.’

  ‘From the sounds we heard across the river, a lot of those bombs were used.’

  ‘Nothing to lose by then,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t have said, nice try but hard luck. He’d have killed everybody. I suppose they’re all dead now.’

  It was probably no comfort to Susan Watson, but those who had died had probably inflicted enough damage on Steel’s flying column to make any imminent attack unlikely. A full-scale attack would take days to organise if his army was enjoying a break at the seaside. Besides, he would be unlikely to be in a rush. He was clever enough to move across country, enlarging his following. He would be astute enough to send out scouts first and gather intelligence.

  Sandra sent the Jaguar with the four women ahead, escorted by Jenny and Tanya. The rest of them waited at the bridge, in case Steel tried the unexpected. While they remained on watch, Smiffy mounted the machinegun on a rear swivel of the military Land Rover. For the return journey, he would cover their back as tail end Charlie.

  Intelligence would be key to any outcome and Sandra took Ronnie to one side.

  ‘We need someone to stay behind,’ she said. ‘Stay hidden but keep watch. We need to know when they cross and in what strength. It’s less than two hours easy motoring to Haven. We need advance warning.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said.

  While they were talking, Kev joined them.

  ‘Hey-ho, me hearty. This may sound stupid, but I’d like to volunteer.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To go across the river. Go to Cleethorpes and find out what’s happening. Join Steel’s army. If I can find a bike, I can go the long way round.’

  ‘Someone on the inside would be good,’ she said. ‘But any newcomers will be suspect. He’ll expect a spy. It’s a hell of a risk.’

  ‘So’s life.’

  ‘If Steel susses where you’re from, you’ll be dead.’

  ‘So? Live fast, die young and leave a beautiful corpse.’

  ‘Young?’ she said. ‘Beautiful?’

  ‘One out of three isn’t bad.’

  They grinned, acknowledging the risk, but realising it would be of great help to the cause of survival.

  Sandra said, ‘You’ll need different clothes.’

  ‘I’ll get them on the way.’

  ‘What about a bike?’

  ‘No problem. We’re only a few miles from Hull. Ronnie can drop me at a dealership then come back here.’

  ‘Then take care, Kev!’

  He removed all his weapons but his knife and put them in the back of one of the cars. If he was going to try to mingle, he couldn’t look like a warrior. He waved to them. ‘Wish me luck, me hearties!’ They wished him luck and Ronnie took him into Hull.

  They stayed at the barricade another hour, until Ronnie returned solo. They had packaged all the spare water and combat rations for him.

  ‘They’ll probably come across the bridge and make it secure,’ she said, ‘so be careful.’

  ‘There’s a clump of trees in the middle of the Boothferry roundabout. That’s the obvious place to keep watch,’ he said, ‘so I won’t be there. I’ll be in the trees on the far side of the roundabout.’

  Sandra said, ‘We’ll leave one of the radio cars at Beverley. If they cross in force, radio from there. If we need to contact you, we’ll get close enough to use the PR.’

  He rode away and, soon after, she gave the order. They mounted up and prepared to go home and plan for war as Reaper and Yank pulled up.

  ‘We met the others on the road,’ he said to Sandra. ‘What’s happening?’

  He was on edge and she took him to one side, away from the others, and told him all that had occurred. ‘It seems like those rumours of a group from Sheffield were true,’ she said. ‘Only they didn’t go south.’ When she had finished he put a hand on her shoulder.
It was shaking.

  ‘When I saw that smoke, I thought I’d lost you.’

  ‘I can cope, Reaper.’ She saw that the words stung him. That he might not be indispensable. She smiled to soften them. ‘You taught me well. And you can’t be everywhere at once. Anyway, what’s happening at York?’

  ‘Chaos. Like we predicted. And it’s come at precisely the wrong time. We’d better get back. There’s a lot to do.’

  Yank shouted across from the group, where she had been exchanging information.

  ‘Hey, Sandra … I like the new name!’

  Reaper glanced between them and said, ‘What new name?’

  Sandra said, ‘John Steel has heard of us. The Grim Reaper and the Angel of Death? He thought it was funny. Said this time, we had no chance.’

  Chapter 15

  A CROWD FILLED THE SQUARE IN FRONT OF THE MANOR house when they got back. Word had spread with the arrival of the newcomers. The dark clouds on the horizon from the explosions at Immingham seemed to portend doom. Reaper had radio messages sent to Bridlington and Scarborough and arranged for messengers to visit all the other settlements of the federation to warn them of the invading army.

  He explained what was happening at an impromptu open-air gathering. At the more private meeting that followed, he asked if any newcomers had arrived. Steel would want to infiltrate, just as they were attempting to do with Kev. They should all be alert to the possibility of spies in their midst.

  Sandra sat on one side of Reaper; Greta on the other.

  ‘Immingham has probably forced his hand,’ he said. ‘He was probably going to lay low and send people in, to work out our strengths and weaknesses. Now we know his intentions, but that doesn’t mean he’ll move quickly. He has to prepare. Hopefully, he’ll underestimate us.’

  ‘A force of four hundred armed men is a lot,’ said the Rev Nick.

  ‘You can always surrender,’ said Reaper.

  Sandra said, ‘He offered terms. You work for him. That’s it.’

  ‘It’s hard enough working for ourselves,’ said Cassandra. ‘Living off the land is always hard work.’

  ‘It will get better,’ said Nick.

  ‘Not if Steel takes over,’ said Reaper. ‘But it’s up to you. He’s already given amnesty to Sandra and me.’

  ‘Amnesty?’ said Nick.

  Sandra said, ‘At the bridge, he said we could walk away. It’s just Haven he wants.’

  ‘And will you?’ said Nick. ‘Walk away.’

  ‘Not unless you tell us to,’ she said.

  ‘So you’re staying,’ said Pete Mack. ‘So let’s stop talking bollocks and get on with planning what we’re going to do.’

  Ashley said, ‘We have a hundred militia. We have good weapons. If it was a case of defending the manor house, we could do a good job. But it isn’t. There are farms and villages, the fishing fleets. We can’t defend all those. Neither can the people there. Steel can take us piecemeal unless we take him on in open battle. That may be our only option but I don’t recommend it.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Reaper. ‘When our most valuable commodity is at risk.’

  ‘What?’ said Pete.

  ‘People. We can’t afford to lose any more. And I don’t want to kill any more of Steel’s army than necessary. We may need them, when it’s over.’

  ‘What have you got in mind, Reaper?’ said Ashley.

  ‘Remove the head of the snake. Remove the venom. Remove those leaders among the enemy who want to kill. Then convert the others to a more peaceful way of life.’

  ‘Well, that’s an easy solution,’ said the Rev Nick, sitting back in exasperation.

  Reaper was unperturbed by the cleric’s attitude. ‘They say he has more than seven hundred followers. These were ordinary people before the plague. I’ll bet they would like to be ordinary people again. Most of them are not killers. Most of them would probably love the chance to have what we have. A future. Peace. Good neighbours. They’ve been blinkered by a bully. Steel, and all those like him, need to be killed. Not in battle but quietly, so that nobody else dies. A knife in the back will do.’

  The Rev Nick shook his head. ‘This is all before we even attempt to negotiate. This man isn’t like Muldane. He doesn’t rape and enslave. We could negotiate. You are so certain when it comes to life and death, Reaper. Who made you God?’

  ‘Maybe God did,’ said Reaper, and he glanced at Sandra with a smile. ‘And he gave me a guardian angel.’

  ‘The Angel of Death.’ Nick intoned the title with great sadness and shook his head again. He said to Sandra, ‘Is that how you want to be known?’

  ‘I don’t care what they call me. We’re all here because of Reaper. We’ve fought together – all of us – to keep this place going. But what some of you still don’t realise is that you can’t wait and let the other bloke have first swing. Steel doesn’t want to negotiate. He wants to rule. Reaper’s right, most people have ordinary hopes and dreams. A life, a partner, a future. But there are some bastards out there who are natural born killers and the plague gave them the chance to go and murder and rape and pillage. Well, the plague also freed us from convention. Me and Reaper, we kill because it’s necessary. I’ve tasted blood. Literally. And it doesn’t scare me any more. So yes, call me the Angel of Death. Shout it loud. Maybe it’ll scare some of those bastards out there that need killing.’

  Her speech surprised Reaper. It surprised her. He reached across and gripped her hand briefly then turned to face the others, but her words had already left them all slightly stunned.

  ‘Whatever you two decide,’ Ashley said. ‘I’m in.’

  ‘Me, too,’ said Pete Mack. ‘Goes without saying.’

  ‘There are no other options but resistance,’ said Cassandra.

  ‘I’m in total agreement,’ Judith added.

  Greta smiled around the group and said, ‘There can be no argument.’

  The Rev Nick let out a sigh that seemed to deflate his whole body and make him seem smaller. ‘I know,’ he said, in a small voice. ‘I know there’s no other way. I just wish there was.’

  ‘What now, Reaper?’ said Pete Mack.

  ‘We send out scouts, arm the militia, hope Kev can discover the secret of a negotiated peace, or find a way to kill the bastards at the top, and wait for Ronnie to tell us when they’re coming. In the meantime, I have to go to York.’

  Two teams went to the city: Reaper and Sandra, and Keira and Yank. They wore dark blue sweatshirts to cover their arms and leather gloves to hide their hands. They parked the cars well short of the castle walls and went to the apartment. They pulled the curtains closed, heavy velvet drapes that were lined. They lit a lamp and made themselves comfortable. After a while, Keira took a peek outside.

  ‘It’s getting dark.’

  They were applying camouflage face paint.

  ‘It’s the first time I’ve used makeup in ages,’ said Keira.

  ‘All you need is a touch of Chanel and you’re ready for the ball,’ said Yank.

  Sandra looked at Reaper’s face and said, ‘It suits you.’

  ‘Does it make me look like Sylvester Stallone?’ he said.

  ‘More Ronald McDonald,’ said Yank.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Keira held up a bottle of water. ‘Anyone?’ she said.

  ‘No thanks,’ said Sandra. ‘It might make me want to pee.’

  ‘Do what I do,’ said Yank.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Sandra.

  ‘Pee.’

  They left the apartment and moved silently in the shadows of a deepening night. A torch blazed on top of the castle wall next to the Monkbar, which made the darkness beyond its reach denser than the night. Sandra went past the Viceroy of India restaurant, back to the walls and window, slipping into doorways, weapon
held upright but at the ready. When she reached a point with a clear view of the gatehouse, she crouched on the pavement and squinted through the night sight on the L85 rifle. Reaper went across the street with Keira and Yank and slipped into the bushes and undergrowth at the corner of the junction. The two girls adopted support positions and Reaper crossed the road, using the buildings outside the Monkbar to shield him.

  A second hand shop was on the corner and he eased himself against the window and peeked round. He could see across the top of the parked cars that blocked the entrances but nobody moved inside the walls at ground level. The beer barrel chicane through which the girls, Mary and Rebecca, were supposed to emerge, was only a few yards away. It was dark enough. Now all they had to do was wait.

  Waiting was the worst part; the time when the mind played tricks and ran alternative scenarios to make you doubt what you were doing. Was that noise down the road behind him a rat or Brother Cedric sneaking closer with his crossbow? But then, when Reaper came to think of it, there wasn’t much of a difference, and he was probably being unkind to rats. Cedric was one of those people to whom evil came naturally, and no one would tell Reaper they didn’t exist. He believed in good and evil, whether through nurture or nature. For Brother Abraham, good and evil defined his belief in God. Was Reaper close to conversion?

  Almost an hour passed. The shop window was full of distractions. We buy and sell and part exchange, said the sign. Laptops, CD players, hi-fi systems – if that was what people still called them – and musical instruments. He couldn’t see a lot of use for much of the stuff in the window apart from the accordion. Did that qualify as a musical instrument? What was it someone once told him when he was giving an example of an oxymoron? That was it: accordion music. Accordion? Music? He almost laughed but someone walked from the tower above the gate, across the open stretch of wall, farted loudly and walked back.

  The moon shone fitfully between sluggish clouds. He stared across the road, but Sandra had melded into the background and he couldn’t spot her. A scuttling sound echoed inside the city. This time it probably was rats. A dog barked and others took up the cry. They sounded like a pack. Wild dogs on the scavenge. Well … maybe they’d eat the rats.