The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum

by Sharp, David H

  ‘Quite natural, under the circumstances.’ Sharon Gough walked over to look at the man, lying helpless in his bed. ‘The body shuts down; hibernates almost, due to the shock.’

  ‘Correct Miss Gough. The only information we have is that he was found near Bristol with quite a few others, and he has a deep welsh accent. That’s about it.’ He then remembered something else. ‘He had a bad cut to his head so we had to shave him. Long locks of black thick hair with a line of silver grey running through it. He looked quite impressive, I must say. For now though, he is just known as patient 88.’

  ‘Will he survive?’ Jeremiah asked.

  ‘God knows.’ Doctor Roberts shrugged his shoulders. ‘The injuries he has sustained are many and very serious. We have such little supplies that any complications mean, well it’s not good.’

  ‘He looks strong though.’ Sharon Gough touched the large Welshman’s hand.

  ‘He is a bull.’ The doctor added. ‘That’s a certainty, and that’s on his side.’

  Chapter Six

  Angel scattered the last of the hay over the baron field. The dozen horses that had been left to graze had stripped it bare. The farmer, who would have rotated the livestock from pasture to pasture, had long since gone.

  Dead, infected, was he now one of the Purebloods?

  Angel wasn’t sure, and really didn’t care too much. The farmhouse had made a welcome first base on their way down to Bickington.

  The group were still reeling after the suicide of Iris O Neil. After witnessing the whole ugly event, Angel was worried about Lou Pepper. She had tried to sit down and talk to the youngster, but she hadn’t responded. She kept changing the subject, and when asked directly she just clammed up.

  The poor little girl had been through so much. Angel looked up to the cloudless morning sky; she still couldn’t believe Iris had jumped. It was all so fast, so final. A life evaporated in the click of a finger.

  She looked back at the horses; they weren’t in the best shape but they would have to do. Her mind went back to Yanto and his horse, Thunderchild; he had the right idea. Yet another friend, gone. Jake was the thorn that hurt the most though. Angel ran her fingers through her hair; if he didn’t make it to Old Mill cottage then she wasn’t sure what she would do. Without him and Lou Pepper, well, she might have followed Iris over the cliff and onto the jagged rocks.

  ‘Tea up.’ Roger’s voice broke Angel’s dark musings. She waved back, acknowledging him.

  Walking back into the farmhouse and across the flagstones, Angel plonked herself down at the large wooden table.

  ‘You’re up early.’ Roger handed Angel her brew. ‘Find anything out there?’

  ‘Checking on the horses, giving them some fresh hay.’

  ‘What about the grass in the field?’ Roger sat down opposite her. ‘I’m no farmer but I thought the hay was for when the winter set in.’

  ‘Too many horses in one field.’ Angel sipped the piping hot tea. ‘They should have been moved a week or so ago, the land has been stripped.’

  ‘You obviously know what you’re talking about.’ Roger pushed the biscuit barrel over towards Angel. ‘Not much in there I’m afraid.’

  ‘When I was in care I used to go to all sorts of summer camps and country parks. The foster carers would have rest bite and we would be shipped out for a few weeks. I hated it at first, but coming from the concrete jungle I grew to love the countryside.’ She opened up the biscuit tin; Roger was right, there were three stale looking Rich Tea biscuits. No one under seventy five ate a Rich Tea biscuit ‘Can we ride the nags?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Yes, it shouldn’t be a problem; all the saddles and tack are in an out building across the front yard.’

  ‘The Purebloods must have missed this place.’ Roger drained his mug.

  ‘What’s to take?’ Angel leant back in her chair. ‘They have transport; they don’t need horses.’

  ‘I suppose so; there’s no fuel here, I checked yesterday evening.’

  ‘They most probably came here and saw it for what it was. A struggling small estate with not much to offer.’ She took another sip of tea. ‘For us, paradise. For them, a pile of old bricks with nothing to offer.’

  ‘Shall we leave today?’ Roger was fully aware he mustn’t just take over and make all the decisions himself. Angel didn’t like it, and at the moment their relationship was a good one.

  ‘Nope, I need to teach you to ride.’

  ‘I thought you said it was easy?’

  Angel laughed. ‘It is, but it will take a day for the basics to click in. Plus we need to suss out the horses.’

  ‘Suss out?’

  ‘Not all horses are the same. Some are easy, some are unpredictable.’

  ‘Like women.’ Roger burst out laughing. He liked to make himself laugh, and it had been a while since he had done so.

  Angel smiled and nodded. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of unpredictability.’

  Naomi Hardcastle entered the kitchen with a big yawn. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Roger was just telling me that he likes easy women.’ Angel winked back at her.

  He laughed again. ‘Okay you two, don’t start, it’s too early.’ He poured Naomi a mug of tea.

  The teenager walked over to the kitchen and lifted herself up to sit on the work top. ‘What are we going to do about him?’

  Roger knew exactly who she meant. ‘Harry James?’

  Angel sighed. ‘Not this again. Just untie him and tell him to piss off. We don’t need his sort hanging around. I don’t like Lou being near him, she’s been through enough.’

  ‘Surely we have some sort of duty to look after him?’ Roger then refilled his mug. ‘We can’t just cast him out to a certain death sentence.’

  ‘Why not?’ Angel stood up. ‘That cunt treated us like shit. Like animals; he was a part of all that. Lonny Gold’s lap dog.’

  Roger was a little taken aback by Angel using the ‘C’ word. ‘We need to start again though, we need to gain trust.’

  ‘Fuck trust.’ Angel wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘What do you think, Naomi?’ Roger asked. ‘You spent the most time with him.’

  Perched on the work top, Naomi could feel both sets of eyes bearing down on her. She wrapped both her hands around the hot mug of tea and took a sip. ‘He wasn’t as bad as the other two.’

  As soon as she spoke Roger turned to Angel with a smug look on his face.

  ‘You can’t be serious.’ Angel protested.

  Naomi let out a deep breath and put down her drink. ‘Look, the easy way is to let him rot, to forget about him.’ She slid off the work top and headed towards the biscuit barrel. ‘We need him. We need all the hands we can find. I’m sure he’s being honest when he says he wants to make up for all the bad he has done, and I did witness some genuine guilt. At one point the women in the back of the truck thought they had won him over.’ She removed a Rich Tea from the barrel. ‘Look.’ Naomi turned to Angel. ‘You know what Lonny Gold was like, he was a monster.’

  Roger made for the kitchen door. ‘That’s it then, we release him now and he travels with us.’

  ‘Now hang on a second.’ Angel moved quickly across the floor towards Roger. ‘Why so hasty?’

  ‘Why not?’ He replied.

  Again both of them turned to the teenager, who was beginning to feel like the elder clan member with all the decisions being thrust upon her. ‘It’s pointless in dragging it out.’

  Roger needed to hear no other words; he was out of the kitchen and running up the stairs. Angel was close behind him.

  Naomi inspected the biscuit and frowned. Not impressed, she threw it back in the barrel and followed the other two out of the kitchen.

  Harry James could just see out of the bedroom window. It was green fields, scattered with the odd tree here and there. He could make out a few distant farm buildings dotted about on the horizon. He slumped back onto the bed, his arms aching as they were cuffed to the bed post in an uncomfortable
upright position.

  He should have run when he had the chance.

  Now he was stuck with this dysfunctional group, with no means of escape. He felt like a sitting duck in front of a kangaroo court.

  Why would they save him?

  The woman known as Angel, who they had spent a month chasing across the country, despised him. The young Naomi girl had seen all the evil that had taken place at the large hands of Lonny Gold. Harry knew he had been a big part of that. The only one of them that had shown any real interest in him was the man called Roger, but he had kept him at arm’s length.

  The crazy Irishwoman had disappeared. He overheard them talking of suicide, but he hadn’t seen anything.

  He licked his dry, chapped lips. Suddenly the bedroom door burst open.

  ‘Can we trust you?’ Roger barked at him.

  Harry James said nothing. He was shocked and surprised at the sudden outburst.

  ‘You are lucky to be alive.’ Angel, now pushing past Roger, was in his face.

  ‘Hang back, for Christ sakes.’ Roger held Angel’s arm.

  She shrugged him off. ‘We saved your skin.’ Angel prodded his chest. ‘We took you in, fed you. What did you do to those poor women though?’

  ‘I didn’t want to.’ Harry James stuttered. ‘I could see no alternative.’

  ‘You could have said no!’ Angel screamed, spittle landing on his face.

  ‘Leave it now.’ Roger held her back.

  ‘He would have killed me.’ Harry James shouted back. ‘I had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Untie him.’ It was Naomi Hardcastle who opened her hand for Roger to give her the keys. ‘It was my mother who was raped, my mother who lies dead on a beach. I can forgive him, for now.’

  Roger dropped the keys into the palm of her hand.

  Naomi unlocked the cuffs and handed them back to Roger. ‘So now we must all try and forgive him.’

  ‘You're all fucking mad.’ Angel shook her head, and left the room to find Lou Pepper.

  Roger breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that the 'problem’ had been sorted out. He was sure he could talk Angel around. ‘Get a wash and come downstairs, there is some tea for you.’ He looked at Naomi and left the bedroom.

  Harry James looked up at the teenage girl. ‘I’m truly sorry.’ His words were full of remorse, his voice cracking.

  ‘I don’t want to hear it.’ She moved closer to him. ‘Just remember, I saw what you did to that poor woman.’ She moved even closer, eye to eye. ‘Stripping her and hanging her like a squealing pig. How can you live with yourself?’

  Harry James went to speak, but she raised her hand to stop him.

  ‘For now all these little sordid secrets are safe with me. You are on a trial, one strike and you’re out.’ Naomi stood back up. ‘Step out of line and one night, when you’re sleeping, I will get a knife and bleed you dry.’ Her eyes never left him. ‘Do you get me?’

  Harry James nodded; he knew she was deadly serious.

  Chapter Seven

  Jake threw the wet rope at the metal cleat, and at the fourth attempt he lassoed it. Pulling tight, the boat moved slowly towards the small harbour wall.

  He looked back down at the fuel gauge. The small amber light to tell him he was low on fuel was now flashing.

  ‘Are you ready?’ He ruffled his daughter’s hair.

  ‘Yep, sure am.’ Amber looked down at Young Red, who had started to bark at the Seagulls. ‘Are you ready?

  ‘Remember, we can’t keep him on a lead. If he runs off then that’s how it is.’ Jake didn’t want to scupper his Barnacle’s dreams of doggy ownership, but he really didn’t want the extra responsibility of looking after another mouth to feed.

  ‘He won’t leave my side.’ Amber patted her leg, and Young Red in turn started to jump up at her hand.

  ‘Right, let’s go.’ Jake grabbed his little girls hand and they stepped onto the few stone steps that led them up to the harbour wall.

  Westward Ho!

  Jake had heard of it, but had never visited. He took a quick look around, it seemed all quiet.

  He spotted a pub, named ‘The Waterfront’. Would he chance it?

  ‘Come on, this way.’ He pulled on Amber’s hand and they scooted across the road, with Young Red snapping at their heels.

  Jake pushed the pub door, it was unlocked. He peered into hallway that led to a large glass door. The panes were still intact, which told him the Infected had missed ransacking this watering hole.

  He went first, with Amber holding onto the back pockets of his combat trousers. Gently opening the glass door, Young Red shot through the gap and into the pub.

  Amber pushed at her dad to retrieve her dog.

  ‘Hang on Barnacle.’ He whispered. Maybe the dog was useful after all.

  Jake waited to see if any commotion ensued. If any crazy savage was in there then a small yapping dog would freak them out.

  Two minutes later Young Red reappeared looking for his playmate.

  ‘There he is daddy!’ Amber shrieked.

  ‘Okay sweetheart, just stick close to me, okay?’

  ‘Like glue.’ She pulled herself close to her dad.

  Jake looked at the empty restaurant. The tables and chairs were still in order, and the menus still stood up, waiting to be read. It was if everyone had vanished and left the whole seaside town. It was now a ghost town.

  He walked around to the bar, and then behind it.

  He pulled out two bottles of coke and popped the tops off. ‘Here we are,’ He handed one to his daughter.

  ‘You don’t usually let me drink this, daddy. You say it rots your teeth.’

  ‘Drink it up, sweetheart. And if you want another one, you can.’ He clinked his cola bottle against hers.

  ‘Cheers.’ Amber giggled.

  There wasn’t the huge bounty Jake had hoped for. The same old things filled his ruck sack. Various packets of crisps, and the usual chocolate bars. How he longed for an apple, or maybe a Satsuma. Most of the fruit that had been left had gone off weeks ago. Even some fruit juice would be nice, but the Waterfront pub had none.

  It’s funny how quickly you can bored of life’s edible treats. He remembered a holiday to Ibiza about ten years ago, just before Amber was born.

  An all exclusive extravaganza. As much as you can eat and drink for two weeks solid. By day eight he had enough of lobster, enough of steak. He had his fill of pizza and French fries. Enough of the endless cocktails and pints of lager. All he had longed for was to get back to Blighty and a nice cup of tea and a piece of toast.

  He smiled to himself. Holidays were now a thing of the past.

  ‘Right my little one; it’s time to make tracks.’ He kissed Amber on the cheek. ‘Same as before.’

  ‘Yes I know, stay close and shout if I see anything.’ Amber interrupted him.

  Jake nodded. ‘You’re getting cheekier by the day.

  ‘Young Red!’ Amber called out.

  The small terrier scarpered out of the kitchen and ran around her feet.

  Jake walked outside into the car park. He looked skyward, dark clouds were moving in. It hadn’t rained once since he woke up in Scotland, nearly two months ago. Maybe the season was turning; summer rain beckoned.

  They walked briskly across the parking area and onto the sandy road, which made its way up to the main road. Vehicles, they needed some transport.

  ‘We need a caravan park.’

  ‘Why?’ Amber quizzed.

  ‘Where there are caravans, there are cars. Where there are caravan parks, there will be keys to the cars.’ It was a long shot, but it was the only shot they had.

  Walking in the centre of the roads, away from the doorways and alleys, Jake never kept his eyes away from the shadows where danger lurked. The quicker they got out of these narrow streets, the better.

  As they reached the crossroads at end of the main road, Jake had to make a decision on which way to go. Right led them back down to the beach, and left looked as
though it doubled back up to another road, full of shops that sold postcards and sticks of rock.

  Straight on it was then.

  ‘Psssssst.’ The noise came from the alleyway next to the butchers. At first Jake thought it was Amber.

  ‘Did you say something?’

  Amber shook her head.

  Jake looked down at Young Red who was sat on the pavement, wagging his tail waiting for the next move of his new owners.

  ‘Psssssst.’ The noise came again, and this time Jake knew he wasn’t hearing things.

  ‘Let’s go.’ He wasn’t going to hang around to find out who, or what, it was. Yanking Amber’s hand he crossed the road.

  ‘Look Daddy, look.’ Amber suddenly started to pull in the opposite direction.

  ‘No, this way.’ He tried to tug her but the little girl showed fierce resistance.

  She started to laugh. ‘The man’s naked.’

  The word naked rang alarm bells and Jake searched for his knife. Spinning around, and keeping Amber well and truly behind him, he faced the unclothed monster.

  ‘I mean you no harm.’ The wild haired man cackled. ‘I’m a friend.’

  Jake held the knife out. In front of him was a naked man in his late fifties, long scraggily grey hair and a beard to match. His teeth were nicotine brown; his naked body was smeared with what looked like mud.

  Amber popped her head from around Jakes legs and screamed when confronted with the nakedness.

  ‘Oops.’ The crazy man jumped in the air and cupped himself as he landed. ‘So sorry, didn’t see the ankle biter.’ Again he let out a cackle.

  ‘Who are you?’ Jake shouted. Confused at a naked body that was actually talking, he didn’t know whether to run or attack.

  ‘Pip.’ The man jumped into the air once more.

  Jake stepped back. ‘Pip?

  The older man moved closer.

  Jake thrust out his knife. ‘Stay where you are.’

  Young Red started to bark at the stranger.

  ‘Friend, I’m a friend.’ Pip danced on the paving stones. ‘Follow Pip.’ He waved his arms. ‘Bring the doggy, too.’

  Jake stood still and watched the wrinkly man trot down the street.