by Jack Lewis
***
“Right now, we’ve all got things spot on,” said Al.
He walked among the infected, kneeling beside each one and turning them over to look at them. He stopped by the one with scratches all over its face. It was the only one which wore anything, but even this infected was naked from the waist down. He put his hand in its jacket and pulled out a wallet.
“How do you figure?” I said.
Al opened the wallet. He pulled out a bank note, looked it for a second and then let it go. The Queen’s head printed on the side stared at me before it was carried away by the wind. He flicked through the wallet and found a valet ticket, which he screwed up. He unclasped a button and pulled out a photograph the size of a stamp. He studied it for a few seconds and then put it in his pocket.
“Well,” he said, as he pulled the coat off the infected. “You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you. Means neither of us is gonna make a move that doesn’t serve our own interests.”
“Which are?” said Mel.
“Which are my business,” said Al.
I looked behind me, to the top of the gentle hill. Ben and Lou waited on the crest of it. I waved up at them. Ben waved back, but Lou didn’t stir.
“Let’s just leave it,” I said. “This guy’s a dick.”
Mel had her hands on her hips. “Are you serious, Kyle? We come all this way and then just leave because he’s an arsehole? I want answers. I want to know what the hell he’s doing here.”
Al ignored her. He slung his new denim jacket over his shoulder and walked over to the helicopter.
I wanted to know what was happening as much as Mel, but I sensed that Al wasn’t a man accustomed to giving answers. I knew that it wouldn’t do any good to try and persuade him.
Mel wouldn’t give up.
“Come on. What’s with the big silence? We come all this way and you’ve got nothing to say to us?”
“I don’t give a shit how far you’ve come. Your miles are your business, not mine.”
“You owe us an explanation.”
He shook his head. “I owe you nowt. I don’t know you, I don’t trust you, and I sure as hell don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Supposing I make you talk?” said Mel.
Al grinned. “Supposing you try.”
“Leave it,” I sighed. “He’s right. Trust works two ways, and I don’t have any in this guy. Let’s go.”
I turned my back on Al and started to walk away toward the hill. I counted each step in my head, but I only made it to ten before I heard his gruff voice call out.
“You made the right choice, Carl,” he said.
“Kyle.”
“Whichever one it is.”
He tried to tuck his gun into his belt, but the leather was so tight around his waist that he couldn’t. He held it in his right hand, but put his left up in the air.
“Come on now. Come sit down a second. You’ve got to be careful, round here. In the untamed parts. You never know who’s looking for trouble and who’s bringing it.”
Chapter 21
“The way it seems to me,” said Al, “You were gonna leave. Means you weren’t interested in taking what I had, though many in your position would try.”
Al had walked around the side of the helicopter, where a thin line of smoke drifted. He poked the ashen edges of the fire with his boots. I stood a few feet back.
“I didn’t know you even had anything worth taking.”
“Oh I don’t. I’m poorer that a beggar’s arsehole. Doesn’t stop people from trying, though.”
Mel rubbed her nose. It didn’t seem broken, but it had already started to swell.
“You’re an arsehole, alright. Think you can do that again, do you? Put the pistol down and fight me properly.”
“You lunged at me, love. I know I’m a handsome bastard but you could have waited.”
I gave Mel a look. I didn’t want to provoke Al yet.
Charlie knocked on the helicopter with his knuckles. The metal rang.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re poor to me.”
“The sparrow isn’t mine,” said Al.
“Sparrow?”
“It’s what I call the helicopter.”
We stood around the smouldering wreck at the side of the helicopter. The black seat had melted around the edges and some of the leather had dripped away like wax. The bulk of it hadn’t caught fire completely.
“It’s time you were straight with us,” I said.
Al rubbed his hands around his mouth, the bristles of his moustache moving under his fingers.
“How many of you are there?” he said.
I didn’t know how much I should tell him. I had learned to be wary of strangers, but it seemed clear that Al had gotten the same lesson. We needed to find out what he was doing here, and he wouldn’t give any information away without getting some from us in return. I reasoned that if he meant us harm, he could have shot one of us already.
“Just what you see here. We’re a small group,” said Mel, answering him before I got a chance.
Al studied her for a second. I got the impression that he saw beneath the surface, that his wise eyes saw the truths we tried to hide away.
“Come on, love,” he said.
“Do you see anyone else?” said Mel. “And don’t call me love.”
Al held up his hand. “Sorry. But if you’ll beg my pardon, that’s bullshit.”
“Think what you want.”
“If that’s the way it’s going to be,” said Al.
He turned his back on us and walked to the window of the helicopter. He rummaged around inside, before pulling a bright orange rucksack through the opening. He hefted it onto his shoulder, and then stopped. He looked at us all for a few seconds, dark eyes focussing on mine, and then he started to walk away.
I looked at Mel and Charlie. Charlie shrugged his shoulders. Every few seconds, he would dart his gaze to Reggie’s body on the ground.
“I don’t trust him,” said Mel.
Al was walking across the grass now. His heavy boots trampled the blades underneath him.
“Hang on,” I said.
He carried on walking.
“Al.”
He stopped and turned around.
“Feeling chattier?”
“Just come back here.”
There was a chill in the air. The faint tinge of burning and smoke infused the air around us. I pinched the arm of my jacket and sniffed it. I smelled like a fire. It took me back to bonfire nights with my dad; a twisted Guy Fawkes doll melting in the flames, and fireworks screeching into the sky. I had always hated my dad dragging us out on those nights, but I would have given the world to go back in time.
Al walked back toward us. His bag made a heavy thump as he dropped it on the ground.
“Time we spoke honestly,” he said. “Now trust me on my word. I don’t mean you any harm. But I can’t say the same about you lot.”
“You’re the one with the gun.”
Al nodded.
“And I don’t mind telling you that I’ve only got one bullet left. Enough to drop one of you. Probably the big guy here,” he said, nodding at me. “I say big, but you’re more lanky than anything. But the rest of you will still be standing. Seems to me that I’m the one placing all the trust here.”
“Look around you,” said Charlie. He jerked his shoulder to show Al his stump. “I’m not exactly in prime condition. And Lou over there won’t be putting up much of a fight. We’re not a threat to you.”
I sighed. Weariness made my bones heavy. It was like the journey of the last week was hitting me in full force all at once.
“We’ve got a camp. South of here, not too far away. There’s about fifty of us.”
“Any guns?” said Al.
“This is Britain. We don’t have Uzis lying around.”
“Maybe so. But we’re in the highlands. There are poachers, farmers. People who like the feeling of a shotgun hanging over their arm.”
“We already told you we’re not going to hurt you,” said Mel.
Al watched us. Again I got the feeling that he saw much more than we intentionally gave away. His wrinkled face stood out under the dim light. The gouges that time had carved in his face made him seem as craggy as the hills and rocks around us.
“The situation’s this,” he said. “We dropped into London a fortnight back.”
“Who’s we?” I said.
“Sounds a little silly, when you look at how things have turned to shit. But you’d probably know us as the government.”
It was a word I hadn’t heard in a long time. It brought back images of politicians in suits, of debates and referendums, of lies and propaganda. At the same time, it had associations of civilisation, of the world as it had been before the cataclysm.
The first few years of the outbreak, I had always wondered where the government were. I was so angry at them that I could spit. Why weren’t they doing anything? Why had they just left us to waste away? After a while, I gave up on the idea of seeing them.
“Say that again,” I said.
Al bent down and adjusted the lace on his right boot. Straightening up, he looked at me.
“We’ve been coming back every few years. Don’t know what we expect to find, because nothing changes. We find survivors every so often and take them back to the island, but there’s no helping some people. Did you ever see on the news, those stories about kids found in the wild? Abandoned when they were babes and then raised by wolves or wild dogs? People are like that, we find. Anyone who’s survived this long has had to go a little wild. Some of them can’t adjust when we take them back.”
“Hold on a second,” said Charlie. He tucked his hand in his jacket pocket. “What island?”
Al reached into his rucksack. He rummaged around and then pulled out a compass. He studied it for a few seconds, sighed, and then threw it on the ground.
“Bloody thing’s busted.”
He looked up at the sky, and then turned to his right. He pointed.
“Over that direction,” he said. “Know what we call that?”
I followed his finger, but I saw nothing but more of the bleak landscape that seemed to fill every inch of the highlands. Rocks forged millions of years ago and then carved away by the passage of time.
“I’m not the best at geography,” I said.
Al grinned.
“We call that south east.”
I shook my head.
“Very funny.”
“If you follow that direction,” continued Al, “you’ll hit the coast. Go far enough across the sea, and you’ll come to an island called Gann. Used to be a small fishing village. Now it’s something else. You won’t find people catching cod out there, anymore. Well you will find that actually, because that’s what we eat, but it isn’t just a fishing village anymore.”
“Get to the point,” said Mel.
“That little island in the sea is where the government lives now,” said Al in a patronising voice, as though he was talking to a child.
For a few seconds nobody said anything. The only sound was the wind which blew through the open windows of the helicopter and rattled something inside. Charlie stared south east, his gaze focused on the horizon as if he could see through the hills that blocked our view.
“Come on now,” said Al. “Don’t tell me you never wondered where everyone went.”
I hadn’t been south since the world ended. It had occurred to me that if by some chance anything was left of the leadership of the country, they would be down there. I also thought they would be hunkered in a bunker, shutting themselves away from the apocalypse with steel doors and tons of rock. They would be either oblivious to the screams of the survivors above, or just plugging their ears to ignore the noise.
In my time in the wilds I had met a few people who were going south. It always seemed like a stupid plan to me. The capital was in the south. It was the most populated city in the country, and that meant more decayed foot soldiers for the army of the undead. Cities meant death. Everywhere meant death, really, but going to a city was like walking into your own grave.
Al picked up his rucksack and slipped the strap across his shoulders. He adjusted the weight on his back, bending his knees under the strain.
“I better go,” he said.
“Go where?”
He spread his arms out wide.
“Where else? I can’t stay in the arse end of nowhere, no matter how beautiful the view and how delightful the company. I’ve got to get to the other side of the country.”
“Why don’t you fly?” said Ben.
I didn’t even know that the boy had left Lou’s side. I looked behind us and saw that she was on her own, on the stretcher, at the top of the hill. I felt guilty that we had just left her there.
“Mind checking on her?” I said to Mel.
She nodded. She gave Al a wary glance, and then walked away.
Al kneeled down so that he was at the same height as Ben.
“The sparrow’s wings are broken, so I’m going to have to walk,” he said. “And I better get a move on.”
“What’s the rush?” said Charlie.
“Our ship is only docked for a few weeks. If I’m not back to meet them, they’ll just leave. And then I’ll be spending the next few years on the mainland.”
“That’s a hell of a journey,” said Charlie. “London is miles away.”
“And I’ve got sore feet,” said Al. “But I’ll have to make do. Now, are you coming, or what?”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“I told you. We pick up survivors. The ones who haven’t gone savage, at any rate. There’s room on the ship for a few more scruffy looking people.”
It seemed too good to be true. An island off the coast. Ships, helicopters, government. Every instinct in my body told me to keep my guard up, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but trust Al. Jesus, I really had changed.
“What about the people at camp? We can’t just bugger off,” I said.
Al shrugged his shoulders.
“The more the merrier.”
“And what about Lou?” said Charlie. “There’s no way she can make a journey like that.”
He was right, I knew. Lou’s leg would take months to heal properly, if it ever did. The journey would be long, and we didn’t have much time to make it. Al said that his ship would leave with or without even him, so it sure as hell wouldn’t hang around for us.
I looked at the hill behind us. Mel walked up it, each step seeming more laboured than the last. Lou was at the crest of the hill, stretched out on her plank of wood, her body completely still.
I caught movement to the left of her. It was slight, but my peripheral vision registered it. Someone was stretched out on the grass, their head ducked down.
They looked directly at me and for a few seconds they just stared at me, but the grass blocked most of their face so I couldn’t tell who it was. Then, without warning, they straightened up.
“Shawn,” I said.
Charlie looked up. Al put his hand to his forehead as if to block out sun that wasn’t there.
He had turned and ran away before I could get a good look, but it had to be him. He had stalked us before, after all. I didn’t think there were many other voyeuristic weirdos hanging around the Highlands.
“I’m going to kill the bastard,” I said.
Chapter 22
Mel reached the figure before me. She ran after them and tackled them to the ground. They became two tangled bodies clawing at each other on the dewy grass, before Mel threw a punch that ended the struggle.
Al, Charlie and I followed them up the hill. As we walked, Al spoke to the scientist.
“Stumpy,” he said.
“Don’t call me that.”
“One thing pecking my head,” said Al. “You said your pal wasn’t bitten. So what’s your explanation?”
Charlie shrugged his shoulders. It was one of the first times
that I’d ever seen him admit that he didn’t know something. Usually he would at least try to give some sort of an answer, even if it took him hours to dredge it up from the murky corners of his brain.