by Vance Huxley
One of the wounded died, while two Demons and two other fighters were partially crippled and retired from the Riot Squad. All four swore they could still stand on the wall and throw bombs if necessary. Six of the fighters asked to stand down. They’d load guns and throw bombs, even shoot muskets if necessary, but they couldn’t handle hand to hand. Harold was agreeably surprised by how few felt that way. In contrast, he felt sure the eight prisoners who had kicked the wounded gangster to death were now blooded, at least enough to shoot a live person. Ten pyres burned one evening,and the ashes were scattered in the exclusion zone. This time the sergeant didn’t raise any objections, and the Army squad from the guard post lined the edge of the overpass, standing at attention. The January dance proved to be a very subdued affair, more of a drawing together against the world than exuberant celebration.
Harold had a terse message from Caddi about kidnapping Hot Rods. Instead of telling him to get stuffed, which several people advised, Harold repeated the previous explanation and heard nothing more. A few of the Hot Rods, after a couple of beers, let slip there’d been a blazing argument between Caddi and Mercedes. Nobody dare go near enough to the house to hear what they said, but most Hot Rods assumed he’d stopped her visiting ‘Arold. Harold wondered if she’d wanted to visit the hospital again.
Scavenger hunts recommenced, but with a stronger, heavily armed escort, and scouts were sent out before they moved to another section.As the actual horror receded a little, it was replaced by a quiet pride in their success, and a determination to do better next time. Riot Squad training redoubled, because when the evenings lightened, Caddi’s spies would be able to see them so they would have to cut back. By then every fighter wanted to be ready for the next time. They all expected a next time, sooner or later.
*
Well to the north, the General didn’t feel anything like pride. “You stupid fucking prick! Julius fucking Caesar? Dickhead wanker, more like. Forty-four fucking fighters, sensible ones, not Patton’s fucking lunatics, and thirteen motors. Not to mention the wounded ones, and a shitload of weapons and ammo. Why shouldn’t I stick your head on a pole outside the door as a hint to the others?”
The man standing at rigid attention looked pale but he didn’t back off. “I did what you asked. You said you wanted to know how those pretty ranks stood up to a real fight, nose to nose, because you’d only seen them shooting on the TV.” Julius gestured towards the third man in the room. “Rhys wanted a couple of Orchard Close residents to question. He told me about the scavenger parties, and sent a couple of men to watch them. Then we planned this. We still don’t know how they did it, trapped our men.”
“They shot the fuck out of the cars, and then presumably everyone else because all I’ve seen of them is this.” The General tossed a phone onto the desk and Julius looked at the picture. He winced before passing it to Rhys.
Rhys took a longer look, flicking through them all. “Melee wounds as well as bullets and crossbows, before the mutilation I mean. That answers one question,they can fight up close. Our men weren’t amateurs but my reports say Orchard Close only lost ten, five of them before their fighters arrived. The winner’s wounded survive and the loser’s don’t, but even so that’s impressive even from ambush. It means those pretty ranks didn’t break.” The spymaster looked grim as he shrugged. “I still don’t know how the hell they managed to get enough people in position, not quietly enough to spring that bloody ambush. I will, but now I’d like more time to get information on Orchard Close. Judging bythis, our ally Caddi has been a long way from truthful. I was never convincedthey were all limp-wristed posers or girls pretending to be fighters, no good without their rifles, but now I’m worried. How long have I got?”
“As long as you need.” The General had calmed down a bit. “We still need a couple of months for all the wounds to heal after the SIMS fight, and judging by that mess I’ll need everyone fit when we hit Orchard Close. With luck, Caddi will have finished dicking about with the Murphies and can join us. Then we’ll run right over them, pretty ranks or not.”
“You’ve got the Pinkies and the Barbies? Christ, that’s good news.”
“No Julius, but the Pinkies have realised just who the scary bastard is around here, and that it isn’t those dykes. Better still, that SIMS woman is well enough to build rockets now, or tell us how they’re made and aimed. She won’t give us the recipe for the propellant, which is smart of her, but she’ll make the shit up if we give her the ingredients. I’ve persuaded her that’s a better life than becoming a Bloods fuck-bitch.” A nasty smile spread across the General’s face. “Once we are ready to go, I reckon those rockets will persuade the Barbies to see reason. They’ll also rip holes in that big brick wall around Orchard Close.” He closed his hand as if crushing something. “Then I want a few minutes with that Soldier bastard.”
“I’ll find out what I can about the defences. It’s bloody crazy. I could walk in there and have a pint in their pub, a pub for God’s sake, but even the regular visitors can’t work out how many can shoot, or who fights. I can see the wall, but can’t get near it to see how strong the bloody thing is.” A grin split Rhys’s face. “Cadillac still reckons he’s got a key to the front door.”
“Make sure he doesn’t use it, or not until I’m ready to walk through the gate with him.” The General turned to Julius and let him off the hook. “All right Julius, I accept your idea had merit. A word of warning. Your next idea had better work, because merit isn’t enough if all I get is that.” He gestured at the phone. “No more adventures. The next time we put fighters in there, it’s in force.”Julius was smart enough to salute and leave without a word. Once out of sight he stopped and leant against a wall for a moment, heaving a big sigh of relief.
Rhys remained, producing a sheaf of reports to discuss with his boss. “If Cadillac won’t play, I can maybe get you some more men. Real, experienced fighters, but there’ll be a cost.”
“Mercenaries? Maybe, if they’re good ones. They can go in behind the bullet magnets, then Julius and his men can clean up.” The General held his hand out for the notebook Rhys held. “How much?”
“Not coupons. This one wants a deal. He’ll loan you up to a hundred and fifty real fighters, short-term. In return you loan him the same number for a similar time.” Rhys braced himself because the General wouldn’t like this bit. “He’s called The Last Prophet, and his gang are the Children of Cain.”
“A fucking loony-tune? I’m not teaming up with some bugshit bastard and his religious fanatics.” The General stared at his spymaster, baffled. “You should know better.” Alarm flared in his eyes. “Shit,how near is he? The last thing I need is a religious enema while we’re dealing with Orchard Close.”
“Calm down. He’s north of the motorway, and needs help to kick an alliance of gangs out of a big park. Maybe the bloke is bugshit, and his men are definitely fanatics, but more the Bloods type of fanatic than churchy. If they come here, lock up your daughters, goats, and probably your grandfather.” Rhys laughed, deliberately, to calm the gang boss down a bit. “We can send our lunatics to help his once they’ve done their job, or keep his here. Patton would love them.”
“I’ll want a lot more information because I’m not keen.Religious nuts don’t think like real people.” The General handed the notebook back. “We’ll want to know more anyway, because he could be a problem eventually.”
*
Harold and Orchard Close would be better prepared to deal with violent problems after Dealer’s visit on the tenth of February. This time Harold didn’t buy much propellant, but might the next time.He’d have credit because Dealer produced another AK and a smaller automatic, apparently an Uzi, for repair, but warned they were the last of the urgent ones. There’d still be a steady trickle of repairs, but not automatics or poser weapons at inflated prices. Some of the shortfall could be made up by selling thick white rabbit fur, because once he’d seen some, Dealer wanted all he could get.
Harold took
his payments this time in a new line of very expensive merchandise, antibiotics. The Barbies charged horrendous prices and never parted with very much at one time, so Orchard Close never had enough. Dealer only offered after Harold asked about inoculations for rabbits, and after some searching questions about the Orchard Close medic.Lenny’s paramedic qualifications, and details on the level of trauma Orchard Close had handled, led to Dealer offering a limited range of medical supplies. Harold took a flier and asked about dental anaesthetics for Gayle, because she’d more or less run out. Once he’d confirmed that the dentist had real training, Dealer promised to source some but warned they would be expensive.
That prompted Harold to ask if Dealer’s men needed treatment, because he hadn’t heard of another dentist. Dealer assured him they’d got medical treatment organised, but he’d bear it in mind.Davidpromptly offered to come to Orchard Close if he got a toothache, but only if Patty wore a nurse’s uniform. Patty laughed and said she might once he’d been strapped into the chair. Then she laughed again when David made a big play of considering that before agreeing, providing she personally tied him down. On the way back up, Patty claimed she’d just had a bit of fun, because she knew the bloke wouldn’t be allowed inside the gates. Harold had started wondering if Patty was getting serious, because Orchard Close would let any visitor in if he disarmed.
Lenny and Patricia were overjoyed with the antibiotics, and the possibility of other medical supplies, but Harold swore them to secrecy over the source. He’d got to the stage he didn’t know who he’d sworn to secrecy over what and Doll was right, it had got out of hand. The fighters were supposed to keep some weapons concealed, butthe last fight meant forty of them saw the Mad Maxes,sabres, all the shooters, and some saw the Winchester. People were relaxing around the Barbies and GOFS, so the visitors would probably pick up hints. Harold conceded, privately, that both those gangs probably had more idea of what went on than he liked.
The roads cleared again and business at The Pub picked up, mainlyGOFS to start with. Within days several Barbies and then a few Hot Rods managed the trip. The GOFS pub visitors mentioned that the Hot Rods were buying machetes, big swords and crossbows again. Another flurry of work arrived from Caddi butnone were captured weapons, so the Hot Rod boss was only getting his own firearms in tip top order.
Caddi bought more maces and Rambos and parted with coupons to do so, but Mercedes didn’t visit. According to ET, Caddi had gone crazy about the New Year visit but not to her. Even ET didn’t know what the later row had been about. Caddi definitely kept Mercedes busy, scouting around the edges of the Murphy lines and behind them if possible. The GOFS and Barbievisitors admitted their leaders were nervous in case Caddi switched targets. Despite that, both gangs werepoised to grab a Murphyestate or two when the gang folded.
*
Early on Valentine’s Day, the Hot Rodsconfirmed they were attacking someone. The squads scrambled to man the walls around Orchard Closewhen Caddi turned up with a big convoy, and hoped it wasn’t them. Most relaxed when Mercedes climbed out of her Jeep, strolling through the slush to the gate while the rest turned their vehicles round. Harold went outside to greet her. Despite relaxing, theOrchard Close fightersstill watched the convoy with crossbows and firearms ready. After all, Caddi might have picked a traditional time for a massacre.
Mercedes smiled happilywhen Harold came through the gate, and her eyes were warm and reassuring. If Caddi planned mischief then Mercedes didn’t know. From the grins on the faces of the Hot Rods, Harold wondered if they would actually shoot with her in the line of fire. It would be terminally stupid of Caddi to shoot his Killer Queen just before a battle, painfully stupid if Mercedes survived. Harold relaxed as well.
Mercedes wore boots of course, but the rest hid under that long coat, fastened up to her collar again. As she slowly licked her lips beforebending for the bottom fastener, Harold began to wonder just how little she might be wearing.Then he remembered the wall behind him, lined with interested spectators.
A lot of leg came into view as those nimble fingers worked upwards. Not as much leg as when Mercedes wore shorts, but the slightly flared black skirt definitely classed as mini. Her tight white blouse, with a row of tiny buttons up to the throat, broke her usual dress code. No bra games today. There again, the big red heart on a chain round the young woman’s neck gave a definite message. Mercedes opened her coat wide beforecoming closer, almost close enough for contact.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, ‘Arold.” Mercedes glanced down at her blouse and up at the gates and guards, before murmuring, “Not today.” Harold looked over her shoulder and Caddi didn’t see the joke any more. The warlord looked impatient, but Mercedes wasn’t being hurried. “I don’t think you need to ask any more, ‘Arold.” Her smile, and a little wriggle of her hips, were a clear indication of what Harold didn’t need to ask.
Her coat opened wider than their shoulders at the moment, so his hands went inside and Harold got a firm hold ofthe back of her skirt. “Like this?”
Mercedes made a small, impatient noise. “Not on the skirt, ‘Arold. What did you usually ask, back when you still had to?” While Harold processed that, Mercedes let go of the coat sides, slid her hands up round Harold’s neck,squished herself up against him and her mouth came up.
She delivered another of those kisses. Long, slow and brain-melting and part of the effect was that it was just the same as the last one. Not a crushing, heavy, tongue down the throat job, but hot wet lips working very slowly and thoroughly. Even as Harold’s brain turned to mush, he finished processing her last words. His hands went down a bit and up, because the question had always beenif Harold could put his hands on her ass, not her clothes!
Even as soft, smoothskin slid under his hands,her lips pressed a little harder and Mercedes gave a little moan. Harold’s mouth muffled the sound and the coat covered what Harold did, but the combination nuked Harold’s brain. He wasn’t sure if anything covered her long slow writhe against his front as both his hands found and stroked her thoroughly commando ass. Stroked for a long, long time, as far as his somewhat confused recollection could work out later.
Eventually they had to breathe, or at least Harold did,and very heavily once he had a chance. Mercedes also looked a bit breathless and very happy. As they parted Harold carefully slid his hands back down and up onto the miniskirt, which earned him a small pout. Harold nearly grabbed Mercedes again because she wasthe girl in the bathroom, with dancing eyes and mouth stretched in a triumphant smile. Instead, Mercedes sighed and the sparkle dimmed as she raised her voice, loud enough for the Hot Rods to hear. “Sorry about the buttons, ‘Arold.Maybe you should have checked by hand.” Harold looked at the blouse and back up.
He raised his voice as well. “When I check under there, the buttons are coming undone first!” A cheer sounded from behind him before Mercedes twirled so the gangsters could see the joke. Some ruder hilarity followed from the Hot Rods. Caddi looked pissed offnow, and obviously wanted this over, buthis men loved every minute so the warlord kept his mouth shut.
Mercedes held the coat closed and did a little shimmy. “Hmm, Soldier Boy went off the reservation a bit there.” Harold watchedthe Killer Queen play them and it worked. The Hot Rods were now wondering how far Soldier Boy had wandered. “I think he’s about ready.”
Mercedes left another pause for the suggestions on what Soldier Boy might be ready for. Harold appreciated how nicely the ones from behind were put, in stark contrast to those coming from the Hot Rod convoy. “Don’t worry boys, the commando betting will be settled next time. I don’t think I can hold out any longer. I’ll hang them out the window so you can all see what he’s been ruffling.” Mercedes did another shimmy as she pretended to get her underclothes straightened.
She turned back. “Got to go now, lover boy. Hang this over your bed and I’ll come and get it when we’re done.” The chain with the red heart came off over her head and Mercedes took the two steps back to slip it over Harold’s head. Her hands
stayed behind Harold’s head for long moments,but this kiss stopped too soon. Much too soon when a hot tongue gently licked Harold’s lips as their kiss finished. “To keep the memory warm,” probably wasn’t loud enough to be heard elsewhere. Harold watched Mercedes walk back down the access road, one finger pointing out what he should be watching as it gave some extra wiggle.
Holding the coat closed with a hand, Mercedes reached into the jeep and came out with a bag. She headed for the nearest empty house, the ruined one used for trading with Dealer. “Now you know why I need to change before we go Spud-bashing.” Caddi scowled because she obviously aimed the remark at him. A few minutes later Mercedes came out dressed to kill, literally this time.
Mercedes wore two handguns, one in a Tomb Raider thigh holster over her jeans, a Rambo, and two smaller pre-Crash sheath knives on her belt.A bandolier of shotgun shells hung over the shoulder of her short leather jacket and the thick plaid shirt beneath. The shotgun would be in her Jeep. Harold would bet on at least one more blade in one of her mid-shin boots, ones with low heels today. She bundled up the coat,throwing it into the Jeep before turning towards Harold. “So you can practice the buttons,” she called, handinga small parcel to a youth. “Better get working on them. I’m in the mood to finish this quickly!”
A rousing cheer from the Hot Rods followed the youth as he trotted up the road to give it to Harold. He had to run even faster back down, because Caddi started the vehicles moving. The warlord shouldn’t be scowling, because Mercedes had just done wonders for troop morale. She’d got every Hot Rod wound up, cheering and keen as mustard, and Orchard Close were cheering them as well!
Harold waved until the slim arm, stuck up out of the Jeep to say goodbye, went out of sight. Hefinally removed his stupid smile, turning round to meet a row of delighted faces. Sharyn took the bundle and unwrapped it a little to show both the skirt and blouse. “Do I need to check for knickers?” She laughed and continued quietly. “From your face probably not, or a bra. Mind you, it’s chilly enough today for everyone to answer the bra question.”