by RR Haywood
‘Maddox? Darius? Where are they?’
‘I killed Darius,’ Lani says with a defiant look at the doctor, ‘Maddox is lying over there somewhere in his own shit and piss.’
‘What?’ Anne says hardly believing the turn of events.
‘I shot Darius,’ Lani replies, ‘and some others…Maddox was tazered…about eight times until he shit himself and passed out.’
‘Jesus, Lani.’
‘Jesus my backside,’ Lani snaps, ‘I didn’t see that reaction when he tazered me or when you stuck the needle in…’
‘I did not sedate you. I refused to have a part in it. Where is he?’
‘Maddox? Over there towards the back.’
‘Can I check him, please?’
‘Go for your life but do nothing without saying so first…’
‘I understand,’ Anne nods quickly while threading through the young people. She spots the prone form of Maddox and seconds later detects the smell of faeces. She drops down, pressing a hand gently to the side of his neck, ‘he’s alive,’ she calls out.
‘He was only tazered,’ Lani replies.
‘Enough times to kill him.’
‘He tazered me first and be thankful I didn’t shoot him…which is still an option.’
‘An option? To execute someone?’
‘The same options he was discussing with us.’
‘Which makes you as bad as he…when does it end?’
‘It ends when bad people stop being pricks…If I hadn’t of taken action he would have killed Howie. Or, he would have considered killing them.’
‘They’re gone,’ Anne says hotly, ‘Howie is gone and therefore the risk.’
‘Maddox didn’t know he’d gone, or if he did then he only just found out. Either way I’m not risking the lives of the people who gained this fort for anyone.’
‘You know,’ Anne says firmly, ‘there is always the existing possibility that you are infected.’
‘I probably am,’ Lani replies quickly, ‘and I turned but I came back. Cookey was bitten right in front of us and he didn’t turn. Do you know how Howie found out he was immune?’
She doesn't wait for the reply but pushes on, ‘he had a human heart pushed in his mouth. A still beating infected human heart…during a fight that we went back to in order to save all of these people.’
‘There has been too much death here,’ Anne shakes her head sadly, ‘it has to end.’
‘What do we do now then?’ Lani asks, ‘give me the solution.’
‘Now?’
‘With this lot?’ Lani motions at the youths with the point of her rifle, ‘what do we do with them? We can’t just let them go but they can’t stay where they are.’
‘Let them go,’ Anne says with a shrug, ‘you’ve got their weapons…’
‘Three of us against a group this size? Still loyal to Maddox and Lenski? No way.’
Voices break out pledging loyalty to Howie, Mo Mo and everyone else besides Maddox. Other voices argue defiantly, telling the turncoats to shut up.
‘ENOUGH,’ Lani shouts, ‘see what I mean? We let them in and now look…we’ve got a shit load of bloody kids to worry about and what’s more, they’re kids that know how to use guns and kill people.’
Anne falters and looks round with desperation as the realisation of the situation unfolds in front of her eyes. She can see the dire consequences of what could happen if these children were just let go. Their propensity for violence will provoke them into an act of retribution which will result in more deaths, more bloodshed. But to leave them here, sitting quietly with their thin arms raised up like prisoners of war. That isn’t right either.
‘They need food and water,’ Anne says, ‘leaving them like this is unacceptable.’
‘That’s fine, but they eat and drink where they are until Howie comes back.’
‘Will he come back?’ Anne asks, ‘how can you be so sure?’
‘Because there is no way on the face of this planet that Howie…or any of my team for that matter, would leave someone behind. More than that,’ Lani speaks low but clear as she takes a step towards Anne as though to emphasise her point, ‘even if Howie died…if they all died bar one…that one remaining would come back or die trying…I’d do it, Nick would do it, Cookey and the rest…and that,’ she snaps the word out with a glare at the children around her, ‘is loyalty. You know your mates will come back because that’s what you’d do for them. You fight for them. You’d die for them. You give everything you are and know they give it back. It isn’t about wearing black clothes and looking hard with a gun. You do it without guns. Without weapons and you do it until your hands are bloody and your legs can’t take another step. All of you look at Mo Mo and Jagger. Go on…look,’ she paces through the crowd as they turn from looking at her to take in the solid forms holding steady at the front, ‘see them? See the way they stand? Without doubt. Without question. You do the right thing for the right reasons and you know what? If I started shooting you all now one by one…what do you think they would do?’
She pauses, letting the words sink in, ‘Mo Mo, what would you do?’
‘If you started shooting this lot one by one without a reason?’
‘Yep.’
‘I’d shoot you…and if I did it, Jagger would shoot me, you get me?’ He looks down at the faces.
‘You do the right thing for the right reasons,’ Lani repeats, ‘Mo Mo and Jagger didn’t take up their guns because I was in control and they wanted to pick the winning side. They could have both shot me by now and taken over…they do it because we have a way of doing things.’
‘The right thing for the right reasons,’ a young girl speaks out, no more than thirteen and the braces on her teeth glint in the orange light of the lanterns. For a second Lani stops and stares down, wondering who will know when to take the braces off and having a vision of the girl wearing them for the rest of her life.
‘Yes,’ Lani says with a tone made softer by the sadness of life and the knowledge that everything there was before is rapidly disappearing, ‘the right thing…for the right reasons.’
She trails off with a lingering look at the main gates and wishing the team were here right now.
Nineteen
‘That’s a bit shit then,’ I say heavily as we stare out at the almost perfectly flat water between us and the fort.
‘A flaw in an otherwise cunningly perfect plan,’ Cookey says, ‘we subdued the bad guys, got the guns and saved the girls and now…’
‘Pardon?’ Paula turns to fix a steady on him.
‘Saved the girls,’ Cookey repeats, ‘you and Marcy.’
‘Saved us? You were gawping at us more like.’
‘Gawping? It’s gawking isn’t it?’ Nick asks.
‘Definitely gawping,’ Cookey replies.
‘Sure? I always thought it was gawking.’
‘Gawking isn’t even a word,’ Blowers says.
‘Yeah it is, it’s…like…when you gawk.’
‘Gawk? You mean gawp…with a pee.’
‘I don’t need a pee,’ Cookey laughs.
‘Paula,’ Nick says, ‘is it gawp or gawk?’
‘Both.’
We all turn to stare down the long line at the edge of the sea at the dapper little man who turns and smiles happily.
‘Eh?’ Cookey asks.
‘The words mean the same thing, which is to stare rudely. Gawp and gawk.’
‘So I was right,’ Nick nods firmly.
‘And I was,’ Cookey says.
‘We are gawping now, and we are gawking…’ Reginald turns back to the sea, ‘we are gawping and gawking at the wide expanse of water that is devoid of a suitable vessel.’
‘What did he say?’ Cookey asks.
‘He said we don’t have any boats,’ Marcy says and looks at me, ‘which, as you say, is a bit shit.’
‘Bit shit,’ I nod.
‘Big shit,’ Clarence mutters.
‘Nah, just a bit shit,’ I say
.
‘No boats,’ he motions ahead, ‘that’s more than a bit shit.’
‘Shall we radio Maddox and ask to send some over?’ I ask lightly, ‘who can do the best street voice?’
‘Swear down brother,’ Roy suddenly says in a perfect clipped tone of a BBC newsreader, ‘gis us some boats innit do you get me.’
Chuckles of laughter more at the unexpected outburst than the awful accent.
‘Roy can do it,’ Cookey says.
‘Yo Mads,’ Nick says, ‘we’s got some people here…you get me? Like…you know? Like…boats innit.’
‘Nah,’ Cookey says, ‘Mads, word up mofo…send thems boats over so’s we can get some schnizzle on our nizzles.’
‘What the fuck?’ Blowers snorts.
‘Ere Mads,’ Marcy goes next with near perfect execution of a teenage boy, ‘wassup? We needs the boats innit.’
‘Oh perfect,’ Cookey laughs in delight, ‘do it…oh you gotta do it.’
‘No,’ she smiles coyly, ‘he’d recognise the voice…or rather not recognise the voice.’
‘Oh do it,’ Cookey urges, ‘go on…oh you got to.’
‘Was bloody good,’ Blowers nods.
‘Where on earth did you learn that?’ Paula asks.
‘God knows,’ Marcy laughs.
‘Might work,’ I say and turn round to stare at the Saxon, ‘if we had some background noise…’
‘What if he asks who it is?’ Marcy asks with a laugh.
‘Bollocks, did we get any names?’ I ask the group who all shake heads and shrug.
‘Pretend it’s breaking up,’ Nick suggests, ‘we’ll make some radio cackling noises.’
‘No way,’ Marcy shakes her head, ‘you’re seriously thinking of asking them to send the boats over?’
‘Easiest way,’ I shrug, ‘no other boats round here and we ain’t swimming that far.’
‘Probably get sucked down into that tunnel too,’ Cookey says, ‘what?’ He asks when everyone looks at him, ‘might happen.’
‘Well,’ Paula says with a grim smile, ‘the last plan was utterly shit but it worked, so why not?’
‘Try it again,’ I urge Marcy with a smile.
‘I can’t,’ she laughs, ‘I’m on the spot now.’
‘Go Marcy…Go Marcy,’ Cookey chants.
‘Ere Mads,’ she squawks, ‘gis the boats innit, got survivors ‘ere.’
‘Perfect,’ I say with a grin, ‘we’ll give it a go.’
‘Howie,’ Marcy shakes her head laughing, ‘no…seriously no…’
‘Decision made, who’s got the radio?’
‘You have, Mr Howie.’
‘Thanks, Dave…right…Nick, get the Saxon fired up and we’ll get Marcy next to the engine so it’s noisy.’
‘What if he looks over?’ Roy asks, ‘we’ll have to make it look like we’ve got them sat in the back.’
‘We’ll do it,’ Cookey says, ‘we’ll stand at the back facing in, he’ll never see details from that far.’
‘Clarence will have to go out of sight,’ Paula says, ‘and give Reginald a gun.’
‘Me? A firearm? Good heavens no.’
‘You’re small,’ she says apologetically, ‘no offence but you’ll look right from a distance.’
‘Here,’ Clarence pops his magazine out before handing the weapon to Reginald.
‘Oh my, really? Gosh that’s heavy. I really don’t think I match the type to be holding a firearm.’
The scene is set quickly. Reginald, Dave and the lads at the back of the Saxon with the lads giving a nice slouch to reduce their height. Roy and Clarence, both taller and larger built get into the Saxon while I tuck myself up next to Marcy holding the radio like it’s a bomb about to go off.
‘This won’t work.’
‘It will,’ I urge her, ‘just keep your head close to the engine so the noise carries…you ready?’
‘Now?’ She asks aghast at the rush.
‘Yes, now…go on…press the button on the side and…’
‘I know how to use it.’
‘…Go on then.’
‘Oh this is…’ she shoots me a dark look which makes me notice her red eyes for the first time in ages. Clearing her throat she leans forward towards the radio then stops, shakes her head, grins and sighs audibly, ‘ere, Mads…you there bro?’
‘Bruv, they call each other bruv, not bro.’
‘Cookey said bro,’ she hisses at me, ‘Mad’s, bruv…you there…we’s need a boat innit.’
‘Oh perfect, fucking perfect,’ I say with a nod of admiration. We wait, staring at the handset as the seconds tick by.
‘Try again.’
‘Ere, Mads Bruv. You earing me? We’s need boats innit.’
Another pause while we wait but the radio remains silent.
‘Is it working?’ She asks me.
‘Should be, yeah the green light is on…’
‘Mads, Darius…we’s need boats ere…you earing me or wot?’
I suppress a snigger at the awful accent but the constant thudding of the big diesel engine blots the worst of it out. Still no response.
‘…up…who….’ The radio crackles to life but the words are distorted and broken.
‘Mads, it’s me innit…we’s need boats bruv,’ Marcy drops her voice out every few syllables to intentionally break the transmission.
‘…s’up? Innit….in…’
‘Mads, I ain’t getting’ ya? Boats! We’s need boats, Mads.’
‘…now…ues…wait…’
‘What’s he saying?’ I lean closer to the crackling comeback on the handset.
‘Can’t tell,’ she moves an inch or so closer, ‘something about wait? Waiting?’
‘…on…Darius…down…busy…’
‘Darius? Something down? I heard busy though,’ she whispers.
‘Me too,’ I glance up into her face which is about two inches from mine, the moon casting a glow on her skin that catches the breath in my throat. She blinks sudden and widens her eyes as though just as surprised at the close proximity. She speaks, says something and her lips move and sounds come out but I can’t tell what they are. Transfixed by her mouth and the flash of white teeth, the plump lips and the way they move to form the words.
‘Fuck,’ I shake my head to clear the fog.
‘Focus, Howie,’ she tuts with a smile, ‘your girlfriend remember.’
‘Yes!’ I snap more to myself than at her, ‘what the fuck is going on?’
‘We’re trying to get a boat to get to the fort so…’
‘No, between us,’ I whisper quickly.
She stares back with an almost imperceptible shrug, ‘I don’t know.’
‘I passed out,’ the words tumble from my mouth without control, ‘I had these dreams…’
She locks eyes like Meredith staring at Reginald, unblinking and focussed, ‘go on.’
‘Some old man in a tube station and…then I saw all of them…in the munitions factory and…then I was in this street with a horde all stood in perfect rows…’
‘And you attacked them,’ she blurts, ‘to get to me.’
I nod, the breath trapped in my throat.
‘And we spoke,’ she continues in a rush of warm air against my cheek, ‘you didn’t want to go back but…’
‘You told me..’ I swallow and blink hard, ‘you said…’
‘One would be bitten and I said Lani was at the rear holding them back. She was on her own…Howie, how did I know that?’
‘You said something else, do you remember?’
She nods, too pained or scared to speak, too worried about the consequences of admitting we shared a vision.
‘About Lani, you said…’
‘Lani was torn…’
‘Fuck, Marcy…’
‘And we kissed,’ she says suddenly, ‘right before I woke up…’
‘Did you slap me?’
‘Slap you? No I did not.’
‘Oh, must have been Dave then.’
‘Dave slapped you?’
‘Someone slapped me, I thought it was you but apparently not.’
‘I don’t think I slapped you,’ she thinks for a second, ‘I kissed you but no…no I don’t remember slapping you.’
‘Bloody hurt,’ I say earnestly.
‘Aw did the bad man slap you?’
‘Don’t take the piss, it really hurt.’
‘Be thankful it wasn’t me.’
‘I can’t imagine you’d slap harder than Dave, Marcy.’
‘Want to test it?’
‘You want to slap me?’
‘Actually yes, yes I do.’
‘Why?’
‘For being such an annoying prick.’
‘Eh? That’s a bit harsh.’
‘Like my life hasn’t been turned upside down since meeting you.’
‘Do what? Darren did that. Darren? Remember him? He was your boyfriend who tried to kill us…’
‘That was then,’ she shrugs it off, ‘before.’
‘Before what?’
‘Before I met you.’
‘And then you tried to kill me again!’
‘I did not. I bloody saved you.’
‘Yeah you saved me then got me drunk and tried to seduce me!’
‘No, oh no…I was upset and you were the one pawing at me.’
‘Pawing? I did not paw a bloody thing.’
‘You so did,’ she hisses, ‘and I came to you for help.’
‘Fucking what? That wasn’t help. That was luring, Marcy. You lured us. Your infected rancid girls tried to…to do luring to the lads.’
‘Lure, you idiot. You don’t do luring, you lure.’
‘Whatever, you sound like Reggie now. You tried to infect me with your sex! Then we had to kill everyone again and then we found Lani tied up in the toilets and then…’
‘And then and then,’ she mocks me spitefully, ‘you think you’re the only one suffering here?’
‘No and…’
‘And I didn’t exactly see you trying to stop it.’
‘Stop what?’
‘The sex, the bloody sex. You weren’t exactly trying to stop it.’
‘You were pumping out pheromones!’
‘Was I?’
‘Yes. Bloody yes, the lads succumbed to it…even Clarence and…’
‘Well, yes,’ she admits reluctantly, ‘there may have been things happening beyond my control…’