UK2

by Terry Tyler

  "Why?" says Nicole. "If they want to force us off here, they've got the power of the military, like he said."

  Then I remember. "Lucas mentioned that he was going on a run yesterday. Just before he told him to shove his job up his arse sideways."

  "That was just banter," says Carla. "For goodness sake, Barney's employed by the government! No way would he do this—it's the sort of thing he was warning us about."

  "That's how it's done," says Scott, so quietly that I doubt anyone except us sitting near him hears it. "You instil a fear in people's minds so they'll point the finger elsewhere. Like the Reichstag fire."

  Phil nods, but I was right; nobody else is listening.

  I'm totally gobsmacked to see Mum stand up. She never normally contributes at meetings.

  "Carla, you don't know what anyone will do, not now," she says. "This world can bring out the dark side of the formerly most reasonable person." Only a few of us know she's thinking about Dex. "You've all heard how the virus began? It was introduced into this country by the people who preached law and order and family values."

  "Oh God, not that old story," says this guy Toby who's only been here since May. "I've heard so many versions of it!" He points to his head and frowns, like he's thinking. "Hang on, was it chemtrails? Or was it injected via the vaccine? Funny, that; I had the vaccine, and I'm still here!"

  "Yes, it's just another conspiracy theory, isn't it?" says Carla. "I used to hear people chewing it over and over when I was in the refugee camp. So many of them were sure they had it all worked out." I glance at Scott, gesture for him to stand up, but he shakes his head. Then they all start yapping about how true it is or isn't, until Kara calls for silence again and makes the point that we don't know for sure who killed Lucas, and they're all missing the point, which is that we're not safe, and we need to take steps to make ourselves so.

  As we file out, I find myself behind Clay and Zoe, who turn round to include me in their conversation.

  "I just want to get away from here," says Clay. "It's like we're back to a year ago when Sean died, but this time we can't see the enemy."

  That makes me shudder.

  "Yes, but we got over that, didn't we?" I say. "And would we be any safer anywhere else?"

  We step out into the sunshine. It's warm on my face; it feels good.

  "Yes, we would," says Carla, behind us. "UK Central. I tell you what, when Barney comes back, I don't care what anyone says, I'm going. I've got Millie to think of."

  "Don't go," I tell her, "I need my daily fix of your cherry jam." I'm trying to lighten the mood, you see. I don't want anyone to leave. In numbers, we're safe. Though I actually think Clay might need to go somewhere with proper medical facilities, whatever it's like; he's a wreck.

  It's only a couple of hours before the dark and the tide come in again, so Phil says it's not worth going up to the farm.

  "We need to start planting on the island in the spring," he says, as we walk back to our house. "This has put the wind up me. If someone can do that to Lucas, could be they'll rob the farm, too."

  "But it's got ten foot high fences with barbed wire, guards and dogs; they'd eat them for breakfast."

  "Mm-mm. I don't feel safe about anything right now." He looks at his watch. "Sod it, I'm going to check Wyatt and Zoot aren't sleeping on the job."

  He gets in his car and zooms off. An hour later he's back, reporting that everything is fine and dandy.

  We hold the funeral service just as it's starting to get dark; Lucas is buried next to Heath. I can't believe he's gone. How can someone be there one day, laughing and talking and full of life, and then just not exist any more?

  Ruby has made little wooden plaques for everyone who's died, with their names and dates of birth and death carved on, and nailed them to mounts at the foot of each tree. Now, there will be another one.

  Graham Woolley

  Jill Woolley

  Marcus Willmott

  Dave 'Kaiser' Hodgson (he has a tree though he is not buried here)

  Lewis Everett

  Sean Ryan

  Adam Lloyd

  Ash Levitt

  Stefan Vass

  Rachael Smith

  Janey Morgan

  Heath Brookes

  Lucas Taylor

  RIP, my friends.

  Tuesday, December 8th

  I wonder if Phil's sudden worry about the farm was a premonition.

  After the funeral our gang talk about Lucas's death; we come to the conclusion that it was Barney. We agree with Dan; Jonas isn't capable of organising a piss-up etc. Aside from that, we think he's mouthy and unpredictable rather than sadistic, though Mum points out, again, that you can't be sure what anyone might be capable of, these days.

  Mac comes back from his shift on watch, and we snuggle by the fire. We're all on edge. Martin comes round; he is so sniffing round Mum. She perks up when he's here, but I don't know if it's 'like that' or not. We talk about Lucas and the problem of losing more people, and Kara draws up new security shifts. We go to bed early, Mac wants a shag but I don't feel like it, and we read Stephen King by candlelight until sleep time.

  A normal night (except that I don't always not feel like a shag, of course).

  Today I get up, make coffee, eat breakfast. Mac leaves early, as he's got a shift on the village entrance watch. Mum says she's going to see Rowan to have a bit of a chat and make up, because in these dangerous days life might be too short to waste time falling out over some bloke, especially a fucking mollusc like Dex (which is an insult to molluscs).

  I say, "Even though she is a skanky ho?"

  She laughs. "Even though she is all that and more, but I don't want to have bad feeling here. There's enough outside to contend with; we've got to pull together."

  I'm down with that. I'm not feeling too bad, all things considered, and I'm getting my shit together to go with Phil out to the farm bus, while Kara is getting her shit together to go out on a supply run with her trusty team.

  "Concentrate on petrol," Phil says. "Get every drop you can."

  And Kara says she is down with that, too.

  Phil and I saunter up to the coach park and find the usual crew waiting for us. Jax is there too, and we have a bit of a kid around. We can't leave straight away, 'cause we're waiting on Ozzy and Myra. Kara and Gareth drive past in the transit van, with other good volunteers who don't mind having petrol mouthwashes, and we wave, and it's another bright, sunny day, total brass monkey weather, Martin says, so we get in the taxi-bus and wait, and eventually Ozzy and Myra appear, and I take the piss out of Ozzy because his dreadlocks look like a wild woolly octopus this morning, like they do when he's been hurrying because he's had an athletic morning, as I imagine he has, because Myra looks very happy and has tell-tale bed-head hair at the back.

  Janek's got some cans of Monster energy drink that he passes round, and Audrey has a family bag of Skittles, which totally rocks.

  It's an okay day, give or take one of our friends being murdered in a horrendous and sadistic fashion only the day before, but we've learned how to roll with that shit.

  We drive off, and when we get to the watch at the 'Welcome to Holy Island' sign, I blow kisses to Mac, and Ozzy gets his own back on me for taking the piss out of his hair by doing the same to Dan. We drive round the path out to the causeway and I wave hello to the curlews and their mates. At the barricade we stop while Jez opens the gate, and Ruby blows kisses to Parks.

  It's an okay day. It is, oddly, quite a nice day.

  We drive onto the mainland and the sun is blinding, the sky bright blue, and everything is fairly awesome, until we see Kara's transit van blocking the road, and Kara and Gareth standing in front of it, waving their arms for us to stop.

  We stop.

  We get out.

  Kara is running towards us.

  "The farm," she says. She's out of breath, in shock. She looks sort of ashen.

  "It's gone," she says. "The farm's gone."

  We look up
, and right out in the distance I can see a patch of black, and streams of smoke.

  She points in its direction. "The dogs are gone, it's been burned to the ground, and we found Wyatt and Zoot unconscious, tied up in a shed. They're okay, they're alive." She's shaking, and she starts to cry, which Kara never, ever does. "It's all gone. Everything. All the buildings, all the fields, the animals, all our food, it's all gone."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Martin

  Lottie and Nicole run forward, towards what used to be the farm; it's a natural, automatic reaction but Phil and I stop them. There is no point.

  The enormity of this disaster cannot be overstated. The plants we've nurtured for eighteen months are history, all those vital vegetables that reseed themselves. There's our stock of seeds, new growths ready to be planted out in the spring, fertilisers and equipment. The chickens, ducks, pigs and goats are gone, as are our dogs who guarded the place. All our utensils for food prep. The one good thing is that we've always been diligent about removing dried, pickled and smoked items straight to the stores at Rowan's hotel as soon as they're prepared. Jam and chutney-making happens in the hotel kitchens.

  But there was game still hung, some waiting for smoking. Rabbits and pheasants. A couple of hams.

  We have to start all over again in the spring.

  We face a lean winter, indeed.

  No livestock means no eggs, or that small, precious amount of milk, butter and cheese that we used to have.

  Back at the hotel, Gareth makes a joke about his ex telling him that veganism was the healthiest way to live. Nobody laughs.

  Wyatt and Zoot saw nothing. All they remembered was being grabbed from behind, and then everything going black. They're taken up to the hotel bedrooms, and Nurse Abbie is sent for.

  Vicky and Rowan make coffee, and we sit in the lounge in a very glum circle.

  "Who still thinks it was Jonas and co?" asks Phil.

  "Does it matter who it was?" Myra says. "It's happened, that's all."

  "It does matter," says Nicole, "because whoever it is, it means they're serious, and aren't going to stop. We need to find out who it is, and hit back."

  "It's not Jonas," Lottie says. "That night him and his mates turned up was just a random hit; I reckon they were all getting off their faces somewhere, and Jonas said, I know, let's go and sort that twat Dex out. They weren't organised, it wasn't a planned attack, not like what happened to Lucas, and not like this."

  I step in. "I agree. Whoever did this had the means to quiet the dogs, disable Wyatt and Zoot and get over the fences. And they had more than one vehicle; you can't stuff all those goats, pigs, birds and dogs into the back of a van with you. They'd all take some catching in the dark, for a start."

  "You're right." Ruby nods her head. "Could be another group who've had their eye on this place. Remember those army arseholes we turned away a while back? Parksy shot a couple of them. Then, yeah, there's the Barney theory—"

  "It was Barney," Vicky says. "He's trying to starve and terrorise us out."

  The room falls silent for a moment.

  "Anyone examine what was left of the fences?" asks Phil. "I mean, were they cut, or torn down? Or does it look as though someone climbed over them? Anyone take a note of how many footprints there were? That'd tell us how many—"

  "For fuck's sake, Phil." Kara leans her elbows on the table, massaging her temples. "It's not a fucking crime scene. We're not bringing Forensics in. Our farm has gone, which means we're going to be hungry this winter. That's all that's going on."

  "Okay," I chip in, quickly, because I don't want tempers to flare, as they can so easily in devastating situations like this. "We need to make plans. Rowan, do you have paper and pens? Let's work out what we have, and look at worst case scenario rationing of supplies. How about we divide into three groups? One to assess the food situation, one to draw up a list of the items we need to find most urgently, and the third to talk security."

  Kara looks grateful to have the burden of decision taken from her, for once, and we organise ourselves into the most suitable groups for our individual areas of knowledge.

  Then Vicky speaks up.

  "I just had a thought. You know Wyatt and Zoot said they were grabbed from behind then it all went black? Mac couldn't find any sign of injury on Lucas's body, either. Could be they were all injected with something. If so, it's even more likely that this was an organised attack. Barney, I mean."

  "Nice one," says Kara. "Go up and tell Abbie that; she'll know what to look for."

  Working out number of people and calories needed per day, against amount of days until we might have something growing again, and what we need to survive until then, versus the stores we already have, takes some doing. We work hard for some hours, aided by baked spuds filled with tinned vegetable chilli, which taste marvellous ("Make the most of them, it's the last sack," says Rowan). I sit with Kara and Gareth to assess how best to patrol the whole island, and by the time it starts to get dark we've got a plan to show the rest of the community the following morning. Lottie and Jax do a quick tour to tell everyone to be in the Hudson at eleven.

  Meanwhile, Abbie confirms that Wyatt and Zoot received no bang on the head, but both have injection marks on their necks. They're woozy, too; they keep falling asleep.

  Vicky's crowd and I are absolutely sure it's that shower from UK Central. Which means we're not being 'offered an opportunity'. We are, as Vicky said, being starved and terrorised out of our home.

  I think we might need to up sticks. I say this, quietly, to Kara, but we agree not to let the meeting veer into this territory tomorrow.

  I don't believe our lives are in imminent danger, despite what happened to Lucas; if we are right, his fate was a means to frighten us into believing we need their protection. Ditto the farm. They don't want to kill us, they want us alive and working for them in UK Central. But if we are to escape this, where can we go? Scotland, maybe. Another island. Away from the UK would be good, but our boats are neither big nor sturdy enough to transport us all to—where? We don't know what's out there. Could be something a whole lot worse.

  In the pub the next day, Kara is determined to cause as little panic as possible by showing we have a plan of action and are not going to starve.

  As expected, those who were considering a move to UK Central are now even more keen to go, and determined to believe that the demise of Lucas and the farm is the work of Jonas.

  We've left but a skeleton crew on the outer barricade: Gareth, Jax and Ozzy were at the hotel yesterday, and are, thus, already in the loop about the content of the meeting.

  Alas, this proves to be an unwise decision.

  The assembled crew is just getting to the point of agitation whereby someone needs to call order, order (shame Dex took his gavel with him), when in walk Barney and his three goons.

  The winter sunlight floods in through the open door, lighting them from behind, and from where I sit, near the bar, I see only their black silhouettes.

  A shiver runs through me.

  Barney steps closer to the bar, and I see him in all his thuggish glory.

  His face is a picture of concern. "Jesus, you've had some trouble, yeah? I can't believe it—that awesome farm. We're gutted for you." He turns around. "Ain't we, lads?"

  "We'll deal with it," Kara says. "I don't know why you were allowed in, but we'd like you to leave, please."

  "Speak for yourself, love," says Toby. "I'm glad he's back, he can take us away from this fucking nightmare."

  The soft buzz of quiet agreement hums around the room.

  Barney doesn't look remotely intimidated by the fearsome expression on Kara's face. "Listen to your people, love. They ain't happy, so here we are. That's all. Same deal as before; you want to use your own vehicle, we give you the petrol." He turns round to address the meeting. "I tell you, we saw the farm on our way here, and when y'man told us what had gone down we was shocked, but to be honest, I weren't surprised. Sorry to keep repea
ting meself, but it's a dangerous world out there. You got something someone else wants, he may not be too choosy 'bout how he gets it. You piss him off, he fights back, and there ain't no cops to stop him." He jerks his thumb behind him. "Y'bloke on the wall said someone you exiled from here is the prime suspect; who knows what else he'll do, eh?"

  "It's not just the farm," calls out young Kelly. "They murdered our friend!"

  Barney's mouth drops open. "You what?"

  Kelly is a nice girl but, I have to say, she is on par with Gareth when it comes to the sharpness of tools in the proverbial box, and, like him, is happy to take on the theories of whoever she listened to last. The story of Jonas's unfair eviction has been bandied about; those with their bags already half-packed need someone aside from Barney to blame. Jonas fits the bill perfectly.

  "They tied him to a post on the causeway and let him drown when the tide came in." Kelly starts to cry, and Smelly Bev puts her arm around her (rather Kelly than me).

  "That is shocking, and I'm truly sorry for your loss, love." Barney shakes his head in disbelief, hand to heart. "I tell you, soon as we passed the farm we hit the gas pedal down here; all we wanted to do was see if you lot was okay. Big fella on the barricade, he just told us 'bout the arson and waved us through, didn't mention no murder, or, yeah, maybe I should've waited to hear more, but—well, this just proves everything I've said, don't it? Bloody hell. A murder. Means you're not safe in your own beds!"

  "Well, yes, we are," Kara says. "He was waylaid when we were out on a supply run." Her eyes don't leave Barney's face. "Maybe someone who knew we were going out on a run the next day was watching us. Who knows, eh?"

  Barney nods, solemnly. "Who knows, indeed, love. But this is exactly why we want you down Central. I don't want to put the wind up you no more than it is already, but our recruitment teams what go out towards the West Country, they've heard reports of cannibalism."

  The room falls silent.

  "You're kidding," says Carla, putting an arm around her daughter.

  "Wish I was, but it's true. I know it sounds insane, love, but this is an insane world." He looks around at everyone. "Come on, guys. Your farm has gone, your friends are getting killed—make the right decision, please. Look, we won't intrude on y'grief. We'll wait for you in the coach park for an hour, if you want to go to your homes and get your kit together. You won't regret it, honest."