‘I’m leaving this bloody camp,’ Mary yells as she goes. ‘It’s shit anyway… wankers…’
‘She’s out tonight,’ Peter yells as Lilly and her group turn on the spot to watch them all go by.
‘That bloody girl,’ Kathy says. ‘Will you be wanting some more stew now?’ she asks, smiling at her guests.
‘Is she okay?’ Sam asks.
‘Oh, this is normal for Mary,’ Kathy says as Willie and Elvis come back, rubbing their jaws but with a bizarre air of normalcy and resignation.
‘Right. Well. We should be going,’ Lilly says. ‘Thank you for the food and hospitality. Peter, are you happy to come for the meeting in the morning?’
‘Aye, I’ll be over,’ he says, helping take the bowls from them. ‘Don’t mind Mary none. She’s just got a temper on her…’
They exit the camp and head over the road towards the beach, seeing everyone else has gone back.
‘What a day,’ Sam remarks as they trudge over the sand. ‘Wish I could punch like that though.’
‘Blondie!’ A voice behind making them all stop and turn to see Mary striding across the sand. Her face still furious. ‘You’re in charge of the fort are you not?’
‘I am,’ Lilly says.
‘Good. I’m moving in I am,’ Mary says, sweeping past them. ‘Stuff Peter and them sexist wankers. Your fort takes refugees and I’m a refugee I am. Is this our boat is it?’ she asks, wading in to grab the front of it.
‘Forgive me. I do not want to intrude on your issues, but will this cause upset to Peter?’ Lilly asks, holding still.
‘Peter doesn’t bloody own me. I can go where I want…I said to him. I said I want to be a guard not bloody cooking and making fires and peeling spuds. He said maybe. That’s all he ever says. Maybe Mary. I’ll think about it Mary. I said to him, I said why can’t I be a guard? Blondie has female guards and she’s only a wee girl, and I can bloody shoot straighter and hit harder than most of them pricks I can…how do you drive this? Is this the on switch? Ah I got it now I have…right. Are you getting in or what?’
‘I guess we’re getting in,’ Sam says, wading out to climb in as the others do the same.
‘Your shoe’s knackered there,’ Mary says, pointing at Norman’s shoe. ‘And why are you wearing office clothes? Are we all in? Right…I’ve never driven a boat before. What do you do? Twist this? Ah right, there we go…STUFF YOU PETER,’ she yells, sticking a finger up at the camp. ‘I’M MOVING TO THE FORT WITH BLONDIE…’
Across the water to the shore on the other side and out with Mary striding to the gates, glaring at old Donald smoking a pipe in a deckchair. ‘You telling me he can be a guard and I can’t?’ she asks, walking off then rushing back. ‘I wasn’t being angry at you old fella,’ she tells Donald. ‘But you are a bit fat like…’
Outer gate locked. Inner gate locked. ‘Good,’ Mary says, watching them chain up for the night. ‘Keep them pikeys out…seriously now? Did you hear that? Saying I’m too angry to be a guard? What a crock of shit. Oh wow, is this your fort now is it? It’s a grand fort it is. Bigger than it looks. Where are we going?’
‘Just to the offices,’ Lilly says.
‘You’ve got offices have you? Where? Through here?’ she asks, going in first.
‘Who are you?’ Lenski asks, standing at a table.
‘Mary, who are you?’ Mary fires back, walking over with her hand held out. ‘This your offices is it?’
‘Evening,’ Kyle calls, coming in next to see Lenski shaking hands with Mary. ‘That’s Mary. She’s kipping down here for the night.’
‘More than the bloody night,’ Mary says. ‘They said I can’t be a guard,’ she tells Lenski. ‘I said I can shoot better and hit harder any day of the week. Wanted me to do cooking. Cooking? Me? Stuff that…’
‘How’s my smiling girl anyway?’ Kyle asks with a heavy groan as he drops into a chair and brings his feet up to rest on the table.
‘I no smile,’ Lenski says, watching them all traipse in. ‘Who say this? Why you here? Go back. This my fort now…’
‘Day of days or what,’ Sam says, heading straight for the table to sit down.
‘Get them off,’ Joan says, hooking Kyle’s feet from the table as she goes by.
Ann walks in with Norman and Anika, dropping her medical bag and stretching her back out. ‘Is this starting to feel like home for anyone else?’ she asks.
‘I had that,’ Pea says. ‘Soon as we walked in…’
‘Where do the bags go?’ Norman asks, trying to pick Ann’s medical bag up with the others already on his back.
‘I’ll grab that I will,’ Mary says, scooping the heavy thing off the floor with ease.
‘Out the back,’ Pea says. ‘I’ll show you…’ she leads them through to a complex of small rooms at the rear of the larger office. ‘We’re using that one for storage, the bags can go in there. That one down at the end is where we’re washing and changing, so if the door is closed don’t go in, or knock first.’
‘Nice,’ Mary says, looking about. ‘This where you all sleep is it?’
‘Er no, we’re up the wall a bit more.’
‘Right,’ Mary replies, dumping the bag in the storage room with Norman. ‘What’s your name anyway?’
‘Norman,’ Norman says.
‘Mary,’ Mary says, offering her hand. ‘Your Pea aren’t you, love?’
‘Paula, but everyone calls me Pea. Cuppa?’
‘Aye, cuppa will be grand,’ Mary says, following her back into the office as Norman aims for the main door out.
‘I should head off,’ he says, lifting a hand.
‘Norman! Have a cuppa with us,’ Kyle calls, dragging a chair out.
‘I need to wash, thank you,’ he says stiffly, that feeling inside again that he’s imposing.
‘Norman, thank you for today,’ Ann calls. ‘Same tomorrow? Go and see Colin, get some shorts…’
He offers a wave slips out with a nod to Pamela going in who balks at the sight of the room now so full and quickly wipes her mouth to hide trace of the chocolate bar she just ate.
She stays quiet at the side, watching as a young woman with long red-hair moves from person to person, shaking hands and giving them her name. Her voice so strong and lilting with an accent that sounds mostly Irish but something else too.
‘These are from our side,’ Lilly says, joining Lenski at another table and placing a stack of sheets down, weighing them in place with a big stone with the word ‘BEACH’ written on it.
‘Mine here,’ Lenski says, tapping her stack held down by a stone with the word ‘FORT’ written on it.
‘Busy day?’ Lilly asks.
‘Busy, yes. Busy day. Many people they come. We still need tents, shelves, we need wood, we need tools, we need this and that. Is okay. People they eat, they breathe, they alive. They not suffer…’
‘Amen,’ Kyle says to a few murmurs. ‘We need more Lenski’s in this world.’
‘We do,’ Pea says.
‘I say this all the time,’ Lenski says seriously. ‘More me, less you, is good…’ she adds a quick smile to get a few chuckles. ‘Pamela, she help…’ she adds, motioning towards Pamela.
‘I didn’t see you there, love,’ Mary says, striding over with her hand held out. ‘I’m Mary…’
‘Hi!’ Pamela says, taking the handshake nervously while seeing everyone staring at her. ‘I’m Pamela, or Pammie, or Pam, or Pam Spam or Pamelo or like Spammie or…’
‘That’s a lot of bloody names you’ve got there,’ Mary says, blinking at her. ‘Can I just call you Pam?’
‘Pam’s fine,’ Pamela says quickly.
‘What do you do?’ Mary asks her.
‘Nothing,’ Pamela blurts. ‘Lenski told me…’
‘What now?’ Mary asks.
‘She take names,’ Lenski cuts in. ‘Greet new people then she take them to doctors and to Agatha and Colin…’
‘That’s great,’ Pea says.
‘Cheers, Pammie,�
�� Sam says.
‘Aye, grand work that is,’ Kyle adds.
‘Oh it’s like…like totally fine and…yeah,’ Pamela says, nodding hard enough to set her chins off. ‘Just doing my bit and…so like, everybody is saying how great you guys are. And like so grateful and, they’re like…wow, you guys are doing so much for them…’
‘That’s really nice to hear actually,’ Pea says.
‘It is,’ Sam mumbles.
‘It’s not a popularity contest,’ Joan says, as blunt as ever. ‘How long have you been here, Pamela? I’ve seen you about…’
‘Oh like…’ Pamela thinks fast, not wanting to admit she hid in back of the filthy rooms during the bad times when the crews were in charge. ‘Er, yeah, like…I had to…you know…keep my head down because of…the boy and…he wanted to sex me, like fuck me and I was like…really scared and…’
‘What?’ Sam asks as the focus sharpens. ‘What happened?’
‘One of the boys tried it on with you?’ Pea asks. ‘The crews you mean?’
‘Like yeah,’ Pamela says, smiling nervously. ‘Kept touching my…like my boobs and then he…like er…put his penis in me…’
‘He raped you?!’ Pea asks.
‘Jesus,’ Sam says. ‘I had no idea. That’s awful…’
‘A boy raped you?’ Mary asks, blinking at Pamela.
‘They had assault rifles, Mary,’ Pea explains quickly. ‘Long story but basically we couldn’t do a thing. Lilly sorted it but…Jesus, I didn’t know they did that. Which one was it, Pamela?’
‘Er, the um….’ Pamela thinks fast while glancing repeatedly at Lilly. ‘The spotty one…’
‘Zayden!’ Pea asks, stunned to the core. ‘The one that went for Lilly?’
‘Yeah like…I mean…I didn’t know he was going for Lilly too, otherwise I’d like have totally tried to stop him and…’
‘Zayden raped you?’ Pea asks.
‘Pea,’ Sam says, frowning at her. ‘You can’t ask that. Pamela, that’s awful…’
‘Come and see me if you need to,’ Ann says. ‘We’ll discuss it privately…unless you want to go over to the infirmary now?’
‘Oh I’m fine,’ Pamela says, a little too quickly. ‘Like, I’m not fine. Like it hurts inside…’
‘He hurt your insides?’ Mary asks, standing straighter. ‘Where is he? I’ll cut his bloody dick off and stuff it up his arse…’
‘He’s dead,’ Lilly says, her voice cold and hard.
‘He wants to be dead,’ Mary snaps. ‘What did he do to your insides now there, Pam?’
‘No, my insides, like my soul and my heart…cos of what he did to Lilly and…like…if you ever want to talk about it…’ she says to Lilly.
‘I do not,’ Lilly says.
‘Cos like, you know, we’ve got that in common and…so…like sharing that pain could be…like…’
‘I have no pain,’ Lilly says without trace of emotion. ‘But I am hungry, and I want to wash and then see my brother. Excuse me.’
‘Ach, Blondie sounds like a right tough one she does,’ Mary says as Lilly walks out into the back rooms.
‘You have no idea,’ Pea murmurs.
Lilly heads into the end room. A couple of candles already burning in jars bathing the room in soft orange light. She strips her top off, wincing at feeling so grimy and starts to clean herself using wipes. Tension inside her mind that has been growing all afternoon, but she doesn’t know why. A disquiet inside. A gnawing worry like a sense of dread building up but without reason. Something to do with Howie’s team but she doesn’t know what.
She wipes her body, cleaning the sweat and grime away without knowing the team are captured within an army base, crying from tear gas as they are systematically tortured, and she brushes her teeth, her face set and hard, sensing trouble while knowing there is nothing she can do. No phones. No radios. No contact. She doesn’t know where they are even. Only that feeling inside.
Norman washes too in one of the rough and ready wooden shower cubicles knocked up by Simar. A simple design of two fixed sides and one hinged door propped against a few of the tap and hose connections running around the inner wall.
He dries using the towel he got from Colin the cola and dresses in the shorts, t-shirt and slip on trainers he also got from Colin the cola, that was after spending ten minutes listening to Colin discuss being a section head, and how that was a big thing, and that Norman was now the beach section head. Norman said he wasn’t the head of anything, but Colin carried on and said they should have a section head meeting and elect a section head of the section heads. Norman didn’t say much after that.
He thinks of Robert as he dresses. Robert would be so good here in the fort. Pain inside. A surge of emotion that threatens to bubble up but he swallows it down and heads out.
‘Hi, Norman…’
He startles at hearing his name and looks to see the family from Gloucester staring at him within their allocated ground section.
‘Hi,’ he replies, coming to a stop with the light of the day fading fast. ‘Er, you okay?’
The man nods, the woman offers a smile. ‘Fine, thank you.’
Norman nods back. ‘See you,’ he sets off again, realising how many more people there are now, then realising that he already knew that because he processed them all.
‘Hello, Norman…’ another greeting and he slows down, nodding back at the woman. A woman from Wales. Gwen Jones.
‘Hi, all well?’
‘I guess,’ Gwen says quietly. ‘What time do we eat?’
‘Very soon,’ Norman says.
‘Thanks, Norman.’
‘Sure. See you…’ he sets off again, navigating the invisible streets towards his own patch, nodding in greeting as he passes the people he registered and processed.
‘There’s the numpty,’ Tommy calls as he reaches his own section. ‘What happened to you all day? Go in the wrong direction again?’
‘Sorry, Norman…hi, I saw you walking by,’ a man asks, stopping at the edge of the section.
‘Ken, hello. Are you okay?’ Norman asks.
‘Er…Janet and I were just wondering about the food side of things?’
‘Keep bloody wondering, mate,’ Tommy snorts. ‘You’ll be lucky to get a few beans…just don’t ask for more or they shoot you…’
‘They don’t shoot anyone,’ Norman says. ‘It’ll just be a few minutes I should imagine. The kids eat first then…’
‘Norman? Sorry…We can’t remember what the Polish woman said about the evening meal?’
A woman behind him. Joanne Broadmoor. She worked in a launderette. Actually, he should let Colin know. She’d be good in his section.
‘Joanne, yes don’t worry…her name is Lenski and it’ll just be a short while I should imagine,’ he replies.
‘Fuck me. Norman’s putting himself about,’ Tommy mutters.
‘Hi, sorry…did I just hear someone mention the food times?’ someone else asks.
On his feet and Norman clears his throat. ‘HI! EVERYONE…HI YES. THE EVENING MEAL WILL BE VERY SOON. KIDS EAT FIRST…THEN THEY CALL ADULTS OVER. OKAY?’
‘Look at old big bollocks making announcements now,’ Tommy remarks. ‘Eh Matty? Old Norman’s got himself shoved up someone’s arse…but then he likes shoving things up arses apparently…’
‘What did you say?’ Norman asks, his heart missing a beat as he looks to Tommy while the people that gathered about him asking questions drift off.
‘Just a joke. Jesus, mate. Only having a laugh you bleeding snowflake. Fuck me, remember that, Matty. Snowflake ain’t got a sense of humour…’ Tommy says in that hard tone, aggressive and surly, like he’s constantly on the verge of erupting in violence. He stares hard too. Unblinking and goading and Norman wilts back, thinking this world is not the old world.
‘Ah don’t look so hurt,’ Tommy laughs, sensing the weakness in the other man. ‘Mind you, queers are sensitive aren’t they…’
‘Ignore him, Norman,’
Patricia says as Norman sits down. His wits gone. A brutal day already and he just can’t summon the mental fortitude to say anything and risk escalating the situation. So he does nothing and says nothing.
‘Oh, there goes another one,’ Tommy says, watching a man in a turban walk by. ‘Hope they checked them properly…’
‘Oh Jesus,’ Patricia groans. ‘He’s been going on about that all day.’
‘Well,’ Tommy grumbles, his voice carrying too clearly. ‘I heard them’s the ones that caused it. Jihad or whatever…fucking holy war…’
‘They’re Sikh’s,’ Norman says.
‘Don’t even bother,’ Patricia says. ‘Keith and I tried explaining it.’
‘Have you been here all day?’ Norman asks.
‘Keith’s been resting,’ she says. ‘He doesn’t feel well…’
‘I don’t feel well,’ Keith says.
‘Oh here we go, someone thinks they can boss everyone about now yeah?’ Tommy calls.
‘I just asked what you’d been doing today,’ Norman says.
‘And I just replied with mind your own fucking business,’ Tommy snaps in a voice filled with instant aggression again.
‘OKAY…KIDS FOR FOOD PLEASE…’ Agatha bellows out. ‘ADULTS CAN HEAD OVER TOO BUT WAIT FOR THE KIDS TO EAT FIRST…’
‘Bout fucking time,’ Tommy says, on his feet in a second. ‘You ready, Matty?’
‘Seriously though, Norman,’ Keith says as everyone about them starts stirring. ‘Are they checking foreigners properly? I mean, we really don’t know where this started from…’
Chapter Seven
Day Twenty Two
Blinky is dead.
Lilly does not how or what caused it, but only that she feels it inside. She can’t even explain what that feeling is, or where it comes from, she only knows that Blinky is dead.
Lilly does not cry because crying will not help. She doesn’t know where they are or what happened and so she feels an intense frustration that she cannot do anything to help.
The Undead (Book 23): The Fort Page 8