The Undead (Book 23): The Fort

by Haywood, R. R.

  A hard afternoon then commenced with much sweating, cursing, squabbling and bickering while also trying to hide their activities from everyone else, while in truth everyone else was either too stressed, too exhausted or too busy to give a shit.

  ‘Whack ‘em in properly,’ Tommy urges. ‘We don’t want the wind ripping it all out…that’s it. Cor, look at that…’ he says, standing back. His hands on his hips as the others join him to look at the fruit of their labours. Something between a small crappy circus tent and a yurt with a slit cut into the material on one side to make a doorway. More string used to pin the flaps back. A communal home covering all of their patches with room to spare. Easily the biggest shelter in the fort. ‘That’s fucking brill that is,’ Tommy says with genuine feeling.

  Pat and Keith nod and smile. Both sweating freely. Wealthy suburbanites from a big detached executive house in Surrey now feeling proud over their new shared home.

  ‘Right,’ Tommy says, clapping his hands together. ‘Hang on there a sec…’ he rushes in, grabbing his bag and mooching through the contents before dragging a large beach towel out that he ties onto one of the poles by the ad-hoc door. ‘Ready?’ he asks, looking at the others. A grin and he lets it unfold, showing them the creased, faded and stained white material emblazoned with a big red cross upon it.

  ‘What’s that?’ Keith asks.

  ‘What’s that? That’s the Saint George’s Cross,’ Tommy says. ‘Fuck me, Keithy. It’s the flag of England…’

  ‘That’s racist though isn’t it,’ Matty says. ‘Don’t all the far right groups use that?’

  ‘Fuck off,’ Tommy snaps, bridling instantly. ‘Fucking fake news shit…this is our flag for us…it’s what we fought for in the war…telling them Germans to fuck off and them wankers over in Pakistanighan or wherever the fuck, and them muzzies blowing our troops up. This is our land. This here, what we just made. For us. Ain’t no fucker can just walk in neither. We’ve got our human rights we have. We got the right to…the right to…’ he pauses, frowning.

  ‘Right to privacy?’ Keith suggests.

  ‘Right to privacy,’ Tommy says eagerly.

  ‘Right to life too,’ Keith adds.

  ‘And that,’ Tommy says.

  ‘Freedom of expression…’

  ‘Yes!’ Tommy says, clapping his hands together. ‘Some decent British fucking laws eh?’

  ‘Er, so…I think those laws came from Europe, didn’t they?’ Mathew asks, lifting a hand.

  ‘European court of human rights,’ Keith says, nodding at him.

  ‘Fuck them!’ Tommy shouts. ‘They’re English laws now.’

  ‘English or British?’ Keith asks.

  ‘Yeah, you keep saying both, Tommy,’ Karl says.

  ‘Alright, bleeding getting hung up on the details. Point is…the point is…right, look over there. That proves my point right there…’ he says as they turn to watch the new Muslim family all kneeling on mats facing in one direction while giving the sunset prayer. ‘See that?’

  ‘What?’ Mathew asks.

  ‘The fucking muzzies doing that weird shit,’ Tommy snaps. His temper starting to show from his group asking too many questions. ‘You wanna go and suck ‘em off, Matty? Wanna go pray on a rug with them?’

  ‘Eh? No, I was just…no course not.’

  ‘Wankers,’ Tommy says.

  ‘Yeah, yeah wankers,’ Mathew says, not quite as angrily as Tommy.

  ‘English only in here,’ Tommy says.

  ‘I’m Welsh,’ Gwen says, lifting her hand.

  ‘Yeah, that’s English,’ Tommy says.

  ‘British,’ Karl says.

  ‘You taking the fucking piss? English, British, same thing. Our country…for us. No fucking queers and homos and fucking terrorists…and I heard they started this. I told you that. I heard that from a good source. Lad in the army. He said it came from Pakistanighan and it’s part of that Jihadi holy war stuff…’

  He trails off, watching the Muslim family pray. Everyone does. The sight draws the eye and the surrounding area grows still and quiet enough to hear the murmurings. The way they’re all lined up under their shelter. The way they all face the same way. The way they all rise and lower at the same time. Something mesmerising about it. Peaceful and calming.

  Norman watches them too. Stopping on his way back to his patch of ground, marvelling at the changed landscape about him. Shelters everywhere with a tiny step closer to homes and privacy. Now he stops to watch the new family praying, thinking back to the beach and how close it came to them all being killed. He thinks of Lilly and her absolute determination to keep the fort safe and how she simply flicked the aggression off the second the threat was negated and in so doing, she proved she had no fear of their religion.

  It does look peaceful though. An act of shared worship in a world that now only really knows pain and suffering.

  A sigh and he walks on, blanching at the sight of the big shelter looking so different to everyone else’s. ‘That’s a big tent,’ he remarks, noticing how quickly Patricia and Keith appear awkward and glance away.

  ‘Your crap’s there,’ Tommy says, pointing at Norman’s single rucksack.

  ‘Right,’ Norman says, frowning at them all.

  Tommy shrugs, everyone else looks away, watching the family in prayer or finding something else to stare at.

  ‘Sorry, what’s happening?’ Norman asks.

  ‘I just said your stuff’s there,’ Tommy says.

  ‘I heard you,’ he says, noticing the hanging towel England flag and Tommy standing proud with his top off and the tattoos on proud display. He turns to look at the new family praying under their shelter so clearly in view.

  ‘You going then?’ Tommy asks, his voice hardening, the atmosphere tensing instantly.

  ‘Going?’ Norman asks. ‘Going where?

  ‘Somewhere else,’ Tommy says.

  Norman nods. His presence no longer desired or wished for. He has outstayed his welcome and he sighs long and heavy, noticing the way Keith and Patricia continue to avoid his eye contact. ‘Sure,’ he says quietly, walking over to grab his bag. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Good,’ Tommy snaps.

  ‘One question though,’ Norman says, pulling his bag onto a shoulder as he looks at Tommy. ‘Is this because I am gay?’

  ‘Nah, it’s cos you’re a cunt,’ Tommy replies after a heavy pause. Winking at him as he speaks. ‘What do I care if you like sucking cock. No skin off my nose is it…’

  Norman smiles. ‘Sure,’ he turns to walk off, nodding at Patricia and Keith as he goes. ‘Nice to see you again…’

  ‘Fucking wanker,’ Tommy mutters, the words reaching Norman. His heart beating a drum and an absurd sense of shame creeping up his spine. He wasn’t going to stay there anyway but it does sting that Patricia and Keith were like that and he heads to the closest shower cubicle as the dong of a metal ladle being whacked against a pot rings out.

  ‘FOOD,’ Agatha yells. ‘KIDS FIRST BUT YOU CAN ALL START COMING OVER…’

  Tommy grins with a sense of victory, watching Norman walk off. ‘You all got your sicknotes? Right. We queue up all good and proper, no swearing, no fucking about and if that Polish bitch says anything then we’ve got our slips.’

  Lenski doesn’t say anything.

  She forgot about the interaction with Tommy five minutes after it happened and never had any intention of reducing their food. She only said it to try and make them work, and so Tommy’s group get their food without hinderance and rush back to eat within the walls of their new home. Grinning and laughing with another sense of victory.

  The fort eats and starts to unwind from another gruelling day. Bellies filled and mouths yawning. The shower cubicles in near constant use. Solar light shining, creating little pools of light.

  Groups of people sitting near the cooking area, drinking tea and talking about what happened on the beach today. The van full of infected. A father trying to save his daughter but killed his family and hi
mself in the process. Awful and shocking, but unifying because so many saw it. So many saw Lilly and Mary and Kyle shooting and the blood on Lilly’s face. They saw the Muslims too and how quickly Lilly relaxed and accepted them the second she saw they were just people. ‘She seriously didn’t give a shit about them being Muslims,’ Emily says, her hand wrapped in a dressing. ‘And that Mary! Oh my god…and Kyle was firing his guns and I’m telling you, I thought we were all dead. We all did. The infected were right there but they didn’t even touch us. Didn’t even get close…’

  The back shore. Lanterns on a big folding table taken out. Pistols and rifles stripped with Joan and Kyle showing how they work. John, Pardip, Jaspal, Simar and a few others John said would be suitable. The first of Lenski’s fort defence force. Mugs of tea on the side and the air filled with the clunks and clicks of moving parts. Dry firing exercises. Norman with them, a pistol in his hands.

  ‘I would like you trained and armed please, Norman,’ Lilly said as they were eating.

  Norman figured he could refuse but refusing Lilly didn’t feel right. ‘Sure,’ he said instead. ‘Er, is there anywhere I can sleep? I think I’ve been evicted…’

  ‘Room at the back of the offices if you don’t mind sharing with me,’ Kyle said.

  ‘He bloody snores something awful though, Norman,’ Mary said, butting in. ‘Makes the whole fort vibrate he does.’

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ Kyle said.

  ‘It bloody is,’ Mary scoffed. ‘I almost quit and went back to me Uncle Peter last night. I was like Uncle Pete, can I come back, the Father makes a terrible racket he does…I’ll peel the spuds and make some gypsy babies with a nice gypsy boy I will…’

  ‘I make new rooms,’ Lenski said, hearing their conversation. ‘You stay with Kyle tonight yes? Mary, she sleep in back too. I get something sorted tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay, er…’ Norman hesitated, looking at Kyle. ‘I’m gay. Does that make a difference? Only I know some men don’t like sharing rooms if…’

  Kyle just looked at him. ‘I know I’m a handsome man, charming too, rakish, rugged, did I say charming?’

  ‘You said charming,’ Norman said with a smile.

  ‘Aye, very charming, and I’ve shared many rooms with many people and I have yet to be seduced or molested in my sleep by anyone…so if you can keep your hands of my toned body then I think we’ll be okay.’

  ‘Idiot,’ Joan muttered.

  ‘I am charming,’ Kyle said.

  ‘You’re something,’ Joan replied, giving him a look.

  ‘Are you gay, Norman?’ Pea asked casually.

  ‘I am,’ Norman replied.

  And the world moved on. That was it. Nobody cared that much. What was, and what they were before is not now, and now is busy. Too busy to stop and dwell and think.

  ‘You’ve got it,’ Kyle says, watching Norman load the magazine into the pistol and make it ready. ‘We’ll do some shooting tomorrow…’

  A chorus of giggles from the far end of the small beach as Mary reaches into the water to grab at Milly’s feet, making the girl squeal with laughter.

  ‘Ach, I thought it was a fish I did,’ Mary says, tutting to herself at seeing Milly’s foot in her hand. All of them sitting with their trouser legs rolled up and their bare feet dangling in the water. ‘Ah, there’s another fishy,’ Mary cries out, leaning over Lilly to grab at Billy’s foot in the water. ‘Ah bum, it’s another foot…all wet and stinky it is too…’

  ‘Get Lilly’s foot,’ Rajesh laughs.

  ‘I’m not touching those huge things,’ Mary says. ‘Bigger than my hand they are…’

  ‘My feet aren’t big,’ Lilly says.

  ‘But, little Raj, I’ll get your feet I will,’ she says, leaning the other way to get his.

  ‘My feet really aren’t big,’ Lilly says, still staring at her feet.

  Pea yawns, yelping with the effort and setting a chain reaction off as Subi does the same then Sam and the others, all of them yawning loudly.

  ‘Sucking the air from the world you lot are,’ Mary remarks, making them laugh. ‘Fish!’ she lunges over Lilly again, grabbing at Billy’s foot again then at Amna’s, making them kick and spray water. Lilly laughing as she turns her head and ducks down behind Mary’s back, her world filling with a vision of flame red air. ‘Don’t you be hiding behind me, Blondie,’ she says, grabbing at Lilly’s foot. ‘Are you ticklish? Billy, is your sister ticklish is she? Get her feet…’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ Lilly cries out as four children pile on top of her with little hands tickling at her ribs and sides while others go for her feet. ‘No! Billy…get off me…’ she rolls and laughs, making Pea and Subi chuckle as they watch. Sam grinning as the people working at the table glance over to a sight none of them have really seen. To Lilly laughing properly. Not just smiling at a joke or giggling from exhaustion but full on belly laughing and even Joan grins at the sight, watching as the kids and Mary subject their brave fort leader to a merciless attack.

  ‘Subi! Save me,’ Lilly calls, the words almost lost within the mound of laughing bodies.

  ‘Go on,’ Pea whispers, urging Subi to go in and have some fun. ‘Save Lilly…’

  Subi grins, shy and wanting to play but unsure and hesitant. Old enough to think she should be serious but young enough to still feel the lure and she doesn’t see as Lenski hands her assault rifle to Joan and runs over to heft Subi up with a laugh, making her squeal out as she dumps her into the big bundle.

  ‘I think we’ll call that a night,’ Joan tells her trainees all smiling at the play underway.

  Lilly doesn’t hear them leave. She only hears the laughs coming from her own body and those coming from the children. Her ribs being tickled, and she does the same back, grabbing Amna then Rajesh. Milly then Billy. Mary in amongst them all, tickling anyone she can reach. Tears falling from eyes that soak cheeks. Faces flushed and hot. The temperature still so high. The giggles come to them all. The deep giggles that take hold within their bellies and keep surging up and out in waves. Subi diving in. Lenski plonking down at the side to watch before being engulfed by Milly and Raj.

  Sam and Pea ease away to lean back against the fort wall, chuckling at the games underway. Taking genuine pleasure at watching them play.

  ‘She’s like a breath of fresh air,’ Sam whispers, nodding at Mary.

  ‘Lenski’s changing too,’ Pea whispers back. ‘She even winked at someone earlier.’

  Sam smiles, turning back to watch them all laugh and play. The world is over. Society has fallen. Law and order are gone, and the threat of death is now real and very immediate. They took life today. When that van came down the road, and then when they saw the women in burkas, that was so tense, so raw and awful, which just makes this now more meaningful and special, but all things must end, all things must cease and eventually the children, worn out by heat and playing all day in fresh air, eventually tire and grow sleepy, snuggling in while giggling and snorting.

  ‘Bed time,’ Lilly says, trying to sit up with two children draped across her.

  ‘We’ll do it,’ Sam says with a nod at Pea. ‘Stay out here a bit…’

  ‘I’ll come in,’ Lilly says.

  ‘Stay,’ Sam says, a firmness to her voice as she hefts Billy up first before scooping to lift Amna. ‘It’s fine. We can do it. Relax for five minutes, have a paddle…’

  ‘Yeah, Lilly, have a paddle,’ Mary says.

  ‘Yeah, Lilly, have a paddle,’ Lenski says, a Polish girl trying to mimic an Irish gypsy accent which just sets them off again.

  Sam and Pea head off. Four sleeping children within their arms and a very sleepy Subi at Pea’s side.

  ‘That was the worst accent ever,’ Mary says.

  ‘Aye,’ Lilly says, making Lenski giggle again which just sets them off.

  ‘Aye,’ Lenski says.

  ‘Am I being racially abused now?’ Mary asks.

  ‘Aye,’ they both say at the same time with another fit of giggles taking ho
ld.

  ‘I get ya,’ Mary says, ‘two blondies picking on the redhead.’

  ‘Is ginger,’ Lenski says.

  ‘I’m not bloody ginger, my brother is a ginger. I’m a redhead…’ Mary says, her accent making them both laugh again. ‘Will ye quit laughing at me now. Anyways, I’m hot as anything. Do you mind if I have a swim?’

  ‘A swim?’ Lilly asks.

  ‘Aye, it’s when you get in water and don’t drown.’

  ‘I know what swimming is,’ she laughs, looking up as Mary gets to her feet and starts tugging her trousers down.

  ‘Are ye coming then?’ Mary asks, looking at Lilly. ‘Come on, Blondie. Cool off a bit.’

  Lilly thinks to say no. Her mind already forming the intent to say the word and explain she should go inside and check on Billy. She should make sure things are okay. She should work, and if not work then she should rest and get ready for work, and besides, she doesn’t have a swimming costume. That makes her think of her old bedroom and her old clothes. She remembers the drawer her swimming costumes were kept in. A white chest with brass handles. She remembers her room next and how the light fell through the net curtains. She thinks of her mother and everything they had. She thinks of the long days before her father finally decided to set out and leave and she thinks of how quickly and easily he died. She thinks that he isn’t here now, and that she, at the age of sixteen, has had to kill so many people to protect her brother.

  She thinks of Howie and Paula and that they should have left someone behind. Any one of that team would have stopped the crews taking over. But they all left and so she had to do it.

  She thinks of today and how hard it has been. Gruelling. Brutal even. She thinks of the Muslim family and the van full of infected. She thinks of all of those things but that after that happened, the mood changed a little. She couldn’t explain it, but everyone seemed a bit different after that. Chattier, talking more, helping each other. It’s hard to define or explain, but maybe just a shift in energy.