Lenski stares out to the bay, nodding slowly before turning to go back in, crossing into the middle section.
‘I want everyone in here now…come through…all come through…’ she calls out, pushing through to Ann and Sunnie and the others trying their best to keep people calm. ‘Is no way out now. Get people in here and chain the inner gate from this side. Lock yourselves in here…’
‘Len,’ Ann says in shock.
‘Are you bloody stupid?’ Lisa asks.
‘Do this,’ Lenski snaps, harsh and clipped. ‘No open gate. No come through. Donald, you keep them here and wait…’ she draws her pistol, hating the feel of it. Checking the magazine as tears prick her eyes. Knowing it will come to this. Hating that it will come to this. Another nod and she goes back into the fort. The pistol in her hand as those behind share looks, silent and worried.
Lilly grits her teeth, silent and brooding as she watches the sea and the waves growing higher. The wind slamming through as they speed along the shore road.
They turn the bend, seeing the container wall ahead as Mary drives on. Both of them taking glances to the waves crashing on the beach. The wind hitting the van. Through the gap and into the bay proper. A lessening of the gusts from the containers and Lilly frowns, thinking nothing has changed here.
They go down the road, nearing the beach and the marquee tent flapping in the wind. Cars and vans parked up. A few of Peter’s men left behind as guards. Old men, grey and stooped, but still it all looks the same as yesterday.
She jumps out as the van stops, rushing along while shielding her face from the sand whipping across. ‘What’s going on?’ she shouts at Uncle Jack. ‘Did they all go back?’
‘Who? Ain’t nobody been here. Got new people turned up you have. None of them came over from your fort though…’
‘What about Norman and Kyle?’ Lilly asks. ‘Ann?’
‘I said nobody,’ Jack snaps. ‘Nothing. Figured you’re all waiting for Peter to get back…’
Lilly steps away, bringing her radio up. ‘Lilly to the fort…LILLY TO THE FORT…CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?’
Nothing. No response.
‘You came out garbled from here,’ Mary says, holding her uncle Jack’s radio.
‘Something’s not right,’ Lilly says. ‘They would have come over…’ she starts across the sand, heading to the sea and the few boats bobbing in the waves.
‘Blondie? Don’t even think about it…’
‘I have to get back,’ Lilly says, wading into the crashing waves, fighting to reach the closest boat, throwing her rifle in before she clambers over the side.
‘DON’T BE A DICK,’ Mary shouts. ‘IT’S WAY TOO BAD NOW…’
‘I’M GOING,’ Lilly says, heaving the anchor up and moving to the back to start the engine.
‘LILLY…IT’S TOO DANGEROUS…’
‘I’LL SEE YOU LATER,’ Lilly shouts, twisting the grip and turning to get the boat aimed out, fighting to keep her balance as it rocks and sways on the waves.
‘YE A BLOODY IDIOT,’ Mary shouts, wading out to clamber in. ‘SERIOUSLY…’
‘STAY HERE THEN.’
‘I WILL NOT.’
‘FINE.’
‘FINE.’
‘KILL THE MUZZIES…BURN THE MOSQUE…’
The chant comes solid and unbroken. Roaring out from men and women now consumed with a primeval urge to cause destruction. Drunk on booze and violence.
‘KILL THE MUZZIES…BURN THE MOSQUE…’
They’ll charge at any minute. Kyle can feel it. Reading the mood, seeing that build-up of raw, ugly emotion that will detonate and get so much worse. ‘SAM!’ he shouts the warning, barging her aside as the spinning bottle comes in hard, whacking into his side.
‘GO ON!’ Tommy yells. ‘DRIVE ‘EM BACK…THEY AIN’T GONNA SHOOT…WE’RE UNARMED…’
A shift in focus and the four take the brunt. Pea and Sam. Kyle and Joan. Missiles coming in that drive them back towards the canteen to take cover behind the ply board. Snatching views now and then to keep the armoury door in view, and still it’s not bad enough to shoot them. Still they can’t do it. Voices inside their heads saying no. Saying you cannot kill people for this.
Another Molotov cocktail comes in, thrown again by Keith and it smashes into the side struts of the frame. More brandy inside this one. More flames that spill out and start eating into the structure.
‘PUT IT OUT,’ Simar shouts, beating at the flames with his hands wrapped in clothing, his face burning from the heat. Norman at his side ripping his own top off to fight the fire. To protect the canteen. Maleek behind them, stamping on other flaming missiles coming in. John, Pardip and Bashir doing the same.
‘GET OUT OF HERE,’ Kyle roars at them. ‘GO!’
‘NO!’ Simar screams out, shouting as the clothing wrapped about his hands sets alights. He tears them off, his face a mask as he fights to protect the thing he built.
‘PARDIP…GET THEM AWAY,’ Sam shouts, the crowd coming closer, the anger building. The tipping point is coming. The point where they will charge. What then? Do they shoot? Do they run?
Pardip can’t get them away. He knows his brothers and they won’t back down. Nor will he either. This is about taking a stand. This is about defending that which you hold dear.
‘KILL ‘EM!’ Tommy roars, urging them on, egging them closer, feeling the time to charge is coming fast.
‘Drive into the waves,’ Mary shouts, holding on at the back of the small open-topped boat tossing and rolling, watching the waves get bigger, seething with mass and shape. High peaks and deep troughs. ‘Aim into the wave then go along before the next one…’
Lilly tries that, turning the tiller to angle the boat at the wave, feeling the prow lift and the boat rise then crash back down before they turn and try to whip along, but the boat sides are too shallow, and the engine isn’t powerful enough. She tries again, feeling it lift then crash with water smashing over the front, drenching them again. She tries to turn but the boat is too sluggish and slow.
The motion brings Mary’s gorge up and she turns away, puking over the side as the boat lifts and falls like a toy in a bathtub. Wind whipping past them. Waves crashing into them. The engine screaming out. Mary grabs hold of Lilly, trying to hold them both steady as the waves and tide and power of the sea all grow worse.
They become an object to be toyed with because the storm is coming, and the sea wants to dance and sing and get bigger.
Another wave comes. Bigger and stronger, smashing into the boat to make it seesaw too far over, the edge dipping beneath the surface as water pours in, weighing it down, pulling it further in.
‘BLONDIE!’ Mary screams as the boat tips, sending them down into the depths, ripped from each other’s embrace as they tumble and spin. Their mouths filling with salt water, making them gag and retch as they break the surface.
‘MARY!’ Lilly shouts, puking sea water as she spins to see Mary coming towards her. She brings a foot up, tugging at the laces, wrenching the sides apart. Desperate to get the heavy, water-logged boots off. She kicks one free and sinks down as another wave hits them. Changing the world about her to bubbles and roars and motion from within. She feels the power of the sea churning and ragging her on and feels that pressure growing as she goes deeper while working at the laces on her other boot. Pressure on her chest. A need to breathe in. A need to expel the water in her lungs. She kicks the boot free, unclips her gun belt to let it sink away and kicks hard. Legs above her. She aims for them, breaching the surface and sucking air in as Mary reaches out, terrified and panicking.
‘BOOTS,’ Lilly shouts. ‘GET THEM OFF…’ she can see Mary isn’t listening. Panic in her face. She goes closer, sucks a deep breath and drops to feel her way down Mary’s body. Unclipping the pistol belt then going down her legs to her boots, yanking the laces free, tugging them down.
‘BLONDIE…’ Mary panics again, thinking Lilly is drowning, reaching down to pull her up while feeling her boots coming loose
. She kicks them off, frantic and hard, water going in her mouth, retching and puking. A sudden release of weight as her feet become unburdened and Lilly pops up, gasping and sucking air again.
‘We have to swim,’ Lilly says, her voice near on lost. ‘Mary…we have to swim…’
‘Which way?’ Mary asks, too low down to see land now.
‘Hold on,’ Lilly grabs her as they lift on the next wave, both craning up to see the bay and the fort as the waves crash, making them tumble down through the water.
Smoke and wind and noise. The last bit of time before the storm hits proper, the last bit of time before the riot detonates and the pressure gets worse. The fear of it. The sheer awfulness of it.
Karl and Matty at the front with Gwen, Keith and Patricia just beside them. Tommy behind them, urging them on, whipping them into a frenzy.
‘KILL THEM FUCKING MUZZIES…THEY STARTED THIS…THIS IS A JIHADI…WE HAVE TO KILL THEM BEFORE THEY KILL US…’
‘I can’t see the doors,’ Joan snaps. Trying to see through the press of people and smoke to the armoury doors at the back.
‘Joanie,’ Kyle shouts as she runs off, realising what she is doing. He tries to see the doors himself and curses. ‘Stay here,’ he shouts and runs off.
Sam winces, seeing Joan and Kyle rushing up the side of the fort towards the back, leaving just her and Pea here against dozens of angry drunk people getting worse by the second.
‘HANG ‘EM FROM THE WALLS…’ Tommy roars on, urging his troops to get them ready to charge. Motion from the other side. Joan running out. Kyle running after her. Why are they splitting up? Tommy frowns, seeing only Sam and Pea left between him and the people he wants to kill and the building he wants to see burn.
They won’t shoot. Everyone can feel it. The end is already decided. Tommy will win. He glances again at Joan and Kyle snaking up the side and turns, trying to see what they’re aiming for. The food stores? The other rooms?
‘WE SHOULD GET SOME GUNS,’ Keith gets to his side, shouting over the chanting.
Guns. The armoury. Tommy’s head snaps over, seeing the doors at the back. He didn’t think of it. Why didn’t he think of it? A room full of guns. He has to act now. He has to make them charge now.
‘WE’RE GONNA KILL ‘EM…’ he roars out, surging forward. ‘KILL…KILL…KILL…KILL…’
A new chant. A new intent and the missiles stop coming as the crowd gathers together, edgy and dark, violence rippling through them. Faces twisted and ready. There are no limits now. There are no barriers. The Muslims have to die.
‘THEY KILLED EVERYONE,’ Tommy bellows. ‘THEY STARTED THIS…’
Simar grabs a stick, holding it ready. This is it. This is when it happens. Jaspal does the same, moving to stand beside his brother. Norman swallows, his heart thundering, his guts twisting. He spots a length of wood and bends to pick it up. His fingers wrapping about the end. Maleek next to him. Both staring at each other. Both so very, very scared but this has to be done. It must be done and so they grip their weapons and step into the line. Ready to fight. Ready to protect the canteen that has suddenly come to mean so much more than a simple building. Pardip moves to his brothers, standing tall. John with him. Both of them big men. Both armed. They’ll go down. They know they will. You can’t fight forty angry drunk people, but by fuck they’ll take a few with them.
Bashir blinks, staring at the small line then over to the huge crowd. Just Pea and Sam between them. Both of them shaking from head to toe. He can see the tremble from here. ‘Soul ja,’ he says, rushing to the two women. ‘SOUL JA…’ he shouts, yelling at them but neither Sam nor Pea hear him but only see the crowd seething as they ready to charge. Feeling it’s going to go.
Lenski feels it too. Walking from the front with dread in every step. This is her fault. She caused this. She has to stop it and she grips the pistol in her hand, held at her side as the tears stream over her cheeks.
They kick and swim. Arm over arm. Crying out and gasping. If they make progress they know not. If they are even aiming towards the fort now they know not either. Only that they rise and fall and sink beneath the surface into darkness where they kick with everything to breach the surface.
This was folly. Lilly knows that now. It was stupid to do this, but still, that voice inside says it had to be done. She must reach the fort.
Their energy starts to wane. To wilt. They need air, to breathe, to recover, but the sea has become an animal now, throwing them about, pushing them under, taunting them. A lull. A quiet second. They swim hard. Kicking to make progress. Grunting from the effort but the lull is a foul trick played as the next big wave comes in and their world fills with the vision of white as the wave breaks and they go down, sinking deep, tumbling and spinning, crashing into each other. Images of their lives coursing through their minds. Children playing. School. Mary’s dad died in prison. He was only there for a minor offence, but he was stabbed. She barely remembers him. She thinks of her mother who died a few years later. Run over as she crossed the road. She thinks of being raised by Uncle Pete and everyone else. She thinks of her life and now and Lilly and last night. She thinks of many things all in the blink of an eye, the beat of a heart.
Lilly doesn’t really think of anything, only that she doesn’t know which way is up or down. She doesn’t know which way to swim, and that means she will die here. Her lungs are demanding air. She will soon pass out, and in so doing, she will breathe in and drown. She grows still in the turmoil. Feeling Mary beside her. Pulling her in. Both with eyes open. Both with hair splaying out. Both suddenly so very calm. Reaching out to touch each other’s faces. Breaths held. Suspended in a second of calm, not seeing the bubbles starting to rise up around them. Chests urging them to breathe in. Minds preparing to die. The energy between them flowing from one to the other.
Motion beneath them. Something dark rising up that brushes past them. Bodies. Corpses. The dead from the battles before now disturbed from the seabed that still contain bubbles of air that seek to the find the surface and so some of them rise up, giving direction. Showing the way. Giving them something to push against. The frame of a big man. A snatch of dark hair glimpsed. The features now rotten and grotesque but with enough form of substance left for them to get their feet on it and they push hard. Up. Up. Kick. Go up. Hold on. Do not breathe. Not yet. Hold on. Just hold on.
That small line waits for the charge. Those few good people stand ready to oppose the will of a mob that wants to kill them.
A distance behind them the inner gate stands open. A strange quiet within the middle ground as the people stare out across the fort to Lenski walking on. A solitary figure with a gun held at her side. Her chest rising and falling. Her heart thundering. She has to kill. She has to end this.
Joan switches the safety off on her rifle. She will have to kill. It’s going to happen. She can see Tommy shouting and pointing at the armoury doors. She can see a small group forming and organising to go for it.
Kyle thumbs the safeties on his pistols. Ready to do what must be done. Praying to God that this is righteous and proper.
‘SOUL JA,’ Bashir screams the word.
‘Sam!’ Pea shouts, switching the safety off on her rifle. ‘I don’t want to do this…’
‘I know,’ Sam shouts back.
‘Get in and get them fucking guns out,’ Tommy shouts at Keith, pointing towards the armoury. ‘I’ll get this lot going…ready?’ he turns away, striding towards the front line. ‘WE’RE GONNA KILL ‘EM…WE GOTTA CHARGE ‘EM…THEY WON’T SHOOT. WE”RE NOT ARMED…READY?’
‘SOUL JA,’ Bashir screams.
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ Sam snaps at Bashir banging his hand into his chest.
Lenski thumbs the safety off and snatches a breath. An awful sickness inside. A terrible feeling of dread and worry. Lilly isn’t here to fix this. Howie isn’t here. None of them are and Lisa was right. Lenski wanted to be a leader and this is what it takes. She starts lifting the gun. Readying to take life
while the rules of society that say you cannot shoot unarmed protesters scream in her head.
On and on. Air. Breathe. Water. Do not breathe. In and out. Heads breaching the surface then sinking back down. A refusal to die. A refusal to give in. The waves sending corpses slamming into them and they kick on, feeling bones and rotting flesh.
In the fort, Tommy screams out, ‘ARE YOU READY?’ A roar comes back. Thunderous and deep. They have good on their side. They believe the people with dark skin caused this. Alcohol. Heat. Anger. Fear. A deadly mix all fuelled on by Tommy.
‘SOUL JA!’ Bashir shouts over and over, frantic and loud, banging his hand on his chest. Close to Pea and Sam who stare wide eyed as the line readies to charge. Men and women gripping weapons. Screaming into the air.
Lilly feels something underfoot. Mary beside her. Both crying out as they gain the seabed, digging their bare feet into the sand as the waves still throw them about. Closer now. Greater traction gained. Veins pushing out. Teeth bared. Lilly reaches out, grabbing Mary’s arm, the two clinging on to pull and fight through the waves smashing about them.
Lenski walks on. Every step taking minutes to complete. Every heartbeat taking eons to come and go.
Kyle at the back of the fort, running with Joan through the smoke. Keith going for the doors at the back. Sam and Pea moving backwards to join the line with Pardip and John. Bashir still screaming the same sounds out. Why won’t they listen to him? Why won’t they understand?
Lilly and Mary hit the shore within the burst of another wave slamming them down. Mouths spewing seawater. Lungs retching and burning. Eyes stinging. Everything hurting but they’re on land. They can feel it. Mary sags, ready to drop.
‘No,’ Lilly staggers to her feet, pulling Mary up, fearful of another wave. They need shelter. They need to be inside. She pulls Mary on, both of them lurching across the shore. Bodies exhausted and spent. ‘Get in,’ Lilly whispers, pulling at Mary, dragging her to the gate. She bangs against it, thinking it to be locked. She bangs again and it gives, spilling them both inside.
The Undead (Book 23): The Fort Page 29