The streets were lined with post-war terraced housing, with occasional wide open greens. The houses were packed close together, which worked in their favour, but there was still a hell of a lot of ground to cover.
He only hoped they didn’t stand out. Sure their clothes were dirty from sleeping rough, but they’d been able to eat for the last week and that set them apart from many of the poor souls who were wandering around.
The stench was unbelievable. They should have been used to it from the past several days of dragging themselves around housing estates, but it was far worse here. It seemed like the whole place was rotting. And it probably was. Rotting food in the fridges, overflowing lavatories, grey water lurking in the pipes underneath their feet with nowhere to go now that the pumps weren’t working. Clive sighed. This was only the beginning. They’d taken so many relatively modern hygiene developments for granted. How long until a cholera epidemic wiped out the lucky ones who’d managed to stockpile food or somehow get their hands on enough food and water to survive? He shook his head. They had to get away from the cities. What was the army playing at locking people into big stations with old infrastructure? Was it less about keeping people alive and more about suppressing potential protests and riots?
Clive opened the gate and stepped onto a cracked tile path. Once upon a time it must have been pretty, but now the tiles were cracked and worn it looked as shoddy as the concrete paths leading up to all the other houses in the area. They must have knocked on a hundred doors so far that morning. Only a few had opened and no-one they’d spoken to had admitted to knowing Harry Harman, no matter how much Clive pushed. He could tell they were lying: he could see it in their eyes.
He knocked and waited.
“Maybe they’re all scared it’s the army,” Annie whispered.
Clive nodded. Maybe. Or maybe they’d died of thirst. Maybe the occupants were among those out in the park, rolling around and babbling deliriously.
He knocked again and waited another few moments.
“Come on,” he muttered.
The door opened as he was turning away.
A shrunken face looked at them. She must only have been about four foot nine or thereabouts, and she was so thin that the skin on her cheeks looked like fabric. “Who are you?”
Clive forced a smile. After seeing people’s reactions the first few times he told them he was a police officer, he’d stopped even mentioning it. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. I hope you can help me.”
“What’s his name?”
Clive leaned closer. “Harry Harman.”
The woman’s eyes widened immediately. She tried to close the door on them a split second later.
Annie was too fast for her. She shoved her foot in the doorway just in time.
“You’re police. I can tell.”
He sighed. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, it seemed to radiate off him. “Nobody’s in any trouble. Can we come in? I’d like to hear anything you can tell me.”
“Are you mad? No. No way.” She poked her head out and looked around behind them.
“Please.” Clive took a gamble. “He has my daughter. She went after a friend of hers and now we can’t find her. Please. I need to get to her.”
“Good god,” the woman said, crossing herself.
“Please tell us what you know.”
“I can’t. If word gets out…”
“It won’t. I promise. We’ll keep knocking on doors. If anyone’s watching it won’t be obvious you told us anything.”
She considered this.
“Please. I think her life is in danger.”
“Oh, it is if he’s involved,” the woman said darkly. “Just like mine will be if I tell you anything.”
He sensed a softening in her. “Please. Where would they have taken her? We’re running out of time.”
The woman looked more conflicted than ever. “He’s trouble. Big trouble. Be careful. Last I heard, he’d taken over the old trucking depot right down near the motorway.”
“Where’s exactly? The more detail you can give me, the better.”
She frowned.
“Please.”
“Oh, alright. I suppose the car dealership is the easiest thing to look out for. A car dealership with a big old hot air balloon on the roof. His place is on the street behind that.” She looked up at him with big sad eyes. “My boy went off working for him. Hasn’t been back in days. Some of them came yesterday with food and water. I suppose I know what that means, but it’s a hard thing to accept.” She shook her head. “One of them said that he’s got a big house in the country now.”
She closed the door. This time they didn’t stop her. The deadbolt scraped across.
Annie
“Do you know it?”
Clive shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “But we’ll find it. Come on.”
She followed him back down the path and out the gate. She baulked when he turned left instead of right. “Where are you going? The car’s this way.” She was itching to get going now.
“Keep your voice down. We’ll knock on a few more doors. Just like we said we would.”
“But Clive. We’ve got our first lead in days. We’ve got to check it out.”
He glared at her. “I meant what I said to that woman. She was right, by the way. If anyone was watching this could get back to Harry and she might be targeted.”
“If anyone’s been watching and reporting back to Harry, we’ve got bigger problems.” She shivered. After what they’d seen in the petrol station, she had to get her head around the fact that Harry might be waiting for them. The fact that they hadn’t encountered him yet was more to do with the fact that they’d been looking for him in the wrong place.
“Come on. It won’t take long.”
They went to another five houses and then turned a corner out of sight of anyone watching from the houses on the other side of the road they’d just been on. They took a long route back to the car, passing by the other side of the large park they’d seen on the way in. There was nothing new there: it looked just as desperate and deprived from one side as it did from the other.
This time they didn’t worry about trying to fit in. They ran as fast as they could, desperate to get back to the car and get a move on. Not that they’d be any safer in it, but at least they’d be able to get away quickly if they needed to. Clive had done police driver training. She was confident he could outmanoeuvre those little thugs in a car. Their advantage was less certain if they were on foot. They couldn’t rule out the possibility that some of them were fit enough to be a serious threat.
As they finally got away from the sprawl of housing estates and ran down the bank towards the underpass where they’d hidden the car, Annie noticed all the people huddled around in little groups. They were rough-looking characters who would probably have been a serious threat a week ago. Now they didn’t seem to have the energy to get up. It should have filled her with relief, but it didn’t. It was yet another sign that the world was never going to come back from this because for every thug that was in this state, she was willing to bet there were two or three good ordinary people in the same terrible situation.
They slowed down as they got closer. Clive held one hand out to warn her and kept the other on his hip, where his gun was. Annie felt for her own weapon. That was another good thing about the car: they hadn’t had to hide their guns. She had only recently shot a handgun for the first time, so she didn’t have much confidence in her ability to draw at a moment’s notice.
Annie swallowed. This place gave her the creeps. It was the kind of place she’d have avoided at all costs in normal times. An underpass on the edge of a rough estate was the kind of place you only went if you were looking for trouble. Now it was the only decent hiding place they’d been able to find, but the air of neglect and danger remained.
“Do you think we’ll make it in time?” she said, half to herself. “What if she’s already gotten herself killed?”
; “We can only try. Come on. I have a good idea of where to go. I think we may even have driven past it.”
She winced. What terrible luck that they hadn’t thought to check industrial areas or they might have gone in there first. Of course, there were lots of warehouses around, so there was no guarantee they’d ever have stumbled on the right one.
There was a startled cry from up ahead and Annie realised with a terrible start that she’d slowed down so much that Clive was now out of sight. They’d agreed he would go first, but she never should have left such a big gap between them. “Clive!” she cried.
She couldn’t see into the underpass, which was exactly why they’d chosen it as a hiding place. That worked against them now. Anything could have been happening in there and she couldn’t see a thing.
“Clive,” she called before immediately ducking to her right.
There was no answer, only strange grunting sounds. The sign of a struggle? It must have been.
She glanced behind her, relieved to see there was no-one behind her.
Think, Annie.
They couldn’t lose Clive. He’d gotten them through so many awful situations. She needed him. They all did. Especially if she was to have any hope of finding Si before it was too late.
She reached for her gun. She was out of her depth. In theory, she knew how to take care of herself but what good were hands and feet against guns and knives? Handguns were Clive’s domain. And he was… well, he was in there somewhere.
Maybe Harry had people watching the area. In fact it seemed likely given that older woman’s response when they knocked on her door. It would make sense to have an early warning system to tell him if people were looking for him. Who knew how many eyes had been on them as they knocked on doors that morning.
Annie sucked in a breath. This was it: the moment where she had to expose herself in order to get in there and see what was happening.
She lunged forward and gasped in horror as she saw what was ahead of her in the dim tunnel.
She wasn’t even aware of pulling the trigger. She only knew when the smell of searing hot metal was suddenly all around her, overpowering even the stench of piss in the underpass.
Si
Si blinked. She still hadn’t gotten used to waking up in the room where she’d spent most nights of her life. So much had happened since she’d left that the past now seemed like somebody else’s life.
Once she’d woken fully, she held her breath and listened for signs of Graham moving around the house. Some things never changed. The chair was still rammed up underneath the door handle where she’d left it.
Good.
She didn’t have much food, but she had no intention of sharing what she did have with Graham. No way. She’d rather give it to a total stranger than to him.
The house was silent. Odd, she thought. Back before the power cut, he could spend hours on end sitting in his armchair in the sitting room watching telly. Now, though, he tended to be restless. He couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes if he didn’t have something to look at or listen to.
So it didn’t make sense. The last few mornings, she’d woken up to hear things clattering in the kitchen. Breaking glass, when he got particularly frustrated. He’d acquired a stash of whisky from somewhere and she only prayed she wasn’t around when that ran out, because he was going to be even angrier then.
What am I thinking? Of course I’ll be gone by then.
He had six bottles left. And it wasn’t like he was going to go through them faster by sharing them with his friends. Graham was too sneaky for that. She’d never been in the pub with him, but she suspected he was the bloke who made his excuses and left when it was his turn to buy a round.
Of course, it might all be a trap. She thought about this for a few moments. Was Graham downstairs silently waiting to ambush her when she left her room? Anything was possible with him, but she couldn’t see it. He believed her about the backpack having nothing but clothes in it. Otherwise he’d have found a way to search it by now. And her secret hiding place under the floorboard hadn’t been disturbed. She was certain of that. She’d put a tiny piece of paper between the boards which was still there when she checked. It fell through when she pulled up the board, just like it would have done earlier if he’d disturbed it.
Okay, she thought. Time to go.
She stayed where she was. She should have been getting up and legging it out of the house to resume her search. But she was exhausted. The meagre rations she’d allowed herself weren’t providing enough energy to fuel her through long days of knocking on doors and trying to get information from people. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up. She’d had a tension headache behind her eyes for so long that she couldn’t remember it not being there. It was affecting her ability to drive now, but what choice did she have? It wasn’t like she could call a cab.
She gritted her teeth and got out of bed.
Half an hour. Just half an hour, then I’ll shut up complaining and get on with it.
The lure of having time alone in this house was too much. Graham was like a poison, tainting her memories of her mother. She pulled the chair away and opened the door, still half expecting him to be lurking around outside.
He wasn’t. The landing was silent. She padded uncertainly to her mother’s room. There was none of her left in it now. It stank of him: the reek of stale alcohol and curries. The curtains were drawn and it smelled like he hadn’t opened a window in months.
She recoiled.
No. She couldn’t bear to be in there. It sullied the memories she had of running in there as a little girl and crawling under the blankets to cuddle up to her mother. It had been so different then; so light and airy and fresh. She closed her eyes and called to mind her mother’s perfume. Sweet and light.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the attic hatch. It struck her then. Graham was a lazy sod. Maybe the attic was the last place in the house that hadn’t been tainted by him. Maybe she’d even find something of her mothers that had been forgotten all this time. She’d been so busy working and avoiding her pain that she wasn’t sure she’d ever gone through it.
Clive
“Oh my god,” Annie hissed, her chest working frantically as she tried to get her breathing under control. “Oh my god.”
Clive was in little humour to calm her down, but he knew he had to try his best. He was in shock himself, but he’d been trained to deal with the complex emotions she must be feeling.
He shook his head, trying to shake off the shame that was rising inside him. He’d check all around the old Jaguar; everywhere except for up above him. He ought to have known. He glanced at the man, lying dead at his feet. Now really wasn’t the time to mention it, but Annie was an exceptionally good shot. No, he’d say nothing. The others already seemed to think that what had happened at the service station somehow equipped them to handle whatever was thrown at them.
It didn’t.
It really didn’t.
Bile rose in his throat and he forced his eyes away from the man. How could he comfort her when he was struggling to breathe? It wasn’t that he felt sorry for the man. It was the fact that he’d nearly succeeded.
“Come on now, Annie. Try to calm down. We’ve got to move.” He hissed out a breath, immediately sucking in more air even though the last thing he could afford to do was hyperventilate. “It’s okay. It’s over now. Get in the car.”
He paled as he played back what had gone wrong. It had all happened so quickly. The man had been perfectly silent. The first Clive knew of it was the whump of something heavy landing on him, followed seconds later by the pain of impact. By the time he’d gotten his bearings, the man had him in a chokehold. If it hadn’t been for Annie, the attacker would have squeezed the life out of him in another few seconds.
“I’ll drive. You’re shaking.”
He looked at her. She was shaking like a leaf. He’d have to keep a close eye on her in case she went into shock.
“I’m fine,” he said, trying to make his voice sound steady and dependable. “Go on. Get in the car.”
He wanted to search the man before they left, but he didn’t want her to know. She’d try and watch—that was the last thing she needed to do. She was shaken enough as it was without watching him man-handle the man she’d shot. Perhaps he was underestimating her, but he couldn’t afford not to.
His attacker didn’t look suspect on the face of it. He was dressed like a rough sleeper. The fact that he’d been able to climb up and wait was suspicious. As was the fact that he was a decent fighter: lithe and lean and full of the same wiry strength as boxers had. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe he was a normal bloke who’d been into boxing before the darkness. Maybe he’d seen the Jag and thought he could get food or something else useful off them. Even though it was an old model, the brand telegraphed wealth.
Clive set his jaw as his fingers moved deftly over the man’s body. He didn’t feel any remorse. The man would’ve killed Clive if he’d had a few more seconds. He’d been so quick. Clive hadn’t even had a chance to get to his gun. He’d tried to fight back, but that was hard to do in a chokehold when your main concern was removing the obstacle to getting air into your lungs.
He found nothing. He got up, feeling older than he’d ever felt.
“Who was he?” Annie asked when he got into the car.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“What if he’s one of Harry’s guys?”
“He’s not going to be much use to Harry anymore.”
She burst out laughing. Deep, uncontrollable laughter. She was soon gasping for air and her eyes were red and watery.
Clive had been around the block enough times to know that the laughter would soon turn to tears. He passed her a water bottle. “Have some water. We’ve got to get moving. Annie, you need to pull yourself together.”
Fighting Darkness: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Fighting to Survive Book 2) Page 11