by RR Haywood
‘Can’t we?’ I ask her, ‘you’ve done it before haven’t you?’
‘Yeah a few times but not against ten thousand and not against ten thousand that were expecting me…not like that…’
‘Can we lure them out to somewhere else?’ Charlie asks.
‘Would they follow us?’ I ask.
‘If we made it look like we were running away they would,’ Clarence says, ‘like yesterday. We ran and they gave chase.’
‘Reginald,’ I say turning back to face him, ‘distance from Flitcombe to Stenbury?’
‘Approximately fifteen miles.’
‘We could prep Flitcombe?’ I suggest, ‘get in, kill everything, get it ready…go for Stenbury, run back to Flitcombe and…er…kill everything…again.’
‘Classic double bluff right there,’ Clarence says rocking on his heels.
‘Bluff,’ Dave says.
‘Soooo,’ Marcy says quickly, ‘let’s not get into the bluff conversation again. How do you propose we do it?’ She asks me.
‘Me? Fuck knows. That’s Paula and Dave’s bag…’ I pause at Clarence clearing his throat, ‘and Clarence’s bag. I was going to say Clarence.’
‘Course you were,’ he mutters.
‘Reginald, you and Charlie get thinking…think dirty and cunning…think like right nasty bastards of ways we can use Flitcombe to our advantage. Study those maps and the area once we get there.’ I turn round to face everyone else, ‘we’re going to taunt it…like goad the shit out of it…we need to make it think we’re as cocky as hell and so consumed with self-belief that when it sees us running it thinks we’re real. Everyone happy?’
‘We should stay fluid,’ Paula says in that tone of easing back the inane eagerness, ‘in case Flitcombe is no good.’
‘Don’t forget we’re leapfrogging,’ I say, ‘so there will be other places we can use…’
‘No I’m with you,’ she says nodding, ‘but let’s think things through properly from now on.’
‘Agreed. Load up and we’ll move out. Reginald and Charlie, find us a place we can use about a mile from Flitcombe for the drone.’
Sixteen
‘Find us a place he says, find us a place. How many, how big, how far…find us a place. Oh my good lord I really need some tea. You know, Charlotte, I haven’t had a nice cup of tea for days. Days. Weeks. Probably more. No wonder I’m a bag of nerves. Find us a place he said…’
‘This farm?’ Charlotte asks holding her finger over the map then reaching over to point at Reginald’s map.
Reginald rolls his eyes again at the injustice of it all and looks down at the farm and quickly calculates the topography, the gradient and the distance to Flitcombe.
‘Yes a good location but the distance is further than a mile which I believe is at the maximum range of the drone. Yes…perhaps here,’ he says tapping a finger on the map, ‘open ground by the looks of it with a good thicket of trees to provide visual cover but the range is under one mile.’
‘Yep, got it,’ she says in admiration at the way he went from nervous wreck to switching on and reading the map like it was a book.
‘Ah now the village of Flitcombe,’ he says pushing his glasses back up his nose, ‘yes yes, the village of Flitcombe. What can we see? What can we see indeed? What does the map tell us? Really,’ he says tutting again, ‘the pressure is unbearable and would it really hurt them to find some Darjeeling or Camomile? Would it? Hmmm? Out there gallivanting about throwing axes at one another and they can’t look in some wretched kitchen cupboards for some tea…’
‘Have you asked them to find you some tea?’
‘Of course I have not asked them. A gentleman does not ask. A gentleman suffers in silence and does not ask.’
‘I’ll find you some next time we stop.’
‘Ah that is most kind of you but alas I would also require a manner in which to heat water and a receptacle within which to make the tea.’
‘Fire and a cup?’
‘Well yes, to be so blunt and straight talking. Fire and a cup.’
‘Some of the houses still have gas supplies and I dare say if you asked Mr Howie he would make a fire for you.’
‘My burden upon this team is already such that I feel most ungracious. I could not ask for such a thing.’
‘I can,’ she says politely, ‘Paula?’
‘Gosh no,’ Reginald blusters in panic at the social faux pas about to take place.
‘Yep?’ Paula asks leaning in through the doorway.
‘We found a place for the drone to be used.’
‘Great stuff, how far?’
‘Er, stay on this main road and we’ll say when we get close.’
‘I’ll tell Howie.’
‘Er, Paula?’
‘Yes, love?’
‘Do you think Mr Howie would mind if we looked for some Darjeeling or Camomile tea when next we stop?’
‘You have a lovely way of speaking you know,’ Paula says smiling warmly at the younger woman, ‘sure thing, we’ll check the kitchens. For you is it?’
‘Er…yes, although I should imagine Reginald would also like some tea.’
Paula smiles having taken in the terrified look of shame coming from Reggie and ignoring it by looking only at Charlie, ‘sure,’ she says, ‘we’ll find some.’
‘Paula to Howie?’
‘Hey Paula. It’s Marcy, go ahead.’
‘Hey, tell Howie Reginald and Charlie have found somewhere to stop before we get to Flitcombe. For a toilet break…you know…Roy is droning on about it.’
‘Haha, yeah got it.’
‘Also, and I’m sure the lads are listening to this but Charlie just said she loves herbal tea. Darjeeling and Camomile.’
‘On it,’ Cookey’s voice booms over the radio, ‘herbal tea will be found.’
Paula grins into the back, ‘I think they’ll get you some.’
‘Thank you,’ Charlie says.
‘Tell them not me, you’ve got a radio.’
‘Oh yes, of course…er…Hi, it’s Charlie, er thank you for saying you’ll find some tea.’
‘Did you hear what I said?’ Paula asks Roy, ‘I said you were droning on.’
‘Yeah I heard.’
‘Droning? Get it? Somewhere to launch the drone.’
‘Er, yes, yes I understood that.’
‘It was clever wasn’t it?’
‘Er yes, very clever.’
‘Don’t patronise me.’
‘I wasn’t!’
‘So were. Do you like herbal tea?’
‘Earl Grey.’
‘Oh I love Early Grey. Marcy it’s Paula, do you like herbal tea?’
‘I like the fruit teas, you know like the hot lemon and ginger ones you can get. What about you?’
‘Earl Grey. What about Howie?’
‘Er he’s shaking his head and pulling a face like he wants to vomit. Clarence says he likes Earl Grey.’
‘Really? I’d never of thought of him as an Earl Grey man.’
Smiling at the conversation Charlie looks at Reginald and slowly the smile fades at the pensive look of irritation on his face. ‘Reginald?’
‘I do not need mothering,’ he says tightly, ‘you do not need to ask for me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she says quickly, ‘I thought you wanted some…’
‘Yes I would dearly enjoy some tea but what I do not enjoy is the fact of someone thinking I am incapable of asking for myself.’
‘I apologise.’
‘Indeed. Perhaps we should be focussed on the task at hand.’
‘Of course,’ she says bending over to focus on the map and inwardly chastising herself for the awkwardness created, ‘I am sorry, Reginald.’
‘Let it be,’ he says stiffly, ‘but thank you all the same,’ he adds in a slightly softer tone, ‘now…Flitcombe…’
The irritation at the momentary embarrassment eases the nerves and he looks down at the map forgetting the gravity of the situation. People are ju
st insufferable. They really are. And Mr Howie can ask all the questions he wishes but must realise he may not get the answers he requires. However, it is answers he wants so answers he shall get. Yes. If he wants ideas then ideas shall be presented.
‘Main road,’ he says tracing a finger along the map. ‘We have a straight section of road going into the village with what appears to be a square or central meeting point to the right side of the road bordered by buildings which one can assume are shops and stores. Yes, that must be right. Buildings on the left which could also be stores but a village of this size will only have a few stores unless the rest are boutique stores, cafes perhaps, hair salons…yes I should imagine they are. What do you think?’
‘I agree,’ she says studying the same thing on her map, ‘there is a road circumventing that central location on the right side although it appears the road is narrower than the main road it runs from.’
‘Have you seen the road after the immediate heart of the village?’
‘No why? Oh. Oh I see.’
‘Indeed. Most interesting,’ he says.
‘Is that an S bend?’ She asks examining the curving road direction.
‘More than an S bend,’ he says, ‘from the village the road bears a tight left bend with a collection of buildings on the right. Then it veers into a tight bend on the right with another collection of buildings on the invert of the S on the left…then the road goes left again and in the invert we have yet another collection of structures before the road straightens out. Indeed,’ he says nodding eagerly, ‘yes indeed the town of Flitcombe is more than it appears to be.’
‘How so?’ Charlie asks glancing over at him.
‘We have a standard ubiquitous village but immediately after we have three distinct sectioned off areas each within the invert of the bend. If you were to walk in a straight line from the village you would cross through the middle of each. We need to know what each section holds…I can hazard a guess but…’
‘Industrial estates?’
‘One of them yes but given the closeness to Stenbury I am hazarding that the price of land to rent and develop in Flitcombe is far less than that of Stenbury. I would calculate therefore that one of those sections will be an industrial unit, one will be a modern business park and the other…well, it could be commercial, light industrial, manufacture or any such thing of a similar nature. Paula,’ he calls with a glance at the monitor and the live camera feeds shown, ‘we are nearing the area to be used for drone surveillance, ‘on the right there should be a gate or entry way leading into open land adjacent to a thicket or copse of trees.’ He stops talking and listens as she transmits the same on the radio before continuing.
‘To the immediate area and the immediacy of the confrontation awaiting,’ he says nodding to himself again, ‘and remembering we want to lure Mr Howie into Stenbury…I would place my pieces within this central meeting location with more held in reserve within and behind the buildings bordering the same. Would you agree?’
‘I would,’ she says in awe of his ability to take in such detail so quickly.
‘Yes,’ he says sighing deeply, ‘here will be the fight and the sacrifice,’ he taps the area of the central meeting point bordered by the building line, ‘but post battle we must ensure these three sections are cleared,’ he sweeps his fingers over the three defined places within the bends of the road, ‘and then Flitcomebe will be ours, or rather Mr Howie’s.’
‘Okay,’ she says staring at him with wide eyes.
‘But remember,’ he says finally glancing up at her, ‘the other player wants us to win here but if it spots an opportunity to take us it will do so. Mr Howie was right, he must show confidence to the point of the extreme but without complacency.’
‘We’re here,’ Roy calls out as the van bumps softly from the road onto a rough track following the Saxon into a field of scrub.
‘Confidence. That is the key,’ Reginald drifts off with eyes glazed as he plans, counter plans, thinks and counter thinks of the way ahead. The infection is still gullible to a degree. That is clear and that gullibility is a weakness in the armour to be used to their advantage.
Around him the vans come to a stop. Doors open. Light comes in. Voices talking and joking. Cigarettes being lit with the foul odour permeating his now personal area. His mind stays within the game thinking of the words spoken by Mr Howie. Lure them back here. Yes that can be done but the infection will only chase what it believes it can take. It must believe Mr Howie’s self-belief that he is undefeatable. The other player must see that Mr Howie will be his own undoing, that is the way. That is the key.
‘Reginald?’ The man himself at the back doors leaning in staring straight at him with a deep gnawing hunger evident in those dark eyes. Reginald looks up, locking eyes for a second that drags as he sees this man will do what it takes to win. ‘Where will they be?’ He asks with a tone indicating that Reginald will know the answer.
Reginald swallows feeling a strange pulse of energy in his gut, ‘the main road runs straight through the village. On the right is a central meeting area bordered by buildings.’
‘There? In that central bit?’
‘Yes,’ Reginald says with a firmness to his voice that surprises even himself, ‘there. They will be within the buildings and perhaps behind too depending on how many they can get into that open central area.’
‘Understood,’ Howie nods.
On his feet and Reginald crosses to the back door watching Howie move back towards the others setting the drone up,’ Mr Howie.’
‘What?’ Howie says turning back as Reginald clambers down and into the strong light of day and the wall of humidity.
‘You were right,’ Reginald says as the others all stop talking to listen, ‘what you said about confidence. You were right. You must show confidence.’
‘We will.’
‘No you don’t understand,’ Reginald says taking a step forward, ‘confidence is the key. I think perhaps you said it without realising the impact of your words but indeed I have thought it through and yes, confidence is the key. Confidence to the point of extreme. The other side must believe that you have absolute self-belief in your ability to win. You must not only act but project that confidence.’
Howie listens intently as Reginald stands straight and looks nervous but holds that eye contact which is something he doesn’t normally do.
‘You see, Mr Howie, after the village there is a series of bends in the road and within each invert of the bend is a defined area I would suggest is being used for business and industrial units…’
‘I don’t understand,’ Howie says shaking his head.
‘Which part?’
‘All of what you just said.’
‘Map. I will get the map, please stay here.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Charlie says jogging past and jumping easily into the back of the van. She comes out unfolding the map as she walks towards Howie.
‘See here,’ Reginald says pointing to the series of bends, ‘the invert is the inside of the bend, you see?’
‘Ah got it now.’
‘Within these sections are most likely industrial units. To walk a straight line from the village towards Stenbury will take you through these three sections which in turn means anyone on the road will not gain a clear view of ahead.’
‘Got it.’
‘Industrial units are good,’ Paula says walking closer to the map, ‘they’re full of things we can use.’
‘Yes,’ Reginald nods eagerly, ‘yes yes, this is what I meant. This ground may be ideal for the placing of battle.’
‘The placing of battle?’ Howie asks smiling gently as Reginald starts to withdraw into himself again. ‘No mate that’s brilliant. Spot on. Good work.’
‘But the confidence is the key,’ Reginald says again, ‘the other side is still naïve with a certain gullibility and that is a weakness you can use to your advantage. If you can bring the pieces from Stenbury back through these three sections you m
ay have a chance to reduce the numbers to an amount you can cope with. Do you see?’
‘I see,’ Howie says nodding.
‘But to do that, oh gosh…to do that Mr Howie you must show the infection you believe you can win by yourself…I mean with your few numbers…it must see you as strong so when you show the weakness of retreat it believes that weakness is real.’
‘Will do,’ Howie says simply.
The confidence wanes with the sudden realisation of everyone staring at him and into himself he withdraws. Taking the map from Charlie he offers apologies stammering and nervous before retreating back to the safety of his van and into the blessed relief of the shade.
What was that? He knows what it was. Reginald knows exactly what it was but to experience it first hand is still unsettling. The energy of Mr Howie that swept him up and along on a tide of false hope and confidence that they can win. Of course they cannot win. What was he thinking? What are any of them thinking? Oh dear. This isn’t good, not good at all. But still, now he perhaps understands why they follow this man and can see why Marcy follows him so closely.
Day Eighteen
Update No 5
I have stopped to record my observations although I do not wish to. I do not want to. I wish I could take away what I have seen and given the chance I would return to my sanctuary, close the gate and never again leave.
Following the route behind the soldiers, Jess and I happened first upon Hydehill and another scene of carnage. The centre of the battle was evident from the shell casings and with some greater understanding I scoured about and could determine where the lines of soldiers were formed across one junction and also facing the buildings on both sides.
My trepidation commenced in Hydehill. The sheer brutality of the slaughter. That every single infected was killed outright and left to rot. I hold no allegiance to the infected hosts but I could not view upon human forms so damaged and not be moved by it.
The most disturbing sight within Hydehill was a single body lying near to the smashed in entrance to Maplin electronic store. The body was an unrecognisable lump of meat. The head had been removed by their attack dogs that had then apparently feasted on the corpse. The legs were broken, the arms too. It was sickening, cruel and barbaric.