by Wood, J N
I stopped pacing and tried to calm myself down. ‘Okay. Fine. The names are on the iPad,’ I said, turning back to face him. ‘Surely we can search for them on that?’
‘I hope so.’
When the sheriff returned, carrying two chairs he’d picked up from the school, he delivered us the bad news.
‘It’s wiped every time I hand it over to the Canadians. I don’t even think it’s the same iPad I started with.’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ I said.
‘You can check it for the last few days. That’s when I last handed it over. Only had a few people enter the camp in that time though.’
A quick search on the iPad gave us nothing. Not for Beth, or Dale and Sophia.
‘Do you speak to the Canadians?’ I asked him. ‘Do you know what’s happening in the rest of the world?’
‘We exchange the odd word here and there. They don’t really tell me anything. I would always ask them something at the beginning, but I soon gave up when they wouldn’t answer my questions.’
Jack was looking anxious to get on with searching through the lists.
‘No idea at all then?’ I asked.
‘Oh there are rumours. The Russians, the Chinese, the rest of the world embroiled in a new Cold War. Who knows?’
‘Okay,’ I said flatly.
He placed the two plastic chairs in front of his desk, and pointed at the shelves. ‘From the beginning?’ he asked.
Jack slumped down onto one of them. ‘They set off from California ten days ago, so we don’t need to start at the very beginning.’
‘I think we probably should start at the beginning Jack. What about Sandra?’
Jack’s head rocked back and he let out a long sigh. ‘Yeah okay, we don’t know when they’ll have got here. Beginning please.’
‘Okay, this here is the very first one,’ he said, pointing to the left side of the top shelf of one of the bookcases. He then pulled out two pads, placing them in front of us. ‘Please put them back in the same order you found them.’ He walked over to the sofa and sat down. ‘Had over one hundred people working for me just a week ago.’
Jack looked to me and sighed again, shaking his head.
‘I thought the first few days were like hell on earth,’ the sheriff continued. ‘It only got worse though. Everyone in Blaine and Whatcom County got out of Dodge, escaped into Canada.’
Jack was trying to ignore the story, and concentrate on the list of names.
‘The Canadians soon stopped letting people across, put up a fence, on U.S. land as well. Then the wall started going up.’ He reached his hand down the side of the sofa, coming back out holding a bottle of something, probably whiskey. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. ‘More and more people started turning up, talking about the dead rising and eating people. It was the people that turned up with the horror stories that got all these defences built up around us. I didn’t believe a word they were saying. Fucking zombies. What a crock of shit eh?’ He looked to me, holding up the bottle, and gave it a little shake.
I waved my hand and shook my head. ‘No thanks.’
‘Hey Shouty, want a drink?’ the sheriff asked.
Jack kept his eyes on the list.
I answered for him, ‘No he’s fine thanks.’
‘Please yourself,’ he said, and swigged back another mouthful.
‘Did the virus not get into Canada?’ I asked.
The sheriff shrugged. ‘Must have done, but they had more time to isolate the sick, and to prepare, evacuate, just make sure everyone knew what to do.’
Jack was already a few pages into his pad.
The sheriff leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘For days on end, that room you slept in last night, and many others like it, were full of people, sometimes thousands at a time. I’ll tell you something, they didn’t eat as well as you did,’ he said, pointing at the empty metal wall next to me. ‘Been on my own, just me outside the fence for five, six, seven days now. Just waiting…just waiting.’ With a start, he opened his eyes, then twisted around and lifted his legs up onto the arm of the sofa. ‘Going to catch up on some sleep. Wake me up before you go go.’
Jack looked at me wearily.
‘Fan of Wham, Sheriff?’ I asked.
‘Never heard of them. Sleepy time now. Don’t mess up my system.’
I think the sheriff may have gone a bit stir crazy.
Shaking my head, I started searching down the page. ‘Beth is thirty one yeah?’ I asked.
Jack was drawing his finger down the page in front of him. ‘Yeah she is, and I’m sure Roy is actually called Royston, and their surname is Gayter.’
‘Royston?’ I laughed. ‘How old is he?’
‘I think they’re both thirty one, and both English as well, British.’
‘Thirty one? He must be the youngest Royston in the world.’
‘Yep, they’re from Norwich as well.’
‘What?’ I said, looking up from the list. ‘You never told me they were from there.’
Jack looked up and shrugged. ‘They’re Beth’s friends.’
‘I’m just surprised you never mentioned it. I’d have probably told you if Joanne became friends with someone from Middlesbrough, and that we lived near them on the other side of the world.’
‘Well, I’d have found that news completely irrelevant and boring. That’s why I didn’t tell you.’
No wonder there were so many pads on the shelves. The sheriff had double, and sometimes triple spaced the names on the list. He’d also only used one side of each page.
‘This is gonna take fucking ages,’ I said, leaning over to look at the pages in front of Jack. The names on his were also similarly spaced.
‘We’ll soon get through it,’ he said. ‘Just keep going.’
I was on the twentieth pad when my eyes fell on a Royston.
‘Jack, Jack, Jack, I’ve found a Royston and…’ I tracked across and saw the surname. ‘Yep, Gayter, thirty one, British, Caucasian. Looks like it could be him. Is he white?’
Jack stood up and took two quick steps to stand over me. ‘Yeah he is.’
There was no Sarah, but underneath was a Beth.
‘Where is it?’ Jack asked impatiently.
‘There’s a Beth underneath him,’ I said, quickly glancing at the rest of the information. ‘Oh…that’s weird.’
Jack leaned in. ‘What is? Where are the names?’
‘Look.' My finger rested on the page under Beth’s name.
It read, Beth Gayter. 31. British. Caucasian.
‘No sign of a Sarah Gayter,’ I said.
Jack leaned over the desk, his hands planted on either side of the pad. He stared at the page for a good twenty seconds.
‘What you thinking Jack? Can’t be them. Can it?’
Jack continued his silent stare.
‘Hello Jack, have you fallen asleep standing up?’
‘The ages are right,’ he slowly said. ‘There can’t be another Royston Gayter in the world. And it’s Beth, not Elizabeth, or Bethany, or whatever. Beth was christened Beth. It’s not short for anything.’ He brushed his fingers through his hair. ‘What the fuck? What does this mean?’
‘No idea?’ I replied.
Jack started to trace his hand over the page. ‘And definitely no Sarah?’
‘I’ve not seen a Sarah Gayter, no.’
Jack stood up straight and stared at the ceiling. He let out an exasperated groan, before saying, ‘Let’s carry on.’
‘Is that them or not?’ I asked. ‘It’d be a bit of a coincidence if not. Maybe the sheriff just wrote the name down wrong. He could have been drunk.’ I stood up and turned to the sleeping sheriff. ‘I’m gonna ask him.’
It took longer than expected, but I eventually managed to wake up the very disgruntled sheriff, and asked him if he remembered. He did not. He did tell us it was entirely possible he could have written the wrong information down.
So, with the sheriff already back in a deep slumber, we sat o
urselves back down at the desk, and carried on reading. We still had to look for Dale and Sophia’s names anyway.
Chapter 10: Maps
I had no idea how long we’d been there by the time we finished. The sheriff was still asleep. We hadn’t found any Dale and Sophia Walkers, a Beth Tillman, a Sarah Gayter, or any more people called Royston Gayter.
‘Okay,’ Jack said, putting the last pad back on the shelf. ‘If it is her, why did she put Gayter? And where is Sarah?’ And if it is Beth, how do I find her?’
‘Speak to the bosses. They probably keep a record of everyone that works for them.’
Hang on, forty odd thousand people. Bollocks.
‘Maybe,’ I added.
‘Fuck,’ Jack muttered.
‘Right, let’s wake him up again.’ I pointed to the unconscious McCallany on the sofa. ‘We get out of here, find out where we’ll be living for the foreseeable future, and then search the camp for Beth and her new husband.’
‘Fuck you Chris.’ Jack hesitated while walking over to the sofa. ‘What if she thought I’d died, and married Roy?’
I laughed. ‘Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. It’s been two weeks. Sheriff Hopper here will have been shitfaced and written it down wrong.’
I stood over the sleeping McCallany. ‘Wake up Sheriff, the…’ I looked to Jack. ‘What are those creatures called from Stranger Things?’
‘Demogorgons,’ Jack replied.
I prodded the sheriff on the shoulder. ‘Wake up. Eleven needs your help, the Demogorgons are chasing her.’
‘What the fuck you talking about?’ the sheriff said, his eyes still shut.
‘We’re finished,’ I replied. ‘Can we go into the camp please?’
‘Wait outside,’ he barked.
A few minutes later, Sheriff McCallany walked out of his container. He waved the iPad at us, saying, ‘Two birds with one stone.’
‘So Sheriff,’ I said, as we followed behind him.
‘Yes.’
‘This credit playing card money system thingy. How does it work?’
‘Just imagine this place is like a big cooperative. The cards don’t equate to anything really, not anything of value anyway. They just prove you’ve done something for the cooperative. And as long as you continue to do something to help your cooperative, you won’t be shown the door.’
‘Do people get thrown out?’ Jack asked. ‘How strict are you?’
‘I personally haven’t thrown anyone out. But some of the other bosses have. This place ain’t my Blaine anymore, it’s Refugee Camp 33.’
‘As in, there’s thirty two other camps?’ I asked.
‘I guess so.’
‘You don’t know for definite?’ Jack asked.
‘No’
‘Well, who gave Blaine its new name?’ I asked.
The sheriff spun around and walked backwards. He lifted the iPad up and flipped it over, showing us the underside of it. Ref. Camp 33 was written on a bit masking tape, stuck to the bottom.
I nodded. ‘Okay, so the iPad named it.’
Sheriff McCallany grinned back at me, and then spun around.
‘What if the number of a boss gets called and they get to go over to Canada?’ Jack asked.
‘Ain’t happened yet. But I’m sure someone will move up and take their place. They each have fifty or so people working directly under them. It’s not just one person taking care of four thousand people.’ He stopped when we were about ten feet from the fence, and turned to face us. ‘I said this to your friends earlier, and now I’m telling you. This ain’t America anymore. I’m the only thing that resembles the law around here, and there ain’t no fucking way I’m gonna try and control that lot in there. Keep your heads down, and stay away from people that look like they might want to hurt you. That might be hard to do in such a small space, with forty thousand people crammed in, but it’s the only way you’ll survive.’
I forced a smile. ‘You’re really painting a pretty picture of Refugee Camp 33 Sheriff. Thanks very much.’
He returned my smile. ‘Well you’ve been warned. Come on then, welcome to Thunderdome.’
Jack and I exchanged amused glances.
While the sheriff was unlocking a gate in the chain link fence, a short and stocky woman started to walk in our direction.
She waited until she was a couple of feet away before speaking. ‘Hey Sheriff. These the last two?’
‘Yep, the last two, for now. I’ll leave them in your capable hands. I’m going to speak to our Canadian friends.’ He turned to us. ‘Gents, this is Tina Turner.’
The woman gave the sheriff a sardonic smile. ‘Thank you Sheriff, always a pleasure.’
The sheriff closed the gate behind us and locked it. ‘Good luck fellas, see you around.’
Jack and I said our goodbyes as he stumbled past the woman, who looked nothing like Tina Turner, and crossed the empty road behind her.
‘My name is Naomi,’ she said. ‘As you may have noticed, the sheriff is an asshole. Probably got a bit of PTSD. If he just left that office of his more often, it would do him the world of good. Drinking two bottles of whiskey a day doesn’t help.’
Jack and I just smiled and politely nodded.
Slightly unhinged maybe, but I wouldn’t say an arsehole.
Jack pointed at me and said, ‘Chris,’ before telling her his name.
‘Follow me,’ Naomi said. ‘I’ll take you to see Tim’s guys, so you can find out where you’re staying.’
We followed her down an empty road. The inner fence looked like it ran all the way along this straight road, at least as far as I could see. The map the sheriff had shown us had the fence running all the way down H Street to the water. So I guessed this was H Street. It was still deathly quiet. Apart from the odd person stood along the fence, staring at the buildings and spaces beyond, there was no sign of all these people.
‘Hey Naomi,’ I called out.
She stopped and spun around to face me. ‘Keep the volume down guys. We can talk normally, at this kind of level, but no shouting, not anywhere in the camp.’
‘Does it make that much difference?’ I asked. ‘The dead are at the outer fence.’
‘Why find out?’ She had a stern look on her face. ‘There are thousands upon thousands of people in here. If we all just thought fuck it and starting shouting and hollering, I think it would make a difference. But why find out?’
‘Very true,’ I said, raising my hands. ‘Sorry.’
She swiftly spun around and starting walking again. ‘What were you going to ask me Chris?’
‘I was going to ask you where everyone is. The part of Blaine that had been sectioned off for the camp didn’t look that big on the map.’
She pointed to a road coming up on our right. ‘Look down there in a few seconds.’
I looked down the road as we continued by it, still walking along H Street. About one hundred feet up the road, it turned from a normal, if empty looking street, into a bustling and chaotic looking market street. The front gardens of people’s homes on both sides were now filled with stalls and tents, and the space in between, formally the roadway, was filled with masses of people. The most remarkable thing was the people were going about their business in almost silence. There was just the slightest murmur of conversations going on, like a swarm of bees quietly buzzing in excitement.
‘Come on guys,’ Naomi said. ‘You’ll see the same again on the next street, and the street after that, and the street after that.’
‘Fucking hell,’ Jack whispered. ‘People, lots of fucking people.’
We picked up our pace and followed her. She was right. The next street was the same, as was the one after. We turned right onto that street, and headed towards the mass of people.
‘Keep close to me. Try not to get lost,’ Naomi warned, just before she slipped effortlessly into the crowd.
Just a couple of seconds later, I was also in amongst them. For a split second I thought I wouldn’t be able to get in, th
ey would all turn on me and start taking bites out of my flesh, and clawing at my face with their bony, dying fingers. But they just parted, or changed direction to walk around me. Some glanced at my face, or the baseball bat in my hand, but most didn’t pay me any attention at all. Beards seemed to be very fashionable at the moment, making me think they didn’t have any hot water.
I realised I’d been holding my breath, and had to fight to force some air into my lungs.
I turned my head to check on Jack behind me. ‘Alright?’ I mouthed.
He must have been thinking something similar to me. He gave me a very brisk nod. His mouth was tightly closed and his eyes were trying to look everywhere, almost bulging out of his face.
Up ahead, Naomi took a left turn and walked between two canvas covered tents. One looked like it was selling clothes, second hand by the look and smell of them. The other had tables displaying pillows and blankets. A large man was leaning over one of the tables. He was holding three or four leather belts in his hand, reaching out towards a woman. She looked like the vendor, her arms were crossed and she was slowly shaking her head.
Everyone smelt of body odour, some much more than others. I was pretty sure I also smelt terrible.
Deodorant must be hard to come by around here. I bet the tent selling that must be making a killing.
‘Repent, you must repent,’ a woman was repeating, much louder than everybody surrounding her. I found her in the crowd, and our eyes met almost immediately. ‘Only Jesus can save you now,’ she called out to me. Everyone in the vicinity of the woman spun around to face her. Some told her to be quiet, others shushed her. ‘You are all fighting the hand of God,’ she cried.
I slipped between the two stalls, and tried to catch up with Jack and Naomi.
Naomi had stopped in front of a building. ‘This is the Senior Centre, where Tim and his team organise where everyone sleeps. Just go on through that door,’ she said, gesturing behind her. ‘I’ll see you around, okay?’
‘Okay, thanks Naomi,’ I said.
Jack was staring at something behind him, only just stopping himself before he walked into Naomi.
‘Shit, sorry,’ Jack said. ‘It’s not been that long since almost everyone died. Why am I freaking out?’