The missions to secure the weapon locations were mainly successful. Large quantities of weapons had been recovered and although a few places were found to be empty, with signs of forced entry, the majority were still secure.
The “gun culture” had never been prevalent in British society, so we assumed that most people had concentrated primarily on food rather than worrying about weapons.
Few people would have known where to find firearms and even fewer would have known how to use them. It was easy to see how so many people could have fallen prey to gangs like Gumin’s.
As the convoys spread out across the country, they kept us informed of the survivors they found. The people they encountered were given the following options:
They could remain where they were, sign up to the recovery plan and wait to be contacted again once the plan could be coordinated on a national level.
They could head directly to the base in Herefordshire, and depending on the skills they had, they could begin to contribute to the plan there.
If they were likely to pass by us on the way to the base, they were given our location and asked to wait for a “lift” on the next convoy. If this was the case, we were informed of the size of their group and given an approximate arrival date, so that we could prepare for them.
A few of the groups we were notified about never arrived, and some reported attacks from other communities or roving gangs. For the ones who hadn’t arrived, we could only assume the worst.
If we were given enough information to pinpoint the locations of a gang or a hostile community, Paul Berry would set out with some heavily armed men on a “search and destroy” mission. In some cases, after some careful handling, amicable relations were established after all, and the targets would willingly sign up to the plan. Other groups had clearly been attacked too many times and lost too many people. They were no longer prepared to trust anyone and adopted a “shoot first, ask questions later” policy. Sadly, this left the mission commander with no room for negotiation and he would have to use whatever force was necessary to eliminate them.
CHAPTER SIX
Although much of our time was now taken up with helping the survivors that approached us, we still had a community to run, and as a matter of pride we were keen to continue scavenging, hunting and growing our own food rather than just relying on the stores we had.
We began to sow and tend to the areas that we had already prepared, and worked hard to clear more ground. More areas were being cultivated, because we were planning to create an extensive area of polytunnels to enable us to grow food all year round.
The chickens and rabbits were proving very successful. Butch had lived up to his name and had already sired his first litter. We planned to let the population grow a little before using them for food but as we all knew it was likely to explode shortly, we were looking forward to the prospect of rabbit stew on the menu.
McQueen the rooster was enjoying himself to such an extent we’d had to expand the chicken run with a separate nursery area to accommodate the new arrivals.
The farmer at the base was providing us with a wealth of information and advice on how we could make the best use of what we had available. The radio calls to the base sometimes sounded like episodes of Farmer’s Question Time.
Chris Garland was running continuous Forest Skills courses and educating us all in bushcraft, survival and foraging skills. He taught us that nature surrounds us with all sorts of things that can be put to good use, or be a valuable source of nutrition. In fact, his lessons were proving so popular that Pete was obliged to make up a waiting list so that everyone would have an opportunity to learn.
As Chris explained, you never stopped learning, because each new season yielded new treasures, many of them edible, and useful additions to our food stocks.
We continued with the foraging missions, although the radius of these was expanding continually as we systematically stripped out anything we could use from houses, offices, shops and warehouses.
These missions also functioned as security patrols, and enabled us to keep in touch with the few groups that had decided to remain and help with the recovery plan by becoming as self-sufficient as possible. They in turn, would then be in a position to offer help to anyone who approached them.
We set up a rudimentary trading scheme with these groups, exchanging surplus goods or passing on requests or messages from other groups living beyond the range of their territory. We also delivered seeds and medical supplies from the government stores.
If they were participating in the plan, then the government was determined to offer what assistance it could, however small that might be, as a sign that they were receiving their support. The trades were rarely to our advantage, but we knew that we were setting an important precedent.
We also offered a meal and a drink to any passing foraging patrol from other communities we knew. And if it was getting too late for them to return, we also gave them a bed for the night.
The other groups began to reciprocate, and this helped to strengthen the bonds between us.
As we’d hoped, tracking down the distant smoke trails seen from the church tower, had brought to light a few new groups and we’d succeeded in making contact. Most decided to head for Herefordshire but a few still opted to remain.
The government policy change that had resulted from the women’s abduction made sense to us all. We agreed that it had been the right thing to do.
The plan had been for most people to leave the base and begin working mainly on agricultural projects. As the population increased, so did the need for additional space. No one new was being allowed access to the base facilities. They would be told about it, but as all they required was shelter and food, these could be provided above ground. Therefore, there was really no need for them to enter the base.
Occasionally an exception might be made for someone with a specific skill, or for a medical emergency, for which the base hospital might be required.
In the future, as the number of its occupants dwindled, the plan was for the base to become an administration hub. Possibly, I was told, it might be “mothballed” altogether at some point, as by then it would probably just be a waste of valuable resources.
As the weeks wore on, a new problem presented itself, which threatened to seriously undermine everything we’d achieved.
From the outset, we’d been careful to burn the bodies of our enemies, mindful that from a “public health” perspective, this was the best way of disposing of them. We’d also adopted this policy with any bodies we found in the locality. But now that the snow had gone and we were venturing further out, we discovered that the bodies of thousands of people lay rotting where they had died. Horrified, we set about the grisly business of trying to dispose of them.
But the sheer volume of bodies made this task impossible, and as the temperatures rose higher, we quickly began to realise that our efforts weren’t making the slightest dent in the number that were still decomposing in the sun.
The receding floodwaters, which had affected the entire country, had other unexpected and terrible results.
The River Rea, a small river that flows through Birmingham, had been transformed into a raging torrent by the meltwater and heavy rain, before subsiding and becoming a gentle stream again.
But as a result, the bodies of hundreds of men, women and children lay discarded like litter along its length, either trapped by obstacles in the flowing water, or thrown up on to the banks on either side. They must have been washed into the river by the floods. The River Rea is just a short tributary of the River Tame, and only fifteen miles long. I could only imagine what all the other river banks in the country looked like.
Like everyone else, I found it impossible to look down on such an apocalyptic scene for more than a few seconds. Yet I knew with sickening certainty that the image of it would stay with me forever.
The sun shone down without pity, the increasing warmth accelerating the rate of decay. Some of the bod
ies were in a more advanced state of decomposition than others, suggesting that they had met their deaths before the freeze had begun. Clouds of flies swarmed over and around the bodies and carrion birds pecked and pulled mercilessly at the rotting flesh. Every time a patrol passed one of these scenes, played out along the river, they brought back reports of the worsening stench and the growing number of rats and dogs that could be seen feeding on the pitiful remains.
Before long the sweet, cloying smell of death and decay was making its way as far as our community. Depending on the wind direction, it varied from being faintly unpleasant to stomach churning.
Either way, we had no choice but to endure it and hope that time would bring it to a natural conclusion.
Understandably, the reek from the bodies had a terrible effect on morale. Moods darkened and tempers became frayed, as the miasma of evil settled over the whole community.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dogs, up until now, had not been much of a problem, but now we began to see them more frequently.
Out of all of us, the few dogs we kept as pets on the road, including my two, had adapted best to life after the event. They’d readily accepted the increasing size of their “packs” as neighbours moved in with each other, presumably because this meant more fuss and attention. When the fences had first come down between the properties, there had been a few minor tiffs between them, while the hierarchy in the four-legged community was established, but that soon settled down.
Most dogs gradually assumed the role of family protector, as if they were aware that everyone had a part to play in the community. When not begging for food in the kitchen area, they could constantly be found mooching around the compound and sometimes further afield, seemingly on the lookout for intruders.
Their barking often gave us advanced warning of visitors before we were even aware of their presence.
As soon as one of our dogs began to bark everyone would be on the alert, in case someone hostile was approaching. For that reason alone, not once had anyone moaned about the food they ate. They played an important part in keeping us all safe.
If anything, there had been a notable absence of other dogs since the event, and we presumed that most had left the city with their owners or, if abandoned, had followed the mass exodus of people fleeing the city in search of food and safety. It was also entirely possible that as the food situation worsened and starvation took hold, dogs might have been on the menu.
But now packs of dogs were often seen roaming the neighbourhood. Although they didn’t appear to be dangerous, they’d shaken off any last vestiges of domesticity and shied away from human contact.
There was rarely any conflict between the different packs but this, we soon realised, was a result of full bellies. There was no reason to fight over food when there were ample corpses lying around. Once we’d realised this, we began to view them rather differently.
We didn’t want our own domesticated dogs mixing with these packs, as we weren’t at all sure how they’d fare with their feral counterparts, so we were careful not to let them escape. Following the event, and in the absence of cars that might endanger them, they’d been able to come and go as they pleased. Now, to their obvious disgust, they found themselves being kept on leads, or only being given their freedom in areas we knew they couldn’t escape from. The fact that this enforced incarceration was for their own good was lost on them, and there was much howling and whining in protest.
The first sign of trouble came soon enough. A scavenging patrol reported being silently followed by a large pack of dogs.
They hadn’t felt threatened by them exactly, but the experience had been strange enough for them to report it. Before long, we realised that the rotting remains were rapidly being reduced to piles of bones.
Now that food was becoming scarce for them, were they sizing us up as an alternative?
The next few days brought more worrying reports. The dogs were becoming less timid now and were coming closer to the patrols, only retreating when scared off by a shout or a thrown object.
People were beginning to feel uneasy, as the dogs never moved far, just out of throwing range, and their eyes were constantly on them.
Another ominous development in the short history of our little community. Then one day, matters finally came to a head.
I was lost in my thoughts on guard duty, when I realised that my dog, who had been keeping me company, was making a low growling noise in his throat.
Gradually, the growling intensified and turned into frantic barking, at which point the other dogs in the community began to join in. Seconds later, twenty or so dogs trotted into view. They were thin, in poor condition and completely silent.
With a look of quiet intent on their faces, they began to make their way warily towards the barrier. I shouted, grabbed a stone and threw it in their general direction, fully expecting them to scatter and run. The stone rebounded off the road, inches from the pack leader but instead of running they stopped, looked back at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine, and then continued to creep closer, becoming bolder with every step.
By this time the noise from our own dogs was deafening, and people were running out of the houses to see what was happening.
“Grab her!” shouted someone, and I turned hurriedly to look. Jessie, a Border Collie, who had been adopted after being abandoned by a departing family, was making her way towards me.
Deftly avoiding outstretched arms and barking furiously, with hackles raised, she streaked past me and flung herself at the barrier. Before any of us could reach her, she’d climbed nimbly up and over the wall of tonne sacks before crawling through the gap beneath the gates.
We watched in horror as the approaching pack noted her arrival and began baring their teeth and snarling. Undaunted, Jessie stood before them, barking and snapping, warning them furiously to stay away in a desperate attempt to protect us, and oblivious to the danger she was in.
The growing crowd behind me watched in suspense as the drama unfolded and then I realised with a jolt that the snarling pack were beginning to surround the collie, closing in on her. Without thinking, I raised my weapon, sighted it carefully on the most aggressive looking dog, and pulled the trigger.
In hindsight, it would have been better to use an unsilenced weapon, as the noise would have acted as a deterrent to the other dogs. Instead, my gun emitted a few low cracks and the pack leader was knocked over. It yelped in pain, thrashed its legs for a few seconds, and lay still.
I’d killed the first dog instinctively, but aiming my weapon a second time, as the other dogs began to run around in confusion, was somehow much harder than it had been when human beings were attacking us. Those people had chosen to try to kill us and therefore it was easier to justify your own response. Using guns to hunt animals to put food on the table was also completely different.
Shooting a dog that had once been someone’s pet was much harder. But Jessie was out there risking her life for us, so I pushed any sentimental feelings aside.
As the others raised their weapons, Jessie, as if sensing that her work was done, managed to break through and get back to us.
The remaining dogs gave chase, but she was too quick for them. She squeezed under the gate and scrambled up and over the tonne sack wall several metres ahead of her pursuers.
When I’d killed the first dog, I’d expected them to scatter and run but I was shocked to find that they only renewed their assault, crawling under the gate, and scrabbling furiously to get over the inner wall. We were a threat to them and their intent was clear; they wanted to tear us apart. And they’d acquired a taste for human flesh.
Before we had time to react, a huge German Shepherd flung itself up and over the barrier and went for a soldier’s throat. Knocking him backwards, it sank its teeth into the arm he’d instinctively raised to defend himself. Unable to fire directly at it, in case they hit the screaming soldier, everyone close by began frantically clubbing the dog with their weapons. This only s
eemed to enrage the dog, and it tightened its grip. Amidst the chaos, I realised that more dogs were still trying to climb the wall.
Harry’s shouted command of “Fire!” snapped us all out of it and we began shooting at the seething mass of barking, snapping and snarling animals. One minute and a few magazine changes later, they were all lying dead or mortally wounded, whining and yelping as their life blood drained away.
Chris Garland stood over the German Shepherd with his knife in his hands, blood dripping from the end of the blade. He’d had to resort to stabbing the dog repeatedly to get it to release its hold on the soldier.
Apart from the groans from the bitten man, the rest of us stood around in silence, shocked at the events of the past few minutes.
I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and remarked, “Well that escalated quickly!”
The soldier was quickly taken off to have his arm looked at by Jerry. Despite our fears, it didn’t look too bad, because his thick jacket had served as some protection, but he still had some nasty puncture wounds which would need to be cleaned to stop them becoming infected.
All work ground to a halt while we gathered together to discuss what had happened.
A few people expressed fears that we were going to be besieged by packs of killer dogs, but eventually we all agreed that yes, for the immediate future, the dogs were likely to be a problem and therefore we would need to be very careful. As a sensible precaution, we would adopt the strategy of “safety in numbers”.
But hopefully, the crisis would pass once the food supply from the dead was exhausted, and the packs dispersed in search of easier pickings. We also hoped that their numbers would begin to drop as hunger set in and natural selection asserted itself, with the stronger dogs weeding out the weaker ones to ensure that they had enough to eat.
UK Dark Trilogy Page 37