UK Dark Trilogy

by Harris, Chris

  We all agreed that if anyone developed any symptoms after leaving, they would be isolated as soon as possible and delivered back to the compound. They would have to sit in the back of the empty trailer during the drive to lessen the risk of infecting others.

  Paul and the two soldiers confirmed that they would be staying on to guard the compound and help look after the sick, to the best of their abilities.

  Although it was left unsaid, we were only too aware that part of this would involve burying the dead.

  Harry and Chris were coming with us. Although our knowledge about how to survive in the wild had improved considerably since Chris had begun his training sessions, we knew his expertise would vastly improve our chances.

  We were still just “townies” after all. Harry would be assuming responsibility for “security matters”.

  A few families were now faced with an agonising choice. If one or more of their family members was sick, should they all stay?

  Or should one person remain behind to help care for them while the others left for the relative safety of an unknown destination? In the end, if the sick person was an adult, as heart-breaking as it might be, their families reluctantly agreed to leave without them. If, however, the sick person was a child, then one of their adults was chosen to remain. There had been many tough decisions to make since the event, but no parent was prepared to leave their sick child alone.

  Somewhat understandably therefore, amidst the frenetic preparations for departure, emotions were running high.

  While I was helping to secure the supplies and equipment on the car and the trailer, Paul came over to me.

  “I’ve just been talking to Hereford. They’ve got an outbreak there as well. They don’t know if it came from the rats or the new arrivals, but the first people to come down with it were the ones from the convoy.

  This is bad. They’re on total lockdown now. No one gets to go in or out, basically.”

  I stared at him in dismay. “The good news,” he continued, “is they’ve got enough masks and special suits for most of the people above and below ground. They’re working on a system of diagnosis and separation for everyone. Hopefully that’ll limit the spread.

  The bad news is, we really are on our own now; we can’t expect any help from the base for the foreseeable future.”

  “Oh, well,” I shrugged, “so we’ll be pretty much back to where we were before you showed up and saved us all eh?”

  Detecting my sarcasm, he smiled and just said, “Fair point.”

  Before long we were ready to leave. We knew we couldn’t put it off any longer.

  The people who were staying waved and smiled, their faces wet with tears. They knew they had a dreadful ordeal ahead of them and that they would probably have to watch their friends and family members die. Those who were departing, walking beside the heavily laden Land Rover as it crawled along, and waving frantically back, must all have been wondering if they would ever return.

  And if they did come back, would there be anyone left to welcome them?

  Worst of all were the reactions of the smallest children. Larry, Jerry and Fiona’s five-year-old, had to be dragged out of his mother’s arms and although he finally submitted to holding Becky’s hand as she tried to comfort him, he sobbed uncontrollably, straining to look back over his shoulder all the way down the road until the houses were out of sight. Mercifully, his brother Jack was too young to understand what was happening, and was enjoying being carried on Kim’s hip as she walked beside Harry.

  The dogs ran back and forth barking excitedly, full of joy at the prospect of being allowed to run free again, having been restricted for so long by the stray dogs and the rat epidemic.

  We were all in agreement on the route and, as the roads were familiar to us all, we didn’t need our maps to guide us there.

  Weighed down by the heavy loads on our backs, twenty five of us: seventeen adults and eight children left our homes behind and walked with heavy hearts into an uncertain future.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  We made good time and once I’d estimated that we were less than an hour away from our destination, we halted for a rest.

  The adults gratefully lowered their rucksacks to the ground and stretched their aching shoulders and muscles. We were all far fitter than we’d been before the event, but some of us, particularly Pete and Mary, who rarely left the road and were also getting on in years, were visibly flagging.

  The dogs happily threw themselves down and fell asleep, as if sitting around was a waste of their time and the only way to deal with the boredom was to nap.

  While Chris deftly lit a fire and heated up a few kettles of water, the rest of us watched as the kids, who ten minutes previously had been complaining loudly of feeling tired, launched themselves into a game of tig.

  In no time at all we all had a brew in our hands and were munching gratefully on the snacks that were being handed round.

  The children only agreed to sit by the fire once the chocolate bars were brought out as an inducement. Chocolate was a rare treat. As we removed our masks to eat and drink, we all tried to keep our distance from each other.

  At Harry’s request, I took out the map so that he could study our destination again.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll head off on my own for a bit and approach the wood from the other direction. Just to be on the safe side.”

  No one could argue with his logic.

  He finished his tea and carried out a quick communications check to make sure his radio was working, so that we could stay in touch. He then pulled a smaller day sack out of his over-packed Bergen, and putting it on, asked me to stash his Bergen somewhere on the trailer.

  Finally, he grabbed his weapon and prepared to leave.

  After walking just five paces down the road, to everyone’s bemusement, he made a sudden U-turn and walked decisively up to Kim, who was staring at him in astonishment. Before she could speak, he’d removed his mask and hers, grabbed her, and to everyone’s delight and her great embarrassment, kissed her passionately.

  Releasing her after several seconds, he turned to us, and with a cheeky grin on his face, walked away again saying, “Keep an eye on her, please; she means a lot to me.”

  Chuckling at Kim’s confusion, as she tried not to smile, and tidied herself up, we prepared for the final leg of the journey.

  The place looked exactly as I remembered, as we made our way down a narrow country lane about forty minutes later.

  A metal farm gate led into a field, which sloped gently up to the woods. Even with its heavy load, I figured the Land Rover should have no problem negotiating the gradient.

  Looking at the gate, I realised that it was locked with a heavy-duty chain and padlock.

  “Pete, tell me you brought some bolt cutters with us?”

  “Tom!” he said, his eyebrows raised in mock outrage, “What do you take me for? Back left corner of the trailer; it should be just under the bag of tarpaulins.”

  I grinned as Bob, who was standing by the trailer, quickly retrieved them and walked to the gate.

  “May I?” he asked.

  “Of course, pal. That’s if your injuries will let you,” I replied, with a straight face.

  Bob was an excellent storyteller and a natural entertainer. Although he’d made a full recovery, after being shot during a savage attack by an unfriendly gang on one of our scavenging trips, he was always more than happy to show his scars to a willing listener. His favourite story was how he, and he alone, had saved the community one day, and that only somebody as heroic and immune to pain as he was, could possibly have stood up to the ensuing surgery that was needed to save his life, without any anaesthetic.

  The story seemed to change and become more dramatic (and to us, more amusing) with every telling.

  Our version of his story, which we delighted in relaying to whoever had been listening to him, included a detailed account of how he had shouted and sworn at everyone, while being rolled unceremonious
ly home in a wheelbarrow and that, in Jerry’s opinion, the layers of fat on him had saved him from more serious injury. By this time, Bob would be looking decidedly hangdog and the person listening to the story would be in fits of laughter…

  The bolt cutters sliced easily through the chain.

  Looking up at the woods perched on top of the small rise, I thought about Harry’s caution in wanting to approach from a different direction.

  I signalled to Pete, who was taking a turn at driving, to turn off the engine.

  I addressed everyone, “What shall we do? I know there’s probably no one around but should we reconnoitre it first?”

  It didn’t take long to agree that the best course of action would be to check it out first.

  Six of us (three men and three women) shrugged off our rucksacks and after a quick weapons check, set off up the slope to the woods, holding our weapons across our chests with the muzzles facing downwards, as we’d been trained to do.

  I studied the thicker vegetation that naturally grew around the edge of a wood, where there was always more sunlight. Everything looked normal.

  I sniffed. A faint but familiar smell came through my mask.

  Wood smoke!

  Just as I was about to mention it to the others, a voice called out from the thick bushes facing us.

  “Stop right there! Don’t move! We have eight guns pointing at you.”

  The training we’d all received from Captain Berry kicked in, and as one, we brought our weapons to our shoulders and lowered our profile by dropping to one knee, searching for the threat through the sights of our rifles.

  “We’re friendly! Do not fire on us!” I yelled, trying to remain calm. “We mean you no harm, we’re just escaping with our families from the Black Death.” We were in a very exposed position and if they opened fire we’d be in serious trouble.

  The unknown and unseen man responded.

  “The Black Death! Do you think I’m stupid? Now, lower your weapons, lay them on the ground and back away from them, or we’ll open fire.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” I responded immediately, my heart beating fast. We’d been told never to lower our weapons; by doing so, it put you at an immediate disadvantage. If you’re following their instructions, you’re in their power. As soon as you lower your weapon, they’ve won.

  During training Paul had talked us through situations like this. If they were going to open fire, then invariably they would have done so by now, without warning. Although it might not seem that way now, the fact that we hadn’t complied and lowered our weapons, meant that we'd taken the advantage.

  The saying “the silence was deafening” seemed very apt at that moment.

  The disembodied voice came back with, I felt, a hint of desperation in it. “Do it now! Or else!”

  Suddenly, there was a second voice. “I say old chap. Sorry to interrupt you, but unless I’m very much mistaken, there’s only one of you, and my gun which, incidentally, is aimed right at your head at the moment, is a lot bigger than that pop gun you’re carrying. Now, please be so kind as to place your gun on the ground and step into the open.”

  At the sound of the familiar voice, relief rushed through my whole body. I could feel the others beginning to relax alongside me.

  A few muttered curses and rustling of bushes followed and then Harry’s voice could be heard again through the undergrowth.

  “It’s OK, everyone, he’s disarmed.”

  We maintained our positions, crouching on one knee with weapons raised, as the bushes swayed and a terrified looking man pushed his way through them.

  His arms were raised above his head and Harry was standing directly behind him, his weapon pointed at his back. He had the man’s shotgun slung over his shoulder.

  “Please!” he gasped, his face pale and sweaty, “just take whatever you want, but don’t hurt my …” He stopped, realising he had said too much.

  We had momentarily relaxed, but the realisation that there were others out there made us all raise our weapons again.

  He dropped to his knees.

  “Please don’t shoot, I beg you. It’s only my family back there. My wife and two children.”

  The poor man was absolutely petrified.

  Given how we looked, it was understandable. Most of us were wearing the military-issued clothing we’d been given over the past months, and were kitted out in tactical vests stuffed with extra magazines for the vicious looking assault rifles we carried. And of course, all our faces were completely covered with either gas masks or disposable paper ones.

  All in all, we must have looked very intimidating.

  Harry shouted at him, undeterred by his demeanour.

  “Where are they? Do they have any weapons?”

  Given our past experiences, we couldn’t afford to take anything at face value.

  You had to assume that everything and everyone was a threat until proved otherwise.

  The man pointed weakly back at the woods.

  “They’re hiding. They know only to come out when I call them and tell them it’s safe again.”

  I spoke up. Trying to keep my tone calm and neutral to defuse the tense situation.

  “Look, mate. If you’re genuine, then trust me, you have absolutely nothing to fear from us. But our families are down there.”

  I nodded down the hill towards the Land Rover and trailer.

  “I need to make sure it’s safe for them above all else. Please can you get your family to show themselves.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked, warily.

  “You don’t,” I said, with a shrug. “But what other choice do you have?”

  I watched him struggle to make sense of the situation, but he was too overwrought to see anything but the danger he thought he was in.

  “No way,” he said stubbornly, “just take what you want and leave. You’ll never find them, and I’ll die before I tell you where they are.”

  The man was doing what any of us would do. He was protecting his family at all costs.

  You had to admire him; he was terrified and he had seven guns pointing at him but he was still trying to keep his family safe.

  I had an idea.

  “Look pal, I don’t know how else to convince you that we’re genuine and we’re not a threat to you, but have you looked at who’s pointing a gun at your back?”

  With a confused and distrustful look on his face, still with his hands held high above his head, he twisted on his knees and risked a look at Harry, who was still standing behind him. Harry lifted his gas mask from his face and grinned at him before replacing it.

  The shock of recognition on his face was comical.

  “What the …” He stammered and stuttered some more, as his mouth tried to catch up with his racing brain.

  Harry slung his weapon over his shoulder and stepped forward, holding his hand out. The man fell back for a moment in confusion, then shook hands.

  Still shaking hands, because the man seemed incapable of letting go, Harry helped him up.

  “Sir, I assure you our intentions are peaceful. And we can do a lot to help you. Now, if we can just get your family from their hiding place, we can all have a mug of tea and get to know each other. I’m sure you have some interesting stories to tell.”

  The shock of recognising a member of the royal family, combined with Harry’s calm manner and soothing words, seemed to have completely disarmed the man.

  “Are we saved? Is it all over?” he stammered.

  Harry shook his head, “No, unfortunately it’s not over, sir, and as for being saved, as I think I mentioned before, we’re looking for shelter in your wood to escape the plague that’s sweeping through our community. It’s why we’re wearing the masks. So, I suppose you’ll be offering us sanctuary. But your family must be beside themselves with worry. Shall we go and get them?”

  Still too shocked to say anything, the man nodded, and led us into the woods.

  We followed him, stayin
g in a tactical formation with our weapons ready. He seemed genuine enough, but we couldn’t take the chance of it being a trap.

  He still appeared too stunned to take it all in. He kept looking at all of us, particularly Harry of course, as we followed him between the trees. At last we entered a clearing which, by my estimation, must have been close to the centre of the woods, and he came to a halt next to a pile of dead leaves.

  He pointed at the leaves.

  “I built a bolt hole; there’s a trapdoor under the leaves.”

  “Do you need a hand?” I asked.

  He nodded and I stepped forward.

  “Toni,” he called out, “it’s OK, I’m opening the hatch now. There are some people with me but there’s no need to be scared.”

  There was a muffled but nervous sounding reply from the forest floor.

  The hatch wasn’t heavy. Sweeping the leaves aside, I grabbed one side of it as the man grabbed the other and we lifted it up and clear of the hole underneath.

  Three faces, blinking from the sudden increase in light, looked up at us. He wasn’t lying; the hidey-hole contained a woman and two children.

  The woman quickly passed the children up to her husband and after giving them both a quick hug, he reached down and helped his wife up and out of the hole.

  The four of them stood there, staring at us.

  I broke the ice.

  “Hi, I’m Tom, and these are my friends,” I said, indicating the others by my side. “I’m sorry if we gave you a scare but we didn’t know anyone was in these woods.”

  It occurred to me that the rest of our group were still waiting for us and had no idea what was happening. They’d only witnessed our previous exchange from a distance and then the last they’d seen was us trooping off into the woods.