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Post by garethn on Oct 12, 2018 8:16:51 GMT -6
Chapter 5 - Collection
I was up before dawn the next morning, fumbling around to find my clothes in the dark then stumbling downstairs to the kitchen which was lit by a single candle. Mike and Jimbo were already at the table.
Alice was busy at the stove and mugs of her infamous tea were quickly passed around. “Ma’am,” Jimbo commented when he tasted it, “you know how to make a proper brew.”
He was rewarded with one of her rare smiles.
Bowls of porridge quickly followed. I sat down and started to eat mechanically - it was too early for me!
Susan appeared, wearing one of my old jumpers over a pair of pyjamas, and pointed out some small boxes that I hadn’t noticed, piled on one of the kitchen worktops. “Laura and I were chatting last night,” she told us. “If you find anything, you might be able to use those boxes to persuade other people to stay out of your way… I think she called them MREs.”
“Meals Ready to Eat,” Mike told her, “Good idea.” He started loading them into our rucksacks which were leaning against a wall, ready for the off.
She came and sat next to me and curled up on the seat, obviously chilly, so I put my arm round her as I finished my porridge. She snuggled against me.”
“OK, ready to leave in five!” Mike instructed us as he left the room.
“Go back to bed,” I told Susan when I’d finished my porridge and was slurping the last of my tea.
“I’m up now, I might as well get moving,” she said with a yawn and a stretch. “Now go and brush your teeth and make yourself beautiful. You don’t want to keep Mike waiting!” I hurried to do as I was told.
Two minutes later, I was ready. I grabbed my pack and rifle and headed for the door. The kiss I was given as I went out attracted some good-natured teasing. I jumped on the bike that someone had helpfully put just by the back door and we were ready for the off.
There was just the faintest smudge of dawn over the eastern hills as we rolled down the lane past the farms and we were steering mostly from memory, particularly under the trees.
“Laura! Three incoming on bikes,” Mike called as we approached the bridge. I looked around but could not see any sign of the guards - I knew they had been digging trenches yesterday afternoon.
“Get in the habit of not looking,” Mike instructed me as we rode onto the bridge. “You don’t want to give away their position.”
“Makes sense,” I replied as I changed down gears for the short climb up to the junction on the other side. Here we turned left for the long, easy run down the main valley to the little town of Grasswell.
By now the birds were in full song but it was still chilly and I was glad Susan had reminded me to pack my gloves the night before. We rolled past a few farmhouses and through a couple of hamlets but didn’t see anyone about. It was still too early. Our only encounter was with a flock of sheep that had wandered into the road causing us to brake sharply.
There were a couple of people about on the streets in Grasswell but we were so quiet on the bikes that we were past them and away before they noticed us. Turning left at the junction in the middle of town, we headed out to the New Road.
The first lorry we found was depressing. Food, completely useable food, had been strewn out of the back and was now just lying in the road, spoilt by the rain. The three of us stood - still astride our bikes - just staring.
“People do know that they’re going to be starving to death within a couple of weeks, don’t they?” I managed to ask at last.
“Doesn’t look that way,” Mike replied. “Come on, there’s nothing for us here.”
As we climbed up the New Road away from town, the level of wanton destruction decreased. All the lorries had been opened and, at one, it looked as if someone had made a systematic effort to retrieve the food
Some of the lorries contained supplies that, while of no use to us now, might be useful in the future. One, marked with the name of a national DIY chain, seemed to contain mostly planed wood and ironmongery. Another contained spare parts for vehicles. “If we can get that tractor going we might be able to find filters and belts for it in here,” Mike suggested.
We climbed slowly up the ‘New Road’ out of town onto the rugged heather-covered moorland that marked the tops of the hills hereabouts. The moors were still boggy after the winter rain and there were patches of dirty snow. We were nearly four miles out of town when we found the first lorry that looked promising. There was a small crowd, standing a little way back from the rear of the truck and, for some reason, they looked nervous.
“Off your bikes; leave ‘em here,” Mike said, leaning his bike against the cab. Together, we walked round to the rear with Mike concentrating on what was ahead whilst Jimbo covered the rear. There were three men inside the lorry, ransacking it. There was already a small pile of smashed boxes they had thrown out on the ground.
“Excuse me,” Mike said with all his, considerable, authority.
“I told you lot to just f…” he paused for a second when he saw Mike but then tried to bluster his way on. “This is our truck,” he explained. “We’re just sorting things out.”
It was such a conspicuous lie that it was hard not to laugh until the man jumped down and started walking threateningly towards Mike. Mike drew the pistol at his belt and ordered the man to back down.
The man paused for a second but then said, “You’re just a squaddie. You’re not going to shoot an unarmed civilian.”
“I’ve drawn my weapon,” Mike said with a calm authority that was, in its own way, much more frightening than the man’s attempts at physical intimidation. “Stand back or I will shoot.”
With a flash of insane courage, the man started to advance again. I saw Mike nod to Jimbo who stepped in behind him and smashed him in the back with the butt of his rifle. The man collapsed to the ground, twitching and whimpering.
“Not worth the bullet,” Jimbo observed, his back to us as he returned to keeping watch over the surroundings.
“To me, rifles up,” Mike said calmly to the two off us, “aiming into the truck.”
We did as commanded though I noticed that Jimbo continued to scan round paying particular attention to the group of bystanders. The three inside the truck, having seen their leader so casually felled, now saw three firearms pointed towards them.
“Out of there!” Mike commanded. “Pick up that pile of shit and go!”
“But what about…”
“I said go! Shit for brains can explain how he manage to lose your fair share of the contents of that truck. Now get walking! If I see any of you again, I’ll shoot you.”
Reluctantly they did what he told them, dragging the still writhing form with them.
“Shoulder rifles,” Mike said as he reholstered his pistol. “Morning folks, he said turning to the watching crowd. “Never could stand bullies! Now what’s going on here?”
“We were… erm…” a thin, nervous looking, bespectacled man began. “We were investigating the contents of this truck, looking for something to eat… we would, of course, have been happy to pay for anything we took. Then those four turned up and took over. We were, sort of, waiting for them to go away.”
“Is there any food in there? I asked.
“There’s loads of stuff but everything we found needs cooking or a tin opener or something.”
I couldn’t hear but I knew Mike had just inwardly let out a sigh.
“OK,” Mike said. “This is what’s going to happen. We’ve got some MREs with us. Those are military meal packs that can be eaten hot or cold. We’re going to give you one each and then you are going to get out of our way. Then two of us are going to go and collect our van whilst the other remains here. As you said, the stuff in there isn’t much use to you, but when we’re done, you can have a look and see whether there’s anything you can use. And, before you ask, no, we can’t look after you and, no, we won’t give you a lift anywhere in the van.”
“Can you, maybe, take the three of us with you?” a young woman asked. She had one baby in her arms and a toddler at her side, holding her hand.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. That will not be possible,” Mike answered though I could hear he hated having to say it.
“I’d be very grateful,” she said and the coy look she gave left us in no doubt as to how that gratitude would be expressed.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we have our own responsibilities and cannot take on any more.”
“But I could…”
“The answer is no!” Mike said, his discomfort adding a sharpness to his tone. “Now take the food, all of you, then get out of our way before we change our minds.”
They hurried to do as instructed.
“Isn’t life wonderful,” Mike murmured as the group sloped away. “I’ve just condemned a woman and two small children to death.”
I wished I could come up with some convincing argument against it but all I could think of to say was, “It was all of us, not just you.”
Once we had distributed the MREs, we started to investigate the lorry. It was carrying a mixed load, presumably destined for a small supermarket. Once we had managed to work out how to release the brakes on the tall trollies in which the goods were stacked, it was quite easy to shuffle them around to give ourselves a central corridor in which we could work. One of the trollies was destined for the dried food aisle and another contained just tins. Those two were shuffled to the front as were selected items from other trollies - particularly anything that might be used as toilet paper.
Jimbo gave a mild whoop when he discovered the wines and spirits trolley, though I was relieved to see he made no move to open anything.
Soon we had a huge pile by the doorway - larger, I thought, than we could ever fit in the van - but Mike seemed confident. He clapped me on the shoulder. “Time to get moving,” he said. Whilst Jimbo remained on guard, he and I jumped on our bikes. I was surprised when he carried on up the hill but all became clear when he turned left onto a track which led us across the tumbling stream to the left of the road then round the mountainside to the junction where we had met the group of walkers a week before. From here it was a easy and familiar ride back to the farm.
Once back, we allowed ourselves a brief rest - but only brief because we were very conscious of having left Jimbo on his own. Then we jumped in the van and set off. Mike was driving and I was riding shotgun - literally. Mike had replaced my rifle for a shotgun which was now pointing conspicuously out of the window.
There were more people on the street in Grasswell but Mike was driving fast and we were past them before they could intercept us. I was surprised when he turned right in the middle of town, joining the New Road at the wrong end of the by-pass, but by now, I knew better than to indulge in idle chatter. At the junction, we turned left and started back up to our adopted lorry.
Jimbo was relieved to see us. The group of bystanders was considerably further away than when we had left and seemed to be unhappy. “I had to fire a warning shot,” he explained. Mike nodded without comment and reversed our van to the back of the lorry then, leaving the engine running, jumped out and took over guard duty.
When they saw Mike replacing Jimbo, a couple of men from the ragged group approached us. “That man shot at us!” one of them said, his outrage palpable.
“No, he fired a warning shot,” Mike corrected him. “And I’m not happy about it. We don’t have the ammunition to waste like that. Next time, somebody will be dead… probably you.”
The man withdrew hurriedly, still spluttering and, while Mike stood guard, Jimbo and I started transferring the load..
Jimbo packed with speed and precision, occasionally barking orders: “More tins,” or “lighter stuff now”. As we had already made our selection, all I had to do was grab the appropriate boxes.
To my amazement, there was still a little room in the van when we were finished so Jimbo scurried to the back of the lorry and retrieved a couple of cases of whisky. Then he retrieved another box, deliberately concealing it from me. “You’ll find out about that soon enough,” he said with a sly smile.
“Done back here!” he shouted to Mike as he loaded his bike and shut the van door. He took the shotgun from me as I climbed into the central seat, handing me his rifle.
“Glad it’s you, not Samson,” I murmured as he squeezed into the seat next to me.
“Quiet now! Heads back on!” Mike commanded as he joined us. He seemed to have the van in motion before he was even seated and we were soon tearing back down the New Road, dodging the stalled vehicles.
As we drove into Grasswell, I understood why Mike had chosen the strange route on the way out. A group of people were erecting a barrier across that section of road. When they heard us, they hurried towards us but we were through the village and away before they could get close.
Mike continued to drive at speed until we drew close to the Lintondale turn at which point he slowed markedly. "Not a good idea to startle Newbies with rifles," he commented mildly. "I don't know whether Laura has let them have live ammo yet and I'd rather not find out by trying to catch it in my teeth."
"You don't have a very high opinion of our new recruits!" I joked.
"I make a point of never trusting gooseberries!” he answered with a smile. “Not when it's my arse on the line!"
He had to slow even more as we drove down the short stretch of road from the junction to the bridge. A couple of tree trunks had been carefully positioned, forcing any vehicle to perform a tricky slalom. Mike nodded approvingly as he performed the manoeuvre.
In the middle of it, a simple trestle barrier had been erected. Jimbo hopped out, moved the barrier and replaced it once we were through. He said, “Hi there,” but avoided looking towards where the guards might be. He received no reply.
Once past the barrier, Mike drove up to the farm and reversed so the rear of the van was next to the barn door. Jimbo went to open it as Mike opened the van.
“Oh, look what’s fallen off the back of that lorry,” he said when he saw the extra cases that had been added.
“For medicinal and trade purposes, Sarge...” Jimbo explained. “There was room… It would have been a shame to see it go to waste.” The two of them were obviously playing some sort of game and, though I didn’t know the rules, I could see it was being played by experts.
“Medicinal and trade purposes?” Mike responded. “Must be valuable. We’d better get them under lock and key straight away, don’t you think?”
“That would be one possibility, sarge!”
Putting the cases to one side, we started to unload. Most of the stuff went into the barn though rodent-sensitive food packages were moved straight into the kitchen. People came to help and we were treated to the sight of Emily stumbling into the barn, carrying a packet of toilet paper as large as her.
Soon we were done except for the cases. Mike strolled casually over to them and extracted a couple of bottles. “Unless you meant ‘for medicinal, trade and recreational purposes’,” he said, handing them over.
“And don’t let me catch anyone drunk!” he added.
“Oh no; we’ll make sure you don’t catch anyone, Sarge.”
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Post by garethn on Oct 12, 2018 8:17:30 GMT -6
Chapter 6 - Stabilise
It was quiet when I returned to the house. Susan had taken the girls down to feed the chickens and Rebecca, Angela and James were still down with Laura.
I collapsed into one of the chairs at the solid, wooden kitchen table which was always the heart of the farm. The living room had always been kept ‘for best’ though, with so many people on the farm, it was starting to see more use. The kitchen was a large room with a Welsh dresser along one wall and a large, heavy wood-fired stove along another. Pots and pans hung on the walls and a window over the sink looked out onto the yard and the lower field beyond. A door in a corner gave access to the stairs down to the cellar.
Andrew, her wealthy son, had repeatedly offered to pay for a more modern fitted kitchen with a gas stove but Mam had, of course, refused. I gave thanks for her stubbornness with every warm meal that she cooked on that stove.
There were still piles of food everywhere, of course, and I made a mental note to organise help to get them sorted away. Alice had a relatively low tolerance to clutter and I could see her shoulders tense every time her eyes fell on them.
As I sat looking round the familiar kitchen, I noticed the ticking of the smart carriage clock on the Welsh dresser. It had always been there but I’d never noticed it running before.
“I didn't know that clock would run,” I said to Alice who was busy preparing another of the peculiar meals, based on what remained from the freezers.
“Young Gary asked if he could ’ave a look,” Alice replied. “Turned out as how t’works just needed a bit of a clean.”
I gave a nod. It would be very useful to have a working clock. A couple of times I had found myself studying what amounted to a not particularly attractive bracelet and eventually I had got round to taking my wrist watch off.
“We’ll have to set it when we get a couple of sunny days,” I said, almost to myself. I also made a mental note to get Susan and the girls to start marking off the days in a calendar. We would need that for farming and weather prediction.
“Can I do anything, Mam?” I asked when I had rested for a couple of minutes.
“T’stick box needs fillin’ but I was going to ask the young ‘uns when they come in.”
“I’m on it,” I said, hauling myself to my feet. “They’re out playing soldiers and, if I know Laura, they won’t be in any fit state when they get back.”
I was still shifting firewood when our military recruits returned with a small explosion of noise. The three of them just collapsed, exhausted, into the chairs at the kitchen table.
“Have fun?” I asked James.
“Remind me never to think about joining the army,” he grumbled.
“You could ask Laura to be gentle with you,” I joked, knowing you had about as much chance of persuading one of the local hills to move out of your way as persuading Laura to change her training regime.
“The trouble is she makes you feel so good about yourself,” Angela grumbled. “You don’t want to let her down. And that Samson…”
“Mum!” Rebecca exploded, shocked at the idea.
“Well, he is a hunk!” she half whispered to her daughter in a conspiratorial tone.
“You’re too old,” her daughter said.
“I’m no older than he is.” Angela was genuinely shocked.
“You’re both too old!” Rebecca insisted.
“Oh that’s alright,” Angela laughed. “As long as it’s a general age prejudice rather than just me.”
“Dad, I think you and Susan are setting a bad example,” James observed.
I joined the general laughter, happy that he had so casually acknowledged our relationship. I had been slightly concerned that he might have considered it a betrayal of his mother.
When Gary appeared for the meal that evening with the rest of the off-duty military contingent, I talked to him about the clock and was given the clear impression that he enjoyed tinkering with mechanical things.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about ancient Diesel engines, do you?” I asked him, more in hope than expectation.
“Well, I wouldn’t really say ancient, but my dad had an old transit van that we used to keep on the road.”
“I’ve got a job for you, young man,” I told him.
“Mike,” I called across the room, “please may I borrow Gary tomorrow? He can give Ned a hand with that old tractor.”
“You’re not helping?” James asked.
“I’m going to the farm shop down in Amberford,” I explained. “We need to pick up some stuff for the farm.”
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Post by garethn on Oct 12, 2018 8:18:02 GMT -6
Chapter 7 - Farm Store
I was up early again the next morning. I would have thought that, by now, I would have got used to these early starts but it didn’t seem to be working like that.
Once again, we hurriedly ate our breakfast by candle light then Mike, Jimbo and I piled into the van. We had decided that there was no benefit in using the bikes this time. We knew where we were going and we were counting on there not being anyone else there. It was not an obvious target for people scavenging for food.
There was a chilly mist hanging over the valley as we set off that was occasionally thickening into scraps of patchy rain - really unpleasant weather but it suited our purposes; nobody else would want to be out on a morning like this.
Mike had worked out a route that avoided Grasswell, using a couple of tiny back lanes but, nevertheless, we were on the New Road within fifteen minutes and thirty minutes later, we were on the Amberford ring road. The store was just north of the culvert where we had loaded the Land Rover… was it only five days ago? Mike’s timing was perfect - there was just enough light for him to drive by but nobody would be able to spot the van from any distance.
While I knew that there was no chance of meeting other vehicles, I was still disconcerted when Mike turned the wrong way at a roundabout and started heading down the wrong side of the ring road. It made sense - it was much shorter than following the one-way system and the less time we spent driving around town the better.
Mike drove into the car park and parked neatly in one of the disabled bays, close to the entrance. I was puzzled by this for a moment but then realised that if he had parked straight in front of the doors, it might have attracted unwanted attention. While Jimbo casually broke in, Mike went to keep watch; he climbed up onto a pallet of sacks which were still on a stalled forklift in the middle of the car park.
The place was a treasure trove. In addition to the seeds, fertiliser, sheep food and veterinary supplies that Alice had ordered, we found heavy duty outdoor clothing and boots; first aid supplies and reels of barbed wire and posts to beef up the security round the valley, together with the armoured gloves you needed to handle them. Jimbo secured several boxes of chocolate bars from behind the counter.
He also liberated a trailer from a vehicle in the car park and then started performing his packing miracle. “No whisky, this time,” I said as he crammed a final bag of heavy wooden jumpers into a corner of the trailer.
“I’m sure we can find you a bottle of horse liniment if you’re desperate,” he replied, with a grin.
I went to retrieve Mike from his observation post but as he jumped down, I started to swear.
“What’s up?” he asked.
I pointed out that he had been sitting on a mountain of oats. It was marked as, ‘Animal feed; not for human consumption,’ but, if you were hungry, you wouldn’t refuse a bowl of animal feed porridge.
“We need that,” I said.
”We’re not going to get it all in this time,” he replied. “Let’s see what we can fit in.”
We managed to cram in six of the sacks. Four balanced precariously on top of the barbed wire reels in the trailer and two in the passenger footwell. It would mean a cramped trip back for Jimbo and me but we could live with that.
The trip back was uneventful and, while James and some of the others unloaded the van, we held a quick council of war over cups of tea in the kitchen.
I briefly explained the situation then said, “Those sacks of oats will solve our food problems for the rest of the year but trying to collect them is going to be risky. Mike, what’s your guess, how risky?”
Mike took a sip of tea, flinched slightly and said, “That gang’s quite dangerous. They’re organised and they’ve got brains behind them. If they got their hands on anyone with military knowledge, they’d become a real threat… but it doesn’t look like they have so far. My guess - and it’s nothing more than that - is that we might lose the van but the people should be safe.”
“We need that food, don’t we?” Susan asked.
I nodded.
“We don’t need the van,” she went on. “We’ve always got the Land Rover. The real question is, are we ever going to get a better chance to gamble the van for more food?”
“You’re right,” I said. “We go for it.” I looked around the room and got nods of agreement.
As we stood up at the end of the meeting, Susan came over and stood in front of me looking forlorn and dejected. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “I just sent you back out into danger.”
I took her in my arms. “Don’t forget that doing nothing is not a risk free option,” I said. “We do nothing, we starve to death. Anything is a better risk than that.”
“But…”
“No buts,” I insisted. “And even if anything does happen to us, it was still the right call… and you didn’t make it, I did.”
The journey into town was tenser than last time and when we rounded the corner to turn into the country store car park, we found a barricade of old cars blocking the way. There was a group of red-sleeves behind it pointing weapons in our direction.
“Brace,” Mike barked as he accelerated the van towards the car that most of them were clustered behind. He hit it at its rear wheels, forcing it backwards and scattering the red-sleeves. Revving the engine, Mike forced his way through the barrier. Jimbo loosed a shotgun blast towards the red-sleeves who were still stunned by Mike’s violent response to their barrier. So far, none of then had managed to take a shot.
As Mike tried to accelerate, it was clear that something was wrong. The van was making a terrible noise and it refused to gain speed. As we limped across the car park, the first shots started to hit the back of the van
“Van’s knacked,” Mike snapped. “Jimbo, cover us. Meet at the primary rendezvous.” We had already agreed that if anything went wrong, we would meet back at the school sports pavilion. Jimbo took the rifle from my hands, giving me the shotgun.
Mike hopped a kerb and, as he crawled down the service road at the side of the building, Jimbo stepped out of the van. He returned to the corner of the building and started to discourage pursuit with steady, well placed shots.
Once round the back of the building, Mike stopped the van and popped up the engine cover. We both jumped out, slipped on our rucksacks and went round to the front of the truck. “What do I destroy?” he asked, drawing his pistol.
I pointed out the fuel pump, alternator and a couple of other key electronic components which he promptly destroyed. Then, before I knew it, I was being boosted to the top of the chain link fence that surrounded the service area. As I fought my way over the top, Mike seemed to float over, in plenty of time to help me down on the other side. Together we disappeared into some scrubby undergrowth that led down to a rubbish-filled stream.
The escape and evasion seemed much easier this time. Maybe there were less of the red sleeves about… or maybe some of them had come to recognise Mike and realised that catching up with him was not a good idea.
“Why aren’t I more scared?” I asked Mike when we had collapsed into the chairs in the stylish room in the sports pavilion. “We just had people shooting at us. Why aren’t I more scared.”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re getting used to it,” Mike answered, “or ’cause they’re not very good and I am… But never forget, no matter how good we are and how crap they are, sooner or later someone’s going to get hit. Might be me, might be you, might be James. There’s nothing we can do about it.” He rested his head on the table; he might have been asleep.
About half an hour later, we heard slight sounds of movement downstairs then three distinct knocks. Despite the signal, Mike drew his pistol and moved behind the door, placing his boot to avoid being hit if someone decided to batter their way in. A few seconds later, Jimbo joined us and Mike reholstered his pistol.
Jimbo had acquired an extra shotgun and two pistols. “Where did you find them?” Mike asked casually.
“A couple of the red sleeves. They didn’t know what they were doing with ’em so I thought I’d better take ’em off their hands before they did someone an injury,” he commented mildly.
Mike smiled and nodded. “OK, guys,” he said. Rest up for now. We’ll Foxtrot Oscar when it starts to get dark. We’ll be doing our packhorse thing if the stuff we stashed last time is still there. Phil, you’re on. Wake me in a couple of hours.”
With that he put his head back on the table and slept again.
As the day dragged on, I roamed around the building, staying well back from the windows and keeping an eye out for visitors. I saw a couple of people skulking about on what looked like their own private missions and a nervous dog but nothing that looked like trouble.
I checked the stash of things we’d put aside when we were last here. It was undisturbed; we’d have some heavy duty lugging to do tonight.
After what felt like a couple of hours, I went and kicked Mike’s boot to wake him up and went to lie down in a quiet corner. I didn’t expect to sleep so was pleasantly surprised when he woke me in the same manner a couple of hours later.
“Bit of chow then we’re out of here, he said, offering me a bowl of something vaguely noodley and rehydrated. It didn’t taste as bad as I expected but my expectations had been very low.
I saw the three packs that had been placed against one wall and looked around, hoping that Samson had turned up.
There’s a limit to how long you can make a small bowl of reconstituted stuff last so, about ten minutes later, I found myself being attached to one of the packs. A couple of moments to check I could move without falling over and then we were off. Jimbo took the lead, I followed and Mike brought up the rear, walking backwards most of the time, it seemed.
Mike had decided, probably correctly, that we would be wise to avoid the culvert route out of town. Somebody might have recognised us and guessed we would try to leave that way. So this time we went out of the front gate of the school, flitting over a main road into the park opposite. We climbed past a small boating lake to the top of the park and emerged onto a quiet residential street.
We walked up this street for a couple of hundred yards to a footpath that led between high stone walls to an area of semi-urban wooded wasteland with unofficial cycle tracks, dumped rubbish and the occasional burnt out motorcycle. This transitioned into more natural woodland and we started to climb steeply.
After a short time, Mike moved up to me and said in a low voice, “We appear to have acquired a shadow. Keep going, I’m going to drop back and introduce myself.”
A few seconds later, as we stepped into the darkness below some heavy trees, he handed me the cap he was wearing - a characteristic camouflaged thing and simply vanished. Jimbo and I tried to keep walking as if nothing had changed.
There was the sound of a brief scuffle then Mike re-emerged, cleaning his knife and swearing gently.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I’ve just had to murder some kid,” he answered, “not much older than James.”
I winced. “Didn’t you want to question him anyway?” I asked.
“What was he going to tell us? The red sleeves told him to keep an eye out for us and promised him food if he told ’em where we went. It’s what I’d do.”
Night had fallen by the time we reached the rutted, ridge top trackway that we had cycled along - was it just a week ago? Here we turned left. The route was now so familiar that we could walk it in the dark - which was fortunate because that was what we were trying to do. The only problem was the spine-crushing weight of the pack and I was staggering by the time we reached the shoulder of the ridge. The moon had risen and I paused briefly to look down on the little valley and the farmhouse that now offered a measure of security in an increasingly hostile world.
The pause was rewarded. Samson had been leading a patrol that was climbing up to the ridge from our right and he took my pack and, if I’m honest, half supported me, the rest of the way home.
Susan was there, waiting for us and, through the kiss she gave me, showed me her relief that we had returned safely.
“I’m glad to see you’re safe,” she said when she’s finished hugging me, “but you smell. You’re not allowed anywhere near my nice, clean bed until you’ve had a good wash.”
This comment, of course, resulted in some teasing from our military contingent. She turned to them, apparently very seriously, and said, “May I remind you gentlemen that I am responsible for tending any ouchies you lot pick up. How gentle I am in doing this depends on whether you continue to cast aspersions on the entirely proper relationship between Mr Walker and myself.”
She gave me a peck on the cheek, then turned and went into the farmhouse to put water on to warm.
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Post by garethn on Oct 12, 2018 8:19:23 GMT -6
Chapter 8 - Ashley arrives
It was late, at least by our standards. We were in the habit of going to bed at nightfall - almost unavoidable in a world of no electric light - but, tonight, four days after the visit to the feed store, Mike, Laura and I were sitting around the kitchen table after our evening meal discussing, without much success, where we could find more food. I had done some initial calculations and we were still significantly short of what we would need for the first year. I also suspected that Mike and Laura were simply postponing going out into the horrible weather. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
I’ve mentioned Mike’s transition into combat mode before. Before I had even thought about the possibility of a threat, he was on his feet, behind the door with his pistol in his hands. I went to the window. Three people were standing on the porch. They looked familiar though it was hard to make anything out through the streaming rain.
Alice had come into the kitchen too and was standing by the door. "Who is it," she called.
"It's me, Alice," came a familiar voice. It was Ben and his family. For a moment I saw a wave of relief flash across Alice's face before it sprang back into its familiar steely cast.
I gave a sigh and opened the door. He was some sort of cousin and he and I did not see eye to eye on the subject of child rearing. In fact, Mary had tried to keep us away from the farm whenever they were about.
“Eh up!" Mam said as a teenage girl barged inside. She ignored us, threw her soaking coat on the floor and made her way into the living room without even taking off her muddy shoes. She was clearly in a strop of monstrous proportions.
Ben and Margaret followed her in. Margret gave a slightly contemptuous glance round the room then took off her own coat - something entirely unsuitable for the mountains and the weather and probably with a designer label - and sat down at the kitchen table.
“We had to walk all the way out here!” she said, clearly still outraged by the indignity. “Walk!”
“I thought you had bikes.” I said. I had helped them get themselves set up with mountain bikes a couple of years before.
“Ash had got a flat tire and hadn’t told us,” Ben explained. “And there was nobody about to fix it.”
I managed, but only just, to avoid banging my head on the table.
I briefly made introductions and let them know that Mike and Laura had been in the army and were organising the defence of the valley.
“The army!” Margret replied with a contemptuous tone. “Shouldn’t you be in town, handing out relief supplies and keeping order? The supermarkets are closed and the place has just gone mad.”
“If you can tell me where to find emergency supplies, I’d be happy to hand them out, Ma’am.” Mike responded coldly. I could tell from the ‘Ma’am’ that he was going into his professional military mode. “As for order, there really isn’t any out there for us to keep. We might just manage to keep most of the people in the valley alive until this time next year - that is if we’re really lucky and if everybody works together.”
“You’re not serious,” she said but her tone indicated she had started to grasp the scale of the problem.
I glanced across at Alice and got the briefest of nods of permission then looked across to Ben who was picking up Ashley’s coat.
“Ben, would you come and sit down, please,” I said. “I’ve got a couple of things to tell you.”
Ben must have picked up on my tone. He did as he was asked, still holding Ashley’s soaking coat.
“Ben, Margret, I’m afraid I have to tell you that Tom and Ken were killed a couple of days ago.”
The two sat in silence for several seconds. I noticed that Susan had gone across to stand next to Alice.
“That Ken and a couple of that good-for-nothing gang he used to hang out wi’ tried to come calling on our Angela,” Alice exploded. “They shot your father when he wouldn’t let ’em in to see her.”
In spite of the drama of the situation, I had a moment of insight. Ben was Tom’s son but not Alice’s. There had obviously been some sort of ‘funny business’... maybe before they were married. That was the reason that Alice let these three get away with behaving as they did.
I allowed them a short time to digest this news and then went on. “The other thing is, if we’re going to get through this, everyone is going to have to pull their weight. That means that the way you handle Ashley is going to have to change.”
“Who do you think you are, telling us how we should raise our daughter?” Margret snapped, genuinely outraged at what I had said.
I was about to explain that my children’s lives were on the line but was interrupted by Alice. “He’s saying nowt as didn’t need saying years ago,” she said with weary resignation. “You ain’t doin’ ’er no favours, lettin’ ‘er get away with blue murder.” She turned and busied herself at the stove.
Margret was silent for several seconds then turned to Ben. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said in an icy tone.
Ben flinched at this, then a look of resolution spread across his face. “No,” he said. “If you’ve anything to say, you can say it now. Then we decide whether we’re staying or not.”
“‘Whether we’re staying’? You don’t mean that…” she began. “Do you?”
“If we’re staying here, it’s going to be by Alice’s rules,” he told her. “You knew that.”
“But I never…” she began but then trailed off.
“So, are we going to be staying here - by Alice’s rules - or are we going to leave... right now?”
“I suppose we have to,” she said, though she looked as if she was about to cry.
“Then we might as well have this conversation now," Ben said with an unfamiliar authority in his tone. "It's never going to be as easy."
"Ashley, come here, please," he said to his daughter who was standing gloomily in front of the fire in the living room.
She ignored him.
"I said come here!" he said in a sharp tone. She looked up and, with weary resignation, slouched her way back into the kitchen.
“This is Alice's house,” he began, “If we want to stay here, we have to follow her rules. Do we want to leave?"
A horrified look spread across Ashley’s face and she shook her head.
"So here are the rules… First, you will be expected to pay proper respect to adults - all adults. You can start that right now by taking your hands out of your pockets and standing up straight when I'm talking to you.
She turned to her mother, not wanting to believe what was happening.
"Your father just told you to do something," she managed to say, though I could tell it was a struggle. "You do it now or you go outside until you do!"
She snapped to attention.
"Second, there is a lot of work to be done on the farm if we are going to have enough to eat next winter. You will be expected to do your share. Anything that any adult asks you to do will be done at once, will be done as well as you can and will be done with a positive attitude. Part of this is tidying up after yourself. Your mother and I will have plenty to do without running around after you.
"Thirdly, you will be friendly and sociable with your cousins and any other children who are here. Do you understand what I have just said?"
"Yeh."
"The correct answer is 'Yes, Sir'! Do you understand what I just said?"
"Yes, Sir."
“Then hang up your coat, take off your shoes, greet your grandmother and the other people properly and then you may go and warm yourself by the fire. Is that clear?”
There were a couple of moments of silent insolence. She was not used to being talked to in this way.
“If it is not clear you can go outside and stand in the rain to think about it,” he went on. “Is it clear?”
"Yes, Sir."
“Hang on,” I said, when she had done as she had been told. “While you’re here, we need to tell you about our defensive situation. In the next couple of weeks, we expect people will start attacking us to try and steal our food.”
I let this hang in the air for a few seconds.
“Now Mike and Laura, here, and a couple of other ex-army people will be running the show but we will need more numbers to defend ourselves. We’ve already decided that everyone over the age of fourteen is going to be receiving military training and will be taking part in guard duty.”
“Your not serious, are you?” Margret asked, clearly shocked at the idea.
“Dead serious!” I informed her flatly. “There are millions of people out there without enough to eat. Unless help arrives soon, at least ninety percent of them are going to be dead within six months. I want my children to be part of the ten percent.”
“I’m not joining your army!” Ashley exploded, genuinely shocked at the idea. “I’m just a kid.”
“Would you step outside with me for a minute, please,” Laura said, surprising me slightly. This was a family discussion and I’d forgotten she was there.
Ashley gave her a confused look.
“I’ve a couple of things to explain to you, woman to woman, and it will be less embarrassing for you if we do it in private.”
Ashley glanced to her father and, when he gave a nod, she left the room with Laura.
“What does that… woman want to talk to my daughter about?” Margret asked with barely concealed contempt.
“Margret, the thing about ‘friendly and sociable’ applies to you as well as Ash,” Ben said sharply. “Can I remind you that, with my father dead, we have nothing to rely on but the good will of these people. For your information, that was rude… and I get the distinct impression that ‘that woman’ is worth far more to this community than any of us are.”
Margret opened her mouth to reply but then realised that she had nothing to say.
The room was quiet for several seconds, then Mike said, “But to answer your question, one of our last tours, back in the army, was a humanitarian mission in a country that had just disintegrated into civil war. Laura was involved in helping out at a camp for women that had been rescued. I’d guess Laura is telling your daughter about what can happen to women who fall into the hands of the wrong sort of men... even if they think they’re ‘just a kid’.”
A couple of minutes later, the two returned. Ashley was rather pale but she had an unfamiliar air of resolution about her. “I will be joining their army,” she said simply and the discussion was closed.
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Post by garethn on Oct 12, 2018 8:19:54 GMT -6
Chapter 9 - Thug Disposal
After many hours of mostly frustrating effort, and by cannibalising various other bits of equipment about the farm, we had managed to get the old tractor running. Then we had a couple of days of frustrating wait until the ground was deemed dry enough to work. At last, under Ned’s guidance, Gary had been able to plough the expanded vegetable plot. That left us with the minor matter of clearing stones.
“Well done, Ash,” I said to her at the end of a day of backbreaking work which had not been made any more pleasant by a chilly wind and the occasional light shower. “I’m really pleased with the effort you’ve put in today.”
I was rewarded with one of her rare smiles.
“If we all keep this up, we might just manage to avoid starving to death by this time next year.”
She gave me an uncertain look. “That wasn’t a joke, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. I’ve done the sums. Looking at the year ahead and the stockpiles of food we’ve managed to build up, from Ken’s place and from the lorry and so on, we’re on about 500 calories a day. You can check my numbers if you like.”
“But don’t you need about 1500?”
“Well spotted. We’re not playing games here, Ash. In a very real sense, what we get out of the land here is the difference between living and dying.”
I could see the colour draining from her face.
That’s assuming we’re not going to get any help from outside... but I think it’s probably best to assume that, don’t you?”
She thought about this then nodded.
“And as I say, I’d really like to have somebody go over the numbers with me. Would you do that?”
“OK.”
Though Ashley had always been an annoying kid, she was very bright. I knew that showing her my calculations would convince her like nothing else and, besides, I really did want someone to check my work. It wasn’t an area where I wanted to make any mistakes.
We stood together as the sun sank towards the fells in the east watching Alice who was still working with her dogs down in the lower field. She was separating the sheep to be culled from those - mostly the ones with young lambs - to be kept. The little valley echoed with the harsh, guttural calls that the folks hereabouts used when working their dogs - a reminder of the Viking heritage of the area.
“What do you think is happening out there?” Ashley asked, nodding down the valley and towards the rest of the world.
I thought about this for a while. I’d been so tied up in day-to-day matters, I’d not given much thought to what was happening beyond threats and opportunities for our little community. “I’m fairly sure there’s no sort of effective government in this country any more,” I told her. “If there was, I think we’d have seen something by now. So that means in every town and city in the country there is complete anarchy. In the lucky ones, one big gang has taken over, grabbed all the food that’s left, and is feeding a small, select bunch of their own members whilst everyone else starves to death.”
“That’s lucky?” Ashley asked incredulously. “What’s unlucky?”
Nothing organised whatsoever,” I told her. “Neighbour killing neighbour over a can of beans; food being spoilt as people fight in the supermarkets. The first situation might see five percent of the population surviving for a year. In the second, pretty much everyone will be dead.”
Ashley’s face took on a haunted look.
“How did you manage to get out of town?” I asked her to take her mind of this as we turned and started back towards the farmhouse.
“Oh, Dad made us get up stupid early and we just walked out.” I could hear the familiar stroppy Ashley reemerging.
“Ashley!” I said in a warning tone and she briefly acknowledged the reprimand with her eyes. “So why did your father make you get up ‘stupid early’?”
She thought about this. “Trying to keep us out of trouble?” she asked.
I nodded. “If you get up early enough, most thugs and bandits are still in bed. Also, it was already pretty late by the time you arrived. You would have had to do much more walking in the dark.”
We hurried back to the house together as another shower swept in, driven by the freshening wind. I noticed that Ashley put away her shoes and coat without being asked. “Let’s go and get washed,” I told her, “then we can go and look over those numbers.”
Unfortunately she couldn’t find any fault in my calculations. We really were badly short of food.
The evening meal had been relatively relaxed but again I saw James and Rebecca sitting together so, after the meal, I casually asked if he would take me down and show me the new bridge defences. “A gentle stroll will stretch out your muscles and help you relax,” I told him.
He looked at me as if I was mad but grabbed his shoes and coat and joined me.
By the light of the moon, we walked down the lane in silence for a while and then I tried to broach the subject that had been on my mind. “This is going to be embarrassing,” I said, “so I’m going to come right out and say it… You know there are problems when first cousins get married and have children don’t you? I know nothing’s happened but I just don’t want you to start thinking about Rebecca in that way.”
“Are you lot ganging up on us?” he almost exploded in response.
I gave him a look that reflected my confusion.
“Laura’s already had a ‘quiet word in my ear’ and we got the full lecture on genetics from Susan this morning.”
I had to laugh. “I’m sorry James, I didn’t know. It’s a case of too little coordination, not too much. I guess, because your mum’s not about, we all thought we’d better keep an eye on you!”
I put an arm round his shoulders and, though he tried to remain grumpy, he started laughing, too, by the time we reached the turn in the lane above the bridge.
We froze when we heard voices below us and when a shot rang out, James threw himself to the ground. “Dad, get down!” he hissed. I hurried to do as I was told.
He crawled over to the side of the dry stone wall on our right then moved down it until we reached a firing position containing Jimbo and one of the Drummond lads. The two had rifles pointing down towards the bridge.
“James and my dad,” James called as we crawled in next to them.
Below us, clustered at the far end of the bridge, was a gang of the sort of individuals I would make a point of avoiding - lightweight thugs. One of their number lay sprawled on the bridge, very much dead.
“You shot psycho!” Another of them was spluttering.
I heard Mike’s voice before I saw him. He was down below us, concealed in a trench to the right of the bridge. “Which part of ‘anyone stepping onto the bridge will be shot’ did you not understand?” he was saying.
“We’re going to fucking cream you!” one of the thugs shouted.
“The only reason you’re still breathing is because I don’t want to waste ammunition,” Mike said in a frighteningly calm tone, “but any more threats like that and you’re dead. I don’t want to dispose of your crap so one of you can walk onto the bridge and grab shit for brains. You have one minute to piss off. This conversation is now closed.”
“I hate those people,” Mike observed casually to the world as the gang were trudging back up towards the road junction, dragging the body behind them. “They think they’re so hard and give themselves stupid names like ‘Killer’ and ‘Psycho’ and they’ve no idea.” His voice broke in a raw shout. “They’ve no fucking idea.”
“Coming down, Mike,” I shouted as I walked down the road towards the bridge.
“No fucking idea!” he was muttering quietly as I joined him in a small trench off to the right. His eyes seemed to have a strange sort of shine about them.
“Easy, mate,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder and trying to break into the adrenaline fueled storm. “They’re gone now and, anyway, they’re not worth the shit you’re putting yourself through.”
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Post by garethn on Oct 12, 2018 8:20:27 GMT -6
Chapter 10 - Training
The second round of training started a couple of days later on a raw spring morning and I had to wrap my arms round Susan to stop her from shivering as we waited for everyone to arrive. I had been disconcerted to find that she had been included in the program but, when I talked to Laura about it, she had reassured me that she was too valuable to be used as a grunt - but she would need to know what she was doing if she had to treat wounded when under fire.
Before long, Laura stood up in front of us and I reluctantly released Susan. “Hello,” she began, and her quiet authority instantly silenced the group. “For those who don’t know, my name’s Corporal Laura McPherson and it’s my job to make sure you don’t get your heads shot off when the bullets start flying.
“Now, I spent a while as a training Corporal in the infantry, so I’m going to start by telling you what we’re not going to be doing: we’re not going to be worrying about keeping our kit cleaned and ironed; for most of you, we aren’t going to be worrying about basic physical fitness; and we certainly aren’t going to be doing square bashing. Most of that stuff was for finding out who’s physically and mentally up to being in the army. Well, in this outfit, if you can walk a hundred yards and see the barn when you’re stood in front of it, you’re in.
“Part of that first bit of basic is getting you into the habit of doing what you’re told, when you’re told, how you’re told but again, we don’t have time for that. We’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got. If you haven’t got your motivation sorted out yet then you really haven’t been paying attention. The lights went out about ten days ago and food stopped appearing in the supermarkets. In a couple of weeks, most of the population of the big cities hereabouts will be starving to death. They will be spreading out into the countryside and anyone who stands in there way will end up raped, killed or eaten… possibly all three.”
Muttering in the ranks was quickly silenced by a stern glance. “Anyone want to bet against it?” Laura asked.
“I said, we won’t be doing the whole barrack room inspection thing, and I couldn’t care less whether your uniforms are cleaned and ironed but two things. Number one, ‘a place for everything and everything in its place.’ Other people may need to find that shovel or that first aid kit when the lead is flying. You will make it easy for them by keeping things in the right place. And, number two, all weapons will be kept spotless. A dirty weapon equals a misfire equals death. It’s not going to happen.”
“Any questions so far?” She paused and looked round the group.
“Ok, the boys and myself have assembled a little assault course for you. This is not really for fitness and coordination, though. It’s about learning how to move when under fire. Ok, my glamorous assistant is about to demonstrate.
Samson set off at the run.
The first couple of training sessions went relatively smoothly. We were taught how to move under fire, how to handle the weapons we would be using and she introduced us to the tactics we would be using to defend the bridge.
It was about the fourth lesson when Laura eventually ran out of patience with Ashley. “I said ‘get your arse down, girl, or you’re going to get it shot off!’” she roared at her.
The girl dropped her rear and crawled properly for a few seconds but then it started creeping up again. Exasperated, Laura took her rifle, chambered a round and, after checking what was behind the girl, sent a bullet a couple of feet over the offending backside. Ashley screamed and flattened herself on the ground.
“Now, get moving,” Laura said, with the rifle still aimed at a point just over Ashley’s rear.
Trembling, Ashley completed the rest of the course in the approved fashion.
“You shot at me!” Ashley spluttered, torn between terror and outrage.
“No, if I had shot at you, I’d have hit you,” Laura explained calmly. “I was aiming to miss. Next time, the people shooting at you won’t be. When I say ‘keep your arse down’, I mean it. Clear?”
“Yeh!” Ashley muttered to her muddy boots.
“Stand up straight and look at me when you’re talking to me!” Laura snapped. “Now I asked, ‘is that clear?’”
Ashley jumped to attention. “Yes, corp!” This much, at least, she seemed to have learnt.
“Good, now you’re going to do the course again and you’re going to keep doing it until you get it right. Then, and only then, the squad will be dismissed.”
Ashley looked as if she was about to say something but Laura interrupted her. “Not now, do the course properly then everyone can go and get washed up,” she said, firmly but not unkindly. “We’ll talk about it later. Go on; at the double!”
Petulantly, Ashley hurried back to the start of the course and repeated the exercise. This time, however, she managed without any significant errors.
“Well done,” Laura said as the girl crawled under the finishing line. OK, squad, grab your stuff and dismissed. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Phil, are you alright to give everyone a shout as you come down the lane?” Not everyone had a working clock so they would need that shout.
“Ash, hang on a minute,” she added as the girl tried to slope off with the others. She went to sit on the pile of logs obstacle and waited for Ashley to come across.
“OK, this is Laura the friend talking,” she began as Ashley sat down next to her, “not Laura the training corporal. Now what’s up?”
Ashley squirmed her feet in the mud before answering suddenly. “Why are you picking on me?” she asked. “I’m doing the course better than my mum but you keep having a go at me! It’s not fair!”
Laura thought about this for a second. “In a word, ‘attitude’,” she answered. “Yes, you’re doing better than your mother and nearly as well as Susan but you’re not trying hard enough.”
“But I know how to do it really,” Ashley insisted.
“I know you do, that’s what it’s all about. You know how frightened you were when I put that bullet a foot over your backside?”
Ashley nodded.
“You were frightened but, deep down inside, you knew I wasn’t really going to shoot you. When the attacks start coming… and I am sure it’s a ‘when’ not an ‘if’... people won’t be aiming to miss; they’ll be trying to kill you. You will be so frightened that you won’t be able to think sensibly and will just have to fall back on the routines we’re practicing here. Every bad habit that I’ve not broken will come out and it can make the difference between living and dying - not just for you but for the people around you. It has happened to people I’ve known. They are now dead… dead and they didn’t need to be. Just because someone mucked up on basic stuff like this.”
“But it won’t…” Ashley began.
“It can happen,” Laura informed her with a frightening calm. “You don’t want to see your mother dead, your father dead, Rebecca dead, just because you failed to get into the habit of keeping your backside down. Imagine having to live with that for the rest of your life.”
Ashley was quiet for a long time then her shoulders began to judder as she started to sob. Laura reached over and put her arm round the girl.
“As I say, I’ve known it happen but never in one of my platoons... and I’ve no intention of letting it start now. Now, I’m not promising people won’t get hurt or even killed, but get this stuff right, first time, every time, and it’ll help to weigh the odds in our favour. That’s the best we can do. OK?”
They sat together for a few more seconds then Laura added, “I’m sorry, love, but training corporal Laura is not going to allow you to be a kid any more. I know it’s hard and I know it’s unfair but you’re just going to have to grow up.”
As they stood up, Laura put her arms round Ashley, gave her a hug and kissed her on the top of the head before sending her on her way.
“What’s up?” Laura asked me. I had been waiting nearby for a word.
I strolled across and collapsed on a log next to her and waited until Ashley was out of earshot.
“I have a problem,” I said but then paused. I still wasn’t really sure how to put it but then just blurted it out. “I’m not sure I could actually shoot anyone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “The only thing that will stop you shooting people is if you’re shot first. You’re a man and you know your women are going to be raped if you don’t.”
“My women?” I asked stupidly.
“You think being babies is going to spare Elizabeth and Emily?” she asked. A dark and dangerous shadow spread across her face. “Do I really have to tell you what evil and twisted fantasies are swirling around at the back of mens’ minds just waiting for the chance to bubble to the surface?”
She was quiet for a moment, caught up in her memories.
“That age wasn’t the worst,” she added, almost to herself. “They get physically damaged but we could sort that out and then they got better. It’s kids that old,” she nodded towards Ashley’s retreating back, “who knew that something special had been ripped away from them… they never really recovered.”
She pulled herself out of her reminiscences with a visible shudder. “Of course, your kids won’t have the chance to get better in the current circumstances; they’ll be dead.”
She let out a deep sigh then added, almost cheerfully, “So don’t worry. When push comes to shove, you’ll shoot the bastards or die trying.”
On that cheerful note, we set off together back to the house.
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Post by papaof2 on Oct 12, 2018 14:12:01 GMT -6
I'm a bit disappointed that you're moving some of my favorite stories to an unsavable platform. Remember that free Kindle ebooks can be saved to read when the internet is down - one use for a cell phone when SHTF, if you have power for charging...
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Post by garethn on Oct 13, 2018 8:51:24 GMT -6
I'm a bit disappointed that you're moving some of my favorite stories to an unsavable platform. Remember that free Kindle ebooks can be saved to read when the internet is down - one use for a cell phone when SHTF, if you have power for charging... Nothing moving away from here - just moving stuff from from Wattpad to Inkitt. Inkitt app will allow offline reading. G
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Post by texican on Oct 14, 2018 0:04:42 GMT -6
She pulled herself out of her reminiscences with a visible shudder. “Of course, your kids won’t have the chance to get better in the current circumstances; they’ll be dead.”
She let out a deep sigh then added, almost cheerfully, “So don’t worry. When push comes to shove, you’ll shoot the bastards or die trying.”
The problem is that this is the truth....
Civilized enforcement on evil ends when civilization ends....
Thanks G for the chapters....
Texican....
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:13:25 GMT -6
Part 3
Chapter 1 - They Made It
I was in bed, though not asleep, when my attention was grabbed by a commotion in the yard outside our window. I was already in motion by the time a group of people started moving towards the back door.
I charged down the stairs with my pistol in one hand and its holster belt in the other and made my way into the kitchen, bumping painfully on the corner of the table. I was brought up short by a knocking at the back door.
“Who is it?” I asked. I moved to a position just behind the door whilst buckling the holster belt on over my pyjamas. Susan appeared, carefully carrying a lit candle, followed by Alice with her trusty shotgun.
“It’s me!” came a voice that I immediately recognised as James’s. “Let us in! They’ve made it!”
“Who’s made it?” I asked as I unlocked the door but the question was immediately answered as James staggered into the room, half supporting Andrew and Elizabeth, his uncle and aunt from London.
The room froze. Nobody could quite believe they had arrived
For as long as I had known him, Andrew had been carrying too much weight - a result of too many business lunches and nineteenth holes - but that had just evaporated. Now he looked slim and healthy.
Elizabeth, however, who had always kept herself in shape, now looked like a concentration camp victim.
“If there's not enough food, Andrew and I can move on," Elizabeth managed to say at last. "But please could you look after the kids. They can't take much more of this."
Her announcement was somewhat undermined by the fact that she chose that moment to collapse. I managed to catch her and James helped me to lower her into a chair. Andrew collapsed into the chair next to her.
"Don't talk soft!” Alice announced. “Of course you’re stayin'!'"
Susan hurried over and knelt down besides Elizabeth. “Hello, my name’s Susan, I’m a nurse. Now what’s the matter?”
“She and dad have been starving themselves for the last couple of weeks so that we could have a little bit more to eat,” David, their elder son, answered. I could see tears in his eyes glistening in the candlelight. “We didn’t want to let them but we just couldn’t help it.”
“How much have you all been eating?” Susan asked gently but firmly. “I need to know the truth here for medical reasons.”
“The three of us have been on one small meal a day,” David told her, “say, sharing a tin of beans with a bit of cheese in it - plus a snack, maybe a couple of biscuits. Mum and Dad just had the snack.”
“That’s all you’ve been eating for a week?” Susan checked with David and Elizabeth, “And you were going short before, as well?”
“We had to; there was only so much food,” Andrew answered.
“I’m not criticising… far from it. It just means we’re going to have to put you on a controlled refeeding program.”
“What?” They both looked dazed.
“Because you’ve been starving yourselves, your mineral levels are going to be all over the place and, if you start eating normally, they can be thrown even more out of line. We’re talking things like heart attacks and organ failure here. Get this wrong and you could easily die.
“You’re going to need to work with me on this,” she told them quite firmly. “For a couple of days, you’re only to eat what I tell you and eat it when I tell you.”
“I bet you’re going to tell me I’m not allowed any alcohol next, aren’t you?” David said with a smile. “I was really looking forward to a nice G&T!”
“Not a good idea,” Susan replied with a laugh. “Give it about a week. I can’t do blood tests so we’ll just have to play it safe.”
“Three?” Alice asked, suddenly noticing what David had said.
“Oh yeah,” David replied, helping Martin, his younger brother, to remove the slightly strange looking rucksack he was carrying. “Meet the newest member of our family, little Annie.”
The young, coloured girl stood blinking round the room in the candlelight. She looked completely overwhelmed.
We all stared at her for a moment then Alice pounced. Handing me her shotgun, she scooped the little girl up and held her in her arms. This was almost as astonishing as the arrival. The old Mam would never have behaved like that, even with her own grandchildren.
“Hello, love,” Alice said gently to the little girl, “How’s it goin’? Shall we see about summat to eat for thee?”
Any concern that Annie might have had about being picked up by a stranger was completely overwhelmed by the thought of food and she nodded enthusiastically.
The two hurried across to the stove and started stirring it into life to warm some of the mutton stew that had become our staple diet. James collected a couple of the biggest pans, filled them with water and put them onto the back of the stove for baths.
“The kids will be fine with the stew,” Susan told Alice, “just a small amount for now then more food in the morning. But please would you make some porridge for the parents - with water, no milk, no sugar…”
Alice nodded.
“And we’ll need to start all five of you on vitamin and mineral tablets. I’ve got some in the supplies from the clinic. Now, are there any other medical issues?”
“I turned my ankle about ten days ago but I’ve been walking on it since and it seems OK,” David answered.
“I’ll certainly have a look, but, if it’s OK by you, I’ll let you have a wash first,” Susan said with a smile.
“I think she’s saying you smell, bruv,” Martin said.
“Believe me, you all smell!” James said to general laughter. “I’ve just put some water on.”
It was wonderful to see these boys, who were being forced by the circumstances to turn into men, slipping back to being boys again, if only for a few moments. I hated myself for it, but I had to kill the mood. I nodded to Susan and she went across to Mam then I began, “Guys, I’m afraid I have some bad news...”
An hour later, I found a somewhat fed and much cleaner Andrew in the living room. Instead of his Gin and Tonic, he had a healthy vitamin drink in his hand, but he looked much more like the Andrew with whom I got on so well.
“Well,” I said, “tell me all about it.”
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:14:32 GMT -6
Chapter 2 - London
Andrew had been at home with the boys when the power had failed. At first it had only been an annoyance, with the boys quickly starting to bicker when their phones and electronic toys had stopped working. As much to give them something to do, he had got them to help him with a list of chores that he vaguely remembered Mary suggesting: turn off the gas and electric; fill the bath and empty bottles with water and hunt for the candles and matches. He even found their old camping stove which, surprisingly enough, still had a half bottle of gas from their occasional camping trip years before.
Elizabeth had been out shopping and had only made it home a couple of hours later after a long walk. She was tired and fed up and was slightly annoyed by his 'end of the world stuff'. She had even threatened to let the water out of the bath and only relented when she saw how serious Andrew was.
"Think of it as an insurance policy," he told her. "Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you're going to be right and I'll end up looking silly. The hundredth time, though..."
On that first afternoon there had been something of a carnival atmosphere in the small close where they lived and they had been invited to a big communal barbecue where people were going to cook the steaks and burgers from their freezers. Elizabeth was about to check her own freezer but something about Andrew's concerned tone struck a chord. She decided to keep it closed for now - the food in there should be fine for another day or so. Instead she had made a couple of nice salads from the contents of her fridge. To cover up for her tightfistedness, she had told Andrew to go and collect a case of his craft beer from the garage
There was a strange, slightly surreal atmosphere at the barbecue party and, as time went by and there was no sign of any restoration of power, Elizabeth found herself wondering whether, perhaps, Andrew's concerns were not completely unfounded.
The party broke up quite early as people were driven home by the lack of light and the early spring chill. After packing the boys to bed in their darkened rooms - it was still early but there wasn't enough light to do anything - they gathered by their bedroom window and looked out over the black and curiously quiet city. Elizabeth was still holding a glass of red wine and sipped it thoughtfully.
"This is really serious, isn't it?" she said, hoping he might have found some reason to believe that it wasn't true.
But Andrew couldn't give her any comfort. "I've not seen a plane since it happened," he answered. "Even if power was out all over London we should have seen something by now."
They were quiet for a long time, staring out into the eerie night.
"I'm frightened," Elizabeth said at last. "What are we going to do if things don’t sort themselves out?"
"We've got to go to the farm."
“But we’ve no car!”
“We’re going to have to walk.”
They hoped that things would be back to normal the next morning but didn't even have to open their eyes to know that everything had changed. The sound of the city was different. You could hear birdsong that would normally be drowned out by the noise of traffic. Under other circumstances it would be idyllic.
The calm scene was broken by the sound of raised voices from the close below. Andrew threw on some clothes and went down to find out what was going on.
He returned a few minutes later with a long face. There were credible reports of wide scale home invasions, theft and even worse nearer the centre of town and people were beginning to feel uneasy. Fortunately, they lived in a 'nice' suburb, to the West of London. For now, they were safe from the threats they knew were going to be coming from the 'bad' estates closer to the center of the city.
The quiet of the house was torn apart by furious shouting from the boys. With a sigh, Andrew went to see what was going on.
He didn't like what he found. The water had stopped flowing, the toilet had stopped draining and the two boys were blaming each other for it.
“That's enough, now, you two," he said with a quiet authority. "It's time for the big talk. I want you dressed and downstairs in five minutes.”
Andrew turned and went downstairs though he was relieved when he heard Elizabeth say, "You two had better do as you're told. Things just got serious."
Five minutes later they were sitting together in the dining room. It was quite a grand room and they rarely ate there except on special occasions.
“Boys,” Andrew began, “If we’re right, and it's starting to look as if we are, I’m afraid that your childhood ended yesterday. As of today, if we’re going to have any chance of surviving, you’re going to have to become adults.”
They glanced nervously at each other then looked to their mother. “David, Martin, please listen to your father,” she said, though it was obviously painful for her. “This is very important.”
He then spent five minutes laying out, in as much detail as he thought they could take, what London was likely to look like without any power.
"What are we going to do?" Martin asked. He had gone slightly pale.
"We're going to go to my parents' farm."
"Will they let us stay there?" Martin asked.
"Without a moment's hesitation."
"But they don't even like us," David said.
"That's not true. They don't like... more, don't approve of, really... of the way we live: the big job, big money, big house, big car, big bills... And maybe they're right. Maybe we could have done with something a little bit more solid than this place." He glanced around at the huge mansion around them. It was starting to feel like a mausoleum.
"And they certainly don't approve of the way we spoil you two," Andrew added.
"How are we going to get there?" David asked incredulously. "It's two hundred miles. In case you hadn't noticed, the cars aren't working."
"We're well aware that the cars aren't working. We're going to have to walk. With delays and detours, I guess it will take us about three weeks."
"I'm not walking to the farm," David said flatly.
"Then you can stay here," Andrew told him. "I just said that you were now adults. That entails accepting the consequences of your own actions. If things go downhill as quickly as I expect, you'll be dead within a week."
He looked to his mother but she sat there, stony faced.
"And, David," Andrew added, "if you do come with us, it will be a positive decision and you will be completely committed to making it work. Now, first thing tomorrow, the rest of us are going to the farm. Are you coming with us?"
Again he looked to his mother but this time she refused even to meet his eye so he looked down at the table.
"I guess," he mumbled.
"David Moore!" his mother snapped at him. "You were just told this needs to be a positive decision! Now answer your father properly!"
David was quiet for a moment, more shaken by his mother’s reaction than by the news that the world was falling apart. Then he met his father’s eye. “Yes, sir,” he answered with an unheard of degree of formality. "I will come with you."
“Good,” Andrew answered with a smile.” There is one other thing. There is every chance that some of us will be killed on this journey. If the two of you make it to the farm, I’ll count that as a success. You're going to have to learn how to survive alone, travel alone and find your way their alone.”
On that cheerful note, they paused for breakfast.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:15:04 GMT -6
Chapter 3 - Preperation
Over breakfast, they started planning.
The first problem was, obviously, going to be getting out of town. They would need huge loads to get anywhere near the farm but anyone moving with a large rucksack on their backs would be marking themselves out as a target.
They decided it would be safest to move just before dawn. As Elizabeth put it, by then, all self-respecting criminals and low lives should be tucked up in their beds.
It was David who had the idea of using the canal towpath. One of the family's standard 'Sunday afternoon walks' when the children had been younger, involved cutting across a local park to the canal and he had often wondered where he would end up if he just kept walking.
The other question was how to carry everything they needed for two weeks. They could not rely on finding any food along the way. After a couple of minutes’ discussion, Andrew went into the garage and set about converting an expensive golf trolley into a high tech travois. Fortunately, he was still enough of a farm boy to have the hand tools and, more importantly, the knowledge, to make a reasonable job of it. After a few minutes, he was joined by David who made himself surprisingly useful.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Martin began to search the kitchen for transportable food, which they piled on the dining room table. They also began cooking up batches of a thick stew that they would be able to take with them and eat cold, if necessary.
After about two hours, Andrew came into the kitchen to find Elizabeth almost in tears as she tried to stuff an entirely unsuitable sleeping bag into Martin's school backpack. He walked over and put his arm round her shoulders.
"I know it's not the real problem but what's the problem?" he asked, sitting her at the kitchen table.
"I thought it would be a good idea if everybody had their own pack," she explained, "We've got our old backpacking stuff." In their early days Andrew and Elizabeth had gone on several backpacking holidays together, "and I was trying to get something sorted out for David and Martin but it's just not working."
He sat down opposite her and thought for a while. Suddenly he exploded, "Mary's Bob!"
"Who?"
"The present that Mary gave us that last Christmas," he explained. "She called it a 'bug out bag'."
"I thought you got rid of it!"
"I couldn't... not after she died... and she specifically asked me to keep hold of it... I just stuffed it up in the attic."
"Well go and unstuff it straight away!" she said, wiping her eyes on a piece of kitchen roll that David had brought for her.
The expedition up into the attic was slightly challenging because, of course, there was no light. In the end Andrew had to ask David to hold a candle while he hunted round behind boxes of old clothes and Christmas decorations.
He found the cling-film wrapped package hidden behind some boxes of books and passed it down. After some more hunting, he found his ancient, battered rucksack which was huge by modern lightweight standards. It was full of old hiking clothes and boots so he passed that down too. As he was hauling that out, he was hit sharply on the leg by a walking staff that he had bought himself when on holiday in Austria. While not obviously an offensive weapon, it was a solid, five foot long lump of chestnut wood. He passed this down too.
They gathered in the lounge and, as the boys started to unwrap the two plastic wrapped parcels, a letter fell out. David passed it to his father who read it to the others.
"Dear Andy, I hope you never need to read this letter.
"These are 'Bug out Bags'. One each for you and Elizabeth. They are designed to get the four of you out of London and moving towards the farm.
"If things go bad, they are going to go bad in London first. You need to get out before this happens and before big crowds of directionless refugees hit the roads. Once that happens, travel will be all but impossible.
"Move away from London first and then think about moving towards the farm. You need to keep off main roads and stay away from big towns. You can get trapped much too easily there. If things get really bad, you need to be prepared to dump the car and walk.
"There's enough food in the bags for about five days. Hopefully this will be enough. If it's not, keep moving and don't take risks to find more. You'll be hungry but none of you is going to starve in less than two weeks.
"I say again, I hope you never need this package. If you do, we'll be praying that you make it safely to the farm.
"Thank you, once again, for all the help you gave us in buying the house. I'll never forget that.
"Your loving sister, M"
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By the time darkness fell, they were more or less ready. Everybody had a pack that contained the bare essentials for four days' travel - maybe a few more if they were careful. They each had a lightweight sleeping bag with a bivy bag to keep it dry and even a lightweight ground mat. They each had a compass and, by hacking up a couple of road atlases, they had at least some maps between them, though they were not ideal for walking. They all had water bottles and either a water purifier or purification tablets.
Then there was the trolley.
The trolley was loaded with about twenty tins and all the pasta, rice and cous-cous they could find. On top of this was a cool box with three big tubs of stew that Elizabeth had made plus anything from the freezer that was still usefully cold. It was all covered with a tarpaulin that they had cut from an old family tent - it was an old grey green colour and they had splattered some black and brown paint on it to give a camouflage effect.
Offcuts from the tent were used to make simple cloaks that could be thrown over the rucksacks - immediately christened the elven cloaks. Again they did what they could to give a camouflage effect with splashes of paint. It was Martin who had the idea of wearing a baseball cap to keep the thing out of his eyes. This had the advantage of putting his face into shadow.
When she saw this, Elizabeth collected the boxes of face paints that were still in the dressing up box on top of a cupboard, though they had not been used for years. with some judicious selection and mixing she soon had a collection of camouflage colours.
They had told the boys that they could take one small personal item with them. Martin chose to take his bear, of course. He was still quite small. But Andrew had been pleasantly surprised when David chose to take his bow. He had joined a local archery club after becoming addicted to the 'Lord of the Rings' films and was now more than competent with it.
"You might even be able to catch dinner for us!" he suggested with a smile. Elizabeth looked less than happy at the idea.
One item that had come out of the ‘bob’ was carefully stored in an inside pocket. It was a wind-up torch that had been stored in two layers of electronic protection bags and was still working.
As darkness fell, he had a last look around the old place. There were the photos and the children’s artworks; the trophies he had won playing rugby at college; that certificate, signed by the company president, celebrating the success of the first project he led. That was history. He knew that, as soon as he walked out of the door the next morning, this part of his life was over.
As he was walking out of his study for the last time, his eyes fell on the watch that Elizabeth's parents had given him on his wedding day - mechanical, of course. He had got out of the habit of wearing it since the tyranny of mobile phones had taken over his world. Without any conscious thought, he picked it up and slipped it onto his wrist.
It couldn't have been much after midnight when something woke Andrew. At first he couldn't work out what it was but as he lay awake in the utter blackness he realised he could hear strange noises.
He got out of bed and, working by feel, made his way across to the window and pulled back the curtains. There had been rain earlier but it had passed now and there was a little bit of watery moonlight filtering through the clouds.
Scanning the close immediately in front of their house, he could see nothing amiss. One house had the flickering light of a candle in an upstairs window but otherwise it was dark and silent.
Away to the East, though, the horizon was marked by the unmistakable red glow of a fire. There were raised voices and the sound of breaking glass and, when he opened the window to hear more clearly, he could smell smoke.
"What's up?" came a sleepy voice from the bed.
"I don't know but it looks like trouble," he answered. "It's a bit earlier than I had planned but I think we should get going."
"Without even a shower!" she said in a tone of mock anguish.
"There's still half a bath of cold water, if you want it!"
"I think I'll manage without, thanks!"
Twenty minutes later, everyone was ready to go and the atmosphere was much less flippant. Though he couldn't see it in the dark, Andrew knew that Elizabeth was quietly crying. He touched her gently on the arm and then opened the front door.
The noise was louder now - you could pick out individual voices - and the fires seemed to be much closer. There were screams, too, which encouraged them to get moving with the minimum of delay.
Andrew was the last to leave their home and, as he did so, he touched the doorframe as if saying goodbye. He deliberately left the keys in the lock in the hope that any looters would just rob the place rather than destroy it.
Taking his walking staff in one hand and the trolley handle in the other, he joined the rest of his family and together they set off, heading north.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:43:39 GMT -6
Chapter 4 - The Canal
From the end of their little close, they could see up towards the station and the local shops. There were fires up there and, by the flickering light, they could see groups of people moving about. It was an eerie, menacing scene and as they stood and watched, it was clear that a large group was heading their way. They were glad to turn their backs and head towards the country park and then the canal.
Though it was still hours before dawn, there was some moonlight fighting it's way between the broken clouds and the fires, though disconcerting, provided more light. After a few minutes their eyes grew used to the darkness and they could travel the familiar paths with relative ease. The trolley moved quite comfortably on level ground though it was hard to control both up and down hill and, when they came to the steps down to the canal towpath, Andrew needed David's help.
Walking along the towpath had an unanticipated advantage. The few scraps of light were reflected off the water, marking a clear boundary for the path. The world and its problems seemed far away as they trudged along until it was brought suddenly and sharply back by half a dozen shots with associated shouts and screams. The action was not very close but closer than they would have liked.
They paused a couple of times for a brief rest and a snack. The standard hiking rations were saved for later in the journey. Instead they ate things that had been hauled out of the freezer and wouldn't keep. At the first stop, Elizabeth shared out lamb chops, perversely enough, from the farm, and, at the second, some spicy Indonesian dumplings.
As they were getting ready to leave at the end of their second stop, they were surprised when a large group, maybe twenty people, appeared behind them. They were moving in a military style formation with what looked like armed soldiers at the front and rear and civilians in the middle. They nodded a greeting as they passed but were making no unnecessary noise.
As the rearguard moved passed, Andrew quietly warned them that they were heading north too. This did not look like a group that would take kindly to being followed.
At last, at long last, dawn began to break over the canal. Birds were singing and strands of wispy grey mist clung to the surface of the water. As it became lighter, it became clear that poor Martin was out on his feet, stumbling along, more asleep than awake.
Andrew was proud of the uncomplaining efforts but keen to keep moving when the world was so quiet. He handed over trolley towing duty to David and hoiked Martin's pack up on top of his own. Though not too heavy it was quite cumbersome and he was pleased that the towpath was so sound underfoot.
Even so, after another hour, it was clear that he couldn't go on for much longer. Even with Elizabeth steering him, Martin was becoming clumsy. They passed their first 'locals' a few minutes later - an elderly couple walking two bouncy Alsatian puppies. If they were perturbed to see the strange group they did not mention it and passed on their way with a cheerful 'Good morning'. Andrew couldn't help wondering how long they - and particularly the puppies - would remain so cheerful.
As they were starting to look for somewhere to spend the day, they passed the large military group who were down in a field, just off the path. They, too, were presumably looking for somewhere to rest but it didn't seem prudent to investigate too closely. Again, the most cursory of acknowledgements were exchanged.
A short time later Elizabeth spotted a place. An old swing bridge led across the canal but didn't seem to go anywhere. There wasn't even a path on the other side. There was, however, a small wood and within a couple of minutes, they had found a grassy clearing. Not many seconds later, they had unpacked their bedrolls and collapsed on the grass.
After a couple of minutes Andrew hauled himself to his feet to go and thank David and, particularly, Martin for their efforts in the night but they were both fast asleep. Martin had not even managed to take off his trainers.
Elizabeth had volunteered to take the first watch. Ever since the children had been small, she had been able to get by on little or broken sleep. Andrew handed her the watch with instructions to wake him after four hours or when she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore then collapsed into his sleeping bag.
It must have been nearly four hours later that Andrew was woken by a strange noise.. It sounded like a steam engine and was getting closer.
They watched in fascination as an ancient, steam powered canal boat chugged past them. It was towing a string of three more modern narrowboats behind it.
"That's one way of dealing with no electricity," Andrew observed. He hauled himself to his feet and, with a kiss, sent Elizabeth off to get some sleep.
He managed another couple of hours sleep late in the afternoon when David had woken and was standing watch. He awoke to find a small fire with stew warming over it.
“I know it's a bit of a risk,” Elizabeth said as she handed him a bowl, “but I think it's worth it to get some warm food in us,”
As he savoured the warm stew, he couldn't disagree.
Then, as the evening shadows started to lengthen, they prepared to move on. As they were packing up, the military group that had passed the previous night passed again. In the evening light they could see that there were several small children at the centre of the group.
This set the pattern for the next few days, walking through the night and sleeping through the days. As they kept playing leapfrog with the military group, they became slightly less reserved. They described themselves jokingly as the ‘Stoke-Newington Militia’ and, while several members were military, most were not.
One evening he awoke to find a tremendously proud David with a quite neatly prepared rabbit hanging from a tree. He had shot it with his bow.
“How did you know how to gut it?” Andrew asked.
“What do you think the Internet was for?" David answered.
The next day, they had a slightly longer rest than usual, and Elizabeth made a delicious rabbit stew. It was a wonderful change to have plenty to eat.
They thought they were getting used to the travel - the constant tension and mild exhaustion and the broken and uncomfortable sleep.
Then it started to rain.
Everything became more difficult. Walking was uncomfortable, stopping was cold, The packs and the elven cloaks were heavy and seemed to drag at any obstacle.
Everyone was trying hard but tempers were getting frayed and, though it was still early, Andrew was relieved when David spotted a dry, quiet place to spend the day. A main road crossed the canal and a river with a series of arches. The next arch over was low and had a concrete ledge, slightly above ground level making a low cave. Though it was something of a scramble to get over the fence and up there it was flat and, most important, it was wonderfully dry.
For the first time they undressed down to their underclothes before collapsing into their sleeping bags and Andrew even took the tarp off the trolley to provide a little extra warmth for the sleepers. When Elizabeth woke him for the second watch, he found she had taken one of the tarp ropes off and hung up their soaking clothes.
It wasn’t the most comfortable of watches. His clothes were still damp and the roof was too low to stand up properly. Several groups passed over the bridge and, though they were invisible in their little cave, he wasn’t comfortable with having so many people so close.
It was a couple of hours into the watch when his attention was caught by some sort of disturbance at the far end of the bridge. He could hear shouting so, being careful to stay in the shadows, he cautiously moved towards the mouth of their little cave to hear what was being said
He was just in time to see something large and body-shaped tumbling from the bridge into the river. The screaming started almost immediately. It didn’t stop for a long time.
As he crouched and sat in his damp clothes in the low concrete tunnel, he had plenty of time to think about how right they had been to stay off the roads.
Setting off the next evening was unpleasant. They hadn’t dared to make their normal warm meal, instead they ate the last of the cold rabbit stew with some almost uneatably stale bread. They then had to reverse their scramble of a few hours before, this time, however, they knew that any noise could attract dangerous attention.
Once back on the path, Andrew carried the trolley, stepping with great care, until they rounded the first bend and the shadow of that road bridge disappeared from view.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:44:06 GMT -6
Chapter 5 - Little Annie
As they moved back into the familiar world of the towpath, their spirits lifted. They were getting into the swing of this night walking and were making solid progress. The night was mostly clear and bright and when a brief shower came through they caught up with the ‘Stoke-Newington Militia’ who invited the Moore family to join them in the shelter of some heavy trees where they were resting . They chatted for a few minutes and found out that the militia were heading for North Wales but they were moving more slowly than they hoped and were worried that they would run out of food.
Still feeling good, they resumed their walk. It was getting light when a young man stepped off one of the canal boats about ten yards in front of them. Andrew immediately sensed something was not right. "Stay here," he hissed to the boys.
"Hello, nice to meet you," the man said with a grin that was worse than malevolent. It looked insane. He was holding a shotgun and his index finger was playing alarmingly round the trigger.
“Hello,” Andrew answered cautiously but the man ignored him. He was staring at Elizabeth.
"Let’s have something to eat,” the man said, “then we can have some fun."
"Maybe we should have that fun first!" Elizabeth said with a welcoming smile. Andrew could see that the smile wasn't genuine but he doubted whether anyone else could. She took off her cloak, then stepped to the side of the path to take off her rucksack.
When she started to run her hands through her hair and stretch provocatively, Andrew could see what she was doing. The man's attention was well and truly grabbed and the barrel of the shotgun drifted away from Andrew who started easing his staff into position.
Suddenly there was the shaft of an arrow poking out of the man's eye. He remained standing for several seconds before falling sideways, his body remained rigid until he hit the ground.
"Mum, that was gross!" David said, walking up with the bow still in his hands, a fresh arrow already notched. His cool demeanour was destroyed, however, when he turned and started being violently sick into the bushes.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?" she said to no one in particular as she hurried over to put an arm round his shoulders.
Andrew walked over and retrieved the shotgun and, paling slightly, checked the body. There was surprisingly little blood but he was very dead. In the man’s pockets he found half a dozen shells and a good quality hunting knife.
There was no putting it off. Steeling himself, he took a firm grip on the arrow and pulled it out. It came out fairly easily but the noise it made as the aluminium grated against bone almost had Andrew in the bushes next to David.
He rinsed it in the canal then carried it across to David. "Yours, I presume," he said, passing it to him.
"Don't make me laugh, dad," David said, obviously still in some discomfort after being sick.
"Seriously, son, thank you for that. You probably just saved your mother and me. He didn't look awfully sane to me."
"But why was he being allowed to wander round if he's mad?" David asked.
"There are quite a few people out there who are only able to function reasonably with antipsychotic drugs," Elizabeth explained. "when the drugs run out..."
"I thought you might be able to use this," he said, handing David the knife. "And you should have this." He handed the shotgun to Elizabeth. They had been clay pigeon shooting several times and she never let him forget that she was the much better shot.
A few minutes later, they resumed their walk.
A day later, they found themselves a campsite in the field just above the towpath. It was quite warm and they did not bother to hang up the tarp.
They had made good distance that night even though they stopped early to avoid reaching a large town as it was becoming light. Elizabeth even insisted that they all had a quick wash and that they change their socks and underwear.
They had heard several gunshots during the day and, as they were getting ready to leave in the evening, there was the sound of an extended gun battle from the town ahead. This caused great concern so they were particularly careful as they prepared to move out, checking for noisy packs and even using the face paints they had brought to take the shine off their faces.
They waited until it was fully dark before pressing on into town.
At first they didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. The canal cut in towards the centre of town past high class houses with attractive gardens. As they drew closer to the centre, high-walled, industrial buildings lined the banks and it became quite dark.
The towpath led them up towards a narrow stone bridge and beyond it, they could hear the splash of water that generally indicated that they were approaching a lock. Suddenly Elizabeth, who was leading, tripped over something. There was a strange noise as she suppressed a scream.
Andrew moved quietly up and was quite shaken too. By the faint moonlight, he could see a child’s body on the towpath. He looked around and saw that there were more bodies scattered around. With growing horror, he recognised that they were members of the Stoke-Newington militia.
They stared for several seconds but were shaken back to alertness by a whispered cry for help from down in the canal.
"Who is it? "Andrew asked, looking in the direction of the voice.
"The name’s Reginald,” he answered as Andrew cautiously approached. He recognised him as being a chatty, older guy from the Militia. He was lying half in the water and managing, with some difficulty, to hold a small girl on a narrow ledge so she was not in the water.
Andrew lifted the little girl off the ledge and gave her to Martin to look after as the others hauled the man out of the canal. Though he managed to stay silent, he was obviously in great pain.
“What happened? "Andrew asked.
"We were ambushed,” Reginald answered. “I took one in the gut.”
Andrew started to uncover his stomach but Reginald told him not to bother. “If there were hospitals and medivac and stuff,” he said, “I might stand a chance, but like this… it's just a waste of time.”
“What do you want us to do then?” Elizabeth asked though she already had an idea.
“Would you take care of our Annie? She's no chance if you don't.”
Andrew looked towards the little girl. Her mouth was wide open, as if screaming though she was not making a sound, and there was a look of pure terror in her eyes. "Is she alright?" he asked.
"It's her silent crying thing,” Reginald answered.
Andrew thought that it looked like a form of paediatric combat stress but he didn't think it would help to say so.
“Where are her parents?” he asked.
Reginald nodded towards the bodies down the towpath.
Andrew and Elizabeth looked across at the little girl who had latched onto Martin and didn't look as if she ever intended to let him go. Martin was kneeling down and holding her slightly awkwardly. Then they looked at each other and nodded to Reginald. This was not a request you could refuse.
“You need to get moving but there's some stuff on the ledge down there.” He nodded towards the canal.
David retrieved an incredibly heavy rucksack, a smaller strangely shaped backpack and a rifle. Meanwhile, Reginald extracted a couple of magazines from the waistcoat he was wearing.
“Take ‘em,” he said. “They’re no use to me anymore! Now let me give Annie a kiss then get gone.”
As Andrew hefted the enormously heavy pack onto his back, he saw that Martin had put Annie onto his shoulders. He wasn't sure how that would work in the long term but Reginald was right. They had to get away from the site of the ambush as soon as possible.
Twenty minutes later, as they were trudging out of the town back into open countryside, Andrew realised that they had not even asked what little Annie’s full name was.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:44:29 GMT -6
Chapter 6 - Footpath
They had been walking for about four hours when Elizabeth suddenly stopped.
“That's enough,” she said decisively. “We need to stop, rest and repack. You’re going to strain something if you try to keep going.”
Andrew was about to protest. The push to keep moving north was powerful but, after a moment he agreed. They were all at their limits.
“We need to think about where we are going, too,” he said. “This canal is heading straight towards a couple of big cities and, by now, they’ll be no better than London.”
Finding a place to camp in the dark was not easy but eventually they found a small field sheltered by some trees. The boys were asleep within minutes and, when Elizabeth went to cover them up with the tarp, she saw that Martin had taken Annie into his sleeping bag with him.
“Martin seems to have adopted her," she said with a smile as she kissed the three good night but Andrew didn't hear her. He was asleep too.
For the first time since the trip started, they all got enough sleep. It was early afternoon when Andrew woke to hear Martin and Annie whispering together in their sleeping bag.
“You didn't wake me,” he said to Elizabeth.
“I fell asleep too!” she confessed.
“No harm done!” he said with a smile. “We certainly all needed it!”
While they prepared a heavy meal - heavy in that it involved a number of tins - they inspected the contents of Mike’s rucksack. The main weight was about twenty military ration boxes. Three - or two at a push - would be enough to feed them all for a day.
In addition to basic travel supplies, there were also two boxes of ammunition for the rifle and one of shotgun shells. ’Weight,’ Andrew thought, ‘but an impressive level of insurance.”
The funny backpack that Elizabeth had been carrying, strapped to the top of her own, turned out to be a child carrier integrated into a rucksack. Martin and Annie seemed to have grown quite attached to each other so Elizabeth spent a little while adjusting the carrier for Martin then moved some of the kit from his old pack into this new one.
After they had eaten, they repacked, shifting weight from their overburdened shoulders into the trolley then Andrew spent some time inspecting the new rifle until he was satisfied that he could at least fire it if he had to.
“They say you should never put it into automatic mode until you know what you're doing,” Elizabeth informed him surprisingly knowledgeably.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
"Didn't you ever read those books from Mary?”
“I never got round to it,” he admitted.
He would have dearly loved to try a couple of shots but it would make too much noise so he had to be satisfied with dry firing the weapon.
The more they looked at the maps, the clearer it became that they would have to get off the canal. They were heading straight towards a heavily populated area. It was David who noticed a long distance footpath leading north east alongside a small river. It seemed to lead through open countryside. The only problem with that route would be a major river crossing - more an estuary, really - but Elizabeth had already suggested using a railway bridge which she had found on the map. They hoped it would be less dangerous than the main roads which were the only other crossing points.
By this time, it had started to get dark so they packed up, hoisted on their packs and set off.
A few hours later they reached the viaduct that marked their turn. With some trepidation, they left the towpath that had been their home for the last week.
It didn't take long for them to realise the great advantages a canal towpath offered. Firstly, it had a relatively smooth surface. After a couple of hours of being dragged over rough ground, the trolley was starting to suffer and, when he was on watch the next day, Andrew spent a couple of hours trying to fix it using the repair kit they had found in Reginald’s pack.
It was also hard to get lost on the canal. This was definitely not the case on the footpath. The issue came to a head on the second night when it slowly dawned on them that, after stumbling around in rainy blackness for most of the night, that they were following their waymarked path in the wrong direction and were almost back to where they had spent the previous day.
Elizabeth collapsed to the ground in tears. She was stunned and too tired to think. Martin collapsed next to her and Annie, on his back was slipping into her ‘silent crying’ state. Andrew walked a few yards away from the rest and stared out into the pre-dawn blackness. He had never felt so inadequate and humiliated.
In the end it was David who came and tentatively put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Dad”, he said, “we've got to go onto the roads. These maps just aren't up to the job.”
Andrew had to fight the urge to snap at his son for the crime of being right.
The two of them went over and hauled Elizabeth and Martin to their feet. The five of them hugged each other in a small family circle.
“Come on,” David said, “there’s a good place to stop just down here. I’ll take the first watch.”
David managed to stay awake for three hours and even then he had woken his mother so Andrew enjoyed seven hours of uninterrupted sleep and woke to find himself feeling refreshed and with his hope restored. While he was on watch, he hauled out the maps and they started planning their route.
For the first two nights on the roads, they managed to avoid anything but the tiniest of hamlets and they covered a tremendous distance, as far as they had travelled in the previous five nights. The only problem had been Martin’s trainers. The sole was starting to separate from the uppers. They managed a quick fix with some tape from Reginald’s repair kit but it obviously wasn't going to hold for long.
But on the next night, they could see no way of avoiding a more sizable village and, when they approached it, they were not surprised to see that the road had been blocked by a barricade composed mostly of cars.
Andrew approached to about 100 yards from the barricade and then called out: "Hello, the village!"
This caused a flurry of activities then a voice replied, "Who's there?"
"My name's Andrew. I'm traveling with my family. We have to get out on the Lincoln road."
"You're not planning on staying?"
"No, we're heading out to my parent's farm up in the Dales."
That caused a slight pause. "Funny way of going about it."
"Didn't much fancy going anywhere near Birmingham or Nottingham."
"OK, come on in. No funny business please. We’ve got shotguns."
Andrew glanced at Elizabeth and she nodded. They seemed genuine.
In an attempt to look less threatening, he slung the rifle over his shoulder then led his family into the village.
Though cautious, the two men and a woman behind the barrier seemed friendly enough and, as one of them, an older man called Bert, was leading them into the village, he asked whether the children would like some milk. "We've got too much," he explained. "We're having to throw it away."
The two boys said "Yes, please," with great enthusiasm and even little Annie gave a rare smile.
He left the family sitting at a picnic table in front of the pub, returning a couple of minutes later with a large jug of milk and half a dozen plastic beakers.
"You should make butter and cheese," Martin suggested as he sat with a broad grin and a milky moustache.
"What's that, son?" Bert asked.
"If you've got too much milk, you should make it into butter and cheese."
Burt looked at him for a moment then nodded. That's not a bad idea," he said. "Not bad at all."
As they sat at the tables in front of the pub, drinking milk and describing what was going on in the world outside, they lost track of time and they were slightly startled to see dawn was breaking in the East.
"We need to get going," Andrew said. "We need to find somewhere to camp before there are too many people about."
"I can't offer you anything to eat but you're welcome to use my spare room," Bert offered.
So they chatted for a while longer and a small crowd of locals gathered round, eager for any news from the outside world. Bert was particularly struck when Andrew had described what had happened to the ‘Stoke-Newington Militia’ and held up the rifle to show them.
"Maybe we need to be a bit more careful in future," Bert commented dryly. “I completely missed that, in the dark!"
The first sleep in a bed for over a week was disturbed in the middle of the afternoon by the loud and insistent ringing of a bell."
Andrew rushed to the door. "What's up?" he asked Bert who was emerging from his own bedroom.
"Alarm at the Church Road Barrier," he answered breathlessly as he attempted to go down stairs while pulling a coat on. "You'd be more than welcome to bring that pea-shooter of yours, if you're willin'."
"I need to try out the rifle!" he said to Elizabeth as he pulled on his shoes.
"You're not going to use refugees for target practice, are you?" she said, shocked at the thought.
He paused for a moment and looked at her. "You don't really think I'd do that, do you?
"No, not really. Be careful. We'll stay here."
When they reached the barricade, they found a group of about 30 people clustered just out of shotgun range. They were demanding food and the atmosphere was becoming distinctly hostile.
"Should I put a couple of bullets through the back of that?" he asked Bert, pointing to a road sign close to where the refugees were standing.
There was a brief conference amongst the people manning the barricade and they gave him the nod.
He'd been shooting a couple of times with Mary and knew what to expect but the AK had considerably more kick than the .22 he had fired before. The first shot just clipped the edge of the sign. The next one was much closer to the centre.
There was silence for several seconds as the sound of the shot echoed away then, with only a little muttering, the crowd turned and went back the way they had come.
Andrew was not sure how he felt as he made his way back to Bert’s house. While it was clear that the village could not support all the refugees who came along demanding food, sending them away like this was virtually a death sentence.
There were no easy answers.
Bert had plenty of eggs and milk so they sacrificed half a bag of flour and some vegetable oil and made an enormous stack of pancakes. They ate so many that for the first time since they set off they felt really full. As they ate, they planned routes and looked at local maps. It was Bert who suggested following a cycle route that passed just east of town.
So, as darkness fell, they loaded up their packs and set off.
The route was not hard to follow. In some places it followed well maintained tracks and in others it went along minor roads. Critically, it stayed away from built-up areas and they made steady progress north. On one occasion, they were passed by a group of cyclists who were also using the route but, after some cautious greetings and cagey discussions of plans, they went on their way.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:45:02 GMT -6
Chapter 7 - The Bridge
Three nights later they arrived at the river. As Bert had told them, there was a footpath along the bank and it was only a couple of miles to the bridge. Unfortunately the path was made of slatted wood and by the time the railway embankment came into sight, the trolley had developed an annoying squeak. At last Andrew could stand it no longer - they were trying to move quietly - so he picked up the thing and carried it. As he did so, it occurred to him that either he was growing stronger or the trolley was becoming lighter.
Suddenly Elizabeth touched his arm and pointed to the viaduct ahead. Silhouetted against the starry sky, there were two people. They looked as if they were guarding the bridge.
Andrew moved as quietly as possible to the base of the viaduct. He gestured to the others that they should stay where they were then scrambled up. It wasn't hard but he wished he had taken his pack off. As he reached the top he flattened himself onto the damp grass and studied the scene.
There were two guards standing on the railway line with no obvious shelter or support. He could see them quite clearly in the watery moonlight. They were looking out along the bridge and were obviously not expecting anyone to come from behind them. A short way along the tracks there was a pile of rubbish.
Andrew waited a few minutes to check that there was nobody else about then he announced his presence. “You have a rifle pointing at you,” he told them with as much authority as he could muster. “Do not turn around or point those shotguns in this direction.”
The two men froze.
“My family is going to cross the bridge,” he told them. “We don't want any trouble but I will shoot if necessary. Now put those guns on the ground and move twenty yards back down the tracks away from the bridge.”
“How do we know that you won't just shoot us?” one of the men asked.
“I don't want to waste ammunition or attract attention,” Andrew answered. “Anyway, if I wanted you dead, you already would be.”
Grumbling, they put down the shotguns and moved back. He was wondering what to do next when he heard David, just below him on the embankment, whispering, “It's me; Mum send me up.”
Andrew sent David back down the slope to help the others make their way up with their supplies. “We’re supposed to charge you a toll for crossing the bridge,” one of the guards said optimistically.
“You really think that's going to happen?” Andrew responded.
After a few minutes the family was up on the embankment with all their supplies and they started to make their way along the bridge. Andrew went last, walking backwards to keep an eye on the two guards while David carried their two shotguns.
“Can we have our guns back?” one of them asked. He seemed to be becoming increasingly nervous.
“In a minute,” Andrew answered. “We’ll leave them just up here and you can come and collect them...”
Suddenly there was a scream from Elizabeth.
Andrew hurried to catch up with her. She was staring in wide eyed horror at the rubbish pile just in front of her. Annie was doing her ‘silent crying’ thing and Martin looked as if he was about to do the same.
Then he saw. The pile of rubbish wasn't rubbish. It was bodies. Lots of bodies.
With a furious expression, he turned on the men who were standing a short distance away. “Was this you?” he demanded.
“No, it was Bushy’s lot”
“Who's Bushy.”
“He sort of runs the place,” one of the men said and nodded back up the railway line.
“Go away!” Andrew said, fighting hard to control his anger. “Go far and go fast!”
“But what about…”
“I said ‘Get out of my sight’!” Andrew shouted, raising the rifle to his shoulder. The two men did not discuss the matter any further. They turned and fled.
Still keeping an eye on the two, he tried to make his way along the bridge past the heap. To his further horror, he realised that there were children as well as adults in the pile and for a moment, he wished he hadn't sent the two away.
He didn't even want to look but David came close and whispered, “Dad, Martin needs those boots.”
He stared at his son for a moment, not wanting to believe what he had just said. The trouble was, he knew he was right. One of the corpses was wearing an expensive pair of boots that looked as if they would fit Martin.
After checking that the men were well out of the way, Andrew knelt down and tried to remove the boots.
It was the worst thing he had ever done in his life.
The dead boy was so young - not much older than Martin; in fact, if it wasn't for the slightly darker hair, he could have been Martin.
Only when he had covered the poor lad’s face could Andrew overcome his revulsion and bring himself to touch him. Even then it was difficult, the body was stiff and the boots were tight, but at last, after completely removing the laces, he managed to get first one, then the second, off.
Saying a silent prayer for the boy, he stuffed the boots into the top of the trolley and hurried after his family.
As the bridge climbed, the river and mudflats below seemed to disappear and they were left with the two parallel tracks, stretching out seemingly forever into the darkness.
Suddenly a pair of support pillars loomed in front of them, stretching up into the black of the night sky.
For a few seconds they had a point of reference but then it disappeared behind them and they trudged on into that forever. Mist descended, collapsing their world ever tighter and the remote and alien atmosphere drove them to cluster together for support.
Then, suddenly they found themselves in the middle of a family group, much like their own, but with younger children. Andrew held his breath when he saw that they, too, were armed but, by then, the two groups were so intermixed that shooting would have been madness. With a couple of words, the two groups passed. ‘Like ships in the night,’ he chuckled to himself.
A smudge of light started to stain the mist behind them and, imperceptibly, the mist started to sink down towards the river as day broke. It felt as if they were walking over clouds.
But with the dawn came danger. They felt terribly exposed there on the bridge and, when they reached the other side, anybody would be able to see them coming. Unconsciously they started to hurry.
But hurrying with the trolley over the railway tracks was a mistake. Suddenly it gave a startlingly loud crack and the wheels stopped turning. Muttering under his breath, Andrew picked the thing up and started to carry it.
They could see the last pair of support pillars approaching, stretching above them into the lightening sky. By the time they reached them, it was fully light and they could see a walkway that lead round the back of one of the pillars. Andrew was mildly irritated when David followed the walkway - they needed to keep moving to get off the bridge - but he soon forgot this when David hurried back to tell them that he had found somewhere to spend the day.
There was a simple shelter - barely more than a hut - round the back of the pillar which looked as if it was occasionally used by track maintenance staff. Somebody had broken in but there was still a simple gas burner and, when David started hunting in a couple of old cupboards, he found some stale tea bags - luxury.
While not quite a house, and certainly not a bed, it was wonderful to be sleeping with a roof over their heads and, when Elizabeth woke him after four hours, he was feeling unusually refreshed.
He got up and walked around the pair of pillars to get a feel for the lie of the land. The far bank, where they had come from, was too hazy to allow him to make out any details, even with the binoculars. He could see the near bank much more clearly - but all he could see there were a few cows in the riverside pastures. He idly speculated about how long they were going to survive. He casually scanned along the bridge and was shocked to see a group of about a dozen people walking along the bridge towards them.
Studying them with the binoculars, he could see it was a mixed group with men, women and children. They were walking in a loose group and didn't seem to be aware of the risk of attack.
As they approached, Andrew stood in the middle of the tracks, holding the rifle across his chest so that it was visible and available but non-threatening. As they drew close, he stepped back onto the walkway, hoping to show them that he didn't want to block their way and said, “Afternoon!”
“’Ow do,” an older man answered. “Tough times.”
Andrew was shaken - that was a Yorkshire accent.
“That they are,” he agreed. “Where’ve you come from?”.
“We’re from Donny,” he answered. “Place is a mess; ’alf on it went up in smoke the other night. We were lucky to get out.” Andrew noticed they were carrying next to nothing. “We’re ’eadin’ for our Angie’s parents' place near Skeggy. Hopin’ things are a bit better down there. Yoursen?”
“We’ve come up from London,” Andrew answered. He found himself slipping into the familiar accent too. “Headin’ back to my parents’ place up in t’Dales.”
“That's a fair step,” the man answered. He paused briefly. “’Ow you doin’ for food?” he asked at last. “Not for us, like, but for the kids.”
Andrew looked at him for a moment, knowing what it would cost a proud Yorkshireman to beg for food. “Stay here,” he said at last. He stepped behind the pillar, returning a few moments later with two precious tins. He also brought one of the rusty shotguns they had taken from the bridge guards.
“I'm takin’ food from my own kids here!” he cautioned the man as he handed them over. “There’ll be no more.”
The man nodded. “Thanks, mate,” he said simply.
“Did you have any trouble getting on the bridge?” Andrew asked.
“No. We didn't see a soul. Why d’y’ask?”
“There were a couple of guys guarding the far end and they had a fair size heap of bodies in front of ’em,” Andrew explained. “You might want to make sure your kids aren't looking when you get there.”
“Oh ’eck!” the man said.
“We scared ‘em off and took their guns off ’em but they might have come back. I thought this might come in ’andy,” he said, showing him the shotgun. “If you wait ’til it's dark before you go past that last pillar, you might take ’em by surprise.”
The man nodded.
“I'm going to give you the gun now. I want you to hold it by the barrel ’til you're well away. Don't point it at me - or at anyone else, for that matter.”
After watching the man depart, Andrew checked the bridge in both directions but it was completely empty. He then made a start on cleaning the blood off Martin’s new boots.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:47:09 GMT -6
Chapter 8 - The Embankment
Andrew woke to find Elizabeth enjoying the unfamiliar luxury of the gas ring; she was cooking a warm meal. After giving her a kiss, he strolled out of the hut and casually scanned the bridge for anyone approaching then checked more carefully with the binoculars. Though they had felt terribly exposed whilst moving that morning, it would be impossible for anyone to sneak up on them. He could see nobody but, at the south end of the bridge, where they had been a few hours earlier, a substantial column of smoke was rising.
David was sitting with Martin at the table in the hut, helping him to sort out the new boots. They were slightly too large but they had used the liners from Martin's old trainers to adjust them to fit.
Andrew went over and sat with them and awkwardly tried to thank them for how cooperative they were being on the trip.
"It's OK, Dad, we get it," David answered with a familiar balance of boredom and exasperation that reminded Andrew of the time before and made him smile. "It's our necks, too."
As clouds started to roll in, afternoon turned quickly to evening and they finished packing up and, after their wonderful, warm meal, they continued along the bridge. By the time they reached the other side rain had started to fall. They could have descended to the fields below but they looked wet and muddy and the railway line - set on a high embankment - made for much easier walking.
Andrew worried about the security implications but, in spite of the rain, they were making such good time, that it seemed to be worth the risk.
That risk seemed to have paid off as they made some very solid miles in spite of the extreme dark caused by lack of moon and the heavy clouds. Then, shortly before dawn, a light appeared ahead of them.
As they approached, it became clear that it was a sizeable fire built on the rail bed and, as they moved even closer, they could make out people standing around it.
It was tempting. After hours trudging through the steady rain they were all soaked and Andrew found himself dreaming of the warmth of that fire... cups of tea... hot food...
He was pulled out of his dreams by a whisper from Elizabeth. "We've got to get of this embankment."
Reluctantly he agreed and they started hunting for a way down.
The slope was steep and covered with thick, bushy and mostly thorny trees. At last they found a place where they might be able to make it though the wet grass and mud looked extremely slippery.
Elizabeth went first followed by David who was quietly keeping an eye on Martin who, as usual, had Annie on his back. Suddenly a branch Martin was holding snapped and he started to slide. David jumped across to try to stop the pair from tumbling and, though he managed to steady Martin, he lost his own footing and started careering down the slope. He only stopped when he reached the bottom and his leg was twisted painfully underneath him.
He tried to stand but his ankle wouldn't take the weight and he collapsed with a barely suppressed yelp of pain.
Andrew didn't see him fall; he was still on watch at the top, but when he heard the crashing and that muffled shout he feared the worst. He rushed to the edge and could just make out David down below, sitting against a fence and clutching at his ankle. When he heard shouts from the fire, his mind was made up and he hurried down the steep slope, sliding from tree to tree.
He stumbled out onto the narrow stretch of grass at the bottom and, picking David up, he heaved him over the fence into the field beyond. Elizabeth scrambled over and helped him to lower David down on the other side. Then he helped Martin over with little Annie and they all shuffled along the fence line until they were partially hidden behind a thin hedge. David curled up in a ball, gripping his ankle and almost shaking with the strain of keeping quiet.
Andrew rolled onto his stomach and pointed the rifle towards the embankment. Next to him, Elizabeth did the same with her shotgun. Anyone coming down was going to die.
A pair of flickering lights moved above them to the point where they had come down. Whoever was up there was using burning branches for light. Only when he heard the whoops and shouts of celebration did the appalling truth strike home. Andrew had left their trolley behind and it had been found. He was having difficulty controlling his anger until Elizabeth reached across and put a hand on his arm. "We always knew we were going to lose it," she said in a barely audible whisper.
After what seemed like an eternity, the flaming torches moved back towards the fire and they could hear the familiar squeak of their precious trolley being pulled in the same direction. While Andrew kept watch, Elizabeth inspected David's ankle.
It looked like it was just a simple sprain - just - plus a few cuts and bruises. There were sounds of rowdy celebration up at the camp fire so, whilst Elizabeth tended to their patient, Andrew went to look for somewhere to spend the day - somewhere close.
He squelched his way across a waterlogged field until he reached a small copse. There were only half a dozen trees and some low bushes but they would provide at least a little cover from the group above them.
He dumped his pack and went back to collect the others.
He spent longer than he would have liked half-carrying David down to their campsite. As they limped across the field, the sky began to lighten in the east. Fortunately, the fire had killed the potential watchers' night vision so they were not seen.
At last they reached the dubious cover of the copse and, whilst Elizabeth cleaned up David's cuts, Andrew did what he could to set up a shelter. Their tarp had gone with the trolley so, with Martin's help, he tried to hang up their elven cloaks to shed the worst of the rainwater and to hide them from the group above.
It was a miserable campsite - everything was wet and impossibly muddy and the scrawny trees dripped water onto their inadequate shelters. Everyone was cold, wet and hungry. Andrew had crawled into his sleeping bag and rolled over next to Martin so that Annie could cuddle between the two of them. The poor little girl was shivering violently.
"I'm sorry I made us lose the trolley," Martin said at last. Andrew realised that he was crying.
"What do you mean?" he asked, putting his arm round his son, which had the advantage of snuggling Annie even tighter.
"If I hadn't slipped, David wouldn't have fallen and we'd still have everything," he sniffled.
"If... if... if..." Andrew responded with a gentle smile. "If we need to blame someone, I shouldn't have just dumped it and come charging down like that."
"Will we be able to make it to the farm now?" Martin asked.
"We'll be fine," Andrew reassured him. "We always knew we might have to dump the trolley. That's why we've been carrying so much in the rucksacks. We might be a bit hungry by the time we get there... and we need to find some better shelter… and we should think about..." He trailed off. Martin was already asleep.
Some time later, Andrew was torn from a deep sleep by shouts from up on the embankment. He turned around, still in his sleeping bag, and peered out from under the hanging cloaks. It had stopped raining though the cloud was still heavy, and it was much lighter so he could just make out figures running about above them.
He wished they would shut up and let him get some sleep. He felt movement and Elizabeth came and lay beside him, wanting to see what was going on too.
Suddenly all thought of sleep was pushed aside as a shot rang out - then another - then a whole series; by the sound of it, he wasn't the only person with an automatic weapon. Andrew threw an arm round Elizabeth as they tried to squeeze themselves into the mud. He didn't think the bullets were aimed at them but they could easily be hit by accident.
There was frantic movement at the top of the embankment and then a man came charging down the slope towards them in a barely controlled slide. He was climbing the fence when a bullet hit him and he was thrown over it, landing in an untidy heap on their side.
Nevertheless, he jumped back to his feet and started running across the field towards the family. Andrew's hands tightened on his rifle as he drew closer but he was startled by a dull, wet thwacking noise that seem to happen just before a gunshot.
The young man was tumbled into their little copse, collapsing less than five yards from where Andrew and Elizabeth were lying.
He didn't dare to move, scared that someone would try to follow but, up on the embankment, they had their own concerns. There was some struggling and shouting - but no more shooting.
After about five minutes, Andrew decided that they had lost interest in their visitor. He eased himself out of his sleeping bag then, crouching low to stay hidden behind their cloaks, he took a few cautious steps towards him.
The man was lying face down and was shockingly young. He might have been a student until the world collapsed. He clearly posed no threat. His right arm had been smashed and lay uselessly at his side and there was a small, neat hole in his lower back.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he assured the young man who was looking up at Andrew with huge, scared eyes. "We just happened to be nearby."
The man relaxed slightly and started struggling. He was trying to turn over but his rucksack was getting in his way so Andrew cut the straps and helped him. He tried to cradle the smashed arm but it still made a sickening noise as pieces of bone ground together.
But, once the lad was turned, it was clear that his arm wasn't the problem. His stomach was just wrong. It sagged to one side like a water-filled balloon.
Fighting back the urge to be sick, Andrew sat on the ground next to him and took his good hand. "There's nothing I can do for you, son," he told him in answer to a questioning look. "There's nothing anybody can do but I'll stay here with you."
As the minutes ticked by the lad’s expression gradually slipped from fear to resignation. Andrew didn't even notice when he died; he just gradually became aware that he wasn't breathing any more.
With a sigh, he searched the young man, finding a packet of shortbread biscuits in a pocket of his cargo trousers and a plastic cylinder containing about twenty gold sovereigns in an inside pocket of his jacket.
He was much more excited by the packet of biscuits.
He scratched together enough forest floor rubbish to at least cover the young man's face then grabbed the rucksack and crept back to their shelter.
Elizabeth had fallen asleep so he started to investigate the contents of the rucksack. There were normal travel supplies including some detailed local maps as well as food for a couple of days.
He was transferring the food to his own rucksack when screams started from up on the embankment. They came from a young woman and were punctuated by course male laughs and shouts. Andrew was sorely tempted to fire a couple of shots towards the group but quickly quashed the idea. His family had to come first.
A couple of hours later, when Elizabeth woke to take over watch duty, the screams had stopped. Andrew was not certain that this was a good thing.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:47:42 GMT -6
Chapter 9 - Homeward
When Andrew woke - much later than normal - Elizabeth told him that the people up on the embankment had moved off towards the bridge in the early afternoon.
Andrew risked a cautious trip up towards the still-smouldering fire. There were obvious signs of a fight with bloodstains and broken equipment and clothes just lying around. There was even a good quality waterproof jacket to replace the one that David had torn when he fell.
Their trolley was still there but its main axle had been snapped and it was useless. He was able to retrieve their tarp, though, and was astonished to find a carrier bag full of vegetables that looked as if it had been just dumped rather than forgotten. Wondering whether there were really people roaming about who didn't realise you could eat the slightly rotten, mud-covered lumps in the bag, he scrambled back down the embankment to their own camp.
Elizabeth had woken David and was having a look at his ankle. Though it was not as bad as they had feared, they decided it would be best to rest for another day.
Covered, as they were, by the smell of smoke from the embankment, they decided to risk a small cooking fire. While Elizabeth stewed up the contents of the bag, he scouted ahead to investigate a non-residential building that was marked on their map, about half a mile away. It turned out to be an open-sided barn almost full of large, round bales of hay. There was a small gap between the bales and the roof - a perfect little nest for them.
They spent that night and the next day in the barn resting and giving David's ankle a chance to heal. With the high resolution maps they had taken from their unfortunate young visitor, they could plot out a route that kept them on the smallest of country roads and tracks. Critically, the route would keep them away from villages and even avoided farmhouses.
As evening approached on the second day, they strapped up David's ankle, dosed him with Ibuprofen and set off on what they hoped would be the last leg of their journey.
The ankle was very stiff at first but, strangely, the exercise seemed to help it and after a couple of hours he could move as fast as the others.
Thanks to the maps, they made rapid progress and, as dawn approached, they found themselves on a small hilltop overlooking a stretch of motorway. The footbridge they were hoping to use to cross it was about a mile further west but, when they saw movement on the road below, they decided that it was time to stop for the day. The farm track they were following ran very close to the motorway and they would be seen.
They scrambled down a low bank into a small wood and, after some searching, found a reasonably dry clearing where they set up camp.
Once the shelter was up, Andrew climbed back up towards the top of the bank and kept watch while Elizabeth prepared a cold meal. Nobody even suggested lighting a fire. As the sky became lighter, he could see that there were groups of people moving past along the motorway.
Martin appeared, bringing a small bowl of cold stew and, as Andrew ate, they lay together watching the seemingly endless procession of ragtag carts and people trying to carry the world on their backs.
“Where are they going?” Martin asked at last in the now customary low voice.
"I don't think they're going to," Andrew answered. "They're going from. They know they can't survive for long in the cities so they have to get out. I don't think many of them really know where they're going."
There was a commotion away to the right and, straining his ears, Andrew could hear one group demanding some sort of toll from another.
“How much?” the father figure asked with weary resignation.
“Five tins.”
“We can’t give you that! The kids will starve.”
“We’ll take your daughter instead!” he offered, leering at a girl who looked about thirteen.
“Give them the tins!” the mother said hurriedly.
The next night was uneventful though they had a uncomfortable few minutes when they crossed the motorway at the footbridge. Though they couldn't see anybody by the light of a sliver of moon, they felt sure they were being watched by people hidden amongst the cars and lorries below.
After another few hours, shortly before dawn, they crossed a small river at a simple plank bridge and found themselves in Yorkshire. They were nearly home.
+++
The last damp smudge of dusk had sunk into the fells ahead of them as they staggered up to the familiar road towards Lintondale. As the sign post marking the turn came into sight, Martin murmured, “We made it. We actually made it!” but it barely registered with Andrew as, with nothing but an effort of will, he forced one foot in front of the other.
It had taken them eight more days to make it back to the valley. Unfortunately, they had only had food for three so, by mutual, unspoken agreement, Elizabeth and Andrew starved themselves to allow their children a little more to eat.
As they stepped onto the bridge, a voice rang out of the darkness. “Halt! Who goes there? Stop or we’ll shoot”
“The name’s Andrew Moore,” he said, putting a hand out to steady himself on the bridge parapet. “My parents, Tom and Alice live in the top farm.”
“Advance and be recognised. Keep those weapons over your shoulders… and no sudden movements, please.”
“Believe me, unless somebody falls over, there is absolutely no danger of sudden movement,” Andrew said with a weary smile as he began to stumble across the bridge. “We’re all completely exhausted!”
As they reached the other side, a soldier emerged from a concealed firing position just to their left. He hurried towards them and they all staggered under the impact of an enormous hug. If he had not been supported by the hug, Andrew would have collapsed.
“James, would you help Mum and Dad, please,” David said. “They’re pretty much done in.”
The figure of his nephew slowly swam into focus but somehow he looked different. When they’d last met, at Christmas, he’d just been a kid; now, just a couple of months later, he was an adult and, by the look of things, a soldier.
Andrew felt his pack being eased off his shoulders - though by now it weighed next to nothing - and a powerful, wiry arm wrapped round his waist as James helped his Aunt and Uncle up the lane towards the farmhouse.
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Post by garethn on Oct 14, 2018 4:48:27 GMT -6
Chapter 10 - Next morning
I realised that dawn was beginning to light up the curtains as Andrew finished his story. “So, you see,” he concluded, “we would never have made it without those two emergency bags you gave us a couple of Christmases ago…”
"That was Mary's idea!" I conceded.
"Not surprised..." he said, "and I have to admit that I only kept them around because it was a present from her."
"Even after her death she's still looking after everyone!" I said with a sad smile.
We were quiet for a moment then I said, “Andrew, when your father and brother were killed and she thought you weren’t coming, Mam had a bit of a breakdown: not eating; up in the hills in all weathers; that sort of thing. So I, sort of, took control of running the place and… well, I suppose what I’m saying is, you’re the oldest brother. The job’s yours if you want it.”
He thought about this for a while and I could hear the clock ticking from the kitchen. “Thanks for the offer,” he said at last, “but certainly, for now, I’ve got my hands full getting myself back into any sort of shape.” He thought for a while longer. “I’ll let you know… and, in the meantime, I’ll try not to undermine your position. We don’t want confused lines of authority.”
“Thank you,” I said but I had to smile. You can take the man out of the office but you can’t take the manager out of the man.
Suddenly the door opened and Emily appeared, still in her pyjamas and looking half asleep. She walked over, snuggled into my lap and put her arms around my neck. “I didn’t know where you were,” she said.
“Your uncle and aunt and their family arrived late last night and I’m afraid I stayed up all night talking about their journey,” I explained. She looked around. Elizabeth was asleep on the sofa with her head on Andrew’s lap and the children were on mats on the floor. David was still asleep but little Annie was awake and Martin was keeping her quiet with stories and silly games.
“Who’s that?” Emily asked pointing at Annie.
“She’s called Annie,” I told her. “She’s your new cousin.”
“She can’t be my cousin,” Emily told me severely. “She’s the wrong colour.”
We were all slightly taken aback by this but then Martin chuckled. “She’s not the wrong colour,” he said, “but you’re right, she’s a different colour. We adopted her. What’s your name and where do you fit in?”
“I’m Emily and they’re looking after me,” she answered, snuggling into my shoulder.
I enjoyed the snuggle for a moment then gave her a kiss. “I know,” I said. “Why don’t you go and get yourself dressed then you can show Annie where your toys are? She might want to play with you.”
She buzzed off to do as I suggested.
I tried to stretch out, realising that soon, very soon, I was going to regret missing that night's sleep. Today I had one of Laura’s level 2 training courses, taking us beyond how to simply move under fire and shoot. This one was on how we would respond to various types of attacks including ones which breached our first line of defence. I was going to need my brain in action for that.
Hauling myself to my feet, I went to light the fire in the kitchen stove.
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Post by texican on Oct 14, 2018 14:11:48 GMT -6
Thanks G for the chapters....
Now the family is back together with the group....
Texican...
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Post by garethn on Oct 16, 2018 3:20:15 GMT -6
Part 4
Chapter 1 - First Attack
Once again, I was on evening watch. As spring was moving along, the first couple of hours were quite light with a variety of interesting birds and animals to observe. This evening, I even spotted a hedgehog and, when I pointed it out to Ashley, she gave a squeak of excitement, earning us both a brief frown of reproach from Laura. But then, as darkness fell, there were just the hours of staring out into the black nothingness that was the bridge - there was no moon and even the stars were hidden by a thick blanket of clouds.
After about an hour, we were startled, though not surprised, by the call of an owl just behind us. He seemed to live locally. Little jolts like that were quite useful to avoid completely losing focus on the job we were supposed to be doing.
At least the rain had held off so far. It felt like it was still on its way but, if so, the ‘professional’ company - including Mike, Jimbo and Samson - were going to have that pleasure. They still ran the night shift because that is when they judged it was most likely that an attack would come.
Suddenly I sensed movement from the direction of the bridge. My suspicions were heightened by a slight stirring from Laura and Ashley to my right.
We peered down into the utter blackness below but could see nothing.
“I’m moving to the right cross trench,” Laura whispered. Perhaps she would be able to see more from down there.
A few seconds later, her voice rang out, “Halt, identify yourselves or we shoot.”
This triggered distinct sounds of movement from below. Anticipating her next command, I crawled sideways into the ‘Molotov’ trench. For some reason it was not deemed safe to store bottles of flammable liquid in the same trench as us. I lit the screened candle that was kept there.
There came a shout of “Light,” in Laura’s distinctive command tone and I threw the first bottle. Though I did not hit the woodpile with the that one, I was close enough to correct my aim with the second.
As the dry wood sprang into flames we could see figures moving on the bridge in front of us. As I started to crawl back towards the firing trench, Laura shouted, “Fire.” She immediately loosed three rounds towards the figures.
Shots came out of the darkness aimed, I think, towards the Molotov trench. There was a muffled scream from the trench to my right and I froze. These people were shooting at us - trying to kill us. Had they shot Ashley? I suddenly felt very protective towards my niece and realised that unless I did something she was definitely going to die. With that thought, my training took over. I started crawling back towards the main trench.
I was hugely relieved when I saw the flash of Ashley’s rifle. She was shooting down towards the people on the bridge. The scream was fear not injury. That was completely understandable.
Shouting, “It’s Phil,” I tumbled back into the trench next to her and span myself around. More shots seemed to be flying towards us. With a strange kind of detachment, I watched myself as I started shooting down towards our attackers. The moving figures and flickering light did not make it easy to aim but on, I think, my third shot, I’m sure I saw one of the figures collapse in my sights. Then a second figure fell. Another two started to run back across the bridge.
“Cease fire,” came Laura’s command and we did as we were told. The fire was dying down to a steady blaze now. There was no movement. Just two crumpled mounds on the ground.
“Swap out your magazine,” I whispered to Ashley. “Let me know when you’re done.”
“Swapping...” she said, as we had been trained. I heard the sound of the mechanism then, “Done.”
“Swapping...” I said myself then, “Done.”
For what seemed like an eternity, we waited, eyes scanning the bridge by the fading firelight. I tried to look across to the far bank but my night vision had been completely compromised. I could see nothing.
“Mike,” came a voice as he dropped into the trench next to me. I handed him the rifle and said, “Fresh magazine!”
“Where’s Laura?” he asked.
“Right hand cross trench,” I answered.
“Samson,” came a voice as his unmistakable figure dropped into the trench next to Ashley.
“How many attackers?”
“I think four, two are down.”
“Mike and Samson moving out,” he called out as the two started to move.
“Acknowledge,” came the brief reply from Laura.
By the fading firelight, I saw them checking the two prone bodies then moving out across the bridge.
For several minutes there was nothing… an unbearably tense nothing. The tension was broken as Jimbo and one of the Drummond lads appeared and, as I was giving a brief report, the silence was broken by half a dozen shots down the valley. I was surprised when Jimbo continued unperturbed.
“Aren’t you just a bit concerned that Samson and Mike might have been hurt,” I managed to ask.
“If that lot had been any good, you’d have been dead before you realised they were there,” he replied with unnerving equanimity. “You’re still alive so they’re now dead.”
A few minutes later, Mike and Samson reappeared, identifying themselves as they approached the bridge. “All clear,” Mike called, “Third squad, stand down, fourth squad, take over.
With a small fist pump, I try to hug Ashley but she tied to squirm away. What’s the matter? It was only then that I noticed the sharp smell of urine.
“There are things that matter, girl,” I told her quite severely, “and that’s not one of them.”
“What’s up?” Laura asked then she, too, smelt the problem and hugged Laura, refusing to allow her to squirm away. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, girl. Nobody cares. Wear it as a badge of honour!”
“But everyone will know…”
“You bet they will! ‘We were attacked today by a group of men who wanted to kill us and steal our food. You was so scared that you pissed yourself but kept shooting and did your job and because of that we are all now still alive.’ Now you say it!”
“I can’t!” she squirmed.
“Yes you can! Say it!”
She managed to mumble it to her feet but Laura was still not satisfied. “I’m not going to let you go and get cleaned up ‘til you’ve said it properly!” she insisted with a smile.
At last Ashley accepted she was trapped and I could almost feel her glowing with embarrassment as she said it so everyone could hear.
“That’s our girl!” Samson said. He reached down, hauled her out of the trench, planted a huge kiss on her cheek and set her on her feet. “You aren’t the first; you won’t be the last,” he said, “and if anyone gives you grief, you can send ‘em to me.”
“You didn’t do too badly either, old man,” Laura said as she tried to haul me out of the trench but I staggered under the wave of adrenaline withdrawal. Samson hauled me out as casually as he lifted Ashley and helped me to one side with his enormous paw round my shoulders.
“Don’t want you throwing up in there,” he said casually. “It’s not much but it’s home to us for the next few hours!”
Laura gave me a couple of minutes to recover then we set off up the lane together, with Ashley still glowing with a combination of embarrassment and exhilaration.
“All clear,” Laura called repeatedly as we passed the farmhouses on the way up the valley. As we approached our own house, a figure detached itself from the bunch in the doorway and, as we drew closer, Margret pounced onto Ashley. “What happened, baby?” she demanded urgently. “Are you alright?”
With head held high, Ashley repeated her now familiar litany though, I was amused to note, for the sake of her mother’s delicate sensitivities, she chose to substitute the word ‘wet’ for the more vulgar term.
“My little girl!” Margret said, flinching back involuntarily.
“She’s not a little girl anymore!” her father said as he took his daughter in his arms and hugged her. “She’s a young woman. I’m proud of you, love!”
Half an hour later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. Images from the firefight were flashing round my head with particular emphasis on the one figure that collapsed in my sights. I was shaken back to awareness when Susan appeared, carrying one of our bottles of medicinal whisky. She poured glasses for Laura and myself then a small nip for Ashley, who was drying her hair, over by the stove with her parents. She took it with an astonished look.
“For medicinal purposes,” Susan said.
“Brothers in arms,” Laura said as the three of us clinked glasses and we repeated the toast.
Ashley took an experimental sip then a slightly larger one then handed the rest to her father with a shudder. He carefully drank half then handed the rest to Margaret.
She gave a perplexed look. Drinking from a glass that someone else had used would have been utterly unthinkable for her only a couple of days before. Then she gave a shrug and drained the glass with obvious relish.
“Let’s leave these people in peace,” she said, leading the other two from the room. I noticed she had taken her husband’s hand.
I looked at the large measure that had been set in front of me. Since Mary’s death, I had been careful to avoid the danger of slipping into the bottle and, in any case, I rarely drank spirits.
“I wasn’t joking about the medicinal thing,” Susan explained to me. “I can see that you need to talk through what happened tonight.” She followed the others from the room, leaving the two of us together.
Conspicuously, she also left the bottle on the table.
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Post by garethn on Oct 16, 2018 3:20:54 GMT -6
Chapter 2 - Proposal
I woke up the next morning with the slightly fuzzy feeling in my head that I always get when I’ve been drinking. Looking across I realised that I was in bed with Susan. She was watching me with a half smile.
“How’s your head?” she asked.
“Full of feathers but not painful,” I answered. I thought for a while. “Thank you for trusting me with Laura last night,” I added at last. “You were right, I needed it.”
“I’d like to postpone PTSD as long as possible. Besides, last night Laura wasn’t a woman, she was a comrade who had been through this before.”
I nodded. We were quiet for a while. “By the way,” I managed at last.” Last night, we didn’t…” I trailed off too embarrassed to complete my question.
“Just a kiss and a cuddle,” she answered. “You weren’t in any fit state.”
“Good,” I answered.” I promised Alice that we wouldn’t before we were married.”
“Before we were married?” Susan said with a smile. “That sounds like a proposal.”
“It wasn’t...” I answered then thought for a moment, “but it could be, if you like.”
“I like,” she answered, “and I accept.”
She was helping to restore the slightly vague memories from the night before of what was meant by ‘a kiss and a cuddle when we were interrupted by giggles from the mattress on the floor.
“Morning, you two,” I said when I could get my mouth free. I propped myself up on one elbow and looked down on them. “I have a question for you two. Susan and I are thinking of getting married. Is that alright by you?”
They looked at each other and nodded. “Do we get to be bridesmaids?” Emily asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.
I looked at Susan and she said, “That would be lovely. We don’t know exactly how the wedding thing is going to work but you two will be bridesmaids.”
We managed to track down James before breakfast and, when we asked him for his blessing, he gave it happily but was uncertain about his part in the new family. “Do I have to call you mum?” he asked Susan hesitantly.
“You don’t ‘have’ to do anything,” she assured him. “I understand that I’ll never replace your mother but I hope that, in time, you’ll be comfortable enough to talk to me about anything you’d have liked to talk to her about.”
He thought about this for a bit then gave her a tentative hug.
The two little girls were still bouncing up and down with excitement when we all gathered round the long wooden table for breakfast. When I shouted, “Hello,” to get everyone’s attention Emily asked, “Can I tell them?”
I nodded and she climbed to her feet and, with due formality announced, “Me and Lizzy are going to be bridesmaids!”
She looked hurt and confused when the table collapsed into laughter and Susan put an arm round her shoulders. “I know that’s very special for you two,” she whispered, “But you have to think about what is the most important thing for the other people round the room?”
“Oh yes…” Emily continued with her announcement. “And Daddy and Susan are going to get married.”
I had an extra smile at that. It was the first time that she had called me ‘Daddy’.
But, in spite of the happy news, breakfast was soon over and there was still a full day’s work ahead of us.
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Post by garethn on Oct 16, 2018 3:21:39 GMT -6
Chapter 3 - Farming
In spite of the celebratory atmosphere, we still had to get on. That day, I was working in the expanded vegetable plot with Ashley and Margret.
Gary had ploughed the ground again and more rocks had been brought to the surface that needed to be removed.
To help conserve our food stocks, we had decided to move to two meals per day and it was shortly after our non-existent lunchtime when Ashley eased herself upright. You know what,” she said, “I’m starving.”
“No, Ashley, you’re not starving,’ her mother said sharply. “You might be hungry but you’re certainly not starving. There are plenty of people out there who are starving and the reason we’re working so hard is to make sure we don’t join them
“I’m sorry, Mum, I know that really. It’s just something you say…”
“I know that, love,” she said, as she stood upright for a moment, “and I’m sorry I snapped at you. “It’s just my back is hurting. I’m not used to this sort of work. As my grandad used to say… ‘manual labour’s not a Spaniard’!”
Ashley came across and started rubbing her mother’s lower back. Margret stood up straight, relishing the massage.
I straightened my own back for a moment, too, looking down to where Alice was working the dogs with David. She’d tried out with a couple of the kids but he seemed to have the most natural aptitude.
“Your body will get used to the two meals a day thing,” I assured them as Ashley continued to massage her mother’s back. “And at this time of year, we have to keep going as long as there’s daylight.”
“Oh, that was good, love,” Margaret said when Ashley had finished. She stretched out her back with an audible click. “I’m almost looking forward to the next job.”
“What’s that?” Ashley asked, the trepidation audible in her voice.
“Collecting buckets of sheep dung. We need to dig it into the soil to enrich it.”
“Eww”
“At least we’ll be able to stand up straight for that job.”
“I’ll trade you! I’ll keep on with the rocks if you want to make a start on the poo picking!”
“That, my girl,” she said, turning round and giving her daughter a hug, “is a deal. You sure you’re OK here?”
Ashley nodded.
“It gets worse,” I warned them. “Mr Drummond said that he’s got a pile of well rotted cow manure that he can let us have. We have to run that up here in wheelbarrows.”
“But I’m much too weak and feeble for that!” Ashley said, fluttering her eyelashes and pretending to be on the point of tears.
I laughed. “We’ll probably get some of the lads to run it up the hill,” I told her. “We’ll just have the pleasure of digging it in!”
With a sigh, Ashley returned to her rock collection duties while Margret went off to collect a bucket and spade.
“How are you doing?” I asked walking over to where Susan, Emily and Lizzy were busy picking up some of the smaller stones in another corner of the field.
“Surviving,” Susan said, standing up and stretching. I started to give her back a rub and she rubbed back into me slightly suggestively.
“Behave yourself,” I warned her, “or we might need to go and find some privacy!”
I managed to get my mind back on work and went to empty the girls’ buckets on the growing mound before returning to my own rock-picking duties.
+++
When we returned to the cottage at sundown, Alice was working on some pastry and I was rather surprised to see she had little Annie standing on a low stool next to her, ‘helping’, and I felt a small wave of something close to jealousy creep over me . Alice had always remained slightly aloof from my children; I guess she had decided that Annie needed special attention because she had just been orphaned.
“Go on through,” she told us when we were threatening to sit down at the kitchen table. “Go and light a fire in the front room.”
“Do you two want to light the fire?” I asked the my two girls. Even though they were tired, they nodded at the idea of this new adventure.
I was relaxing on the sofa, staring into the flames, when Margret appeared at the kitchen door.
“You go on through too, luv,” I heard Alice say. “We can manage ’ere.” She looked down at little Annie with an indulgent smile. “You look fit to drop.”
“Are you sure,” Margret replied. “I am quite tired.”
She stumbled through to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa next to me. With a deep sigh of contentment, she stretched back and closed her eyes.
“Did you noticed that she called you ‘luv’?” I asked her in a tone quiet enough for Alice to diplomatically ignore, if she chose to.
“I supposed she did,” Margaret answered. “I was really too tired to notice.”
“It means you’re now approved of and officially adopted into the clan,” I told her. “You can start calling her ‘Mam’, if you want.”
She was quiet for a moment as she tried to ease out her back.
“I don’t think that ought to please me as much as it does,” she said at last.
When Ashley reappeared, she, too, offered her help and she, too, was send through but Mam did add, “Appen you can ’elp wi’ feedin’ t’dogs this evnin’.”
Even Margret recognised the significance of that. Feeding Alice’s dogs was less a recognition of good behaviour, more an acknowledgement of good character. Even James had only been invited a couple of times - including one occasion where he had silently accepted a punishment for something his sister had done.
+++
It was as we were eating our evening meal that Susan appeared at the back door. It was clear from her face that not all was well.
“How’s Marge,” I asked. We all really knew the answer. She had been going downhill rapidly since her drugs had run out.
“Not too well, truth be told,” Susan answered. “She’s asking to see you, Alice.”
It was the only time I had ever seen Alice leave a plate of food unfinished as the two hurried down the hill together.
+++
It was two days before I saw Susan again. When she stumbled into the house, very late at night, she was white and looked utterly shocked.
I managed to bully her into eating something then persuaded her to come up to bed. She obeyed like a machine. “Now, what’s the matter?” I asked her quietly, putting my arm under her and pulling her onto my shoulder.
“I killed her!” Susan replied in a whisper, hardly believing, herself, what she had done. “I injected her with an overdose of street heroin and killed her.”
“Was she in a lot of pain?” I asked.
I felt her nod against my shoulder.
“And does heroin provide pain relief?”
“Sort of… it’s a ticket to a happy place where nothing much matters anymore. Usually a one way ticket.”
“And was there anything more you could have done for her?”
“Of course not!” she exploded. She was genuinely shocked that I had asked the question. “She was terminal well before I got here.”
“Gently, darling,” I said. “I’m just trying to get the facts straight. We don’t want to wake the babies.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, thawing slightly and nestling further into my shoulder.
“Alice and Ned knew what you were doing, didn’t they? They didn’t try and stop you?”
“Everyone knew, really, even Marge herself in her lucid moments.”
“Then what you did was give her pain relief at the level necessary to control the pain. This had the side effect of killing her. Doctors have been doing this for ever… and they’re going to keep doing it.”
“But I don’t have the right…” I could tell she was starting to cry.
“It’s not a right, it’s a responsibility. And if you hadn’t been there, Alice would have been borrowing a pistol. I’ve not told anyone else, but Ken wasn’t killed outright by the other two. Alice put a bullet in his head. I promise you that she’d have done the same for her friend, Marge, if you hadn’t been there.”
And then, suddenly, we were kissing and persuading each other that life would go on.
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Post by garethn on Oct 16, 2018 3:22:15 GMT -6
Chapter 4 - Wedding
One week later, Susan and I were married.
It was a happy occasion, as these things tend to be. It was a beautiful late spring day with warm sunshine and just enough breeze to take the edge off the heat. We had planned to hold the ceremony - such as it was - in the barn but decided, at the last minute, to move it outside.
We gathered in the little grassy area at the back of the house so, in a way, Tom could be a witness too.
Everyone had made at least some effort, though in some cases it was just putting a borrowed tie on over their cleanest shirt. I was close enough in size to borrow a jacket from Mr Drummond so I felt smarter than I had since before ‘the day’.
We had asked Mam to officiate and she had taken the whole thing very seriously - including an excruciatingly embarrassing pre wedding interview to confirm we were going into this in the right frame of mind.
She gathered the rest of us together and then invited Susan to join us and she appeared looking stunning. She was close enough in size to Angela to borrow her wedding dress and they had even managed to find some flowery spring dresses for the girls to wear.
The ceremony went without a hitch until Susan saw the ring that James had been holding for me. “But I can’t wear that!” she protested to him. “It was your mother’s.”
“She’d have wanted you to have it,” he reassured her. “She knows Dad needs someone to keep him in line!” At the conclusion of the ceremony, Mam concluded, “So ‘What God has brought together, let no man put asunder’.” I had the distinct impression from her tone that anyone doing any asunder putting would get to answer to Mam first and God only slightly later.
After the ceremony, we walked into the barn and I was surprised to see a table full of wine glasses. “Nice glasses, I commented. “Shame we’ve nothing to put in them.”
“That’s where you’re wrong!” Jimbo responded with a grin as he produced a box that I recognised as having ‘fallen off the back of the lorry’ a couple of weeks before.
But we hadn’t even thought about getting married back then.
“You were always going to be the last to know,” he answered with a smile.
After the champagne had been enjoyed, but before people started to drift off, Mam had an announcement of her own to make. “I’ll be moving down t’road to tek care o’ Ned. His Marge told me as how he’d need someone to look after ’im.”
She looked at me significantly for a second before I guessed what she wanted.
“After the grief you gave me about ‘no funny business before we were married’!” I said with a smile.
“I will be staying there as a housekeeper,” she answered. Her tone was slightly offended but the lack of ice showed me that I had guessed her intentions correctly.
“What was that about?” Susan asked when the attention had drifted away from us.
“Quite simple,” I explained with a smile. “The neighbours need to know how they should treat the relationship… but she can’t just come out and say it because that would be accepting that their might be something that could be considered improper.”
“So you gave her the chance to explain what’s going on?”
“Not quite ‘what’s going on’. Nobody cares about ‘what’s going on’. It’s how it is to be treated that people need to know.”
“This stuff really matters round here, doesn’t it?”
“Oh yes, bitter feuds that last for decades,” I agreed with a smile. “They say that the Eskimos have about fifty words for snow. Round here they have fifty different grades of saying ‘good morning’... and as to where the Christmas cards are hung up…”
“You know what it really means though, don’t you?”
“It means we have a room to ourselves.”
Within an hour, the contents of Mam’s bedroom had been moved down the road into Ned’s spare room and a nest constructed for the girls. Things like this tend to happen quickly when you have ten people helping, particularly when one of the ten is Samson. At her mother’s suggestion, Ashley had joined Elizabeth, Emily and Annie in there - nominally to keep an eye on the little girls but a certain glint in Margret’s eye suggested that it wasn’t only Susan and I who were going to be enjoying some privacy that night.
As to the rest of the evening, all I will say is there may have been some ‘funny business’. Certainly there was a lot of giggling.
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Post by arkansascob on Oct 16, 2018 9:10:53 GMT -6
I love to come to this site and read the stories. The combination of them all really gets the mind to thinking about shtf and how things will and could be. Also makes a person think about how they might deal with things and how to plan for this and that. Some stories are hard to keep up with and some get a little boring in spots. Some are long and drawn out with each chapter. Some are easy to read and interesting with each chapter.
This story had held my intrest from the begining. It's easy to read and very easy to keep up with and follow the characters. The story line is very easy to follow. I can not log in here for a few days and come back to this story and pick up right where I left off and not have to reread parts to refresh my brain as to where things are in the story.
Thank You garethn for your time and effort it takes to write a story like this.
COB
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