Humanity: After It Happened Book 2 (10 page)

UNHAPPY CAMPERS

Lexi drove for hours, checking supermarkets and fuel stations as she wove her way south west. She eventually saw signs of life in looted shops. Worryingly she saw markings painted on buildings, thinking nothing of them at first, but the more she saw the more they looked like territorial symbols.

She went slowly, senses on alert until she saw the same markings painted on a vehicle which wasn't covered with the winter grime of the others.

She pulled up nearby and sounded the horn twice. She figured if she didn't like the look of anyone who came out then she could drive away.

Two men appeared carrying boxes. They saw Lexi's Land Rover and stared, then seemed to be arguing between themselves for a while before the younger looking one of the two was sent over. He approached cautiously, and Lexi drew her Glock slowly and rested it in her lap. She kept the doors locked and wound down the passenger window halfway.

He looked nervous, and asked her who sent her.

"Nobody sent me here, I'm out looking for people to join us" she replied.

"We're not finished here and we have to get our quota or we don't eat. You're not one of Bronson's, so who are you?" He said.

"I don't know who Bronson is, and I'm not from around here" Lexi said "what do you mean by 'quota'?"

He seemed annoyed, but glanced at her equipment as he spoke.

"We have to find a certain amount each day to get fed, that's how it works if you want to avoid punishment"

Lexi lit a smoke and looked straight at him "We don't have quotas, and all of us eat three times a day.  Reckon you and your mate want some of that?"

He thought for a second, then ran over to the bigger man and had another argument which went on longer.

The smaller one came back to her.

"I'm in, but Ed is worried about the others" he explained. Lexi raised an eyebrow to ask more.

"Bronson has loads of people, but he uses enforcers to keep us in line. If we run off what happens to them?" He said.

"I don't know" she said "if people are being kept prisoner by him then we can help. We'd need you to come back and tell us everything you know though"

"There aren't enough of you to take him on, I bet. He's got gangs of thugs and some of them have guns too" whined the man.

Lexi smiled and patted her M4 which lay on the dash.

"Trust me, my lot is not to be messed with either"

He thought a while longer, then ran over to his friend. They spoke again, and this time both walked over to her.

"You reckon you can help?" Asked the bigger man cynically "he's got twenty or more people my size, even tried to make me one of them but I don't like hurting people for fun"

"Yes" she said confidently "we've seen our fair share of bad ones, and it didn't go well for them"

They looked between themselves and silently agreed to escape. Ed looked back to Lexi, "I'm Ed, and this is James"

"Get in, boys" she said, starting the Land Rover. 

SMALL VICTORIES

Dan drove north, skirting the edges of the city that Marie had described as being full of pirates. He saw car garage with things in the window he used to dream of; the overwhelming urge to steal a McLaren almost overcame him, until he shook himself out of the daydream.

"One day, boy" he said to Ash, receiving a puzzled look from the dog.

He parked on an overpass and got out. Ash watered his tyres whilst he sat and smoked. From his vantage pointing could see for miles, and one direction led to unbroken series of buildings which led all the way to the city centre. He had no intention of heading that way; not without more trigger fingers on his side.

He listened for sounds of anything human, but as the sun sank lower in the distance he felt very alone.

He gave up on the perch, and drove through the housing estates. Lines of newly built Lego houses sat on a former factory site, something which the developer was trying to turn into romanticism. He thought they were still lifeless new builds on the outskirts of a shit hole.

Not a single sign of anyone living was seen; no looted shops or cleared roads, nothing.

He stopped again and consulted the map, planning a longer route home which led him through farmland for miles.

As he drove his mind wandered slightly, his thoughts as they often did turning to Marie. A small wave of guilt brought him back to the present in time for his eyes to register a pillar of smoke in the distance.

He pointed it out to Ash, who didn't care at all, and made his way towards it. The source of the fire was a small pile of burning bodies, shrunk to the size of children as the heat got to the bones.

He had approached as quietly as he could, but there was nobody in sight. He was destined to have a lonely day, it seemed.

An engine note pieced the sound of the fire as a tractor turned off the road towards them. He decided on the gentle approach, and slung the carbine behind him. The tractor slowed as the driver saw him, but still came on cautiously. He made Ash sit, and strolled to meet the driver.

He was taken back slightly when the man driving it jumped down. Literally.

Dan placed him at five feet tall at best. In heels.  He had a red face, was jug-eared and the word pugnacious sprang instantly to mind. To make him sound as comical as he looked, he had a high pitched Welsh accent.

The formalities were conducted, and Ewan asked questions about the group.

"You got enough people looking after the farm?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could.

"No, as it happens" said Dan

They spoke some more, Ewan knew where the prison was, and he agreed to make his way there tomorrow with all of his supplies. Dan suspected him to be a resentful man and bit of a loner, probably having spent his life in jealous anger at people like himself.  Taller people.

He said that he had barely survived winter, and was struggling to plant crops alone. He warmed slightly, and was genuinely happy at the thought of a bigger farm and company.

Dan left him to it and they shook hands with a promise to meet tomorrow. He was conscious not to bend down to him to do it. He made his way home leisurely over the next hour, only to pull up in his 'spot' near the front door to see Joe's defender abandoned there still with a door open.  Dan glanced inside the cab, looking for blood and being slightly relieved to see none.

Worried that something was wrong he burst inside to see a gaggle of people in Ops around a flustered Joe. He looked relieved to see Dan, who wanted to know what was happening. Conscious that Joe had never had a 'contact' he gestured with his head for him to join him in his room.

He went carefully with him, poured two single malts, and let him go at his own pace. Joe drank, calmed his nerves, and his breathing began to even out.  He thought Joe might just be as scared of him as he was of the outside world, and he didn't want that.

"From the beginning, Joe" he said softly.

"Crossed over into Wales mid-afternoon, saw a car. It took off, so I followed. Found the four women in an abandoned caravan park. Turns out the area was 'claimed' by some twat who calls himself the King. The women call him Fagin because he gets boys to do his dirty work” he took another sip.

“They got the drop on me" he said, using one of Dan's terms, "and I had to react."

He paused, letting the report sink in. Joe had found multiple female survivors, then been ambushed by a nut job and his gang of children. He was impressed that Joe made it back, let alone bring four women out.

"Go on" he said.

"They came in a tight bunch of three cars. I emptied the Glock into the radiator of the first one, then got my rifle and took out the tyres of the others and the radiator of the back one so all the cars were stuck" he finished, almost breathless.

Dan was impressed.

"Quick thinking; I'm going to have to add that move to the handbook" he said without a trace of sarcasm.

Joe looked up, relieved because he thought he had screwed up. In truth, he had; but Dan was in no mood to point that out as Joe was suffering enough with his first big post-adrenaline report as it was.

"We went cross country to get away. I put in a dog-leg" Dan's term for ambushing your own trail "and one followed on a motorbike, looking to hang back. I couldn't risk him finding this place, so I" he stopped.

"So you put him down?" Dan asked.

Joe just nodded as the tears came.  He felt for him. He knew that familiar outpouring of stress after a fight or a contact, knew how grown men no matter how tough were susceptible to the emotional drain of it.

"You did bloody well at the campsite. It showed quick thinking and tactical planning. I'm impressed." He said.

"And you were absolutely right to protect this place from some dickhead who thinks he's royalty; you were right to put him down" he finished firmly, trying to reassure him.

Joe wasn't doing much talking back right now, so Dan changed the subject slightly.

"How many rounds?" He asked firmly.

"Entire mag from the Glock; fifteen nine mil's. Eleven from the rifle, all on single fire. No misses"

Talking bullets seemed to have woken him up a little.  Dan stood.

"Good work. Clean your guns and report to Marie"

Joe started to object, saying that he was fine. Dan cut him off, "It's mandatory following a contact, I know you're ok but we have to stick to the rules"

"Ok Boss" said Joe as he stood to leave.

Dan dashed upstairs to find Marie before Joe could put her on the spot about the 'mandatory' counselling after a contact, as he had just made it up.

He found her, muttered in her ear that Joe had fired his weapons today and killed a hostile. She took the news calmly, asking if he had done the right thing.

"He absolutely did, but he fucked up by letting them get that close in the first place. He has to know he reacted well and saved lives, ok?" Dan pulled away from her, thinking that she still smelled good even after the world ended.

She smiled at him and nodded. He didn't know what else to say to her so he went, leaving her watching him as he went. He always felt very shabby in her company.

He went back downstairs to let Ash out, just as Lexi returned.

SURVEILLANCE

The second boy on his scrambler bike found his friend in the road.  He thought he had crashed to start with but as he turned him over and called his name he saw a black stain on his clothing where the bullet had punched through his chest.  His lip trembled, and he fought back the urge to cry.  His fear and sadness turned slowly to anger; anger at the murder of his brother and the invader who had come and shamed them all.

He took what he wanted from the pockets and bag of his now deceased brother, taking over the heavy burden of his mission.

He would follow the bastard back to his home.  He would not be caught out like his friend who was chosen above him.  He would bring the news back to the king and he would be rewarded.

He followed carefully, stopping to scout ahead and waiting for movement in the distance.  Twice more he saw the big off-roader stop, and twice he held his position in silence until the bastard had given up waiting and driven on again.  He felt more confident to stay closer after there was no third stop, no longer fearing a bullet as he rode along.  He cut his engine as he rolled down the hills after them, crossing over into the next country with no regard for territory or boundaries.

For hours he shadowed their moves, always staying far enough behind to not be seen.  He followed the sound and the smell of the vehicle at times when the views were obstructed, only to have to catch up when the geography allowed.  It was hard work, but he stayed with them until he lost the Land Rover on a stretch of road.  He went ahead before doubling back, sure that they had to have turned off somewhere within a mile stretch.

He stopped his bike and listened.  He heard animals, machinery, a small burst of laughter drifted to him on a breeze; gone as soon as it was recognized.

This had to be the place, he thought.  He waited, hiding himself and his bike in some trees.  He did not have to wait long until he was rewarded with the sound of another vehicle.  A big, black Discovery rolled along the road past him.  It was a piece of artwork, with bigger wheels and custom roof rack and bumpers; someone had spent a lot of money on that.  He laughed to himself, like any of that mattered any more.  He watched as the big truck turned into a junction towards the noises he heard.  A prison; that’s where they’ve set up shop.  He waited longer, to be thorough.  Another Land Rover came in shortly afterwards with a girl driving two others.  This place was well equipped, he reckoned.

He started his bike and retraced his steps, having to stop to fill up his tank using the hosepipe he carried just before crossing into his home country.  He rode fast, trying to use the last of the daylight to get back, finding the wreckage of his friend’s dropped bike still where he left it.  His body was gone.

The noise of his bike made people look up at his arrival.  He ignored the questions about where he had been and what he knew.  He took his news straight to the King.

“YOUR HIGHNESS” he called loudly, dropping to one knee as the two most trusted of them eyed him with scorn.  They puffed themselves up, forcing their dominance on him.  They knew their friend was dead, and this one now returned with news.  The King rewarded good news, and they had none to offer where he obviously did.  He would be climbing the food chain tonight, and they didn’t like it.

“Come up, boy” said his Highness, King Patrick, from his seat on the raised platform.

He did.  He told his King everything he had learned.