Plague Of The Revenants (18 page)

We rounded a corner and saw five men with rifles slung over their shoulders walking away from us. We instinctively stopped short and d
ucked back round the corner.
“We should hide out,” said Kit. “It will only be a few hours until nightfall and I think I saw a cottage just up the road off the beaten track. Let’s hide out there for a while, continued the reconnaissance at night.”

The cottage had been looted and everything stripped bare, as though awaiting demolition. It was depressing to shiver between those four bare walls of what had once been an inhabited home. It was a long and unbearable wait and I did not relish being there with only Paul and Kit to talk to. Paul was fine but Kit still resented and distrusted me. We ate a meagre couple of tins and some cold potatoes from our rucksacks. I found myself longing for the day when the rabbit farm took off so we might have some fresh meat at last and hoped too that I would survive long enough to see it.
“If we do find them and they’re not friendly, what then?” asked Paul.
“I suppose they’ll end up trying to kill us,” I said. “Lord knows we can’t beat them so I’m hoping we might find a weak spot we can exploit.”
“And then what will we do?” Asked Kit archly. “Kill them all and save the slaves I suppose?”
“If we can save the slaves I’d gladly do so,” I replied, deciding not to rise to the bait.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” snapped Paul. “I still say they might not be as bad as the doctor makes out.”
“They are even better organised that I imagined,” I said with concern. “If they’re really not friendly that is.”
“Maybe Bashir was lying to us?” Suggested Paul. “Maybe he had his own reasons for wanting this place destroyed?”
“Maybe,” I acknowledged. “But he’d still have needed a damned good reason to hike miles through revenant country in the dead of night.”
We were all on edge setting off through the countryside at night. Our steps were cautious, our eyes scanning the shrouded land. In the distance, carried across the wind, we could hear the movement of vehicles. It was as if the place up ahead never stopped. At first glance it was suicide being out at night in the middle of the countryside in the midst of the revenants. I found myself jumpy and jittery and could not stop casting my mind back to dodging the swarm outside the church the other night. Perhaps this was some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. If so I was hardly going to find myself a shrink. I would just have to live with it. I looked up in the sky and I saw a strange glow, as if there were a city up ahead; actual light pollution. I stopped for a moment and starred at it. I had been so used to the night being pitch darkness I had forgotten how it used to be in the days of the old civilisation. By mutual consent we stepped off the road and started trudging across the fields in the direction of the light. The mud was heavy and stuck to our boots as we walked and I hope we would not be spotted out here because conditions were hardly ideal for running. None of us spoke and we instinctively crouched down as we proceeded, as if something or someone was about to jump out at us at any moment.

After about an hour we stepped through a small copse of trees, and coming out into a clearing we set eyes upon the complex for the first time. It was a small town, a fortress. The racetrack had been completely fenced off with wire that stretched to three metres high and there were several outbuildings and stables at the centre of which was a grandstand from which most of the activity appeared to be emanating. An ornamental tower topped the grandstand and from it a searchlight made a steady circle all around. I could see straight away we stood little chance of infiltrating it, and from the looks of the military vehicles which we could see patrolling just outside the perimeter fencing we would stand little chance in the church and farmhouse should they decide to make a concerted attack on us.
“Look at all those trucks going back and forth,” said Paul. “The place never stops. Why they must have generators, fuel stations, the works. We could never hold out against these bastards if they came for us, not if every one of us were armed to the teeth.”
It certainly looked that way although I was careful not to show my own sense of despair. “It is a large area to be guarding,” I said. “Maybe that’s one thing going for us, I don’t know. God knows I certainly don’t want to be making an attack on the place.”
“We were hoping this was going to be a temporary settlement,” said Paul. “But it certainly doesn’t look that way.”
“It is a real shame,” I spat contemptuously. “If they are using slaves because this place could have been perfect, a real safe haven for everyone.”
“So what do we do now?” Asked Kit.
“Come on,” I said. “We don’t need to go right up to the gate to get an idea of the size of this operation. We should head back and discuss our options, although if we are going to stay its clear we’re going to need a great deal more firepower than we have to cope with this little lot.”
“It seems strange we’d come all this way just to have a look at things,” said Kit resentfully, although something in her tone seemed to grudgingly acknowledge that I was right. “We came, we saw how fucked we were and we left.”
We had seen all we needed to see. There was nothing else to be said except that we could not possibly hope to compete with them should they decide to turn on us. We turned back on to the road and no sooner had we done so we were blinded by the sudden flash of headlights which stopped us dead in our tracks. We turned around to run but at that moment a booming voice called out. “Stay where you are and put your hands in the air.”
I suspected they had been following us from behind for quite a while now, playing with us, watching our movements, playing us into the trap into which we so obligingly just walked. I looked around, wondering if we could dash off but if I did that I would only save myself. I was not prepared to leave the others to the mercy of these thugs and besides, I would be unlikely to get too far anyway. More likely even if I was somehow able to dodge the first hail of bullets I would be hunted down within the hour before I was even halfway to the truck. We reluctantly obeyed the command. We heard a door open, then close. The headlights dipped and there stood before us two men wearing a loose fitting military style uniform of the kind we had seen before. One was lanky, the other stocky and both were young. I could see from the way they carried themselves and held their rifles that they were not military men by career, more likely common thugs made good in the new world. I cursed the ease at which we had been captured, after all we had been through. I thought we had planned, thought we were being careful. It was just like when I was sent to prison all over again.
“Well they’re not one of ours,” said the lanky man. “Survivors huh? Looking for a place to hide out?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said, stepping up to speak for everyone.
“I’m afraid we don’t have any more openings here in the Elite,” said the stout man. “At least not yet. And even if we did there’s a bit of a waiting list amongst the slaves we’ve already got.”
“Slaves?” I repeated, pretending to sound surprised although my heart sank as I realised Bashir’s story was fast being confirmed. “What do you mean slaves? We’re asking you to help us.”
“And we will,” put in the lanky man gleefully. “We’ve just got a different order around here, that’s all.”
“Please,” said Kit, stepping forward to face them. “We’ve come a long way and we’ve been through a great deal. All we want is food and shelter, to be safe. We’ll work hard for you, we’ll contribute. There’s no need to make us slaves.”
“Sorry love but it isn’t us giving the orders,” said the lanky man with a shrug that was not at all apologetic. “If you’ve got a problem with the way you’re treated you’ll have to talk to Mr Blake about that.”
My ears pricked up and I instinctively straightened. Surely not, I thought to myself.
“You have trucks and a fine place here,” said Kit, refusing to give up. “You could do so much good.”
“We are doing good,” said Lanky. “I started out a slave and now I’m loyally one of the Elite. Most people can join the Elite given time, it just depends how hard you’re prepared to work.” He leered at Kit. “You with one of these blokes then love?”
Kit shook her head. Lanky laughed. “Well then you might want to start thinking about hooking up sharpish. This is a man’s world back here.”
“Enough talk,” snapped Stocky, and he waved his rifle in a manner that suggested he was not used to using it. “Get in the truck.”
I could see there was no use in trying to negotiate with them. After all we had been through, to be captured like this. I cursed myself for not coming on my own. The guards stepped back to let us past and herded us inside the back of the jeep. Lanky got in with us.
We were driven through a small village of makeshift buildings, the floodlights sweeping the area. I was almost impressed by how much civilisation they had managed to salvage. Through it all I kept my eyes peeled, looking for information, for anything that might prove useful to our eventual escape, unlikely though that seemed right now. I saw stables and stands. The racetrack, or what I saw of it, seemed to have been largely torn up by the wheels of vehicles, the fences taken down to provide additional defences against the revenants. I kept watching Lanky as well. He held his gun nervously and his fingers tapped nervously against the butt of the rifle as well but he kept the weapon on us at all times so that there was no chance of rushing him. Meanwhile Kit and Paul kept their heads down and appeared totally and utterly defeated. I tried to formulate a plan in my mind, a means of escape, tried to think about what the others back at the farmhouse would do when we didn’t come back, hope they didn’t come looking for us.
The jeep stopped. I heard voices, Stocky speaking to a gatekeeper or something like that. Then we were on the move again. Glancing out of the back of the jeep I saw the road leading inside was well lit with floodlights. I wondered how they were powering it all. Lanky and Stout came to the back of the truck and abruptly ordered us out of the vehicle. We were taken into the grandstand area and through a long hallway into a brightly lit room where a man was standing at a table. He turned around and I found myself starring straight into the all too familiar eyes of my nemesis from the prison. Here was none other than Warden Blake.
Blake’s eyes lit up in delight when he saw me and he came forwards with his arms outstretched as though he were about to embrace me. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you managed to survive, Grant,” said Blake. “We’re not so different after all, you and I. Perhaps I could find a use for you, perhaps you could rise through the ranks. A professional killer is a useful man to have on your side, as I’m sure your friends have discovered by now.”
“You’ve done well to lead all this in such a short space of time,” I said to him, declining to rise to the bait.
“Yeah well fortunes change quickly, don’t they?” Said Blake with a leer. “Truth be told I’m the third leader they’ve had since the original founding. Leaders don’t tend to last so long in this new world, as you’re about to discover. Not unless they’re really, really good.”
“No surprise when you keep people down as slaves,” muttered bitterly.
“Now, now you are an intelligent man, Grant,” said Blake pleasantly. “We always had that much in common. You must surely realise the potential of this new opportunity? Just think back to the old world, all the arguments and debates we had, all the worries which now seem just so irrelevant. Think of mortgages, the debate over gay marriage, ethics and religion. Oh how stupid it all seems now, don’t you think Grant? Think about it. Everything we ever did, all our human achievements have in the space of a few months come to nothing. We cower in the great cathedrals and castles. The great works of art now hang mouldering on the walls of the galleries, or else they have long been torn up for fuel by the ever dwindling band of desperate survivors. All those dreams we had, all those arguments, they’re all for shit. Gay marriage? Mortgages? Fuck it all. We’re entering a newer age here Grant, a more primitive one, yes, but one that is ripe for opportunity for people like you and me. In this world you need to be strong, both physically and emotionally and I’m afraid to say women just don’t cut that. There’s no room for feminism here. Did you know men outnumber women in this camp three to one? There’s a reason for that. Women are becoming valuable commodities here, Grant, and we need to savour each and every one of them.”
“Fuck you,” snapped Kit, although there was real fear in her voice.
“A good man would have made so much more of this,” protested Paul. “A good man would have provided food and shelter to all, would have helped everyone. You could still have had all this, perhaps even made it better. You could…”
“Don’t you talk to me about decency, snapped Blake, a dangerous anger in his eyes.
“You mean rape and prostitution,” I said darkly. “This isn’t a new world you’re creating here, Blake, this is just your own personal fantasy, a fucking ego trip.”
“It is a new world,” sneered Blake dangerously. “And you’re a part of that now, whether you like it or not.”
“You must consider yourself something really special,” I said sarcastically.
“Oh but I do,” smiled Blake. “Special just like you, Grant. Look at what we’ve got here, look at what we’ve made. Do you know how much work and planning it took to build this little encampment? You’re soon to experience it for yourselves, of course. You’ll find your quarters comfortable enough although the work is hard. Every now and again you might be placed in the black zones, by which I mean areas which are high in revenant activity. You’ll just have to deal with them as best you can. Believe me, it’s a great way of sorting the wheat from the chaff. But here we are in this little piece of the country and we’re surviving and thriving despite it all. We truly are the elite. You could do well here, Grant. There are opportunities here for a man like you. You would start as a slave of course, but then that word hardly holds the same meaning here. Many of the best men here once started off as slaves.”
“And what about the others?” I demanded.
“This is a man’s world I am afraid,” said Blake, looking towards Kit with regret. “Here it is all about brute strength and pragmatisms, virtues which I fear a woman does not possess. It is almost as if we have gone back to the primitive tribes of old, but then I was always fascinated by those ancient cultures, weren’t you? Those who survive will quickly learn the rules of the new world because they never really fitted into the old. But then you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
I looked down at my feet and said nothing.
“You haven’t told them?” Blake raised his eyes in mock surprise, and now he turned to Paul and Kit. “Your friend here is a killer alright but it wasn’t exactly for queen and country.”
“What do you mean?” Demanded Kit.
“Your friend here is a convicted murderer,” said Blake sweetly. “And not just any murderer. He’s a professional gangster who was serving a whole life sentence before all this happened for shooting dead three people in a botched drug deal. A loser in the old life now turned into a hero in this.” He laughed softly. “Funny how the world turns, don’t you think Grant?”
“Guess some of us are more stoic than others,” I replied with a  shrug.
Isn’t that the truth,” laughed Blake. “You know I always had it in the back of my mind that you might have lived.  You out of all the other scum. I always admired you, Grant, do you know that, and you know what else? I was this close to asking you to come with me, thought I could use a good strong man like you when I decided to break out of the stadium. Of course in the end you weren’t reliable enough, had too much of a conscience, or were you just broken by those eight long years inside? How many more men have you killed, Grant? How many revenants? I can’t tell you how glad I’ve found you before you found me. I think you might have been a real threat.” He leaned in close. “Now you see, Grant, I usually kill threats, just ask the other poor cunt who was in charge of this operation before me. But I admire you, Grant, and I think I might be able to find a use for you. What do you say, my boy? Do you want to be king of the slaves like you were the king of the inmates back at the prison? Think you could be my man? Who knows, maybe one day, albeit a long time from now, I might trust you enough to make you one of us.”
“I’ll never be one of you, Mr Blake,” I said defiantly. “I haven’t broken out of one prison to become a common slave in another.”
“But you must think of yourself as quite a hero,” sneered Blake. “How many of you are there then, huh?”
“Just the three of us,” I said defiantly.
“Oh yeah?” Blake raised his eyes. “Where’s your hideout? Come on, you might as well spill the beans. It’s not as if you’ll be going back there any time soon.”
“It’s a cottage just up the road,” I replied, looking the prison officer dead in the eye.