The Brink (25 page)

16

The next day came with the same reluctance that Alan had to rise out of a dozing state and start all over again. He was greeted by a light rain that fell softly outside and by the gentle face of Tim who stood there in his new clothes.

“Do you like them?” asked Alan as he stretched himself into some kind of alertness. He’d dozed in the chair after working through the paperback and his neck was stiff and his mouth was dry. Like clockwork, his hand reached out and pressed the button to boil the kettle once again.

“They’re great,” said Tim, admiring himself in the mirror. He could see that the boy had attempted to wash his face and hands but missed the ink and the dirt on his neck and arms. Alan went to the sink and soaked a cloth in warm water, wiping it away as best he could.

“I’m sorry I missed you last night. How was school?” he asked, rubbing hard at a blue smiley face that Tim had drawn on his own palm.

“It was so much fun. We did loads of things like colouring and playing and reading. Rachel and Josie are the best. Josie is Rachel’s helper and she played cars with me on this big mat that had roads and things on it and she was the Fire Brigade and I was the Police and we...”

Alan listened intently whilst he made breakfast. Tim took him through his day in disjointed sentences, hopping back and forth to different points with no concept of time other than when it ended, much to his disappointment.

“Can I go again?” he begged as a plate of beans and reconstituted eggs was placed before him.

“Once you’ve eaten up you can. Are you okay with me not being there, Tim?” he asked. The boy nodded.

“Rachel says you’re busy helping everyone. Is that right? Are you helping people like you helped me?”

“I want to,” he said. “Some people don’t want me to though.”

“Why? Are they bad people?”

“Not bad, but wrong, if that makes sense.”

“Are you still going to help though? Make food for us and things?”

“Yes,” he replied. “That’s the plan.”

“Good. I know I said I didn’t like it here at first but I love it here now that I know everyone and I want to go to school all the time now.”

“I know you do, mate. I’ll do my best.”

Tim grinned and began to eat and Alan watched him from over the brim of his coffee cup with the feeling that his decisions were made already. Most of the hardest choices he’d had to make in life had been obvious; there was never any confusion about which path to take. But being brave enough to take that first step - that was where the difficulty lay and he’d hesitated too many times in the past and consequently people had suffered. He’d pulled back for fear of making a wrong choice only to find that the right one had been staring at him all along. He had an advantage now - the consequences couldn’t kill him, but they could harm others and that scared him the most. Did he have the confidence to know he was making the right call and carry it through? He felt he did, but was that arrogance? Or was it just his own way of justifying inaction?

His thoughtful cup of coffee was interrupted by a knock at the caravan door. Tim looked up, his spoon suspended between his plate and his mouth and the contents slid off with a splash.

“I’ll take a look,” said Alan, getting up.

Again he found himself taking up his staff even though it offered him little or no protection against a rifle and, opening the door, raised it slightly to give him a better chance of cracking his opponent’s skull with it.

“Really? A stick?” said John, brushing it aside and entering the caravan. “Don’t you have a gun?”

“I... Don’t ask.”

“Coffee?”

“The kettle’s just boiled. Help yourself.”

John walked in and said an enthusiastic hello to Tim, putting the boy a little more at ease as he made a cup from the instant granules on the counter.

“This is another thing that’s soon to be gone,” he said, holding up the jar. “Sandra told me that they’re down to the last pallet in the stores. After that it’s tea bags and then hot water, God forbid.”

He stirred his cup and sat down on the settee, facing the table. After his first sip he sighed and said, “News travels fast.”

“Sam Stuart?”

“The very man. I hear it didn’t go so well.”

“You’re telling me.”

“What happened?”

Alan repeated the previous night’s events as best he could, trying not to put words in that hadn’t been said or feelings that hadn’t been felt. It was hard - he was still in a kind of slow-burn rage and occasionally his voice would rise or his tone would harden as he relived the conversation.

“I suppose this was bound to happen sooner or later,” said John. “People like Stuart shouldn’t be in positions of power. They can’t handle it and they see everyone else as a threat to them. Hell, you’ve only just arrived and already he thinks you’re about to dethrone him!”

“Has he always been like that?” he asked. John shook his head.

“He was a nice guy when he started. He and Doc got to where they were because everybody loved them. If you needed anything, Sam Stuart was your man. If you needed patching up, good ole’ sympathetic Doc would be there with this little black case he used to carry round with him with all his kit in. As the camp grew in size I guess the power got the better of them. We can go weeks without seeing Sam and Doc’s case is now filled with booze he’s stolen and he cares nothing for anything else.”

“Is this the general opinion?”

“I’d say so. That’s why the infirmary is the way it is. That’s why the allotment is dead. People won’t work for that kind of boss if they don’t have to.”

“What would happen if the leadership changed?” he asked. John started laughing.

“Are you thinking of applying for the job?”

“No, but if a vacancy were to appear, is there someone who might be better suited to the role?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” he replied. “I can think of a few. Your new friend Rachel for one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We don’t need a military general who barks orders right now, we need someone who cares, who puts the people first. We’re not rebuilding a Government here and I don’t want a dictator, that’s for sure. We need to build a community that employs specific people to specific tasks, puts them where they’re needed and can do the most good.”

“You’ve become a socialist!” cried Alan with a broad grin.

“I’ve become a realist. I just look around and see things that need doing, people who can do them and for some reason they never meet. I know Rachel; I know she has the mind of someone who can organise this stuff. Leave the kids to Josie and she’ll thrive, mark my words.”

“I’ve marked enough words since coming here – it’s time for action.”

“Do you even have a plan?”

“Yes. For once I do.”

“Well,” he said, laughing. “Hit me with it.”

Alan told him.

“Oh dear.”

“What? What’s wrong with my plan?”

“Nothing,” he said, restraining his mirth. “I just wish I could be there when it happens.”

When Tim had finished eating and John had drunk a second cup with Alan, the three of them walked towards the school with Moll bounding on ahead to sniff out more paths that always seemed to lead her in the direction of the kitchens. The rain came down harder now and it filled the air with the scent of damp and a faint chemical odour that neither of them could deny.

“That’s going to be a huge problem next,” said John as he shook the droplets from his hood with a flick of his head.

“We’ll have to look at filtering it as best we can but the damage is already done,” said Alan. “It’ll be in the ground, in the streams, everywhere. What animals there are will be drinking it. It’ll be in their blood, their meat. We’ll just have to hope it isn’t as bad as we think it is.”

“There’s so much we don’t know about it. The radiation, the effects, all of it. I mean, are we just going to fade into nothing? Is the whole world just going to die around our ears? We’ve got a mother-to-be who’s literally shaking with the thoughts of what she’ll give birth to in a few months.”

“Did Doc not even take a look?”

“Early on he did but that was before the storm. Since then he’s not seen her or listened for a heartbeat - he has a kind of trumpet thing that he uses because we couldn’t find a working ultrasound unit.”

“Kicks?”

“Occasionally but she dismisses them as hunger pains. I think she’s lying to try and prepare herself for the worst.”

“We could have done with a sober doctor then.”

“Tell me about it,” said John. “Do you know any? The kids we do have are already suffering with sickness, as you can see, but Doc did say that it all depends on how high the dose they received was. Apparently people can survive a certain amount but after that...”

“Well I know Tim made it through the worst of it so don’t give up just yet.”

“How the hell do you get to stay so goddam optimistic?”

“Live long enough and see enough and you’ll find out. The human race isn’t all that bad, John.”

“Tell that to the Scavs.”

They arrived at the school, dripping wet, and waited at the door for Rachel to take Tim inside. When Josie came and led him away, Alan told him to have a nice day and that he’d pick him up later. Rachel remained with them until they were both out of earshot.

“How’d you like to be in charge?” asked John with the bluntness of a sledgehammer.

“Excuse me?” said Rachel.

“Alan here has a plan.”

“You do?” she asked, turning to him. He nodded.

“All we need is for you to step in once he’s carried it out.”

“Why me?”

“Why not?”

“I have a job, responsibilities, these kids need me.”

“They have Josie. You can pick someone else if you want. You’ll be the boss.”

“No!” she cried. “I couldn’t, I’d-”

“You’d be great,” said John.

“Who says?”

“We do.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me and Alan.”

“Hardly a democracy, is it? Put it to a vote or something. Call a meeting. What’s your plan anyway?”

“Never mind that,” said John. “We don’t want a democracy, Rachel. We need a beautiful dictator to get this place back on its feet. You’re the girl for the job.”

“No I’m not. I’d be a terrible boss. I don’t like ordering people around.”

“You wouldn’t have to; just employ someone to do it for you.”

“That makes no sense, John.”

“Look, anything is better than what we have now. Say you’ll think about it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Please?” asked Alan. She turned towards him now and smiled.

“Do YOU think I’ll be able to do it?” she asked.

“Without a doubt,” he replied. “I’ll help you.”

She looked at them both and sighed. “Okay.”

“Really?” cried John.

“Yes. Now go away, you’re soaking the carpet.”

“Will do boss.”

“Don’t call me boss. Not now. Not ever. My first law.”

“You got it, Chief,” replied Alan, walking away.

“Or Chief!”

They went directly from the school to the complex, noting that there seemed to be fewer people milling around near the entrance than normal.

“They’re scared of the rain,” said Alan, looking back and forth from the caravans to the building.

“They know it brings the rads. Can you blame them?”

“Fair point, but there’s going to be a lot of bull shit spread soon without some real science or medicine to dispel the myths.”

“Like I said, Doc did a good job of keeping it in check, but now people are coming up with all kinds of strange theories and I’m surprised that we haven’t had some crack-pot religion start up, offering sacrifices to the old gods to appease their nuclear wrath.”

Alan looked thoughtfully at the mast. “Any joy?”

“None yet,” said John. “Plenty of interference though.”

“Who’s working it?”

“Shifts change but more often than not it’s Phil behind the desk, turning the dials. He’s into that kind of stuff so he wants to be there.”

“Yeah, this voluntary thing didn’t really work out.”

“You’re telling me. Come on, let’s go inside.”

They approached the entrance just as the rainfall redoubled its efforts to wash them away in its dirty grey downpour and stopped in the porch, shaking their coats off before realising who was waiting for them on the inside.

“Richard?” cried John who was first to see him. Alan spun round and, without hesitation, grabbed Moll by the scruff and restrained her.

“Good morning, Gentlemen,” he sneered. “What brings you here on this fine morning?”

“Cut the bullshit,” said John. “What are you doing here? You’re a Scav traitor!”

“Not according to Mr Stuart,” he replied. “He saw fit to show me mercy for keeping my old looted clothes and once I explained all this to him he was more than happy for me to return to my old job.”