The Forever Man - Book 1: Pulse

Basel Ratford, the old commander in chief of the Belmarsh boys, was dead. Patrick’s rifle shot had blown off the back part of the chief’s foot, septicemia had set in within hours and by the end of the next day he was too weak to move.

  So, in a show of human kindness and compassion, the Belmarsh boys had decided that anyone who was too pathetic to even feed themselves was far too feeble to be their leader and they decided to vote for a new one, leaving Basel to die slowly from dehydration.

  The voting had turned into a full scale brawl and eventually, after three deaths, a monster of a man know to all as Ratfink, real name Jonathan Naybor, mass murderer and habitual steroid taker, became the next commander in chief. Unlike the former chief however, Naybor was an educated man. He had gained a history degree from Essex University before his lifetime incarceration and, in the last twelve years of his imprisonment, he had, through the Open University, garnered honors and a master’s degree in history and then a doctorate in Philosophy.

  Officially he was J. Naybor MA (Hist) Ph.D AKA Ratfink AKA Commander in Chief the Belmarsh Boys.

  He was a staunch follower of the Giovanni Gentile School of fascist philosophy. And saw himself as a cross between Mussolini, Hitler and Julius Caesar. Like many habitual murderers, he suffered from massive delusions of grandeur combined with clinical paranoia and megalomania. Up until the pulse, these delusions were being controlled by the ingestion of industrial quantities of Respiridone antipsychotic medication. Now, however, his psychosis was allowed full rein.

  Already he had reorganized the structure of the Belmarsh boys. Under him he had nominated three Vice Presidents. All of them had master degrees. One he put in charge of enforcement or private body guarding and internal discipline. The second in charge of the army, or external discipline and the third in charge of what he called civics. Food, clothing shelter and organisational structures.

  Naybor was not content to simply roam the countryside raping and looting. Not for him the nomadic life of the Mongolian horseman. No, he had decided that he was going to start a true kingdom. And to do that he needed a castle. Some form of physical defence with living quarters for his army and entourage.

  That morning the boys had taken over the small village of Twyfram where they had decided to settle in for a few days. A church, a shop, a pub and a few houses. Naybor had stopped the men rampaging through the village, pillaging and destroying. Burned houses and dead citizens didn’t help anything. For a king needs subjects and land and water. So what was the point of murdering all of your subjects and burning all of your property to the ground?

  So he had appropriated the largest house in the village and now he and his three VPs were poring over a large ordnance survey map that had been unrolled and placed on the dining room table.

  The chief was looking for a castle. He pointed at a circle on the map.

  ‘Here,’ he said. ‘The fortified Abbey of Lilysworth.’ He turned to one of his VPs. ‘Cody, go and get some locals. I want to know what the hell this abbey place is.’

  Cody saluted and headed for the door.

  ‘No, wait,’ called Naybor. ‘The girls. Kill two birds with one stone. Bring, oh say, five or six of the best looking girls. Young, late teens early twenties.’

  The chief walked over to the window and looked out at the view. Rolling downs, hedges, apple trees. All in vivid shades of green. Truly God’s own country, he thought. He took a cigarette from a pack, placed it between his lips and waited. A VP leaned over and flicked a flame. The chief inhaled and carried on contemplating the view. His view.

  The door opened and Cody led a gaggle of six girls into the room. They huddled into the corner. Afraid.

  Naybor gestured to the one closest to him. Short, brunette, shoulder length hair. Blue eyes, large breasts. She shuffled towards him, her feet dragging in trepidation.

  ‘Come on, girl,’ he said. ‘No need to worry. I mean you no harm. Now, look here,’ he pointed at the map. ‘This abbey. What do you know about it?’

  ‘It’s an old abbey,’ she answered, her voice small and tight.

  ‘Obviously,’ said Naybor. ‘Have you been there?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And?’ He encouraged her.

  ‘It’s big. Got a high wall all round it and a big wooden gate. It’s a school as well. Don’t know what the school’s called.’

  ‘How many students?’ Asked the chief. ‘Is it a boarding school?’

  She nodded. ‘About three hundred I suppose. Maybe more.’

  The chief grinned. ‘Perfect, absolutely perfect. Accommodation for the boys and more. Fortified, probably got some bloody serious headmaster’s house for yours truly. Prefectomundo.’

  He swaggered over to the group of girls, his head held high ala Mussolini’s el Duce pose.

  ‘Spread out, girls,’ he said. ‘Your commander in chief wants a gander at you.’

  The girls shuffled into a ragged row and the chief walked down it. He paused at the third girl. She was tiny. Little more than a child. Her white t-shirt revealed adolescent breasts and her figure had yet to mature into the curves of womanhood.

  ‘How old are you?’ He asked. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Eleven. My name’s Tammy.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ shouted the chief. ‘Jesus H Christ. Cody, come here. What the hell is this? Do you think I’m a pedo? A little girl bonker?’ He slapped Cody so hard that the VP fell to the floor. The chief kicked him a few times. ‘Are you a baby bonker, Cody?’ He asked. ‘Is that why you chose this child? You know what we do to baby bonkers, don’t you?’

  ‘No, chief,’ yelled Cody. ‘Sorry, chief. My mistake. You said young so I got a spread. Look,’ he pointed at a red haired girl. ‘She’s maybe thirty-five or so. Young to old. Give you a choice, chief. Sorry.’

  ‘She’s eleven, you dick. Eleven.’ He kicked Cody again.

  Tammy took advantage of the confusion to run for the door. She opened it and disappeared across the fields, running as fast as she could.

  ‘Ah, crap,’ growled the chief. ‘Now look what you’ve done. Get up, quickly.’ Cody staggered to his feet.

  ‘There,’ the chief pointed out of the window at the fleeing girl. ‘She’s getting away. Shoot her.’

  Cody looked puzzled. ‘But, chief. If I shoot her then you’ll beat me up.’

  ‘No, Cody. If you bonk her I’ll kill you. Now shoot the bitch before she gets away. Can’t have people flouting the law that way. Just wont do.’

  Cody went to the window, drew his nine-millimeter Browning Hi-Power, lined it up and pulled the trigger.

  Tammy went down like her legs had been chopped out from under her, disappearing into the long grass.

  A couple of the girls screamed.

  Naybor held a finger to his lips. ‘Shut up.’ He cast his gaze along them, taking in the attributes of each one. Finally he spoke.

  ‘Ha, stuff it. I’m the chief, why choose. Cody, get them into the upstairs bedroom, make sure that they’re stripped and ready. I’ll be up in a few minutes.’

  He strode to the window and looked for Tammy’s body. But it was hidden in the long grass and was too far away. It had been a good shot. A great shot, actually. He must remember to congratulate Cody. After all, a good leader knew when to be cruel and when to be kind. And he was a good leader, he thought. Perhaps the best ever.

  Tammy lay in the grass. She hadn’t moved since she had tripped while running. The bullet that someone had fired at her had whistled over her head so close that it had actually flicked up a piece of her hair.

  Her mother had always laughed at her clumsiness but this time, falling over had saved her life.

  With great patience the young girl crawled through the long grass, working her way towards the woods. She had two things in her mind; firstly, get away from the terrible gang of men that had taken over the village. Secondly, warn the abbey that the gang was coming. She had been to the abbey before to listen to a music recital and she had liked both the place and t
he people. Especially the old professor who was the headmaster of the school.

  In the back of her mind she did have a third concern. Tammy did not actually live in the village, she had gone on school holidays with her friend Rebecca and had no idea where her parents or her older brother, Marcus, were. Or even if they were still alive. But she had forced all thoughts of them from her mind in order to concentrate solely on survival.

  After forty minutes of careful crawling she got to the edge of the forest and scuttled into the shelter of the trees. It took her a while to orientate herself and, once she had, she jogged off in, what she hoped was, the direction of the abbey.

  That night she slept under a bush. Six hours of fits and starts. As the sun rose, so did she. She spent the first ten minutes sucking the dew off leaves to assuage her thirst. It worked better than she had hoped although it did leave a slightly bitter taste in her mouth. Then she continued her slow jog towards the abbey, keeping her eyes skinned for any strangers.

  Around mid day she came across a small spring and she lay on her stomach, put her mouth into the water and drank until she felt fit to burst. By now her feet were a mass of blisters and she was exhausted. Although she was a fit young girl and had even been a member of the school track team; she had little body fat and had not eaten for two days now. To keep going, her body was now processing its own muscle fiber. Eating itself in a self-destructive need for energy.

  Tammy could no longer jog and decided to walk fast for twenty steps then walk slowly for the next twenty, then rest for ten seconds. She kept this up for two hours before the ten-second rest became twenty seconds. Then a minute and, finally, she simply crawled to a clump of bushes on the side of the road and fell into an exhausted coma-like sleep.

  She was awoken just after first light by the sound of people talking. She was too terrified to move lest someone see her so she could not get a look at them. She lay as still as death and waited. If she heard a female voice, she told herself, then she would reveal herself, but she had learned of late that groups of males were not to be trusted.

  Twenty minutes later she heard a rattle of gunfire and knew that she had made the correct decision remaining hidden. She stayed curled up under the bushes for another hour, shivering as waves of fear and exhaustion washed over her. When she finally ventured out and started to walk again, every step was agony as the blisters on her feet burst and bled and the lack of liquids ensured that her joints and muscles were stiff and painful due to the surfeit of lactic acid that her dehydrated body could no longer drain away.

  By the early evening she was still walking, one ragged step after the other. A simple automotive movement that her exhausted body was carrying out in the same way as she breathed in and out.

  She was also starting to hallucinate. Large winged creatures flapped across her vision causing momentary black outs. Tiny undulations in the road became mountains worthy of Lord of the Rings landscapes. Her ears felt as though stuffed with cotton wool.

  And then she came to a wall. A wall so tall and so vast as to mean that her journey was at an end. There was no possible way of getting over or around or through such a wall. She stared at the wall for a while. Thinking. And the more that she contemplated it the more she realized that something was wrong. The wall was at a strange angle. Eventually she worked it out and chuckled to herself. She was lying down. She had collapsed at the base of the wall. It was over. She fluttered in and out of consciousness. Grays and blacks and red spots surged across her vision.

  And then a female face. Pale and beautiful and framed with long red hair smiled down at her. And a man lent over her. He was huge and his green eyes sparkled like jewels. He picked her up and cradled her to his chest while the girl stroked her hair. Someone held a water bottle to her lips and she drank, the water coursed through her. The finest champagne, its life giving properties swelling her dehydrated cells, thinning her blood, switching her kidneys back on. Life.

  The big man carried her. Walking towards a gate in the huge wall. She felt like she was in a hammock on a ship. Cradled by his arms and safe from the elements.

  ‘They’re coming,’ she whispered to him. ‘They’re coming and they’re going to kill everyone.’

  Nathaniel shook his head and smiled.

  ‘No, my darling,’ he said. ‘Whoever they are - they’re coming and they are going to try to kill everyone. But I won’t let that happen.’

  And she smiled back at him and fell asleep. Secure in the knowledge that she had done the right thing.

  Chapter 34