Outside - a post-apocalyptic novel

  ‘Selfish reasons,’ he replies. ‘I’ll explain later, when we’ve got out of here.’

  ‘You mean you want to come with us?’

  ‘You won’t escape without me.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Eleanor

  *

  Calling Abigail from my mobile, I swallowed my anger and tried to adopt a friendly, apologetic tone. I asked if she’d meet me at the recreation ground that afternoon. She agreed. I waited for her in the deserted playground and sat on a cold, wet swing. She was twenty five minutes late, but I smiled at her when she arrived, hands in her pockets, the hood from her parka covering her platinum hair. She glanced at the swing next to me, but it was covered in raindrops so she stood where she was.

  ‘Grotty day,’ she said.

  ‘Hi Abi,’ I said, trying to be breezy. I brought my swing to a stop and stood up, forcing myself to say the next few words. ‘I’m sorry I slapped you before.’ I gave her what I hoped was an apologetic smile. ‘I must have been in shock or something.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I knew you weren’t yourself.’

  I tried to restrain myself from slapping her again.

  ‘You know,’ she continued. ‘I get you were upset about Connor. He tricked us all and you must’ve felt pretty used and stupid when you found out.’

  Good God, it took all my strength not to punch the smug smile off her face. I took a deep breath and hummed a tune in my head trying to ignore the self-satisfied crap pouring from her spiteful mouth.

  ‘Finding out he was a terrorist must have been such a hideous shock.’

  I stifled the many retorts that came to my lips and just nodded my head.

  ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you for ages,’ she breathed. ‘Let’s forget about boys and do something fun.’

  ‘Yeah, good idea. But do you know what actually happened to Connor? Is he still under arrest or have they let him go?’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake,’ she said. ‘Connor, Connor, Connor! You’ve only known him for a few weeks and it’s all you go on about. It’s so bo-ring.’

  ‘I know.’ I smiled and tried to stay upbeat and act like I didn’t care. I knew if she sensed my desperation, I wouldn’t get anything out of her. God, why had I had her as my friend for so long? I must have been blind. She was a monster. ‘I just want to know so I can put him out of my head. It’s bugging me, you know?’

  ‘Yeah, fair enough. But you won’t like it, Ellie.’

  I heard the blood pound in my ears. What was she going to tell me? I swallowed down bile in the back of my throat.

  ‘Look, Abi,’ I pretended to be bored. ‘I don’t really care, but I need to know for Tom. Connor’s a good friend of his and he wants to know what’s going on.’

  She eyed me sharply.

  ‘Anyway,’ I tried a lighter tone. ‘I’d like to know if I’ve been going out with a convicted terrorist or not.’ I pulled a lopsided face.

  ‘Yeah, not cool,’ she relaxed her gaze and actually laughed. ‘Look, he’s dead okay? There, I’ve said it.’

  Her words hung between us.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know you liked him and everything.’

  ‘Liked him,’ I repeated. ‘Liked him? He’s the love of my life. I love him and he’s not dead. You’re lying.’

  ‘I thought you said you didn‘t care ...’

  ‘Liked him?’ I looked at her with what must have been pure loathing, because she backed away. ‘You are a jealous, vindictive cow. This is you and Bletchley pretending to be soldiers. What I want to know is why I ever had you as a friend in the first place?’

  ‘Now hang on,’ she interrupted. ‘If it wasn’t for me ...’

  ‘If it wasn’t for you, I would never have gone out with Johnny in the first place. You only hooked me up with him so we could be a foursome with you and Bletchley. If you hadn’t been such a bossy cow, I would’ve been free to see Connor …’

  ‘Don’t call me a cow, you psycho bitch …’

  ‘… and Soldier Boy Sam wouldn’t have had some pathetic idea about avenging Johnny’s hurt pride.’

  ‘Yeah, well blame me if it makes you feel better, Ellie.’

  That stung. I knew in my heart it was my own stupid fault for being so easily led by her. I felt disgusted with myself, defeated, tired, bereft. There was nothing left for me, nothing that mattered anymore. I was too numb to even cry.

  ‘How do you know what’s happened to him anyway?’ I suddenly asked. She looked angry and uncomfortable, shocked by the strength of my feelings.

  ‘Ellie, I’m sorry. Sam called me. Connor tried to escape at Portsmouth and a soldier shot him. I don’t know the details.’

  ‘It’s all gone mad,’ I muttered. ‘Connor wasn't a terrorist. It’s all bloody stupid.’

  Abi looked like she was going to leave, but then she changed her mind and put her arms around me. But my body was stiff and unyielding, and I wouldn’t sink into her clumsy, cold embrace.

  Chapter Thirty One

  Riley

  *

  I look at Denzil, at the intense expression on his face, and through my fuzzy panicked senses comes a cold sharp knife-cut of clarity. I have no choice. No one else can do this for me. It’s up to me and I can’t afford to muck it up. I put my fear into a box and clear my mind of everything except what I know I have to do.

  Our lives are at stake again, but this time I’m not afraid. I feel like some giant hand has plucked me out of my timid reality and given me a shot of calm, before placing me back down.

  Minutes later, I’m walking into the dining hall and up to Luc, who sits at the far end of the room next to some scarily important looking men in uniform. They all blur into a sea of khaki and I’ve no idea who they are or what rank they hold. My heart thumps, but I do my best to plaster on a smile for everyone seated at Luc’s table.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you.’ I smile apologetically. ‘Luc, could I borrow you for a second. There’s some stuff in the AV I need.’

  Luc flushes. ‘Can’t it wait, Riley?’ He half smiles at the other men around the table and looks skyward. I can tell he’s annoyed with me, first for abandoning him for the evening and now for showing him up in front of everybody.

  I don’t have time to deal with this now. All I can think about is getting us the hell away from Warminster.

  ‘Not really,’ I reply. ‘It’s a bit embarrassing.’

  At this, one of Luc’s dining companions says, ‘Go on, son, help the young lady out. We’ll keep it warm for you.’ They all laugh at this, though what’s so funny, I can’t tell. They remind me of a pack of hyenas I once saw on a wildlife DVD, laughing hysterically before tearing into another animal’s kill.

  As we walk out of the room, Luc hisses, ‘What are you doing? They were just about to give me some useful info on Chambers. What do you need from the AV? There's hardly anything in it anyway?’ He sighs. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to get the conversation back to Chambers again without them getting suspicious. Sorry for being annoyed, but you've messed this up, Riley.’

  ‘Sshh,’ I answer. ‘We’re in trouble.’ I quickly fill him in on the details. Like me, he doesn’t know whether to believe Denzil’s story or not, but if Denzil’s story is true then we’ll be in greater danger if we stay. We make up our minds quickly and decide to leave.

  Luc and I walk the five hundred yards to the AV. It seems like five miles in the humid electrified air. We slide into the vehicle and Luc drives out slowly, back the way we came in, less than three hours ago. As we approach the checkpoint, Denzil emerges from the hut. Through the door, I can see the body of a soldier sprawled on the floor. Denzil sees us looking warily at the body.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’ll live. I just clocked him on the back of the head.’ He jumps into the back seat, throwing us each a machine gun, one of which is our confiscated weapon.

  ‘Keep those handy,’ he says. ‘I’m deserting my post and I reckon we got about fifteen minutes before they realise you’re not having
any pudding. I should put my foot down hard on that pedal if I were you,’ he says to Luc. ‘I’m Denzil, pleased to meet you.’

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ demands Luc, clearly shaken by this drastic turn of events. ‘Why do we have to leave? You said my father‘s not welcome here anymore. It all sounds like a load of crap to me.’

  ‘Can we drive and talk?’ Denzil says.

  Luc does as he’s told and turns back onto the road.

  ‘I just need you to trust it’s also best for me if I get you out of here alive,’ Denzil continues. ‘I know you got no real reason to trust me yet, but you must know something wasn’t right back there or why would you be escaping with me now?’

  ‘I trust Riley. She said we needed go, so here we are.’

  I give Luc a half smile, but he his eyes are on the road, not on me.

  ‘I gave you back all your weapons didn’t I?’ Denzil says. ‘I wouldn‘t have done that if I was gonna hurt you.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t look like we’ve got much choice now,’ says Luc. ‘Not now we're fleeing from our hosts and you did something nasty to that soldier back there. And Riley seems to trust you.’ Luc glances across at me and I shrug non-committally, which isn’t any help at all. He presses his lips together and his jaw tightens.

  ‘We’ll have to go along with you for now,’ he says, braking suddenly as we reach a junction. He turns to look at Denzil, who almost fills the whole of the back seat. ‘We’re heading west. That okay?’ Luc asks. ‘Tell you the truth, I’m a bit drunk. They loaded me up with booze back there.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter which way we go. They’ll send units in both directions. May as well head towards Westbury, and go as fast as you can. I’ve topped up your tank.’

  Luc and I both look at the fuel gauge, which is showing ‘Full’.

  ‘Nice one,’ Luc says grudgingly, looking at him in the rear view mirror.

  ‘Are you alright to drive?’ I ask Luc. ‘Do you want me to take over?’

  ‘I’m sobering up quickly, but thanks for the offer.’

  Night is falling around us and the AV’s beams are on full. We appear to be climbing in altitude and the road winds above the surrounding countryside, which spreads out all around us in dark splodges of field and woodland. The road quality is better than we’d been used to and we manage to hit thirty miles per hour, but I still feel every jolt and accidentally bite my tongue. It hurts like hell, but I don’t say anything.

  ‘We’ll have to get off the road in a minute,’ Denzil says. ‘Once they’ve discovered we’re gone, they’ll send out the Lynx.’

  ‘What’s a Lynx?’ I ask. ‘It doesn’t sound good, whatever it is.’

  ‘It’s not. Not for us anyway. It’s a helicopter and it’ll pick us up straight away if we stay on the road. Lucky for us, they’ve got no more anti-armour missiles, but we still got the door guns to watch out for.’

  ‘So why are we still on the road? Let’s find somewhere to hide.’ I’m panicking now.

  ‘We still got time,’ Denzil reassures. They might not even bother to come after us.’

  ‘Really?’ Luc asks.

  ‘Nah, man. They’ll come after us, no question.’ He laughs a deep belly laugh.

  ‘Great,’ says Luc, massaging his temple with his right hand.

  We pass tiny terraced brick cottages perched on the side of the road, obviously abandoned and completely dilapidated. They look sinister in the black night, like huddled old crones plotting our downfall. We drive towards a bridge with faded graffiti daubed across its length: TURN BACK OR DIE.

  ‘That’s a bit dramatic.’ Luc brakes suddenly, unsure whether or not to continue.

  ‘Don’t worry. That graffiti’s years old,’ says Denzil. ‘This is Westbury. It used to be a compound, but everyone got wiped out in the plague.’

  ‘Everyone?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, it was pretty bad. About twelve years ago they all got sick and nearly everyone died. Anyone who didn’t get it fled the place and no one ever came back. Westbury’s deserted now, apart from the odd traveller. It’s a ghost town, literally. Loads of the lads swear they’ve seen weird stuff going on down here.’

  ‘Thanks for that, Denzil. You’ve made me feel so much better.’ Goosebumps prickle all over me.

  He laughs his loud surprising laugh, unexpected for such a softly-spoken person. It would be infectious if I wasn’t so scared for my life.

  ‘I’m glad you think it’s all so hilarious,’ says Luc. ‘Are we going into the joyous ghost town of plagues and death then?’

  ‘We’ll hide ourselves there till morning.’ Denzil confirms my fears.

  ‘Why did I know you were going to say that.’ I’m not at all happy with the thought of spending a night in this creepy, deserted town. But then I suppose it is marginally better than being shot at from a military helicopter.

  The AV crawls under the bridge and along the silent narrow street. I can’t see any signs of habitation. Thick foliage lines the road. I don’t even want to think about what I’d do if I was alone here. We turn off the main track into an overgrown wilderness of rubble and tangled greenery, bumping over goodness- knows-what and straining our eyes to spot somewhere to hide.

  ‘This is no good,’ Denzil says after a couple of minutes of trying to penetrate our way through the debris in the AV. ‘Got a torch?’

  I scrabble about in the footwell and release the catch on the hidden compartment. My hand finds the torch straightaway and I pass it back to him.

  ‘Stop the vehicle and kill the lights. I’m gonna go find us somewhere proper to hide.’

  ‘On foot?’ I ask, horrified he could be so brave.

  ‘Yeah, it’ll be quicker. You two wait here. I won’t be long.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Luc says.

  ‘No need. You stay with Riley. It’ll be quicker if it’s just me.’ And he’s gone, eaten up by the shadows.

  ‘Do you think he’ll come back?’ Luc asks.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Riley

  *

  Leaves and branches swish and clatter against the windows of the AV.

  ‘A storm’s coming,’ says Luc.

  ‘Fantastic. We’re in a ghost town at night, with thunder and lightning on the way.’ My sarcasm is covering up an impending meltdown. Please God, let me manage to keep it together. ‘I hope he comes back soon.’

  It’s a strange thing, but after only a few minutes in Denzil’s company, we’ve already been won over by his confidence and unpretentiousness. Luc and I have both adapted our attitudes to mimic his good humour, despite our nightmare situation.

  A loud rapping on Luc’s window makes me scream.

  ‘It’s okay, Riley. It’s Denzil,’ Luc puts his hand on my arm for a second then he opens his window.

  ‘Mind if I drive a minute?’ Denzil asks.

  ‘Be my guest.’ Luc slides effortlessly into the back seat, whilst Denzil eases into the driver’s side.

  ‘I found the perfect place,’ Denzil says, reversing loudly onto the main track again.

  We drive up to a large vine-covered concrete warehouse of some sort. It’s mainly intact, but hidden from plain view by the encroaching forest. The huge rusted garage door is open and Denzil drives inside. Luc jumps out of the AV and pulls the metal door closed behind us. Denzil kills the lights and turns off the engine. It’s dark, but a few holes in the roof cast a faint glow of moonlight into the AV.

  ‘Right,’ says Denzil. ‘We just have to be quiet and hope they don’t discover our hidey hole. Got any grub? I’m starving.’

  Although we’re under the cover of the old warehouse, we stay inside the AV and Denzil and I share a very light unappetising supper of dry crackers, water and freeze-dried strips of meat, some of the few supplies still left in the footwell. Luc says he’s too stuffed to eat any more. He already ate a massive dinner at the Barracks. We push the boat out for pudding and share a slab of chocolate.

  ‘The main course was
pretty ropey,’ Denzil says. ‘But I haven't had chocolate for, well … must be ten years. I'm getting a good sugar rush. Thanks, guys.’

  Once we’ve eaten, Luc asks the question we both want to know:

  ‘So, Denzil, how come you helped us to escape? And why do you want to leave the Barracks?’

  *

  Denzil Porter is thirty four years old. He grew up in the St Paul’s area of Bristol, in a steep unlovely terrace, with his large extended family. He spent his early teens trying to dodge the front-line drug-dealing activities all around him and, at the age of seventeen-and-a-half, he finally managed to escape inevitability, and took his eight GCSEs into the army with him.

  He trained as a soldier in The Royal Military Police, doing his Basic Training at Winchester and his Trade Training at Chichester. Once trained, he was promoted to Lance Corporal, moving quickly to Corporal and he hoped to make Sergeant within the next six years. He loved army life, working hard and playing hard. I could tell from his cheeky humour as we fled the barracks, that he’s a good man to have around you in times of stress. His family was proud of him and he was happy in his career.

  He undertook a six month operational Tour in Afghanistan, but only stayed for four, as he was pulled back to England during the prolonged terror attacks to put his Royal Military Police Training into effect.

  ‘The Middle East was bad, but England was worse,’ he tells us. ‘Afghanistan was this unknown foreign country and we were briefed on what to expect over there, but England …’ He exhales heavily. ‘To come home and face that level of chaos in your own country, well it was unreal. I managed to get most of my family out of Bristol and into a compound in Thornbury, just north of the City, but I lost a lot of my cousins and friends. I haven’t been able to visit my family for six years now - no fuel allowance, no leave. The last message I got from them was eight months ago, begging me to find somewhere else for them to stay. My dad’s really ill. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.’