‘Surely the army would help you to move them somewhere else?’ Luc asks.
‘You’re joking aren’t you?’ Denzil shakes his head. ‘I don’t know how they even have the nerve to call themselves the army anymore. They’re nothing more than legal terrorists. They’re corrupt and racist, and the decent one’s have either left, been driven out or are trying to get the hell out as soon as they can.
‘My life these last few years has been a nightmare. I don’t know how I’ve stood it this long, living with that bunch of ignorant... See, I don’t lick arse enough and I’ve got no money and no connections, which is how you get on in this game nowadays. I’m a bit of a joker though. I reckon that’s what’s seen me through. The lads think I’m pretty good for a laugh and it’s saved me from a few beatings.’
I’m shocked by what he’s telling us. If the army can’t be relied upon, that means nobody’s looking out for the welfare of our country.
‘Maybe it’s just the bunch of losers at Century Barracks,’ Denzil adds, reading my thoughts. ‘I don’t really know what the other bases round the country are like. Maybe there’s some good guys left. All I know is I’ve had enough and I want out.’
‘So what do you need us for?’ Luc asks. ‘Surely you could’ve escaped years ago if things are that bad.’
‘It’s not that simple. Like I said, I’ve got no connections. First, I needed a way to escape. But mainly I was waiting for a decent opportunity to take me somewhere good. I mean, if I just escaped, where would I go? What would I do? I’d be absent without leave, on the run with no way of helping my family and if they caught me trying to leg it, they‘d either shoot me for desertion or worse. I’ve got to be able to go where they can’t touch me. This way, with your help, I’ve got a decent vehicle to escape in and …’ He pauses and looked hard at us.
‘What?’ we both ask simultaneously.
‘I need your help.’
‘We are helping you,’ I say.
‘No, I mean I really need your help. I want to become a guard. I want to work in a perimeter town, far away from this shithole - ‘scuse my language - where I can keep my family safe. Your dad owns a security company.’ He turns to Luc. ‘I know he needs trained men like me, but I haven’t had the opportunity to meet him. Maybe … if you could get me a job with accommodation for my family? I’m a professional. I'm hard-working … loyal.’
He tails off and stares at us expectantly. I realise just how powerful our families are. We’ve got the means to make and break lives. This man’s hope rests in Luc’s hands.
Guards are usually made up of ex-police, military and security, but they are prized, if dangerous, jobs which pay well and mean your family will be well housed and provided for - a rarity nowadays. These positions aren’t given away easily as you have to be able to trust the guard you’re employing with your life. In our perimeter, any potential guard has to first have two sponsors, who are guards themselves, to vouch for him or her. These sponsors are hard to come by as they risk dismissal or even imprisonment if the new guard lets them down. In this way, we’re almost guaranteed to get trustworthy men and women looking after us.
Denzil obviously doesn’t know anyone willing to sponsor him and he has no other means of proving himself. The opportunity to help us was too valuable for him to ignore.
‘If we manage to escape from your lovely ex-work colleagues, then I’m sure I can sort something out,’ says Luc. With his flippant reply, he’s managed to lighten the atmosphere and give Denzil the hope he needs.
‘Man, you will never regret it.’ He settles back, a sudden sigh of relief smoothing out the lines on his satin forehead.
We sit in silence for a while, listening to each other breathing. Thunder grumbles in the distance and then, through the partially opened roof of the building, lightning illuminates our surroundings, shocking our gloom-adjusted senses. Rows and rows of clothes rails, covered in clear plastic, are briefly thrown into sharp relief.
‘Must’ve been a clothing warehouse,’ I mumble. ‘Ma would love to go rummaging around in here.’ Thunder again, nearer and louder. Again the lightning flashes, daylight bright. Then the rain comes. Widely spaced out, languorous, heavy drops gathering speed and then, finally drumming down onto the roof of the warehouse and on to our AV, as we’re parked directly under one of the roof’s enormous holes.
‘This should help keep them off our trail,’ Denzil says, loud enough for us to hear him over the insistent rain. It turns out to be a short storm though and within ten minutes or so the rain has eased to a gentle pitter patter.
I judge it an appropriate time to ask the question I‘ve been dying to ask Denzil since we met him.
‘Have you heard of a man named Ron Chambers?’
‘The killer who escaped? Yeah, I heard of him. Two of the lads nearly picked him up. Stupid tossers - they let him go off on his merry way. He probably bribed them. They were lying if they said they never knew who he was. Hold on.’ He raises his hand for quiet. ‘Here we go.’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Sshh.’ He puts his fingers to his lips and I feel a snaking, creeping sense of dread. ‘Listen.’
Sure enough, I hear the unwelcome sound of helicopter blades whirring overhead.
‘They’re here. We’ll just have to sit tight and hope they pass us by.’
I want Denzil to carry on with his story about Chambers. I’m sure he can tell us something to lead us to his whereabouts, but it isn‘t the right time. I’ll just have to be patient and hope we got out of this predicament so I can question him further.
It’s chilly and damp now and I’d give anything for a warm jumper. I shiver. Denzil sees, takes off his jacket and passes it to me. I protest, but he shushes me and presses it into my hand. I think about our situation here and realise it depresses me. It’s worse than the raiders and it’s worse than Salisbury, even though James Grey was a psychotic megalomaniac and we knew we were going into dangerous territory when we entered the Close. But this is the army, our supposed protectors and law-and-order keepers. If they are corrupt then what chance does our country have? We really are living in a world gone to hell. And we’re trusting yet another stranger - Denzil - but will he also let us down like Fred and Jessie? Or whatever their real names are.
Over the intermittent drips of rain, we hear a convoy of vehicles drive past, close to our hiding place. Then voices. A shout. I shiver again.
‘Building-to-building search!’ We all make out the words and I feel sick.
‘Milligan.’ I don’t like the way Denzil says the name.
‘Building-to-building search?’ asks Luc. ‘Do you think we’ll be safe here?’
‘Not any more. Milligan won’t leave this village until every structure is searched thoroughly. He’ll have sent the Lynx ahead to check the roads.’
‘What should we do?’ I really don’t fancy our chances if we get caught, and I’m terrified for Luc’s life.
‘There’s no way we’ll all be able to escape together,’ says Denzil. His next words make my heart sink. ‘I’ll have to leave you here.’
Chapter Thirty Three
Eleanor
*
Connor’s face and smell was still so familiar to me. I had previously borrowed a checked shirt of his and, when I took to my bed, I inhaled his scent as I wept. I pictured his perfect face, terrified in case I forgot what he looked like. My own face was pasty and blotched, my eyes dull and swollen from continuous crying. I couldn’t stir myself to even wash and I felt hideous and grotty. I just kept thinking, what’s the point?
Over the next few days, my family was tender and consoling. Mum brought me up comfort food, like warm chicken noodle soup or creamy mashed potato, throwing my windows open, ‘for fresh air’ amidst my half-hearted protests. My brothers tried to tempt me with chocolates and glossy magazines, and Dad just held me while I cried oceans. All I wanted was to hibernate under my duvet.
My family tried to discover exactly what had happened to
Connor, but although they contacted the army and the police, nobody knew anything. Or if they did, they kept it quiet. The Press weren’t interested. Well, they were interested, but only in the angle that we had been harbouring a suspected terrorist. And they soon lost interest when there was nothing more to learn.
The media kept giving us more bad news. Thousands of people had either fled the country to return to their native homes, or had returned to Britain, to get home before the border closures came into effect, which they now had. Plenty of people were still stranded though, unable to get a flight or passage on a ship. And no one knew when the borders would re-open.
Like most countries, Britain was officially closed off to the outside world. For now, public transport had stopped running and petrol was severely rationed. A state of emergency had been declared. The summer was ending and the leaves were changing along with everything else.
Chapter Thirty Four
Riley
*
‘What are you talking about?’ Luc says.
‘Sshh. For God’s sake, man, keep your voice down,’ hisses Denzil.
‘Sorry,’ whispers Luc. ‘But where are you going? You can’t just leave us here. What are we supposed to do?’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ says Denzil. ‘I don’t like it. I’m gutted about it, but it’s our only chance.’
‘What?’ asks Luc. ‘What’s your idea?’
‘I could make out you took me against my will and now I’m escaping back to the barracks.’
‘But won’t they want to know why we escaped in the first place?’ I ask. ‘Why would we have thought we were in danger if it wasn’t for you telling us?’
‘Good point.’
‘How about you tell them that Riley heard soldiers walking past her window talking about how they were going to do us some serious harm?’ Luc says. ‘She panicked and came to fetch me.’
‘That would work,’ says Denzil. ‘Then you knocked out one of the soldiers and took me at gunpoint from my post at the checkpoint. I’ll tell them you tied me up in the back of your AV, but I managed to untie my ankles and throw myself out of the back of the moving vehicle. Sound believable to you?’
We nod.
‘You could throw them off our scent,’ says Luc. ‘Tell them you saw us stop and pull off the road. That we’re driving cross-country in the other direction, heading back down south.’
‘Yeah, good idea,’ Denzil replies. ‘Meantime, you stay put till dawn. By then I should’ve been able to draw them south, away from here. I’ll tell ‘em you’re probably heading back to Bournemouth, frightened out of your stupid minds.’
‘Hey!’ I say with mock indignance. ‘Are you sure there’s no other way? I don’t want to think of you going back there when you hate it so much.’
Denzil smiles and shakes his head. ‘We’re running out of time. It’s the only plan I can think of that’s got a chance of working.’ He looks at me and points at the jacket I’m wearing. ‘I’m gonna need that back.’
I shrug it off and hand it back to him.
‘We have to make it look authentic,’ says Luc.
‘No holds barred then. My life depends on it.’
We bind his hands together with rope and give his ankles rope burns, so it looks as though they’ve also been bound.
Denzil turns to Luc, ‘I’m relying on you to give me what you got.’
Luc takes a breath and punches Denzil hard on the mouth. I gasp and flinch. He’s bleeding from the lip, but he doesn’t make a sound.
Luc finds a jagged piece of metal from the warehouse floor and uses it to rip down one side of Denzil’s uniform. Luc rips the bottom of his t shirt and makes a gag for Denzil’s mouth. Lastly, Denzil rolls in the dirt.
We stand awkwardly silent for a moment.
‘Thank you Denzil,’ says Luc. ‘But you know you really don’t have to do this. We could all just make a run for it.’
‘Man, you didn’t just mess up my uniform and give me a fat lip for nothing. I’ve been with these sorry-ass soldiers for years now, a few weeks longer won’t hurt and then I can get to Bournemouth no problem. Anyway, I need you to escape so you can give me the job of highly paid guard with a chunky Christmas bonus.’
‘The job’s most definitely yours,’ Luc says. ‘Thanks, mate. Good luck. We‘ll see you soon.’
They shake hands and Luc presses some gold pieces into his hand.
‘To help you find your way back to us,’ he says.
I give Denzil a hug and kiss his cheek. He passes me the gag and I tie it around his mouth, mindful of the purple bruise and split lip.
He smiles, lifts up the garage door a fraction and rolls out into the dangerous night. All we can do now is sit and wait.
*
It’s quiet. Not once do we hear soldiers nearby. Hopefully Denzil has thrown them off our trail.
‘I'll sleep in the front, you take the back seat,’ offers Luc.
‘No way. You’re definitely taking the back seat, you're still recovering from your bang on the head.’ Luc doesn't think I notice each time he winces at the pain the raiders inflicted. ‘Anyway, you need a decent night’s sleep more than I do. I already had some back at the barracks.’
‘Riley, if you don't take the back seat, I'll sleep on the stone floor outside.’
‘Urrgh, you're such a gentleman,’ I huff, feeling guilty. But I know he will actually sleep on the floor if I don't do as I’m told, so I climb into the back seat and make myself comfortable.
‘Night, Luc.’
‘Night, Riley. Sleep well ... if you can.
‘Thanks.’
‘You did really well tonight, coming to get me in the mess hall. That was a horrible call to make, knowing whether or not to trust Denzil. I don't know what would've happened if we'd stayed.’
‘I'm sorry I was such a wimp before. Leaving you to go and eat with those hideous soldiers.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I would've hated me if I was you. But I was terrified, like I couldn’t function properly.’
‘Well, it's a good thing you did wimp out and it turned out fine, so don’t worry about it.’
The rest of the night is long and strangely lonely. Denzil has left a big gap. Luc and I had quickly gotten used to his company. We feel terrible that he now has to return to his barracks, that his plans to save his family have to be put on hold. I pray he’s going to be alright, that he’ll manage his escape to Bournemouth soon. We owe him our lives.
Luc and I chat until we finally doze off for an hour or two.
Now early morning has crept up on us and I feel cold and stiff. I’m worrying about Denzil and wonder if he’s succeeded in fooling his colleagues.
It’s strange spending the night alone with Luc. I haven’t had much time to consider my feelings for him on the journey so far - we’ve had too much to think about and too much to cope with. Also, I’m regretting not being more direct with Denzil about Chambers. I should have pushed for more answers. Now it’s beginning to look like a lost cause on all fronts. Last night was probably the end of all my hopes.
We’ve blown our chance of finding out where Chambers was headed and, after spending a whole night alone with Luc, he doesn’t seem to be remotely interested in me. I thought fear and stress were supposed to throw people together, to bond them and help them to release their inhibitions. Sometimes it feels as though Luc doesn’t even like me, let alone anything else.
Why am I such a coward? Why can’t I make a move? Skye had more guts than me. She made it clear to Luc how she felt and was brave enough to risk his rejection. If she hadn’t died, I know she would have gotten over it quickly. That was the type of person she was, not one to hold grudges or sulk and cling to past hurts. She and Luc would have been back to their old selves almost straight away.
But if I give Luc the chance to reject me, I know I won’t be able to handle it with such ease and grace. I’ll be humiliated and devastated. That’s why I’m so scared to show m
y feelings. Maybe if he showed me something to make me believe he feels the same way … but I never get a glimmer of anything more than friendship.
We’ve got no plans of action left. We’ve got no new leads to follow. Our prime goal was Century Barracks, relying on the soldiers to point us in the right direction. Now we’ve reached a dead end. We’ll have to keep going onwards to my grandparents’ house.
Maybe we can stop at settlements along the way and show Chambers’ picture to everyone we meet. He is, after all, rumoured to be somewhere in the West Country and we are heading west, so it’s possible someone might recognise him. But I don’t really believe this is going to get us anywhere. It’s hopeless.
I feel deflated. My bones are damp and I feel grubby and irritable. Watery sunlight filters through the trees and into the hole in the warehouse roof, but it isn’t enough to warm the chilly space. As well as everything else, I’m really conscious our parents will now be sick with worry. I’ve got to face it, this trip has been a hideous mistake causing nothing but grief and distress. I shiver for the millionth time and try to think of something to make me feel less miserable. But I’m on a real downer.
Luc has been rummaging around for ages in the front, trying to find something. It’s getting on my nerves and I snap irritably.
‘What are you doing?’
He lifts his head and passes me a large bar of whole nut milk chocolate. ‘Breakfast? Half each?’ he grins.
I feel horrible. As usual, he’s trying to do something nice for me and I’m being a cow.
‘Damn good idea,’ I say, a reluctant smile escaping at the thought of such decadence.
At seven o’clock we risk opening the garage door. The sunshine streams into the gloomy warehouse. The brightness, combined with a sugar rush from breakfast, does a lot to lighten my mood.
‘Wait here,’ says Luc. ‘I’m just going to have a little scout around and make sure there’s no one about.’
‘I’d rather come with you, if that's okay?’