On Deadly Ground

  Jesus told the boatman to bring the boat in to the shore.

  The moment the boat beached with a scrunching sound I let out a sigh of relief.

  ‘You see the plane?’ Kate asked in a low voice.

  ‘Over there behind the hedge. You can just make out the tail fin. Come on, let’s find Mr Sparkman.’

  It was clear enough what had happened. Howard Sparkman had landed the plane and seen that Kate and I were nowhere in sight, so he’d tried to conceal the plane as best he could by taxi-ing alongside the overgrown hedge. Then he’d set out to search the island.

  We found him cautiously poking open the door of one of the millionaire houses with the muzzle of his rifle and calling, ‘Hallo? Rick? Kate?’

  ‘Hallo, Howard.’

  With a startled gasp he swung round, the rifle pointing up at my face.

  ‘Whoa, Sparky. It’s only me.’ I grinned as he lowered the rifle. He sighed with relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead, knocking his gold-rimmed glasses cock-eyed as he did so. I noticed how much his hands trembled as he straightened them.

  ‘Christ, bloody Christ.’ Howard breathed deeply to steady his nerves. ‘Kate. Rick. Where the Hell did you get to?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘I thought you were gone…dead…I was just about to fly back home…hell, you gave me a shock…’ He breathed deeply, so out of breath he had to lean forward and rest his hands on his knees. Perspiration glistened on his nose.

  Kate glanced at me, then back at Jesus, Tesco and the rest of the tribe standing in the bushes. ‘We’d better introduce Howard to our new friends, hadn’t we?’

  He looked up in surprise. ‘Friends?’

  I couldn’t help but smile at what I what going to ask him next. ‘Howard. How would you like to meet Jesus?’

  ‘Eh?’

  My smile broadened. ‘If you step this way, Howard. I know Jesus is just dying to say hallo.’

  And that’s how Howard Sparkman found Jesus. Only this Jesus, of course, was a forty-year-old Liverpudlian, his hands covered with home-pricked tattoos, and known for at least thirty-nine years of his life as Gary Topp.

  Over the next forty-five minutes we explained the plan to Howard. To fly Jesus and his people up to Fountains Moor. Then to transport them and our community to the coast where we’d board the ship for the South Seas. If you said it quickly enough it sounded plausible. But Howard was quick to point out that the logistics of transporting what amounted to well over a hundred people in a four-seater plane would be nightmarish.

  ‘We can do it,’ Jesus told him.

  ‘Yeah, we can do it,’ Howard held out his hands. ‘But you’re talking about me flying maybe forty round trips?’

  Jesus wouldn’t let a cruddy little thing like practicalities come between him and his dream. Maybe the man really did believe he could perform miracles. ‘We can do it. We can fly every single man, woman and child out of here. Then fly your people to the coast. We have to. Or we’re all dead.’

  Chapter 76

  My name is Kate Robinson.

  It’s now three days since the plane left for Fountains Moor with Kandi, the girlfriend of the man these people call Jesus. Ostensibly she is acting as messenger. But no one’s in any doubt that she’s really going as voluntary hostage. Rick is still suspicious of Jesus’s motives. He thinks we might be double-crossed in some way, but I don’t see how. Basically the plan is that Howard will fly all of Jesus’s community in batches of twos and threes, along with as much food he can carry, back to Fountains Moor. Once Jesus’s community have all been moved there, Howard will then start moving both communities to the coast where the ship lies at anchor. This will be done in alternate batches, first three of our community, then three of Jesus’s, and so on.

  More than once I’ve woken in the middle of the night to see Rick pacing the room in the dark, rubbing his fist into the palm of his hand, trying to work out how Jesus might trick us. Rick’s convinced himself that somehow Jesus will get his people onto the ship then leave without us.

  You’ll have gathered by now that Rick has left his room to move in with me here. Suddenly, and it has caught me by surprise, I find that we’re an ‘item.’ I’m pleased, no doubt about that. He’s gentle, kind, considerate, has a great sense of humour. But underlying that there is a sense of sadness which he tries to mask with wisecracks.

  But the shock of what has happened, civilization coming apart at the seams in just a few months, is really far more than we can absorb. Six months ago we were going about our ordinary day-to-day lives. I was working at the book shop, Rick had planned to tour with his band. Now all that is in ruins. Relatives, friends, neighbours are dead. Sometimes I think the real shock will hit us in years to come. At the moment we are too busy with the business of just surviving to sit back and think about what and who we might have lost.

  We still wonder what kind of future we will have. Will the Earth still continue to grow hotter? Will the heat kill all life on the planet? Who are these mysterious grey people? I’ve heard the theory that they might actually be from some kind of lost world from beneath the surface of the planet. But perhaps there is some simpler explanation. I just don’t know. What I do know is the idea of boarding that ship and sailing south away from all this does seem so appealing. I only hope Rick is wrong about Jesus. And that our two groups can join together.

  At the moment Rick is chopping logs for firewood. He becomes so restless with nothing to occupy him.

  I’m sitting here in the hotel lounge. It’s eerily quiet. Rick and I are the only people who actually live here. Again, I can’t help but imagine it before the disaster struck. There’d be staff, smart in their uniforms, checking in guests, or waiting on tables through in the restaurant. Once we’re gone it’ll be left to the rats and to rot quietly into the ground.

  It’s now four hours since I wrote the above. As I was writing there was a flurry of excitement outside. I looked out of the window. Jesus’s people were running down to the water’s edge as a boat approached the island. There was a lot of shouting and arm waving. I couldn’t see what was happening. Just then I saw Rick run past the window and down to the jetty.

  It was only when I left the hotel and went down to the water’s edge myself that I saw what all the fuss was about.

  Jesus’s island had a new visitor.

  His name?

  Stephen Kennedy.

  Chapter 77

  My name is Rick Kennedy.

  My brother, Stephen Kennedy, was back. He sat in an armchair in the hotel room, one leg casually crossed across a knee as he cleaned the lens of the camcorder. He cleaned it with scrupulous care with a cloth, blowing away any speck of dust he saw sticking to the lens. I sat on the end of the bed.

  You can forget any touching scenes of two brothers being reunited. The argument began almost straight away.

  Kate had offered to bring us coffee from the hotel kitchen. In the good old days—all of six months ago—you could have plugged in the kettle and helped yourself to the hotel’s complimentary sachets of Nescafe. Now, with no electricity, all cooking was by bottled gas.

  Stephen and I had been talking for the last hour. He knew all about Jesus’s plan to make for the ship and sail south.

  ‘Hell, it’s good to sit on a real chair again,’ Stephen said. ‘You must have thought you’d died and gone to Heaven when you first arrived here. Can you smell that? Baking bread. You don’t know how amazing that smells.’

  ‘When we first arrived here it was nearer to Hell. They were going to kill us.’

  ‘But this guy Jesus put a stop to all that when he found out you came by plane?’

  ‘Yeah, just in time. But these people indulge in ritualistic murder. You should see the cellar where they locked—’

  ‘We live in a different world now, Rick.’ He showed zip-all interest in what atrocities these people might have committed. The ship was all that mattered now. He was obsessed with quitting this burning Hell of a count
ry.

  Still wiping the lens Stephen asked, ‘Have they told you what the ship is like?’

  ‘He’s given me some facts and figures, yeah. It’s a cargo freighter called The Mirdath. As far as he knows its fuel tanks are full, the cargo holds are bulging with canned and dried foods.’

  ‘Sounds a peach. How did they come by it?’

  ‘One of the people here has a father on the ship. When civilization bellied up they managed to keep in touch by ham radio.’

  ‘But they’ve still insufficient crew on board to move the ship?’

  ‘The ship was due to sail to Sweden. The night before departure Whitby was torn apart by an explosion. All but three of the crew were on shore leave. They never made it back to the ship.’

  ‘A hot-spot? So far east?’

  ‘Seems like it. Probably ignited a pocket of gas beneath the town. The three people left on the ship saw the whole town was alight. There were even flames gushing out of the water in the harbour; the gas must have been venting like crazy. The men left on the ship managed to cut through the cables tying the ship to the wharf. Luckily the tide was on its way out, so the current simply carried them safely out to sea where they dropped anchor.’

  ‘By the way, Howard Sparkman’s managed to give Cindy Gullidge sufficient flying lessons. She’s competent enough to handle the Cessna. So we’re ready to start tomorrow.’

  ‘Whoa, Stephen. You’re going too fast for me. What’s all this? Start what tomorrow?’

  He gave a tired smile. ‘Hard work but we cracked it. Howard has been training Cindy to fly. And now we’ve two serviceable planes, the four-seater Cessna and an eight-seater Piper, we can start flying Jesus’s people up to Fountains Moor tomorrow morning.’

  ‘No, Stephen.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘when I saw you this morning I thought, great, we can talk this through together.’

  He looked up at me in surprise. ‘What’s there to talk through? We need to move these people up to Fountains Moor as quickly as possible. Then we transfer everyone to the coast, ready to board the ship.’

  ‘No, Stephen. This is way too fast.’

  ‘Too fast. Rick, Jesus Christ. It might already be too late.’

  ‘The Grey Men. Have you seen them? These people—’

  ‘Fuck the Grey Men, Rick. I’ve not seen any of these Grey Men yet. They’re the least of my problems. Do you know what food we have left up there?’

  ‘Stephen. Look, this is too important to rush. I’ve told you half a dozen times now. These people are committing ritualistic murder. They snatch survivors from other communities, or people travelling alone, then they torture them to fucking death; while the whole fucking community watches.’

  ‘Rick, I think—’

  ‘They get fucking high on it.’

  ‘And you think they’ll torture us to death?’

  ‘I don’t trust them.’

  ‘Come on, Kid K, they’re hardly going to do that if they need us to fly them up to Whitby. Think it through, man.’

  ‘I don’t trust them. You don’t know what they’re like.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Do you know what I was doing last night, Rick?’

  ‘Hell, Stephen. This is important. These people are murderers, and we’re—’

  ‘Last night, Rick,’ he continued through gritted teeth, ‘last night I went out and collected slugs in a jar.’

  I looked at him.

  ‘That’s right.’ He nodded. ‘We’ve been reduced to eating slugs and snails. You have to be careful with snails. Don’t pick the ones with brightly coloured shells because they tend to be poisonous. And this morning I left Dean boiling stinging nettles and dandelion roots for his breakfast so little Lee could have his share of oatmeal. What kind of diet do you think that is?’

  ‘But you had food dumps out on the moor!’

  ‘Another group found them. When we went out for more supplies we found they’d been picked clean.’

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘Yeah, Christ. It’d be nice to get some help from Him but it really looks like we’re going to have to help ourselves. Comprende, kiddo?’

  I’d never seen Stephen like this before. For the first time I’d heard a hint of threat in the way he spoke and seen it in the way his blue eyes looked at me. He didn’t want anyone, not even his brother, questioning his plans. He’d seen a solution to all his problems. The Ship. And he wanted it so badly that if any damn fool stood in his way, then, by God Almighty, he’d get angry. Then he’d get dangerous.

  My mind went back to Fairburn, and the times we’d raced each other down to the footbridge over the River Tawn. I’d seen his ambition then; his burning lust to win. How he’d even trick me so he’d be first to reach the bridge. That ambition was burning as bright as ever.

  He clipped the battery pack onto the camcorder.

  ‘What are you going to do with that?’ I asked.

  ‘I planned to take some shots of how these people live.’

  ‘For the archive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I saw red. ‘Why do you fucking bother with the archive?’

  ‘I think it’s even more important we keep a record of how we survived.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if we don’t this period will really be a new Dark Age. Our children won’t know what happened. There’ll be a gap between the world we once knew and life in the future.’

  ‘What future?’

  ‘We’re going to make it, Rick.’

  ‘We might. But not if we join up with these people. I don’t—’

  ‘I don’t trust them,’ he mimicked. ‘I know, I know, you keep telling me.’

  Just at that moment Kate walked in, carrying a tray of coffee cups. She froze, her eyes widening as she realised that she’d just walked into the middle of a raging argument.

  ‘I don’t trust them,’ I repeated loudly. They’re going to double-cross us.’

  ‘No. They are not.’

  ‘You don’t know them.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Bring that fucking camera down into the cellar where they locked me up. Read what people have written on the walls before they were—’

  ‘Are you deaf or what!’

  ‘I’m not fucking deaf.’

  ‘You must be. I told you, and told you again. This is a different world.’

  ‘Different world!’

  ‘Yes, a different world! We have different rules.’

  ‘So it’s OK to feed people alive to pit-bulls, or set them on fire or rape girls with a soldering iron!’

  ‘Rick! We need to get away from Fountains Moor. Winter’s going to set in. We’re living in tents.’

  ‘So, out of the frying pan and into the fire?’

  ‘And we’ve no food left.’

  ‘Find some, then. Stop fucking wasting your time with the archive, and filming everything as if it’s the most important event in fucking history!’

  ‘We’ve tried to find more food. But everywhere’s been picked clean! Look at that!’ Stephen opened his mouth, pushed in his finger and pulled aside his cheek so I could see between the inside of his cheek and gum.

  ‘See what?’ I was in a stinking fury.

  ‘Mouth ulcers. Caused by vitamin B deficiency. We’re all developing them. Back on Fountains Moor we’re hungry. We don’t have the energy to work anymore; we’re constantly tired—’

  ‘But is this the way to save them?’

  ‘So you’ve a better idea?’

  Kate began, ‘Stephen. We need to sit down and discuss—’

  ‘Keep out this!’ Stephen snapped. ‘It’s Rick here who’s got the problem.’ Kate’s face flushed red.

  ‘I haven’t got the problem, Stephen. You’re so keen to rush these people up to Fountains Moor you won’t even take ten minutes out to listen to what—’

  ‘We’re flying these people out of here. Then we’re all going to the ship. Comprende?’

  ‘Who
decided?’

  ‘I did,’ Stephen said in a cold voice. ‘My decision.’

  ‘So Dean, Howard, old man Fullwood don’t know what they’re letting themselves in for?’

  ‘I explained the situation; we discussed it.’

  ‘Like you let Kate here discuss it with you. Christ, Stephen, have you turned into a dictator or what?’

  Stephen’s eyes glittered dangerously at me. ‘Rick. All I’m interested in is saving the lives of sixty-four people up on that damned moor.’

  ‘They need to know what kind of people they’ll be trapped on board a ship with for God knows how many weeks.’

  ‘It’ll work.’

  ‘It won’t. We’ll be two groups with two different leaders—you in charge of us, Jesus in charge of them.’

  ‘Rick. It will work.’

  ‘It won’t. In a couple of weeks we’ll be slitting each other’s throats.’

  ‘Rick, I’m not changing my mind. Tomorrow we start flying these people out. If the weather holds we can ship them out in batches of up to a dozen a day.’

  ‘You’re making a big mistake.’

  Surprisingly, Stephen agreed. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I am making a big mistake. I’m making a big mistake sitting here and listening to you rubbishing my plans.’

  He stood up and walked to the door. I blocked his path.

  ‘Stephen. We’ve got to talk about this.’

  ‘No, we haven’t. It’s decided. We take the ship.’ His eyes blazed. ‘And just one other thing…Kid K.’ He used the nickname as if it revolted him. ‘Do not stand in my way again. Otherwise I’ll walk right through you. Got that?’

  ‘But you’ve—’

  ‘I said, have you got that!’ With that he pushed me sideways. I slammed into Kate. Steaming coffee cups flew back, covering her in scalding liquid. She screamed. The force of his push carried us on, over the top of an armchair to land on the floor.

  I sat up, swearing.

  Stephen walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Shit, I’m not taking that from him.’