‘What do you want?’
No reaction.
‘Why are you here?’
The head tilted further to one side in curiosity. The eyes looked like empty sockets that had been filled with blood that was still fresh, crimson…wet.
They stared into mine. I could almost feel it reading my mind. I imagined it rifling through my memories as easily as you might thumb through a filing cabinet drawer, pulling out files here and there: some were of interest, some not.
Did it see Caroline Lucas through my memory? Did it see the experiences we shared?
Or further back. That night all this started. The night of Ben Cavellero’s party. Did it see me putting on a new shirt? When I nicked myself in the arm with a pin I’d overlooked in the sleeve? Then, leaving the house, I’d walked up Trueman Way, cheerfully whistling the melody to a song I was writing.
Or yet further back. Mum and a fourteen-year-old me at the Drive-thru. Then we’d sit in the Asda supermarket carpark, eating Big Macs. Mum would ask about my guitar lessons in an encouraging kind of way. I’d spot potential boyfriends for her, tease her mercilessly the way good sons do.
Did the Grey Man look into my head and see all that?
I believe it did.
I must have blacked out. When I opened my eyes I lay face down on the carpet. I felt a hand clamped hard against my neck holding me still.
I imagined those blood-red eyes looking me over, appraising the human race, calculating our abilities, our strengths, our weaknesses.
The grip tightened.
I couldn’t breathe.
The darkness came quickly. Absolutely.
Chapter 89
Within ten minutes of taking off from the island Kate and I had landed on just weeks ago we had left the new Lake of London behind. Below, brilliantly illuminated by the winter sunlight, lay dry land again. Alexandra Palace passed beneath us. Roofless now, gutted by fire. Howard reached the East Coast railway line, then swung the nose of the aeroplane north.
Below me and to my right, the land in the east was still predominantly green, blackened only rarely by hot-spots.
But towards the western horizon on my left I could see nothing but black land. The heat had killed every blade of grass. There were hundreds of plumes of what appeared to be smoke or steam on the horizon. Perhaps what remained of towns and forests still blazed.
And I imagined that taking possession of those black lands would be the Grey Men, blood-red-eyed, enigmatic—and coldly menacing; they’d be calculating their next move against humankind.
I’d told Kate about my encounter with one of the grey monsters in the embassy. How I’d woken in the room to find it gone. She’d tried to persuade me to talk to Stephen about it, but I refused. The truth of the matter was that I didn’t want to mention the Greys to Stephen again until I had firm evidence (yes, damnit, if it came to it, even if I had to present him with one of those monster’s heads on a plate). Then he would be forced to believe me. Until then, I’d keep my lips zipped tight shut.
As we flew, we saw signs that humans still crowded almost shoulder to shoulder down there. There were what amounted to shanty towns, no doubt built by survivors driven out of their homes in the west of the country. I imagined life for them would be a ceaseless war, with community fighting community as they competed for a field of turnips or a few cans of beans.
I had little doubt, too, that they would be eating each other. After all, if it was a choice between cannibalism or a slow death by starvation, which would you choose?
As I gazed out the window Jesus tapped me on the shoulder; in his soft Liverpudlian accent he asked, ‘all right, Rick?’
‘Fine, thanks.’
‘Chocolate?’
He held out a bar, the foil pulled partway back.
This was all too much to take in. Here I was sitting three kilometres up in the sky being offered chocolate. Down on the ground millions were dying of starvation; or being murdered for the meat on their bones. I smiled grimly, thanked him and broke off a chunk.
‘Say, Rick…’ He smiled that benevolent Jesus smile. ‘What’s wrong with Kate?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with Kate. What makes you ask that?’
‘What made her take the other plane?’
‘Oh, she said she wanted to keep Cindy company. If you ask me she just wanted to catch up on girl talk.’
‘Ah, I see…’ He stroked the bumfluff beard, smiling. ‘I thought perhaps the two of you had had a lovers’ quarrel. More chocolate, Rick?’
‘Thanks.’
At the time it didn’t strike me as such a peculiar thing to ask. It was nothing more than a bit of buddy chat. But I suppose Jesus was already making plans.
It was certainly true Kate and I had had no lovers’ quarrel. That morning we’d woken early. Kate had kissed me on the mouth, then she’d slid her head under the bedclothes. Kissed my chest, my stomach. Then I felt her lips lightly nipping the end of my penis.
Then she let her tongue have a piece of the action.
It felt so good…so amazingly good.
The next thing I knew she was on her back and I was on top of her, pressing myself into her. She’d gasped, her fingernails had dug lightly into my back and then slid down to hold onto my buttocks.
In the plane I closed my eyes, remembering.
The way her face flushed. I’d quickened the rhythm, bit gently at the tips of her breasts. She panted my name in my ear.
In the plane my head nodded forward. The steady note of the engines replicated the rumble a foetus must hear in utero: the sound of its mother’s heartbeat and the blood flowing through arteries, pumping through the placenta, then into the embryo itself safely curled in the womb. It had a hypnotic effect, lulling me to sleep.
I saw Kate looking up at me. Her green eyes locked on mine. Suddenly I realized she was standing in a sea of blood. It foamed round her; waves of crimson struck her in the back, splashing her face with gobs of bloody gore. I reached out to her; she stretched out to me, arching her long back, her long slender arms lifted up. But she could not reach me.
She called my name over and over, fighting to get closer, but something held her back whether it was the slap of the crimson waves or whether something held her from beneath I couldn’t tell. But the bloody red sea rose steadily: to her chest; to her shoulders; it matted her froth of hair into rats’ tails the colour of rust. I tried to catch her hands.
I couldn’t.
Then I knew.
I was losing her.
Just as I’d lost Caroline.
That bloody red sea would take her from me.
When I opened my eyes, Howard was calling back to us in the cabin: ‘Grit your teeth, gentlemen. We’re going in.’
I rubbed my eyes, looked down through the side window. There was Fountains Moor. I saw the cleft in the hillside, the rows of tents, the sinewy line of the stream running away like a silver snail’s trail.
Then the heather dropped away. There were fields bounded by dry-stone walls. Clumps of trees. The grass blurred. Then—
Bump.
Down.
I turned back to Jesus. ‘Welcome to our home,’ I said. ‘But I think you’ll find it a bit more spartan than what you’re used to.’
‘No worries, Rick,’ he said. ‘In a couple of days we’ll all be on that ship.’
He smiled the characteristic Jesus smile, chock full of sunny benevolence.
I was amazed to find how cold it was back in the north. The ground had frozen concrete-hard there, as if overcompensating for the ever-encroaching hot-spots.
Stephen was wasting no time. Already five of our community and four of Jesus’s tribe were waiting there for the planes to take them on to the coast.
As I helped unload the food supplies we’d brought back I scanned the sky for the Cessna that was bringing Kate to Fountains Moor.
‘Don’t worry, Kennedy.’ Howard slapped me on the shoulder. ‘They’re not us fast as us.’
‘You
sure they’re OK?’
‘Sure they are. I spoke to Cindy on the radio before I landed. They’d hit head winds over Newark, but they’re still making good time.’
‘It looks as if my brother’s sent you another batch of passengers for Whitby. I could tell him to hold the flights back until tomorrow.’
Howard gave a tired smile. ‘Are you saying I can’t handle this, old boy?’
‘You look exhausted. Cindy, too. You’re ready for a break, aren’t you?’
He nodded. ‘As the saying goes, you get all the rest you need when you’re dead.’ His face darkened as if he’d just glimpsed the future. He shook himself out of it. Slapping me on the back again, he tried to sound cheerful. ‘Don’t worry about me, Rick. Another ten flights and we’re all on the ship. Then it’s bon voyage and you can damn well wait on me hand and foot.’ Playfully he cuffed me on the ear. ‘Get those packs of dried rice out from behind my seat, while I get this baby fuelled up and ready for its seaside run. Hey, Ben. Roll out the fuel drums.’
He walked away, giving orders. My heart went out to him as I watched him. Normally, he was so solidly built, square-shouldered, round-faced, meaty hands. Now the shoulders looked painfully narrow. The eyes bled nothing but exhaustion. He was half dead on his feet.
As I shifted the bagged rice to the edge of the airstrip ready for our team to backpack it up the hill to Fountains Moor I saw Dean Skilton along with a couple of our lot hauling a handcart—the kind you’d once find used by railway porters. On the handcart were a couple of steel drums, filled with aviation fuel.
‘The other handcart’s busted,’ Dean called to Howard. ‘You still need another drum of fuel?’
‘I need it today, Dean. When can you bring it up?’
‘We’re going right back.’ Dean looked as exhausted as Howard. Only with Dean and our people you saw lack of food was biting deep, too. Their clothes looked a couple of sizes too big. Their necks were scrawny, looking like the necks of old men, not youths who hadn’t yet turned twenty.
‘Dean, hey, Dean,’ I called. ‘You haven’t forgot your old buddy Rick Kennedy already?’
‘Hey, Rick. My man! How goes it?’ He seemed genuinely pleased to see me. The tired eyes lit up. ‘I heard you and Kate were starting the smoochie stuff.’
‘Yeah,’ I smiled shyly. ‘You heard right. Wow, what happened to your lip?’
‘Oh, this little beauty spot.’ He touched the raw-looking sore on his upper lip. ‘They’re all the rage these days, you know. Haven’t you noticed we’re all getting them?’
‘You’ve been taking the vitamin tablets?’
‘What vitamin tablets?’
‘The vitamin tablets we’ve been sending up on the planes. Surely you’ve seen them?’
‘It’s news to me.’
‘But I put them on the plane myself.’ I shook my head, puzzled. ‘Wouldn’t they be up in the stores on Fountains Moor?’
‘Maybe.’ Dean eased the heavy fuel drum off the cart. ‘Maybe they got overlooked…Hell, Ben, careful. Do you know the drum’s on my foot?’
‘No, but if you hum the tune I’m sure I’ll remember it.’
Despite everything, they still kept up the jokey patter. But there was something desperate about it now. As if the ability to crack a joke, no matter how unfunny it was, demonstrated they still had the strength to spit in Death’s eye and prove to themselves they weren’t licked yet.
I still pushed on, almost in danger of nagging Dean about the vitamin supplements. ‘You should have been taking them. The sores will be caused by a vitamin deficiency.’
Dean gave a weary smile. ‘OK, Doc. We’ll ask Tesco.’
‘Tesco?’
‘Yeah, the guy with scarred lips?’
‘I know him.’
‘He’s in charge of the food stores now.’
‘Shit.’
‘What’s wrong? Hey, Rick?’
I walked away in search of Stephen. Suspicion had come shunting back: that Jesus was up to some scam. Sure, he’d promised us that ride south in his ship in exchange for bussing his people up here by plane.
But why had Tesco held back dishing out the vitamin supplements to our people? Jesus’s gang were well-fed to the point of plumpness compared to our people. Was he deliberately trying to keep our people so underfed they’d be too weak to put up much opposition if it came to a fight?
I saw old man Fullwood. He’d opened the engine cowling on the plane and was using an oil can to lube the cable pullies. ‘Mr Fullwood, have you any idea where I’ll find Stephen Kennedy?’
‘Ah, brother Rick. Good afternoon. I believe he’s still back at headquarters up on the moor.’
‘Damn.’
Meanwhile Howard was calling to Dean. ‘Don’t like to push you, mate. But any chance of that extra fuel drum in the next hour?’
‘You’ll have to give us a break, Sparky. Joe’s got the shakes again.’
I crossed the airstrip to Dean. ‘What’s the problem?’
Dean nodded to a sixteen-year-old who sat on the grass, hugging his knees to his chest. ‘It’s Joe. He’s been feeling crap for the last couple of days.’
‘Christ,’ I spat. ‘It’s lack of food, isn’t it?’
‘We’re getting by,’ Dean said.
‘But if you’re lugging up drums of fuel you need plenty of protein.’
‘We’re doing the best we can, Rick.’ He turned to Joe who still sat on the ground, his arms trembling. ‘Ready to roll, Joe? We need that fuel.’
‘Let him stay here,’ I told them. ‘I’ll go in his place.’
‘You’re waiting for Kate, aren’t you?’
‘I’ll see her when I get back. It doesn’t take long, does it?’
‘The round trip only takes about an hour. We’ve built up a fuel dump in a stable down in the valley.’
Dean took one of the handles of the handcart; I took the other and we set off along the track. As I walked I scanned the skies for the plane that carried Kate. I wanted to see her safely back.
I found myself walking so quickly Dean repeatedly had to ask me to slow down. But the truth of the matter was I’d become eager to find out what the hell was going on. I was sure Tesco was holding back on giving our people adequate food. I’d tell Stephen my suspicions, then together we’d confront Jesus and Tesco with them.
If all Hell broke out then, so be it. But we wouldn’t sit back and allow them to pull whatever evil stunt they had in mind.
Chapter 90
The moment I returned to the airstrip an hour later with the drum of fuel I saw Stephen. He strode across the grass towards me, his face grim.
At that moment I knew he had bad news for me.
He didn’t have a chance to open his mouth before I asked, ‘It’s Kate, isn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Rick. Howard had a call from Cindy on the radio. She said their plane was having engine trouble. They were going to try and land.’
‘Hell. Are they all right?’
‘Rick, I’m sorry. I’d be lying to you if I said it looked good.’
‘Do you know where they came down?’
‘Just south of Leeds.’
‘You managed to radio them again?’
‘They stopped transmitting. Their radio went dead when they came down.’
‘Jesus wept. Where’s Howard now?’
‘He took off in the plane as soon as he heard what had happened. He spotted the wreckage on a road near Holbeck.’
‘Wreckage?’
‘As I say, Rick. It doesn’t look good. The plane flipped onto its back when it landed.’
‘Christ…oh, Christ.’ My legs turned watery. I needed to sit down. Anywhere. On the grass, in the dirt, anywhere, only Christ knew I had to sit down—before I fell down.
‘Take it easy, Rick. We’ll…Rick. Rick? Where are you going?’
‘I’m going to find the plane.’
‘You can’t just walk out of here like that. You haven’t even got you
r rifle!’
‘Just you try and stop me.’
‘Rick, hey, Rick. Whoa, just a moment there, kid.’
‘I’m going to find Kate. She might be hurt.’
She might be dead, too, Rick.
I looked at Stephen. He was looking back at me, his face full of sympathy, but I knew what he was thinking as easily as if I’d flipped the lid off his skull and seen the thought lying there in black and white in his brain: SHE MIGHT BE DEAD, RICK. SHE MIGHT BE DEAD…
I took a deep breath. ‘OK…OK . I’ll grab my rucksack. Dean, lend me a rifle.’
‘Rick—’
‘Don’t stop me, Stephen. You know I’ve got to go.’
He nodded. ‘Then let me make a suggestion.
‘Shoot, but you know you won’t change my mind?’
‘I know.’ He nodded and gripped my shoulder. ‘As soon as Howard heard, he headed off in the plane to see where they came down. When he radioed back he said he’s going to circle the area and see if there’s a suitable place to land nearby. As soon as he spots one he’ll come back, pick us up, then return to the crash site. We can be there in less than twenty minutes, Rick.’
I nodded. My mouth had turned paper-dry, my stomach watery. The first impulse had been to hike there on foot but that would have taken a good thirty hours across territory that was becoming more alien by the day as the subterranean heat blackened the vegetation or turned lakes into boiling stews of rushes and dead fish.
‘OK, Stephen.’ I gave a grim smile. ‘You were always good at talking some common sense into me.’
He put his arm round my shoulders and hugged me. ‘Come on, we’ll get you a coffee.’
‘What if she’s dead, Stephen? I don’t know if I can take it again.’
‘Again?’ His blues eyes looked at me full of concern. ‘Again, Rick?’
I nodded.
‘It was Caroline Lucas, wasn’t it?’
‘You knew?’
‘I knew, bro. Intuition. Oh, Jesus Christ, Rick, when she died you shouldn’t have kept all that grief bottled up. Why didn’t you tell me?’
I shrugged, feeling so damned miserable I could have crawled under a bush.
‘You know you could have confided in me.’