Hope: After It Happened Book 4 Page 4

  They crept along, under cover of a shoulder-high wall as the sounds of talking and laughter were close. Eye contact between the two men gave mutual reassurance that both knew they were close, confirmed by the smallest of growls from the throat of Ash.

  Two ways to play this, thought Dan.

  Sneak past and stay hidden, or come out and talk. He mulled it over, getting a prod in the back from Mitch. He mimed speaking with his hand and shrugged his shoulders, suggesting that they be overt. Dan looked down, thinking. He looked back at his friend and nodded.

  The two men rose up and walked carelessly, talking about nothing as they went and sounding for the benefit of anyone close enough to hear them that they didn’t have a care in the world.

  Their plan worked in that they didn’t startle them. Their aimless chatting provoked instant silence from up ahead, followed by shouts and then more silence.

  “Hello?” called Dan.

  Three men appeared on the higher ground to their left just up ahead. Two were armed, although with nothing which would pose any real danger to their automatic weapons. Ash adopted a protective stance in front of his master and bared his teeth with a snarl.

  “Play nice,” muttered Dan to silence the animal as he raised a hand and strode forward.

  CRISIS COUNCIL

  Lexi felt the mood in the room to be a little too cold for her liking. She sat in relative silence following Dan’s advice from long ago to hold your tongue until you had something important to say; the very fact that she was even thinking about him right then and there would likely have sent some of the others present into a tailspin.

  “OK everyone!” Mike said, raising his voice to cut through the multitude of competing voices. Silence eventually reigned in the room, allowing the engineer a brief respite from his headache and a small chance to regroup.

  “Ok,” he said again, quieter this time, “we have all agreed that I take Head of House on an interim basis and amalgamate Engineering under the same roof. Andrew?”

  The smaller man at the table, permanently wearing a look of fear, raised his eyes to meet Mike’s.

  “You will take over Logistics along with Supplies as the two are obviously closely linked. Lizzie will remain as head of Medical, Cara in catering and Chris for the Farms.”

  He looked at his folded hands on the table before raising his eyes to the blonde woman dressed in black.

  “And Lexi will remain on the council as the acting Head of Operations until such time as Steve regains his health.”

  Lizzie cleared her throat but a warning glance from Mike made her keep the thought hidden for now.

  Lexi nodded slowly, aware of the gravity of the task laid at her feet but not fully understanding how it would affect her yet; the sleepless nights, the additional duties, the stress of training replacement Rangers when all of the bravest men and women had left them.

  She cleared her own throat, stopped toying with the chunky Land Rover keys clipped to her vest and sat up straight.

  “I need to select at least two of our group and train them in the basics of being a Ranger. Rich will be able to help but he’s too fragile still to be of any use on a mission. As it stands, I’m our only gun now and we need more.”

  She tried to emulate his easy authority. She had always marvelled at Dan’s ability to command people around him, to gain instant cooperation and obedience; not from fear but from respect for his abilities and their belief in him. She knew her own words were a far cry from the inspirational things she had heard come from him since her first strode in to where they were cowering, fussing around a man so mortally injured that he was effectively already dead.

  From that moment she idolised Dan, and would follow him anywhere. She had even thought she loved him for a time. Her thoughts drifted off to him. To Marie. To Leah and Neil. To all the people she vowed never to abandon; to lay down her own life for theirs.

  Now she wished she had tried harder to convince Paul to leave with them, but her love for him blinded her to the truth.

  Without Dan and Marie to hold this place together, they were weak.

  Steve’s catastrophic helicopter crash had just been the beginning; everything was starting to come apart. People were arguing and fighting back against the instructions of those in charge of the different areas for little or no reason. Everyone seemed to want to express some form of anger and it was threatening to tear their whole society apart. Everywhere she looked there was upset and discord, conflict and resistance. Lexi felt that the biggest part of her job now was to keep internal discipline tight.

  As the shrunken council disintegrated to their own thoughts and hiding places, her mind spun from thought to thought. She finally rested on the notion that to maintain order, she must recruit someone capable enough to ensure that tempers were kept in check. She stopped playing with the keys to her new Discovery and went to find Paul.

  Lizzie stood over Steve’s supine form, nervously picking at her lips as she brooded. He was breathing fine by himself, of that there was no doubt, and as far as she could tell he had no serious brain injury or his pupils would have been unevenly dilated at the very least. They were reactive to light which was a good sign, but he was still out cold.

  No pain response. His right leg was a mess. His torso was battered but luckily the bruising hadn’t spread too much so the internal bleeding hopefully wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Other than that, all she could do was pump him full of fluids and antibiotics and pray.

  The catheter she had placed in him was producing a steady supply of bloody urine, to be expected after the major trauma of the crash, and all that remained now was to watch and wait. And hope that he lived.

  Alice had taken it in turns with her to sleep in one of the unoccupied beds in medical as the other kept watch over him. It seemed to Lizzie that they had lost only a few of their number, but to her it felt like the best of them had gone away and those that remained were the weakest links of a longer chain. She wished now that she had summoned the courage to go; to encourage them all to abandon their sanctuary and follow the wild goose chase to its uncertain conclusion in far-off Africa.

  No turning back now. There was no way she could stray further from Steve than the dining hall for now, and those kind of responsibilities weighed heavy on a person’s selfish thoughts of escapism and adventure. With a sigh she pulled up a chair and a book to pass the time as she monitored the vital signs flashing on the monitor whilst her only medical backup slept soundly.

  MEXICAN STANDOFF

  “Greetings!” said one of the men cheerfully, holding a shotgun.

  Whilst his tone was genial, the demeanour of the others was anything but; weapons were raised at them and more bodies appeared on the higher ground and threatened to overshadow their position. Militarily speaking, they were properly flanked.

  Definitely time to seek a diplomatic solution.

  Whilst they were outnumbered and trapped on lower ground, Dan’s keen eye noted that the three shotguns he could now see were a poor match for their two automatic weapons. He knew that Mitch would have known this too, so felt comfortable enough to try diplomacy in the knowledge that two trained men with superior firepower and experience, combined with a very intimidating dog, could not be in too much danger from these men with comparatively rudimentary weapons to their own.

  The educated assumption of superiority, in the firepower stakes at least, made for a more comfortable bargaining position.

  “Hi,” Dan said, surreptitiously lowering his carbine and letting it hang on the sling. He put a hand down ready to grab Ash’s rig in case he decided to go for one of the men facing them.

  The man handed his weapon to a squat sidekick and jumped down from the wall to stand at their level, effectively putting himself in the kill zone of any ambush and nullifying any advantage they had over the two outsiders.

  Up close he was a big man, dark skinned and heavy set, standing well over six feet. His physical presence was made less intimidating by his
genuine smile; he beamed at them like he was greeting a pair of old friends as he extended a huge hand. Dan accepted the offer, felt his own hand engulfed by the man, and squeezed tightly.

  His obvious excitement at meeting others was not jaded by the weapons they carried, in fact the man seemed not to notice at all.

  “Simon,” he boomed as he continued to shake Dan’s hand rigorously. He responded with his own name, nodding to his companion and introducing Mitch. Simon turned the full power of his handshake to Mitch, who Dan saw wince a little at the pressure.

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the others didn’t seem so trusting. Some visibly relaxed, lowering their weapons and smiling too, but one man stood out. He kept his shotgun pointed at the three men and wore a look of such misery on his face that Dan suspected he would pull the trigger given even the slightest hint of provocation.

  Dan was slightly disarmed by the overt elation that the big man showed, and up close he saw that he bore a small resemblance to a famous singer from years back. The thought drifted away as he wondered if he were still out there somewhere, and if anyone was looking for him. He snapped his senses back to the present, and possibly dangerous, situation.

  “Gentlemen,” said Simon, still smiling widely, “how can we help you?” he asked.

  “Diesel,” said Mitch. “We’re after diesel for our boat.”

  “Boat?” Simon repeated with genuine interest. “Where are you going?” He switched his glance between the two men, sensing the obvious secrecy in their mannerisms before Dan interjected.

  “Look,” he said, deciding on honesty, “we’ve had a rough time of it and haven’t met too many friendlies since it happened. We mean no disrespect.”

  Simon seemed affronted, hurt even, that someone would think him unkind to others. His own attitude towards them appeared to have transferred to his whole group as they relaxed. Simon profusely declared their intentions to be honest, swearing on his life that he meant them no harm. He invited them to join him for the most British of ice-breakers. Tea.

  Their appearance in this small camp had started as trespassers, and suddenly evolved into the status of honoured guests as they were ushered up the steps and into a building which appeared to have become the temporary headquarters of Simon’s happy band.

  Happy with the exception of the short, sour-faced man who still glared at them like he was yearning for the excuse to put them down. He eyed their equipment with evident jealousy and made no attempt to hide his scorn.

  Ash had relaxed visibly, especially after some bits of food were sent his way. The only exception being the wary eye he kept on the man glaring at them. Like all dog owners, Dan thought that if Ash didn’t like someone then he probably wouldn’t.

  “Down, Riley,” Simon admonished him. “Good boy,” he said, prompting laughs from the others at the short man’s expense. Riley did not look impressed and forced a short muttered conversation on Simon, making him bend down to hear the low whispers.

  As the taller man listened his eyes glazed over in a sudden, furious anger. It quickly evaporated, but Dan had seen it. This man was no fool, no matter how many people mistook his kindness for weakness.

  Ash did not like the tone of the conversation and let out another low, menacing growl until Dan calmed him.

  Whatever Simon muttered back was not to Riley’s liking, and he stalked away with a cold look of anger evident on his face. Simon straightened himself and returned to the genial soul who just seemed to want to speak to someone new.

  “Thank you, Riley,” he said sarcastically over his shoulder.

  “Don’t mind him,” he said making light of the power struggle they had just witnessed. “He managed to bully and threaten his way to some position of power amongst the others and now thinks he knows better than me. Back-stabbing little shit.” His smile did little to remove the power of his words, and Dan marked the angry little man as one to avoid.

  Water was boiled, eager listeners gathered, and brews were poured. There appeared to be about ten of them – all men – gathered in the building and they clearly hadn’t been there long. Simon laid out the highlights of their story, not too dissimilar to Dan’s own, and told them how he was the proud leader of what they called their ‘colony’. Mostly farmers – and those who weren’t were being taught how to be – they had sent out people to search further afield for supplies to keep them growing.

  Dan responded with their own story, leaving out such details as the eradication of Slaver’s Bay, as it had become known, and the annihilation of the Welsh invaders. He did recount how they had been attacked and had successfully repelled the assault which raised eyebrows amongst the gathering and not less than a few noises of admiration.

  “Two peas in a pod, we are!” boomed Simon happily. “We just want what’s best for our own”. He raised in cup in a gesture of companionship and solidarity, which Dan mirrored.

  Time to get to the point.

  “So what brings you all here then?” Dan asked politely. “Big party for a supply run.”

  The mood went colder as soon as he had spoken; clearly a raw nerve had been touched by his words.

  “Same as you,” said Simon quietly, sipping his drink and staring into the small flames radiating from the camp cooker used to boil the water, “fuel. There’s thousands of gallons of the stuff in a boatyard not far from here. We sent a lad last week, and when he didn’t come back a couple of the boys went to look for him.”

  He went quiet, saddened by the story he was recounting. He took another sip of his drink in silence. A quick glance around the assembled faces showed them all deep in thought, eyes cast to the floor.

  “And you didn’t find him?” asked Mitch.

  “Oh, we found him alright,” said their host angrily, “we found him.”

  It seemed that Simon would tell them nothing more when another of the men spoke up.

  “They hanged him,” he said angrily. “They fucking strung him up and left him there with a sign on him; looter.” He said no more, simply turned away from the group and walked off a distance. Simon picked up the story.

  “The lads we sent to look for him found him like that. John there was his cousin,” he said simply to excuse the manners of the man who had left them to talk.

  “Who?” asked Dan, the familiar feelings of anger rising once again at the injustice of murder.

  “There’s a group who’ve taken over the docks, controlling the whole boatyard. It’s further down the coast a ways and when we went there we had to run away. They’ve got rifles.”

  The simple facts as they were laid out were a pure problem-meets-solution matter for Dan; this group had what they needed and were defending it. The only options were to seek a different solution or to use force. The decision to use force was based solely on a risk basis.

  Any risk of loss was too great to consider for his small group but his pathological sense of justice, of righting wrongs, ran deep. He wanted to help, but he could see no way of doing that without risking the lives of his group. He was torn between helping them and getting what they needed straight away, or leaving them to it and finding another solution.

  Mitch spoke as he was thinking, asking the relevant questions about numbers, weapons, vantage points, access and egress. None of the group could answer these basics and it became clear that whilst committed and well-meaning, not one of them was a trained man. These men were a farmer’s militia and not soldiers.

  Dan forced the thought of helping them away; as likeable as the man in front of them was, Dan’s own group would have to be the ones to do the wet work if this went down.

  He couldn’t take that risk.

  “There’s got to be an alternative elsewhere,” he suggested to Simon. “Better to shop around than get into a fight over it, surely?”

  Simon thought about it for a while, seemingly considering Dan’s words but truly he already knew that they could not hope to attack the other group. It was a matter of petty revenge, and that wasn’t
worth the lives of more good people.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he said finally, “but with your help we could do it.”

  Dan knew this was coming, and he was conscious not to let his true feelings pour out and cause offense.

  He explained that they were going to a specific place, and needed to set off as soon as they could. They couldn’t afford to expend the ammunition, or to put their few soldiers at risk.

  “I’m sorry,” he finished lamely. “If we could help, we would. I’ll speak to the others tonight and see if we find some other way we can help each other.”

  Simon accepted this gracefully. He knew that to ask strangers to put their lives at risk to help him was unlikely to yield success, but he had tried to ask as gently as possible. He was about to say more when Riley stood and spoke.

  “Typical,” he snarled, “they may look the part but they’re just as weak as you are.” His gaze lingered on Simon before he turned abruptly and stomped away.

  “Pathetic,” he spat over his shoulder as he left the room.

  HOUSE OF CARDS

  Lexi barely left the site for the next two days. She had to break up two fights between residents, and on one occasion needed the newly black-clad Paul to lay one of the men out cold by taking him down in a neck hold until he lost consciousness. To say that tempers were high was a ridiculous understatement.

  Divisions formed at mealtimes and a few people were vocal in claiming that the whole place would fall apart without Dan and the others who had left. It was an unhappy place with everyone deeply shocked by the helicopter crash.

  The old Merlin wasn’t just transport; it was a symbol. It was a mechanical demonstration that they were superior. That they were infallible.