Dead Days: The Complete Season Two Collection (32 page)

But what then?

He approached Claudia and Chloë. They were sitting on the floor underneath the glass drinks cabinet. Their arms were tied with handcuffs to the handles of the cabinets. Their mouths were sealed with duct tape, now.

Their eyes, though. Their eyes were clear. And the way they looked at Riley, filled with tears and bloodshot. They looked at him like he was a stranger.

He figured he was probably looking at them in a similar way, too.

After his beating, he probably didn’t look great, either.

The first thing he did was walk over to them, crouch in front of them, and grab the duct tape, first from Claudia’s mouth, then from her daughter’s. Both of them flinched back slightly as he reached out for them, their eyes wide, focused. When their mouths were free, still they didn’t say a word.

Neither could Riley, not at first.

Something hard clunked against the side of the caravan. Riley flinched. Another missile from the mob. They wanted Claudia and Chloë’s heads. They wanted their heads and they didn’t even know why. Because they had something to do with this “Mike,” who Rodrigo had finally created a negative picture of. And sure‌—‌Mike did sound like a terrible man, but Rodrigo’s move sounded more like the move of a man craving leadership approval than anything else.

It seemed more like the action of a man unsure of his position and status than a man fully in control.

“How…‌‌how did you…‌”

Riley was the one who started to talk, but what could he say? It had been ten, eleven days since he’d washed up on the Silverdale coast. Ten, eleven days since the storm pummelled the narrowboat, battering it and leaving them stranded. He’d given up hope that Claudia and Chloë were alive a good eight days ago.

But here they were, staring back at him, speechless and tearful.

“Want some water?” he asked. He looked at the bottle on the table at the side.

Claudia and Chloë didn’t respond. They just stared back, still in shock.

“I…‌” The mob’s voices continued outside. Even though it was winter, Riley realised this caravan felt stiflingly hot. Or was that just him? Probably just him.

“You’re with‌—‌that man. He’s Rodrigo? You’re with him?”

Just hearing Claudia’s voice, even though it was rough and her lips were cracked, crystallised the fact that she’d survived in Riley’s mind even more. “Yeah, I…‌‌When the boat crashed. Ten days or so ago. They found us, this group. They‌—‌”

“You’ve been here from the start?”

Riley nodded. Claudia sounded fearful. Not for herself‌—‌for Riley.

“He…‌‌We were with‌—‌with another man. He…‌‌Rodrigo. You have to be careful. He’s‌—‌he’s‌—‌”

“There’s two sides,” Riley said, staring Claudia right in her puzzled eyes. “I get that there’s two sides. Rodrigo and Mike. Mike and Rodrigo. So you were with Mike?”

He wanted Claudia to say “no.” He wanted her to tell him that she and her daughter were just out there wandering, and the guards outside the Heathwaite’s gates had got it wrong about seeing one of Mike’s cars driving away.

He wanted her to deny all knowledge, but he knew deep down he was clutching at straws.

“Mike looked after us,” Chloë cut in. She offered a shaky smile that was a shadow of the one that used to beam across her face. “He…‌‌Rodrigo. Mike says he…‌‌said he did bad things.”

Riley’s stomach burned, a sickly feeling tanging in his mouth. He nodded and tried to smile at Chloë, but it was no use. The pair of them had been with Mike, that much was a fact now. Even if they weren’t really on his side, then Rodrigo seemed gunning to prove a point. A point of defiance. A show of leadership that he’d been so clearly struggling with for some time. That confession to Riley on the balcony‌—‌the confession of the stripped rank and the emasculation of his life’s passion. He wanted something back. He needed something back.

And that something was sat right opposite Riley.

Another missile hit the front of the caravan. This one made a cracking sound on contact, and voices stirred outside.

“What are…‌‌What’s going to happen to us, Riley? Please. Please, if you know this Rodrigo, just let‌—‌let my daughter go. I’m enough. I’m…‌‌Please.”

A shiver drenched every inch of Riley’s body. He didn’t like this. The way Claudia was…‌‌she was begging him. Begging Riley for her life and her daughter’s life. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the reunion they deserved, none of them.

Whether Rodrigo liked it or not, Claudia and Chloë were one of them. The people outside the caravan had to understand that. The things they’d been through collectively, they ran deeper than any other allegiance Riley would likely establish in the rest of his life.

And here were the remaining two fifths of that allegiance begging for their lives.

Riley grabbed one of Claudia’s cuffed hands, then one of Chloë’s. He stared at the cuffs, and how tightly they were digging into their wrists. The three of them, so close but so far away. They were surrounded. There was no way out. No running away.

“I…‌‌Rodrigo. I don’t know what this Mike told you but he’s‌—‌”

“He was holding Mike’s son,” Claudia said. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “And‌—‌and the things we saw, Riley. The things he did. Bodies castrated. Set creatures upon us. And‌—‌and those creatures today. Mike didn’t want bloodshed. He just wanted to‌—‌to scare the people here. Scare them so he could take this place.”

The voices flared up outside again. Chloë looked at Riley with curiosity, like she was unsure whether she was about to be told off by a teacher for chewing gum in class, or something.

“Those voices,” Riley said, rubbing his fingers down Claudia and Chloë’s hardened hands. “They aren’t voices of people who are scared. They’re voices of people who are angry. And I know what Mike told you…‌‌about his son, Stevie. And the bodies. But I met Stevie. I knew Stevie. And Stevie was happily working for Rod‌—‌”

“He was being
used
by Rodrigo,” Claudia said. “Don’t you see? He kept Stevie close to get back at Mike. And when he was done with him, he threw him to the‌—‌the creatures.”

Riley wanted to argue. Tell her that wasn’t the case. But how did he know? Sure, Stevie had been unlucky to die‌—‌or so it seemed. For all he knew, Rodrigo might’ve wanted the whole lot of them to die on that “search for Claudia and Chloë.”

How much did he really know about Rodrigo, and how much did it really matter when it came down to one thing‌—‌man vs. man?

“Bad things have happened on both sides,” Riley said. “And Rodrigo, he has a lot to prove. He’s scared. Scared of losing this place. And that’s why he’s rallying these people. He wants them to be angry. He doesn’t want them to know the full story. But maybe if I can talk to them and‌—‌and get through to them that you aren’t bad people. Maybe if I can unite us then‌—‌”

“Just help us, Riley,” Chloë said. Her voice was shaky. Lacking confidence. “Help us. Please.”

Riley wanted to wrap an arm around Chloë and tell her everything was okay, but the door opened, and the sound of the mob’s angry, scapegoating chants resonated around the room.

“Alreet, that’s enough I think,” James‌—‌one of the guards, bulky and bucktoothed‌—‌said.

Riley let go of Claudia and Chloë’s hands. Feigned distance. He felt tears welling up in his eyes as he reached for the water bottle, poured some in each of their mouths, which they dribbled down their chapped, cut lips.

Then, he grabbed the duct tape and applied it to their mouths. They let him. They let him do it for some reason, perhaps because they understood that making a scene‌—‌protesting‌—‌was not going to get them out of here.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try something. I’ll get you out.”

Claudia stared back at him with tearful eyes.

Riley couldn’t deny the doubt behind them.

Riley stepped out of the caravan, James’s hand on his back. James locked the door to the caravan. Riley’s head spun as he looked around at the crowd of people, growing in number, growing in anger. People he knew. People he’d small-talked with about the weather, about flowers and holidays and current‌—‌well, previous‌—‌events.

Now, they had nothing but anger in their eyes and voices. They wanted somebody to blame, and Rodrigo had given them that. Amazing how quickly a group of seemingly normal people could transform into an angry mob when they needed to out their frustrations.

“Okie dokes,” James said. He patted Riley on the back, gesturing him to step down the steps.

But Riley couldn’t. He couldn’t just walk away. That would be admitting failure. Claudia and Chloë‌—‌they’d just ended up tagging along with Mike in the same way Riley, Anna and Pedro had ended up tagging along with Rodrigo. He had to try and convince the group‌—‌convince Rodrigo‌—‌that Claudia and Chloë were harmless. Completely harmless.

He felt an idiot being the one to have to do this, and of course he wasn’t comfortable with it‌—‌when had he ever been comfortable with mass public speaking? But he had to try. There was no other option.

“Everyone,” Riley said. When the word left his mouth, he realised just how feeble his voice sounded as the mob continued to shout and point and curse.

Riley lifted his hands. He could see Rodrigo watching from a distance, frowning, but not doing anything to intervene. He didn’t want to lose Riley. He was a decent man underneath. Just…‌‌confused. That’s all it was‌—‌confusion. Confusion could be put right.

“Please, listen…‌‌listen to me,” Riley said, lifting his hands even further.

A few of the voices receded.

“What is there to say?” an old woman, Barbara, said.

“If they’re Mike’s then they almost killed us. Best deal with ‘um while we can. Scare Mike off.” An old man, this time. Jeff, he was called. Didn’t appear to have a sinister bone in his body, not before today, not before right now.

The vein on Riley’s neck throbbed and pulsated. He felt dizzy, standing there, all these people looking up at him and waiting for him to say something.

Rodrigo was one of those people. So too, now, were Anna and Pedro.

“I…‌” Riley said, then cleared his throat. “You’re well aware now of…‌‌of some of the bad things Mike has done since leaving Heathwaite’s. And that he’s out there. And yes, the two women in that caravan were with Mike‌—‌”

A few voices kicked off again. Anna and Pedro’s eyes widened. Rodrigo nodded.

“But,” Riley said, shouting a bit louder, well aware that Claudia and Chloë would be able to hear him. “I…‌‌Something tells me this isn’t the right way to go about it. Vengeance. Revenge. Whatever. It’s‌—‌it’s not right. We‌—‌”

“Mike shoulda thought o’ that before he went and killed all them innocent people!” one man shouted. As he did, a few people around him cheered, and the mob flared up again.

Riley was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. These people wanted blood‌—‌they wanted revenge. It was Christmas in five fucking days, and all they wanted right now‌—‌men, women, children‌—‌was to see a mother and daughter punished for something they were only passively involved in.

There was only one thing for it. Only one thing he could say as the mob got more and more agitated.

“The two women in the caravan are called Claudia and Chloë,” Riley shouted. “I know that because I was with them before I came to Heathwaite’s. So too were Anna and Pedro.”

This time, the mob really did go silent. Confused glances. Anna’s cheeks blushed as people turned to look at her and Pedro.

Rodrigo kept on watching Riley, allowing him to continue, giving him his podium.

“It’s…‌‌it’s a mother and daughter, for Christ’s sake. A mum and her kid who have been through more shit than most of us can imagine. I swear. We were together in Preston and‌—‌and that mum in there lost one of her daughters. That girl in there, she lost her sister. And‌—‌and I don’t even want to go into the details of what happened when we reached Fulwood barracks. Suffice to say we’re all lucky to be here with our sanity intact.”

More silence from the crowd. A sense of understanding gathering around the place. A sense of realisation that those two women inside the caravan weren’t just slabs of meat to be punished to get something out of their angry systems‌—‌they were humans. Real humans with real lives.

“And I don’t deny they got mixed up with Mike.
They
don’t deny they got mixed up with Mike. You think if they were really such a threat they’d just go all out and say that? Really?”

A few voices piped up again, but nothing on the shouts of the mob before.

Anna nodded. Pedro nodded. Riley was doing good. He just had to keep on going here.

“Those two women in there, Claudia and Chloë, they were the two people I was looking for when I first arrived here. And just think about it‌—‌they got washed up on shore, Mike’s group comes along and offers them a safe haven. They’re hardly going to turn that down, are they? They can only believe what they hear. And…‌‌and I think he must’ve told them a lot. It must’ve taken a lot for them to trust him after what happened to us back in Preston‌—‌”

“Then why were they attackin’ us?” Barry shouted. Barry had a thick Lancashire accent, and always spat when he spoke, reminding Riley of an old History teacher he used to have at school.

A few voices flared up with Barry.

Quick, Riley. Think of something. Keep this under control.

“Who knows what Mike told them about us? Stevie was over here, wasn’t he? Who knows what Mike said? He could’ve told them we’d taken the place by force and kicked him out. He could’ve told them we were fucking serial killers, or something. That’s just it‌—‌there’s no real truth anymore. No real honesty. Just…‌‌just the truth we believe.”

Riley could feel himself blushing when he said these overly cheesy words.

Anna’s cheeks were red for him too.

But that was better than before. Some of the mob was leaving. All of them had calmed down. Progress‌—‌real progress, right in front of him.

“We don’t have to retaliate against Mike by attacking two innocent people‌—‌a mum and her daughter. By all means we can find a way to get back at Mike some way or another, but what exactly is this going to achieve? Because I see it achieving nothing other than satisfying some blood lust for a few days. Trust me, you don’t want to do this.” He thought back to Jordanna, to Stan, to Trevor…‌‌all the people he’d left behind, and how that was ingrained on his psyche, forever. “Trust me.”