Surviving The Evacuation (Book 4): Unsafe Haven (26 page)

In which case, she decided, there was nothing here for her to stay for. And she realised she’d already made that decision. She had to go back home. She had to find her son. She had to bury him. But first she would allow herself a day or two of sleep.

She looked up and saw the sea. She’d taken a wrong turn.

“Excuse me,” she called out to a bearded man ambling slowly up the other side of the street. The man stopped. Nilda crossed the road to speak to him. He was dressed as a civilian - everyone she had seen was - yet he carried an assault rifle over his shoulder.

“Wotcha,” he said, cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“I was looking for Trearddur Bay, but…”

“Let me guess. You’re new here and looking for the school, but you’ve got lost? Yeah, last time I was back here, I told ‘em they needed to put up some signs. Don’t ask for a sea view.”

“I’m sorry?”

“When they give you a housing assignment, they’ll give you a choice. They’ll ask if you want a sea view. Say no. I know it sounds nice, but the only view you’ll get is of someone gutting fish. That’s to say nothing of the smell. You can’t get it out of your hair. They’re filling up the houses down on the front, you see. It’s easier that way to keep track of the newcomers. Your best bet is to have a look at the jobs-board first. Find something you want to do, and volunteer for it. Then you’ll get a room with that work detail.”

“I, uh, don’t know that I’ll be staying,” she said, though she didn’t know why she was confiding in the stranger.

“Totally understand. I feel the same way. This place is just too weird. It’s like an ostrich farm.” Nilda looked at him quizzically. “Smells a bit, and everyone’s got their head in the sand,” he explained. “Ask them for a place at Wisteria Lodge, and tell them Chester sent you. Don’t worry,” he added. “It’s a hotel, just over there. The Railroad uses it. There’s dozens of us, but always more rooms.”

“The Railroad?”

“Dumb name, right?” Chester said. “We go out to the mainland, find survivors, bring them back, set up safe houses along the route, that sort of thing. We always need new people, unfortunately. No strings. Just come along, meet us, eat with us, and see what you think. If you think it suits you, you can come back to the mainland with the next expedition. If you don’t, you can still catch a ride and go your own way once we hit the shore. It’s your choice, and it’s better than waking up smelling like rotten fish.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Fair enough. The offer stands. Right, the quickest way of getting to the school is to take the side roads. But if you do that, you’re likely to get lost again. The longer but simplest way is to follow the road down to the waterfront, take a left down there by that pub, you see? The one with all those people sitting outside. Then follow the road for about…”

But she’d stopped listening. As he’d been talking she had followed his gesturing arm. She had looked at the pub. She had seen the people lounging at the tables outside. And she had seen him. She had recognised him instantly. How could she not? Her entire world shrunk. Chester, still giving directions, was forgotten as she began to sleepwalk down the road. Her eyes fixed on the not-so-distant figure. How did he get here? How long had he been here? Could it really be him? Was it just a trick of her brain? No. With each step closer, as impossible as it was, certainty grew. He seemed happy and carefree, sitting at a table with a group of others. She quickly glanced from face to face. She didn’t recognise any of them. She turned back to him. His face was one she would never forget.

She started to walk more quickly. He looked so different. Not older, not really, but… matured? Something else? She wasn’t sure. And then he stood up and picked up the sword. It had been lying on the table. He mimed a thrust, then a swing. She heard laughter from the group. She knew the sword. It was the replica gladius that Sebastian had given her son. It had to be.

She broke into a run. She tried to shout, but it came out as an unintelligible scream. Heads turned. She didn’t notice. Her universe consisted of no one but her and the figure with the sword. She covered the distance quickly. The figure turned. He saw her, and froze in place. And she no longer had the breath for anything but running.

She could see his expression, see it turn from bemusement to confusion. And then, when she was only a dozen paces away, to terrified recognition. He brought the sword up in front. She didn’t care. She leapt. Her hands outstretched, reaching for Rob’s throat.

They fell in a tangled mess, the gladius skittering across the road out of the man’s hands. She started screaming a bellow of furious rage as her nails dug into his throat. And then there were hands pulling her off. Someone was talking, yelling at her. She couldn’t hear the words. She just wanted to kill her betrayer. The arms were strong. They had her in a tight grip, lifting her off Rob and off the ground. She thrashed and kicked. Close to her ear she heard a muffled grunt of pain, but the grip didn’t slacken.

At her feet Rob was coughing, his hands clasped around his throat. He crabbed backwards, well out of the reach of her flailing feet.

Her berserker rage subsided, replaced by a cold fury. She became aware of the world beyond Rob. She realised she was being held by the man she’d asked for directions.

“Just calm down,” Chester said, and she realised he’d been saying the same thing for a few minutes.

“Alright,” she said, slowly forcing, herself to relax. “You can let me go.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Chester said. He didn’t loosen his grip.

Nilda kicked out, backwards, but her feet flew through empty air.

“Please,” Chester said, gently, “don’t do that.”

“You left me for dead,” she screamed at Rob. “You abandoned all of us. Mark, Tracy, Sebastian. You let the children die. They would have lived if you’d helped us.”

Rob got to his feet. Nilda saw fear in his eyes. He bent to pick up the sword.

“That’s my son’s sword,” Nilda wailed. “What happened to my son?”

“Leave it there,” Chester said, addressing Rob. “I said leave it!” There was a dark menace in his growl, something that even cut through Nilda’s own pain.

Rob paused, then glanced at the people with him, and then at the small crowd that had gathered. He looked beyond Nilda, then at the big man holding her. He licked his lips, then bent again to pick up the sword.

“Don’t move,” the big man hissed. He was addressing Nilda, but she’d started thrashing again.

“Alright, what’s this then?” another voice asked. The crowd parted. An old man, leaning on a stick, limped into the space between Chester and Nilda, and Rob.

“That sword,” Chester explained. “This woman claims it was her son’s. Says this guy stole it.”

“I see,” the old man said.

“And I believe her,” Chester added.

“Ah, I see,” the old man said again.

“It’s mine,” Rob wheezed.

“Well, we’ll see about that,” the old man said. He took a step forward. “Leave it on the ground, sonny, and you and your friends go away.”

Rob didn’t move.

“I said leave it.” Where the large man’s voice had been full of menace, this older man’s words were calm, almost regretful. His hand dropped to a short handled spear strapped to his belt. As he did so, half a dozen others in the crowd stepped forward, hands all going to weapons and tools at their belts. Rob backed away.

“You’re new here,” the old man said. “So perhaps you haven’t learnt yet, but there are rules. There are laws. But for a quiet life, the best one to remember is that what I say, goes. And right now I’m telling you to clear off. Go on.”

“Wait! My son! What happened to Jay?” Nilda pleaded.

Rob looked at her, nothing but scorn in his eyes.

“Like I told you,” he said. “He died.”

And Nilda remembered the figure in the firefighter’s jacket and the scarf waving above the undead crowd. She slumped forward, feeling the total agony of loss once more.

Rob walked away. Some, but not all, of the people he’d been drinking with followed.

“Alright Chester,” the old man said, once Rob had disappeared, “you can let her go.” Chester did.

“My name’s George Tull,” the old man said. “I’m the power that pushes the throne in these parts. That’s a joke,” he said, but on seeing her expression added, “but probably not an appropriate one. Think of me as the Deputy Mayor. Now, this sword, you say that’s your son’s?”

“Yes. Sebastian gave it to him. Um… an old teacher. A friend of ours. He said it was an antique replica. His retirement plan. He gave it to Jay.”

“Jay’s your son?”

“Rob was there. He said it was the zombies. But it can’t have been. How would he have gotten the sword? He must have killed Jay.” The words came out in a staccato babble. “Then we left. And a few hours later we got attacked. I went to help. So did Tracy. Well of course she would. Mark was one of the people at the back. But Rob didn’t come to help. They all died. Sebastian, Mark, Tracy. And he’s responsible. And if he had the sword then he’s just as responsible for Jay’s death. Probably he killed him.”

“Alright, alright,” George murmured. He sounded uncertain.

“You said there are laws here?” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “Then I want him arrested. I want him charged. I want justice.”

“No,” George said, slowly. “You want vengeance. I can see that clearly enough, and the two aren’t the same thing.” He bent to pick up the sword. He turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully. His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Now there’s a thing,” he said. “You said it was a replica?”

“And an antique. Sebastian’s retirement plan.”

“Probably was, as well. Wish I’d thought to collect something like this myself. Still, if I had… Chester, do me a favour. I want you to keep an eye on this woman, sorry, what’s your name?”

“Nilda.”

“Really?” He looked at the sword again. “Well, that’s appropriate. Chester take Nilda down to the King’s Arms. Get her some food and—”

“I don’t want food,” Nilda said, “I want—”

“Justice, yes. And I’ll see to that. But first, you could do with a meal.”

“So, Nilda, I’m Chester Carson. Nice to meet you,” Chester said.

“What? I know that. You already told me,” she replied. They were sitting outside a pub about a mile further along the sea front from where she had confronted Rob.

“Yeah, I’m just being polite. It’s what people do, isn’t it? When they meet. They go through all those formalities like name, history, job, and all the rest.”

She turned to look at him. He was smiling.

“You want to make conversation?”

“Well, as it happens, yes.”

“Why?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Partly because up until two hours ago, I was on a boat. Before that, and for the last couple of months, I’ve been wandering around Wales and the Midlands, saving people and watching others die, trying to get them all here. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind doing it, but there’s not been much opportunity just to sit and shoot the breeze. And when I did get back here, I’ll admit, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I was expecting that I’d end up being part of an assault on some place up in Northumberland that’s become the last bastion of the British Government. Except I get told on the boat that it’s all over. The war’s won, so to speak. Quigley’s dead and we’ve got electricity on Anglesey. So I was wandering around, planning my day, dreaming of a hot shower, some hot food, and an ice cold drink, and wondering whether I could manage all three at the same time, until then I met you, and now I’m here.”

“You could leave,” she said. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Yeah, right. You heard the old man. He wants me to keep an eye on you. So that’s what I’ll do. But as I said, that’s only partly why I’m curious. The other reason is that Mr Tull expects me to find out your story. So we might as well get that part out of the way, then we can have a go at normal conversation, or just sitting in silence. I’ve had a lot of practice at that.”

She met his eyes. He sounded affable and his tone was light, but there was an edge to him, an alertness as if he was ready to spring at any moment.

“I was on an island,” she said. And she told him about the survivors from Glasgow and the Abbot, though not about his past.

“That’s rough,” Chester said, and seemed to be genuinely sympathetic. “There’s nothing quite like the inhumanity of man. And what about the sword? Tell me about that.”

She did. She started slow, but the words soon came tumbling out, full of self-recrimination and bitterness.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And again, he seemed to mean it.

“There’s no way Jay would have given up that sword. Not if he was still alive. Rob must have killed him. Or left him for dead. He lied about that and hid the fact he had the sword.”

“Alright, but why? No disrespect, but a sword’s just a sword. With the undead, it’s no better a weapon than a crowbar. Believe me, I know.”

“Why? I don’t know. Ask him. Maybe he wanted Tuck’s shotgun. Maybe he wanted her. Maybe both. Jay wouldn’t stand by and let that happen. Because of that, or afterwards, he’d have had to kill both of them.”

“And you’re basing that on your knowledge of him?”