The Brink (26 page)

“This is bollocks,” spat John.

“Now Gentlemen, I’m afraid we’re implementing tighter security measures from now on and I’m going to have to ask you to submit to a search. No weapons are allowed in the complex.”

Here he turned his smug gaze upon Moll who stood perfectly stock still under Alan’s hand.

“Nor are animals so I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave the beast at your caravan, Mr Harding.”

“This is-” began John but Alan put a firm hand on his arm.

“It’s okay, I’m happy to follow Mr Stuart’s new security measures to the letter. I’ll take her back to the caravan and come back alone. John, get a couple of brews in while you wait.”

“Ah,” said Richard, holding up his hand. “Coffee, tea and water are all under the new rations act and you’ll have to apply for permission to purchase these beverages from the Stores.”

“I don’t believe this!” bellowed John as he broke away from Alan’s other restraining hand. Only Moll seemed content to stand still in silence, eyeing Richard with a glimmer of her sharp white teeth escaping from under her curling lip.

“The man has lost his mind!”

“Come on, let’s just go,” said Alan, turning.

“You’ve not heard the end of this,” cried John. “Not for one second.”

“Good day, gentleman,” called Richard after them. “Good day.”

They lifted their hoods to the rain and looked about them, feeling that whatever joy they’d had that morning had been washed away down the gutter along with the irradiated dust and grime.

“So that’s his plan,” said John. “Secure his precious throne by tightening his iron fist around the camp.”

“It looks like it,” replied Alan. “And with Richard free it adds the double risk of being betrayed at any time. Those gates could be opened and the Scavs would just walk right on in.”

“I think things just got a whole lot worse.”

“You’re telling me,” said Alan.

“Are you still going to do what you said? To Sam Stuart I mean.” Alan nodded.

“How he reacts to that will decide what I do next.”

“I can imagine how he’ll react but how far are you willing to go?”

“As far as it takes. There are 300 people to consider - what’s the life of one or two compared to that?”

“You’d really go that far?”

Alan turned towards the gate and the allotment beyond, thinking just that thought to himself. How far would he go? And could he stop himself once he’d started?

“Let’s go and see what we need to get your farm going,” he said. “Surely he can’t stop us growing food too.”

As it turned out, Sam Stuart planned to do just that. When they headed towards the allotment they found more guards posted at the gate wearing ponchos, standing in spite of the rain with the water dripping from the tops of their hoods and a blank stare fixed to their faces.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said John as they approached the entrance to the fenced off area. “What the hell did you do in the few minutes you spent together? Shit on his mother’s ashes?” Alan shrugged. “The old man’s lost his marbles.”

“Let’s see what’s happening before we jump to conclusions.”

“Jump? We don’t need to jump - our conclusions are right there, about to stop us from going inside the only hope we have left. I don’t understand what he’s thinking, Alan, I really don’t.”

They walked up to the two guards standing at the chain-linked fencing and stopped. Neither of them looked away from the distant spot on the horizon they were staring at. Neither of them moved an inch even when John stood right in front of them, bouncing on his feet in rage.

“It’s just going to be quicker for us if you step aside now,” he said. “It’ll save a lot of red faces and get these crops growing quicker.”

“I’m sorry John,” said the guard on the left, still unable to look him in the eye. “We have our orders.”

“Orders? You’re a voluntary security force - what the hell do you care about orders, Frank? Or you, Jimmy? When did either of you listen to the old man?”

“We started listening this morning,” said Jimmy, chiming in. “When Mr Stuart offered us extra rations of booze and food.”

“You two are that cheap that some alcohol will make you lose the plot? And what happens when the rations run out and we’ve not grown a single bean because you two idiots are stopping the only person capable of making something grow in this rad-filled hell-hole from doing his job?”

“We have our orders,” repeated Jimmy. “Chances are we’ll be dead anyway before the rations run out.”

“Oh my god,” said John, slapping his own face with his palm. “The world’s gone mad.”

“Look, go back to the camp and enjoy yourself,” said Frank. “Don’t worry about running out of food, the Doc-”

“Doc? When was the last time you saw that drunk bastard anyway?”

“This morning,” said Jimmy. “At the meeting. And he was as sober as a nun.”

“What meeting?” asked Alan.

“The Leadership meeting held at 6 am this morning. It was all discussed then.”

“Who discussed it? Who was there?” asked John.

“The Leadership team,” said Frank.

“We have a Leadership team?”

“We do now. Mr Stuart organised it and called the members together last night and arranged the official meeting for this morning. Sorry, you weren’t invited.”

“So this meeting, it came to the conclusion that growing food for us to eat is a waste of time?”

“A group decision concluded that to attempt to produce a safe food stuff in irradiated soil would be counter-productive and harmful to the health of the camp.”

“So we’re to starve?” cried John. “The rations won’t last much beyond next year. What then?”

“Mr Stuart has a plan,” said Jimmy.

“What possible plan could there be?”

“Increased patrols, continued aggression against the Scavs and more intensive looting parties.”

“Oh Jesus,” said John, turning and taking a few steps away from the two guards. The rainfall intensified with the insanity that Alan felt exposed to and he couldn’t help but feel that he’d started something that was now beyond his control.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said very slowly. “Either you let us into that allotment or you, Stuart and the rest of you utter dim-witted morons will regret surviving this long and I’ll make you wish you’d died in the rad storm. Do I make myself clear?”

It was Frank who broke his gaze towards the horizon and locked eyes first with Alan and then with Moll. Jimmy soon followed.

“You can’t threaten us,” said Jimmy. “Mr Stuart-”

“Yourselves and Mr Stuart will get much more than threats if we don’t get into that allotment and make a start on trying to live long enough to tell our grandchildren about the jumped-up clowns who tried to stop us from saving our future. Now step aside.”

The two guards looked at each other for a moment before exchanging a look of mutual fear at what might happen if they ignored the giant and his hungry looking dog. Then, with a carefully managed reluctance, Frank stepped aside and Jimmy removed the padlock from the gate.

“Now go back to the camp and tell your boss all about what happened here,” said Alan, moving between them with Moll at his heel. “And think carefully about the next twenty-four hours of your life and whether or not you want to live through them.”

“You’ll regret this,” sneered Jimmy, following Frank down the road. “You’re no better than the Scavs.”

“I think you’ll find he’s much worse,” said John, waving them off with a grin.

When they’d disappeared around the corner, he said to Alan “This is happening much quicker than even I expected.”

“It tends to when you give a hornet’s nest a good kicking.”

“Aren’t you bothered?”

“What can he do to me?” he asked, making his way down the narrow paths that ran between each numbered plot and scanning it as he went.

“If I’m right he’ll go for Tim, Rachel or you first.”

“Gee,” he cried. “Thanks for that.”

“Stuart is a coward and cowards always avoid a direct confrontation. He’ll try to hurt me through Tim I expect.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Of course it does,” he replied, opening the rickety wooden gate to plot number 7 and inspecting the twelve foot poly-tunnel and its smaller mate. “But if I’m right he’ll wait a bit longer.”

“Why?”

“He’ll need to discredit me first, probably by planting something in my caravan and then having one of his own guards perform a spot search on it while I’m there. In that case he’ll wait until tonight or tomorrow night. I’m betting tomorrow.”

“You’re taking this very calmly.”

“How else can I take it?” he asked, turning to face him. “I’ve been up against a lot worse and to be honest I’m starting to learn that people are predictable. I’m pretty sure Stuart is going to act exactly the way I think he will.”

Alan examined the steel tubing that ran in great hoops beneath the greened plastic, thick with mossy growth, before going inside. It was hot and humid and John gasped.

“They still work then,” he said.

“As long as there aren’t any holes they’ll last for quite a while. We need to get this growth off the plastic though, wash it all down to get the best light coming through it.”

He knelt down and touched the soil, rubbing it between his fingers and watching it crumble.

“Any good?” asked John.

“I don’t know what’s in it but it looks okay,” he replied. “We need to start on the hardy crops. Potatoes. Onions. Things like that. I’ll draw up a list of items the looting parties need to be looking for.”

“Such as?”

“Tubs. Pots. Anything that will hold soil. You said there were grow bags? Compost? Stuff that hasn’t been touched by the radiation?”

“In the sheds over there and I know there’s a big stash of the stuff at a hardware store a few miles south of here.”

“We’ll need a crew. We need to get a team working day and night, all year round. Can you think of at least ten, maybe more who’ll take to the task without complaining?”

“I might be able to round up a few green thumbs, some of the older generation who aren’t too sick. I don’t think Stuart is going to let you get away with that though.”

“You leave him to me,” said Alan. “I’m going to need paper too. Blank exercise books, pencils, pens, whatever you can find.”

“What’s that for?”

“I’m going to have to write down as much as I can remember so that if anything happens to me you’ll have something to refer to.”

“What about books? I managed to save a few from the library.”

“They’re not always as helpful as you think,” he said. “If I remember anything from college it’s that this work needs experience as well as theory and I have both.”

“I’m glad for that, but would you mind if we got out of here before I boil in my skin?”

They stepped back out into the rain which attacked the withered remains of the former owners work with renewed hostility, never ceasing to fire its watery darts down with such force that in places the dirt was thrown up into the air. Alan eyed the rest of the plots from where he was standing, pointing out the other poly-tunnels still standing which would be the first to receive some much needed attention.

“All this crap needs clearing away too,” he said. “The sheds, the flower beds, all the junk.”

“What do you want us to do with it?”

“Pile it up outside the allotment and I’ll go through it.” He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated at the volume of work ahead and the obstacles that stood between him and success. “The more land we have to grow in, the better. Feeding 300 on a plot this size just isn’t feasible.”

“So we tear down the fences then, expand outwards,” said John, making Alan nod in agreement. “What else?”

“The caravans - get people working the ground outside them. Make them own their patch and work it.”

“What would they grow?”

“Potatoes. Tubs of them. Rows of corn if we can get the seedlings started in the tunnels. Herbs in pots on windowsills. Every square inch of land needs to be cultivated and used. Rooftop gardens. Anything.”

“Water?”

“Yes,” he said. “Filters. Carbon taken from fires, any military stuff, even old clothes that can catch some of this dirt and dust from the rain water. We can’t do much for the radiation but we’ll just have to do our best.”

“Do you think it’s even possible?”

“I wouldn’t be trying if I didn’t think it was possible, would I? The rads bother me but there’s no use worrying. What will be will be.”

“Well,” said John, looking around him. “You’ve certainly got me thinking we can make this work. Thanks.”

Alan slapped him on the back, sending a shower of droplets in all directions.

“I told you - we’ll make it. One way or another.”

“I hope so. If this doesn’t work then I think we’re pretty much doomed.”

“On this occasion, I think you’re right.”