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Authors: Paul Grzegorzek

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BOOK: Flare
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Chapter 54

We’d just passed the turnoff for Romford when I spotted something moving to the side of the road some way ahead.

“Do you see that?”  I pointed towards it, unsure through the driving rain what it might be.

“What the
hell?”  Emily peered through the windscreen.

“Are they
people
?”  Melody asked as she leaned over my shoulder to get a better look.

As we drew closer I saw that they were indeed people, hundreds of them walking in a huddle across a field to the side of the road, while dozens appeared to be harnessed to the front of trucks that were being pulled with much difficulty through the wet mud towards the motorway.

As we drove closer, more and more people appeared over the brow of the hill, those at the rear trudging in the churned-up much of those at the front.

“Where are they coming from?” Melody asked me, but I could only shrug.

“No idea, but we want to get past before they reach the road.  I don’t like our chances if they get in front of us”.

Even as I spoke, those at the front of the mass were pointing at us, some waving their arms while others began to run clumsily through the mud towards the motorway.

I watched in amazement as yet more people came over the hill, thousands of weary travellers carrying loads on their backs as they walked, or pulling trucks and trailers piled high with belongings.

“Can we go any faster?”  I asked Emily, and the engine strained as she put her foot to the floor, the speedo creaking up to a hairsbreadth over seventy and vibrating as if caught in a gale.

“That’s all we’ve got”, she said, eyes fixed on the road ahead to spot the abandoned cars that flashed out of the rain with almost no warning.  “Melody, sit down and put your seatbelt on please”.

Melody did as she was told and I reached for my own seatbelt, pulling it across and clicking it in place.

“Take this”, Emily said, passing me the pistol with one hand, “but don’t use it unless you have to, there’s only twelve rounds in it”.

I took it awkwardly, the grip cold in my hand.

“Do you think it’ll come to that?”

“I don’t know, but better it doesn’t and you’re ready than the other way around”.

The front edge of the crowd had reached the hard shoulder now, men, women and a few children running out into the road as if they could stop us with sheer weight of numbers.  I could see their faces now, hungry, desperate, eager for whatever we might have, including our car.

I wound the window down with a shaking hand and raised the pistol, hoping those closest to us would see it and pull back, but they kept coming.

Emily pulled into the outside lane, as close to the central reservation as she dared, her wing mirror mere centimetres away from the concrete barrier.  Even then it seemed as though it wouldn’t be enough as hundreds of people spilled out onto the road, some shouting while others just ran at us.

I spared a glance for Melody, strapped into her seat but nose pressed up against the glass, staring into the eyes of those that would take everything she had without stopping to think, and I swore that that would never happen.

Raising the pistol, I aimed at a man who was running at an angle, trying to get in front of us, and pulled the trigger.

The boom was shockingly loud inside the car, smoke filling the air with the stench of cordite.  The man I’d fired at dropped, but then got to his feet again and checked himself with both hands, patting his body up and down with a look of relief on his face.

Then we were past, pulling away from the leading edge of the crowd as we thundered along the motorway.  I flicked the safety back on and dropped the pistol into my lap, then closed the window again, my face and arm soaked by the driving rain.

“Are we clear?”  Emily asked.

“Yeah, I think so”, I said shakily, “what the hell was that about?”

“They’re desperate”, she said, “Did you not see how thin they were?”

It hadn’t registered at the time, but now I realised that they had all been gaunt, underfed, half-dead on their feet.  I could only imagine how much sorely-needed energy they had expended trying to stop us, some willing to risk death just to get at whatever we might have with us.

“How in hell did it come to this?”  I asked, more to myself than anyone else, but strangely it was Melody who answered.

“Mr Simms in history said that we were only three meals away from barbarism”, she said matter-of-factly, “even if Sally Higgins thought that was in France”.

I burst out laughing, a high-pitched, nervous giggle that made me sound like a naughty schoolgirl.  That in turn made Emily laugh, and then Melody joined in, all of us roaring until we could barely breathe.

I knew that it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, a salve for the fear, but even so it felt good, and it was several minutes before I got my giggling back under control.

“Melody”, I said, turning to smile at her, “did I ever tell you that I love you”.

“I know”, she said.  “I’m very loveable”.

“Yeah, not to mention modest, eh?”

She nodded solemnly.  “I get that from my dad”.

“Hang on a minute, I thought you got your brains from me, and your lack of modesty from your…”  I stopped, seeing Melody’s face fall at the thought of her mother.

“I think”, Emily interrupted, “that we’re only about an hour away from home.  Just think, tea, bacon and warm beds!”

I could have kissed her right there for giving me a way out.

“Now when we get there, Melody, I need you to be on best behaviour, ok?  We’ll be living with them for a while, so let’s make a good first impression”.

Melody nodded, as grateful as I was for the reprieve.

“Dad, how did you meet them?”

“Well”, I said, wondering how to edit the tale for young ears, “it’s a long story”.

“I’m not going anywhere”, she said mischievously.  “And if it’s too long then I’ll just fall asleep anyway”.

“Fine”, I said, pretending to be offended but secretly pleased to be able to distract her from what we’d just seen, “then sit back and let me regale you with the tale of how a humble astrophysicist and a mature yet good looking journalist came to rescue the fair daughter of a grumpy old troll and his oh-so-patient wife”.

And so I began the story, while the miles rolled past and we drew ever closer to home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter
55

The last few miles were startlingly familiar while at the same time feeling like a distant memory.

As the road we were on crossed over the top of the M23 and brought us down past the slip road Jerry had taken when the plane blocked our path, I began to feel excited, like a child seeing grandparents he knew would spoil him after being away for months.

“I wonder if we could get a shower rigged up”, I said as Emily navigated the narrow lanes.  “Maybe get a tank on the roof, or set something up in the yard maybe?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t see why not.  The showers we had in some of the forward camps were relatively simple.  As long as you’ve got a metal tank and you can heat it, the rest is easy”.

“What’s a forward camp?”  Melody asked from the back seat.

“It’s from when I was in Afghanistan, with the army.  We had a couple of big camps, like fortresses with lots of buildings, and then we had smaller camps that were closer to the fighting”.

“You were in Afghanistan?  Never!”

Emily nodded solemnly.  “I was too.  It was my job to fix all the machines that broke, and get water pumps working in the villages when they stopped working or their wells dried up”.

“That’s so cool!  Do you think I could be a soldier when I’m older?”

Emily and I shared another glance,  a habit we were quickly forming with Melody’s insistence on asking awkward questions.

“That all depends on who the army is fighting for, love”, I said, “but I’m sure Emily could teach you how to fix things if you want?”

“I’d like that.  Then I can make sure everyone I like has water to drink”.

Emily smiled in the mirror.  “That’s a good way to think.  Once we’re settled in at home, I’m sure there’ll be loads of projects we need to work on.  I’ll need your help if you don’t mind?”

Melody nodded eagerly.  “Can I?  I’ve never fixed anything before”.

“Neither has your father, apparently.  I think we’ll all be getting our hands dirty soon enough”.

We crested the final rise and the driveway came into sight, my heart catching in my chest as I saw a glimpse of the small cottage beyond.

“We’re home”, I said with a smile, and Melody pressed her face against the window for a better look.

“I can’t see it”, she complained, “just those hills”.

“Ah, that’s why it’s such a good place”, I replied, “no one knows it’s there.  It’s hidden behind the hills”.

Emily turned the Traveller into the drive, taking the uneven surface slowly.  We pulled into the yard and I half-expected to see Ralph standing there waiting for us while Maggie ran in excited circles, but no one came from the cottage despite the kitchen door being open.

Dread clutched at my heart.  Had we gone all that way and back again, only to find that some horrible thing had happened to those we’d left behind?

Emily stopped the car and held her hand out for the pistol.

“Melody, stay in the car”, she said quietly, her tone brooking no argument.

I turned and ruffled Melody’s hair.  “They’re probably out looking for food”, I said with a cheerfulness I didn’t feel.  “We’ll just check the cottage in case”.

We got out of the car, closing the doors quietly, as if the noise of the engine a few moments before wouldn’t have given us away to anyone inside.

Emily looked at me over the car and I saw the closest thing to panic I’d ever seen on her face.

“I’m sure it’s fine”, I said, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s not.  The door is open and it’s raining.  Mum never leaves it open when it rains.  And if the door’s open then Maggie should be in the yard, but she’s not.  Something is very wrong”.

We stood and listened, the rain hissing down and soaking us as we waited, trying to hear anything out of place.

After a minute or so, Emily gestured to me and moved towards the kitchen, half-crouched with the pistol in a firing position.

I followed as quietly as I could, empty hands curling into fists for want of a weapon, and we were almost at the door when suddenly a stocky figure burst out of it, shotgun in hand and screaming an incoherent warcry.

I fell over backwards in my haste to get away, scrabbling at the concrete as death approached, rain falling in my eyes and making it hard to see anything.

I heard Melody scream from the car, and then Emily’s voice cut across the yard in a scream.

“Dad, no!”

The world stopped.  Rain still hissed down but everything else was frozen in place as the figure stood in the doorway, peaked cap streaming water as Ralph blinked uncertainly, shotgun still held in his meaty fists.

“Emily?”  He said disbelievingly.  “Emily?  Malcolm?  We thought, we thought…”  He dropped the shotgun and turned to his daughter, sweeping her into his arms and crushing the breath from her.

“You’re alive!” he said, swinging her around in a circle, “oh my days, your alive and you came back”.

I picked myself up off the concrete slowly as Melody burst from the car and ran over to me, clutching my leg as I struggled to stand.

“I thought you were them bastards from the village come back again”, Ralph said as he finally put Emily down.  “You’ve been gone so long we thought you were dead”.

“What bastards from the village?”  Emily asked, getting her breath back.

“You know, the ones that tried to steal the car when me and Malcolm came to get you.  They searched your house and found our address, then came over to cause mischief.  I chased them off but they threatened to come back and burn us out like we did to them”.

He strode over to me and pumped my hand furiously, then stooped and stroked Melody’s cheek.  “This your little girl?”

I nodded, heart still pounding.  “Yes, this is Melody.  Melody, this is Ralph”.

She moved away from me and held out her hand.

“You’re the troll”, she said, “dad told me all about you”.

Ralph looked up at me with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Did he now?”

I swallowed nervously and smiled.

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose”.

He grunted and picked up his shotgun, gesturing at us to follow him into the kitchen.

“Harriet!”  He shouted, “it’s ok.  It’s Emily and Malcolm and they’ve got little Melody with them”.

The door to the larder flew open and Harriet almost ran out, her speed belying her age, to wrap Emily in her arms.  A black and white blur came next, Maggie filling the kitchen with excited barking as a sheepish looking Jerry followed, several days’ worth of stubble making him look even more like Jeff Goldblum.

BOOK: Flare
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