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Tummel House Community
Faint tapping brought Rory out from sleep and the smell of leftover food going off wafted up from the tray of scraps of last evening’s meal. Siobhan had slept and Rory had eaten the lot but had fallen asleep late. The music thumping through the floor had continued to the wee hours. Rory rolled over and reached out for Siobhan, but the bed was empty. He got up. Tapping came from the door but retching came from the bathroom.
“Siobhan?” Rory hurried to the bathroom. Siobhan wore a dressing gown and was kneeling over the toilet, gagging into the bowl.
“You’re being sick? But you haven’t eaten?”
Siobhan sat back, gasping and holding her hair away from her face. “Tell me about it.”
The tapping grew louder.
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yes.” She let go of her hair. “They’ve been knocking for a while.”
Rory walked to the door.
“Rory!” Xian hissed through the door.
“Aye.” Rory opened it. “What’s wrong?”
“Your presence is wanted at the breakfast table.”
“We’re being summoned again?”
“Yeah,” Xian whispered. “Man, the missus seems to rule with an iron fist. You’d better get down there. She keeps asking me questions I’d rather you answered.”
Rory glanced at the bathroom. It was empty and Siobhan had moved to the bed and sat on its edge.
“You go, Rory.” She pulled the dressing gown closer around her.
“I’ll see you down there shortly, okay?” Xian said.
Rory’s forehead tightened. He shut the door, strode to the bed, and knelt in front of Siobhan. Her colour had returned to her pale beauty, not the pale-unwell of last evening. She seemed herself again, apart from dark circles under her eyes.
“You look better. Ahh...breakfast?”
“No, I’ll get ready to leave. Be back as soon as you can.” She leaned in close. “Just take me home, please.”
“Aye, lass.” He caressed her cheek; it was cool. “Are you up to a day on the road?”
“Yes. I feel better now I’ve got rid of whatever bothered my tummy.”
Rory dressed and left her and met Xian in the passage downstairs. Breakfast was in the same hall as last evening’s wedding feast where people of all ages sat along the tables still arranged from the wedding breakfast. As Rory entered, a baby in a highchair cried as its mother wiped its face. A young child ran past Rory out of the hall, followed by two others who grabbed a ball and a bat that leaned against the wall beside the door. A fire roared in the fireplace at the top end of the room. The aroma of fried bacon, porridge and coffee, which had wafted into Rory’s face while he walked the corridor with Xian, now hit him full-on and his mouth watered.
Mrs Donaldson sat in the same place as the previous evening and beckoned to him. “Come, sit next to me.”
Mr Donaldson sat to her left, peering over his spectacles at Rory. “How is your wee wifey this morning?”
“Siobhan is feeling a bit better, thank you, and anxious to be going home.” Rory sat on the seat beside Mrs Donaldson.
A youth placed a plate of bacon and bannocks before Rory. “Coffee, sir?” he asked.
“Och, please. Have nae had coffee for a wee while, ken.”
The lad poured the coffee and Rory took a sip of the scalding bitterness.
“When you say home, you mean the Invercharing Community, don’t you?” Mrs Donaldson asked.
“Aye.”
“But your wife said she is from the Government Bunker.”
“Aye, and we are now married, so I’m taking her home.” Rory forked a mouthful of the succulent bacon.
“So, the Scottish Government is coming out of its bunker?” Her gaze followed his hands while he continued eating. “About time.” There was a touch of derision in Mrs Donaldson’s tone.
“So it is.” Mr Donaldson pushed a butter dish across to Rory.
“Siobhan and I are to spread the word for any who would be interested in holding conversations with the Government as they endeavour to lead once more.”
“So, there will be elections?” Mrs Donaldson asked.
“Och, there’s a Prime Minister. Bethany Watts.” Rory bit into his bannock.
“And how was she elected?”
“Those who live in the Bunker voted her in.”
Mrs Donaldson pulled her tartan shawl tighter around herself and straightened in her chair while Mr Donaldson stirred his tea with lips pursed.
“So, if the Scottish Government is to govern once more, will we get a chance to have representatives and vote in whomever we wish to represent us?” Mrs Donaldson asked. “Or is it to be a government elected by the chosen few?”
Good points, Mrs.
“And will we—nae, when will we be taxed?” she asked.
Rory finished his bacon, its saltiness lingering on his tongue. Siobhan should be here. She had the answers to the questions Mrs Donaldson asked.
“And will we be allowed to keep oor army?” She leaned into him. “Until law and order is truly established? They’ll no’ take my army.”
“This is true.” Mr Donaldson lifted his gaze from his hot drink and set it on Rory.
“These are the sort o’ subjects you need to talk about with the Government. I take it you would be interested in such discussions.”
“Ye are right there, laddie.” Mrs Donaldson glanced at her husband. “We’re in. You just name the time and place.”
“Siobhan will be pleased to hear it. We’ll get back to you once we’re home and have reported to the Government.”
“Ye must stay until your new wife is feeling better,” Mrs Donaldson said. “At least till she’s had some breakfast.”
Rory thanked Mrs Donaldson, sculled his coffee, shoved the last morsel of bannock into his mouth, and rose from the table. At the far end of the breakfast hall, Xian and Micah stepped away from their own table and walked out of the hall. Rory left and ran up the stairs two at a time, then pushed open the door to their room. Siobhan was dressed and packing her saddle bags, her hair neatly in a French roll.
“Ready when you are.” Siobhan’s face glowed her healthy natural colour and her eyes sparkled.
“Ahh...ye are okay, then?” Rory’s hand rested on the doorknob. “The Donaldsons insist we dinnae leave until you have eaten.” He chewed his lip. “Ye up to that?”
“Yes, I think I am now. It’s truly passed whatever it was. And a good night’s sleep on a comfy mattress has helped immensely.”
Rory grabbed the packed bags and walked down the stairs with Siobhan.
“I’ll not be long.” Siobhan headed for the breakfast hall as Rory turned to the back door that led to the stables where Micah and Xian readied the horses.
“One for the road, young Campbell?” Mr Donaldson followed Rory, a hipflask in his hand. “Ye must understand, my wife and I have worked hard to have this life.” He stepped beside Rory as they headed for the stables. “It could have been a disaster. We may have been overwhelmed at first by the troubles, but we hung in there and have a good life, as ye can well see. Almost normal.”
Rory took the still proffered flask and had a sip. Warmth slid down his throat and heated his middle, mirroring the respect he had for this man, his wife, and their Community.
“Aye, I ken what you’re saying. My parents sacrificed all to forge the Community where I live and many come for safety and normality in this”— he sighed—“corrupted world.” He took another pull of uisge beatha. “I ken where your wife’s coming from, honestly, I do. You dinnae need to explain or apologise.”
“My woman’s a hard one, but once you’ve won her over, she’s on your side for life.”
***
THEY RODE HARD FOR the next two days, and by the middle of the third day the heaviness of fatigue dragged on Siobhan’s limbs. Rory pushed the horses, alternating a fast walk with a trot throughout the days of light rain interspersed with watery sunshine. Densely forested mountains blanketed in misty rain lay either side, increasing in height and severity as the days wore on. By late afternoon, Siobhan’s lower back twinged, followed by a dull ache that didn’t go away.
Rory ordered a halt.
“Come over here, lass. You look miserable.”
Siobhan leaned forward and lifted her leg over the saddle and behind. Her inner thigh muscles spasmed and her leg stuck on the horse’s rump. Rory jumped off Boy, his feet landing lightly and his face holding an ill-concealed grin.
“Don’t you laugh at me, Rory Campbell. You were born in a saddle. I was not.”
He stepped around behind her and his hands came to her waist, surrounding her in his strong grip.
“Just ease yoursel’ off slowly. I’ve got you.”
She landed on the ground and staggered, her legs and feet—no—the whole lower half of her body, were not obeying her. Rory walked her to Boy. The tall stallion nickered at her approach and she patted his long black forehead and muzzle while the feeling returned to her legs. Then Rory helped her into the saddle and mounted behind her. Xian took her horse’s reins and led it with the packhorse.
Wet mist dampened Siobhan’s cheeks and trickled down her face. A heaviness collected inside her, and emotions weighted on her as her mind scrambled for a justifiable reason to be so churned up.
Must be PMT. Although she was usually unaffected by it, unlike the other women she’d lived with in the Bunker. Then her shoulders trembled, and she couldn’t stop it. She ached, and she was all mixed up inside, and she wanted to be home, now, with Rory, in a place that was theirs.
Xian glanced at her and then nudged the horses ahead to walk with Micah and his men. The thumb of Rory’s left hand rubbed the reins.
“Are you no’ happy, Siobhan? I’m sorry I laughed at you.”
The clip-clop of Boy’s tread filled the air for a short distance.
“You mad at me?” he asked. “You want to go home?”
“Yes,” she said through a tight throat.
“I’ll turn around now, then.”
“Turn around, why?” She sniffed tears away.
“The Bunker—”
“Is not my home. You know that.”
“Why are you so upset? The ride too much for you? I dinnae have a vehicle. Och well, I do but nae fuel—”
“Rory, I’m fine. I’m just a little emotional. I’m sorry.” She sniffed again.
His arm came around her waist, slipping into her coat and holding her tight to him. “Well then, we’ll be home soon. Hang in there.” His large hand under her coat heated most of her waist.
“You think I’m a wimp.”
“What?”
“You think I’m weak. A soft, pampered...” Warm, wet tears blended with the cool mist coating her cheeks.
He held her tighter. “Ssh,” he said into her ear. “That’s the last thing I think you are.” He snorted. “You can whip those soldiers in the Bunker into line. You can stand up to Bethany-stuck-up-I’m-the-Queen-of-the-Castle-Watts.” He shook his head. “Weak is something you are not.”
They rode on in silence, except for the birds chirping in the thick forest beside the road to Inverness.
“I love you, Siobhan. You’re strong and brave. You’re stepping out into the unknown and I’m amazed that you are but, boy, I’m thankful too. In all honesty, you’re married to a man you barely ken. You’re going to live with a Community of people who you also dinnae ken. You’re leaving all the comforts of the world you grew up in and you’re having a camping trip to get to your new life. A camping trip in the wilds of the A9.”
They both laughed then. She leaned into him; the body heat rising from his open collar warmed her neck and her heart warmed with her love for him.
“We don’t know each other in-depth, but we know enough to start, yes?” She rested her hand on his tucked into her coat.
“Aye.”
“I knew from the journey to Loch Ewe, and then dealing with the nuclear problem on that submarine, that you are the man I want to be with. No matter how much time together that may be.”
His chest rose behind her as he took a breath to speak. “We have nae had a chance to talk fully about your journey to the future. How did you manage to avoid yourself?”
Siobhan sat straighter. “Ahh, I—me—in the future, was busy.”
“All day? What with?”
“Our children.”
“Och—”
Yelling came from the forest to their left and bandits emerged from the tree line. Ahead, Micah and his men spun back with Xian to join her and Rory, making a tight group to ward off the approaching, and possibly unfriendly, bandits.
“Och, no!” Rory shouted over Siobhan’s head at Micah. “I thought you’d warned these bandits off, McNair!”
Micah’s face was a storm. He pulled his handgun out, raised it in the air and fired a shot. The man leading the charge of the bandits turned to the sound and pulled on his reins and ordered his people to cease. They stopped yelling, except for one woman whose focus was on Rory. She maintained her charge, her massive shoulders moving forward with the motion of the horse, her stocky thighs urging it on.
Rory slipped his arm out from Siobhan’s coat and jolted her forward, pressing her face into Boy’s rough mane. Rory’s large hand, firm in the centre of her back, held her down.
“Deet!” the head bandit yelled. “Deet!” he screamed as the cropped-haired woman continued to charge at Rory. In the corner of Siobhan’s vision, Rory held his handgun and aimed at the woman rushing toward them.
“Stop, ye stupid woman, afore ye get killed!” The leader galloped his horse to join her. “Stop!” he yelled, almost at her horse’s rear.
This caught her attention, and she slid her gaze away from Rory and behind to her leader who shook his head, then she left off her charge, easing her horse away from Siobhan and Rory. Boy pranced and skittered, hooves clattering on the road. Rory pulled him up, preventing his flight. Siobhan lifted her head as Deet rode past; she glared at Rory with pure hate emanating from her deep brown eyes. Siobhan shivered.
“Jock! The deal was you leave us alone. Okay?” Micah shouted at their leader who’d stopped his horse near Rory and Siobhan.
“Aye, I ken. Did nae see it was you first off, aye?” Jock glowered at Deet.
“Get lost,” Micah yelled. “Take ya savage woman with ye, yeah?”
“Aye, okay.” Jock’s reply was sullen. The woman had returned and pulled her horse up close to him. “Deet’s still sore from where ya friend stabbed her. Where’re ye headed?” He pointed to the direction they would go. “Back the ways? North?”
Rory breathed hard behind Siobhan as Micah turned to face him. There was a silent question between them. Rory would want to know if they could trust them, and Micah seemed to know this particular group of bandits. Micah’s nod was barely visible.
“Aye,” Micah said.
Jock looked Siobhan up and down, like a man used to making an assessment of a person from the briefest of encounters. So did the woman named Deet whose lip curled in a snarl.
“Ye best no’ take the rest of the A9 to Inverness, aye? Bad yun’s ahead. Ye’d better aim for campin’ on Culloden tha night. Safer that way, ken.”
“Aye, thank ye for the advice,” Micah rummaged in his saddlebags, lifted out some tinned foods, and handed them to Jock.
“We’re being followed.” Rory nudged Boy closer to Jock’s horse. “Maybe you can distract them for us.”
Siobhan swiveled in the saddle to look Rory in the eye. “Followed? By whom?”
“Your friends from the Bunker,” he growled.
“How do you know?” Siobhan’s shoulders bristled. “It could be anybody.”
Rory dipped into his pocket, pulled out a small object and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. It was a round disc with electronic circuitry and wires. The disc had been battered, and the wires hung loosely from it.
“Where did you get that?” Cold clamped the back of her neck. It was a technology she was sure that bandits, and even some communities, wouldn’t possess.
“I stood on it. It was lying on the floor of our room at Tummel House.” He clasped his fist around the tiny device. “And I’m sure they would nae have anything like this.”
“It may have fallen out of my bag when I dug deep for my evening gown.” Siobhan’s face tightened as she screwed it in disbelief. “That’s a listening device, if I’m not mistaken.” A sinking feeling accompanied the revelation. “We’re being spied on?”
“They need to stay close to hear anything. Been doing that since leavin’ the Bunker. Dinnae look so bothered, Siobhan. If they planned to harm us, they would’ve by now.”
“Don’t they trust us—me?”
“Och, Siobhan, it’s me they dinnae like. And that Bethany Watts is nosey.”
“It’s not Bethany.” Her words came out through a quiet growl. “I’d bet all I own on Antony being behind this. He’s been whispering into Bethany’s ear.”
A line furrowed vertically above Rory’s nose. “I thought he was locked away.”
“He is. Bethany visits often. He seems to have an influence on her.”
Rory’s jaw muscles tightened, then he crushed the electronic circuitry in his hand.
“Hold them up as much as ye can, if you would nae mind,” Rory said to the bandits.
Deet’s mouth broadened in a grin.
“We need them alive to question,” Rory directed this statement at Deet.
Deet shrugged and turned her horse toward the forest and the group melted back into the tree cover.