THEY WENT BACK TO NAB FARM, Ronnie leading on his trail bike, Kev driving a Rover with Nina in the passenger seat, and James and Gwen in back, still entwined. Reaper and Sandra brought up the rear. The farm had regained its night sounds and, even though it had a mass grave out the back, it still held memories of homestead and friendship.
James and Gwen slept together on the girl’s bed. She refused to let him go and she still hadn’t spoken. The youth removed his gun belt and Kevlar vest, and they slept on top of the bedclothes in each other’s arms. Nina’s bed was in the same room but she didn’t want to intrude; neither did she want to be alone. She was eventually persuaded to lay down on the double bed that Auntie Marjorie and Pops had shared, and even smiled at the memory of the elderly lady informing everyone that the arrangement was ‘purely plutonic’. Her nerves were eased when Kev took a mattress from a bed and lay it on the floor of the landing outside her door.
‘You want anything, just call,’ he said.
Reaper and Sandra stayed downstairs with the dogs that Nina told them were called Butch and Sundance. Sandra took the settee and Reaper sprawled in an armchair.
They woke with the dawn, as was their practice. Ronnie went scavenging and returned with a dozen eggs that had been overlooked and left behind in the hen runs before the birds were taken to Haven. They found a stale loaf for toast and Kev cooked breakfast.
Time was no longer an issue. The girls packed what belongings they wanted and at mid-morning, Ronnie on his trail bike, and a Rover containing James and Kev and the rescued girls left for Haven. Reaper and Sandra planned to remain a while longer to wait for Pete Mack. If he hadn’t arrived by noon, they would leave another note and return home themselves.
As they were about to, Pete returned. Following him were two black BMW 4x4s. Each had an aerial attached from which flew pendants bearing the Scottish Saltire – a white cross on a blue background. Pete seemed relaxed as he got off the motorcycle but Reaper and Sandra cradled their carbines across their bodies as they waited outside the farmhouse for explanations and introductions. The dogs ran around the yard, barking at the intrusion.
The vehicles carried two men in each. The passenger in the lead car got out. He wore military combat fatigues, a blue beret and a side arm. He was close to six feet tall, well built and looked to be in his late thirties, with a face that was handsome if you liked granite.
Pete sensed the awkwardness and stayed by his bike.
‘This is Sandy Cameron,’ he said. ‘He and his men have been looking for a rogue gang. They could be the ones we’re looking for. Sandy, this is Reaper and Sandra.’
Cameron stayed by his vehicle. He nodded and held his hands up, palms outwards in a sign of friendship. ‘I understand the need for caution,’ he said, in an unmistakable Scottish Highland accent. He held a hand out and took a couple of steps forward.
Reaper considered for a moment, then let his carbine swing behind him on its strap and walked the rest of the way. The two men shook hands and each took the measure of the other.
‘Why don’t your men step down?’ Reaper said.
Cameron made a motion with his hand and his three companions – all dressed similarly – got out of the cars. If they had rifles, which Reaper guessed they undoubtedly did, they left them in the vehicles.
Pete said, ‘I met them near Durham.’
‘We’re looking for a gang of four, possibly five,’ said Cameron. ‘They were three when they left Scotland. They’re led by a man called Merrick. Tall, stringy sort of guy. Wears khaki.’
‘What did he do?’ Reaper said.
‘Escaped. He was serving life with the other two. For murder and rape.’
‘You have a prison?’
‘We have a mine. An opencast coal mine. They were sentenced to a life of hard labour.’
‘Until they escaped.’ Reaper’s words sounded close to admonishment.
‘They were the first.’
‘We found them,’ Reaper said. ‘They won’t rape and murder again.’
‘Ye killed them?’
‘We did.’
Cameron nodded and looked round the farmyard. ‘This was the place they raided?’
Reaper nodded. ‘They killed five, took two women. We brought the women back.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head, his expression grim. ‘We’ve been trying to bring justice back. Sentenced to the mines, instead of instant death. The people wanted a show of clemency. Violence begets violence? They wanted to break the cycle. Ye’ve no tried anything similar?’
‘No. We kill them.’
‘Mebbe we should have killed them. Merrick and his gang raided two other settlements that we know of on their way down here. Ten more deaths. We’ve been trailing them for three weeks.’
‘Well, it’s over now.’
Cameron looked past Reaper at Sandra, who still remained alert in the doorway of the farm, the carbine in her arms. Loud enough for the words to be directed at them both, he said, ‘Reaper and the Angel. We’ve heard of ye.’
‘Don’t believe all you hear,’ Sandra said.
‘All we’ve heard couldnae possibly be true. We thought it was a legend. Like Camelot. King Arthur and Guinevere?’
‘I prefer Angel,’ she said.
‘The Angel of Death,’ Cameron said.
His three companions focussed their attention on her, probably wondering how such a slim teenage girl could have gained such a reputation.
‘Take a good look,’ she said. ‘See if you can spot the horns.’
Sandra laughed as she caught one of the three fix his stare on her hairline. He blushed and looked away.
‘We already have a King Arthur at Richmond,’ Reaper said, and Cameron raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘There’s a legend that Arthur and his knights are asleep beneath Richmond Castle. That they’ll rise in time of need. The leader of the community there is a local historian who lives the legend. He claims to be Arthur and carries a broadsword. Nice guy. Settled community.’
Cameron said, ‘We have a Robert the Bruce in Glasgow and I believe Rob Roy is alive and well on the banks of Loch Lomond.’ He shrugged and smiled. ‘It takes all kinds. Mebbe this new world needs heroes.’ He glanced between them. ‘Like Reaper and the Angel. Mebbe they need heroes tae believe this new world can grow.’
‘Where are you from?’ said Reaper.
‘Outskirts of Edinburgh. Naebody wi’ any sense lives in cities anymore.’
‘Haven’s not far away. Come and visit. Our people would enjoy talking to you. Exchange ideas.’ A ghost of a smile flickered at his lips. ‘You could tell them how hard labour works.’
‘You have liberals, too?’
‘They, more than anybody, have found the new realities hard to accept.’
* * *
Cameron and his men spent the night in Haven. Reaper could tell they were impressed. Duggan, one of the younger Scots, tried chatting to Sandra in the obvious hope of a brief liaison. What a story to take back to Edinburgh. The man who slept with not just an angel, but the Angel of Death. He had no chance. But Sandra, Reaper sensed, enjoyed the attention. At last, she might be getting over the death of Jamie, the husband she had had for such a brief time.
He had to admit, he was allowing his own feelings to grow towards their doctor, Greta Malone. He would never forget Kate, the woman who had reignited the passion he thought he had lost forever. Wonderful Kate with the lustrous red hair who had led him into a relationship he had been almost too scared to contemplate. They had not had long together, but the time they had, had been memorable.
Now he had a relationship with Greta that was developing slowly. There was a mutual attraction between them and he liked Greta very much. She was a beautiful woman and a beautiful person. But was he ready to love again?
After Cameron had met the members of the Haven council, Reaper took him to the Farmer’s Boy and they sat outside in the evening sun to drink a glass of beer.
‘Our place is not so much different,’ the Scot said. ‘Back tae the land. Hard work and simple pleasures.’
‘Any territorial problems?’
‘We’ve had our moments. We didnae have a plan, like you seem to have had when you brought people here. For us it happened by chance. People moved into the country to escape the cities. Our community grew around a village. Elphinstone. Close to the coast and good farmland and still close enough to Edinburgh. We’ve had no major threats but the vagabond gangs posed a problem. That’s why we formed the Guards.’ He flicked his uniform. ‘We do our share of work but, when needed, we’re expected to deal with trouble. From what I was told, ye’ve had war or the threat of war since ye started.’
‘That’s why we have the Blues. We’re permanent. Plus we have a hundred part-time militia. We’re responsible for a big area. And there are more people south of the border to be jealous of what we’ve got. That’s why we fought two wars.’
‘And won two wars.’
‘At a cost.’
Cameron nodded. ‘Always at a cost. I was in Afghanistan.’
‘You should talk to Ashley, head of security.’
Cameron nodded. ‘I met Ashley.’
‘Except he doesn’t like talking about it. He was a sergeant in the Paras. He had it rough.’
‘Many did. Many dinnae talk about it. War is war and it’s always hell.’ He laughed disparagingly at himself. ‘Cliché.’ They paused to ruminate and Cameron continued the conversation. ‘And now ye might have another war. Redemption? The Council mentioned it.’
‘I was worried in case we had a threat from the north, as well,’ Reaper said.
‘Not from us. Not from Scotland, I dinnae think. Glasgow is a no-go area, mind. And, when the food finally runs out, the gangs there’ll cause trouble when they come hunting in packs. By then, I might have persuaded our council to think again about hard labour in the mines. Sometimes the solution has to be permanent. We have contacts with other communities, like you do. Near neighbours we’ll go and help and they’ll reciprocate. When the Glasgow gangs move, that will be the time for us to take real action. Take them out before they think they can win.
‘Every city or town has urbans, still clinging to familiar surroundings, even though grass has started growing in the streets. And all of them are in fear of the ferals, the ones who have chosen to run wild. The problem ye might have will be Newcastle. It has a reputation. The ferals there are organised. One major gang. Unified. As many as a hundred, hundred and fifty street soldiers, all armed. Plus their dependants, gofers and sex slaves. At the moment, they’re content to live out of supermarket warehouses and they take a percentage from the farmers and fishermen who are operating on the fringes of their territory. They call it danegeld. Like the ancient tax to pay off the Vikings?
‘But everyone will eventually leave the cities. There’ll be too many rats to compete. Even the feral rats in Newcastle. When they do, Haven may tempt them. Of course that might not happen for a couple of years yet, as they work their way down the country. But eventually…’
‘I appreciate the warning. So we have Newcastle and Redemption.’
‘We’ve heard Redemption is near Windsor?’
‘We think they moved to Banbury. Why, we don’t know. We know little about them.’
‘And they’ve got Prince Harry?’
‘So they say.’
‘Ye dinnae believe them?’
‘I don’t know. But it made a great rallying call. A lot of survivors from the military camps around here answered it. They all went south. We heard one morse code message back from an RAF group to others who were waiting to follow. It said “stay where you are”. It said “don’t go to Redemption”.’ Reaper sipped some beer. ‘We don’t know what regime is down there but if they have attracted military from around the country, they could have a proper army. We were told they were at battalion strength. That’s a thousand men. If they decide to come north and wage war, it would be one we couldn’t win.’
‘What’re ye going to do?’
‘I think we have some time before they expand their boundaries. They’ll have to consolidate their own area first. Then they’ll move into neighbouring areas. The south of England is a big place. Then there’s the West Country. When they eventually move north, they will have a lot of territory between them and us, a lot of communities we don’t know about. It could be a couple of years or more before they reach us.’
Cameron said, ‘On the other hand, ye’re a viable community. A big community. A successful community. And they’re… what, five or six hours away by military convoy?’
Reaper nodded. ‘That’s why we need to go and have a look at them,’ he said.
‘They could be friendly? They could be stabilising what’s left o’ the country?’
‘We met some of them. They murdered a group in a village down the A1. Friends of ours. No reason for it. They killed and raped.’
Cameron stared at him for a moment, before saying, ‘Did ye get them?’
Reaper nodded. ‘Military. But poor discipline. We got them.’ He paused and then continued. ‘We haven’t looked beyond the Pennines, either. Manchester, Liverpool, all those huge conurbations. We don’t know what they hold. There could be gangs as organised as Newcastle. This is Year Two. There’s a lot more trouble to happen before society re-invents itself. At least the Wild West had sheriffs. Some of these places just have outlaws. Sheriffs haven’t been invented yet.’
‘Of course they have, laddie. We’re sheriffs. And from time to time, we have to ride out into the Badlands.’
Dr Greta Malone came down the steps of the manor house and walked towards them. She wore tan shorts and chukka boots and a short sleeved white shirt. The colours emphasised the blackness of her smooth skin and long legs. Both men watched her with appreciation and they stood as she joined them. Reaper kissed her on the cheek and introduced her to Sandy Cameron.
‘This is our doctor. Greta Malone,’ he said. ‘Greta, this is Sandy Cameron.’
‘I have never seen beauty and brains so well packaged together,’ said Cameron, as they shook hands.
They sat down again, Greta alongside Reaper, and she responded with a tired smile.
Reaper said, ‘Bad day?’
‘I’ve been down the coast. A woman with appendicitis. She died.’ She looked at Cameron, as if the news put his flattery into context. ‘These days, appendicitis can be a killer.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the Scotsman said, for both the death and his flippancy.
Her smile strengthened. ‘No, I’m sorry. You were being gracious and I was being a bitch. Besides,’ she glanced from one to the other, ‘you had your own problems.’
‘They’ve been resolved,’ said Reaper.
‘Aye,’ said Cameron. ‘Reaper resolved them.’
‘When do you go home?’ Greta asked.
‘In the morning. But it was worth the trip. New contacts, new friends.’
‘Do you have a doctor?’ she said.
‘No. We have a paramedic. She’s training two others, but we have no doctor.’ Cameron looked at Reaper. ‘Ye’re lucky.’
Reaper accepted that the words meant that both he and Haven were fortunate to have Greta Malone. He reached for her hand on the table and said, ‘That is very true.’
* * *
The Scots left the next morning. Sandra and Reaper waved them off from the steps of the manor house.
‘Nice people,’ Sandra said.
‘Duggan seemed to think you were quite nice, too.’
‘Shut it, Reaper.’
‘Young man, young woman …’
‘Reaper …’
‘Of course, Duggan doesn’t know you like I do. I reckon he had a lucky escape.’
They exchanged a look and he grinned, put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into his body. She didn’t resist.
‘One day,’ she said, softly, ‘maybe I’ll meet someone. But not yet.’
He squeezed her with affection and so that she couldn’t look up into his eyes and see that they had dampened. It was the first time since Jamie’s death that she had acknowledged she might love again. Was it her reticence that was holding him back from a full relationship with Greta? At the moment, they were content to hold hands, share chaste kisses and enjoy being together. Like old-fashioned teenagers in love. Wasn’t it time to take it further? The only reason they hadn’t was his fear of commitment. But what was there to fear? Everyone lived with uncertainty and threat. There was no golden age of peace around the corner when everything might be better. Now was as good as it was likely to get.
‘We’ve decisions to make,’ Sandra said.
She meant Redemption and the possible threat from Newcastle in the north.
‘We have,’ said Reaper. ‘What do you think about me and Greta? As a couple?’
‘What?’ She pulled away from him and, when she saw that he meant it, a smile broke across her face like a sunburst. ‘I think that would be brilliant.’
‘She might not want me on a permanent basis,’ he said. He put a finger to his lips. ‘I haven’t asked her yet. So not a word.’
‘Oh, Reaper.’ She put her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to hug him so that her feet dangled. ‘I’m happy for you. And of course she wants you. It’s been obvious for months.’
‘It has?’ He held her by the waist and lowered her back to the floor.
‘It has. But you’re just a man, so what do you know.’
‘Still. I can’t just assume. And I haven’t talked to her about it, yet.’
‘Then it’s about time you did, you stupid sod. You’re made for each other.’
Sandra had been pleased before, when he and Kate had become a couple, and he hesitated yet again over commitment.
‘You don’t think it’s too soon?’
‘Kate liked Greta. They liked each other. Kate knew you had to grab life, which is why she grabbed you.’ She gave a tight grin, that was part sadness, part determination. ‘Kate’s probably looking down right now, saying, get on with it, Reaper. Time is too short to waste.’ She kissed him on the lips. A daughter’s kiss. ‘It’s not too soon.’
The Rev Nick came out of the manor house behind them, almost running in his excitement.
‘There’s been a radio message from Bob Stainthorpe,’ he said. ‘The Royal Navy. They’ve landed at Brid.’