Chapter 4

REAPER TOOK COLD BOTTLES OF PERRIER FROM THE generator-operated fridges in the pub and then he and Sandra left the women in charge and walked to Bradley’s house. The wound in his thigh was raw; the one on his neck annoying and his ribs ached.

The teacher had packed the car with belongings and was trying to persuade Meg to get in. Andrea, the girl they had rescued from the sea-front apartments, was standing wide-eyed and fearful on the doorstep. At least she was better dressed, wearing a tracksuit provided by Meg.

Bradley’s nerves had not improved when they walked out of the night.

‘I heard the shooting,’ he explained. ‘Lots of shooting. I thought it best to leave while we could. You said …’ Meg pulled free from his grip.‘I wanted to get her somewhere safe.’

‘We can’t leave Andrea,’ Meg said, stepping back to the doorway where the two girls embraced.

Bradley stared down the street past Reaper and Sandra, as if expecting pursuit.

‘There’s no need to leave,’ Reaper said. ‘We killed them.’

There were stares of disbelief.

‘Killed them?’ Bradley said.

‘All the bogeymen have gone,’ Reaper said. ‘Tomorrow is a fresh start. But we’re tired.’

‘We need to sleep,’ said Sandra.

She walked into the house and the two girls followed. Reaper trailed behind, leaving Bradley on the pavement with his half-packed car. He could go where the hell he liked. The girls needed to be able to believe that what Reaper had said was true. Sandra reassured them. Reaper splashed water in his face and handed the girls two spare bottles of still-cold Perrier. He was not at all upset that he didn’t have one left for Bradley, who had followed them reluctantly upstairs.

Sandra said, ‘Do you have a first aid kit?’

Reaper was not surprised when Bradley said he did. It was an item, he said, that he had acquired early in what he described as the ‘interregnum’, the period that had started after the mutant virus had swept the world. Perhaps he thought Reaper was the new Prime Minister who would impose a fresh democracy with the power of the Glock automatic.

‘I’ll need you first thing,’ Reaper told Bradley.

‘What … Why? You said it was over.’

‘It is. I’ll need you to take me to our car. I’m buggered if I’m walking.’

The two girls went up to the attic room, leaving Bradley to go into the back bedroom.

Sandra took Reaper into the bathroom to tend his wounds. The graze in the neck she anointed with some kind of unction. The thigh wound was more severe and might have chipped the bone. As it was, it had removed a chunk of flesh.

‘Trousers,’ she said.

He removed the Kevlar vest and his weapons and dropped the trousers. He winced when she probed the rawness and she said, ‘I thought you were a tough guy?’ After a moment or two, she said, ‘This probably needs stitching or a flesh transplant. I’ll bandage it for now.’ She applied more unction, gauze, bandage and tape. ‘You’ll have to see Greta when we get back.’ Greta Malone was their doctor: as far as they knew, the only doctor in Yorkshire.

Reaper pulled up his pants, picked up his kit and followed Sandra into the front bedroom. She took off the Kevlar vest and the gun belt but nothing else and lay on the far side of the bed, facing the window. Reaper stacked his weapons and the vest and climbed alongside her.

‘Hold me, Reaper,’ she said.

He rolled on his side and he held her as he looked at the night sky through the window over her shoulder.

‘That first night,’ she said, ‘you held me like this. Remember?’

‘I remember.’

She cuddled into him and her breathing eased; tension began to seep away.

‘I miss him, Reaper.’

‘I know. I miss him, too. And Kate.’

Jamie and Kate had both been killed a few days before. Without being over-dramatic, they had laid down their lives to protect the Haven they had been building together.

He could hear her crying softly. After a while, after the tears had stopped, when he’d thought she was asleep, she said, ‘What we did tonight. It was crazy.’

‘Yes it was.’

‘Were we crazy?’

‘Probably, we were very crazy.’

‘But did we do right?’

‘We killed some bad people. We freed some innocent people who now have the chance to be good.’

‘But that’s not why we did it, is it? We did it for revenge.’

‘Yes, we did it for revenge.’

‘After Jamie, I didn’t want to live, except for revenge.’

‘And now we’ve had it, love. We’ve had more than enough.’

She lay silently in his arms for a while and then said, ‘Will we do it again?’

He kissed the back of her head and said, ‘Only if we have to.’

‘I love you, Reaper. I’m glad I’m your daughter.’

‘Mutual,’ he said. ‘I love you, too. Now, get some sleep, daughter.’

Sandra was still sleeping when Reaper slipped out of the bedroom at six. He kitted up on the landing and tapped on the door of Bradley’s room. While he waited, he drank from a bottle of water. The teacher had also slept fully dressed, if he had slept at all. His hair was tousled, which made him look younger. But still not young enough.

Bradley drove Reaper through empty sunlit streets without speaking. He dropped him by the Astra on the outskirts of the town and drove immediately away. Reaper felt liberated to be in his own car, away from the presence of their reluctant host. He sat for a moment and reflected that he and Sandra had attempted the impossible because of their need for righteous revenge and had, against all odds, succeeded. He didn’t know whether to feel relief that they had survived yet again or dismay at the depth of malevolence they had displayed. Maybe a mixture of both. But it had been cathartic for them and a necessity for the people they had liberated.

By the time he got back to the house, Sandra was kitted up and the two girls were dressed and ready for what the new day might bring.

‘We’ll go back to the pub and see the girls,’ Reaper said. ‘The whole town will have heard the shooting and know something major happened last night. Maybe we can entice some of them out.’

‘We’ll follow you,’ said Bradley. ‘After we’ve finished packing the car.’ He shrugged. ‘No point staying here, now.’

Reaper wasn’t sure of his motives and Meg seemed more eager to visit the scene of the previous night’s mayhem, but she agreed with his suggestion. Andrea came with them in the Astra.

‘Don’t be long,’ Reaper warned.

Reaper drove the short distance to the pub and hotel and the bits and pieces that remained of Bits and Pieces. He stopped the car in the middle of the road and, for a moment, they didn’t get out. The generator was still on and the girls and women had cleared some of the debris and were eating breakfast on tables in the sunshine. The body of the middle-aged woman that had been hanging from the lamppost had been removed, but three more women had been hanged from other lampposts in her place. The people on the terrace, a few men among them, stopped eating. Some got to their feet and nervously held guns.

They got out of the car slowly. Three women came from the pub and called to Andrea and she ran into their arms. Someone shouted, ‘They’re back,’ and someone on the terrace began clapping and this built up into a general round of applause. Reaper had experienced bizarre moments since the end of the world but this had to be among the weirdest. He and Sandra self-consciously acknowledged the rather restrained acclamation. Two of the women led Andrea away and the third approached them. She was the spokeswoman from the night before. She offered her hand.

‘I’m Tanya Metcalfe. We met last night.’

Reaper shook her hand. ‘Reaper,’ he said. ‘This is Sandra.’

The two girls shook hands and Tanya said to Sandra, ‘You were brilliant.’ She glanced back at Reaper. ‘You both were.’

The women probably needed a heroine more than a hero. Reaper could understand that. He glanced at the bodies that swayed in a gentle breeze.

‘What happened?’

Tanya’s eyes slid away for a moment. She didn’t want to look at the bodies.

‘Not all the women here were reluctant. Most suffered and some were coerced. Some took to the life with enthusiasm. They embraced it. They were part of it.’ She shrugged. ‘Retribution got out of hand. Maybe someone should have tried to stop it.’ She meant she should have tried. ‘This morning, I think everyone is sorry it happened.’

Reaper could hardly complain if the survivors had instigated their own justice in the euphoria and probably hysteria of deliverance from a living hell. His own justice had been dispensed with righteous finality the night before. What was done was done. Time to move on. He raised his nose at the smell of cooking. The men and women at the tables had resumed eating.

‘Who are the men?’ said Sandra.

‘They were captives. Used to do work the gang didn’t want to do or couldn’t do. One’s a motor mechanic, another an engineer. We’ve got a dentist, too. And a baker. There are nine of them. The others were used as labourers.’

‘How many women?’ Sandra asked.

‘Twenty-two. Three are in their forties. They were used for washing, mending. Domestic duties. Useful stuff. The rest of us are aged from thirteen to twenty-eight.’ She looked at Reaper defiantly. ‘We were used for entertainment.’

‘Not any more,’ he said, his nose still twitching.

‘Hungry?’ asked Tanya.

‘Very,’ he said.

She led them across the terrace to a table inside the pub.

‘Omelette okay?’ she said.

‘Sounds good,’ said Sandra.

The young woman left them to go to the kitchens as they took their seats. When she returned, she joined them.

‘We collected the guns, like you suggested. They’re in the dining room. We moved the bodies from down here. They’re in the yard at the back. We did a count. There were twenty-six in the gang, including Tyldesley.’

He was pleased she hadn’t referred to him as Mad Dog.

‘We did a body count, too,’ Reaper said. ‘We got twenty-five. So we’re one short. All things considered, that’s not bad. If the one we missed has any sense, he’ll be hiding or running. Either way, I can’t see him being a threat.’

A man in his forties came from the kitchen. He carried a tray on which were cups, knives and forks, butter, condiments, a pot of coffee and a loaf of bread that was still warm. He unloaded it onto their table and shook their hands.

‘Malcolm,’ he said, in introduction. ‘Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know how you did it but what you did was a wonderful thing. I’ll bring the omelettes.’

Sandra and Reaper exchanged a bemused look. Then the food came and they ate.

Once the edge had been taken from his appetite, he said to Tanya, ‘It might be useful touring the town and letting people know the old regime is dead. Some kind of loudspeaker would be good. Get them to come out of their hiding places. You’ll have to get together to start organising.’

Tanya said, ‘What about you? Where will you go? Where did you come from?’

Sandra said, ‘We’re from a community near Scarborough. We’ve gone back to the land. People from all over, different occupations, lifestyles. We’re farming, starting schools, finding energy sources.’ She laughed. ‘We’ve got a mad scientist who wants us to use wind power and solar energy.’

‘That sounds incredible. How many of you are there?’

‘Two hundred?’ Sandra glanced at Reaper. ‘Three hundred?’

Reaper said, ‘We’re based at what used to be a holiday village on a country estate. The place is called Haven. We’ve expanded into the farms and villages nearby.’ He took another mouthful and interpreted Tanya’s look. ‘If you want, you can join us. You all can. There’s strength in numbers.’

Tanya nodded. As well as liberation they were being offered a new home that had already been established.

‘But first, you should get local citizens to come out of hiding. Tell them Tyldesley is gone. That they have to decide what they want to do.’

‘There’s a loud hailer Tyldesley used. When they had sport on the beach.’

‘We heard about that,’ Sandra said.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get someone to start touring the streets and telling people the news.’

She left and they continued eating and drinking excellent coffee.

‘Do you think they’ll come with us?’ said Sandra.

‘I think it’s their best option. We’ve already got a toe-hold; they’d be starting from scratch.’

They finished the food and strolled out into the sunshine. A man and a woman were standing across the street, watching what was happening at the pub with fascination. Two women and a child were further up the street, approaching slowly and warily, as if ready to run if the vibes suddenly changed.

‘They’re coming out already,’ said Reaper.

‘Do you think we might scare them away?’ Sandra said, and he had to admit that, kitted up and draped with guns and knives, they were probably an intimidating sight.

They returned to the terrace where they could watch what was happening unobtrusively. Others had finished eating and were rummaging through the upstairs rooms of the hotel and in the nearby guesthouses where Reaper supposed some of them had been living.

‘I’ll go and get some more coffee,’ he told Sandra, and found Malcolm in the kitchen. He noticed Tanya was in the dining room, holding what looked like a meeting. When he returned with a tray Sandra said, ‘Two cars have gone out to spread the news. I suppose now, we wait.’

‘Seems like a good idea.’

They sat and drank coffee and watched the world organise itself. After a while, Reaper said, ‘Where’s Bradley and Meg?’

‘They’ll be here. He daren’t not be here.’

As if the words were an invocation, the Ford Focus turned into the street and stopped. Meg jumped out and began walking quickly towards them. Sandra raised an arm in greeting. Bradley got out of the driver’s side but, before he could catch her up, the girl was grabbed by somebody who leapt from between two parked vehicles.

‘Who the hell …’ said Reaper.

The man held Meg from behind with one arm around her shoulders. In the other hand he held a gun that was pointed at her head.

‘Christ,’ said Sandra. ‘Is that …’

‘Duncan,’ said Reaper.

‘Come on out, you bastard! You know who I want!’ shouted Duncan towards the pub. His voice was close to hysteria. The hand holding the gun shook. Although Reaper had thought him fay, he was tall, and his grip around Meg’s shoulders seemed firm.

Behind them, Tanya said, ‘Oh God. It’s Duncan. He’s the one that got away.’

Not a victim, then.

Sandra slipped away to one side, Tanya the other. Reaper, now alone, got to his feet and walked to the edge of the terrace.

‘It’s me you want,’ he said. ‘Let the girl go.’

‘I’ll let her go when I’m ready!’ Duncan screamed. ‘When I’m ready. You are a bastard. You have ruined my life! And now I’m going to ruin yours. Get down here! Now!’

Reaper stepped down from the terrace, leaving his carbine behind. He took two paces and stopped.

‘You bastard!’ hissed Duncan, his mood switching from high hysterics to pure viciousness. ‘Who asked you to come here? Who sent you a fucking invitation to the feast, eh? You were not wanted, not needed.’ Spittle came from his mouth and suddenly his mood switched again and he was crying. ‘You killed him. Shot him. You shot Mossa! My Mossa.’

‘Let the girl go,’ said Reaper. ‘You can have me. Just let her go.’

‘I will,’ he shouted, almost back in control of himself. ‘Well, I might. It depends how I feel.’ He snarled the words. ‘But first you have to do what I say. Simon says. We’re going to play the game. You know it? And Simon says drop that gun belt.’ Reaper hesitated and Duncan screamed, ‘I said drop it!’

Reaper took his time unfastening the belt. Then he held it in one hand while he unclipped the straps that held the holsters to his thighs. Slowly, he held out the belt with the holstered guns in front of him to gain Duncan’s attention, crouched low, despite the pain from his thigh, and laid it on the ground. The longer this pantomime lasted, the better chance Sandra would have of getting a shot at this madman.

He stood up and held his arms away from his side. If Meg gave him half a chance, he might be able to take him with a throwing knife. He had practised the move often enough: grasp one of the knives ensconced on his left wrist in the fingertips of his right hand and one backward flip with accuracy and strength, and he could make him a new windpipe. He had done it before. But not with an innocent in such close proximity.

‘Now take off that vest!’ Duncan said, a shade calmer and less strident now that the handguns had been relinquished. He began to laugh. ‘I’m going to strip you, you bastard. And then I’m going to shoot your dick off.’

Reaper pulled apart the Velcro fastenings on the Kevlar vest, held it out in front of him, and dropped it on the ground. Meg struggled and Duncan pulled her more viciously and ground the barrel of the gun into the side of her head. The girl screamed in pain and fear and Bradley stepped forward.

‘No,’ the teacher shouted. ‘She’s done nothing. Let her go.’

In the periphery of his vision, Reaper saw Sandra behind a vehicle, the carbine at her shoulder, waiting for a clear shot.

‘Fuck off!’ Duncan shouted at the teacher, momentarily diverted, but Bradley stepped forward, arms outstretched towards the girl. Duncan moved his gun hand, pointed the weapon at this new threat – and shot him. Bradley was flung backwards. Duncan looked surprised at what he had done as Meg wriggled from beneath his arm and flung herself sideways, causing him more consternation and confusion.

Now, Sandra! Reaper urged silently, but he saw that Tanya had stepped forward and was blocking Sandra’s line of fire. He plucked a throwing knife between his fingertips but, before he could launch it, Tanya was blasting Duncan from close range with a revolver. It looked like a .38 snub-nosed Smith and Wesson, notorious for its inaccuracy but which, from three feet, was totally deadly.

Tanya kept firing until all six chambers were empty, each bullet dancing Duncan on his tiptoes with a look of confusion frozen on his face. After the final shot, he fell backwards and was still, his blood pooling around him.

Reaper returned the knife to its sheath on his left wrist, picked up his belt and put it back where it belonged around his waist. He picked up the vest and carried it in one hand as he walked towards the tableau before him. Sandra had joined Tanya and put an arm around her shoulders. Tanya was crying silently, tears flowing down her cheeks as they both stared at the body of the man she had killed. Meg was crouching near Bradley who lay on his back, blood bubbling from his chest. He reached out a hand but the girl didn’t take it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and his fading gaze found Reaper. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, and died.

Andrea came from the crowd and took Meg by the shoulders and led her away. The girl was dry-eyed and composed.

Reaper looked down at Bradley without emotion. At least it was one problem solved.