Day Twenty-Seven - The Garden Centre (Season 5: The Rain)
Author: R R Haywood
Date: 2024-04-10 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Zombie Apocalypse
Description: The Undead. The UK's Bestselling Horror Comedy Series. The Undead The Garden Centre Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Amazon & Audible bestselling author, RR Haywood. One of the most downloaded indie authors in the UK with over three million books sold and 25+ Kindle bestsellers. *WINNER OF DISCOVER SCI-FI BEST RELEASE OF 2023 * The Battle For Gatwick is over. The team are broken. They desperately need rest. But rest is not to be found because the darkest days still lie ahead in Season Five of The Undead. This book was authored by Richard Haywood and not generated by any machine or artific

THE UNDEAD TWENTY SEVEN

RR HAYWOOD

1899 INC LTD

Copyright © 2024 by RR Haywood

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

Untitled

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Day Thirty-Two

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Also by RR Haywood

Season Five: The Rain

The Garden Centre

A day of rest. A night of cringe.

1

Day Thirty-One

Sunday

Another deep, heavy rumble of thunder fills the air above the garden centre the following morning when Charlie walks into the canteen to see the rest of the lads staring out of the windows. ‘Something going on?’ she asks, already mentally preparing to fight and wage war against whatever is coming.

‘Hang on,’ Tappy says. ‘Wait for it.’

‘Wait for what?’ Charlie asks.

‘For the lightning,’ Danny says as Charlie feels the adrenalin that was starting to pump ebb away, leaving her jittery and shaky. She draws a breath and joins the cluster staring out to the low, dark clouds filling the sky and the rain lashing down even harder than it was yesterday, then blinks at a sudden flash strobing the sky.

‘One!’ Tappy says, shushing the others with her hands. ‘Two… Three…’

‘Oh, you’re measuring the distance,’ Charlie says.

‘Six… Seven…’ Tappy says then cuts off when the thunder rolls over their heads, deep and loud, and long. ‘Right. Seven seconds.’

‘So that’s seven miles then?’ Cookey asks. ‘But it sounds like it’s right over us.’

‘It’s not a mile for each second,’ Charlie says. ‘You have to divide it by three, I believe?’

‘By five,’ Maddox says. ‘I read it in prison,’ he adds when the others look at him.

‘In prison,’ Booker snorts.

‘Fuck you,’ Maddox says. ‘You belong in prison.’

‘Fact, bro,’ Booker says, offering a fist bump, which are things he never did before hanging out with Maddox. The lads never used to fist-bump, and they definitely didn’t say bro. But people do change, just not enough sometimes, and Booker tunes back into the conversation with another glance at Charlie.

‘So how far is it then?’ Cookey asks.

‘Oh god, maths on the spot,’ Tappy says with a wince. ‘What’s seven divided by five?’

‘One point four,’ Maddox and Charlie say at the same time.

‘Check you two out,’ Cookey says. ‘Did you read about math in prison?’ he asks Charlie.

‘I did,’ she says primly.

‘So? That means the storm is one point four miles away?’ Tappy asks.

‘Yes,’ Nick says.

‘No. It was right above us,’ Cookey says.

‘Yes, you fucking moron,’ Nick replies. ‘Because one point four miles in the open sky with no structures to disrupt the soundwaves isn’t a very big distance at all.’

‘Right. Well. Your mum,’ Cookey says, making Nick and the others snort quiet laughs and stare out to the world beyond the windows. A world of rain and not much else.

They stay silent for a moment. Each drifting into thoughts of the last day or two. The fight at Gatwick. Almost losing Reginald. The battle for Rye. Donna and Jim. The puppy.

‘Can I ask a question?’ Cookey asks after checking around for any of the elders, and he looks to Charlie while the others listen. ‘Do you agree with Reginald?’

Charlie frowns. Sensing that Cookey means what Reginald said yesterday when he said they are fighting the very thing keeping them alive and the argument that followed with Mr Howie. The rest stay quiet and wait for the answer. Knowing that from all of them only Charlie is anywhere close to Reginald’s intelligence and therefore fully able to understand it all.

Charlie hesitates. Sensing the sheer weight of the question. But Charlie Doyle has no mind to lie. ‘I do.’

‘We’re the same then?’ Cookey asks.

‘To a degree we are, but our differences are what define us. We shouldn’t overthink it, Cookey. Like Mr Howie said. We kill them. That’s it. They’re not us.’

‘But you just said we are the same.’

She shakes her head. ‘There is a complexity to this that even I don’t understand. We have to trust Reginald. Otherwise, what’s the alternative?’

‘Not killing them?’ Tappy asks.

‘And what happens then? They become the dominant species.’

‘But what about the panacea?’ Cookey asks.

‘Exactly. That’s the complexity of it. The panacea is the infection. We have the panacea in us, or we would have died a long time ago. But it’s mutating, and what we have is not the exact same as the things we kill have. Mutations like that happen in nature. But this is ramped up and accelerated, and we just don’t know what the hell any of it means. So yes. We are the same in that regard. We’re infected with the same virus, but what it does to us and what it does to the other player, as Reginald calls them, makes us different.’

‘But then why…’ Cookey starts to ask

‘So, we trust Reginald,’ she cuts over him. ‘Honestly, don’t overthink it, Cookey.’

‘What did she say?’ Bashir asks, having chosen to stay with the lads because he can chat with Mo on a more natural level than he can with Henry, who is firmly the CO, and he listens as Mo relays what Charlie just said.

‘This is why we have officers,’ Bash says to Mo who snorts a dry laugh and translates it to the others. ‘Let them think about that stuff.’

But still.

Those people.

Those idiot stupid people in Rye.

Not just there either, but all of the people they’re saving seem like that.

It made Bash feel angry inside.

Like he was starting to hate them.

He blasts air and shrugs. ‘Inshallah,’ he says.

‘What’s that mean?’ Cookey asks.

‘If God wills,’ Mo says quietly, remembering his grandfather, Big Mo. ‘But in this context, it means like what can you do? You get me?’

The others nods and murmur. ‘Inshallah then,’ Tappy says, earning a smile and a fist bump from Bash.

‘Right. Come on then. Let’s check the injuries,’ Roy says a few moments later with his big medical bag open on a table. ‘How’s the eye?’ he asks, taking Cookey’s head in his hands while Booker hangs at the back, seemingly content to watch them all quietly. ‘Can you see through it?’ Roy asks.

‘Yeah, but it’s a bit blurry,’ Cookey says.

‘Okay, close your other eye. I’m going to shine a light into the swollen one. Can you see it? What are you doing?’ Roy asks at the sight of Cookey covering both of his eyes.

‘Oh, I thought… Ha! I dunno what I thought.’

‘Twat!’ Blowers says, getting a middle finger as Cookey smiles sheepishly and stands still while Charlie covers his good eye with her hand. Everyone else watches on at Roy shining a small torch into Cookey’s injured eye.

‘That’s a good sign,’ Roy says, seeing Cookey flinch from the bright beam of light. ‘It’s still very swollen, and there’s a lot of scabbing around the outer area. But I think maybe the lens has got a tiny scratch, which is why your vision is a bit blurry. I think it’ll heal fine if we just leave it. Does it hurt?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘On a scale of one to ten. One being lowest?’

‘Oh, like a four.’

‘That’s quite low,’ Roy murmurs. ‘But then my back is cut to bits, and that’s about the same. Danny? How’s the pain in your fingers? One to ten?’

‘About the same. Five, I think,’ Danny says as Roy nods at Mo’s ear half bitten away.

‘S’ten,’ Mo says. ‘Totally need like loads of sympathy and no chores.’ The smiles break out at the cheeky lad and his impish grin. ‘Nah, s’like a two or a three.’

‘Hmmm. Not as many nerve endings in the ear though,’ Roy says.

‘What about Clarence?’ Paula asks.

‘I’d say a six,’ Clarence says. ‘But the pain isn’t in my wrist. It’s in my hand and fingers,’ he adds, touching the air where his hand should have been.

‘Ghost limb phenomena,’ Roy says.

‘How? His hand isn’t there,’ Cookey says.

‘We don’t feel pain in our bodies,’ Roy says, tapping his own head. ‘The body has nerves which send signals to the brain.’

‘But his hand’s gone,’ Cookey says. ‘So how is it still sending pain signals? Oh shit! Is the infection keeping it alive somewhere?’

‘Making what alive?’ Roy asks.

‘Clarence’s hand,’ Cookey says earnestly, making the others burst out laughing, with Booker doing the same, albeit a split-second after them.

‘You fucking dick,’ Blowers groans, rubbing his face. ‘He just fucking said the nerves send signals to the brain.’

‘Yeah, and his hand isn’t there, so how are the nerves sending signals if the nerves aren’t there, bellend?’ Cookey retorts.

‘On that note, I’m getting a drink,’ Clarence says, walking off into the kitchen.

‘Cos the nerves are all connected, fucktard’ Blowers tells Cookey. ‘The nerves in his hand were connected to the nerves in his body, so the hand’s gone, but the nerves are still in his arm sending signals.’

‘From what? His fucking hand’s gone!’

‘Oh, my fucking god. Yes, Cookey. His hand is alive in Gatwick punching zombies,’ Blowers says.

‘Okay. I mean. Should we go look for it then? We can put it back on if it’s still sending signals.’

‘No words,’ Blowers tells everyone else.

‘Fuck you! It was a fair question. Somebody back me up!’ Cookey says before huffing at the lack of response as Maddox rolls his eye at Booker as if to say really? Booker smiles to show he agrees then watches on as Roy checks Danny’s fingers to see the stumps are already thick with scabs and without sign of infection in any of them. No swelling. No spreading heat. No significant redness or even signs of trauma. He checks eyes and ears. He feels pulses and takes temperatures. He checks Tappy’s broken and still swollen nose and her black eyes, and Mo’s ear, half bitten away.

‘How about you?’ Roy asks, going over to Booker to peer at the cuts and wounds on the handsome mixed-race lad’s face and neck. ‘You’ll have a few scars. But you know what they say. Women do love scars,’ Roy adds, expecting to hear a few comments and possibly one or two of outrage from the women present, but when he glances back, they look away or peer at Danny’s fingers. ‘How’s that one on your arm?’ Roy asks.

Booker shows Roy the back of his left arm. A nasty bite wound with deep scratches.

‘That’s mostly superficial,’ Roy says, straightening the arm, with the horseshoe shape of Booker’s triceps muscle popping out clear and defined.

‘Look at you flexing up,’ Nick says.

‘I ain’t flexing,’ Booker says. ‘It’s naturally like that.’

‘Is it fuck!’ Nick says, lifting his own sleeve and straightening his arm until the triceps muscles pop out.

‘Ooh, hello,’ Tappy says, giving him a big grin as she grabs Nick’s arm to squeeze.

‘You should see Blowers’ arms,’ Nick says.

‘Mads’ are way bigger,’ Blowers says.

‘Yeah, but you’re a boxer,’ Carmen says, nodding at Blowers. ‘Mads is just gym pumped.’

‘Excuse me?’ Maddox asks with a mock offended expression.

‘Yo, check my noodles out,’ Mo says, flexing the back of his lean arms.

‘Aw, bless,’ Tappy says as Mo grins. ‘I bet Danny will get good arms though.’

‘Danny’ll piss all over the rest of us when he fills out,’ Blowers says as Danny feels himself lifting an inch off the ground.

‘Come on, Carmen… You be the judge,’ Cookey says.

‘S’me innit,’ Mo says.

‘It’s definitely Maddox on size and definition,’ Carmen says to an effortless shrug from Maddox.

‘Wasn’t even flexing,’ he says to low jeers. ‘And then Clarence walks in…’ he adds when the giant strides back in the canteen with arms bigger than most of their legs.

‘What?’ Clarence asks.

‘Nothing,’ Maddox says as the men quickly cover up their arms while Mo carries on displaying his noodles.

‘I’m bigger than you, bro!’ Mo says, puffing his chest up and walking into Clarence’s waist. ‘Hench bro! You’s in my way!’

Clarence chuckles down at the lad, sensing the mood is a touch lighter than yesterday, but young minds heal fast. It still shows in their faces. The stress of it all. The exhaustion. They looked drained, and even this banter is way below the normal levels of raucous chaos.

‘Morning,’ Howie calls, walking in to see Roy’s bag open and the others showing their injuries. ‘What’s the verdict then?’

Roy shrugs. Shaking his head. ‘Like I said last night, we just have to let the infection do its job.’

Howie looks at the injuries while those words hang in the air.

Let the infection do its job.

Roy rubs his jaw, thinking it through. ‘Even if we had Clarence’s hand on ice and specialist surgeons, I don’t know if we could attach it. We’d have to cut away all the scabs and more flesh to get to the tendons to reattach it all. And I’m not even sure we’d need surgeons if we did it quick enough.’

‘Fuck off,’ Howie says in shock.

‘I mean it,’ Roy says.

‘You think a limb would reattach itself?’ Howie asks.

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Nick, chop a finger off so we can test it,’ Clarence says as Nick shoves his hands behind his back.

‘I’m not the finger guy.’

‘You were the other night,’ Tappy quips.

‘Tappy!’ Paula says as the others groan.

‘That was a good one,’ Frank says, giving her a wink.

‘That’s what I said to him,’ she replies.

‘Okay, enough!’ Paula calls, waving them to silence. ‘Next time someone loses a body part, give it to Roy.’

‘Like we get a choice,’ Blowers says as they all turn to look at Meredith wagging her tail from the sudden mass attention.

‘So, what’s the plan now?’ Marcy asks.

‘I’d say very little in this weather,’ Henry replies, having strolled in to listen on to the others showing signs of early recovery.

‘Day off then,’ Paula says to a low collective cheer.

‘After drill,’ Blowers says as it turns into a collective jeer.

‘I really think they need a day off,’ Paula says.

‘I’d have to agree, Sergeant,’ Henry adds.

‘Of course,’ Blowers says with a polite nod to them both. ‘But likewise, I am the sergeant, and they are my team.’

A slight pushback from Blowers. Respectful and polite, but the meaning is clear. They are his team, and he is their sergeant.

‘How about voluntarily?’ Carmen suggests. ‘I’m up for drill.’

‘I’m in,’ Mo says.

‘I’ll do drill,’ Danny adds.

‘Cool,’ Blowers says. ‘We’ll do that then. Non-compulsory drill. But, my team, trust me. Sit this one out, and I will beast the living shit out of you tomorrow.’

‘Should we join in? I feel like we should join in,’ Marcy says to the other elders when the lads go off grumbling and groaning. ‘I’m going to join in. Come on,’ she says, pulling Paula along as Clarence and Howie share a shrug and follow over with Henry and Frank, leaving Roy and Reginald in the canteen.

‘Reggie?’ Roy asks, nodding after them.

‘Please ask yourself if it would ever be likely I would willingly partake in physical exercise,’ Reginald says as Roy goes to reply then cuts off with a nod, and starts walking off.

‘You can get breakfast on the go then,’ he calls.

‘I beg your pardon!’

‘We’re a team, Reggie,’ Roy calls over his shoulder. ‘They would have thrown themselves off a cliff for you yesterday.’

Reginald stares after him, feeling somewhat trapped between two terrors. One being physical exercise that doesn’t involve running for his life, and the other being making breakfast for twenty people and a dog, and a horse.

‘What a conundrum,’ he tells Meredith who barks a reply and runs off, leaving Jess to turn her chocolate powdered nose from the counter to glare at Reginald as though remembering he was the little man who didn’t let her out of the trailer fast enough yesterday at Gatwick. ‘You can bugger off,’ Reginald yelps and runs off, with Jess staring after him.

The drill takes time, but with the weather so harsh, there’s no rush, and they drag and move shelves and units to the sides to create a long wide run from the front of the building to the rear.

‘That’ll do, I reckon,’ Carmen says. ‘We ready? We good? Love me some drill in the morning. We could go for a run later.’

‘I’m up for that,’ Blowers says as the others glance to the windows with horrified looks.

‘Okay! Fall into place,’ Carmen calls. ‘Sorry! My bad,’ she says with a wince at Blowers. ‘I used to run training camps sometimes.’

‘You want to run it now?’

‘No, no. You do it.’

‘Sure?’

‘No, I’m good. Maybe I’ll do tomorrow or something.’

‘Should the rest of us go back to bed?’ Paula calls.

‘Right! Find a space. Light jogging on the spot,’ Blowers calls, with everyone else ranged out in a circle around him. ‘Your drill today will be run by PTs Blowers and Eze,’ he adds, earning a grin from Carmen.

‘And during drill, we should be called Staff,’ Carmen adds, dropping out from the circle to jog on the spot next to Blowers. ‘Is that okay, Major Henry and Mr Howie? Good! Knees up then, Sirs!’

‘Just don’t forget, we’ve all got injuries,’ Paula calls.

‘Noted,’ Blowers says.

‘And it’s also ten push ups for interrupting drill,’ Carmen adds.

‘What the?’ Paula starts to say.

‘Fifteen push ups. Get down into the start position!’

‘No. I was just saying-.’

‘Twenty push ups,’ Carmen calls.

‘Paula, shut up!’ Marcy snaps.

‘And One! Two!’ Carmen calls and clocks the grunt coming from Clarence as he bites the pain down from doing a press-up on his stump. ‘Clarence, you can stand down.’

‘I’m fine, Staff.’

‘You’re missing a hand.’

‘Airborne!’ he grunts.

‘Stubborn bloody paras. Everyone, flip over. We’re doing crunches instead.’

‘I thought you were in the paras,’ Blowers says while doing crunches with ease.

‘Marines,’ Carmen says, matching his pace without sign of exertion.

‘You were a marine?’

‘I did the commando course to qualify then went through SBS training to get badged so I could work in Henry’s team. ‘You joined and left, didn’t you?’

‘Broke my leg at the end of my commando course.’

‘Oh, shit.’

‘Worst fucking day of my life,’ Blowers says. ‘Didn’t even get badged.’

‘So you went back into the army? Why didn’t you go back for the Marines?’

‘I was a fucking mess. I was drinking and feeling sorry myself and couldn’t get work, then they said if we joined up for the army reserves, we’d get extra benefits, and I thought fuck it. I joined with Cookey and Nick, and Booker. And a few others, but er, yeah, they didn’t make it.’

‘Makes sense,’ Carmen says. The two of them side by side, blasting crunches out with their feet off the ground while everyone else flakes out one by one. ‘I kept thinking why was a Marine in with squaddies at Salisbury?’

‘Now you know. I’m not really a Marine.’

‘You are.’

‘I’m not badged.’

‘I’ll get you a badge.’

‘Yeah?’

‘A postman pat badge,’ she says, shooting him a grin as they realise everyone else is laid out on their backs, trying not to be noticed. ‘Cheeky sods!’

Blowers laughs and soon has them jogging up and sprinting back, then forming into pairs for relays for a few more lengths.

‘Alright, that’ll do,’ he calls after a while, seeing it’s enough for today, especially after what they did the last few days. ‘We’ll do some recovery stretches. Just go slow and easy.’

They lie on their backs with one leg stretched out and the other pulled up and hugged into their chests while thinking about Donna and Jim, and the angry and terrified slow-moving survivors at Gatwick.

‘Okay, stay on your back and put the back of your left elbow against the outside of your bent right leg, and push it over to the left to stretch the lower back out,’ Blowers calls. ‘I said right leg, Marcy. The other one…’

‘I wondered why it wasn’t working,’ Marcy says to a few chuckles as they all glance over at her. Except for Maddox who watches how everyone else reacts, sweeping his eyes over them one by one and clocking the direction of their eye-line as Booker grunts with an exhalation of breath and drops his head.

‘That’s it, mate, breathe deeply,’ Blowers says, hearing the same noise coming from Booker.

‘What’s that?’ Marcy calls.

‘Booker’s doing deep breathing exercises,’ Blowers says.

‘How do you do them?’ Marcy asks.

‘Breathe deeply, you plank,’ Blowers says as the laughs sound out.

‘Yeah, you plank,’ Booker adds a second later.

‘Alright, don’t wade in,’ Marcy calls. ‘So what? You just breathe in and breathe out? Like, I mean, is there a method or something?’

‘We did them in our recovery training with hockey,’ Charlie says as Maddox watches them all and how they each react while, in turn, Henry clocks Maddox watching everyone else and thinks back to last night.

Maddox seems to sense the scrutiny, but when he glances over, Henry’s head is down, and his eyes are closed while Charlie talks them through some mindfulness techniques, telling them in her soft cultured voice to inhale and exhale, and relax their bodies, and feel the floor beneath them, and listen to the rain, which most of them do with their eyes closed, still, apart from Maddox. ‘And then, exhale again,’ Charlie calls in a soft voice to the sound of a deep snore coming from Clarence, fast asleep on his back, followed by low chuckles rippling through the others. ‘And I think that ends our meditations,’ Charlie adds as Paula gently kicks Clarence’s foot.

‘I didn’t kiss her!’ Clarence says, sputtering awake.

‘Too late for that. We all saw you,’ Marcy says.

‘Saw what?’ Clarence asks. ‘Great drill though. I’m starving now.’

‘Which, I would say, is perfect timing,’ Reginald says from the edge, before smashing a metal ladle into a metal pan with a deafening clang. ‘Breakfast is served!’

‘God, that’s so loud!’ Tappy says, rolling away from the noise as the others call out and grumble.

‘Apologies. I thought it would be quieter than that,’ Reginald says. ‘Memo to self. Use a smaller pan and spoon.’

They file back into the canteen to see a medium sized pan on the side, half-filled with scrambled eggs. ‘Where’s the rest?’ Paula asks.

‘Rest? What more do you need?’ Reginald asks in an affronted tone.

‘That’s like half a Nick portion,’ Paula says. ‘How many eggs did you use?’

‘Five!’ Reginald says proudly.

‘Did you add milk?’ Paula asks. ‘Butter? Salt and pepper? And they need carbs. Where’s the carbs?’

‘And there was I thinking I’d try and help. Do you know how hard it is to crack eggs and whisk them without fingers on your dominant hand?’

‘Nick, you can have these,’ Paula says as Maddox quietly watches on, reading them all and how they interact and look at each other. ‘One out of ten for effort, Reggie,’ Paula says with a sigh. ‘I’ll knock something up, I guess.’

‘I can help,’ Charlie says.

‘Me too,’ Booker says.

‘Aw, thank you, Booker,’ Paula says, giving him a smile.

‘I’ll jump in,’ Maddox says.

‘Whoop, whoop! Hench bro is in the house!’ Tappy says, shoulder bumping Maddox as they go through the swing door.

‘Cracking some eggs, word up!’ Booker says, shoulder bumping Tappy from the other side.

‘Whoa, easy,’ Tappy says, giving him a look when she staggers.

‘Sorry, caught you off balance,’ Booker says, offering a charming smile as he rushes to her aid.

‘I’m fine,’ she says dully, pulling her arm away from his grip.

‘Yeah? You look a bit wobbly,’ Maddox says, grabbing her other arm to pull gently, making her instantly grin and bump into him with a completely different reaction than she had to Booker.

‘We have got so many eggs,’ an impressed Marcy says, carrying a big tray of them out of the walk-in fridge. ‘And they were twats for keeping eggs in the fridge, but er, thank god they did! They’re still good. Ooh, what’s that song? How do you like your eggs in the morning?’

‘I like mine with a kiss!’ the others sing.

‘Fertilised,’ Booker quips.

‘Gross,’ Tappy says to a few low chuckles while Maddox figures if Cookey had said that, they would literally have pee running down their legs from laughing so hard.

‘Right. Eggs. Long life milk. Loads of butter,’ Paula says, putting everything they need on the side. ‘Do you think that bacon is still good?’ she asks.

‘I’ll have a sniff,’ Marcy says, bringing a packet out to open with a knife before bending over to smell it as Maddox spots Booker glancing at Marcy’s cleavage, but then it’s hard not to glance at Marcy’s cleavage sometimes. ‘Oh god, no,’ Marcy says, pulling back with a gag as Booker leans in to smell it.

‘Ooh, hang on though,’ Marcy says, completely ignoring him as she darts off into the big walk-in freezer.’

‘It’ll be defrosted in there,’ Paula says.

‘Yeah, but it would have been colder for longer,’ Marcy says. ‘And it’s still chilly in here now,’ she adds, coming out with her nipples pushing through her top, making Booker blink and look away quickly.

‘Alright, nips,’ Frank says, walking in with a nod at Marcy’s chest. ‘You’ll have someone’s eye out.’

Maddox watches on, sensing how there is no sense of predation when Frank makes comments like that.

‘Right. Let’s open this and… Oooh, actually, that’s okay,’ Marcy says, sniffing the bacon.

‘Is it heck,’ Paula says, going in to sniff.

‘Is it alright?’ Charlie asks, moving in closer with Tappy as Booker does the same to be a part of the sniffing group.

‘I can only smell Booker’s breath,’ Tappy says.

‘I don’t have bad breath!’

‘Joking,’ she says. ‘But that’s okay though. Fuck, yes! Are we having bacon and eggs for breakfast?’

‘There’s baked beans,’ Marcy says, nodding at the tinned goods. ‘And tinned mushrooms.’

‘Full English!’ Tappy says, shooting her arms into the air and looking ready to hug whoever is closest, but stopping on seeing its Booker. ‘Aw, but no toast. It’s not a full English without toast.’

‘Ah, but,’ Marcy says. ‘I did see long life bread rolls in sealed bags. I mean, they are full of preservatives, but if Nick can get gas into one of those ovens, we can heat them up.’

‘BEST FUCKING DAY EVER!’ Tappy yells, running out through the swinging doors. A cheer sounding in the other room a second later, with everyone else rushing into the kitchen.

‘Hero Nick again,’ Booker murmurs, rolling his eyes at Maddox. A private joke between them about how Nick is always the one to fix things or make stuff work. But then everyone has that about everyone else. Especially in such a small group, and Maddox’s insight into the minds of others makes him aware that Nick will have insecurities about his dyslexia, and some of the others will feel weak next to Blowers, who is not only the sergeant but literally the toughest man they all know, apart from Dave. Or how Cookey makes them all laugh, and Mo is cheeky, and Danny is shy but really charming, and Frank is old but gnarly, and effortlessly cool, and Clarence is huge. Maddox also guesses his own perception through the eyes of the others could range from being buff and smart to a completely arrogant prick. That’s just human nature, and the fluctuations of perceptions and interactions within a relatively small group of people thrust together in very demanding circumstances.

‘Do you eat pork?’ Marcy asks as Maddox notices her speaking slowly to Bash. ‘Can he eat pork? I mean, is he Muslim?’

‘This?’ Bash asks in a heavy accent, pointing at the meat. ‘Cow? Moooo?’

‘No, pig,’ Marcy says and mimics a pig.

‘Yes! Cow. Moooo. I eat.’

‘No! It’s from a pig.’

‘Yes! Chicken. Cluck, cluck. I eat.’

‘No! From. A. Pig. Oink, oink.’

‘Fish? Yes. I eat.’

‘No! I’m saying…’

‘I think perhaps Bashir is suggesting if he doesn’t know that it’s pork,’ Henry says.

‘Yeah. No. That’s why I’m telling him,’ Marcy says.

‘But if he doesn’t know,’ Paula says with a wink.

‘Yes! That’s why I am telling him.’

‘But if he knows, then he can’t eat it. But maybe if he doesn’t know…’

‘Oh my god. That’s why I am trying to tell him.’

‘Fuck me. She’s turned into Cookey,’ Blowers says.

‘Eh? What did I do?’ Cookey asks, walking over with packets of bread rolls. ‘Can Bash eat that bacon?’

‘Fucking idiots,’ Booker murmurs, making Maddox nod in agreement while he steals side-eye glances at who is doing what and staring at whom.

He clocks Danny’s eyeline aiming for Marcy’s chest, then how Mo glances at Charlie’s backside as she opens a tin of mushrooms, then how Booker glances at Tappy bent over helping Nick connect a gas bottle to an oven.

Everything gets seen and mentally noted.

But then he’s not the only one doing it, and Henry stands off to one side, seemingly sorting plates while watching them all and Maddox while thinking about last night.

Henry stays close to the action that quickly turns into the normal level of chaos as they scramble eggs and bake bread, and pan-fry bacon and mushrooms, and heat baked beans in tomato sauce. Then they slice the hot bread rolls open and smear them in butter before carrying pans and trays out to cover the counter. Everyone digs in, with Marcy once more trying to warn Bashir.

‘That’s pork, Bash!’

‘Yes. Lamb. Baaaaaa,’ he says, taking several rashers because the world is over, and billions of people have died, and right now Bash thinks all the Gods, no matter who or what they are, can piss off. Not that he was ever that devout anyway. People go too far with religion.

They sit down and eat, and groan at the real food melting in their mouths, with every pan and tray emptied and every crumb devoured until they’re all sitting in food comas, drinking tea and coffee or slurping individual cartons of orange juice.

‘Gotta have orange juice with a full English,’ Tappy says.

‘Tea,’ Nick says.

‘Weirdo,’ she tells him as Maddox clocks their energy of togetherness. ‘My belly though. Nick, look! I’m making a baby,’ Tappy adds, tugging her top up to show her slightly swollen belly off to more smiles and chuckles.

‘Food baby,’ Nick says, reaching over to touch her stomach with a gentle act of love that makes Paula a bit doe-eyed for a second.

‘I am so late for my period, by the way,’ Marcy announces.

‘And the magic moment just vanished,’ Paula mutters.

‘Hey, let’s all talk about Marcy again,’ Roy says.

‘What magic moment?’ Marcy asks Paula while offering a middle finger to Roy.

‘I’m late too,’ Charlie says.

‘And me,’ Tappy says while Carmen nods and Paula shrugs.

‘Yeah, same,’ Paula says. ‘Only a few days for me though.’

‘Two weeks for me,’ Marcy says.

‘Week,’ Charlie says.

‘Same,’ Carmen tells her.

‘That can happen though, can’t it?’ Maddox asks, his interest piqued by the subject.

‘It’s very normal in times of stress,’ Paula says.

‘It’s called functional hypothalamic amenorrhea,’ Reginald says.

‘Five eggs though?’ Paula asks Reginald, giving him a look. ‘For twenty people you made five eggs.’

‘Eggs,’ Marcy says with a snort. ‘When we’re talking about periods.’

‘How do you even know that, Reginald?’ Carmen asks.

‘I researched it should the situation arise,’ Reginald says. ‘The three primary causes are extreme physical exertion, malnutrition, and stress. Which you have all been exposed to rather a lot, I would suggest.’

‘Not malnutrition,’ Marcy says.

‘But a very irregular eating pattern though,’ Paula says.

‘We’ll cycle in together. That’ll be fun for you lot,’ Marcy says to chuckles.

‘Nah. We’ll just send you out to nag the zombies away,’ Frank says to a barrage of tomato ketchup sachets.

‘What’s the plan now, though?’ Tappy asks. ‘Are we staying here today? Have I got time to service the vehicles?’

‘Might be more than one day, looking at that rain,’ Henry says conversationally. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. Have you, Frank?’

‘Belize, maybe.’

‘No. This rain is far heavier than Belize,’ Henry says.

‘You sound like a weather reporter,’ Marcy tells him.

‘And later we can expect temperatures of around seasonal average with a low pollen count,’ Henry says, earning smiles.

‘I was asked to be a weather girl once,’ Marcy says to more than a few heads looking over. ‘Some exec from a news channel stayed in the hotel I worked at. He said tits like yours need to be on TV, love.’

‘Jesus,’ Paula says, showing disgust.

‘I hope you spilled hot sauce on his lap,’ Carmen says.

‘And get sacked?’ Marcy asks. ‘Part of the job, darlin’. And if you don’t like the attention, why you always got ‘em on show?’

‘Who said that?’ Paula asks.

‘My manager.’

‘What a prick,’ Paula mutters.

‘Does he have a point though?’ Frank asks.

‘Excuse me?’ Marcy asks.

‘I said does he have a point? And before you all start stringing me up for anti-feminism, you do wear low cut tops.’

‘She can wear what she wants!’ Carmen says as the invite seems to hang in the air, with Maddox casually observing how they nearly all look over at Marcy’s chest as though it’s suddenly acceptable, being that it’s the subject at hand.

‘I’m not saying she can’t,’ Frank says. ‘I’m saying she does display them. Don’t start yelling at me. We’re animals and hard-wired to biologically reproduce, and it’s a proven fact that heterosexual men will look at a woman’s boobs and hips to see if they’re a good prospect for childbirth.’

‘You bloody caveman!’ Carmen says.

‘It’s true! Reggie. Is that true?’ Frank asks.

‘It is true,’ Reginald says.

‘What do women look for then?’ Paula asks.

‘Big willies.’

‘Cookey!’ Paula says. ‘And actually. Women don’t always like big willies. They can really hurt.’

‘Go on then,’ Frank says, nodding at Reginald. ‘What do women look for in a man?’

‘You obviously know the answer,’ Carmen says.

‘I do know the answer,’ Frank says. ‘They look for money.’

‘Oh my god, you’re an actual misogynist,’ Carmen says.

‘Am I?’ Frank asks, seeing her smile and taking it all in good humour. ‘Money isn’t attractive, then?’

‘What good is money now?’ Paula asks.

‘Not now. Before,’ Frank says. ‘Actually. No. Now too. But it’s not money. It’s the ability to provide, which is what money represented for thousands of years. Reggie? Is that true?’

‘Well. Indeed, there are various studies that reflect very similar trends in how heterosexual adult females determine the best mating partner,’ Reginald says. ‘And yes, money or providing is one of the most attractive traits. Along with physical ability which, again, connects to being able to provide and protect.’

‘I don’t find that hot at all,’ Carmen says.

‘Because you are capable of doing both yourself,’ Reginald says. ‘In which case, studies show that some women value intelligence and wisdom.’

‘Oh god, totally,’ Carmen says.

‘It’s a fascinating area of study, actually,’ Reginald continues.

‘What about humour?’ Charlie asks.

‘I believe humour is linked to popularity,’ Reginald explains. ‘Which, in turn, makes males more attractive to females and, in turn, ignites the competitive desire within the prospective partner.’

‘Yeah. You know what? Funny guys are hot,’ Tappy says. ‘I had such a crush on Ricky Gervais.’

‘Urgh! God no,’ Marcy says.

‘No. Actually. I can see that,’ Carmen says.

‘How about Jimmy Carr?’ Blowers asks as the cheers go up.

‘What did Jimmy Carr do?’ Carmen asks.

‘Took a shit on Mr Howie’s face,’ Cookey says as the laughs ripple out again.

‘I said he looked like Jimmy Carr,’ Howie says.

‘But hang on. And we’ll come back to that,’ Carmen says, motioning to Howie before turning to Frank. ‘What does any of that have to do with Marcy being told she deserves to be sexually harassed because she wears low cut tops?’

‘I never said deserves or sexually harassed,’ Frank says. ‘See. This is the trouble cos soon as anyone mentions anything to do with this stuff, it gets all exaggerated. What I said was… What I said was this manager may have had a point. Not in how he said it, but what he meant when he said why wear low cut tops if you don’t want blokes looking at your knockers.’

‘Frank!’ Carmen says as the ketchup missiles come in from many directions at once.

‘Women like looking at boobs too,’ Tappy says.

‘You’re such a dick,’ Marcy says, shaking her head at Frank. ‘But! And you’re going to hate me ladies, he does have a point.’

‘No!’ Carmen says. ‘A woman can wear what she wants.’

‘She can. But she has to understand that she’s not the only person on the planet, and guys or other people will stare,’ Marcy says. ‘And hold on a second. Because back then, I didn’t even wear low cut tops. I just had big boobs with a small waist, so if I wore anything tight, people assumed I was showing them off. I only started wearing low cut tops because I thought why the hell not after all the stupid comments I was getting.’

‘But that plays into it,’ Carmen says.

‘Plays into what?’ Marcy asks. ‘You just said I can wear what I want? Pick a side, Carmen.’

‘Yeah, Carmen,’ Frank says, giving her a toothy grin while Maddox notices Booker shifting in his seat.

‘Whatever,’ Carmen says, realising she just confused her own stance on the matter.

‘You’ve got a lovely shape, Carmen,’ Paula says. ‘Don’t you ever wear low cut tops?’

‘Not after I stopped being a sex-worker,’ she says as the other table blink over in sudden silence, with Maddox’s senses sharpening without outward show. ‘I thought you all knew that.’

‘No, we knew,’ Charlie says, motioning herself and Tappy, then over to Paula, and Marcy.

‘Oh. Well. Yes. I was a sex-worker, and I wore very revealing clothes, and then someone saw my worth beyond my body and gave value to my life.’

‘Who was that then?’ Cookey asks.

‘Bellend,’ Blowers groans. ‘She means Henry. I think. Did you mean Henry?’

‘I mean Henry,’ she says.

‘So, you were a prostitute?’ Cookey asks as Maddox listens and watches intently.

‘Mate! Seriously,’ Nick asks.

‘It’s fine. And yes. I was. For a very short time.’

‘Hang on, but you seduced that guy in the place,’ Cookey says. ‘With the mayonnaise on your ear.’

‘Cookey,’ Blowers whispers frantically.

‘And I can’t have sex with someone I’m attracted to?’ Carmen asks. ‘Or is that somehow against the rules?’

‘No. I meant. I mean. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, Carmen,’ Cookey says earnestly. ‘I thought you seduced him for work. Like, cos you were a spy.’

‘I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t like him though,’ Carmen says. ‘I was attracted to Neal.’

‘So, you never seduced anyone while being a spy then?’ Cookey asks.

‘Jesus, mate!’ Blowers says.

‘Carmen. You don’t need to answer,’ Paula says.

‘I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, Paula,’ Carmen says, offering a smile to reduce the bite in the rebuke. ‘And no. I did not. I flirted and used the power of suggestion.’

‘By wearing low cut tops,’ Frank cuts in. ‘Which was designed to get their attention.’

‘Hey, why don’t we discuss racism and immigration next?’ Paula asks. ‘How about Brexit? Or vaccines? Ooh, how about transgender issues?’

Maddox clocks Booker looking down at his hands in his lap, but then he spots Danny looking a bit uncomfortable too from such a raw and open conversation. Even Mo stays silent and listens rather than making comments.

‘And I have completely forgotten what we were talking about in the first place,’ Marcy says.

‘The weather, I believe,’ Henry says.

‘Weather!’ Marcy says, clicking her fingers at him. ‘Er, what about the weather?’

‘It’s raining,’ Paula says.

‘Oh,’ Marcy says and lulls into silence as they all listen to the rain on the roof in the cosy canteen.

‘You off, bro?’ Maddox asks when Booker suddenly pushes his chair back and gets up.

‘Yeah. Gonna grab a shower.’

‘Inside or outside?’ Carmen asks.

‘Why? You gonna join him?’ Marcy asks.

‘Yes, we should all shower together,’ Carmen says with an eye-roll.

‘Danny, rid that image from your mind before you faint,’ Cookey says.

‘Why would he faint?’ Marcy asks.

‘Cos of his giant willy.’

‘Okay! Enough willy talk,’ Paula says, shaking her head at them.

‘I was thinking of going outside for one,’ Carmen continues, peering at the window. ‘Are you going outside?’ she asks Booker.

Booker nods, with Maddox noticing the lad trying to look cool and effortless. ‘Yeah. Be alright, I think. It’s not that cold, is it.’

‘Yeah. You know what. Sod it,’ Carmen says, pushing her chair back.

‘Urgh. If you’re gonna nag about it,’ Tappy says, getting up.

‘Dishes first. And many hands make light work before you start moaning… And er, who is on watch?’ Paula asks when she realises Dave and everyone else is in the canteen.

‘We can see,’ Howie says, motioning the windows.

‘This side. Not that side,’ Paula says, pointing the other way.

‘I really think we shall be okay,’ Henry says. ‘Nothing on this planet can track in this weather. A bloodhound couldn’t track in this rain. That said. I think a watch should be maintained at night.’

‘I saw some night vision cameras on the shelves downstairs,’ Nick says. ‘Wildlife cams with detachable remote monitors. I could rig some up on all sides and get them feeding into one screen.’

‘You, Nick, are a certified genius,’ Henry tells him. ‘And for that suggestion, you can go and have a smoke while I do your share of the dishes.’

‘You really shouldn’t encourage them to smoke,’ Roy says.

‘Don’t start on that,’ Blowers says.

‘It bloody stinks,’ Roy says. ‘Go outside with them.’

‘It’s raining!’ Nick says.

‘So, my question then?’ Tappy calls over them bickering. ‘Are we staying here?’

‘I said yes,’ Paula says. ‘Once the dishes are done, your time is your own. Relax. Do what you want. It’s a day off, or maybe even two, by the looks of that rain.’

They start bustling about. Maddox grabbing a cloth to wipe the tables down and pick up the thrown ketchup sachets while the others take the plates and trays into the kitchen. Henry coming out, carrying a broom and dustpan.

‘Want me to do that?’ Maddox asks.

‘No, it’s fine. But you can slide those chairs in and out while I get under them,’ Henry says as Maddox glances to Charlie wiping the counter over with Danny helping.

‘All done?’ Charlie asks as Danny nods. ‘I think I might rearrange our bedding area once we’ve done this. Do you fancy a tent on your own, or you happy sharing with Mo?’

‘I can share,’ Danny says, following Charlie in through the swinging door of the kitchen.

‘Are we alone?’ Henry asks quietly, brushing the floor as Maddox casually looks around.

‘We are.’

‘I see our conversation has taken root,’ Henry says as Maddox glances at him and wonders how Henry could know that. ‘Good work though. Very discreet. Keep it up.’

‘There’s nothing in it.’

‘In what?’

‘What you think I’ll find.’

‘Your conclusion is telling me two things. First, that you appear to be accepting my offer, and second, that you didn’t listen when I said you’ll need to pay attention over time. One morning cannot conclude anything.’

Maddox listens silently, watching Henry sweep while glancing around to make sure they’re not heard.

‘Are you accepting my offer then?’ Henry asks.

Maddox doesn’t say yes or no. He didn’t last night either when Henry spoke to him. But he did think about it all night and all morning. And in a lot of ways, it does make sense, because what will happen when this is over? And Henry was right about that too, because although it feels like it won’t ever end, one day it will, and there are only ever going to be two ways this all finishes.

But then, Maddox isn’t sure about that either.

It was late in the evening when Henry said that. He was still in the canteen, sitting in the dark when Maddox went up the metal stairs from the warehouse section below to use the toilet. Henry watched him go in and held his hand on the switch to a small lantern, and when Maddox came out, he waited until the lad was parallel and flicked the lantern on to bathe himself in light. Maddox didn’t flinch but simply glanced over with a curious expression which Henry also noticed, and that curiosity seemed to increase when Henry gently clinked his tumbler glass against the bottle of brandy and watched Maddox glance to the second empty glass.

Maddox shrugged and padded over in his boxers. His physique packed with lean muscle and without any show of vulnerability due to his state of undress.

Henry poured him a shot and motioned Maddox to sit down, and when he did so, he turned the lantern off and said what he had to say while Maddox sipped the brandy and listened.

When Henry was done, Maddox downed the rest of the fiery liquid and put the glass down. ‘Thanks, but no,’ he said and got to his feet.

Henry didn’t ask him again.

He didn’t need to.

He’d planted the seed that needed planting. and the rest would happen on its own.

This morning was the proof of that, with Henry watching Maddox watching everyone else.

‘Like I said last night,’ Henry says quietly while sweeping the floor. ‘This will reach an end, one way or another. We shall either all die, or we won’t. And it’s the latter that we need to plan for.’

‘There’s a third option,’ Maddox says.

‘Carmen said you were smart,’ Henry says. ‘The third option isn’t likely,’ he adds, thereby informing Maddox that he has already factored it in and dismissed it.

‘Howie hates people now,’ Maddox says. ‘You can see it in him. What Reginald said about fighting the thing keeping us alive has got inside Howie’s head. Especially after that puppy.’

Henry nods. Knowing it didn’t just get in Howie’s head, but Henry was observing them all like he always does, and he noted even then that Maddox just didn’t display the same level of raw emotional pain as everyone else. He looked sad, but not distressed. Which in itself was very telling.

‘He might tell the infection to leave us alone and withdraw,’ Maddox says.

‘Howie won’t.’

‘Howie’s not predictable like you think he is. You can’t manipulate him. He’ll put a round in you if he even thinks you’re trying.’

‘Thank you for the warning, Mr Doku,’ Henry says, giving him a look. ‘What did I say to you?’

‘About what?’

‘The lesson, Maddox. I said it to everyone, and I said it last night.’

Maddox sighs. ‘We think. We plan. We succeed.’

‘Which means thinking and planning for every eventuality. Of which you are suggesting there are three. Correct? Howie fights on and dies. That’s one. Howie chooses not to fight on. That’s two. Howie fights on and wins, whatever or however that winning looks like to Howie. That’s the third. We agree on that? Yes? Okay, so let’s break them down. If Howie dies, then we probably all die. In which case that is beyond our control, and it always will be. But the other two are eventualities we can try and not manipulate, not even influence, but be aware of, and if necessary, assist and guide. So, if Howie chooses not to fight on, which, I grant you, right now is a very real risk, then I assess my position and go forward with my own team, and if Howie fights on and wins, then again, once achieved, I assess my position and go forward with my team to whatever waits after. The question, Mr Doku, is for you to determine which team you want to be in when we achieve whichever outcome comes our way.’

Maddox stays silent and watches Henry sweeping the little bits of mess and food crumbs not licked up by Meredith into the pan.

‘Is it guilt holding you back?’ Henry asks.

Maddox thinks for a second, then shakes his head.

‘Shame?’

Maddox shakes his head again. It’s not guilt or shame. So why the reluctance?

‘I didn’t think it was. I’d say that your instinctive distrust of authority is the thing holding you back. A young man born into poverty, but one with a very high intelligence who rose to a position of power at a very young age and became a violent enforcer for a drug dealer before assuming command of a whole commune. But that didn’t work out, did it? And now you’re a squaddie, following orders.’

‘How are your orders any different?’ Maddox asks.

‘Which proves my point,’ Henry replies gently. ‘Have you ever heard me give an order to Frank?’

Maddox frowns. Realising he hasn’t. ‘You’ve given orders to Carmen.’

‘Correction. I’ve made requests of Carmen where normally I would not because she would have already acted without being prompted. Which is what an agent does, Maddox. They act independently to achieve the goal, and in turn, their leader accepts that level of autonomy. Soldiers invade or defend. Agents think and plan, and execute. If I task Frank to clear a house, and he blows the whole thing up with C4, then I have to trust he had his reasons to execute the task how he saw fit. As for Carmen. Well. Apparently, it’s a brave new world, and Carmen is choosing her own path. Which, of course, she is free to do, and with my blessing, so long as it does not ever conflict with my aims.’

Even Maddox can’t hide the slight flinch in his eyes when Henry says that, and he thinks back to Henry and George coldly executing Mary’s family back at Hinchley Point which shocked everyone else, but again, Maddox didn’t have that same reaction. He wasn’t appalled by it, nor was he pleased. He could see why they did it and had no adverse reaction either way, and if anything, he admired the boldness.

‘Okay,’ Maddox says and accepts the terms of the deal on offer.

‘Good. Then continue what you are doing. Observe and report back.’

‘There’s nothing in it,’ Maddox says, earning another glance from Henry. ‘Booker masturbating in a toilet late at night doesn’t make him a… Whatever you think he is.’

Henry holds his gaze on Maddox while gently raising one eyebrow quizzically because he never said a word about Booker masturbating in the toilet.

‘I saw him go up,’ Maddox explains. ‘He was all fidgety and restless, then he came back and seemed chilled. It was obvious. Then you said be watchful and report back because something isn’t sitting right.’

‘But I did not direct your surveillance to any one individual. And I would suggest that same something is not sitting right in you either, or you would not draw that conclusion… Ah, Mr Booker? Dishes all done, are they?’ Henry asks as Booker comes out through the swinging door and nods. ‘Splendid! Well. I shall finish off here, Maddox. Enjoy your day off, lads.’

‘I’m gonna have a shower, buddy,’ Booker says, getting a nod back from Maddox who watches him go before glancing back to the now genial Henry, whistling softly as he sweeps the floor.

He starts heading off, then snorts a laugh as he turns back and checks no one else is around. ‘Where did you get the brandy from, anyway?’

‘When you’ve earned your place in the loop,’ Henry says without a single glance, then carries on whistling as Maddox heads after Booker while feeling like double-0-twat-and-a-half.

2

Maddox heads down the metal stairs to the big area below and stands thinking for a few seconds, trying to work it all out and see it from every angle.

Which is how he became the Bossman’s main enforcer and ran all the dealers in their manor. Although being very strong and capable of fighting, and not adverse to using extreme violence when necessary certainly helped, but then Maddox understands that being successful at anything requires a high level of competency with a whole range of skills.

But why focus on Booker?

He was eyeing the girls a bit this morning, but then, who doesn’t? Danny does it sometimes. And Mo. And even Maddox has found his eyes wondering now and then. Cookey and Nick do it. Maybe not Blowers. Is Blowers gay? Why doesn’t Blowers ever look?

No. Blowers isn’t gay. He’s just got an astonishing level of self-control and discipline with a high internal moral compass.

But the others certainly snatch glances. They’re all young men and full of testosterone and hormones, and it’s a proven fact that people feel the urge to breed in times of prolonged danger. It’s the hard wiring inside telling the brain to mate before death comes. That’s why the populations are greater in third-world countries where mortality and infant mortality are so high. While, weirdly, in developed countries like Japan and Germany they were experiencing population declines because people were choosing not to have children.

‘You alright, bro?’ Booker calls up from the outdoor equipment section. ‘You’re all spaced out.’

‘Yeah, I er…’ Maddox says, then shrugs as Booker snorts a laugh.

‘It’s the downtime,’ Booker says, going back to flicking through the shirts. ‘Makes the brain stop.’

‘Did your brain ever start then?’ Maddox asks, earning another grin and a middle finger. ‘You shoplifting again?’

‘Fact,’ Booker says, swiping a shirt and making a mock show of looking around for security.

Maddox strolls down the last steps and over to the section they used for sleeping in as Booker grabs his towel and wash-kit and grumbles about the rain while Charlie stands in the middle, surveying the area with her hands on her hips.

‘How about you two?’ she asks, glancing from Booker to Maddox.

‘What about us two?’ Booker asks. ‘Are you asking if we’re a couple now?’

‘Dick,’ Maddox says to a few chuckles.

‘You two make a good couple,’ Cookey says.

‘Your mum,’ Booker says.

‘Indeed. But my question was whether you wish to share a tent?’ Charlie asks. ‘I think Danny and Mo. Booker and Mads. Nick and Tappy. That’s three. Er, sergeant Blowers should have his own, so that’s four…’ she trails off as Bash says something to Mo.

‘Bash wants to be over here,’ Mo translates. ‘He can only talk to Henry, and he’s the CO.’

‘Okay, so Bash can have his own tent. That’s five. Then, that leaves Cookey and I?’ she asks as they all look to Cookey, blushing deeply.

‘Oh, this is fucking priceless,’ Blowers says with a big grin. ‘Yeah. So. For the benefit of the entire group, Cookey, are you and Charlie sharing a tent?’

‘Bro!’ Mo says as they start laughing. ‘You’s can cook eggs on his cheeks.’

‘Fuck you. I’m not even blushing,’ Cookey says.

‘Can feel it from here,’ Booker says, wafting the heat away with his hands.

‘Well. I am sure we shall devise a suitable solution,’ Charlie says primly.

‘You weren’t blushing back in that clown place,’ Mo calls as he grabs Danny and puckers up with a mock kiss. ‘Come here, Charlie. Let me kiss you like I never kissed you before.’

‘Fuck you,’ Cookey says, launching a pair of socks at him as Maddox leans back to see Tappy, Nick, and Roy in the workshop area, and Paula and some of the others in their section, and Carmen taking her own washbag over to the workshop and out through the exit door into the pouring rain.

‘Well. Funny as this,’ Booker says, heading off with his wash kit a moment later, with Maddox clocking him going through the workshop and out the same side door.

Be watchful and report back because something isn’t sitting right.

Be watchful over what? And why Booker? Not that Henry actually said Booker, but it was implied. Wasn’t it? Was it?

Maddox looks back to the others ripping on Cookey but sees nothing of concern. He watches Bash laughing along. Did Henry mean Bash? But Bash is already in Henry’s team. Isn’t he? What is Bash’s role? He was a soldier in Afghan, not an agent, and as far as Maddox knows, Bash jumped in with them at the fort with Joan.

Whatever then.

Maddox doesn’t know.

But he also doesn’t want to be a squaddie, running around with Howie for the rest of his life. Maddox isn’t destined for that. It’s not his place in this world. Not that he knows what his place in this world actually is.

Maybe he should then. You know. Follow Booker about and then report back. And actually, now he comes to think about it, Henry knows that Booker is Maddox’s only buddy in the group. Ah, yeah. That’s it. This is like a test of loyalty then. Maddox has to follow and snitch on whatever his buddy is doing to prove to Henry that he’s loyal.

He shakes his head at his own stupidity for not getting it sooner and realises that’s all it is. Maddox must prove himself by following his new best mate.

‘You going for a shower?’ Charlie asks when Maddox grabs his towel and wash kit. ‘We should develop a shower rota, so we’re not tripping over each other outside. Sergeant? Would like me to do that? And arrange the tents and our area?’

Maddox leaves them to it and heads over to the new engineering corps headquarters, that being the stinky, oily workshop, with Nick, Tappy, and Roy inside, drinking a brew made on their own camping stove.

‘I might as well give them both a service,’ Tappy says, nodding at the vehicles. ‘Fancy giving me a hand?’ she asks the other two.

‘I would,’ Nick says between sipping his tea. ‘But in about five minutes, the boss’ll be asking me to get power into the front offices…’

‘Where’s Nick?’ Clarence bellows from the top of the metal stairs. ‘The Boss and Henry want a power supply into the offices.’

‘On it!’ Nick calls back. ‘Just doing an urgent maintenance job on the AC/DC coupling to prevent fumes seeping back into the circumvention units!’

‘Which literally makes no sense at all,’ Tappy murmurs as Nick winks, and a second later, a slightly uncertain Clarence bellows. ‘Okay! Er… When you’ve done that then!’

‘When he’s done what?’ Paula calls from somewhere else.

‘Coupled the unit things,’ Clarence shouts.

‘Well. I’m booking him after that. Nick? Can we get some of those fences outside rigged up down here as partition walls?’

‘Urgh. I hate working with wood,’ Nick says.

‘Really? I love working with wood,’ Roy says.

‘Okay then!’ Nick shouts. ‘Let us decouple the filtration system from the backend pistons, and I’ll get Roy straight on it!’

‘Er, okay then!’ Paula calls.

‘Smooth,’ Maddox says with a nod of respect at Nick and the other two smiling away. ‘Out that way for a shower?’ he asks, pointing at the side door.

‘Please do enjoy the use of our luxury facilities,’ Tappy says as Maddox opens the door and grimaces at the prospect of stepping out into the torrential rain. ‘And close the bloody door!’ Tappy calls.

He’s drenched within a second, with rainwater running over his face, and tuts at the lack of thought he gave to this. Realising that he should have undressed before he came out.

He heads to the same spot he used yesterday when the men all washed and figures here’s as good as anywhere, but then realises that all the women were around the corner yesterday, so it didn’t matter being naked in sight of the back door, whereas now, anyone could walk out to the sight of Maddox cleaning his balls.

He tuts and looks around, and realises he can’t see Booker, which means Booker must have had the same idea, and he even goes to call out but stops himself because it would be weird AF to try and join his buddy having a naked shower.

‘Yeah. Don’t do that,’ he tells himself and figures Carmen has probably gone behind the back of the big brick outbuilding the women used yesterday, but there’s another one just a little way over. He can go behind that and be out of sight from the door and windows. Not that Maddox is really that bothered about being seen, but he also wouldn’t want to make it uncomfortable for anyone else.

He finds his spot and undresses while, once more, calling himself a multitude of names for coming out fully dressed and getting his towel drenched. He should have just worn shorts and left his towel inside the door. Ah well. These are the things they need to sort out. This rain though. It’s seriously lashing down and hasn’t stopped for over a day now. He checks the deep puddles and figures other places must be flooding. Thankfully, the garden centre is on a hill so the water must be running off, and he leans out from the side of the unit shielding from view to see a thick and solid stream running along a gully to one side carrying the excess water away.

He pulls back, then frowns, and leans out again, realising he still can’t see Booker. And this spot he’s using now is about the only good place to stay out of sight.

So where did Booker go?

Be watchful and report back because something isn’t sitting right.

No. Henry is wrong.

Maddox thought something was wrong with Booker when they first met.

But then Maddox also accepts he was isolated and so desperate for mental stimulation that he was finding any reason to see conspiracies, and since they connected, Booker has been fine.

He’s not like Blowers and Nick, and Cookey. No. Booker is like them, but not quite the same. He’s quieter and doesn’t feel the need to constantly draw attention, but he’s funny and cool, and laid back. He makes awkward jokes and misreads situations a bit, but who doesn’t? And he can fight like a bastard. That is beyond question. He’s strong and fast, and vicious when he needs to be.

So where is he?

Maddox leans back out while squirting shower gel into his hands to rub over his belly and shoulders while looking this way and that. Then he goes to the back end of the unit he’s hiding behind and peers out there too, but again, no sign of Booker, and if he goes any further, he’ll risk stepping into the line of the other unit and get a full view of Carmen. Which wouldn’t be cool at all.

He carries on soaping his belly and shoulders while thinking hard and goes back to the front, and peers out while frowning. There really is only one other unit to hide behind.

Then Booker appears from the side of the other unit in his boxers, walking back to the main building while carrying his soaked clothes and towel.

But Booker came out after Carmen and would have known she was behind that unit, so why go up the side of that one?

The frown on Maddox’s face deepens as he watches Booker go inside, then quickly darts out to run between the two units while still holding his shower gel and rubbing his belly and shoulders.

He gets to the side that Booker came out from and realises it’s a good spot and out of sight of the building. But it’s also very close to where Carmen is washing.

Could Booker see anything?

Was that why he came here?

To voyeur over Carmen?

Maddox edges up the side to see if Carmen can be spotted to satisfy his own curiosity and, without thinking, carries on lathering the gel up over his body while staying close to the building. He bends forward to see what the view is at the back but can’t see any sign of Carmen. Then he spots soap on the ground ahead and realises that’s where Booker must have stood, and pads over to it, then, once more, bends over to peer out, realising he can see some of the back area, but it’s not a clear view at all, and there’s no sign of Carmen either.

Thank fuck for that. Booker just chose this spot for privacy.

He turns to walk back but stops dead with a yelp at the blade pressing into his dick, and a naked Carmen glaring at him. ‘I didn’t take you for a voyeur, Mads.’

‘I’m not!’

Carmen twitches the blade a fraction enough to make him gulp and press back into the wall from knowing how sharp she keeps her knife.

‘Henry made me!’

‘Henry told you to watch me shower?’

‘What? No! I meant. Shit, don’t move that knife. Please don’t move that knife.’

‘Explain.’

‘Booker!’

‘You were trying to watch Booker?’

‘No! Fuck,’ Maddox gasps as the knife twitches again. ‘Henry’s trying to recruit me and said to watch Booker, and I thought he was up here spying on you.’

‘So, you’re a snitch too then?’

‘What?’

‘You just ratted Henry out.’

‘Eh?’

‘You’re not going to make a good spy if you spill the beans at the first sign of danger, Maddox.’

‘You have a knife pressed to my penis.’

‘I have lost count of the times I’ve had a knife pressed to my penis and didn’t spill my guts.’

‘Do you have a penis?’

‘No! It was metaphorical.’

‘Okay.’

‘I don’t have a penis, Maddox.’

‘I said okay.’

‘You’re trying so hard not to look down now and see if I have a penis, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he squeaks.

‘Was Booker watching me shower?’

‘I don’t think so. I saw the bubbles from where he was stood, but I couldn’t see round the back.’

Carmen glares at him, and in truth, she knew within an instant that Maddox wasn’t trying to cop an eyeful. He’s an idiot with a chip on his shoulder, but the guy doesn’t have a shred of weirdness about him at all. But she holds the knife and glares just for the hell of it, then slowly frowns, and looks down.

‘Why are you so lathered up?’ she asks and steps back like nothing happened as Maddox stays rigidly put and doesn’t dare drop his eyes. ‘Are you filming a car wash porno?’

‘Eh?’

‘Henry’s trying to recruit you then?’

Maddox nods.

‘How do you feel about that?’

Maddox shrugs. Still refusing to lower his eyes from a spot above Carmen’s head. ‘How should I feel?’

‘Flattered,’ she says instantly. ‘Henry is very particular over who he chooses. Although, that said, the recruitment pool is very limited right now.’

‘Cheers,’ Maddox says dully. ‘You not in Henry’s team now then?’

Carmen takes her turn to shrug. Not having an answer to give. Not knowing whether she is or isn’t.

‘Anyway,’ she says. ‘I think we need to come out in shorts or something and leave our clothes and towels inside.’

Maddox nods as she smiles at his eyeline still staring over her head. ‘Good lad for not trying to snatch a look at me for your wank bank.’

‘Dude,’ he says as she chuckles and walks off to grab her soaking wet towel that she wraps around her body with a wince as Maddox stands still, covering his groin with his hands.

‘I thought it was a test,’ he says as she collects her clothes. ‘Like follow my mate as a test of loyalty.’

She pulls a face. ‘Maybe. Could be,’ she says and walks back, but stops in front of him. ‘You seriously haven’t looked down once.’

‘Told you, I’m not a pervert.’

‘But Booker did. All day yesterday in that rain, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the women in our wet tops.’

‘Yeah, but…’

‘But what?’

‘You know. They were really revealing.’

Carmen nods slowly. ‘True. They were. Especially Marcy’s. I think poor Danny nearly had a panic attack from not knowing where to look, but Booker certainly didn’t hold back.’

She walks off, leaving Maddox holding his dick in the pouring rain while feeling like Double-0-twat-and-a-half’s less able brother.

3

Day Thirty-one

‘Right. How’s that?’ Nick asks as he flicks a switch for a light to come on inside the admin offices. ‘So, the cameras are all up outside and feeding into this tablet. Forgive the wire splicing. It’s a bit messy, but Paula was nagging me to do the lights downstairs. The cameras are wireless though, they’ll need battery changes every day, but I’ve got a load on charge. And er… Oh, yeah. So, you’ve got your own generator out in the foyer, and I’ve made a hole in the wall for the exhaust to go outside and filled it with expanding foam. She’s a quiet genny, but if you want silence, then shut her down and flick this switch, and the feed will change to the batteries I’ve rigged up, which will then charge via the genny when she’s put back on.’

‘Wonderful stuff, Nick!’ Henry says as Frank gives him a thumbs up.

‘Anything else?’ Nick asks, shooting a glance to Howie leaning against the window and staring out to the rain.

‘No. I think we’re good for now,’ Henry says.

‘Cheers, Nick,’ Clarence says. ‘Boss?’

‘Huh?’ Howie asks.

‘Nick’s done the power.’

‘The what? Oh. Yeah. Cheers, Nick.’

‘Anytime, boss,’ Nick says, holstering his screwdriver into his leather toolbelt, pilfered from the engineering corps HQ.

Maddox watches him coming out and observes how Nick interacts with Danny and Mo carrying low fence panels in through the main doors and down the stairs to stack as Roy locks and loads his cordless drill, and holsters them in his own leather toolbelt, and sets about positioning the fence panels precisely and very accurately in place to create zones of privacy within the elders’ sleeping area.

It's a strange feeling watching them all without being seen to be watching them all.

But then, it’s also a strange and weird day without fighting or violence. Without war or death.

A day of being inside one place, with the rain drumming on the roof as Maddox really gets into his role as secret agent covert spy. Remembering the brief training that Frank gave him on how to disappear into the background or to look like you are so genuinely interested in something else that it can’t be possible that you’re secretly listening or watching via reflections.

It was kind of cool though, and after showering, Maddox found a place to watch Tappy and Nick, and Roy in the workshop, which they called the Engineering Corps HQ while referring to everywhere else as the infantry sections.

‘The infantry want fence panels put up between the beds to create privacy zones,’ Roy told the other two. ‘I said I need to get the right tools, and they’re telling me to just prop them up with bricks or something.’

‘Jesus,’ Nick said, shaking his head at hearing such awful news. ‘Bloody infantry. I mean, I don’t even like working with wood, but I’m guessing you need at least a tape measure and a spirit level, and a cordless drill, and wood screws, and some framing.’

‘Exactly,’ Roy said, finding a spirit level to put next to the tape measure. ‘I don’t mind though, and it’s only a quick job. Then I can get on with my story.’

‘Story?’ Tappy asked from underneath the Royal Mail van. ‘What story?’

‘I’m writing a story.’

‘You’re writing a story?’ Tappy asked.

‘Yes. Well. I haven’t technically started yet, but they say most of the writing is done in the mind.’

‘What’s it about?’ Tappy asked.

‘A man in a house,’ Roy said while slotting a battery onto a cordless drill.

‘Sounds awesome,’ Tappy said and slid back under the van while Maddox determined that the small engineering corps, led by Nick, were very much in demand.

They still are now as he watches Nick direct Danny and Mo where to put the fence panels and then looks past them to Paula and Marcy in the canteen having a brew at a table. And Carmen fussing over Reginald at another. Adjusting his sling to support his injured hand and telling him off for repeatedly tapping the stumps of his missing fingers.

Maddox can hardly believe she’s the same woman that was holding a knife to his willy a short while ago from the way she is towards Reginald.

Maddox starts edging closer but stops when he clocks Carmen staring over at him and cocking her head at his poor concealment. He flaps his hands out as if to say I’m trying. She rolls her eyes. Try harder.

He backs off and feels a slight surge of guilt and shame that he’s trying to eavesdrop and spy, but what Carmen said about Henry being very particular over who he chooses has taken root in Maddox’s head. Hence, the sneaking around in the aisles of the garden centre to try and uncover something juicy.

He looks back to the offices, knowing he can’t get close to them either, but he can see Howie staring out the window. Dark and brooding, and even from here, Maddox can almost see the dark energy pouring from him.

He drifts back down the stairs and a short while later spots Marcy heading into the workshop, and goes closer to listen.

‘No, see,’ Tappy says while under the Royal Mail van. ‘Roy’s your wood guy, and Nick’s your engineer.’

‘So, what are you?’ Marcy asks.

‘I’m the mechanic,’ Tappy says.

‘I just want some lights put up,’ Marcy says.

‘Yeah. So, you need Nick.’

‘Why can’t you do it?’

‘Why can’t you perform open heart surgery?’

‘I’m not a surgeon!’

‘Exactly!’

Maddox moves on and lingers around the camping section to watch Charlie arranging the tents with the others. ‘It’s too dark though. Oh, look. Nick’s put some string lights up for Paula. That’s a good idea. NICK! Can you do our lights when you’re finished, please? Oh, and we need some wire putting up so we can hang blankets for privacy.’

‘I need to degrease the main connection hose in case of leakage, but after that, I will!’ Nick shouts, obviously mid-way through a brew in the workshop as Maddox smiles, getting the joke at play.

‘Er, okay, then!’ Charlie calls and busies herself aligning the tents, or rather, ordering the others to align the tents, and even bossing Sergeant Blowers about. ‘No, sergeant. I said move it to the right. That’s the left.’

Maddox watches Booker closely. Not that it’s easy to see while peering between gaps. But there’s nothing obvious. The odd side-eye to Charlie maybe, which could be a bit lingering, but then Maddox is very aware that anyone placed under scrutiny can appear to be suspicious as fuck.

Maddox thinks back to what Carmen said, and the women’s tops in the rain. It was true that the rain left literally nothing to the imagination with any of the women. Paula. Marcy. Carmen. Tappy. Charlie. All of them were soaked through, with the material clinging to their chests.

But it was such a brutal fucking day that they could have been completely naked, and Maddox doubts the lads would have shown interest. They were too exhausted. And yes, maybe Maddox did glance at the wet t-shirts too, but only because it was a thing that inadvertently drew the eye. And likewise, he saw how Nick and Blowers’ tops clung to their six-packs. Maddox even saw Tappy staring at his own top clinging to his frame and showing his definition, but again, they were only glances in between feeling so wretched and broken that they just wanted to curl up and sleep.

‘Where are we going?’ Cookey asks, making Maddox drop back into the shadows as Charlie leads Cookey away from the others.

‘I just want to know what we are doing,’ she says quietly.

‘About what?’ Cookey replies as Maddox spots Cookey’s obvious discomfort.

‘About sharing a tent,’ Charlie says.

‘Mind out, bellends!’ Nick calls, walking between them while holding the end of a stretch of wire and a set of step ladders. ‘Cookey, hold this wire, mate. I’ll get the ladders set up… Did you want this wire up here, Charlie?’

Maddox can see that Charlie doesn’t want the wire up right now at all. She wants to talk to Cookey. But she smiles, and Cookey smiles, and they help put the wires up.

She tries again a short while later once the wires are up and the blankets are hanging between the tents like privacy walls.

‘Okay, so. About what we were discussing,’ she says, with Maddox hiding behind the displays of sleeping bags. ‘About the tent situation.’

‘Coming through, fuckchops!’ Nick calls as he walks between them holding the end of a string of festive lights and the stepladder. ‘Do you want the lights up here, Charlie?’

Charlie smiles. Cookey smiles, and they help put the lights up.

Maddox watches Charlie try once more later in the day when she again takes Cookey to one side. ‘Listen,’ she says quickly. ‘We need to -.’

‘Make way, fuckers!’ Nick says, marching between them.

‘Fuck me! What now?’ Charlie says as Maddox stifles a laugh, and Nick stops to blink at her very posh swearing.

‘Stressy much?’ Tappy asks, walking between her and Cookey. ‘Come on, knobbers. It’s chowtime! I’m starving.’

‘Ooh. I am rather hungry, actually,’ Charlie says, and so they don’t get to talk much at all.

Chow lasts into the night, with Danny and Mo proudly serving their version of Paula’s Special Stew. Which is exactly the same as every other Paula’s Special Stew. But it was made by them, seeing as Paula said they need to learn how to cook and fend for themselves, and not just learn to chop heads off. Which Maddox figures was a fair point.

He even strolled into the kitchen a few times while in his role of super-secret covert agent and saw the lads were having a blast. It was nice to see, but it didn’t yield much in the way of secret espionage intel, so he went back down to skulk around the others.

Now they all sit and tuck into the meal, with Jess munching oats from a bucket, and Meredith staring adoringly at Nick with huge eyes and flat ears as she watches him eat.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ he says, shaking his head and putting his bowl down for her while he gets another one.

‘That’s why she’s always around you,’ Tappy says.

‘It’s the eyes. I can’t say no,’ Nick says, heading back to carry on eating as Meredith wolfs hers down and instantly goes back to the imploring expression, making the others chuckle.

‘Well done, lads. A veritable feast,’ Henry says from the officer’s table. Howie still quiet and brooding. His dark eyes watching the tablet powered by a battery pack showing feeds coming from the wildlife cameras Nick put up outside.

‘So, everyone. Danny had an idea,’ Paula announces like a proud parent as Danny’s shyness goes into overdrive.

‘Go on, nipper,’ Frank urges.

‘Um. S’like stupid but… I said to Mo we could get a firepit going downstairs and roast some marshmallows, and um, maybe drag some seats around it. I, er. I thought it might be nice.’

Maddox clocks the silence that stretches for a full few seconds causes Danny an intense bout of social anxiety until the cheers go up.

‘Fucking genius!’ Tappy says, reaching over to whack his shoulder.

‘That’s a lovely idea, Danny,’ Charlie says.

‘Bellend. Don’t be so nervous,’ Cookey says and punches him on the arm, and Maddox, being a secret agent in training, determines that there really is fuck all going on of any real interest.

But it is a good idea about the fire pit. ‘Nice one, Danny,’ he says as the kid gives him a huge smile.

“Rob inherited the house from an uncle he never knew who died in mysterious circumstances. In fact, the first Rob knew that he even had an uncle was when the lawyers phoned to tell him the will had been read, and Rob was now the proud owner of a detached Victorian house.

Rob went there quickly. In his car. Which was a blue Ford or maybe a Tesla. He drove carefully because the bloody council and police were constantly putting cameras up to catch motorists instead of actually going out and catching proper criminals, which was just a way of keeping people oppressed and angry, and distracted, so they wouldn’t question the order of things and the illuminati running the world. Which Rob knew they did. Because he read lots of books and researched it all the time. Like how they made people get cancer, so they’d be worried about their health. Rob was always worried about getting cancer, and he wouldn’t even drink tap water because of the chemicals they put it in.

But anyway. Rob inherited this house, and it was really big, and he got the keys from Mr Penfold who was the lawyer.

“Just be very careful, Robert.” Mr Penfold said when Rob got the keys.

“Careful about what? Mr Penfold?” Rob asked, but Mr Penfold just stared at him with this mysterious face like he knew a secret.

Rob went to the house. It was old and full of furniture, so he spent some days moving it around and getting rid of the old stuff, and keeping the nice things.

But when he tried to get into the front bedroom upstairs, he found the door was locked.

But it was locked from the inside!”

Rattan and wicker sets of big, comfy garden sofas and free-standing hammocks, and chairs pulled over around a large, ornate ceramic firepit, fed by a gas bottle into parts taken from other barbeque sets to create clean, burning flames over which they cook the marshmallows, skewered on long, thin, metal kebab sticks.

Camping mugs of tea and hot chocolate steam on tables dragged over. Bowls and bags of cheesy, savoury snacks and peanuts, and anything else they found in the food section upstairs.

Low glowing battery lamps and multi-coloured festive lights hang from shelves and rafters, bathing them in a festive, cosy glow as they lounge and lollop in the horseshoe shape around the firepit next to the workshop, with Tappy still underneath the Royal Mail van.

‘And?’ she calls, sliding out when Roy finishes reading his story.

‘Why’s the bedroom door locked?’ Nick asks.

‘Locked from the inside, bro,’ Mo says, nodding earnestly at Danny.

‘That’s as far as I’ve got,’ Roy says.

‘I love it,’ Tappy calls over. ‘That Penfold. He knows what’s going on.’

‘It’s Dangermouse,’ Frank says with a toothy grin as the younger ones look blank while the older ones smile knowingly.

‘A dangerous mouse?’ Tappy asks.

‘Is it like a Dave mouse?’ Mo asks.

‘Dangermouse,’ Roy says. ‘It was a cartoon. Penfold was one of the characters.’

‘So, you’ve plagiarised then,’ Marcy says.

‘No. It’s a hat tip, actually, Marcy. But I mean. So, what do you all think? And be honest. I can take the feedback.’

‘Maybe a little less ranting about speeding cameras and the illuminati?’ Carmen suggests.

‘But that’s all true though,’ Roy says defensively.

‘But the story isn’t about them, is it?’ Paula asks.

‘I think perhaps focus on developing the main character and the main plot,’ Charlie adds. ‘You know, and really drill into his motivation and maybe explore his emotional state.’

‘And put some violence in,’ Blowers says.

‘And sex,’ Nick adds.

‘Add a hot woman,’ Cookey says.

‘Ahem,’ Marcy says.

‘Not everything has to be about you, Marcy,’ Paula says.

‘Well. I mean. It should be,’ Marcy murmurs before giving everyone her big movie star smile.

‘And perhaps choose a car and stick with it,’ Henry says. ‘Ford? Tesla?’

‘No, but was there a mouse though? Did I miss it?’ Mo asks.

‘Mr Penfold was the mouse,’ Danny tells him.

‘But honestly though, Roy. Great effort,’ Charlie says. ‘Really great first effort, but going forward, I’d suggest you focus on the main MC development arc and the A plot and bring the B and C plots in to play, and don’t forget to introduce a female character. Don’t all groan at me. Diversity is important!’

‘Make sure she’s in a wheelchair then,’ Frank says.

‘You are such a caveman,’ Carmen tells him, throwing a marshmallow at his head.

‘Wish I hadn’t asked now,’ Roy mutters with a deflated sigh.

‘I loved it, Roy!’ Tappy calls. ‘Fuck the infantry. They’ve got no nuance.’

‘No nuance,’ Nick says.

‘Good point,’ Roy says and looks at the others. ‘You have no nuance.’

‘At least we can pick a car though,’ Henry quips, and super-secret agent-in-training Maddox Doku once more determines there is naff all intel to be gained right now, so he gives up and eats marshmallows with the others. Then he worries about the sugar content because he’s actually a picky eater and very vain about his six-pack, and even when it was raining, and his shirt was clinging to his body, he tensed and flexed a bit to show it off. Not when it was all tragic and doom, and gloom, and sad. Not then. But later when Marcy shot that infected, and they all had to wear the stupid pinks hats, Maddox flexed a bit then.

He frowns as he eats the marshmallow and wonders if he was flexing a bit and getting a dopamine hit from the others glancing at his muscular physique, were the ladies also getting the same from any glances at them in their wet tops?

He immediately dismisses such a thought because society has always dictated that to look at a woman in such a way is wrong, and that any woman in such a situation would feel exposed and vulnerable, and sexualised.

So why did women take part in wet t-shirt contests?

No. It’s contextual. A wet t-shirt contest is an organised event within which a woman can safely show their bodies and shape, and you know, jiggle their boobs about or whatever they do to win a prize because Maddox has never actually seen a wet t-shirt contest, given that a council estate suffering high social and economic social deprivation didn’t hold regular wet t-shirt contests.

But it does mean it was wrong to look at the women yesterday in the rain because they didn’t choose to be soaked through and therefore on display.

But then Maddox didn’t choose to be soaked through either, and he still flexed a bit and caught a few of them glancing at him.

‘Dude,’ a voice says as a sticky marshmallow slaps into his forehead and rolls down his face. ‘You were miles away again,’ Booker says as the others laugh.

‘Yeah, I was just thinking,’ Maddox says casually. ‘So, can I ask a question?’

‘Ooh, Mads is in deep-thinking mode,’ Tappy calls from under the van as she slides out to look over.

‘No, it’s not that deep. Maybe it is. Whatever. So yesterday in the rain, right? We were all drenched, and er, not being rude, but we were all a bit exposed, but so, I’m wondering how that feels for a woman?’

‘Jesus, Mads,’ Blowers says.

‘Where did that come from?’ Nick asks.

‘He’s obviously thinking about boobs,’ Cookey says as the lads snigger.

Maddox smiles it off with a shrug, figuring he’d get that response from them.

‘You know what actually,’ Tappy says, sitting up on her sliding tray to waggle a spanner at the others. ‘I actually love it when Mads does this and comes up with stuff because he’s bloody right. I thought my nipples were going to split holes in that t-shirt.’

‘So were you actively conscious of it then?’ Maddox asks as the lads laugh and prepare their fusillade of quips to launch with a barrage of banter as Charlie, Marcy, Paula, and the elders all lean into the conversation with serious expressions and cut them off.

‘I was actually very aware of it,’ Paula says. ‘But weirdly, I was more aware of the other girls, but then I guess I could see them clearer than I could see myself? Does that make sense?’

‘That’s what I thought!’ Charlie says. ‘I think I’m the smallest of us all in the boob department, but I felt so bad for Marcy.’

‘I didn’t,’ Marcy says with a casual shrug. ‘Not for me, I mean.’

‘But is that because you’re used to men staring, Marce?’ Tappy calls.

‘Maybe. Yeah, probably,’ Marcy says. ‘I’ve had to get used to it. I saw you all gawping at me. Oh, piss off. You all did!’ she says as the lads start protesting, and Maddox falls silent to watch and in so doing catches Carmen giving him a look with a single eyebrow arching up. Nice play. Well done.

‘No! You all had a bloody good look,’ Marcy says. ‘Booker’s eyes were on stalks!’

‘I fucking didn’t!’ Booker protests.

‘You so did, Booker!’ Tappy calls from the doorway, pointing her spanner at him. ‘Mind you, I think they all did apart from Dave and Henry.’

‘I didn’t fucking look!’ Booker says to more jeers as he starts puffing his cheeks out and looking uncomfortable.

‘I had a bloody good look,’ Frank says as the jeers morph into laughing. ‘No offence, Mr ‘Owie!’ he calls to a few laughs as Howie looks up from the flames.

‘None taken.’

‘But to answer the question,’ Paula says. ‘How does that make a woman feel? I mean. Personally. From my point of view. I don’t like it. I felt exposed and uncomfortable, and you know what? I actually felt bad for the lads too, like Danny and Mo. They don’t want to see my chest on display like that.’

‘Clarence didn’t mind,’ Frank quips into his mug of hot chocolate. ‘I bet he even forgot the dog ate his hand. Nah, but all joking aside, it can’t be nice. Do you know what I mean? It’s just a body. We all have one. So why should a woman feel weird about being wet in the rain? And I know I make stupid jokes, but I’ve never liked that stuff in all honesty.’

‘Well said,’ Clarence says as Roy lifts his mug to Frank with a murmur of agreement, and Maddox watches on, stealing glances to Booker and how he still shifts and looks panicked. Mind you, Danny had a frightened rabbit-in-the-headlights look about him too for a split second. But then Danny is only sixteen, whereas Booker is older and in his early twenties. Danny is a boy. Booker is a man. But then again, as Marcy said, she saw them all gawping.

‘Where you going?’ Marcy asks when Howie gets to his feet.

‘For a smoke.’

‘Why don’t you get one of those vape things?’ Roy asks. ‘They helped a lot of people stop smoking.’

‘Maybe,’ Howie says and walks off with Dave carrying the tablet screen showing the camera feeds.

A silence falls following their departure with unspoken questions hanging in the air and looks being shared.

‘My last boyfriend hated it when other men mentioned my boobs or my looks,’ Marcy says after a few seconds. ‘He got insanely jealous. I had that a lot actually.’

‘The Boss seems chilled though,’ Tappy says, strolling in to eat a marshmallow.

‘That’s what I mean,’ Marcy says. ‘Howie never shows a shred of it. He is the least insecure man I have ever met in my life. There’s not the tiniest sense of ownership or possession.’

‘Ownership?’ Charlie asks.

Marcy shrugs. ‘You know what I mean. He’s mine. She’s mine. You’re all mine. Only for me. That sort of thing.’

‘Some people see that as affection apparently,’ Roy says. ‘Not that I’ve had a long-term relationship.’

‘No! That surprises me,’ Marcy says.

‘Whoa, too harsh,’ Charlie says as the others jump to Roy’s defence, with Marcy putting her hands up.

‘It came out harder than I meant,’ she says. ‘Sorry, Roy.’

‘Whatever. On that note,’ Roy says, getting up.

‘Oh, come on. I didn’t mean it,’ Marcy says.

‘We’re not all as perfect as you, Marcy. Some of us had debilitating mental health issues that disrupted our chances of forging relationships.’

‘Don’t guilt me with that!’

‘And suddenly you’re the victim again,’ Roy says, heading off into the dark.

‘Fuck’s sake. I didn’t mean it,’ Marcy calls after him. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ she tells the others.

‘That was too harsh, Marcy,’ Tappy tells her. ‘Roy’s really cool.’

‘You should apologise,’ Reginald says, getting to his feet after spending the entire conversation discreetly tapping the stumps of his missing fingers.

‘I did!’

‘Properly,’ Reginald tells her. ‘With meaning. When you’re alone. And don’t make it about you, Marcy. Don’t apologise with how you felt.’

‘Alright! Jesus. Now I feel bad. No! I meant I feel bad for Roy. Not like my feelings are more important. Oh my god, I can’t say anything right. Fuck this. I’m going to bed.’

‘You’re on first watch,’ Paula says as Marcy storms off.

‘I know!’ Marcy snaps, changing course to head for the stairs.

‘Well. It was still a very pleasant evening. Thank you for the marshmallows, Danny and Mo. I shall turn in,’ Henry says as the group disbands and starts heading off, with Maddox staying put in his chair.

‘You want this left on?’ Nick asks him while motioning the firepit.

‘No, it’s fine, Nick. Cheers for asking.’

Nick turns it off, then goes to leave, but pauses. ‘Used to think you were a complete cunt,’ he says with a glance back as Maddox snorts a quiet laugh.

‘And now?’ he asks with a slight smile as Nick shrugs.

‘Bit less of a cunt,’ Nick says as Maddox laughs and takes the compliment. ‘Night, mate.’

‘Night,’ Maddox says and runs it all back in his mind, but there really isn’t anything gained. Booker reacted to the boob chat and looked uncomfortable, but maybe he just finds that stuff awkward.

He sighs and shakes his head as Tappy turns the lanterns off in the workshop and goes past him with goodnight.

‘Night, mate,’ he says, then figures he’ll turn in as Henry lowers into the seat next to him, which is a surprise as Maddox didn’t hear him approaching.

‘Report,’ Henry says quietly.

‘Report what? There’s nothing.’

‘Nothing? Nothing at all?’

Maddox shrugs. ‘I thought Booker was perving on Carmen, but he wasn’t. But she caught me, and I said you’d made me do it, which was wrong.’

‘Always have your backstory ready,’ Henry says as Maddox concedes the point.

‘But yeah. Nothing. I just listened to Charlie and Cookey, and-.’

‘And how are they?’

‘Fine. Charlie wants Cookey to sleep in the same tent as they kissed, but Cookey’s gone all shy again.’

‘This was discussed freely?’

‘No. I was eavesdropping.’

‘Did anyone see you?’

‘No. I got close to the workshop and could hear them chatting, and you know when someone shouts for Nick, and he says they’re decoupling whatever or something technical, that’s just them having a brew.’

‘I see,’ Henry says with a tilt of his head.

‘And I think Carmen’s got a thing for Reggie. She really fusses over him, but I think he’s developing a tic or something because he’s constantly tapping his stumps, but he’s doing it quite hard sometimes. I can see him wincing and wanted to ask him if he was alright, but then I didn’t want him to think I was spying. But er, I mean, other than that. Booker is shifty whenever anything sexual gets mentioned, but that doesn’t mean anything. Danny gets shy, but Danny looks shy because of his big eyes and his age, whereas Booker is a hard-looking guy, so he appears shifty.’

Henry listens intently, having guessed why Maddox had shaped the conversation that way earlier. ‘That was good, by the way, very casually done, but next time, remember to engage, so it doesn’t look like you’ve loaded the subject just so you can sit back and watch. Most won’t notice, but some will.’

‘Okay.’

‘But it wasn’t nothing, was it? You’ve reported intel.’

‘It’s worthless.’

‘No intel is worthless. It builds a picture and enables people like us to more accurately assess how we do things. Anyway. Keep on it. I expect a full report tomorrow evening.’

‘Was that not full?’

‘That was a summary. I want details. Movements. Salient comments.’

‘Got it. Er, I think Carmen knows what I’m doing.’

‘Carmen Eze is one of the most highly trained agents this country has ever produced. Of course, she knows. But she won’t rat you out. Right. Sleep. Oh, and I have a small favour to ask. I’ve left my pen on the desk in the manager’s office at the back of the admin rooms upstairs. Would you get it for me?’

‘Sure,’ Maddox says, pushing up from his chair and heading off.

‘Oh, and Maddox? Do make sure you’re not seen,’ Henry says softly.

‘How?’ Maddox asks, turning back with a blink at the empty chairs and no sign of Henry anywhere.

‘Bring it to me in the morning,’ Henry whispers from behind, making Maddox jump as he pats him on the shoulder and once more melts into the shadows, and right there, right then, Maddox knows what his calling in life is.

To be able to do that, and for someone, one day, to say Maddox Doku was one of the best agents this country has ever produced.

Fuck it then. It’s game on, and no matter what it takes, Maddox is getting that pen back.

4

Which is easier said than done.

Maddox reaches the tent area and frowns as he realises he was so pre-occupied with spying that he didn’t find out which tent he is in or if he’s sharing with Booker.

He stops at the edge in the shadows, away from the faint glow coming from the single low-glow lantern, trying to figure out which tent is his as he spots Charlie coming back from the toilet and going into hers. Not that one then.

Blowers comes down from upstairs and goes into his. Not that one either. Then he hears Danny and Mo whispering about the locked door in Roy’s story and rules that tent out, and a moment later, Bash walks back holding his own wash kit and disappears into another one while Maddox figures his newly developed spy skills are actually quite useful because he now realises he’s meant to be sharing with Booker, seeing as he can hear Nick and Tappy in the only other one left.

He goes to move but holds still as Cookey comes down from the toilets and stops in the middle of all the tents, ranged out in a wide circle with each one zoned off behind a thick blanket. Cookey looks worried too. Like he’s suddenly full of angst, and Maddox watches as he goes to Charlie’s tent and reaches out as to pat the front, but he stops and holds still.

‘Just go in,’ Maddox whispers to himself, urging Cookey to get on with it. Charlie is a beautiful, intelligent woman. Why the hell is Cookey holding back?

Cookey does it again now and backs away from the tent as Maddox gives an inward groan and watches Cookey grab a sleeping bag and go over to Blowers’ tent instead.

‘Bellend,’ Cookey says, rolling his bedding out as Blowers shift his over.

‘Twat,’ Blowers says as Maddox watches Cookey pull the flap down and can only hear them talk. ‘You alright?’ Blowers whispers a moment later.

‘Yeah, good, mate,’ Cookey whispers back.

‘With Charlie?’ Blowers asks.

A pause.

‘Fine.’

Another pause.

‘Sure?’

‘Yup.’

Maddox shakes his head, figuring Cookey needs to grip whatever is going on, and he heads over to his tent with a pause outside Danny and Mo’s.

‘Bro, it’s fine. Don’t worry,’ Mo whispers. ‘I looked too. We all did. Reggie and Frank said it’s natural to look, but we ain’t like no pervs.’

‘I’m not a perv,’ Danny whispers. ‘I just panicked cos, like, I haven’t seen real boobs much before, and I looked, and then Paula said she felt exposed, but I didn’t look at Paula like that.’

Maddox smiles at their decency and creeps past Nick and Tappy’s tent with a grimace at the soft rhythmic movement coming from inside, followed by two gasps. ‘Quietist sex ever,’ Tappy whispers as Maddox rushes on and into his tent to see Booker isn’t there.

But his and Booker’s kit are inside the opening section, and he even checks behind the dividing flap inside to see Booker’s section is definitely empty.

He tugs his boots off and rushes back out in his thick cotton socks, and goes up the metal steps, then runs back to his tent to grab his toothbrush, remembering what Henry said about always having a backstory ready, and again, rushes up the stairs and over to the customer toilets being used by the lads, and he eases the door open to the gents to see one of the cubicle doors is closed. A single low-glow lantern on the side. The room in deep shadows.

He stands still. Listening intently as he starts to hear a noise. He edges closer, clinging to the wall, and hears the sound of Booker masturbating. The noise of it so distinctive to any young man. Then Booker gives a soft grunt, and Maddox turns to rush off, with his hand holding his toothbrush knocking the lantern into the handwash bowl with a clatter.

He curses and realises he has to go loud and makes a show of swearing and knocking about as the toilet flushes inside the cubicle with Booker coming out a second or so later.

‘I’m such a clumsy fucker,’ Maddox says as Booker stops at the next bowl along to brush his teeth without washing his hands.

‘Didn’t hear you come in,’ Booker says as Maddox squeezes paste on his own brush.

‘Ninja, bro,’ Maddox says, adding a wink as he starts brushing and clocks the stress still showing in Booker’s face. ‘You okay?’

‘Them lot going on about the wet tops,’ Booker blurts. ‘I wasn’t perving on them. I only glanced. You know. I’m a guy. I fancy women. Jesus. They were acting like I was a fucking rapist or something.’

Maddox doesn’t think they were acting like that at all, and saying the word rapist like that was harsh.

‘Some girl in school said she caught me wanking in the girl’s toilets,’ Booker suddenly says as Maddox stops brushing to listen. ‘I didn’t! I wasn’t even there. She was fucking nuts cos we’d snogged and messed around, and I ghosted her. But I got suspended, and the cops spoke to me… So yeah, like, anyone says that shit to me, and I get worried, bro. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Course,’ Maddox says, seeing the angst flash in Booker’s eyes.

‘I’m a bit awkward. I know that, but that scared me. Everyone calling me names and shit, and even my own mum said she weren’t sure I didn’t do it. But I swear down. I wasn’t even at school that day. I bunked off and smoked weed at my mate’s house. He had to make a report, and then he got done for the weed and…’ he trails off with a shake of his head. ‘Whatever, man.’

‘They were just playing,’ Maddox says.

‘Ain’t funny though saying stuff like that,’ Booker says as Maddox thinks now he knows why Booker gets so shifty whenever anyone mentions sex. Which they would do after a false accusation like that.

‘So, what did you do before the army?’

‘Nothing. I was a fucking loser,’ Booker says with a snort. ‘That fucked my exams up, so I ended up in this shitty storage place for a few years. I liked it actually. It was peaceful, and I didn’t see many people. Anyway. I’m done.’

Maddox nods as Booker walks out and carries on brushing his teeth slowly to buy time and think. When he heads down and into the tent, he hears Booker bedding in. ‘Night, mate,’ he says.

‘Night,’ Booker says. His voice low and tight. His energy obviously low and hurt, but Maddox stays silent and waits for the gentle snoring to come while thinking about the pen in the back office and how he can get it.

It doesn’t take long for Booker to fall asleep, and Maddox waits a bit longer to be sure, then slips back out in his thick socks to deaden his footfall while dressed in black joggers and a black top, and passes Nick and Tappy’s tent, and another round of near silent rhythmic humping and gasping.

‘What the fuck,’ Maddox whispers to himself, figuring everyone is getting obsessed with sex, and heads upstairs, and disappears into the indoor plant sections to move through the shadows to get closer to the foyer and the offices, which he realises he doesn’t need to do as it’s so bloody dark he could just walk normally, but it feels more fitting to sneak and dart like a proper spy.

He reaches the edge of the foyer and, after assessing the ground ahead, darts across the tiled floor to get behind the customer returns desk, and clocks that the door going into the admin office is slightly open.

He wonders why until the dog comes out and sends him into a fit of panic that she’ll somehow alert Howie and Marcy to his presence, but as it turns out, Meredith isn’t really bothered at the pack sneaking about and wanking in toilets, and so, after sniffing his hands for food, then licking his face, she disappears back into the office in case anyone should open a packet of biscuits, leaving Maddox exhaling with relief.

‘…and he got so shitty!’ Marcy’s voice drifts out from inside. ‘I only meant it as a joke, but it came out all blunt, and I said sorry. I did! I said Roy, I’m really sorry. But he was like fuck your apology. You don’t know what it was like growing up with severe disabling anxiety, and then everyone else was like yeah, you’re a bitch, Marcy. And I never even meant that!’

Maddox frowns, knowing that wasn’t what happened at all, but then everyone exaggerates, so fair play.

‘Are you even listening to me, Howie?’

‘No.’

‘Howie!’

‘Yes! I was pissing around.’

‘Well. You didn’t say it with a smile. How do I know you were pissing around?’

‘Did you say your comment to Roy with a smile?’

‘No! But that’s not the same thing.’

Maddox steals closer to peer through the glass pane in the top half of the door to Howie leaning against the window, staring out to the rain. One single lantern at the far corner, turned down low and bathing the room in dark pools of shadows and light. Marcy leaning back in a swivel office chair, with her feet on a desk. The dog on her side between them, seemingly asleep.

‘Just apologise,’ Howie says.

‘I will!’

‘And say it like you mean it. And don’t make it about your own feelings.’

‘Alright, Reggie!’ Marcy snaps and earns a look from Howie. His eyes so terribly dark that even Marcy’s attitude seems to withdraw. ‘I will,’ she says again, softer this time, meaning it genuinely. ‘Are you angry with me?’

Howie shakes his head and looks back out the window as Marcy stares at the tablet on the side showing the camera feeds as her fingers drum on the table, and she adopts a thoughtful look that turns into a slow smile. ‘So, this is wireless?’

‘What?’ Howie asks, then nods at her holding the tablet up.

‘Nick’s a genius,’ she says.

‘I think he actually is,’ Howie says.

‘So, this will work in that toilet at the back?’ Marcy asks as Maddox frowns and realises the elders have access to a toilet of their own. Sneaky sods.

‘Yeah. Why?’ Howie asks as Marcy stands up with a sultry look. ‘Marce, honestly. I’m not in the mood,’ Howie says as she shrugs while being like okay then, whatever and toys with her hair, and pouts while he sighs heavily. ‘I’m not rejecting you. I just don’t feel like it.’

‘I don’t feel rejected,’ she says as she picks up the tablet and walks slowly and very sexily towards the toilet at the back.

‘Marcy. Honestly,’ Howie says.

‘I said fine,’ she calls and goes inside while Howie sighs again and stares broodingly out through the window to the unceasing and unrelenting rain lashing down.

Maddox peers up at the ceiling tiles and tries to work out if he can get up and across within the ceiling void. But the tiles are only held up by thin metal that would never hold his weight, and this isn’t America with handy AC tunnels connecting every room in the whole of Hollywood Land.

How the hell does he get into that back office then without being seen? Can he create a distraction? That would wake everyone else up? But screw everyone else. Maddox wants that pen. He wants to be an agent.

‘Ahem,’ Marcy says from the back, and this time, even Maddox gawps for a full second at her completely naked body leaning casually against the door frame to the toilet. ‘All my clothes fell off. Will you help me pick them up?’

‘Marcy, I said…’ Howie starts to say as her form even penetrates his brooding dark mood, and he cuts off and starts striding fast with such motion even Marcy flinches with surprise. ‘You look like you’re going to eat me.’

‘I might.’

‘That’s so hot,’ she says as he reaches her, with Maddox grimacing and looking away until they disappear into the bathroom, and the door closes.

A chance to take as the SAS motto pops into his head. Who dares wins.

Maddox moves fast and darts in through the open office door, and starts loping across the room as the toilet door crashes open, and they spill out while kissing passionately.

‘Sorry,’ Marcy whispers. ‘Stinks of pine toilet cleaner.’

‘Frank had a big shit in there,’ Howie says between kissing as Marcy pulls back to show an ewww face and slaps his arm before going back to the heavy petting. Which turns into heavy other stuff while an increasingly horrified Maddox stays hidden behind the desk. Listening to the whole bloody thing. And it goes on too. Like for ages. Ages and ages.

‘Oh god. Fuck me… Fuck me…’

Maddox clamps his ears at that bit, then panics even more when they crash across the room and end up on the same desk he’s hiding behind, with one of Howie’s legs dangling down near to his head as the end of the desk bangs into the wall.

Just fucking finish already, Maddox thinks, wondering if he can crawl outside while they’re occupied, and he positions to set off as the horribly noisy and wet, and disgustingly awful climax comes with much gasping and the sayings of I’m gonna come… I’m gonna come… Swiftly followed by Oh my god, I fucking love you so much!

Then it’s over, and they gasp, and Maddox gasps and wonders if there is any form of therapy still being offered in this brave, new world.

What’s even worse is the listening to the god-awful whisperings of affection that follow, which he tries blotting from his mind.

‘How are you feeling anyway?’ Marcy whispers in the dark.

‘Better now.’

‘No, I mean about, you know.’

Silence as Maddox stops ignoring it and finds himself listening.

‘I know finding that puppy hurt you, Howie. And that stuff with Donna and Jim.’

‘I fucking hate them,’ Howie cuts in fast. ‘I can’t, Marcy. I can’t help another single needy, entitled prick.’

‘I know. I know. Shush. It’s okay. Don’t get angry. We’re just talking. But is that what you want? Do you want to stop?’

Silence.

‘I told you, Howie. I can finish this. I can stop the infection. And my way means you can all wait here.’

Silence.

‘Henry won’t wait forever, Howie.’

‘We can’t go anywhere in this rain.’

‘You’re not answering me. Do you want to stop?’

Silence again.

The sound of rustling and sighing.

‘You can talk to me, Howie. About anything. I know I’m a complete twat, and I upset Roy, but I love you very much, and if you want me to take over, I can.’

Still the silence holds, and even in the near pitch-dark, Maddox can feel the turmoil inside of Howie.

A few minutes later, Maddox starts to cramp and worries he might be revealed when they finally get off the desk and find their clothes, and in so doing make enough noise for Maddox to shift and stretch his leg.

‘I’ll go and make their tea,’ Marcy says and heads out, leaving Howie to clear the office up and use a spray bottle and some toilet tissue to wipe the sex desk over, and when he takes the tissue into the bathroom, Maddox darts across the room and into the back office to snag the prize pen left on the jotter on Henry’s desk.

He snatches it up with a rush of victory, which vanishes when he hears Clarence coming into the other office.

‘How goes it?’ the big man asks.

‘All quiet,’ Howie says.

‘Don’t say the Q word. Never say the Q word.’

Howie snorts as Maddox once more takes refuge behind a desk.

‘You alright though?’ Clarence asks as Marcy comes in with the mugs of tea, and Paula carrying several packets of biscuits, followed by the clip clop of Jess and the sound of the office door being slammed wide open as she gets through.

‘That bloody horse,’ Howie says. ‘Anyway. We’ll head down. Night.’

They bid one another night as Maddox looks around for a way out. But the windows are sealed, and again, the ceiling tiles won’t hold his weight.

Nothing for it then. He’ll just have to wait it out, and thankfully, this time at least he won’t be subjected to the disgusting noises of people having sex. Paula and Clarence only kissed once so they definitely won’t be doing the funky chicken yet.

He does, however, hear them eating biscuits, which in turn, really makes him want to eat some biscuits.

‘She was out of order though,’ he hears Paula say between the munching. ‘And I know Roy winds people up, but what she said was really mean. What do you think?’

‘I don’t think I could ever imagine what it’s like to look like Marcy and have that constant attention all the time, with every word and expression being examined because people are expecting you to be a complete bitch.’

Maddox lifts his eyebrows at the reasoning coming from Clarence with a whole new point of view entering the picture.

‘What she said wasn’t nice,’ Clarence continues. ‘But if Tappy said it? Or me? Or Cookey? Would it have the same impact? But a beautiful woman says something joking and cutting, and it’s a hundred times worse.’

‘Wow,’ Maddox mouths to himself, figuring that actually makes sense.

‘You, Mister… Are a very special man,’ Paula says as Maddox hears the sound of a kiss and starts panicking, but peeks up to see her planting a smacker on Clarence’s forehead after making him bend over while they sit on the Howie and Marcy sex desk, surrounded by Jess and Meredith ‘And I just realised I don’t even know your surname.’

‘It’s Madden.’

‘Madden? Clarence Madden. I love that! Do you have a middle name?’

‘Harry. After my grandfather. He went MIA in World War Two. He was a commando taking out a naval base in Norway.’

‘Well. Harry Madden will be very proud of his grandson, Clarence Madden.’

‘They called him Mad Harry.’

Paula smiles and nestles closer into his side. ‘Should call you Crazy Clarence,’ she says as the big man very gently wraps an arm around her back.

‘Is that okay?’ he whispers.

‘More than okay.’

‘What’s your surname?’

‘Penfold.’

‘What the…’

‘Joke!’ she says as Maddox stifles the laugh and shakes his head in the dark back office. ‘It’s Prior.’

‘Paula Prior?’

‘Paula Nicola Prior, to be precise.’

‘That’s a lovely name.’

‘It’s a very bland name, but thank you. What’s Howie’s?’

‘No idea,’ Clarence says. ‘Or Marcy or Reginald.’

‘Dave?’

Clarence shakes his head as they sit side by side on the desk, with Clarence holding her close while she, in turn, runs her fingertips up and down his forearm.

‘I don’t think surnames matter now,’ she adds after a while. ‘Like Howie says, the old world is gone; this is the brave, new world. We can be anything we want. Choose any name. Sounds weird, but it’s kind of liberating.’

Maddox silently agrees with a strange feeling that he’s somehow part of the conversation and almost feels a compulsion to speak out and join in as though it would be completely organic and natural.

‘So, er,’ Paula then says as Maddox detects a hint of nerves and humour in her voice. ‘Did you look then?’

‘At what?’

‘Me.’

‘You?’

‘In the wet top.’

Silence, and the dread spikes a little inside of Maddox.

‘Well. I may have glanced,’ Clarence says deeply as Maddox wills the conversation not to develop.

‘And sooooo, did you like what you saw?’

Oh god. Please, no. Please don’t. It’s like listening to your parents flirt.

‘Would that be bad if I did?’

‘No. I’d like it if you did.’

Oh god, no. It’s so awful.

‘What did you like about it?’

Kill me now. Literally, kill me now.

‘Is it okay to say what I thought?’

‘I want you to say.’

Please don’t say it! Just eat the bloody biscuits.

‘Tell me,’ Paula says as Maddox hears her shifting position. ‘What did you think?’

Oh, no. Her voice has gone all low and sexy.

‘Well. I wanted to take that top…’

‘Yeah?’ she whispers all sexily as Maddox gags.

‘And tear it off.’

‘Did you really? Well, well, Mister Madden.’

Oh fuck. It’s like a cheap porn scene. He has to get out.

‘Well indeed, Miss Prior.’

Windows. One of them has to open. He rushes over to feel the frames and finds one of the sealing bars with a rush of fortune, quickly followed by another surge of dread when he feels it’s been sealed with years of paint.

‘And how exactly would you rip it off?

Maddox freezes and glances back in slow-motion horror to see through the crack in the door to Paula now standing in front of Clarence and tearing a packet of biscuits apart to throw the contents further across the room in a clear attempt to distract the dog and the horse.

‘It would be hard,’ Clarence whispers in his deep rumbling voice as Paula arches an eyebrow, and Maddox gags again. ‘I’ve only got one hand. I’d have to use my teeth.’

Fuck the paint. Fucking the fucking paint. Maddox gets to work with his bare fingers, picking and plucking at the layers of paint to free the sealing bar and clasp while praying they stick to flirting or maybe make some lists of things they need, or count bullets, or literally anything.

Then it happens.

He can hear it.

The sound of people kissing.

He glances back to see them going at it, with Clarence standing up to sweep Paula up with one arm under her backside, so she’s higher than him and cupping his face as they kiss passionately.

‘Guy is so strong,’ Maddox says in awe, then goes back to frantically working the clasp as the snogging gets worse, and all heavy breathing, and literally way out of control, with Clarence turning to prop her on the desk as she pulls his top up and over his head.

‘Oh god. Come on,’ Maddox whispers and works harder, with his fingers hurting from hacking at the layers of paint, and like a fool, he risks another look back to see Paula trying to tug her own top off but getting snagged, which, in turn, prompts Clarence to play out his actual fantasy and grip it between one huge hand and his teeth and tear it in half.

‘Seriously. Guy is so strong,’ Maddox whispers as Paula gasps and launches herself into him all quivery and passionate, with them grinding and grunting, and Maddox fingering the paint and working the clasp. He frees the top clasp and starts on the bottom as Clarence and Paula do the same and disrobe their lower clothing between kisses and gasps.

‘I’ve wanted this ever since I saw you,’ Paula whispers as Maddox whines softly and screws his face up like a sickened teenager, and silently begs the fucking clasp to just fucking open.

At which point, it gets worse behind him, with the weeks or days, or however long it has been since Paula and Clarence started fancying each other detonates in a passionate frenzy. Which Maddox knows is linked to the whole life and death thing, which makes people want to have sex because they inwardly fear death could occur at any second, but still, couldn’t they just bloody wait?

‘I want you in me…’

God no! Maddox will literally never get that out of his head now, and he grimaces and winces, and his fingertips start bleeding as the Howie and Marcy sex desk becomes the Clarence and Paula sex desk, with Maddox figuring they might as well just drag the bloody desk into the middle and have a sodding orgy on it. What with Nick and Tappy going at it, and Booker having five knuckle shuffles, and wet t-shirts, and Carmen jabbing his willy with a knife. These people are fucking sex pests.

‘Oh god!’ Paula gasps.

‘Oh god,’ Maddox gasps as the clasp finally frees, and he heaves on it as the desk bangs the wall in the other office, with the climax building that he can’t bear to witness, and so he dives out into the pouring rain and pushes the window closed.

‘Thank fuck,’ he whispers, drenched within seconds, in his socks and joggers, and t-shirt. He ducks low and works past the admin office windows to the sound of Paula and Clarence gasping inside, and gets to the front door.

Which is locked.

From the inside.

‘Fucking Dangermouse,’ he snaps, wanting to kick the fucking thing in.

An idea.

He turns and runs out wide, and goes down the ramp to the back area to the door leading into the workshop, which - although it is very poor security – has thankfully been left unlocked.

He slips inside. Dripping wet and shaking his head while clutching the pen of triumph and victory as he becomes aware of Tappy silently staring at him while bent over behind a workbench, with Nick behind her. ‘Dude,’ Tappy says.

‘Again?’ he gasps at them.

‘Eh?’ Nick says.

‘Er. Forgot my pen. Again,’ Maddox says, holding it up with a manic smile as he walks into the infantry section and realises being a spy is really bloody hard work. ‘Your pen,’ he whispers to Henry sitting up in his bed, working on a journal, and the older man looks up with a gentle frown at Maddox soaked to the skin and dripping rainwater.

‘That’s not my pen.’

‘Are you fucking joking right now?’ Maddox asks.

‘Yes,’ Henry says with a wink as he closes his journal and switches his side light off. ‘You may keep that as a memento. Goodnight, Mr Doku.’

DAY THIRTY-TWO

Don’t be so sensitive

5

A thunderous noise brings them awake, with everyone scrambling from their beds to grab weapons.

‘DAVE!’ Howie yells, already running with his axe in hand.

‘It was thunder, Mr Howie,’ Dave’s voice carries from upstairs as they all stop their frantic motions and look up to the incredible noises coming from the sky.

Thunderous booming claps and rolling drums, and even downstairs the air seems to turn pure, bright white, with a fractional searing of energy from the lightning outside the upstairs windows.

‘Jesus,’ Paula says, sitting up in her bed. ‘Guess that’s another day indoors then. Is it still raining?’

‘Dave! Is it still raining?’ Howie calls.

‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

Paula shrugs and drops back under the cover with a long groan and a big stretch before glancing over to Clarence in his bed, smiling shyly from the secret shared between them.

She wished they could have slept in the same bed, but Clarence said to take it slow, and that he wanted to talk to Roy first, in case it was weird. Paula didn’t see why, but Clarence explained that seemingly small things can upset a team living in such close proximity.

What they did was lovely though, and she smiles again, replaying it in her mind with a groan.

‘Drill! Five minutes,’ Blowers calls, interrupting her delicious memories.

‘It’s a day off!’ Cookey’s voice drifts over.

‘That was yesterday. Five minutes. No excuses.’

Paula thinks to call out and give them all another day off, just so she can stay in bed, but remembers undermining Blowers yesterday as Clarence stands up and stretches.

‘Are you doing drill?’ she asks him.

‘I think I will,’ he says before giving her a coy smile. ‘I’m strangely full of energy this morning,’ he adds in a quieter tone.

‘Why are you full of energy?’ Marcy asks from nowhere near.

‘How the?’ Clarence asks.

‘Told you. She’s got the hearing of a bat,’ Howie says from a few cubicles along after poking his head out from around the newly erected fence panel.

‘I heard that!’ Marcy calls. ‘Anyway. Roy? I’m really sorry you felt that way and got yourself upset. Are we friends again now?’

‘Marcy,’ Paula says with a groan. ‘Worst apology ever.’

‘That was terrible,’ Carmen calls from her section, before hearing a noise and leaning around her fence panel to see Reginald tapping at his bandaged stumps again. ‘Stop doing that!’

‘Oh my god! I can’t even apologise,’ Marcy says with a huff.

‘Reggie!’ Carmen says, rushing to his bedside in her underwear to guide his good hand away from his bad. ‘Why do you keep doing that?’

‘Because it was hurting.’

‘And it’ll hurt even more. Just let it heal. You know what though? I hate drill before coffee. Do you think it’s okay to ask for a delay?’

‘I say, Sergeant Blowers!’ Reginald calls in his strong voice.

‘Yes, mate?’ Blowers shouts back.

‘May I respectfully ask for a slight delay to the drill start time. I wish to make an address to the group. I suggest a quick coffee if that is in order?’

‘Fuck, yes!’

‘Love you, Reggie!’

‘You can’t say no to Reggie,’ come the shouted responses echoing through the vast room.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Blowers says. ‘Carmen? That okay with you?’

‘Er, yeah, fair enough then,’ she calls with a reluctant sigh as Reginald winks, and she darts in to kiss his head.

‘Oh my! Well, now,’ he says with an eye-line full of sports bra.

‘Come on, I’ll make you a Darjeeling,’ she says and rushes off as he goes back to tapping his injured hand with a thoughtful expression.

They gather in the canteen with a strange buzz of energy from being allowed to grab a coffee before drill and stare in awe at the astonishing weather outside.

‘That is fucking biblical,’ Nick says at the rain lashing the windows.

‘It’s worse than yesterday,’ Cookey says as the bolt lightning returns, scarring their retinas.

‘Need a hand, Miss Prior?’ Clarence asks quietly, moving in to Paula’s side as she works at the coffee machine.

‘Why thank you, Mr Madden,’ she says, looking up at him as Maddox walks by with a gag.

‘I actually need therapy.’

‘What’s up with him?’ Paula asks as Clarence bumps her side, making her giggle as he pours milk into a jug to start steaming.

Maddox turns away as Reggie walks in while still tapping at his stumps. ‘You’re doing that all the time, Reggie. Are you developing a tic?’

‘I am not developing a tic, Mr Doku. I am a man of science,’ Reginald says as Tappy appears at Maddox’s side.

‘I’ve gotta ask. Why was your pen outside?’

‘Why were you in the workshop so late?’ he counters with what he thinks is a smart response.

‘Cos we were having sex,’ she says bluntly, and Maddox blinks from the unexpected answer as Dave marches into the canteen and calls for attention in his drill-sergeant voice, thereby bringing instant silence, with even the thunder thinking maybe it should be quiet for a bit.

‘I found these in the offices,’ Dave announces, holding up a pair of knickers. ‘Keep your kit in your bags. It is not hygienic to leave used underwear around.’

‘Why is everyone looking at me?’ Marcy asks. ‘They’re not mine!’ she adds to a second of silence as the dots are connected because Dave always does the third watch, which means he followed Clarence, who did his watch with Paula, and if the knickers don’t belong to Marcy…

‘Oh shit,’ Paula says with a wince as Marcy swivels on the spot to stare at her and Clarence blushing furiously.

‘You had sex!’ Marcy calls with an excited handclap as Paula yelps.

‘Tactical retreat,’ Clarence says while ushering Paula into the kitchen through the swinging door.

‘Oh, this is so good!’ Marcy says and sets off running, with Tappy rushing behind her, thinking the mystery of Maddox and the pen can do one. Charlie hesitates for a second. Trying to be prim and proper and not to get drawn into gossip.

‘Screw that,’ she says and sets off after them, bundling through the swinging door that swings back the other way a second later, with the very large and very red-faced form of Clarence holding a jug of frothed milk being pushed out by Marcy and Tappy.

The door swings shut, and Clarence turns back to see everyone else staring at him. ‘And?’ he asks, trying to be big and menacing.

‘So, it’s close then,’ Nick says innocently, nodding at the sky with a smooth set up for Cookey.

‘They were last night. Ba-dum-tss… I thank you.’

‘Cookey!’ Clarence says in a warning growl.

‘I meant the thunder and lightning,’ Cookey says as Clarence glowers at him. ‘Not the fireworks on second watch.’

‘You little shit!’

‘Argh, get off!’ Cookey says, darting away from Clarence lunging at him. ‘Frank! Save me.’

‘You’re on your own, nipper. Unlike the big lad last night.’

‘That’s not even funny,’ Clarence says to the laughs rolling around the room. ‘Right. Fine. Get it out of your system.’

‘Paula said,’ Cookey says with a cough into his hand as the laughs get louder and a squeal comes from the kitchen.

‘With his teeth!’ Marcy’s voice sails out.

‘Teeth?’ Frank asks. ‘What did you do with your teeth?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Cor, that’s got my mind going,’ Frank says. ‘Teeth, Roy?’

‘No idea,’ Roy says as Clarence squirms because they’re discussing having sex with Paula, and Roy and Paula were an item, and it’s all too much for the gentle giant.

‘I’ve only got one hand,’ he says, holding his stump up.

‘The mind boggles,’ Frank says, enjoying every second of watching him squirm.

‘No! I mean. It got snagged and we couldn’t get it off.’

‘What? Her knickers?’ Frank asks, bursting out laughing as Clarence grabs a handful of ketchup sachets from the side to throw at him while Howie, having been trying to grab the jug of frothed milk from Clarence finally plucks it free and goes back to the coffee machine.

‘Not her knickers. Her top!’ Clarence says.

‘Oh god, stop,’ Cookey says, laughing while looking grossed out. ‘It’s like thinking about my mum.’

‘Don’t even,’ Maddox mutters.

‘You asked!’ Clarence says.

‘Not in that much detail,’ Frank says. ‘We don’t need a blow by blow account of you tearing her knickers off with your teeth.’

Carmen frowns as she walks in and clocks the decidedly male energy in the room, and hears Marcy’s cackle coming from the kitchen, and heads through the swing doors to see a red-faced Paula, surrounded by Marcy, Tappy, and Charlie.

‘Knickers?’ Carmen asks.

‘With his teeth,’ Marcy says emphatically while nodding vigorously.

‘He bloody didn’t!’ Paula says, swiping her arm. ‘It was my top.’

‘What was?’

‘Right. So. They were outside in the rain,’ Marcy says dramatically.

‘We were in the office.’

‘And he was like an animal!’

‘He was very gentle and caring.’

‘And he ripped her clothes off with his teeth!’

‘My top got snagged, and he helped me.’

‘Eh?’ Carmen asks.

‘They had sex!’ Marcy says.

‘Who did?’

‘I did!’

‘You did? With who?’

‘What do you mean, with who? Who do you bloody think I had sex with? And do not say Roy.’

‘With Clarence,’ Marcy says as though this is simply the most incredible thing she has ever heard. ‘And his giant penis.’

‘Oh god, Marcy. Too much,’ Paula says with a groan.

‘Which is exactly what she said to Clarence.’

‘Have you turned into Cookey?’ Paula asks as inside the kitchen and beyond the swinging door the sordid gossip of two people having sex gets dissected and discussed while Howie drinks coffee quietly at the back. Staring at the windows and the storm while still hating people more than anything else in the world, apart from his own team which pleases him to see are all in high spirits.

He stays put until the swing doors open, with Paula coming out to cheers coming from the others as Clarence inhales, ready to put a stop to it.

‘That’s enough,’ Howie says quietly, bringing forth an instant quiet.

‘Sorry, Boss,’ Cookey says, lifting a hand in apology as the others do the same.

‘It’s okay. Don’t worry,’ Paula tells them, sensing the change in the way Howie is projecting his energy.

Drill starts a few minutes later, with everyone staring in stunned silence at Reginald finding a space to join in while Maddox begins to suspect the genius has got something going on because he never does anything without a reason.

They start light jogging around the room in a circle, with Carmen and Blowers playing Simon Says to make them squat and jump, then do push-ups when they get it wrong.

‘Clarence, do sit ups,’ Carmen says.

‘Airborne, Staff,’ he grunts as she jogs over to touch his shoulder.

‘Big guy, seriously. You’ve got nothing to prove. And, Danny, take it easy…’

‘Do not take it easy, Danny!’ Reginald calls.

‘What the fuck?’ Blowers asks.

‘I thought drill was disciplined and difficult,’ Reginald says, getting to his knees while clearly gasping for air. ‘Toddlers play hopscotch harder than this.’

‘Do what, mate?’ Blowers asks, casting a confused look to Carmen.

‘TODDLERS! Sergeant Blowers. TODDLERS!’

‘What is it you want, Reggie?’ Carmen asks.

‘I want you to drill your team properly! With gusto! We’re getting fat and lazy. We are at war, are we not?’

‘Honestly, I don’t know what he wants,’ Carmen says when Blowers looks at her again.

‘Boring!’ Reginald calls, trying to goad them into a reaction, with everyone else sharing looks and frowns.

‘Did you want to run it?’ Blowers asks, thinking that will shut him up.

‘Marvellous suggestion!’ Reginald says, clambering awkwardly to his feet to take a central position. ‘Well, fall in then, or whatever the phrase is,’ he tells Carmen and Blowers. ‘Right! We’re going to run. And we’re going to do more of those things we just did.’

‘Push-ups?’ Carmen asks.

‘Push-ups! Lots of push-ups. Danny! Get between Clarence and Frank please. Sergeant, you’re with Carmen. Mo, next to Dave. Cookey, Bash, Nick, and the rest of the lads together, and the elders at the other end. Come on! On the double!’

‘Why’s Danny with us?’ Clarence asks as Frank shrugs, and Danny stands shyly between them, with Maddox frowning, trying to guess what Reginald’s doing.

‘AND RUN UP!’ Reginald shouts, jogging with them as they set off to run the length, then back down to the start. ‘PUSH UPS!’ he shouts, rushing over to guide Danny down next to Clarence. ‘On your hands, Danny. Ten good ones…’

Danny grits his teeth from the surges of agony ripping through his missing fingers while figuring it must be ten times worse for Clarence doing them on a stump. And he’s right. It is far worse for Clarence who grunts with each push.

‘RUN BACK TO THE START AND DO MORE PUSH UPS!’

They drop to do it again, with sweat starting to pour from Danny’s face. Clarence the same. Both suffering from the pain as Frank and several others think to say something.

‘Does it hurt, Danny?’ Reginald calls, halfway through the set of ten.

‘Yep.’

‘Yes, Staff! Another ten for ill-discipline.’

‘Reggie,’ Paula says.

‘Fifteen!’ Reginald barks, snatching a small wooden chopping board with a handle from a farmhouse kitchen display as he paces around them, listening to the grunts and muttered curses as they, in turn, hear a rhythmic thwack from Reginald and figure he’s hitting the others with the board. ‘How’s that pain, Danny?’ Reginald calls. ‘Does it hurt? Is it agony? How about you, Clarence? How’s that stump?’

‘Okay, that’s enough,’ Paula says.

‘TWENTY MORE!’ Reginald roars as the board goes thwack, thwack, thwack, and the curses ripple out because drill with Blowers was always hard, but it was good and fun, and not like this, and even when Carmen does it with them, it’s still cool. This is just sadistic and bullying, and he’s being a complete dick using that chopping board.

‘How’s that hand now, Danny?’ Reginald calls. ‘How’s that stump, Clarence?’

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

‘Does it hurt? Is it agony?’

‘I can’t do anymore,’ Tappy gasps, flaking out.

‘Tell me, Danny! How’s that hand?’ Reginald calls as Paula drops with her arms burning. Marcy a second behind her. Some of the others slowing and stopping to gasp. ‘Do not slow down!’ Reginald says, rushing across the room as Danny’s arms start shaking. ‘Do not stop!’

‘Reggie, leave him alone,’ Paula says, grimacing as she pushes herself up.

‘I will not leave him alone! I want that hand to hurt. I want that hand in agony. I want Clarence’s stump in agony!’

‘Oh, sweet Jesus, Reggie, stop,’ Paula gasps in a horrified voice that makes the others shift and look over to Reggie thwacking the small chopping board into his own injured stumps again and again. The bloodied bandages pulled off, and the bare exposed stumps being struck.

‘Reggie!’ Carmen says, vaulting to her feet. ‘You’re hurting yourself.’

‘Sergeant Blowers died!’ Reginald roars at them all. ‘He lost an eye. He lost his fingers, and he died, and he came back and picked his axe up, and carried on fighting. He didn’t say a word. Not one word!’ Reginald shouts and hits his stumps again, then again, and again as they all stop and look to Blowers still doing press-ups with Reginald next to him. Hitting his own hand and leaving smears of blood on the chopping board. ‘Does your hand hurt, Sergeant Blowers?’

‘Yes,’ Blowers grunts without pausing in his push-ups.

‘Does it hurt like it first did?’

‘No,’ he says as Maddox suddenly gets the play at hand, and the others murmur.

‘We are infected,’ Reginald says as even Danny and Clarence stop to look over at them. ‘What we have is changing us. It lessens the pain we feel. It speeds our healing… Simon took that infection and made it work for him, and since we arrived here two days ago, I have been striking the stumps on my missing hand. It was agony. It hurt like hell!’ he pauses to look at Blowers still doing push-ups, then slams the board into his stumps again. ‘But I’ve desensitised the injury by repeatedly striking the nerve endings… I’ve made the infection work for me, and this is not the time to discuss that,’ he adds in a quieter tone to Howie while Clarence drips sweat and looks down at the bloodied bandage covering his stump, then over to the dressing wrapped around Danny’s hand.

‘When this rain is over, we will be back at war,’ Reginald announces as they shoot looks to Howie who stays silent and dark. ‘And we will be ready,’ Reginald adds, grabbing a new chopping board to hand to Frank. ‘Do both of them and keep going. It does get easier, Danny. I promise.’

The young lad nods as he gets to his feet with Clarence and Frank.

‘Oh, and Tappy, perhaps the engineering corps can fashion something to cover Clarence’s stump,’ Reginald says. ‘Back to you, Sergeant! Get to it, please, Frank.’

Frank pulls a face while holding the chopping board and thinking this is about as weird as it gets, but maybe the little fella was right because Simon lost his fingers, and he’s kept going. ‘Fair enough then, you both, ready?’

‘Hang on,’ Clarence says, unwinding the dressing as Danny does the same with his.

‘Seriously?’ Paula asks with a wince as they both expose their injuries and hold their hands out, with Frank shrugging, then hitting them both, one after the other, with the board.

‘Shit!’ Clarence hisses, and Danny turns away, swallowing his curses, with Paula suppressing the urge to rush in and stop them.

‘I promise you. It does get better,’ Reginald says.

‘It does,’ Blowers says, holding his injured hand up. ‘I don’t even notice it now.’

‘Come on then… Airborne,’ Clarence growling, nodding at Frank.

‘Airborne,’ Frank says, whacking the stump, with another mouthful of muttered curses falling from Clarence as Danny holds his hands out with a grimace.

‘You ready?’ Frank asks. ‘Airborne, nipper,’ he hits the hand, then hits Clarence’s again without warning, then back to Danny, with both yelping and grunting as the thwacks sound out.

‘Come on, Danny!’ Clarence says, looping a big arm around the lad to hold him close as they get hit one after the other.

The others stare over, seeing Danny on the verge of tears. His legs shaking. His eyes clamped shut.

‘Harder,’ Clarence orders, grunting with each blow. ‘Come on!’

‘Come on!’ Danny says, trying to sound brave and manly as Frank strikes them one after the other.

‘Fend off,’ Dave says, giving Mo barely a chance to position across the room as he launches an attack, diverting attention as Mo dances back, blocking hits and knees.

‘Fend off,’ Carmen says, slamming her side into Blowers before bringing her fists up to lash out as the lad slides into a boxer’s stance and bobs, and weaves, and slaps her hits down, and the thwacks sound out. Each one as hard as the last, with Danny grunting. Wanting to cry but refusing to let it happen. The tears springing from his eyes to roll down his cheeks with a surge of shame that he grips and twists into defiant energy.

‘That’s it, nipper! He’s airborne!’ Frank shouts, cuffing Danny’s head with his spare hand at the snarl on Danny’s mouth and the flash of pure fire in his eyes.

‘Airborne, Danny!’ Henry calls.

‘Say it, lad! We’ll make you one of us,’ Frank urges, striking his hand harder. ‘Make your dad proud!’

‘Airborne!’ Danny snarls.

‘Airborne!’ Clarence growls next to him as Dave attacks Mo with pure grace, flowing like a dancer across a stage, with Mo gliding back and seeking chance to strike.

Blowers in the middle, ducking and weaving from Carmen’s punches. ‘Tappy, get in here,’ Carmen orders as Tappy gets in to start throwing clumsy punches at Blowers, with Carmen showing her how to move and pivot from the hips. The lads join in. Taking it in turns to throw punches at Blowers. They find thick cushions to use as pads and keep striking and moving as the waves of agony surge through Danny’s fingers and Clarence’s wrist, and the rain lashes the windows, and the thunder rolls out deep and long, and the bolts of energy sear the sky.

Reginald at one end. Watching through them to Howie at the other end. His dark eyes and dark energy. Howie doesn’t join in with the combat training. But then, what the others train for, Howie does through pure instinct.

The only problem is if Howie will keep doing it.

6

Day Thirty-Two

It’s mid-morning when Maddox pads across the ground in his shorts at the back of the garden centre in the lashing rain. Tubes of shower gel left at the far side of the second unit. The area now designated for use by the men.

He goes in through the back door into the workshop and grabs his towel from the newly installed hooks to start drying himself off.

‘Nice shower?’ Tappy asks.

‘Apart from the fear of being struck by lightning,’ Maddox says as Clarence smiles while Tappy and Nick measure his arm and shoulders, and the circumference of his stump.

‘It’ll need a shoulder strap across his back,’ Nick says. ‘That’s the only way to keep a fitting on the stump.’

‘Have you thought about what you want?’ Tappy asks Clarence. ‘A hook could be useful. Or a spike for stabbing.’

‘I was thinking of a big metal fist,’ Clarence says.

‘Like a hammer?’ Tappy asks as Clarence nods.

‘We can make more than one,’ Nick says thoughtfully as the other two look at him. ‘If we do a fitting across the stump, then we can make different attachments that slot on. Can you weld?’

‘Yeah! I love welding,’ Tappy says.

‘Tell you what then. I’ll design it. You make it?’ Nick asks, getting a nod and a high five from Tappy.

‘Can I go?’ Clarence asks as he gets to the back door to disrobe down to his shorts before heading outside with a shudder at the pouring rain.

Maddox heads back into the main section to the tents to see Danny and Mo getting dressed after their showers.

‘I mean, I don’t know if it hurts less, or I just got used to it,’ Danny says, his voice still filled with energy from training with Frank and Clarence.

‘Reggie is smart man,’ Bash says in heavy, broken English, nodding at Danny’s injured hand while Booker lounges in a low, folding chair outside the tent while fiddling with a camouflage striped wildlife camera and the remote monitor. ‘Look… The night vision is crazy high-spec.’

‘Where’d you get it?’ Maddox asks, ducking inside to start drying himself.

‘Whole shelf of them right there,’ Booker calls. ‘They’re the same ones Nick put up. They were selling them for only 40 quid, well, 39.99. Why did they do that? Why not just charge 40?’

‘Marketing,’ Maddox says. ‘Makes people think they’re getting it for less.’

‘Fucking stupid,’ Booker says. ‘That drill was nuts too.’

Maddox snorts in agreement and heads out to tug his boots onto his feet. ‘Coming up?’ Maddox asks, setting off for the stairs.

‘Might have a doze.’

‘Lazy fucker,’ Maddox says with a grin, getting a middle finger as he heads up and into the canteen to the coffee machine. ‘Refill anyone?’ he asks to the elders at one table in the middle and Charlie and a few others at another.

‘We’re good, cheers, Mads,’ Paula says as Clarence walks in to join them. His boots still unlaced from dressing after his shower.

‘Did I miss much?’ he asks.

‘No,’ Paula says as Maddox busies himself at the coffee machine and pretends not to listen. ‘Howie, I just mean we really need a plan.’

‘It’s raining,’ Howie says.

‘What about after that?’ Paula asks. ‘We need to discuss our sitrep.’

‘Well,’ Henry says while lightly drumming his fingers on the table. ‘We’re down on ammunition and tactical kit, not to mention we’ve lost the armoured van. And we don’t have working comms either.’

‘Where do we get all those from?’ Paula asks. ‘Is there another one of those stash point places nearby?’

‘No,’ Carmen says as Henry shakes his head.

‘Hinchley Point was meant to serve this entire region in the event of a national or global breakdown. For our purposes anyway,’ Henry says.

‘Your purposes?’ Paula asks.

‘Security services,’ Henry explains. ‘As in, not the active military or civilian police. MI5. MI6. GCHQ. That sort of thing.’

‘So, if that’s gone, then what? We go for any army base?’ Paula asks.

‘Along with everyone else,’ Carmen says. ‘Every serving and ex-soldier still alive after the first night would have gone for them. And most bases don’t always carry that much. Maybe a few rifles if they have a range. The military used stores, and before you ask, they’d have been looted too. So, no. We can’t just walk into any military base and get everything we need. I wish it was that easy.’

‘Not a military base, we can’t,’ Frank says quietly as Henry’s eyebrows lift, and Carmen leans back and stares at Frank for a long second.

‘Okay. I know who you mean, but exactly how?’ Carmen asks as everyone else frowns at the obviously secret conversation. ‘You don’t just walk in somewhere like that.’

‘We can’t,’ Frank says as both he and Henry turn to look at Dave. ‘But he can.’

‘And for the rest of us?’ Paula asks, splaying her hands.

‘Krakoff,’ Frank tells her.

‘Krakoff?’ Paula asks. ‘Who the hell is that.’

‘Aleksei Krakoff?’ Charlie asks as they all look at her. ‘I played against his daughter a few times in hockey. She was offered a place on the Russian national team, but her father pulled strings to get her British citizenship, so she could play for England.’

‘Sounds about right,’ Carmen says. ‘But along with being a loving father, he’s also an international arms dealer. And people trafficker. And lots of other really bad things. State sponsored murder, and links to Russian government, and terrorist groups all over the world. Aleksei Krakoff is one seriously dangerous man.’

‘He’s also one seriously careful man,’ Henry says. ‘And if he’s not inside the circle of whoever put this together, then he’ll be at home with his private army of guards on his very large country estate with his arsenal of weapons.’

‘While driving his armoured vehicles,’ Frank adds.

‘Where is he?’ Paula asks.

‘In the south. Not that far,’ Carmen says.

‘Okay. So. I mean. How do we get his weapons and vehicles then?’ Paula asks.

‘We send in the Dave,’ Frank says. ‘Eh, Dave? Fancy a gig like the old days?’

‘On his own?’ Paula asks.

‘This is what Dave is trained for,’ Carmen says.

‘Was,’ Howie says bluntly, earning sharp looks. ‘He isn’t a fucking tool you break out when you want.’

‘Alright, nipper. It wasn’t said like that,’ Frank says.

‘Whatever,’ Howie says, walking off, with Dave rising to go after him.

‘Guess we’ll finish this chat later then,’ Paula says.

‘Well. Like we said. I really don’t think we’re going anywhere for a day or two,’ Henry adds, looking once more to the rain lashing the window.

‘Aw, you’re all up here without us,’ Tappy says, walking in with Nick. ‘S’fine. If you don’t love us anymore. Ooh, are you writing the next part?’ she asks on seeing Roy jotting in a pad.

‘I am,’ Roy says.

‘Yes!’ Cookey says.

‘Can’t wait,’ Tappy says. ‘But er, so, we need some supplies,’ she tells Henry and Paula. ‘Sheet metal. New tyres or wheels if we can get them for the Royal Mail van, and some other stuff.’

‘In this weather?’ Paula asks.

‘We’ll be alright,’ Tappy says. ‘We reckon we can get most of it at that estate where we got the animal food from.’

‘It’s not far,’ Nick adds.

‘I think you’ll be fine,’ Henry says as Maddox keeps his position at the back and clocks the tiniest of glances from Henry to Carmen.

‘I’ll go with them,’ Carmen says as though completely unprompted.

‘Roger, roger, wilco!’ Tappy says when Henry gives a nod, and Carmen stands up to finish her coffee.

‘Need anything, Reggie?’

‘I am fine, thank you for asking though, Carmen.’

She’s so got the hots for him, Maddox thinks as they set off, and a big, heavy, hairy head pushes over his shoulder to snort horsey breath in his face. He rubs Jess’s neck as his nose fills with that earthy smell she has. Maddox seriously disliked that smell at first. Now, he really likes it. He likes the size and warmth of her too, and her obvious intelligence.

‘You want some oat milk? Can I give her some oat milk?’ he asks Charlie.

‘I don’t think you’ll get away without doing so,’ she replies with a smile as he finds a carton and pours it into a bucket with a laugh at Jess trying to push him away.

‘Might head out for a good shit in the rain,’ Frank says, scraping his chair back to sounds of disgust. ‘I’m joking. I’ll walk the perimeter,’ he says as Maddox glances over to see Frank motioning discreetly for Maddox to follow him.

‘Enjoy,’ Maddox tells the horse and takes his coffee to casually head out of the canteen and down the stairs to Frank, pausing to tie his shoelace.

‘Get your wet weather gear on and bring your rifle. We’re on foot. Front door. Two minutes.’ Frank says and strides off, leaving Maddox to rush over to his tent to grab his new waterproof jacket and trousers. Ready to tell Booker that he’s been ordered to do sentry work outside with Frank in case Booker volunteers to come, but he’s not in the chair or inside the tent.

A minute and a half later, he’s at the front doors, tugging his waterproofs on as Frank marches over with his rifle slung to his front and his tac-vest over his waterproof jacket.

‘Borrow my spare,’ he says, chucking a spare vest at Maddox. ‘Knife in here. Mags in here.’

‘Are we just checking the perimeter?’

‘Nope,’ Frank says as he unlocks the door and strides outside, with Maddox rushing to keep up.

‘We’ll walk until we’re out of camera range; then we run,’ Frank says.

‘What for?’ Maddox asks, but Frank doesn’t reply and, a second or so later, sets off at a good jogging pace to get through the entry gate and down the long road towards the main highway.

‘Get to cover,’ Frank says after a moment and runs to the side to drop into the long grass of the verge, with Maddox doing the same. The two of them clinging to the muddy, soaking wet ground as the rain pelts down. ‘They’re not allowed to see us,’ he says with a wink as the Saxon goes by, with Maddox peering through the stems to see Tappy driving with Nick and Carmen up front, and Carmen actively looking left and right.

‘Does she know we’re out here?’ Maddox whispers.

‘Yep, and I’ve got an unbroken run at this, so don’t fuck it up,’ Frank says as he springs to his feet and sets off.

Maddox goes after him, figuring Frank must be almost three times his age, but the guy’s fitness and stamina are insane and he runs at a fast pace. Their rifles strapped and held to the front. Their boots splashing through the already deep surface water.

They reach the industrial estate a few minutes later, with Frank leading them into the long grass at the side to skirt the edges. Showing Maddox how to move and what cover is the best.

A few moments of crawling through soaking wet grass and sliding through slick mud, and Maddox can’t help but smile at seeing Carmen on sentry duty outside a row of vehicle repair workshops and parts supply stores while Nick and Tappy ferry things to the back of the Saxon.

‘We need to get close enough to see the ribbon on her boot,’ Frank whispers into Maddox’s ear, making the lad frown because, from here, he can’t see anything on Carmen’s boot at all.

They stay low and move painfully slowly to inch and slide through mud as the thunder growls and the lightning strobes, and the rain lashes down, with Carmen actively peering in every direction for them.

And Maddox loves every second of it.

The idea of it. The actuality of doing it. The game. The meaning. Even with the rain going down his collar and the mud smearing his face, he absolutely adores the notion of it and keeps edging closer. Sliding along a bank, then crawling through a ditch to slither through a verge. Pausing. Creeping. Edging closer. Knowing she’s there, with his heart booming in his chest while figuring Carmen must see them at any second.

Then suddenly, he’s staring across a few metres of rough, open ground to see a thin bit of red coloured material tied around the top of her boot, and the rush inside is like when he got to that pen last night. And at least this time, he doesn’t have to listen to older people having squelchy sex.

He slides back into the ditch and finally allows the smile to break free. ‘Red,’ he mouths. Frank winks and nods for them to retreat.

They withdraw to a safer distance, with Maddox learning hand signals used on silent obs. I’ll watch this way. You watch that way. We move to that point. We stay here. And all the time, they keep the other three in view and watch as Tappy and Nick load four big, knobbly all-terrain wheels into the Saxon.

‘We just need the mesh screen thing,’ Tappy says.

‘Is there nothing we can use here?’ Carmen asks.

‘Looked, and it’ll take ages to make one. But I reckon I know where we can get one. We just need a police station.’

Carmen nods and holds back as the other two load up before making a discreet T sign with her hands as she faces out. Then she gets in, and the Saxon pulls out, going past Maddox and Frank, hiding in the verge until they’re out of sight.

‘What was that sign she made?’ Maddox whispers.

‘Means time,’ Frank says in a normal voice. ‘End-ex.’

‘But they’re going somewhere else. Shouldn’t we track them?’

‘Nothing on this planet can track in this weather,’ Frank says. ‘Nothing organic anyway.’

Maddox looks in the direction the Saxon went and the complete lack of any sign of wheel marks on the road from the rain coming down as hard as it is. There’s no sign of it all, and even the smell of the heavy diesel engine has gone already.

‘You did alright though,’ Frank says, patting Maddox’s shoulder as he gets to his feet. ‘Concealment is an art. Same as surveillance. You can train forever at it, but my opinion is, you either take to it, or you don’t. It’s instinct, see. And thinking on your feet and using your wits. Dave can get in anywhere using force, but he’s not so good at concealment. He can hide and camouflage himself, but he can’t blend in with people cos he can’t read crowd dynamics other than for threat and risk. There was an assassin we were always after. Uglius Bastardius, we called him. The Uglyman. Gregori. An Albanian. He was trained from childhood to kill. Now, he could conceal and blend. He just got it. He kept his hair average and wore boring clothes; you wouldn’t look twice at him. The guy was off the chart with his skills.’

‘Why didn’t you kill him?’

‘We tried, but his Krye, that’s like the gang boss, kept him in motion. I had him in my sights right before the outbreak, but we couldn’t get the green light to take him. If we’d known this shitfest was coming, we would have done it anyway.’

Maddox listens intently at the way Frank speaks openly to him for the first time.

‘Shame too. I really wanted him. I said to Henry I reckon he’ll pop up somewhere. Unless they got him out just before it happened. You got that pen from the office then?’ Frank asks with a chuckle at Maddox’s face. ‘How close were you?’

‘Don’t even ask,’ Maddox says. ‘I think Howie’s ankle clipped my ear at one point,’ he says as Frank bursts out laughing.

‘Good lad for keeping it secret though,’ Frank says. ‘Most would have bragged about that. Our jobs come with responsibility. We see things others don’t, and we get close when people don’t think we are, and that means we have an unfair advantage, see? But we don’t abuse that. We only use what we find out for the greater good and never for our own gain.’

‘Understood,’ Maddox says.

‘And if Henry gives you a task, then you have to do it, even if it doesn’t make sense. We’re not soldiers, Maddox. I was a soldier, and this isn’t soldiering. We share some of the same skill sets, but soldiers have rules. Our rules are different. Our rules of engagement are different. We have to kill without the other person attacking us first. Sometimes, without ever knowing why. You think you can do that?’

‘Yes,’ Maddox says instantly, thinking back to the lad he shot in the compound, then to the soldiers he killed when he broke into the army base with Mo to rescue the others.

‘A woman?’ Frank asks. ‘An unarmed, old woman?’

Maddox frowns. ‘Does that happen?’

Frank shrugs. ‘People hold secrets, and in our world, secrets are weapons. Just cos the old woman doesn’t have a gun, doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. And the hardest thing is knowing when to make the kill without anyone telling you to do it cos everyone else calls that murder. Not that I can see us assassinating many old women now in this new world,’ Frank adds as they tab along in the pouring rain. ‘We’ll wait by the junction to see which direction they come back from. This is the shitty bit. Sitting in the filthy, bloody rain and waiting. It’s not all glamorous James Bond stuff, nipper.’

They sit and wait for over two hours, with Maddox growing colder by the second from being soaked through and not moving to generate heat. But eventually, the Saxon goes by, coming from the other side this time and turning into the entry road.

But the lessons still don’t end because Frank leads him back to the garden centre and works him around the building to check the perimeter and conduct surveillance on the others inside. Watching them in the canteen and through the front doors to see Booker going up the stairs and into the toilet, then Charlie trying to take Cookey to one side and getting interrupted again by Nick walking between them - while all the time staying out of range of the cameras.

It’s exhausting and cold, and Maddox soon realises what Frank meant about being in the filthy rain, with the word filthy being a synonym for fucking horrible.

‘All right. That’ll do,’ Frank says, nodding at them to step out from the bushes and walk back normally to the front doors. The two of them stepping inside to drip water all over the tiles. ‘Dekit and get into dry clothes. You’ll get sick otherwise.’

‘We can’t get sick,’ Maddox says.

‘I thought you were immune to the virus,’ Frank says as Maddox frowns.

‘I don’t know that I am. I feel really healthy, and my injuries heal, but I don’t have that hive mind thing.’

Frank shrugs. Not knowing the answer. ‘Back story for our trip out was to check the perimeter, then we walked in a wide outer circle to check for tracks in the mud or signs of movement. And clean your weapon thoroughly. Filthy, bloody rain.’

Frank walks off, leaving Maddox dripping water but feeling the best he has in years, with a sudden sense of belonging and purpose and a whole new outlook on life as Booker comes out of the toilet and spots him tugging his waterproofs off.

‘Where you been?’

‘Urgh. Don’t. I was in range of Frank when he got sent out to check for tracks.’

‘Unlucky,’ Booker says with a chuckle.

‘Did I miss anything here?’

‘Only the massive shit I just took.’

‘Nice.’

‘Was actually. You want a brew?’

‘Yeah, cheers,’ Maddox says as Booker heads into the canteen, and that new outlook at life glows again because Maddox now also knows that Booker isn’t a weirdo. He’s just a lad that once got falsely accused.

‘Brave, new world,’ he whispers with a wide and very rare smile and heads off for a brew and to clean his rifle.

7

Roy’s Story. Part II

“What did Penfold mean when he said ‘Just be very careful, Robert.’?

Rob thought back to those words as he tried the door handle, but it was definitely locked from the inside. He could even see the key in the hole.

But who had locked it?

And why?

Rob went outside to see if he could see through the windows. He went downstairs and stood next to his Tesla, which definitely wasn’t a Ford, and a beautiful, sexy woman went by in a wheelchair.

‘Don’t sexualise me with your eyes! For I am a lesbian!’ she said when Rob smiled at her.

He then tried to look through the window. But it was upstairs, and he didn’t have a ladder, so he went back in, tried to poke the key out from the hole, but that’s actually really hard to do, and you need to put some card or paper down under the door for it to fall on and then slide it back under, and in the end, Rob couldn’t be arsed with all that, so he booted the door in. Because he had strong legs. From being a Karate champion and a bodybuilder.

And he was so strong, the door flew off the hinges and smashed through the window, and almost hit the sexy lesbian in the wheelchair.

‘Sorry!’ Rob said to her and went, and got his door back, and she gave him her number cos she thought he was hot the way he’d kicked the door in.

Then he went back to the room and saw that it was empty and didn’t have any furniture.

But Rob saw a corner of old wallpaper was peeling down, and he thought he had to redecorate anyway, so he pulled the wallpaper down.

And his heart went bumpity, bump, bump because underneath the wallpaper, on the bare walls, were secret messages.

Written in blood!”

‘Oh. My. Fucking. God,’ Tappy says in the silence that follows.

‘Yeah, right,’ Carmen murmurs with a frown.

‘That was epic!’ Tappy says.

‘What? Really?’ Carmen asks. ‘I mean! Wow! So good. Like. So good.’

‘He kicked that door out the house, bro,’ Mo says.

‘He’s a bodybuilder,’ Danny says.

‘And a karate champion,’ Mo adds.

‘No, but the secret messages,’ Nick says. ‘What are they?’

‘We need part three,’ Tappy says.

‘Love it,’ Blowers says.

‘Is he getting it on with the lesbian?’ Nick asks.

‘And think about what you just asked,’ Charlie says, giving Nick a look.

‘Sorry! My bad. I meant the homosexual woman.’

‘I didn’t mean that!’ Charlie says. ‘I meant she’s a lesbian.’

‘You said I couldn’t say that!’

‘I said think about what you said when you asked if the man was going to get it on with the gay woman.’

‘Right,’ Nick says slowly. ‘So, is he then?’

‘She’s gay! She’s not going to get with any man,’ Charlie says.

‘Maybe she’s bi,’ Blowers says.

‘The story said lesbian,’ Charlie says. ‘Which I actually find a bit blunt.’

‘But she is a lesbian,’ Roy says.

‘But you didn’t say Rob wasn’t a gay man, so why label the gay woman?’

‘You’re like way overthinking it, Charlie,’ Tappy says as the group splits into several discussions at once.

‘She’s gay! She wouldn’t give Rob her number!’ Charlie says.

‘But he’s hench,’ Mo says.

‘And?’ Charlie asks him.

‘And a karate champion,’ Danny says.

‘That doesn’t mean he’s suddenly got some magical ability to change someone’s sexual preference. No. Okay. Here’s a question. Nick is hot, right? We all agree on that? Did Blinky fancy him? Or Mads?’

‘No, but she wanted Dave’s babies,’ Marcy says as the cheers go up.

‘She was joking!’ Charlie tries saying over the jeering while clearly figuring she just completely lost that argument.

‘I liked it, Roy,’ Clarence says with a manly nod as Maddox detects Clarence is still nervous of speaking to Roy because of the whole Paula thing.

‘That means a lot, thanks, Clarence.’

‘Yeah, but take that karate shit out,’ Frank says. ‘Karate is for middle-aged accountants.’

‘You’re thinking of CrossFit,’ Carmen says.

‘I did CrossFit for a bit,’ Booker says as the others bicker on. ‘There was one at the back of my estate. Next to that storage place I worked in.’

‘Any good?’ Maddox asks.

‘Nah, full of cunts,’ he says with a laugh as Henry calls over to Roy.

‘Good choice on the car though, Roy. Personally, I would have made it a Ford Mustang GT.’

‘Oh, hello!’ Tappy says with her head snapping over. ‘Good choice, Major.’

‘What’s your favourite?’ Henry asks her.

‘Oh god. The pressure,’ Tappy says. ‘I mean, any car? Like, as in anything, then it’s the Saxon. No! It is. She’s my baby. But after that? Er… Land Rover series 3.’

‘What, over a Lambo or a Ferrari?’ Nick asks. ‘The Major said any car.’

‘But what about my story?’ Roy asks.

‘So good,’ Tappy tells him.

‘You’ve definitely made some improvements, Roy. Apart from the whole lesbian thing,’ Charlie says.

‘But hearts don’t go bumpity, bumpity whatever though,’ Marcy says.

‘Oh, here we go,’ Roy says, sitting back with a huff.

‘You asked for feedback! I’m trying to help you!’

‘And you make it all about you again,’ Roy says.

‘Don’t be so sensitive! Hearts go ba-dum.’

‘Oh, I thought you were going to say the whole writing the heart noise was a bit shit,’ Carmen says. ‘Which it totally wasn’t,’ she adds on seeing Roy’s face. ‘Loved it. Loved it!’

‘Oh no!’ Marcy says in a mocking tone. ‘My heart’s going bumpity, bumpity for the disabled lesbian.’

Maddox can’t help but smile as the whole groups seems to trigger, with everyone speaking at once while Marcy reverts to the beautiful and arrogant thing she does as a defence mechanism.

But it’s cool though. Hanging out like this, and he shares a grin with Booker at the chaos and everyone trying to say what they think. Maddox hated it before now. He hated this group, and he hated normal chit chat, and he hated hanging out. Thinking about it, Maddox hated a lot of things while always feeling like he was better than everyone else. But it’s alright now. He still doesn’t see himself as an active participant, but it’s way more tolerable than it was.

‘No! You’re not storming off this time!’ Marcy shouts, rushing to get up before Roy. ‘I’m bloody storming off.’

‘Fine!’ Roy says, sitting back down.

‘Fine!’ Marcy shouts, striding off.

‘Marcy, you’re on first watch again, dear,’ Paula calls.

‘I KNOW!’ Marcy yells, about turning to head for the stairs again as Maddox shudders from the memories of last night.

I want you in me.

He’s literally got PTSD from that. If any woman ever says that to him, he’d probably puke right there.

‘I want you in me,’ Tappy says, making him spray his hot chocolate as she devours a roasted marshmallow.

‘Dude!’ Booker says, bursting out laughing. ‘What the fuck!’

‘I meant the marshmallow, you weirdo,’ Tappy says while chewing. ‘Not Nick’s willy.’

‘Tappy!’ Paula groans, shaking her head.

‘Hang on. The pen,’ Tappy says, pointing the skewer at Maddox.

‘What pen?’ Henry asks as Maddox looks casual.

‘Him. Running in late last night, soaking wet, with a pen,’ Tappy says as they look at Maddox.

‘And why, Mr Doku, were you outside with a pen in the rain?’ Henry asks.

‘Did you mean pen-is?’ Cookey asks to a few laughs.

‘Actually, yeah,’ Maddox says sheepishly.

‘No way!’ Tappy says as the laughs keep going with looks of shock on their faces. ‘Did you go outside for a wank? Just use the toilet!’

‘No. I can’t see you doing that, Maddox,’ Charlie says.

‘Me and Nick bloody saw him doing it,’ Tappy says.

‘You’ll go blind, nipper,’ Frank says, making a joke of groping around for his mug. ‘Look what happened to Cookey.’

‘And Blowers before me,’ Cookey says.

‘I was joking,’ Maddox says, realising he made a mistake with his backstory because Charlie picked up straight away that it’s not something Maddox would do. ‘I just wanted some air, and I found the pen.’

‘Air?’ Nick asks.

‘Yeah, dude. You know,’ Maddox says, dropping his tone. ‘Cos of that thing,’ he adds with a glance around as though checking Howie isn’t listening. The puppy he mouths.

‘Oh, god. Oh, that was bad,’ Charlie says as the groans roll out, and Paula reaches over to pat Maddox’s leg.

‘Dude. I’m so sorry,’ Tappy says, holding her hands up. ‘I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have called you out.’

‘It’s fine,’ Maddox says, playing his part. ‘Just, er. You know. Got in my head, and the rain, um, you know, calms me down.’

‘Aw, bless you,’ Paula says.

‘Well. If you ever need to talk,’ Charlie says, clearly buying that story a lot better as Maddox nods sadly and clocks the cynical eyeroll coming from Carmen and the discreet nod of a well done coming from Henry.

‘Is the boss alright though?’ Cookey asks a second later. ‘He’s not said much.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ Paula says with slightly less conviction than before.

‘Mr Howie has an enormous responsibility,’ Reginald says, speaking out for the first time. ‘And he takes your personal safety very much to heart, which is a very great burden, but one must also accept that Mr Howie is a man of action and driven to achieve his aims, and right now, he cannot do that in this weather, so I should imagine he feels somewhat like a caged tiger. Needless to say, he has all of our respect, and I think, perhaps, we shall afford him the peace he needs right now and allow the good Major and Paula to steer the ship.’

‘Yeah, so… I’m gonna do what the boss does,’ Cookey says. ‘Charlie? What did he say?’

‘The boss is fine. He just needs some space,’ Charlie says as they all murmur in understanding.

‘Well. I’m going for a wash-up and a doze before our watch starts,’ Paula says, getting up with a big stretch as she looks around at the others yawning. ‘No jokes?’

‘I was going to make a joke about edible knickers, but I’m too sleepy,’ Frank says to a few chuckles.

‘You using that staff shower?’ Carmen asks Paula. ‘I’ll go after you. But, FYI, it’s colder than outside.’

‘Urgh, is it?’ Paula asks. ‘You know what though. I really don’t want to go again. I’ll just rinse off and do my hair outside tomorrow.’

‘Not a problem I have anymore,’ Charlie says as they all look at her stubbled hair while rising to stretch and yawn, and bid each other goodnight.

Maddox moves off with Booker and the lads and spots Henry going up the stairs, clutching empty drinking mugs by the handles. ‘We got any empties?’ he asks the others before rushing after Henry into the kitchen.

He pauses in the near total darkness as Henry uses a small torch to find the lantern near the sink and bathes the room in a soft glow. ‘Ah, Mr Doku. Empties?’

‘Yes, Major,’ Maddox says, taking them over as Henry looks around casually.

‘Report,’ he orders curtly.

Maddox draws air, having ordered his thoughts, and starts with waking up and the conversation about Paula’s knickers, and then what happened at drill. ‘Did you want me to say all that stuff?’ he asks as Henry nods for him to keep going. ‘But you were there.’

‘I was, but we all see different things.’

‘Yeah, so then I showered, and I saw Nick and Tappy with Clarence, discussing how they’re going to make him a strap, so they can have different things for his stump. Like attachments. Then, er… Oh, shit! I need to go back. I left something out. Sorry. So, last night, when you said get the pen back. I went into the toilets, and Booker was masturbating.’

‘Again?’ Henry asks.

‘I mean. I think he was. But no. Listen. When he came out, he was all moody, and I said what’s up, and he said he got in trouble at school when a girl falsely accused him of wanking in the girls’ toilets. But he wasn’t even there. He was smoking weed, and the guy he was smoking the weed with gave the alibi and got done for the weed, and that’s why he gets all shifty whenever anyone mentions sex.’

Henry nods and pulls a face.

‘I mean. That makes sense though, right?’

‘It’s a plausible backstory.’

‘No? Come on. Really? He said he was with the other guy smoking weed.’

‘Go and get the evidence.’

‘From where?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Nah. I bought it. I mean. I used to enforce for the bossman, and I got good at it. I just knew if someone was lying about not having the money, or if they really didn’t, and Booker wasn’t lying. I’d swear on it.’

‘Never swear on something you cannot prove for fact. Your job is to report. Not vouch.’

‘Okay. Fair one. But yeah. That’s what he said. Then, I had Mr Howie’s ankle bumping my ear while he had sex with Marcy. Yeah. Right,’ he says when Henry glances at him. ‘But then I was in the back office getting the pen, and Clarence and Paula did it on the same desk.’

‘Which one?’

‘In the middle of the big office. The desk against the wall.’

‘Noted. Memo to self. Avoid that desk.’

‘The sex desk.’

‘Apt. Continue.’

‘Marcy is worried about Howie. She said she will finish this, you know, the war thing, and he can stay here.’

‘What did Howie say?’

‘Literally nothing. The only thing he said was he fucking hates people.’

Henry grunts and carries on washing the mugs as Maddox folds his arms and continues. ‘Paula’s surname is Prior. Clarence’s is Madden. Clarence was named after his grandfather who was MIA in Norway in World War Two. Paula’s middle name is Nicola. Oh, and Marcy does that whole cocky I don’t care thing, but she really cares what Howie thinks about her. I got the impression she actually craves his attention. He even said he didn’t want sex, so she stripped off.’

‘Marcy likes her own way,’ Henry murmurs.

‘Then I got out, but my bad because I didn’t prep for a way back in, which is why I ran all the way round the back and came in that way.’

‘I thought you’d left that door insecure for that purpose.’

‘Nope. Total fluke. I didn’t plan properly, and then Nick and Tappy saw me come in, they were having sex too. Literally everyone was having sex.’

‘It’s very natural at times of mortal risk,’ Henry says. ‘What colour ribbon did Carmen have on her boot?’

‘Red. That was awesome, by the way. I learned a lot.’

‘Good. Frank seemed pleased in the fact he didn’t say anything at all. Which is praise in itself.’

‘Any tasks for tonight?’ Maddox asks as a distant shout reaches them, making both turn as the voice yells again. Loud and female, and angry enough to make them run for the door, with Marcy and Howie spilling out from the office and running for the stairs.

‘Seriously! What the actual fuck is this?’ Carmen’s voice yells out as Maddox runs behind Henry to see Carmen marching from the workshop area in shorts and a sports bra while dripping water from a shower. ‘Answer me!’

‘Carmen?’ Henry asks, striding towards her as the others all run into view.

‘What is that?’ Paula asks, pulling a top over her head as she runs over in bare feet. ‘Carmen? What is that?’

‘This? This is a fucking camera,’ Carmen yells as Maddox comes to a stop, seeing one of the camouflage striped wildlife cameras in her hand.

‘Why do you have it?’ Henry asks.

‘It was in the shower!’

‘It was where?’ Paula asks in a rising tone. ‘The staff shower?’

‘Yes!’

‘I just used that,’ Paula says.

‘I used it earlier,’ Charlie says.

‘And me,’ Tappy adds.

‘Who put it there?’ Carmen demands.

‘Carmen, slow down,’ Henry says.

‘I will not slow down, Henry! This fucking camera was hidden in the shower.’

‘Dude, that’s so bad,’ Tappy says.

‘Where?’ Henry asks.

‘In the ceiling tiles!’ Carmen says.

‘I didn’t see it,’ Paula says.

‘But she’s trained to see things like that,’ Tappy says.

‘I am fucking trained to see things like that,’ a very angry Carmen says. ‘Some filthy fucking pervert shoved it up and made a hole for the lens to poke down through the tiles.’

‘Thank god it’s so dark in there,’ Paula says.

‘They’ve got night vision,’ Carmen retorts to more exclamations.

‘Right. Who did that?’ Clarence demands. ‘Cookey? Was this a joke?’

‘Seriously? Fuck off!’ Cookey says.

‘Whoa, no. Cookey wouldn’t,’ Blowers says.

‘This isn’t bloody funny!’ Carmen says.

‘I said he wouldn’t!’ Blowers says firmly.

‘Cookey definitely wouldn’t,’ Charlie says.

‘I’m not a pervert! I piss around and make jokes.’

‘Who then?’ Clarence demands, sweeping his eyes over them all. ‘I SAID WHO?’

‘That’s fucking gross,’ Tappy says.

‘It is,’ Paula says. ‘Lads, seriously. Is this a joke?’

‘Some little creep jacking off to us having a shower?’ Marcy says from the stairs.

‘It needs a monitor,’ Maddox says as they all look at him. ‘It’s the same ones that Nick put up outside. That’s just the camera…’ he adds with a sudden sinking feeling.

‘That’s just the feed,’ Nick says at the same time, going over to reach for the camera as Carmen pulls it away.

‘I am fucking fingerprinting this.’

‘I didn’t do it!’ Nick says.

‘Nobody is touching it,’ Carmen says as Maddox swallows and glances to Booker looking terrified again. ‘What was that?’

‘What?’ Maddox asks, seeing her glaring at him.

‘That look, Maddox.’

‘I didn’t look at anything.’

‘You just looked at Booker.’

‘So?’

‘Did Booker do that?’ Tappy asks.

‘What the fuck? No!’ Booker says, holding his hands up with a guilty look.

‘Booker, you fucking creep!’ Tappy shouts.

‘I fucking didn’t!’

‘Why did Maddox just look at you then?’ Tappy demands.

‘I can look where I want,’ Maddox says.

‘Mads!’ Carmen snaps.

‘I said I can look where I want!’

‘Maddox! I swear to god. Don’t fucking test me,’ Carmen growls at him.

‘I didn’t… I just…’

‘Mads, fuck off,’ Booker says with a panicked groan.

‘What the fuck?’ Blowers says as they all turn to look at Booker protesting.

‘I just looked at one,’ Booker blurts. ‘There’s a whole shelf of them literally right there.’

‘I fucking said he was a creep!’ Tappy says.

‘I didn’t do anything!’

‘He had one of these?’ Carmen asks, looking at Maddox. ‘Maddox!’

‘Yes!’

‘You fucking cunt,’ Booker hisses.

‘Dude. I saw you with it.’

‘You fucking pervert!’ Tappy yells.

‘Really, Booker?’ Charlie asks with a disgusted look, shaking her head at him.

‘No. No, that’s just wrong,’ Paula says emphatically. ‘That is just wrong, Alan.’

‘Oh my god. Listen to yourselves! You’re like a fucking echo chamber. I didn’t!’

‘Where is it then?’ Carmen asks.

‘What?!’

‘The camera Maddox saw you with. Where is it? Maddox? What did he do with it?’

‘I don’t know. I went upstairs,’ Maddox says.

‘When?’ Carmen demands.

‘Earlier. When you were talking about that Russian man.’

‘We were all upstairs,’ Charlie says.

‘Booker wasn’t,’ Carmen says.

‘You filthy, fucking, groping cunt!’ Tappy shouts. ‘That’s when he put it in.’

‘I didn’t!’ Booker yells back.

‘Groping?’ Charlie asks with a confused look.

‘Whoa, what?’ Booker asks as though suddenly realised what was said. ‘I didn’t grope anyone!’

‘Who did he grope?’ Blowers asks.

‘Nobody!’ Booker shouts.

‘Did he touch you?’ Nick asks, looking at Tappy while pointing at Booker. ‘Tappy!’

‘Yes! No! I think… At Gatwick he grabbed me and-.’

‘Jesus! Fuck off, did I!’ Booker shouts.

‘You did what, mate?’ Nick asks with his face darkening.

‘Hang on!’ Charlie calls.

‘Don’t fucking look at me like that, Nick!’ Booker says.

‘I’ll fucking bang you out!’ Nick shouts.

‘Hang on!’ Charlie says, grabbing Nick’s arm.

‘When was this?’ Paula says.

‘I just said. At Gatwick!’ Tappy says.

‘Where and when at Gatwick, Tappy?’ Paula asks. ‘That is a serious accusation.’

‘He fucking groped you?’ Nick asks again as Paula tells him to wait.

‘I don’t know! He grabbed me though. I got taken down, and Mads came ,and Booker grabbed me when I got in the Saxon.’

‘I saved you!’

‘You were squeezing my breasts!’

‘I’ll fucking do you!’ Nick yells, lunging at Booker as the others get between them.

‘I felt you bloody doing it!’ Tappy shouts, squeezing her own boobs while shouting at Booker as Bashir frowns and speaks rapidly, motioning her chest then at Booker.

‘What’s he saying?’ Paula asks, looking to Henry.

‘He said he saw Booker doing that in Rye,’ Mo cuts in as the shouts go up. ‘The woman he grabbed when the old man shot the guy. Booker grabbed a woman and did that,’ Mo says, pointing at Tappy’s hands holding her chest.

‘I’m a fucking-.’ Booker starts to shout as Nick yells and pulls free from Charlie to slam a punch into Booker, making the lad cry out but he rallies and comes back to fight as everyone starts wading in, with Clarence getting between them, pushing them both back.

‘I fucking didn’t!’ Booker says again, looking wretched and terrified. ‘I’m a lifeguard!’

‘What fucking difference does that make?’ Nick yells.

‘That’s how we grab people in the water!’ Booker shouts, putting his own hands across his body, with his hands on his upper chest.

‘I wasn’t in the water!’ Tappy says.

‘It’s just instinct. Jesus, fuck! What the fuck. I didn’t grope no one!’

Maddox thinks back to Gatwick and how they got Tappy into the Saxon. She was going wild and headbutted Maddox, but once they got her in, Maddox went to the front to drive. And there was that other woman. The naked infected one, when Maddox and Booker got separated, and when Maddox ran over, Booker was on the ground between her legs.

‘No. Fuck that,’ Nick says. ‘There’s a difference between grabbing and groping.’

‘Tappy, did he grope you?’ Paula asks again.

‘I don’t know! I just remember his hands on my boobs.’

‘On your chest!’ Booker shouts. ‘We loop our hands up so we can cradle the head and keep it out of the water.’

‘Since when were you a lifeguard?’ Blowers asks as it goes off again.

‘Tappy, did you actually feel him squeezing?’ Charlie asks.

‘I don’t know! My nose was broken, and it was literally right before Dave blew the silos. But he grabbed me.’

‘Okay, enough!’ Henry calls as Booker wipes the blood from his split lip while Nick glares at him, ready to do it again.

‘My understanding of this device is that it requires a corresponding monitor. Is that correct?’ Henry asks.

‘Yes,’ Maddox says as Nick nods.

‘Frank. Please check Mr Booker’s kit and tent.’

‘I fucking didn’t!’ Booker shouts. ‘I looked at one then put it back. There’s a whole shelf of them literally right there.’

‘You still fucking groped me!’ Tappy yells. ‘And that other woman.’

‘And you keep staring,’ Nick says.

‘When?!’

‘Marcy said!’ Nick shouts as Marcy nods grimly.

‘Sorry, but you were,’ she says bluntly. ‘You couldn’t keep your eyes off my chest.’

Booker clenches his fists in pure frustration. His jaw bulging, and his face a mask of worry and temper. ‘I didn’t put that camera up!’

‘You sure about that, nipper?’ Frank asks, walking back with a seven-inch monitor in his hand. ‘Hidden at the back of his tent.’

‘FUCK YOU!’ Nick roars, driving with full force into Booker, with the two of them crashing into a shelving unit and brawling across the floor until Clarence grips Nick and bodily lifts him away while Blowers and Cookey and the others grab Booker.

‘GET THE FUCK OFF ME!’ Booker shouts, spitting with fury.

‘You are out of here,’ Carmen snaps, pointing at Booker.

‘Fucking right I am!’ he shouts at her. ‘You just fucking planted that. I put it back. I PUT IT BACK!’

‘I want him out, or I leave,’ Carmen says. ‘And he’s fucking lucky I’m not putting a round through his head.’

‘You won’t do that,’ a quiet voice says from the stairs that brings them all to sudden silence as they turn to see Howie at the top of the stairs, staring down. ‘He’s one of mine,’ Howie adds quietly as the tension ramps dangerously.

‘Mr Howie,’ Carmen says with forced calm. ‘That man put a camera to spy on us in the shower. And he groped Tappy.’

‘I said grabbed,’ Tappy says. ‘I mean. I don’t know!’ she says nervously as she looks from Booker to Howie, standing silently with the dog at his side. Her head low, and the soft growl rumbling out for them all to hear.

‘What do you want to do, Howie?’ Paula asks.

‘He goes, or I do,’ Carmen says.

‘I said I’ll fucking go!’ Booker snaps. ‘Get off me!’ he says, pulling free from Blowers and Cookey. ‘This is fucked up. I didn’t do a thing.’

‘Get your kit and come up,’ Howie says.

‘I didn’t do a fucking thing!’ Booker yells, but even then, with that rage bubbling up, he doesn’t defy Howie and barges past Frank to his tent. Spitting blood and tugging his boots on and grabbing his bag and rifle, then pausing to grab waterproofs, his hands shaking, making him drop things and stumble in the strained and awkward silence. ‘Shouldn’t have come back,’ he mutters, shaking his head as he stalks through them to the stairs.

‘I don’t want to see you again, Booker,’ Carmen.

‘I’m sorry. But are we just letting him walk out?’ Charlie asks. ‘I mean. Is he a risk to women?’

‘Jesus!’ Booker says, stopping to look back at them from the stairs. ‘Mads?’

‘Bro. What? What can I say?’

‘You know what I went through.’

‘I know what you told me you went through.’

Booker deflates, shaking his head as if realising the whole world is against him, and nothing he can say or do will change that.

‘Do not go to the fort,’ Carmen calls as he walks up the stairs with his head down, and Maddox follows him up, feeling like he should say something and staying close as Booker and Howie head to the foyer.

‘Get your wet weather gear on,’ Howie says.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Booker says,

‘It’s raining heavily. Put it on,’ Howie says as Booker nods and drops his kit to start tugging the waterproof layers on as Maddox clocks the tears falling down his cheeks.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers, shaking his head. ‘Dude. Why?’

‘I fucking didn’t,’ Booker says quietly. His voice and manner defeated.

‘The monitor,’ Maddox says.

‘Yeah. Whatever then,’ Booker says, tugging his jacket on as Howie lifts his kit bag up for him.

‘Have you got food?’

‘Snack bars in my bag.’

‘Ammunition?’

‘One mag locked in, and another one in my bag.’

‘What about your pistol?’

‘One mag loaded.’

‘Take my spare,’ Howie says, grabbing another from his own bag in the office.

‘You’ll need it, boss.’

‘Take it. Got your knife?’

‘Yeah. I’m fucking sorry, boss. But I didn’t put that camera up.’

‘What about Tappy?’ Howie asks in the most gentlest of ways, and Maddox watches on as Booker tries to shake his head as he looks at Howie with his lips quivering and the tears coming out. ‘Mate,’ Howie whispers.

‘I’m sorry. I just had my hands too high,’ Booker says in a sob. ‘I wasn’t doing it on purpose but… It looks like I did. I just get… I’m just fucking awkward with women. I’m a virgin and… Look. I’m really sorry, boss. I’m really sorry.’

‘Where will you go?’ Howie asks as Maddox knows the boss is trapped between two impossible places.

Booker shrugs. ‘Home, I guess.’

‘Andover?’

Booker nods again as Maddox realises even he didn’t know where Booker was from and that Howie must have taken the time to ask and find out.

‘Alright. I’m sorry it’s come to this,’ Howie says, patting his arm.

‘I get it. Thanks though. You’ve always been decent, boss. I respect that a lot. I’d always fight for you.’

Maddox pulls his head back at the feelings inside as Booker looks ready to cry again but draws himself up, and nods as Howie unlocks the door, and he steps out into the rain and marches away into the night. Maddox follows Howie into the office to join him, watching the lad on the monitor, walking down the entry road in the filthy, bloody rain.

‘Alright, nips,’ Frank says from the doorway behind and chucks Maddox’s waterproofs in. ‘Get them on. We need to make sure he gets some distance away from here.’

Maddox nods and does as told as Howie watches the monitor until Booker’s gone from view. Even then he doesn’t say anything as Maddox grabs his rifle and tugs his hood up and heads to the door with Frank.

‘He’s one of mine, Frank,’ Howie says as Frank pauses and nods once.

‘We’re just making sure he leaves, boss.’

They slip out into the night and the pouring rain, and the thunder overhead, with Maddox knowing that Howie will be standing alone watching them go, while wondering what it must be like to have that level of control over people that they stop everything just from the sound of your voice.

But then, even Maddox wouldn’t cross Howie.

Only a fool would do that.

8

Day Thirty-Three

A few minutes before noon the following day, and Maddox walks into the office with a barely hidden grimace at the sight of Cookey eating biscuits stacked on the sex desk.

‘You on watch with me?’ Cookey asks with a mouthful as Maddox nods. ‘Want a biccie?’

‘No,’ Maddox says, resisting the urge to gag as he figures the custard creams are stacked right where Clarence’s naked backside was.

‘Can’t ruin your six-pack,’ Cookey jokes, wolfing the last one down.

‘…And my point, Howie, is that we cannot just remain here indefinitely,’ Henry’s voice drifts from the back office.

‘We should at least plan,’ Paula’s voice comes out.

‘Plan then,’ Howie says.

‘So, you give your consent for us to plan for the Krakov operation, yes?’ Henry asks as Maddox winces inwardly, knowing that is the quickest way to piss Howie off.

‘That was a bit clumsy, Henry,’ Paula says.

‘But you just said that we can plan,’ Henry says. ‘Which, I must assert, means we have your greenlight for Krakov.’

‘We agreed you’re in charge,’ Howie says. ‘Do what you want.’

‘So, we have Dave, yes?’

‘Ooh,’ Cookey mutters, wincing the same as Maddox.

‘Dave isn’t a tool, Henry. You don’t just break him out when you need him.’

‘But we do need him. We all need him. Without Krakov we do not have enough ammunition to continue or armoured vehicles.’

‘Well. Tappy is armouring the Royal Mail van,’ Paula says.

‘We need specialist equipment,’ Henry says. ‘Which means we need Dave.’

‘And Dave needed all of you when he was going out of his head working at Tesco,’ Howie replies. ‘Where were you then? Did you come down at weekends to check in?’

‘Did you?’ Henry asks.

‘Yes! I checked on him every bloody day at work.’

‘We’re getting off topic,’ Henry says.

‘Do what you want. Go and kill more people. Why the fuck not. Murder them all, Henry.’

Maddox and Cookey turn away when the door opens, with Howie striding out; his face as dark as ever.

‘Just let it calm,’ Paula says from the back office, clearly to Henry. ‘I think food might be ready.’

‘I think it is,’ Maddox says as the other elders pile out. Clarence. Paula. Frank, Henry, and Reginald.

‘You two, on watch?’ Paula asks as Cookey and Maddox nod. ‘I still don’t think we need to put two sentries on.’

‘SOP when a member of the unit has been removed,’ Henry says.

‘But he’s gone,’ Paula says. ‘Why would he come back? Whatever. Let’s just eat. I’m still hungry from drill. God, that was brutal this morning.’

They file out, leaving Maddox and Cookey alone in the office. An awkward pairing, but it does make sense. Blowers is the sergeant, and he can’t do everything with Cookey.

‘What would you do?’ Cookey asks as Maddox frowns. ‘About Dave, and this Russian guy.’

Maddox shrugs. Seeing it from both sides. ‘The boss is right, but we need that kit, and to get it, they need Dave. I don’t know. Maybe the boss is just fed up of it all.’

Cookey waggles a custard cream at him in agreement as Maddox turns to the windows. Staring out to the filthy, bloody rain still coming down as hard as it was yesterday. It’s been four days now of solid rain. Maddox can’t remember it ever raining this hard before.

The thunder keeps coming back too, and the lightning. What a time to be alive. What a bizarre and surreal, and royally fucked up time to be alive.

Last night was brutal.

He slipped out with Frank and went out into the blackest night Maddox had ever known. He couldn’t see a thing. Not even when his eyes had adjusted to the dark. There just wasn’t any ambient light at all. No moon or stars. Nothing.

‘Hold this,’ Frank whispered softly and pressed something into Maddox’s hand, then a second later, he realised it was one of the small seven-inch monitors from the night vision wildlife cameras, with Frank holding one up for them to see ahead.

‘Smart,’ Maddox whispered.

‘Lateral thinking. Use what’s around you,’ Frank said as they set off to the entry road and worked along the verge to avoid their boots scuffing the surface water on the tarmac and making noise.

They tabbed in quick time to the industrial estate where they once more secreted themselves into the bushes until they could see Booker through their small monitor. He was right at the edge of the infrared light coming from the camera, but they saw him break into a garage workshop and come out with sets of keys and watched as he pressed clickers until a set of indicators flashed on a BMW unlocking.

A moment later, Booker was driving past with Frank aiming his rifle. Maddox didn’t get why and frowned when Frank flicked the safety off as Booker reached the junction. Then he realised that if Booker went right towards the Garden Centre, Frank was going to put rounds into the car. His heart thumped hard at that point, but luckily, Booker turned left, and the taillights soon disappeared.

‘Were you going to shoot the car or him?’ Maddox asked.

‘The car,’ Frank said. ‘But if he’d got stroppy, he would have been next.’

Maddox nodded. It was hard and tough, and utterly brutal, but this was not the old world where you called the police and let them sort it out.

They went back but stopped at the entry road to the Garden Centre, and hunkered down for another hour. Making sure that Booker didn’t try and come back.

Eventually, they headed back inside. Howie and Marcy, and Paula, and Clarence were in the main office with Henry and the horse, and the dog, all eating biscuits. Everyone else was in the canteen, sitting at tables dragged together. Drinking hot chocolate and still talking about it.

‘I don’t know. I mean… You just get the creep vibe with some people,’ Tappy said as the others all murmured. ‘He was off from the start.’

‘And there really wasn’t anything weird before?’ Charlie asked as they all looked at Blowers, Cookey, and Nick.

‘Knew him for literally a few days before the boss and Dave got to Salisbury,’ Blowers said. ‘And there were more of us. Curtis, Tucker, Jamie…’

‘Darren,’ Cookey said as Maddox walked in and started tugging his waterproofs off at the edge of the room, with Frank having gone into the office. ‘Has the creep gone then?’ Tappy asked as soon as they all spotted Maddox.

‘Don’t demonise him,’ Maddox said.

‘Excuse me?’ Tappy said angrily.

‘Don’t be a Karen, Tappy. He fucked up. He’s been kicked out. Don’t turn him into a monster,’ Maddox said.

‘He fucking groped me, and you’re calling me a Karen!?’

‘Grabbed or groped?’ Maddox asked.

‘Okay, let’s just calm down,’ Charlie said.

‘No. It must have been my fault for pushing my tits into his hands,’ Tappy said.

‘No,’ Maddox said simply as he checked the jug for more hot chocolate. Enough for half a mug. He poured it out and took a sip. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what to think. It’s just confusing.’

Tappy went to reply but cut off as she folded her arms.

‘I didn’t mean what he did wasn’t wrong,’ Maddox said. ‘I’m just shook up. We thought he was going to drive back this way, so we had our rifles aimed.’

‘Oh god,’ Charlie says as Maddox quickly learns the methods to shape conversations in the way he needs.

They drifted down to sleep, with Maddox going straight into his now empty and spacious tent without bothering to spy or eavesdrop.

And Paula was right, because drill was fucking brutal when they woke up.

Blowers and Carmen ran them all ragged. It was like the bad energy needed to come out.

Then they did more of that desensitisation training, with Danny and Clarence whacking the shit out of each other. And once that was done, Henry said he wanted a watch on all the time going forward. Danny and Mo ate their breakfast in the office, watching the monitor and windows.

‘Bellends,’ Blowers says, carrying a big plate loaded with cheese melted over warmed long-life bread. ‘Felt sorry for you both. Mads?’

‘Cheers,’ Maddox says, taking one of the rolls to eat as Blowers sits down with Cookey at the sex desk.

‘Those cameras are only 40 quid,’ Cookey says as he eats. ‘I had a look this morning. Can you imagine the amount of pervs who bought one to do the same thing.’

Maddox snorts in agreement and strolls into the back office while eating his cheesy bread to check the window he went out through to make sure it’s now closed.

He stares out to the rain and thinks back to the conversation he heard earlier, with Henry wanting to lead an operation against that Russian guy to get his assets and weapons, and Howie’s all like do what you want. But Henry obviously doesn’t want to do it without Dave. And Dave now won’t do anything unless Howie tells him to do it.

He passes a shelving unit used to house all the manuals needed for businesses to function. Health and Safety. Training manuals. Books about chemicals and first aid training and hundreds of other things that literally don’t matter now, then he spots the book at the end poking out and cocks his head to read the spine.

INCIDENT LOG

‘Wow. Bet that’s stimulating,’ he mutters, sliding it out and only imagining what exciting incidents happened in a garden centre. ‘Ooh, nasty,’ he says with a wince.

‘What is?’ Blowers calls from the other room as Maddox walks out with the incident book.

‘Claire slipped on some oil in the kitchen and broke her arm,’ Maddox reads.

‘Ouch,’ Cookey says with the same wince that Maddox pulled.

‘How long ago?’ Blowers asks.

‘Er, about a year.’

‘Unlucky,’ Cookey says. ‘My uncle’s mate did that at work. They paid him a fortune, but it took like three years for him to get it.’

‘Oh, this one’s sad,’ Maddox says, reading another one. ‘Poor Fred had a heart-attack halfway through his scone with clotted cream.’

‘Hence, the heart-attack,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Harsh!’ Cookey says with a pained laugh. ‘Read another one, Mads.’

‘Okay, get this one,’ Maddox says. ‘Sixteen-year-old Alice was caught shoplifting so they gave her a job to teach her the values of effort and reward.’

‘Fuck off. Seriously?’ Blowers asks.

‘It’s right here,’ Maddox says. ‘But hang on, right, cos she comes in the next day and nicks three hundred quid from the canteen till, and runs off halfway through her first shift, and gets caught later by the police in the town centre, off her face on Ketamine.’

‘Noooo!’ Cookey laughs, eating another cheesy bread as Blowers shakes his head, and Maddox chuckles while flicking through the pages of the incident book to the last entry.

‘There’s one from the Monday before the outbreak.’

‘Read it out,’ Blowers says.

‘Monday 11th July. Duty Manager Jackie Philips. The incident type is employee gross misconduct.’

‘Juicy!’ Cookey says, sitting up to pay attention. ‘Go on.’

‘I’ll read what Jackie Philips wrote… On duty at 11:30 am, and Mary from indoor plants came and got me, and said young Amil, the immigrant lad we’d taken on, had seen Terry Williams (Terry W the warehouse worker, not Terry W the delivery driver). Amil had seen Terry W coming out of the female customer toilets on the top floor at close of business yesterday, and I said that’s nothing to worry about, but Mary said that Amil’s mum (who cleans for us when we’re closed) had said she saw a lens in the toilets, and she didn’t think that was right, but she weren’t sure, so she told Amil who mentioned it to Darren in the café, who told Mary.

I then went with Mary, and we saw the lens in the corner of the ceiling over cubicle number one in the female toilets. Then we found another one over cubicle number two, and we got Piotr (our maintenance guy). He’s Polish but speaks very good English, and Piotr got up on a ladder and found two of our wildlife cameras had been used.

Well. That was bad, but then we went to the staff toilets and found one in that cubicle too, and by then, Darren in the café and some of the other lads had got Terry W (warehouse Terry, not the delivery driver Terry) and had him pinned against a wall. I saw Terry W had a bloody nose, but they said he fell.

So I called the police straight away, and they searched Terry W’s car and found the monitors. He’s now been arrested, and they said we’d have to give statements.

‘Holy fuck,’ Cookey says, looking at Blowers as Maddox ditches the book and runs from the room. ‘Mads! Where you going?’

Twenty minutes later, Maddox runs into the industrial estate with his rifle strapped to his front. His clothes drenched from not pausing long enough to get wet weather gear on because if he’d dare risk a minute’s worth of delay, he would have been dragged into another epic dysfunctional conversation.

‘Fuck that,’ he mutters, slowing down from a run to a fast walk. Breathing hard, with rain pouring down his face. He aims for same unit he saw Booker outside of and finds the remote key fobs ditched on the ground, and starts clicking them while thinking Frank came close to shooting Booker last night. Frank said he was aiming at the car, but Maddox isn’t so sure.

Whatever. That was still messed up, and from a completely false accusation. Poor Booker. No wonder he looked so defeated. The guy didn’t stand a chance against everyone raging at him like that. Especially when Frank found the monitor, which wasn’t even inside Booker’s tent but at the back. And there are dozens of those cameras on the shelves. One could easily have got knocked off.

A click, and a set of indicators flash on a Subaru. He darts over and wrenches the door open with a muttered curse at the seat being too far forward and the inside stinking of stale Lynx Africa deodorant and cigarettes.

It fires up first time though, and he pulls away to the junction to see the Saxon coming towards him from the Garden Centre.

‘Nope!’ he says and pushes his foot down to wheelspin out of the industrial estate with a signal sent by the speed he shows. Don’t follow me.

Fuck them. Fuck all of that shit. Poor Booker had that false accusation when he was at school, and now again, here. And he came back voluntarily to help fight.

He thinks to use the back roads which will be a more direct route to Andover, but a moment later, he feels the car lose a touch of traction from the sheer amount of water on the road and figures the smaller roads will be prone to floods. Whereas the motorways are designed for the surface water to run off. It’s a longer route, but he figures it will work out faster.

It still takes time to head north on the A22, with the wipers going full speed, and the air vents blasting the windscreen to keep it clear from misting up.

Then it’s onto the M25, through Surrey, with London only a short distance away. But the plan fails somewhere north of Oxshott when he anchors on to avoid driving into the newly formed lake ahead. The motorway gone from view, and he blinks at the geese and ducks floating along quite happily in the brave, new world.

He turns back, and then it’s into the twisty turny back roads. Cursing whatever chain smoking, stumpy-legged, Lynx-Africa-deodorant-wearing chav was too tight to install sat-nav. Which wouldn’t work anyway, seeing as the satellites are all crashing back down.

But whatever.

A few hours later, after navigating scores more floods and going through villages with the same smashed in doors and broken windows as everywhere else, he gets on the M3 for the final stretch and twice has to stop from the thick lines of infected traipsing across the road heading south.

‘They’re massing somewhere,’ he says to himself on seeing the second line, and rather than going back and losing more time, he risks powering through. Clipping one with the front wing and sending it flying off into the deep puddles before the others can react.

He draws closer to Andover, thinking it’s a big town to try and find someone in. But then Booker said he used a CrossFit gym at the back of his estate, and he said the storage place he worked at was next door, or nearby anyway – which does help narrow it down, but it means doing some legwork.

A garage ahead. He slows the Subaru to a stop and stares for a long time. Knowing he doesn’t have the others to back him up if anything goes wrong. He drives in and comes out with his rifle up, and sweeps through the smashed in doors to the already looted shop. Grabbing a snack bar and a bottle of water from the side before finding the maps.

Back into the car, and he pulls away to find a remote spot to study the map, seeing that Andover has lots of industrial estates, but only two that look like they border significant housing development estates. One at the far western side of the town, and the other one much closer at the eastern edge, which is the direction Maddox is coming in from. He uses Henry’s pen to draw his route in, then sets off on London Road towards the eastern side industrial complex. Munching the snack bar and drinking the water, and frowning at the map.

Welcome to Andover

A big, blue sign on the left, with a corpse floating in the alarmingly deep waters at the base as Maddox drives through the deepening puddle, grateful for the all-wheel Drive capabilities of the car.

He passes a residential park home site. A haven for retired people, and one now turned into a waterpark, with the entire ground submerged, and the water levels already lapping at some of the ground floor windows.

A used car lot on the right, and he shoots past, then anchors the brakes on, and aquaplanes with a rush of panic from losing control. Knowing the car will buck and twist when it gains traction. The wheels bite the road, and he swerves to a stop with a gasp at his own stupidity for trying to brake so hard in this weather.

A second later, he powers back on to go back to the used car place from the glimpse he snatched when he flew past.

The glimpse of Booker’s BMW now ditched in the middle.

Maddox gets out with his rifle up and aimed, and his eyes squinting from the rain while wishing he’d wore a baseball cap or even that stupid pink beret.

It’s definitely the same BMW though. A bright red series 6 Gran Coupe.

He checks inside the car. Not seeing any signs of blood or distress. He gets out and spots the door to the car showroom has been kicked in.

He goes inside with his senses heightening at the corpse on the floor a few feet in, lying in a pool of congealing blood. He edges closer with his rifle ready and shoes the body over to see it’s an infected male with his throat cut and drag marks leading off. Like two feet have been pulled along the floor through the blood and the rainwater, and mud tracked in.

The track marks lead to the back area. A workshop and some offices. All grimy and shitty, and all of them empty, apart from another corpse face down over a desk. A woman in a torn nightdress hanging in tatters, with her brains blown out. The air thick with the stench of blood and gore.

No sign of Booker though. He must have ditched the BMW and come looking for keys to something else, and got caught out by two infected. He cut the throat of the guy, then a crawler must have dragged through to the back and got her brains blown out for the effort.

At least it means Booker is alive.

He rushes back out to see a big gap in a line of vans for sale. Four wheel marks on the ground where the rain has softened the mud and caused the vehicles to sink a little. Tyre marks through the mud. Booker took a van. That makes sense too. If he couldn’t find anywhere to stay, he could sleep in the back and stay remote.

He turns away, then stops again on seeing a large gold hooped earing in the mud, and picks it up. A cheap thing, worn for the effect, not the value.

He casts it aside and gets back into his car with another grimace at the stench and, sets off again. Reaching the business park a few hundred metres away.

He guides the car into the estate and passes a Starbucks coffee shop with an urge to stop, but he doesn’t have Nick with him to splice wires and get power into a coffee machine, but he smiles at the thought of Jess barging in to bite through cartons of oat milk.

The thoughts spike a feeling inside that they shouldn’t have all turned on Booker like that. It wasn’t fair. He feels shame too because he should have stood up for Booker like Blowers did for Cookey. The only things that Maddox said made it worse.

Poor guy though. He looked deflated when he left. Like he was ready to hang himself. A sudden worry hits Maddox that Booker might actually commit suicide, and he speeds up to drive through the surface water. Causing a wake to splash out behind him.

It’s a big estate, and he gets lost several times. Following lanes and roads into dead-end rows of small, single units, then working back past the goliath logistic warehouses and trucking company depots.

An hour later, and it starts to dawn that this was a stupid thing to do. Maddox thought he’d able to track Booker from what he said, but the reality of doing that is a lot harder than he imagined.

He drives past units and compound, and building supply centres, and in some places, it all looks normal. Like the outbreak never hit here. Then he rounds a corner to see a car smashed into a tree, smeared with weeks old, dried blood and the gnawed and decomposing body halfway out of the driver’s door.

Offices. Retail. Vehicle repairs. Big gates. Long fences. Brightly coloured signs everywhere. Rows of yellow delivery vans. Empty car parks. A twenty-four-hour factory to one side. Bodies outside of it. Some of them already floating on the rising water. He takes lefts and rights and drives loops while cursing the maps and everything else for not guiding him where he needs to be.

He ends up on Walworth Road as the sky darkens prematurely. The rain clouds seemingly lower and thicker than before, and it’s not long before the thunder starts booming once again, and the sheet lightning strobes his eyes.

He spots houses across the way and with a groan catches sight of a vast housing estate stretching off in what now looks like one giant shallow lake. He’s never going to find Booker.

He reaches another roundabout. One of many. All of them looking the same, and he realises why Mr Howie feels the way he does. Everywhere looks the same. The whole country had become bland and mediocre, and tepid as shit.

He passes allotments, now formed into islands, and reaches yet another roundabout, and drives once more into another part of the giant industrial estate. Thunder in the sky. The rain lashing down. The light dimming.

More units and more warehouses, and more signs for a CrossFit gym.

Wait.

What?

He reverses and turns in to drive along the front of several small units. The Box at the end. That’s what that they called CrossFit gyms. Each one was called a Box.

Is this the one? He drives a loop and feels a sudden glimmer of hope at realising he’s opposite the massive housing estate sitting in a new lake, but he can’t get the car through.

Fuck the car.

He gets out and straps his rifle on as he starts tabbing out of the estate and across the road to clamber through a thicket of trees to see the lake has formed in the slight depression within the playing fields and playpark. He wades through to reach the first suburban rows. Broken doors. Smashed in windows. Cars crashed into walls and trees. A lot of old bodies.

This was hit hard. But then, the outbreak went wild in these zones. There was no escape from it – and it doesn’t take long for that sense of despair to return as he comes to a stop and turns a circle at the many rows of terraced and blocks of semi-detached houses and the many lanes, and the many roads leading to many more.

Which renders it hopeless.

He just wanted to find Booker and tell him they were wrong. He wanted to take him back and make Carmen apologise for leaping to conclusions and all the accusations flying out. He was going to talk to Booker and tell him to apologise for grabbing Tappy and the other woman that way and that he understands he’s not a lifeguard, and how it could be perceived.

It’s all just so unfair. How it all happened. And he’s the first friend Maddox has made for a long time. Darius was his mate, but Maddox was always superior to Darius in a way. Darius always sucked up to Maddox. Whereas Booker was on an equal footing, which made it different.

Whatever though.

This is hopeless.

He wades back through the playing fields and scrambles through the muddy thicket and back into the business park to his car.

He starts driving off but slows as he spots another turning nearby. Booker said his CrossFit gym was next to the storage place he worked in.

I ended up in this shitty storage place for a few years. I liked it actually. It was peaceful, and I didn’t see many people.

Maddox peers through the rain-lashed windscreen to another big, colourful sign for the storage facility and turns in with a gentle frown.

I liked it actually. It was peaceful, and I didn’t see many people.

A huge building ahead. Long and high, and made from sheer metal sides. Dark grey and so bland you wouldn’t notice it.

Which makes it a perfect refuge.

He gets through the entry gate to see a big, blue van outside one of the roller doors.

He gets out to touch the bonnet. It’s cold, but Booker would have got here last night, so it had plenty of time to cool down. The roller door is secure and locked. He walks to the reception doors with a wry smile at the sight of the boards on the inside blocking access. Thick wooden sheets of ply screwed into the frame.

Somebody has been using this place then.

There must be a way in though. He sets off to work around the perimeter. Checking every roller door only to find them all locked. A fire door on the side at the far end blocked off with sheets of wood. Maddox turns away from it but spots the scuff marks in the muddy grass, and realises the wood had been moved very recently. Booker must have left himself a way back in and used it last night.

A couple of moments later, and a smug looking Maddox Doku steps through the fire door into the dry, dark interior, feeling somewhat pleased with himself. Henry will definitely have to give him credit for this. This is like seriously epic skills he’s using to do all this.

He sets off, with his eyes adjusting to the dark, and finds his way to the main central walkway bordering dozens of units that must have been leased out. Each one with its own roller door. And all of them now open.

He drips water and can’t help but stare in awe as he passes a unit stacked with packets of food and drinks. Bottled water. Snack bars. Packets of pasta. Camping gas stove bottles, and tins of fish and meat.

Someone is definitely living here.

‘Booker!’ he calls, but the sound is flat and bouncing from the hard angles, and the open units absorbing the noise while the rain strikes the roof overhead. He goes out and along. Spying into opened units stacked with furniture and desks, and tables. Some suitcases opened and rifled through.

He stops outside the next one with a look at the racks of clothes inside and steps in to see they’re all sexy outfits. Nurses and French Maids. St Trinian’s. Cops. Soldiers. Prison Guards. Another suitcase on the side filled with dildos and sex-toys. He screws his face up, figuring maybe somebody was selling it online.

He reaches a junction with a wide side path leading to what must be the inside of the roller door next to the van. A long pole in the corner for opening something high. A mop and bucket, and the area smells of disinfectant.

More units along the next row. The same as before. Furniture and household items. One of them filled with filthy, used clothes in bin liners that stink as soon as he goes in. He backs out with a gag and walks faster to the end, figuring maybe Booker has gone out because he’s very obviously not here - until he reaches the stairs at the end and realises there is another level above him.

He goes up and through a thick fire door with a grin at hearing music playing from somewhere ahead inside another unit.

‘BOOKER!’ he yells, but the music is too loud. He sets off, then stops, and backs up to smile at the sight of the unit he just passed. A bed inside. A bedside table. A battery powered lamp, and Booker’s kitbag right there. ‘Ha! I am a fucking genius.’

Inside the next unit, he stares at the kitchen set up with camping gas stoves on a desk and a table and chair for meals. A sofa to one side, and he smiles at the empty beer cans and Booker’s rifle propped against the wall. He puts his alongside it and drops onto the sofa with another smile at the screen of a laptop facing him. The disc tray open, with stacks of DVDs in cases nearby. Dozens of them. Classic old movies. Westerns. Modern films, and more than a few porn movies.

He snorts a dry laugh at that, figuring it must have got lonely here for the few weeks Booker hid before he found Mr Howie again. He sits for a while, thinking how funny it will be if Booker walks in and jumps out of skin at Maddox lounging on his sofa.

Which is also the quickest way to get shot.

‘Yeah. Don’t do that then,’ he murmurs and gets up to grab a bottle of Lucozade from the side to glug down before opening a packet of mixed nuts to chew.

No wonder Booker came back here. In fact, Booker probably won’t even want to go back. Why would he when he’s got this place? Maddox even gets an urge to stay too. Why not? They’ve got everything they need. Food. Drink. Movies. Plenty of space. It’s the perfect survival place.

Except, Maddox doesn’t want to just survive and knows he’d be bored out of his head within a few days.

That’s probably why Booker tracked Howie down. He must have got lonely and wanted to go back to his mates.

And then, look what happened. The poor guy.

At least Maddox can put that right, and he goes back into the corridor, crunching nuts and bobbing his head to the fast beat of electro pop. Something European from the clubs. It’s cool though. Upbeat and jaunty.

‘BOOKER!’ he yells, but still no reaction. He mouths more Brazil nuts as he reaches the next unit with a chuckle, and his heart whumps, with his brain telling him he’s not seeing properly.

Lights flashing inside. Cheap disco lights strobing his eyes as the deafening music blasts out.

A big, old sofa to one side. A desk laden with bottles of alcohol, and the MP3 player next to the speakers.

Chains bolted to the wall next to big, metal loops riveted into the bricks, with ropes hanging down alongside clasps and ball gags.

The smell hits him. The stench of shit and piss, and sweat, and his eyes show the horror as he slowly turns his head to a young woman dressed in a tight PVC latex nurse outfit on her back on a single bed.

Her wrists and ankles bound to the corners.

Her mouth covered in gaffer tape as she strains and heaves against her binds.

Maddox blinks. His heart lurches.

Booker inside, eating popcorn with the same expression of shock and horror when he double-takes at Maddox.

Both staring at each other as the music builds up to a crescendo finish.

Then it cuts out.

Plunging them into an awful, terrible silence

A moment in time.

A moment seared in time, with every nuance becoming magnified, and the silence stretches on, broken only by the grunts of the woman on the bed.

‘Mads,’ Booker gasps as he quickly finishes his mouthful of popcorn. ‘What are you… How did…’ he trails off with a glance to the woman on the bed. ‘I just found her! Mate! Seriously. I literally just walked in and found her… I was… How did you… But honestly! I was like what the fuck and… Cos I was here before. I stayed before. I told you that. Remember? I said I was living here. I said that, and I just got back, and someone else must be living here, and the music was on… So, I… I came up and… I mean. What the fuck, right?’

Maddox listens to him. Seeing the way Booker morphs so easily into earnest, plausible reasoning. His manner. His words. His facial expression. His body language. A victim. A witness. Not an offender.

‘Mads! Mate. Why are you here? Did you see the other person? I mean. Someone else is living here, right? We should be careful. Don’t just stare at me, Mads. I just found her. I swear it. I walked in and saw her, and then you’re right there… Mads! Fuck’s sake. I didn’t do it! I didn’t put that fucking camera up, and I-.’

‘I know.’

‘…Eh? What?’

‘Said I know. The camera. It was a mistake,’ Maddox says.

Booker blinks as though confused for a second.

‘I found the incident book. At the garden centre. A staff worker called Terry put the cameras up.’

‘I said,’ Booker whispers. ‘I fucking said I didn’t! I fucking said! See. I’m not a pervert,’ he blurts with a quick smile as Maddox’s eyes dart to the woman, then back to Booker. ‘Eh? No. No, Mads. I just said. I just fucking said I found her. I’m not… I wouldn’t… Stop fucking staring at me… Bro! Come on! Fucking stop. I didn’t! You know what I went through… The girl at school, and I didn’t grope Tappy. I saved her. I was a lifeguard.’

‘Where?’

‘That’s how we hold people.’

‘Where?’

‘What the? Where what?’

‘Lifeguard. Where?’

‘In the swimming pool. Er, Andover pools. The pools. The fucking pools. Don’t do that, mate. Don’t be all like where and then stay silent. Jesus. Anyone would sound suspicious like that. Fuck. I just found this infected and…’

‘You can’t see her eyes.’

‘What?! I can see her eyes! Look. She’s right there,’ Booker says as he points at her face reflecting the strobing lights hiding the colour of her eyes. ‘I saw them! Look,’ Booker says, darting forward, with Maddox’s hand dropping to his sidearm as Booker grabs the woman’s chin and forces her head over. ‘Red eyes! She’s infected… Why is your hand there? Don’t put your hand on your gun, Mads. Don’t fucking do that. I saw her when I came in. I saw she had red eyes.’

Maddox doesn’t move. He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at the woman.

But not at her eyes.

At her ear and the single, large, golden hooped earing.

A cheap thing worn for the effect, not the value.

Another moment in time.

The blink of an eye. The beat of a heart.

A change in Maddox’s energy. A shift in his aura.

Booker’s eyes harden, prompting Maddox’s hand to start pulling his sidearm out, with Booker throwing the popcorn and diving to the left while drawing his own pistol with shots fired within the confines of the small room.

Each one sending rounds at the other, with bullets pinging from walls. One of them winging Maddox’s arm.

‘Why did you fucking come!?’ Booker yells as Maddox pisses blood from his arm and keeps moving. Dodging between the bed and the desk at the side. Then diving to cover behind a sofa with a grunt at the rounds coming through, and another one scoring his thigh. He fires back until his gun empties and curses that he only had one magazine, and his rifle is in the other room.

‘You shouldn’t have fucking come!’ Booker yells and fires, with each gunshot deafeningly loud, until his gun clicks empty.

Maddox rises fast. Vaulting the sofa to get at Booker ejecting his empty magazine and already reaching for the spare one Howie gave him. Booker tries to turn away to buy time to get the magazine in as Maddox slams him onto the bed. The two of them on top of the infected woman, with Maddox trying to dodge the blows coming in, and he grabs the edge of the gaffer tape from the woman’s mouth and rips it free as he heaves himself off the side and drags Booker down into the range of the woman who sinks her teeth onto his ear and rags hard. Tearing it free.

Booker screams with blood flying out as Maddox rolls free, but Booker launches after him. Battering him down, with the two of them rolling across the floor.

‘I didn’t do it!’ Booker shouts.

Maddox knows there’s no point in speaking or saying anything else. He’s seen too much. He’s seen what Booker really is, and if he doesn’t act fast, Booker will kill him.

That fear sends a pulse of energy through Maddox as he bucks to get Booker off and slams his fist repeatedly into Booker’s ruined ear. Hitting it again and again with vicious, unrelenting power until Booker screams in agony and tries to move away.

Except, Maddox doesn’t let him, and he moves with Booker. Battering his ear with everything he has. Pounding his skull, with the blood spattering his face. Booker screams and tries to twist, but Maddox slams a fist down into Booker’s face. Breaking his nose and crunching his eye-sockets. Hitting him again and again because he fucking stood up for Booker. He fucking defended him. He made a friend, and that friend fucked him over and groped Tappy, and Maddox likes Tappy.

‘Fuck you,’ he grunts, battering Booker senseless as the lad punches out and draws blood from Maddox’s lips, and claws at his cheeks because he’s been fighting and killing since the outbreak started, and he’s got the infection inside of him. Giving him strength and lessening the pain.

But Maddox, see. Maddox Doku has been fighting people since he was child.

Scrapping in school to get detentions, so they’d give him snacks cos there was no food at home.

Scrapping on the streets. Scrapping in clubs and bars. Scrapping in alleys. Brawling. Fighting. Enforcing for the bossman.

If it was soldiering, Booker would win all day long, but like Frank said, soldiering is only a fraction of what they do, and so Maddox reverts to the skills he’s built up from a lifetime of fighting.

‘Mads!’ Booker gasps, spitting blood as Maddox snarls and gets to his feet, and drags Booker along. Booker kicks and punches, and fights like the vicious bastard he is and gets a powerful hit into Maddox’s eye, and sends him sprawling. But Maddox rallies fast and sees Booker going for his dropped pistol, and kicks him hard in the back of the knee. Making Booker drop, and once again, he goes for that ear. Hitting it over and over. Hitting it as hard as he can until Booker sinks down. Crying for it to stop. Begging and pleading. But Maddox won’t stop. He can’t stop. He saw the outfits downstairs. He saw the long pole inside the external shutter. The long pole with a wire at the end. The type they use to catch stray dogs that might bite. And he saw the bin liners full of filthy clothes. The clothes worn by infected females, captured in vans and dragged back, and cleaned off, and made to wear PVC latex, and then dragged by the neck up here.

‘You are fucking sick,’ Maddox says and drags Booker to the wall.

‘Please… Mads! Don’t… Fucking don’t!’

‘You are fucking sick,’ Maddox says again, kneeing Booker in the head to stun him long enough to get the rope around his neck. The rope hanging from the wall that was, no doubt, used on another infected.

‘No,’ Booker gasps with panic forcing him awake, and he grabs at the rope around his neck as Maddox heaves the other end. Booker screams, with his voice cutting off as he’s hoisted off his feet. Thrashing and kicking into the wall. ‘Please,’ he hisses, his face turning bright red. ‘Please! I’m begging you!’

Maddox yanks harder, pulling Booker higher, with tears pouring down both of their faces.

It takes minutes. Long, awful, terrible minutes to kill an infected man by hanging, and so Maddox holds that rope. Waiting for Booker to kick slower and slower, until finally, he holds a pleading hand out towards Maddox with a last-ditch silent plea for mercy. ‘I’m one of Howie’s…’ he whispers the words, and the life fades from his eyes, and his head sags, and the twitches cease.

Only then does Maddox move, and he gets up while holding the rope and gets it through one of the riveted loops bolted to the wall before stepping back and flexing his hands as he stares at the body of Alan Booker, hanging from a rope against the wall.

The music ends. The silence returns. Save for the grunts of the infected.

He takes his pistol and finds the spare magazine from Booker’s pouch, and reloads, then slides the top back to chamber the first round, and he stands over the infected woman, searching her eyes for something human. For any sign of the humanity she once had.

But there’s nothing there. Only the fury and hunger.

A second later, the shot rings out as the filthy, bloody rain lashes the metal roof, and the thunder rolls in the sky over the paltry lives of the mortals below.

9

It’s night when Maddox gets back.

He drives the Subaru up the entry road and parks outside the garden centre, and gets out with a wince.

The front door opens as he walks towards it. Maddox steps in and locks the door, then walks into the office to see Howie staring silently at him. Taking in the bandages on Maddox’s leg and arm and the fresh wounds to his face. Claws marks, and a fat lip.

Maddox swallows at the scrutiny as all the words he had prepared in his mind vanish. All the things he was going to say. All the replies he had ready. All of them now gone as he feels that aura pouring from Howie. That awful, dark energy. It doesn’t seem possible that Howie was just a supermarket manager five weeks ago. He seems so different now. So hardened, and even now, after what he just did, the claxon goes off in the back of Maddox’s head, telling him to tread very fucking carefully.

‘Did you find him?’ Howie asks. His voice soft. But it makes Maddox swallow again.

‘Yes.’

Howie doesn’t blink. He doesn’t move a muscle for a very long time.

‘Is he dead?’

‘Yes.’

The energy hardens. Maddox can feel it. So can Meredith who pushes into Howie’s side with that soft growl sounding clear.

‘Did Henry tell you to kill him?’

There it is. The question that will decide the future. Howie wants to know not how Booker died or why. But if Henry ordered the execution of one of his.

‘No,’ Maddox whispers. ‘He’d taken an infected girl. He was raping them. He drew. I mean. I drew. We both drew…’ he trails off as Howie nods. Or maybe he just lowers his head. It’s too dark to see properly, and the moment too intense.

‘What do I tell the others?’ Maddox asks.

‘The truth,’ Howie says. ‘Always the truth, Maddox.’

‘Yes, Boss,’ Maddox says, surprised at his own submissiveness as Marcy goes past to rest against the sex desk next to Howie.

‘Henry’s in the canteen. I think he’s waiting for you,’ Marcy says.

‘Thanks. Can I go?’ he asks as he turns, then stops, and looks back. ‘I think Henry wants me to work for him now. Is that okay? I mean. I wanted to check cos you gave me a chance, and I appreciate that.’

‘None of you work for me,’ Howie says. ‘I’ve always said you can go whenever you want.’

Maddox stares at him with a glimpse into the new world order, with Howie’s energy challenging the old structures and hierarchies. ‘Are you going to stop fighting?’ he asks quietly.

‘Henry’s waiting for you,’ Marcy says in reply. ‘And I want to have sex, so bugger off.’

‘Dude,’ Maddox says, turning away. ‘I need actual therapy.’

‘For what?’ Marcy asks.

I want you in me, Paula’s voice comes back in Maddox’s mind as he gags and goes out, leaving Marcy and Howie exchanging shrugs. ‘Anyway, so I’m thinking about the seating arrangement,’ Marcy says as Maddox walks off.

He finds Henry in the dark canteen. In the same place he was a few nights ago. At a table next to a low-glow lantern. A bottle of brandy. Two glasses.

Maddox comes to a stop as Henry looks at him without expression, then nods for Maddox to sit down, and pours a shot into the second glass.

‘Report,’ he says softly.

Maddox takes a big swig and feels the burn in his throat, and in his head, it’s as if the transition takes place right then and right there. The transition from Howie’s team into Henry’s. From a soldier to an agent.

He makes his report. Leaving nothing out. Telling it all from finding the Subaru to the flooded roads, to thick lines of infected heading south, to the garage, and finding the BMW, and the van, the earing, getting lost, going into the estate, finding the gym, and then the storage depot. The way inside. The pole. The food. The used clothes. Upstairs. And then, finally, the end unit, and what he did to Booker. He finishes speaking and drinks the rest of the brandy.

‘Howie asked me if Booker was dead, and then he asked me if you ordered me to kill him. I said no. And I said I wanted to work on your team now. Mr Howie said we can all come and go when we want.’

Henry nods and sips his brandy. ‘And how do you feel now?’ he asks with a steady look.

Maddox shrugs. Not knowing what he should feel. ‘Hungry. My arm hurts. And my leg, but it’s not that bad. I think I was confused earlier. When I read that incident report and before that. But I’m not now.’

‘Guilt?’ Henry asks softly. ‘It’s normal to feel guilt.’

Maddox frowns while staring into space for a second. Then he shifts and looks around the room, and spots the incident book on another table. No doubt, for the others to all read the report about Terry W.

He blinks. His face showing the connections forming in his mind, and Henry watches, in almost mild interest, as Maddox grabs the incident book and sits back down.

‘I don’t feel guilty,’ Maddox says as he flicks to the last page to read the incident report again. ‘I saw what I saw,’ he adds, leaning back to pull something from his pocket. The pen Henry told him to get from the office. ‘The van was cold, which means Booker was there for a while before I arrived. And he was eating popcorn as calm as you like when I walked in. And if that isn’t the mind of a sick creep, then I don’t know what is…’ he trails off as he pops the lid from the pen and writes his name under the last line in the incident book.

The one written by Jackie Philips on 11th July.

Five days before the outbreak.

Maddox snorts a dry laugh and sits back to shake his head at Henry, and throws the book on the table. Henry doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t need to. He knows the colour of the ink Maddox just wrote with is the exact same shade used by Jackie Philips on 11th July. He can also see in Maddox’s eyes as the lad thinks back to Carmen finding the camera in the toilet and Frank finding the monitor hidden behind Booker’s tent.

Maddox thinks back to the map he used to find Andover and that same pen he used to draw the route. The pen he suddenly thought about when he mentioned the incident report a moment ago.

Another moment in time.

Another moment seared in time, with every nuance becoming magnified, and the silence stretches on as Maddox goes to speak but stops, and just smiles as Henry pours him another glass.

‘When you’ve done our job for long enough, you develop a sixth sense,’ Henry says softly. ‘And what we are going into will require a tight team. So, proactive action was taken to, shall we say, accelerate what would have always happened. Like Frank told you. We operate on a different level. But still, for the greater good. But here’s to you, Maddox, for observing such a tiny thing.’

Henry clinks his glass as they drink the brandy in the dark canteen as the sex desk in the office starts banging against the wall. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Maddox says as Henry smiles.

‘It’s very normal in such times. Don’t you have desires?’

‘Yeah, course. But not on the same desk as everyone else.’

Henry laughs quietly, ‘Touché.’

‘But seriously though,’ Maddox says, lowering his voice. ‘If Howie ever finds out you did that, he’ll go nuts.’

‘Oh, you misunderstand the situation entirely, Maddox. We didn’t act under our own volition. We were operating under sanction.’

‘Under sanction?’ Maddox asks as he tries to make sense of it as the memory pops into his head. The memory of someone that never does anything without a reason. The memory of Reginald quietly watching them all. And there it is. The game at play, and Reggie, the master, refusing to allow anything to happen to upset his team. ‘Fuck me,’ he whispers; his eyes going wide as he looks at Henry.

‘We all dance to someone’s tune,’ Henry says softly. ‘Nevertheless, under sanction or not, we have our own rules in my team, and that means your loyalty is given to me, and in exchange, you will be trained fully. Do we have an agreement, Maddox?’

‘Yes, Major,’ Maddox says instantly and without hesitation because even that dirty trick has only made the desire to be an agent even more than it was before.

‘Good. And it’s Henry. We’re not soldiers. We are agents.’

‘Yes, Henry.’

‘Well done. Now, bugger off. I need come up with another devilish plan to thwart an altogether greater level of evil.’

Maddox rises, half smiling and half frowning, because what Henry said sounded funny. Except, Henry doesn’t look the least bit humoured. ‘Did something happen?’ he asks.

‘Yes. Something did happen. And something far worse than this sordid shit,’ Henry says as Maddox blinks at him swearing. ‘Our dear Marcy, whom we can currently hear trying to smash that desk through the wall, has decided she wants to hold a dinner party.’

‘Oh,’ Maddox says with a grimace.

‘And grimace you should, because we all know that what Marcy wants, Marcy gets…’

ALSO BY RR HAYWOOD

Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Amazon & Audible bestselling author, RR Haywood. One of the most downloaded indie authors in the UK with nearly four million books sold and over 25 Kindle bestsellers.

DELIO. PHASE ONE

*WINNER OF “BEST NEW BOOK” DISCOVER SCI-FI 2023

#1 Amazon & Audible bestseller

A single bed in a small room.

The centre of Piccadilly Circus.

A street in New York city outside of a 7-Eleven.

A young woman taken from her country.

A drug dealer who paid his debt.

A suicidal, washed-up cop.

The rest of the world now frozen.

Unmoving.

Unblinking.

"Brilliant."

"A gripping story. Harrowing, and often hysterical."

"This book is very different to anything else out there - and brilliantly so."

"You'll fall so hard for these characters, you'll wish the world would freeze just so you could stay with them forever."

*

FICTION LAND

*Nominated for Best Audio Book at the British Book Awards 2023

*Narrated by Gethin Anthony

*The #1 Most Requested Audio Book in the UK 2023

*Now Optioned For A TV Series

*#1 Amazon bestseller

#1 Audible bestseller

“Imagine John Wick wakes up in a city full of characters from novels – that’s Fiction Land.”

Not many men get to start over.

John Croker did and left his old life behind – until crooks stole his delivery van. No van means no pay, which means his niece doesn’t get the life-saving operation she needs, and so in desperation, John uses the skills of his former life one last time… That is until he dies and wakes up in Fiction Land. A city occupied by characters from unfinished novels.

But the world around him doesn’t feel right, and when he starts asking questions, the authorities soon take extreme measures to stop him finding the truth about Fiction Land.

*

EXTRACTED SERIES

EXTRACTED

EXECUTED

EXTINCT

Blockbuster Time-Travel

#1 Amazon US

#1 Amazon UK

#1 Audible US & UK

Washington Post & Wall Street Journal Bestseller

In 2061, a young scientist invents a time machine to fix a tragedy in his past. But his good intentions turn catastrophic when an early test reveals something unexpected: the end of the world.

A desperate plan is formed. Recruit three heroes, ordinary humans capable of extraordinary things, and change the future.

Safa Patel is an elite police officer, on duty when Downing Street comes under terrorist attack. As armed men storm through the breach, she dispatches them all.

'Mad' Harry Madden is a legend of the Second World War. Not only did he complete an impossible mission—to plant charges on a heavily defended submarine base—but he also escaped with his life.

Ben Ryder is just an insurance investigator. But as a young man he witnessed a gang assaulting a woman and her child. He went to their rescue, and killed all five.

Can these three heroes, extracted from their timelines at the point of death, save the world?

*

THE CODE SERIES

The Worldship Humility

The Elfor Drop

The Elfor One

#1 Audible bestselling smash hit narrated by Colin Morgan

#1 Amazon bestselling Science-Fiction

“A rollicking, action packed space adventure…”

“Best read of the year!”

“An original and exceptionally entertaining book.”

“A beautifully written and humorous adventure.”

Sam, an airlock operative, is bored. Living in space should be full of adventure, except it isn’t, and he fills his time hacking 3-D movie posters.

Petty thief Yasmine Dufont grew up in the lawless lower levels of the ship, surrounded by violence and squalor, and now she wants out. She wants to escape to the luxury of the Ab-Spa, where they eat real food instead of rats and synth cubes.

Meanwhile, the sleek-hulled, unmanned Gagarin has come back from the ever-continuing search for a new home. Nearly all hope is lost that a new planet will ever be found, until the Gagarin returns with a code of information that suggests a habitable planet has been found. This news should be shared with the whole fleet, but a few rogue captains want to colonise it for themselves.

When Yasmine inadvertently steals the code, she and Sam become caught up in a dangerous game of murder, corruption, political wrangling and...porridge, with sex-addicted Detective Zhang Woo hot on their heels, his own life at risk if he fails to get the code back.

*

THE UNDEAD SERIES

THE UK’s #1 Horror Series

Available on Amazon & Audible

“The Best Series Ever…”

The Undead. The First Seven Days

The Undead. The Second Week.

The Undead Day Fifteen.

The Undead Day Sixteen.

The Undead Day Seventeen

The Undead Day Eighteen

The Undead Day Nineteen

The Undead Day Twenty

The Undead Day Twenty-One

The Undead Twenty-Two

The Undead Twenty-Three: The Fort

The Undead Twenty-Four: Equilibrium

The Undead Twenty-Five: The Heat

The Undead Twenty-Six: Rye

Blood on the Floor

An Undead novel

Blood at the Premiere

An Undead novel

The Camping Shop

An Undead novella

*

A Town Called Discovery

The #1 Amazon & Audible Time Travel Thriller

A man falls from the sky. He has no memory.

What lies ahead are a series of tests. Each more brutal than the last, and if he gets through them all, he might just reach A Town Called Discovery.

*

THE FOUR WORLDS OF BERTIE CAVENDISH

A rip-roaring multiverse time-travel crossover starring:

The Undead

Extracted.

A Town Called Discovery
and featuring

The Worldship Humility

*
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