Flare (11 page)

“What, had too much beer?”  Said one, laughing, then he leaned closer and comprehension dawned.

“Hang on, you’re one of the… oof!”

He dropped the ground bonelessly, his friend turning to see what was happening just as the butt of a shotgun smashed into his neck where it met his shoulder.

He just about had time to gasp and reach for his neck as he collapsed, Emily stepping over them and grabbing me roughly by the collar, hauling me mercilessly to my feet.

I stared up at her through tear-filled eyes, seeing Ralph at her shoulder, carrying her Bergen and the second shotgun.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”  Emily asked, but I could only shake my head, unable to tell her that I’d most likely just murdered someone.

“Well whatever it is, we don’t have time for it”, she continued, pushing me roughly back towards her house, “not if we want to get in the car and get out of here”.

Between her and Ralph they got me pointed in the right direction, alternately guiding and shoving me until I managed to put one foot in front of the other and keep going, unable to take comfort in the fact that I’d saved my friends when the price was so very high.

Chapter
17

I don’t remember much of the walk back to the car.  I remember Emily physically pulling me through the hedge when I stopped and just stared at it, and I remember catching the worried glance she and her father threw each other when they thought I wasn’t looking.  I was looking; I was just so wrapped up in my own misery that I didn’t care.

We reached the fron
t of the house without incident and they hurried me towards the car, still sitting where we’d left it but now with the driver’s window smashed in and the car thoroughly searched, the glove box left open and Jerry’s maps scattered all over the back seat.

Emily got in the driver’s seat
while Ralph shoved me unceremoniously in the back and climbed in after me, unwinding the passenger window so that he could poke his shotgun out.

“We’re ready”, he said, and Emily started the engine, then pulled a U-turn and headed back the way we’d come that morning.

I finally looked up at that, realising that we would have to drive past my brutal handiwork.

“Can’t we go another way?”  I asked, but Emily shook her head.

“Not a chance.  There’s no way out of the estate the other direction, it just goes around in a big circle.  We want to get back to mum and dad’s, we have to drive past them.  Are you up to using a shotgun?”

I shook my head.  The thought of hurting anyone else was almost enough to make me weep.  I’d always thought I was strong, and maybe I was, but I challenge anyone not to crack up in the face of what I was going through right then.

“Fine, well just keep your head down if it goes wrong.  Hang on”.

She turned the corner and I couldn’t help but stare.  Not only was the house I’d torched in flames, but the fire had spread to the
next one and was threatening a third.  Thirty or so people had formed a bucket chain, using what little water was available from water butts and bottles, but they stood little chance of dousing the raging inferno.

“What the hell did you do?”  Emily breathed, picking up speed and
jinking to avoid the few people running across the road to add their paltry water supplies to the chain.

“I…”  I stopped, seeing something that cut through the fog
in my mind like sunlight on a rainy day.  Picked out in the headlights was a man I recognised as Jamie, two children in his arms and tears running down his face past a huge grin as he clutched them to his chest.

The children were squirming, clearly unsure why their dad was making such a fuss, but to me it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from my chest and suddenly I could breathe again.

“I did something
really
fucking stupid”, I said, “but it worked”. 

I could hear the crackle of flames through the window, bringing back vivid images of Brighton on fire, but then the night was split by a huge shout.

“Fucking stop them!”

The man in the white vest ran out into the road and scooped up his golf club from where it lay by the fire, running after us and hurling it as hard as he could in our direction.

It went wide, curving off into a front garden and burying itself in a hedge, but I breathed a huge sigh of relief as we turned the corner and the street and its occupants were lost from view.

“You want to keep your speed down love”, Ralph said, as calmly as if he were giving a driving lesson and not escaping from a bunch of violent looters, “there’s a few cars abandoned on the road and it won’t do us much good if we crash”.

“Yes dad”, she replied in a weary tone, “I’ll be careful.  Shall I take the long route or the short one?”

He hesitated for a moment.  “The short one, I reckon.  Your mum’ll be fit to burst with worry, let’s not keep her waiting longer than we have to”.

She nodded and took a left, heading down country roads that to my eye looked identical to the ones we’d followed the other way that morning.

“How long will it take us to get back?”  I asked, looking down and realising that the front of my t-shirt was stained with vomit.

Ralph saw where I was looking but didn’t comment, instead opening the Bergen and pulling out a plastic water bottle which he passed to me.

“About half an hour, maybe forty minutes, we don’t get no interruptions on the way”, he said as I almost ripped the top off
the bottle and drank most of it in one go.

The warm, plastic-tast
ing water was unbelievably good and I drank a little more before pouring some on my t-shirt and trying to get the worst of the vomit off.

When I’d finished
I looked up to see Ralph watching me, his brow furrowed.

“What happened back there?”  He asked bluntly.  “You sort of fell apart for a while”.

I shrugged, still uncomfortable with how close I’d come to committing one of the most heinous crimes I could imagine.

“I set light to one of the houses to distract them”, I said finally, “but when I told the guys who were guarding you, one of them started panicking because he thought his kids were in there and I…”  I tailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but Ralph was looking at me with a surprising amount of compassion and not a little understanding.

“Well”, he said, clearly uncomfortable with showing his feelings but needing to make his point, “I don’t rightly blame you for feeling like you did, I reckon I would’ve felt the same.  I take it that was him in the street trying to squeeze his kids to death?”

“Yeah, so they’re ok, but when I think how close it came…”  I stopped again, feeling absurdly close to tears.  “You must think…”

“That you’re a good man who did what he could when he could have run away and left us”, Emily broke in, glaring at the mirror.  “You made a tough call in a difficult situation, but the result is that we all got out ok and no one died, so I call that a win, don’t you?”

I couldn’t fault her logic, and I was emotionally mature enough to know the difference between
genuine remorse and moping, realising that I was getting perilously close to the latter.

“You’re right”, I said, forcing myself to smile, “and I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised at how well you handled yourself today”.

“Oh
really
?  How do you mean, precisely?”  There was something in her tone that made me realise I was walking into a trap, but I couldn’t for the life of me see what it was or why it was there.  It reminded me of the sudden arguments I’d had with Angie, and the conversational pitfalls I’d never seen until too late.

“Well”, I said, trying to find
my feet again, “I mean, you were decisive, calm and clear-headed while we were being chased by a group of thugs.  Most people would have panicked and come apart, but you, well, uh, you did well”.

“For a woman?”  She asked tartly.

“For anyone!  Why is this suddenly about you being a woman?  You handled yourself at least as well as any man I know today”.

“Just
as well as
, not better than?”  She asked in the same tone.

“Well, er, maybe, yes.  Look, whatever I said that annoyed you, I’m sorry, I was just trying to pay you a compliment.  After all, it’s not like you’ve been through anything like that before,
I should think, and I was impressed is all”.

I heard a noise from the seat next to me like a set of rusted gears straining against each other.  For a horrible moment I thought Ralph was having a heart attack, then I realised that he was laughing, his eyes dancing with merriment.

“What?”  I snapped, feeling like the butt of a joke that everyone else got but I didn’t.  “What’s so funny?”

“Not been through anything like that before?”  He wheezed, and I looked at Emily to see her grinning in return.  “Have you met my daughter properly?”

“Properly?”  I still didn’t get it, and the longer they chuckled at each other the angrier I became.  “We didn’t quite have time for proper introductions, no”.

“Well then”, he said, placing a conciliatory hand on my arm, “allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Sergeant Emily Morris, 1
st
Battalion, Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. I reckon she’s seen a damn sight more trouble in worse places than you or I could think of, so today might have been rough for you or me, but to her it was just a walk in the park”.

Chapter
18

The rest of the journey passed in silence, broken by Ralph’s occasional chuckles.  I was already thoroughly embarrassed by my attempt to congratulate Emily on how well she’d coped, and the laughter really wasn’t helping my mood but I let it pass unchallenged. 

Looking at it from her point of view, I supposed my comments could be seen as rude, although I preferred to think of them as uninformed.

Thinking
back, I was surprised that I hadn’t worked it out for myself.  Not only was she cool and capable under fire, as it were, but her house had been neat to the point of severity and now I thought about it she had that unmistakable military air about her.

I put it down to the events of the afternoon overwhelming me, and spent the rest of the journey trying to think of something suitable to say that wouldn’t make me sound any more like a moron than I had already.

In the end I settled for keeping my mouth shut, which seemed to be the best option when Emily finally spoke to me as we drew close to the cottage.

“Malc, thank you for today”.

I looked up and blinked for a second, unsure what to say.

“You’re welcome”, I said finally, “it’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me”.

“Well I,
we
appreciate it.  You could have just left us to it, come back and spun some story for mum and disappeared into the blue never to be heard of again”.

I felt a stab of guilt as I remembered considering that very thing.

“Wouldn’t have been right”, I said, glad that the darkness hid my burning cheeks.  “I promised your mum I’d help get you home, and I don’t like breaking promises”.

“Well I think you’re a good man”, she said with a smile, showing dimples in the mirror.  “Will you be staying with us when we get home?  I’m sure dad could find a use for you and your friend both.”

I shook my head.  “I’d love to”, I said, suddenly realising that it was true, “but my daughter is up in Manchester and her mother, well, let’s just say she’s not someone I want looking after my little girl the way things are right now”.

“You’re married?”  Was there a hint of disappointment there?  I ba
nished the thought instantly; this was no time to be thinking about romance, no matter how attractive I found Emily.

“Divorced.  We married way too young on the strength of a drunken club night.  Not the most stable foundation for a relationship.  Turns out we had nothing in common, and things only got worse
the older Melody got, we couldn’t agree on anything in the end”.

I closed my mouth with a snap.  Here I was, spilling my life story to someone I’d only just met while her father sat next to me with a loaded shotgun.  It was almost enough to make me laugh, and I had to repress the urge to giggle like a child.

“How about you?”  I asked instead, “got anyone back in the army?”

She shook her head.  “No, I actually came out of the army about six months ago, despite what my dad said.  I started up a little business repairing the things that people usually throw away once they stop working, then selling them on ebay.  Almost ninety percent of electrical goods that go wrong and get thrown out are repairable, if you know what you’re doing.  Made a killing.  Not that I’ll be doing much of it for a while, I would think”.

We crested the final hill and she turned the car onto the drive that led to the cottage.  As we pulled into the yard, however, I saw an old blue Landrover sitting by the Cottage door and immediately reached for the spare shotgun, only to have Ralph’s meaty hand clamp down on mine.