The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum (2 page)

On top of all of that they also had a prisoner to look after. The young lad, Harry James, who had been one of Lonny Gold’s evil disciples, was picked off the beach and now shackled to a tree.

Iris wanted him dead. Roger had warned her twice to stay away from him. To be fair, Roger had not wanted to keep him, he was all for releasing him back into the wilderness to fend for himself, but Naomi had talked him out of it. Even Angel found it hard to understand why the girl would want to keep the boy who played a part in the death of her mother. It was a problem that needed to be sorted before they moved on.

‘Is that Wales over there?’ Lou pointed across the sea,

Angel smiled. ‘Yes honey, that’s Wales.’

‘I’ve never been there.’ She stroked her chin. ‘I have been to Scotland, on a holiday with Mummy but I don’t think I have been to Wales.’

‘I haven’t either honey.’ Angel crouched down beside the girl. ‘They say it’s very nice; rains a lot, but very nice.’

‘I don’t like the rain.’ Lou pulled a face as if she had eaten something too sour. ‘It makes my hair all wet and it drips down my back.’

Angel laughed. ‘We will have to find you a hat if we go to Wales then.’

‘Yes!’ Lou chuckled. ‘One to stop all the raindrops.’

‘Roger’s back.’ The voice of Naomi Hardcastle made both of them turn around.

Angel stood up; she could see the side lights bouncing up and down on the country track that led up to their small camp.

‘I hope he’s got some chocolate.’ Lou started to jump up and down.

‘I hope he has some news of Jake.’ Angel started to walk back to where Iris was sleeping. She had given her a sedative an hour earlier to calm her nerves. Roger’s little trips had been very fruitful in bringing back all sorts of supplies, drugs being one of them.

‘Here he is.’ Lou ran to the truck that parked up next to the tree where Harry James was shackled. She banged on the door and stood back, waiting for it to open.

The squeak of the rusty spring echoed through the small forest on the edge of the Quantoxhead cliff tops, and out jumped Roger Clough. By the expression on his face Angel knew he was alone, and again drawn a blank.

‘Sorry Angel, still nothing.’ He stroked the top of her arm.

‘Did you go shopping?’ Lou tugged at Roger's hand. ‘Did you get anything for me?’

Roger pretended to run away from her. ‘Maybe I have!’ He shouted, thrusting his hands deep into his jacket pockets.

Lou squealed with excitement. ‘What, what have you got me!’ She chased after Roger, but he kept swerving and ducking as the little girl ran circles around him.

‘Okay, that’s enough you two.’ Angel walked back over to them both with Naomi.

Roger stopped the horseplay and threw three small bars of chocolate into the air. ‘Look, it’s raining sweets.’

Lou laughed out loud and dived to the floor, gathering up her bounty.

‘Anything for us?’ Angel enquired.

‘Nothing too exciting I’m afraid.’ Roger trotted back over to the truck and got his kit bag. ‘It’s slim pickings now. Most of the stores en-route I have stripped bare, and a lot of the houses have been ransacked by the Infected, and then the Pure Bloods. I did get your.’ He paused, a little embarrassed on how to word what he had plundered.

‘Our sanitary products.’ Angel smiled.
Men they always found such a simple act of nature so taboo.

Naomi too smiled at the blushing Roger. ‘You don’t want us bleeding all over the truck, do you Rog?’

Angel burst out laughing. The teenager had a wicked sense of humour, considering all she had been through.

‘Oh really, please.’ Roger scrunched his eyebrows together and half turned his head at the thought. ‘That’s no way for a young lady to talk.’

‘Where’s the young lady?’ Naomi looked over her shoulder.

Roger grinned, the girls loved teasing him. ‘Okay you two, quit it.’ He threw the bags of tampons over to Angel, who caught them both. ‘I found some tins of ham, too. Only two, but it’s a meal.’ He closed the truck door. ‘You know we are going to have to think about moving soon?’ He hadn’t wanted to bring up this subject, but their provisions where running seriously low. ‘And that’s not all the bad news.’

‘What else?’ Angel looked concerned.

‘I have enough diesel for one more scout. That’s it then, we are on Shank’s pony.’

‘Shank’s pony?’ Naomi didn’t understand.

‘On foot, we will be walking.’

‘That’s not an option.’ Angel looked across to check on Harry James. ‘There are too many of us, to many things to carry.

‘Well there’s no fuel out there.’ Roger opened his hands. ‘Nothing. The Pure Bloods stripped the place. As they swept up the country they took everything. Food, vehicles, fuel. Anything of use.’

‘There’s another way.’ Angel said.

‘What?’

‘Yanto’s way.’

‘Explain?’ Roger asked.

‘Horseback. We must go backwards before we can go forwards. Think past before we can make a future. Horses were the only way to get around a hundred odd years ago.’

Roger slowly nodded. ‘Yes, that’s a good plan.’ He looked skyward. ‘I can’t ride though.’

‘Or me.’ Naomi said. ‘Don’t like them too much either.

‘Well I can teach you, it’s easy.’

‘What about him?’ Roger pointed to Harry James. ‘We need to discuss what we are going to do with him.’

‘And Jake.’ Angel walked slowly towards Roger.

‘Jake?’

‘We need to think that he will make his way to Old Mill. We need to set up some signs, so he knows we are alive.’

Roger took Angel’s softer, colder hand. ‘Of course. He will find us, I don’t doubt that.’

‘He’d better.’ Angel again swallowed hard, her voice nearly cracking. ‘I have invested a lot of heartache over the last few days, so that bastard better still be alive.’

Roger smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘He will be, I promise you that.’

***

‘Vehicles closing in. At twelve o clock.’ A man with a polished, shaven head pointed in the direction of the long, straight road ahead. His white boiler suit undone to his chest, the temperature in the transit van was getting unbearable.

‘Yes, I have a visual.’ The woman with close cropped, dark hair and in a matching boiler suit, confirmed what the driver had seen,

‘It’s a hot one today.’ The man pulled at his collar to let some air in. ‘Can’t see why we shouldn’t have the windows down.’

‘It’s direct orders from the Doyen.’ The woman shifted in her seat, she wasn’t one for small talk.

‘Well it’s a stupid order.’ His comment made the woman raise her eyebrows. ‘We have the only van with no air con. Fucking stupid rule if you ask me.’

‘Well I’m not hot, so shut up and drive.’ Emma Davis shook her head. Her associate had been chipping away since they had left Bristol, more than three hours ago. She wasn’t use to dealing with idiots. Not before the dust had settled, or after.

She had been picked up by a scouting party, just outside Bude, more than four weeks ago, and she had enjoyed her work immensely. The Doyen and his movement appealed to her. She liked the thought of a new start, a clean slate. The country had been going to the dogs for some time, so this was as better time as any to separate the curds from the whey.

Collecting small pockets of survivors and initiating them had been the best bit. If they didn’t conform, well they were no use to the
Purebloods.

She had got her hands dirty too. Firing an automatic rifle had given her a thrill, a sexual thrill. More than any man had ever given her in her thirty one years on this miserable planet. Not now though, things were on the up. Okay, she had lost her business; there wouldn’t be much call for professional catering and events planning in this new world, but she liked this new way of life, it suited her.

Anyhow Willoughby liked her. He had seen something in her. The Doyen’s second in command had even given her some men, and a few vans, to lead her own scouting party. She stroked her machine gun as it sat on her lap. She really did like this raw new world. Driving around England, killing anything that was naked, and picking up survivors. If they didn’t want to conform, well kill them too.

‘I’ll flash them to stop?’ The driver asked Davis

‘Yes, park in the middle of the road so they can’t pass.’ She checked her door mirror to make sure the other two transit vans were getting into position.

The van slowed down to a halt and Emma Davis opened the door, jumping out onto the road. She released the safety catch of her rifle. She had been caught unawares before, when two female infected humans appeared from nowhere to attack her at a road block in Yeovil. Now she was always ready.

As the two vehicles approached she could make out a battered old Range Rover and Volvo estate. Davis waved her hands to slow them down and they both stopped about twenty yards from her.

Behind her, three more men in white overalls started to walk in past her, towards the vehicles.

‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’ A voice yelled from the Range Rover.

‘Up north.’ One of the men said to Davis on hearing the accent.

‘Yeah, bloody northerners.’

‘Get out of the car please.’ Davis’s driver barked, as he walked closer to the dirty Range Rover.

‘He’s got a gun!’ Another shaven headed male shouted as he noticed a shotgun appear from the driver’s window.

All the Purebloods dropped to one knee and pointed their automatic weapons at the driver.

‘Drop your weapon or we will shoot.’ Davis ordered. ‘We mean you no harm, just a check point to make sure you are not carrying any infected cargo over our borders.’

‘Borders?’ The older driver called back. He then lowered his gun.

Emma Davis stood up and told her men to lower their guns. She walked over to the range Rover, her finger never leaving the trigger as the machine gun was lowered at her side.

‘What border?’

Davis could now see the man. He was in his sixties, a ruddy complexion. His accent put him somewhere in Northumberland.

‘We have this section of the country cleaned up, sir. You won’t find any Infected humans south of Bath.’ She stood close to the vehicle, watching his hands at all times.

‘Who are you?’ The old man scratched his head.

‘We are an organisation called the Purebloods, sir. All survivors have the same blood type.’ Before she could finish, a woman in the passenger seat leant across.

‘I know that, I have been working on that theory myself.’

Davis was a little taken aback. ‘Okay. Where are you from?’

The old man was getting agitated. ‘From all over the place, mainly the North. Look we need medical attention. The man that was leading our small group got attacked.’

‘By one of the Infected?’ Davis asked.

‘Yes, it’s mayhem back there. Thousands of them.’ He tapped his hands on the steering wheel. ‘Can we get past? We were heading for Wales.’

‘That’s a negative.’ Davis could see they were in a rush. ‘A lot of the Infected have been pushed into South Wales, across the bridge. The area is now cut off.’

‘Look, we need to find an army base, a hospital.’ The old man started playing with the gear stick.

‘I’m a trainee nurse, but I need more equipment.’ The woman in the passenger seat once again leant across.

‘You’re a nurse?’ Davis asked.

‘She’s more than that. She has been quite brilliant in holding us all together.’ The old man smiled, but it was soon cut short. ‘Look, we really need to push on.’

‘Medical workers are priority. You can all get an escort back to Bristol.’ Davis called one of the men over.

‘Oh, okay, we won’t say no to that.’ The old man had the wind taken out of his sails.

‘Yes?’ The man who had jogged over to Davis was now standing next to her by the range Rover.

‘Take these two vehicles back to base. We have a nurse, and we also have an injured party. Make it a priority that she gets back in one piece.’ Davis pointed to the female passenger. ‘We don’t want a repeat of last week, okay?’

The shaven headed man nodded. He then bent down to face the old driver, to give him his remit about heading back. ‘Okay Mr, what’s your name?’

‘Rosser.’ The old farmer extended his hand. ‘Jeremiah Rosser. Most of us have come from a camp in York.

Jake Meadows stroked his daughter’s head as she slept. He had been dreaming for weeks about being with her, and now as they both lay under the afternoon sky he felt as if the jigsaw was nearly complete. There was only one piece missing, Angel.

‘Come on Barnacle, we have to move on.’ He gave her a gentle nudge.

Amber Meadows stirred and rubbed her eyes. ‘Daddy, where are we?’ She slowly sat up.

‘In between Newport and Cardiff I think.’ Jake wasn’t a hundred percent sure himself.

They had both been walking for three days solid. The first night they had spent on the river bank, but the following morning, instead of trying to cross the river Severn as planned, the situation got worse. Hordes of the Infected were being pushed up onto the Second Severn Crossing, and they began to spill out onto the welsh side of the bridge.

Jake had no other option but to gather his daughter and their belongings, and move up river to find a suitable place to cross. That was a day lost, it was useless.

The old Severn Bridge had collapsed, and hundreds of crazed savages were rampaging across the land and heading to Chepstow. It was too dangerous to head north, so Jake changed tactics.

He remembered that further south in Swansea there had been ferry crossings. There was bound to be some vessels he could navigate over the Bristol Chanel to finally meet up with the others.

Snaking their way back south they had cut in land towards Cwmbran, and then followed the old canal down to Newport. That had taken them two days and Amber was now getting tired. They both hadn’t eaten properly, and were basically living on bars of chocolate and cans of soft drinks.

The stench of rotting bodies constantly polluted the air, and packs of dogs had started to roam the streets, eating the rancid flesh of their once masters. At first Jake had tried to shield his little girl from the horrific sights they were discovering, but it was getting an impossible task. The closer they got to the cities, and the once overcrowded suburbs, the more bodies were they were stumbling across.