He walked further along the street where one gang, five labourers to a house, were removing bodies, bagging them up, and placing them alongside the road. They would eventually be picked up by one of the lorries and taken to site where they would be incinerated, preventing the spread of disease. Typhoid and cholera were a real threat to their new community and could wipe them out in a matter of weeks if the two diseases gained a foothold. A dog, sniffing around one of the bagged bodies, yowled and squealed as it was whacked with the flat of someone’s shovel.
“Bloody pests. Been chewing at some poor bugger’s leg,” said the labourer who had delivered the blow. It must have been warm work as the man had already removed his headscarf and jacket. He had also pulled aside his face mask.
“What’s your name?”
“Edward, Eddie, Captain.”
“What’s it like in there?”
“Shit, but to be expected with no roof, door or windows. Oi, if you’ve finished, move down six houses and check it out,” he called to the five men allocated to this house who were now standing around leaning on their implements.
Eddie brushed his straggly hair out of his eyes and smiled through the four-week-old beard that, although bedraggled, looked clean. Alan took an instant like to this powerful-looking man in his early forties.
“Lazy sods. Need to keep on top of this lot or nothing will be done.”
“What have you been tasked to do?”
“Bodies first. Then clear any houses still with a roof. Once the village has been sorted, houses will be allocated to families.”
“That will be an improvement, won’t it?”
“Too bloody right, Captain. You’ll be glad to get out of that bunker as well, I’m sure.”
Alan pulled his face mask down below his chin and laughed. “Yes, there’s cosy and there’s suffocating. Were you in the forces?”
“Yes, sir, REME. Ten years, came out about ten years back.”
“Fancy a change in role?” Alan asked on the spur of the moment.
“What, put on a uniform again? Not bloody likely.”
“Different ballgame now, Eddie. It’s no longer just about soldiering. We’re protectors, project managers, guides, engineers, taxis, you name it. We will fulfil whatever role is required to protect the community, those that are left, that is, and ensure our survival.”
Eddie rubbed his chin.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now, but think on it.”
“I’ll do that, Captain, but best be getting my lads moving or they’ll be skiving and dropping me in it.”
“If you change your mind, come and see me at the bunker.”
“Will do.” With that, the man swung his shovel onto his shoulder and bellowed at the nearest of his work parties, moving them on to their next task.
Alan turned round and headed back to their temporary HQ. He’d seen enough for now, and meeting Eddie had restored some of his faith in the remaining survivors of this region. As he made his way back down the street, he reflected on their current circumstances and the recent briefing by the senior members of the RGC. They were coping, but it was more than likely there were more stragglers out there somewhere. It was estimated that less than 10,000 people in the county of Wiltshire had survived the nuclear strike. Many of those would be sick or injured. Survivors had slowly drifted in from as far afield as Swindon and the much nearer town of Salisbury. Considering communications were almost non-existent, survivors had heard by word of mouth that government help could be sought from a centre near Chilmark. Alan felt sure that even more survivors would drift towards where it was believed help was on hand. With limited food available, there were tough times ahead.
He acknowledged one of the work teams as they shambled out of a house having cleared it of dead bodies, and he walked down the path of the front garden. He passed through the doorway, the door itself hanging on one hinge. It was fairly light inside with no windows or curtains to block out the light. A few of the houses had been turned into fortresses, their owners boarding up windows and building internal shelters for their families. But to no avaiclass="underline" the detonation had been too close, and the blast just ripped through the meagre defences, turning the town into a ghost town. He climbed the stairs and looked up at the tile-free roof, the trusses in place, but the roof tiles probably scattered for miles across the county. The intention was to repair as many of the houses as possible, rehouse the population, and get back to some form of order. It would be a big job. He headed back downstairs and exited the building.
Alan made his way back to the temporary headquarters where he found Corporal Thompson and Sergeant Saunders in the final stages of making a brew. After a hot cuppa and a chat with a few of his soldiers, whose morale seemed high, he, along with Sergeant Saunders, made a move.
“I’ll leave you in charge, Corporal. I suggest you leave the police to oversee the town, and you complete a couple of patrols in the local area. Not too many. We always need to be conscious of our fuel state.”
“Leave it with us, sir. Can we get some fags issued tonight, sir?”
“I’ll check it out, but cigarettes are a commodity that will eventually run out.”
“I’ll give up in the new year,” the corporal responded with a laugh.
Alan turned to the sergeant. “Let’s go.”
Both pulled their surgical masks back up over their mouths, pulled their netted scarves up around their necks, and headed outside into the cooler air.
Saunders shivered. “Is it me sir, or is it getting bloody colder?”
Alan buttoned the top of his jacket. “When we’re on our own, call me Alan. We’re in a different sort of world now, and everyone’s future is much more closely linked. And, yes, the temperature is definitely dropping. Don’t get excited, but you’ve been given your Warrant and Corporal Thompson will get your three stripes.”
“Sergeant Major Scott Saunders… has a nice ring to it. And you, sir… Alan?”
“I now have the field rank of major and our beloved colonel is a brigadier.”
“And the pay to go with it?” chuckled Scott.
“It will be in your bank account tomorrow.”
“What’s the sudden reason for this?”
“It seems that the rank of a brigadier is the authorised position for the head of the military in our new world order. Elliot is now the regional governor.”
“Why the change?”
“Comms with other regional centres is non-existent, apart from the one further north, and they sound like they’re in a sorry state. So, Elliot has the authority to take on the mantle of governor for this region and can form his own top table.”
“We already have that, don’t we? Seems a bit of a palaver.”
“It does a bit, but it’s about making a more permanent organisation, I suppose. Come on, I want to pay a visit to the camp.”
They jumped into the Land Rover, and Scott steered the vehicle along the track they had negotiated earlier. Turning left onto the road, they picked up speed, creating some dust, but it was behind them and away from any people. Passing Quarry Copse, the trees now nothing more than blackened stumps, they made their way south. They passed a farm on the right, the nuclear explosion having wreaked havoc to the buildings, literally shredding the farm buildings, leaving nothing but skeletal structures. RAF Chilmark was next on their left — an RAF base no more. Now, it was nothing more than a pile of rubble centred on a 100-metre crater.