He pulled the glove back on, the cold starting to nip, and spoke. “Stan buddy, and you Milo, we have to get some digs, get organised.”
“Get a life, you mean,” suggested Milo.
“What I mean, Gill,” snapped Salt. “Is that we won’t be alive let alone have a life unless we get our act together.”
Keelan rubbed his throbbing forehead. “What you got in mind, Doug?” He was still happy to let Salt take the lead for the moment.
“I know Croydon. It’s where I was brought up. We can make a start there, suss out the situation, find ourselves some permanent digs, and take it from there.”
“What about finding a place around here?”
“Valid point, Milo mate, but there don’t seem to be many people around here. You want entertainment, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but we could look around.”
“Have you felt the temperature lately? It’s not getting any warmer, and winter’s on the horizon. At least amongst the outskirts of the city there are bound to be some luxuries we can dig up.”
“Won’t it have been blown to shit?”
“Truth is, I don’t know, Stan. North London, yes. Heathrow, Gatwick, mainline stations will all have been targets. But to the south or west? Who knows?”
“If none of us have a better idea, I’m a go on that, Douglas.”
“We can give it a go at least. But if it don’t work, we come back out to the country, right?”
“Sure, Milo.” Salt leant forward, sharing his conspiracy. “With people around, we don’t have to do all the work. We let them do it, and we take the rewards for ourselves.”
Keelan shivered. “You’ve sold it. Now, I need to move. My arse is freezing.”
The three men collected their laden down bikes and got back onto the lane. Salt led off, Keelan following with a slight wobble of the front wheel of his bike, and they cycled south. They were making good progress and Salt was even enjoying the freedom of cycling. At around four in the afternoon, Salt would keep his eyes peeled for somewhere to stop over. There was no way he wanted to travel through the approaches to London at night. It would be bad enough during daylight hours. He felt sure it wasn’t an easy option he had chosen, but it was the right one. If they could pull a group together, a group they could control, people who would do their bidding, they could live like kings. London is a huge city. There’s bound to be places that have survived, he thought. He could send out scavenging parties right across the city and, if there was any bother, Keelan as their security, their enforcer, would put things right. He chuckled to himself. I’ve always wanted to be a king.
CHAPTER 20
Tom changed down to a lower gear, slowing their vehicle down as they approached the outskirts of the large village of Sherston. He didn’t particularly want to pass through the village, let alone stop there, the fuel tank was still over three quarters full, but he wanted to top up the jerrycans they had used. He was loath to dip into their reserves unless it was absolutely necessary, and wanted them kept topped up at all times. Over cautious maybe, but it helped him feel more at ease.
The map indicated a local petrol station at the far end of the village. The last one they stopped at had proven to be completely dry. Tom’s fear was that this too would have been drained during the latter part of the period of panic that hit the country prior to the nuclear strikes. Another problem was that the petrol pumps would be unpowered, but Tom had crafted his own manual pump with a number of sections that could be pieced together for even the deepest of storage tanks. He had high hopes that they would find something at the bottom of at least one of the diesel tanks submerged beneath the forecourt of the petrol station ahead. They had come in on the B4040, passing a large farm on the left, surrounded by what were once green fields but were now lifeless: not only afflicted through the lack of rain, but also from the thin layer of ash and contamination that choked the air. The dust laden skies had suppressed any chance the grass or plants had of photosynthesising: producing the sugars they needed to grow.
Andrew, in the front passenger seat, silently pointed over to the right where he could see small mounds scattered across another open field. Some of the mounds were clustered together in small groups where the cattle, dehydrated, hungry and suffering from radiation sickness had gathered together rather than suffer a lingering death in isolation. What were once healthy dairy cows were now nothing more than rotting carcasses. They had also driven past a fox lying in the ditch that, having gorged himself on the carcasses available to feast on, had succumbed to the poisons that had coursed through his body.
It all seemed surreal. The hypnotic sound of the purring cross-country tyres of the Defender 110 long-wheel-based Land Rover on the tarmac gave rise to an almost dreamlike state, forcing Tom to shake his head, keep his eyes on the road, and his mind focused. Tiredness was also a contributing factor to his current mental state. It wasn’t just about keeping the vehicle on the road, but maintaining a constant vigiclass="underline" each house or village they passed, or person they came across, were a potential threat. The B4040 would take them right through the centre of the village, and Tom could see the outskirts about 200 metres ahead. He slowed down even further, a steady twenty as they approached the crossroads in front of them. Tom didn’t intend to stop. They hadn’t seen another vehicle since they left their farm so a collision was unlikely. In fact, the group had come across very few survivors during their journey. Those they did encounter were travelling along the roads on foot, laden down with bags of food and clothing. Some tried to wave them down, but Tom hardened his heart and sped past. The attack by the Reynolds family had frightened even him, and he was certainly not going to give strangers an opportunity to threaten him or his family again. As for sharing their foodstuffs and water, they would need every morsel of food and every drop of water they had if they themselves were to survive this purgatory, this living hell. Many of the individuals they had come across appeared to be suffering from major burns from both fire and ionising radiation. Some had sickly-looking faces; others gave the impression of having been to a tanning salon too often. However, theirs was a ‘nuclear tan’, far more deadly. One group appeared to be in a particularly dreadful state. Their exposed flesh, covered in wet ulcerated lesions, others with ulcerated necrotic dermatitis, their cells slowly dying, bits of flesh peeling off in patches, their faces too painful to be covered with face masks or scarves. But the two families, unable to tear their eyes off the pitiful sight, still found the fortitude to continue on with their journey.
Tom drove the Land Rover over the crossroads, automatically looking left and right, even though it wasn’t necessary. He glanced left as he heard the clunk of Andrew’s shotgun as his friend lifted it into a more comfortable position, ready to use if needed. When required, Andrew was ready to open the window and blast anyone who attempted to block their way. He too had been scarred by the near-death experience back at the farm and would also protect his family, no matter what. They passed some large houses off to their left, a large tennis court belonging to one of them visible. Opposite, the village church stood out, wearing its coating of grey dust like a shroud. Tom kept the Land Rover at a steady fifteen miles an hour, both men scanning ahead, their wives and the two children, perched on adjacent bench seats in the back, looking out of the glass-windowed sides, equally alert, knowing that this was a dangerous time for them all. A small open field appeared on their left, smaller humps distributed across it, the occasional black face visible through of the film of dust showing them to be sheep. They drove past larger and larger houses, an affluent village where many had moved from London for a more peaceful life, or were wealthy enough to have secured a second home out in the countryside. The road took them south as they got closer to the centre of the village, heading towards the High Street. Soon it would veer west again taking them to the less palatial part of the village, but first they would encounter the petrol station.