Project - 16 (10 page)

I drove around the long, winding driveway to show her the
eight oddly shaped huts that had been built in a line at one end of
the clearing. Here there were picnic benches in military rows and a
little further along was a work-out station with pull up bars and
benches and climbing walls, none showing the slightest sign of
weathering.

“
That's where the students would live. Each of those pods has
four bunks inside with running water and electricity,” I explained.
“It all comes from that building over there. My Dad had power
generating stoves installed and the students had to organise fire
duty to keep it burning. The power they made was stored in
batteries and used to operate the pumps for water and the sockets
for charging.”

“
This isn't what I expected at all,” said Riley.

“
Well, for bullshit it isn't too bad, is it?” She looked at
me, nodded a kind of apology and grinned.

I drove to the main house and parked the Land Rover near my
garage where I kept my supplies. Then I climbed down and took a
deep breath. It was the Colonel's offer which had suddenly given me
a pang of panic in my gut and I took a moment of staring at my land
to get it out of my system. I began to realise then that my home,
the one that had been passed on to my by my Dad was under threat.
Thoughts about what the NSU might do suddenly washed over me and I
struggled to push them away.

“
Can I take a look around?” asked Riley, breaking my attention
away from my own self interest.

“
Sure,” I replied, opening the back of the 'Rover. “The still
is over that way, to the right of the student pods. On your way
back bring a bottle of wine from the cellar.”

“
You have a wine cellar?”

“
Go and have a look.”

She slung her rifle over her shoulder and set off at an
excited pace. I took her bags and carried them into the hallway,
dumping them at the foot of the stairs. Then I emptied the 'Rover
of supplies, carrying the boxes into the garage one by one and
laying them in a neat pile near the entrance. When I was done I
went and parked the vehicle in the carport around the corner,
pulling down the scrim netting over the entrance and pocketing the
keys. When I looked at the shelter I'd built to hide the 'Rover I
stopped for a minute and stared. I'd knocked the structure together
when me and Dad had seen the first NSU drones flying overhead with
their heat detecting cameras. I remembered the day we'd gone and
torn down the fences that kept the wild sheep and cows off the
land, letting them wander at will, their heat signatures masking
our own.

“
The 'Rover. That's a dead give-away,” he'd said. “We need to
hide it when it's here.”

We'd gotten some advice from our students about how to hide
it and built it straight away. We also limited its use to rescue
missions only, choosing to walk at any other times. We were just
thankful that we'd always insisted that the students navigate their
own way to the house as part of their outdoor survival training,
leaving the gas-guzzling military vehicles at
Washington.

I'd always been under threat. We both had. What was different
now, I wondered? Perhaps because soon I'd be forced to deal with
that threat instead of finding ways to hide from it.

4.

Riley returned half an hour or so later as I was organising
the new supplies onto my rows of steel shelving. While I was doing
that I was also looking at what was already there, hoping it'd be
enough for the coming winter. Growing your own food, being
self-sufficient, it was all well and good when your life didn't
depend on it, when there was always a safety net. But now that net
was flying back to the States. Did I have it in me to pull it
off?

“
I'm in here,” I called out. She came through the door with
two bottles in her hands.

“
I got a white and a red. I wasn't sure which you wanted. I’ve
gotta say, this place is fucking awesome. You've got a smoking
house back there too! My Granddad used to have one of those to make
his own jerky with. He'd do all kinds of jerky. Had a special
flavouring method too but he never told me what it was. Tasted like
hot barbecue or something.”

I finished what I was doing and she looked at the shelves
whilst she waited. Then I took the bottles from her and led her
outside and into the main house through the door. She noticed her
things piled up at the bottom of the stairs.

“
Where do you want me to bunk down?” she asked. “If you want
me in those little huts out there, I don't mind. They look quite
cosy.” The hardened Ranger looked nervous as she stared around the
tidy hallway with the varnished panelled flooring and the ornate
table that stood to her right. I went through a door off to the
left and went into the kitchen, taking down two wine glasses and
giving them a rinse with water from the 25 litre water barrel on
the worktop. I used the corkscrew on my pocket knife to open the
bottle and left it breathing on the counter with the
glasses.

“
It's not mine,” I said, pointing to the table. “None of it.
Dad said that I'd have been too young to remember coming here, but
after the Panic he'd found this house abandoned. At first he'd hung
his hammock at the bottom of the field and waited to see if the
owners ever came back. After a few weeks of living off the land he
decided that he'd move in and look after it until they
did.”

“
I'm guessing they never did,” said Riley.

“
Not yet, but you never know. Pretty soon a US hummer pulled
up on that drive and Dad thought the game was up. But once he'd
identified himself the guy in charge asked if he wouldn't mind
offering some training to his Special Forces units who were based
nearby and using England as a staging ground.”

“
I bet he didn't refuse.”

“
How could he?” I said. “The soldier knew right away that it
wasn't our house but once he realised who my Dad was he saw a
chance for both of them to benefit from it.”

“
And here we are,” she said.

“
And here we are. It was ex-English forces who first walked
here from Fort Washington. They'd offered themselves to the US when
they'd come back from overseas to find the country in ruins. They'd
built the pods and the US supplied the equipment. The rest was
added to it as time went on.”

“
How long did your Dad do this? Training, I mean.”

“
Up until he died. He was in his 20's when he came here, I
must have only just been born then.”

“
It must have been hard for him, doing it by
himself.”

“
Yeah, it must have been tough. Another lesson in survival, I
guess.”

I realised she was stood on the rug just behind the door and
hadn't moved off it. She was still looking at the size of the house
in awe and although I'd seen much bigger on my travels she seemed
fixed to the floor, unable to move.

“
It was Dad's way,” I said, gesturing to the overly-clean
halls, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. “Where ever you are,
if it's tidy, it's organised and more conducive to survival. It
also keeps you pretty sane.”

“
Oh,” she said, looking awkward.

“
Take your boots off if you prefer. I don't mind a bit of mud
on the floor though.”

She quickly bent over and began unlacing her high black
combat boots. Then she slipped out of them and stood on the wood
floor in her socks. “I don't mind stopping in the huts you
know.”

“
I know. But you're a guest. Follow me.”

I led her up the first flight of stairs and into one of three
rooms that looked out over the land and towards the huts. It had a
double bed, unmade, a set of oak drawers made to look rough-carved,
a tall cupboard of the same kind and a wash basin of white
porcelain. The floor was the same as the rest of the house but
there was a circular rug in the middle of the room which had been
woven with intricate Arabian patterns.

“
Is this okay?” I asked.

“
It's... great. Thanks.”

“
Bring your gear up and get settled whilst I make us some tea,
the bedding is in the drawers over there.”

“
I thought we were having wine?” she asked.

“
It's a long story, but round here the evening meal is called
'tea'.”

“
Do you have tea with it?” she asked.

“
No.”

“
Then why...” I held up a hand.

“
It's a long story.”

I left her to it and went downstairs, into the kitchen. I lit
the stove with tinder from a box on the shelf, added kindling that
I kept stocked up in a bucket next to it, then went out of the back
door to the wood shed. Here I stored short logs of seasoned pine
I'd cut last year as well as some building timber I'd looted from a
Carpenter's shop in the local village. The air was thick with the
smell of oozing resin from this years logs that were drying out for
the following year. I grabbed what I wanted and piled them up next
to the stove. Then I set about preparing a meal.

I'd been taught to cook from an early age and as soon as I
was old enough I was made to cook tea every other night, taking it
in turns with Dad. My first attempts had been less than successful
but it had paid off in the end. I knew most simple English meals
that could be made from either fresh ingredients or from food I'd
put into storage such as dried veg and meat.

By the time Riley came down there was a large pan of stew on
the boil with the last of this years fresh crop in it. I'd also
made a few bread rolls that were turning golden brown in the
oven.

“
That smells good,” she said, walking into the kitchen in a
pair of light jogging bottoms and a black tee shirt that said 'US
RANGERS' in bold white letters across the front. She was barefoot
but in her hand were a pair of running shoes. Her hair, now free
from the woolly hat, was tied back into a tight pony tail with only
a few strands managing to escape onto her forehead.

“
Beef stew with dumplings for main,” I said, stirring the
thick, chunky liquid with an enormous wooden spoon. “Served with
fresh bread and my own chilli sauce.”

“
Canned beef?” she joked.

“
No, reasonably fresh. I slaughtered it last week and dried
the rest for winter. This is made from the last two cuts I had in
the cold stores. They needed eating.”

“
Fucking awesome,” she said and I felt the tension snap. For
Riley I was beginning to learn that her language was her
thermometer. If things were getting too tense she clammed up, the
swearing stopped and she became Claudia. Or Miss. Riley. But this
was US Ranger Riley now and she looked a little less on edge, a
little more comfortable.

“
I'm going for a jog,” she said, dropping the shoes and
stuffing short sports socks onto her feet. “I like to know the
perimeter, so to speak.”

“
Be my guest. There's a bell just outside the door - you'll
hear it ring when food is up.”

“
So I'm a student now?”

“
Yeah, the class is bullshit 101.”

“
You're not going to let me forget that, are you?” she said,
grinning.

“
Nope. If you jump the fence watch out for the hornets nests
in the woods. I stepped on one last summer.”

“
Gee, sounds nice. See you,”

She went out through the door and slammed it shut behind her
sending a deafening blast through the house and most of my bones. I
stole a glance out of the small window over the counter and saw her
set off at an easy pace, anti-clockwise around the fenced off side
of the woods. She reached the huts and disappeared out of my
view.

I poured myself a glass of the red wine and leaned back
against the worktop, sipping gently and letting the tastes
evaporate on my tongue. The stew bubbled and spat on the stove. I
checked on he bread, then sat on a stool and stared out of the
window, thinking about what it would be like to have someone
sleeping in the house again. There hadn't been anyone here since
Dad died, especially not one as attractive as Claudia Riley. It
made me feel keenly aware of my failings and I found myself trying
to flatten my wild hair or straighten my weather-worn
clothes.

Before a full hour was up I rang the bell several times and
waited. A few minutes later she appeared, sweating and panting for
breath. When she was close enough I looked down for a moment,
looked at her white running shoes and saw they were still
white.

“
Well?” I asked.

“
That's a hell of a piece of land you got,” she said,
breathing heavily but within control, the kind of control a serious
exerciser perfected over repeated sessions.

“
Did you get as far as the top where the fence has caved in?”
I asked.

“
Yeah,” she said though hesitating a little. “What the fuck
did that?”

“
A bull wanting to take the short cut to the cows that you see
roaming around. I wouldn't mind but I only put the fence back up to
stop them trampling the students. The rest we left open to 'em but
they're still not happy.” She laughed and kicked off her clean
shoes, dropping to the step to sit down. “I'll plate up tea. We can
eat it over there,” I said, pointing to the two chairs and a table
I'd set up in the courtyard, facing the lonely tree.