The Abandoned Trilogy (Book 1): Twice Dead (Contagion) (23 page)

Phoenix remembered the café well because he had often gone to it when he was forced to leave his room and interact with other residents.

              “It stank,” he said bluntly.

I laughed, “They like wild garlic.”

              “Yes,” Phoenix commented, “They did.”

              “That is if they are alive,” I pointed out.

              Phoenix tapped on his keys, accessing the now defunct web with pages that would never be updated again.

              “The Café’s page,” he said to me turning the computer so I could see the screen. It was a nice web page; the café owners had obviously spared no expense to make it look good. There was a high resolution picture of them standing outside the café with their two Jack Russell’s in their arms.

              Gabe and Percy Williamson. Originally from Brighton who had wanted to live a village life and run a quirky village cafe. Percy was the older of the two men, probably in his late thirties to very early forties. Both were slim in body build, though Percy was slightly bigger and taller. I suspected that Percy worked out. He had dark brown hair and smiling brown eyes.

His partner was a red head, a “ginger.” it said on the website, it made me smile, mainly because there was a recipe for green frosted freckle cake, next to another photo of him, in honour of his freckles and green eyes. Gabe was 28, though he looked younger, both were informally dressed, Percy’s hairline was receding slightly I noticed but their smiles were warm and inviting.

              Unlike some of the small boutique shops in Thorncroft Village, the residents of the Home were made to feel welcome in the Tea and Herb Café. Being a Gay couple in a very White Middle Class environment could have made them a bit more tolerant towards those who were in a minority. Alternatively, they could have had disabled relatives. You simply didn’t know.

              “I wish we could find out if they were alive,” I said in a frustrated voice.

              “Why can’t you?” Phoenix stared at his computer screen.

              I opened my mouth to say how could we do that and then I remembered we had vehicles, the coach, the Land Rover, the Home’s van, Mitch’s own car and even Gregory’s car. Sometimes it took a person with a logical and clear mind to state the obvious. Phoenix did that often.

I went looking for Mitch and Seb. They were in the garage. Their man-cave as Adag called it. Seb was sitting in a manual wheelchair and was working on Lewis whilst Mitch was under the hood of the coach. He looked up as I limped into the garage.

              “Slumming it Lucy?” he said as he prodded at something under the raised hood of the coach. The garage which was neat and tidy despite Seb being in it and I said as much.

              “It doesn’t have as much testosterone, as out there,” Mitch nodded toward the general direction of the soldier’s temporary billet.

              That made me giggle, “You shouldn’t know what a word like that means, Lady of Shadows,” Seb said severely.

              I stuck my tongue out at him and he threw a cloth at me which I caught and folded up before throwing it back.

I then told them of my idea based on Phoenix’s suggestion. I waited for them to tell me “Not a chance,” and “Are you mad?” but they just stared at me and then Mitch wiped his oily hands on an old rag before saying, “When should we go?”

              “The Colonel won’t let you go,” Seb, pointed out the obvious.

              “It’s got fuck all to do with him,” Mitch responded tartly.

              “He will go nuts,” the thought of this made Seb smile after he said it.

              “What’s he going to do?” Mitch placed the rag on the engine of the coach, “Court martial us?”

              “Probably shoot us,” I said and I added, “We can go in the morning, early, talking of guns, I have one.”

              “You have a gun?” Seb said incredulously.

              “Yes and don’t ask where I got it from, but I do.”

              “Shall we tell Adag?” Seb asked.

Mitch whistled softly and I shook my head. Adag was too cautious sometimes. She was a person of diametrically opposed extremes. Which could be good but it could also stunt what you wanted or needed to do urgently.

              “Best keep it between the three of us,” I said.

              “We’ll take my car,” Mitch decided, “It’s fast and quiet.”

              “You won’t need Wolf to shoot you,” Seb said with a grin, “Adag will do it when you get back!” The die was cast. We were going into town in the morning.

Both Mitch and I were up as dawn slid over the landscape. Everyone was still in bed. I made us both some tea and toast and we sat quietly in the kitchen, our coats on, ready to leave once we had finished. Mitch’s own car was in the staff car park behind the main part of the building, right next to the garage that kept the home’s coach in it.

              “I don’t know who is going to be fucked off more,” Mitch said standing up, he tossed his keys into the air caught them, “Adag or the Colonel.”

              I made sure I had the Glock in my shoulder bag and Mitch had his machete. We left the home via the kitchen back door, we would cut through to the car park from behind the rubbish bins.

              Neither of us expected to find Private Salter sitting on the bench outside the kitchen door with a cup of coffee in his good hand. He was clad just in his regulation shorts and vest and was bare footed. I don’t know who jumped higher, me or him. As it was, Mitch banged into me because I stopped, he swore then he saw Salter who had scrambled up from the bench, splashing coffee all over the gravel as he only had use of his left hand.

              “Shit!” Mitch said grabbing my arm to steady both of us.

              “Aren’t you still under curfew?” I said in the hope of distracting him but he quickly noticed Mitch was carrying a machete and we both had our coats on.

              “What are you doing?” he said uneasily

              “None of your business,” was my tart response.

              “We’re under quarantine,” he said.

              “No,” I pointed out, “You lot are under quarantine, you personally are also under a curfew, a double whammy.”

              “If I shout for the morning patrol you won’t be going anywhere,” Private Salter was quick to realise what we were about to do.

              “How about I knock you out?” Mitch threatened him which we all knew he wouldn’t do because he had been the one who had carried the young soldier into the home and tended to his wounds not that long ago.

Private Salter opened his mouth to shout for the patrol when I said softly, “They could be alive, can you imagine, being alive and not knowing what the hell was going on?”

              Salter frowned, “Who?” Salter’s curiosity overrode his need to call for back-up.

              “The people in the café, in town.”

              Salter knew about the smoke that had been seen when the Colonel and I had gone looking for Stevie, he also knew about the decision for nothing to be done about it. He hadn’t questioned that decision, he was removed from it as an enlisted man, but my words now troubled him.

              “He will rip me another one if he knows I didn’t stop you,” Salter said and he shuddered. I knew who ‘he’ was without even having to ask.

              “How will he know?” I said carefully, “You’re under curfew, aren’t you? At least another an hour before you can officially leave your room?”

              Salter bit his lower lip, and we waited, not sure what he was going to do, “Oh shit,” he said finally, and I knew right then he wasn’t going to call for back-up.

I found myself smiling and before I could stop myself I reached out and gently stroked him on the cheek and then drew his face to mine so I could kiss his now almost healed cheek

              He looked stunned, “Thank you,” I said and he went even redder in the face but he grinned shyly at me. He had a sweet and cheeky grin. Mitch slapped him on the shoulder.

              “Get back to your room now son,” he ordered him, “Best not to be around for a bit.”

              “Be careful,” Salter called out to me and I waved to him and then Mitch and I were hurrying over to the staff car park.

              Mitch managed to get his car out of its bay without much noise, but as we swung around the corner, and onto the gravel pathway that would take us up the driveway we practically drove into the morning patrol, four soldiers, who had to leap out of the way…oh shit, one of them was Duke, I caught a glimpse of Peter’s surprised face as well, Mitch’s bumper caught one of the soldiers on the hip and he went flying onto the grass verge.

              “Foot down!” I shouted to Mitch who obeyed with a loud curse. We had the element of surprise on our side. We shot over the gravel, stones and dirt in our wake.

              In the rear view mirror I saw the soldiers scrambling to their feet, running after us, I saw one of them raise his rifle, Duke of course, I sucked in my breath but another soldier grabbed his arm, forcing it downwards. Peter’s. I exhaled and sank into my seat.

              Couldn’t anything we did during this apocalypse, ever be fucking easy?

The town was empty as we drove slowly through it. The Glock was in my lap, our windows were up, and the doors locked. The silence was eerie. I wondered about the dogs and cats who had once been pets in these homes. Where were they? What had happened to them? Had they been eaten by their now Twice Dead owners or had they fled, heading for places where they could find food?

              I liked dogs and I felt awful thinking about the pets and domesticated animals that would surely die; now the world had gone tits up. Perhaps when the soldiers were gone we could see if we could find any animals who had survived and bring them to the home.

              We drove down the town’s main road, other than the stillness and silence, everything had an abnormal early morning look about it, other than the odd house door that was wide open, but even that could be explained away.

              Mitch wasn’t keen on us getting out of the car when we got to the café. He kept the engine running and I peered through the side passenger window. The shop had the closed sign on the door which was firmly shut. Green wooden shutters were padlocked into place over the windows. Right now it was just a locked café, that happened to be closed on the day the world ended. There was no smoke coming out of the chimney now, but that didn't mean anything.

On the pavement outside the tearoom was a giant misshapen stain and a mangled walking frame; the stain had a black and greasy hue to it, and there were torn clothes scattered in the gutter, along with a pair of worn pink slippers, and what the fuck…I edged my window down and looked more closely.

“Are those a pair of dentures?” I heard myself say. Mitch frowned, leaned over my shoulder and followed my gaze to where a pair of broken false teeth lay on the pavement, not that far from the slippers.

Now, it wasn’t funny, because we both had a damn good idea what must have happened outside the shop at some point, but in the worst of situations, the worst of you can come out to get some air. And that is was what happened…to both of us.

I gazed at the dentures, and then again at the slippers lying forlornly on the pavement. For a moment I managed not to react.

“We’ve learnt one new thing about the Twice Dead, “Mitch said finally, and in doing so, ended any hope of either of us being respectful and shocked by what had obviously happened on the pavement at some point, “They don't like NHS choppers and Paisley slippers…” I might not have laughed if we hadn't locked eyes as the last of his words fell from his lips. For a fraction of a second I was shocked, yes, I was, but then my lower lip began to wobble as did his. He put his hand over his mouth, endeavouring not to let the laugh that was building up inside of him, out. He failed. So did I.

We laughed until we both were almost sick. We couldn’t stop laughing. It was hysteria, I realise that now, but it was much needed hysteria. A kind of valve that had to be released one way or another.

Finally, we stopped laughing, mainly because if we laughed any more, we would probably rupture something internally.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” I said when I finally got my breath back; I was clutching my stomach, trying to ease the pain of the laughter which was still shuddering through my body.

Mitch wiped his eyes, “I know, it’s not funny, fuck me, it’s not funny…” our eyes met again and I had to look away. I tried to focus on something else, so I stuck my head out of the wound down window and sniffed the air, it smelt of nothing.

I tried to discern the scent of the ‘stinky fruit’ that Eden had described about our dining room when Gregory had been a Twice Dead, but there wasn’t anything I could smell that was remotely like that.

              “Doesn’t look like there has been any fires here,” I said to Mitch and then I added, “So much for that theory.”

              “Did you believe it in the first place?” Mitch asked me.