The Perimeter (22 page)

Chapter Twenty Six

Riley

‘I bloody hate those wild dogs,’ Denzil grumbled. ‘Give me a bunch of armed raiders any day over a pack of those psycho mutts.’

‘It’ll be fine, Den,’ I said. ‘They won’t be interested in you.’

‘That’s what you say now. But we’ll be out in the open and they’ll sniff out my weakness.’

I laughed. ‘Denzil, what weakness? You’re the toughest bloke I know.’

‘Frickin dogs though,’ he muttered under his breath.

I heard a rattle and a crash behind us and whipped my head around to look out the back window. ‘D’you think the trailer’ll be okay? It’s not liking the potholes.’

‘Yeah, be fine,’ he said, changing gear with a judder, almost tipping the horse box trailer right over.

I was amazed that Pa hadn’t totally ridiculed my idea. Granted, he’d raised an eyebrow a couple of times and wasn’t overly enthusiastic. But, after I’d explained the plan, all he’d done was sigh and say it couldn’t hurt and was worth a shot.

Good enough.

So now here I was with Denzil, outside on the heathland, scouring the frosted landscape for packs of wild dogs. We’d been out for almost an hour and there was no sign of anything. Not even a bird, let alone a dog. Pa wouldn’t be happy if we emptied his AV of fuel with nothing to show for it. Maybe we should’ve turned back and given up before we wasted the morning completely. Truth was, I felt a bit embarrassed about the whole idea. It could turn out to be a total non-event and make me look like an idiot.

‘Over there,’ Denzil said, reluctantly. ‘Lassie and co.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Before your time.’

I looked out of his window to where he was pointing and smiled. For off in the distance, a large smudge of canines loped toward us.

‘Turn the AV around,’ I said. ‘Quick.’

‘Thought we were gonna round ‘em up?’

‘We might not have to,’ I said. ‘Look, they’re headed this way anyway. They’re hungry. Coming to see if there’s any lunch.’

Denzil put the AV on a hard lock and turned it around so the horse box now faced the approaching pack. I opened my door and hopped out, revolver aimed in front of me. Then I jogged around to the rear of the trailer and began fumbling with the ramp. Denzil joined me, his weapon trained on the dogs, who had now broken into an all out run, yipping in excitement.

‘Shit,’ Denzil said. ‘Hurry up, girl. Them dogs is hungry. They’re liking the look of my tasty black ass.’

I spluttered out a hysterical giggle. ‘Shut up,’ I hissed. ‘Stop making me laugh. I can’t concentrate.’ Finally, sweating and shaking, I managed to undo the latch, and the ramp dropped down to the ground with a crash. We’d already placed a couple of dead cats into the trailer to lure the pack in, and now I tossed a couple of mutton bones from my bag onto the base of the ramp.

We backed out of the way around the side of the trailer and waited. Yelps and growls preceded the hysterical pack. They looked even meaner than the last time I’d seen them. As they approached, they slowed, warier now that they were up close to us. I aimed my gun. The scary part was waiting to see if they would go straight for the bait or try to attack us instead.

But our plan appeared to be working. Inanimate food seemed to be preferable to live prey. Thankfully, the dogs began growling at each other rather than at us, as they stalked the mutton bones, ears flat, eyes narrowed. Each one working out if it could get to the food before their pack mates. A brindled mutt made a dive for the largest bone and suddenly they were all on the ramp in an all out dog fight. Tearing at the bones and tearing into each other.

And then they scented the dead cats. A moment’s hesitation before most of the pack tore up the ramp and into the trailer. A couple of them had remained outside with the mutton bones and now trotted off, away from us, to enjoy their meaty prizes. Tails wagging, snarls forgotten.

Denzil and I cautiously made our way around behind the horsebox, weapons drawn. It was carnage inside the dark trailer and the dogs paid us no attention whatsoever. There must’ve been at least thirty of them, all climbing over each other to get at the meat. Between us, Denzil and I heaved up the ramp and closed up the trailer with a satisfying clang.

‘Perfect,’ I said.

‘Not bad,’ he replied.

A loud bang from inside the horse box made me jump.

‘They’re gonna kill themselves in there,’ Denzil said, shaking his head.

‘I hope not,’ I replied. If they did, it would all have been for nothing.

‘Better get back quickly before they do.’

We returned to the AV and Denzil started her up.

‘What do you think, Denzil? About all this stuff with FJ?’

‘It is what it is,’ he said. ‘We’re doing what we can. If he turns up, we’ll take him down. I think it’s better this way.’

‘What do you mean, ‘better’?’

‘You don’t want the likes of FJ out there. Doing God knows what. Getting more powerful. This way, he comes to us and we eliminate the threat straightaway. It’s better.’

I hadn’t thought of it like that. What Denzil said made some sense. We had to treat this as an opportunity, not a threat. ‘I just wish we had extra time to prepare.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Extra time to get scared, more like. We need to get this done as soon as possible. Anyway, we’ve already got a massive advantage.’

‘How d’you figure that?’

‘Well, FJ doesn’t realise we know he’s coming. He thinks he’s gonna turn up here and surprise us, unprepared. But we’ve had a few days to get sorted. Get provisions. Build our defences. Liss did us a massive favour by warning us. FJ’s gonna be pissed.’

‘True,’ I said.

‘Too right it’s true. And believe me, that stacks the odds in our favour. Way, way in our favour.’ He nodded and started to hum a tune under his breath. I sank back into my seat feeling slightly more reassured than I’d felt on the way out.

During the brief journey home, I scanned the curve of the land, keeping a look out for Luc and Eddie’s trucks returning, but there was nothing to see. Not even a speck on the horizon.

To look at them now, you wouldn’t have thought these were the same wild creatures that had been out on the heath that morning. They were now lying in an open barn in one of the farmer’s livestock pens, docile as anything. Only a couple of dogs showing any sign of agitation, skirting the perimeter of their spacious quarters in a frenzied attempt to find a way out. But I bet if we’d thrown any food in there, they’d have gone mental.

After our first successful trip out, Denzil and I had brought the dogs back and then returned to the wilderness, heading in a different direction this time. We managed to track down another large pack. Then another. And another. Each time, capturing them had been as straightforward as the first, and we now had well in excess of two hundred dogs.

The only problem was, they looked too placid, lying in the barn resting, tongues lolling. Some were badly injured, whimpering and licking their wounds. I felt a pang of sympathy before I remembered how they’d surrounded Liss and Annabelle. How they’d gone in for the kill. No matter how cute and harmless they looked now, they were potentially dangerous creatures. And this was what I was banking on.

After our day’s work, Denzil had gone straight back on duty. I was just about to head home to see my parents and check whether Luc was back yet, when Pa showed up at the livestock pens.

‘You did it then,’ he said, startling me.

I turned to greet him. ‘Is Luc back?’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry. No word yet.’

My stomach lurched. ‘But they’ve been out for the whole day. It shouldn’t have taken that long. It’s almost dark.’

‘They’ll be back any time,’ he said. ‘Might even be coming through the gates right now.’

‘Well, if they’re not, you need to send out a search party.’

‘Eddie doesn’t need me chasing after him. These things always take longer than planned.’

‘But . . .’

‘If they’re not back by morning, we’ll do something. Rita isn’t worried, so you shouldn’t be either.’

I highly doubted that. Rita was probably always worried about her husband and her son, just as they must worry about her. She just did a better job of appearing calmer than my mother, who was liable to make a fuss if I wasn’t wearing a warm enough sweater.

‘So, are things serious between you and Luc?’ Pa asked, shoving his hands into his pocket, eyes cast down to the ground.

‘Huh?’ I replied, not wanting to talk about it with Pa. It was . . . weird.

‘Never mind,’ he said, clearing his throat. Obviously not comfortable with it either, to my intense relief. ‘Luc’s a good lad.’ He coughed and changed the subject.

‘Nice work with the dogs today. But they look a bit tame for what we’ve got in mind.’

‘I know. I’m worried about that too. They were vicious out on the heath though.’

‘We’ll give it a go,’ he said. ‘It can’t hurt to try and it’s a good idea in principal.’

‘Thanks. What’s the plan for this evening?’

‘More preparations. Come on. We can’t hang around. Stuff to do. FJ’s supposed to be making his trade tomorrow. When Liss doesn’t show up with you, he won’t be happy.’

We walked back in the direction of the house, the setting sun a yellow scorch behind us. Pa put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. I hoped to God I’d find Luc back at the house.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Jamie

Jamie was ushered into a room on the ground floor. A dining room by the look of it. Candles flickered in bronze candelabra, casting wavering shadows on the walls. At the head of a dark wood table, in a sparsely furnished room, sat The Voice of the Father. He wore a utilitarian warrior’s cloak and a hard look burned in his eyes. Jamie had heard a rumour that he too had been captured along with Grey, but had somehow managed to escape. He wondered if that was true.

Once again, Jamie couldn’t help the treasonous thought that this boy was way too young for the power that had been thrust upon him. What was he? Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen at the most. He was still confused as to why The Voice should be talking to a nobody like him, especially at a time like this. As Jamie stood in the warm room, his cheeks and hands afire from the contrast in temperature, he waited to hear if he was to receive a punishment, an accolade, or something entirely different.

‘Jacob, you are to be awarded a great honour.’

Ahh, an accolade then.
But he couldn’t for the life of him think what he’d done to deserve it.

‘You are to become a favoured disciple of the Church.’

Jamie clamped his jaws together to stop his mouth from hanging open in shock.

‘You will carry out Our Father’s sacred duties. You will live here in The Close with us and be privy to our most revered secrets.’

Instead of revelling in this honour, Jamie felt suspicion. Why should he become a disciple? What was the real agenda here? It was just him and Matthew in the room. If he was really to be made a disciple, why wasn’t there some kind of public ceremony? There was always a ceremony for these kinds of things. Every time someone moved up a rank, it was done before an audience, with prayers and thanks given to God. Jamie knew he didn’t deserve such a privileged position. What was the catch? Or was he being too cynical? Had years on the outside left him incapable of trust? He realised Matthew was asking him a question.

‘Do you have anything to say?’

‘I . . . I’m honoured, of course. But, I don’t understand. Why me?’

‘You do not need to understand, or ask why. You only need to accept. To become a true disciple of Our Father, you must prove you are worthy. Sometimes through faith or good deeds, other times through some kind of challenge or hardship.’

Okay here we go.
Jamie’s senses became hyper-alert. He was about to discover what was in store for him. What this boy-priest really wanted from him. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be anything easy.

‘Does this mean I’ll miss the battle?’ Jamie asked. ‘My brothers are leaving already.’

‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ Matthew said. ‘We will be joining our brothers in arms in a few days.’

Jamie didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. Matthew sat up straighter in his chair. His voice turned more serious.

‘From the thousands of trainees, teachers and warriors, you alone have been chosen to carry out this defining task that will bring you great honour. Know that you will be doing God’s work.’

The boy was selling it to Jamie. If he needed to sell it, it definitely wasn’t going to be good.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Jamie asked.

‘You have been training for this holy war. Your trainers tell me you are a good student. You have learned well. You are . . . exceptional. And so, you will therefore have the honour of killing the one who has taken Our Father.’

Jamie let the words settle for a moment. Matthew wanted him to kill someone. This didn’t sound like a battle situation. This sounded like an execution.

‘I want to serve,’ Jamie said carefully, ‘and I’m honoured that you’re happy with my training. But . . . just because I killed once before, doesn’t make me a murderer. It was just a really shitty, er, terrible accident. Sorry for my language.’

‘You are forgiven. And of course the girl’s death was an accident,’ Matthew soothed. ‘I know you are not a cold-blooded killer. You have become a warrior and that is why you are suited to this. This is not murder, this is survival. We are fighting a holy war and you will kill this evil-doer as a soldier kills his enemies. It is what you’ve been trained for and it is a great privilege to be selected.

‘Our country lies in darkness, Jacob. There are those out there who seek to keep it that way. They have stolen the light from us. You will end the darkness and the bloodshed with the death of the one who has done harm to our beloved Father.’

‘Why was I chosen?’

As Jamie realised what was being asked of him, he wondered for the hundredth time how he’d ended up here, in this religious settlement. He was Jamie the loser-vagrant, not Jacob the warrior.

‘It will become clear,’ Matthew replied. ‘There is a purpose to this as there is a purpose to everything. Sometimes that purpose is hidden, and we must try to discover it for ourselves, but other times we are lucky enough to be shown the way. By coming here, you have allowed yourself to be guided along the right path and earn God’s forgiveness. Forgiveness is a journey, Jacob.’

‘Who was it?’ Jamie asked. ‘Who attacked Our Father? Why did they do it?’

‘These are people who, if left unchecked, will never leave us alone. They will continue to attack, to try to destroy our peaceful way of life.’

‘Yes, but, forgive me, who are they? Are they raiders? Or just random outsiders?’

Matthew leant back in his chair and steepled his hands together. ‘They are a much greater threat than that. These are people who live a decadent life in a world of poverty. They do not deserve to have so much, when the rest have so little. They hoard their wealth and their resources with no thought for the rest of us. Not content with their lot, they also feel the need to come here and attack us in our home.’

Jamie marvelled again at how such a young person could speak with so much confidence and certainty.

‘Jacob, you seek peace and an end to the haunting images in your mind,’ Matthew continued.’ You doubt everything around you. You question your reason for being here.’

‘Yes,’ Jamie replied. ‘How can you know so much about how I feel?’

‘Because I too had doubts when I first came here. But God has a plan for us all, and your plan, Jacob, is very clear to me. It is part of the greater purpose. You were sent here for a reason.’

‘Can you tell me the reason? The purpose?’

‘You will discover it in time. You must trust me. Can you do that?’

Jamie nodded. He had to trust Matthew, or what else was there for him? He had come here to give his life to this place, to be absolved from sin. To heal and move forward. He had never expected that murder would be asked of him. But perhaps Matthew was right. Perhaps this was a holy war and they were fighting for good. Casualties were part of war. These people, whoever they were, had attempted to harm their way of life. They had tried to kill James Grey, and that wasn’t right.

Jamie was still no wiser as to why he specifically had been singled out, other than his prior confession. He didn’t buy the reason that he was an ‘exceptional’ fighter. Sure, he was pretty good, but there were other, far better warriors than him.

Nevertheless, he would try to accept this responsibility and carry it out without hesitation. He had to. He was a favoured disciple now. After this, he would live in the main house and truly
belong
here. He’d never belonged anywhere in the whole of his adult life.

‘As one of Our Father’s warriors, you are bound to kill our enemies,’ Matthew said. ‘It is what you have been training for. We say these words to remind us of who we are: We are of God, and the whole world lies in wickedness.
The wicked shall be overthrown and the house of the righteous shall stand. Jacob,
we
are the house of the righteous.
Scimus quoniam ex Deo sumus et mundus totus in maligno positus es.
Verte impios et non erunt domus autem iustorum permanebi.’

Jamie recited the chant along with Matthew and as he spoke the familiar words, he felt a renewed confidence and the knowledge that they were right in what they were doing. They were blessed by God, and to carry out His work truly was the highest honour.

‘
Deus lux mea est. Dum vivimus servimus.’

‘You will march south,’ Matthew said as Jamie continued to mouth the chant. ‘You will kill the one who holds Our Father. You are destined to kill this unholy murderer.’

‘I will march south,’ Jamie repeated. ‘I will kill the one who holds Our Father. I am destined to kill this unholy murderer.’

Jamie stood infused with purpose and power as The Voice of the Father rose from his chair and walked toward him. He kissed his new disciple, Jacob, on his left cheek and embraced him.

 
‘We leave in three days,’ he said.

After a night spent in The Close, Jamie was woken by the peal of bells. Yesterday’s events came rushing back to him and he briefly wondered if it had all been a dream. Opening his eyes, his surroundings told him otherwise. Gone were his quarters at the training ground, to be replaced by a comfortable bedroom, a dim lamp burning on the dresser. Brown drapes hung open at the window, the sky still dark outside. Jamie was in a proper bed, in this small cottage next to the big house. But there was no time to enjoy the unexpected comfort. His two roommates were already out of their beds and Jamie’s mind was bright and alert. He rolled out of bed, stretched and reached for his clothes, which were folded on his bedside table.

Selected as one of Grey’s favoured disciples, he had been brought a robe to signify his rank: black with a crimson trim. Out of thousands, he was now one of the chosen few. It was hard to believe. Jamie felt self-importance swell within him, even though he knew it was a sin. The other two men were also of the same rank and he wondered if they were newly promoted too. If they had been charged with similarly important tasks.

Right at this moment, Jamie was unsure what he was supposed to do and where he was supposed to go. He had learnt enough during his time here not to ask questions. Had grown used to following orders. So he followed the other disciples’ lead, dressing and then leaving the room. They walked down the narrow stairs in silence and entered a small dining room with eight places set. Jamie and his roommates were the last through the door. None of the others had raised their hoods, and so their faces were clearly visible, heads shorn like his own. The men appeared to be in their twenties and thirties, apart from one who appeared much older.

Now that all eight men were seated, including Jamie, breakfast was brought in by serving men. Jamie hadn’t eaten a breakfast like this for years: toasted bread, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon, sausages and fried eggs. The only thing missing was the baked beans. The smell, this delicious smell, was a dream of long ago. The memories hit him hard. What was it called, this breakfast? 
A Full English
. His dad’s favourite.

He remembered, as a kid, strolling down the road to the local caff with his dad on Saturday mornings to have their full English breakfast, while his mum stayed home to have a lie-in. How could he have forgotten such a wonderful memory? The mugs of tea. The men with their newspapers. The sizzle of the frying pans and the tinny radio playing the hits of the day. His dad pretending to steal a crispy rasher of bacon off his plate. Their chatter about what he’d done in school that week. His friends. Sports. The latest video game.

Jamie didn’t want this memory. Not now. Not when he was about to do something so far removed from that time. The image of him and his father in that café produced such a physical ache beneath his rib cage that he couldn’t enjoy a single mouthful of food. It stuck in his throat and he had to force it down. He seriously worried he might cry. Everyone ate until their plates were empty. Jamie just about managed to do the same, pushing away the distressing memory.

The men left the table before their plates were taken away. No time for ceremony. They would be marching to battle in a few days. Jamie’s first battle. Would he be at the front with The Voice of the Father? He hoped so. It would be a good feeling to be at the head of things. Respected. Playing an important role. He wasn’t a loser anymore. He was going to make a difference. Rescue their leader. Eliminate a threat so their people –
his
people – could live without fear of attack.