The Rot (Book 1): They Rot Read online

  “Don’t you dare tell me we’re lost.”

  “Aha!” Dutchman said, pointing to their left. “Backs it up and take the olds dirt road.”

  If Dutchman thought Chicory had been driving fast before, that was nothing to what he experienced then. The car leapt about, nose touching the ground with each landing, and the whole while they kept glancing at the sun’s position. When they came up against a thin stream Chicory floored it and soaked the car in water, before jabbing the windscreen wipers on. Dutchman didn’t have the heart to say anything else to him then, knowing that, really, their desires and thoughts were both the same. They had spent too long out there.

  By the time they arrived back at the factory, the daylight was all but gone.

  ~ 20 ~

  Colin’s foot began to cramp. He shuffled clumsily to straighten his legs under the watchful eye of Stephen, who’d taken the kid’s place after they’d been made to sit back down again. Colin knew it was probably the angle, no man could appear that tall or that broad when he was standing up, but from down near the floor he had to admit that the sight of the brute was rather impressive.

  He grimaced as he locked his legs and felt the pins and needles come.

  Joanna had calmed down somewhat. Her screams and protestations grated on Colin. He often looked over to see if the scavvie kid could make more of an example with his bat. Maybe the threat of bloody death would shut her up. Then again, maybe it would make her worse. Occasionally he heard her shaky breath as she tried to steady herself, and, a couple times now, she’d begun whispering furiously to the boy before the scavvie kid had decided that that was enough and hissed words at her. Now she was left gently rocking and occasionally looking up through the gaps in the ceilings and up into the rafters.

  The thing that Colin hated the most about being sat in the relative quiet was having the chance to reflect on the last few days. Now there was nothing left to do but think. And the last thing Colin wanted to do was to see the smiling faces of the LeShards floating in the shadowed corners of an abandoned factory.

  Wheat cried, his eyes closed, though Colin couldn’t tell if that was with sleep or pain. Stephen looked down at the dog and disappeared to the far side of the factory, his footsteps magnified on the stone floor.

  Colin looked over the dog, wishing that his hands might be unbound so that he could at least pet the poor thing, or show him some affection to let him know that it was going to be alright. His breathing was shallow, and Colin wondered if there was bruising, or maybe even broken bones beneath the golden fur from the rough handling of Stephen and Dutchman during their capture. Wheat was all he had left, and dammit if he was going to lose him too.

  But then a strange thing happened.

  There were footsteps again, and Colin watched as the hulking shape of Stephen came back down the corridor, a small bowl in one hand, and a metal container sloshing in the other. He knelt before Wheat and placed the bowl down, then filled it with, what appeared to be, water.

  Colin studied the bowl as Wheat’s ears pricked up and he lifted his head with an effort.

  “Don’t worry. It’s water,” Stephen whispered, barely audible. “Seems yer mutt is dehydrated. They may not give a shit about yer, but dogs can go a long way in this world.” He turned around as if to check the others weren’t listening. The kid with the bat watched curiously but made no sign of disapproval. Ria busied herself in the foreman’s office.

  Stephen shuffled so that his huge form blocked Colin from sight of the others. He picked up the water bottle and offered it to Colin. “You can sniff it first if you like?”

  Colin made no answer.

  Stephen rolled his eyes. “Here,” he said, taking a sip himself.

  Colin nodded, and the next thing he knew he was guzzling down the cold, fresh water – or at least as much as he could with Stephen controlling the flow.

  “Slow down yer greedy fucker.”

  But Colin ignored him, relishing as much water as he could before the tap dried up. When he was done, he looked down at Wheat’s bowl and saw it empty. Stephen topped it up and the dog began lapping again, already with more energy than before.

  He gave the last dregs to Colin, then picked the bowl back up and was about to walk away when Colin said, “Thanks…”

  Stephen nodded and resumed his place as guard.

  *

  A commotion. Fists on metal. Someone banging on the door.

  Colin watched as Ria ran out the office and waved Stephen and the kid with the bat over. They disappeared through a door and out of sight. Wheat sat up, curious by the noises, but made no sound himself. For a brief second, Colin met the shimmering eyes of Joanna. A moment later and she stood and ran across to him, arms still tied behind her back.

  Her ass clapped on the floor as she sat.

  “We have to get out of here. Now. While there’s time.” She begged with her eyes, her attempts at a whisper falling to the wayside as her desperation showed. “Please.”

  “While there’s still time?”

  There was another loud bang at the door, followed by raised voices. He heard Ria’s voice rise above it all, her words painted with authority. “I don’t make the rules, guys. You knew the risks. It is curfew, and you are late.” The last three words emphasised.

  She doesn’t make the rules? What did that mean? From where he sat it seemed Ria held most of the cards. The banging came louder again, and it wasn’t hard to work out that the scavvies inside the factory had sealed off the entrance to the pair outside the walls.

  Dutchman’s voice raised but was drowned by the old guy’s caterwauling as he pounded the metal door on the other side, muttering every profanity under the sun. Colin caught words like “bitch”, and “whore”, and wondered if that would really ever help their case. It seemed that even scavvies had no code of honour. There was no leniency or tolerance to their own to help them all survive together.

  “Colin, please.”

  “What do you expect me to do here?” Colin snapped. Joanna’s face fell. “The way I see it, we’re all tied up, there was only one way in and out of this hole until about a minute ago, and the people that have us captured have weapons. What do you think I can do? I’m in the same situation as you are, and, quite frankly, I’m not your friend, I’m not your family, I’m not a fucking superhero. So what the hell do you expect me to do here?”

  The words came out harsher than Colin expected, but given his position, it was understandable. Joanna looked at him like he could be the saviour, but truth was that he was as trapped as they were. What was he supposed to do? Rip free from his bonds and take them dancing?

  But that didn’t seem to douse her fire.

  “You don’t understand the danger we’re in while we’re idle—”

  “—Then why don’t you tell me?”

  Joanna was taken aback. She retreated slightly, turned and looked over at the boy, sat patiently and quiet with his legs crossed as if it were just another day at school and he was awaiting further instructions from the assembly. “I can’t.”

  “Then it seems we’re at a stalemate.”

  The commotion at the entrance rose even higher. One of those outside were running and charging at the door. Deep, booming thumps, followed by protestations from Dutchman to “calm down, you’ll hurt yourself.” Not only that, but above Ria’s cool, commanding tone, they now heard – who Colin assumed to be – the kid with the bat. His voice was that edge of squeaky just before it found its bassy tones – and he was arguing with Ria.

  “Let him in, it’s only a few past curfew,” he managed amidst the sounds of grunts and strains. Colin wondered if perhaps he was being held back by Ria. Or worse, Stephen.

  “Young boy, you are arguing above your station. Calm down kid or we’ll tell bossman to put you back on lavvy duties when we get back.”

  Bang. Thump. Bang.

  “It’s not fair! He’s my—”

  “—I don’t care who he is. Rules are rules—”

&
nbsp; “—Let. Us. In!”

  Colin realised both he and Joanna were staring in the direction of the voices. He saw the woman only inches from himself, and said, “Quick. If they see us together it won’t just be you that gets it.”

  Joanna batted her eyelids and for the first time since they arrived, Colin got a real look at her. “Please, Colin. If not for me, then for him.” Her voice was soft, with just a hint of the old plum accent. Well-spoken. Her skin was pale, with light freckles on her high cheek bones. This juxtaposed against the scuffed camouflaged khaki pants and black military vest she wore. A pretty girl. Very pretty. The nicest Colin had seen in a long time, but it didn’t make up for the sadness in her eyes, the desperate plea behind her features. Perhaps if she had asked him at any other time, he might’ve helped her and the boy. But what was he to do now? They were trapped. They were held hostage. There wasn’t any choice.

  “I’m sorry,” he said at last, and lowered his head.

  A stray tear fell from Joanna’s eye and rolled down her cheek. She stood slowly, resigning herself to the idea that she was alone. She muttered a single word as she turned away – “coward” – before stopping short in her tracks as the great figure of Stephen loomed around the corner.

  The shouts were coming thick and fast, with sounds of a scrap as well. Metal rang through the factory and the voices all crossed over one another. Joanna stiffened, frightened by Stephen’s presence.

  But she need not have worried.

  He walked with swift purpose, pushing her aside. The next second he was kneeling next to Colin. He was silent, and wouldn’t meet Colin’s eyes.

  “What’s—”

  Stephen shushed Colin and withdrew a knife from his pocket. Its edge sharpened to a fine point and it shone hungrily in the last dregs of daylight. He grabbed Colin roughly by the shoulder, forcing his face to the ground. Colin clamped his eyes closed, prepared for the blade. Preparing to feel the pain as the metal slid into his flesh as a hot knife would butter. Joanna gasped and then…

  The feeling of freedom.

  A gentle tap as the plastic ties and tape that held his hands fell to the floor. Sliced and free. He raised his head and saw Stephen cut Wheat’s rope in one swift slice.

  “Come,” Stephen said in a low voice. “Now.”

  Joanna stared in disbelief, her mouth stretching into a small smile as hope found its way into her mind.

  She turned around and waited for her ties to be cut. But that didn’t happen. Instead, Stephen lifted Colin roughly to his feet, picked Wheat up, cradling him in his arms like a baby, and pushed Joanna aside.

  “Where’re we going?” Colin managed.

  “Somewhere safe,” Stephen replied. “Follow me.”

  Colin followed the lumbering brute further into the factory, sparing only a brief look over his shoulder to see Joanna still standing. A horrified expression on her face that faded into the darkness.

  ~ 21 ~

  They ran further into the factory, Stephen darting through doors and changing direction with a strange confidence. Colin close behind, trying to keep track of where they were headed. But after five minutes of running through labyrinthian corridors, finding rooms with multiple entrances, and weaving between row upon row of conveyor belts, he soon gave up. The only indicator of where they’d come from was the faint sound of the ruckus as it disappeared behind them.

  “Is it much further?” Colin panted, feeling a stitch grow in his side as his hollow belly rumbled.

  Stephen didn’t reply.

  Eventually, after passing through what appeared to be a storage room lined with symmetrical shelving units that now held only dust, they reached a metal staircase. Stephen took the stairs two at a time, the metal clanging beneath his boots. Colin did his best to keep up but found his thighs and calves aching something rotten. His malnourished frame withering right in front of him.

  He stopped at the top of the staircase, hands on hips, catching his breath. Stephen continued running, turning right at a T on the metal-grate floor, disappearing with Wheat still cradled in his arms.

  Colin sucked a deep lungful of air and followed.

  Following the sound of the brute’s footsteps he eventually caught up, passing through a series of offices with ancient yellowing computers, plants spilled from pots on desks that had maybe, at some point, been a gift from a co-worker to liven up the office, but now trailed the floors and gripped their roots into the desks and cupboards. He stepped over old office chairs which lay toppled and decayed and passed a coat rack which now formed the trunk of a plant that had taken to climbing its frame.

  At the fourth of these rooms, Stephen stopped and turned around, his eyes working hard to check that the coast was clear. He placed Wheat on the top of the closest desk.

  “The girl. Would she have followed?”

  “No,” Colin said with a certainty that he didn’t truly feel. Who knows if she would’ve attempted to follow them here? Until only a moment ago they’d never uttered a word to one another.

  Stephen walked over to the door they’d just come through, poked his head out to look around, then shut it tightly behind him, pulling until it gave a satisfying click. He then crossed to a window that spanned the entirety of the right-hand wall. A pane of glass that gave view to the whole factory floor below.

  There were mile-long conveyor belts that snaked up and down the floor, ventilation tubes that hung from the ceiling like stalactites, and a whole array of box-like machinery. Though it was dark, Colin could see their shapes as giant, haunting ghosts. Merely asleep and awaiting the arrival of their former controllers. The sight was breathtaking.

  Stephen twisted a handle and the blinds snapped shut. “This ain’t the time fer sightseeing.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Stephen, at last satisfied that they were safe, turned. “What does it look like? We’re getting out of here.”

  “But why? Why are you helping me? The last I checked it was you who pummelled my face into cold-pressed juice, so why the change of heart?”

  Stephen walked closer until his shadow once again loomed over Colin, who took a step back, feeling the sturdy wood of a desk as his lower back made contact. The giant waited a few seconds, and Colin steeled himself for another pounding, realising he’d been led to some hidden little cave alone with this bear. He hid his quivering fingers behind his back and gritted his teeth.

  “There’s a place I can take us. A safe place. The others… Well, let’s just say that these are dangerous folk and I am not one of em. I’ve been waiting fer a moment ter slip free fer a couple a weeks. And the moment, as I see it, is opportune.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Colin said, feeling emboldened by this latest revelation. If what Stephen was saying was true, then the brute’s centre would be a lot softer than his exterior. There was an honesty in his eyes that Colin found himself trusting, despite his instincts telling him that he shouldn’t. That he should trust no one.

  “Yer can’t,” Stephen said. “But yer can’t see any of the others helping yer out right now, can yer? Yer’ve seen them down there, squabbling over curfews and loyalties. No code amongst scavvies. They’ll quickly turn one another. And as like as it may be, one of them is going ter die tonight.” He paused, then walked away from Colin to a door at the side of the room. It had a long bar along its width that Stephen pushed and shoved. As the door opened a rush of cold air filled the room, and on the other side was the outside world. Treetops shining silver, just beyond a metal balcony that connected to the door and disappeared from view. “Lucky for me, I stumbled across this place a little while back, had a bit of an exploration and found a few holes ter get in and out. Yer get bored out on the road by yerself sometimes.” He took a step onto the balcony. It creaked and moaned beneath his weight. “Are yer coming?”

  Colin thought for a long moment. Now that they had stopped, and his heavy breathing had calmed, he could still hear the ongoing sounds of the struggle in the distance
. Their arguments resonating through the walls of the old factory. Wheat sat patiently, staring at Colin with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, black eyes glinting in the darkness. He looked much better. And that was Stephen’s doing. It had been the giant who had snuck the water for the dog and Colin to drink. Despite the circumstances of their first meeting, Stephen had already helped them so much already. Could that first encounter really just have been pretence? An opportunity to show Dutchman that he had both feet in the circle?

  To survive.

  The inky pictures etched into Stephen’s face, the unfamiliar characters that might mean family, or tribe, or place, glistened under the stars and moonlight. Colin took a deep breath, grabbed hold of Wheat’s collar, nodded, and walked to the balcony.

  The air was harsh, biting his skin. The metal beneath his bare feet almost painful. He squeezed past Stephen and looked out across the canopy of firs that spanned as far as he could see. He marvelled at how nature was truly one of the greatest survivors, shaming anything manmade, and how plants and foliage, given enough time, could destroy anything. The balcony itself a prime example.

  Colin looked over the side, seeing the two-storey drop. On the floor, barely noticeable in the shadows, he could just make out the outline of where the emergency exit stairs were, now lost to a sea of bracken and bushes.

  “How are we supposed to get down?”

  For the first time since Colin had met Stephen, he saw the giant smile. “We jump.”

  “Jump? Jump?! You trying to break my legs now?”

  Stephen let out a small chuckle. “I’m kidding,” he walked to the jagged edge of the walkway and found a strip of brickwork, lighter than the rest of the building. He fumbled in the darkness until revealing a makeshift rope ladder. The thing had been nailed into the wall some time ago and looped around the metal bars of the balcony. It trailed off, running along the wall, and disappeared into the overgrowth below. It didn’t look particularly stable. And yet the 16-stone giant climbed over the railing, placed his feet in a lower rung, and gripped hold of one further up. “Pass me the mutt.”