The Rot (Book 1): They Rot Page 3

  ~ 4 ~

  In the days that followed, Colin’s patrol grew, both in time and length. At first, he wasn’t even aware of it, treading the same old path, rifle on his shoulder, Wheat barking at his side.

  It started with small steps – walking further past the clearing through the small woods on the south side of the farm, wandering down the hills of the high bank on the east. It wasn’t until he found himself at the edge of a dancing spring that he realised where he was. He looked up and around as if waking from a daze, almost laughing as Wheat leapt in and out of the water, snapping at nimble fish.

  Perhaps Kitty’s words had gotten to him. Words that he was never meant to hear. After all, who was it that dictated where the perimeters of his watch lay? Who was it that told Colin where the boundaries were and how far he should wander?

  And the worst part, he thought as he kicked off his boots, dipped his toe in the cold spring and looked out at the yellow fields of corn in the distance, was that he hadn’t even realised. Colin had been so preoccupied with doing the right thing. With his own thoughts. With keeping to orders and making the LeShards happy. Keeping them safe.

  I’m going soft, he thought as the cold water crept goosebumps up his legs. For a second he looked up and thought he saw movement. A leg disappearing around a hedge and the giggle of a small child.

  He shook his head and pinched his eyes.

  A short while later he turned back, taking his time with his patrol. The car was making good progress now but Colin was getting sick of the sight of it. Not only that but he was getting sick of the sight of everything – the same frilly pink bed, the same stolen glances from Kitty, the same porridge, the same dried noodles, the same old grease and dirt from the car that was impossible to clean off without hot water. Damn it, if he could just get a hot shower!

  And the stolen conversation. The root of his unease, turning to sour rot inside. It was the shift in Kitty’s attitude that made him feel unwelcome, as though he were a stranger in a place that he’d called home for nearly three years. The last thing he felt like right now was another lengthy session in the barn with Jerry peering over his shoulder.

  He wandered through a small cluster of trees, feeling the cooling effect of the shadows. He wasn’t one to mind the sun, and knowing that this might be the last half-sunny day before the winter swarmed over them in full, made him want to make the most of it. He could feel his skin going dry, stretching as the sun stole the moisture.

  To his left, he heard the rustle of leaves as something – possibly a squirrel – skirted the bough and disappeared into the foliage. Wheat apprehended but could do little more than hop on his hinds and shout.

  “Down, boy,” Colin said, knowing Wheat wouldn’t really listen.

  What had, only a week ago, been a forty minute patrol had now stretched close to two hours. There was always two: one in the morning, one in the evening. Around the times when they figured there’d be the best view of the land to see if anything had changed. Sure, when Jerry had designed the schedule they figured that that would be enough, but Colin always had his doubts. Who was there to protect them at night? In the beginning, it was mainly the rotters that plagued their mind, but it had been so long since there had been any sign that they had even existed. Only the abandoned cars on the highway and the weeds poxing the buildings all those years ago. Before Colin had been picked up by Jerry. Back when the world was crumbling.

  By the time the farmhouse came into view the sun was setting. The shadows of the brick walls lengthened across the open fields. The sounds of metallic hammering echoed, presumably Jerry hard at work. And something else… something…

  Colin looked up, saw the stranger approach the barn door…

  And started running.

  *

  “Aye, ta. And me name’s Thomas,” said the man as Kitty offered another cup of the tea. “Ter be truthful with yer, I can’t remember the last time I’d drank anything hot, never mind a cup o’ tea.”

  Colin stood against the counter, arms crossed, eyes unblinking. He growled.

  Kitty walked past and slapped his arm, “Enough of that, Col. You been out there long?”

  The man looked a state. His eyes carried heavy bags, his skin was smeared with dirt, and poking through the roughly hacked whiskers of his beard blood poured from his lower lip, split open and raw. He wore no jacket, only the tatty rags of someone who’d spent far too long in the wilderness. In one hand he held his steaming tea, in the other a handmade patchwork quilt Kitty had handed over for comfort. Jerry sat at the table, feet on an empty chair with Wheat’s head resting on his lap.

  “Yessir. Close ter a week by meself. Only reason I was able ter survive was… I mean I was in the army years ago. Y’know, before it happened.”

  “You served?” Jerry asked, his face one of delightful intrigue.

  “Yessir… I did a couple of tours. I was in Iraq when the rot hit, about ter board me plane. We didn’t have a clue what was going on until we landed. Only time I ever wanted ter get back out ter the war zone.” He lowered his head, brought the drink to his mouth and grimaced as the hot china touched his lip.

  Colin furrowed his brows, studying the man closely. None of them had seen a stranger in the time that Colin had known them. Not so much as a stray cat wandering their fields. And Colin knew that this was exactly how it would be. Kitty and Jerry taking a shine, throwing their heart at anything that they can invite into their house and spoil. For all they knew he could be a lowly scavvie, just ready to cut their throats.

  Or worse.

  Wheat disappeared under the table.

  “And your family?”

  “Oh well,” he said. “Me family weren’t exactly kind people before the rot,” he let out a chesty chuckle, “I’d hate ter meet them now.”

  “Ah, I’m sure that it won’t be—”

  Suddenly Wheat let out several short, sharp barks and finished with a long howl. Everyone in the room jumped, except Colin, who instead tucked his hand inside a cupboard, withdrew a bucket of Truzone Powdered Bleach and grabbed the man’s arm. Kitty jumped back, nearly knocking a pot of boiling water over.

  “What are you doing?” she protested.

  “Mangy mutt may be a shitter on patrol, but what’s the point in a rot-detector if we don’t use him to detect rot?”

  Kitty went to protest before Jerry barred her with an arm, nodding in a ‘let him do his thing’ gesture. The man, Thomas, to Colin’s surprise did not protest. Sure, at first his eyes widened at the hulking bear as he pinned his arm to the table. But it only took a quick look at the bucket to realise what was happening before he drew his sleeve up and relaxed.

  All eyes watched and waited as Colin scooped a spoonful of blue crystals and shook them onto the back of Thomas’s hand. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Wheat pawed his way in circles around the chair, Jerry leant his elbows on the table, and Kitty merely covered her mouth. Then, as the crystals began to bubble and fizz, Colin stared into the stranger’s eyes, waiting for a sign of change, something to occur or happen.

  But nothing did.

  A few more seconds and Thomas asked, “That evidence enough fer yer?”

  Colin nodded, wiped the back of Thomas’s hand, noting the small burn marks left over from the bleach.

  Kitty ran over to Thomas then, ladling large quantities of sweet smelling stew into his bowl. Colin took a seat next to Jerry. For a while they sat and ate, watching the newcomer as he devoured his food, always careful to steer his spoon around his cut.

  When most of the food was gone, and Kitty began clearing, Colin found himself with questions for Thomas.

  “How’d you find your way here?”

  Thomas shrugged, “Found meself a caravan of friends I been travelling with fer the last few years. Not one of the lucky ones ter find a permanent place like yous. Didn’t do too badly for a few years, surviving up and around the country roads of the Midlands. Made our way from supermarket ter supermarket, getting ahold of wh
at we could, though by that point there wasn’t much left. I don’t blame them, but those that got there first took a lot and left little.”

  “The way of the world,” Jerry said matter of factly. It was dark now, and Kitty drew the curtains shut.

  Thomas nodded.

  Colin glared at Thomas, nostrils flared. “So you’re a scavvie?”

  To his surprise, Thomas laughed. “Depends what yer call a man who takes ter the road ter survive. I mean, I’ve met some scavvies in me day. Filthy guys with tattooed faces, that the type yer mean? But if yer’d even poked yer toes out in the world lately, yer’d realise not every stranger is a scumbag.”

  “And your lip?” Colin asked.

  “Oh, right. That. Yeah… we were caught out.” He looked up and laughed. “Ironically, it was a bunch of scavvies. Flanked us on the main road between here and Crawley. It was our fault. We got careless.” His laughter faded, and his voice grew quiet. He lowered his head. “We didn’t see it as we approached, but the… scavvies, travellers, people of the road, whatever yer want ter call em. They’d created a barricade of nails tied into a load of old belts. The old Transit we had wasn’t exactly in much of a working condition before so it took us off the road easy enough. They came in with their knives soon after. I don’t remember much. Ter be honest I think the adrenaline kicked in. I heard them, though. The men and women I’d come ter know as me family. I heard the knives slice their throats, pierce their skin, and their last screams drowned in gargles…” his voice trailed off.

  Kitty sat next to Thomas and placed her hand on his. “Oh, how awful.”

  “I just… I got away and… I mean I think I’ve been running since then… I can’t be sure. I… passed out a couple of times.”

  Thomas sunk his head into his hands and quietly sobbed. The candles that Jerry lit earlier that evening flickered, throwing everyone into a geriatric wobble. Colin watched intently. Thomas couldn’t have been far into his twenties, and here he was, bawling his eyes out at a stranger’s kitchen table. He was so vulnerable, so exhausted, that was easy for anyone to see. But was that a play? When he’d first met the LeShards it had taken some time to thaw away at his exterior, and now here he was. Practically the family pet. A bipedal guard dog. So even if Jesus himself walked in right now, Colin would still treat him the same way. Bleached and interrogated.

  Kitty looked pleadingly over at Jerry, who in turn faced Colin. The words were unspoken, but as crystal clear as can be. And it seemed the decision rested on Colin’s shoulders.

  “Any rotters?” Colin said.

  Thomas lifted his head, the tracks of his tears shining clean amongst the grime. “Rotters? I don’t think anybody’s seen any fer a long time. At least not outside the quarantine.”

  “You’ve been there?” Colin said.

  “Quarantine? No… nobody has. London’s as good as lost.”

  Colin mumbled something incoherent, found Kitty’s glistening eyes and nodded. Instantly she beamed in his direction.

  He left the table not long after. As he shut the door behind them he heard Kitty fussing over Thomas. “Come, now. Follow me and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

  He growled as he climbed the stairs.

  ~ 5 ~

  It was a hazy morning. Sunlight filtered through the thin rags that covered the windows, casting the living room into a gentle glow of gold. Light snores could be heard, only slightly muffled by a pillow as Thomas rolled over on his blanket bed and made himself comfortable. Jerry and Kitty would be up soon. They’d usually wait for Colin to slam the door shut on his way out to patrol, so at least he had that working in his favour.

  A heavy leather boot dug into Thomas’s ribs. He snorted. “Hey!”

  “Shh,” Colin commanded, looming over the huddled figure. “Time to go, soldier.”

  Thomas looked confused but didn’t complain as he threw on his ragged clothes and sleepily stumbled out the door. Colin whistled for Wheat to follow, slammed the door behind, and headed out on patrol. They walked in relative silence. Mostly Colin didn’t want to talk to the newcomer, and by the looks of the intimidated Thomas, there wasn’t much he was brave enough to voice. Colin carried his rifle as though he were tracking, the weapon cocked and loaded, and he couldn’t help but feel bemused as Thomas’s eyes darted to the gun every few seconds.

  It was chillier today. Colin wrapped up for the occasion with a thick jacket and a second pair of hole-ridden long johns. Thomas shivered and clutched his chest through his thin shirt as they journeyed through the group of trees that led to the high rise, and, beyond that, Redhill estates. Even with the kid behind, Colin wouldn’t let himself lose sight of that view. Not for a million horses.

  Wheat barked wildly as the trees thinned and the ground steepened.

  “He’s hardly one fer stealth, is he?” Thomas muttered.

  When they reached the top, Thomas was almost doubled over, the chill tightening his skin. He nearly bumped into Colin’s backside but looked up and out at the last minute. His mouth opened wide as the low sun shimmered off droplets of moisture left from a misty night. A thin fog clung low to the ground causing the frames of the houses on the Redhill estates to appear as icebergs in an ocean.

  “Quite a sight, ain’t it?” said Colin.

  “Probably nicer if me nips weren’t ready ter pop off,” Thomas offered with a chesty chuckle that melted under Colin’s stare. “What’re we doing here?”

  “Checking for scum.”

  Colin took one long look into the distance with his binoculars, but it was no use. Even if the boy had returned to the estates today he wouldn’t see. There was too much of a haze to see anything. For a second he thought he saw a man, tall and wide, yet when he looked again it was nothing more than an iron post, rusting and aged.

  Wheat paced back and forth at the edge where the ground steeped down to the neighbouring fields. He emitted several loud barks and wagged his tail excitedly, looking out at the estates as his calls echoed and then fell silent.

  They returned to the farmhouse in time for lunch. Kitty greeted Thomas at the door with an enthusiastic hug and placed a hand on Colin’s arm before disappearing into the kitchen. They made no effort to hide what they were really thinking. That Colin was going to walk back into the house alone with bloodied hands. Back before the echoing of gunshots had faded into the distance. Jerry nodded with a big toothy smile at Colin and headed inside.

  Thomas sure opened up at lunch. Where he was as quiet as a gnat on patrol, he’d blossomed into a talker now. He asked Kitty and Jerry questions about their past, leaning over the table, eagerly lapping up their memories. Kitty rejoiced in telling the tale of when Jerry had wanted to get a pet, had looked up pictures of Wheat as a puppy and burst into tears – “No I never!” Jerry protested with a mouthful of crumbs. They told him of their former life, not dissimilar to this one, only with working machinery and livestock. Thomas’s eyes lit up as Jerry informed him of the Saab in the barn, telling him how part of his role in his former caravan was to keep an eye on maintenance. Apparently, Thomas had an ‘affinity for machines’, which he said whilst holding his chest in a feign brag. Jerry turned at that point to Colin, pointing out that his background was in engineering and that perhaps they could work together and make it happen faster.

  Of course, Colin merely sat in the corner brooding, watching Thomas with a close eye.

  Not long after the conversation turned to provisions. Kitty popped the top off another tub of powdered milk and poured some into Thomas’s tea.

  “Seriously, I won’t stay fer long. At least until I get me bearings. I know how precious food can be, and I wouldn’t want ter be imposing.”

  Kitty flapped a hand, “It’s no imposition. As far as food goes we’re set until we’re buried. Suppose that’s what we get for thinking ahead. Us old folk out in the country always kept a store of food for the winters. You know there was one year that we couldn’t get onto the roads for three months?”

 
“Sounds terrible.”

  “We found ways to keep busy,” Kitty said, throwing a wink Jerry’s way.

  “Easy now…” he smiled.

  The three men excused themselves shortly, Jerry with an arm around Thomas, and Colin close behind. Over the course of the afternoon, Colin tinkered his way through the mesh of pipes and electrics in the car as Jerry chewed Thomas’s ear off. He could see that Thomas was amazed by the car, though, mouth agape as though he hadn’t seen anything so beautiful in years. This delighted Jerry who spent several hours telling him the car’s past, the stories of his first drives, and the time the windscreen wipers failed and he had to tie two lengths of string out of the car windows and manually wave to wash the water away.

  At one point, as the afternoon wore on, Colin swore into the car’s bonnet.

  “Need a hand?” Thomas said hopefully, hopping off an upturned bucket.

  Despite his misgivings, Colin nodded. “17mm ratchet and some emery paper.”

  Thomas appeared a couple seconds later, equipment in hand. He peered over Colin’s shoulder. “Have yer checked the head gasket?”

  “Of course I’ve checked the head gasket,” Colin grumbled as he rubbed the emery paper along a thick section of rust.

  Thomas rocked on his toes. “It’s just… it looks like there’s oil in the coolant can. See that residue there? That’s usually a sign of a blown gasket.”

  Behind them, Jerry stifled a laugh.

  Colin looked behind into the eager face of Thomas – the cut healing rather nicely on his lip – and resigned. “Get your head in here.”

  He took a step back, letting Thomas poke his head under the bonnet and examine the engine components. Though he hated to admit, he was tired of spending time in the greasy dark and actually was thankful for the help. He found a seat next to Jerry and took a swig of something dark and strong from a bottle on the worktop.