Reaper Page 12

  ‘Now . . . we’ll start with the Glock handgun.’

  He went through the procedures. Explained the magazines, the calibre, the power and showed them how to load and how to stand. Sandra followed his instructions as he gave them so that the four trainees had two of them to watch. For Sandra it was also a refresher course. After all, she had only been ‘special forces’ for a few days.

  Pete got the stance straight away, but Jamie had to be corrected. The two girls also needed guidance, and Sandra helped Jenny, while Reaper moved Kate into position. Her hair shone in the sun and he was careful to touch her only lightly.

  He put them through their paces one at a time. Getting them to shoot, correcting them, and having them shoot again, until each had used up the magazine.

  ‘We’re not going to waste ammunition,’ said Reaper,

  ‘but that was pretty good.’ They smiled. ‘That’s because these weapons are the best and shoot where you point them.’ Their smiles faded. ‘But you were pretty good, too.’

  And they had been, all hitting the target on several occasions, but then, the target was static, made of cardboard, and not shooting back.

  They switched to the carbines and went through the procedures again, by the end of which each had used a full clip.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said at the end. ‘You are now fully-fledged members of our special forces. I know it’s rudimentary, but you’ve got the basics. When you have time, practice stance and practice loading, both the magazines and the guns. But be careful, because guns kill – that’s their purpose after all. I know it’s been said before, but it is true and we don’t want you killing yourself or each other: only ever point a gun at something or someone you intend to shoot.’

  They relaxed and talked amongst themselves, pleased with the way it had gone.

  Jamie said, ‘Shall we put these back in the armoury?’

  ‘No,’ Reaper said. ‘From now on, they’re yours. It’s up to you to clean them, practice with them, look after them and, if necessary, use them in the protection of yourself or this group. Pete? You’re going out with Gavin later?’ Pete nodded. ‘Then I’d advise keeping on the vest and go prepared. There are nasty people about.’

  Jamie said, ‘I don’t want to scare people in the villages. Maybe I’ll leave the vest in the car.’

  ‘Your call,’ Reaper said. ‘Jenny? Kate? Why don’t you come with us? We’ll take the MPV, find another vehicle on the way and split into two teams. Now, back to the armoury and get fresh magazines.’

  Reaper drove the car with Sandra riding shotgun in the front seat. She had the list of provisions people had asked for, including bottled water, chocolate, cooking oil, toilet paper, tinned foodstuffs, matches, rubber gloves and Wellington boots. On the way out of the estate, he stopped at the motor home and picked up a holdall, which he put in the back. As they approached Scarborough, Reaper parked outside a car dealership and let them inspect the vehicles on the forecourt. Sandra chose a year-old red Vauxhall Astra van.

  ‘This is good,’ she said.

  Reaper went into the showrooms and, after rooting about in an office, found a drawer full of keys. He brought the right one back and handed it to Sandra.

  ‘You’d better check it for fuel,’ he said.

  She got into the car, adjusted the seat and started the engine. It fired first time.

  ‘It’s less than a quarter full,’ she said.

  ‘Bring it onto the road and we’ll syphon some fuel.’

  He went to the MPV and got a hammer and a rubber tube then walked down the street to a Renault saloon whose petrol cap was on the side of the car accessible from the road. The door was locked so he smashed the window with the hammer, reached in and opened it, and found the petrol cap release. ‘Turn it round!’ he told Sandra.

  She did so and he guided her until her petrol cap was alongside, although a couple of feet away. She switched off the engine. He removed the cap on the Astra, pushed the tube into the Renault and sucked at the other end. He got a mouthful of petrol, spat it out, and held his end of the tube in the mouth of the petrol tank of the van. It ran for quite a time. The Renault must have been almost full.

  ‘Three quarters,’ said Sandra, and thirty seconds later the stream dribbled to an end.

  He put the tube and the hammer back in the MPV.

  ‘How are we going to—’ he began, but Sandra said,

  ‘Jenny can come with me. Kate, with you. Is that okay?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve got the list. I’ll find a supermarket first, then go looking for Wellington boots.’

  ‘We’ll have a drive around town then head to the hospital.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s half eleven. We’ll meet at the harbour at two. Then I thought we’d try Rutford School. Do you know the way, Jenny?’

  ‘I know the way.’

  They nodded to each other and Reaper said, ‘Take care.’

  ‘You, too,’ said Sandra.

  He and Kate got into the MPV and he was more aware of her sitting next to him than he had ever been of Sandra. Maybe it was because he didn’t know her.

  They were both unknown quantities to each other.

  ‘Okay?’ he said, glancing into her face and noticing her hazel eyes.

  ‘Okay.’ she said.

  Reaper followed the red van until it turned into a Sainsbury’s. He stopped the car, remembering the last time, then followed it into the car park but stayed well back from the shop entrance. Sandra stopped the van at the front, glanced back at him and raised an arm in acknowledgement, then spoke to Jenny.

  The two girls approached the store cautiously, the carbines at the ready. Windows had been smashed and they stepped through broken glass and disappeared inside.

  He waited a few minutes longer.

  Kate said, ‘Is anything wrong?’

  ‘We had trouble in a supermarket. People can get proprietorial about them.’

  Another minute and Sandra reappeared at the window and gave them the thumbs up. He raised a hand and drove away. The major danger would be from a gang like the one led by Jerome. Then again, even many ordinary people were prone to have become a little crazy after everything that had happened. The ones he and Sandra had fought in Asda might once have been essentially law-abiding citizens.

  They toured the town slowly, the car windows down.

  He stopped on Northway, near where he had seen the three inebriates the previous day, and honked the horn.

  A couple of minutes later, his long-haired friend poked his head round the corner, saw who it was and staggered into view. He was carrying a bottle of lager.

  ‘Hey, man,’ he said.

  ‘How you doing?’

  ‘Me? I’m fine. Responsible citizen like me? I’m fine.’

  He raised the bottle so he could point a finger at Reaper. ‘Good job, man! You did a good job.’

  ‘You helped.’

  The man shook his head. ‘Nah. You did a good job, man. Needed doing and you did it.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Shaggy. What’s yours?’

  ‘I’m Reaper.’

  Reaper held out his hand and, after staring at it for a moment, Shaggy took it in his own and they shook.

  ‘Great name, man. You choose that? Reaper. Great name.’ He squinted into the car. ‘You’ve got a new lady. Is the other one okay?’

  ‘The other one’s fine. This is Kate.’

  Shaggy waved. ‘Hi, Kate.’

  ‘Hi, Shaggy.’

  ‘Any friend of Reaper’s is a friend of mine.’ He stepped, or rather staggered, back a pace and refocused. ‘Do you want to come for a drink? We’re in The Alma. It’s round the corner. You’d be welcome, man.’

  ‘Thanks, but not today. We’ve got things to do.’

  Shaggy nodded sagely. ‘More patrolling and stuff.’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘How many of you meet in The Alma, Shaggy?’


  ‘There’s four of us.’ He looked at the fingers of one hand and said, ‘Five of us. Call in any time. Any friend of mine is a friend of Reaper’s.’

  ‘Any more trouble?’

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘Like Jerome and his gang?’

  ‘Don’t know, man. People are frightened. Sometimes angry. Sometimes fight. I stay out of it. I stay in The Alma.’

  ‘Shaggy, you and your friends take care.’

  ‘We will. We will, man.’

  Reaper offered his hand again, but this time his arm was upright, and Shaggy took it and gripped it, as if they were ready to arm wrestle.

  ‘We’ll be around,’ said Reaper.

  ‘That’s good, man. That’s good.’

  Reaper drove away and Kate waved. Shaggy staggered as he waved back, his coordination a little unsteady as he was trying to drink from the bottle at the same time.

  ‘A character,’ said Kate.

  ‘Believe it or not, he’s one of the good guys. Now, where to next?’

  ‘If I’m going to carry a gun, I’d like kit like you and the girls.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He drove to the camping shop.

  Reaper didn’t think it would be dangerous but there was no point taking chances. Besides, it was an opportunity for Kate to get used to being careful. She followed his example as they left the car, holding the carbine at the ready and checking the streets before cautiously entering the store. He showed her where the pants, T-shirts and boots were and kept a watch by the window. She picked her size and went into a cubicle with a loose curtain across it to change.

  He noticed a display of knives that had nothing to do with camping and went round behind the counter to take them out and inspect them. Throwing knives, small, neat, sharp and, he had no doubt, in the right hands extremely deadly. But just how much weaponry did he want? He snorted to himself. As much as bloody possible. He picked a set of three stainless steel knives and a wrist sheath. He also slipped a sheath that held a single blade around his neck on a chain so that it hung down his back beneath his T-shirt and vest.

  He began to put the sheath on his arm, glanced up and realised that, from his new position behind the counter, he could see Kate in the mirror of the changing room through the gap where the curtain didn’t reach the wall.

  She was wearing only her underwear: white briefs and bra, and his throat went dry at the sight of the curve of her spine, the fullness of the side view of her breasts, and the roundness of her rump. He panicked in case she saw him. She would think he had taken up this position on purpose. What could he say? I was looking at knives. I wanted to be Ninja. Honest.

  He stumbled trying to move too fast from behind the counter, and kicked a box. He straightened up, once he was back in his safety zone, and looked towards the cubicle. Kate was peering round the curtain at him, alerted by the kicked box, and her glance seemed to read the situation.

  Reaper held up the wrist sheath and said inanely,

  ‘Knives.’

  ‘Knives,’ she said, and smiled, before retreating behind the curtain to continue changing.

  Shit! thought Reaper, fumbling with the straps of the sheath. He had it in place by the time she came out, in what was becoming the regulation uniform of his special forces. On her, they looked good. She got a plastic bag and put her own clothes and trainers in it and put a navy-blue baseball cap on her head. The colour of the clothes and the cap suited her, making her hair colour look even richer.

  ‘What do you think?’ she said.

  ‘I think you look great,’ he said, instantly embarrassed for speaking the truth in such a heartfelt manner, and then wondering what he had started, when young women were dressing in military fatigues and pretending to be soldiers. Maybe he would regret it when one of them was killed. Maybe not, because it was necessary. ‘We’d better go to the hospital,’ he said.

  The visit was not one he was looking forward to.

  Before they left the store, he took a handful of surgical face-masks from a display on the counter. In the weeks before the end, every shop had stocked them.

  Chapter 9

  SCARBOROUGH GENERAL HOSPITAL WAS A meandering complex of buildings. The main facade was redbrick.

  Ambulances sat beneath a yellow canopy outside Accident and Emergency. Reaper followed the sign to the main entrance. The car parks were full and there were bodies everywhere: sitting in wheelchairs, on benches, in vehicles, on the ground where they had fallen; hoping for help that had not arrived. Flies hovered in small clouds around the dead. He gave Kate a surgical mask and fitted one over his own mouth and nose and they went inside.

  Inside was worse. Much worse.

  As a policeman, Reaper had twice seen bodies that had lain undiscovered for a week or more. A house-holder notices a bad smell and realises they haven’t seen their neighbour for a while. It was up to the police to discover the worst. He remembered the smell and the flies. A pathologist had given him a run-down on the process of decay.

  For the first few days there are no outward signs of decomposition, but the flies are already laying their eggs. Then the body becomes bloated with gases, the mouth, lips and tongue swell, the skin becomes fragile.

  Maggots, flies and insects are all busy. Putrefaction has started. Maybe ten days after death, maybe a bit more, the body collapses, the abdominal gases escape, insect activity increases. After twenty days, the body is flat and begins to dry out and beetles take over.

  Mummification can begin.

  They walked into noise and smell. The noise of clouds of flies, the smell of putrefaction. This was a horror show and he realised that he should have waited another two or three weeks before undertaking his search for a doctor.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  Only Kate’s eyes could show any expression. They were wide in shock, but she nodded.

  Bodies sat in chairs, on couches and the grey carpet of the waiting area. One man was sprawled across the display of dead flowers outside the small hospital shop where sad, partly deflated balloons were still tethered saying, Congratulations and Get Well Soon. And around them all the flies were busy, landing, laying eggs that would become maggots that would become flies, part of the process of nature and death.

  They followed the signs along a corridor towards departments and wards, and the smell got worse, even through the mask. The death process here was more advanced and maggots writhed in ravaged faces. Why hadn’t he waited? Given nature more time to do its work? They stayed alert, carbines at the ready, because a hospital, even in this state, could be a magnet for anyone wanting drugs for non-medicinal purposes.

  ‘Hello?’ shouted Reaper, and the word echoed back at him.

  They walked past lines of trolleys that contained more of the dead; among them, lying on the floor as if taking a nap, were a nurse and a male hospital orderly, who had stayed at their posts until the very end. He occasionally turned full circle as they walked, to ensure no one was behind them, and Kate began to alternate the move so they were covered at all times.

  He hoped she was looking for the living and not at the dead.

  ‘Hello?’ he shouted again, and again there was no reply.

  They entered a ward. The beds were full. The flies swarmed at the intrusion and then returned to their business. Mattresses had been placed on the floor to accept even more patients. Another nurse lay dead among her charges. Side rooms were full, with extra beds made up on the floor, all occupied. A doctor in a white coat and a stethoscope around her neck, sat in a high chair at the nursing station in the middle of the long ward, her body slumped across the counter.

  Through an open office door nearby, Reaper saw the body of another nurse.

  ‘Hello?’ he called again.

  They retreated the way they had come and climbed stairs to the next level. Why, when they knew no one living could still be here? More bodies, hundreds of bodies. Kate shouted this time. Maybe someone would respond to a woman’s voice? No one did. He won
dered, at the height of the pandemic, what had happened to patients suffering from other diseases. Had they all succumbed to the virus or had some survived to die slowly in bed in the middle of a mausoleum?

  When they saw the sign to a children’s ward Reaper had had enough.

  ‘We should go,’ he said.

  Kate nodded. Her eyes were numb. Tears welled simply at the sight of the nursery characters painted on the walls leading to the ward. They left quickly, trying to blot out the sights and the smell. They didn’t even trouble to look for bandages or even the most basic or accessible of medical supplies.

  Outside, they pulled off the masks and breathed the relatively clean air. The bodies out here hadn’t been as dead as long and the putrefaction was not as advanced. Kate began to shake and leaned on the car for support, the carbine swinging round her back on its strap. Reaper stepped to her and took her in his arms for comfort, nothing more. A human contact after all the corpses. She put her head on his shoulder and her arms around him. Two would-be soldiers, he thought, drained by the silence and repugnant reality of death. Then the comfort began to turn into something else. They both became aware of the change and he didn’t know if Kate would want it or if he was ready for it. Maybe she sensed his uncertainty. They stepped apart.

  ‘I knew it would be bad,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think it would be that bad.’

  ‘At least we know. Nothing else can compare.’

  They got back in the car and Reaper headed for the harbour.

  They drove down the steep road to the front and Reaper paused at the bottom to make sure nothing was coming along the Foreshore Road. Old habits. He drove across and onto the West Pier, fishing boats in the harbour to the left, a few cars in the parking zone to the right, some of them occupied. Perhaps victims who had chosen to come here to die, either of the virus or a suicidal dose of drugs, whilst staring out at the view of the crescent bay.