The Woodman (Hell On Earth) Book Four

By G. H. Bright

Duke and Coast Town face a new challenge as the horror from the north, having taken the Oxford Crew, move southward looking for The Woodman. Duke attempts to build an army and defend. Kufuo is still missing, on an adventure of his own trying to trace his roots and all the time ships from the new world head toward them for confrontation. Senator Horst is not all he seems to be and speaks with a serpents tongue, Marine Cobb goes AWOL and tells Duke what he already suspected, that Horst let the Ebola virus loose in the first place. Fighting for his life and the lives of those he loves, Duke must defeat the terror from the north and deal with Senator Horst whilst keeping his people together.
This fourth instalment gives the answers to who the people were that died at the start of book one, explains who unleashed the virus, modified it and why. Duke comes close to death, Sue at last finds happiness and Duke, Gould and Troy find out who lives on the isle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. H. Bright
• Release date: Apr 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310895876

G. H. Bright

I live in UK, the south coast of England to be exact and have been writing for more than ten years. Please visit my site at http://ghbright.wix.com/grolly to view all books, first chapters and what's planned. The Woodman saga follows Duke Woods in his battle to bring normality to a world gone mad. With 90% of mankind wiped out, survival is paramount for those that survive. With danger lurking at every turn those that do survive find feeding themselves to be the least of their problems. The Woodman is a four book serial and two-book stand alone stories creating a six-book saga. My latest story, Cottonwood Road, is out now. Written in both UK and US English - depending on who is talking at the time, it's the holiday from hell and then some! A burnt out car with n o sign of the occupants leads to a chase from Utah to Texas and back again. IF LOCATING ME ON FACEBOOK; Once there, please locate G.h.bright fiction books (a sub page) or type that in to find my books on other sites. Thank you.

Book preview

Book 4 in the Woodman Series

Written and Published by G. H. Bright

Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it. Psalms 34:14

Blessed are the Meek, for they shall inherit the Earth, Matthew 5:5

Published by G. H. Bright at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Published April 2014

Cover by G. H & M. H. Bright

All persons, events and descriptions within this work are fictional and are the work of the above named Author.

1.

Chris screamed as the fire of pain shot through his body again. He was tied to a tree, ropes round his legs and neck, his arms forced behind him, round the trunk and there was nothing he could do to stop Tattoo cutting deep and removing another part of his features. Through the horror of intense pain and shock, Chris was aware of Tattoo coming closer. It looked as if the big bald-head and sneering face was coming in for a kiss.

Having left his latest camp on the Hogs Back, Tattoo and his band of thugs made their way south. They had spent all their energies dealing with the killings at Abingdon and rested plenty long enough getting their energy back on the south side of the hill. Now was the time for action. Abingdon had fallen with ease. Striking all around Oxford but staying clear of the place itself, they systematically rid the land of human life. They raided an army base and the old power station within striking distance of Abingdon, finding nothing at either and moving on to more rewarding venues, houses, cottages and Abingdon itself. The area east and west of the centre of town was where people lived and worked, the majority of the town still being a no-go area, and Tattoo found a pincer movement from each side of the Thames destroyed them fast. Moving on the stronghold of the community had not been the battle expected and Tattoo and his men had a relatively easy job of it, killing the last of those who refused to surrender by drowning them in the Thames. It took four days of attack but it fell quicker than he had imagined and there were far less people there than he had been led to believe, too. Hundreds if not thousands, he had been told, and he was damn sure there was less than one hundred when the day came. The leader of the community had finally been taken prisoner and made an example of, as always, and the place fell an hour later. The energies expended were in the orgy of bloodletting as the prisoners were tortured for information on where the others had vanished to.

Now, rested and restless and still without answers, they passed through one of the tunnels under the Southdown’s, over a mile long inky blackness, and on to Duke’s lands, the land of The Woodman. Tattoo noted the southbound carriageway of the tunnels was blocked at one end with wood; they used the northbound tunnel, and found the southern end of the other was bricked up. He questioned why it should be blocked up but dismissed it quickly, too.

Tattoo did not wish to spend long there so they passed through even though Spud, his number two, thought it made a good place to camp and strike out from.

They spent just long enough in the tunnel for Tattoo to figure out it was too damp and dark for his liking and that they could not gain access to the rooms beneath. They had been told there was a city under the tunnel, built by the government and occupied by the army during the outbreak, but there was no way they could get inside the place and set up a real base camp. Some of his men wanted to tear down the woodwork of the other tunnel and see what was inside but he forbade them to do so, becoming angry at the thought of wasting more time now he had got them on the move.

The mob continued on their way, frustrated but focused and headed south in search of the fabled Woodman, the women and kids bringing up the rear, the prisoners in cages carried among the throng of men.

Past an old army base and roundabout on the A3 road that used to lead to the village of Liss, they were on their way toward Petersfield for the night when they ran into a horseman.

Chris was dragged from his steed and beaten severely before Tattoo interjected.

‘Let’s be having a serious word with our friend.’ Tattoo had said as he made his way through the throng of men and came face to face with Chris. Chris had left Duke's Hill, returning home alone from the Summer Meeting leaving Kevin there with his new girlfriend, Beth. Since then he had gone back on his word to Duke and begun poaching again. Chris had been deep in thought about his next venture when he realised men rode about him and by then it was too late.

Tattoo pulled a man off Chris and studied the beaten man for long minutes before speaking.

'Okay, so you have two choices. One, you tell me what I need to know, and two; you tell me what I need to know after a hell of a lot of pain. Which one does you want, choice one or two?'

Chris knew there was no way his life was going to continue much longer. This was his last day on earth and he knew it, so he made his mind up right there and then that despite anything this tattooed oaf with the Scots accent said, he would make it difficult for him. Chris would go out of this world with his head held high and not as the low-life he often felt.

2.

Duke looked at the early morning sky. It was grey clouds in the main but to the east it was as if the sky were alight.

'Red sky in the morning…'

'Yes, I know, Sweetheart,' he said kissing Hannah on the cheek as she passed by. He joined her at the garden table, their usual place for breakfast. 'Won't be doing this much longer. Summer looks to have ended abruptly.' Hannah nodded and her shoulders slumped. 'Not fair, is it?'

'It seems autumn lasts a day or so and then we're into winter. Spring and summer seem to merge, as well.'

'Not to worry, lover, we've still got each other…and a wonderful family and friends. This coming battle seems a lifetime away and the change of seasons won’t bother us too much, will it?'

'Yeah, well, battle aside; we don't have Kufuo, do we?'

Hannah knew what she had said the minute it spilled out her mouth. Life was not the same without Kufuo. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.'

'Don't be silly, we have to face facts.'

'What facts, we don't have any.'

'Kufuo took to the woods ages ago. It's almost two months now. I get the feeling he's not coming back.' Duke touched the head of a guard dog that had appeared beside him. The dog begrudgingly moved away and sat in the middle of the path as if ordered. 'There's a hole inside of me, I feel empty without Kufuo.'

Hannah reached across the wood surface of the table and squeezed his hand. 'I think he just needs to find himself; he took it hard being singled out as a black man. It’s not something he's ever come across before.'

'Yeah, and who do we have to thank for that, the feral ones!'

'Now, now, Duke. You've got to stop calling them that.'

'Well they are feral.'

'Were, they were feral! Beth has done wonders with them and you know it. None of them look with anger toward you, they all blame their sister Adel for their problems, and rightly so. Young Pitt thinks the world of you.'

'I shot him.'

'There you go, then. He doesn't blame you for that. If he had something against you he'd have shown it by now. He's had weeks and weeks to do something.'

Duke shook his head in wonder. 'I still think of them as feral. Its early days still and I still say I don't trust them fully. How can I?'

'…By giving them a chance?'

'Smart arse!'

Paris and Troy came out of their respective front doors and came over to the table.

Michelle and Sam came out the main front door, a pot of tea and cups on a tray and breakfast in the shape of nuts and berries, apples and greens and oats, and the conversation changed.

'What are we going to do today?'

Hannah turned to Sam and smiled. 'Well, I thought maybe we could all go out and collect food, you know, now summers coming to an end?'

'Oh great!' Troy mused as he sat down. 'Can't we do something else, you know, like pull our eyes out?'

Sam dug him in the ribs as she sat next to him and Paris started to pour tea. 'Actually,' Duke began, 'Troy and I need to check on defences and stuff.'

'No you don't!' Hannah gave a mock angst look and Sam smiled in reply.

'You've been out every day for the last two months, so today you're coming with the family and me. The defences are as good as they'll ever be.'

Duke shrugged and showed his palms. 'I can't argue with the woman, Troy, looks like we're stuck.'

'We need to be ready when this attack comes, mum.'

'I should think we're as ready as we'll ever be, Troy,' she said filling her plate with breakfast items. 'Do we have any news from the Oxford Crew yet?'

'No, but as we all know they'll move on us soon if Abingdon falls.'

'We should go there,' Troy announced through a mouthful of berries. 'Help Vaughn and the others beat this guy off.'

'And you know full well why that's not going to happen,' Duke said. 'We've offered them here; we can't go off chasing gangs of people all over the place. We don't know where they are or how many of them there are. Abingdon comes to us and we defend from here. It might not sound like it but it’s the better way. We said we’d go to their aid but that had to change. They come here; I’m not sending anyone out on a suicide mission.'

'Chill, dad, chill, I was only joking.'

Duke playfully thumped his boy on the arm. 'You're too much like me, and that's a fact.'

'You'd go after them if mum would let you?'

Duke laughed. 'I meant in my younger days, when your grandfather was alive. He had to hold me back a lot, and he was right even if I didn't think so at the time. I was hot headed just like you, once.'

'When are they going to attack?'

'Who knows? They're playing a waiting game, pure and simple. I just wish some news would come out of Abingdon.'

Troy looked at Hannah. 'So we're going berry picking?'

'No, the berries are all gone; we're going to collect toadstools and greens today, and the last of the apples, if they're not too rotten.'

'Whoopee!'

'Sarcasm will get you nowhere, young man.'

'Yes, mum.'

Duke rose from the table knowing he would, at some point at least, visit the wall and make checks of the ditch and bushes, ensuring no entry could be gained to the hill from outside unless through the gates. The paths along and off the hill were open but guarded, the area of the homes relied more on the defensive wall of wood and bramble than it did on man alone and it was incredibly strong, but Duke kept checking it, all the same. The defences had been doubled, more banks of arrow firing boxes, deeper walls and ditches, but still he worried about a sneak attack. He also wondered how much longer life would appear tranquil and marvelled at Hannah's ability to make breakfast time a family event. Even with the threat of war looming, Hannah still insisted they be a normal family. That was just one of the reasons he loved her so much.

Duke looked skyward as the redness faded and the grey clouds won the fight for the air. 'Rains coming.' Duke strode down a small path that split in two and branched off toward the toilets and to a shower, and he wondered if Kufuo really was gone forever.

3.

Thirty minutes later and Chris just wanted to die. The pain was too much. Tattoo had cut off the left ear and eaten it in front of him. Tattoo was laughing all the time at the horror on Chris' face as he munched on the thick fibrous tissue. Then the right ear came off and so did his nose, both of which were thrown to the baying crowd. Chris told him anything and everything, babbling through the blood, he gave out information in torrents as his body went into shock. Tattoo quickly got the knowledge he needed. He knew the road system to Duke’s Hill, where the Woodman lived and how many men he had. He also knew about the Woodman's kids and woman, the feral kids he had taken in and the fact that The Death had surfaced again further west. He had already decided to attack The Woodman first, before moving on the west but that snippet of information just served to confirm his thinking. Going west was pointless. This new information consolidated his view of The Woodman. Having tortured many others who gave pretty much the same information, Tattoo now understood The Woodman was a formidable foe and one not to be underestimated. This would be vastly different to anything he and his men had come up against before. Abingdon and all the other communities they had attacked counted for nothing in comparison to what lay ahead, if the tortured souls were to be believed.

He knew if he took The Woodman out of the picture he would rule the south of the country. Having laid waste to the north and midlands Tattoo figured it was time to settle, build a kingdom and having such a well-organised and vast kingdom before him, he figured this was it. Death to The Woodman and take his lands and people, that was the new goal now.

Tattoo leaned in, smiling at a terrified Chris as he made to kiss him. Chris screamed with this new pain and terror and Tattoo came away from the kiss and spat Chris' tongue onto the damp grass. 'If you liked that, you'll love this.' He grinned.

Luckily Chris' heart gave out before it came out of his chest but Tattoo took great delight in the pain he did inflict as he dug Chris’ heart out with his bare hands.

'Back to the hill, we’ll have some fun with the other prisoners while I think.'

‘That’s miles back down the road.’

‘Aye, I know, Spud, but better we keep to ground we know for the time being. When he sees this, this Woodman will have plenty of time to think heh?’

‘I guess he’ll know we’ve been here.’

‘Och aye that he will…and we’ll be ready for the man when he comes.’

'It'll take hours to get back there to the hill. Maybe we should hole up in the tunnel?'

'Too damp, Spud, way to damp and dark for my liking. We go back to the hill and that's the end of it.'

'It’s got to be nine miles!'

'Then get moving!'

Spud turned his horse round and began ordering men back down the roadway. None of them, having just witnessed the savagery of Tattoo was going to disobey. Spud wasn’t too sure this was the right move but he wasn’t going to challenge Tattoo on the matter either. Tattoo normally watched his intended victims for a short time then went in and picked off the weak ones before launching a full-scale attack, just as he had done with the people in and around the area of Oxford. Abingdon, their capital, fell easy enough once they had cut it off from the outside world. Taking out each and every post and community first had worked as well as it always had, and Tattoo basked in the glory of victory. This time he seemed to be playing a waiting game, worrying the opposition, making them live with their nerves on edge. That might be for the best but Spud also knew some of the men would not see it that way. They would see this as stalling, as weakness and fear. Spud would put his fears for unity aside for the time being but he did not relish having to calm the crowd if this forthcoming inactivity went on too long.

They left the tortured remains of Chris there; his body in the long grass under the trees, his head on a spike looking down the road.

The caged prisoners were carried between horses as before as the procession made its way back through the tunnels and up to the Hogs Back, miles to the north.

Spud thought about asking again why they were not stopping off in the tunnel. It was damp, but dry enough for a short stopover, he figured. But he knew the answer already so didn’t bother wasting his breath.

Tattoo liked the safety of the camp; it was well hidden and afforded much cover, the fir trees providing plenty of dry places away from the clearing they had made. If it was up to Spud, they’d stay in the tunnels, but he also knew Tattoo wanted confirmation of The Woodman’s numbers before they ventured too far onto his lands. The tunnel, therefore, could be a tomb if they were not careful. Chris might have given up vital information before they took his head off, just as others had done, but Tattoo would want to see the forces opposing him by eye and not rely on anyone else.

The torture was a double-edged sword in reality. It served as entertainment and a source of information but it also served to remind the men who the boss was. Ripping someone's heart out always left an indelible image on the mind that could not be erased and kept the men just where he wanted them. Tattoo was not going to get a knife in the back if he could help it!

The tunnel could be a death trap and they both knew that, really, and Spud grudgingly rode through the roadway that started on the south of the Downs and exited on the north side. The Devils Punchbowl held no interest for him so he looked ahead and wished the miles away. Roy asked Spud why they were not stopping in the tunnel but Spud didn't answer him. He gave Roy a dark look and rode on. Superior numbers could block them in the tunnel and starve them out, but he didn't waste his breath saying so. Spud kept his mouth shut and soldiered on.

4.

The ships at sea parted and went their separate ways. Senator Gerald Horst gave a customary wave to the admiral of the frigate and, pulling his jacket tight about him, made his way off the flight deck of the Carrier.

Senator Horst was sixty-five years old but looked nearer ninety, his weight adding to the appearance of a man past his prime. Addressed as Senator to his face, out of earshot he was The Mofuch, short for The Mother Fucker in Charge. He was universally hated. His pig-eyes settled on the marine he knew simply as Cobb and he stopped the man in the gangway.

'Not at your screen today, Marine?'

'Not for another two hours, sir. I'm still on my free-time right now.'

Horst nodded and moved to let the marine by. 'I want kept up to date, the frigate and the sub, okay?'

'Obviously you do, sir. Last I knew the sub was on route.' And you can still see the bloody frigate from the deck, he thought but didn't say.

'We're getting close, I don't want any nasty surprises, you understand?'

'Understood, Senator, you'll be the first to know of any developments.'

The young looking marine smiled and moved on, desperate to get to his usual hiding place to light up and pull smoke into his lungs. Smoking and any sort of drug except medical and alcoholic were banned under the new regime but smoking was something he found he could not kick. Thank god for contacts within the black market!

Horst continued on his way, nodding to marines and sailors as he went, eventually coming to the cabin of the four-star general, his nearest allied man on this trip.

'General?' Horst did not wait for a reply; he simply entered the cabin and looked around. General Buckmier looked up from his desk, drawing his attention away from the grid references of sighting in England. He had, on a notepad beside the map, the references he needed. Longitude 0 degrees 30’ to 1 degree 30’ west of Greenwich and Latitude 50 degrees 30’ to 51 degrees 30’ transpired as Kent, Sussex and Hampshire with a little Surrey and Oxfordshire thrown in. A large area of activity he never knew was there but felt, somehow, the senator knew full well.

Looking up at the senator, inwardly he groaned. Outwardly he smiled. 'Senator…the frigate got away okay?'

'No thanks to you, Clinton. You should have been on deck, you know that, right?'

General Clinton Buckmier put his pen down and sat back in the chair. If his grey hair was not so short it might well have bristled. As it is, his scalp flushed and his brow wrinkled. 'I still cannot go too far from the toilet, you know that.'

'Yes, the men are beginning to comment. The tablets are not working, then?'

'I'm getting there, Senator, but that storm two days ago proved to me that the army was the right career move for me. I would have made a crap admiral.'

Horst chuffed, shuffled back to the doorway and made to leave. 'Well we're going to need you more and more now. Let us hope the tablets kick in soon.'

The general watched him go and then stared at the empty space outside his door, wondering if Horst would ever act like a human and actually close a door. Horst looked down on everyone, the general included and the general knew he was not alone in his dislike of the overweight sweaty man.

Marine Cobb finished his cigarette and flicked the stub over the side. It caught the wind and disappeared down the length of the craft. Cobb thought of what a mess his life had become. He knew Horst didn't want him there. He didn't want any of the military there; they were an inconvenient necessity, nothing more and nothing less. Even the four-star general wasn't really wanted and Cobb knew this because he had a mate in the know. The general was only on this trip because he had ruffled feathers. He heard that was why Horst was on this mission too, but he could not verify that as fact. Horst was a big fish but he’d trod in dog-do and the smell remained no matter whet he did to get rid of it. Cobb disliked the senator, the man was always checking up on him, wanting to know what Cobb had found out or why he had found nothing new. Cobb was in charge of the drones, or at least some of them, and it was his responsibility to assimilate information received. That amounted to Horst being on his case 24/7!

Marine Cobb was also not stupid; he knew full well why the military were along for the ride. Horst had said it was for protection but Cobb knew damn well that if the people they were going out to get did not fit with Horst's idea, then they were expendable. If they had a different idea or, god-forbid, they were infected with something horrid such as polio or chicken pox, then he and the other marines would be expected to end their lives.

Cobb had been present once before, seen what happens to persons considered a threat and he didn't like it. He almost wished he had refused allegiance all those years ago. He would have died, likely, but he would not be living a lie and watching Horst and his society buddies lording over others, playing god and using people. Cobb knew the military did not fit, he could see the day when they were disposed of, sent on a mission of no return or something, the gates to the city locked behind them. He just hoped it did not mean disposed of in the same way he had seen others dealt with.

Cobb thought of the general as he climbed into his bunk. Something about the general told him he was not a happy man either. The general might be able to prevent a bloodbath if that is what it came to, but then again, Cobb could be wrong about him. Either way he was not a happy man.

Senator Horst spent just long enough in the operations room to find out that the latest drone to be sent up was transmitting and on route for the coastal area in a part of England known as West Sussex. He would get greater detail from the other marine later when the man came back on duty. He struggled to recall the marine's name, came up with Cobb eventually, but still thought of him simply as the young looking marine. Horst wasn't good at names, not of the common people anyway, it never seemed important to try and remember. It wasn't as if it were important! He remembered the names he needed to, General Buckmier, the fellow society members and the poor departed scientist behind the modified Ebola, but others came and went.

That man's name had gone down in history already. Charlie Wong was credited along with Horst as being the brains behind the greatest weapon the world had ever seen.

Wong was a born scientist, the man came from the womb wearing a white coat and Horst never stopped thinking how lucky he had been in finding the man.

They took Ebola and made it even more deadly than it originally was. They created the greatest weapon of all time, and all with natural ingredients!

A handpicked team assisted Wong and Horst took the glory, at least for a time. Now he had a marine that was at the top of his game and he would pick that man's brains for all it was worth, too. It wasn't on the same scale but Horst had suffered for his mistakes but he was a man on his way back up the ladder now!

Horst brought himself out of his revere as a man barged into him in the corridor.

‘Sorry, sir didn’t see you there.’

‘Bloody fool! Why don’t you watch where you’re going?’ Horst stared in to the face of an older marine, a man who had seen sights Horst had no comprehension of. Horst was not squeamish, he had watched people die, but the haunted eyes of that man told of horrors of war Horst dare not think about.

The young looking marine, Cobb, Horst reminded himself as he continued on his way, would give him updates on the coastal people and the ones living in the woods. Horst was sure they were people who had come out from the city under the hills but it troubled him as to why they had split up and who exactly the leader was. He could see advantages to having two camps, fish from one, meat from the other, but wasn't sure that was why they lived apart and he did not understand why the city had been abandoned. All will be answered soon, he told himself as he made his way to the food hall.

5.

Duke looked through the line of trees at the next line of hills and the valley of brown and green in between. It had been a long day collecting foodstuffs and checking the walls. He wondered just how much longer they would have to wait before the attack came. It looked so peaceful out there it was hard to fathom an angry mob or army on route. This evening-time meeting he was about to conduct had become a common occurrence of late and the news he gave was always the same. When anyone asked what they were going to do Duke said he had no idea, simple as that. 'You can't plan for something you know nothing about. We defend the hill as planned; I have no more news than that.' Today's meeting, however, would deal with the reality of things to come. Duke felt it in the air, the forest speaking to him, telling him the mob were close by and on the move.

Duke handed Gould a box, giving Gould the Glock back, saying it was a wonderful gift at the time but far more use to him, he being an ex-soldier. Gould refused, saying it had been a gift, but Duke forced it on him and said he’d looked after it well over the years, never really used it and now it was time Gould had it back. Gould put the ash whistle he was making to one side, opened the box and started to clean the oil from the pistol.

‘Thanks, Duke.’ It was solemn thanks but nothing more was really needed. Duke nodded back and looked at the valley one last time, glanced down at the dogs lying about and sitting watching, and then he addressed the group.

‘We should notify the people living out in the sticks,’ Duke said, addressing the throng of people. ‘Tell them to move here for the time being and that this is their last offer. No, scrap that, it’s not an offer, tell them they are coming, like it or not.’ Duke looked hard at the crowd of people; he recognised each and every one of them as people he could trust, most by name some by face, but he knew he could trust them all. 'It's an order. I'm sick of advising them to come in, this is their last chance. I've a feeling trouble is at last coming our way.'

‘I can do that.’ Grey said.

‘No, I want you to assemble the fighting men, make sure they have what they need and are ready, plus a few other jobs I have in mind.’

‘How long do you think we have, Duke?’

‘Abingdon has either fallen or is falling as I speak. I’d say we’ve days in any case.’

Gould looked pensive, Hannah too. Pepsi looked ready to cry and the kids looked anxious and ready to fight. Beth was mothering the feral kids as usual and Kevin stood next to her trying not to look scared.

‘Any news on the messages sent to the Oxford Crew and the West, Sly?’

The West was anywhere west of the Somerset Levels, behind a giant wall of impenetrable thorns and bushes and trees, all overgrown and wild, smothering houses and shops, fields and vehicles stretching from coast to coast.

The Oxford Crew was the pet name for the community spread out over that area as far as to the west as Swindon and south just shy of the M4 corridor, whose governmental hub was one end of the town of Abingdon. Most of the place being dead and crowded, the only inhabited part was the banks of the Thames and south-east of there. Abingdon had all but fallen, first Max then Vaughn leading their men in a fight they could not win against an enemy they could not number. The west was under lockdown since a fresh outbreak of The Death surfaced, and Duke knew the answer before Gould even spoke.

‘No, Duke, we got nothing back. Looks like the west has gone into lockdown good and proper and, as you say, Abingdon is under attack or already gone. Damn stupid they didn’t try and make it here.’

‘They did try; they just didn’t make it through.’

‘I still feel like we let them down.’ Gould spoke for most of them but they all knew that had not been an option. Fighting a battle when you had no idea where the enemy were was pointless and suicidal. Defending the hill and getting the Abingdon people to come to the hill had been the only real option, but they didn't make it, regardless of what everyone was thinking. Duke had gone out time and again to assist them but no one came within sight and Duke knew, due to the guerrilla tactics used by the mob, that it was just too dangerous to go further.

‘So we’re on our own, then.’ Hannah said. ‘Looks like it,’ Duke replied. ‘Just like always.’

‘We’re ready when needed, Duke, you know that.’

‘Thanks, Grey, and yeah, you’re needed now. Can you get a few teams of men out on guard duty, bulk up the numbers already there, yeah?’

‘Consider it done!’

Sly Gould thought that was his job and that Grey answered to him but he let it go. This was not the time to get silly about an order they would both have given any way. Guards were already in place but it was a prudent idea to double the numbers now and Gould knew it. Pepsi squeezed his biceps as she came to sit on the bench beside him and Gould responded with a light peck on the cheek. Paris saw the two them together and smiled. It wasn’t so long ago that Gould had been a little wary of telling Paris he and her mother were an item again. Paris, bless her, had looked to the heavens and said ‘about bloody time!’

Gould was more than happy with his little