Читать книгу To See The Light Return - Sophie Galleymore Bird - Страница 7

The entrance to the bunker was so well disguised it took a while for Will to find it; someone must have rearranged the bramble bushes that hid the entrance when they went in or came out. Stumbling around in the soft grey light slowly permeating the woodland, he was so tired he could barely stand. As visibility improved, he recognised the shape of a fallen tree and turned himself slightly west. There, that darker hollow, that was it.

Ducking around the bramble screen, shivering as droplets of water shook free and fell inside his collar, he found the metal of the door under his hands and felt for the lock. The key was on a string around his neck and meant he had to stand awkwardly with his cheek pressed up against the cold, wet steel and fumble until he heard the lock click. Before he pushed the heavy door open he paused, looking and listening to check there was no one about that shouldn’t be. A few sleepy birds were calling and beginning the morning’s chorus, but otherwise the woods were quiet.

Beyond the door, a tunnel had been dug into the bank, extending about five metres and lined with rough concrete; the floor was packed dirt and covered with a drift of leaves. Crouching, as the roof was less than five and a half feet high and he’d recently had another growth spurt that took him to over six foot, Will rearranged the brambles before he closed the door behind him. When he heard it clunk he relocked it and shuffled along to the inner door. This also was locked. He rapped on its wooden surface with the code knock and waited.

The air that greeted him as the door swung open was warm and stale, tainted with the funk of unwashed males and fumes from the foul pipe the Major held in his hand. He insisted he be allowed to smoke it inside, pointing out that he couldn’t very well do so outside, in case someone smelled it and investigated.

The Major looked like he hadn’t slept either, his face lined with fatigue, and grey-streaked black hair standing up in tufts. He stepped back and gestured Will inside.

‘Come in, I’ve just boiled some water, you can make yourself useful and brew some tea before you turn in.’ The Major resumed his seat at the small table in the centre of the room as Will ducked through the low door.

Somebody must have been cooking recently because he could also smell hot fat. He hadn’t eaten anything except some dried apple since he started his shift and his stomach rumbled even though the reek was unappealing. He removed his jacket and the woolen hat he’d used to cover his pale hair, draping them over a chairback to dry.

‘What’s for breakfast?’

‘Eggs. Mal pinched ’em from the farm coop before he came off watch yesterday. Bit of bread left.’

Will crossed the cramped and windowless room to the camping stove, set on an old door propped on plastic crates. As he passed, he nodded a greeting to Mal, an agent a year or two younger than his own eighteen years, who was sitting on a foldaway bed in the corner. A plate with smears of egg yolk was held on his lap.

‘When’s the next supply run? We’re getting low if we’re down to stealing eggs.’

‘Nothing low about it, eggs is premium grub,’ Mal mumbled through a yawn. ‘Busy night?’

‘Nothing past one o’clock, except a girl did a runner from the farm. Primrose … used to know her from school, before.’ Maybe they had eggs, but they were down to the last few teabags. Will pulled one out of the box and dropped it in the stained teapot.

‘A runner eh?’ The Major looked interested. ‘She get out?’

‘Nah, Dorcas came and scooped her up before she got to the village. Poor cow could hardly walk she was so fat. Don’t know where she thought she was going.’

‘Back to her family?’

‘Doubt it, they’re the reason she’s there in the first place.’ Will hadn’t known the rest of the family well, but he did remember Primrose’s parents and siblings looking better fed, and wearing smarter clothes, after she was ‘selected’ for the fat farm; her dad had a promotion at the more conventional farm he laboured at, owned by Mayor Spight. Soon after that, Will’s own parents had taken him and his sisters away, crossing the Tamar to reach Cornwall by boat one night, seeking sanctuary with his mum’s sister and her family in Saltash.

They had been founder members of the radical Archimedes’ Society for the Creation of Renewable Energy for the West, a group of concerned citizens seeking to use Devon’s remaining solar, wind and hydro infrastructure to supply electricity direct to the populace. Tolerated by the County Council at their inception, tensions had grown as their project looked to be on the brink of successfully hooking up what remained of an old solar farm. Accusations were made in a heated Council meeting that SCREW could not be trusted, that they were in league with external forces to control Devon’s energy supplies. SCREW’s representative countered by saying they were dedicated to preventing the Mayor and his allies from using energy scarcity to control the population.

Incensed, Spight proposed that SCREW be disbanded; the motion was carried unanimously, and calls were made for mass arrests. Worried for their children, Will’s parents had decided to get out while they still could, along with many others. Once settled in Cornwall, and with the support of their new community, SCREW had reformed as an activist group dedicated to putting power in the hands of the people of Devon.

‘Ah, well, it’s academic now, but it’s useful to know there’s someone up there,’ the Major gestured in the direction of the fat farm, ‘who wants out. Could be an ally.’

‘Maybe. Don’t see what use she’d be,’ Will said dismissively. ‘She’s the enemy anyway,’ he laughed.

BANG! The Major’s fist hit the table, bringing a sifting of dust from overhead and startling Will so badly he almost dropped the pan of hot water he had taken off the hob. ‘Don’t EVER let me hear you say that!’ the Major shouted. ‘She’s been sold like cattle by her parents, she didn’t choose what happened to her!’ He continued in a more moderate tone. ‘What we’re doing here – it’s for her and all the others on the farm, and all those other poor sods down in that village and all over this benighted county, and don’t you ever forget it. They’ve been lied to and tricked, and they are not “the enemy”.’

Will blinked, ashamed. But it was hard being in a war and knowing that if any of the … opposition … came across him, they would have far fewer qualms about treating him as an enemy of their state.

The Major’s face had softened. ‘Not that some of them aren’t bloody hostile,’ he said in a kinder tone. ‘Now, get yourself something to eat and have some rest. There’s plenty to be doing tonight.’

Still red-faced and embarrassed, Will busied himself making the pot of tea, using the one fresh teabag and supplementing it with a couple of used ones. Once it was brewed he added powdered milk and handed a cup silently to the Major – who accepted it as if nothing had just happened – and poured some into a clean thermos for Mal, who was putting on his waterproofs, preparing to take the next watch. Hopefully the bed he had just vacated would still be warm when Will climbed into it.

Before doing anything about food, he would have to treat his horsefly bite and check himself over for ticks. Parasites were having another bumper summer and it didn’t pay to be careless. He could still remember the long drawn out death from Lyme disease one of his mates had endured back at basic training, having not checked himself over thoroughly after an exercise in long grass. Wearily, Will began removing his shirt.