Chokehold Read online

  “Don’t give me any reason to have to report you to Chappell,” Joseph warns.

  “You’re the ones siphoning off supplies.”

  “Be careful, friend.”

  “I won’t say anything. Why would I? Look, I might be talking out of turn here, but if you’re planning something, then—”

  Parker squares up to him. “If we were planning something—which we’re not—then it’s none of your fucking business. Understand?”

  “I get it. It’s just that—”

  “It’s none of your fucking business,” Parker says again.

  “We’re all too quick to jump to conclusions these days,” Joseph tells him. “Whatever you’re thinking, I guarantee you’re wrong.”

  Peter puts his hands up in submission. “I won’t say anything, I swear. I don’t want any trouble.” He goes to walk away, then stops. “Anything’s got to be better than this. Way things are going, I think we’re all going to end up fighting before long. There’s got to be an alternative, and if you think you’ve found it, then you’ve got my support. I won’t do anything to get in the way.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “In fact, I’d like to help. Things are never as black and white as they seem, and—”

  “Black and white implies an option, Peter, a choice. None of us have any choices right now.”

  “I agree. Like I said, the chiefs are pushing us toward the edge of a cliff.”

  “That’s right, and all we’re trying to do is cushion the landing when we fall.”

  “I can help. Seriously.”

  “Right now, the only thing you need to do is keep your nose out and your mouth shut, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Parker pushes him away. “Good. Now piss off and help us get the rest of those bodies over here.”

  They watch him walk away, shoulders stooped.

  “Do you think he’ll talk?” Parker asks.

  “Doubt it. What would he say? We’ll move the stuff when we’re done so they won’t find any evidence. And even if he does talk, so what? The CDF isn’t going to do anything about it. We’re a valuable resource, don’t forget. They can’t afford to lose manpower.”

  “I just don’t trust him.”

  “Who really trusts anyone these days?”

  18

  Approaching Fordham

  A silver Audi races across the waterlogged Cambridgeshire countryside along otherwise silent roads, heading for what’s left of a filling station near Fordham. The approaching engine noise alone is enough to strike fear into the hearts of the foot soldiers who’ve been stationed out here. This place is a prized asset—another precious fuel stockpile—and it’s one that only a fool would risk trying to steal from. The immobilized, half-full tanker that straddles the forecourt, along with everything else here and for miles around in every direction, belongs to Johannson.

  Pinchy spends a lot of time out here, coordinating looting trips and keeping an eye on the fighters keeping an eye on the fuel. He knows the area better than most. He’d spent a lot of time around these parts before the war began, and his knowledge is one of the reasons he’s been able to find favor with Johannson. Now, while his men are trying to hide their nerves and look busy before Queen Bitch turns up, he’s cool as a fucking cucumber, leaning against the side of the dirt-streaked tanker, chewing a strip of gum he found in a corpse’s jacket.

  The engine noise increases rapidly as the car comes into view. Johannson brings the Audi to a screeching halt, then marches up to Pinchy, looking absolutely fucking furious. “Well?” she demands. “You got anything for me, or have you just been standing there chewing gum all frigging day?”

  Pinchy’s unfazed. Or if he is fazed, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it. “I told you, boss, I found something.”

  “What?”

  He gestures for her to follow him. The filling station is just off a traffic roundabout. There’s a footbridge spanning the road on the opposite exit. Pinchy leads her up a grassy bank and up onto the bridge. The wind’s bracing up here, and the dirty rain’s like nails, but if it’s bothering either of them, they’re not letting it show.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “I’ve been keeping a track of people’s movements like you asked,” Pinchy explains.

  “And?”

  “And the last few times we sent people out, the ones we sent in that direction are the ones who’ve disappeared.”

  “How many?”

  “Almost thirty have gone that way over the last couple of days.”

  “And how many have come back?”

  “Eight, so far.”

  “Who’s missing?”

  “No one special. That girl with the skinhead and big tits.”

  Johannson looks at him. “That’s the best description you can come up with?”

  He shrugs. “What can I say? She has a skinhead and big tits. And now she’s missing.”

  “Who else?”

  “The university lecturer guy.”

  “Porterhouse?”

  “I told you, boss, I don’t know their names.”

  “Freaky blue eyes. Had a chunk missing from one of his ears.”

  “That’s him. Yeah, he was here.”

  “He was a good fighter. Smart bloke. He’s not come back?”

  “Nope.”

  “Have I got a problem here, Pinchy?”

  “I think we might have, but I don’t want to go jumping the gun.”

  “Think they got a better offer?”

  “Maybe. Who in their right mind’s going to risk pissing you off, though? You’re on the fucking ascendancy, boss. People know they can’t risk walking away from you, ’cause before long, all this will be yours. Better to stay on your side, I reckon.”

  “True.”

  “Look, ultimately, it don’t matter what happened to them. Don’t matter if it’s another boss, a trap, radiation, even a bunch of Unchanged that’s got lucky; we can deal with them, can’t we?”

  “Damn right. I can’t afford to take any chances, though. If there’s a problem brewing, we need to deal with it. I need to deal with it.”

  “You’re right, and that’s why I wanted you to come here. And it’s not just about this fight. It’s the next one, too, and the one after that and the one after that. We need to show people who’s boss, boss.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We need to go on the offensive. Get the upper hand.”

  “And you reckon trouble’s down that road?”

  “I’d put money on it. Given the timing and who we’ve lost, I’d say there’s something worth checking out about ten or twenty miles in that direction.”

  “Good work. Get back to base and get things moving. Keep on top of this, Pinchy. Don’t let me down.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” he tells her.

  She walks back from the bridge to the filling station, Pinchy following close behind. There’s a pile of supplies gathered from today’s looting trips. She inspects the stash—her stash—then helps herself to a bottle of beer. “This stuff okay?”

  “As far as we can tell,” one of her fighters tells her. She twists the cap off the bottle, sniffs, then drains it.

  “Get it loaded into my car,” she orders, and six men immediately get to work. She watches intently, arms folded. Then something catches her eye. “You,” she barks, and all six of them freeze. They slowly turn to face her, each of them hoping they’re not the poor bastard she’s interested in.

  One guy remains rooted to the spot, two trays of canned food in his arms. He looks around and double-checks, trying to hide his nerves. This time last year, he was working on a construction site, going home at night to his Unchanged wife and their kid (both of whom he killed, thank god). The advent of the Hate was a blessed relief, but all the confidence and fury he used to feel when he was slaughtering Unchanged back then has evaporated. Johannson’s gaze makes him meek and mild and completely unremarkable again.

  “Me?”
/>   “Yes, you. Come here.”

  He does as he’s told, not even stopping to put down what he’s carrying.

  “You think you can steal from me?”

  “No, boss.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Richard. Richard Morris.”

  “And are you fucking stupid, Richard?”

  “No.”

  Other than the wind, the forecourt is silent. All eyes on Richard.

  “You know how angry I get when people take stuff from me, don’t you?” She waits. He nods. “All these goodies you’ve been collecting, they’re like cash these days. You collect for me, I’ll see you’re looked after.”

  “I know. We all know.”

  “Good. Find much out there today?”

  “Got most of this from a truck on the road. It had overturned. Found it in a ditch.”

  “Nice haul. You do understand the importance of what I’m saying, though, don’t you? We need to keep safe and strong, all of us, and we can only do that if we play by my rules. Don’t think that just because we’ve seen the last of the Unchanged, all our battles are done.”

  “No one thinks that,” Pinchy says from just behind her. “We’re all behind you here.”

  “Good to hear it. Right, get on and get yourselves back to base. That’s enough for one day.”

  Richard slumps with relief. He continues with his work, arms heavy with the weight of the stuff he’s still carrying. He stops when she calls out to him again.

  “What’s that in your jacket pocket, Richard?”

  His legs turn to jelly for the second time in as many minutes. Then he slowly, reluctantly, turns around. Come clean and fess up? Act dumb? Neither option feels like the right one.

  She moves closer and pulls a tin of cat food from his outer pocket. Richard curses himself. Should have buried it and come back for it later like last time.

  “What’s this?”

  “Cat food, boss.”

  “I can see that. What’s it doing in your pocket?”

  He improvises, nods at the tray in his arms. “Dropped it. Was carrying it over with all the rest of this.”

  “And it fell into your pocket?”

  “No … I mean…”

  “Who does this belong to?”

  “You,” he answers without hesitation.

  “You were going to steal it, weren’t you?”

  He tries to bluff his way out of trouble, but there’s no point. Honesty is the best policy, his dad used to say. But his dad never had to deal with a bitch like Johannson. “I’m sorry. I’m just so fucking hungry.”

  “I get that,” she says, taking Richard and all the others frozen watching by surprise. “Times are hard. I understand. We’re all under pressure.”

  “I’m really sorry. Won’t happen again.”

  “I’ll let you have this one,” she says.

  “Thanks, boss.”

  She smashes the tin into his face with vicious force. He crumbles, out cold, but she’s not done. She drops down and thumps the base of the tin into his face repeatedly, again and again until there’s nothing but blood and gristle. Then she picks herself up, throws the can onto the pile, and wipes her bloodied hands on the back of her trousers. She looks around at the rest of them; they are silent, eyes wide. “Work with me and I’ll see you’re okay. Steal from me, I’ll kill you.”

  With that, she’s gone. She gets back behind the wheel of the Audi and waits for the rest of their scavenged supplies to be loaded up, then drives back toward Cambridge.

  The silence when the sound of her car’s exhaust finally fades is deafening.

  “You heard the lady,” Pinchy says.

  “She ain’t no lady,” one of the other blokes jokes.

  “She’s more of a man than you,” another one says.

  “Stop pissing about and get yourselves back to base,” Pinchy orders. “Don’t make me have to report any of you pricks. You’ve seen how she deals with people who don’t play ball.”

  There’s no arguing. As the rest of his men get into their vehicles and head home, Pinchy crouches down and strips anything of use from dead Richard’s pockets. He takes his jacket, belt, and boots also. No sense letting them going to waste.

  He stands over the body and waits until the others are all out of view, then he waits longer still. When he’s absolutely certain he’s on his own and he’s not going to be seen, he hides his truck around the back of the filling station. They sold secondhand cars from a lot next to this garage. Pinchy and his men have managed to get several of them started over time, but he’d told them this particular Citroën was a write-off, and they’d believed him. He takes the keys from his pocket, and after a couple of misfires, the engine spits into life.

  Pinchy’s reached a metaphorical crossroads. North of here in Cambridge is Johannson and the rest of her pack. To the south, a slow, creeping death in the radioactive ruins of the capital awaits anyone dumb enough to travel that road. To the west, more radiation and whatever (whoever) is killing (or co-opting) Johannson’s fighters.

  He puts his foot down and drives east.

  19

  RAF Thornhill

  Matt jumps out of his skin when Kara touches him on the shoulder. “Fuck’s sake,” he hisses at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Calm down, Matt. You were asleep.”

  “I wasn’t. I closed my eyes for half a second, that’s all.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been asleep for over an hour. I’ve been watching you.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with me. It’s you who’s got the problem. You are allowed to go to sleep, you know. This is the first time in months we’ve not been buried underground or on the run. This is the first time we’ve been able to breathe.”

  “Yeah, and it doesn’t feel right.”

  “It’s going to take some getting used to, that’s for sure.”

  Matt stands up and stretches his back as he looks around the mess hall. His body aches. He feels double his age, and he wonders how much of it is down to the fact he fell asleep facedown on a table, and how much is a combination of his exhaustion and exposure to the pollution outside. “Where’s everyone else?” he asks. There are more than a few people missing.

  “Sleeping in beds like normal people. Some of them are talking to Estelle and Aaron.”

  “Who?”

  “Estelle, remember? You told me you knew her.”

  “No, who’s talking to her?”

  “Darren and Jason, I think. Does it matter? I’ll leave the suckers like them to jostle for position. Anyway, you should see this place. There’s so much here. It’s a massive site. I heard someone say there’s about half a kilometer of space all around the outside, so it looks empty from a distance. We’re so well hidden here, and there’s a decent amount of food and weapons…”

  “Then why leave?”

  “You heard what Estelle said earlier.”

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  “Apparently, there are hundreds more at the outpost.”

  “Like I said, I heard.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

  “You’re picking up on that, are you?”

  “I’m just looking forward to having something to do. They’ve asked me to help out in the infirmary tomorrow.”

  “Cool.”

  “You should come and help.”

  “Maybe.”

  She knows he won’t.

  Kara’s quiet for a couple of minutes, but it doesn’t last.

  “Don’t you ever stop?” Matt asks when she pipes up again.

  “It’s the novelty of being about to talk out loud. Didn’t realize how much I missed making a noise.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t be too loud.”

  “Killjoy.” She tries to bite her tongue again, but she’s seen and heard so much since they arrived here. “I was talking to Aaron about their outpost. Jesus, Matt, it sounds incredible. They’ve got l
oads of gear.”

  “What kind of gear?”

  “Military stuff. Tanks, trucks, ammo … couple of helicopters, apparently.”

  “Yes, but have they got any pilots?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “It is if you want to fly anywhere.”

  “It’s all hidden like this place,” she continues, her enthusiasm not dampened in the slightest. “There was some massive roadworks scheme going on there. Loads of diggers and other machinery.”

  “That they won’t be able to use unless they fit the exhausts with silencers.”

  She ignores him. “Aaron was telling me how they’ve been covering their tracks. There are false flags and dummy traps all the way from here.”

  “How many Hater attacks have you actually seen up close, Kara?”

  “Why?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  She hesitates. “Plenty since we left the bunker.”

  “They don’t count. They were weak. Sick. I’m talking about before the bunker. Before the camp.”

  “Both my dad and my boyfriend tried to kill me,” she says, remembering things she’s since done her best to try to forget. “I ran away from the house and got picked up by the army. They took me to the camp.”

  “That’s what I’m getting at. See, I think a lot of you have been sheltered. Most of you are underestimating what those nasty bastards out there are truly capable of because you’ve been spared the worst of it. I spent weeks on foot trying to get home, then I ended up working outside the camp again after I’d got back. I’ve seen a lot, more than most. I know there’s no reasoning with a Hater. Some are smarter than others and can keep the Hate swallowed down, but most won’t stop until you’re dead.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “Do you? Do you really? Because if you did, I think you’d be thinking along the same lines as I am. This place is probably as good as it’s going to get, and thinking you’ll be able to live anywhere out in the open while there’s even one Hater still alive is a mistake.”