Chokehold Read online

  But if he’s completely honest with himself, being alone isn’t his preferred option. He goes down to the infirmary, keen to find Kara. “Decided to rejoin the human race?” she says when she sees him.

  “What’s left of it.”

  “You eaten anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “There was some breakfast going near the assembly hall. You might still make it.”

  “You coming?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m busy.”

  Matt looks around. Other than passing through on a whistle-stop tour last night, this is the first time he’s been here. It’s as grim as he’d expected. The smell is overpowering. There’s sickness everywhere, spilling out of the beds and onto the floor and along the corridors. There are people who’ve been injured in battle and others who are clearly suffering from the aftereffects of the bomb and radiation sickness. There are some who are being treated; there are others who are being left to die in as little discomfort as possible.

  “You could always help,” Kara suggests.

  “Maybe later.”

  “Come on, Matt, prove them wrong.”

  “Who?”

  “Darren and Estelle.”

  “They need to prove me wrong first. Don’t forget I’ve come across Estelle before. When things turned nasty in the city, she made sure she was long gone. I don’t believe a word the woman says.”

  “Based on what? Based on the fact she got out before the bomb dropped? This place might not have been here if she hadn’t.”

  “It’s not that…”

  “What, then?” She shakes her head, picks up a bucket she’s been carrying, and goes to walk on. He stops her, but she pulls away. “What? I’m busy, Matt. I need to get on.”

  “Come on, Kara. You know as well as I do that this is bullshit. Half these people are never going to get any better.”

  “Keep your bloody voice down, will you? You’re incredible, you really are.”

  “I’m realistic, that’s all.”

  “You could really make a difference here.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re falling for Darren’s new beginnings bullshit? I’m through helping. I told you, I’ve done my share.”

  “I wasn’t aware we had quotas.”

  “I’m the one who got you all to the printing house in the first place, and I’m the one who got you back on your feet when it all went shit-shaped. I’ve done my bit, and now I just want to be left alone.”

  “Don’t you get it? We don’t have any choice; none of us do. We’re all in this together. If you’d just—”

  Matt snaps, angrier than he has any right to be. “No, it’s you that doesn’t get it. My girlfriend died because I was helping. While I was driving you to safety, she was at home waiting for me. I let Jen down. I killed her.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is true.”

  “Jesus, Matt, tell me you don’t actually believe that. What would she say if she could hear you?”

  Her words cut deep. He starts to walk away, but turns back to face her. “Look, it’s pretty simple. The harder I try, the worse things get. I think it’s time to stop trying.”

  “So you’re just going to give up? The guy who fought for so long to get back to his missus is just going to roll over and give up?”

  “I didn’t fight. It’s fighting that caused all of this in the first place.”

  “Figure of speech. For the record, I think you’re being pretty bloody pathetic.”

  “And I don’t care what you think.”

  “Well, you clearly do, because you wouldn’t have come down here looking for me otherwise.”

  The volume of their voices is filling the infirmary with noise. People are watching with concern, worried that Matt’s about to kick off. A sickly looking man scoops up his bedding and tries to get out of the way. He collides with Matt and drops some of his stuff. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  “Fuck’s sake. Watch where you’re going.”

  They make fleeting eye contact before the ragged man looks down again and continues on his way.

  Matt watches the paper-thin figure disappear.

  He’s confused.

  “What’s up?” Kara asks.

  “Who’s he?”

  “Don’t know. Think he’s been here a while. Why?”

  “He looks familiar.”

  Matt’s uneasy. He walks a little deeper into the infirmary, looking for the man he just spoke to, trying to place him. He’s definitely not from the shelter. Someone from his prewar life, perhaps? No, it’s more recent than that. Was he someone from the city-camp? One of the soldiers who interrogated and tormented Matt when he first arrived there? One of his coworkers from the garbage truck or the other cleanup operations he was a part of? A neighbor, or one of the refugees who had camped out in front of his and Jen’s house on East Kent Road? Someone he queued up for food alongside? One of the CDF soldiers from the military compound or the convent?

  Matt can see him again now, and he remembers.

  He stops dead in his tracks, doing everything he can to convince himself he’s wrong, that time and pressure have combined to make him imagine something that can’t possibly be true. Or can it?

  His blood runs cold.

  He remembers leading this man up to the convent attic in shackles, then helping chain him up against a bloodstained wall.

  He remembers watching him being interrogated by Joseph Mallon.

  He remembers following him out through the overcrowded streets of the city-camp with Jayce, tracking him just hours before the place imploded, then exploded, discovering he was part of a Hater cell.

  Matt checks himself again. Surely he must be mistaken. What are the odds that this is the same guy? He tells himself it must just be a coincidence—that this miserable shadow of a man must just bear a slight resemblance to the man he remembers … the Hater he remembers. And if he was one of the enemy, what would he be doing here of all places? Even if he truly had the ability to hold the Hate, why here? Why now?

  He’s mistaken. He has to be.

  “Everything all right here?”

  Matt barely grunts at the figure who appears in front of him wearing grubby lab whites.

  “Everything’s fine, Doc,” Kara says. “Matt, this is Giles.”

  Matt looks the doctor up and down, then tries to look past him again.

  Lost him.

  The other man’s slipped out of view around a corner. Matt starts hunting for him among the sick. What was the fucker’s name? David? Andy? It’s on the tip of his tongue.

  A hand grips his arm and pulls him back. It’s the doctor again.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “I’m fine,” Matt says, snatching his arm away.

  “You don’t seem fine. You seem agitated. Is there something bothering you? Something I can help you with?”

  “I said I’m fine!” Matt shouts at him. “Now fuck off and leave me alone.”

  Kara forces her way between the two of them and puts her hands on his chest. “You need to stop this, Matt.”

  “I can give you something to help you relax if it’ll help,” the doctor says.

  “I don’t need to relax.”

  “I don’t think you understand. I can’t have you causing trouble in here.”

  Matt moves Kara out of the way and continues hunting.

  “Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “The bloke who was just here.”

  “You’re going to have to give us more to go on than that,” Dr. Giles says.

  “About my height. Thin. Pale. Sick-looking.”

  “You’ve just described half my patients. This is the infirmary. Most people are sick-looking.”

  “Don’t mock me!” Matt yells, blowing up again. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking idiot.”

  “I really need you to calm down,” the doctor says, his singsong voice belying a sudden palpable incre
ase in tension. “Slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “There was a guy here a few seconds ago. I need to see him.”

  “Who?”

  Matt looks around again, frantic. Then he spots the face he’s been looking for. “Him.”

  He lunges, but the doctor is one step ahead and pulls Matt back. Matt’s incensed, and it takes all the doctor’s strength to keep him from attacking. “What the hell are you doing?” he demands.

  “You don’t understand … he’s a Hater.”

  The doctor laughs in his face. “What? Danny? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  The mention of his name makes Matt’s heart sink and his legs buckle, because now he knows beyond any doubt he’s right. Memories quickly come into focus. He remembers Joseph Mallon taunting the Hater … torturing him.

  “Get help,” the doctor manages to say to Kara. Matt’s even more agitated now, fighting to free himself from the doctor’s grip. He refuses to let Matt go. “You need to relax. Take it easy…”

  “Are you not listening to me? That man is a fucking Hater!”

  The sick and struggling in the infirmary are becoming increasingly nervous. The would-be Hater also looks terrified. He pulls his knees up to his chest and makes himself as small as possible, meek as anything.

  The panic is like vomit in Matt’s throat. He tries again to squirm free of the doctor’s strong grip, but he’s not going anywhere. Instead, he rocks his head back, then butts him in the face. The searing pain both of them feel is intense, and they stagger away from each other, Matt with his head spinning and the doctor with blood pouring from his broken nose. Then Matt shakes his head clear and goes for Danny, who cowers, hiding himself behind other equally terrified patients.

  Matt raises his fist to strike him, but the punch is never thrown. Darren catches his forearm while Jason wraps his arms around Matt’s waist and pulls him back. “Get off me!” Matt screams. “That fucker is one of them! He’ll kill all of us!”

  Matt feels a sharp stabbing pain above his left shoulder blade. He stops fighting and reaches for his shoulder, feeling like he’s been stung by some giant insect. By the time he realizes what the doctor’s just done, his legs have buckled. By the time he hits the ground, he’s out cold.

  “He’s a fucking liability,” Darren says, standing over Matt, seething. “He’s lost it completely.”

  “I reckon he lost it a long time ago,” Jason adds.

  “We can’t risk this kind of volatility,” Estelle says from the doorway. “He’s a danger to all of us. This is for his own good.”

  25

  Cambridge

  It’s like a fucking presidential motorcade rolling into town, Pinchy thinks as he grips the wheel of the Citroën. Thacker’s man Hinchcliffe is riding shotgun, followed by a phalanx of several trucks and other vehicles. While not completely over the top, it’s a clear show of force and intent. Pinchy glances back in the rearview mirror at the mass of muscles and vehicles he’s led into Cambridge. Now we’re really starting to look like something out of Mad Max, he thinks.

  “Nervous?” Hinchcliffe asks.

  “Nope.”

  “You sure? You probably should be.”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “It’s just the way you keep checking your mirrors and looking at me out the corner of your eye every few seconds. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were feeling a bit jittery, Mr. Pinch. It’s not a weakness, feeling nervous. The weakness is letting it show.”

  “Which bit of I’m fine don’t you get?”

  “Calm down, Mr. P. Focus on the road.”

  Patronizing bastard. If it were just the two of them, Pinchy thinks he’d stop the car and kill this fucker right here.

  The floods and the battle damage have limited the clear routes in and out of the city to little more than one road east and west. Johannson’s people have worked to block exits and other roads as a defense, enabling them to funnel any passing traffic right into the heart of their nest. This convoy arrives there in no time at all, the imposing college building looming up from out of nowhere. The university has dominated the city for hundreds of years, but today it’s even more visible on account of the massive amount of destruction that has been wrought on the surrounding area. Johannson’s fighters, those who aren’t important, respected, or feared enough to live alongside the boss, are scattered around the immediate vicinity. When they hear the noise of the combined engines in the near distance, they emerge from the shadows en masse. To a man, they’ve felt safe sticking close to Johannson and her generals, but this is something different. Something new. They’re used to leaving here to fight, but this is the first time the battle has come to them. There may well be little coordination within Johannson’s ranks, but what these people lack in discipline they more than make up for in numbers. They pour out of their shelters flood-like, armed and ready.

  “Stop here,” Hinchcliffe orders Pinchy, just short of the edge of the crowd.

  “But we’re still a way out,” Pinchy says. “There’s no problem. I told you, she listens to me. We should drive right up to the door, make a point.”

  “I said stop here,” Hinchcliffe says again, and the authority in his voice is unquestionable. Pinchy complies. Hinchcliffe turns to face him. “Right, here’s what’s going to happen. You and I are going to go and have a conversation with Mother Hen. The rest of my people will hold back here. I don’t want Mrs. Johannson getting the wrong impression. We want her to think we’re working with her, not against her. You got it?”

  “I got it.”

  “Good. Shift yourself.”

  Hinchcliffe is immediately out of the car. He leaves the door open and raises his hands, showing submission. Pinchy’s so nervous he can almost hear his pulse. Mouth dry, heart thumping. He’s wishing he’d never started this, but he knows it’ll be over soon. Once Thacker’s in control here, Pinchy will be set up for life. You don’t get anywhere in this world without taking risks, he tells himself.

  The crowds part as Johannson appears. She strides out of the grand college building with a confidence and swagger that is more than a match for Hinchcliffe’s. He stops short with Pinchy close behind, and the crowds swallow them up.

  “You must be Mrs. Johannson,” Hinchcliffe says, overly sincere, ladling on the bullshit.

  “And who the fuck are you?” she demands. She glares at Pinchy. “What the fuck’s going on? Where you been?”

  Pinchy swallows hard. “Listen, boss…”

  Hinchcliffe nudges Pinchy and puts a finger on his lips. “Shh … Quiet now. There’s a good lad.” He turns back to Johannson. “My name’s Hinchcliffe, but the name you really need to know is Mr. Thacker.”

  “And who the hell’s he?”

  “He’s my boss. Mr. Thacker would very much like the opportunity to meet with you.”

  “And I should give a fuck what your boss wants because…?”

  Hinchcliffe clears his throat, mock polite. “Mr. Thacker is the commander in chief of what we believe to be the biggest remaining fighting force in the country, several thousand strong.”

  “So?”

  “We think it would be in our collective best interests to meet. I think you’ll find you’ve both got a lot in common. You see, we’re recruiting.”

  Pinchy shifts from foot to foot. He wants to speak up, but the words are stuck in his throat. Johannson glares at him, then glares at Hinchcliffe. “Several thousand? Piss off. Jesus, I’d be surprised if there’s that many people left alive. And if he’s so damn powerful, why’d he send you clowns?”

  “He’s a busy man,” Hinchcliffe answers.

  “And he decided he’d recruit me and my lot to his great cause?” she says, incredulous, gesturing around her.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “What makes him think we need anybody else?”

  “These are times of great change, Johannson. There’s little order left in what remains of our country right now. Mr. Thacker is putting th
at right.”

  “So he reckons he’s top dog, does he?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, he can think again. Fuck off back to wherever you came from and tell him I’m not interested.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Yes, it is. Fuck off.”

  Hinchcliffe shakes his head and looks down at his mud-splattered boots. “Mr. Thacker is coming this way whether you like it or not. Your only option is choosing whether you’re going to work with us or pick a fight.”

  “It’s true, boss,” Pinchy finally pipes up. “You should listen to him.”

  “What, and you’ve seen these thousands of fighters, have you?”

  “Some of them, yeah.”

  “So which side of the line are you standing on now, Pinchy?” she asks. “Are you doing me a favor and giving me the heads-up there’s a battle brewing, or have you jumped ship and you’re here to tell me you think I should roll over?”

  Pinchy swallows hard and says words he never wanted to hear himself saying. “I think you’re beat. I think you should talk to Thacker. It’s that or lose everything.”

  Johannson looks fucking furious. She fixes Pinchy with a fearsome stare. “You spineless fucker.”

  “No, Johannson, wait … it’s not like that. I just think—”

  “Shh…” Hinchcliffe tells him again, before returning his attention to Johannson. “You really should listen to your man here. He knows what he’s talking about. He’s seen sense. He made contact with some of our scouts a few days back and immediately saw the potential of you and your people coming into the fold. As I said, Thacker’s in the business of creating order from the chaos, and he’s inviting you to be a part of it.”

  “And as I’ve already said, he can fuck off.”

  Hinchliffe massages his temples and looks around at the crowds. If he’s at all intimidated by the mass of several hundred fighters jostling for position, he’s not letting it show. “Okay,” he says, sounding tired now, “let me level with you. Your options here are more limited than you think. It boils down to this: you either play ball with Thacker, or you’ll be replaced. It really is that simple.”