I'm dragged through the hallway and kitchen and then out of the building. They shove me towards the truck where Nancy and Patrick stand trembling. I trip and fall to my knees in the mud close to Patrick's feet.
'Get up!' one of the soldiers screams in my ear and a hand grabs me by the scruff of my neck and pulls me up. Patrick looks at me. I see desperation, terror and frustration in his frightened eyes.
What now, I think to myself? Come on, if you're going to kill me just do it. Let's get it over with. There are guns pointed at us, but surely they'd have shot us by now if they were going to? I look up at the nearest soldier. A dark visor obscures his eyes but I can sense the hate coming off him like the stench of decay. Two more uniformed figures emerge from the front of the first truck and walk towards us. One of them is carrying one of the flat computers I've seen them using before. The other has a smaller electronic device held in one hand. I can't see what it is. They move quickly. One of them shoves me back against the side of the truck while the other holds the small device up to my throat. There's a split-second hiss of air then I feel a sudden, stinging pain in the side of my neck like an insect bite. They let me go and turn their attention to Patrick then Nancy, doing exactly the same to both of them. Bizarrely they then use the machine on Craig's dead body.
We stand in a line at the side of the truck, silent and not daring to move. The soldiers connect the handheld device to their computer and study the screen.
'Well?' asks one of the other troops from a short distance away.
'All of them,' the computer operator replies.
'Any IDs?'
'Just one, Patrick Crilley,' he says, pointing at him. Patrick looks anxiously from side to side. 'Can't match the others.'
The first soldier turns away and makes a dismissive hand signal to the other troops who still surround us with their guns raised. I bite my lip and force myself not to react as one of them grabs my shoulder and pushes me towards the back of the truck.
'In,' he grunts. I stand my ground and stare into his visor. Two more of them come at me from the side and, grabbing a leg each, they lift me up and shove me through a grubby tarpaulin cover and into the truck. I land flat on my face in the darkness and, before I can move, Patrick and Nancy land heavily on top of me. My face is pressed hard against the dirty floor and I'm shoved further down as the other two struggle to disentangle themselves from each other.
'You're all right,' a voice that I don't recognise whispers from close to where I've fallen. 'You're with friends here.'
Whoever's on top of me manages to drag themselves up onto their feet and I'm finally able to get up myself. I try and stand but the engine of the truck is started and the sudden lurching movement as it pulls away causes me to fall again. Someone helps me up and, for the first time, I'm able to look around. I count the dark shapes of seventeen other people in here including Patrick and Nancy. The light is poor but I know immediately that they're all like me. Seventeen men, women and children just like me.
38
We've been driving for what feels like hours but I know it hasn't been anywhere near that long. We paused another five (might have been six) times to pick up more people but it's been a while since we last stopped. There are now twenty-eight of us in here I think. It's a relief to be with so many people like me but space is limited and it's hot and bloody uncomfortable in here. I assume the truck is full now, so where the hell are they taking us? My home and family and everything else that's gone seems a million miles away. I know that the distance between me and Ellis is increasing with every minute I spend trapped in this bloody truck.
The tarpaulin cover over our heads blocks out most of the light so it's difficult to see much in here. I've managed to drag myself over to one side of the vehicle and someone nearby has been able to lift up a small flap of material. I can't see very much through the gap, just the edge of the road rushing by. We've not slowed to take any turnings for some time. We must be on a major road and it must be virtually empty. I'm practically blind and I can't hear anything over the clattering engine of the truck and the rumble of the wheels on the tarmac. The world feels alien and desolate and the disorientation of the journey makes it a hundred times worse.
The few faces I can make out nearest to me appear beaten, empty and expressionless. No-one understands what's happened to them or why. People are too frightened and confused to talk and so remain silent and subdued. There's no conversation, just the odd whispered word. I wish there was some distraction. Without anything else to occupy my mind all I can do is remember Ellis and also think about what might be waiting for me at the end of this journey. Where are we being taken, and what's going to happen when we get there? Someone near the back makes a half-hearted attempt to open the back of the truck. For a few seconds an escape seems possible until we find that the tarpaulin has been secured from outside. We're trapped in here.
There's a girl sitting next to me who is gradually becoming more and more agitated. I've consciously tried not to stare at anyone in the semi-darkness but I've seen enough to know that she's young and pretty although her face is tired and grubby and is streaked with tears. She's in her late teens I think, maybe older. She's leaning against me and I can feel her body shaking. She's been sobbing for some time. Christ, I'm scared, how the hell must she be feeling? She looks up at me and makes eye contact for the first time.
'I feel sick,' she whimpers. 'I think I'm going to be ill.' I'm no good at dealing with vomit. Please don't throw up, I think to myself.
'Take deep breaths,' I suggest, 'it's probably just nerves. Try and take some deep breaths.'
'It's not nerves,' she says, 'I get travel sick.'
Great. Without thinking I hold her arm and start to rub her back with my other hand. It's more of a comfort for me than anything else.
'What's your name?' I ask, hoping that I might be able to distract her and take her mind off how ill she's feeling.
'Karin,' she replies.
And now I'm stuck for something to say. What can I talk to her about? If she's anything like me she'll have found she's suddenly become a homeless, family and friend-less killer. There's no point trying to make small talk. Bloody idiot, I wish I hadn't said anything.
'Do you think we're going to be in here much longer,' she asks, her breathing suddenly shallow.
'No idea,' I answer truthfully.
'Where are they taking us?'
'Don't know. Look, the best thing you can do is try and take your mind off it. Just find something else to concentrate on and…'
It's too late, she's beginning to heave. She grabs my hand as she starts to convulse. I try and turn her around so she can be sick out through the small gap in the tarpaulin but there's not enough space and not enough time. She throws up, splattering the inside of the truck and my boots and trousers with puke.
'Sorry,' she moans as the smell hits me. I'm struggling to control my own stomach now. I can taste bile in the back of my throat and I can hear other people gagging and groaning in disgust all around me.
'Doesn't matter,' I mumble. The inside of the truck, which was already hot and musty because of the sheer number of people trapped inside it, now stinks. It's impossible to escape the smell but I have to try and do something otherwise I'll shortly be adding to the stench myself. I stand up, holding onto the side of the truck for support and, now that I'm upright, I notice a small rip in the tarpaulin at my eye-level. I look closer and see that it's a seam which has begun to come undone. I push my fingers into the gap and try to open out my hand. As I stretch my fingers the stitching holding the material together frays and comes apart. Finally some welcome daylight and much needed cool, fresh air is able to flood into the truck. Not giving a damn about the consequences I shove both hands into the rip and pull as hard as I can in either direction. The gap increases in size to about half a metre and I can hear the relief of the people around me.
'Can you see where we are?' a voice asks from somewhere on the other side of the truck. All I can see are trees at the side of the road as we rush past.
'Haven't got a clue,' I answer. 'Can't see much.'
'You can see more than me,' the voice snaps, 'keep looking.'
I push my head right out through the canopy and try to look up towards the front of the truck. We're on a motorway, I think. The long and relatively featureless road gradually curves away to the left and, for the first time, I
