they do come back then I could have made things ten times worse for you all.'
'They were shooting up the place. They were running me down with motorbikes! They had a tank for fuck's sake-'
'Watch your mouth,' snapped Robert instinctively, chastising himself almost as he did so. He had no right to tell this kid off.
Mark looked at him, confused, then added softly: 'How much worse could it be than that?'
Robert considered this for a moment. 'More men; more guns; more tanks. People like that always come back stronger than ever.'
'Then you agree with Bill?'
That was clever – Robert had walked right into that one. If he agreed that De Falaise's troops would return in larger numbers, then didn't he have an obligation to help out? Hadn't he just admitted his own guilt in the next stage of whatever this was? Robert said nothing for fear of digging himself a deeper hole.
'It weren't no surprise, anyway,' Mark said eventually to break the awkward silence.
'What are you talking about?'
'The men coming. You hear things touring round, y'know? I knew something was going on, just not what – or that it would reach out here.'
'So this is already happening in other areas?'
Mark nodded. 'Lots. Food, clothing, all sorts taken. Even people sometimes.'
'Why didn't you tell…' Robert had forgotten himself for a moment and Mark punished him for it.
'Tell someone? What, you mean like the police?' He knew Mark was studying his face for some kind of reaction; what Bill had hinted at just ten minutes ago had obviously stuck with him.
'No. I meant… Isn't there someone…'
'I told you before,' Mark said, hurt in his voice. 'There isn't anyone. I haven't got a regular place to stay. Nobody to take care of me…'
'I thought you said you didn't need anyone to do that,' said Robert, turning the boy's own words back on him.
'I don't,' snapped Mark, puffing up his chest, then: 'But…'
'What?'
'It's hard sometimes. Being on my own.' Mark looked down. For all his bluster, this kid missed having a home, having parents. Missed TV, games, holidays.
'Read to me some more, Dad… please…'
Robert shook his head. 'I don't know what you want me to say.'
Mark nodded at the woodland. 'You live out here, don't you? All by yourself.'
'Yes.'
'Don't you miss… y'know, people? To like, hang out with and stuff?'
Robert thought back to the men in yellow with the gas masks, then in his mind a picture of the men with machine guns flashed up. Nothing had really changed in all that time, had it? If this was the case then the answer had to be no. But how could he write off the rest of the dwindling population when there were still people like Bill out there, the men and women from the market. And Mark. 'I… I try not to think about it,' was the only answer he could muster.
There was another awkward pause before Mark came right out and said what was on his mind. 'Can I come with you?'
So many emotions flooded through Robert at that moment he couldn't really make sense of them. But chief amongst them was fear. He'd felt oddly calm as he'd dodged the bullets and gone up against the German in the tank. Now this simple question petrified him. How could he let Mark come with him, how could he risk spending any time with him at all, when he could be snatched away at any moment like Stevie had been? Robert had come here to wait, not to be an adoptive father.
'Out of the question,' he said at last.
'I know people in lots of places, I could keep tabs on what's going on and get back to you with-'
'Didn't you just hear what I said?' Robert's tone was harder now. 'I can't… Look, I just can't. Okay?'
Mark frowned. 'I'll pull my weight, honest. I'm a hard worker.'
'No,' Robert told him.
Mark pulled items out of his bag now, as if he was trading at the market. 'Please. Here, you can have it all… And I have other stuff, stashed away, really cool stuff that-'
'I said no!' Robert surprised himself with the harshness of his reply.
The boy's face fell sharply, and for a moment Robert felt sure he was going to cry. As he'd suspected, that streetwise attitude was simply a front, and now Mark had let Robert see too much of the real him. Slowly, the lad began to gather the things back into his bag.
'Listen, I'm sorry,' began Robert, reaching out a hand as if to place it on Mark's shoulder, then quickly withdrawing it. 'It's just that… I can't let you come with me.'
Mark stared at him. 'Why?'
It was a simple enough question, but the answer was so complicated. 'I can't tell you that, either. Go back to Bill, Mark. You'll be safe with him.' Robert pulled up his hood and stepped around the boy. This time Mark didn't try to stop him.
What are you doing? said a voice in Robert's head, the small part of him still connected to the past: to his family, to his job. He needs help… they all do. But he'd 'helped' enough for one day, caused more trouble than he'd prevented, probably. So what, you're just going to run away now and let them get on with it?
Robert tried to force the thoughts out of his head, but they persisted. Can you do that? Can you really? Have you strayed so far from who you used to be?
He was tempted to look back over his shoulder at Mark, but gritted his teeth and told himself that the kid would be better off without him; a dysfunctional excuse for a human being. Robert couldn't give him what he so obviously wanted, someone to look up to, someone to admire.
After a few minutes Robert broke into a run and pretty soon he was swallowed by the wilds he now called home.
De Falaise never liked to be interrupted when he was entertaining. Especially when the news was of this variety.
The knock on the door of the 'converted' office was light, but curt. It had been followed by a cough, then: 'My… my Lord?'
De Falaise answered the door dressed in his robe. He recognised one of the young men they'd recruited on their travels – he didn't remember his name (it began with 'G'… Granville, Grantham possibly?) but he'd been a member of that ridiculous gang that called themselves The Jackals, and De Falaise did remember ordering one of his friend's deaths. Yes, there was the scar on the back of his raised hand, where Tanek's bolt had found its mark. Now the only thing that had stopped De Falaise from grabbing this silly boy by the throat and carving onto his chest 'Do not disturb' was the use of his new title, a mark of respect he was owed.
'Ahem…' said the young man, attempting to keep his eyes dead ahead, and not on De Falaise's lack of clothing, nor what was beyond him in the room. 'My Lord, I bring news of an incident involving one of our units.'
'What kind of incident?'
'We're… we're not quite sure. Tanek sent me to fetch you, he said it would be better if you 'talked' to one the survivors yourself. He's down in the stables.'
De Falaise caught the youth gazing past him, at the woman on the bed. 'Tell Tanek I will be with him momentarily, oui?' The youth made to leave. 'Oh, and next time you see too much, I will take out your eyes. Do you understand?'
Granville or Grantham, or whatever his name was, nodded. There was no hint of disobedience anymore, just terror – pure and simple.
'So, run along, run along.' De Falaise clapped his hands to get the moron moving, then closed the door and prepared to get ready.
Ten minutes later, after dressing and posting a guard to watch the woman from Hope, he'd joined Tanek and a handful of others in the former stables. He was not at all surprised to see that the big man had already put the
