“Yes, it makes sense,” Bucky replied. Slipman roundabout was a complete nightmare. The council had been in the process of starting work there to ease the traffic, something that would never now be completed.
Johnny turned their car onto the estate.
“Look at this,” Aaron began, peering at the emptiness. “This place was always so busy.”
Some lorries remained in place at the logistics company but otherwise the estate stood empty. Papers flapped by in the early morning breeze.
They continued onward. Around the buildings they drove with not a soul in sight. Offices stood abandoned. Car parks remained empty.
“Look,” Lacey stated, pointing out through the windscreen. A lorry had been parked across the road, halting any progress by vehicle.
Johnny pulled up to a standstill. “Shit. I guess we’re gonna have to go back to the roundabout.”
“There could be people here,” she replied.
“There must be. That lorry didn’t get like that by itself,” Aaron added.
Johnny turned to them. “What should I do, then?”
“If we go back now we could end up stuck at the roundabout, which is further away,” Aaron explained. “The only thing that separates this estate from the school is an area of wasteland down there. If we make the rest on foot, it will be twenty minutes at the most.”
“I don’t know,” Johnny sighed, “I kind of like the car now we’ve been travelling a while. It just feels safer.”
“We walked so far before this,” Lacey said, “twenty minutes is not going to make much of a difference now. I’d take the risk.”
“What about you, Bucky?” Aaron asked.
Bucky rubbed his eyes. Lack of sleep had started to weigh down upon him. “I don’t know. Walk, I think. There’s nothing much between here and school. Besides, our cross country running route comes onto this estate. Mr Peterson used to tell us the distance was no longer than a mile and a half. We’re not far now. I just want to get there and get some rest. Walking will be quicker.”
“Looks like we’re walking,” Lacey responded.
Johnny killed the ignition. “Walking it is.”
They exited the car without a sound. The early morning breeze gusted about them, rippling their uniforms and hair as it danced by. It carried with it a sharp bite, chilling Bucky as he stepped into the cold, summer dawn. Lacey took the lead, clutching the rifle with both hands in case it would be needed.
Around the abandoned lorry they walked, finding nothing more than empty buildings and roads that had been hidden by its cargo trailer. They wandered through the breeze in silence, checking this way and that for any infected that might appear. The road curved around to the left. A mobile burger van sat abandoned at the road side. Bucky considered jumping in for a moment and taking a can of coke from the transparent refrigerator door, but soon pushed the thought from his mind after the others ignored it.
The rain had stopped a while ago. Puddles still dotted upon the path and road, some casting a mirror’s reflection in the emerging daylight.
Luna Plastics Limited appeared on their left, separating from the path by a hedged row. Although the cold air had woken Bucky up more, tiredness still hung over him as they wandered onward. They had almost past the plastic’s facility when something stopped them.
“Hey! Over here.”
Lacey span around, lifting the rifle ready to engage. Bucky turned. Behind the hedge stood five men, all holding guns, all aiming them in the kids’ direction.
“Drop it,” said one of them. Lacey sighed and placed the rifle on the ground. “Good girl.”
The man moved between a gap in the hedge. He was a skinny runt with messy, black hair and a dark goatee. He was well dressed for someone in this world, sporting a suit and shoes.
The man reached down and picked the rifle up, throwing it across his shoulders. “Move,” he ordered, gesturing with the gun toward the building.
Bucky looked to him. “Who are…”
“I said move, not talk!” the guy snapped, curling his lips and appearing like a rat.
“This way,” another replied. He was an older looking man with a shaved head. They began walking in line following the bald guy.
“Move it!” the rat squealed again, kicking Aaron up the backside.
“Hey man, screw you!”
Rat grabbed Aaron by the throat. “What did you say, huh? You want to make this real?”
“Settle down, Gaz,” Baldy ordered.
Gaz released Aaron and pushed him away.
Bucky sighed, his heart pounding against his ribs. He knew they were in trouble. Big, big trouble.
Nine
They sat in the reception area of Luna Plastics. The décor was fine. White walls with a pale blue carpet. The leather sofas they sat upon appeared a darker blue, but one that didn’t clash with the colour around it. A reception desk sat across from them, manned by some guy carrying a rifle. To his left a spiral staircase made its way to an office level.
Fear surged through every fibre of Bucky’s body. There were seven guys keeping them company, all wearing suits, all armed with guns. They were organised criminals and not just petty hoodlums or intimidators. They were the real thing. Organised to the highest level.
Baldy emerged from an office door and beckoned to them. “Up here. Now.”
Gaz flapped the gun in Baldy’s direction. Bucky stood first. After all, he’d pretty much been their leader to this point, why stop now?
He walked over to the steps and began his ascension, his footfalls echoing on the steel he climbed upon. After wandering along a short corridor, he followed Baldy into an executive office, where at the far end a large oak table rested. Its surface shone within the light and had received lots of love and care from an owner who now was likely dead or salivating somewhere outside. Behind it a greying but young looking man waited, clad in a black suit and black v – neck tee shirt.
“Come in, close the door,” the man ordered. One of the suited men already in the
