We Are The Few Read online

  There was a pause as Reilly chewed at her lip again. Freda was spotting that the woman did it mainly when she was unsure about something—which didn’t fill her with confidence that this was going to be a success. But the bullets were too precious to let go. She knew if the situation were reversed between herself and the trader, he would probably have done the same thing. Finally, Reilly gave a short nod. “Got it. Okay. Please be careful.”

  “Why, are you going to start banging something?” Freda muttered under her breath, too quiet for Reilly to hear, but loud enough for her to feel like she had somehow got the last word in. Reaching up for the ledge, she pulled herself up with gritted teeth, getting one foot firmly on the ledge. She took one last peek over her shoulder, before gazing into the hall and silently dropping inside to the floor.

  Freda hovered for a moment, taking her time in looking around at the various lumps and shapes in the darkness. The sound of steady breathing came to her, punctuated by the odd soft sigh or grunt as someone turned in their sleep. She gritted her teeth for a moment, grinding them together. Damn. I didn’t know they slept in here. Makes sense, I guess. Because of people like me. Using the tips of her fingers to feel along the floor, Freda slid her feet across and moved over towards the clothing stall like a crab, slowly and deliberately. The sole of her shoe nearly caught against the unpolished wooden floor, but she felt the drag of it in time and paused, lifting her foot carefully and placing it back down.

  Reaching the edge of the long stall table the clothing merchant had set out, she grasped it and circled the edge, peering into the darkness behind. She could just make out the long form of the merchant behind the tables, bundled up in several blankets. The safe was closer to her, just behind him, but it was still too close for comfort. Freda dragged her tongue slowly over her lower lip. Tough. I have to get them out. Almost holding her breath as she moved the short distance to the safe, she hesitated, listening sharply for any sound of people waking. Nothing. Satisfied that she was no more than a shadow to the sleeping merchants, Freda bent forwards to inspect the safe. The numbers were hard to make out, but she could just see the ‘1’ button, allowing her to figure out where the rest were. Laying her hand in such a way to replicate the pattern the merchant had typed in earlier, Freda swallowed and punched in the correct numbers. Her heart leapt into her throat like a solid lump as the door clicked, and she froze on the spot.

  A lock of her chestnut hair grazed her cheek as she turned watchful eyes over her shoulder, pausing to rest them on the merchant no more than two feet away. His chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths. Placing a hand against her thrashing heart for a moment, Freda reached into the safe, feeling around carefully. She trailed her fingers lightly over the various boxes and packages within, until she finally felt the cold edges of the metal box she had seen the ammunition placed into. She bit back a frustrated growl as she realised the box was heavier with more than just her bullets. Shit. I’ll just have to make a guess.

  Popping the box open and grabbing a handful of bullets, she tucked them into the only inside pocket of her thick coat, shifting to close the door and leave. To her horror, her foot caught on the corner of the door as she swung it inwards, and she lost her grip for just a second. Heer balance faltered, and her palm slipped off the door. It banged against the safe with a resounding thud.

  “What the—thief! THIEF!”

  Freda took only a moment to register that the gruff voice yelling behind her was the clothing merchant. Survival instincts kicked in, and she leapt to her feet, diving out of the way just as he reached out a lumbering hand to snatch at her coat. Luckily for her, he was still slowed by half-sleep, and she easily dodged his grasp, sprinting towards the window. Catching the edge of it as footsteps thudded along the wooden floor towards her, accompanied by angry shouts, she took a deep breath and yanked herself up onto the window-ledge before tumbling outside. She was met with Reilly’s horrified gaze as the other woman realised they had been caught. Not waiting to explain the situation, Freda grabbed Reilly’s wrist and pulled the woman to her feet as she did the same. “Come on. Go!”

  Snapping out of her trance, Reilly turned wide eyes to Freda as they set off towards the city’s other distant entrance. “You said we wouldn’t get caught!” she cried accusingly as their feet hammered over the broken pavements with weeds poking through. She almost stumbled and gave a sharp cry, but Freda caught her in time, half-dragging her to their destination.

  Freda ground her teeth with annoyance at herself. She could already hear the guards of the city yelling behind them, and she ducked automatically as a rifle shot rang out into the night. It skimmed over the top of their heads, more of a warning shot than anything, but it was still close enough to hear it whistle as it passed overhead. Her heart ricocheted against her throat, and her head was light from the adrenaline flowing like fire through her veins. “Yeah, well…sometimes I’m wrong!” she shouted back, her cheeks red as she pumped her arms faster, the two women racing towards the large gates that trapped the city from the outside world. There were two sets; the gate they had come through that was always guarded due to the nearby bandits, and this one, which Freda hoped wasn’t guarded at this time of night.

  More shouts of anger came from behind them, and another shot rang out. This time it was deeper and lower, as though it came from a shotgun, and it kissed the ground only a short distance from Reilly’s foot. She gave a scream, twisting her head to glance over her shoulder as they ran. Freda gave her wrist a tug, pulling her along harder. “No, don’t look. Just keep going forwards, we’re almost there!”

  The gate finally came clearly into view, and Freda’s heart gave a spike of sensation, as though it too felt the relief that flooded her as she caught no sight of any guards. The six-foot tall wooden barriers were unlocked too, a thin crack of dark blue light showing through from outside. Without missing a beat, Freda reached out and grasped the rusted metal handle firmly, yanking it back to reveal the dips and hills of the landscape beyond. She sprinted out without waiting, still pulling Reilly along for dear life. The other woman was gasping for breath, occasionally coughing, but her thin legs kept pace with Freda’s as they raced along the crumbled road outside. Another gunshot rang out from somewhere near the gate as they put distance between themselves and the city, but Freda ignored it, her eyes watering from the sudden exertion she had put her body through. Someone cried, “And stay the hell out!”

  They ran until finally Freda had to stop, her lungs and limbs burning with liquid fire. She let go of Reilly’s wrist, sinking down to the road and glancing over her shoulder. Silence followed them. No one had come after them—it was unlikely anyone would, at this time of night. It was dangerous to be in the dark. The trees lining either side of the road were ominous as their silhouetted figures bent gracefully against the green and brown hills behind. On one side the hills dipped downwards to what had once been farm fields, a few of them growing some weak-looking crops—most likely for the city. The moon was gone, slipped behind a large cloud floating overhead as they had run, leaving them sitting in pitch blackness. Leaning back on her hands, she closed her eyes for a moment as she gasped for oxygen, her head spinning as she waited for the buzzing in the back of it to die down. Licking her lips, she cracked one eye open to peer over at Reilly. The blonde woman was sat on the ground as she was, with legs crossed, her hands in her lap as she leaned her head forwards onto her chest. She could hear Reilly’s laboured breathing, her shoulders rising and falling so rapidly that Freda felt a pang of guilt. The woman was ill, after all. Clearing her throat of the saliva she could feel pooling there, Freda croaked, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” Reilly gasped, turning her head with an awkward movement to the side, narrowing her eyes at Freda as she breathed in and out hard. “You’re fucking sorry? Are you kidding me? I get rescued from bandits, only to be thrown out of the nearest safe place for miles.” She struggled to get up from the ground, pushing herself up with some difficulty
as she held a shaking finger out towards Freda. “You were the one who decided to steal that guy’s stuff! I didn’t want to go along with it, but still you did it. And now look.” She held her hands up in exasperation, looking around as though she could somehow penetrate the darkness. “We’re out here, with no shelter, and it’s all your fault!” She brought her hands back down to her sides in fists, her eyes shining in the pale stream of light from the reappearing moon, glaring at Freda breathlessly as she waited for an answer. “Well? Are you going to say anything? Say something!”

  Freda’s eyes thinned. When people shouted at her, it never had the effect they wanted. They wanted her to crumble, to beg forgiveness for trying to survive. It had been the same in the bunker. She never did crumble. Scowling back at her irate companion, Freda nodded sharply at her coat and boots. “And so who got you those? Who stopped you from being the next notch on a bandit’s bedpost? Who got you into the damn city? Me!” Freda’s cheeks burned as she spoke, and not just from her earlier sprint. Her legs still trembled as she staggered to her feet, but she jutted her chin in the air proudly. “You think you would have survived even the last hour without me?” She took a step forwards, and a mixture of guilt and satisfaction ran through her as Reilly took a nervous step back. Jabbing her finger into Reilly’s face with a snarl, she added, “You would die out here without me. I did what had to be done. That’s how it is out here, sweetheart. Die or be the killer. Steal or starve. He won’t miss those bullets, but we sure would have, when we were facing down a Skin-Eater with no ammo.”

  Reilly’s lip trembled as her eyes glittered with tears of shock, and she drew in a rasping breath, trying to compose herself before flinging back, “So be a complete dick to everyone instead of trying to be human? That’s all those people in there were trying to be, and you can’t pretend otherwise to fit your own psychopathic rages.”

  Letting out a dry laugh, Freda raised her eyebrows, the moonlight coming out more to cast a path of silvery light over their feet. “Oh, you think? So, I’m a psychopath, and they were what? Civilized human beings?” She snorted, folding her arms over her chest. The anger was turning cold now, freezing to ice inside her heart. She couldn’t be pushed very far before she started to close herself off. “So tell me why they haven’t rebuilt anything, hmm? Tell me why we still have a government in London that no one has seen for the last decade? Tell me,” she growled, jerking her head back in the direction of Ripon, “why all those people in there were happy to wallow in their own filth?” Without waiting for answer, she continued, “I’ll tell you why. Because they want someone else to clear up their mess. Anyone else. People do what they want for themselves out here. It’s not like the bunkers. The quicker you wise up and learn that, the quicker you’ll be alive longer.”

  Putting out her hands, Reilly pushed hard against Freda, knocking her off balance with the unexpected burst of anger. Punching weakly against Freda’s chest, the blonde woman shrieked, “I’ll learn what exactly?! How to make the world worse? Argh!” Crying out in frustration, Reilly twisted around in a tight circle, beating her palms against her cheeks as though to calm herself down. The wind picked up and blew at her remaining lengths of hair, sending them cascading around her face. “Do you even have a plan of where we’re going?”

  “We?” Freda had righted herself from the push, her boots scraping over the tarmacked ground as she fixed Reilly with a hateful glare. She spat to one side, as though the idea was as distasteful as rat could be. “I’m sorry, you think you’re travelling with me, after all that? Every time I do something to ensure we stay safe, you go off on one at me? Uh-uh. Hell, no.” She shook her head vehemently, the white-hot rage thrilling her as it danced down her spine. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she hissed, “Why don’t you get lost and go back the way you came? I didn’t have to look after you, you know. You’re a damn liability to me, sick girl.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth—she was always speaking before thinking—but it was too late. The damage was done.

  Reilly’s mouth opened and closed for a few seconds, and Freda was sure she was going to cry. The need to comfort Reilly for what she had said, and the selfish need to feel her words sink in, warred inside Freda. Shaking her corn-coloured hair limply, Reilly finally managed, “But…please. I don’t know where to go.” Her voice was small and tight, as though she was holding back the emotion her statement willed the other woman to feel. “I’m sorry. I…I won’t say anything else about—”

  “Shit,” Freda interrupted in a mumble, earning herself a surprised glance from Reilly’s wet eyes as she ran a hand over her hood. It slipped back onto her shoulders, but she left it there, blowing out a hard breath and running her palm over her face. “No, I’m sorry, Reilly. I should never have said that.” The anger still bubbled beneath the surface of her skin, pounded along by her still-thudding heart, but it was soothed with cool reasoning as she considered how Gareth would have viewed the way she spoke. He would have probably clipped her around the ear or something. “I don’t want you to go. Just…I’m sorry. I don’t really mean any of it. I’m not the best person at making friends, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Freda licked her dry lips, choosing to glance up at the moon now sailing out from behind the cloud and bathing the landscape below, not wishing Reilly to see too much of the broken expression she knew would be on her face. The moonlight caressed the dips and folds of the valley below, making it gleam softly.

  “Yeah, I’d noticed,” Reilly answered dryly. She gave a sniff, but looked away over her shoulder as a hand disappeared to her face, wiping at her cheeks before Freda could see. Turning back, she drew in a deep breath, cocking her head up as though trying to maintain the high road Freda had offered. “Alright. I’ll stay.” Her expression softened, and her shoulders sagged. “Are we still…friends?”

  The pleading tone of Reilly’s question wasn’t lost on Freda, and she hated herself just a little bit more. This poor woman just came out into a strange and unfamiliar world, you’ve decided to look after her, and then you turn on her, too. Gareth would be ashamed of me. Biting back the acid thought, Freda gave a grateful nod, holding out one hand in offering. “Sure, friends. Although I’ve not been a good one so far.”

  Reilly’s face finally lit with a soft smile as she grasped the hand firmly, giving it a single shake. “No, you haven’t. But there’s time.”

  Unable to help the tilted grin that spread over her lips, Freda gave a snort. “Hope so. Let’s…let’s head off. If we go south from here, we can get to another town. We’ll have to follow the river for a while, but it’s pretty big. Boroughbridge, I think.”

  The two women fell into step with each other again, and they set off slowly towards the south. The road wound in a long curve, and the promising glitter of the river could just be seen through the trees on one side. When it was dark, the forbidding and desolate wasteland that was their country seemed somehow more like itself. The drab brown of the dried grass couldn’t be picked apart from the few green shoots poking through the fields, and the trees didn’t show any of the black burns that decorated their trunks. Even the few scattered leaves that adorned their branches clung on for dear life, rustling together as the wind tugged at them. The silence was deafening, though. Occasionally Freda had heard an owl or two calling to one another on a calm night, but very rarely. The sound of animals snuffling through the undergrowth of the nearby forest was non-existent, as though they were all too aware of the danger of the other creatures that also roamed on a night. At that thought, Freda let a cold shiver run down her back, and she shrugged her coat closer. The prickling fire still lingered in her limbs as she reached up to pull her hood back over her head in a self-conscious move.

  Chewing her lip for a moment, Freda glanced over at Reilly. The other woman was silent as though deep in thought, staring down hard at her boots as they steadily marched forwards. “So…if we’re friends, are you going to tell me what really happened with your bunker? Is that how you got sick? You sa
id it was ‘different’ back…er…back in Ripon.” Freda’s cheeks burned red again as the fresh memory of what had transpired there caught her once more, but Reilly ignored it and gave a slow nod.

  Peering up for a moment, pulling the two sides of her over-sized black coat over herself tightly, Reilly let out a soft sigh. “Sure. I suppose you should know.” Her fingers clenched against the coat, screeching over the nylon fabric. “Our bunker had problems. Like, everything. The generator gave out, but it was just the last straw. Ten years ago, when I was still a kid, our water purifiers stopped working. We tried everything to get them working again, but we didn’t have the parts. And our food decontaminators starting getting glitches too, so we didn’t know it, but we were slowly poisoning ourselves.”

  “Bloody hell,” Freda breathed, her brows drawn together. The magnitude of Reilly’s softly-spoken statement was not lost on her. In a bunker, everything basic in life became twice as important, because there was no way to get more. Without a water purifier, without food decontaminators, there was no way to ensure the Illness hadn’t been spread to anything, or that it wasn’t lingering in the massive underground waterways that fed every bunker in the country. “Why didn’t anyone go outside for more supplies?”

  Reilly continued stared down at her feet, her lips pursed. The breeze pulled again at her thin strands of hair, and she gathered back with one hand, tucking them into the collar of her coat. “We couldn’t,” she replied simply, her voice taut. “It was on a timer. Fixed for a set period. We only managed to get it open a few days ago, but by then, it was too late. Everyone my age in the bunker—me included—was sick. Don’t worry,” she added hastily, glancing up at Freda, “it’s not contagious in the way a cold is. I can’t give you it. I think.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I was inoculated against it when I was a kid. Weren’t you?”