Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? (20 page)

Mark, gasping for breath, rested beside the stone pillar of the gate set in the wall surrounding Haver House. A badger wandered down the centre of the lawn, grunting as it sniffed out slugs and worms. He peered round the pillar to see if he could spot Fergus, but the young man was well hidden in the bracken. The night was still and he could hear Duncan, on lookout on the tower, periodically stamp his feet in an effort to keep warm.

Mark made his way cautiously between the trees bordering the lawn, looking nervously up at the window to the King’s Room on the second floor of the south wing. Relieved to find a door on the ground floor unlocked, he entered and made his way quickly through a maze of corridors to reach the Great Hall. Moonlight filtered through the high windows. He wondered why there was only one refectory table in the centre of the hall, why there was a small tablecloth set on the end of it. Surely two tables would be required to seat the number of people living at Haver?

He walked under the Minstrel Gallery and peered out into Flag Court. Once satisfied there was no sentry above Cromwell’s Tower, he made his way in the shadows to the dimly lit Punishment Room on the opposite side of the courtyard.

Crouched below the barred window, he could hear no sound, not even the grinding of the huge wooden treadmill. Slowly he stood and peered through the window. He was astounded: in the dim light he saw no treadmill, nor the bucket and belt system that had lifted water from the reservoirs to the header tanks. In the treadmill’s place were three cycles attached by belts and gears to dynamos. No one was in the room.

Entering the unlocked room he inspected the cycles and the dials on the wall before examining the racks of batteries and the crowded equipment. As he squeezed through the narrow passageway between the racks he heard the sound of shoes on flagstones. He picked up a length of piping and waited, expecting the door to burst open. The footsteps grew louder, then fainter.

Duncan’s voice called out. ‘Halt, who goes there?’

There was sneering laughter. ‘I was hoping to catch you asleep.’ There was disappointment in the voice.

‘I never sleep when I’m on sentry duty Sir Damian, you know that.’

The response was threatening. ‘I’ll catch you asleep one day. And that’ll be it.’

Mark listened to the footsteps as Damian made his way back past the Punishment Room and continued across Flag Court towards the Great Hall. Realising he would have to wait till Damian stopped prowling around before investigating further, Mark lay down on the flagstone floor between the racking to rest. His thoughts turned to Anne and Allison and how he was going to resolve the situation.

He awoke with a start to the sound of boys’ voices. He was stiff and cold. For a moment he wondered where he was. He held his watch close to his eyes. It was six o’clock in the morning.

‘I wish we could tell Uncle Steven,’ one of the boys was saying. Mark recognised the voice, but couldn’t place it.

‘You know what Mum says,’ replied another boy. ‘Penny’s business
is Penny’s business. We daren’t tell Uncle Steven. If we do he’ll lose his rag. Our first duty is to keep things sweet with the Chatfields.’

‘Shush,’ whispered the first voice. ‘They’re coming.’

Mark had placed the voices. They belonged to his young nephews Harry and Ruben. He had to suppress the inclination to call out to them.

He was filled with a mixture of relief and concern. The boys had confirmed Steven was at Haver, but what was the secret they were withholding from him? Could he trust boys who considered their first duty lay in keeping things sweet with the Chatfields?

The door opened again.

‘Right Lee, you take the first stint.’ It was Steven’s voice. Again Mark suppressed the urge to call out. He couldn’t talk to Steven without alerting Ruben and Harry. He pulled himself up and peered between the battery cases. The three boys were pedalling. Steven locked the door from the inside and stood gripping the bars of the window, peering out into Flag Court.

Mark suddenly had more questions. Why had Steven locked them in? Who was he trying to keep out?

‘OK, where did we get to yesterday?’ Steven asked.

‘Wainuiomata,’ Lee replied. ‘We’re just leaving Uncle Christopher’s house to set off for the ferry.’

Mark listened in astonishment as Steven and the boys talked about an imaginary cycle trip through the Wainuiomata Valley. Every fifteen minutes one of them took a rest while the other three pedalled.

‘Right boys,’ Steven announced an hour later, ‘we need to put a sprint in to get the levels up before breakfast. So what we’re going to do is pedal up Wainuiomata Hill.’ Ruben and Harry groaned. ‘Zero the counters, Lee.’

Through the gap between the batteries Mark watched Lee flick a switch. ‘Come on,’ Steven yelled, ‘four kilometres to the summit!’

‘Bet I beat you,’ Harry bragged.

The three cyclists were off. Sounds of puffing and panting filled the room. Lee provided a running commentary; the whirring of the bikes reached a crescendo. Mark smiled: the boy sounded like a
New Zealand race commentator.

‘And it’s Sleepy Steven with his head just in front, hard on his tail and gaining is Hopeless Harry, followed closely by Rotten Ruben …’

Mark took the opportunity afforded by the din to stand and find a gap through which he could see the window. His relations were filing across Flag Court on their way to breakfast in the Great Hall. He searched anxiously for Allison and Luke, but saw neither. Penny walked past and Steven called to her above the commentary, but she appeared to ignore him. Mark wondered what was going on between them.

Lee continued ‘… and they’re into the final stretch, and Sleepy Steven is putting in a final burst, but it’s too late, yes it’s too late, Rotten Ruben has it by fifty yards.’

The whirring noise died down and stopped. The three cyclists slumped over their handlebars, fighting to get their breath back.

‘Look at the dial,’ Lee said triumphantly when they had recovered. ‘Ninety-seven percent. We can take the full breakfast break today.’

‘Let’s get going,’ Harry urged as he climbed off the cycle, ‘before those gannets eat all the food.’

Mark watched as Steven unlocked the door. He hoped the boys would leave first, enabling him to attract his son’s attention, but Steven was first out of the room and raced the boys across Flag Court towards the Great Hall. Greg walked out of the entranceway and all four stopped, stepped aside and bowed to him before hurrying on.

Greg ambled across the courtyard. He had a rifle slung across his shoulder and a pistol on his belt. He passed the Punishment Room and continued under the archway before disappearing out of sight. Five minutes later Duncan hurried in the opposite direction and Mark guessed Greg had relieved his cousin on sentry duty.

Mark slipped out from between the racks and drank weak beer from the bucket standing beside the door before returning to his hiding place. He found an empty box and sat down, his back resting against the stone wall. If he had to wait, he might as well wait in comfort.

Steven was the last to return to the Punishment Room. Mark saw him lock the door behind him, and again wondered why. Then he listened as the cycling party made its imaginary journey down Wainuiomata Hill and turned towards Wellington’s seaside settlements of Days Bay and Eastbourne.

His son told the boys how he had found Christopher with his children and grandchildren barely clinging to life at Eastbourne a year after the super-SARS pandemic had broken out. Mark felt a lump in his throat as Steven described the happy times he’d had with his sister Jane on the beach they were cycling past.

Ruben stood peering through the window into Flag Court. ‘Poor Aunt Jane, dying in the tsunami,’ he said.

‘I wish we hadn’t left New Zealand,’ Lee said sadly. ‘I hate this place.’

‘It’ll get better one day,’ Steven promised.

‘Not if they have anything to do with it,’ Ruben said, nodding at what he saw through the window.

Mark levered himself to his feet so he could see what Ruben saw — Damian and Jasper walking across Flag Court.

‘Take over please,’ Steven said to Ruben. Ruben mounted the cycle and Steven took up position at the window.

‘Excuse me, Your Lordship,’ he said as the two brothers approached.

‘What do you want?’ Jasper snapped.

‘I wondered if you could arrange some new batteries. We’re having trouble keeping the levels up.’

‘So pedal faster, you lazy bastards,’ Damian sneered.

‘The problem is the plates,’ Steven explained. ‘The acid eats them away. It doesn’t matter how fast we pedal, there’s not enough plate left to hold the charge.’

‘You’ll have to talk to Lady Virginia,’ Jasper grunted.

‘I don’t know why you let him have those three boys in there with him all day,’ Damian complained as the brothers disappeared from view. ‘We used to operate those treadmills twenty-four hours a day, just the three of us. You’re too soft on them.’

To Mark’s dismay, at both lunch and dinnertime Steven and the boys left and returned to the room together.

‘Right lads,’ Steven said after the evening meal. ‘We need to put in a good session, its laundry day tomorrow so we need to get the levels as high as we can.’ The three boys groaned. ‘I’ve got a very special hill climb for you tonight, up to the top of Mount Victoria.’ The boys groaned again. ‘Then we’ll have a nice easy ride down to the ferry.’

‘How easy?’ Harry demanded. There was a hint of rebellion in his voice.

‘Are you having trouble keeping up with me?’

‘That’ll be the day,’ Harry said, rising to the bait.

‘Right,’ Steven said. ‘Let’s get the hill climb over now — just in case you youngsters conk out on me.’

Ruben motioned to Lee to let him on the cycle. ‘Never.’

‘Well, we’ll have a bit of a warm-up along the waterfront, and then if you’re up to it, we’ll do Mount Victoria,’ Steven said as he picked up the revs.

‘We’ll be up to it,’ Harry boasted.

Lee called the race up Mount Victoria, declaring a dead heat between Hopeless Harry and Sleepy Steven. It had been a hard climb.

As the imaginary journey to the ferry progressed, Mark became increasingly worried. He knew he had to rendezvous with Fergus by dawn — if he didn’t, Rick might attempt to lead an assault on Haver. The brothers were well armed and he suspected there would still be a machine gun mounted on the West Tower. The only arms possessed by
AWOL
’s crew were two rifles with three rounds of ammunition and Rick’s impressive-looking but empty squad assault rifle. Should he just come out of hiding and risk exposing his presence to Ruben and Harry?

‘Right lads, just ten more minutes. Give it a final whirl,’ Steven announced. Seconds later he stepped into the passageway between the racks, saw his father and gasped.

‘You all right, Uncle Steven?’ called Ruben.

Mark held his finger up to his lips.

‘Yes, I’m all right,’ Steven replied. ‘I thought I’d seen a ghost.’

The boys laughed. ‘Hope it’s not the ghost of Lord Nigel,’ Harry said.

‘Don’t be daft,’ Ruben scorned. ‘His Lordship was too fat to get in that little space.’

Steven made his way to his father and hugged him.

‘I need to talk to you alone,’ Mark whispered in his ear.

‘I’ll be back later, once the shift is over,’ Steven said softly.

‘Who you talking to?’ Harry called.

‘I’m talking to myself.’

‘Talking to yourself’s the first sign of madness.’

‘Yeah, and listening to someone talking to themselves is the second,’ Ruben pointed out.

Steven squeezed his father’s arm and was gone.

‘Halt, who goes there?’

From his hiding place between the racks, Mark heard Duncan’s voice ring out from the top of the West Tower.

‘It’s only me,’ Steven’s voice responded.

‘What are you doing out of your quarters? You know there’s a curfew.’

‘The power levels are down. I’m doing an extra stint.’

‘Why are you so conscientious all of a sudden? You’ve never done extra time before.’

‘Can you two keep the voices down? We’re trying to sleep in here,’ called an angry voice from the buildings round Lawn Court.

‘The batteries are stuffed. I’ve asked Jasper for new ones,’ Steven replied more softly.

‘I still don’t see why you’re doing another stint.’

‘It’s laundry tomorrow. You know what sort of trouble my boys will be in if the machines stop.’

‘What happens if Damian comes snooping around? He was after me again last night.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll take the rap. And I’ll give you a call as I head back.’

‘How long will you be?’

‘It depends on the levels.’

‘Midnight at the latest — any longer and I’m raising the alarm.’

Mark stood at the entrance to the battery racks as Steven hurried into the room.

‘It’s good to see you, Dad,’ Steven said as they embraced.

‘And you, son.’

‘I never thought you’d leave New Zealand.’

‘I need a new coffin.’

‘What? Wait, before you tell me, get back behind the racks. Damian has a habit of creeping about at night. He’s hoping to catch Duncan asleep on watch so he can put a bullet in his head.’

Mark slunk back into the shadows as Steven climbed aboard one of the cycles and began to pedal. ‘I might as well put a bit of power in while we talk, just in case Damian heads this way. I can’t be long, Dad.’

‘I know, I heard you talking to Duncan. How’s Allison?’ He knew from the time it took Steven to answer his question that she was dead.

‘I’m afraid she died in childbirth, when we arrived at Haver, Dad. I’m very sorry.’ Steven could hear his father choking back the tears. ‘You have a lovely son.’ Mark was silent, trying to take it all in. ‘I’m afraid I’ve more bad news,’ Steven continued. ‘Your brother Paul’s dead too.’

‘He’s not.’

‘He was ill. Jasper turfed him out into the park. He crawled into the bracken and died. They haven’t even let us search for his body.’

‘There is no body. He’s alive. Fergus and I found him. He’s had a stroke and he’s at Seal with the rest of us. Look Steven, given we’ve only got half an hour, the key requirement is to decide how we’re going to get you and your family out of here. Our news can wait till later.’

‘We can’t simply escape, Dad. We have to overthrow the Chatfields. If my family leave without Cheryl and Bridget, the Chatfields will wipe out them and their children. If we take them with us, they’ll massacre others. And there’s no way we can get everyone away without risking a bloodbath.’

‘If it’s possible to overthrow the Chatfields, why haven’t you done it already?’

‘I’ve got a plan, but it needs bodies. Everyone in Haver’s scared stiff and anyway, I’m not sure who I can trust and who I can’t. The only person I’m really sure of is Luke, but with me stuck in here seven days a week from six in the morning till eleven at night and him on call as Jasper’s manservant I hardly get to talk to him.’

‘Tell me about your plan.’

Steven quickly outlined his plan and together they modified it. They exchanged snippets of information along the way, but there was no time for either of them to tell the full story of what had happened in the period since they had last been together. Mark had deliberately not told Steven the most exciting news of all — that his sister Jane had survived the tsunami. He wanted that to be a surprise.

The clock chimed midnight. ‘I must get back, Dad,’ Steven said firmly.

‘How’s Penny?’

‘She’s fine.’ Steven’s voice lacked conviction.

‘She’ll be wondering why you’ve been so long.’

‘She doesn’t know I’m here. She was asleep. She’s always asleep when I finish my shift these days. We’ve had another child and she’s pretty tired.’

‘Maybe,’ Mark suggested, ‘it would be sensible to keep my presence and our plans secret from everyone except Luke. Even Penny could let something slip accidentally.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’ Steven sighed as he climbed off the cycle and walked over to the racks. They embraced again. ‘I’m so sorry about Allison.’

‘What’s my son’s name?’

‘Nigel.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘Dad, it’s a long story.’

‘But of all names!’

Steven was smiling. ‘You’ll understand on Sunday.’

They hugged again. ‘Till Sunday, then. Take care, son.’

‘And you, Dad.’

‘And don’t forget to get word to Luke that it’ll be there waiting for him on Friday night,’ Mark added as Steven slipped out of the room.

A few seconds later Mark heard Steven call up softly to the West Tower, ‘Hey, wake up Duncan.’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ was the muffled reply.

‘All quiet in the park then?’

‘Of course it is. It always is. About time Jasper agreed to end this stupid sentry duty and let me get a decent night’s sleep. No way is your father ever coming back now. The only person I have to keep an eye open for is you know who.’

‘You can relax then. No sign of any action down here.’

‘You know I daren’t relax, Steven. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

Mark waited a few more minutes before slipping out of the Punishment Room and making his way around Flag Court, keeping in the shadows. Upon entering the Great Hall, he diverted up the wooden stairs into the Minstrel Gallery. As Steven had suggested there was a machine gun on a tripod behind the lattice screen. The barrel was pointing towards the refectory table, a full belt of ammunition leading up to the gun from a tin box sitting beside it.

He retraced his steps down to the Great Hall and through the accommodation beneath the King’s Room. He was relieved to find the door leading out to the garden still ajar and, squeezing through the gap, he dashed to the safety of the shadows beneath the trees lining the lawn. He waited beside the stone pillars for a large cloud to obscure the moon, and made it safely over the locked gates to the open ground beyond.

‘Are we glad to see you,’ Fergus whispered when Mark reached the shelter of the bracken. ‘Why didn’t you come out last night?’

‘You had us worried sick.’ It was Jane’s voice.

‘I couldn’t stop her coming,’ Fergus explained. ‘Rick wanted to come too, to lead an assault party to rescue you.’

‘Typical,’ Mark whispered irritably. ‘Two rifles, three rounds of ammunition and an empty assault rifle against a Chatfield clan armed to their teeth with pistols, rifles and machine guns.’ He hugged Jane. ‘Your brother’s safe. I’ve spoken to him.’

‘And Allison?’

It took him a few moments to force the words out. ‘She died in childbirth.’ There was a great sadness in his voice. ‘I have a son,’ he added quickly.

‘What are you going to call him — Fergus?’ Fergus joked.

‘He’s already got a name,’ Mark whispered. ‘Nigel.’

‘Nigel! Why Nigel?’

‘Search me. We’ll find out on Sunday.’

‘Sunday? What’s happening on Sunday?’

‘Let’s get back to Seal. I’ll tell you then. We’ve got plans to make.’