The Peeling Trilogy Page 10

  While Parker considered that notion, someone appeared to his left, high up and in the corner of his eyesight.

  “Hold it right there, Corporal Cockhead.”

  Parker looked up at the man on the roof and narrowed his eyes. “I’m a Sergeant actually, but you can call me Parker. Now, what’s the problem, friend?”

  The man leant further over the ledge of the building’s roof and Parker saw that he was holding a gas-powered nail gun. It was pointed right at Parker’s head. Parker’s own weapon was stowed in the Warrior.

  “You’re the one with a problem, Sergeant Shit-Stain. You and your men take that tank and just roll on out of here, you hear? This place belongs to us and we’re not following any more of your orders.”

  Parker shook his head. “What orders?”

  “Orders from you and your fucked-up outfit. Tell me, when did the British Army become a bunch of bandits and thieves?”

  “I’m not following you. My men and I are just looking for those in need. We’re still trying to protect the people of this country.”

  The man huffed, lowered his nail gun a quarter-inch, and said, “Yeah, right. Well, when you see your buddies, tell them that they aren’t taking any more of our food. Not after what they did. They’ll burn in hell for what they’ve done to Stella and the others.”

  Parker sighed and scratched a fingernail against the tip of his nose. “Who’s Stella? If I can understand what you are talking about then perhaps I can help.”

  The man shook the nail gun at Parker and scrunched up his face in anger. “Look, I’m not going to buy any of your bullshit so just get the hell out of here. There’re a dozen men inside this supermarket and they’re all ready for a fight – including Brad; the husband of the woman your buddies abducted and raped.”

  Parker put his hands in the air and begun backing away. It was obvious by the man’s angry and suspicious demeanour that the conversation could not be steered in a direction other than the one it was already on; and that seemed like a direction that would result in a three-inch nail in Parker’s forehead. It was unclear what had happened, but it was obvious the strange man was distrustful of the military – just like the two teenagers had been.

  “Okay, we’ll leave,” said Parker. “We’re not looking for any trouble. You and your people just take care of yourselves.”

  Parker headed back around to the front of the building where his men were waiting patiently. Corporal Cross nodded to him as he approached. “Find anything?”

  Parker shrugged. “Just a nervous guy with a nail gun. I figured it was best to just leave him be.”

  “Are you kidding me? He could have a supermarket full of supplies in there. We should just take him down; it’s only one man.”

  Parker shook his head. “He told me there was another dozen men inside, not to mention the woman and children there may be.”

  “Bullshit,” said Cross. “He’s just saying that to scare us off.”

  “Look,” said Parker, a sternness to his voice. “We have no more right to this place than he does, and we have no way to know if there is anyone inside. People are already beginning to fear the military and I’ll be damned if I allow my actions to add to that.”

  Cross sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you’re the boss. So what do you want to do? You said we’d discuss it.”

  Parker let out a sigh and craned his neck to look back at the looming monolith of the brick supermarket. “I think the people inside there need our help, but they aren’t about to accept it willingly.”

  “So we should leave them to it, then.”

  Parker shook his head. “No. I think we should set up nearby and keep an eye on things. Maybe we can find out what’s going on. Apparently there is another outfit in the area.”

  Crossly raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s Bristow’s unit?”

  Parker shrugged. “Who knows? I’m guessing it’s somebody else, but we won’t know unless we hang around.”

  “Roger that. There’s a grass verge at the edge of the car park. We could set up camp there amongst the trees.”

  “Do it,” said Parker. Best do it now while the ground is dry. Could be raining later.”

  Cross glanced up at the grey sky and nodded. “More than likely.”

  ***

  With the CVRT crew shelter set up (a large four-person tent) Parker lit his gas lamp beneath a mess tin full of beans. Their rations had been affording them perhaps a thousand calories a day and it was starting to show. His men were visibly tired and the barrel chests of the men and the voluptuous bosom of Anderson had shrunk back against their ribcages. He himself must have dropped more than two stone since things began. They would need to find supplies soon – real supplies.

  Like what they may have inside that supermarket.

  Parker couldn’t deny that the thought of storming the building and taking what they needed by force was tempting, and maybe even sensible, but there was still a part of him that would not allow him to use aggression against British citizens. His body may have been wasting away, but his morals were as strong as ever. Parker held on tightly to that fact.

  Schumacher took a seat beside him, the man’s face overgrown with thick black stubble. “You okay, Sarge? You look like you remembered you just left the oven on.”

  Parker laughed. “I wish my problems were as simple as that. I miss worrying about the stupid, little things, you know?”

  “Sure I do. I even miss having to clean the toilet. Now I don’t even own a toilet to keep clean and it makes me sad. I miss the smell of bleach and air freshener and window polish and everything else that makes a home smell like a home. Now all I ever smell is shit and death and fear. I don’t even remember what my wife’s perfume smells like anymore. Shit, towards the end, no perfume in the world would have been strong enough, anyway, to get rid of the stench of her…well, you know?”

  Parker thought about the flesh destroying evil of the Peeling and nodded. He had lost people to it as well. They all had. “We’ll get it all back one day, Schumacher. Eventually people will come out of hiding and start working together again. All of this paranoia – looting and stealing and killing one another – it has to stop eventually.

  “I hope so, Sarge, because to tell you the truth, I’m beginning to lose sight of what the hell we’re fighting for.”

  Parker shook his head. Schumacher sounded just like Corporal Cross. “We can’t abandon people that need us. If we do, then you’re absolutely right: there’s no point in fighting. But we aren’t going to do that. We’re going to show people that there are still those of us that have remembered who we are. We’re all still human beings.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Schumacher said and left it at that.

  The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes until the others joined them. Carp and Cross sat opposite, while Anderson worked on constructing a single birth tent to separate her from the men at night while they slept. Parker’s men were the perfect gentlemen, but some habits died hard, and somehow it seemed important to Anderson that she kept her female identity intact.

  Parker leant back on the grass verge and looked up at the sky. It was getting dark and the clouds were slowly disappearing into the velvet background of a starry night. The thickness of the air suggested rain and perhaps even a storm was approaching. Parker hoped so. Despite the difficulties that bad weather brought, particularly when travelling, it had a cleansing effect on the world. It washed away the blood from the streets and dampened down the rotting stench of bodies. It swept away the rotting humanity and replaced it with the pureness of nature. Yes, Parker enjoyed the rain.

  “Want to play a round?” Carp asked.

  “Sure,” Parker said, knowing the game that Carp was suggesting. Every night they would all name one thing that they wished to find most in the rubble of what was once England.

  “Okay,” said Carp. “I’ll start. I wish I could find a…piano. I really got a hankering for a bit of Elton John. Don’t let the sun
go down on me.”

  “You play piano?” said Parker. “I never knew that.”

  “Guess there’s a lot about each other we don’t know. Probably never will. Playing the piano now is about as useless a skill as there is.”

  “I disagree,” said Parker. “I think it’s more important that you realise. When we come across a piano, you’re going to play for us all. All night long.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Carp grinned.

  “Okay,” said Schumacher, “me next. I want to find…a jar of paprika. God, I miss a bit of spice on my food. I’d mix it right in with Parker’s beans and swallow ‘em down whole.”

  Parker felt his mouth water. He’d never thought about seeking out spices and condiments, but now it seemed like such an obvious thing. It was a small luxury that they could still have in the world.

  “What about you, Anderson?” Carp shouted across at the female Private as she finished up erecting her tent.

  She turned around and wrinkled her face as she thought about it. “Erm…I guess I would like to find…a bodybuilding calendar. I’m tired of looking at your skinny asses all the time.”

  They all laughed and Cross took his turn. “I would like to find a nice fat bottle of Jack, or maybe even amaretto. Just before shit got messed up I was really into this drink called a Godfather. It was a shot of whisky with a shot of amaretto. Was a nice tipple. Would feel good to get wasted again. I think we’d all agree about that?”

  Everyone nodded and then focused their attention of Parker. It was his turn.

  He sighed. “I don’t know… I guess the thing I would like to find most is a nice, freshly made king-sized bed. One where I could just sleep for the next month. Then I would like to wake up to a nice full-English breakfast.”

  The sound of people’s mouth’s watering was almost palpable.

  “Cheater,” said Anderson, sitting down and joining them. “That was two things. I’ll let you off this time, though, just because I agree with your choices. A nice juicy sausage would be heaven right now.”

  After a brief second, they all started snickering. Anderson blushed and put her hands up. “Okay, okay, calm down. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. Anyway, I said a nice juicy sausage, not a bunch of chipolatas.”

  “Ouch,” said Carp. “Way to attack a man’s pride.”

  They all continued laughing, long after the sun had disappeared to be replaced by the moon and twinkling star. It was a beautiful night there amongst the trees.

  ***

  Parker’s eyes snapped open inside the darkness of the tent. The noise that had woken him was the sound of hushed voices somewhere outside. He rolled onto his side to find that he was alone and that the shadows of his sleeping comrades were absent.

  Parker shuffled out of his sleeping bag and crept to the zipped-up entrance of the tent. Then he listened to the voices outside.

  “Should we do something?”

  “I don’t know. What if they’re hostile?”

  “We can hold our own. I say we act now while they’re not expecting us.”

  Parker unzipped the tent and pushed his way out into the chilly night. Carp and Cross were standing there.

  “What the hell is going on,” he demanded. “I’ve already said that we are not going to bother those people.”

  Carp put a finger to his lips and shushed him. Parker was about to lose his temper when his eyes caught the distant torchlights. He placed a hand over his brow and squinted to see what was going on.

  “They turned up about five minutes ago,” said Cross. “Carp was just about to relieve my post when they came flooding out from the woods.”

  Parker crouched down low in the shadows and continued to stare. “It must be the other outfit the guy at the supermarket was talking about.”

  “Should we engage?” Cross asked. “They could have Intel.”

  Parker shook his head. “No, not yet. We need to observe what they’re up to first. I got the impression that they’re hostile.”

  “Not to other military, surely?” said Carp.

  “We can’t assume anything anymore. Keep distance and recon whatever you can. I’ll wake Anderson up and dig in here; cover you both if things go bad. Go wake Schumacher up and take him with you.”

  Parker’s men nodded and crept away down the embankment. Parker snuck over to Anderson’s tent and whispered her name. Eventually she awoke, and was alert and outside her tent within two minutes. She looked weary, but capable.

  “We’ve got unidentified targets in front of the supermarket. Carp, Cross, and Schumacher are checking it out now. You and I are going to keep a cover point.

  Anderson nodded and un-shouldered her rifle. She went prone and targeted the group of strangers down her SUSAT scope. Parker went prone himself about six metres away and pulled up his binoculars to his eyes.

  The new group consisted of seven men, fully armed. They all carried the same rifles that Parker’s men carried – British Army issue. All of them had arrived by foot and they were too far away to make out their insignias, but their black berets identified them as infantry – grunts. Whether or not they were battled-hardened grunts or green recruits was unclear, but they carried themselves with confidence; shouting and laughing as they milled about the front of the supermarket. There was also one woman with them, but she wasn’t military. The woman looked to be in her thirties and was wearing a ragged and stained summer dress. It would likely provide little protection against the harsh kiss of the cold night air. The woman was being lead over to the front of the supermarket, in front of where the trucks were lined up. One of the soldiers – a large man wearing a red bandana instead of a beret or Kevlar helmet – was hollering something at the men around him.

  In the corner of his binocular’s vision, Parker caught movement on the roof. As he repositioned his focus, he saw that it was the man he had met during the day – the one with the nail gun.

  While the sound didn’t carry far enough across the tarmac to reach Parker’s ears, it was clear that a conversation was being had between the soldier on the ground and the man on the roof.What the hell is going on? Is this the outfit the guy was talking about? The ones he was wary of?

  Parker continued to watch as the scene unfolded in front of him. The woman was brought in front of the soldier with the bandana. Then something bad happened.

  A punch to the woman’s ribs dropped her to her knees. Parker heard her pained gasp as it left her anguished lungs. She was now kneeling in a position that Parker knew only too well.

  Parker had no time to do anything but watch in terror as the woman was executed – a 5.56mm NATO round through her skull the tool responsible. The sound brought back memories of Afghanistan and Iraq to Parker and, for a moment, he was glued in place, unable to move. Human life had become no more important than that of a lowly housefly. Justice and punishment had fled the world.

  Beside him, Anderson cursed. “Goddamn motherfucking barbarians. What the fuck!”

  Before Parker knew what was happening, more gunfire rang out. He realised quickly that it was Carp, Cross, and Schumacher – the men having made the autonomous decision to engage. Parker did not blame them. He pulled up his own rifle and flipped off the safety. He squeezed the trigger and caught one of the unknown soldiers in the wrist. The man leapt back behind one of the trucks and looked around in a panic as he struggled to keep a grip on his weapon. All around the car park, the hostiles were taking up cover behind abandoned vehicles. Carp and Cross were nowhere to be seen, but the sounds of their rifles could be heard off in the distant treeline of the surrounding woods.

  On the roof, the man with the nail gun was screaming and shouting, seemingly madder than he was scared. Luckily for him, the hostile gunmen in the car park were paying him no mind as they searched around frantically for Parker and his men.

  Parker lined up another shot, aiming for the soldier in the red bandana – the leader. The bullet whistled across the car park and headed straight for the man’s skull. But
it missed by a fraction of an inch. The round struck the aluminium of a nearby panel van and left a ragged dent. The near miss was not lost on the soldier in the bandana and the shock was evident on his face. He shouted above the din of battle and waved an arm to his men. Within seconds, the hostile soldiers were gone, fleeing into the cover of the woods. Several moments later, Carp and Cross appeared from the adjacent treeline and scurried up to the supermarket’s blockaded entrance.

  Parker surveyed the area through his binoculars, checking that the other unit had truly fled the battlefield. It appeared they had, for now, but Parker knew they would just be regrouping. They would come back.

  “Come, on,” he said to Anderson. “We’ll rendezvous up front with Cross and the others.”

  Parker and Anderson kept low and beat a path between abandoned cars and overturned shopping trolleys until they were at the front of the Supermarket with Cross.

  “Status?” Parker asked.

  “We’re all fine,” replied Cross. “Bad news is: so are they. We only downed one of them.”

  Parker nodded. He had already noticed the dead soldier slumped up against a battered Honda Civic. Its iconic lighting strip above the front bumper was smashed and smeared with blood. Then Parker turned his attention to the dead woman, still lying in the spot where she had been callously executed by the solider wearing the bandana.

  “That was Stella,” came a voice from above.

  Parker spun on his heels and brought his rifle up to his shoulder. It was the man on the roof. The man with the nail gun.

  “S’pose you’ve earned yourself an invitation,” the man said. “Hold on. I’ll come let you in.”

  Parker looked at his men and shrugged. “About time something went right for a change.”

  ***

  Two minutes later, the man with the nail gun appeared at side access fence where Parker had first met him. He quickly unlocked the thick padlock and dragged the chain-link door open. It scratched a white line into the tarmac as it slid across the ground.