The Hand and the Hatchet

Chapter 23

His eyelids felt like lead and his mouth was dry. He forced them open, and then clenched them shut. The light poured in through the window which hadn't had the blinds drawn. The man who'd come in last night was still sleeping, facing the opposite wall. He was breathing very heavily. The straight-backed chair was still pulled up to the window, but there was no sign of anyone on watch. Bell dragged himself out of bed, already hearing movement downstairs. He rolled up his sleeping bag and clipped it into his bag. He opened the door slowly, and then closed it gently. Someone was stood at the other end of the corridor, and they waved to him. He waved back and rubbed his eyes. He went downstairs, his socks feeling slippy on the carpet. There were two people eating at the table, and a few more dotted around downstairs eating. It was all cold, they couldn't use fire in case the smoke gave them away. Ant came down a few moments later, looking as alert as always. Bell didn't know how he did it. Bell fetched another of his rapidly dwindling tins, and returned downstairs. He pooped the top and ate the sausage and beans within. He couldn't believe it sometimes, it was almost as though the quality of food had increased over the years it'd been sat in the metal container.

Having finished his food, he decided to go and get ready. As he did his best to wash with a water bottle and a flannel, he realised that a lot of life was simply boring. More so nowadays, but even before that, depending on your lifestyle. Obviously before, you may have been an explorer, or traveller, or inventor. But the odds were you were an office worker or floor manager for some uncaring corporation, grinding from nine till five every day of your life, clicking the same monotonous keys on your keyboard or filling in the same monotonous spreadsheet on excel. And not only would you have had a boring job, you'd have worked for peanuts, poor working hours and little to no benefits. That had literally been a nightmare to Bell. He'd wanted to go to sea when he was younger, after a few years spent at university. Of course, that had all be ripped away from him when the world collapsed, but he wasn't special. It had happened to everyone. Regardless of how much he hated someone, these days he always had something in common with them.

He finished up his washing with a change of underclothes, and a new t-shirt, sticking with the same dark trousers and black hoodie. He adjusted the contents of his bag, making sure it would sit correctly on his back, as back pain was the last thing he wanted. The good thing about the food being mostly gone was that he didn't have to carry it. He left his belt, knife, and hatchet on top of his pack and his boots stood together in front of it. He returned downstairs to find the rest of the group awake. Adam looked absolutely knackered, with dark circles under his eyes. The woman he'd been talking to last night stood net to him, so close they were almost touching. Rick had removed the table-dwellers and spread a map out on the surface of it, the corners weighed down by a pair of socks, a compass, a salt shaker (where had that come from?) and his own substantial hand. It was all necessary, as the map was folded not rolled, so it wouldn't spring back up even if it weren't weighted. Bell didn't say anything. Ant was leaning over it next to Rick, saying something.

"-sure they're there?"

"They would be, they're in an outbuilding in the garden, a few feet from the river. It shouldn't take long to break in, get them out, and get on the lake. If this goes right we won't be discovered and we'll be gone from this town by lunchtime"

"That ain't what I asked. How do we know the boats will be there?"

"Because there's no reason for them to be gone"

"If that's the best we've got were a bit fucked, aren't we?"

They bickered for a while longer until they decided they could leave if they had to and find a boat somewhere else.

"Listen, they've probably sent patrols out after that lot didn't come back last night. They'll know we're operatin' and they'll be trying to make sure we're gone. I doubt they'll comb the whole of this side of town, but we can't be sure. We're gonna jump a fence, and then cross a small patch of grass. Then a wall, then we cut left over some more fences, and we're in the pub's beer garden. It's all boarded up, so Chris is gunna use the crowbar to get us in. Once we're in, we'll wait for a bit and take stock of the situation. Then we cross the street and into the river. Plain sailing' from there, pun intended"