Chapter 11

Nick

14-12-2019

30 minutes after Chapter 8

The music was nice. Even though the drums took the tempo of the song higher and higher, Nick found that it was only soothing. He strolled over the road which surrounded the inner park in the shape of a circle. It was called the Inner Cir. He had already crossed the Outer Cir, which was a large street surrounding the park as a whole. After crossing the Outer Cir, he had found the barrier on the bridge. The vegetation on both sides of the road was thick, but the leafs had died off in the harshness of winter. It still revealed little of what rested behind the bushes and hedges.

A low fence ran across the sidewalk. The frost had coloured the steel bars and spikes white and grey, and it glistened like silver in the sunlight. Sunlight? Nick stopped and looked up. The clouds were tearing open, revealing long stretches of blue. The sun was breaking through as well, shining brightly on a city of darkness and death, as if it were trying to be ironic. Nick looked back in the direction into which he would head, and started walking again.

After a few minutes of calmly strolling around and taking in the environment, Nick came to a large gate. There were two smaller gates on the sides of the gate, for people. The large gate would have been used for vehicles. All of the gates had been violently opened. Large padlocks still lay broken on the ground. They had lain there for a whole year, untouched. Somewhere, Nick found value in that. He left them untouched as well, and continued to pass through the gate. This part of the park was named the Hidden City. It was a field with a lake, which was surrounded by the Inner Cir. Therefore it was formed in a circle.

There was a long path which ran straight into the distance. At the end of it, there were thick bushes and shrubs, and smaller pathways that led behind them. If Nick's memory was correct, there was a fountain there. His mother took him here when he was a child. He had been here when he was 12, once, and no more after that. His mother... Nick cleared the image of her face from his mind.

Nick stood on the path and stared off into the distance. The grass was white from the frost. He grabbed the radio from his belt.

'Rory? You there?'

After 10 seconds, there was still no response.

'Rory, mate? I need you, where's the package?'

Still no response.

'I'm in the park, mate. I need to move on before nightfall.'

There was no response. Nick heard the static of the line, so there was a connection. There was a link. Rory must have been absent, or maybe he had muted Nick for no apparent reason. Maybe there was something more at play. It didn't quite matter, because Nick's plan would not be changed. He needed the food and other supplies in the package. Nick walked over the path with slow steps. When he reached the end of it, he took one of the paths which led behind the hedges to see if he his memory was still correct. It was. Behind the hedges rested a frozen fountain. The water had gone black with dirt.

Nick decided to wait as long as it took. He took his raincoat from his backpack and laid it out onto the grass. He dropped his crossbow, took a seat on the coat and grabbed his backpack. He also took out the iPod out of his pocket. He checked the battery level of the device. The white characters in the top right corner of the screen read 42%. Good. Only if the battery were below 20%, would Nick find it necessary to charge it. So for now, it was more than sufficient. Nick took the radio off his belt. One last try then.

'Rory, come in, please.'

After ten seconds, still no response. If Rory were there, he would have already answered the call. Nick switched the radio off, and rested it on the raincoat. He zipped open his backpack and rummaged inside. He felt the cable which he was looking for and ran his fingers down to the charging unit. The way that he charged his devices was through the use of a device which was invented in 2017. He took out the small device from his backpack, after which he grabbed the universal cable and searched for the right plug. After having found that, he connected the radio to the charging device.

He lifted his arse off the ground, put the device in place, and lowered himself onto it. His weight applied pressure to a plate full of small dynamos. Under the applied pressure and the heat, the dynamos started to spin into each other, creating enough friction to generate a very small supply of electricity.

As Nick did what he needed and simply sat there, he grabbed his backpack again. He took out a small packet and unwrapped it. The unwrapped package revealed a few tasty-looking sweets. They were colourful and cold. Nick grabbed one and put it in his mouth. He had missed the taste of sweetness, and was struck by the sugary goodness which melted in his mouth. He hadn't eaten one of those in three days. Only bread, water and pills. Water was pretty easy to come by, even under the circumstances. Not all the clean drinking water in London had been cut off. Bread and the other food which he had didn't decay very fast, due to the cold. It was the pills which were the most important, and also what he was running out of. Nick sat in the grass, surrounded by the cold air and silence of abandoned, rotted and looted London. He listened softly to his music, wandering away into the lyrics of the songs.

Hours later, at the edge of nightfall, Nick was woken from his dream state by a crack in the radio. He grabbed the radio and held it against his ear. More cracking, sometimes a bit loud, and then, finally, Rory's voice.

'Nick, you read me?'

'Jesus man, what took you?'

'I'm sorry bud, there was a bit of trouble. Nothing serious though. You're in the park, correct?'

'Yeah, the Hidden City.'

'Ah, alright. Well, I'll give you a quick update on everything in your surroundings. I can see someone else, but he's walking on the Inner Cir. I'll notify you if he gets closer. For the rest, there's a large group of people on the Outer Cir, to your west. I'm counting 24 people, but there might be more, as they're all close to each other and I can't really define one heat signature from the other.'

'Wow... what do you think they are? Looters, bandits or burners?'

'I don't really know. They're not moving very fast, they're not really spread out.'

'I'm guessing looters. Anyways, thanks for the update. Now can we get back to the matter at hand? If there's someone else here, I want to be gone as soon as possible.'

The sun lowered further towards the horizon. The sky was darkly orange. Maybe another 15 minutes, and then it would be completely dark.

'Ah yeah, your package, of course. Take the path to the left, towards the fountain. At the end, take the utmost left path and keep walking until you're at the old Open Air Theatre.'

'Thanks Rory. I had my doubts if I was gonna be stuck here for a while or not, to be honest.'

'Don't worry mate, I ain't letting go of you that easy.'

Nick packed up his things. The radio had been charged adequately. There was no battery level, but Nick didn't want to risk losing contact at any time. With the music blasting through his earphones, Nick proceeded confidently towards the fountain. When he reached that, he did as Rory had commanded, and walked along the path which led to the left. After a few minutes of walking along pale grass and barren bushes, Nick came across the door towards the Open Air Theatre, as was indicated with an overgrown, filthy and slightly damaged sign.

Night had fallen upon the city. Nick walked into the theatre with help of the flashlight on his crossbow. He carefully followed instructions which were being fed live through the radio by Rory. First, he was led to a shovel which had been put in the bushes. Then, he was led to a spot, where the package had been buried.

Nick knew well enough that Rory was not just another survivor. He was more. He was able to place these packages for him, and have all of this set up, read heat signatures. He didn't mind, as long as he survived. The only question he had for Rory, and had not seen fit to ask yet, was why him? Why help him? Was it by random, or was there more behind this? A larger plot behind this man, on the other end of Nick's radio.

Somewhere, Nick liked London the way it was now. There had been so much death, and so many people had suffered, but in the end, this was bliss. Walking through a city, full of abandoned and broken vehicles. Summer was something else though. The warmth was nice. No thick coats were necessary. But everything became so much harder. Food decayed quicker, the stench of death became worse. Summer had its ups and downs, same as winter. Nick stuck the shovel into the frozen dirt. It was hard, but not much of a bigger challenge than normal.

Deeper and deeper he went as the minutes counted by. The night became colder. The sky was clear, and the stars and moon gave him a bit of light. It was still the flashlight on the crossbow, which he had laid down into the grass, that was the biggest and most efficient source of light. Nick heard a clunk as he stuck the shovel back into the hole which he had dug.

'The package is in a vertical position, so you should be able to pull it out pretty easily.'

Nick felt across the wooden face of the package. The "package" turned out to be a crate, and not a small one either. Nick also detected a rope handle. He gripped it tightly, and ripped the crate out of the cold ground. He supported its weight with his other hand and lowered it slowly onto the grass. He grabbed the radio.

'Rory, I've got the crate. How do I open it?'

'Should be a small handle on the edge of one of the sides.'

Nick ran his hand down the edges of the crate and detected the smaller rope handle. He tugged at it, and the face of the crate opened slightly. He then gave it a good pull, and the crate was opened fully.

'Okay, what am I looking at here?' asked Nick. There were tonnes of little packages and plastic bags.

'If you stand at the side where the face of the crate came out, the first section of packets on the left is pills. You got your vitamins, calcium, protein, etcetera.'

Nick grabbed the crossbow and unclicked the torch from the frame. He aimed it at the crate and saw what Rory was talking about. He saw the little plastic cylinders of the pills through the transparent little packets. As he opened his backpack and started to take the plastic packets out of the crate, Rory continued with the instructions.

'In the middle, I've got some real nice treats for you. Matches, methylamine, and some batteries for your charger.'

As Nick started to take the objects with excitement and relief, a gunshot sounded. A hollow scream echoed over the freezing night air. Nick was startled and turned quickly towards where it came from, clicking the torch onto the crossbow again and holding it in the same direction.

'Rory, where's the heat signature!?'

'It took a right where you took the left. Why, what happened?'

Loud shouting and crying was heard. A man. 'Someone, please, help me!'

Nick stood frozen, not knowing what to do. Another bang sounded. A bright, red flare shot up into the black sky, screeching loudly.

'Nick, what was that...?'

'Something like a flare. What do I do?'

The shouting continued. 'Please! Somebody! Help!'

'Nick... Get the fuck out of there, now. Get out of there!'

'What's happening, Rory?' asked Nick as he kneeled down and grabbed whatever was in the crate.

'Just run!'

Nick slung the backpack onto his shoulders and ran towards the exit of the theatre as fast as he could. The screaming continued. 'Pleeaaaase!!'

Nick couldn't help him. Whatever was happening, he had to get out of there as soon as possible.

'Rory, fucking answer me! What's happening?!'

'6 signatures parted from that group, they're enclosing your position with great speed!'

'Fucking hell,' said Nick under his breath.

'They've stopped at the bridge,' informed Rory. 'Anything you saw when you crossed it?'

'Yeah, there's a military barric-'

A loud explosion cut Nick's sentence off. It came from the bridge. Nick saw the erupting fire in the far distance.

'They're crossing it now.'

Nick ran along the path, but across the small field of grass where he had sat, close to the thick bushes and trees. The path was an ill-advised route to take. The distant screaming was slowly overlapped by the roaring of engines. When it reached a point of urgency, Nick decided to jump into the bushes and hide. Just in time, as well. He switched his flashlight off.

Multiple single headlights came through the gate. Motorcycles. The engines rumbled loudly as they passed. The guys who rode them were yelling and cheering loudly, swinging weapons such as hatchets and wrenches merrily through the air.

'Kill the fucker!'

'Bury him!'

'Burn him alive!'

'Take him to Flox!'

These were the so-called Burners. Absolute psychopaths, gathering in large groups, setting up traps around their territories, luring innocent people in and doing with them what they wish. They did not care about agreements, money, lives or honour. They were the savages in this survival. The ones who would only like to see you burn. There was, however, one thing different about these Burners than the others which Nick had encountered. "Take him to Flox", one had said. Did they have a leader? Burners didn't. Well, not as far as Nick knew, at least. The bikers, still cheering and yelling happily, rode their bikes onto the path to the right, from which the man's voice still echoed.

Nick grabbed his radio and held it close. 'Are there any more coming?' he asked, whispering.

It took a few seconds for Rory to respond. 'No, that was it. They've stopped on the path. The rest of the group has halted, and not come closer.'

Nick took his chance. He leapt out of the bushes and sprinted towards the gate. Behind him, as the sound from the engines of the motorcycles died down a little, he heard exclamations, shouts and screeches of manic happiness.

'Woooo! Fresh meat!'

'Hahahaaa!'

'Yeaaahh!'

Nick switched on the flashlight as he sprinted towards the path and then towards the gate. He figured he'd make more speed on the hard tarmac than on the frozen, wet grass. He was almost at the gate. 30 metres, 20 metres, 10 metres. He started to pant, but in this situation, such a small thing like that won't even begin to stop him. Then, the gate flashed in the white light of a headlight behind Nick. The sight of it destroyed almost all hope in Nick's heart in a single second. He was too late to remain undetected, but not too late to run.

He sprinted through the gate and headed left. The engines of motorcycles roared behind him, coming closer and becoming louder by the second. Nick knew that if he looked behind him, he would lose speed. He had to look forward and estimate the distance of his pursuers by sound alone. He heard the yells and cheers behind him, over the loud roars.

'We've got a runner!'

'Cut his legs off!'

'Take him alive!'

'Kill him!'

In the chaos of the chase, Nick couldn't help but laugh at the disorderly Burners. They may even let him go, because they're so indecisive. Nick breathed in deeply, and a heap of oxygen came back to his brain. His sense came back, and he realised the seriousness of the situation he was in again. The roaring of the engines came closer, and closer, and closer.

Suddenly, a crack against the back of Nick's head. The pain seeped into his brains. He submittingly fell down on the tarmac in an exhausted fashion and felt the vibrations of the bikes riding by in his cheek. He heard their brakes screeching. He supported himself with his hands and looked up. The bikers had stopped 15 metres away. Nick was exhausted. If he'd run now, they'd kill him for sure. He was already surprised that they were keeping him alive in the first place. Not the usual Burner strategy.

Nick dropped backwards onto his knees. With his hand, bleeding from the fall, he grabbed the radio from his belt. One of the bikers walked towards him. He wore a dirty mask which was made of the same hard fabric as a hockey mask. "Carpe Noctem" was roughly carved into the cheek of the mask. He stopped 2 metres away. In his hand, he carried a hatchet. He looked down at Nick, not speaking at all, just plainly gesturing Nick to stand up. Nick looked back. He pressed the button on the radio.

'Rory... I'm fucked.'