“So just as he was about to take a bite out of that donut, the pump burst and boom! It was blown right out of his bloody hand!”

  Quiet laughter erupted in the back of the truck as it rolled through the streets of Birmingham, only to be broken by the rustling of the canvas and the low rumble of the engine. Ian smirked at the ragtag group that sat inside its bay. Handguns, shotguns and even the odd SMG bounced as the truck jerked around. The laughter died, only to be replaced with curses and grunts as the passengers were flung up in the air. “Come on!” someone barked, “The road can’t be this bad!”

  “Enough about the ride already.” Called out a man at the centre of the mass of scavengers. His body was as large and as well built as Jack’s, but instead, he wore dull grey clothes that paled in comparison to a messy mop of red hair. Brown eyes were only just visible underneath a bang that swept across his forehead.

  “Whatever you say Carlson.”

  A few more chuckles rose from the group, with Carlson himself pulling a smile at words. He was the leader of the Birmingham scavengers taking point for this ‘mission’, for lack of a better word.

  Ian watched on from the back of the bay, Sten gun resting on his lap. The odd bit of humour did give a much-needed shot in the arm. He had learnt that a long time ago, even if his sense of humour was a touch too dry.

  Still, at the right time, its effects could not be denied.

  A cold wave rolled around his arm. Huffing, Ian tightened the tartan jacket closer around him. Armour trying to protect him from the air nipping at him. The factories that radiated heat out into the streets in Manchester weren’t around to support frail human beings here. He pulled back the canvas over his shoulder to be greeted by the darkness that cloaked the city. The street they travelled down was one of many in Birmingham that had been left abandoned under the threat of assault. Houses were coated in moss and weeds whilst windows were covered in rotting planks and rusting sheets. Not one sliver of light came forth. Each building looked like a decaying corpse.

  They had passed through other parts of the city. Areas where life still went on, active enough that he could see the odd amber glow above the structures. But it paled in comparison to Manchester. Everyone’s terrified. Anyone who could get out has already done so. Everyone else…

  There was no point in completing that sentence.

  “You okay Ian?”

  He released the flap and turned towards Liana. She had positioned herself next to him, tightening up a black waterproof jacket. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He nodded, “Just the chill getting to me.”

  A little grin appeared, “Makes you envy the Ferals I guess.” She replied.

  “With that mess of fur? No thanks.”

  Her grin seemed to grow another millimetre wider, but her eyes suddenly went blank. Her gaze drifted towards the flaps.

  Ian raised a brow and shuffled slightly closer to her, “How about you?” he asked.

  Her blue eyes went back towards him. “I’m fine. It’s just the job. Ed is right, a lot could go wrong.”

  Ian tilted his head, “I was thinking the same thing. But we have dealt with danger before.”

  “I know.” Liana replied, “Might just be my nerves talking, but it’s just takes one thing going wrong...”

  “That’s why we pushed for a contingency plan. We were lucky to get that sorted.”

  He shrugged, “Besides, we’re all nervous.”

  She raised an eyebrow, the smile reappearing. “Even you?”

  He grinned back, “Even me.”

  He was always surprised by that. Everyone he had met had always thought that he was never nervous, hiding his feelings under a layer of composure. In truth, he just shook off his tension out of sight of everyone else. Quite literally, on some odd occasion.

  “Let’s be careful then.” Liana replied, “In and out?”

  “Yeah. In and out.”

  Something hissed in the darkness and the truck lurched forward. A curse cut through the air as Ian grabbed hold of the canvas. “What now!?” someone whispered.

  “Quiet!” Carlson called out.

  A dull thud echoed from the far end of the bay. The driver…

  “We’re here.” He stated, “Jack. It’s time.”

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  Ian leaned forward to see Jack, sat further down the truck as he lifted a radio from his belt. “Jeb, we’re in place. Time to knock on the door.”

  The radio crackled, “We’re approaching the gate now.”

  “Get ready everyone.” Carlson quietly ordered, “We’ve got one chance at this.”

  The clatter of weapons rose above the muffled sounds of the clothing. Ian glanced over the SMG, yanking the magazine out to check it before slamming it back in. Hopefully this shouldn’t jam…

  He nearly cursed to himself, I’m just asking for that now, aren’t I?

  The last traces of the conservation faded away into the dark. Silence now dominating the truck as its engine died.

  The radio crackled again, “We’re inside. Give us a few minutes.”

  Ian pushed himself up, one eye locked onto the canvas flaps and the barrel of the Sten hovering at it. His heart began to pump harder and his entire body stiffened. His mind remained clear, focused. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to distract him now.

  “The generator is offline.” Jeb’s voice finally echoed, “You have 30 minutes, maybe an hour.”

  Metal thudded, and the engine rumbled back to life. The truck began to wobble as it moved forward and the entire group staggered up onto their feet. A low murmur rose behind his ear. Ian’s hand tightened its grip on the canvas, this was the moment of truth. If the floodlights came back on now, or if one guard managed to eye them in the darkness… then the sound of bullets pinging off the cabin would be their only warning before someone got hurt.

  A few seconds took an eternity to pass, the whole group ready to bolt in an instant.

  But no shots came. And with a fainter hiss, the vehicle stopped in its tracks.

  Yanking the canvas back, Ian dropped out. His boots softly thudding the ground, he shouldered the Sten and swept it round the back of the truck. Darkness obscured most of the features, but he could still make out the compound itself positioned atop a large mound, with the chain-link fence just visible against the grey walls. Tall poles rose above those towards black clouds, a blanket ready to crack open at a moment’s notice.

  Gravel crackled behind him, a snap glance over his shoulder revealing the scavengers dropping out of the truck one by one. Their weapons clattered and a few winces worked their way across a few of the scavenger’s dark faces as they fanned out around the truck. A drill sarge would have a field day…

  Ed emerged from the shadowy mass like a ghost, a shotgun poised over his shoulder and shells attached to a belt slung across his chest. A wiry smile formed on his face, exposed now his long hair was tied back, “Suicide mission at its finest.”, he muttered.

  Ian stifled a growl, Don’t start giving him ammo…

  “Alright,” Carlson whispered, emerging from the crowd. “Everyone, stick by the truck. Jack, Ian. I want you with me.”

  Lowering his shotgun, Carlson hefted a rucksack across his back and began to jog towards the warehouses. Jack appeared behind him, motioning for Ian to follow with a sharp snap of his head.

  “Be careful.” Liana whispered.

  Ian looked back over his shoulder at her. The darkness was that complete, her face was barely visible under a raised hood. But her words seemed to shiver, not from the chill in the air but from deep within herself.

  “We will.” Ian replied, his mind biting down on the nerves twitching in his throat.

  Turning, he shot off after the others, the suggestion of her feelings towards him still ringing in his skull from the meeting. Liana can’t have cared for him that much right?

  He shoved the thought aside as they advanced up to a narrow cut in the earth. His boots dug into the dirt as they descended down a shallow slope that led into the cut, getting more and more sheltered from view with each step and yet trying to avoid making noise.

  “Should be safe to use the torches.” Jack whispered.

  A pair of narrow light beams pierced the night, revealing a circular opening a few metres across at the end of the path. The tunnel. Ian bit his lip as a stone clattered downhill and echoed through the cut. Even though he was covering the touch attached to his SMG to disguise the source, he kept looking upwards, seeing a low wall and the fence just about in view. He was looking out for the tell-tale shadow of a guard looking down at them, ready to call for reinforcements or to take aim at the intruders.

  But no guard appeared, and they found themselves at the entrance of the tunnel.

  They stepped inside to find rust caking the walls, leaving a putrid brown and green pattern as if someone had thrown up all over them. He sniffed the air, but there was no stench. Ian brushed a finger across the surface only for the material to flake away in silence. Not been used for a long time.

  Blocking their path was a set of ten bars, each one coated with layers of rust.

  “Must have got added a few years ago.” Jack observed.

  “I’ve got a cutter in my pack.” Carlson replied, lowering the bag to the ground.

  Ian narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the bars. Added… probably so no one could just… wait…

  He swept the gun and torch across the bottom of the bars. Each one was welded against the surface of the pipe, leaving behind a mark where two metals were joined. The rust had settled onto the welding, but cracks shone in the torch light. Could it…

  Crouching down, he ran a finger across one weld.

  The metal crumbled away.

  “You might not need it.” Ian said, wrapping his hands around the crumbling bar, “Jack, help me with this.”

  Jack immediately grabbed hold of the bar. “On your go.”

  Nodding, Ian tightened his grip, ignoring the metal flaking away in his hands. “On three.” He stressed, “One. Two. Three!”

  They pulled back hard, the metal squeaking in protest. Ian gritted his teeth, Come on-

  The bar snapped free with a painful ping, an echo bouncing down the tunnel and through his ears. Ian could stop the gasp, a tiny throb aching in his ears. He stiffened, waiting to hear the confused shout of a guard. But as the echo faded away, nothing else came.

  “Jesus!” Carlson hissed through gritted teeth, “Be careful!”

  “Hey, it’s off isn’t it?” Jack replied as the two lowered the bar to the ground. “Come on. We need an opening.”

  Together, they tore two more clear, thankfully with far less noise, providing themselves an opening. Ian took point, slipping through with his SMG aimed down the tunnel before the others came through after him.

  “Give me the radio.” Carlson said coldly, more of an order than a request. Jack shrugged but obeyed, taking the device of his belt and handing it over.

  “Bring a few people to the pipe.” the leader whispered, “We’ll check the warehouse.”

  “You got it boss.” A voice squawked back.

  “We’ll radio you when you’re in.”

  With that, Ian turned his gaze back down the pipe. He took a shallow breath, shouldered his weapon, and began to move forward.

  Let’s just hope the guards don’t start looking around here now, or we’re going to be in a world of hurt…