He had to keep moving.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Henry clapped his hands and everyone turned to look. He had been talking to Arni in angry whispers, whilst the rest of the group were discussing how things were changing. The wire mesh. The visitors to the house. They seemed almost palpably nervous. Fingers were chewed, eyes wary.
Henry held out his hands. ‘I need to go out, to see if the authorities are watching us,’ he said, his voice low. ‘I’m going to make myself visible, just to see if I’m followed. The rest of you, prepare up here, be ready, in case I don’t come back.’
‘I’m scared, Henry,’ a woman said. It was Jennifer Elam, the older woman.
‘Just hold your nerve,’ Henry said. He closed his eyes for a moment and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Just believe in what we are doing.’ His voice was almost a whisper now. His hand gripped his shirt and he opened his eyes. ‘Feel it. We have something special in this group, and you have made me realise who I am. What I am. Rely on that to get you through, because, all I am doing is thinking of us, of what I can do for the group. People will talk about us in years to come, of how we fought back.’
Henry looked slowly around the group, taking in each one of them. ‘We need more help though, because we have to fight them in their world. Their shallow, pitiful, material world.’ He pointed to John. ‘Do you feel the freedom now?’
‘I do.’
‘How does it feel?’
John smiled. ‘Like whoever doesn’t have what we have is somehow empty.’
Henry’s grin spread slowly. ‘That’s right. They are just magpies. They get excited by shiny things, or they worship false faiths like some fad. We are the future, our movement, and so give up everything you own, John. Whatever property you have, or savings, they just tie you to your past life. Donate it to me, for the group.’
John nodded, encouraged. ‘That will feel good,’ he said, but then he took a deep breath. ‘But there are some things I still find difficult.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, Gemma,’ and he looked towards her. ‘You say we shouldn’t feel bonds, that we should be free to share, but I feel like we have a connection, and I know she feels it too.’ Gemma blushed. ‘I don’t want to share her, but you say that I should, and I don’t know how I feel about that.’
Henry glowered for a few seconds, and no one seemed to be breathing, waiting for his response. When he did speak, his voice was quiet, measured. ‘We do not have possessions in this group. Everything belongs to the group. Even Gemma.’
‘But you make her sound like a thing, not a person.’
Henry’s jaw clenched. ‘What do you want? Marriage? The union of one man and one woman? One more contract with the State?’ He shook his head. ‘You think Gemma is special, but you want to deprive the rest of us of that special thing. You want to keep it all for yourself. That isn’t thinking of the group. I chose her for you, John, because I knew you would like her. You cannot just throw it back in my face and say that you want her all for yourself?’
‘No, it isn’t like that.’
‘So what is it like?’
John looked at Gemma, who was staring at her lap. Her cheeks were red, and John couldn’t work out if she was embarrassed or angry. ‘I just like her, that’s all,’ he said.
Henry paused for a moment, and then he smiled. ‘You are allowed to like her. We all like her.’
John nodded. ‘All right, I’m sorry.’
Henry stepped off his stool and approached John. ‘Are you sure you believe in me? In us, as free men?’
‘I believe, Henry, but how will we know when we’ve won the fight?’
‘Because there will be no rules, no possessions, no restrictions. We will take back what has been stolen. People lost their homes because the banks got greedy. There are empty houses but people live on the streets. None of this is right, and so anyone who isn’t with us is our enemy, you understand that?’
John nodded.
Henry grinned. He pointed at Lucy, and Arni, and David, the youngest male, skinny and twitchy. As they got to their feet, Henry ran out of the room, pausing only to collect some boots.
‘How long do we wait?’ John shouted, as he followed them outside.
Henry paused, and then turned back towards the house. ‘Until we come back. Don’t leave. If anyone else tries to come, don’t let them in.’ He pointed to the grilles. ‘The house is more secure, but stock it so we can defend it. Food. Oil. Wood. We might have to barricade ourselves in. Remember Waco, how the police underestimated them?’
‘Everyone died in the end.’
‘There is always a price to pay,’ Henry said.
‘But what about what we talked about earlier?’
Henry looked angry for a moment, but then he raised his fingers to his lips. ‘Remember what I said. There are things I’ve got to attend to first, because events might derail us.’ Then he ran to his van along with the others, laughing excitedly. There were knives in their pockets; John could see the glint of shiny metal where they jutted out.
He watched as the engine started and then they set off towards Oulton, bumping along the farm track, throwing up dirt in a cloud.
John closed his eyes for a moment as the van’s engine faded into the valley, and he was left with just the breeze in the trees and birdsong. Images from his past life came at him. Work. Family. Money. But it had been empty, he felt that now, as if his own life had been working towards this, and it felt like a rush, a surge of adrenaline, that feeling of belonging, of purpose.
He heard soft footsteps behind him, just light crunches in the dirt, and then arms encircled him gently, a head resting on his back.
It was Gemma, and so he turned around and took her face in his hands. She looked up at him, and for a moment he saw some doubt, fear flashing across her eyes.
‘Things are changing,’ she said.
John thought about what Henry had asked him to do. He kissed her on the forehead. ‘Yes, changing, but moving forward,’ he said.
‘But I’m scared.’
He closed his eyes so that she wouldn’t see the lie in them. ‘We’ve nothing to fear,’ he said. ‘Nothing to fear at all.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sheldon came to a stop outside Ted Kenyon’s house. He’d collected his car from the station car park, and had driven straight to Ted’s house again. Except this time he was off-duty, officially.
There wasn’t much movement inside. He stepped out of his car, the clunk of the car door loud in the street, and then walked slowly to the door. He let the gate clink shut behind him and as he paused, he went to straighten his cuffs. Then he stopped himself. The cuff edges on his shirt were threadbare, with threads of loose cotton trailing over his wrists, and the sleeves on his suit jacket were shiny with wear.
It was too late to turn back though, because Ted was in the window, watching as Sheldon walked up the path. Ted was at the door by the time Sheldon reached it.
‘Here again?’ Ted said, but still he stepped aside to let Sheldon in.
‘Mr Kenyon.’