In The End Box Set | Books 1-3 Stevens, GJ (story books to read TXT) 📖

I nodded at his back.

He let the double doors go as he stepped through. I caught them before they swung back, holding one side open for Cassie and getting my first view of the three khaki-coloured Land Rover Defenders, their engines running.

Soldiers sat in the driver's seats of each. In the front and rear vehicles, another stood behind with his upper body out of the roof in the rear compartment, a rifle resting at chest height.

Beyond the vehicles, I saw great progress had been made erecting the fence. Each metal panel stood more than twice the height of the vehicles and slanted outwards a few degrees, with razor wire spiralling across the top edge. Concrete blocks and great water containers sat on angled legs to hold it firm, each delivered by a khaki-green forklift truck buzzing around the site as soldiers manoeuvred the panels into place. Only the space for two panels remained and a third was being installed by five soldiers in just their green t-shirts, their armour nowhere to be seen.

Still without turning, Sergeant McCole motioned us to the back of the centre vehicle. He didn’t look to see if we'd understood. His gesture distracted as he talked in the microphone built in to his helmet.

I couldn't hear what was being said until he turned and caught my eye.

“With all due respect...” The words stopped and his eyes turned to a squint. “Yes, Ma'am,” he replied, and barked in our direction, “what are you waiting for?”

Nearly running, we climbed up and into the musty rear of the middle vehicle, settling on the hard bench seats and turning to stare out of the windscreen. We watched as the pace of activity increased. An excitement in the soldier's movement grew obvious as more joined the fencing crew.

The passenger door opened and McCole climbed in. His hand pulled up the handset in the cab, but before he had a chance to speak, gunfire lit up the silence and all heads turned to the left, our view blocked by the green canvas.

“Use the rear entrance,” he said, not quite shouting. “Don't stop for anything. That's an order.”

68

“What's going on?” I said, as we watched with intent through the windscreen, the convoy running in the opposite direction to rushing troops laden with weapons and green ammunition tins.

McCole didn't reply but turned in his seat, scowling. Still distracted, he pulled a map from the pocket of his combat trousers.

Knowing I wouldn't get an answer, I turned back to Cassie sitting opposite and reached across the gap between the two bench seats. She didn't pull back as I took her hands. A warm smile appeared across my lips, mirrored by hers. She was as pleased as I was we were going back to collect our friends, her family and finally taking the first steps to get out of this nightmare.

Surrounded by Britain's finest, armed to the teeth and expert in how to deal with these creatures, we were safer than we'd been for days.

A growl rumbled from my belly as I looked into her eyes across the gap. She rubbed her stomach and smiled. We hadn't eaten since this morning, but soon we could worry about those everyday things again. Soon we would have all the food we'd need and could eat together in safety.

Turning back through the windscreen, I watched the rear of the lead vehicle as it guided us around the perimeter fence. To the occasional drill of gunfire, smoke stacks slid in and out of view, their colour a rainbow of greys depending on how close they were to burning themselves out.

I watched as fields of green stretched out on the horizon. Watched as a car park, empty of all but a few cars went past, then, finally, the first buildings of the village came into view.

Around we continued in our wide circle until the direction changed with a sharp turn, pushing me back against the cold metal, our speed not slowing as sentries, then the fence, flashed out of sight.

McCole picked up the radio handset clipped to the dashboard.

“Take a wide circle down the Boskennal Lane and come out at the head of Land's End Lane. Go cross country if you need to,” he said, releasing the button.

“Sir, that's the main entrance?” the questioning voice came back.

“That's an order, Private Curtis,” McCole said, his tone not inviting a reply. He got none.

Cassie and I continued to watch out of the window as we followed down the deserted streets. St Buryan wasn't a large village by any stretch of the imagination but still it felt so eerie to see no people, no traffic each way we turned. The only signs of life we saw were from the past; windows smashed, drying pools of blood, walls peppered with bullet holes. Cars smashed, their metal crumpled around trees and buildings.

Still, we carried on around the streets, turning right and right again, slowing only to bounce up the curb. The Defenders took the green fields with ease, all to the occasional background of gunfire.

I watched as McCole picked his rifle from its stand in the footwell and inspected the chamber, then did the same with his side arm.

We turned right again, back onto the road and before long the front Land Rover's brake lights lit and stayed on, our vehicle slamming to a halt a few metres from its back. The radio came alive with the same voice from the last call.

“I count fifty Cords all heading to the FOB, sir, along Land's End Lane.”

I let go of Cassie's hand and together we leaned toward the windscreen.

“How far out?” McCole replied.

“Half a click,” the voice said, as he released the button.

“A second wave,” McCole said, but not down the radio which he