All three bikes lowered simultaneously, Gregor’s came to rest at a slight angle. He hopped off. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
The alien didn’t acknowledge him. It sat silently, looking straight forward.
Marek pulled a map from inside his jacket. “It’s a five minute walk from here. Follow me.”
Gregor checked his gun, and held it up. He followed Marek and Igor into the forest. Occasionally pointing his gun at the back of Igor’s head and pulling away. The wet night chill had already left the woodland and humidity was building. Gregor wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
Sporadic rays of sun seeped through gaps in the trees, highlighting thousands of midges, busily hovering in clusters. Gregor felt an itch and slapped his neck. Igor spun around and faced him.
“Paranoid about something?” Gregor said.
Igor frowned. “Anything could happen out here. I’m staying alert.”
Leading the way, Marek crunched along the forest floor. He crouched by a fallen rotting tree and checked his laminated map.
“Are we here?” Gregor said.
He pointed his gun over the dark brown, lice infested trunk. “It’s just over there, we’re two hundred yards away.”
Two people moved in the distant clearing. Gregor gripped Igor’s shoulder. “Get down.”
They observed the area for five minutes. Creeping closer from tree to tree, until the three were fifty yards away. Two people stood on a former street, heating a large metal pot on a fire.
Rubble was spread around the road, probably from yesterday’s explosion. Not that it mattered, the place was slowly dying. The fifth harvester, once repaired, would put it out of its misery. Gregor remembered watching in awe when he first saw one plow through a small town. Chewing up buildings, gouging out foundations and spitting them behind in minute pieces, mixed with surrounding soils.
“We’ll take them head on. Don’t do anything unless I say,” Gregor said.
Igor spun the wheel of his revolver and clicked it back in place. Marek held his gun in both hands.
Gregor moved from behind the tree and quickly broke from the forest. A man and woman turned, wide eyed. She dropped a ladle, he attempted to say something, then turned to run.
“Stop right there,” Gregor shouted. “We mean you no harm.”
Both put their hands up. The man shuffled round to face him, his bottom lip quivered on his dirt-smeared face. They were in filthy clothes, stained with years of grime. If Augustus had a problem with Gregor’s sweater, he can’t have met many of the population. These two were throwbacks from a bygone era, peasant looking types he’d only seen on period dramas before the shit hit the fan.
Marek moved around the right hand side, covering the flank. “Are there any others we need to know about?”
“It’s only us. Please, we’ve got nothing,” the woman said.
Igor moved ahead of Gregor, looked into the pot and pointed down. “Nothing you say? What’s bubbling away here?”
Gregor clenched his teeth and felt his left eye twitch. He bit his lip, to keep the appearance of a team.
“It’s just a simple stew. You can have some,” the woman said.
“Mallard and root, we call it duck a l’orange,” the man said. He nervously laughed, abruptly stopping when it was clear that Gregor didn’t find it remotely amusing.
“Give us your supplies and we’ll go,” Gregor said. “You have time to loot some more. I don’t.”
Igor wrapped his sweater around his hand and grabbed a handle on the side of the pot. “We’ll start by taking this.”
“No,” the woman said. She reached for the other handle. The pot flipped over, and the contents splashed over Igor’s ankles and feet. He jumped back and yelped.
Gregor tried to stifle his laugh. The woman edged backwards.
Igor thrust out his revolver and fired twice into her chest. She collapsed backwards, her right hand flopped onto her chest over the wounds.
The man held out his arms and momentarily froze before kneeling by her side. He clutched her left hand and shook it. “Ellie … Ellie…”
The shots echoed in the distance. Igor picked up a piece of boiled duck by his feet and tossed it into his mouth. Gregor glanced at Marek and nodded.
The man looked up with tears in his eyes. “What have you done? What have you done? This is all we have. You’ve … you’ve killed her.”
Igor stepped forward and fired again. The blood sprayed from the back of the man’s head as the round exited. Igor turned to Gregor. “Whiney pieces of—”
Gregor aimed his weapon at Igor’s face. “Drop it, now.”
Marek quickly moved to Igor’s side and took aim. “He said drop it.”
The revolver twitched in Igor’s hand, he ducked slightly, before holding his left palm toward Gregor, crouching and placing his revolver on the ground. “Steady old friend. They meant nothing to us.”
Gregor wanted to shoot him. But the years they spent together since the invasion had a freezing effect on his trigger finger. “I said don’t do anything unless I said so.”
“She was just a hag,” Igor shrugged. He spat out a piece of duck. “The food tasted like shit anyway.”
“We’ll never know if they had supplies,” Marek said. “We can’t search this whole town. You’ve made this a wasted trip.”
“And you’ve fucked our chances of getting info on Jackson. You’re an idiot,” Gregor said.
Igor smoothed his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. He stared at Gregor with his piercing light blue eyes. “What’s this really about? She was just a hag, an old witch with a cauldron.”
“What’s going on between you and Augustus?” Gregor said.
“Me and Augustus?” Igor said. He shrugged and pursed his lips.
“I heard you talking to him while I was in the garage,” Marek said.
Igor’s eyes half closed as he shot a glance at Marek. “He’s the one you shouldn’t trust. I wasn’t captured by the little wasp.”
“Forget about Marek. I’m the one asking the questions. What were you and Augustus talking about? Don’t even bother denying it.” Gregor said.
“He asked me how things were going. I told him we’re in good shape. What am I supposed to do? Ignore the skinny old bastard?”
“Is that all he said?”
He held his hands toward Gregor, as if they were in invisible cuffs. “Would I lie to you old friend. The things we’ve been through to get here. Seriously?”
Gregor grunted. “If I didn’t need you, Igor… Lead the way back to the bikes. I’ll take your revolver.”
“Have it your way,” he said and started walking away.
Marek picked up his revolver and handed it to Gregor. He whispered, “Are you just going to let him go? He’s up to something, I know it.”
“We need him for the moment, with the new targets. I can’t afford to be a man down on the farm.”
“You’re the boss. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Marek said.
Gregor smiled and patted his shoulder. “Trust me, he won’t live to see next winter. Until then he can work with the livestock and meat processing.”
Igor turned and waited by forest edge. Gregor longed for the good old days when things were less complicated.
Chapter 20
BEN CURSED THE OTHERS, and then the aliens and then whole damned world.
A twig snapped against his face as he passed through the dense forest. He pressed his fingers against his cheek and felt the dampness of a stinging cut.
Every sound had him on edge. He held the alien pistol in front of him, aiming at any movement or hint of shadow. The compass kept him on track and occasionally he’d come to old trails, buildings, and even some automobiles.