Scott Andrews - School's Out Forever

“Listen, I’m just looking for my father. He’s a sergeant in the British Army. He never came home after The Cull. I flew here to find him.”

“On your own?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re, what, fifteen?”

“Sixteen. Yesterday.”

“Happy fucking birthday.”

“Thanks. Do I get a cake?”

“I don’t have time for your bull, kid. It’ll be better for you if you just tell us the truth.”

“My name is Lee Keegan, my father’s name is John, he’s a Sergeant in the British army and I just want to find out if he’s okay. If you radio your base I’m sure they can just check their records and it’ll all be sorted out in no time.”

His eyes went wide with surprise and recognition. Obviously he knew my dad, or knew of him. So I’d been captured by two groups since touching down and both knew my dad. What were the odds? What the hell was going on here? Bumfluff was thinking hard. It looked like it hurt.

“John Keegan? Your father’s name is John Keegan?”

“Yes. Know him?”

“Oh, yeah. I know him. Our General is going to be very happy to see you.”

Something in the way he said that convinced me that I wouldn’t be so happy to be seen.

“Great,” I said, cheerily. “But look, I’m not whoever you thought I was, right? I’m obviously not a threat, and I want to come with you. So can I please put my clothes on? I mean, I’m getting grit in places you don’t want grit to get, know what I’m saying? And I don’t want to see my dad for the first time in two years just dressed in my boxers.”

He considered me carefully and I gave him my most innocent, pleading grin.

“Please?”

He nodded slowly. “Reckon it can’t hurt. Hey, Shane, go get the kid’s clothes. We’ll get him dressed then head back. We’re going to get so much kudos for this.” His friend looked at him quizzically. “This is Keegan’s son.” Shane gave a small whistle.

“Fuck me,” he said, nodding in appreciation. “Score!” Then he walked off to get my clothes, gun raised, scanning the buildings as he went.

“My dad popular then, huh?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Oh, yeah, kid. Everyone wants a piece of your dad.” He chuckled. I chuckled with him. Good joke. He was now completely convinced that he had outsmarted me in some undefined way. If it came to a battle of wits, I didn’t think this guy would be too much trouble. But the body armour, knife and guns did kind of give him the edge. I was going to need help whatever happened. Time to jump out of the fire and back into the frying pan; I just hoped Tariq and his crew were still watching, because despite what they’d put me through I felt they were more likely to be my allies than the musclebrain sitting before me.

Shane got back and threw my trousers and shirt on the ground outside the vehicle. Bumfluff indicated that I should step down, and I did so. I turned, holding out my bound hands for him to untie me.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” he said.

“Look, I just want to see my dad. You’re going to take me to him. Why would I cause trouble?”

He grunted and sliced open the plastic tie with his knife. “I’m gonna be standing right here. You so much as twitch and I’ll stick you. Understand?”

I nodded. I shook the sand off my clothes and pulled them on. No point trying anything now; they were expecting me to. Once I was dressed I meekly turned around, put my wrists together behind my back, and let Bumfluff put on another wrist tie. Then he relaxed. Silly boy.

I struggled into the humvee and managed to sit back in my seat. Shane and Bumfluff took the opportunity to have a whispered conversation outside, and I undid my wrist tie.

Yes, I know, what kind of person travels around with a tiny scalpel blade gaffer taped to the inside of the back of their trouser waist band? All I can say is, when you’ve been tied up as often as I have you learn to take precautions, and it’s the kind of little detail that a cursory pat down isn’t going to uncover. I had one inside my right front pocket as well, just in case they tied my hands in front. And one in each of my shoes. And sewn into the hem of each trouser leg, in case they went for a hog tie approach. Back before The Cull it would have been crazy, now it was just part of life. Of surviving.

My life had brought me to the point where I took routine precautions against being hog tied. Jesus.

Now what to do? I could wait for them to get back in. One of them would sit in front of me and I could probably liberate his knife and improvise from there. But I’d be trapped in an enclosed space with two strong, armed men. Not an attractive proposition. Then an obvious approach occurred to me.

I reached forward, grabbed the door handle, and slammed it shut before they could react. I pressed down the lock and voila, I was safe inside an armoured cage.

I scrambled into the front as the two soldiers rattled the door handles, shouting and threatening me. I ignored them. The keys weren’t in the ignition. I couldn’t drive, but I figured I’d have been able to at least get the damn thing moving, but no luck. I needed another plan; assuming the glass wasn’t bullet-proof it wouldn’t be long before they just shot me. I scanned the controls for inspiration as I rifled through the glove compartments hoping to find a spare firearm. Nothing. I saw a radio clipped on to the dashboard, but who would I call? Then I noticed a tiny button next to it that said ‘loudspeaker’.

I grabbed the radio, flipped the switch and shouted “Okay Tariq, I trust you. Come get me.”

The two soldiers immediately shifted their attention from me to the surrounding buildings, raising their rifles to their shoulders, eyes going wide with sudden fear. It didn’t help them. There was a single crisp rifle shot and Shane’s back slammed against the side of the car. He left a red stain on the window as he slid down to the ground. Bumfluff started running for the street corner. I thought he was going to make it, and I was almost rooting for him, but then there was another crack and his head jerked sideways and blossomed with red. He fell to the ground and didn’t move again.

Two more deaths on my conscience. And what would happen when I opened the door? What if they decided to just shoot me too? I didn’t fancy the odds, but I’d made my choice and I had to live with it. What option did I have?

So I unlocked the door, jumped down, grabbed the rifle from Shane’s cooling corpse, and stood there waiting.

Tariq burst out of the side alley on his own and came haring towards me, shouting.

“Keys, get the keys.”

I didn’t move, keeping my rifle trained on him as he ran.

His face was a mix of frustration and fury as he skidded to a halt beside me.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” He fell to his knees and rummaged through Shane’s pockets until he found the keys then he ran around to the driver’s side and leapt in. “Coming?”

I heard the sound of an engine echoing down the street; someone was coming, probably more soldiers. I jumped into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Tariq didn’t hesitate. He turned the ignition, revved the humvee, and we took off at full speed in a cloud of sand and dust.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“Lying low. We’ve got to draw the soldiers away from them. We’ll meet up with them later.”

“If we escape.”

“If we escape.” He wrenched the wheel and we careened around a corner. “What changed your mind?”

“Call it a hunch,” I said

“Good call.”

“I’m still not so sure about that. Did you really need to kill them? You couldn’t have just fired some warning shots or something?”

He cursed in Arabic; obviously my stupidity was annoying him. “You told them your name, yeah?”