Steve signalled a forward hand movement to his men hunkered down in the shadows. He led them past a gnarly piece of dead wood at the edge of the forest, all twisted and white. A cold breeze greeted the silent figures at the far end of the meadows. Billowing rain clouds scudded across the dark night sky. Over the brow of a hill, the troop of Missing had run silently away from Ragged Wood. They slipped through the pipe and into Area Seven, bypassing the light guard. They crawled through the snaking stream, slipped into gardens and then the cemetery. They ran in single file between the headstones. The double wrought iron gates at its entrance were firmly shut with rusting chains and a shiny, new padlock. The Missing silently helped each other over and formed in the lane. In twos, they ran toward the High Street with Steve Nobody in the lead.
Each had a wooden torch with cloth wrapped around an end. Steve took jars of petrol from his assault pack and they halted to dip the torches in. Dripping with petrol, they ignited the torches and walked brazenly through the Good Side. Banging on doors, they demanded food from the frightened Posheys and Gossips. The balaclava clad men shouted orders and collected as much as they could carry. Bags were hauled over shoulders as they proceeded down the High Street. Lights flicked on in the expensive houses as the threatening men in fatigues walked toward the Wrong Side.
At the gates, it took time but the chains were snapped with bolt cutters. Padlocks and chains clattered on the ground and the gates were kicked open. Brief greetings took place as friends, families and strangers met the Missing. The bags of food were handed over with reassurances things would change. All too soon, the Missing had to leave and they ran in formation, encloaked by the night.
Copyright © 2025 Callum Stanford. All rights reserved.
You’re building up the excitement, Very Nice,