Chapter Six
Dabbing at her eyes, with a super soft, extra large tissue she'd found in the lower cabinet beneath her sink, Elizabeth let out a shaky breath. She'd been stupid to put on some makeup; she wanted nothing more than to splash her face with cold water. How could there be an infected here in the manor and why did the Major introduce them to him...it...in such a way?
Scrunching the tissue and placing it softly in the small, battered copper trashcan beside the sink, she shook her head. She wondered if she would be able to sleep tonight, knowing what she knew. As the candle flickered, she took another deep breath and scooped up the foundation powder once more, dabbing it around her eyes and cheeks, covering the track marks the few tears she'd shed had made. She placed the compact neatly beside the sink and picked up the box of tissues. Blowing out the candle and glancing out the window, watching the clear sky and moon illuminate the room with a cold, icy light, she stepped into the relative cosines of her bedroom. Carefully placing the tissues on her rather empty bed side table, she slipped off her hoody and jogging bottoms. She put them neatly on the chair of the old vanity near the window.
The Sergeant and Major had mentioned that the dinner was to be a formal one and while she wasn't going to dress up, she thought she could do better than the hoody. She could try and be normal once again. She shook out a pair of black boot cut jeans before quickly folding them and replacing them. She touched a pair of corduroy pants, lightly amused but otherwise uninterested. She found a pair of black skinny jeans, checking the tag as she pulled them out. Usually they'd be too tight but she'd lost weight since infection. Everyone had. She slipped them on with relative ease. Flicking through the blouses and shirts neatly dangling on velvet hangers, she tugged a thick, white chiffon shirt towards her. It was, like the sweater and hoody, over sized but she slipped it on anyway, enjoying the material as it almost swamped her frame. There was something comforting about oversize clothes, she thought, smoothing the shirt.
She glanced down into the bowels of the cupboard, wondering where she would find some shoes. The thin slippers she'd been given were fine and perfectly serviceable but they were a little slippery on the marble floor of the lobby.
Kneeling but seeing nothing, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Elizabeth?" it was Sergeant Farrell. She smiled, comforted immediately by his presence, she called out an invitation to enter. As the door clicked and opened, she stood to face him.
"Are you OK?" he inquired, watching as she righted herself.
"Yes, thank you for asking. I was just looking for shoes..."
"Shoes?" he repeated, glancing at her slippered feet. He gestured for her to follow him and she did, blowing out the candles lining the mantle place of the fire as she did.
"Yeah not that I'm ungrateful but I have everything but shoes" she smiled a little as he shut the door.
"I'll ask for you" he assured, walking with her towards the stairs.
"Sergeant..." she began nervously, "I met Mailer..."
"Ah. I imagine that must have been quite the fright?"
She nodded, coming to pause at the top of the stairs.
"You can sleep safely, Elizabeth. Mailer isn't a threat to you. He's secure"
"...but he's infected"
"I promise you, you have nothing to fear from him"
She nodded, still unsure, still unsold but she did trust the kind Sergeant.
"Private Clifton has the kitchen ovens up and running. It's wonderful news. We won't need to rely on the generator anymore and Jones managed to cook a hot meal in the oven. Please, don't trouble yourself over Mailer. Try to enjoy dinner?"
She nodded again and they moved down the stairs in comfortable silence. Elizabeth began to feel nervous when she began to hear chanting and banging from the dining room. Were they singing about food?
The Sergeant said nothing, but he did have a look of sympathetic understanding in his eyes.
The banging - Elizabeth realized it was cutlery against a table - seemed to reach a wild crescendo and just as the Sergeant opened the door it appeared as though the final words were being sung, "-we hope it's chips, it's chips!"
Booming laughter exploded from the soldiers but their racket stopped.
A few soldiers craned to peer at the doorway, seemingly disappointed when they saw it was a guest and not their food.
The Major stood at her entrance. He was dressed in a fine military suit, looking like he should be leading a military ball rather than sitting at the head of a rowdy table in a post-apocalyptic manor but she had to admire his attempt to carry on as usual. Keep calm and carry on. She wondered if that was hit motto? Before she could worry over where to sit, Sergeant Farrell discreetly pointed a spare seat, directly in front of Selena, and she aimed for it with a grateful smile and a quiet thanks.
She felt very watched, despite the murmurs of conversation among the men, and she kept her eyes focused on her friends and the plates on the table, feeling self conscious and unsure.
This was the first time they were all together.
"Doesn't that attract them?" Selena asked, her lips pursed, causing the laughter to slowly quiet and cease. She glanced at Elizabeth, as she passed, her eyes weary.
In that moment, Elizabeth desperately wished she'd had a chance to meet the two girls before meeting for dinner. It would have been so much better to gather, to talk in private and away from the rowdy men.
She reached her seat, unable to shake herself away from the thought.
She smiled at Selena, unsure of how to act in front of the soldiers. Looking tense, Selena did not return the smile.
Selena was sat between Hannah and Jim and while neither of them looked happy - Selena looked very much on edge - they were at least clean and fresh. It was a nice change. Jim had changed into a crisp white shirt, though it was far too big for his frame. Selena had chosen much like Elizabeth had earlier in the day - a large and warm sweater. Shrugging her shoulders a little, feeling the chiffon, Elizabeth wondered if she was silly to have changed her clothes.
She saw the Hannah, too, had showered. She was wearing a black, long sleeved ribbed shirt with her old, baby blue hoody tied around her waist. Elizabeth could see the stained arms tied in a knot, just poking over the table. Had Bedford tried to take it from her? It was filthy and bloody, it should have definitely on the burn list.
Looking at the sweater, Elizabeth felt uneasy.
Mailer vomiting his infected blood in the yard, Hannah wearing her stained and bloody sweater at the table...
It was impossible to forget what was going on outside the safety of their new home.
Hannah sat stoically, silently. She didn't raise her eyes, keeping them trained on the empty plate in front of her. Elizabeth desperately wanted to talk to the two women but given the soldiers around them and lack of privacy, she didn't speak. Pulling out the chair, she sat down.
"No, generally not" the Major replied when Elizabeth had settled herself and was comfortably seated. He was looking at Selena but not expanding further.
Jim frowned. That certainly hadn't been their experience, "but they're attracted to noise. Movement. Light...it's worse at night-"
They'd barely traveled at night, keeping hidden.
"We're quite safe here, noise or no noise, day or night" the Major assured, again not expanding on why they were safe exactly. The infected didn't change personalities based on location, for crying out loud. Why would those up North act any differently from in London?
The Sergeant had told her that the location, the isolation added to their safety. Maybe that's just what it came down to?
"But-" Before Jim could protest further, protest the ridiculousness of the answer, the door opened once more and once more the room was met with boisterous cheers, whoops and yelps.
Selena winced at the ruckus.
The food had arrived.
As the men cheered, a nervously happy soldier wearing a frilly pink apron deposited a huge platter on the center of the table. He seemed to bask in the ooohhs, ahhhs and appreciative comments.
"What's this? Omelette! Why...you've prepared a feast, Jones!" the Major announced, happily scooping up a spoonful of omelette and taking a celebratory bite before spitting it out almost immediately in disgust.
The mood dropped.
"Jones..." the Major spoke politely, picking bits of egg from his tongue, "when you prepared this omelette, did you fail to notice that the eggs were off?"
Jones stuttered, "I-I-I thought...well I thought the salt would mask the taste, Sir..."
The men groaned.
"Get rid of it" the Major ordered, sending the deflated man back to the kitchen with the useless dish. As the Major sat down and began spooning mushy asparagus onto his plate, the others took it as their signal and began to do the same.
"I can't tell you how much we need someone with a little flair in the kitchen" the Major stated dryly. Spearing one of the tinned asparagus shoots as best he could with his fork, he smiled at the women, "I don't suppose any of you can cook?"
Cook? Selena scoffed. What was next, do the washing and cleaning?
"I'm a pharmacist" Selena said with a raised eyebrow, glancing at him sideways, not bothering to address him fully, insulted by the question. She'd slogged through university, slogged to prove herself at work, proved herself against subtle and blatant racism, sexism and now she had survived ravaged London, she'd defended friends, killed friends, she'd been the strength of the group and she'd be damned before letting some trumped up soldier send her to a kitchen.
The fury, indigence of her fiery thoughts must have been plastered across her face.
The Major smiled dryly.
"I'm a dab hand though-" Jim said with an uncomfortable smile, trying to diffuse the tension. Selena shot him a look of annoyance, annoyance at the situation or at him, he wasn't sure, before scooping up some runny mashed potato. Even though it came from a packet it was disgusting. How could someone mess up packaged mash? All you had to do was add water.
Elizabeth loved to cook but she wasn't going to volunteer that information, not now. It wasn't the right time.
"I wanted to be a vet" Hannah said dully from her slumped position, pushing the food around her plate. Selena had kindly served the young woman some asparagus, potato and corned beef but she'd not touched any.
The others were cramming food into their mouths.
All eyes moved to the girl, though she didn't react to being the sudden center of attention.
Elizabeth wondered if she would ever really react to anything again. In the desolate world of horror, her father had been her sole source of happiness...and she'd seen him slaughtered before her eyes.
As silence fell, the sounds of chewing and cutlery scraping against china the only thing filling the room, Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Well, you still could be" a chipper voice announced from the end of the table, "When all this is over-" the speaker shoveled some potato into his mouth, apparently uncaring of or not noting its sour taste, ""You know, we're gonna raise chickens, that could be your-"
"Raise chickens?" boomed Mitchell, "what's that got to do with being a vet? Bloody hell, man. Raise chickens? When all this is over? Listen to him, he's still waiting for bloody Marks and Sparks to open" he laughed at his own words, the others tittering joyfully alongside him.
For a moment, the atmosphere seemed to brighten, tension ease. Elizabeth felt momentarily lighter, smiling briefly. Selena didn't scoff. Jim smiled and chuckled, albeit somewhat guiltily and shortly, as if he knew he shouldn't...after all they were mourning and they were still outsiders, the newcomers to a group they didn't really belong to.
Not yet.
Laughing himself, the solider shrugged, "yeah, yeah good one, Mitchell. I just mean when things get back to normal-"
"Ain't never going back to normal mate" Mitchell replied, still chuckling but with a mouth full of chopped asparagus, "you ain't half got your head up your arse-"
The soldiers laughed again before Jones, the poor cook, sitting quietly in his seat having slunk back in, nervously added, "we are going to Marks and Spencer's, though, right? A...right? Aren't we gonna do a recon-"
This emitted more laughter from the soldiers, "What we gonna go there for?!"
"You dolt" Mitchell grinned, his words unkind but tone friendly, "you really wanna risk your neck for birthday cards and cardigans?"
"We're gonna try Tesc-" before one of the other soldiers could correct the nervous cook, the poor boy who seemed to be liked but clueless, another speaker chimed in.
It was Sergeant Farrell.
"I think Bell's got a point" he spoke thoughtfully, "I mean...about normality. Think about about it. Really think about it...we, I mean, man that is...man has only been around for the blink of an eye...so if this infection wipes us all out..well. That is a return to normality..."
Elizabeth watched him speak. He spoke with thoughtfulness, a soft kindness. The same way he'd spoken to her.
Kindness seemed to be in his nature.
Chewing thoughtfully, not hating the mixture of the corned beef and watery mash, Elizabeth nodded a little. It was very philosophical and a little dark but she supposed the Sergeant was correct.
Selena shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the jovial atmosphere seemed to turn into a cold, uncomfortable iciness. Jim chewed his asparagus slowly.
They didn't see Mitchell's look of pure disgust, the other soldier's looks of disdain and mocking faces. They felt it though.
They felt that the Sergeant was not well liked.
When they had first entered the dining room, Selena and Hannah felt out of place among the roguish, friendliness of the soldiers. Their macho jokes, their familiarity reinforced the fact that the small group of survivors really did not belong among the military men. They'd felt uneasy then, only settling a little more when Jim and the Major had arrived.
Selena pursed her lips, wondering if the Sergeant felt the same way she did.
"Is that what you meant, Bell?" the Sergeant finished.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah" the soldier shrugged easily, truthfully wishing he'd not even bothered to speak in the first place.
"Tell me Farrell, why exactly did you join the army?" the Major inquired coldly from his place at the head of the table, drawing all eyes to him.
Some of the soldiers scoffed, one jeered laughingly.
Elizabeth frowned, as did Jim.
"He's not wrong" Jim stated with quiet confidence.
Mitchell scoffed.
"Dark but apt" Elizabeth added, glancing away from the Major, directing a small smile at Sergeant Farrell. She felt nervous to be speaking but she liked Farrell.
He was nice.
The Major smiled indulgently towards her, "the army doesn't need a new age guru, some spiritual, philosophical guide"
This spurred some laughter from the soldiers and Elizabeth felt herself blushing at his rebuttal.
As the soldiers watched him once more, he continued, "I'll tell you my take on it...in the weeks, months, years leading up to the infection, I've seen people killing people. As far back as I care to remember: people killing people. Which in my mind puts us in a state of normality right now"
Hannah stared at the Major.
Elizabeth frowned, poking at her corned beef, no longer wanting to partake in this conversation, no longer really wanting to be at the table.
"I don't think there's anything normal about this" Hannah intoned, but in her dull voice there was a hint of reproach, a hint of tone among the monotone sadness.
"Hannah, you should eat..." Selena advised lowly, trying to deflect the girl, squeezing her arm.
"I don't want to eat" she replied stubbornly, glancing at the soldiers around her, stopping to frown at the stoic Major, "I want to bury my dad. The man you just left? The man who died a "normal" death-"
"Hannah-" the Major begun before a deafening boom seemed to explode around them.
It sounded like a bomb had exploded outside.
The table shuddered, the tinkle of china meeting china and the dancing jingle of the chandelier sounded with a beautiful but ominous chime before the soldiers burst into action.
"MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"
The soldiers ran from the room with practiced speed and ease, shouting instructions, weapons ready.
The Major stayed at his seat, calmly watching the survivors.
As Hannah sniffed, startled and shaking, Selena jumped up.
"There's no need to worry. We're protected" the Major assured, easily taking a sip of wine.
Selena said nothing, marching to the beautiful windows. The ground had been flooded with bright, painfully white flood lights and everywhere the sound of guns could be heard. Hannah covered her face as Jim slid into Selena's vacant seat to comfort the cringing girl.
Elizabeth flinched. Everything was so loud.
As a particularly violent explosion sent a half empty wine glass falling onto the table, Selena grabbed her machete and dashed into the foyer.
Elizabeth hadn't even realized she'd been sat with it.
"Selena!" Jim called, scraping his chair back and running after her. It was as if she'd started a chain reaction because, as Jim's hands left Hannah's arms, the young girl had silently followed him, too.
The Major sat, still and calm and Elizabeth met his eyes.
She half stood, fully intending to follow her friends but the Major raised his hand, "sit"
At his order, she froze.
"Elizabeth, you've been told time and again. You are safe here. If you don't listen, if you don't trust me, you will always be on edge" he took another sip of wine, the command clear in his voice when he spoke again, "Sit down"
The sound from outside had lessened considerably. Had the threat passed?
Slowly, she sat down on her chair once more, following his order, not entirely wanting to, but spurred by his tone.
"Let us protect you"