Anarchy

It's raining again, it's always fucking raining. Plink plink plink
all night long if this keeps up. Must get up there and have a look at
the
holes in the roof. At least it keeps the stench from outside in check.
Something's got to be done about those open gutters, there's
little worst than watching shit float by as you walk along.
Everything's always damp, damp sheets, damp mattress, damp
clothes,
one day I may be able to go the whole day without coughing till I fall
to my knees. I doubt it though.

The dark ages II - The Sequel, not quite but if I carry on reading by
candlelight for much longer it might be. I can feel my eyes
getting
worse by the day. Must get some more candles today. I'll do it now, no
time like the present and I've got the present sticking its
face in mine looking for a fight 24/7.

Coat on. Boots on. Knife easily accessible. Ready. I'm off. Shit,
another body in the corridor, natural causes by the look of it,
poor
bastard. Search him quickly, nothing worthwhile, looks like I'm not the
first to find him. Step over him. Don't touch the walls, that
slime gets under your nails. Might get some gloves, if I come across
any.

Outside. You can only tell if it's night or day by the quality of the
dark. It's night now. Cold rain tonight. Moving off towards the
square, water leaking in through my boots, penetrating my coat,
stinging my face. It's a bad one tonight. The stench is winning
its
battle with the rain. Not many people about, good.

There's a bundle of rags stumbling towards me along the street. I'm not
falling for that one again, I still get a pain in my side on
really
cold mornings and that's every fucking morning. The drunk routine's
been done to death. Amateur. I put my hand on the hilt of my
knife. Ready, as the bundle gets closer I take a deep breath and relax.
No point being tense. Almost on top of me, my knifes out
now, under my coat, holding it loosely, ready. I look away, that's
what's expected, ignore the poor sap. He makes a lunge. So
predictable. My knife's in his throat and he's down. Kick the knife out
of his hand. He puts it to his bleeding throat, choking. Quick
search before he has any chance to recover. Hey, some nice bits and
pieces here, lady luck smiles on me tonight. I'll take a closer
look later. Pocket the stuff and off we go on a night time stroll. Step
in a few deep puddles to get the blood off my boots.

I pass the bar. Looks quiet tonight, might look in on my way back. A
little further through the wet and here's the square. Always
busy, always on the look out for a knife in the ribs. Where there's
crowds there's trouble. Still, this is all we've got. I pass the
stalls
of vendors who have no need to shout. They've got stuff that we all
want and no need to advertise. I find the guy with the best
candles. Dig around in my coat pocket and pull out some oil cloth.
Carefully unwrap it and pull out one of the shotgun cartridges in
there. Hey, I'm well off, so what. His eyes light up, he's got a buyer
in mind already, good. He nods, indicating that we can do
business. I put the oil cloth and cartridges back in my pocket. I put
the one I pulled out on the vendors stall. He asks me what I want
for it. I reel off a list, mostly things I don't want, I include good
number of candles though. He knocks things off the list. I
replace
them with things that I do want. We do business. I leave.

What does a single cartridge buy you in the square today? 10 good sized
candles, a tin of matches, a pouch of tobacco with
papers, a small chunk of soap and a small tin of toothpowder. A king's
ransom.

Now is the time to be real careful. I'm loaded down with stuff and this
will slow me down a bit so I need to keep my wits about me.
Don't recognise any dangerous faces in the square tonight but you can't
be to careful.

I reach the bar without incident and decide to go in. It's an
opportunity

to see if anybody's following me. Barkeep hands me a drink without me
asking, he still owes me for a job I did for him. Mustn't take
advantage though or I'll end up the subject of his next vendetta. The
drink goes down rough but warms my belly. Pity it won't help
get my feet warm. I stand at the bar facing the door. No one comes in,
no one loiters outside. Good.

Crazy Harry's in the corner again spouting off about the anarchy party.
Our saviours he says, our future he shouts. Christ, look what
they've done for us so far, I used to work in an office for fuck's
sake. In twenty years we've gone from civilised to pond scum. Shut
up
Harry, you're getting me depressed. He quiets for a while but it won't
be long before he's off again.

Anarchy, everybody thought it was a great idea. December 1999 Seattle
and London. That's when it started. That's when authority
blew it in a big ass way. It started slowly, it was three or four years
later when the real shit hit the fan but then everything tumbled
quickly. You can't control civil disorder with nuclear weapons, you
can't shoot to kill. In the end the governments tumbled like
dominoes. I hear Australia and New Zealand are good places to be but
how the hell can anybody get there? Nobody talks about
Africa, poor bastards.

Fuck this, I'm off home. Back out into the rain but not far to go. No
one suspicious about. The bundle of rags has disappeared, the
rains washed most of the blood away. Home. The slimed walls of the
corridor remind me of the gloves. Step over the body. Close the
door behind me, bolt it, bar it. Leave it unlocked when I'm out, saves
the door being broken down.

Light a candle. Get out of my wet clothes into damp. Always damp. Light
a fire. Lie on the bed, read a book. I have 58 books.
Around here that makes me a professor. They're all swollen because of
the damp, some have mould growing on them. I try to look
after them but it's a pointless battle.

Crazy Harry's spoutings have made me maudlin. Remembering has started
again. Shit. Alice. Oh Alice. Another drink that's what I
need. I get up and cross the room to the loose floorboard. Lift it and
pull out a bottle from my stores. Drink straight from the bottle.
Back on the bed with the bottle at my side. Roll a cigarette, trying
not to remember. Smoke. Drink. Doesn't help, I'm probably
making things worse.

God I miss her. How old would she have been now. Forty Eight. Four
years my junior. Just feeling sorry for myself. Nothing new.
She was so good for me. Tidied me up and made me be somebody I was
happy to be and she wasn't even trying, it just sort of
happened because of her. Ten years since I lost her. Ten Years.

That's when we lived out in the country. Our own little farm. Nothing
fancy. Just enough for the two of us. We where miles from
anywhere and anyone. Years went buy without us seeing another living
soul. We'd seen the fall coming and headed out there before
everybody else realised the obvious. God we were so happy.

Then Alice fell ill. I was a fair medic and so was she but this was
serious. For the first time in years I had to go to town. Find a
doctor. Somebody who could help. What I found chilled me. House after
house empty. Town after town deserted. I reached a city. It
was teeming with filth. What had they become? I looked for the better
end of the city but there wasn't one. Things just stayed the
same. No doctor, no medicine, no help. I turned round and headed back
to try and tend to Alice as best I could.

It had been three days since I left. I arrived back and Alice was
nowhere to be found. There was nothing amiss. Everything was
where it should be but her bed was made. The fire was lit. So she must
have got up and gone somewhere. Not long ago either.

I searched for weeks. Going further and further afield. I found no
trace. Nothing. In the end I gave it all up. Way too many
memories
picking at me everyday. I ended up here with everybody else. With all
the other sheep.

A knock at the door. That can only be trouble. I climb up over the
fireplace and up through a hole in the ceiling. Slide on my
stomach
over the door so I can see through a small hole down into the corridor.
It's a woman. Alice? Can't be. It's just because I was
remembering. I slide backwards and down through the hole. Pick up my
knife and ask who's at the door. Message from the Duke
apparently. Shit not the Duke, he's a pain in the ass. I let her in,
keeping my knife hidden.

She enters. She's a Duke girl all right. Big D tattoo on her neck just
below the ear. What's the message? She tells me he wants a
story. Is there nobody else in this shitty town who can read? Can't
refuse him, refuse and I'd be dead in the gutter within the hour.
I
pick up a book. Jungle Book. Kipling. That should keep him happy. The
Duke girl pays me up front. Put my wet clothes back on. My
damp ones in front of the fire and we set off for his place. Back out
into the rain. The body from the corridor is gone. The People
Eaters probably carted him off. They're well nourished and completely
mad.

She goes off in the wrong direction. I take a closer look at her. The
rains distorting the D on her neck. It's running. Shit. She
doesn't
know. My knifes out. She's dead. This means somebody's after me and is
prepared to pay for it. Back to my room. Gather up my
things. Just the things I need. Just the things I can carry. Hide the
rest. I'm gone into the night. Always have a back up. One of my
mottoes. Stood me in good stead.

Make my way by a round about route to a cellar room I've got ready just
for this sort of situation. Approach it slowly. Wait. Move
closer. Wait. Listen. Nearly there. A sound? A cough? This rain is
making it difficult to hear. There it is again. There's someone
in
there. This has been well planned. Somebody really wants me. Time to
bow out completely for a while I think.

I head off. The only place I have left to go. Back home. My real home.
Back to my constant reminders of Alice. Back to pain and
remembering. Maybe it will do me good, exorcise some of my ghosts.
Maybe not.

I travel. I sleep. I travel. I sleep. Not as fit as I was when I came
the other way. It's morning, I'll be there today, couple of hours
at
most. I travel. I arrive. I see it in the distance. The place that was
once home. Still there. Waiting. I move closer. There's someone
here. Somebody living in my home. Can't blame them I suppose. I
approach carefully, don't want to spook anybody. Front door's
open. Go in? Yeah. Call out. No answer. Look around. Not much different
from when I left. Fire burning so somebody's not far away.
A voice from behind me "Don't move", I don't, it's a kid's voice. More
dangerous than they look kid's.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Feel the point of a knife in my back.
I explain. Quickly. Not quickly enough, The knife goes in.
Punctures my lung. No matter. Doesn't know what he's doing. Another
amateur. I spin. Knife in hand. Knife still in my back. Strike.
Knife straight through the eye and into the brain. Dead. That's how a
professional does it. To late for him to learn that lesson. Poor
little boy.

Pull the knife out of my back. Shit, that hurts. Tear up some sheets
and clean the wound. There's a lot of blood. Bandage myself up.
This is going to take a lot of healing. Another voice. A woman.
Calling. My name? Yes. Getting nearer. Coming from outside. I
hide
behind the door. Knife ready. She's right outside. Coming in. She cries
out. Seen the boy. Screams my name. Comes into view.

Oh my god. "Alice?"