Jessamy Beech Ch. 04: Keswick

"Jessamy fuckin' Beech, as I live and breathe."

"Spivey."

"You taking this piece of shit back to Kirkwall for the bounty I take it?"

Jessamy should've guessed that it wouldn't be straightforward just jumping on a boat and sailing all the way up to Orkney from Nairn. Hamnavoe had a big price on his head and it was only a matter of time before other interested parties tried to muscle in.

Bob Spivey and his two associates Turkle and Cheswick were such a party.

They'd walked into Nairn at dawn and gone straight to the harbour. The boat Jessamy had expected, the old John O' Groats ferry, 'Pentland Venture' was moored up ready and waiting. But unfortunately, so were Spivey and his goons, blocking their way.

"I don't want a scene Spivey," Jessamy warned, "just let us get on the boat."

"Hey Bob, why ain't she even got him in cuffs?" asked Turkle, a big lumbering giant of a man wearing a full length black leather coat.

"Yeah Beech, you goin' soft?" Spivey taunted.

"How I treat my captives is my fuckin' business. Now stand aside," Jessamy noticed that a few locals had stopped what they were doing to watch the confrontation.

Spivey took a step forward, "We'll take him from here ... unless we can come to some sort of an agreement?" he lewdly clutched his groin.

"Fuck you!" Jessamy snarled.

Spivey grinned, the rising sun catching one of his gold teeth, "That's what I ..."

Jessamy's arm was a blur as her hand crossed the distance to Spivey's throat and delivered a crushing blow. Hamnavoe winced at the sound of cartilage cracking as Spivey staggered back clutching his neck.

In the time it took Cheswick to react and fumble his handgun from its thigh holster, Jessamy had whipped her Royal Marines Commando knife from its sheath and thrown it with deadly accuracy ...

THUNK!

Cheswick hit the stone jetty dead, with the knife embedded in his right eye.

Turkle meanwhile had aimed his shotgun, just as ...

WHUMP!

Hamnavoe shoulder charged him. Turkle's shot went wide as he staggered back, followed by a great splash as he plummeted into the oily waters of Nairn's harbour.

Jessamy nodded her thanks to Hamnavoe as she went to retrieve her knife from Cheswick's twitching body. Spivey stumbled back, eyes bloodshot with the effort of trying to breathe.

"You should've backed off when I gave you the chance. Now one of your twerps is dead," Jessamy carefully cleaned blood and gray matter from her knife.

"Uh, JB? BOTH of his twerps," Hamnavoe shouted, glancing over the side of the dock, "I don't think the big fella could swim."

Jessamy smiled grimly, "What my associate, Mr Hamnavoe said."

A smattering of applause sounded from the watching villagers as they watched Spivey make a scuttling retreat, still obviously in pain and unable to let loose the torrent of abuse that he undoubtedly wanted to.

"I think you owe me a thank you JB. I just saved your beautiful neck," Hamnavoe pointed out.

"I had it all under control but if it'll make you happy, tha ..."

Jessamy felt a tug on her sleeve and whirled around to see what the new threat was ...

She relaxed when she saw two small girls, grimy and malnourished, gazing up at her with sad eyes, "Excuse me Miss, are you J-jessamy Beech?" said the taller of the two.

Jessamy crouched down, "Yes. Yes, I am."

The girl turned to her companion, "See, I told ye it was her," then back to Jessamy, "we think ye're awesome Miss Beech, a-and we want to grow up to be juss like you."

Jessamy shook her head. The girls had to be roughly the same age as her own daughters, "It's a hard life girls. Watching over your shoulder every second, sleeping with one eye open ... a-and I really think you'd be better off just settling down with a good man and raising a family."

She hoisted her rucksack from her shoulders and unzipped a side pocket, "Here, take these," she handed over two battered packets of freeze dried noodles, "you look like you could use them."

"Thank you so much!" one of the girls gushed as if Jessamy had handed them some great treasure. But, with the world in its current state, edible food was worth far more than money.

"Now, go back to your people and stay out of trouble," Jessamy told them. The girls nodded solemnly and scampered off.

Hamnavoe watched Jessamy as she approached the gangway onto the ferry, with a faint smirk on his face.

"What?"

"Nothin' JB," said Hamnavoe, "but it seems that the great Jessamy Beech has still got a bit o' humanity hidden away in there after all."

Jessamy didn't even glance at him as she strode on to the boat, "Keep it to yourself or I'll cut out your fucking tongue."

"Now THAT'S the JB we all know and love!"

. . .

Jessamy paid for their passage with gold coins, the only currency still worth anything. The 'Pentland Venture' would cross the Moray Firth and hug the coast of Sutherland and Caithness as it sailed north towards John O' Groats. From there, it was then only a short hop across to the scattered islands of Orkney.

Apart from the crew of three, Jessamy and Hamnavoe found themselves alone in the open plan passenger lounge. Stacks of timber and other building supplies plundered from some branch of B&Q or Wickes the only cargo, piled around them and tied securely down.

Using her rucksack as a pillow, Jessamy stretched out on one of the peeling wooden benches, "You're on here for the best part of two days. You may as well make yourself more comfortable."

"If ye let me spoon up behind ye lass, we could both be more comfortable," Hamnavoe suggested, "ye could slip her knickers tae one side and let me ..."

"Ain't gonna happen. Now shut up."

"Just sayin' JB."

For just a moment, Jessamy was tempted. Hamnavoe was in his forties but still a good looking guy, fit and healthy. Why not give in to her animal instincts and just take some pleasure when it was offered?

But the truth was, the two little girls on the jetty had shaken Jessamy. They reminded her a little too much of her own daughters. Daughters that, depending on whether or not the ramblings of some mad scientist twenty years before were true, might perish before she got the chance to see them again. She opened one eyelid and peered up into the morning sky outside.

Still there. But was it her imagination, or was Thanatos really getting closer?

Only time would tell ...

CHAPTER FOUR: KESWICK

Just over nineteen years earlier.

"Jessamy Beech, I could go down on you every single day and never get tired of the way you taste."

Jessamy reluctantly rolled away from Merida's probing tongue and reached for her clothes on the floor beside their bed, "Sorry M, but Ewan's been out hunting for hours. If we don't at least have a fire going by the time they get back, he'll go mental."

Merida tutted, rolled onto her back and watched Jessamy dress. The hazy morning sun rising behind Clough Head and the Helvellyn range across the valley shone on the bed through the inn's window, making her red hair seem to glow.

"Have you noticed Ewan's been looking at me a funny way lately?" Jessamy asked, pulling her panties up over her toned thighs.

"Funny? In what way?"

"Like he wants to say something to me but doesn't know how to word it," Jessamy retrieved her bra from where Merida had carelessly thrown it the previous night. She noticed the used condoms, each neatly knotted, that Ewan had worn when he'd fucked each of them in turn.

"His headaches are getting more frequent. Could be why he's acting a bit weird," Merida pointed out, then laughed, "he doesn't seem to have trouble expressing himself in bed though."

Jessamy giggled, and blushed, "The things he does with that tongue of his ..." she shuddered, "even after nearly a year, I still love having ... you know, sex, with you two. I ... like to watch when it's just the two of you and ... I like it when it's all three of us together. But most of all ... I like it when you're watching me and Ewan."

"What about when Ewan watches just us two make love?" asked Merida, frowning.

Jessamy looked her in the eye, "No. He ... he gets this strange look, like he's ..."

"AREN'T YOU TWO UP YET?" shouted a gruff voice from downstairs. Ewan was back.

Merida shrugged and climbed out of their rumpled, stained bed, more evidence of the previous night's passion.

. . .

The three of them had discovered the 'Horse and Farrier Inn' in the tiny village of Threlkeld purely by accident. Walking along the frost covered slopes of Blencathra to avoid the debris strewn floodwater in many of the Lake District's valleys, they'd spotted the tiny village of whitewashed cottages and traditional Cumbrian slate houses sitting on the very edge of the floods. Having walked practically non-stop from Carlisle, they'd decided to see if Threlkeld had any habitable buildings or supplies. The few villagers that still remained had been understandably suspicious at first, but after reassurances on both sides, Jessamy, Merida and Ewan had been invited to stay and had moved into one of the available rooms at the inn.

Ewan helped with hunting and foraging, while Jessamy and Merida helped with Threlkeld's vegetable plots and greenhouses - something that Jessamy was an old hand at. They had remained, enjoying the community's hospitality in return for hard work, for almost a month.

. . .

"The community's running out of a few things," announced Scanlan from the doorway through into the public bar. He'd been some sort of local councillor before the strikes and with his organisational skills had become the unofficial leader of the twenty or so villagers. He was in his sixties but still fit and more than willing to help out with most things.

In the inn's huge kitchen, Ewan expertly skinned one of the four scrawny rabbits he'd shot. Not enough to feed all the villagers but at least enough to ensure that they had a little meat in their diet.

"What like?" asked Merida. She tested the temperature of the pan of water heating on the Aga.

"Medical supplies mostly," replies Scanlan, running a hand through his greying hair, "... uh, ladies' things ..."

"You mean sanitary towels?"

"Um, yes," he grinned uncomfortably.

"Well we'd know all about shopping for those, wouldn't we Jess?" called Merida over her shoulder. If Merida hadn't been roaming the dark streets of Oban almost a year earlier, searching for sanitary towels and contraceptives, she would never have bumped into Jessamy.

Jessamy paused in rinsing vegetables at one of the huge Belfast sinks, "What's wrong with rabbit skin?"

Jessamy and Merida had learnt a few tricks during their months of traveling. How to recycle and make do with whatever was available, which for a lot of the time, wasn't much.

"Er, some of the ladies ... Mrs Taber and Mrs Martini in particular, have expressed a preference for ..."

"Why don't you make a trip into Penrith?" Jessamy interrupted, sensing that Scanlan was out of his comfort zone discussing feminine hygiene products.

"We've cleaned out Penrith Miss Beech," answered Scanlan, "Carlisle too, except for private houses of course. I'm uh ... asking for volunteers to make an expedition into Keswick."

"But Keswick's flooded Mr Scanlan," Merida wiped her hands on a cloth before crossing the room to help Jessamy, "anyone going there would have to go in by boat. Maggie ... uh, Mrs Taber at the coffee shop told me no-one's been there for years."

"These people have given us shelter Meri," said Ewan as he finished divesting the rabbit of its skin, "it's something we can do to make it up to them."

Scanlan seemed to relax a little, "I was hoping you'd say that Ewan. You three are the only ones still young and fit ..."

"With no family to miss us if we get eaten by crazies or killed?" interjected Merida.

"Hmm, yes. That as well," continued Scanlan, "there's a couple of chemists, a couple of doctors' surgeries and a Booths supermarket in Keswick that may or may not have been looted. We have two rigid inflatables in the village from when the Keswick mountain rescue team were here last. If two of you take one, I'll make up the numbers in the other."

Jessamy's opinion of Scanlan changed when the old man volunteered to join them, "H-how do you plan to get there Mister Scanlan?"

"Follow the disused railway line beside the river. Just under five miles straight there."

"When do we go?" Jessamy asked.

Scanlan smiled, "Straight after breakfast unless you ladies have a prior engagement."

. . .

After escaping Rab and his cannibal Reivers in Tyndrum, Jessamy and the others had hurried south towards Glasgow, avoiding Preens, Fodders and sundry disorganised gangs along the way. Despite the hardships they endured, their friendship grew. They had faced adversity and emerged stronger than ever by looking out for one another.

When they arrived, what was left of Glasgow had been run by a quasi-religious cult that saw Thanatos not as a harbinger of the end of the world but of a new beginning. New Dawn as they called themselves and their leader, a charismatic ex traffic warden called McMurphy, had welcomed Jessamy, Merida and Ewan with open arms and offered food and shelter in return for work - growing food, building defences and making ruined accommodation habitable once more.

Their journey south forgotten for the time being, the three had taken time to relax and regain their strength. For the first time since Jessamy had left Tobermory, all was well.

Then McMurphy had made the declaration that in order to repopulate the country more quickly, all females would be shared around amongst all of New Dawn's men, taking a different partner each night until impregnated. Most of McMurphy's male followers agreed it was a good plan, but needless to say, Jessamy, Merida and Ewan did not.

Under cover of darkness, they had fled Glasgow and headed south towards the English border.

. . .

Jessamy giggled as the Beech family's two springer spaniels tore off across the broad, sandy beach. She found it extraordinary how any creature could get so excited about the prospect of chasing a soggy tennis ball. The strengthening wind whipped spray from the white, foaming tops of the breakers and Jessamy tasted salt as she licked her lips. Cornwall in winter. Her idea of paradise.

"Jess! Don't go too far!" shouted a voice behind her, almost snatched away by the wind. Her mother.

Jessamy turned, to see how far back her parents and brother were ...

THUNK!

The boat's hull hitting a small submerged log jolted Jessamy awake.

"Sorry," called Scanlan from the stern. It was painfully slow going, following the course of the River Greta and the old flooded railway line leading into Keswick. Cars, corpses and trees choked the waterway - turning it into a tortuous labyrinth rather than the straightforward journey Jessamy had envisaged. The water stank and swirled greasily around the boat.

After the previous night writhing in ecstasy with her legs wrapped around Ewan or clutching at Merida's bobbing head between her thighs, she hadn't had much sleep and the drone of the boat's engine had quickly lulled her into a blissful doze. The recurring dream she'd had left her feeling strangely sad. For things she'd lost but couldn't even remember clearly.

"Almost there," Scanlan informed her, "that's Latrigg and Lonscale Fell on the right, leading up to Skiddaw, Castlerigg to your left."

Jessamy nodded. A steep slope covered with the blackened stumps of thousands of trees dominated the view to the north. Ahead, the uppermost storeys of buildings rose out of the filthy brown floodwaters.

"Skiddaw was my first mountain," continued Scanlan, "my parents took me up there one winter when I was half your age. Amazing. When all this is gone ..." he indicated all the manmade wreckage and debris around them, "the mountains will still be here. Maybe."

Sitting alone in the middle of a large open area that may have once been a park but was now a lake, Keswick Museum loomed before them. The rusted roofs of submerged cars bobbed in the current flowing sluggishly down what had once been Station Road.

"We'll take the chemist shops and the other smaller shops Jess, if that's okay with you," shouted Ewan from the other boat. Merida looked uneasily about them, fingers tensed on her crossbow.

Scanlan nodded, "We can take the supermarket. If the water's still high enough, we should be able to go straight in without getting our feet wet. Meet back here in one hour."

With an affirmative nod, Ewan steered the inflatable on into the flooded town, leaving Scanlan and Jessamy to head in the opposite direction towards the supermarket.

. . .

"It's a shame you weren't here before the strikes," shouted Scanlan over the noise of the outboard, "Keswick was a beautiful place to live."

Jessamy gazed around at the surrounding hills, "I can imagine. What ... about the other thing?" she asked Scanlan as he steered the boat across the six foot deep floodwater in Keswick's Market Square. To their left, the ruined Moot Hall with its famous one handed clock stood smoke blackened and pockmarked by what she guessed had been bullets.

"You mean ... the radiation?"

Jessamy nodded. The nuclear power station at Sellafield, thirty miles away on Cumbria's coast had suffered a series of strikes followed by a devastating tsunami. The others in Threlkeld had told them all about it and admitted that the fear of radiation poisoning was one of the reasons they had steered clear of Keswick.

"If fallout from Sellafield was a problem, we'd be long dead. I think the mountains on the far side of Derwent Water stop most of it reaching us. Like a windbreak. But to be on the safe side I think we should get what we came for and ... get ... out ... quick," Scanlan slowed as he edged the inflatable around a bend in the road towards their goal. He stared, open-mouthed at the sight before them ...

Jessamy had never seen anything like it. At least not in real life. She vaguely remembered seeing photos in books and magazines from the time before she was sent to Mull.

An enormous airliner had pancaked into the car park outside Booths supermarket. Its once bright blue and white livery now stained with mud, moss and rust. The right wing had been torn completely off and the battered fuselage lay partially submerged in the stinking water. The enormous tailfin towered above them while the stump of the remaining wing angled down towards them invitingly, almost like a slipway.

The wide, barely visible furrow of destruction in its wake was testament to the violence of the landing ...

"Jumbo jet," breathed Scanlan.

"What's it doing here?" Jessamy asked.

"Maybe ran out of fuel when a strike took out the airport it was heading to."

Jessamy had never seen a Boeing 747 before. It was even bigger than the Caledonian Macbrayne ferry she'd stowed away on coming to the mainland, "Can we look inside?"

Scanlan thought for a moment, "Miss Beech, it's ... probably just full of corpses."

Jessamy gestured towards the supermarket, only yards away, "It wouldn't take us long. There's the supermarket just there. Please?"

"No."

Over the months she'd spent with Ewan and Merida, Jessamy had studied the body language and tone of voice that her redhead friend used on Ewan to get her own way. She pouted and fluttered her eyelids at Scanlan, "Please Mr Scanlan. Just for a few minutes?"

Scanlan sighed, glanced up at the wreckage of the airliner then back to Jessamy, "Alright. But only for a few minutes. We've got shopping to do."

Scanlan nudged the boat forward onto the sloping metal surface of the jumbo jet's wing and killed the outboard motor. Reaching inside his battered North Face jacket he pulled a handgun from a makeshift shoulder holster and warily climbed out. Jessamy followed, crossbow at the ready.