No-Man's Land Ch. 02

It had been almost a fortnight since Michael had helped Alesha and her sister, Becky. Killing the raiders, rapists and murderers who had chased them down - they had stayed in his apartment since, and he had been true to his word. He was training the sisters in weapons, survival, and other essential lessons.

But it was Becky, her younger sister who truly took to Michael's tutoring, and training. She came adept with the crossbow in the days since he had found them, wielding it almost second-nature as if it was part of her. The same for her hunting knife sheathed on her thigh, she was a quick learner and Michael saw her potential.

Both sisters had their dreadlocks tied up; for Alesha it was a bun, and for Becky a ponytail. Both dressed in forest camouflage combats, Becky wore a black t-shirt, and long sleeve green shirt over it with a pair of dark red leather camping gloves.. While her sister Alesha wore a blue top, underneath her matching long-sleeve blouse.

As Alesha watched she saw what her sister was becoming, having killed two men only days earlier, she was now honing her skills with the crossbow, and blade to a higher level than Alesha.

Now he watched as the early morning sun rose above them; with Alesha and Becky in the car-park of the housing estate. It was almost eight o'clock in the morning, and the city was silent. He watched Becky aim her crossbow at the makeshift targets he had made for target practice, and in the days since her aim, and grasp of the weapon were skilled.

Becky took a deep breath as instructed by Michael and pulled the trigger, the bolt loosed and struck the target on the center mass, painted to symbolize the torso of an attacker.

The bolt wedged in deep into the ply-board target, swaying as its tip dug deep into the target. Michael smiled in approval at Becky.

"I need some real targets, I'm getting bored of shooting at wood." Becky said reloading her crossbow, as Alesha looked over in shock, and disapproval.

"Becky!" Alesha scolded.

Becky moaned in playful annoyance. "I mean to get better with the crossbow, wooden targets don't move about; real targets do."

Alesha couldn't argue there, but regardless she saw her sister becoming a more seasoned fighter, worried her new responsibilities and role would chip away at her heart, which Alesha cherished.

Michael took a mouthful of water from a bottle, and handed it to Alesha who watched uncomfortably as her sister continued target practice, firing off four bolts in a minute in quick succession; all hitting center mass, and the head of each plywood target.

Alesha took a mouthful of the water, and handed the bottle to her younger sister. She took a swig of it, and smiled at her sister and Michael. "I'm a killing machine." She said jokingly, but Alesha had to force a smile back at her sister trying to hide how she truly felt about her training.

They were eating small handfuls of cereal from the box, it was nutritional and better than eating what few tins and cans Michael had stocked up. It gave them energy, and Michael had a dozen or so boxes of cereal in his apartment. Becky grinned at Michael.

"Your turn, Michael." She told him with a cocky, but friendly grin.

He smiled taking up his position in front of the target, and bringing his crossbow to bear he aimed down it's sight. Michael kept his finger gently on the trigger. He decided on the head of the plywood target, a kill shot and with a subtle, low ,deep breath he fired.

The bolt skewered it's target, where any human being's forehead or face would be. Michael grinned knowingly and turned to Becky.

"Kill shots, they can still get back on their feet with a gut-shot. Put them down, don't give them a chance to get back up on their feet." He told her, and his words made Alesha shudder and she watched with sadness as Becky nodded taking his instructions, and training in earnest.

Becky stepped forward, as Michael tore his bolt from the target, and Becky's own bolt handing it to her.

"Go on, take your time and remember; it's us or them."

Again his words made Alesha shudder, she knew that this was their new reality; their new world but she still detested killing. Becky aimed down the sight of her crossbow once more, aiming for the head of the target and where Michael's bolt had left a dent.

Breathing in hard, she let out a moan and pulled on the trigger. Exhaling as she pulled on the trigger, the bolt struck an inch or so to the left of where Michael's dent, but it was a head kill.

She beamed, cockily, and smiling. "Oh I'm getting there, don't worry." She said with a cocky smile when suddenly there was a loud, piercing scream originating from behind the boarded up, barricaded security gate.

They turned in unison to the scream, and Michael spoke. "Becky get your bolts, Alesha you too." He told them and ran over to the barricaded gate, and peering out through the wooden slats, he saw a young couple running for their lives along the street.

One was a young blonde woman in her thirties, and the other was a black man similar in age running from several men chasing them armed with machetes, knives and blades.

The young black man was injured, with a deep gash in his thigh; the woman was helping him trying to flee their pursuers. Michael turned to Becky, who had her crossbow loaded and ready. Alesha watched her baby-sister as a soldier, ready for battle; and it scared her.

She didn't fear her sister, she was afraid of losing the sister she had grown up with..

"Remember body shots, and the head. I'll lob a petrol bomb at the fuckers first, then we pick off whoever is left." He told her, and with a nod Becky acknowledged her orders, understanding them as she held her crossbow.

Michael turned to Alesha. "Alesha stay back, and close the gate behind us in case we fall. Barricade yourself in my apartment, and hold out as long as you can." He told her honestly, as reality dawned on the sisters.

The injured man looked over his shoulder, seeing a man ahead of the mob swinging his bloody machete that had caused his gash. "Fuckers!" He growled as his wife helped him along the street.

They felt their fate, feeling close to death for running from the mob. Marcus, Claire's injured husband had stepped in front of her when they were confronted by the men as they searched through an abandoned convenience store for food. The leader ahead of the mob was clearly the man who had injured the man, clutching his bloody machete in his hand.

"We're fucked!" Claire screamed clutching her injured husband to her, falling into the road in a heap.

Michael lit the rag of his Molotov cocktail and pushed open the barricaded door, next to the gate out into the road. Claire and Marcus looked at the man, with a crossbow slung over his shoulder he lobbed a petrol bomb at the men behind them.

The sight surprised the young married couple, realizing they weren't doomed to their deaths, and that someone was helping them.

The petrol bomb landed behind the leader of the mob engulfing him in flames, burning alive he screamed clutching his bloody machete before collapsing in a burning heap. The flames licked and engulfed two more of the armed men in flames, their burning screams echoing around the street.

The injured couple watched as a young girl with deadlocks stepped out through the barricaded door, wielding a crossbow in tow behind the man saving them.

Michael and Becky moved into the road, getting between the injured couple and the last four men of the mob who had chased them. Michael aimed down the sight of his crossbow, zeroing in on the chest of one of the men, and pulled the trigger. The bolt landed with a heavy thud on the chest, sending him flying backwards into a pile on the road.

A fat, scarred man in his fifties wielding a makeshift spear ran at speed, charging at Becky. She took a deep breath, focusing on the man's chest but at the last moment lifted the bow a few inches upwards - landing the bolt on his throat.

The shot was precise, even Alesha could see that from behind the barricades. Alesha found herself touching the hilt of her survival knife in it's sheath on her hip, feeling it and knowing she could use it to fight - or need be end her own life than let the men take her alive.

The two remaining men left charged still at Michael and Becky, who had both reloaded their crossbows and each fired. Their bolts striking one in the chest, and another in the head killing them both.

An eerie silence took hold of the street, but this was normal for their new world; no longer hearing a city running, and living around them. Michael turned with Becky to the young couple, and walked over to them to check on them both. Michael offered his arm to Marcus, and helped Claire bring him to his feet.

"I'm Michael, this is Becky. That's her sister Alesha inside, you can trust us." Michael told the couple.

They looked at one another then both glanced at the barricaded gate, and saw a young black woman in her twenties standing in the doorway. "You can trust us." Becky told them with a nod.

The couple nodded. "I'm Claire, this is my husband Marcus." She spoke, and Michael grimaced in pain from the gash in his thigh.

Michael nodded, and Alesha came outside. "Alesha will help you inside." The couple nodded, and Alesha helped them through the barricaded door.

Becky turned to Michael, and spoke. "We're going to be dealing with bastards like this a lot, aren't we?" She asked him.

Michael nodded. "Yeah, they'll always be threats. Groups that want what we have, and will take it given a chance. So we don't give them one." He told her, knowing she was learning and a truly capable survivor, and soldier.

"We put down the threat, before it even becomes one." She told him, and Michael surprised, turned and saw a true survivor, capable of anything.

He smiled, and nodded. "Aye, exactly." He said. "We don't give the cunts a chance, we protect ours and our own." He said, and with a smile and nod back they went to retrieve their bolts from the dead men.

They'd clean them, and resharpen them with whetstones Michael had in his apartment. They searched the dead, finding several lighters, two packs of matches, a bag of Cannabis and Police-issue handcuffs in one of the dead men's pockets.

The two of them threw the bodies into a pile, and Michael handed Becky the petrol bomb he had taken from inside and a lighter. She knew what to do, and with a flick of the lighter she lit the rag. With a throw she lobbed it at the pile of dead men, and it grew into a brazier of flames, burning them and any chance of disease carried by rats. This was to minimize the chances of Tuberculosis or Cholera.

As the corpses burned, they went back inside locking the barricaded door and gate behind them. Inside Michael's apartment Alesha was helping Claire move Marcus into the biggest bedroom and onto a double bed, they laid him down trying to be gentle.

Michael had taken a First Aid kit from a nearby shopping mall, as well as taking a good haul from a local chemist store including bandages, antibiotics, and many other essentials. The pain was agony for Marcus, and Michael had also taken strong Morphine tablets, and other strong painkillers.

He handed them to Claire give him it with a bottle of water, and Alesha knew some basic First Aid herself and began to clean the open wound with pure alcohol to disinfect it, and began to wrap the open wound with bandages. Michael then gave Claire two antibiotic pills, who again gave them to her husband.

"Baby swallow it, I'm here." She said comforting him.

Michael, Alesha and Becky left Claire to sit with her husband and nursed him with water, and a wet cloth to dab his head. Michael was about to leave the room when Marcus suddenly grabbed his hand, and though it was painful spoke.

"Thank you, you don't know how much we owe you."

Marcus told Michael wincing in pain, but recovering as he laid back. "Don't worry mate, we'll get you back on your feet."

Marcus nodded but spoke on. "Once I'm back on my feet I have your back, all of you. We'll pull our weight, we will. You need a soldier, I'm your man." He winced once more in pain, but Michael nodded back. "Rest up mate, when you're back on your feet you can fight."

Marcus fought to sit up, but he did and nodded. Michael left the room followed by Becky, and in the hall she asked.

"What now?"

Michael turned, and saw Becky waiting; her crossbow loaded in her hands. Michael smiled and slung his own crossbow over his shoulder.

"Just rest Becky, I think the bulk of that mob is dead. Keep an eye on Marcus's wound, make sure we're stocked up on what we need for his wound."

Becky listened, and slung her crossbow over her shoulder as well. The pair of them went into the lounge, Michael poured them both a double-measure of Whisky in two glasses and they sat next to one another.

With Alesha in the bedroom helping Marcus and his wife Claire, the pair of them were alone.

"Did you have a girlfriend, I mean before all of this?" She asked clutching her glass, shy again as an eighteen year old teenager would be.

Michael was surprised at the question, but answered her as he sipped his drink.

"No, I was single, I guess I was too serious for my ex's." He said with a wistful smile, staring at his glass of Whisky. "Makes sense now." He said drinking back his whisky, staring off at the wall.

Becky moved closer, Michael hadn't noticed as he stared off out of a window into a dead, quiet city. Then he felt it, her hand on his arm and her leaning in to kiss him on the lips, her soft body pressed against him as he felt the teenager's mouth open around his.

Their tongues danced, as Michael almost dropped his glass and he stood abruptly, shocked and surprised. Michael knew this was wrong, he wanted to stop, to stop her. But while his heart, his mind told him to stop below his waist was ruling the situation. His hands wandered, grabbing Becky's bottom, legs through her combats. Their hiking boots hitting one another, touching as they kissed. His hands moving up her arms, and felt his hand touch her thick, beautiful dreadlocks in their ponytail.

He smelled her scent, nuzzling her neck and hair - he knew this wrong. Pulling back he stood from the couch trying to control himself.

"Whoa Becky! Oh fuck, I'm sorry if I did anything to lure you on. You're eighteen, honey, and your sister - we're all living on top of each other in here." He said trying to negotiate the situation, knowing perhaps Becky was an impressionable girl and even hated himself for kissing her back, his wandering hands. He felt like an animal.

But Becky had begun to fall for Michael since he had found her and Alesha. Training with him, learning from him, she was falling for the older Irish man, and he did not want Alesha to believe he had caused this intentionally.

Her hands reached for him, and Becky tried to pull him back to the couch to kiss him.

"Becky, stop. I can't do this." He said and moved for the door of the room, and he saw Becky's face fall, she saddened feeling guilty for kissing him.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Michael. I've fallen for you, and I'm sorry, I can't help it."

Her words hung in the air, as he looked into her dark brown eyes, her long brown dreadlocks tied into the ponytail. Her saddened face made Michael hate himself for upsetting her, raising her voice to him and knowing the stress and pressure of their new reality on her shoulders.

"Becky, look at me. I'm balding, I'm not a fucking model. Well no fucking models around anymore, but regardless I am not the one for you. When we rebuild you will meet someone, who is worthy of you. I'm the one who protects you, makes sure you're safe; but that's it."

Michael didn't know what else to say to the young impressionable girl, hoping she listened to his words.

Suddenly Alesha called from the bedroom.

"Becky, I need some help in here."

The pair of them turned to one another, Becky's eyes were hungry, glistening as she stared back at Michael.

"There's only one, you and Alesha help me keep my sanity in this fucked up world, I love my sister. But I am in love with you, I need you both. I need you." She told him both confident in her feelings for Michael, and as she walked past him he smelled her scent, and his eyes and nose followed her dreadlocks again.

She left the room, but he heard her whisper back.

"You are who I choose, in this new world Michael. The one I want to be with. I choose you. And I can protect us both, Alesha; even the others. I'm yours." She confessed with a warm, even loving smile.

Her words made Michael's chest heavy, butterflies in his stomach and knowing he cared about Becky, but that this was wrong to him, and even in this new world she was still young. Watching her leave the room, he poured himself another measure of whisky and drank it back hard.

"You fucking idiot." He told himself, pouring himself another whisky and gulping it back with a grimace.

The End of Chapter Two