Aftermath

rifles,” Harte explained. “Nothing too serious.”
    “Nothing too serious? Jesus.”
    “All right,” Michael said, “there’s nothing we can do about it, just be on the lookout. So assuming we get everyone together, how do we get out of this place? I didn’t want to get too close to the gate. I thought they’d have guards there.”
    “There probably is someone watching,” Harte agreed. “Up in the gatehouse, I expect. We should leave it till the last minute. There’s no lock or anything like that, just a wooden crossbeam. Get rid of that, then you just pull the two sides of the gate open.”
    “Cool,” Harry said. “Sounds straightforward. Are we ready then?”
    Harte immediately began to backpedal. “What, now?”
    “Yes, now,” Michael sighed. “What did you think we were going to do? Wait for the sun to come up so we can see what we’re doing? Bloody hell, Harte.”
    “Okay, okay…”
    “You and I will go and see if we can get these people out. Harry, you get in the front of the truck and wait for us.”
    Harry nodded.
    Michael pushed Harte back out of the truck, then followed him along the castle wall until they were level with the back of the caravan where he’d seen Lorna.
    “This the one?”
    “Yep, in here,” Harte said. He gestured for Michael to stay back in the shadows, then crept across and lightly tapped on the window next to where Lorna was lying. At first she didn’t respond. He wrapped his knuckles on the glass a little harder, cringing at the noise, and after a couple of seconds she sat up and looked around. She moved with more urgency when she saw his face at the window. He gestured for her to come outside.
    “Wait there,” she mouthed. She disappeared, and Harte could hear her talking to someone inside. After a delay, the caravan door opened. He could hear her voice more clearly now, telling someone she needed to go for a piss. The other person—it sounded like Mark Ainsworth, he thought—gave her permission but told her to be quick. If he was supposed to be acting as a guard, then he was a pretty ineffectual one. Lorna shut the door behind her then ran around to the back of the caravan and dragged Harte over into the shadows behind the remains of another crumbled interior castle wall. Michael followed.
    “Bloody hell,” she said, “did you parachute back in here, Harte? I thought you’d run out on us again.”
    “Just taking a leaf out of Driver’s book. Best to slip away and wait until it’s safe to come back.”
    “It’s hardly safe now.”
    “I know that, but this was the right time to do this.”
    “That’s not what you said earlier,” Michael interrupted. “He’s been whinging like an old woman. I’m Michael, by the way.”
    “Lorna,” she said. “Hey, are you the one with the baby?”
    “Hopefully.”
    “Save the small talk,” Harte said, his stomach still churning with nerves. “We need to get everybody out of here.”
    “And how exactly are we going to do that?”
    “Our man Harry’s waiting in a truck over the way,” Michael explained. “We’ll get everyone who wants to leave loaded into the back of it, then get the gates open and get the hell out of here, hopefully before anyone else has realized what’s going on.”
    “Simple as that?”
    “Hopefully.”
    “Are you all in this caravan?” Harte asked.
    “Mostly,” Lorna replied, “there are a few more next door. But there’s a problem.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Guard dogs. At least one in each caravan.”
    Harte looked at Michael anxiously. “Do we take them out?”
    Michael looked equally unsure. Dealing with dead bodies was one thing, but fighting a fellow survivor was a different matter altogether.
    “Stay back here and give me a couple of minutes,” Lorna said. “I’ve got an idea.”

 
     
    39
     
    “You took your time,”Ainsworth said as Lorna returned to the caravan. He sounded half asleep. Maybe if she’d waited a little longer he’d have drifted off completely and they might have all been able to walk out unchallenged, she thought, regretting her clumsy entrance. Her heart was pounding and the palms of her hands were clammy. She didn’t know if she could go through with this.
    “Sorry,” she said, slipping back into character. “I didn’t mean to take so long. I was just thinking…”
    “What about?”
    “About you, actually. I was thinking about how rude I’ve been to you recently. How rude I was in the kitchen earlier. I’m