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The first person to notice, or at least to make it obvious that she'd noticed, was Esme. They'd been at the castle for
about six months, after escaping from the wreckage at Manchester, and well, honestly, Quinn had thought she, dear old lady
though she undoubtedly was, was going cuckoo or had developed a twitch or maybe an unsettling crush on him. It had taken Creedy
telling him to make him understand what was going on.
"She's onto us, you know."
"On to us what?" They hadn't
taken any supplies they weren't due, none of Creedy's moonshine had gone walkabout and no-one that shouldn't be drinking it
had drunk it, they'd done nothing that anyone could complain about.
"That we're shacked up."
"Oh." He hadn't
even thought about it. It hadn't been a problem before, but then again, he'd not been the leader before. And Manchester was
different, it was probably the last place in England, in the whole world for all he knew, however much he hoped otherwise,
that still had enough space and standing buildings that you could go home and have some privacy to do your own thing, whatever
that might have been.
While he'd changed some of his behaviour since coming here, it was difficult not to with showers
rationed to two minutes, he hadn't thought of what people might think about him and Creedy.
That was probably because
he'd never been in a position where it mattered before. He was in charge now. He'd been through lots of settlements and camps,
from cities to three tents up against the wind, and he knew that how the leader acted with his family always reflected on
his leadership. He'd been in enough places to have seen people salt away the best things for their family, but he'd never
do that, and Creedy would murder him if he thought he was doing that. But it wasn't only what you did, it was how people saw
what you did, leaders were held to different standards than their people, and after the debacle at Manchester, he knew he
had to be in charge to protect the people that were left. Modern buildings just couldn't withstand the dragons, but he felt
certain that, with some reinforcement, these old castle walls, thick as they were, would be able to.
Without thinking
about it for more than a few minutes he could think of half a dozen ways this could play into Bob Evans’s hands, because
he was precisely the kind of man who thought he should be in charge when he really shouldn’t, and even thinking about
the mess this would make of his plans gave him shivers.
If protecting these people, which, since it was all his fault
in the first place, was his duty, meant that he couldn't have Creedy, then so be it. He already had enough factors against
him; he was a scrawny twenty-one year-old with no experience and even less knowledge of how to lead people. Having an attachment
that people didn't approve of was another strike against him that he couldn't afford.
At the same time, Creedy had
been there when the news stopped, the moment that Quinn knew that humanity had probably lost. As long as the news stayed on
the air, there was still some kind of civilisation, some organisation to counteract the dragons, which, to Quinn’s mind,
was going to be the only way they were going to withstand them. That was why he had to be in charge, he'd seen all the mistakes
other people had made and he thought he knew how he could get round them, keep these people safe, make sure someone was able
to wait it out until the dragons went away again.
He had no idea about what to say to Creedy though, and he needed
time to think. So he did what he always swore he'd never do, and structured the watch schedule so they weren't off at the
same time. Either he was dead asleep before Creedy got back or walked into their room to be greeted by snoring. They had an
agreement, if one of them was out like a light then they weren't to be disturbed, they needed all the sleep they could get.
That
went on for about a week until he came back off duty to find a disturbingly present and awake Creedy waiting for him.
"So
feel like telling me what's going on?" Creedy had that look about him, Quinn had seen it before when there was going to be
a fight, the one where he pretended to be casual, but really wasn't.
"You're supposed to be on duty." He might as
well pretend that there was nothing going on, it might buy him some more time.
"Me and Agnes swapped. They're having
a party next week. And yes, you did give them clearance." Quinn was halfway through turning around to check his copy of the
book to make sure. "So, what's going on?"
Quinn tried to explain himself, as best he could, which, judging by Creedy's
reactions, was not well at all.
"You're mad. I've no idea how I missed that for so long, but you're fucking nuts! No
one gives a shit!" He stormed around for a bit, mostly effing and blinding, and Quinn took a couple of deep breaths. If Creedy
didn't understand then he didn't understand and no amount of shouting back would help. Eventually Creedy shouted himself out.
"I am going to bed. You can go to hell!"
They were still stuck with each other as bunkmates, there was nowhere else
cleared and safe in the castle for either of them to sleep, but at least the argument meant that Quinn didn't have to sneak
around and avoid Creedy anymore. He still did because … he knew he was right but it didn’t make him feel any better
every time he saw Creedy. Hopefully the horrible, nauseating feeling of guilt that hung around him would go eventually. No
one except Esme seemed to notice and all she did was glare at him occasionally.
'Maybe Creedy was right and really
no one did care,' thought Quinn. That would be depressing if it were true, in regards to the whole mess with Creedy, and depressing
if it wasn't true. He didn't have time for fuss.
This state of affairs lasted for about four months.
It was
a bitterly cold February; even the dragons must have been feeling it because they'd attacked more than usual. He was shivering
almost unstoppably. He heard Creedy coming down from the top bunk, footsteps still loud in the silence despite his attempts
to be quiet.
"Budge up."
"What?"
"Move over. I can't get any sleep with your teeth chattering and I think
they can probably hear you all through the castle." Creedy joined him in the bottom bunk.
“This doesn’t
change anything, right?”
“Nope. I still think you’re a git. In fact they need to make up new levels
of gitishness to describe you, but you are, my lousy luck holding as usual, also my best mate.”
“If we
were anywhere else … if there weren’t the dragons … you know that right.”
“Quinn, if
it weren’t for the dragons, we’d never have met. I mean, why would I ever have gone to London if I had Glasgow?”
Like
Glasgow was all that. “Fucking Glasgow.”
“Bloody dragons.”
And that was that. They were
never going to be what they had been or what Quinn dreamed they might have been, but they’d some how managed to stay
friends, and Quinn needed that more than anything else. They were more honest now, Creedy understood that Quinn was every
bit as determined as he said he was and damn anyone who got in his way, and Quinn now understood that Creedy was going to
get in his way if he disagreed with him, damn whatever else was going on between them.
Having Creedy about made life
easier, someone who understood where he was coming from, had had many of the same experiences and knew why Quinn was the way
he was and more importantly that he was right, even while he was being an arse about it, which Quinn had to accept he was
at least sixty percent of the time. It wasn't always easy, because while he tried to be, Quinn couldn't quite manage total
dispassion when it came to Creedy's personal life. Quinn lived a monk-like existence of books, work and solitude, he was doing
that by choice and he couldn't and didn't expect Creedy to do the same. It didn't stop him being jealous when he saw Creedy
spending all his time with Ajay, and mysteriously not returning to their bunk bed at night, or when Creedy did the same thing
with Annie, who, when she first arrived, seemed to follow Quinn around like a lost sheep until Creedy distracted her and now
Quinn was going to ignore the form he imagined that distraction had taken. All he did when that kind of thing happened was
work harder. The muscles that produced came in handy when the inevitable arguments over his rules happened.
A case
in point was the present problem they were having with Bob Evans over Esme's things. She'd had a fit or a stroke or something,
and while she wasn't dead yet, it was bound to happen in the next couple of days. Still, the rule was you waited till someone
was dead before you scavenged through their things, and Bob Evans wasn't waiting.
"What's it matter? She's going to
be dead anyway." That was Evans going off again.
"It matters because we don't do it." This was the important detail,
not her things. And Bob Evans just wasn't getting it even though this was the third time they'd had the same argument in one
day.
"You only want to keep the best things for yourself. What do you want to do, take her diamond ring for Creedy?"
Quinn told Evans where to get off.
That ring was the reason for all this stupidity. Esme still had her engagement ring
and, despite it having no real value now, Evans wanted it because it had a big, real diamond set into it. Quinn didn't care
about diamonds; he just cared about rules being obeyed. He also knew Evans too well to think he'd be happy about being told
no, or that he'd obey orders, so Quinn set himself up at Esme's door, to stop Evans when he undoubtedly tried to break in
later on.
Creedy found him there, sometime after dark. "This is not the fight you want to be having, Quinn, it really
isn't."
"What, you think I should just let him walk roughshod over everything?" He was trying to build a community
and that needed enforced rules.
"No. But I think you'd have a better chance of winning if there was even half a chance
that Esme might live. There's no point having a fight with Bob over something that doesn't matter."
Creedy's advice
would have been to wait till it was someone who might come back and have to reclaim their property.
"That's the point
though, if I don't stop him this time, next time he's going to say that I can't stop him because I didn't bother this time."
"You're
not going to change your mind." Creedy's tone wasn't expectant.
"Nah."
Creedy kissed him lightly on the head.
"Night then."
Evans came back the next morning, and they had the argument again, this time outside Esme's room. They
drew an audience, especially when they started pushing and shoving each other. Eventually Quinn couldn't see a way of stopping
Evans beyond hitting him, so he did, and Evans's nose burst forth with blood.
Evans had more friends than Quinn did,
and they all started to move towards him. The only thing that stopped them beating Quinn half to death was Creedy forcing
his way through the crowd and marshalling them.
"Nothing to see. Really, can't people disagree in private now." And
everyone shooed. Quinn had no idea how Creedy did it but people liked him. It was a skill that Quinn would have to develop,
either that or make sure that Creedy never left. Which was tempting anyway, Creedy was the only person he could totally trust
to follow orders, even if he disagreed with them, that and he was the best fireman that they had.
Quinn thinking his
point had been made, made a quick getaway to his books, which was where Creedy found him a couple of hours later.
"How's
Bob?"
"Don't worry, you didn't break it. Bloody hell though, did you really need to make things worse between the two
of you?" Creedy was bound to be caught in the middle, as per usual. He knew it was his own fault, really, if he didn't try
to keep everyone happy then they wouldn't come up to him with their problems, which he tried to help with and weren't the
main problem, and all their troubles with Quinn, which were always many and often. He wasn't Quinn's secretary and he wasn't
his henchman and couldn't they just talk to Quinn directly? Of course, other times he'd be talking to Quinn and it would hit
him exactly how terrifying Quinn looked now, because he wasn't this excessively serious twelve year old that Creedy first
met, he was an incredibly well built twenty-something with a scowl that could probably stop a horse at twenty yards. Maybe
if some of them had known him before it would be easier and they'd get that Quinn was doing his best.
He'd have Eddie
chewing his ear off about the evils of queers, and he'd point out, quietly, that he was one. Eddie's response, unfailingly,
was that that didn't matter because Creedy was one of them and Quinn wasn't. That was the thing, everyone was happy to talk
to Quinn about the boring things like storing the wheat and water courses, but he ate alone and spent most of his time hidden
away with his books.
Sometimes Creedy wanted to grab Quinn and kiss him, which, he did sometimes, but on these occasions,
he never wanted to let go, more to protect Quinn from himself than anything else. He always had his doubts that walking away
was the right thing to do; all it would have taken would have been a little more patience. Most people here were okay, too
busy with keeping food on the table to worry about what anyone else was doing, and they'd come round to Quinn sleeping with
men if he stopped making an issue of it. Except that would have involved being more stubborn than Quinn, which he doubted
he could manage.
He’d had a couple of relationships since then and he’d been proved right about no one
batting an eyelid. He couldn’t even remember why he and Ajay had broken up. He thought it was because Ajay always volunteered
for the night watch, more so that he could stargaze than anything, and Creedy was always a day-shifter, baring emergencies
and, it was too much work. People were a reasonably pessimistic bunch and Ajay had probably already realised he was on to
a loser with Creedy and no one had time for complications anymore, they’d all seen too many people die. There was a
huge generational shift between Creedy and his age group and the ones that were even five years older than him. They wanted
forever, his lot were happy with five minutes in a cupboard.
Then there were the dragon babies, a whole slew of them
fifteen years younger than him, conceived out of sheer fucking fear when the dragons first showed up. They’d barely
got five of them safely out of Manchester and that was when Quinn had changed. Well, not totally changed, more like got even
more closed off and determined. His attempts at romance were a bit hampered by there only being Creedy, Ajay and Jamie, and
he was starting to have suspicions about Paul, to choose from, as far as he knew, and there really was no way of asking someone,
not unless he wanted to be punched in the face, so all he had to go off were feelings and intuition, and he wasn’t sure
how much he trusted those. This lack of suitable, available men did lead to you being incredibly careful about break-ups because
if you offended all of them it was probably going to be you and your left hand until doomsday. What Creedy could do with,
other than finding out definitively where Paul stood, was the arrival of a contingent of about thirty people so they would
have help securing the castle and fixing everything up, and for that thirty to contain at least two or three men of around
his age, with decent personalities, not night-shifters who wanted to have sex with him. He didn’t think that that was
all that much to ask for.
Still, there was no point complaining about things that he couldn’t change, especially
as the batch of booze he’d cooked up this month needed testing. He wasn’t alone, and it wasn’t rare that
he’d find himself sharing a few glasses with Bob Evans of all people, who’d hold his glass up to Creedy mournfully,
explaining that, once again, Eddie had company and he really didn’t want to interrupt.
They’d talked to
Quinn about it, said that maybe they ought to set aside some room, or at least a room, so that people could go about their
business in private and so that their poor, unfortunate bunkmates didn’t end up in the hall twiddling their thumbs waiting
for people to finish which lead to some of the most embarrassing conversations Creedy never wanted to have had any part in.
Quinn turned round and said that they weren’t turning any part of the castle into a knocking shop. Some people hid in
the gallery between two of the watchtowers, not that Creedy knew anything about that if Quinn asked and in no way had he suggested
it as being the perfect spot, but you couldn’t do that if it was raining from the North or North-East, which it was,
which meant that Creedy and the moonshine had Bob joining them.
The terrible thing was, that for all that Bob was a
twat of the highest order, he was a funny man and told fantastic stories about life before the dragons, which being ten or
so years older than Creedy was, he’d had more experience of. Shame that he didn’t get on with Quinn; it would
have made life so much easier for all of them if they did.
Some of that booze would have come in handy right now because
Quinn was talking in his sleep, again. In fact, if he didn't shut up Creedy was going to throw something at him. Probably
a pillow.
The next morning, when Quinn was hitting him to wake him up, he asked why he'd been kept awake with an hour
of population figures.
"The Prof. He had a bee in his bonnet about populations. Said you needed fifty at breeding
age to keep any species alive. I'm trying to figure out if we've got enough people here." Even dead, the Prof was worrying
Quinn and keeping Creedy awake at nights.
"Why?"
"You've got to have noticed, we've not heard anything from
Carlisle for three months. If they've been got then," there was a terrifying pause, Carlisle was one of the corners to their
square, them, Carlisle, Norwich and Brighton, who'd go next, "well, we've got to think of the future, and the kids are our
future, because even if the dragons burn themselves out, I don't think it'll be while we're still alive."
Quinn continued,
"So we've got to make certain that there's enough of us, and we've got to teach them the same thing."
They started
the backbreaking work of harrowing the earth ready for planting.
“’You ever think about it?”
“What?”
“Having
kids.”
“Quinn, you’re not using me as a stud pony.”
“Never said I was. Just, did
you?”
Creedy paused for moment. “Not really. I mean, Christ, I was what, fifteen when the dragons came,
and it had always someone else’s problem. Now, well, I don’t see you volunteering to be my babymama.”
It
really hadn’t been something he thought about, he’d been too busy trying to figure out exactly what he felt and
trying to decide what, if anything, all the things he’d done with Jonathan Barley that Summer on the hill counted as
and for. Now kids were out of the question. Unless one of the women came and asked him, he couldn’t seem him carrying
on the family line. Maybe Quinn would. It didn’t take a lot of imagining to see Quinn drawing up charts of who’d
reproduced and who hadn’t and making demands that the people who hadn’t do so immediately. Quinn looked at him
oddly when he started to laugh because of that.
“What’s so funny?”
”Nothing. Anyway,
why do you ask?”
“Just thinking. I think we’ve got enough people as it is, so we don’t get
inbred if this lasts a hundred years or more, but, I don’t know, I suppose I liked the idea of having kids eventually.
You know, me, the wife, two point four children. I think I screwed that up early on.”
“You still could?”
“Could
I hell.”
“Sure you could, if we set you up with Annie or Jane or Agnes, it would make most of your problems
disappear. You could be the grand high leader and family.”
“It wouldn’t work. ‘Cause what I’d
gain there, I’d lose somewhere else. I mean, say me and you got back together. The first time you didn’t go out
fire fighting ‘cause I needed you to do something else, it’d be me protecting you. If I’m with a woman,
which is not going to happen ever,” and Quinn would be obliged if Creedy didn’t try to set him up with anyone,
“and we have a kid, I’m going to have to smack him harder and yell at him more than any of the others, and that’s
hardly fair to the poor unborn blighter. Anything I do is going to look bad to someone, so I’m just not going to give
them the ammunition. Eventually me being … just me is going to be one of those things and nobody’ll say a word.”
Creedy looked at him doubtfully. “How’s this? If me and you are still alive, and young enough, when the dragons
go, I’ll go out with whoever you choose. Happy now?”
“No. But I’ll survive. So what are you
planning to do with this army of kids that you’re raising?”
“It’s quite simple …”
Creedy found himself being lead through another of Quinn's grand plans, that involved setting up proper classes, with the
help of the few teachers they had amongst the survivors in the castle. There’d be apprenticeships with the engineers
and doctor that they had; every bit of knowledge would be passed on. Creedy had forgotten how excited Quinn could get when
he had the bit between his teeth. Of course, Creedy also dreaded what the idiots like Eddie, who could be an idiot like no
other when it came to Quinn, were going to say about Quinn’s intentions towards the kids, particularly the boys. But
he'd try to keep the idiots at bay while Quinn put his plan into action. Creedy had no idea how they'd gone from being, well,
whatever they had been, to him being Quinn's loyal second in command. He did know that there were times when he thought that
people could be worse than the dragons.
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