Paronomasia12
Master Knight
Cordon Sanitaire
Credit tilton
'...And so this Great Pestilence, this pernicious corruption in the air, brought the death of peoples and humbled the Realm of Man.'
Credit tilton
'...And so this Great Pestilence, this pernicious corruption in the air, brought the death of peoples and humbled the Realm of Man.'
East of Paris - Night, Wednesday 22 February, 2068
Edward brought his Ford Focus to a stop. The gate and eight-foot high Hesco walls crowned by barbed wire concertinas formed an ominous black shadow in front of him. The gate was flanked by two high platforms whose armed guards leered over the scene.
Another guard, this one masked and armed with a FAMAS, approached the driver's side window and peered in, shining his torch in Edward's face. All of the guards were Gendarmerie.
“Evening,” said Edward in French.
“Thumb,” came the muffled reply of the guard, who held out a brick sized machine with a slot in its side.
Edward placed his thumb into that slot and felt a sharp sting as it took some of his blood. It was a tense fifty seconds as the machine tested his blood for antigens, antigens that would indicate whether he was infected. Edward tried some small talk but the Gendarme was obviously deaf.
A green light blinked on. And the Gendarme lifted up his mask, “Hello sir, do you have papers?” which Edward handed over.
“Ah, an Englishman? Not here to cause trouble are you?” asked the guard in English.
“No sir. Just here to help,” you froggy bastard.
Handing back Edward's papers, “You may enter,” said the Gendarme, switching back to French. The gate slide open by an unseen command.
Edward put the car into gear and drove in. Behind the gate was the carpark and building of a former supermarket, now turned into a frontier outpost and overnight stop for travellers along the A4, the main autoroute out to the east of Paris.
Most of the parking spaces were under prefab shacks but there were a few left clear. Most of those had Gendarmerie vehicles on them, but there was one space that was free. Once parked, Edward sat for awhile, going over some recent notes in his journal. Putting the journal in the pockets of his fatigue trousers, he got out, got his bags and M4 from out of the boot, and then locked the car. It was unlikely anyone would be stupid enough to steal out of the vehicles but it was better to be safe than sorry. Walking towards the entrance to the former supermarket, he was intercepted by a random Spaniard.
Five minutes later, Edward finally wandered inside. The interior of the former supermarket was divided into sections, but the bar was the only one that interested him at that moment.
He stopped and took a while to inspect the bulletin board. News on local criminal activity, some job offers and news on the Mors Plague. Typical stuff really.
On entering the bar, Edward took a sweeping glance around. The bar was still heaving with people. Some random heavy metal was playing on a music player. The crowd contained some Gendarmerie, lots of civilians but-
“Eddie! The **** you been all day?”
He turned and saw a short, blustering sort of chap come strolling towards him with a drink in his hand. “Hello, Pete. I was at Disneyland. Some idiots thought it was a themepark or something. You?”
“We've had a ****ter of a day, mate,” Pete said, leading Edward through the crowd towards the bar, “George, that stupid ****, got himself shot in the leg.”
“How the hell did that happen?” asked Edward, thinking about what to drink.
“We were inspecting a couple of abandoned houses. Some old sod and his family were hold up there. Probably thought we were looters or something.”
“Where's – a shot of whiskey please, love – Where's George now?”
“Took a point two two so I took him to the infirmary. And he's fuming, Eddie, absolutely fuming,” said Pete, shaking his head but with a slight smirk, “He'll live. Unscathed through so much, then taken out by some old geezer.”
“So what about that old boy and his family?”
“Oh, I shot him. It wasn't callous, mate. He was a guy wielding a loaded gun,” reasoned Pete on seeing Edward's face, “The family I left alone but told to come here. Don't know if they followed my advice. Looked Muhammedan or something.”
The barmaid finally came back with the whiskey, and they sat quietly for a while whilst Edward enjoyed his drink and wondered whether he should go find out what happened to the family. “Eddy? We have a problem,” broke in Pete.
“And what is that?"
“Georgie boy was supposed to run some stuff over to our boys near Metz. The other lads are too busy...”
“And I suppose you want yours truly to do the job instead,” Edward asked, getting a grin and vigorous nod in return.
“Fine, whatever. I'll do it.” Edward sighed, “My tank is almost empty. Any petrol about?”
“Thanks, mate. Sure, we had some trucks come in earlier. Here's some coupons,” replied Pete, handing enough fuel coupons for half a tank over, “The stuff you will need to take will be ready for you tomorrow. No rush though.”
“Wonderful, can you piss off so I can enjoy my drink in peace?”
“Sure, sure. Thanks again. Go have a proper gander at George before you leave, it's actually hilarious. He's always been such a mopey git, this just makes it so much funnier. Night, Ed!”
“Night, Pete, you prick.”
Edward spent the next half an hour nursing another drink, eating some horrible French food and checking over his maps. It was only 180 odd miles but with all the blockages, abandoned roads, criminal gangs, refugees and local enforcement folks, it would probably take two or three days. He definitely wasn't going to do it alone, though. Maybe he could try and find some soul who needed a lift or wanted to earn something. He'd go search tomorrow, though. Something more important was needed.
Downing what was left in his glass, he paid the barmaid with jewellery and went off to the sleeping quarters.