"Cold Cash" by Dave Cripps

The methodical beep of the radiation detector told her that all was well. She glanced at its small glowing red read-out, ‘Background’ flashed across the screen and rose slightly, nothing to be too concerned about. She stopped walking surveying the scene around her.

Across the broken landscape blew the cold wind of a nuclear winter. Radioactive fog blew in thin tatters across the cloudless sky blotting out the pale moon then scudding away to reveal the black uncaring night sky.

The vagrant fires on the outskirts of the once great city cowered in the ruins, seeming unable to raise their flames any higher into the frigid night. The ragged remains of humanity huddled around the fires, still weary of the radioactive dangers of the inner city, made no attempt to leave their warm sanctuary.

Once the city was great, teaming with life both low and well to do. War was threatened by a less happy nation, a nation which looked at the cities of others with greed and envy. At first the envy of the other nation made them bitter that other cities and nations could have more than them. Then the greed took over, the city would be theirs or nobodies. Threats flowed like water between the two sides, all the time they were regarded as nothing more than idle threats. And then, without warning, the bombs arrived to tear the heart out of the city. Retaliation seemed the only possible counter to this heinous act.

Many countries were sucked into the war. Madness flourished and hell was unleashed again and again. The city perished like many others. Lifeless now the city died, its citizens degenerated into savages.

That was many years ago, now the city centre was less ‘hot’ than it had been and now life could slowly venture back into the deserted streets. And that was what she was doing now.

Clad in the remnants of her wardrobe and anything else that would keep her warm, she had ventured into the city as far as would normally be safe. And now she hesitated. Glancing back at the detectors’ read-out she noticed that its gauge was now getting close to the danger area. She could see that she would not be safe for too long but knew where she was heading.

Again, checking the read-out, she began to walk through the twisted remains. The occasional whine of the detector alerted her to the various hotspots still lurking unseen in the ruins. These she avoided, moving slowly around them over the fallen buildings and keeping out of the path of rats.

The rats were everywhere. some had survived for years in the inner city. Though they had paid for their taste in shelter by loosing their fur, instead they were covered with sores and scabs, pus-filled and festering. A thick crust of scabs now protected the older rats from the cold and radiation alike. Most of them had died from their afflictions and the older, more experienced, ones fed off the bodies of the fallen.

After some time and a lot of effort from clambering over the ruinous ground, she stopped to gain her bearings. From out of her backpack she produced a tattered and torn map along with a sturdy looking storm lamp. She wrapped a scarf around her face then pulled her hat tighter onto her head before lighting the lamp.

Swinging the lamp in front of her she could just make out her position and judging from her map she was now closer to her goal but still some way off.

Where she was now used to be the main railway station in the city, yet now it was little more than a twisted mass of rusted metal girders. Smiling she held the detector out in front of her and began to walk towards the mound of rubble that was the ticket hall. Then, changing her mind, walked along the track bed instead reasoning that it was probably the safest route.

A sudden flash of light alerted her to the other figures ahead in the ruins. Had someone else had the same idea as her? Or were these figures, five or six by the looks of it, some members of a scavenger gang, ready to murder in order to gain what they needed? Not wishing to alert them to her presence she cowled her lamp, its beam now only illuminating the ground beneath her feet. Moving as swiftly as she could over the rubble and twisted track she made off towards the group of figures, keeping low to avoid gaining their attention.

Now she was near the focus of the bomb. The buildings still stood, though their walls were scarred beyond repair. Even more chilling than this parade of gaunt shells were the trees. Devoid of leaves and branches like accusing fingers pointing up at an uncaring cold black sky.

A light shone directly at her and she froze. It lingered for only a few seconds yet it seemed almost an eternity. When it moved on again the figures ahead of her had disappeared from view. She found to her surprise that she was holding her breath. When she started breathing again it came in a sharp cold intake of air. She knelt down to still her beating heart, using this moment to check for radiation and waited. The level was well above background yet still within the safe region. though it would not be thus for long and she knew that.

Cursing the figures in front of her she waited a while longer before seeing them emerge from a tangle of masonry and take off in another direction. Within minutes she was underway again, the detector buzzed angrily at her. She was now in the danger area. She would have to find her goal quickly and leave the area as quick as she could.

Stumbling over a sea of debris she eventually reached her goal, the main bank of the city. Smiling at her apparent success she entered the crushed foyer. Corpses, stripped of all flesh by the rats long ago, lay sprawled in the same positions as they had been in when the bomb went off. The smell of death lay everywhere, she picked her way through it avoiding rats and any hotspots as her detector continued to squeal to itself in panic. Moving towards the safe she noted with some relief that it was slightly ajar. Obviously it was being opened when the attack came since there were several skeletons slumped about the vault. There was no need for the explosives that she had brought along.

Pulling the vast door open on its still well oiled hinges promised to be some laborious job. So she pulled it open enough to slip inside. Once in she was confronted by the sight of paper money and gold, jewels and yet more corpses. A few rats scuttled into the dancing shadows made by her flickering lamp, now sitting atop a trolley which she had found just inside.

The gold, which had been the closest to the door when the radiation hit, seemed on closer inspection to be a little too hot to handle and so she ignored it. Instead she pulled a large canvas bag out of her backpack and proceeded to stuff it full of the paper money. In went tens, fifties, hundreds, bonds and cheques for thousands, millions. She was rich!

When one bag was full she produced another and filled that too. When she had filled a third bag and was sure she had enough she loaded them onto the trolley. Picking up her lamp she began to pull the money out of the vault.

“That’s ours,” came a low voice, full of venom, from behind her as she struggled with the trolley and the vault door.

Spinning around she came face to face with a small group of men wearing an assortment of rags and clothes. The one standing a few feet behind her, most probably the leader, wore a stained red bandanna across his left eye and he fingered this with a scabby hand. In his other hand a radiation monitor beeped quietly in concert with hers.

Four other men lurked in the shadows cast by her lamp and another lamp which now moved its beam to shine into her eyes. The man holding the lamp was very short perhaps younger than the rest. there was one thing that she was certain about and that was they all had guns and they were all trained on her.

“It’s ours,’” repeated the leader in a dry gritty voice, “and now you’ll give it back to us,” a toothless grim spreading across his face. He held out his left hand as if to receive the money. He quickly exchanged the detector for a pistol with a well practised movement of the other.

“I found...,” she began to protest, though realised that they would not take much notice if she did so. She was pushed to one side by one of the other figures. Making a half hearted grab at the man she was yanked away by another, their lamp following her as she was moved.

“We didn’t open that safe so that any bitch like you could steal it away from us!” spat the leader, “We worked for it. It’s ours and we intend to keep it!”

The smaller man had set down the lamp and was now rifling through her backpack. On finding some food he quickly secreted it about his person before any of the others could spot it.

She was pushed down with considerable force onto the floor where she pondered her next move. Before she could think of anything the leader strode over to her, spat at her and grabbed the detector from out of her pocket and slipped it into his own.

“What shall we do with our fine wench then?” he posed to no one in particular. “I know,” he answered his own question, “we’ll tie you up and have some fun!” He turned on his heel and strode off towards a corner where one of the others sat grinning at her.

“Fetch some rope!” he ordered, “we’re going to have some fun, use her ‘till she’s worn out then leave her for rat food!” He turned again and started to move once again towards her, then stopped. He turned to watch the other moving through the ruined bank searching for some rope.

After the other disappeared from view the leader turned to face her again, she shivered, nearly heaving, as the radiation burns on his face glistened in the lamp light. Of all the awful things that she had seen in the past years non could compare with this mans’ ruin of a face.

“Don’t worry my dear,” he sneered seeing her shiver, “Wingnut is just going for some rope to keep you company before we do.” His tone odious as he leered lustfully at her.

The thought of being gang-raped and then left for the rats to nibble on did not appeal all that much to her. Realising that this would be her only chance of escape before they tied her up she watched their movements carefully. When it came her chance would be very slim indeed.

Aware that she was being scrutinised by at least one pair of eyes she waited for the leader to back off before making any kind of move. When he did move she acted, sliding a hand down her left leg and keeping alert to the possibilities of being observed she slowly made contact with the knife secreted in her boot. Grasping the hilt she waited until the leader was again between her and the rest of the gang, luckily he moved over to the man fiddling with her backpack.

Then with a movement born of desperation she unsheathed the knife and let fly. It landed with a hollow thud in the leaders back, with a strangulated cry he span around but was too late the knife punctured his heart and he was dead before he knew it. The gun dropped from his lifeless fingers and bounced in her direction.

Wasting no time she lunged for the weapon, caught it, cocked it and and aimed at the nearest to her. He was already moving towards her, though he never made it more than a yard. The next fell and then the next. The gun jammed. Working the action she watched as Wingnut loomed above her, a knife glinted in the pale light. He lunged, the gun spoke again and he flew backwards in a bloody arc. The knife clattering away into the shadows.

The final member of the gang dropped his gun and their lamp as he fled into the night. Wearily smiling she watched as he scrambled across the debris. Searching through the bodies she recovered her property, except the food, which she left for the rats.

She pulled on her backpack and re-lit her lamp. Grabbing the trolley full of money she restarted her trek back to the hole she called home .

The journey back was uneventful, her detector settled back down to background and finally went, almost, silent. As she neared the small fires which burned within her home she was greeted by her children. Excitedly they unloaded the money and began to throw it around and play in it. They had never been this rich before!

Entering a small room with a fire in it she awoke an old man. Excitedly she showed him the bags full of money. Smiling with a toothy grim the old man began stuffing the money into his bed. The children came in and put their money in their threadbare mattresses, hoarding it, saving it.

She then scooped up a handful of cash and flung it into the fire which flared up, revealing in its harsh yellow glare, more piles of money. Curled up in these piles other figures slept as warm in the cash as in a fleece bed.

She rubbed her hands together then held them up towards the flickering flames. Turning to the old man she smiled, “Cold tonight isn’t it dad?”