Burn The Dead: Purge: Book Two

Chapter 1

1

Nerves start to slither over me as I reach the steel gates. I can’t see any signs on the building, which looks to me like a small warehouse, or a factory. Strange. Pulling out the piece of paper from my jeans pocket, I double-check the address.

This is the right place. Don’t panic.

I push the gate open; it creaks noisily as the bottom scrapes against the concrete.

Inside the car park I see a large white van and two cars. I walk over to what seems to be the entrance. As I reach for the door handle, I can’t help but wonder if all this is just a cruel prank and there is no actual job. I mean, who the hell would want me as a Cleaner, anyway? It’s not like I have any real experience in security. I should have lied on my CV. Everyone does it. I should have told them that I’d worked as a bouncer for a year or two. Made up some pub, maybe; one that’s already closed down, in case they check up on me.

I push and pull the door handle but nothing happens. Locked! This is a wind-up. But how can it be? The Job Centre gave me the address. Must be a different place then; maybe it’s on the other side of Ammanford. I see a security keypad on the wall. I push the button with the bell symbol on it, half expecting it not to work. I can just about hear a faint buzzing sound echoing inside.

I wait.

I’ve got the wrong place.

I’ve buggered up my only interview. Nice one, Cath—you’ve blown your dream job before it’s even begun. How dumb can you get? After all the letters you sent, all the complaints you filed that women could just as easily do the job—and you go and mess up the b****y address.

Genius!

Walking away from the doors, I pull out my mobile phone from my handbag. Job Centre didn’t give a contact number, but I should be able to find it online, though. I remove my woollen gloves, slip them into my coat pocket and push the Internet button. Just as it connects, I hear the door opening. There’s a tall man standing in the doorway. He’s in his late-fifties, completely bald and wearing a shirt and tie; his top button is undone.

“Catherine? Catherine Woods?” the man asks, his voice deep and husky, his eyes telling me that I am expected, but not welcome.

At least I’m in the right place.

He shakes my hand, squeezing it way too tight. Not sure if it’s just a force of habit, or some macho thing. I expect he does that to most men he meets, just to showcase strength and authority. But what the hell would he get from doing it to a woman? I think it’s already established from his size that he’s stronger than me, that he could kick my a*s in his sleep.

“Hi,” I say, prying my hand from his grip, “you must be Mr Davies.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Did you find the place all right?”

“I found it fine, thanks. Just wasn’t sure that I got the right address. Couldn’t see any signs outside.”

“I know, it’s confusing. We try to keep the place low-key. The Job Centre should’ve mentioned it.”

“It’s okay. No big deal.”

“Shall we get started then, Catherine?”

I smile politely, but I’m guessing he already hates my guts, thinks I’m not right for the job. But I’m here now, no turning back. All he can say is No, thank you. Better luck next time.

“So,” I say, trying to break the silence as we walk along the grey corridors; my voice and footsteps echoing, “do many people know what this building is used for?”

“No, not many. Well, apart from the government, the staff, families, and probably a few others. I mean, it’s not like Area 51 or anything. It’s almost impossible to keep secrets these days. But it helps to stop the locals from freaking out. Last thing we want is complaints, or idiots snooping around at night. It’s way too dangerous.”

“Why’s that? I didn’t think you kept any inventory at your base. I thought they got sent for burning.”

Mr Davies stops at a door, grasps the handle and then turns to me. “Not all the time.”

I follow him inside. He takes my coat and scarf and directs me to a chair next to a wooden desk. I sit down, my body rigid with anxiety, as he walks around to the other side of the desk and sinks into a leather chair. Leaning back, he looks me straight in the eye; his stare untrusting, like a cop trying to get information out of a suspect. “So, Catherine,” he says, putting both his hands behind his head, “we’ve got five hardworking Cleaners in our branch, so what’s the fascination about becoming our sixth member? I mean, it’s dangerous, underpaid, and quite frankly very unappealing for anyone—let alone a woman. There must be hundreds of jobs out there for a pretty young girl like you.”

Nice.

“Well, Mr Davies—”

“Call me Roger, sweetie,” he corrects me, his patronising tone causing my clammy fists to clench as they rest on my thighs.

I force a good-mannered smile. “Okay. Well…Roger, all my life I’ve wanted to be a Cleaner. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to protect people. And what better way than to work in this field. I mean, there’s nothing like it. It’s the frontline. The most important part of the fight.”

He nods along. I can tell he thinks I’m full of s**t, that I’m just talking the talk. He picks up a sheet of paper from the desk, glances at it and then squints his eyes. “Says here that you’re twenty-three years old. Is that correct?”

I nod. “Yes, that’s right Mr—I mean, Roger. Twenty-three last month.”

“Aren’t you a little bit young to be out on the frontline? Risking your life?”

“Well, if I may, Roger, a lot of soldiers risking their lives on the frontline are younger than me. Some as young as eighteen.”

“Yes, but you’re not a soldier, Catherine.” He squints again at the sheet of paper, which is clearly a copy of my CV. “Says here that you dropped out of the Territorial Army after just two years of service.” He locks his eyes on mine again. “Why was that Catherine?”

“I injured my knee playing hockey,” I say, rubbing my left knee. “Twisted it pretty badly. Had to have surgery. So I spent the next few years getting my strength back. But it’s fine now. Good as new.”

“So why didn’t you just re-join? I’m sure they would have been more than happy to take you back.”

“I wanted to, but I got a full-time job in the restaurant, which meant working most weekends, so there was just no way to commit to re-joining.”

“Okay, that’s understandable, Catherine, we all need to work. However, you may have to carry heavy equipment. Is that going to be a problem with a dodgy knee?”

“Absolutely not. As I said, it’s as good as new. But I’ll be fine with any heavy inventory. I’ve been training hard for the past few years; strength training, lots of uphill running, cycling.”

“Some of the inventory might be extremely heavy. Are my guys going to be stuck carrying your workload?”

“No, Roger. I can carry my own inventory. I promise.”

He groans, and then takes another look at my CV. “Says here that you’re born and raised in Ammanford. Will it be a problem for you travelling all around South and West Wales? Some days we’re not back until the early hours of the morning.”

“Not at all. This is something that I’ve always wanted to do. I know it’s a tough job, but that’s one of the reasons why it’s so important to me. I love a challenge. And I’m not scared of anything.”

“Well you should be. This job is not what the papers say. They make out that it’s all glamorous, that it’s going in all guns blazing. But I can assure you, Catherine, that it’s most definitely not. I’ve lost three good men over the past five years, and every one of those men had families, friends. But one tiny mistake, one unpredictable situation they couldn’t control, and that’s it. Gone,” he clicks his fingers, “just like that.”

“I promise you, applying for this job was not something I took lightly.”

“Well, you did a little more than just apply for the job, Catherine. Thanks to your many letters of complaint to the government, which were handed directly to me, we’ve had to change our policy on employing women. Now I know it may seem sexist to you, and probably to all women out there. But Catherine, let me tell you that nothing is ever black and white. If our department feels that it’s necessary that only men are employed, then that is for the safety of the public and my team. I don’t give a s**t if that comes across negative, or sexist, or whatever. My only concern is the lives around me. Do you understand?”

“Yes I do, Roger. And I completely trust that every decision you make is for the good of the team. But I’m a very proactive woman. I saw an opportunity to make a change, to follow a dream, to make a difference, and I took it.”

“Either way you look at it, thanks to equality, I have no choice now but to open the doors to female applicants. And seeing as you were the only woman who’s applied to this branch,” he puts the CV down and gets up from his chair, reaching across the desk, “welcome aboard.”

I smile and shake his hand. “Thank you, Roger. You won’t regret it. I promise.”

He sits back down, groans again, and then runs his hands over his smooth head. “I hope not, Catherine. For your sake, as well as mine.”