Read Hooded Man for Free Online

was like the bow and arrow: the more times he’d done it, the better he’d become. Now, Robert was so used to it, he could scale even the largest of oaks. Up through the branches he went; strong hands, roughened by the elements, hauled him higher and higher. The tips of his boots found notches and ridges, like a mountain climber scaling a rock face.
    When he was high enough, he looked down at the sceneand saw the men. No yellow plastic suits, no gas masks or flamethrowers. Just blokes dressed in ordinary clothes, if a little the worse for wear: trousers, shirts, some in jumpers. They were carrying bags, had backpacks slung over shoulders. They knew each other well, were chatting and... yes, even laughing once or twice. Robert’s eyes scanned the men but he could see no sign of rifles, automatic or otherwise. Which begged the question, who were they and where were they going?
    He decided to find out. Call it a policeman’s curiosity, which he didn’t even know he still had, or an attempt to find out as much as he could about a potential enemy. Whichever way you looked at it, he was on the move.
    Robert leaped from one tree to the next, trailing the men at height until they headed out across a field. If he wanted to know where they were going now, Robert had to break cover and follow on foot. But this didn’t mean exposing his position. The men would still have no idea he was behind them.
    As he crested a small hill, Robert saw where they were making for. In a big field just off the road, folk were gathering in fairly large numbers – large for post-virus times, at any rate. Dozens of them: men, women and children. Some brought sacks, some trunks, some holdalls. From his hiding position behind a hedgerow, Robert saw a couple of cars, a couple of vans, but these were few and far between. He guessed petrol was a rare commodity these days, with nobody to keep refilling pumps, without anyone to bring it over from abroad.
    Some had reverted to using horses for transportation. Robert watched as a woman dismounted from her steed, swinging a bag down as she went. Set up here and there were makeshift tables, trays with legs, or blankets laid on the ground. People were getting things out of their bags to place on them, arranging them carefully.
    My God! It’s a bloody car boot sale . Robert thought to himself. To his surprise, he found the corners of his mouth curling up. An honest to goodness car boot sale!
    Only there weren’t enough ‘car boots’ to justify the name. It was more like a market, just not as well laid out as those in Mansfield. The purpose was the same, however. Except that here the traders were swapping items rather than paying money for them. In this ‘society’ what use were coins and bits of paper with the Queen’s head on them? This part of England, at least, appeared to have regressed back to the barter system. Having seen nothing of his fellow man in an age, Robert was suddenly engrossed in the unfolding dramas, the flurry of activity as people from miles around gathered to do business. He’d completely forgotten what it was like to be in the proximity of other human beings, to have that contact with them. Was there a part of him now that missed it? No, it was better that he shut himself away, pretended the rest of the world didn’t exist. Live out the remainder of his life ignorant of how the human race was getting along. It had no need for him and vice-versa.
    But the same twist of fate that had saved him, killing the two most important people to him in the process, had other ideas.
    Robert had been so distracted by the ad hoc market, he didn’t notice the man behind him until it was too late.
    “What ye doin’ skulking about there?” said a voice with a thick, Derbyshire accent. “Aye, you there – you with the hood on. Get up and turn yessen around. And don’t get any funny ideas about that bow yer carryin’.”
    Robert rose slowly, trying to stop himself from shaking. Was it fear or