She kept the stove burning – nobody could see the glow down in the cellar, and not even the smoke would be seen in the darkness of the night. Jenny ladled a few scoops of the hot stew into a mess tin and tucked in hungrily. This was the first hot meal she had eaten since two days ago, and it certainly hit the spot. Winter was drawing in and the nights were getting longer and colder. Less time to hunt and forage, more time to sit shivering, wondering whether life would get better or worse.Except tonight she wasn;t shivering. Tonight she was in a warm place with four brick walls around her, a warm meal in her belly, and a real hope that life was going to get better. Alfred sniffed at the bowl of clean water, then looked at Jenny quizzically.“Go ahead Alfie – it's good water. Only the best for us from now on.”the dog lapped at the water, aware that it was somehow different from ordinary water. Something missing, something about it that made it better. A strange new feeling began to flow. I fumbled for my gun. But before I could get the revolver out, Deadman rose, shaking his head and flinging back his hair with a snap of his neck, and hit Aitch from behind with a flying tackle. The two big bodies nearly knocked me down. I backpedaled to avoid them and ran along the edge of the yard, heading for the veranda. Behind me the fight had resumed full force. The combatants rolled up to the steps and struggled on the ground, Deadman bouncing Aitch’s head off the lowest step. I grabbed the railing and climbed it, propelled by adrenaline alone, and seized a folding chair. Deadman had just risen to his feet, wobbling a little, he spotted me and beckoned. I tossed him the chair, he caught it out of the air and brought it down with a crash over Aitch’s head as he tried to get up. When he collapsed, Deadman grabbed his hair and shoved his head between his knees just as Aitch had done to him. I expected the same maneuver, but Deadman seized the blond man’s legs and lifted them.
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