He stepped outside his home, a house that he didn’t need or want, he lived in the last house on the right but he could see the streets were empty, most of the houses were not lived in anymore, and any people that were in the street soon go into hiding as he appeared, the fear he used to have over the people used to make him smile and inspire him, now he would just treat that fear with contempt, they were all imbocile in his opinion, hardly worth a place on this planet, never mind a starring role in Underwood, he was getting fed up of this place, he was hoping there would be changes made soon, life had become to mundane.

He walked to the bottom of the street and turned right, he had to get to the old prison of war camp, not the ones in ruins, the one that had been converted into a maternity unit, the one that supplies the population of underwood, news was that a baby had been born, and low and behold, it was a girl.

For a big man, his pace was slow, whilst everyone knew everyone in underwood, nobody acknowledged him as he walked, and they would not look at him, but they would always try to keep one eye on him, some shaking in fear, the older ones wishing he would take them, to end this sorry life, all with no exceptions, wishing him dead, no one was brave enough to try, for how do you kill the undead.

He passed by the car lot and the converted sports centre, the shopping precinct was busy, the shelves being full again since the last storm, people buying stuff they hadn’t seen for a while before the shelves run empty again, whilst the woods spun around the town of underwood the shelves would become full again, as if the storm had replenished the stocks, he wondered at that time how his maker survived the spinning tree’s, but he always seemed to do so, there must be a good place of cover for him, for when the trees did spin, the sheriff always felt safe, anyway the shelves were full now, they had been running quite low on provisions, perhaps the vicar would stop confiscating all the cigarettes now, he enjoyed a cigarette himself, but not the food, he had no need for food.

He could see the ruins of the old prisoner of war camp  , the old council estate, now turned into a town was built 15 years after the war, Underwood had been developed further since it had been overtook and apparently disappearing off the map. Some off the old ruins were untouched, crumbling from the decades of weather, he wondered if the young Allan Herapath, the Real Allan Herapath used to play in them as a child, but his memory would not go back that far, it could not, the old water tower stood out from the rest, not a blot on the landscape, but a piece of this once fine town’s history, he wondered what it would have been like to be a prisoner in that camp, a bit like being in Underwood, but he suspected the prisoners weren’t treated as well as those in Underwood, except for those that were sent to the woods of course, he wondered if any Germans had died there, not that it really mattered to him, he had no nationality other than sheriff.

He could see the entrance of the rebuilt maternity hospital now, the old ruins behind him, no windows adorned the building, just roof skylights, there was no sign saying what the building was, there was no need to highlight this place, it was just a place where the daughters were born and cared for, and every second son fed to the woods, he opened the door to the small building, feeling good as Underwood had a new daughter.

It just might make sure that Underwood lasted a little bit longer.

Along the thin corridor was an office housing equipment, and five other rooms for patients, that’s where Hayleigh Price was, in the Office, she had been the only nurse on duty for the delivery, the others having some well earnt sleep, there being no telephones she couldn’t call for assistance, a siren was all they had, the horror of it all just being lessened when she saw the birth of the girl, she didn’t know how she would cope if this girl had another boy, she had had 4 already, a fifth would have been better off born dead, and as the baby was being born, that’s what Hayleigh thought she would do, if it had been a boy, she would have took its last breath, it had to be better than the fete that awaited it, but a bouncing baby girl was born, if only her mother had lived to see it, the fifth child was too much for the 21 year old, who had haemorrhaged and bled to death, with no real medical provisions there was nothing she could do, other than clean up the mess that had been made, that’s what Hayleigh done, hating every single day of her life, she was 43 looked 20 years older, grey hair and a face with permanent frown lines, because that’s exactly what they were, the sheriff just walked past her, straight to the room where the dead mother lay, 21 year old Janet Vicory, born in Underwood, Died in Underwood and soon no one would remember.

He picked her up easily in his arms and without saying a word, walked past the nurse and out of the building, that’s when Hayleigh broke down and cried, as she had done so many times before, she thought of the young girl in no.13 Hawthorne, and the new residents at no.12, who also had a young daughter, they were the next, she dried her eyes, blew her nose, wondering what Mary Vicory would do when she found out her daughter died, herself a widow, like many of the older women in Underwood whose husbands had the audacity to challenge the authority, that the sheriff, vicar and judge bestowed upon them, Hayleigh walked into the small delivery room, picked up the sleeping baby whose mother had just been taken away,

‘I will care for you sweetheart’ she told her ‘for the first 16 years of your life anyway’

She prayed by then that Underwood would be back to its former glory,

‘I name you Janet’ said Hayleigh ‘after your mum’

Baby Janet stirred but she did not waken.

The sheriff left the building and with purpose walked through the older buildings up to the woods edge where he paused, he sniffed the air, he took six paces into the woods and laid the body of Janet Vicory to rest, he then turned around and walked out of the woods, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the woods fed on the body, and he himself would feel better.

‘Is it wise for them to be dressed like that in this place’ said Peter, he sipped from his second bottle of beer, it was surprisingly refreshing as the late afternoon sun bore down on him, he was referring to Lily and Ivy, who were laid out on loungers in their bikinis.

Both Peter and Eileen looked at Rebecca, who by now was more than tipsy through the amount of wine drunk,

‘Even in Underwood sex is forbidden under 16’ she replied bitterly, her anger aimed at the state rather than the two people she sat with, Peter and Eileen just carried on drinking, sharing in her anguish, but neither had any words of comfort.

‘Then it becomes fucking compulsory’ she cried,

Eileen put her arms around her to comfort her, her own head confused and emotional as a result of seeing her new friend cry mixed in with drinking too much wine.

‘I’ve got to get her away from here, she sobbed, Peter opened another bottle of beer, his thoughts drifting to Lily, his own daughter, he knew than that one way or another, he would not let that happen to his daughter, if he could stop it happening to Ivy, then he would do so, but his family was his priority not the strangers he now sat with, his thoughts were only stopped by a screech of a siren, the two boys stopped climbing on the frame, the two girls sat up from their loungers,

‘What the hell was that’ asked Eileen, Rebecca burst out more tears,

‘Someone’s had a baby’ she wept as she fell from her chair.

Mary Vicory, hadn’t left the house for three days, she lived in Hazel, not too far from where her daughter lay, unable to see her daughter in the maternity hospital, the rules did not allow that, at 42 herself she had only ever Bourne one child, that child, her only child was now in the hospital having her fifth baby, only two of her grandsons had survived, they were housed in the nursery beside the maternity, she had never met them, she couldn’t bring herself to, not with the circumstances to which they were born, to her they weren’t her grandchildren, they were the devils children, and she wanted them to rot in hell along with the devil, if she knew who the fathers were she wouldn’t blame them, but she didn’t want to know who they were, nor did she need to, they may even be dead for all she knew and the fathers were never told if they had a son or a daughter, no she couldn’t blame the fathers, she could easily blame herself, she hoped it would be over soon, her daughter had seen her sons a few times, she had no idea what damage that would have done to her, it was limitless, an everlasting pain, an overindulgence of terror, much too much for a single mind.