After it Happened Boxset: 1-6 Omnibus Edition, page 52
Rich stood to fetch the right equipment with Leah following suit. Neil went with them to arm himself and help load all the spare shotguns for the others. Lexi busied herself with her personal kit, and when that was done, she took away the cold coffee pot and mugs to refresh them, leaving Dan sitting opposite Marie.
Neither spoke first, worrying that the other would say the opposite.
“Be careful,” Marie said quietly, breaking the impasse.
“I will. I won’t go off fighting a war on my own, I promise,” he replied.
“Good,” she said, standing, “because I love you, and I don’t particularly like the idea of you getting shot.” She said this over her shoulder as she left the room to collect a Glock that she had spent painful hours learning to use at his insistence.
NIGHT OPERATIONS
Throughout history, military operations conducted in darkness had produced a number of catastrophic failures and even more needless loss of lives. That was why people like Rich had spent days on end living as an undetected nocturnal killer, both in training and in reality.
Dan was experienced, but not – by any stretch of the imagination – to the degree of a Royal Marine, which was why he wanted Rich with him. He could move silently in the dark, inch by inch, and once told a story of how in training he had crept up to the “enemy” sentry and tied his boots together.
Both wrapped up in camouflage gear and carrying their weapons with a camouflaged net strapped to their small packs, they set off at a jog through the woods in case any small eyes were watching the roads. They had to assume they were. It took them over an hour to reach the fields behind the walled yard with the barn and small shop units. They had no choice but to cross a section of open field, so they waited for the darkness to descend further, discussing tactics and emergency procedures.
“If anything happens, get back to here and wait,” Rich said, unnecessarily simplifying the language for an emergency rendezvous point.
“ERV here, roger,” Dan replied, gently reminding the Marine that he wasn’t a complete novice.
“I’ll go for the ditch in the low ground,” Rich said in a low voice. Totally professional – he knew that a whisper carried further than a murmur in the dark.
“I’ll take the thicket at the crest,” Dan replied similarly. “Radios on and earpieces in.”
They separated with a bump of their fists – a gesture perpetuated by Leah and curiously infectious – before moving off like predators to their respective targets.
It took them almost an hour to move the less than quarter mile distance. Each movement was measured and controlled, each footfall tentative to test the noise it would make. They settled in and Dan gave a double-click on the radio’s press button. He received the rewarding double-squelch in his ear as Rich returned the signal.
In position.
It had been the very first night of their stay at what was now their home when he had last lain prone and still throughout the night, watching and waiting for a threat which was no longer a danger. He settled in, following the almost forgotten routine of wiggling his toes and tensing his muscles all the way up his body to his eyebrows to keep the blood flowing. It kept his mind focused too, kept him alert.
They were rewarded soon afterwards when sounds came from the yard. Slowly, Dan moved the barrel of his carbine towards the houses as the oversized optic drank in all the ambient light it could find to give him an enhanced view. The night-vision goggles were useless at this range; everything after about forty feet was like looking into thick, green fog.
Movement flashed. A person walked between buildings, and the sound of another door reached his ears.
He risked a call to Rich, burying his head down to the ground in the dry leaf mould to muffle any sounds which may escape. “Movement in the barn,” he said.
A burst of static preceded Rich’s reply. “Male. Pissed against the wall and went back inside,” he said.
That had to be them. Anyone staying in a place for any length of time surely wouldn’t shit on their own doorstep, literally. No, whoever was in there wasn’t planning on staying too long. Feeling a vengeance rise in him, he forced himself to stay calm and not suggest storming the place as he wanted to.
He settled back into his tensing routine, watching and listening. Hours passed by and the glow of dawn began to haze off to his left. Neither of them would get the sun directly in their eyes when it rose. As he was still thinking over plans on how to attack the yard, more movement showed. A scruffy boy was visible in his optic; at this range, he could even see the wispy facial hair he was nurturing.
Dan’s breathing froze as the boy turned and looked at him. He knew he couldn’t see him, but his eyes were fixed on the thicket he occupied. He began to trudge uphill directly towards him. The radio squelched again in his ear.
“One towards,” came Rich’s calm and controlled voice.
Dan hit the button twice in positive response. He watched for a painstaking few minutes as the boy got nearer. He didn’t want to kill him, not because he was at all squeamish about it but because he knew that a missing boy would provoke the others into action and nullify their advantage. Dan watched him until he got so close that to keep him in his sights would mean too much movement of the barrel. He leaned back slowly, laying the gun flat and rolling onto his left side to draw the suppressed Walther from under him. Keeping his movements very slow, he tried to remain as still as possible. The boy got to within ten feet of him and entered the trees. The foliage was thick before the coming autumn, and Dan was nestled deep inside a patch of weeds in camouflage gear with the net strung over him. He held his breath as the boy looked around to make sure he couldn’t see anyone else.
The boy opened his trousers and leaned his left hand against a tree trunk. Dan could hardly believe that he had come all this way to piss against a tree, but he soon realised that this wasn’t the purpose to the boy’s privacy issues. Even the apocalypse couldn’t stop a teenaged boy from having urges, and he was forced to watch in horror as the boy masturbated furiously for almost a minute. He finished and wiped his right hand against the bark of the abused tree before doing his trousers up again and skipping off back down the hill.
Slowly, Dan holstered the sidearm and rolled back onto his front to pick up the carbine again. His earpiece played static before Rich asked the question.
“Dirty little fucker just pulled one off!” Dan said disgustedly.
It didn’t come back over the radio, nor did he think Rich would allow a laugh to escape his mouth given their current situation, but he knew he wasn’t going to live that one down.
The disgust and comedy of the near discovery was shattered by the next turn of events.
Patrick emerged, M4 brandished on his shoulder like a trophy and pointed at the now useless street lamp by the road. A boy scampered up it like a monkey to drape a piece of rope over the top before sliding back down to land heavily. The rope was arranged, and much to the unbelievable horror of Dan and Rich, it was tied into a loop. There was to be a hanging.
Joe was carried out by six of them, barely able to lift his deadweight. Dan studied him as closely as possible, ignoring the frantic bursts of static from the radio. His skin was a pale grey, his limbs limp and lifeless. A glimpse of his face confirmed Dan’s fears; the open eyes told the story.
Joe was dead.
He picked up the radio and spoke softly to Rich.
“He’s gone. This is for show.” Silence.
“You’re sure?” came the only response.
“Positive. I saw his eyes. He’s dead.”
Another pause, then two bursts of static to acknowledge. They would have to watch their friend be strung up like a piece of meat. If there had been a chance he was still alive, then they would have had no choice but to open up on all of them and risk them getting away.
A speech was given by the fat King as he waved the stolen gun he had no idea how to use. The boys lapped it up as Joe’s body was hoisted up and the rope tied to the same car used to trap him. The words of the King were too quiet to reach either of them, and soon after they all went back inside to leave Joe slowly spinning lopsided in the breeze. The anger and the frustration rose in Dan, making him want to march straight down there and kill them all.
The radio came alive.
“Count twenty,” Rich said.
Unsure that he could keep his voice calm, Dan gave a double-press to acknowledge.
“Exfil?” Rich asked, wanting to exfiltrate and leave the horrible scene behind them.
He double-clicked again as he carefully secured his equipment and backed out of the hiding place to leave the area via the dead ground out of sight of the yard.
GEOGRAPHICALLY CHALLENGED
Emma was not doing well. She was utterly exhausted and under terrible stress. She craved the safety of the prison but worried that they would blame her for Steve’s capture. She hit blockages constantly and spent too long driving in circles. Eventually she got scared when she saw movement when trying to turn the big, unfamiliar vehicle around and fired three shots wildly from the window to scare whoever was there away. The shots served only to deafen her and leave her ears ringing for the rest of the day.
She resorted to using the motorway to make distance south, ever fearful that her pursuers were gaining on her. She didn’t even know how much ground she had gained while fleeing south, but each hour, her desperation grew with her panic and the tiredness made her less and less effective.
She wasn’t to know, but there was no pursuit. Steve had been kept in an office for two days, being brought breakfast, lunch, and dinner but no word from outside his prison. Nobody had thought to remove his knife or spare magazines, which made him think that he wouldn’t be kept like a prisoner for long. His breakfast on the third day was carried in by the smiling Richards, all trace of the volcanic anger from before evaporated.
“Morning!” he said as he placed the tray down. Two meals were on it, meaning that Richards intended to stay and talk to him.
Steve stood and straightened himself. He had no intention of being anything other than cooperative; getting behind the controls of a helicopter was the only way he would make it home. He thought of it as home. It was where his new family was, and they were waiting for him.
“I hope you’ve forgiven me for the ruse,” he said to the captain. “I promised her she could go home,” he finished, laying down the gauntlet to see if Richards was still angry.
He was, but he masked it behind his fake smile. “No matter now,” he said. “What does matter, however, is you.” He jabbed the point of his knife in Steve’s direction as he said it.
“Me?” Steve replied cautiously.
“Yes,” Richards said through a mouthful of food. “Are you ready to get in the air again?”
Steve smiled and chewed his mouthful before he replied. “Can’t wait,” he said genuinely.
His Sig was returned to him as a gesture, and plans were made to leave immediately. He was introduced to six engineers who had been pressed into avionics at short notice. A contingent of four soldiers were accompanying them – mostly, he suspected, to watch him. The command of the expedition was officially his; however, the show was really being run by Mitch.
Mitch shouted his orders and the engineering team jumped to obey. The guards and Steve travelled cramped in a military Land Rover while the engineers brought another. The journey took them a full day and night nonstop with regular driver changes. Steve, exempt from the difficult driving due to his prized status, kept quiet and rested the whole journey as well as he could in a cramped car while being jostled.
The hangar was wound open by hand, quicker this time because of the extra manpower. Steve strolled in to inspect the machine, running his hands over the controls. He sat in the pilot’s seat and settled himself, feeling the resistance of the pedals. He flicked the pre-ignition switches, finding the helicopter without power. He sighed and climbed out of the figure-hugging seat.
He missed this, he realised. He missed it a lot.
He set the engineering team to the manuals to study them in detail as he and the others set about searching the base. Steve opened the lockers to find himself some new flight gear, finding a set to fit on the third attempt. The small arms locker had already been emptied – not that it mattered, as he was still carrying his Sig.
He found the obligatory setup where water was being boiled for a hot drink and helped himself to a coffee. He sat and bided his time until he was needed to oversee the maintenance of the aircraft.
PEST CONTROL
The former policeman and his former Royal Marine crept slowly out of the area until the trees masked them. As they stretched out their cramped muscles, Dan lit a cigarette, relishing the harsh smoke after denying himself the addiction all night. They picked up into a jog to get back to the house despite their exhaustion.
Leah, Lexi and Neil all waited for them. More coffee was poured for them as they stripped off their gear and relaxed. Marie breezed in and sat, waiting to hear their news, looking uncomfortable with a gun on her hip.
Dan had to get it out of the way. “Shut the door, please,” he said softly, hoping his tone would betray the news he had to give. “Joe’s gone,” he said.
Marie and Lexi both began to cry, Marie hiding her emotions far less than Lexi could. Neil’s mouth was held taut as he breathed heavily through his nose in response. The muscles in Leah’s cheeks twitched as her teeth were locked tightly together. Dan saw more anger than grief in her stony face as a single tear escaped to roll down her cheek.
“It gets worse. We saw them stringing his body up. It’s a goad for us, designed to make us vulnerable. There’s maybe twenty of them, possibly a little more, and they’re camped in the barn by the ambush site.”
Leah sat and spun her laptop around, working the mousepad to bring up the area. “Move in on foot, cutoffs at each end. Main assault goes in at dusk. We can finally use those pyrotechnics too.” An evil smile pricked the corner of her mouth.
Simple and impressive plan, Dan thought. “OK. Tonight, then. Thoughts?” he offered, asking people to pick their preferred roles.
“Thunderbird Two,” said Neil quietly, meaning that he wanted to use the vehicle-mounted heavy machine gun again.
“Good. Cutoff closest to here, please,” Dan said, receiving a nod from Neil in answer.
He turned to Lexi. “Battle rifle and the high ground as the furthest cutoff?” he said to her, meaning that she should take the position he had occupied through the night. He reminded himself to tell her to avoid the big tree there.
“That leaves us three to go in,” he said, looking at Rich and Leah.
Marie shifted in her seat, wanting to object on a purely age-related basis against Leah’s involvement in the execution of twenty people. She held her tongue.
“Opposition?” Leah asked, and Rich picked up the briefing.
“Approximately twenty. Some small arms, mostly shotguns. There’s also Joe’s M4 to consider, so they’ve got at least one full auto,” he said.
“Flashbangs are a good idea,” Dan said to Leah.
They had kept these in their armoury for a long time, waiting for an appropriate situation to use them. They were a cylindrical grenade which exploded with a concussive noise and a blinding flash before smaller charges flew out and exploded in turn. In confined spaces, they would burst eardrums and sear the retinas of unsuspecting victims, rendering them blind and deaf and therefore much easier to kill.
“We move up at sundown, get in position and hit them,” Dan said with finality. Not a hugely detailed plan, but they had far superior weaponry and the element of surprise. “Right. We need a few hours’ sleep,” he said, nodding to Rich.
~
Sleep came fairly easily to Dan for a change, betraying the depth of his exhaustion. He woke and checked his watch, showing it to be mid-afternoon. He climbed out of bed and put on the clothing he wore overnight; there was no sense in getting clean clothes covered in blood and suffering the wrath of the laundry team again.
He had a ravenous hunger which needed to be satisfied. Nervous looks and timid questions were given to him as he ate, which he diverted carefully. When he was full, he wandered into Ops with a large coffee. The whole team was there, waiting.
He sat heavily, emotionally drained from seeing his friend – who was his responsibility – dead and desecrated in front of him, and physically tired from the night spent awake. The few hours of restless sleep hadn’t helped his mood much.
“Anyone got any more thoughts?” he asked the room in general.
“A hall burning,” Leah said blandly.
“A what?” said Neil, giving her a horrified look.
“I read it in a book. It’s what the Vikings did. Wait until they are all inside the barn and set it on fire, then kill anyone who runs out,” she explained without a hint of emotion.
Simple. Effective. Ruthless.
“OK,” Dan said, not in the mood to justify engaging the human rights of the invaders. “Lexi picks off anyone uphill; mark your shots and mind you don’t kill us by accident. Us three go in on foot followed by Neil in Thunderbird Two. We light it up and Neil comes reversing in with the big gun.”
Nobody raised an objection, just as they hadn’t when they agreed to the plan to attack Bronson and his gang of slavers.
“I’ve got five radios linked,” said Rich, surprising Dan by being so alert and finding the time. “Lex, Nikki, Dan, Neil,” he said in turn as he passed out each one and kept one for himself.
Marie sat silent, almost as a moral weathervane there to monitor their humanity and ensure they didn’t stray too far from acceptability. She found that she had nothing to say; the murder of Joe and her hatred of Patrick had massaged her senses of vengeance and self-preservation.
