Martial Law
Early Warning #1
Angus McLean
Copyright 2020 Angus McLean
Introduction
Thank you so much for buying my book. I am excited to share my stories with you, and hope you enjoy them.
If you’d like to know about new releases, sign up to McLean’s Hitlist at http://www.writerangusmclean.com or email me at [email protected].
Early Warning Series:
Getting Home
Stand Fast
The Division series:
Smoke and Mirrors
Call to Arms
The Shadow Dancers
The Berlin Conspiracy
No Second Chance
Chase Investigations series:
Old Friends
Honey Trap
Sleeping Dogs
Tangled Webs
Dirty Deeds
Red Mist
Fallen Angel
Chase Investigations Boxset 1
Holy Orders
Deal Breaker
The Service Series:
The Service: Warlock
Nicki Cooper Mystery Series:
The Country Club Caper
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Author Page
Bibliography
One
Some would say I was paranoid, but they’d be wrong.
There’s a difference between being paranoid and being smart.
To put it in real terms, if one President with a big red button and an ego problem butts heads with another with the same issues, it’s probably a good time to start preparing for the worst. That’s what I did, and every step of the way I prayed it would all be for nothing.
I wasn’t the only one, but we were still the minority. Nobody wants their worst fears to be proved right, but I also didn’t want to be one of the mindless sheeple that relied on someone else to pull their arse from the fire.
This was a country built by pioneers, tough resilient folk who travelled round the world to land on a handful of islands down near the bottom of the South Pacific. They battled adversity every step of the way, creating a national mindset of independence and humility. Shout your name from the rooftops? Expect to get cut down. Nobody round here likes a blowhard.
My name’s Mark Dobson. I’m just the guy next door.
I don’t care too much what people think of me, but of course there was another very good reason to keep my preparations quiet. If my predictions came true a lot of people would be caught short. Food and fuel would be the big issues. Lack of medicines. Unheated homes. Mental health issues would be exacerbated by the stress. Those that were desperate would steal to feed and clothe their families. The lowlifes would do that and more, whether they needed supplies or not. Violence would break out.
Those that were unprepared would fall victim to the predators. That wouldn’t happen to my family, not on my watch.
No fucking way.
Two
The chiming of my phone echoed in the steel locker as I padded across the lino floor, still wet from the shower. My leg muscles were still pinging from a hard workout – leg day was never my favourite – and I didn’t make it in time.
I grabbed the phone out as it started ringing for a second time, not recognising the number on the screen.
‘Dobson.’
‘You free to speak?’
I didn’t know the number, but it was my brother’s voice. Maybe he was calling to see if I’d survived another day with our mother. Maybe he was calling to try and sell me his latest get-rich-quick idea. A month ago he’d wanted us to buy into a condo in Fiji together and make a killing on rent. Before that it had been importing high-spec cars. There was always an angle with Matt.
‘I’m at the gym.’
‘Is anyone listening?’ His tone was urgent. ‘I don’t have much time.’
‘Why? Are you in trouble?’ If he’d been caught playing away again, I was having none of it. I’d been burned before trying to bail him out of the shit.
‘No, listen, dickhead. This is fucking serious.’
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.
‘And don’t roll your eyes. Listen up.’
‘Hurry up. I’m getting cold.’
‘You’ve got two hours,’ he said, dropping his voice. ‘The PM’s declaring a national state of emergency at twelve o’clock.’
My heart hit the floor. I glanced around me, but there didn’t appear to be anyone within listening range. I pressed the phone hard against my ear.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Hundred percent. She’s shitting herself and it’s only a matter of time before they go full retard and declare martial law.’
‘Jesus…’ My voice trailed off as my mind leaped into overdrive.
‘Get yourselves sorted. This is on huge lockdown. I’ve snuck outside for a smoke – I just hope the spooks aren’t monitoring all the comms in the area, or I’m fucked. This is probably treason or something.’
Always the drama queen, but he probably wasn’t far wrong.
‘Watch your arse then, and get your family sorted. I’ll look after Mum.’
‘Shit, gotta go. The boss is calling, probably wondering where I am.’
‘Thanks for the heads-up mate, I’ll be in touch.’ My heart was racing as the adrenaline surged through my system. ‘Stay safe, bro.’
‘You too. Gotta fly.’
The phone went dead and I stared at it for a moment. It was just on ten o’clock. Two hours, he’d said. I needed to move.
In two minutes I was dry and dressed, ramming my sweaty workout gear and towel into my bag. I worked the phone as I headed for the door, running through a list in my head.
A public announcement like that would cause panic. Panic led to chaos. Chaos led to trouble. I was ahead of the game right now but it wouldn’t last long, so I had to be careful not blow my lead.
Gemma, Mum, Gemma’s parents, her sister – they were our immediate family. Archie was at school; no issue there. My mother was at our place; no issue there either. Gemma was at work and her parents were almost two hours’ away; priority. Her sister wasn’t far away; secondary priority.
I hit the reception area, head down as I thumbed in a text, and I walked straight into one of the personal trainers as I went past the desk.
‘Careful there, pal,’ he said, putting his hand on my shoulder to stop me. He was a lean muscle-head with glamour tattoos and way too much hair product. The affect of his thick beard was diminished by the tight top he wore, deliberately showing off
his nipple ring.
‘Sorry mate,’ I muttered, stepping around him and concentrating on my phone. I wasn’t a device guy, but right now it was crucial I got this message out.
His hand stayed on my chest and he moved with me.
‘Yeah, that’s right…’ he was saying.
I didn’t have time for his chest-beating. I looked away from the phone long enough to take his hand, move it down and away and give it enough of a tweak for him to step back with a startled “Hey!”
He was still talking as I went through the doors, but it was lost in the background.
I had to move.
Three
The Pak’n’Save car park was half full when I pulled up, sliding the Nissan Navara into the closest spot I could find to the doors.
I took a few seconds to try Gemma again. Still no answer. I thumbed in a quick text, hoping against hope that she would pick up and I could get her on the move to safety.
Get home now. Trust me. Do not wait.
I grabbed a trolley and headed inside, knowing with every step that the clock was ticking and the people around me had no idea what was screaming towards them. I had absolutely no doubt that most of them would be in shock when they found out. Then panic would set in and panic’s best friend chaos would follow close behind.
How could I do it? How could I not put the balloon up and let them all know what was coming? Simple. It was survival, pure fucking survival in a raw form. For all I knew some of them did know already; I couldn’t be the only person who got a heads-up.
That’s what I told myself anyway, as I cut past the fresh produce and hit the butchery. I ignored the fresh meat in the cabinets and headed to the vacuum-packed stuff. It would last longer if I treated it right. I grabbed salami and ham and chucked it in the trolley. I moved down and found vacuum-packed beef and lamb, sticking with the red meat for its longevity and durability. More packs went into the trolley.
I headed round to the aisles, ignoring the shoppers around me. Mind on the job, no time to fuck around.
I grabbed dog biscuits and treatments, and the same for the cat. Dry goods hit the trolley in bulk –pasta, rice, rolled oats, Weetbix, some Cocoa Pops for the young fella, and dried fruit. The trolley was filling up fast. I added pasta sauces, jars and cans of the stuff.
Tinned fruit was next, all different sorts to give some variety, and some soups. The trolley was full by now and I checked my watch.
I had just under an hour and a half.
I grabbed more stuff, following a basic list in my head as I piled it high. If only it was this fast and efficient on a normal shopping day.
I hit the checkout and, being a Wednesday, was lucky enough to get in quickly. I loaded up the conveyer belt, giving the checkout operator a perfunctory nod and greeting, and waited impatiently while she scanned everything through. I bashed the plastic and also took out three hundred dollars cash, which was all she would give me.
I loaded everything into the boxes and bags in the back of the truck, locked up and tried Gemma again.
Still no answer. A big part of me wanted to just get in the tuck and barrel into town to get her. Tempting as it was, I knew I would never get back in time before the news broke and panic set in. Her work was up in the city in Freemans Bay, about fifty k’s from where I stood in Pukekohe, and at this time of day I should be able to get there in three quarters of an hour or so.
The issue would be getting back. We would get stuck in there and leave my mother and our son back home without protection and only limited resources.
With my head fighting my heart, I headed back in for another round.
This time I filled the trolley with more tins of vegetables, fruit, beans, tuna and chicken, packets of crackers and biscuits, flour and sugar, tea and coffee and Milo, and powdered and UHT milk. I went to a different checkout and raced through, taking out another couple of hundred in cash. I knew I would be overdrawn now but that was okay – it would soon be the least of the bank’s concern.
This load went into the back of the truck as well and I returned for a third round. As I went in the security guard at the exit gave me a curious look, obviously noticing my strange behaviour.
‘School camp,’ I said as she started to approach me. ‘I got lumbered with the shopping.’
She nodded and smiled and backed away.
I went in, wondering where the hell that excuse had come from, and loaded up for a third time. Soap, toothpaste and brushes, shampoo, plasters and antiseptic, sunscreen, dressings, deodorant and vitamins all went in the trolley. Toilet paper, wet wipes, ladies’ sanitary stuff – I got through that aisle as fast as I could, impending disaster or not – and I was nearly done. Over an hour had gone and sweat was running down my back.
I was gagging for a drink and something to eat. I jammed the phone against my shoulder and rang Gemma while I grabbed stuff from the shelves. It rang through to voicemail.
‘It’s me. I need you to get in your car and get home fast. Don’t question me and don’t tell anyone, just go. You need to go now. This is life and death, okay? I love you, honey. I need to know you’re safe and on the way. Call me.’
I shoved the phone back in my pocket, wondering why the hell she wasn’t answering. Likely as not she’d left her phone in the car or in the toilet or beside the photocopier, as she often did. I had a landline number for her and had already tried that, but I knew that she hot-desked at work and could be anywhere on her floor. Nobody had answered when I called earlier.
Don’t tell anyone, I’d said. That was crucial but cruel. There were plenty of people we could tell, give them the heads-up that the shit was about to hit the fan.
But everyone we told would tell another five, and they’d tell another five, and so on. The slight advantage I’d been given would be gone in seconds. All it took was one group text.
I couldn’t dwell on that any longer. I loaded in muesli bars, chocolate, rubbish sacks, foil and cling wrap, bleach and disinfectants. Matches, candles, firelighters, packets of different sized batteries.
I got a third checkout operator and put that load on the credit card, taking another four hundred in cash. I manhandled the trolley outside, knowing I was getting desperately close to the deadline.
As I was loading it all into the truck I saw a car pull up nearby and a lady jump out, hurrying for the doors. I couldn’t recall her name but I recognised her as the wife of a cop from Manukau. She was in a hurry and the look on her face reflected how I felt.
As she went past she glanced over and made eye contact with me. She broke her stride, saw the huge load in the back of my truck, and paused. She looked back at me and we both knew. Somehow she knew what I knew. She gave a short nod and hurried inside.
Word was getting out already.
I locked down the hatch and left the trolley on the path, getting out of there as fast as I could. I had thirty-six minutes left.
A stop at the gas station topped up the tank and my spares – petrol plus diesel for the generator at home – and I also bought the only two large containers they had for sale, filling them as well. I filled my chilly bins with bags of ice, then I grabbed a large can of energy drink from the fridge and a chunky Kit Kat, needing the sugar.
Twenty-eight minutes to go.
I took a few seconds to rip open the chocolate bar and started to neck it as I got out onto the road again. My head was spinning and I knew I needed to focus. Right now the news was pretty much contained, so I was still ahead of the game.
I pulled out, pushing my way into the traffic, and popped open the can of drink. It tasted like shit but it gave me an almost immediate boost. I could only guess what crap I was pouring into my system to get that reaction.
The last stop would be the school.
Four
Gemma shouldered through the door and ran a hand over her face, trying to push away the tiredness. A one-hour phone conference with the Sydney head office had turned into nearly three hours, and she had a headache that only c
affeine could cure.
Her colleagues were milling about discussing the updates from the meeting, but she had no interest in talking any more about it. She was the admin support, they were the bigwigs; that was their business. She could’ve got through the day just fine without even attending the meeting.
She checked her watch. Closing in on midday. She was supposed to be having lunch today with her friend Teri from Reception, but she had a backlog of work now due to the over-long meeting.
Stuff it, she thought. She had heard Brendan and Liana, the two managers of her team, planning on going out for lunch today, so fair’s fair. She was about to hit the down button for the elevator when she heard Brendan’s voice behind her.
‘Gemma?’
She forced a smile and turned.
‘You’ll get the updated spreadsheet to me by one, won’t you?’
‘I’ll try,’ she said. ‘I was just going to grab something to eat first.’
A frown crossed his features. ‘Riiigghhtt…’ He left it hanging, obviously wanting her to jump in and assure him it would all be done while he was out dining the colleague everyone knew he was either screwing now or soon would be.
Gemma let it hang and jabbed the down button. ‘Enjoy your lunch,’ she smiled, and stepped into the elevator. ‘Dickhead,’ she muttered under her breath.
Teri was on the phone when Gemma got to Reception and she leaned on the counter top, waiting. Teri waved something at her while she talked, and Gemma realised she had left her phone there earlier. Typical. At least it wasn’t in the toilet this time.
She activated the screen and saw she had a screed of missed calls and messages. All from Mark. Something was obviously up. Maybe his mother had finally driven him mad and he’d killed her.
She opened up the first text message, catching Teri’s eye and miming eating while she did so.
Teri nodded and pointed at the phone receiver, rolling her eyes. ‘Uh-huh, yes, that’s right….no...yes…’
You need to get home immediately. Don’t delay. This is urgent. Call me.
Early Warning (Book 1): Martial Law Page 1