Fighting Back (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 4)

by Rachel Churcher

  “Thank you, Fiona,” Dan says, before I can speak.

  “It’s not a done deal yet, but I’m hopeful that we can work something out. We need Jake to promise to behave, and we need you lot to do as you’re told.” She gives me a meaningful stare. “No threatening people. No angry outbursts. I know this is hard for all of you, but we need to let the Dutch government know that we’re sending them useful soldiers – not angry teenagers.”

  I nod, and I can feel the colour rising in my cheeks. I know I’ve been unfair to Gail.

  But I also know that it worked. If Fiona can convince them, we’re going to the Netherlands.

  We’ve got an army to join.

  *****

  “Have you heard?” We sit down with Charlie in the dining room. “We might be joining up with Neesh!”

  Charlie shakes her head. “Have I heard? I’ve been in meetings about it all morning. Giving references for you lot. Assuring them that you’ll behave.” She waves a finger at us. “No more car-stealing and gun-pointing.”

  I give her a smile as I unwrap my sandwiches. “Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate it.”

  “Are they sending you, too?” Amy reaches across the table to take Charlie’s hand.

  “I’m free to come with you, if I choose.”

  I put my sandwiches down. I’m trying to imagine life without Charlie.

  I give her a long stare. “You’re coming, right?”

  She breaks into a smile. “If you’ll have me.”

  I stand up and walk round the table to give her a hug. “I couldn’t imagine going without you.”

  She stands, and wraps her arms round my shoulders. “And I couldn’t imagine staying here without you.”

  She gives my shoulders a squeeze, and I step back. Amy jumps up and tries to hug us both, and then Dan’s arm is round my shoulder, and Charlie’s, and we’re standing in the middle of the dining room in a four-way hug.

  This is what Mum meant. Make friends, and stick together. We’re refugees. We’ve survived shootings and gas attacks and army raids, and we’re still here. We’re still standing, and we’re about to move on together. We’ve fought for this, and we’re going to keep fighting, together.

  Amy’s face is wet with tears when we sit down.

  *****

  “We should celebrate.” Dan puts his feet up on the coffee table and leans back on the sofa.

  “It’s not confirmed yet. We don’t know the Dutch government will say yes.”

  He looks at me and shrugs. “They’ll say yes.” He lifts his arms and flexes his muscles. “They need us. Neesh’s army needs us. They need us fighting with them.”

  I throw a cushion at him. He’s being ridiculous, and he’s asking me to hope. He’s asking me to believe.

  Amy sits down. “Dan’s right. We should celebrate. There’s a chance we’re all getting out of here, and joining Neesh’s army. That’s the best news we’ve had in ages.”

  “Where’s Charlie?” Dan looks at the door. “I thought she was right behind us, after dinner.”

  “She was.”

  “So what will you do when we get to the Netherlands?” Amy crosses her legs in front of her on the sofa.

  I think for a moment, playing along. “You mean after checking that Jake doesn’t have access to a computer?” Dan laughs, and throws the cushion back at me. “I don’t know. Figure out what they want from us, I guess.”

  “They might not want us at all.”

  I throw the cushion at Amy. “Hey! You’re the one who wants to celebrate. No sad comments.” She grins.

  Dan puts his hands behind his head. “We should take our targets from the firing range, Bex. Start off a few rungs up in the gun training.”

  Amy claps her hands. “You should! Actually, you should send them to Neesh. That way she can show the Dutch government why they need us.”

  I think about it. “That’s not a bad idea. Show them how dangerous we are.”

  The cushion thumps into the side of my head.

  I’m picking it up from the floor as the door opens, and Fiona walks in, followed by Charlie.

  And I can see straight away that it’s bad news.

  *****

  “What do you mean, we can’t go?”

  Fiona sighs. “I’ve explained. The committee won’t allow it.”

  “But you’re the Chair of the committee! You can make them agree.”

  I know I sound like a child, but I can’t help myself. I can’t believe what she’s saying.

  She laughs. “I wish that was the case, Bex, but this is a democracy.” She sits down on the coffee table, facing me. “Jake can go. The committee voted to send him to the Netherlands, the Dutch government agreed, and the Scottish government is grateful to have somewhere safe to release him. It’ll take a few days to make the arrangements, but he’s not going to London.” There’s a pleading look on her face. “You’ve saved your friend. You’ve given Jake another chance. You should feel proud of that.”

  She reaches out to put her hand on my knee, but I jump up and walk towards the door before she can touch me.

  “Bex.” Charlie’s voice is a whisper as she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Wait. Just a moment.”

  I turn back to Fiona, trying to control my anger.

  “So I’ve saved Jake. So what?” I wave my hand around the room. “What about us? What about fighting back?”

  “You’re a symbol, Bex.” She looks around the room. “All of you. You’re the Faces of the Resistance.”

  That’s it. That’s the worst thing she could have said. I can’t stop myself from shouting.

  “I am sick of being a symbol! I want a uniform, and a gun, and I want to march on London.”

  Fiona nods. “I know. But right now, you’re worth more to us here. Just being here – being safe – you’re laughing in the face of the Home Forces. Your face is on ten thousand posters, on ten thousand walls, inspiring people to resist. By keeping you here, guarded and protected, sixty miles from their border, we are showing them the limits of their power. And we’re showing ordinary people that there is an alternative to Martial Law.”

  She doesn’t understand.

  “My mother …”

  “I know. And I know you want to save her. But no one’s ready to do that yet. Not us, and not your friend’s army. You can’t help by running away again.”

  I look at Dan. The colour has drained from his face, and he’s staring at the floor. Amy sits back on the sofa and stares at the ceiling. No one speaks. The anger inside me is growing.

  Fiona sits calmly, watching me, and I can’t keep quiet.

  “So I’m a weapon, am I? I’m not a person. I’m not allowed to have feelings and opinions.” I shake my head. “You want to keep me here just to make sure the Home Forces know what you can do.” I shrug Charlie’s hand off my shoulder. I don’t need my friends holding me back. I need to make Fiona listen.

  “You want to stop me from rescuing my mother, and you want to stop Dan from rescuing our friend. Jake’s fine. Jake’s inconvenient, so Jake gets sent away. But the rest of us? The ones who followed your rules? The ones who stayed put and didn’t steal your cars and guns? We have to stay. Just so your committee can feel good about themselves.”

  Fiona looks down at the carpet. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Bex.” She looks up at me. “We are committed to keeping you safe, and training you, and making sure you are ready when the day comes to take action. Until then …”

  She’s shrugging me off again. She’s justifying her decision.

  I wave my hand at her. “I get it. Until then, I’m locked up here. I can’t leave the compound. I can’t show my face outside without an armed escort. I do something stupid, I get deported. I refuse to cooperate? I’m breaking the terms of my visa.” I’m shouting again. “I don’t get a choice! I don’t get to decide. I get to watch Mum and Margie on PIN, and I get to feel useless and powerless and hopeless.”

  I’m feeling trapped. I’m feeling used, and there’
s nothing I can do to change any of this.

  I take a deep breath. “I guess I am your weapon, Fiona. I’m your symbol, and I’m your prize. I’m your hostage.” I turn to leave, glancing back at her. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  There’s silence from the common room as the door closes behind me.

  Contrition

  KETTY

  I’m at my desk when Bracken shows up, late. I hold out a coffee to him, expecting him to walk past, but he stops in front of me.

  “Sorry, Ketty.”

  I look up, putting the cup down on the desk. He’s holding a box of expensive chocolates, and there’s a desperate look in his eyes. “Sir?”

  He clears his throat, and puts the chocolates on the desk in front of me.

  “Ketty, I … I’m sorry. I know you were trying to help. I shouldn’t be angry. You don’t deserve that.”

  I keep my face neutral, and watch him. He’s looking at me, waiting for an answer. I make him wait. I make him wonder what I’m going to say.

  I could report him for his outburst yesterday. I could tell Lee and Franks the extent of his drinking. I could end his career, and he knows it.

  But that would end mine, too. He’d be fired, and I’d be back in the RTS as someone else’s Senior Recruit.

  I raise my eyebrows and do my best to sound innocent. “Didn’t deserve what, Sir?”

  His hands shake as he reaches for the coffee. He nods.

  “Thank you, Ketty.”

  Just looking out for both of us, Sir.

  He turns back at the door to his office.

  “I am so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  But I’ve lived with this before. I think about Dad, and his violent outbursts. He’d go through days of being sorry, and bringing me unwanted gifts, and then he’d turn round and do it again.

  It will, Sir. But next time, I’ll be ready.

  *****

  There’s a request in this morning’s briefing folder. An invitation to meet with Major General Franks, and it’s addressed to me.

  I turn the piece of paper over, looking for more information, but there’s nothing. A time, and a location. I check my watch – I’ve got about an hour. I put the invitation to one side and sort through the rest of today’s briefing notes.

  By the time I’ve updated Bracken’s diary, and talked him through the things he needs to know, it’s time for my meeting. I climb the stairs to Franks’ office, wondering what to expect. Is this it? Is she firing me? Is she firing Bracken?

  I dump Bracken’s chocolates in a coffee-room on the next floor up. I can’t accept them, but he doesn’t need to know that. They’re too little, too late, and they’re a pathetic way to try to buy my silence. I haven’t reported Bracken yet, but some expensive sugar isn’t going to win me over. He doesn’t see that I’m protecting both of us by keeping quiet. It’s embarrassing that he thinks this is all he needs to do.

  Like Dad, with his expensive apologies. Trainers and necklaces, and other guilt-soaked things we couldn’t afford. I shake my head in disgust as I drop the chocolates in someone else’s bin and carry on up the stairs.

  What are you doing, Ketty? Letting someone else’s weakness control you again?

  Franks’ assistant is waiting outside her office. He shows me in, opening the door for me and waving me through.

  I walk to the middle of the office and stand to attention, saluting.

  “At ease, Corporal. Please, sit down.”

  I take the seat in front of her desk, looking past her for a moment at the view of the Thames. Franks’ office is next to the meeting room, and shares its view of the South Bank from the Festival Hall to the old County Hall building, the London Eye filling the space opposite her windows.

  She catches me looking, and smiles. “One of the perks of working on the top floor, Corporal. It’s not a bad backdrop to the things we’re doing here. It reminds us what this is all for.” She turns to look out of the windows. “All those people, looking to us to protect them.” She turns back to me. “It’s easy to forget what this is all about, stuck here in this building.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I don’t know what else to say.

  She leans forward, resting her arms on her desk. “I wanted to talk to you, Corporal. You’ve been here for a few months. I wanted to see how things are going.” And she watches me, waiting for a response.

  Careful, Ketty. What is she expecting you to say?

  I think about how to answer.

  “I think I’m settling in, Sir. Getting the hang of things.”

  She nods, still watching me. “Good. Your work with the prisoners has been … enlightening. I’ve seen what you can do, and I like the way you think.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “The setback with Mrs Ellman’s injuries was unfortunate, of course, but I’m glad to see you’ve remedied that situation. You’re using old footage, while we’re negotiating for Recruit Taylor’s return?”

  I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

  Where is this going? What do you want me to say?

  There’s a tightness in my throat as Franks continues. I don’t know what this meeting is about, and if she’s testing me, I don’t want to fail. I can’t afford to fail.

  “Corporal Smith. I want to be sure you understand what we’re doing here.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Give me a clue. Tell me what this is about.

  My pulse is starting to race, and I force myself to take slow breaths.

  “You understand why we’re in charge, at the moment? Why we’re running the country?”

  “We’re keeping people safe, Sir.”

  She nods, and smiles. “Absolutely. This country went through a terrible crisis. The bombings made everyone afraid for their safety. Parliament failed them – failed to protect them when they needed it most.” She glances behind her again. “When they couldn’t protect people any more, we stepped in. We took control, and we made this country safer.”

  I nod, waiting.

  “We still have bombings. Resistance cells looking for their moment of glory. But the attacks are smaller, and there are fewer casualties than there were before we took control.” She waves her hand at the people walking along the river. “We’re protecting them. We’ve got a long way to go – we need to put an end to the attacks before we hand back governance to the people and their elected representatives. But we’re making a difference.”

  No false flag confessions, then, Sir?

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “With the exception of what happened in Leominster, we haven’t seen any large-scale events for years. We’re winning this battle, Corporal – and your work with the prisoners, and tracking the Face of the Resistance, is helping. If we can catch Ellman and her friends, we’ll be a step closer to shutting down the resistance. If we can pull this country out of crisis, our job is done. If we can protect people from the chaos of large-scale attacks, we’re winning. The terrorists are getting less brave. Less effective. We’re restoring order to this country, and to the people who put their trust in us.” She shakes her head. “We need to make sure that large-scale bombings – attacks with high casualties, and damage to critical infrastructure – are a thing of the past. Something people no longer fear.”

  “Like Crossrail, Sir?”

  She looks at me, a hint of amusement on her face. “Yes, Corporal. Exactly. The Crossrail bombing caused massive damage to this city, and the body count was high enough to put everyone in a state of constant fear. That kind of chaos, that kind of destruction – that’s what we’re here to stop.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I was in Leominster. I know more than you think about destruction and body counts.

  “So, Corporal. I wanted to talk to you about your work. Your motivations. What you want to achieve here.”

  “Sir?”

  “What are your aims? Where do you want to get to?”

  I want to avoid going home. I want to keep my job.

  I think for a mo
ment. “I want a career, Sir. I know what I’m good at, and I want to use that. If that keeps people safe, then I’ve done my job. If my interrogations are helping, then I want to continue.”

  “And what are you good at, Corporal?”

  Keeping Bracken on his feet? Keeping quiet when my job is on the line?

  “With respect, Sir, I think the evidence shows what my skills are. Watch any of my footage from the interrogation room. I persuade people to talk.”

  She nods. “You do. I’ve seen the footage. What’s your secret? What persuades your prisoners to give you the soundbites that PIN loves?”

  I try not to smile.

  “I get inside their heads, Sir. I see what their weaknesses are. I see how to get them to confess – even when they don’t know that’s what they’re doing.”

  She smiles. “You do seem to have the ability to get people to say things they immediately regret. I’m glad you’re on our side, Corporal.” She sits up straight in her chair, still watching me. “Bracken tells me that you were his enforcer, at Camp Bishop.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “That you kept petty arguments off his desk, and kept the recruits in line.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And what methods of persuasion did you use at Camp Bishop, Corporal?”

  Careful, Ketty. Don’t lose your job over actions you took before you got here.

  I allow myself to smile. “Whatever was necessary, Sir.”

  Franks smiles back. “Indeed.” She pauses, and looks down at her hands. “I think there’s a career here for you, Corporal Smith. If you can keep getting results in the interrogation room. If you can bring us the Face of the Resistance. If you can put Recruit Taylor in a cell. I think you have the skills we need to make a difference.” She looks back at me. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Get us answers and soundbites and good ideas. Keep looking out for the people out there, and keep putting pressure on the people in the cells.”

  Iron fists and steel toe caps. I can do this.

  I can’t help smiling again. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Corporal, for everything you’re doing. I know the Terrorism Committee wouldn’t be the same without your support.”