“I certainly do. Since the blackout I’ve had barely any sleep. I’ve been on call since it happened.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Martha adds. The woman looks done in, the skin beneath her eyes puffy and sallow, the red bindi overly bright between her brows. “It’s above and beyond, you coming here to check on our Heath.”
“After what he’s been through I wanted to see him—just double check I hadn’t missed anything. It can be so difficult for children to tell us about their pain. In different circumstances I would have called for an ambulance.”
Sidney lays the boy down and pulls the duvet to cover his tiny body. He whimpers but his eyes remain closed.
“I’ll be going then. If there’s any change, just let me know.” The doctor turns and leaves. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
As the doctor steps out onto the landing, Sidney turns to Martha. “You’ll stay with Monica tonight, won’t you? She’ll need you once I’ve gone.”
“I’ll stay until you get back.” Martha smiles and rests her hand on Sidney’s shoulder. Both look down on the boy as he sleeps.
A knock at the front door. “Evening, Monica. Is he in?”
“They’re here, Sid.”
Sidney strokes his son’s arm. “Don’t you worry my boy. Daddy’s going to make sure no one’s going to hurt you, not ever again.”
Sidney takes a final look at his son then goes downstairs, picks up his axe, and steps out into the night with Mad Dog.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Colin Haydock addresses the gathered men and women, his chest puffed out with self-importance. “Although the attack on the town, and it seems across the country, was initially low key, from the reports we’ve had in, there are pockets of terrorists that are heavily armed.”
“Michael managed to get in contact with a couple of people in the city. There were attempts at setting fires-”
“We saw those.”
“As well as small groups with firearms. Michael’s source says that the city is on lockdown.”
“The military are involved?”
“Not exactly. It seems the people were quick to react; imposed a curfew, set up a militia. They had the personnel though. Although there hasn’t been an official response a Colonel Bright and Sargeant Lennon took control. And remember, there’s a military base just ten miles outside the city. It’s a similar story over in Kexby. They’ve managed to repel the terrorists although there was no mention of gangs with firearms out that way.”
“That’s good news.”
“Yes, and no.”
“No?”
“The terror cells may have been usurped but they’re still out there.”
“Regrouping?”
“I would think so.”
“The ‘army’ in the communication Michael intercepted.”
“Possibly. Bill’s information suggests that they’re using the intersection as a base.”
“And they’re coming for us?”
“We should prepare for that possibility.”
Sam runs his fingers through his hair. “Where the hell is Bill?”
“Still at the intersection.”
Sam stares across the table to Colin Haydock. Sam was a fireman, not a tactician, not a strategist, not a military man. Sure, he was a problem solver, but this ... “Right, Colin. Tell me what you’ve got.”
“Shine the light on the map, Sheila.”
Sheila doesn’t move.
“For heaven’s sake woman ... Please?”
The light shines down on the map illuminating the blocks of housing, roads, intersections, parks, and artery roads of the town. Colin stabs at the map. “Here, here, here, and here are our weak points.”
Sam stares down at the red lines that lead into the town; two are minor roads but the other two are wide entrances that connect the town to the main arterial roads leading to the motorway, that in turn connect to the intersection and the bridge. “We need to focus on the main entry points but we can’t neglect the smaller ones—they may be our Achilles’ heel.”
“What about there?” Sheila asks pointing down to a small road that feeds traffic down from the roads.
“It’s a single track, but it will give them unfettered access to the centre of town if they discover it.”
“It’s not well used.”
“They already know about it. It’s the route they took after their escape from the cells. It goes up past Sarah’s house.”
“Gabe and Sarah are on watch. The land is on a hill so they’ve got a good view of the roads from their upstairs rooms.”
“If they’re heavily armed, what chance have we got?”
“We beat them back before. We can do it again.”
“Sure, but before we caught them unawares—we had the element of surprise. This time they’re coming with an army.”
“We’ve got the upper hand.”
“How do you figure that out? If they’re armed to the teeth it’ll be a slaughter.”
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. Pass me a pen.” Colin holds out his hand. “Sheila, the pen ... please.”
Sheila stabs the pen at him, catching the back of his hand leaving a line of blue ink across the skin.
He takes it without comment then nudges Sam out of the way and leans into the map.
SARAH STARES OUT OF her bedroom window as grey light begins to fill the room. Unable to sleep, she has moved from room to room through the night, keeping candles lit behind closed curtains. Checking then re-checking that the doors were locked. A chest of drawers now sits against the front door and a kitchen chair sits beneath the handle of the locked side door. She moves again to Amy’s room and checks on her. Silently stepping across the carpet, she stares down at her, holds the candle close enough to see her sleeping face, but not too close to wake the child, and breathes a sigh of relief that barely touches at the tension wrapped tight across her chest. Moving silently across the floor to her son’s bedroom, she stops. The noise of engines catches her attention. Apart from the car Uri had driven to the house in his search for Bill and Jessie, and the few that Sam and the protectors were using, no other cars were operational. Now, the noise buzzed like a horde of angry wasps. She strides to her own bedroom window with its view across the higher parts of the carriageway and sees them. Both lanes are taken up as a group of cars move over the hill.
She pushes at Gabe’s shoulder as deep pain fills her chest. “Gabe! Wake up. They’re here.” He’s awake in an instant, throws off the cover, checks through the window then gallops downstairs. As Sarah joins him in the kitchen, the radio’s receiver crackles in his hand. “Firestorm this is Gabe. The Barbarians are on the approach. I repeat. The Barbarians are on the approach.”
THE LAST BALE OF HAY is thrown off the trailer as Mad Dog pulls himself up to the next strut of the crane’s arm. The metal is cool beneath his fingers. He pulls again. From his vantage point, high up on the crane’s arm, he can see beyond the trees that line the slip road to the dual carriageway. A block of light fills one side of the carriageway and, as he continues to watch, it moves along the road towards the town.
“Mad Dog to Sam. Over.”
“Go ahead Mad Dog.”
“Barbarians on the carriageway. Three miles from town.”
“Received. Over.”
Mad Dog continues to watch the convoy’s progress. A section of lights splits off from the main body and takes a smaller slip road. It curves then moves over the carriageway.
“Mad Dog to Sam. Over.”
“Go ahead Mad Dog.”
“Barbarians have divided. First group continues along the carriageway. Second group has split off on the B1230 and heading your way.”
“Received. Over.”
The crane’s engine grunts into the life. The vibration of its engine hums through the massive arm and, as Mad Dog begins his descent, it swings.
“Hey!” The arm continues to move. “Hey!” Mad Dog clambers down the
arm. “Jesus, Chugger. What the hell?”
Chugger laughs.
“Bloody psycho!”
“Get off then. I’ve got me orders to get this monster in place.”
From the massive tyre, Mad Dog drops to the ground, and moves across to the group of men standing beneath the enormous silo sat close the entrance of the building site.
“Is it ready?” Mad Dog shouts above the noise of the generator.
“Ready as it’ll ever be.”
Mad Dog slaps his hand against Jason’s shoulder and walks back to the road. A woman grunts as she pulls at a bale of hay.
“Let me help you.” Mad Dog steps forward without waiting for a response, slips his fingers beneath the tight cord around the bale, heaves, and raises it high enough to slide on top of the growing wall. The stench of fuel is thick in the air.
Mad Dog pushes his hand through his hair then scratches at his beard. His scalp is damp and sweat stains his shirt. The past few hours have been extraordinary. Planning a course of action with Sam and Haydock – who knew the man was a military genius? – had been exciting, but the hours that followed, getting everything that was needed into place, had been arduous. There were four points of entry that had to be defended, but here, the main entrance to the town, was his responsibility. A gleam flickers in his eyes and he can’t help a smile creep to his face as he surveys the area for a final time before the lights were shut off. Ten metres down the road was the barricade of cars and vans that Sam and the others had used to block the road after the initial attack. Behind that are groups of Mad Dog’s men, Sam’s Protectors and other men and women who have volunteered to fight. Dangling from the massive bough that creeps over the road are the bodies hung there by Sam. Mad Dog shudders. The way they moved, their dead and sunken eyes staring blindly into the night, gave him the creeps.
The town, on Colin’s insistence, was on lockdown. A curfew that, he said, would keep the people safe, and make sure, if it came to the worst, they could pick off the terrorists with ease. Mad Dog had laughed at that. Ease! There would be nothing easy about catching terrorists in the town if they managed to break through the defences.
Colin had said that the best form of defence was offence then started a spiel about the Saxon Heptarchy and Offrid. Mad Dog had zoned out in confusion - shunted back to an overheated classroom, an image of Haydock pulling at the too-high window with his metal hook, and then scratching at the blackboard - until the mention of longbows, archers, and ‘defeat of the French’. After that, he’d listened intently as Colin sketched out his plan for what he called the ‘first phase’ of their defence and enlisted the help of five ‘runners’ to knock on the doors of each member of the local archery club.
THE CARS SIT ACROSS the carriageway. To the left is the exit ramp to the town. Khaled waits as the others join him then opens the boot of the car. It is wide and deep, and filled with bags. He pulls at the first bag, strains to haul it over the lip of the boot, then drops it gently to the ground. Crouching to unzip the long bag, he reaches in and pulls out a rifle and hands it to Hassan. In the next minutes each man is armed with a newly cleaned and loaded rifle. The hours to come would be a blood bath and the blood would not be theirs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Lights out!”
Trees cast dense shadows across the road as the solar lamps that have illuminated the space are switched off. Using his torch to the light way, making sure to keep it pointing at the ground, Mad Dog makes his way towards Haydock. The bough, with its heavy burden, creaks. Behind the blockade, groups of men and women congregate in small groups, some crouching, others standing as they work. Each one is armed with a bow. At regular intervals along the barricade are buckets and, propped against the cars, or strung across the archers’ shoulders, quivers holding long bows. As Mad Dog passes, the smell of fuel intensifies and the glint of liquid catches on the moon’s light. The tip of an arrow, wrapped in fabric swings out at him.
“Sorry, mate!”
The archer swings the arrow away from Mad Dog and dips it into the bucket.
“No problem.”
Haydock is surrounded by another group of archers, these with bows that look mechanical and futuristic, another holds a crossbow.
“Ah, Jack. This is Muriel Steinberg. She was county champion in eighty-six.”
Muriel holds out a hand. Greying curls, held back by a greyed-out paisley bandana, bob against her shoulder. “Pleasure.”
The cashier from Barclays bank! Today was full of surprises.
“She’s the finest shot we have. We’ll show them a thing or two, ey, Muriel?”
“We certainly will, Colin.” She speaks with deadly seriousness. “Those bastards have got it coming.”
Mad Dog nods, unable to break his gaze. He’s used to women cursing, Gill and Shauna could swear like navvies, but Muriel, neatly dressed in her fitted Barbour jacket, snug against her petite frame, was a shock to the system.
“We’re ready.”
“Good.” Colin rubs his hands together. “Showtime.”
Colin strides down the line, speaking to each archer as he passes. Step ladders have been placed along the line. Metal scrapes against tarmac as archers climb to the top and load their bows.
The top of the road fills with light.
“They’re here.”
The cars roll forward.
The only sound is the crane’s engine as it churns in the dark, the hushed whispers of the archers as they take their places, and the chug of the generator sending its energy to heat the massive silo of tar at the edge of the building site. Mad Dog grips the long-handled axe tight.
“They’ve cut their engines.”
“On my command.”
“I guess they think they have the element of surprise.”
Lights flood the space, illuminating the bales of hay. Mad Dog runs with Haydock back to the building site. Out of the blinding light, five cars are visible. Men ride gunshot, sitting in the open windows of the back and passenger seats, rifles pointing towards the blockade.
“Probably about twenty men.”
The cars roll closer. “We should attack.”
“Wait for it.”
The cars roll to a stop. “Come on,” Haydock berates. “Just a few feet more.”
A door opens and a figure steps out. With tentative, quiet steps, he makes his way towards the barricade. The wall is silent. Mad Dog holds his breath. Just one voice, one whisper, and they’d be discovered. The figure shines a torch across the barricade, turns and makes his way back to the car. Another figure steps out and shines his torchlight into the tree. Dead and decaying, the terrorists glare with unseeing eyes at their brothers. Other doors open and more figures step out. Torchlight illuminates the tree. Angry voices. Fearful voices. A dead man’s shoe knocks against another.
“Fire!”
Arrowheads burst into flame, archers rise up above the barricade, and streaks of burning fire launch at the bales of hay. They burst into flame and fire sprints across the petrol-soaked tarmac and under the cars. Men scream as flames lick at their shoes and leaps to their trousers.
“Now!”
Sheila’s shoulders move rhythmically as she begins to pump petrol from the barrel at her feet, a long pipe leads to the top of the barricade and within the next seconds petrol sprays across the road, spattering the men and cars.
“Now!”
The arm of the crane swings. The silo wavers. The crane’s massive treads push at the tower. It topples. The screech of breaking metal fills the air and crashes to the floor with an explosive thwack, spewing thick and steaming tarmac across the road, spattering the blockade and lathering the terrorists and their cars with boiling ooze. Screams of agony pierce the night as flesh dissolves beneath the bubbling liquid.
Arrows flame in the night.
“Fire!”
Another shower of fire rains down on the men. The tarmac catches alight. Doors slam open then shut. A man screams as his arm catches fire and dis
appears into the car, his rifle crashes to the ground and slides in the super-heated tar. A car’s engine starts and gears crunch as it is rammed into reverse. It crashes into the car behind, slithers over the tar, and slams against another. Doors crash open. A man jumps out and fires a volley of bullets. They spray into the tree and the bodies hanging there. The corpses jump and twist on the ropes. Losing his balance, he falls to the ground then screams as he scrabbles in the hot tar. A burning arrow shoots from the blockade and pierces his chest. In the next second, flames spread across his shirt, up to his collar, catch at his beard, and engulf his head. Writhing bodies alive with flame, light up the road, and Mad Dog watches as they dance.
SAM WATCHES AS THE cars wind their way along the high road. He counts five vehicles. He takes a breath. Keep it calm. The patter of his heart knocks against his ribs, his chest tight. He takes another breath, fingers trembling. Stay in control.
“Stations!”
Behind Sam a lorry blocks the road, its trailer jack-knifed to the hedgerows. There was no way the terrorists could get their vehicles beyond the blockade, but Sam was well aware of the damage they could do if they managed to get past on foot. This was it! The safety of more than ten thousand souls locked inside their homes depended on the defenders’ success.
A cloud shifts across the moon and the vehicles filling the road disappear. Colin had insisted on using dark-coloured cars and now Sam realised why—they were camouflaged in the dark.
The angry buzz of engines sounds through the night.
Boom!
The explosion comes from the other side of town.
“It’s started!”
Flames shoot into the sky from the main road where Colin and Mad Dog had laid their ambush. Light fills the road ahead as the cars round the corner and begin their descent down the hill.
“Our turn now.”
Turning to the narrow country road that serves as a boundary between the town’s houses and the farmer’s fields that surround it to the west, Sam watches the progress of the two vehicles that are crucial for their plan. If they can’t get in place in time then they’re going to have to rely on the lorry blocking the road and an infantry assault. That would leave them with a serious disadvantage. Knives, axes, and even Chugger’s chainsaw were no match for the rifles that the terrorists were very likely to be armed with. A hand slaps onto his shoulder.
Blackout & Burn: A Complete EMP Thriller Series Page 72