by Peter Hoole
Resurgence
By Peter B. Hoole
Copyright Peter B. Hoole 2019
All Rights Reserved
For the POD
Chapter ONE
Gary was elated.
It had been an amazing season so far, and the stadium was a buzz with anticipation. The crowd and atmosphere were electric. His beloved Rovers were in full flight, having won their past four games, and only trailing the league leaders by a couple of points.
And to top it all off, the team had a two-goal lead over their north-London rivals, with less than five minutes to go.
Being a season ticket holder, Gary had been to every home game that year. In fact, he had been to every home game since he was about sixteen years old.
He had missed weddings, birthdays and even a funeral.
Such was the importance of seeing the men in white and blue.
At the start of the match, a moment of silence had been held for the victims of the Seattle and Italian attacks. So many lives had been lost in the previous twenty-four hours. Still, it was decided that all matches would go ahead.
“We have no credible threats to the United Kingdom at this stage,” was the message from the Home Secretary.
And who was Gary to argue? If the government thought they were safe, then they were safe. And with that Gary had given the situation little extra thought.
There were more than thirty-five thousand people in the stadium, with only a small pocket in the corner supporting the away team.
“Come on you Rovers” rang through the ground.
It was music to Gary’s ears.
As a seasoned veteran of home games, and the fact that he had consumed about eight pints through the afternoon, Gary knew now was as good a time as any to find the toilet.
The post-game rush to the toilets would mean going against the wall on the walk home would become a necessity.
Having already been standing for most of the match, Gary left his nominal seat and sidled past the heaving throng of happy fans.
He made his way to the aisle and ascended a few steps to the landing.
As he made the top of the small flight of stairs, he was distracted by a great noise from the stadium. He turned and saw what was causing the commotion – Rover’s star striker had just missed from long range. The goal would have taken them to a four one advantage.
Gary paused to see a replay. Upon seeing the shot only miss by a few feet, Gary echoed the gasp made by the crowd.
Realising there would be no further action for a few minutes, Gary turned back to the landing.
As he stepped forward, he tripped and fell. As Gary tumbled forward, his shin hit the object that had causing his upending.
Gary braced himself as much as he could, and if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through his body, he may have stiffened up with shock. Fortunately, his reflexes were dulled, and that caused him to fall freely without getting injured. It was a considerable perk of his inebriation.
As Gary regained his composure, he looked around at what had caused his fall. Still lying on his side, he saw a small back-pack sitting at the entry to the landing.
Gary slowly staggered to his feet, and leant towards the black, non-descript bag. No more than a foot away from his landing zone, Gary picked up the bag. It was much heavier than Gary had anticipated, and he struggled to lift it.
He was curious as to what was inside.
He placed the bag back on the ground and unzipped it. As he pried the bag open, he was confused by what he saw.
There were several small packs of what looked like clay, and several wires.
After a few fleeting moments, Gary realised what the bag might be.
Without thinking, he yelled out, “Bomb.”
A yellow-clad security guard turned quickly to where Gary was, alerted by his drunken calls.
At that stage, Gary had no idea of what he had found, but he assumed the worst.
When he saw the security guard walking over, he picked up the bag and brought it towards him.
Gary even had some thoughts about being a hero, being the one that found it.
Maybe they’ll give me a medal, he thought.
He was wrong.
After a few steps, Gary’s world ended.
A bright flash emanated from the bag, followed by a loud bang. Within a second, the entire stand was engulfed in the blast.
Nearly eight thousand people were vaporised by the initial blast.
After seconds of shock and disbelief, the rest of the stadium panicked.
The players ran toward the dressing rooms but froze in horror at the site of fans falling onto the pitch, covered in flames.
In a state of fear and confusion, no one was prepared for the second blast. As it ignited, people froze in panic.
The opposite stand was ripped apart buy the force of the explosion, wiping out a third of the remaining people.
Just ten seconds later, a third blast echoed through the stadium, and the western stand was obliterated.
The panic and noise that had swelled through the stadium was replaced with fear.
In the stands, people attending with loved ones grabbed each other, as though to find solace in the warm embrace.
The emotions did not last long, as the fourth and final blast rocked the remaining stand. The entire playing arena was engulfed in flame, the cracking plastic, wood and steel combined with the screams of burning and frightened people replaced the jubilance of only a few minutes earlier.
The fire, powered by an unknown accelerant, was quick to move.
For all the people in the stadium, there was no escape.
Thirty-six thousand people breathed their last breaths.
***
He stood on the corner of an intersection, approximately a half mile from the stadium. Dressed in a Rovers football shirt, a bulky black jacket and jeans, he was able ensure he drew no unwanted attention.
He had been going to games for some time, just to make he didn’t look out-of-place. He had become a familiar face, someone that no one would look at twice.
He would also leave prior to full time, to ensure it was not an unusual occurrence for him to do so.
This had been the plan for a while now.
He had studied hard, and learned everything he could about the stadium, and the weapons he was made to manufacture.
He had become accustomed to separating himself from the outside world, able to focus on this one mission.
Immortality would be his reward.
It was with great pride and little regret that he gazed upon the stadium as the flames ripped through it. All the people he had come to know over the past year were undoubtedly gone.
Not that he minded much, for they were destined to die anyway. Whether it be by his hand or another.
The plan had been given to him by his mentor, whom had reportedly received it directly the top of the organisation.
Part of the plan had been to accept a menial job as a stadium cleaner. He passed all the regulation background checks – after all, he was a born and bred Londoner, with no history or known ties to any kind of group.
It was during these times, his regular working hours, that he had planted the other three devices. The last one, placed today, was the catalyst, sending a signal to the other three to begin their twenty second count-downs.
Around him, people were standing still, looking at the now pluming smoke that had formed above the stadium.
In shock, most of the people had their hands over their mouths, unable to come to terms with what was happening.
He was the only calm one on the street.
That was until his phone rang. On his issued mobile, the usual caller-identification came up – “Z-2-3”. This number indicated which Zone and wh
o in the hierarchy was making the call.
Great Britain, Northern Ireland and Ireland formed part of Zone Two - the homeland of the organisation’s founders.
As the source had been first found in Australia, at the Haven Colony, it had been deemed it to be Zone One.
The man on the corner answered the phone, “It’s done, Garrick.”
Garrick, his mentor, replied, “I heard the noise. Well done.”
“Thank you.” The man replied.
“Yes, Zach is very happy with it. Now… it’s time to come home. It’s time for you to receive your reward. Come to the colony immediately.”
The smile was hard to hide on the young man’s face. He had finally achieved his goal, and now it was time to collect his reward.
And that reward was the future.
Chapter TWO
“Alright, we need a break.” she said from the front seat. “Pull up in there.”
Though Casey was not accustomed to taking orders from a civilian, he did as he was asked.
The truck lay-way was deserted, and the road had few cars. Darcy figured it would be a good place to slow down and recuperate. And with the confusion of the past hour or so, it would be a good opportunity to get some answers.
They had driven less than a hundred kilometres from Haven, the town that had answered and asked so many questions the night before.
Casey and Darcy were seated in the front, with Caleb slumped behind the passenger seat, unmoved since being injected with whatever Murphy had given him.
Mike Dunleavy, the former United States Chief-of-staff, remained next the Caleb.
Further to the back of the large SUV, Murphy and the other man sat.
Murphy still had her gun pointed at him.
Since they had infiltrated the Haven underground facility, Caleb had been in a precarious state. He had not moved, but his heartbeat was still detectable, albeit faintly.
Since they had left, Darcy had grown more concerned about Murphy, and she needed some questions answered.
Murphy, the team lieutenant and Caleb’s second-in-command, had been off radio for much of their previous mission. During that time, neither Darcy nor Casey nor Dunleavy had any clue as to what she was up to during the time.
Her mistrust of Murphy was not an issue at the time, as Darcy was more distracted by the bullets from the remaining colonials. But as the drive had gone one, the thoughts of doubt lingered and grew.
As they seem to have cleared the area of the Haven implosion, and it would seem they hadn’t been followed, Darcy decided it was time to get some answers.
“So…” she began her interrogation, “Murphy. How do you know what is going on? How are you so calm about Caleb?”
Murphy kept her gun trained on the prisoner.
“Alright then,” she began, “I better start at the beginning.”
Darcy, Dunleavy and Casey waited with bated breath.
“I’m not who you think I am,” Murphy continued.
She paused, as though to let the message sink in to her team.
Darcy momentarily turned to Casey. He seemed taken aback. It was a though he was hearing the news for first time.
“My name is Charlotte. Charlotte Cook.”
“Cook?” Dunleavy asked, “As in James? The motherfucker that just tried to kill us. The fucker that’s behind this whole thing?”
“Yes” Murphy replied, “The same. I’m his daughter.”
Darcy was stunned. She knew that Murphy, or Charlotte, had to have been connected to the Colonials in some way. The events of the previous days all seemed too easy. From obtaining a gulf stream so effectively, to removing the tracker from the ‘Bat in Seattle.
Then, when they had infiltrated Haven, the implosion and their escape all seemed… simple. Especially given what the Colonials seemed capable of.
Now that Murphy’s secret was out, it was much clearer to Darcy.
Then, Murphy said something Darcy was not expecting.
“Darryl…” Murphy directed her words to Casey, her partner not only in the team, but in life, “I am so sorry for lying to you. I assure you that I had to do it.”
“Whatever,” Casey replied calmly, “I guess you just did what you thought was best.”
Although Darcy had only known Casey for just over a day, she could see the pain in his eyes. She could see he felt betrayed. It was an emotion they all shared.
Murphy continued, “I did. I did what I needed to do. And so far, it’s working.”
“Working?” Darcy replied angrily, “You call this working??? A plane was shot down in Seattle. The Vatican and basically all of Rome has been destroyed. Countless people have been killed. Not to mention Caleb...”
Darcy had to pause.
“Not to mention Caleb in dying in the seat in front of you!!! I would say it’s very far from working.”
Murphy took a breath.
“Darcy, I know you’re upset, but you need to trust me.”
“Trust you? Your father is the man behind everything.” Darcy replied, feeling her anger get away from her.
“Darcy…” Murphy continued, “I will earn your trust. But right now, we have more pressing things to worry about.
“No, we have only one thing. What is happening to Caleb?”
“He was shot.”
“Shot? By who?”
“By him.” Murphy replied, pointing her gun pointedly at the prisoner.
Darcy was angry, “Then what is he doing here? Why is he with us?”
“He can help us. He was closer to James than anyone. My father trusted him.”
“But he’s a killer.”
Murphy paused and looked at Darcy.
“Keeping him alive is our only option right now, Darcy. I would love to put a bullet in him. Trust me… I know a lot more about what he’s than anyone in this car. But what I also know is that he is the key for our next move. He’s the one that can locate the others.”
Darcy was unsure of how to respond. In the end, she didn’t need to.
“Well… that’s worked out well for us so far.” Dunleavy began, “Every fucker that we keep alive has eventually betrayed us. Matthew, Jacob. Even the blonde on the plane tried to betray us by sending us to a trap.”
“That was different.” Murphy protested.
“Different how?” asked Darcy.
“The people you spoke of… they were lucky. They were lucky they had Caleb looking out for them. And they preyed on his, and your, naivety. Now… we know what to expect from William. We know that he will betray us. It is just a matter of when.”
Darcy grew concerned, “Then, shouldn’t we just… you know.”
“Do you think we should kill him, Darcy?” asked Murphy.
She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Killing without reason was not yet part of her nature. Darcy had seen more death in the past few days than she had in her entire life.
She was yet to be turned into a killer though.
“No.” Darcy replied, ashamed she nearly mentioned it.
“In that case,” Murphy continued, “we can use him.”
“Use him how?” asked a previously silent Casey.
“We know they’re going to Sydney.” Murphy replied, “But as yet we don’t know exactly where.”
Darcy had an idea.
“Can’t we just use the tablets? Surely that will tell us where they went. The GPS trackers showed they were all leaving the colony after all.
“In part we can, Darcy. But the tablet will only show us where the vehicles are, not the people.”
“C’mon. Are you telling me the Colonials don’t low jack their people with GPS?”
“We’re not savages!” William managed to say, just before Murphy whipped him with her gun.
“Speak when spoken to.” Murphy said, as though she enjoyed the moment a bit too much.
Darcy wanted to speak to him and hear what he had to say. As much anger as she felt towards the man that apparently shot Caleb – she needed to kn
ow him.
“Let him speak.” Darcy commanded from the front seat, “I want to hear what he has to say. Like you said, Murph… sorry… Charlotte… Like you said, he could help us. I want to give him the opportunity to show us how.”
“Very well.” Murphy relented, “But don’t call me Charlotte. That is not my name anymore. I’ve left her behind.”
Darcy nodded from the front seat, surprised by the relative comfort she felt from hearing her new friend hadn’t gone.
“Speak.” Murphy demanded as she pushed William with her gun.
The Englishman shifted in his seat.
“What would you like to discuss, Ms Chamberlain?” William asked.
Darcy, slightly taken aback that he knew her name, felt at a disadvantage. The first question would relieve some of this.
“Firstly. What’s your name?”
“William.”
“Ok… William,” Darcy continued, “Can you help us, as Murphy was saying.”
“I can.” William replied.
“Can you please tell us how?”
“No… I can’t.” William said with a smug look on his face.
“Oh come on… Don’t be shy.” Interrupted Casey in the front seat, “You’re trying to stay alive here.”
Casey’s words reminded Darcy of something. From that thought, it became apparent to Darcy how to get William to open up.
“William.” Darcy began, “I believe you’ve had the serum, right?”
Only allowing a brief time for a William to respond, Darcy continued, “And I believe you’ve waited a long time. If Cook is anything to by, I’d say most of you have waited more than a lifetime for the serum.”
Darcy paused for a little longer, allowing time for William to ascertain what she was alluding to.
“It would be a shame to have waited all this time, for it then to be taken away from you. Especially in a situation where that doesn’t have to happen.”
Casey, Dunleavy and Murphy nodded in Darcy’s direction, seemingly enjoying the effect she was having on the prisoner.
“If you help us… you may get a chance to use your new-found immortality. If not…”
Darcy didn’t need to finish the sentence. She could she her tactic was having the desired effect.