by Jenn Lees
Chapter 37
The Scottish Government Bunker
Winter Solstice, 2063
“Meetings all day.” Murray sat on their bed, bouncing Jake on his knee. Jake squealed until Murray put him down on the floor, where he ran around in the confined space. “Yep, he’s like you, Rory. Can’t keep still. Have you taught him how to ride yet? Dad had you on a horse by now, or so I’m told.”
“How ’bout you take him to the child-minding place, Murray?” Rory directed his forced grin at his brother. He’d be happier if Murray minded Jake himself, but Murray had responsibilities now that he was part of the science team in the Bunker. Rory suppressed another shiver, they kept coming in this place of no natural light and stale air.
“What?” He looked at Siobhan’s sapphire-blue eyes staring sternly at him. He recalled the first time he saw them in LED—deep, vast pools.
“Be patient. You’ll be out of here after Christmas. Just think of me still in the place where daylight never dwells, as you like to call it.” She slipped her arms around his waist and placed a kiss on his lips.
“It’s dark all day today, anyway.” Murray chased Jake and caught his hand. “Well, almost. It’s the Winter Solstice. Sun won’t rise till 08:42 a.m. and sets as early as 3:40 p.m.”
“Thank you, Mr Numbers,” Rory said to Murray, then looked back to Siobhan. “You keep away from the you-know-what today, okay?”
“Definitely.” Siobhan’s eyes widened. “I never want to get caught in that again.”
RORY SAT BESIDE SIOBHAN at the front of the room, Micah was next to them and the Donaldsons were nearby. Bethany-stuck-up-Watts did her usual ingratiating welcome, and the this is what the New Scottish Government is all about speech. She touched on the country re-establishing itself, reorganising, restructuring, and stated taxation would be required for infrastructure repair and development. Rory grimaced. Invercharing were tied into that one already.
The next speaker was a defence force officer who hinted at conscription to a united security force. Rory sensed Mrs Donaldson’s posture stiffening even from where he sat in front of her. He had squirmed at the prospect of his own youngsters leaving the Community to defend the Government. As he’d looked around on this visit, he’d noticed there weren’t many young people, or children, in the Bunker.
But he could see some good in conscription. The militia might learn a thing or two—or teach the Government something new. There would be provisos, of course. Limited contracts and availability of troops should the Communities require them.
Rory rolled his shoulders. A morning of inactivity was uncomfortable. He stretched his neck and did a secret scan of the room. Lloyd was absent again.
The session broke for morning tea and Rory left Siobhan speaking to Deet, instead heading over to the coffee machine where Maxwell was dispensing a hot drink.
“Good morning,” Rory said Maxwell, who grunted a reply. “Your father hasn’t made it this morning. Is he okay?”
“Yes.” Hot water sloshed over Maxwell’s hand and he flinched. “Ahh!”
“Better put some cold water on it.” Rory said. “Go to the Gents.”
Maxwell dropped the cup on the table and made a sharp exit out of the refreshment area.
The afternoon talks were on power supplies and getting the much-needed maintenance attended to on the wind and hydroelectricity units, and determining the feasibility of repairing the abandoned facilities throughout Scotland. It required an inventory of the available and viable resources. They didn’t mention nuclear power plants.
Rory stood by the coffee machine at a late afternoon tea break. Coffee was the only good thing about this place. The Donaldsons approached him, Mrs Donaldson’s face was eye-piercingly stern.
“Mrs Donaldson, how have you found the discussions?” Rory braced himself for the response.
“You ken how I feel about their defence force ideas.” She dropped her voice. “It’s our young people they want as they only have ageing soldiers. I’m sure ye hae noted that, Rory.”
“Hmm,” Rory replied then took a sip of his coffee. His enjoyment of the dark brown liquid might dispel his discomfort regarding that issue, even if it was only for a moment.
“This government,” Mrs Donaldson continued in a low voice, “is yet tae fully convince me they’ll treat us as friends and not just a resource to exploit.”
“They’ll soon be scrounging for our fuel,” Mr Donaldson observed. “Did ye see those tanks? How on earth do they run them?”
“Aye, that will be next,” Mrs Donaldson concurred as Micah approached.
Mr Donaldson poured his wife a coffee. “Don’t you think so, son?” Mr Donaldson peered through his glasses at Micah.
“Aye, sir,” Micah answered in a brisk manner. A fine sheen of sweat covered his brow, and he scratched the back of his neck and stared directly at Rory. “You got a minute?”
Rory kept hold of his coffee while following Micah to a quieter area with comfortable sofas.
“They’re gonna be speakin’ on fuels and stuff soon and I know Dad would be interested in that, but I can’t find him.”
“Why you tellin’ me? What’s it to me if your father isn’t making the most of his time in the Government Bunker?”
“It’s just that—” Micah closed his mouth on that sentence. “Okay, Rory. Maxwell will ken where he is.” He stomped off, his dreads bobbing in their bun.
Rory walked toward the entry to the meeting hall, but a sharp tap on his back stopped him short. He turned. Murray stood frowning, his lips disappearing in a scrunch and air coming loudly through his nose.
“What?” Alarm bells rang in Rory’s head, deafening all other thoughts.
“Need you to come with me right now.” Murray spun.
Rory trailed Murray without speaking. He hurried from the central meeting area and out to the stairwell. They ran down four flights of stairs and turned off at the level where, if Rory remembered correctly, they housed the Time Machine.
Cold shot up from his guts and filled every part of him.
“What are ye about to show me, Murray?” He stifled the yell welling up.
“Quiet!” Murray’s reply was sharp.
Murray led him down the corridor to the lab that was home to the machine.
The door stood open.
Rory stepped through. A pod lay crumpled on the floor of the Time Machine. Dirty footprints led away from it and faded as they progressed out the doorway.
Rory blinked, his skin crawling. “Who?”
“I don’t know, but I locked this door. Someone’s forced it.” Murray pointed to the broken door handle. “And used it. They’ve returned. See these footprints?” He indicated to the floor. “They must’ve used the energy of the Solstice. That means they went this morning and have been gone all day. Sunset was half an hour ago.”
“Och, no!” Rory’s guts churned with the icy sensations gathering in them. “That bastard, Derrick Lloyd. That’s why Maxwell was so jittery this morning over coffee.”
The man’s name hung in the silence between them.
“Is there any way of finding out where he went? Future or past?”
Murray shrugged. “There was no year set on the console. Just like when Siobhan travelled to the future.”
Rory closed his eyes and swallowed. If it was the future, he would now have even more power. He’d have learned what he could hold over Rory, and how to go about it.
Rory’s breath came haltingly. “How did he know?” Rory fought the numbness threatening. “Who told him?”
“Rory?” Murray’s question filled the lab.
“We’re all sworn to secrecy.” Rory opened his eyes. “Even Cèilidh. I made her promise before she married Micah.”
Murray’s wide eyes bore into his. His wee brother, like everyone else, looked to him for the answer. Sometimes this being a leader was—
“Angela’s giving guided tours. She betrayed us once before.” Murray’s accusation seemed reasonable..
.but Angela would gain nothing from it. And she only operated if she benefitted.
“No,” Rory said with certainty. “Revealing the Time Machine to Lloyd would be regarded as a betrayal of the government she’s worked so hard at ingratiating herself with.”
Rory unclenched his fists, stifling the heat welling from deep within.
“I knew it!’ he ground out. “This machine is more open to abuse here in this Bunker than anywhere!”
“Siobhan’s been there too, Rory.” Murray brought him out of his introspection. “She’s told you what the future holds. We’re prepared. We’re better than that arsehole, Lloyd.”
His brother’s simple faith in good will always triumph, as naïve as he was beginning to think that was, was all he had to hold on to.
Chapter 38
The Scottish Government Bunker
Spring Equinox, 2064
“They will give me another four weeks and then they’ll perform a caesarean section. The placenta hasn’t moved up at all. Over,” Siobhan spoke into the CB radio handset in one of the few private side rooms of the Bunker’s communication centre.
I’ll be there, Siobhan. Over.
“You’d better be.” Siobhan rested her forehead on her hand, with her elbow on the desk where the radio sat. It had been three long months of a growing belly and a fractious almost-two-year-old. “I’ll get Jake next time. He’s at nursery. He loves it and I don’t wish to disturb him. Over.”
I’ll be there as soon as I can after the Fuel Summit Lloyd has insisted on holding at his palace in Fife. Over.
“It’s not a palace, Rory.” She laughed into the handpiece. “It’s a restored stately home. Over.”
Aye, well, Martin kens it. Lloyd kidnapped and held him there at the start of the Crash. He’ll tell you that story one day. Needless to say, he’ll no’ come with me. Only Xian and I will be attending. And I might bring Kendra too. Never know when you’ll need muscle. Over.
Siobhan’s mouth tugged to the side. “I love you, Rory, and I miss you so much. Over.” Hot tears slid from her eyes and trickled past the upturned corners of her mouth.
Damned hormones!
Och, heart o’ my own heart, I cannae say how much I’m missing you and long to be with you. I have tae go. Love you. Over and out.
Siobhan scooted the chair out from beneath her, stood, and pressing her hand into the small of her back, walked out of the communication centre. The waddle had started, and she was glad Rory couldn’t see how ungainly she looked. Dr Liz and Aunty Rajna were very gracious and said a pregnant woman was a beautiful thing.
Did. Not. Feel. Like. It.
BETHANY DISMISSED THE guard and closed the door that led to Antony’s cell area. The door to his cell was open and his desk was its usual untidy array of open books and scattered papers. The stack of books standing beside it rose higher with each visit. Antony sat on the edge of his cot, brows drawn and his features dark. She’d come prepared mentally, and physically, for an afternoon of sex, but as he raised his head with the scar on his cheek glowing a dark purple, Bethany’s switch from lover to Prime Minister was rapid.
“Talk to me.” She crossed her arms, tucking the elderly packet of condoms into her blazer pocket.
“I need to know what he’s up to.” Antony looked at her from underneath his brows.
Bethany squinted. “I’m assuming you refer to the capitalist entrepreneur whom you hold in such high regard.”
“Yes. Why his place—?”
“Derrick Lloyd wants to impress us.”
“There’s more.” He clasped his hands in front of himself. “A fuel summit,” he sneered. “He’s got some stashed away somewhere, that’s what.”
Bethany snorted and Antony glared at her, his scar looking angrier.
“We require more than just a stash.” She sat on the cot beside him. “We need a viable, continuous supply, and Lloyd mentioned rapeseed oil. He has very fertile lands in Fife. We sent drones over them. He has planted his fields with what we assume is rapeseed, and he has many large barns. Most have storage vats. We suspect he’s producing it in vast quantities. Now that the Government is re-establishing itself, we need to use all our vehicles, especially in security and defence. We can convert them to use this fuel. Whatever we all come up with, it will have to be ongoing. It appears Lloyd can do it.”
And he needs to do it soon.
“Are they all going? Will the king-of-the-compound and his side-kick wifey be there?” Derision filled Antony’s expression, bordering on hate.
Bethany straightened her shoulders, stood and stepped away from the bed, preparing for his reaction. She couldn’t evade this next revelation any longer.
“Mr Campbell has been invited. Siobhan won’t be attending.”
“So, she’s being the good wee wifey and remaining in the camp like an obedient woman?” He spoke through a snarl. “All her grand intentions to fix the world have come to nothing. She’s still unable to change those Community hippies.”
“I don’t think that’s her fault. I believe she’s had difficulty gaining everyone’s trust because of her origins with us.” Bethany surprised herself with her defence of Siobhan. Louise had let slip a confidence she was sure Siobhan would never have wanted her to be privy to. “Anyway, she’s not in ‘the camp’.”
Antony leaned back on his cot. “Where is she?”
“Here.”
Antony flew to stand and towered over her. “Why?”
“Siobhan is pregnant, but it’s complicated.” She wouldn’t flinch as Antony stretched to his full height.
“How long has she been here?”
“What does that matter?” Bethany crossed her arms.
“Why haven’t you told me?”
Why had she not informed him? Was she jealous? Protecting Siobhan?
Yes, to both.
Siobhan was a beauty, brilliant, and a former lover of Antony’s, but now vulnerable.
“Siobhan needs our medical supervision and is in our care for the best outcome for her and her baby.” She stared Antony down, trusting the good sense of the situation would stir up some humanity in the man.
It was times like this she questioned her attraction to him. Damaged but desirable.
“How do you know Derrick Lloyd?”
Antony blinked, his posture slowly relaxing at the change of subject. “I don’t.”
“He enquired about you while he was here at Christmas. I thought your incarceration was almost secret, but he knew.”
“Campbell told him. He would’ve relished delivering that news.”
“Why?” Bethany tilted her head. “If you don’t know him.”
“If Lloyd has this vegetable-oil fuel to offer...” Antony shrugged off her line of questioning. “Beth, you’ve got to get a hold of it all. And I mean all.”
“Yes, I’m completely aware of that.” She used her official PM tones on Antony. “It may be vital.”
“No. If he doesn’t agree to your terms, it’s your duty to second it for the New Scottish Government.” Antony grabbed her by the upper arms. “Confiscate it, if you must.”
Bethany gasped at the suddenness of his grip. “Very well.”
“And I want to see her.”
“Who?” Bethany’s gut clenched, anticipating the answer.
“Siobhan.”
“No.” She used her PM tones once more.
Never.
Chapter 39
Tummel House Community, Perthshire
“Thank you, Mrs Donaldson, for putting us up for the night.” Sitting next to the matriarch of the Tummel House Community, Rory sipped on his second coffee. They ate in the medium sized room off the main kitchen. The hall where Rory had dined on his previous visit to Tummel House Community was empty of people, with chairs and tables stacked neatly against the walls and bare floorboards being all Rory glimpsed on his way to the breakfast room.
Women placed platters of breakfast fare on the table in front of him and men swished past in
kilts. Younger men and women passed outside the windows, headed for the gardens with hoes and baskets in hand. A group of men followed carrying firearms and traps.
Beside him, Kendra forked up crispy fried bacon and Xian buttered hot crumpets.
“We may join you at that cockroach’s place later in the week.” Mrs Donaldson glanced over at Xian as he took a bite of his buttery crumpet. She leaned past Rory and picked a freshly toasted one off the serving plate.
“Now, dear, be a wee bit kinder.” Mr Donaldson looked over the top of his spectacles.
“The man is an insect. He should have died already.” The butter melted to nothing as soon as Mrs Donaldson spread it on the hot crumpet.
“He’s a survivor, dear.”
“Aye, at the expense of others.” She peered up from her breakfast and pierced Rory with her gaze. “You be careful. That man has his own agenda and he’ll stick to it. I dinnae fear for ma army but something’s afoot.”
“I ken, ma’am.” Rory finished his coffee. “I intend on findin’ out soon enough.”
“If ye need us—” Mrs Donaldson placed a bony hand on his forearm, her eyes narrowing, “my army is yours, son.” She gave a curt nod, her top knot wobbling in unison with her head movement.
Rory swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Mrs Donaldson. I appreciate your support and your offer. I have my people, and my man, Micah, is already there with his men.”
“You just remember, Rory.” Mrs Donaldson’s hand remained on his arm. “Ye can call on us.”
“Aye, we carry a portable CB.”
SIOBHAN’S TRAINERS squeaked with every step. It should have been irritating, but she found it reassuring. Almost like a pedometer.
“Walking is good exercise,” she repeated to herself. She kept up her stamina with a daily exercise routine. “It helps the backache at least.” She grimaced. “In theory.” She placed her hand on the small of her back and pressed. “Most days.”