Victory Day (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 5)

by Rachel Churcher

  Dan pokes me in the back with his gun, and I realise I’ve stopped walking. “We’ve radioed for a car, from the coalition.” He smiles. “Well, more like a fleet of cars.” He nudges me again until I start walking. “Now it’s up to you.”

  *****

  We make the trip to Belmarsh in convoy. Bex and her friends, and some of the soldiers guarding Whitehall. We use the military lanes, and the journey takes half an hour.

  Half an hour in a car with Bex and Amy, both of them armed, and both of them angry.

  I can think of better ways to spend an afternoon.

  “Ketty,” Bex begins. “I’m not sure what it is you’re expecting me to do. I’m not sure who’s in charge yet, and I don’t know whether anyone will listen to me.”

  Amy laughs. “They’re all going to listen to you. You were the one on the screens. It was your speech. You told them their world was ending. The King quoted your words. Of course they’re going to listen to you.”

  Bex ignores her. “What is it you want me to do? Save your career? Tell them you had nothing to do with all this?”

  I hide a smile. It hasn’t occurred to her to double-cross me. It hasn’t occurred to her to go back on her word. She’s really going to help me. After Saunders, after interrogating her mother – after everything Jackson and I did to her, and to her friends, she’s still going to help me.

  Careful, Ketty. Don’t take anything for granted.

  I take a deep breath. “I’m a soldier, Bex. I signed up for it, I volunteered for it. I chose to fight for my country. I thought that meant fighting terrorists and training you lot, but today it means bringing you to your mother, and tomorrow it will mean – who knows? Fighting for the King? Defending elections? Guarding politicians?” I shrug. “Whatever it means, that’s what I’m signing up for. So that’s what I want.

  “I’m a good soldier. I’m a fighter. I don’t give up.” She raises an eyebrow at that.

  “So what’s this, then?” She waves her hands at me. “Looks like giving up to me.”

  I let out a sigh. “This is what my country needs today. So this is what I’m doing, today. It might not look like it to you, Bex, but this is fighting.”

  You have no idea how hard I’m fighting. I intend to stay alive.

  “So, what? A good word in the right ear? A recommendation to the King? A letter to the Opposition In Exile?”

  I smile. “Something like that, yes.”

  She fixes me with a stare, and I think of her mother in the nursing home, steel behind her eyes as she sized me up.

  She nods, finally. “OK. OK.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nods again. “But my Mum had better be OK when we get to her. You had no right to kidnap her. You had no right to take her away from home. From my Dad.” There are tears in her eyes as she speaks.

  I close my eyes and nod, accepting her accusation. “She’s fine, Bex. I promise.”

  The car pulls up at the prison.

  Rescue

  Bex

  Ketty is right. Mum’s OK. She lets us into the prison with her pass, and down into a waiting room. I follow her to the cells, and there’s Mum, sitting in her wheelchair, waiting for another interrogation.

  “Corporal Smith. No guards today?”

  Ketty steps back and waves me into the cell. Mum’s jaw drops.

  “Bex!” She holds out her arms and I kneel down in front of her chair. She wraps her arms round me and I drop my helmet and hug her back. There are tears in my eyes as I pull back and take in her orange jumpsuit and the fading bruises on her face. The plaster cast is gone, but she’s still wearing a support bandage on her arm.

  “Mum. Are you …?”

  She nods, and smiles, her eyes searching my face, hands gripping the arm panels of my armour.

  “What happened? Why are you …?” Her smile fades, and she looks over my shoulder at Ketty. “What is this, Corporal? Is this the reunion you promised me?” She raises her voice. “What are you going to do to my daughter?”

  She moves her arm protectively round my shoulders.

  “No, Mum – it’s OK. We won. We fought, and we won.”

  “No strings, Mrs Ellman. No more questions. I’m here to let you go. You and your daughter.”

  Mum looks at me. “I don’t understand.”

  I smile. “We won, Mum. There’s a coalition of armies running the country. The Home Forces? They’re done. They’re all under arrest.” My smile widens. “We’re getting our country back.”

  She nods towards the door. “Then what’s she doing here?”

  I shrug, her arm still round my shoulders. “Ketty helped us. She brought us here. She’s going to let you go.”

  Mum raises her eyebrows, and looks at Ketty.

  “So you’re happy to sit on the bully’s side of the table, but you’re not willing to take the consequences, Corporal?” She shakes her head, a faint smile on her face. “That doesn’t surprise me.” She looks at me again, her hands on my shoulders. “She’s not threatening you, is she, Bex? She’s not hurting you?”

  I shake my head, and there are tears on my cheeks.

  “No, Mum. This is real. She’s here to get you out.”

  Mum gives Ketty a long stare, then looks around the cell, and shrugs.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  Alone

  Ketty

  They’re all here. Bex, Dan, Amy, Charlotte. Margaret in her execution jumpsuit, and some faces I don’t recognise, all crowded into the Top Secret Belmarsh waiting room. I’ve opened all the cells, and people are helping themselves to coffee and tea, and everyone’s talking at once.

  Bex sits with her mother, the two of them deep in conversation. Elizabeth hasn’t seen anything that happened this afternoon – there’s no TV in the cells – and Bex is bringing her up to date. She’s explaining something, waving her hands to help her descriptions, and pointing out people round the room as they show up in her story.

  Amy is talking to a man I don’t know, waving her hands and gesturing with excitement. The man laughs and grins. Charlotte Mackenzie is talking to Craig Dewar, her hand on his arm. She glances at me, and excuses herself. She sits down in the chair opposite mine, and looks me in the eye.

  “Do you know how lucky you are to be here?” She asks, her voice cutting. “Do you know how lucky you are to see this?” She waves her hand. “Oh, I know why you’re here. You’ve bargained yourself a reprieve from the witch hunt that’s going on in the Home Forces right now. Bex is desperate enough – and kind enough – to let you in here. She could have left you outside.” She thinks for a moment. “She could have left you in the courtyard at Horse Guard’s Parade. She could have handed you in to the people in charge. But she didn’t.” She indicates the room. “So now you get to see what you don’t have, Ketty. You get to see friendship. You get to see love, and kindness, and caring.” I shake my head. I don’t want to hear this from the kitchen supervisor. I wave her away, but she doesn’t stop. “Take notes, Ketty. Life isn’t all about winning. Sometimes it’s about standing still and finding your tribe.” She shakes her head at me. “But you don’t have a tribe, do you?”

  Watch who you’re talking about. My tribe is dead, and the child who killed him is on the other side of the room.

  I bite down on the temptation to shout at her. To tell her what happened to Jackson. What happened to Bracken, and Lee. What happened to Mum, and Dad. What happens to everyone who cares about me. But I bite my tongue. I have an advantage, here, but it won’t last. I need Bex to believe I’m on her side.

  Charlotte stands up, and walks away, and it’s harder to watch the group mixing around me.

  Because she’s right.

  And then I notice Dan, standing in a corner with Margaret. He’s holding her shoulders, and she slides her arms around his waist. I look away as their lips meet, and see Bex watching them as well, a smile spreading across her face. I raise an eyebrow, but she doesn’t see me. She’s too busy with her tribe.r />
  I sit, alone in the centre of the room, watching the groups divide and join up around me. There’s no harsh joking. There’s no one pushing each other to react. There’s nothing of Jackson here. And there’s no manipulation. No Bracken. No Lee. No Conrad. No broken promises.

  This isn’t my tribe at all.

  I sink down further in my chair.

  “So you’re using my daughter now?” Elizabeth crosses her arms and sits back in her chair. She’s pushed herself over to my seat, and we’re eye-to-eye in the middle of the room.

  Careful, Ketty. You don’t have any friends here. Don’t forget that.

  “I’m working with her,” I say, carefully, pulling myself up straight in the chair. “At least – if she’ll let me.”

  She watches me for a moment, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. “You’ve decided not to point guns at her any more?”

  I make myself smile, too, and look round the room. “I don’t think that would get me very far here. Do you?”

  She shakes her head. “Or anywhere else.” Her gaze is almost as piercing as Lee’s, and I feel myself shrinking back from it. “Is it true, what she told me? What you did to her and her friends?”

  My mouth is dry, and I have to force the words out. I try to sound unconcerned. “What did she tell you?”

  Elizabeth looks at me again, and it’s like being back in the interrogation room. Except that this time there are no handcuffs. Nothing to protect me from her. No power on my side. Nothing to be gained from provoking her. She tilts her head to one side, and appraises me. “I think that’s a yes.”

  I look down, my face heating up as she continues to stare.

  “What is it you think my daughter can do for you?” She asks, as if she’s asking about the weather. As if this means nothing, to either of us. I make myself meet her gaze. “What are you hoping for? A pardon?”

  “Something like that.”

  She watches me, her eyes searching my face.

  “How old are you, Corporal? Twenty-one? Twenty-Two?”

  I shrug.

  Close enough.

  “I don’t envy you. The rest of your life? Sixty years, give or take? That’s a long time to spend behind bars.” She glances at Bex. “I can see why you’d want to make a deal. That’s a lot of time to spend answering their questions.” She looks down at her jumpsuit. “Plenty of time to get used to wearing one of these.”

  I look away. I don’t want to think about this.

  Don’t let her get to you.

  She leans forward so her face is inches from mine, her anger finally showing. “If you ask me, you deserve a firing squad, Ketty.” She leans away again, and shrugs. “But if you ask Bex? Maybe she’s a better person than me.” She glances over to where Bex and Amy are talking. “Maybe she can see something worth saving. She certainly knows what you’re capable of.”

  She touches her neck, then points to the bruises on mine. “Whoever did that – they had the right idea. Send them my regards.”

  She watches me for a moment more, a hint of amusement on her face, and then she turns her chair and pushes herself away.

  I take a deep breath and run my hands over my face.

  I’m here. I’m alive. That’s what matters for now.

  Insight

  Bex

  Ketty opens the doors and we bring the prisoners to the waiting room. There’s tea and coffee, and comfortable chairs. It’s all so normal, and so safe, and it seems impossible, so close to the cells.

  Everyone’s reaction is different. The guard from the gatehouse has tears in his eyes when I step into his cell, and I can’t help crying as I walk him to freedom. Neesh’s friend throws his arms around me and tells me he can’t believe he’s being saved by the Face of the Resistance. Ketty and I both roll our eyes at that, but we take him to the waiting room and make sure he’s OK.

  When the cells are empty, I thank Ketty and leave her sitting alone in a chair, the reunion going on around her. I step over to the interrogation room door, and rest my fingers on the handle.

  Mum pushes herself to my side and takes my hand in hers.

  “You don’t need to go in there, Bex. You don’t need to see.”

  I look at her, blinking back tears. “I’ve seen it, Mum. Every night on PIN I’ve watched you, and Ketty, and all the prisoners. I know what’s inside.”

  Mum shakes her head. “It’s not the same, Bex. Not when you’re on this side of the cameras.” She squeezes my hand.

  I nod, and open the door.

  She’s right. This isn’t a TV image. This is harsh white lights and a cold metal table. This is a smell of disinfectant and a one-way mirror. Cameras, bright light, and my own eyes, looking back at me.

  This is fear.

  I walk slowly into the room, leaving Mum in the doorway. I put my hand on the prisoner’s chair, then slowly pull it out and sit down, my hands on the table, one on each side of the handcuff loop. I look down at my hands, and then up, at the mirrored wall in front of me. I watch myself, sitting where Mum sat. At the view I’ve seen so many times on PIN.

  And it feels cold. Empty.

  Then I stand, and walk to the other side of the table. To the chair where Ketty sat, questioning Mum. I put both hands on the back of the chair and look across the table.

  There’s a feeling of power on this side of the room. A feeling of safety. No handcuff loop on the table. No one-way mirror, watching me. Slowly, I pull the chair out and look at it, as if I’m expecting an explanation.

  Mum watches from the doorway as I sit down, hands in my lap, back straight. I try to imagine someone across from me, fear in their eyes. The questions I would ask. How I would feel.

  I shake my head. I feel sick. I close my eyes and lean over, taking deep breaths.

  I’m shaking when I stand up and leave the room, pulling the door closed behind me. Mum takes my hand, and turns me to look at her.

  She shakes her head. “That’s not who you are, Bex. You’re better than that, my beautiful girl.” I stare at her, trying to shake the feeling of power. She points at one of the chairs in the waiting room. “Come on. Sit with me. Tell me everything that’s happened.” I nod. “Tell me how you got here.”

  So I tell her. I tell her about Camp Bishop, about Ketty and Jackson and Bracken. I tell her about Leominster, and how we escaped from camp. I tell her about the bunker. About Joss Saunders and the gatehouse guard. About Newcastle and Edinburgh and the Netherlands. I’m pointing people out as we reach each part of the story – Charlie, Dan, Margie, Amy, Maz. Ketty.

  Mum listens. She holds my hand and she listens to everything that’s happened. I tell her everything as quickly as I can, and then I tell her about today, and my speech in the meeting room. What happened at the execution.

  She puts an arm round my shoulders again, and we sit quietly for a while; Mum looking round at my friends, and me fighting tears as I realise what we’ve done today.

  I look at the room – at my tribe, talking and laughing – and I see Amy with Maz. Charlie, talking with the gatehouse guard. Dan and Margie in the corner of the room, stealing a kiss. I can’t help smiling, knowing they’ve found each other again.

  Mum gives my shoulders a squeeze. “So these are your friends.”

  I nod, my eyes filling with tears. “Yeah.”

  She nods. “They’re good people.” She looks at me. “You’ve kept each other safe, through everything. You should be very proud of that.”

  I nod, my eyes closed.

  “Mrs Ellman?” Mum looks up. “I’m Charlie. It’s an honour to meet you.”

  I brush the tears from my eyes as Mum takes her arm from my shoulders and shakes Charlie’s hand.

  “It’s an honour to meet one of Bex’s friends.”

  I stand up, giving Charlie a smile and putting a hand on Mum’s shoulder. I leave them to talk, and make my way around the room. None of this feels real. I need to talk to Dan and Margie. I need to know that my friends are still with me.

&n
bsp; “Bex!” Amy jumps up and throws her arms around me. “This is amazing! All these people …”

  I nod. “I know. I can’t believe we’re here.”

  “We’ve done it, Bex!” And she hugs me again. She pulls me to a chair, chattering with excitement, and tells me what happened to her earlier. How she helped to rescue Margie and Dr Richards, and how she reported what was happening to the coalition. Jake worked with her, talking with her on the radio as she described the events in the crowd, and on the stage. How she’s thrilled to have her friend back.

  I look up. Mum is talking to Ketty, and I’m about to get up and interrupt when Mum pushes herself away, and the door behind her opens.

  Taken

  Ketty

  The room falls silent as a group of guards in olive uniforms walks in from the corridor. I turn in my chair, heart pounding, searching for some kind of identification on their uniforms. There’s nothing to indicate which side they’re on. I watch as they draw their guns.

  Someone has tracked us to Belmarsh.

  I’m half-expecting to see Conrad, or Franks, and I realise that it’s my pass that opened all these cell doors. I’m in trouble if this is the Home Forces, and I’m in trouble if its not.

  Time to call in the debt, Ketty. Time for Bex to step up.

  I glance across the room at Bex. She’s watching the guards with the same expression. We’re both trying to guess who they’re here for. She stands, pulling herself up tall in her armour, waiting for whatever is coming.

  I reach for my gun, but the holster is empty. Dan took the gun, back at Horse Guards Parade. If this is the Home Forces, there’s going to be a fight, and I’m unarmed. If this is the King’s soldiers, I’m on their wanted list.

  I glance around the room, looking for shelter and safety, but there’s nowhere to hide. I could run for the cells, but there’s no way out. We’re trapped down here. If the guards are here for me, there’s no one I can count on. Already I can see hostile looks on the faces around me – Charlotte, Elizabeth, Amy. There’s no safety here, but I’m amazed at how calm I’m feeling. I feel exposed, I feel vulnerable; but I feel calm, as if the end is inevitable.