The Longest Day (Ark Royal X)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Someone is going to be in trouble for this, he thought, as he put the safety on and stuck the weapon in his belt. I wonder if they even reported the loss.

  He put the thought aside as he heard a whimper from inside the store. Carefully, he removed his torch and shone it into the building, bracing himself for anything from a shout to a shot. The torchlight would reveal his position to any watching eyes ... nothing came at him, not even a scream. He glanced at Sally, silently indicating that she should stay back, then inched into the building. A dark shape was moving on the ground. He knelt and shone his torch towards him - no, her. A young oriental woman, her slanted eyes wide with fear. There was a nasty bruise on her cheek. Her shirt had been torn open, exposing a pair of small breasts; her hands were bound behind her back with duct tape. Robin shone the torch at his uniform, just long enough to let her recognise him as a police officer, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

  “Is there anyone else in the building?”

  She shook her head. Robin relaxed, very slightly. She didn't have to be lying to actually mislead him. He’d been in the force long enough to know that witness testimony was often the most unreliable bullshit in the world. A witness’s version of the truth might have nothing in common with the real truth, insofar as it existed. He pushed the thought aside as he slipped further into the store, listening carefully. Apart from the drip-drip-drip of water, there was nothing. But anything could be hiding in there.

  He inched back to the woman, then helped her up and half-carried her out of the store. Sally took her, cut the duct tape and helped her to cover herself up. Robin kept an eye on the two prisoners, while checking the dead gangster. He wasn’t carrying any ID ...

  “They made me take them to the store,” the woman said. She sounded as if she was on the verge of complete collapse. Her hands held the remains of her shirt closed, even as it clung to her skin. “They ...”

  Robin sighed. The reinforcements hadn't shown up. Of course they hadn't shown up. There was no way that two of them could search the store, even if they hadn't had two prisoners and an unwilling captive to supervise. They’d have to go back to the refugee camp and leave the store alone. The gangsters were probably watching from a safe distance, just waiting to come back to finish the job. Or maybe they’d target a food store or even one of the refugee camps ...

  “On your feet,” he ordered the prisoners, yanking them up. “Let’s go.”

  “We have rights,” the first one said. He was trying to sound defiant, even though he had to know he was in deep shit. “I ...”

  Robin drew his pistol and shoved it into the man’s face. “Martial law has been declared,” he snapped. It was hard, so hard, to resist the temptation to just pull the trigger. Madness howled at the back of his mind. “You have no rights. Your only hope of survival lies in cooperation.”

  He shoved the man forward, then glared at his companion. There were always human locusts, weren't there? Coming out of the woodwork when society tottered, threatening to collapse ... making it impossible to rebuild. He wanted to kill them, he wanted to just dump their bodies in the Thames ... no one would know. They’d just be two more rotting bodies to be carted off and burnt. Sally would keep her mouth shut ...

  Society is three missed meals from collapse, he reminded himself. He had no idea who’d said that, but it was true. And we’re going to miss a great many more meals in the future.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Near Townsend, United Kingdom

  The rain didn't let off, even when the tiny convoy started to crawl up the hillside. Molly watched with growing horror as the waters ran faster and faster, carrying soil and mud down towards the sea. Branches floated in the water, suggesting that it was only a matter of time before there was a landslide. If they got stuck ... she hated to think about what would happen.

  “We need to stay as high as possible,” Rosemary said, as she navigated her way along the road. Water flooded past the van, gliding across the road and splashing down the hill. Molly leaned forward as the visibility dropped and dropped again, making it harder to see. “It looks like Kuala Lumpur out there.”

  “Except colder,” Garrison said. He sounded better, now they were in a vehicle. “I was there two years ago.”

  Molly sighed, inwardly. There had been a time when she’d liked that about him, hadn't there? International travel - at least outside France and the rest of Europe - had been well outside her budget. Kurt hadn't even been stationed in another star system ... not that he would have been able to take his family with him. She felt a stab of envy, mingled with the grim awareness that she’d been foolish. Garrison wasn't the man she thought he’d been.

  One of the kids coughed. “What was it like?”

  “Hot and humid,” Garrison said.

  Molly half-closed her eyes as Garrison chatted, distracting the kids with a story that would have interested her too, once upon a time. Her body ached, demanding sleep, but she didn't dare close her eyes. She wasn't sure how far she trusted Garrison now ... and she didn't know Rosemary at all. Society had probably already started to break down. Penzance could hardly be the only place to have been smashed flat by tidal waves.

  There will have been strikes up and down the coastline, she thought. It wasn't something she’d ever had to consider before. Apart from a brief global warming scare during the run-up to the Troubles, Britain’s weather had remained fairly consistent. Tidal waves had never been a concern when she’d taken her family to Scarborough or Portsmouth for summer holidays. The entire coast might be flooded.

  The van lurched as it crested the hill and started down towards the road at the bottom. Molly fought the urge to close her eyes as the wheels started to slip before regaining their grip, even though she knew there would be nothing she could do if they tumbled down the hill. Water washed down beside them, moving so fast that she honestly wondered if Rosemary had accidentally driven into a river. It might not be too long, part of her mind warned her, before the water destroyed the road’s surface and turned it into a real river. The roads were designed to cope with rain - Britain was renowned for its rain - but nothing like this.

  This isn't a motorway, she told herself, firmly. The van lurched again, water splashing down on the rooftop. We’ll be safer once we reach the M5.

  Garrison nudged her. “If we get home,” he muttered, “I’m going to learn how to drive my car.”

  “Good idea,” Molly said. She carefully didn't mention that she had no intention of seeing him ever again. “I think everyone should know how to drive a car.”

  “Crap,” Rosemary said, as they reached the bottom of the hill. “Look at that!”

  Molly peered out the front window and swore. A handful of cars had come off the road, lying in a water-filled ditch with their windows smashed. Anyone inside would have drowned, she realised grimly. The driving compartments were already under water. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the vehicles were covered and lost forever, or at least until the water drained away. God alone knew how long it would be before anyone came to check out the wrecks.

  “We should stop to help,” Gordon said. He was an older man, related to Rosemary ... somehow. Molly hadn't cared enough to listen to the explanation. “The people there might need us ...”

  “There’s no sign of anyone moving,” Garrison said, peering through the windows. “I don’t think we can help them.”

  Molly followed his gaze. Water was splashing down around the cars, but nothing else appeared to be moving. The road still looked stable, but it was alarmingly clear that the ditch was growing larger as more and more water flooded down and eroded its banks. Rosemary evidently agreed. She carefully drove past the wreck, making sure she stayed in the centre of the road as more and more water flooded down. There was no time to stop and help.

  “We can't do anything,” Garrison said. “We can barely help ourselves.”

  Rosemary glared at him, then reached out and slapped the radio. It emitted a crackling noise, but n
othing else. Molly looked down at her smartphone, constantly searching for an active datanode or even a low-level signal network. There was nothing. She’d grown up in a world where she could download an entire season of Doctor Who or Stellar Star in seconds, but now ... now she felt isolated. There was no one around for miles. The trees - the dripping wet trees - appeared to be closing in.

  “I thought the government would be making emergency broadcasts,” Rosemary muttered, as she twisted the knob. The static grew louder. No matter how hard she strained her ears, Molly couldn't hear any voices within the storm. “We don’t have any idea what’s waiting for us.”

  “They might be concerned about attracting enemy fire,” Gordon said. “When I was in the Rifles, we taught our enemies not to make radio transmissions unless they wanted to be thumped.”

  Molly gave him a sharp look. “You think the aliens won?”

  Gordon jabbed a finger upwards. “I think there’s no way to know,” he said. “Anything could be up there, beyond the cloud.”

  “The defences are powerful,” Garrison said, sharply. “Earth is heavily defended.”

  “Not heavily enough to keep the aliens from dropping rocks on us,” Gordon countered. “The bastards might have done it deliberately, just to soften us up for when they land combat troops.”

  Molly swallowed. She was no expert, but the whole scenario made a great deal of sense. If the tidal waves had battered every coastline - and she had no way to know if they had - Britain’s defenders would be in disarray. The government and military would be scattered, perhaps broken. No one, as far as she knew, had made any attempt to get on the airwaves and reassure the population that there was a government out there. For all she knew, the next thing they encountered would be an alien landing force.

  We’re staying off the beaten track, she told herself. But that might change in a hurry.

  She leaned back in her seat as Rosemary led the convoy onto a main road, heading north-east. Molly keyed her smartphone, bringing up the map, but she was forced to admit she didn't have the slightest idea where they were. It had been far too long since she’d been in the Girl Guides and she hadn't been particularly good at reading maps, even with help from the rest of her squad. She didn't think they’d gone that far from Penzance, but there was no way to be sure. The rain made it impossible to pick out any local landmarks.

  “We’ll find a way onto the M5 in an hour, if we keep going down this road,” Rosemary said, as they picked up speed. The rainfall seemed to be decreasing, although it was hard to be certain. Winds buffeted the van, blowing at random. “That should speed things up a little.”

  The rain stopped, with a suddenness that made Molly look up in surprise. The skies were still overcast - the deep blue clouds looked as if they were about to burst at any moment - but, just for a moment, the torrential downpour stopped. And yet, she could still hear thunder in the distance. She shook her head as she ran her hand through her wet hair. The temperature seemed to be rising rapidly, now the rain had stopped. She wondered, absently, if that was a good thing or not.

  We might be able to get to Woking in a few hours, she thought. She couldn't ask Rosemary to go that far out of her way, but she knew people who would probably loan her a car in a couple of nearby towns. Or she could rent a car. She could easily find a car hire shop and pay over the odds, just to get home. And then ...

  She swallowed, hard, as she realised the possible implications. She’d made sure to carry her credit card as well as some paper money, but how much good were either of them now? At best, she might have to pay for the car on her knees; at worst, she wouldn't be able to get a car for love or money or even sex. Someone who owned a car might not want to trade it for anything. And they certainly wouldn't want to drive her home.

  I could walk, she told herself, firmly. At least I’d be closer to my home.

  “Shit,” Rosemary said, as they neared the motorway. “Police!”

  Molly looked up, sharply. Three police cars were blocking the slip road, their lights flashing blue and red in the half-light. She swallowed, hard, as she tried to decide what to do. They’d been ordered to stay put, after all. Most of the county had clearly obeyed orders ... she glanced at Rosemary, who looked grim as she drove towards the blockade. A moment later, a pair of policemen waved the convoy down.

  “Remain calm,” Rosemary said, as she rolled down the window. The policemen were clearly armed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Please get out of the vehicle,” the policeman said. “And bring your ID cards with you.”

  Molly exchanged a look with Garrison, then opened the door and stepped onto the road. It was hotter than she’d realised, hotter than she’d expected ... even for June. The air smelled of salt and mud and something she didn't want to identify. She stepped onto the kerb as the rest of the convoy pulled up, rapidly evacuating their vehicles. Molly sucked in her breath as she saw their full numbers for the first time. Seven adults, fifteen children. They really were in trouble.

  At least my kids are at home, she thought, grimly. Gayle is looking after them ...

  She felt her blood run cold. What if Gayle left? What if she decided to go home? God knew she hadn't been hired for more than a day ... what if she just left? Molly fought down panic as the awful realisation dawned. She could get home, only to discover that her kids had been abandoned. Percy was old enough to take care of his sister, she thought, but Penny probably wouldn't listen to him. She took too much after Molly for her mother’s comfort.

  The policemen checked their ID cards, one by one, then searched the vehicles with practiced ease. Molly watched, wondering what to expect. They were disobeying orders, but ... but they had an excuse! Somehow, she doubted that would go down well with the cops. The age of excuses - the age when even the most vile crimes could be excused - was long since over.

  “The M5 is closed,” the lead policeman said, once the vehicles had been searched. Molly assumed they’d run the ID cards through the police network, although she had no idea if the network was working or not. “Where are you going?”

  “London,” Rosemary said. “We have ...”

  “All the roads heading in and out of London have been closed,” the policeman told her. He didn't sound unsympathetic. “There’s flooding in the capital, from what we've heard. You won’t get much closer.”

  Rosemary sagged. “I have to get home ...”

  Molly leaned forward. “What about Woking?”

  “I don’t have any direct reports about Woking, but there are reports of heavy flooding in the Thames Valley,” the policeman said. His eyes flickered over Molly, then looked away. “I believe a number of roads have already been closed.”

  “I have to get the kids home,” Rosemary said. She sounded as if she was on the verge of crying helplessly. “Sir ... I have to get them home.”

  “You might not have a home,” the policeman said. “Look, where were you?”

  “Camping,” Rosemary said. She waved a hand at the vehicles. “We had to leave half of the equipment behind ...”

  The policeman glanced down at his terminal. “There’s a B&B place a couple of miles up the road,” he said. “It’s marked down as an emergency refugee centre, but so far hardly anyone has been sent there. Go there now - the staff will make sure you have something to eat and drink while you wait for orders. It isn't much, but it will have to do.”

  Rosemary nodded, shortly.

  “My kids are at Woking,” Molly said. “I have to get there!”

  “You and millions of others,” the policeman said. “Half the roads are blocked; the remainder, I’m afraid, have been reserved for the emergency services. There is no way you can make it to Woking without being stopped and arrested. I understand your problem, but you cannot use the roads. It’s just not safe.”

  Molly felt her hands beginning to shake. She had to get to her kids. She had to go ...

  “I don’t care about the risk,” she said. “I have to get back home.”


  The policeman sighed. “You have a choice,” he said, tiredly. It struck Molly, suddenly, that the policeman hadn't slept for hours. He might have been up all night, trying to cope with the sudden crisis. “You can go with your friends to the B&B, where you will get something to eat and a chance to rest, or I can arrest you now, which will save time because you will be arrested if you’re caught on the roads. In that case, you’ll be cuffed, chained to a work gang and forced to do hard labour. And that will make getting back to your kids much harder.”

  Molly stared at him for a long moment. A dozen arguments ran through her head - she was a taxpayer, her husband was in the military - only to be dismissed. The policeman was not going to budge. And she didn't want to be arrested, even if she was never brought to court and tried. She’d never live down the shame of it ...