The Longest Day (Ark Royal X)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “You don’t have to shoot them,” Robin said. Only one of the looters had been armed, for crying out loud! Looking at them, it was easy to tell that most of the youngsters had been dragooned into looting. “They can go to the detention camps!”

  “I have authority to shoot them,” the lieutenant repeated. Sweat was beading on his brow as he glared at Robin. “They won’t loot again if I kill them.”

  Robin met his eyes. “If you do, I’ll arrest you for murder,” he snapped. He understood the lieutenant’s problem - he was worried about showing weakness in front of the men - but he didn't really care. Murder was murder. “They don’t deserve to die.”

  He took a breath. “Call them in, get them sent to the chain gangs,” he added. “They can do something useful and if they try to escape, they can be shot then!”

  The lieutenant scowled. “On your head be it,” he said, finally. He turned and walked towards the door, holding himself ramrod straight. “Follow me.”

  Robin allowed himself a sigh of relief as the soldiers trooped out of the store. The lieutenant had had authority to shoot ... but he hadn’t had the obligation to shoot. And the looters had learnt their lesson.

  I hope, he thought, as he keyed his radio. The prisoners could be held until they were picked up and put to work. They didn’t have to die. And if I’m wrong, I’ll have to deal with it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Near Townsend, United Kingdom

  “Fuck,” Fran said, as Molly was shoved back into the backroom and the door slammed closed. “What ... what happened?”

  Molly barely heard her. Her entire body was throbbing in pain. Their captors had had her in ways she hadn't known were possible, not without bending her arms and legs in ways that threatened to break them. She’d had them in each and every one of her orifices, often two or three at once. Dave, Colin and Blair had been starved for female companionship for months, she realised now. She was honestly surprised they’d honoured their side of the deal.

  Dave won’t, she thought. The other two had just wanted sex - they’d even been happier when she’d cooperated - but Dave had wanted it to hurt. He’d smiled as he’d pinched her skin, making her yelp in pain ... she knew, as surely as she knew her name, that he’d rape Fran eventually, no matter what Molly did. He’ll come in here soon enough and take her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Molly said. “Just ... just don’t.”

  She shivered. Dave had gloated, mocking her for her submission ... and talking about ways he could take advantage of the chaos for himself. He’d told her that there was a girls’ school nearby, one he intended to raid; he’d told her that he intended to free others from the chain gangs and turn them into an army. And, all the time, he'd been hurting her, watching her grunt and screech in pain. He’d enjoyed himself, the bastard. Molly didn't think that he’d be able to turn most of his plans - hell, any of his plans - into reality, but she didn't doubt he intended to try. It wasn't as if there was anyone in place to stop him.

  And he can still kill us, she thought, morbidly. Dave was mad enough to cow the other two, as long as he was careful. He can do whatever he likes to us.

  It was a grim thought. She’d considered trying to turn her captors against one another - Stellar Star had done that in one of her many movies - but she hadn't had the slightest idea where to begin. Dave and his friends were dependent on each other. And besides, they were willing to share. Molly could hardly deny them anything they wanted, if it kept Fran relatively unharmed. She didn't have any leverage she could use to manipulate them.

  Society is breaking down, she told herself. And all the old certainties are gone.

  It was a grim thought, an epiphany that she’d had time and time again. Garrison had been manipulative and demanding, but he hadn't tried to rape her until society had collapsed. And then ... she shuddered, remembering his touch. And Dave and his friends ... they’d just taken her, as if she was nothing more than an object. They hadn’t given a damn about her, not really. They hadn't given a damn about anything beyond their own pleasure. Her opinions didn't matter to them.

  She felt sick as she lay on the floor. She’d known that Kurt was stronger than her, but he’d never raised a hand to her, even when they’d had nasty fights. And if he had, she would have had no difficulty in getting a divorce. No court would have sided with him if he’d beaten her to within an inch of her life. But now ... was she at his mercy, if he ever came home? Or at the mercy of her brothers or eldest son? Did the strong rule now? Did the weak just have to bend over and take it? She’d bent over and taken it ...

  Molly retched. She’d enjoyed Kurt’s strong arms, years ago. There had been something comforting about them, even though she’d been reluctant to admit it. Now ... those strong arms could beat her into submission ... and the only thing stopping them from doing just that was her husband’s good nature. All of a sudden, the horror stories she’d heard about women in the Middle East and Central Asia made sense. The poor women had grown up in a world where they could be beaten to a pulp if they said or did the wrong thing. Of course they were submissive. No one would come to their defence if their husbands beat them. Their society told them that being beaten was natural and right.

  She retched again. Dave had hurt her ... he’d break her, if she gave him the chance. And she knew she couldn't hold out indefinitely. He’d have her, again and again; his friends would have her ... sooner or later, she’d forget herself. She had to get out. Whatever it took, she had to get out.

  Move, you stupid bitch, she told herself. Her body’s aches seemed to grow worse. It was all she could do to get her arms to move. Get up!

  She twisted, struggling to stand up. They’d torn off her clothes at some point - she wasn't sure exactly when - and then freed her arms. The only saving grace, as far as she could tell, was that they hadn't bothered to tie her up again afterwards. Maybe they thought she was too badly hurt to do anything, but lie there. She didn't want to consider that they might be right.

  Blood trickled down her legs, a grim reminder of Dave’s power games. He’d cut her skin in a dozen places, pressing a knife against her bare flesh until the others had told him to stop before he actually killed her. She wiped the blood away as best as she could, then forced herself to walk up and down. Her body felt like a mass of bruises, but nothing was actually broken. She rather suspected the only reason they hadn't crippled her was because they wanted to use her again, when they recovered.

  And if they keep using me like this, she thought darkly, they’ll cripple me anyway.

  Bile rose in her mouth. She swallowed hard, telling herself that there was no time to panic, let alone curl up into a ball and shake. Dave would be back soon enough, ready to use her again ... or take Fran. They had to get out before it was too late. She looked up at the skylight, silently judging how best to open it. It was too high for her, but if she mounted a chair on the bed ...

  “Thank you,” Fran said. Her eyes were crawling over Molly’s body, lingering on the cuts and bruises. “I ...”

  Molly eyed her. Fran’s face was pale, consumed with a mixture of relief and guilt that Molly knew all too well. Someone else had taken the bullet for her ... and, while Fran was relieved, she also knew Molly had paid dearly. Molly had felt the same, back at school when her boyfriend had taken the blame for something she’d done. She hadn't had the nerve, then, to go to the headmaster and confess. And yet, she’d known she should have confessed ...

  “Stay very quiet,” Molly ordered, finally. Fran was far too much like Penny for Molly’s peace of mind. She wondered, sourly, if Percy had ever taken the blame for something Penny had done. “Don’t say a word.”

  She fumbled through Fran’s suitcase, looking for something she could use to clean the blood from her body. Fran had packed only a handful of clothes, as far as Molly could tell, all of which were too small for Molly to wear. Molly wiped her body with a shirt that had probably cost Fran her entire allowance, then tried to put on a pair of frilly
panties. But they were definitely too small.

  Penny bought something like this once, she thought, as she discarded the panties in annoyance. But I made her take them back to the shop.

  The memory made her frown in disgust. She’d known her daughter had become a woman, but still ... she didn't want to think about Penny having a boyfriend, let alone going all the way with him. Penny was her little girl ... she shuddered, again, as she realised what could happen to Penny in the new world. Would Percy look after her? Or would he be knocked aside by gangsters and rapists, all eager to have their way with his sister?

  I have to get back, she thought. I have to.

  She tiptoed over to the door and listened. There was no one outside, as far as she could tell, yet the door was locked. She considered a number of possible ways to open the door, but came up with nothing. Besides, anything she did would run the risk of waking them ... if they were asleep. She didn't know what they planned to do in the future ... hell, she wasn't sure they’d even thought that far ahead. They might just be enjoying their freedom without giving any thought to what would happen when - if - the government reasserted control.

  “Keep very quiet,” she whispered, as she picked up the makeshift knife and cut the ropes around Fran’s wrists. “If they ask, tell them you’re trying to help me.”

  Fran nodded, her eyes wide with fear. Molly sighed inwardly, then picked up the chair and placed it on the bed. It didn't look very stable, but she couldn't think of any other way to reach the skylight. She motioned for Fran to hold it as she clambered onto the chair, bumping her head against the glass. It was higher than she cared to think about, but at least she could reach the latch. She forced herself not to look down as she fingered the latch, bracing herself. They’d be committed the moment she opened the skylight.

  I should have spent more time learning to climb, she told herself, as she undid the latch carefully. It moved smoothly, much to her relief. And more time learning other things too.

  The skylight opened. Rain drizzled down on her head. Molly breathed a sigh of relief, even as cold water splashed down on her nude body. So far, so good. She braced herself, resting her hands on each side of the skylight, then pushed herself upwards as hard as she could. It wasn't anything like as easy as she’d expected. She had to struggle to get her legs up and into the open air, then roll over until she was lying on the wet roof. It wasn't that high - the cabin was nothing more than a small bungalow - but getting down would still be a problem.

  She peered down into the room. “Come on up,” she whispered. Fran was staring at her in disbelief. “Hurry!”

  Fran drew back. “I can't!”

  Molly felt a rush of pure rage. Fran ... Fran was doomed, if she stayed in the backroom until the men returned. How stupid was she? Did she believe Dave would keep his word? Or was she too scared to resist, even though she had to resist? Molly found it hard to care. Fran wasn't her daughter and if she was too stupid to take advantage of a chance to get out ...

  “Get onto the chair, then climb out,” Molly ordered. She wanted to shout. It was all she could do not to shout. She had to fight to keep her voice low and even. “If you don’t get up now, you’ll have them up your cunt and ass and mouth and ...”

  She would have slapped Penny for being so crude, but it seemed to work. Fran rose and clambered onto the chair, looking terrified. Molly didn't really blame her for being nervous, but falling onto the floor - and perhaps cracking her skull - would be a better fate than letting Dave have her. But then, Dave would probably have his way with her corpse. Fran struggled, almost tumbling as she fought to get through the skylight. Molly had to catch hold of her and pull her up ...

  Fran’s foot struck the chair as she clambered out. It tottered, then fell to the ground with a crash. Molly swore, inwardly. If their captors heard that ...

  “Come on,” she hissed. She didn't know what was behind the holiday cabin, but the boys had been in the front room when they'd finished with her. “Hurry!”

  She heard someone moving below as she crawled to the edge of the roof and peered down at the ground. The ground was muddy, but she doubted it was soft enough to break her fall if she jumped. She’d break her legs if she wasn't insanely lucky. Instead, she glanced around until she spotted a pipe and scrambled down it. Fran watched her, then tried to follow in her footsteps. Molly had to catch Fran to keep her from slipping and falling to her death.

  Penny is the better athlete, Molly thought, with a flicker of satisfaction. Her daughter did well in gym class, even though Molly had never considered it particularly lady-like. But then, her gym mistress had been a tyrant of the first order. Fran will have to work harder.

  She caught Fran’s shoulder as she heard someone shouting, inside the cabin. “Get into the woods,” she snapped. Dave was shouting ... she was sure it was Dave. “Run!”

  Her feet started to ache as she ran across the field, but there was no time to search for shoes or something else. The noise from inside the cabin was growing louder. Dave was screaming, shouting orders at his two friends. Molly gritted her teeth and forced herself to run harder, despite the growing pain in her body. She had to keep moving, whatever happened. Dave wouldn't let her bargain a second time.

  And they’ll probably see my body vanishing into the woods, she thought. The sky was turning dark again - the rain was growing worse - but she was naked. Her pale skin was probably too visible for her to escape easily. She didn't think they’d beaten her that black-and-blue. I wonder if I should have a mud bath.

  She caught Fran’s arm. “Do you know where the nearest town is?”

  Fran shook her head. “There was a farmhouse back there,” she said, jerking her hand towards the cabin. “The farmer there owns the land.”

  Molly gritted her teeth as she tried to think. Dave and his friends had to stop them before they made their escape. They didn't have a hope of hiding if the police mounted a full-scale manhunt. Indeed, their only real hope lay in the police - and everyone else - believing they’d died during the alien attack. And that meant they had to keep their prisoners from getting away.

  Think, she told herself. Her thoughts ran in all directions. What would you do if you wanted to recapture two prisoners? How would you look for them?

  She scowled as the rain came down, drenching her naked body. Her feet were torn and broken, the pain making it hard to think clearly. She’d assume the worst - she’d assume that the prisoners knew precisely where to go - and then try to block them. Or was she giving them too much credit? Master criminals never ended up on chain gangs. Dave’s tale of minor sexual assault didn't make him sound like a criminal mastermind.

  “We have to keep going,” she said. “They’ll expect us to head to the farm.”

  And perhaps get the farmer killed too, she added, silently. He won’t be expecting three criminals to attack him, will he?

  Fran stared at her. “But where can we go?”

  Molly frowned. Fran was breathing heavily, her clothes so drenched that they revealed every last one of her curves. Her nipples were hard, clearly visible against the cloth. Dave and the others wouldn't hesitate if they recaptured her, not now ... Molly clenched her teeth, silently vowing that Fran would get away. But how ...?

  “Good question,” Molly said. Dave had taken her smartphone, of course. But even if he hadn't, she still wouldn't have been able to find her location. She was hopelessly lost. Unless the network was back up ... she shook her head. There was no point in worrying about it. “If we keep heading north, we’re bound to come across something eventually.”

  She glanced behind them as the rain continued to fall. It was hard to see more than a few metres, but the sound of crashing and thudding could be heard in the distance. Wild animals ... or Dave and his friends? She had no way to know. Chances were that any foxes or whatever had hunkered down, trying to stay out of the rain. Only desperate men would be insane enough to run in the semi-darkness.

  Fran caught her arm. “What if you’re w
rong?”

  Molly felt her patience snap. “You can try to loop around and get to the farm if you like,” she snarled. There were limits, after all. Fran was being an ungrateful bitch ... she cursed herself, a moment later. Fran wasn't any more accustomed to the brave new world than Molly herself. She’d grown up in relative safety. “But there’s a very good chance you’ll be caught.”

  She swallowed, hard, as the rain fell harder. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Running and hiding, fearing rape or enslavement or death ... would she ever see her kids again? She told herself that things would return to normal, eventually, but she didn't really believe it. The country had taken one hell of a battering. God alone knew if things would ever return to normal.

  Something moved, in the twilight. Molly tensed.

  “Keep moving,” she ordered, sharply. Her feet screamed in protest as she started to move, insisting that she couldn't walk another metre. She ignored them, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. “And don’t look back.”