Toy Soldiers 4: Adversity

by Devon C. Ford

  For the second time in a month she had been effectively kidnapped and imprisoned, regardless of the legality or justification for either event, and now found herself put to work as a servant in return for a safe place to sleep and some food. They treated her like a dumb child, even more so when they saw the scars and fresher cuts on her wrists and arms, but they didn’t know who or what she had been before. They didn’t know she had been raising her younger brother and saw the world not like the dumb kid they assumed her to be, but like a shrewd and suspicious adult.

  Ellie’s own face descended into a mask of neutral hostility. The same bastards the new girl was raging about had taken her away from her daughter, knocked her out cold to stop her struggling before she could say that her baby was still in the house they were dragging her from. By the time she had come round and told them, their leader had sent the men straight back but they had found nobody. Her baby was gone; her little Amber, so innocent and such a good girl, was lost to her forever.

  She had steeled herself, cloaked herself in a numbness to just wait out the storm, and when order was restored she would tell the authorities just what these people had done and they would be punished for it. She tried her hardest not to think about her daughter, because the thoughts paralysed her. She had no tears left, no more capacity for anger, just the flickering pilot light of survival that kept her burning at the lowest possible setting.

  As selfish as she felt, she could offer Jessica no solace or agreement and talk about these people and what they had done to them. Jessica knew all about Ellie’s story, told to her by Pauline, who shared the room with them, but ripping off the scabs of someone else was a cruel thing to do. She knew that the woman missed her child, just as she missed Peter terribly and broke down every time she imagined him being left behind. Her thoughts of him suffering at the hands of this new world weren’t the worst thing she could imagine, but instead her anger and fear was that he had been left in the dubious care of their parents. She shuddered to think what would happen to him if he’d been left alone with them, but she knew that a violent death at the hands and teeth of the monsters that normal people had become would probably be a blessing.

  “I miss my brother,” she told Ellie in a quiet voice, “and I don’t know who would have looked after him when I wasn’t there.”

  “How old was he?” Elie asked in a matching low tone.

  “He is three years younger than me. He’ll be ten now.”

  Ellie bit her lip, not realising she had spoken as though her brother was already dead. He probably was, but that kind of realistic pessimism wouldn’t have gone down well with her.

  “What about your parents? Grandparents?”

  Jessica scoffed and curled a lip in disgust. “We didn’t have much use for them even before this. He was left alone with them, which is worse than being properly alone.”

  “What do you mean?” Ellie asked, sitting forward and feeling suddenly heartbroken for the girl and her missing brother.

  “Every day,” she said dully, her eyes unfocused and staring at a blank spot on the wall, “we wouldn’t know what mood she was in. I’d get him up and get him dressed, I’d feed him breakfast and we’d go to school before she woke up. Our father was already out, gone to work still drunk usually, so we just learned to take care of ourselves. When it wasn’t a school day we would do the same. Sometimes I’d still make us packed lunches and we would go off for the day. The punishments for disappearing weren’t as bad as if we’d stayed there anyway. She would hit us, then wait until he got back in from work on the farm, and then she’d make up lies about how bad we had been. He would hit us and he never once believed us that she had already dished out the smacks.” She took an exaggerated sigh, as though the memories coming back to her were exhausting. “There was a stick, a thin walking stick, that they hung on the wall outside our bedrooms. It was our reminder to do everything right and stay out of their way. When it came down it…” she closed her eyes and lowered her gaze, “…it wasn’t a good place to be, and I left him there. I need to go back and find him.”

  Ellie bit her lip again. She wanted to say that he wouldn’t be there. That no child that young could survive on their own, even if they’d had a good start in life, which these two obviously hadn’t. She said nothing, because the girl needed something to believe in. It was at that moment, right then as she watched the girl’s face turn from catatonic exhaustion to angry resolve, that she knew she had given up too soon on her own child. With a surge of heat that seemed to run through her body and electrify her, she sat up, energised, and grabbed the girl by both shoulders.

  “Snap out of it,” she told her with a gentle shake, “we can get through this. We can get out of here and we can find them.”

  “How?” Jessica asked, looking up at her with something resembling hope breaking through the tiredness. Just then the door opened and Pauline stood there, wearing a curious look as she took in the two of them locked in their intense conversation.

  “Maybe Pauline can help us,” Ellie said hopefully.

  Chapter 13

  Captain Palmer walked through the woods behind their large house with Major Downes. The two men had a respect for each other that had grown to be something resembling a friendship, but each was closely committed to their tasks and didn’t lose time on frivolities. That said, both understood that taking the time to keep themselves sane was just as important as staying fit and healthy.

  They had taken their breakfast together, enjoying the wholesome goodness of warm, fresh bread to accompany the eggs and the meagre ration of a single slice of bacon, and at the invitation of Downes, Palmer had joined him to investigate the reports of deer seen close to the house. Hunting animals with military weaponry may not have been sporting, but meat was meat and they had little time to observe the niceties. Downes, much to Smiffy’s sullen disgust, had borrowed his stolen soviet sniper rifle and loaned the tank captain his own MP5 so that neither of their shots would be heard far away. The pretence of hunting deer was no fallacy, but Downes wanted Palmer well away from any other ears before he told him the facts he had yet to share with anyone outside of his own patrol. Those men could be trusted to keep their mouths shut, as could Palmer, he suspected, but the man was under a lot of other conflicting pressures and his reaction was less than a certainty.

  “How are we looking for winter?” Downes asked, hoping that Palmer would suggest that their current position was untenable.

  “We seem to have broken the back of it,” he said almost happily, “if we can just get through the worst of this winter, then we should be well on our way to rebuilding.”

  Downes kept his voice low and his eyes ahead, as the intelligence regarding the deer was genuine.

  “Given the choice,” he said carefully, “would you want to rejoin any other units left alive?”

  Palmer stopped and looked directly at the SAS Major.

  “Who and where?” Palmer shot back, seeing through the uncharacteristically clumsy attempt at hypothesis.

  Downes took one look at the younger man’s face and decided not to lie to him. He just had to trust that he would do the right thing with the full facts.

  “Inner Hebrides. Part of the Doomsday protocol was for special forces to take as many surviving members of government as possible to a safe location.”

  Palmer thought about it for a moment before asking, “Major, do we still have a working government?”

  “I’m not sure about working, but yes. We still have cabinet members alive and protected.”

  “Major,” Palmer said just as carefully, “why did you keep this information from me until now?”

  “Julian,” Downes said in an apologetic tone, “please understand that this was part of the wider picture that I wasn’t at liberty to discu…”

  “God dammit, Major!” Palmer erupted, “you think I have enjoyed thinking that we are all that is left? You think I have relished the thought of turning farmer and becoming the bloody mayor instead of a sol
dier? Damn you, Major,” he cursed without the full force of his opening words, “and to answer your question I would rejoin in a heartbeat.”

  “I only had this confirmed yesterday,” Downes told him, “and I apologise for not telling you before. So how do we do this?”

  “We go there, Major, immediately.”

  “And how do we transport all of our personnel, the civilians, and our equipment there?” Downes countered.

  “I shall speak with Lieutenant Commander Barrett, and see if we can manage relay flights,” Palmer said.

  “That’s a possibility, but it’s doubtful. I would suggest that the safest option would be a road convoy.”

  “In this weather?” Palmer asked.

  “It may be slower and less comfortable, but air is less certain. I doubt Harry would want to run those kinds of relays. It’s maybe four hundred and fifty miles as the crow flies.”

  “That gets him there and less than halfway back on a full tank, which he doesn’t have. Another refuelling trip?”

  “It’s possible,” Downes said, “I know they have a very small airfield up there, but perhaps using the helicopter for precious cargo and as many of the civilians as possible would be better?”

  Both men lapsed into silence as they ran through their own private thoughts and plans until a snapping sound brought them back to the present. Neither men instinctively recalled the deer they were after and both were alert for the screeching, shuffling onslaught of rotting people. For them to see the dusky speckled fawn directly ahead of them was a pleasant surprise. They froze, both slowly raising their guns.

  “Take the shot if you please, Major,” Palmer whispered. Downes said nothing but carried on the slow movements to bring the VAL into his shoulder. A soft click sounded, then the tiny atmospheric change as he held his breath in anticipation of the shot, then the sharp metallic snap of the action firing.

  The deer fell, making both men smile in anticipation of fresh meat, but it seemed as though they weren’t the only ones stalking the animal, as another sound ripped through the air in answer. Downes, still looking through the scope at the fallen animal, twitched the scope upwards to the frost-covered features of an old man advancing towards them. Its wild eyebrows twitched above the milky eyes, focused as much as they could be on the fallen animal and not on them. Downes held his shot, scanning around, and counted three more advancing from the same direction.

  “Advance left flank twenty metres,” Downes said in a low voice, totally professional in an instant, “four enemy ahead.”

  Palmer moved low, disciplined enough not to run and make more noise to attract their attention to him. Behind to his right came the steady, rhythmic sounds of more sharp snaps as Downes began putting fat, sub-sonic 9mm bullets into rotten and frozen skulls. Palmer drew level with their kill, raising the borrowed MP5 and drilling a three-round burst into the side profile of a woman reaching out for the warm corpse of the deer.

  “Fuck it,” he snarled, abnormally savage with his language but justified as he saw the rough chunk of flesh torn from the animal’s back. He looked for more targets, wanting to kill more of them for contaminating their meat and ruining the day.

  “Withdraw,” Downes called out, prompting the captain to turn away and thread his way back through the trees.

  “Where the bloody hell did they come from?” he asked as he fell in beside the Major in their retreat.

  “They’re everywhere,” Downes said, “have you noticed it’s warmer under the tree cover?”

  He had, although he hadn’t made the connection between that slight temperature increase and the faster movement of the Screechers.

  “Would you prefer a Scottish island?” Downes asked him.

  “Yes, Major, yes I would.”

  ~

  “Send it, Smiffy,” Downes said to his man on the complex radio set. The burst transmission, already typed in and ready to send, shot up into the ether as a high-frequency data burst.

  ECHO-ONE-ONE, CHARLIE-ONE-ONE. STATE AVAILABILITY OF AVIATION FUEL ON YOUR END. SINGLE HELICOPTER AVAILABLE BUT INSUFFICIENT FUEL FOR MORE THAN ONE SORTIE. INTENT TO TRAVEL BY ROAD. ADVISE.

  They sat in silence, waiting for any response to come and knowing that it could be up to twelve hours later, depending on any number of varying factors. Palmer had joined them in their small den, which was deemed out of bounds for anyone but the enigmatic men from Hereford. Lloyd was with them, invited into the folds of secrecy out of necessity and trust on Palmer’s behalf. What wasn’t odd in the slightest was the lack of the presence of the half-mad Colonel and the younger brother of the captain, a constant source of embarrassment to him. To their relief, a responding transmission came in quickly.

  CHARLIE-ONE-ONE, ECHO-ONE-ONE. MINIMAL STOCKS OF FUEL, HELICOPTER A NO-GO. BY ROAD, RV 57.003813N, 5.8271730W. TRANSPORT PROVIDED BY FERRY. GOD SPEED.

  “Mac?” Downes said.

  “Go,” the Scotsman answered, grabbing a pad and pencil. Downes recounted the grid coordinates and heard the responding scratch of lead on paper.

  “Give me a minute,” Mac said as he pulled open a map. Palmer turned to Lloyd, who had cleared his throat to offer a suggestion.

  “If Harry and James could fly the civvies up,” he said, meaning Lieutenant Commander Barrett and his junior co-pilot Lieutenant Morris, “then that leaves us with a combined forces strength of what? Forty men left? Two trucks, supplies, at least one or two of the Foxes?”

  “Got it,” Mac cut in, “Mallaig. It’ll be the ferry port to Skye, I wager.”

  “You’d want to convoy for what, seven hundred miles?” Downes asked Lloyd after turning back from his sergeant.

  “What other choice do we have?” the marine lieutenant answered.

  “None,” Palmer said, “not unless we stay here and wait to starve or be overrun. I, gentlemen, would much prefer to have a small stretch of the North Atlantic between us and the Screechers.”

  “So, Captain,” Downes asked formally, “how do we convince the civilians to go?”

  “We need more food first,” Palmer said tiredly.

  ~

  The small collection of officers and soldiers weren’t the only ones huddled in a room too small for them and planning a way out. Miles away, on the cliffs above the foaming white crashes of waves far below, sat a young girl and two women speaking in low voices to one another.

  “It would be better to leave either at night or very early,” Pauline said to the others, “most of them will be asleep.”

  “The guards never sleep,” Ellie offered darkly, her eyes unfocused and distant in thought. “They would if we made them, though…”

  “What do you mean?” Jessica asked. Ellie didn’t answer her directly, instead she turned to Pauline intently and asked her a question.

  “Can you steal a bottle of alcohol? Something strong?”

  Pauline thought about it for a long moment before nodding slowly with a sceptical look in her eye. “What are you thinking?”

  “It would look too obvious if we just walked up to one of the guards and gave them a bottle, wouldn’t it?” she asked, explaining her plan through the medium of asking rhetorical questions to lead them through each step, “so how about one of us gets caught near the guards and we make it look like we’re trying to hide the bottle? That way they’ll just take it off us and send us away. Then we wait and slip past them after they’ve drunk it.”

  “Won’t work,” Pauline said flatly, disappointment heavy in her tone, “because they change the guards halfway through the night. I’ve seen it. They’d probably just wait for a few hours, then go and drink it when they get back inside. Michaels is pretty hot on that kind of thing…”

  Ellie sat back, all enthusiasm gone in an instant to be replaced with sullen defeat. The three of them sat in silence for a while before the girl spoke.

  “We need a diversion,” she said in a small voice, her eyes only raised to meet theirs after she had spoken.

  “Like what?” Ellie asked.r />
  “A fire,” said Pauline distantly, “fire always gets people scared and running around.”

  “So what do we set on fire?” Ellie asked.

  “Nevin,” Jessica answered nastily, an evil curl on her lip as she spoke the name of the horrible man who humiliated her.

  The older women didn’t know whether to laugh or be scared.

  “Our bedding,” Pauline offered, “throw it out of the window here after it’s on fire and that way they’ll have to go around the building to see where it’s coming from. They sat in silence for a while, each of them considering the plausibility of the plan.

  “It could work,” Ellie said as she narrowed her eyes, “but has anyone got a lighter?”

  Pauline and Ellie exchanged looks and shrugs, and a resigned huff from the girl made them both look in her direction. She rolled up the leg of her trousers to expose the tops of the boots she had been wearing ever since she ran from the hospital barefoot. Tucked inside the top was a lighter, beside a metal nail file, a Yale style key, and a teaspoon. Lost for words, the other two said nothing as the girl replaced the trouser leg and displayed the needed item.

  “What?” she said when she saw the looks of the others, “I see things and I pick them up. You never know when they’ll come in handy.”