Britain's End

by Frank Tayell

  “The commander isn’t sure,” Vasco said. “Possibly that the ballast is unevenly distributed, and that when we come to a stop, we’ll be unbalanced. A strong wave might cause us to…” Again, he looked at the girls, but Annette worked out what he was going to say.

  “We’ll capsize. And like you said, Mum— I mean.” She blushed. “I mean we’ve no rafts or boats. If we capsize, we’ll drown.”

  A flush of warmth rushed from Kim’s heart, but the severity of the situation kept it from turning into a smile on her lips. “Could we make rafts with the equipment we’ve brought with us? No,” she added, before anyone else could. “But perhaps with the crates they’re packed in.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mary said. “It would create panic, and would have everyone flooding onto the deck where there is too little room. We’d risk losing people over the side, and since we can’t rescue them, that would turn panic into a disaster. Can we still stop the ship?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Fonseca said. “The commander is ready. But…” He paused.

  “What is it?” Mary asked.

  “The commander’s worried that something else could be wrong.”

  “Good,” Mary said. “Let him worry, and he might be proved wrong. Now, pass the word. Tell everyone to prepare.”

  “Prepare for what exactly, ma’am?” Vasco asked.

  “Tell them… yes, tell them that, when we stop, there will be quite a jolt,” Mary said. “Make sure the cargo is properly secured. That means the crates the grain is in as well as their own personal baggage. Everyone should cushion themselves wherever they can as best they can. And tell them to be ready to help re-secure any stray crates on deck as soon as we’ve come to a stop. That should have them prepared for whatever comes next.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kim said.

  “No,” Mary said. “Leave it to Vasco. People will have questions and will believe him when he says he doesn’t know the answers. From you, they’ll think you’re hiding something.”

  The sailor left.

  “Who did it, do you think?” Annette asked.

  Kim crossed to the window, watching for her first sight of Ireland. “Did what?” she asked, though she knew what Annette was asking.

  “It can’t have been Bishop, can it?” Annette asked.

  “No,” Mary said. “The ship’s were inspected a… Now, there’s a thing. The ships were inspected a few weeks ago, after Donnie fell from that ladder and was knocked unconscious. That was when we learned that a large portion of the grain had been ruined. I won’t say that was forgotten, but amid the chaos that Bishop and Rachel caused, it was pushed from the forefront of thought.”

  “You mean that the plane, the ship, the water plant, that wasn’t the start of it?” Annette asked.

  “I don’t think we need to add to the conspiracy,” Kim said. Though she’d reached the same conclusion. They’d assumed that Donnie’s fall was linked to Sholto wanting him to stand in the election. And, of course, they’d assumed that Rachel or Bishop were behind it. That didn’t explain why Donnie hadn’t been killed, nor why Dr Umbert hadn’t been attacked. They’d assumed Dr Umbert would have been if he’d not died on the Isle of Man, but assumptions were dangerous. Another doubt sprung to mind. If someone knew enough to disable the water supply to the power plant, and if they knew that would effectively destroy the nuclear plant, then had that been their first act of sabotage? What about the radioactive leaks that had killed two of Chief Watts’s engineers? She could say that some of it was paranoia. She could tell herself that it was just as plausible that an engineer from a nuclear submarine was incapable of running a decommissioned power station, but it was hard to bury one’s head in the sand out on the empty sea.

  The cargo ships had been easy targets, as they’d only had a skeleton-guard before Donnie’s fall. Even afterwards, they’d been guarding the grain, not the ships. What about the plane? Scott Higson had been tinkering with it on and off since he’d flown it over from Belfast. Except during the last few days when he’d been flying the helicopter over England to track the horde. Had that been the opportunity that the saboteur had been waiting for? Whoever it was, clearly they had some engineering skill. That might help identify them, though Kim doubted they’d have to look too far from Markus’s orbit.

  “Why is a better question than who,” Kim said.

  “Why?” Annette asked, clearly thinking along the same lines. “I mean, why this ship? We’ve got some of the food aboard, haven’t we?”

  “About a quarter of the grain,” Mary said. “We took some out to make room for Rahinder’s machines and the crossbow bolts.”

  “Getting rid of people, that’s what Quigley did with the evacuation,” Annette said. “I guess other people might have the same idea, you know, to make the food last longer. But they’ll lose the food on this ship, won’t they? And then, why did they want to get rid of the plane?”

  “I don’t know,” Kim said. “I really don’t.”

  Twenty minutes later, Vasco Fonseca returned, and took up station next to the lifeless console.

  “The sky’s clearing,” he said. “We’ll have about an hour of daylight after we stop.”

  The coast loomed large ahead of them.

  “Where are we?” Annette asked.

  “That’s Dundalk,” Mary said. “It’s not far south of the border with Northern Ireland. It has a lovely tearoom on the front, overlooking the sea. Or it did, about thirty years ago.”

  “That’s when you were last here?” Annette asked.

  The lights flickered, and came back on in a dimmer shade.

  “Emergency lighting,” Vasco said. “At least that works. That’s a good sign.”

  The shore grew larger, and, for a moment, the ship seemed to speed up. There was a soft grinding. A judder. Kim wondered if that was the anchor. The grinding grew louder as the shore drew nearer. The beach looked more like mud and rock. Beyond it was scrub. All she saw of the town was a solitary tower block. There was another rumbling grind from deep within the ship.

  “We’re not slowing,” Kim said. The shore was close. Too close. There was no way they would stop in time. She gripped the rail tighter. The ship juddered and shook, then filled with a grinding ripping sound as metal was torn asunder against jagged rock. And still the ship didn’t stop, not until it abruptly pivoted. The grinding was replaced with a scream of metal. The floor dropped away, turning into a wall as the ship fell onto its side. Everything went black.

  Chapter 22 - The Shore

  Dundalk

  Kim opened her eyes and found she still couldn’t see. No, her hat had fallen over her eyes. She pulled it off, but that barely improved visibility. The control room was dark, and it wasn’t much better beyond the broken window. She must have been out for some time as dusk was settling. She raised her hand. It felt strange. Everything felt strange. She couldn’t place why.

  “Everyone okay?” she asked. Even her voice sounded odd, like an echo.

  “Fine,” Annette said, and she sounded just as dazed. “I think Daisy’s okay.”

  “Good. Fine. Anyone else?” Kim said, and she realised what was wrong. She was lying across the windows. The control room was on its side. No, the entire ship was. Half the emergency lights were broken, as were a good portion of the windows. Beyond them, above, she thought she could see a star. Below… she wished she hadn’t looked. Below, a long way below, damp water glistened on what had to be rocks. “Mary?”

  “I’m fine, dear,” Mary said, her voice was weak, and it came from above— No, from behind her. It was hard to orientate herself.

  “Vasco?” Kim asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m here, and wishing I stayed on dry ground.” His voice did come from above. He was half sitting, half lying on the far side of the map-table embedded in what had been the floor and which was now the wall.

  Kim shook her head, trying to rid the fuzziness from it, and pushed herself up. The glass window shifted beneath her feet. She
moved her weight to the metal struts separating one pane from the next.

  “Does anyone have a torch?” she called out. Hers was gone from her belt.

  A dim square of light came on, as Annette powered-up the tablet on which she and Daisy had been watching cartoons.

  “Okay,” Kim said. She took a breath, gathering her thoughts as she looked about. “Okay. How’s Daisy?”

  “She seems okay,” Annette said. “You are, aren’t you? She’s still in her chair.”

  Kim looked… up. Daisy was looking bemused rather than scared, and was still in the car seat. They’d strapped it onto the rail at what had been the rear of the control room, but which was now halfway up the wall. Annette stood on the windows below, a few feet from Mary who was inelegantly splay-legged.

  “Annette, can you climb up to the door next to Daisy?”

  “Easy,” Annette said.

  “Then throw the tablet to Vasco first,” Kim said.

  “Ready? Catch.” Annette tossed the tablet up to the sailor who almost dropped it, then she nimbly scrabbled up the handrail to the door. “The door’s jammed,” she said. “It won’t open.”

  “It opens inwards,” Vasco said. “Pull, don’t push.”

  “I am pulling,” Annette said. “Hold on.” She let go of the handrail, gripped the door’s handle with both hands, and let herself fall. Kim’s heart dropped again, then plummeted as the door clanged open, but Annette held on, and then scrambled out, into the corridor. “Easy,” she said.

  “Good,” Kim said. “Now get Daisy.” She turned to Mary. “That wasn’t meant to happen.”

  “You mean crashing into the shore? I’d say not,” Mary said. “Something went very wrong, and no doubt we’ll find out what in good time. First we need to get off this ship.”

  “And out of this room before that,” Kim said. “Vasco, we’ll need… I don’t know. A harness, or rope, or something to get Mary up to the door. Can you get outside, see what you can find.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Annette, take your sister, step back into the corridor and out of the way, please.”

  “Can’t really step,” Annette said. “The corridor is short and wide. I’ll roll. There.”

  Vasco jumped from his perch on the map table, across the four-feet of air, landing with arms and shoulders inside the doorway. His body and legs slammed into the door, and the entire room shook.

  Kim looked again at the glass beneath her feet. There were more spider-web veins than clear pieces. Exactly how did they make ships like this? Since there was no real need for crew, was this superstructure an afterthought? The panes were wide, each three feet in width, four in height, separated by a three-inch section of metal, and the piece beneath Kim’s feet was bowing sideways.

  “Give me your hand, Mary. Can you stand?”

  “Stand, yes. Move when on my feet, not so much. Climb? Not for quite some years, I’m afraid.”

  Kim pulled Mary to her feet. “The door opens into the control room,” she said. “They expected this room to flood. I bet that has something to do with it being run automatically. I’m sure there’s a good engineering reason for that, but we can’t expect the glass windows to hold for much longer.”

  Her brain had cleared. She could hear the sea. She could hear screaming. She could her metal grind and tear. And immediately below, came the higher pitched sound of glass fracturing.

  She’d be able to climb up to the door, but not while carrying Mary, and it was too far to lift her. The map table was the only option. Kim reached up. She could just touch the lip of the table. If she jumped, she’d make it. As for Mary…

  “All that pushing yourself around in a wheelchair, that must have strengthened your arms,” Kim said. “I’m going to lift you up. Grab hold of the table. You’ll hold on, I’ll climb up, and pull you the rest of the way. Okay? Ready?”

  As Kim reached for Mary’s arm, there was a sharp crack. The glass broke beneath Mary’s feet. Kim grabbed Mary’s arm as the old woman fell through the shattered pane. Cold air rushed in as Mary’s weight pulled Kim down. She fell, but kept her iron grip on Mary’s arm. Kim landed with her body on the glass, her shoulders and head above the broken pane, her right arm dangling below it, gripping Mary’s arm. Mary hung outside, but far too far above the rocks below.

  “Pull yourself up, Mary,” Kim said.

  “Not sure I can do that,” Mary said.

  Kim could feel glass bite deep into her arm. There was no pain. Not yet. That would come.

  “Let go, dear,” Mary said. “Go on. It’s okay.”

  “Not a chance,” Kim said. There was nothing for her left arm to grip except the thin strut that ran between the panes of glass, and that was buckling. Soon the rest of the window would break. She took a deep breath of the cold Irish air. She twisted her entire body, rolling sideways, and felt glass cut deep into her arm. She reached out with her left hand, and grabbed Mary’s coat around the shoulder. She pulled, turned, and twisted, until Mary’s arms were out of the broken window. Beneath her, she could feel the metal strut bowing. She could hear the glass fracturing.

  “Out the way,” Bran called from above. “Kim, there’s a rope.”

  It fell, landing heavily next to Kim. She pulled Mary to her feet, and wrapped the rope around her chest. “Pull her up!”

  Bran pulled, hauling Mary toward safety.

  Kim felt unsteady. She could feel the entire pane of glass shifting below her now. She reached up for the map table, but her arms wouldn’t fully extend.

  “Kim! The rope!” Bran called. It fell a few inches from her. She grabbed it with her right hand, and just as her left curled around it, the glass beneath her feet gave. She dropped, but only a foot. And then she was rising as the rope was pulled up.

  “This,” Mary said as Bran and Vasco hauled Kim into the doorway, “was not how I planned to return to Ireland. You’re bleeding, Kim.”

  “Here, let me see,” Bran said. He wore a miner’s lamp on his forehead, the neon strap an incongruous clash with the jet-black clothing he wore in lieu of a uniform. “It’s not too deep,” he said as he wrapped a hasty bandage around her arm. “You’ll be fine. Mary?”

  “I’ve a few scratches. Nothing more,” Mary said. “What’s the rest of the ship like?”

  “Bad,” Bran said. “Getting worse. People have died. Not sure how many.”

  “What do we do, Mu— what do we do?” Annette asked.

  “Get off the ship,” Kim said. “I saw a tall building a little way in shore. It can’t be more than a quarter mile away. It’ll do for the night. We’ll— The sat-phone. It’s… it was in the control room.”

  “I’ve a spare phone in my bag, in my cabin,” Mary said.

  “That can wait,” Bran said. “Belfast knows where we are, and they have the helicopter. At dawn, they’ll find us, but we can’t stay here until then.”

  “Let’s start by getting out of this corridor,” Kim said. “Bran, lead the way.”

  The upturned corridor was less than three feet wide and so they had to crawl. Bran went first, Annette and Daisy second, while Kim took the rear, pushing Mary as much as Vasco was pulling her. Kim tried not to look through the small portholes they crawled over. There was nothing to see, but her imagination was happy to fill in the blanks.

  By the time they reached the end of the corridor, her arms ached, and the rest of her body was shivering with tension as much as the cold. The door was already open, and the sky beyond and above was a patchwork of shadows, with not even a single star in sight. Beyond the door were stairs that now led in a horizontal diagonal to the deck.

  “Annette, stay here with Daisy and Mary, keep an eye on them,” Kim said. “Vasco, use the internal corridors, find Mary’s cabin, and her sat-phone. And…” She peered outside. “And some longer rope and a harness so we can get Mary and Daisy down to the shore. Look for weapons, too. What are you armed with?”

  “My sidearm,” Vasco said.

  Kim had her pistol and machete, but onl
y because donning the belt with its holster and sheath was force of habit. Her rifle was in the cabin. A similar habit meant that Bran had his rifle, but they were sorely low on ammunition.

  “And look for lights,” Bran added. “Torches, matches, whatever. Any people you see, give them the same instructions. Lights and weapons. Help the wounded, but we need people armed and illuminated, and on the beach.”

  “Understood,” Vasco said. He headed back inside the corridor, and towards the staircase that would take him into the ship.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Kim said to Annette. She gave Daisy a smile, and Daisy gave one back. Oddly, the girl seemed to be enjoying herself. Perhaps because she’d been through far worse dangers. Kim repeated that thought to herself as she turned her attention to the stairs.

  If getting along the side-turned corridor was difficult, getting from the doorway down to the ground was almost fatal. The staircase was steep, more akin to a ladder. The handrail was only six inches from the steps; now on its side, that was all the protection they had from the long drop to the shore below. With a handrail on the other side, they couldn’t walk, but had to crawl and climb sideways. Her muscles tensed rigid as the cold bit deep into her hands.

  Below, torchlight flickered and flashed, mostly coming from the hatch in the deck where people clambered out. Hopefully that meant there was dry land down there, not just wet rocks. She tried to track the lights, and so see what lay in the darkness beyond the ship, but the flickering beams were disorientating. When her hand slipped for the second time, she focused her eyes on the ice-slick ladder and nothing else. But with no visual stimulus to distract her, there was no escaping the sound. In the control room it had been muffled. Even now, the grinding creak of stressed metal almost drowned it out, but she could still hear the screaming. Was there as much as before? It was hard to tell. At least there was no smell of smoke. She clung onto that, as her hands clung onto the rail, dragging herself towards the vertical deck.

  Most of the crates that had been on the deck had spilled to the shore. The bolts that had affixed them in place provided handholds down which to climb. That was the easy part. On the shore, it was bedlam. There were more people than lights, and more shouting than screaming, but there was far too much noise.