Sentinel: A post-apocalyptic thriller (The Hurst Chronicles Book 2)

by Robin Crumby

  Walking into the canteen, he nodded from the doorway at Zed who was sat with Scottie, Joe, Will and a few others. In the middle of the table was a large bowl of ripe apples from an orchard they maintained not far from here. This year had been one of the best yet, yielding a bountiful supply of fruit. What they couldn’t immediately eat, they stored for winter. Liz’s hands and lower arms had been stained red for days afterwards, along with the others who worked in the kitchens pickling, bottling and preserving jams on an almost industrial-scale.

  On the side sat a large pot of coffee. Jack helped himself to a cup, stirring in two heaped spoonful’s of sugar.

  He wandered over to the nearest of the tables and caught the end of one of Joe’s raucous stories about his time at the hotel, cursing the Sister under his breath. Jack stood behind him, smiling warmly as the laughs died away and his audience fell silent. It took Joe a few more seconds to realise that Jack was standing behind him. The look on their faces suggested his appearance must have been a little alarming, hair wild, streaked and rigid with salt spray.

  “Sorry, Jack. Didn’t see you there. Jeez, you look like you’ve had quite a day. That storm was something eh? How did you get on with the salvage?”

  “We made it back by the skin of our teeth,” sighed Jack with his hands on his hips. “It was touch and go for a while until we got the engines going again and the bilge pumps restarted. Listen, I don’t want to break up the party, but HMS Marker is just mooring up at the jetty and Captain Armstrong and a section of marines will be here in a few minutes. He’s asked us to gather everyone together.”

  “So we hear. This all sounds a bit ominous,” worried Scottie.

  Jack grimaced, “I’d love to tell you more, but we don’t have much time. Can you rustle up the rest of them?”

  Scottie nodded and raised his bowl, draining what was left of the stew. He nudged Will and the pair of them got up and headed in opposite directions to find the others.

  Jack cast his eyes over the faces of those already gathered. There were a few people staring at him, perhaps sensing his discomfort. He reminded himself that they would all be watching him, trying to guess the nature of his announcement. It was up to him to reassure his people and set their minds at rest. To be straight with them and not obfuscate what had to be said. He was just organising his thoughts, trying to figure out how to break the news, when Riley appeared at his elbow.

  “Jack, can I have a quick word?”

  “Can’t it wait Riley? We have Captain Armstrong arriving any second and we need to get set up.”

  “Actually, it’s kind of urgent. We have another visitor who’s demanding to see you. I’m afraid she’s refusing to leave until you talk to her.

  Jack raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

  “One of the Sisters from Chewton Glen just arrived out of the blue. She’s up in the snug, waiting for you. Wants to talk about Jean. Holds her responsible for the fire they had at the hotel. She’s proposing to take her back to stand trial. We said no, but she’s pulling rank.”

  “Well, she’ll have to wait, Riley. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Listen, I told her you wouldn’t be interested,” said Riley, holding her hands up defensively.

  “Hold on. That’s not what I said. I’d be happy to receive her in the morning, but I’m too busy this evening. If the Sister has reasonable grounds to believe Jean had something to do with the fire, then it’s only right and proper that we hear what she has to say. We have a duty to help.”

  “Jack, she didn’t do it. You know Jean, she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Riley, I look forward to hearing all about it tomorrow,” said Jack distractedly, noticing people arriving from all corners of the castle, jostling into the dining area, where there was standing room only.

  Jack sensed a degree of unease amongst his people. The room was abuzz with whispering and lowered voices. His gut told him he was doing the right thing by telling them the truth without delay. The rumour mill at Hurst was brutal at the best of times. Despite his best efforts to keep everyone informed, it was only natural, he supposed, that people should be suspicious, particularly since the arrival of the soldiers. He wondered whether he should let Armstrong do the talking. Let him break the bad news. He rejected that idea. They should hear it from him. They were his people.

  Corporal Ballard and his men trudged in, their uniforms soaked through from their evening exercise in the rain. They hadn’t had a chance to change and stayed together, steaming at the front of the room, self-consciously keeping themselves to themselves. Ballard looked as clueless as the rest about why they were all here.

  Zed was keeping watch by the door and wolf whistled to let Jack know that their guests had arrived. Armstrong knocked on the door and was ushered through by Zed, followed by another officer Jack half remembered from Osborne House and six uniformed soldiers from the barracks at Portsmouth. The military men acknowledged each other and shook hands in silence.

  Armstrong joined Jack at the front of the hall. He leant in and asked Jack to kick things off and then hand back to him. Jack hushed the room, appealing for quiet, waiting for the last conversations to die out.

  “Good evening, thank you all for making the time. I think you all know Captain Armstrong here. He and I spoke earlier about some developments at Camp Wight. I wanted to update you about what’s been going on and the next steps the Council are proposing.”

  He glanced across at Armstrong, who invited him to continue.

  “You’ll all be aware that we’re witnessing a massive surge of refugees entering the Solent area. The vast majority are here to secure passage to the island. Many are being turned away. They’re only taking the fit and healthy. Those that don’t make it across, are staying in the area, putting increased pressure on local resources and that’s already having an impact on us here. The orchard has been stripped bare, animals are missing from the fields, winter stores have been raided by travelling groups. The Council believes it’s only going to get worse. So we’re looking to move to the next phase. Captain, perhaps you can explain further?”

  “I would be happy to. Thank you Jack. First of all, I wanted to acknowledge the outstanding job you’ve all done. Hurst Castle has played a vital role in protecting the Western approaches to the Solent from unwanted visitors. Your vigilance has been absolutely critical to our success so far. I know it hasn’t been easy. Only today, one of our men paid the ultimate price. I suspect you’ve all heard about the daring rescue that happened earlier. Jack, Sam and Sergeant Flynn successfully boarded a stricken tanker, disabled by the storm and being blown ashore. They managed to restore power, restart her engines and get her safely back to port. They are all heroes. Sergeant, I know Private Hughes will be sorely missed.”

  The Sergeant acknowledged his commanding officer with a thin smile and patted the nearest marine on the back, who had been close to Hughes.

  “You will all have noticed that the number of people trying to reach the island is growing week by week,” continued Armstrong. “So far, the island remains virus-free. We have had no new cases of infection for several weeks now. But that’s only because our quarantine procedures have, so far, proved effective. There are no exceptions. No one gets in unless they are free of infection. If even one infected person sneaks through, it would put us back to square one. A fresh outbreak on the island would be unthinkable.”

  There were murmurs of approval from the crowd who were listening intently, arms crossed, curious about what was coming next.

  “Up till now, this has been primarily a civilian operation at Hurst Castle, but the acceleration of our plans and the sheer tide of humanity heading to the coast mean that we need to step things up.”

  He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

  “The council has decided that we need to move to the next stage. We’re placing Hurst under full military control.”

  The room seemed to erupt with surprise and hostility, as if they had
all been holding their breath. There were dismissive gestures and cruder insults thrown Armstrong’s way as he appealed for calm. Jack attempted to quieten them down but his complicity made him an additional target for the ire of those around him.

  Tommy was the first to question Armstrong. “Just what do you mean by ‘full military control’?”

  Before Armstrong could answer, Scottie volunteered: “Well if it means wearing khaki, count me out,” to the sniggers of those around him.

  Jack smiled in spite of himself, appealing for calm before answering on the Captain’s behalf. “This means a phased withdrawal of all remaining civilians from Hurst. They are going to start bringing more soldiers across over the next few days and weeks. In due course, we’ll all be relocated to the island.”

  “No way,” shouted Tommy. “You can’t do that. This is our home.”

  “That’s right,” joined in Scottie, jabbing his finger in Armstrong’s direction. “We built this place from nothing. You can’t just take it away from us.”

  Others joined in protest, shouting and gesticulating angrily at the Captain. The new arrivals from the barracks at Portsmouth looked restless, alarmed by the febrile atmosphere. They were watching Sergeant Flynn closely for any indication of threat, unsure how to respond to the hostility in the room. He cautioned them to remain calm, indicating that this was somehow under control, despite appearances.

  Jack intervened again on behalf of the Captain.

  “Listen, we’re all on the same side here. We’re part of the same team. If the council believes further militarisation is necessary to ensure the safety of the island, then so be it.”

  He glanced back at Armstrong, who had his arms crossed. “I’m assuming this is a temporary escalation?” he said in a voice lacking conviction.

  The Captain opened his mouth to respond but had second thoughts himself, unsure of what to say.

  “Sod that,” said one of the younger guys, advancing boldly towards the Captain. Corporal Ballard stepped into his path, towering over the youth, who stood eye-balling the soldier, chin up. Tommy put his arm on the youth’s shoulder and tried to lead him away. The younger man dipped his shoulder and pulled away from his grasp.

  “Back it up sonny,” warned Corporal Ballard, shaking his head. “Be a good boy will you and run along?”

  Jack appealed for quiet again, growing increasingly impatient. The Captain took him to one side.

  “This isn’t helping, Jack. They must understand that we wouldn’t ask for this sacrifice unless circumstances demanded it. We are all grateful for their hard work, but right now, we need their efforts to be redeployed elsewhere. I suggest you speak to your leaders in private and listen to their concerns. I can come back another day when things are a bit calmer. Maybe answer their questions?”

  He patted Jack on the shoulder and motioned for Sergeant Flynn and Ballard to follow him out to escort him and his men back to HMS Marker, waiting at the quay. As the door swung closed, Jack noticed Zed shaking his head, saying something derogatory to Riley, no doubt. He knew Zed did not approve of the presence of soldiers here in the first place. Another squad would only make matters worse.

  Without their officers, the marines looked uncomfortable and made their excuses, escorting the new arrivals to the far end of the castle where they had set up their own quarters. Jack watched them leave, smiling weakly at those who turned his way.

  He muttered under his breath: “You haven’t heard the last of this, that’s for sure.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The following morning Riley was woken by the distant hum of an approaching helicopter. She checked her watch, an old wind-up Timex with a leather strap and a chip in the glass. It was just after seven. Seemed a bit early for normal visiting hours. The hum grew louder and louder until it was all-consuming, echoing off every stone, making the glass in the windows rattle.

  There was an unfamiliar shape covered by a blanket in the corner of the room. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she watched its first stirrings, before remembering Sister Imelda’s arrival the previous evening. Let sleeping dogs lie, she thought. She was in no mood for further confrontation. She knew from her previous encounters with the Sisters that they were unlikely to admit defeat, to soften their approach. They saw the world in black and white, right and wrong. There was little scope for interpretation, for shades of grey. She didn’t relish another round of intransigence and condescension this morning, though she knew she couldn’t put her off forever. Sooner or later she would need to get the Sister that audience with Jack.

  Riley pulled on some leggings, a loose-fitting t-shirt and a grey fleece, peering out the window, trying to catch sight of the source of the noise.

  The Seahawk helicopter from the USS Chester circled the castle and skilfully came into a hover in the landing area beside the dock. Riley and half a dozen others emerged from the castle gate, shielding their eyes and tucking shirts in. A few exchanged excited looks and shrugged shoulders. The sight of a helicopter round these parts remained somewhat of a novelty even after all this time.

  Inside the helicopter, next to the pilot, Riley could make out Lieutenant Peterson, staring off into the distance. His lips were moving as if he were having an animated conversation with someone over the radio. All of a sudden, he removed the headset and threw it against the windshield in frustration. The pilot attempted to placate him, palms raised but was met with hostility and got an earful for his troubles. Peterson noticed Riley and the crowd of on-lookers and seemed a little embarrassed by his behaviour. As the whine of the helicopter’s twin turbo-shaft engines and its four rotor blades began to slow, he cracked open the passenger door and jumped down onto the grass with a disarming smile.

  As always, the American was well turned out. Freshly pressed uniform, clean-shaven, hair cut short. The crew of the Chester always looked well fed, showing few signs of the malnutrition and poor diet that affected most other survivors. But then, it was said that they had the best of everything on the island. If you believed the stories, awaiting those who made the passage was a land of milk and honey. A world free of famine and suffering. Most importantly, it was free of the virus. The crew were the poster children of the new world. Athletic, healthy-looking and fresh faced. It made Riley wonder how they managed it. The initial wave of gratitude following their arrival had made way for growing resentment and latent hostility amongst the locals. There was something of a swagger about them, but a lack of transparency made everyone, including Riley, suspicious.

  Peterson nodded at Riley, greeting her with a curt “Mam”, and continued past her to the gate. Tommy was on the early shift for guard duty again and motioned him towards the canteen area, where Jack and Armstrong were already waiting. The sliding door from the main cabin was thrown back and four other passengers emerged from the helicopter, yawning and stretching from the short flight from Portsmouth or wherever they had come from.

  Riley spotted the cheery smile of Captain Anders from the Maersk Charlotte who was waving at her, clutching a leather holdall stuffed with items. He rarely came empty handed. Behind him was the tall and gangly figure of Professor Nichols, the man tasked with the search for a vaccine, along with two other men she didn’t recognise. One was in combat uniform with the insignia of a full Colonel on his right arm. She glimpsed the distinctive badge he wore which displayed a rose surrounded by a crown flanked by what looked like laurel leaves with the Latin motto Manui Dat Cognitio Vires. Written above were the words, “Intelligence Corps”. Riley wondered which rock he had crawled out from under. The other new arrival looked very familiar, but she couldn’t place the face. He was mid-forties, weak jaw, collared shirt with cravat, chinos and brogues. The way he smiled at everyone and shook their hands, reminded her of a politician, like visiting royalty.

  Riley was curious to know more and followed the group through the entrance and courtyard, trying to listen in on their conversation, but their voices were low and muffled. They went through into the canteen and they closed
the door behind them.

  “Who’s all that lot then?” asked Scottie, his arms crossed, trying to peer through the window.

  “Beats me. But the guy at the back I recognise. Wasn’t he our local MP or something?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. After Armstrong’s little speech last night, your guess is as good as mine,” said Riley wearily.

  “There’s no way Jack will just let them take this place away from us. He wouldn’t. I don’t care how many soldiers they have. Over my dead body,” suggested Tommy.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Who were those other men with Peterson?” asked Scottie.

  “Anders you know,” said Riley. “He’s the guy from the Maersk Charlotte who always comes bearing goodies. If you need anything, he’s your man. Professor Nichols is the scientist guy Jack was talking about. Him and his team are leading the research into the virus. The military guy I’ve never seen before. Did you see the insignia? He’s military intelligence.”

  “Now there’s a contradiction in terms right there,” laughed Scottie.

  Zed joined them, bringing three cups of coffee and winking at Scottie. “What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall, eh? What do you reckon they’re talking about in there?”

  “Evacuating us civilians to the island, probably. Knowing Jack, he’ll not put up much of a fight. For the ‘greater good’ or something. Rolled over and handed this place on a platter to the military, without so much as a whimper. Everything we’ve worked hard for, gone. Just like that.”

  “He doesn’t have much choice though does he? What are we going to do, fight them?”

  The door opened and Jack stuck his head out. “Zed? Riley? Can you come in and join us? There’s something they want to talk to you two about.”

  He disappeared back inside, leaving Riley and Zed frowning at each other. Riley shrugged her shoulders and followed Zed into the dining hall. Inside Armstrong, Peterson, Anders, Flynn, the Professor and the two others were finishing up their conversation. Flynn raised his eyebrows at Zed playfully, watching him coming in.