by Vance Huxley
“So what is the answer? I’ve got plenty of lorries, but Vanna’s people are going to become very reluctant to drive them.” Gerard, the youngest there, put up a map of Scotland on the screen. “We can still push the low-level attacks, tell these foreign pilots to try harder, to risk the rockets and bullets? We have their families.”
“The imported troops and pilots are fighting to buy safety for themselves and their families, not for a cause. The Reivers aren’t scum or rabble any more, they have a cause and many have no families left.” Joshua looked around the table, his face grave. “If we threaten the families of our foreign troops too often, or worse still actually harm any, they may as well join the Reivers. Boris”—he nodded towards the diplomat—”is recruiting more military groups from Europe, specifically groups with armour, and those will deal with the Reivers. A sweep is underway to drive them north of Loch Ness. That valley runs coast to coast and can be held by light armour and machine guns if they dig in.”
“But in the meantime, you can still target the Reivers’ families and stores. That should slow them up.” Vanna didn’t care how many kids burned if it would take even one of these nutcases away from attacking convoys.
Faraz hesitated, then operated the control to show why that wouldn’t work either. “We launched a low-level attack against the first refuge. The next time we used a standoff weapon.” The TV showed the take from the drone watching the defensive measures, then played the radio message telling the rest to adopt the same system. “From that we know we attacked two dummy targets, lost a jet, and failed to destroy the second. Even the experts aren’t sure if that firework display affected the weapon.”
“Let us pen them in for this winter, for a start, and look into the cave problem.” Joshua might be asking permission, but his tone of voice wasn’t accepting any arguments.
“When will that that happen, the line of steel thing?” Ivy sighed, and the rest could see her fatigue. “I’m fending off the retail consortiums but I need answers. They’ve lost a senior manager as well as staff, and some workers daren’t leave the Marts to go home at night in case the Reivers strike.”
“It’ll be done by the time the heavy snow arrives. That line will also keep the Reivers from most of the east coast farmland. They’ll be able to reach the part north of Inverness, but we’ll have armour in place to prevent free access to the city. There’ll be no more recruits from Aberdeen or the work camps south of that, so we’ll gradually wear them down.” Joshua’s smile had a savage edge. “They can spend another winter under the snow, but further north, and this time the aircraft will keep harassing them. That’s providing there’s enough avgas?”
Owen beamed, tapping the control to put up a spreadsheet full of figures. The rest turned to them with some relief. Their allies in South America now had enough fuel for military operations and were driving north into Central America. The news that the Argentinian and Brazilian-led forces were capturing intact military vehicles that had run dry brought smiles all round. As Joshua pointed out, that should happen in Europe when the time came to cross the Channel.
More good news came on the food front. The UK had almost become self-sufficient, and would be once the city populations were processed and the land around them could be used for grazing. At the moment most food imports were coffee, tea, and chocolate, or meat for the cities. When asked, Maurice admitted the enclosures were still reluctant to kill each other fast enough, despite his encouragement. He’d resorted to setting loose small flocks of goats, in the hope that some gangs wouldfight each other over fresh milk.
To Maurice’s complete surprise, the goats sparked a fierce row between Vanna and Joshua, about who could be trusted to insert the animals, professional soldiers or contractors who wouldn’t get weepy-eyed and rescue children as well. The row soon concentrated on the real problem. Vanna wanted heavier armour for convoys, while Joshua didn’t trust contactors with that sort of weaponry. Eventually, the rest told Joshua he may as well turn the armour loose, because it wouldn’t be used except for clearing another city. He compromised, agreeing to one battle tank per main convoy, on a transporter, but he still wasn’t happy about contractors helping to man them.
“For God’s sake, make sure those Reivers don’t capture one. They’d not get far into the mountains before an air strike took it out, but they’ll take the shells to use the explosives.” Joshua stopped, paling a little as something crossed his mind. “Actually, they are bitter enough to launch some sort of kamikaze with a tank, and neither your contractors nor the Army guard posts want to face that, Vanna.” Vanna winced at the thought, and promised to make sure it didn’t happen.
“What about elsewhere, Maurice? Are you working on destabilising the gangs and keeping the pot boiling?” Owen smiled hopefully, the discussion needed lightening up. “Will we be seeing our pinups again soon?”
Maurice’s smile wasn’t at all pretty. “You might see them as a tragedy if either of two plans works out. At least one of them might give us the blonde, somewhat traumatised but that will work well for our purposes. We believe the Army have warned her not to get arrested or go to a Mart.” Maurice put up a picture of Doll walking through Orchard Close wearing her Stetson, boots and shorts and carrying a crossbow, a machete and a tied down pistol. “Once we get hold of her, these pictures will be priceless propaganda. They’ll make a sharp contrast against the state she’ll be in by then.”
“The Army have warned her? What happened to your vaunted Army discipline?” Vanna sneered at Joshua. “You keep pointing out my contractors are a bit loose around the edges.”
This time the perennial squabble about the relative merits of soldiers and contractors led to a practical plan. The soldiers near the civilised enclaves would be left in place longer, to let the ones elsewhere harden their attitudes. After six months, the results would be assessed.
Nobody would have any reluctance about shootingsome of the opposition. “There are a good few gangs the Army will shoot without any qualms. Some are becoming very useful tools to destroy the rest.” Maurice changed the picture to show a still of a huge bearded man wielding a crude battle-axe. A battered, scarred auburn-haired woman on a leash knelt beside him. “I’m still growing some gangs to deal with others. This one, for instance, is coming along particularly well….”
*
As the meeting broke up, Vanna and Maurice once again paused to speak with Owen. Vanna reported that more launchers had been delivered to work camps, then diverted to her people deep in the cities. Maurice would be working on diverting more anti-tank and anti-aircraft missiles from the stocks brought over by the foreign troops. When the Army and RAF were sent in, they’d be shown pictures of what the Reivers were doing. The first missile taking out a tank or plane should banish any reluctance to fire. Maurice promised suicide bombers and snipers, and assured Owen the enclaves would be out of ammunition by the second day.
“Run out of ammunition? They seem to have plenty now, with that new, smoky powder?” Owen glanced from one to the other. “You were going to find out how that happened. Just how much do they have?”
Maurice waved a negligent hand. “I’m making progress. There’s not enough ammunition in the cities for a real battle. Seriously, don’t worry Owen.”
Vanna quickly diverted the chairman. “I’m more interested in the snipers. Are they perfected, Maurice?” She gave Owen a sour look. “I’ve got a target or two for anonymous snipers, and I’ll bet Ivy has a couple of Mart managers on her list.”
Maurice pursed his lips, thinking how to answer honestly. “Not perfectedb Vanna. There are a lot of failures and we don’t always find out until final testing. Enough are working out to create a small but potent ace in the hole. Now we’d better leave.”
As Vanna and Maurice hurried to catch the rest, Vanna spoke quietly. “Owen is getting curious.”
“If he pushes harder, I’ll tell him how the gangs get ammunition. Owen is a realist, and knows I need a contact network.” Maurice sniggere
d then glanced enquiringly at Vanna. “We can always cut him in on the profits?”
“We can always task a sniper?” Maurice didn’t reply and a faint smile touched Vanna’s lips.
* *
Cyn Palace:
On the new borders, close to the edge of the old Gatts territory, a guard nudged his companions awake. “Got someone, but it’s weird. There’s only one for starters. He’s not a loony or a runner looking for sanctuary, because he’s sneaking.”
“What, a scout? Is he after us?” The second youth took the infrared scope and aimed it where his friend pointed. “He’s got a bloody great pack.” He chuckled suddenly. “Looks like one of those Army things, a Bergen. Maybe he’s on a training march and got lost?”
“If so he lost his helmet and rifle as well. Nip over that way a bit and let him get nearly between us.” The lookout debated, but he didn’t want to use the radio to call the boss. Everyone listened to the bloody things and the neighbours might snatch this bloke. Then they’d get whatever was in that pack. He settled down, aiming his crossbow in the right direction and checking now and again with the infrared. He needed the scope, because this bloke kept to the deepest shadows even when it meant a detour. Definitely sneaky. “Okay mate, far enough. Don’t do anything stupid because you’re in a crossfire.”
The figure sank down a little, so only his head showed. “I didn’t think you’d got night sights. Most assholes with them start moving about when they first see me so I can avoid them.” The low chuckle came as a complete surprise. “Not a crossfire, which means you haven’t got coms to your friend. He hasn’t got a clean shot.”
“I have, so up on your feet with your hands up.” The lookout glanced quickly to the side where the third guard had her crossbow tucked into her shoulder, then put the scope to his eye again.
“That crossbow hasn’t got night sights, and you can’t shoot accurately with a handheld scope. I’ve come in peace but if it has to be the other way?” The voice sounded a little uncertain this time. “I might be too late anyway.”His head disappeared and came up in a different place. “Tell your friend to stop trying to get a shot, or I’ll leave. I just want to know if Marcie survived.”
Two of the lookouts exchanged glances, and shrugs. “I don’t know a Marcie. Which gang?” He wondered if she’d belonged to the Gatts. “Some of the Gatts joined us.”
“I don’t know. There weren’t any gangs when I left. Who are you?” The voice sounded uncertain again, then suddenly sharpened. “If you keep trying to flank me I’ll fucking shoot you. Which part of talk don’t you understand!”
The lookout clicked his radio. “Keep still. He can see you, so he’s got some sort of night vision.” Louder he called to the hidden man. “Okay, I’ve told him to stay still. We’re the Muppets because Kermit is the boss, but there’s four other gangs who share this bit. There’s another gang someplace behind you. What’s this Marcie look like?”
“Real pretty. You’d remember.” The sigh could be heard clearly. “What about Cullen, or Nita, or Cynthia? We left them in an old library near here, but the streets have been wrecked since I left so everything looks different.”
The woman with the crossbow leant over to whisper in the lookout’s ear. “The Librarian’s called Nita, I think, but I don’t know many other Sinners. This Cynthia could be Sin?”
The lookout passed that on, and the man’s head came further out of cover, then ducked again. “Cynthia is here? Harry called her Cyn, and we called the library Cyn Palace. Did Nita have her baby okay?” He stopped talking and the lookout lost sight of the man.
“The Sinners call the library Sin Palace sometimes, but we thought it was a joke about the gang name. The librarian has a kid, a two year old… Shit, when did you leave?” Dead silence answered, until the lookout began to wonder if the bloke had sneaked off.
He reappeared, a good five yards from where he should have been. “Send one person forward, unarmed, as a hostage so I can get out of no-man’s land. Then send for Cynthia, Nita or one of the originals from the library. Be quick, your neighbour’s sentry is out cold but they’ll hear the radio message.” The mystery man’s good humour came back briefly. “Tell Cynthia that Davie has brought a refill for the steel box.”
“Why would we give you a hostage?” But even as he spoke, beside the lookout the woman had put down her crossbow and started removing her weapons belt.
“Maybe us women talk to each other more than you blokes, but I’ve heard the Sinners have a steel box they use for ammo. They reckon their first guns came in it.” She started to wriggle forward. “We want him behind our lines sharpish.” The lookout started talking, quickly. Within minutes he got a good look at the bloke, or what bits weren’t under a shapeless camouflage overall. The Army crewcut, the dinky night vision on a headband and something about the look on his drawn, tired face stopped the lookout from insisting on a search. The semi-automatic pistol in his hand might have helped with that.
The three guards debated briefly, but there wasn’t much point in using the radio and rousing everyone. In less than an hour they’d be relieved, and could escort this bloke straight to the library. Their new companion seemed content to wait once he knew they couldn’t tell him about this Marcie, settling down with his back to a wall and the pistol ready. The Army canteen he pulled out from inside the overalls and the hilt of the knife on his belt were ringing big bells in the lookout’s head now. That knife was an Army bayonet.
*
The relief arrived on time, but they were Imam’s blokes and didn’t know Marcie either. The three Muppets tried to talk to their companion on the way back, but he seemed more and more reluctant to answer. That altered when the library and church came into sight. “That’s it!” He took a quick step, then hesitated. Davie wasn’t quite a captive, but there were now a dozen armed people following him. One had run ahead to warn the Sinners. While Davie hesitated, the door of the library flew open and a woman hurled out and down the street towards them.
“Davie! You came!”
The man dropped his pistol and opened his arms wide. “Marcie!” About ten years seemed to fall from his tired, lined face in the brief time before the two connected. From the impact, it would be a while before either would be talking, but from the expression on the face of thesecond womancoming out of the library she knew Davie as well. That came as a big shock to most of those present. They’d never seen the Librarian smile, let alone a big happy one like that! The couple were still saying hellowhen Sin arrived, even if neither of themwas speaking.
Sin had a big smile as well, and the three guards caught the end of what she was telling Sinner. “Davie is a daft sod, a bit of an innocent. When he couldn’t marry Marcie he didn’t want to leave, but Harry told him not to risk it. It was still a bit touch and go, and we kept expecting him to turn up, but then the Army sealed London.” She came to a halt, waiting a few moments but Davie and Marcie didn’t notice. The second loud stage cough finally got their attention.
“It’s Davie. He came back for me!” The lookouts still couldn’t remember the young woman, but Davie had been right about pretty. She’d never been to any of the parties, but maybe this bloke was the reason.
“I can see that, Marcie. Now how about we go into the library so Davie can sit down.” Sin’s eyes swept the small crowd. “We don’t want to open his present here, do we?” With that Marcie began tugging her man towards the library, not hard because he wasn’t struggling.
*
Despite some casual questioning, the lookouts never did find out exactly who the bloke was, or what he’d brought. The gear and the way he’d acted might mean Army, but the next time anyone saw him, Davie didn’t look very soldier-ish. He had the crewcut, but worked in the fields rather than as a guard or fighter. Those who worked with him reckoned Davie was a bit young to be Army during the Crash, and seemed a bit simple. Maybe the young man was just besotted, because he talked about Marcie most of the time.
Sin and Sinner, and a
ny of the originals anyone asked, just said Davie was an old friend of Marcie’s. A few found out Marcie worked in the library, but nobody dare ask the Librarian unwelcome questions. Interest waned when the mystery man slipped into the gang without a ripple. In private, Sin, Sinner, and a few close friends including the Librarian, had a small celebration when Davie gave Marcie her present. Marcie passed it on to Sin, because she’d already got the only present she cared about. The few in the know agreed the contents of the Bergen would be very useful when their backs were against a wall, but until then it should stay secret.
Shopping with Barbie
In Orchard Close,Harold already had more secrets than he felt comfortable with. He’d been working on turning one secret into an opportunity, planning a raid, when Trev threw a huge spanner in the works.The radio man hadfinally bodged together a fix for Barbie Radio. A probable fix, not a certainty, because there were too many unknowns. The explosion, even if the Barbies denied any such thing, could have thrown crap deeper into the transmitter’s entrails, and there were almost certainly blown fuses.
Trev offered to write instructions, the best he could manage, but nobody else in Orchard Close knew enough about radios to improvise. Harold considered asking Marconi, the Geek radio man, but the Barbies would kill him regardless of any agreement. The be-wigged maniacs had most of the Geeks on their ‘Most Wanted’ list. Harold couldn’t just tell the Barbies he couldn’t fix their radio. Despite all the attempts to inject some realism, the Barbies were convinced Trev could do the job. They wouldn’t believe anything else, and would try to kidnap Trev or possibly launch a raid. Harold didn’t fancy pissing the Barbies off that badly, and the other gangs wouldn’t be happy if the blondes went on a rampage.