Wanted (Flick Carter Book 1)

by Arnot, Tim

  ‘You needed it more than I did,’ Hannah replied, ‘but I did have to sleep on the floor, and that sucked, so you’ll have to make it up to me, okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Flick. ‘Whatever you want.’

  Hannah disappeared into the vardo.

  ‘Has there been any sight of the Kingsmen?’ Flick asked Chas cautiously. ‘Or anyone else?’

  ‘Not a sign,’ Chas replied. ‘We rather expected to see them overtake us again yesterday–if they figured out that you were at that fire, there’s not many ways that you could have gone–but there’s been no sign. Something in my gut makes me think they might be following us, but I’ve got nothing to back that up. Who else do you think might be after you?’

  ‘The thugs that killed my sister and dad are still after me. I think they might give up before the Kingsmen do, but the Kingsmen are like a dog with a bone. It won’t be so easy to shake them off.’

  ‘Well, worst comes to the worst, we can always use the reward money,’ said Chas into his tea.

  ‘Don’t torment the girl so,’ Jules scolded him. ‘We wouldn’t give you up for the reward, now would we!’

  ‘I didn’t know there was a reward…’

  ‘Thousand pounds,’ muttered Chas.

  ‘He said he’d give me to the Kingsmen for a thousand pounds,’ said Hannah indignantly. ‘His own daughter!’

  ‘And I said I wouldn’t let him,’ Jules replied.

  ‘No, Mum. You said you’d ask for three thousand and take two!’

  ‘Only in jest,’ she said, ‘only in jest. I’d hold out for three.’ She winked at Flick.

  ‘Can I have my pack back?’ Flick asked, changing the subject.

  ‘I think we’ll hold on to that, if it’s all the same to you,’ said Chas. ‘What are you gonna do with a bunch of knives and rocks and stuff anyway? Murder us all in our beds, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘Now, Chas, the poor girl has already explained how that was a misunderstanding.’

  ‘Well, if she’s so innocent, why doesn’t she explain it to the Kingsmen? I’m sure they’d be very understanding.’

  ‘And you’d be a thousand pounds better off too, eh? Tell me, if they’d already tried to string you up for something you didn’t do, would you want to go back?’

  ‘Suppose not.’

  ‘So what are you going to do with it if we do give it back?’

  ‘It’s not what I want to do with it,’ said Flick, ‘it’s just… it’s just… well, it’s all that I’ve got left in the world, that’s all.’

  Chas pulled out the bag from a locker under the vardo and tossed it to Flick. ‘There you go then. We’re taking a big risk trusting you with it, so I hope you remember that.’

  Flick rummaged through the bag, checking its contents. ‘Where’s my hunting knife?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m keeping that,’ said Chas. ‘I don’t trust you that much; I’m not entirely stupid.’

  ‘Where did you get those?’ asked Hannah, looking at the arrows. ‘Can you shoot?’

  ‘I made these for Rosie,’ Flick said. She pulled the arrows out of her bag and handed one to Hannah.

  ‘What, yourself?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m a good shot too, but I don’t have a bow; I lost mine on that ridge.’

  Hannah handed the arrow back. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘there might be something in the back of the wagon.’ She led Flick into the vardo and pulled the mattress off the bed at the back. Underneath it, set in the boards was a large brass ring which lifted the board up when Hanna pulled on it. The two girls peered down into the depths.

  ‘This is behind those cupboards you can see at the front of the bed,’ Hannah said. ‘We keep all sorts of stuff down here, especially things we don’t want anyone to know about. Ah, this looks like it.’

  She tugged at something, and out came a bow shaped piece of wood.

  ‘Got it off some bandits a few months ago. I think they got it off a hunter. It hasn’t got a string. Does that matter?’

  Flick took the bow and flexed it in her hands. ‘It seems okay,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some strings in my pack, hopefully they’ll fit.’ She rummaged through her things and produced a coiled up length of sinew.

  ‘I hope it’s long enough,’ she said. ‘These were made for my bow, and they might not fit somebody else’s.’

  But she tied each end of the string to the ends of the bow and then gave it a twang. ‘Perfect. We just need something to shoot at.’

  ‘There’s the hay bale off the back?’

  ‘That’ll do.’ Flick grinned. Finally she had something exciting to do.

  They jumped down and went around to the back of the wagon, where they pulled a hay bale from the rack. As they pulled it out, something dropped to the ground. ‘What’s this?’ Flick asked, picking it up. It was a small black box, about two inches on a side, and maybe an inch thick. She turned it over, but there were no obvious markings.

  ‘Let’s have a look!’ Hannah said, and Flick tossed it across.

  ‘Dunno, never seen it before. Dad might know; let’s ask him at supper.’ She tossed the box back to Flick.

  They were halfway through dragging the bale across the clearing when Jules looked up from the fire, where she was tending the cooking pot.

  ‘What are you two up to?’ she asked.

  ‘Target practice,’ Hannah replied, grinning. ‘Today: straw, tomorrow: wild boar!’

  ‘Well, just be careful,’ Jules said.

  Once the bale was in position, they measured forty paces back towards the camp.

  ‘This is where we’ll shoot from,’ Flick said. ‘If we’re hunting, it’s about as close as we’re likely to get without scaring off the animal, unless we’re very lucky. Really we should have a proper target, but for now let’s just try and hit the bale.’

  She took the bow, nocked up an arrow and loosed it at the hay bale. It struck with a thud.

  ‘There, you try,’ she said, handing Hannah the bow and showing her how to set the arrow against the bow and string, pull back, aim and release. The arrow flew off into the trees.

  ‘Don’t laugh!’ Hannah said.

  ‘I’m not laughing, really,’ Flick said. ‘Just remember where that arrow went though, because you’ll have to fetch it later–they don’t grow on trees you know. Now, try again.’

  ‘Aren’t they made of wood?’ Hannah started to say, but Flick thrust another arrow at her. She nocked it up and aimed at the bale. This one only just missed. The next one hit.

  ‘Well done!’ Flick exclaimed. ‘Now do it again!’

  They’d been at it for a good half an hour, firing the arrows then running into the trees to recover them, before Jules called out breakfast. Flick and Hannah returned to find four plates set on a low portable table. Jules was dishing out the contents of a pan.

  ‘Come on,’ said Hannah, ‘we’ve got eggs, so it’s a real treat!’

  They all sat down and tucked in to their breakfast, and Flick devoured hers without saying a single word.

  ‘Mmm, that was the best food I’ve eaten in weeks!’ she pronounced as she finally put down her fork.

  ‘You certainly look like you enjoyed it,’ said Jules, ‘and the colour’s back in your cheeks. The food and the sleep must have done you good!’

  When they’d finished, Hannah seemed to remember something, and turned to Flick, ‘Why don’t you show Dad that thing you found?’

  ‘What’s that?’ Chas asked.

  ‘When we were pulling the bale off the back of the wagon for target practice, this fell out of the hay. Any idea what it is?’ She handed him the box.

  Chas looked at the box, turning it over in his hand. He frowned.

  ‘Where did you say you got it?’ he asked.

  ‘It fell out when we pulled the hay bale from the rack on the back of the vardo,’ said Flick. ‘I think it might have been in the hay, maybe?’

  ‘You sure about that?’ Chas asked suspiciously.

  ‘Yes, Daddy,
’ Hannah chipped in, ‘I was there, I saw it. Stop being so suspicious!’

  At once his demeanour changed. ‘Shit! Kingsmen! Pack everything quickly, we need to go. Now.’

  Everyone just sat there and looked at him, jaws dropping.

  ‘NOW people!’ he yelled, jumping to his feet. ‘Do I have to say it three times?’

  He dropped the box onto the ground and stomped on it. The ground though was quite soft and it didn’t break, so he threw it into the fire. Everyone else scrambled and started collecting things and taking them back to the vardo.

  ‘Leave the fire,’ Chas called. ‘I want to make sure that thing burns. Now come on, let’s get out of here.’

  34

  The Tracker's Dead!

  ‘MA’AM, A TRACKER’S gone dead!’

  Adam looked up to see Mo Fletcher hunched over something at the front of the truck. They had spent the night parked among trees at the side of the road after a fruitless day searching. Dixon poked her head through from the cab and asked what had happened.

  ‘We had a strong signal, ma’am, just as usual, and then it just stopped.’

  ‘Do we know which one?’ Dixon asked.

  ‘Four-six-one-eight, ma’am,’ said Mo. She looked down a hand written list, ‘that’s the red and yellow wagon.’

  ‘Could it be the batteries, do you suppose?’

  ‘I don’t think so, ma’am. If the batteries go, there’s usually a bit of warning, but there was nothing: I had signal then it was gone.’

  ‘Damn, they’ve found it!’ she exclaimed, ‘How far away are they? Do we have their position?’

  Mo pointed to a position on the map. ‘About half an hour, ma’am.’

  Dixon leaned back into the cab. ‘Morgan, what’s our status?’

  Brian Morgan leaned in through the open front window. His face was smeared with oil and he was wiping his hands with a dirty rag.

  ‘Tanks are full and everything else is all checked out, ma’am’

  ‘Power us up, Morgan,’ Dixon ordered. ‘We’ll be moving out just as soon as we break camp. Sorry everyone, breakfast’s cancelled.’

  There were groans all round, but everyone set to, and fifteen minutes later the truck was back on the road.

  ‘So what’s this tracker then?’ Adam asked.

  ‘You forgotten everything they taught you in training already?’ sneered Bill Young.

  ‘Zip it, Young!’ Dixon ordered. ‘We pulled Carter out of training early, don’t forget, so he doesn’t know.’ Her tone softened. ‘It’s standard operating procedure, when we stop a vehicle, we try to deposit one of these…’ she grabbed a small black box out of a storage bin near the roof and tossed it to Adam, ‘…somewhere in the vehicle. Preferably where it won’t be found, Young!’

  Adam recognised the object that he’d seen briefly in Young’s hand when they’d looked at the back of the vardo.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Young said. ‘I stuffed it as far back in the hay bales as I could reach. Didn’t figure they’d find it that quickly.’

  ‘Well, it’s too late now. Looks like they have found it, which means they’ll be on the lookout for us.’

  ‘So what does it do?’ asked Adam.

  ‘It sends a signal so we can track it, duh–that’s why it’s called a tracker!’ said Young. ‘What do you think Mo does up there all day?’ he pointed. ‘She’s not getting a facial, you know!’

  ‘Yeah, it’s just… I’m still used to “if you play with electricity, you’ll get reported to the Kingsmen”…’

  ‘So, who you gonna get reported to, eh? We are the Kingsmen! You gonna report yourself to yourself? We’re allowed!’

  ‘Yes, but who says?’

  ‘We do, dummy! Sarge, tell him, will you?’

  Sergeant Wailing adopted the “put upon” pose, beloved of sergeants everywhere. ‘Cadet Carter,’ he started, ‘you said it yourself. When people are caught messing around with electricity, they get reported to the Kingsmen, and then they are “disappeared”. Well, what do you suppose happens to them?’

  Adam thought for a moment. He’d never really considered what happened next; people were just gone. ‘They get thrown into a dungeon and tortured and killed in highly imaginative and painful ways?’

  ‘This is the twenty-third century, Carter, do you really think we torture and kill people willy-nilly?’

  Everyone who wasn’t Lieutenant Dixon immediately called out, ‘Yes!’

  Dixon turned around, groaning. ‘See, sergeant, this is what I have to deal with!’

  ‘Of course we bleedin’ don’t!’ Sergeant Wailing said in his best sergeant’s voice. ‘We recruits them. Not for the military obviously, but the scientific section is always crying out for people who can figure stuff out without getting killed in the process. Secrets of the ancients and so on.’

  ‘Look lively people, we’re getting close!’ Morgan called from the front, and soon the truck pulled off the road into a clearing.

  ‘Fire’s still smoking, looks like they left in a hurry,’ Dixon said. ‘Search the area and see if they left anything behind.’

  They made a methodical search of the area, but didn’t come up with anything until Mo Fletcher poked at the remains of the fire with a stick. ‘I think we found the tracker, ma’am.’ She flicked a melted and twisted lump from the ashes. ‘They definitely found it and killed it.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Adam asked. ‘Does it mean they’ve got Flick?’

  ‘Dunno,’ said Young, ‘Maybe. It could just mean they found the tracker.’

  Dixon yelled at them, ‘Well don’t just stand around looking at it, let’s get cracking; they’re getting away! Oh, and Young?’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘This time when we catch them, plant two trackers. They’ll be expecting the first one, and hopefully when they find it, they won’t look for the second.’

  Adam shadowed Mo Fletcher for the rest of the morning, learning how she followed the signals from the trackers on a glowing map display built into the side wall of the truck.

  ‘The signals are picked up by radio masts–similar to that one outside Swindon–and by measuring the time it takes the signal to reach different masts we can work out where the tracker is. It’s a process called triangulation.

  ‘This green dot shows our position, and the yellow dots show the trackers. The numbers next to them are so that we can identify which is which.’

  She pressed a button on her console, and a new series of bright dots glowed on the map. ‘These are the masts we’ve got working. It’s a slow job and right now it only covers a small part of the country. And when we do get the masts working, there are gangs of hooligans that come and break them.

  She looked around and then whispered conspiratorially, ‘Between you and me, it’s the doctrine that all electricity is evil that’s to blame. People start thinking that the masts are evil–bad juju–and so they attack them.’

  Adam nodded. It was something he’d always been told, even though he’d only accepted it with a pinch of salt. The scavenging mentality ran deep, even outside of the Scavs.

  Adam jumped as a loud buzzer sounded close to his ear and a red flashing light appeared on the map. It was getting closer to their position.

  ‘Looks like we’ve got company!’ Mo said. She called out, ‘Lieutenant! Incoming!’

  The lieutenant climbed up to the console and peered at the display. ‘Report?’ she commanded.

  ‘Unknown vehicle, ma’am, coming straight for us, so I suspect it’s airborne. No response to IFF, so it’s assumed hostile.’

  ‘How long till it reaches us?’

  ‘Five minutes, ma’am.’

  ‘Very good.’ She jumped down and shouted, ‘Incoming aircraft! Everyone evacuate to cover!’ She called back to Fletcher, ‘You stay here and monitor the aircraft. If it looks like it’s going to attack, get out.’

  ‘Yes ma’am.’

  ‘Carter! What are you doing still here? Get out on the double!�
�

  Adam bolted through the rear hatch and ran for the nearest trees where he threw himself onto the ground. He crawled around until he had a good view back towards the truck, and watched and waited.

  After a few minutes he heard a droning noise in the sky, and shortly after saw a large flying object. As it got closer he could see it had a big triangular wing and a carriage underneath it. There appeared to be two people in the carriage, one behind the other. It circled around once and then disappeared. A couple of minutes after that he heard a rattling and bumping sound as the carriage came to a stop on the ground several metres away from the truck. The big triangular wing, which Adam could now see was black with the Kingsmen crown emblazoned in yellow, tipped down so that the left corner rested on the ground.

  He heard Dixon call the all clear, and the surrounding trees disgorged their hidden Kingsmen.

  The two people in the carriage were wearing protective clothes and helmets, but once they had taken them off, Adam recognised them instantly: Corporal Barnes and Kingsman Garrett, the two men that had been left behind in Faringdon. They spoke to Lieutenant Dixon in urgent tones, although he was too far away to hear what they were saying. Once she glanced in his direction, but she didn’t call him over.

  When the conference had finished, Dixon called everyone over and made an announcement.

  ‘Now listen up, we’ve got new orders. We’re to abandon the search–sorry Carter–and proceed to Bristol HQ. Report directly to the Officer Commanding. I shall leave with Corporal Barnes by air, assuming this–contraption–gets off the ground, and meet up with you later.’ She looked at Adam, who was standing watching her, mouth agape.

  ‘So are you saying my sister doesn’t matter any more? What was the point of all this?’ Adam stuttered, confusion all over his face.

  Dixon sighed. ‘Look, Carter, I know she’s your sister but we have to face it, if we haven’t found her by now, we’re probably not going to. So yes, she’s escaped, for the moment anyway.’

  He brightened, lifting his head and meeting her gaze.

  ‘Tell you what though, if you pass that vardo on the way, you can search it and plant those trackers. Okay?’