Aftermath: The complete collection

by John Wilkinson

  ‘Welcome to Camp Blue, I’m excited to see so many new faces. My name is General Brown, I’m in control of the overall running of the camp.’ General Brown was an older looking general, maybe the oldest gentleman I have seen in uniform. He had short grey hair, in a side parting, and a full bushy grey moustache, to complement it. He had a bit of a belly on him, the kind you get when you no longer need to look after yourself quite as carefully. Sergeant Davis told me later that General Brown was five years retired, and came back to offer his support after the attack. It was a testament to the respect he had amongst the men that he was offered the position of Camp General, and a testament to the man he accepted it. He walked along the stage introducing the remaining soldiers. ‘This is General Morris, he is in charge of the offensive army and security. General Clarke is in charge of the day to day running of the hotel and General Harris is in charge of the camps supply runs. As you will be aware, this camp only runs because everyone works for a common goal, and that goal is about to change. Camp Blue has been about protection and survival, but the war is changing. There is a battle approaching, and it will decide what happens to us all, and our children. We will do everything in our power to avoid a war, if Torriero wants to talk we will talk, but we have to be prepared to fight. That’s why we ask that everyone who has experience with fire arms, be put forward to army training. That training should really last eighteen months, and we’re having to do it over a week, but in that week we will assess who will be able to fight, physically and mentally. Not everyone will, in fact only ten to twenty percent will be put forward for selection, but you could still have another important role, whether it be training other recruits or the recon of possible targets. When the Camp introduction has been completed by General Clarke, could those with weapons experience make their way to the left side of the room, where General Morris will talk you through the process, all others should stay where they are to speak to General Clarke about other available roles in more detail. All those under the age of seventeen will be introduced to the day activities, by Mrs Brownhill, who was the head teacher at St. Augustines Secondary School, Blackpool. Thanks for your time, I’ll now let General Clarke talk to you about the camp in a bit more detail.’ General Clarke was a tall, athletic looking solider, still a formidable looking man at an age somewhere over fifty.

  ‘Morning, as you will have already received an introduction to the camp on arrival, I’ll keep this short. As a camp, our first aim has been survival, and as we have got bigger, we have gained strength. The camp works because we are organised, and that is what will win this war. We’ve over one thousand, two hundred females in this camp, the largest known concentration in this country and growing. Torriero wants our females, your mothers, wife’s, sisters and daughters. He will attack us, but we’ll be ready, and we all must play our part. We have a meeting in this room at six o’clock, straight after dinner. In this meeting the next days work is prioritised, and the food vouchers and fresh water handed out. If you have any problems, this is your time to be heard. One member of your room must attend this meeting, every day. Failure to do this will result in punishment. If you have any further questions, just speak to your camp representative, they should be able to handle most queries. The road has been hard on you, if you have lost essentials, the store room is located in the basement. In there you’ll find everything from spare clothes to towels, and footwear to washing and cleaning products. The room is updated daily, with supply runs sent out regularly. Mrs Brownhill will now take the new children to meet the others, who are already enjoying the days activities, they can be picked up from this room at four forty five, so you can take them to dinner.’

  A very attractive lady appeared through a door to the left, she had long blond hair and thin glasses. She was striking, but maybe my lack of female company over the past few years was clouding my judgement somewhat. I knelt down on one knee next to the children, so I could look them in the eye as I spoke. ‘You go and have a good time, and we’ll see you at dinner.’

  ‘You’ll still be here tonight won’t you dad?’

  ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t go anywhere without telling you, can you look after the boys for me?’

  ‘Yes’ she replied, moving between them and put her arms around their shoulders.

  ‘I think I’ll just introduce them to Mrs Brownhill, I said to Bernard. He smiled and remarked ‘Oh, I thought you might.’

  I smiled back at him, but he knows my type, it’s pointless trying to hide it. Most of the children seemed hesitant to leave their loved ones, so we were the first to meet Mrs Brownhill.

  ‘Who have we got here?’ She asked.

  ‘My name is Emma and I’m seven.’

  ‘Well hello Emma, nice to meet you. What are your lovely brothers called?’

  ‘They are not my brothers, we found them, in a tower. But I look after them, my dad says they are part of our family now.’

  ‘That’s very nice, your dad must be a special man.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s the best dad.’

  James and Josh couldn’t be coaxed into speaking, so I introduced them.

  ‘This is James and Josh Mrs Brownhill.’

  ‘Oh please, call me Lauren.’

  ‘Hi Lauren, my name is Nathan.’

  ‘Hi, don’t worry Nathan, I’ll make sure they have a smashing day.’ I watched them disappear down the corridor, as more children picked up the courage to join. There was a table by Mrs Brownhill, with the newcomers identification passes laid out in rows, displayed by floors, and then room numbers. I found ours, removed the rubber band, and checked everybody’s details. The ID cards were credit card size, with a photo on the front, and the details on the back. The boys had been listed with surname Driver, which is probably for the best. I gave Bernard his card, and put the rest in my pocket. We waited for our turn to speak to General Morris, who remembered me as soon as he saw me.

  ‘Driver isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes sir, this is Bernard, he’s ex army, I think he could be useful for training.’

  ‘Really, what regiment?’

  ‘The Royal Regiment of Scotland, First Battalion’ Bernard replied.

  ‘Really, The Black Watch. Did you know Major Bentley’

  ‘Peter Bentley?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘He was a Sergeant when I left, early two thousand. He was a promising soldier.’

  ‘Yeah, he was. He died on Christmas Day two thousand and twenty, hit and run, never caught the driver. Strange how many life threatening situations he found himself in, in so many dangerous countries, only to be killed on British soil. It’s nice to meet you Bernard, I’m sure we can find a role for you at the camp, if you follow the others, we can get your uniforms fitted before lunch.’

  We followed the queue of men, down the stairs and out of the building. I had forgotten how cold it was outside, so warm the hotel was. A line of trucks was driving past the hotel, heading towards the back entrance. I looked on the back of the trailers as they past, the first had mattresses piled high, the second gas canisters and oil drums. There were also supplies of food, clothes and more alcohol. They stopped to let us pass, on our way to the football ground. The dust and ash kicked up from the trucks, floated around our heads as we made our way across. Ignoring the large double doors used by vehicles, we entered through a turnstile into the main body of the stadium. Inside we could escape the wind, but not the cold. There was row upon row of wooden tables, each with jackets, uniforms and boots laid out, categorised by apparel and then size. I searched through the clothes, finding my size and tried them on. But I’d lost that much weight from malnutrition, I had dropped two pant sizes. The clothes were clean and crisp, much better quality material than I’ve been used to, and did a much better job of keeping the cold out. Bernard got kitted out too, I could tell he was finding it all a bit emotional, being in a uniform again. H
e was trying to hide his red eyes from me, but I saw them. All the other recruits got suited and booted and we headed back to the hotel to have some lunch, all the talk was about the forthcoming training. The dinner hall was open thirty minutes early for the recruits, and it was buzzing. I looked around the men, trying to identify with them. I had short conversations with those on my table, in that snapshot alone there was a fireman, teacher, factory worker and two who had been unemployed, before the world turned to shit. But this all means nothing now, the educated and the destitute, both will be given guns, and thrown into battle. The next few days is going to be a challenge for all of us, I’m not underestimating it, but there are some unfit people in this room, even with a major shortage of food, some are overweight. I left Bernard and the other recruits chatting, as I went to my room to write up this mornings diary entry. I have about an hour before we need to meet up at the stadium for weapons training.

  25 / 11 / 27 - Time 19:30

  I walked back to the stadium, meeting Bernard and the other recruits outside the main doors, used by the trucks. The guard opened the doors and let us all through, then closed them behind us. Ahead, was the main football pitch, which was covered with large blue waterproof plastic sheets, covering its entire length. On top of that were pieces of wood, metal, and other salvaged material, sorted into large piles. There was so little light penetrating the black ashen clouds, the floodlights were being used to help the labourers, powered by diesel generators. We continued past the workers to the far end of the stadium, where there were four soldiers waiting patiently for us. Laid out in front of them, was a gun range, constructed from salvaged wood, with the silhouette of terrorists painted on in black paint, and fixed to the ground with a metal base. On the left was a rifle range, with targets at one hundred, one hundred and fifty, two hundred, two hundred and fifty, three hundred and three hundred and fifty yards. The hand gun range on the right, had targets at fifteen, thirty, fifty, seventy five and one hundred yards. Desks were set up at the front, with weapons and ammo laid out, with the four soldiers stood next to it. One stepped forward and announced, ‘My name is Captain Jones, this is Lieutenant Higginson, Second Lieutenant Jackson and Lance Corporal Farrell. General Morris has put us in charge of your training, starting this afternoon with weapons. On your left you’ll find the rifle range, we are using the L85A2 - Carbine Rifle for all primary weapons, equipped with a L123A2 under-barrel grenade launcher. We believe it’s better, with only a short time frame available, to familiarise yourself with just one rifle. Should any of your comrades fall, you will be able to use his weapon or ammo, as the whole army will use the same, with the only exception speciality weapons. On your right we have the hand guns, Glock 17 Gen4.’ There was around thirty of us, split into two groups, with two soldiers running either weapons training. My group started with the L85A2, a weapon I was unfamiliar with. We were given a demonstration, starting with how to hold the weapon, fortunately everyone in the group was right handed, as the rifle was problematic for left handers. The weapon uses 5.56×45mm NATO ammo, from a STANAG magazine, with a thirty round capacity. The magazine release button is placed above the magazine housing, on the left side of the receiver. Captain Jones informed us the camp had over ten thousand L85A2 rifles, after they were removed from service in two thousand and twenty five, and kept at the Fulwood Barracks. We practiced shots using the ACOG sights, firing at the targets. At first, very few recruits had any success, with frustration beginning to show on a couple, who stormed off after being unable to get to grips with it. But after a few hours continual practice, the noise of wood shattering could be heard all the way along the gun range. Smiles appeared on everyone’s faces, and high fives were handed out like children in the school yard. We took the gun apart, and put it back together again, then repeated. We practiced until we could do it without hesitation, and then we shot some more targets. We put an equal amount of time into the handgun training, I requested my Welrod silenced pistol back, much to the amusement of the soldiers. ‘I was wondering where that had come from!’ Captain Jones laughed, ‘I was hoping to have it as a souvenir.’ He sent me into the bowls of the stadium, to collect it from the stockpile of random weaponry. It felt good to have it back in my hands, and I destroyed a few targets with it. By the end of play, I finished in the top fifteen percent with the L85A2, and top five for hand guns. I was happy with those results, considering I had never used the rifle before, but I don’t think many of the recruits had, most of them had limited experience, firing at clay pigeons and vermin. Those hours spent practicing on my farm, certainly paid off today. We all headed off to our respected dinner halls, happy with our achievement. There was only two other recruits on our floor, and Bernard and I sat down to dinner with them. Adrian Harper, a engineer from Stockport, and Hassan Hana, an English Muslim who moved to the UK as a child in the early nineteen nineties. Adrian is a tall man, maybe six two, with light brown hair and a certain air of authority. In my brief time in his company, he seemed organised and disciplined, someone who could make a soldier. He arrived at Camp Blue yesterday with his twelve year old son Max, who was the spitting image of him. Hassan also arrived yesterday with his wife, Shazia, and three children, Nadim. Erina and Elma. He was a large, round man, with the early signs of hair loss, which he joked about. He was an amicable fella, always joking about something, normally his size, maybe it was a defence mechanism he had become used to relying on. Dinner was freshly made potato soup, with bread rolls, which weren’t warm, but I’m just being picky. Adrian and Hassan told us about their own experiences, and how they had reached Camp Blue. Neither stories made for easy listening, Hassan in particular had a heartbreaking moment, losing one of his children. ‘It’s one thing having your child taken from you’ he said, ‘It’s quite another to wake up find him gone, we just didn’t know what happened to him. Amid was our eldest, fifteen, he disappeared as we slept in a dilapidated barn on the outskirts of Leeds. On the night he disappeared, he had been talking about the following days journey. He was laughing and joking, just his normal self. When we woke up he had gone, we were frantic, we just couldn’t understand what had happened. How could he just disappear? Nobody else had gone, my wife Shazia was still there, as were all our other children, I cannot believe he was taken, without us hearing, and waking the rest of us. We searched and searched for him, I couldn’t bring myself to leave, so we waited for his arrival. We were convinced he must have got up to go to the toilet or something, and got turned around. We couldn’t leave without him, but he never came back. We waited for a week, it was the hardest decision I have ever had to make, to leave without him. But we had no food left and needed to keep moving, for the sake of the rest of my family, we’d pushed our luck as it was, Torriero’s men had seized control of Leeds and were building some kind of wall.’

  Adrian, Bernard and I told him how sorry we were for his loss, but in truth, we have all had to make hard decisions, I’ve met no one who hasn’t been affected in some way. Fortunately the children arrived shortly after for dinner, to lighten the mood. Max was the first to appear, he looked around the room for his dad, and when he found him, he ran over to our table with a smile on his face. Then Shazia arrived, dressed in a chefs outfit, with three children in tow. Hassan explained they had a family restaurant in Barnsley, in their previous life, Shazia must have been put to good use in the camp kitchens. ‘Are you responsible for this lovely potato soup?’ I asked Shazia.

  ‘No I’ve been put on floor five’ she replied. ‘They’ve been treated to my famous lamb rogan josh, without the lamb’ she laughed.

  As Adrian and Hassan left with their respected families, Emma, James and Josh arrived, with Mrs Brownhill behind them. ‘Dad, Josh has hurt his head’ said Emma, with her arm around him, guiding him towards me.

  ‘Are you OK Josh?’ I asked, with little response.

  ‘He’s fine now,’ replied Mrs Brownhill, smiling at me, which I have to say, set off a few butterflies in my stomach. �
��He fell over while playing outside, just keep an eye on him.’

  ‘I will thanks Lauren.’ She turned around and started to walk away, until I clumsily blurted out ‘Is that it for you today?’

  She turned back to respond, ‘I’m going to have my only cigarette of the day, and then call it a night.’

  ‘Stress of all those children?’

  ‘Something like that’ she smiled. ‘I only get chance for one cigarette a day, which is just as well as I’ve nearly run out. You got anything planned for tonight?’

  ‘We have the camp meeting to attend, after that I might go for a drink at the bar.’

  ‘Well, hope you have a good one. Night Nathan.’

  ‘Night.’

  ‘Good night Emma, James and Josh, see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Night Mrs Brownhill’ they replied in chorus. Bernard never said a word, he just smiled to himself, and I chose to ignore him.

  The children had their dinner, and asked about what I’d decided to do. I told them of my decision, I could tell Emma wasn’t happy, she went quiet and a bit distant, but she never argued with me. Bernard offered to take the children back to our room, while I attended the camp meeting. The room was rammed with people by the time it started, all chatting to each other, I looked around for a face I recognised but couldn’t find any.