by Vance Huxley
*
Sutton Park:
The eight gangs who had taken Sutton Park were definitely paranoid, but not about their close neighbours. Controlling the Park had turned out to be more of a job than expected, because justpatrolling the area left the gangs over-extended. They all needed fighters in the Park to protect their interests and watch the residents, but that left them with less people to protect their home turf.
“This is bloody stupid.” Angel, the bleached blonde bossing the Valkyries, kicked the body on the ground in front of her. “We’ve got all that lovely meat and fish, but we can’t protect it.”
A smaller woman with mousy hair hesitated, then went for it. “We’re protecting the park and the meat and fish well enough. It’s the isolated streets, the ones out in the ruins that are hard to defend.Most of this area is ruins, so we could just abandon it?” She looked a little embarrassed. “I heard the Skins are pulling the people out of anywhere vulnerable, and setting them up on the edge of the park.”
“Been getting some Skin, have you? Be careful, you’ll end up wearing big boots and polishing your head.” Angel had replied more or less automatically, but now she thought about it. “How far did your new boyfriend tell you Shiner’s lot have pulled back, and how do you know he told you the truth?”
The woman hesitated again, a slight blush on her face. “Not exactly boyfriend, but the Skins treat women all right. After a couple of beers his jokes were funny, then I had a couple more and you know how it is.” A wicked little smile grew on her face. “He had a few as well, enough to loosen his mouth and a few inhibitions. He got downright gobby once I loosened a few things as well. I can’t promise it’s all true, but the Skins have definitely pulled back.”
“I’ll ask Hangaku. She’s tight with Shiner ever since we carved up the Studs together. If it wasn’t for Shiner’s missus, Chelle, I’d wonder if they’d been loosening things.” Angel considered it properly for a few moments. “No, it’ll never happen even if Hangaku’s standards fall that far. Chelle would take a shotgun to her and cut Shiner’s nuts off.” The bleached blonde looked at the surrounding houses, many with broken windows and doors, and the frightened people gathering outside them. “The bastards cleaned these people out, so they may as well move now. Tell them to get their gear together and I’ll call up some transport.”
As Angel made her radio calls, she wondered who else might be having the same problems. Her headquarters had a big wall all round it, and always had plenty of well-armed fighters in residence. That left the oiks, the ordinary people,scattered among the ruins intheir small clumps ofuseable housing. Angel might not be angelic but she took protection money from those people, sothe least she could do was to stop some passing arse from killing and robbing them. Once the move had been organised, she went to see Hangaku.
Hangaku confirmed that the Yakuza, the Skins and the Hard School were all having trouble with raiders. Something had to be done, and startling as that might be, maybe Shiner had the right idea. Not just about moving people out of harm’s way, Shiner had some ideas on how to deal with the cause of the problem.
*
Eleven days later, an SUV carrying two men and two women, all heavily armed, drove away from two inhabited streets in a wasteland of empty ruins. A few of the residents waved, then everyone in sight either went indoors or back to gardening. Hidden in the surrounding ruins, a scruffy, heavily armed man turned to his companions. “I told you. The Yakuzas only send patrols round these little places. It’ll be at least four hours before they come back, and it might be tomorrow.”
“So how long do we wait?” This man patted his shotgun. “There’s enough of us to kill the patrol as well, then we’ll have plenty of time and we’ll get their weapons. I fancy one of those swords.”
“No chance. Killing a few civvies isn’t that serious but their boss, Hangaku, doesn’t like anyone killing Yakuza fighters. She’d hunt us down, and everyone heard what happened to the last one she caught alive.” Uneasy muttering from the rest of the men confirmed they’d all heard about that. “We go in now, but no shooting this time because that patrol might hear. I was watching and this lot don’t have weapons, just tools like hammers and axes and probably kitchen knives.” He pointed three fingers at three of the men, then pointed to the left. “Find a good spot in the ruins and make sure nobody escapes that way. I’ll call you in once we’ve sprung the surprise.” After sending two more trios to surround the houses, the remaining seven stood up and checked their weapons.
“What if they’ve got guns?”
“I got this information the same place I did for the last two raids, so it’ll be right. The plebs aren’t allowed guns, and none of them can fight or they’d join the Yakuza.” The leader looked down at the man’s shotgun. “Only crossbows, guns are too noisy. Unload that shotgun because I know you, you like using that bloody thing way too much. We’ll walk out there nice and steady, stick an arrow in anyone who runs, and round everyone up without raising an alarm. We’ll have time to rob them blind, pick up a couple of fresh women, and be long gone before the patrol gets back.”
“I want a woman of my own, just once.” Despite grumbling, the gangster unloaded his shotgun and slung it across his back. He wound his crossbow as he joined the other six striding out of cover.
*
The leader waited until a few of the gardeners noticed him approaching, standing up and glancing nervously towards their houses. “Don’t do anything stupid and nobody gets hurt. We want food and any coupons, then we’ll be gone. If you run we’ll shoot.” Ahead of the seven men, some of the gardeners turned towards the houses. The leader of the bandits aimed his crossbow. “Call your people out of the houses. If we have to go in and get them, someone will get hurt.” The armed men watched carefully but the first sullen-looking residents, men and women, came outside without any argument. “Well done, now I want you all in the middle of the street, out in the open.” The leader raised his voice, shouting to the men he’d sent to surround the housing. “Move in, everybody. Check the houses as you come.”
For a few minutes it all went to plan. The unarmed men and women were obviously reluctant, but a few more appeared and they were all drifting in the right direction. The crack of a shot jerked everyone’s heads around! Or not everyone’s, the bandits realised much, much too late. At the sound, every apparently cowed and helpless victim dived for cover. “Who was that?”
Nobody answered at first but more shots rang out, followed by a shout from one of the men sent to surround the houses. “Fucking Yakuza!”
“That’s us.” The seven men turned and all of them dived for the ground, because they’d all recognised the young Oriental woman framed in a doorway. The extravagant Oriental dragon on her dress might have been enough, but the long, curved blade confirmed they’d run smack into Hangaku, queen of the Yakuza. When the seven men hit the ground, only three were still capable of bringing up a weapon.
Even as Hangaku spoke, the hapless victims who’d dived for shelter mere seconds earlier came up with pistols and crossbows and opened fire. Rolling away from the riddled bodies of his comrades, one bandit pulled his shotgun round to load it. He’d tried with the crossbow, but thought he’d missed. He broke the weapon, fumbling for the shells, but a shadow fell across him. “Too late, asshole.” The bandit looked up in time to see the young man’s arm and sword, but not in time to scream before the blade ripped his throat out.
“There’s two running, back here.” As the voice finished, a loud crack echoed. “There’s one running, but he’s in the ruins now.”
“Hunt him down. We wouldn’t want anyone learning any lessons.” Hangaku strode out into the road and toed a body. “You could have saved me one.”
“That’s your own fault, ma’am. It worked too well.” A young man cleaned his sword before picking up a shotgun. “This needs cleaning, but it must work or he’d not have been loading it.”
“A bonus.” Hangaku sheathed her sword with a sigh of resigna
tion. “I can’t take all the credit. Half a dozen of us worked it out, and believe it or not, Shiner came up with the actual idea.” Ripples of laughter rang out as the Yakuza stripped bodies, and cut a couple of throats to make sure.
“Are we going to set up again someplace else?” The bonus shotgun had definitely encouraged one fighter.
“No point. We’ve just killed our problem so now we’ll abandon all the vulnerable housing. If the other raids persist, the other gangs will to do the same, set a trap. I’ll call in our watchers and the other two traps.” The Yakuza boss looked around at her fighters, a slow smile starting. “Angel’s fighters are all women, so they’ll need some blokes to make it look right. Does anyone want to play happy families with a Valkyrie?” From the big smiles there’d be no shortage.
“The Skins’ fighters are all blokes, so they’ll want volunteers as well.” The young womanposed with her hand on her hip. “I wasn’t planning on playing the housewife just yet, but maybe I could practice?”
*
Conan:
While Sutton Park sorted out their raider problems, and Precinct Nineteen learned how to milk a zebra, others still had conquest in mind. In the northwest of the city a bloodthirsty paranoid psychopath led his gang from strength to strength. Conan and his Barbarians had taken another two very small, weak, enclaves, to give him eight in all. The ninth conquest would be harder, because he couldn’t find a way through the enclave gates.
Conan needed a way through the gates, because the Lambs of God had cleared a wide area around their enclave. Any attacker would have to run half a mile, straight into a hail of bullets and arrows. Conan loved the thrill of bloody, hand-to-hand combat, but this time his nutters would be cut to pieces before they could get over the walls.
Bribery and threats hadn’t worked either. The Barbarians had approached the Lambs of God while they were shopping, but the men and women had laughed at the gangsters. The Lambs were confident in the strength of their walls, and knew the Barbarians daren’t target them while shopping because of the Mart guards.None of theLambs of God seemed susceptible to the usual incentives, offers of wealth or women, and Conan had run out of ideas.
Now a frustrated Conan stood in a derelict office block, using binoculars to watch the Lambs working in their fields. He cursed, turning away and passing the binoculars to his lookout. “Keep watching. I want to know about every single one of those fucks that comes outside the walls, how near they get to the ruins, and how long they stay out there. I want hostages.”
“I’ve been watching for a fortnight now, Boss, and none of them come into the ruins. The only people to leave the farmed area were in a convoy going to the Mart.” The man kept it respectful, because Conan had been in a foul mood all day. One of the others had warned him, the boss was pissed off because he’d hit his bitch too hard and she might die this time.
Conan stormed back down to his vehicle and roared off back to base. He tried to come up with a plan, because he had to keep taking enclaves to provide the fighters with loot and women. Once his advance stalled, some would leave or some twat would try to take over. Right now he couldn’t think straight, which was all the Bitch’s fault, her and her smart mouth. He couldn’t just kill her because he’d bragged that he’d break her, but the Bitch just wouldn’t give in. Conan strode through the small enclave, the last one he’d conquered before running into the Lambs, with his head going in circles. Lambs of bloody God? Well Conan’s Barbarians were the lions, and they were hungry. He thought through what the lookout had told him. If he shot up the Mart run, it wouldn’t get him inside the walls; he needed someone inside for that.
Suddenly galvanised, Conan went to find the Barbarian he’d put in charge here. “Garth, find anyone with brains and meet up in my place. We’re going to work out how to get at those nuns.”
Within ten minutes a dozen men had gathered. They soon realised that Conan had already made up his mind what to do, andtheir job was to find a way to get away with it. Coming out of the meeting, one of them summed it up for the rest. “What the fuck happened to him? Has that bitch sent him soft in the head or what? This is stupid. If we attack a Mart the whole city shuts down.”
“If you don’t keep your gob shut you’ll be strung up in the square, begging him to let you die. If he wants us to attack the Lambs in the Mart then that’s what we do.” Garth looked from one to another, right around the group. “Unless any of you reckon you can take over?” One by one the men dropped their eyes, cowed. “In that case help me figure out a way to attack the Lambs while they are shopping, one that doesn’t end up with the Mart guards using their machine guns on us.” He looked towards where they’d left Conan. “The doc tells me the bitch made it, so we’ve got some time. Conan will be busy either beating the shit out of her or fucking her.”
“Fucking stupid, that is. Why mess up a good-looking woman?” The speaker glanced nervously towards Conan’s house.
“Because she won’t give up. She keeps fighting back and he can’t handle it.” Garth shrugged, turning away. “Which keeps him occupied, so let’s get thinking.”
*
The General:
Much nearer to Orchard Close, only a few miles to Harold’s northwest, Pattonhad been doing exactly what Conan wanted so much. He’d been leading his Bloods in a mad charge to capture yet another small enclave. Patton preferred this sort of conquest, serious carnage without any attempt at traps or trickery. The man running this place had been a nasty little tyrant, and stupid enough to think he could tell the General no when offered the chance to surrender. Not that the General, Patton or the Bloods cared how the bloke had run the place, but for once theirvictims might find the new landlords an improvement. Patton finished wiping his machete on a torn shirt and tossed the bloody rag away. “That was fun, andthe Bloods have been having a ball.Even so, after three like this we need a bit of a break for everyone to heal up. Are we going after the SIMS or that Orchard Close next?”
“Neither. There’s a couple more like these, where we won’t take enough serious casualties to slow your maniacs up. You’d best get back in there so they don’t burn the place down.” The General smiled to take any sting out of that, it was the plain truth. “Once they’ve sobered up, come and see me and we’ll decide on what order to take them.”
Rhys sidled up, notebook at the ready. “I’ve got details on a couple, possibly three.” He watched with distaste as Patton waved to a couple of bloodied fighters. “Ones where a bit of finesse might help.” The General sighed, he hoped Rhys never seriously annoyed Patton or he’d need a new spymaster.
*
Professors:
Only a few miles north of Patton and the Bloods, four cars stopped at a checkpoint. The occupants were definitely annoyed but also apprehensive when they saw the firepower aimed their way. “Prof paid up front.”
“The boss has put up the tolls.” The surrounding gangsters laughed, but their weapons never wavered. “It’s four times as much, or you can pay with weapons.” He eyed up a female despite her weaponry. “We’ll take livestock, even armed livestock?”
The radio crackled. “Back off. We’ll sort out something else. We’ll write off the coupons for now.” The occupants of the cars kept their weapons ready, with fingers on the triggers and safeties off. The trip home wasn’t far, but long enough for some serious worrying. Two other gangs had set the price of a safe passage to the Mart ruinously high. Prof kept saying their enclave mustn’t take part in the local gang wars, but more than one teenager thought slapping one of the neighbours down might back the rest off.
*
Reivers:
All across the UK, the TV showed that neither the government nor the Reivers were backing off at all. The latest news item included pictures of a supply convoy for a Mart, fifteen articulated lorries scattered along a stretch of highway, all burning furiously. An armoured Land Rover lay on its side in a ditch, torn open by an explosion. Between the vehicles lay scattered bodies in uniform and still, b
earded figures wearing plaid or ragged jackets.
“The inhabitants of Inverness will be short of food after the latest outrage by the bandits operating out of the Grampians. Some of the foolish inhabitants of the city, the criminals and rebels and malcontents, have been spreading rumours that these savages are here to help them. They try to claim a link to historical figures such as Robert the Bruce, but would he have burned the very food needed to feed women and children? The Army managed to stop the criminals stealing the food, and killed this band so they will not repeat their terrible actions elsewhere.”
The scene switched to the gunsights of warplanes as they swooped on a small band fleeing along a mountain path. Cannon fire tore through the figures and the rock of the path itself, sending both tumbling down the steep slopes. Uniformed men climbed a hillside and some fell. Others raised their weapons, firing at figures flitting among the rocks ahead. The scene moved forward to show the soldiers passing through the rocks, and dead rebels. A long view followed, of a dam and reservoir framed by snow-capped mountains.
“These brave soldiers are fighting tenaciously, disputing every inch of the mountains to keep the innocent citizens safe. The savages are threatening to destroy the Hydro-Electric generators which supply much of the power to the cities in England. Despite their losses, and the difficulty of maintaining air support among the mountains, these soldiers will not shirk their duty. Once again the rebels and traitors have been thwarted. Hopefully, the efforts of your government and the armed forces will continue to keep the electricity flowing, to bring you light and heat.”