‘And what happens to them?’
‘Their schools are under strict orders from the military. They’re to provide them with accommodation and meals for as long as the emergency lasts.’
‘The line, how secure is it?’ the Prime Minister asked.
‘It’s porous in parts. It cuts through some parks in the north, moors mainly. We’re aiming to run barbed wire the whole length and then set up surveillance posts.’
‘How long will that take?’ the Deputy PM asked.
‘Another week at the most.’
‘What are the instructions to the troops manning the border?’ the Prime Minister asked.
‘It’s a warning shot at the first barrier; at the second, shoot to kill.’
‘Have we come to this?’ the Deputy Prime Minister said.
‘You were here when we discussed this. You said nothing then,’ the PM reminded her.
‘I agreed then, and I agree now. What else can we do? Have there been any incidents of this nature so far, Sir David?’
‘Some,’ he replied. ‘A car laden with some drunks after a night at the Lytton Arms Hotel decided to try and break through on the A29, about four miles to the east of the pub.’
‘What happened?’ the Prime Minister asked before his deputy had a chance to monopolise the meeting.
‘Our men opened fire. The five men in the car were killed instantly. There was nothing else they could do.’
‘Do you expect more of these?’ the Deputy Prime Minister asked.
‘It depends on the situation, but yes, we expect more. We’re projecting at least five or six attempts a day.’
‘And your men will shoot?’ the Deputy Prime Minister asked yet again.
‘Of course. Nobody here wants the disease to spread any more than necessary. I am correct in this, aren’t I?’ The General looked at the Prime Minister for confirmation.
‘Yes, of course, you are,’ the Prime Minister said, exasperated with the General looking for assurances when they were not needed.
‘What’s the situation to the west of the line?’ the Prime Minister continued. ‘How many are affected? How many will there be? What about outbreaks in other areas?’
He looked over towards Gary Houston, a spineless, whimpering man, or at least he was in Tom Davis’ opinion. Intellectually smart, asthmatic, confined to a wheelchair in recent years, he was the total opposite of the blustering, bullying Prime Minister. They shared a mutual contempt for each other.
Houston had been a surgeon – one of the best in the country, some would say – and his elevation to the Health Ministry was unanimously acclaimed in the party room, even the PM had to approve. The previous incumbent of the position had keeled over in parliament one day from a heart attack after too many late-night sittings in Parliament and a habit of endlessly chain-smoking a foul-smelling brand of cigarettes.
‘Gary, you’re the Minister of Health. Give us an update. No verbiage, no caressing the situation. Give it to us straight.’ Tom Davis, now resurrected after his earlier confrontation with his deputy, was putting his people on the spot.
‘Prime Minister, the situation is dire. There are three primary areas of infection, which we’ve deduced from the pattern of the infections. We isolated them down to two shopping centres, one in Exeter, the other in Penzance and a hospital in Newquay.’
‘A hospital, how could they?’ The Deputy PM felt the need to express disgust.
‘Be quiet and let Houston get on with it.’ The Prime Minister put his deputy in her place. ‘We’re not dealing with the Boy Scouts. These people want to kill us and they’re not fussy as to how.’
‘If I may continue,’ the Minister of Health said. ‘We have some good people down there, and sufficient medical facilities and laboratories. We’ll be able to get accurate updates with no trouble. Movement around the area is reasonable, and our people have clearance to move through the police blocks. Virtually every city and village now have local police and citizens patrolling the entry and exit points, but up till now, our people have been able to move through unharmed. It’s slow, though. Fifty miles may take three hours, and that’s with virtually no traffic on the road. There’s a task force centre in St Ives coordinated by police and military personnel who have been trapped in the region.
‘Safe havens are being set up in the Scilly Isles to the West. The plan is to take those who clearly have had no exposure to the virus and to send them over to one of the outer Isles for a three-week period. Tresco and St Martins, two of the islands, are being prepared. Once they survive a three-week period and are pronounced infection-free, they are moved to the main island of St Mary’s.’
‘Are the islands free of the virus?’ the Prime Minister asked.
‘So far, they appear to be clean.’
‘How far are they off the mainland?’ Ellen Hamilton, Tom Davis’s deputy, did not intend to stay quiet for long.
‘They’re less than thirty miles. The Navy already has two frigates, the Argyll and the Portland, on deployment in the area. No one’s going to get past them.’
‘Has anyone tried? Are the sailors’ virus free?’ the Prime Minister asked.
‘A few have tried, but they all turned back after warning shots were fired across their bows. Both the frigates are free of the disease – they were returning from exercises in the South Atlantic. There is also a supply ship, a Royal Fleet Auxiliary tanker, arriving in the area in the next few days.’
‘The Navy can stay on station for up to six months if necessary,’ Sir David Button confirmed.
‘That’s the first positive news we’ve had in some weeks,’ the PM said. ‘What’s the situation in the rest of the country?’
It was a question that could not be answered by referring to a newspaper, a television report or the Internet. There had been a gradual tightening on media freedom. The United Kingdom might pride itself on its indomitable spirit, but a killer disease hid in the recesses of people’s minds invariably leads to fear and panic.
***
The first confirmed outbreaks in Glasgow had resulted in a riot and Jimmy Andrews, a pimply youth of eighteen with a severe case of acne, had been beaten to death on his way home from the pub. Anyone with a skin blemish or slurred their speech was being incorrectly diagnosed by the amateur medical practitioners, the most amateurish being, the most inebriated.
In the West Country, as in America, the evangelists were blaming it on God’s judgement for a blasphemous life. America was firmly fired with religious dogma. England, a more sceptical country, was even being drawn in by the fire and brimstone preachers of forgiveness and hate. Prejudiced hatred, in the past, controlled, was realised when a boarding house in central Birmingham was burnt to the ground, and forty-five people died: refugees from Somalia, Afghanistan, and Iran. Samir Habash and his admirers –were far from the thoughts of the men that died as they laboured on building sites by day during the week to send virtually all their money back home to their families.
Habash, his name not known, was mentioned in extremist fundamentalist circles with a reverence approaching that of Osama bin Laden. He was often referred to as the blessed one. Little did they know that he was not saving them at all. He was not giving them the cherished land of Islam. Instead, he was only imparting death. The disease did not choose those based on religion or on how good and pious you were, how many times a day you prayed to God or Allah. Indiscriminate, it would tear through the refugee camps in Europe and the Middle East, the homelands of Islam, like a knife through butter, and with more speed and virulence than it had in either America or England.
Control was only affected by the firm discipline of the people, the trust in their police and military, and the inherent belief they had in the quality of their politicians. America and England were not perfect examples of societies, but they were best placed to survive Habash’s virus.
***
Two weeks later at the Prime Minister’s regular cabinet meeting, Gary Houston, the Minister of Health
updated on the situation in Devon and Cornwall. ‘Prime Minister, we’re showing visible signs of second, some third generation infections in Devon and Cornwall. We’re projecting a lower estimate for Devon and Cornwall of about thirty percent of the population, that’s about five hundred thousand deaths.’
‘That’s a lot of people,’ The Prime Minister said.
‘It’s a lot better than we projected. We initially thought sixty percent, but it was our prompt action and that of the military that kept the numbers down.’
‘I suppose we must be thankful for what we have achieved,’ the PM replied.
‘It’s not over yet.’ Gary Houston saw no cause for complacency.
‘I know. We still have to deal with the rest of the United Kingdom. Let’s hear from you first and then ask the military to comment.’
‘Holidaymakers, businessmen, the normal movement of people around the country have ensured that a large number of cities are infected. Some of the smaller places may be able to deal with it themselves, but the large cities are now showing a severe breakdown in law and order. We may be forced to abandon some of the more important cities in the country and let them fend for themselves.’
‘It will be over my dead body,’ the PM exclaimed. ‘I’m not abandoning millions to a slow and painful death.’
‘I appreciate your statement, even though it is an unfortunate phrase to use in this context.’ Houston was on solid ground. He knew the facts and pussy-footing around with his leader was no longer needed or advised. ‘If you do not control the main population centres, then it most certainly will be over your dead body,’ he said with a new authority. ‘If we don’t hold it in check then the population of the UK is threatened. Uncontrolled, we could see upwards of sixty percent of the country dead within four to five months. Control is only possible now due to a substantial military and police force and an infrastructure that continues to function. The authorities in this country are not immune from the virus any more than the general population. Their numbers will start to reduce proportionally.’
‘What the Minister says is correct,’ added the Chief of the Defence Staff, General Sir David Button. ‘We’ve seen reductions in personnel at our bases throughout the country.’
‘It won’t be long before the supermarkets start to empty,’ said Houston, ‘the power becomes intermittent, and public transport closes down.’
The Prime Minister conceded the point. ‘You’re right. ‘Give me the worst and the best scenario. Let’s discuss what we need to do to minimise the damage.’
‘Let’s ask the military what they can do for us,’ said Houston. ‘We know Glasgow is infected, at least fifteen hundred dead and eighteen thousand second generation. Third generation, probably up around eighty to ninety thousand. How do we handle this?’
‘Declare martial law, enforce a strict curfew on all affected areas as they occur,’ General Sir David Button said.
‘We’re talking about areas where they will take no notice,’ the Deputy Prime Minister added.
‘I realise that,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘Some cities are doomed.’
‘That wasn’t what you said five minutes ago, Prime Minister. So what do you suggest is done in the areas that fail to comply?’ his deputy asked.
‘I was hopeful there was a solution. Sir David is correct. We must save what we can of this country.’
‘Are you suggesting using troops against our own people?’
‘What other option is there?’ The Prime Minister breathed a sigh of resignation. ‘There are areas of Glasgow, Birmingham, Liverpool, London and other cities that once the infection is sighted, will rise up in open revolt. They’ll attack anyone they suspect of contamination. As the food supplies reduce, they’ll loot all the stores, riot and fight amongst themselves and then leave for wherever there is a possibility of some further supplies. There will be thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, out on the road. The Minister of Health’s estimate may be conservative.’
‘It could go closer to eighty percent if we don’t act,’ Gary Houston said.
‘What’s to stop one hundred percent?’ The ever astute Prime Minister had missed a vital component in his analysis.
‘Prime Minister, you don’t get it,’ the Minister for Health answered back quickly.
‘Don’t get what?’ the Prime Minister angrily responded to his Minister of Health’s impertinence.
‘At eighty percent of the population, the country has collapsed.’ The Minister ignored his leader’s rebuke. ‘There is no infrastructure, no manufacturing, and no people. The United Kingdom will be thrust back to before the Industrial Revolution. Three hundred years of history wiped out. We will be a collection of small towns and villages maintaining a safe distance from each other. The ability of the disease to spread will be removed. It’s either act now to try and protect our way of life or do nothing.’
There was a moment of silence as everyone reflected upon Gary Houston’s words.
‘It’s clear that whatever happens, no matter how successful we are, this country will not be the same.’ The Deputy Prime Minister accepted the truth of Houston’s comments.
‘Sir David, do what is necessary,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘Save this country. You have a clear mandate to do whatever is required.’
‘Yes, Prime Minister.’
‘I need to make another Parliamentary address,’ the PM added. ‘We need to make it clear to the people as to what is going to happen. It may help, but I doubt it.’
‘Neither do I,’ his deputy, agreed. ‘In fact, none of us believes it will help, but you have no option. You must tell the people.’ For the first time in her political career, she felt sad for the man she despised. He was about to tell his country, her country, that it was doomed.
Chapter 16
Prime Minister’s address to the Nation.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I am addressing you from the Houses of Parliament in London.
It is necessary for me to talk to you today on a matter of the gravest importance. The situation in Devon and Cornwall continues to worsen. It is believed that prompt action will restrict fatalities in those two counties to around five hundred thousand.
It is easy to become conditioned to such numbers, but it still represents thirty percent of the population of those two counties where most of us, at some time or the other, have holidayed. The blockade on the eastern border of Devon remains in place and is being strengthened. We have also established a sanctuary in the Scilly Isles to the west for approximately eighty thousand, but no more can be accommodated. There are two frigates of the Royal Navy on station ensuring that this small community survives. In Devon and Cornwall, over one million people will also survive.
The situation, however, in the rest of the country still presents significant challenges. Outbreaks in all of the major cities have been confirmed and, although the numbers are low, the possible escalation of the disease is much worse than in Devon and Cornwall.
It has been possible to project that one infected person in Devon and Cornwall would unknowingly spread the disease to another twenty to twenty-five. In highly urbanised, densely populated centres, the number rises close to one hundred.
To protect the maximum number of people, the military of this country must impose increasingly severe and draconian measures. These are not decisions that are made lightly.
Failure to act aggressively will cause the population of this country to reduce by as much as sixty percent.
In forty-eight hours, all infected areas will be subjected to the most stringent martial law. There will be no movement in or out of those areas. For those who see the two-day notice as an opportunity to travel the country visiting families, gathering relatives, stockpiling food by lawful means or otherwise, it is necessary to state the following:
All shops, supermarkets, and businesses throughout the country are subject to an immediate price freeze. Any found guilty of ignoring this advice will have their place of enterprise closed by the
local police and will be prosecuted.
Any black marketing or racketeering will result in immediate incarceration by the police with no recourse to the legal process.
All movement by road outside of a five-mile radius of origin from an infected area is prohibited. Any vehicle found disobeying this advice is subject to forcible prevention of movement. In other words, the military of this country has full authority to fire on any persons violating the directive.
All airports are closed immediately, and any private aircraft found in the air without the necessary authorities will be liable to action from the Royal Air Force.
Any vehicle attempting to enter an infected area will need to sign an affidavit that they will not try to exit.
The Military Forces of the United Kingdom have been given a clear mandate to use whatever force is necessary.
This country will be saved. It is up to us to save it. These are strict measures. It is either sixty percent of the population or twenty-five percent. I entrust and hope that all listening to this broadcast will act in the manner responsible.
I thank you, God bless.
As he walked away from the lectern, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the Right Honourable Tom Davis, could be heard muttering to himself. ‘That’s my political career over. I just hope it was worth it.’
***
Kakuma camp was as far removed from Missoula, Montana in distance, as it was in appearance. Amelia Brooklyn loved one, was committed to the other.
Police Chief Slim Brady of the Missoula Police Force was right when he said it was the United Nations Refugee Agency, but wrong when he mentioned Central Africa. Kakuma, a sprawling tent city in Kenya to the east of the continent contained over five hundred thousand people. It had been taking refugees in from the South Sudan for over three years.
Terrorist: Three Book Boxed Set Page 19