Saving Time

by Jenn Lees

  “Now that’s smart.” Murray’s heart continued its pounding.

  This was all so awesome.

  “I take a bit longer to do it with a slide-rule.”

  Stan’s glasses slid down his nose a fraction. “You know how to do calculations with a slide-rule?”

  Murray nodded, wondering what the big deal was. “Why? Can’t you?”

  Martin stood behind them as Stan ran through programs with Murray, commenting often on how he had used computers in the past when he studied postgraduate physics at Edinburgh University and computers were an everyday item.

  Government camouflaged-coloured people who stayed behind occupied the control centre. People lounged while others looked outside at the surrounding mountains. They had unexpected time on their hands now Major McLellan wouldn’t allow them to go any further on the mission to the submarine. McLellan ordered only the select few essential personnel to go with Rory and his crew. Community Militia members mingled among those who remained, their brown buckskins and dirty-green coloured shirts almost as camouflage-looking as the Government’s uniform. Murray bet the odds would be in favour of the Militia standing out less in a forest than the Government guys any day, but for once he wouldn’t calculate them.

  Stan’s mouth had remained open as Ceilidh, passing behind them carrying the dirty dishes from their luncheon, joined the conversation.

  “Our young Murray is somewhat of a mathematical genius,” she said as she squinted over their shoulders at the screen. “He’s helped Martin and the others over the years with his calculations and theories.”

  A flash of cold ran along Murray’s spine as he turned behind to his sister. Martin stiffened and glared at Ceilidh. Ceilidh blinked and trotted off to the kitchen.

  “What have they been for?” Stan asked.

  “We have maths games with the children during school time. Got to make it interesting.” Murray spoke his first thoughts. Well, he hadn’t lied. “Could you have a look at my dinosaur while you’re here? I’ve been trying to get more RAM, but I don’t have the tech I need.”

  That was close.

  “You’re quite the bright spark, aren’t you, young man?” Another military-looking man stepped next to Martin. Every Government person looked military, but this tall man with a closely cropped haircut, almost completely shaved, involved himself with the technical equipment. “Bet you’d love to come back to the Government Bunker and have a look at what we’ve got,” he said to Murray. The man’s badge read William MacIntosh-Technical Support.

  Murray couldn’t prevent his eyes widening and his jaw dropping. He shut his mouth. “I’d love to.” A pulse thumped in his ears. “But I don’t know if it’s allowed. I’d have to ask my brother, Rory.”

  “Oh, he’d be okay with it, surely. An opportunity like this?”

  “Um, I’ll have to ask.” No, he’d have to beg.

  Mr MacIntosh shrugged and pursed his lips.

  “And you already know this room, Lieutenant Wilson.” Angela’s fawning tone came loudly from the doorway.

  Murray turned. Angela wore one of her suits she’d had made especially for her. Angela had tied up her long, red hair behind her head, much like Ms Siobhan Kensington-Wallace’s. Not Angela’s usual style. Walking beside her, in neat combat uniform, was another non-deployed member of the Government team. He nodded approvingly and wore an interested smile.

  Hmm, the Guided Tour.

  “Well, that’s the inside facilities. I’ll change out of these heels and show you how we are self-sufficient.” Angela said as the tour continued out the door.

  Murray glanced at Martin, who raised his eyebrows. Murray shook his head. It would surprise no one that his eldest sister ingratiated herself with the Government, as everyone in the Community was aware of her ambitious nature.

  Murray passed his afternoon with the tech guys. Oh, how he’d love to know what they knew, and have the equipment they had.

  “You’ve got this!” Murray jumped at William MacIntosh’s loud voice over his shoulder. Murray had just completed the finishing additions to a program with little assistance from Stan. A firm hand patted his right shoulder. “You’d better ask that brother of yours. And he’d better give permission.”

  Murray let out a silent sigh. He didn’t hold out much hope.

  In the yard outside, the dogs were barking a somebody-is-coming bark. The lookout shouted from the tower and the Militia in the control-room grabbed their guns and ran outside to the front forecourt. More shouts came from outside, plus the faint sound of horses’ hooves galloping toward the compound.

  Then the sound of gunfire came through the open doors. The air outside cracked. Government people grabbed their handguns and small machine guns and filed out.

  Murray left the desk and ran to the doorway. Outside, Mr Stobbart yelled commands to the men and women of the Militia who readied their weapons and ran to the positions to which he directed them. The Government soldiers were obeying his orders as well.

  On the road leading to the compound, a group of about twenty armed men on horses galloped to the front gate. These untidy men wore dirty clothes, had unwashed hair and scruffy beards. Their horses looked in poor condition and their weapons were rifles and handguns. Many had swords strapped across their backs and knives glinted on their belts.

  They didn’t slow, and now aimed their weapons and let fire. Murray was used to the loud clap of gunfire, but this was something else. The rapid fire banged around the compound; bullets pinged off metal posts and thudded into brick and timber walls.

  These people were serious. The crack of gunfire sounded everywhere; Murray’s ears rang.

  Government personnel ran to their armoured vehicles, which could shield them from bullets and allow closer aim. A soldier sprinted to the back of the jeep that carried the larger machine gun and loaded a chain of bullets.

  One attacker at the front of the group let out a yelp and fell to the ground, blood spurting from his neck. His horse whinnied and ran. The fallen man’s companions began an angry cry and aimed more purposefully. Now bullets thudded and skidded off the armoured vehicles.

  The soldier fired the larger machine gun attached to the back of the armoured jeep. A succession of loud thunk, thunks, thunks accompanied the jolting of the soldier manning the large gun. Horses screamed as one fell, landing on its rider who yelled for help, his leg stuck under his horse at an awkward angle. One of the attackers jumped from his horse and dragged his friend out from beneath his dead animal. The machine gun’s rapid fire didn’t drown out the injured man’s ear-piercing scream. His friend threw him over the saddle on his own horse as the man’s cries continued. The rider remounted, kicked his horse to a gallop and retreated down the road the way he came. The rest of the bandit group continued their firing on the armoured vehicles as they ducked back and forth, attempting to remain moving targets, Murray guessed.

  A whoosh of air whizzed past Murray’s ear followed by a ping through the ceiling.

  Wow, that must have been a bullet.

  He retreated from the doorway, no longer interested in watching all that went on. The sound of loud, rapid gunfire filled the compound forecourt. Screams from horses and cries of pain from men floated through the door.

  “We’re gonna need Christine and Aunty Bec,” Murray shouted over his shoulder to Martin as he ran for the door to the main building.

  Murray sprinted through the internal corridor to the medical centre. Inside, Christine was clearing trolleys and laying out equipment, IV lines and medications. Ceilidh helped her.

  “They’re shooting at us. Seriously shooting!” Murray yelled at Christine as a volley of rapid gunfire sounded from the front of the compound.

  “Who are they?” Christine opened a cupboard and took out cloth wrapped trays. “Are our people hurt? Is that a machine gun? Is it ours or theirs?” Over the cloth trays, her pale blue eyes seemed grey as they darted at him, impatient for an answer.

  “The Government guys are shooting
their machine cannon at the bandits.” Murray ducked as a high window shattered and sprayed glass beside him. Ceilidh let out a yelp as she covered her head, protecting herself from the shower of fine glass shards.

  “Keep low, Murray!” Christine had ducked as well, but now the glass had settled she stood and continued her preparations for the wounded.

  How could she be so calm!

  “I suppose we should be thankful they haven’t started using their tank!” Christine shouted from the cupboard of supplies, then she handed gauze and bandages to Ceilidh who placed them on a bench. “Where’s Angela?”

  Murray shrugged. “She was giving a Government guy a guided tour.”

  “Go find her!”

  Murray ran out of the medical centre, keeping low. Last he heard, Angela was going to show the government guy the farm, but that was hours ago. Murray ran to Angela’s room at the back of the accommodation block of the compound. Here the gunfire was distant. He approached Angela’s room.

  “Gotta go!” The Government man receiving the guided tour, bumped into Murray as he barged out of Angela’s room. He buttoned his shirt as he brushed past Murray. The man’s neat uniform was not as neat as the last time Murray saw him.

  “Where’s the action?” he yelled.

  “Out front.” Murray pointed over his shoulder as he looked into Angela’s room.

  Angela sat on her bed wrapped in a sheet. Only a sheet. Her long red hair fell over her shoulders as she pulled the sheet over her breasts. Murray blinked.

  “What do you want? What’s going on?” Her voice was terse. Husky.

  “Ah, we’re being attacked, but the Government soldiers are machine-gunning them down. I think.” Murray looked away as she began to move out of her bed. “Um...Christine wants you.”

  “Oh, go away!” she yelled.

  “Okay. I’ll be in the medical centre.” Relief welled through him. His embarrassment was becoming unbearable. He’d rather be back in the gunfire than stay with her any longer.

  Chapter 15

  Camping

  The gait of the horse was a gentle rocking, relaxing in its own way. A high grey mountain loomed into her view as Siobhan opened her eyes.

  “Was the morning start too early for you, Siobhan?” Rory’s deep voice held a hint of amusement and it was so close to her ear.

  “Oh sorry, the motion of the horse must have lulled me to sleep.” Siobhan leaned forward away from his warm chest.

  In front of them was a massive grey mountain, mainly rock. The top half covered in dark grey cloud, which seemed to move constantly with a life of its own. Its imposing presence glared at her, reinforcing her growing feelings of insignificance compared to the expanse of the world around her. Her travels through the Scottish Highlands had made her feel small and inconsequential. It was such a contrast to the Bunker.

  Well, maybe in the big scheme of things, she was of little consequence.

  Unused to these thoughts, Siobhan’s discomfort grew. Her teachers and mentors had told her from a young age that the future of Scotland rested with the children of the Bunker. But in the past day she had realised there were others capable of being part of the restoration. That she and her kind were not the only ones to make things right. The people of the Community assisting them now had already begun the restoration.

  Siobhan took in a deep breath of the cool mountain air; it chilled her throat. It was refreshing and such a change from processed, conditioned air, which the large units in the Bunker dehumidified constantly to prevent damp taking hold deep in the Government Bunker.

  “You okay, Siobhan?” Rory’s deep voice rumbled in his chest as she leaned on it—again.

  Siobhan remained silent and sat straighter, breaking the contact with him once more.

  “Awesome, isn’t it?” Rory pointed briefly at the mountain ahead of them.

  Siobhan nodded but made no comment. She had no words.

  “We’ll make camp opposite it in the forest there. Not far now. You may be a wee bit saddle-sore tomorrow. Having not ridden much, or ever before.”

  “Saddle-sore?”

  “Aye. You’ll ken what I mean tomorrow.” There was a smile in his voice. “Hold on.”

  Rory kicked the horse to a canter, and they made their way across to Xian. Siobhan grabbed Rory’s thighs as she bounced with the rhythm of the horse’s gait.

  “We’ll make camp at the same place as last time,” Rory said as he reined his horse to a halt beside Xian.

  Xian nodded his reply. He looked at her, and then raised an eyebrow. Rory turned the horse away and didn’t respond.

  The campsite was amongst tall pine trees. They were Scots pines, from the look of the orange-brown coloured bark. Rory jumped off behind her. Siobhan brought her leg over the horse; her thighs were stiff and her dismount slow. She eased herself to the ground, grabbing the saddle to steady herself as her legs wobbled beneath her.

  “Whoa. Take a minute to get your land-legs, lass.” Rory’s hand held her upper arm.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She clipped her reply.

  Rory raised his eyebrows, removed his hand, walked away and began giving orders regarding the setting up of camp beside the pebbled shore of the large loch. The constant rhythm of the waves reaching shore combined with the whistle of the wind through the trees as it came off the water, was both comforting and cooling after the day’s ride. Once they’d erected the tents, they lit a fire in the cleared area they had prepared in the centre of the tent circle. Rory’s crew tethered the horses in a line behind the tents. Rory delegated members of his team to stand watch.

  Rory took the first watch. Rory’s broad shoulders sagged as he walked to the perimeter of their camp, back the way they had come. Strands of his hair came out of its leather tie and blew in the strengthening wind. He wasn’t wearing jeans today, instead the same soft suede-type trousers as the others. They moulded to his form.

  Droplets of rain splattered on Siobhan’s head. She had smelled it earlier and had seen the cloud near the three-humped monolith, which now faced them as they camped opposite it on the shore of Loch Maree. The wind hissed through the pines and wafted their scent into her face. The rain patted on the pine-needle covered ground. She was getting wet, but she didn’t care. It was freeing.

  Liberating.

  Siobhan always ran back down when it rained up top in the small, well-guarded, concrete up-ground enclosure of the Bunker. Now she only had a tent to run to, but she wasn’t in a hurry to run anywhere. She stood there, face turned toward the grey sky, cool dampening her eyelashes, dribbling into her mouth. Stray strands of hair stuck to the side of her face. A trickle of cold made its way down her back and one had started its cool, sensuous journey on her décolletage.

  “Ms Kensington-Wallace?” The voice was deep like Rory’s. She opened her eyes. Callum stood near her.

  “Yes?”

  “We have wet weather gear and a dinner of sorts is almost ready.”

  “Thank you.” She followed him to the fire and took the plate of scrambled eggs, a chunk of bread and a mug of tea he held out for her.

  Kendra walked over with a raincoat and gave it to Siobhan. She placed her food on the large log, which had become a seat by the fire, and shrugged into the coat. It was oiled animal skin, stiff but waterproof. Kendra then walked away with a plate of food toward Rory who stood on watch.

  Yes, there was something between those two.

  Siobhan gasped quietly, all peace and sense of freedom the rain brought now disappearing. Why did it bother her so much? Rory was a young man who needed a young woman. What on earth was she even thinking? Yes, he was gorgeous, and yes it had been very nice leaning against his wonderful body all day. But really, Siobhan! She shook her head. She was sounding like a teenager.

  “Is your meal okay, Ms Kensington-Wallace?” Xian asked.

  “Oh, it’s delicious. Thank you. Fresh eggs. Wonderful!” She took another mouthful to prove it.

  Siobhan walked stiffly to the t
ent designated for her. The smoke of the campfire permeated the air with its charcoal mixed-with-pine scent, which followed her to her tent. She took off her coat, set out her bedroll, and lay on it for a while listening to the gentle patter of the rain on canvas. It brought to mind rainy days of her childhood, when she would stay inside and have to entertain herself. She would sit at the window, elbows on the sill, watching the street get dark with wet, and people splashing through puddles on their bicycles. It must have been Oxford. She didn’t remember much of her early childhood in Edinburgh, when her mother was still alive. She’d not heard rain on a roof for a very long time, and never on a tent roof.

  Siobhan rummaged in her duffle bag for her toiletries and then brushed her hair, tidying it back into a French roll. The day’s wind had blown her hair wildly around her face. She must look like a crazy woman. She’d nothing to wet her face washer with so she scooshed her perfume. Siobhan smoothed her shirt and cargo pants as she emerged from her tent.

  The rain had ceased, and Rory sat on the log beside the fire. Antony and the others from her Government group sat opposite him. Angus, the Community’s scientist, had his nose in a thick booklet and barely raised his head. She walked over to join them. Her legs felt heavy, and she was sore around where she sat.

  Ahh, saddle-sore. It had started already.

  Rory briefly glanced at her as she sat next to him. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, and he sat slightly slumped.

  “You’re tired, Rory?” Siobhan spoke softly.

  “Aye.” He tilted his head to the side. “A lot has happened these past few days. It’s involved a great deal of travelling.”

  “Where have you been?” Antony could not keep out of it.

  “To Loch Ewe and back...and other places.” Rory sipped his mug of tea, having made his latter comment under his breath.

  The portable CB radio near the tents emitted a loud male voice with a call sign. Geoff, from Communications, spoke briefly into it, then hurried over to the fire and spoke to Antony.

  “It’s the Invercharing Community. They were attacked today.” Geoff held the mic in his hand and the portable shortwave radio sat in its bag slung over his shoulder.