Saving Time

by Jenn Lees

  Murdo’s eyes never left Rory as he made his way to him along the pier to the grassy area where they had led the horses, and a broad smile filled the old man’s face. It seemed inappropriate in the circumstances. Wasn’t this a dire situation? Wasn’t he our only help up here? He should behave more seriously. But he didn’t. Murdo MacDonald embraced Rory with an enthusiastic, tight bear hug.

  Were those tears in his eyes? It was hard to tell in the weather-beaten face.

  “So good to see you again, young Rory.” The old fisherman’s voice was as gravelly as she expected. He gave Callum a hug as well and shook hands with the rest of his team.

  Yes, there were definitely tears.

  “This is Ms Siobhan Kensington-Wallace from the Scottish Government.” Rory drew her forward and Murdo shook her hand with vigour.

  “Lovely to meet you, Ms Kensington-Wallace.” His smile lingered, and his gaze flicked between her and Rory, several times. She blinked, and Rory scratched his bandaged head.

  “Yes, so nice to meet you.” She needed to take this old man’s intense stare away from them. “I’d introduce my colleague, but he is in disgrace.” She inclined her head toward Antony still mounted on a horse. Murdo’s gaze slid briefly to the mounted prisoners.

  “This distance is safe enough for us.” Rory gave a sharp nod. “We’ll set up camp here on this grass and begin our preparations. And how shall I put it? Our discussions, with Major Antony McLellan.” His crew sprang into action; the Government team members followed suit.

  They soon erected tents, set out the computer equipment on camp tables, opened metal boxes containing detonators and timers, emptied the larger saddle bags that held the radiation protective equipment, and then seated the restrained members of the party under guard.

  Murdo gave Rory a shirt, which Rory examined with eyes wide.

  “Och. The label is still in it.” He took his stiff and bulky SAPI vest off and put on the flannelette shirt. “I have nae seen one like this for years.”

  The afternoon sun angled beams of light through the trees which skirted their makeshift campsite. The continual soft lapping of waves against Loch Ewe’s shoreline was a constant background noise, and a breeze, cool as it came off the water, stirred Siobhan’s hair. Her face was hot and tight. So were her arms where her shirt hadn’t covered them.

  Sunburn?

  She leaned against the small portable table on which Sanjay had set up the laptop computer. He held his arm and grimaced as he looked at the screen. Angus stood close behind, peering intently at the computer screen, observing everything Sanjay did.

  “We need to get a closer look.” Sanjay winced and gently grabbed his shoulder. Apart from his wound, he’d rallied remarkably well, and was incredibly brave, in Siobhan’s eyes, for continuing after the death of his brother.

  But they had a job to do, and nothing should stop them.

  “Ye’ll have tae believe me. It’s a Russian 677 Lada with AIP. Diesel fuel cell. The radiation must be from one or more unstable nuclear warheads attached to the missiles in their bays. Nae body’s tae go near the thing unless it’s tae fix it.” The fisherman’s head was at an angle, broaching no argument.

  Sanjay looked at Murdo and grimaced again. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow. He studied his computer screen, typing to bring up more information.

  “Are you okay, Sanjay?” A shiver travelled along Siobhan’s spine. If Sanjay wasn’t up to the technical part, they could be in difficulty—to say the least.

  Antony sat to the left of the bandit in front of the tents. Murmurings had come from their direction since Kendra had forced them to sit crossed legged on the ground.

  “Well, I’m telling them!” The bandit’s hoarse loud voice stopped the activity surrounding them.

  “Quiet, you two.” Kendra slapped the back of the heads of both men with a firm hand.

  Rory placed the silver radiation-protection suit he handled back in its bag and walked over to stand in front of the two men.

  “Now is as good a time as any, don’t you think, Siobhan? You need to be in on this.” Rory glanced back, inviting her to step forward as well.

  She left the table with Sanjay at the computer and Angus standing behind him watching his every move. Antony’s frown was a straight line matching the line of his tightly closed mouth. The bandit looked weary and his dirty face wore the streaks from his tears. His chest rose and fell rapidly, interspersed with heavy sighs.

  “Who wants to go first?” Rory began the interrogation.

  “I do!” Regret tinged the bandit’s broad Scottish accent. His torn and dirty leather jacket hung off his shoulders. He mustn’t have washed for days as a stale man-smell wafted into Siobhan’s face.

  “First, what’s your name?” Rory folded his arms as he looked at the middle-aged man.

  “Rabbie MacPherson, sir.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  “Ardmillan, sir.”

  “And why would you be chasin’ us through the Highlands then?”

  Rabbie’s brows lowered, and he turned his head to Antony. “Ask him,” he growled.

  At the makeshift computer desk, Sanjay leaned back in his camp chair and bore his stare into Antony. Angus looked up from the screen as he stood behind the IT tech and turned his attention to the interrogation. Geoff, standing by them at another portable table, stopped assembling the CB radio kit he’d brought. Murdo stood with his arms crossed and at tugged his beard as the rest of the team gathered behind Siobhan and Rory.

  Antony maintained a stony silence.

  “Well?” Rory addressed Antony.

  “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.” Antony briefly glanced up at Rory then resumed his examination of the grass in front of him.

  “Ach! Ye cowardly bastard, McLellan,” the bandit spat. “You caused the death o’ my men and ma baby brother! Ye should rot in hell! And I sincerely hope ye do!”

  “Well, you’ll be there to enjoy it, won’t you?” Anthony sneered back.

  “Okay, gentlemen. Rabbie, please?” Rory nodded his encouragement to the bandit.

  “A few weeks ago, this man here,” McPherson inclined his head toward Antony, “comes around our place, like, where we spend oor time seein’ what’s what. He asks us what we think of a liberated Scotland since England remains in a mess and cudnae bale us oot financially even if they wanted tae. Level playin’ field, he says.” He paused as he glanced at Antony.

  “Go on.” Rory’s fingers lightly tapped his upper arm as he stood with arms crossed.

  “Well, we did nae see him much after that but some of us got all excited aboot a totally independent Scotland, aye. Now was the time, ken? Ill wind that blows nae gud, an’ all. I mean, we had nae heard o’ the government for years, aye? British, English, Scottish or whatever. If things came back, like,” his eyes lit up and his voice went deeper. “We could be Scotland again.” His hand raised in a fist. “Last week, four days ago, like, this shyster comes back, and buttonholes me. Kenning I had a group o’ men I worked with. Told us tae follow and give trouble tae the vehicles that would soon come oot o’ the Government compound. ‘What Government compound?’, I says. He then telt me all aboot the bunker under Arthur’s Seat, ye ken? So that’s where they’d been holed up for years, ken?”

  Rory nodded once more. His silent attentiveness allowed McPherson to find his words.

  “So, we did. We pretended to harass the armour-plated vehicles that came out the concrete yard at the back o’ the hill. Kept our distance once we’d given them a scare.”

  Antony fixed his gaze to the ground. Siobhan’s heart raced as it was all becoming so clear.

  “You put us in danger right from the start, Antony!” She stepped toward him. Rory placed his hand on her arm, preventing her from moving closer.

  “If he had stuck to the plan, we would have never been in danger,” Antony spoke at last, directing his vitriol at his neighbour.

  “Aye, but your plan changed, man. Ye still wan
ted harassment but ye were nae in yoor armoured vehicles any longer once ye left the Community Compound in the Highlands,” McPherson spat back.

  “You can thank Mr Wonderful, who knows-all-about-it here for that!” Antony flicked his chin up at Rory. “I had no way of letting you know we weren’t using them anymore. You didn’t have to come so hard, though.”

  “Aye, but it had tae look realistic. Thems were your orders, ken. Then those men at the compound fought back. Ye said they were barbarians who kenned nothing. Well, they kenned how tae fight. And they did. Plus yoor ‘ain men gunned us doon! Lost Jamie, ma wee cousin, in that debacle. Did ye no’ tell them we were on yoor side, like? We still wanted the money ye promised, so we followed.”

  “We are well aware of the rest—” Rory began.

  “Och, I dinnae think so,” the bandit spoke louder. “For last night he comes to us in the forest and says we have tae—”

  “Quiet man!” Antony growled.

  “What did he ask you to do, Mr McPherson?” Rory released his grip on Siobhan and straightened his shoulders.

  “Quiet!” Antony snarled.

  “You!” Rory leaned over and yelled into Antony’s face. “Be silent.”

  “He says we were to take her.” McPherson indicated with a nod to Siobhan.

  Siobhan stood stock still, her body rigid as her heart rocked in her chest.

  Antony would put her in danger?

  She turned her head to meet Rory’s stare. His nostrils flared. She slowly shook her head.

  “Let justice take its course, Rory,” she whispered.

  The muscles in his cheek tensed as his eyes narrowed.

  ‘Please,’ she mouthed.

  The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. “Verra well,” he said to her, his voice low. “So here we are,” he addressed the men sitting on the ground in front of him. “One of our number is dead and another injured. Two important technical people for our task. And I am sorry for your losses,” he directed this statement to Rabbie McPherson. “Seems you have been used.”

  Rory stared at Antony without comment. He had given Rabbie a chance to explain and had exhibited compassion and understanding. But there was an enmity between Rory and Antony.

  Would he be as kind to Antony?

  Antony stared at the ground, grinding his teeth.

  The anger which had been building up in Siobhan was about to explode. She was furious at Antony for what he’d done to their group as they travelled north, knowing how important it was to everyone that they dealt with the nuclear danger. His treatment of this loyal, patriotic Scot had incensed her. She raged at his total disregard for her own safety. She couldn’t keep it in anymore. But coming from her it would mean little.

  “Mr MacPherson.” She turned to the shabby, dirty man before her. “I believe the duplicity of your employer, as we shall call him, goes beyond what you can envisage. It is the truth that, from about eight months after the Stock Market Crash just over forty years ago, and aided by an issue history named Brexit, Scotland has in fact been an independent country, governed totally separate from the rest of Britain, which indeed can no longer call itself the United Kingdom.”

  The silence was only momentary. MacPherson, still restrained by the ropes Callum had tied around his wrists, let out a roar and lunged for Antony. His head connected with Antony’s cheek, and he bit. Kendra leaped forward but too late. Xian came from behind and pulled Antony away from MacPherson as Kendra got a grip on the bandit’s shoulders and pulled the other way. A yelp of pain came from Antony as a chunk of his cheek remained in MacPherson’s mouth and blood cascaded down his face.

  “Keep them apart!” Rory moved forward to assist Kendra with the enraged bandit, now spitting the flesh from his mouth.

  “Ahh!” Antony continued his cry in between shallow, shocked breaths.

  “Why are ye so surprised?” MacPherson spat through a blood-filled mouth. “Yoo have caused the death of those dear to me because of your lie. What was it all for, man?”

  “Get him over by the far tent and clean him up, Kendra!” Rory ordered.

  Kendra, with Xian’s help, moved the man away.

  “What was it all for?” Siobhan asked Antony once they had removed the bandit.

  “Aren’t you going to clean me up?” Antony cried, his eyes wide, then he grimaced.

  “Not until you tell me why.” She couldn’t stop the tremble of anger rippling through her.

  Rory’s warm hand tightened on her arm once more.

  “We deserve an explanation, don’t we?” Her voice rose in pitch. She took a breath to calm herself.

  Rory nodded and turned his gaze to Antony, an eyebrow raised.

  “I needed to show the Government the futility of joining with the Communities out here.” Antony spoke through gritted teeth. Spit flew out of his mouth with every word. “I needed to show the PM how barbaric and dangerous the people up top are. That you’re not capable of what of our educated, intelligent, and skilled members can do. And joining to govern with those up top would be a disastrous mistake. A preposterous notion. We need to rule. Not you hippies with armies. You Doomsday Preppers who think you’ve got it all sorted and need to protect the average citizen from the control of the Government. We’re the ones who know how to do it—not you. You’ll cause a bloody revolution. We should stamp you out before you even try!” Antony directed his vehemence totally at Rory.

  Everyone looking on were silent, and like herself, immobile—paralysed with shock. How could he think it, now he’d met them all? Good, sensible, honest, resourceful people. Brave, organised, skilled people living in peace amongst themselves. Protecting themselves from those who would harm. They risked all to make their part of this crazy world safe! Without hesitation or questioning! She shook her head.

  “No.” It came out softly at first. Then became louder as she repeated it through halting breaths, as the spring of emotion sitting in her, welled up and she could not contain it. “No. No. No!”

  Then Antony turned to her, his expression like a fist down her throat, stopping any further comment.

  “Siobhan, I knew you coming would be a mistake. You’ve always had a soft spot for those up top.” He sneered the word out of his mouth as if to chase it all the way to hell. “I knew you’d latch on to one of them with your romantic notions of the wonderful world up here. I hoped all this violence would make you realise how fanciful and unrealistic your imaginings of life outside of our safe bunker really were. Instead, you latch on to John Connor like a limpet. The boy’s young enough for it to be illegal. Just look at yourself, woman!” Antony continued breathing heavily as blood dripped down his face and pooled at his collar.

  Siobhan covered her face, blocking out the accusation and hatred fired directly at her. Hot tears soaked her fingers, her shoulders shook as emotions exploded within her. They muted her words, rendered her speechless, and kept her face buried in her hands.

  Chapter 19

  Invercharing Community

  Murray buzzed. The Community’s old computer now had more RAM and Gigabytes. He’d written a couple of programs. The calculations, completed in moments, flew past his screen.

  He was in heaven.

  They now had more data on file, larger storage, more historical records, engineering and agricultural information, music and electronic instruments, and enough maths programs to keep him very happy for a while.

  The Government’s computers had a million times more data though. They communicated with each other, and apparently, in the Government Bunker they had an intranet. Murray sat back in his chair, his eyes dry from peering at a screen for hours.

  The control-room was quiet. The Government people sleeping on camp stretchers now began small stirrings.

  Was it morning already? Had he been at it the entire night?

  Murray nudged Stan beside him, his head dropped off his folded arms resting on the table.

  “What! Oh.” His mouth hung open and one eye stuck closed with sleep.<
br />
  The aroma of warm food wafted past Murray’s nose.

  Hmm, bread.

  “Breakfast,” Ceilidh called as she stepped her way through the awakening bodies and placed plates of warm bannocks and a large pot of porridge on the table in the middle of the control-room.

  Murray nudged Stan again and then walked over and took a bowl from the pile.

  “So, you’ve got a taste for it now, Murray?” MacIntosh stood next to him.

  “What? Oh, yes.” He didn’t mean the porridge, that’s for sure.

  “So, you’ll come back with us?” MacIntosh’s voice was encouraging, with a determined edge to it.

  “Seriously, I have to ask Rory first. I can’t give you an answer until then.” Murray wanted to go, but this guy’s insistence was getting...well. He hunched his shoulders, trying to suppress a niggle of anxiety tweaking the edges of his reasoning.

  “How is everyone this morning?” Angela’s voice was cheery as she approached the breakfast table. Definitely not her norm. She dressed in a blouse and a straight skirt with her long red hair loosely tied behind her. “Has everyone recovered from our excitement yesterday?”

  Murray scowled at her. She was making light of it. Like it happens every day, and they were experts at dealing with that kind of onslaught. He doubted it would have been over and done with so quickly if the Government’s machine cannon wasn’t here. Angela stood closer to McIntosh, her arm brushed against his, as she offered him bannocks.

  She’d been very friendly with the visitors.

  Too friendly.

  Obviously friendly, and more, in fact, if yesterday’s incident was anything to go by. Wow, he hoped he’d never see that again. The heat rose to Murray’s cheeks. He walked back to his chair in front of the computer and opened an Excel document. Anything to take his mind off that memory. His attention flicked back to Angela. She was up to something.