by Hatchett
The United Kingdom is in a state of extreme danger which will affect you all. A contagious virus has entered our country and is spreading rapidly. There is no known cure or antidote to this virus.
As you will no doubt have seen from the television news footage, the virus will turn the dead into zombies, bringing them back to life only to attack the living. Everyone will eventually carry this virus; there is no escape from it. Therefore, everyone dying in the future will turn into a zombie. Further, those bitten by a zombie will also turn into a zombie shortly afterwards.
The only way to kill a zombie is to destroy its brain by whatever method available; guns, knives, crow bars and so on. I implore all of you to find shelter and safety and arm yourselves just in case. Please avoid these creatures unless it is absolutely necessary.
Unfortunately, there is very little the Government can do; we are affected the same as you are, and the armed forces are impotent against this threat.
I wish you all well and may God bless you all and have mercy on you.”
With that, the ‘on air’ light went out as did the bright lights. The PM stepped away from the podium and walked across the room brushing past Jack on his way to the hidden doorway and down to the train carriage.
“Time for our little chat,” Sir James said, leading Jack over to a couple of armchairs in the corner of the room. If he didn’t know better, Jack would have thought he was in one of the Capital’s ‘Gentlemen’s Clubs’. All it needed was a pipe or cigar, newspaper, and a large brandy.
As they sat Sir James said, “I’ll get to the point as we don’t have much time. The PM and key members of society will shortly be relocating to a safe underground city, many miles from London. Despite what I said earlier, which was borne of frustration, as Head of SO18 you are one of those chosen to accompany the great and the good to this new, hopefully temporary, life.”
“What about my colleagues and the general public?” Jack asked.
“They are effectively on their own,” replied Sir James.
“So, they’re being abandoned?”
“Yes, but there’s nothing we can do for them anyway. Therefore, you have no choice but to think of yourself.”
Jack paused to let everything sink in, his anger building with every passing second. “So, let me get this right. The politicians and senior civil servants are saving their own skin and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves?”
“That’s correct. So, are you in? You’ll be well looked after,” he added.
Jack looked at Sir James with disgust. He didn’t like this pompous individual at the best of times and all he had just done was re-enforce Jack’s long-held suspicion that the hierarchy within the top echelons of the country were nothing but selfish, self-opinionated, arrogant pricks who had no thought for anyone but themselves. The Lords and Ladies and other titled individuals were the epitome of greed and self-preservation. It was rare that someone actually earned or deserved the title they were awarded rather than it being hereditary or for being part of the ‘old boys club’ where everyone scratched each other’s backs. Jack had grown up on a poor council estate and had worked hard to get where he was today. He knew that he had reached a glass ceiling career-wise, but he was proud at what he had achieved, coming from such humble beginnings. He had been brought up with morals and joining the police force to ‘protect and serve’ actually meant something to him.
“I will have to decline your invitation,” Jack advised, getting to his feet.
A surprised Sir James asked, “but what will you do?”
“I’m going back to help my colleagues,” Jack said simply.
“You realise that it’s a death sentence?” Sir James pointed out.
“I’d rather die helping my friends and colleagues than spend another moment with you and your kind.” With that, Jack turned and made his way back to the hidden door and the stairs leading down to the platform. He was not the only one; people were starting to file onto the platform and board the carriage opposite the one Jack had come in on.
“Where is that train going?” he asked a lady who was passing by.
“This carriage goes to the main hub in Whitehall. Then we’ll switch to the train for Burlington,” she replied as she continued on.
Jack looked at the people already on the train, and for a brief second, he felt sorry for them. He boarded his carriage and walked up to the panel and pressed ‘Heathrow’. He took a seat as the doors closed and again looked at the already packed carriage opposite. He could see people with frowns on their faces, pointing at him. It was clear they were wondering who he was and what he was doing. Jack turned away and closed his eyes as his carriage started to move into the tunnel that would take him back to Heathrow.
59
Day 1
12:45 GMT
Heathrow Terminal 3
The lift door opened, and Jack walked back into his office. He closed the bookcase to hide the secret elevator, got himself a glass of cold water from his fridge and sat down at his desk. He still couldn’t really believe what he had just witnessed. He picked up his earpiece which he had taken out before he left and replaced it in his ear. He could hear the Major and others as they went about their work the floor above.
Jack clicked his microphone and alerted everyone that he was back.
“Welcome back Jack,” said the Major. “Do you want to come up to Level 2 to see what we’ve done?”
“I’d love to,” Jack replied. “I’m on my way.”
“Bear’s on his way to escort you.”
Jack retrieved his pistol from his desk drawer and decided that he needed more weapons and to get out of his suit. He had never liked suits and would much rather have been in a pair of jeans. He walked through the Security Command Centre, where there was nothing new to report other than the spread of zombies, to the armoury where he changed into standard SO18 combat gear and strapped on a knife before selecting an MP5 and spare ammunition. He then left the armoury and entered the corridor before moving quickly along it towards the exit door. As he took the left-hand corner, he could see Bear was waiting for him a few yards away.
“Welcome back Boss, good trip?”
“You’re not going to believe it when I tell you,” Jack replied.
Bear opened the exit door, checked the vicinity, and then quickly led Jack across the concourse towards the stairs. There were no zombies around as they started to climb and at the top, their path was now blocked by a glass wall behind which there were several armed soldiers. On seeing them approach, a couple of soldiers slid open a section of the glass to allow Jack and Bear to gain access to Level 2. As they entered, Jack took a good look around and could see soldiers engaged in various activities before he saw the Major heading in his direction.
They shook hands and the Major pointed to the glass barrier which Jack had just passed through. “We decided to remove the glass walls from Gate 3 and place them here. It is toughened glass, so it should be strong enough to hold back any zombies and you will see that we have cut out sections to allow us to shoot down the stairs towards Level 1 if we need to. We’ve also removed the glass walls and doors from other gates and used them to make similar barriers at the end of all the jetways. The whole of Level 2 is now secure and zombie-free, and my boys are currently partitioning off parts of this level to make temporary dormitories.”
Jack could see the army camp beds lining the corridor, obviously brought along in the Chinooks. “Good work Major. I now need to speak to everyone if you don’t mind.”
The Major shouted for everyone to gather around. It took a few minutes before everyone realised what was happening and put down their tools and made their way to the centre of the concourse. Jack saw that his team were in amongst the soldiers, and then spotted the survivors from the plane. It seemed that everyone was mucking in and getting along.
At last, everyone settled and the Major coughed before saying “Everyone, for those that don’t know, this is Jack Robinson, Head of the Aviat
ion Security Operational Command Unit or SO18 as it’s known, and he would like to have a few words with you all.”
“Thanks Major,” Jack responded. He clicked his mouthpiece to contact his Surveillance Manager, Tom Williams. “Tom, can you put what I’m about to say on speaker, so everyone can hear?”
“Is that just for Terminal 3 or the whole of Heathrow airport?” Tom asked.
“The whole of the airport please,” Jack advised. He waited for a few seconds before Tom confirmed that he was on speaker and would be heard throughout the airport. Jack left his microphone on, looked around the faces in front of him and smiled when he caught sight of Sarah who was smiling and nodding in his direction.
“This is Jack Robinson, Head of the Aviation Security Operational Command Unit here at Heathrow. Sorry it has taken so long to give you an update, but we’ve been a bit busy as I’m sure you can imagine.” There were smiles all around and a few subdued laughs. “I hope those of you listening are safe but, if any of you are in immediate danger, then please contact my Surveillance Team on any of the airport security phones and we’ll try to help you. If you are safe, then please stay where you are and be patient as we try to work things out.
No doubt you have all seen the news and heard the Prime Minister’s broadcast. What you have seen is a fair reflection of what is happening and effectively we are on our own. The politicians and key members of society have sequestered themselves away where they are safe and left everyone else to deal with the problem. Therefore, we need to work together if we’re going to get through this. We need to have order because chaos will get us all killed, as we saw earlier today. I’m not saying that I should be the person to take all decisions, that is for you to decide in the longer term. This is still a democracy. But, for today, and for the next few days until we get organised and safe, you need to follow my lead whether you like it or not. I was offered a place in the new sanctuary and I turned it down. I swore to protect and serve, and I will continue to do so to the best of my ability. As I said, please be patient. We will do our best to get to you as soon as possible. Please let my team know where you are, how many there are with you and any other information which you think is relevant.”
The people standing in front of Jack began applauding but he raised his hands for quiet and the clapping died down. “One last point. When we eventually settle down, there will no longer be any ranks or hierarchy. I am no longer ‘Boss’ or ‘Sir. I am Jack. However, we will need some leaders to help get things organised in the meantime, I’m sure you will support them to the best of your abilities.” With that Jack switched off his microphone and turned to the Major.
“Major, we need to discuss what we need to do now. I would like Bear, Irish, Sarah, Andy and Gina involved in those discussions and whoever you would like to include from your side.”
“I thought there were no ranks anymore,” the Major noted with a smile.
“I think you’ll always be ‘the Major’,” Jack replied with a smile of his own.
“I’ll bring my three Captains or as they’re now known, Joel, Dave and Issy.”
“Ok, let’s meet at 13:15.” With that, Jack asked Bear to notify Irish, Sarah, Andy, and Gina to meet in the Security Briefing Room before heading back to the Security Command Centre.
60
Day 1
13:15 GMT
Burlington
The train carrying the PM and his entourage entered the Burlington underground station at 13:15, just forty-five minutes after leaving the main hub in Whitehall. This train was larger and longer than the ones used between the smaller hubs as this was the main line from London. The train was also far more luxurious, closer to the Orient Express than the current inter-city trains above ground, but also far more modern. No expense had been spared on the main trains nor any part of Burlington. It was state of the art from whichever way you looked at it and it had unknowingly cost the taxpayer billions over the years to ensure it provided the best that modern technology could provide.
It was truly amazing how Churchill and subsequent PMs had managed to keep it a secret, especially bearing in mind the number of people needed to keep it up to date. The usual conspiracy theorists thought they knew all about Burlington; it was common knowledge that Churchill had commissioned the building of the city, and all pictures of the place showed the typical World War II type bunkers with whitewashed walls, concrete or tiled floors, antiquated communications equipment, dormitories with functional but uncomfortable metal beds, all now derelict and covered with cobwebs. It was perfect camouflage; who would want to visit such a place? In reality, Burlington was now far more Space Age than Iron Age.
The original purpose was to safely house up to four thousand personnel in case of nuclear war and would have effectively been the Government’s secure headquarters. It was built in a huge stone quarry, over one hundred feet deep, then covered over to look like part of the natural countryside. It was invisible to all intents and purposes and as the saying goes ‘out of sight, out of mind’. When it was first built, it was just over half a mile in length and had sixty miles of roads. It was self-sufficient, but only for a maximum of three months; it had its own power generators, but these were reliant on massive fuel tanks and these generators were thirsty beasts. It was officially de-commissioned in 1991, once everyone believed the Cold War was finally over.
Unofficially, work did continue but slowed down after 1991; it was more a case of keeping things in working order rather than improving the place. This all changed after 11 September 2001; the al-Qaeda attack on America. Work began in earnest to modernise and expand the city; it had its own underground lake, so water was not an issue. The generators had been replaced by dedicated power links to one of the many offshore wind farms and Sellafield, although it was acknowledged that Sellafield was likely to be one of the first targets in a nuclear war. As back up, it had its own revolutionary electricity supply from tidal power in the Severn estuary. It had its own air filtration system. The roads had been upgraded to an electric monorail system; there was no longer any real need for oil or gas, although supplies of these fuels were still available if needed. It had its own exclusive satellite in orbit for all external communications. It had its own food farms, hospitals, shops, restaurants, bars and five-star accommodation with all the mod cons. It had been expanded and was now about one and a half miles long and could house around ten thousand people; as part of the Invasion Protocol, invitations had been issued by scores of civil servants to those who were considered necessary or useful for the inhabitants to be able to start a new life underground, however long it needed to last. It was now just a question of who was able to get to the hidden hubs, assuming they wanted to survive, of course.
The PM and entourage walked to the end of the platform and entered a large reception area through automatically opening doors. There were armed guards dotted around and dozens of civil servants registering the new arrivals before directing them to different areas for a brief induction to their new home.
The PM was approached by a senior civil servant who ushered him, his family and closest colleagues to a private lounge; even here everyone was equal, but some were more equal than others. It was simply the way of the world.
In the lounge, the group were offered seats and drinks before the civil servant personally took them though their registration and induction. The PM was especially pleased to see that all the preparations had been worthwhile, and everything seemed to be running like clockwork. His family and colleagues, on the other hand, were still bewildered by what was happening and were constantly staring around as if they were Alice and had just arrived in Wonderland.
The civil servant handed everyone what looked like a fitness bracelet. “These are to be worn at all times; it’s mandatory.”
“What are they for?” enquired the PM’s wife.
“They are specially designed to monitor heartbeat and contain a location sensor; if your heart stops, the bracelet will sound an alarm and security wil
l be able to track you within seconds. We don’t need an outbreak of the virus down here.”
“How did you know to develop these?” enquired a surprised Chancellor of the Exchequer from a few seats away.
The PM turned in his seat and smiling said, “It wasn’t just a nuclear war we were concerned about. There were hundreds of potential threats, so we used various technology companies to develop very specific items for all the eventualities we could come up with, even zombies.”
The Chancellor nodded and sat stunned by what was happening. He kept pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Over the next half hour, the group were taken through the induction, given their access cards to their accommodation and various parts of the city. They then all left the lounge to start their new life in Burlington.
61
Day 1
13:15 GMT
Heathrow Terminal 3
Jack sat at the head of the table in the Security Briefing Room. To his left sat Bear, Irish, Sarah, Andy, and Gina. To his right sat the Major and his three Captains.
Jack introduced the people he had invited to the meeting. “I’ve also invited Tom Williams, the Surveillance Manager, as he will be responsible for monitoring the area, identifying survivors trapped in other parts of the airport and keeping us updated on what is happening in the outside world. He has a team of twenty-two in the Security Command Centre a couple of doors away.” Tom entered the room, nodded, and took a seat towards the end of the table next to Gina. “On a conference call line, I’ve got Simon Nicholls from NATS, who is in the Control Tower, Harry Williams, Managing Director of Airport Coordination Ltd who’s in his office on Level 1 and Ben Maynard from Medical, also on Level 1. Welcome all.”