UK Dark Trilogy

by Harris, Chris

  I was beginning to feel like a survivalist prepping nutter, preaching to anyone who would listen, but I knew I was right and hoped that the more I went on about it, the more people would pay attention and understand. I probably didn’t need to worry though; the gunfight we’d had yesterday must have made the situation we were in very real for the doubters.

  We were greeted by carnage at the police station. As we walked into the cell area in the basement of the building, we could hear someone shouting for help through the solid cell door. Allan dropped the hatch in the door to see inside. Of the six men who had been locked up yesterday, four appeared to be dead and one was standing in a corner holding a knife towards the sixth man, who was built like a man mountain and was shouting for someone to help him. Allan gripped his shotgun, passed me the keys and asked me to unlock the door when he said so.

  “Right. Move against the back wall, drop whatever weapons you’ve got, and face it with your hands on your heads.” When they were in position, he indicated for me to open the door. I did as I was asked and stood out of the way as Allan entered the cell, holding his shotgun ready. The big bloke gave a sudden roar, pushed himself away from the wall, turned and lunged towards Allan.

  Allan already had his gun aimed at him and pulled the trigger, half decapitating him, and sending him flying back against the wall. The other man screamed and crouched down against the wall, expecting the next shot to be aimed at him. Allan quickly passed his gun to me, grabbed him and cuffed his arms behind his back and dragged him out of the cell. We checked the others in the cell but they were all dead. They had been beaten to a pulp.

  It took a while for the three of us to calm him down, so that he could tell us what had happened. Just before we had arrived, a fight had broken out over the last bottle of water that had been left for them. The big bloke had claimed it and the others had tried to take it from him. In the ensuing fight, he’d gone berserk, and even though it had been five to one, he’d overpowered them all and killed them with his bare hands.

  It was only the fact that the survivor had a knife hidden on him that had saved his sorry life. He had been trying to hold him at bay for the last ten minutes. We locked him in another cell while we decided what to do with him.

  Bob asked Allan if he was OK after what he’d just done.

  “Weirdly I’m fine. I thought he was going to do it and after yesterday, I know that we’re going to have to do things that only a few weeks ago, none of us in our worst nightmares would have imagined. But now it seems acceptable.

  Does that sound weird to anyone?” No one disagreed. Yesterday seemed to have toughened us up.

  We decided to delay the decision about the prisoner, because no harm could come to him on his own and we still had a lot of work to do. Allan walked us round the police station, identifying equipment he wanted to take with us. He showed us where all the food supplies were stored.

  “That is a heck of a lot of food!” I said, stating the obvious, as we stared at the huge piles of boxes stacked in various rooms. “Why did so much get dropped here before the event?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” replied Allan, “I can only assume it was meant to be distributed around all the other stations, but due to some cockup they forgot to do it. When I met officers from other stations when we were still patrolling, most of them said they were running out of food. I suppose I’m glad I didn’t start offering what I had around, because if I had, it would probably all be gone by now.”

  “Why is it still here?” I asked. “Surely the other officers based here would have come back to get it for themselves?”

  “They would have done, but when they stopped reporting for duty they just took what supplies they could carry. I was bloody annoyed at them for forgetting their responsibilities. If they’d stayed and worked, they would still have been able to take food back to their families and carry out their duties. I thought, bugger them, and did a bit of lock changing on the main doors, so I knew I was the only one with a key to access the station. Without a stick of dynamite, you won’t get through that front door without a key.” Allan said, with a sly grin on his face.

  We stood there for a minute, impressed by his cunning.

  “Come on then mate, show us what to take first,” I said. We worked out that it would probably take us at least a full day to move the enormous amount of food stored there. I was secretly very pleased, as following on from my thoughts of leaving yesterday, the amount of food we now had would feed us all for months, possibly longer, when it had all been sorted through. So for the moment, my fears and doubts about the long term future of our group were dispelled. Allan also showed us the riot gear that was stored at the station. There was a room full of bulletproof body armour vests, shields, batons and military-looking helmets.

  He explained that, as part of his “head of security” duties, he planned to train as many of us as possible in crowd and riot control drills.

  I know it sounds wrong, because most people in the country were suffering terribly at the moment, but I was beginning to feel excited about the future.

  It all seemed to be working out better than in any of the scenarios I’d thought up during my years of planning and preparation.

  Loading up the trailer for the first time, I talked to Allan about how we should go about rescuing the women who were being kept prisoner at the gang’s house.

  “I know, I’ve been thinking about it as well. I think that when we get back, we should leave a team of people to carry on moving the supplies. Then a few of us should go and have a look at where they’re staying and see if any ideas come to mind.”

  We questioned the prisoner again. He was even more talkative today, now that we’d saved his life.

  “There shouldn’t be more than five or six people left at the house.” Now he was eager to help us he explained, “They never keep a guard and only their leader, a guy named Malcolm, who is now dead, has been able to keep them under control. He organised the stealing and murdering to get supplies. If it had been up to most of us, we would have stayed in and got drunk and high, only thinking about going out when we ran out.”

  He thought that all the men with guns had been out with the gang, when they’d seen the Land Rover leave and decided to attack us. This was good news, as it looked as if we would be facing only five or six, drunk or high people, with little or no tactical awareness.

  “What do we do with them if we capture them without a fight?” I asked Allan, who responded instantly.

  “Since yesterday I’ve been giving it quite a lot of thought. As far as we know, there’s no rule of law left and in my opinion, it’s probably our duty to remove from what society we have left, anyone we think will continue to harm others. I’m not saying we hang anybody we don’t like from the nearest tree.

  We need to form some sort of jury to decide what should be done with them. Imagine if we let them go, because even if we knew what they’d done, we couldn’t face killing them, and then we discovered that they’d moved to another area and carried on stealing, raping and murdering other people out there who were just trying to survive like us? How would we feel then? Hard decisions will have to be made for the good of everyone out there, not just us.”

  “I agree with you,” I said, “but this needs to be discussed with everybody. We can’t have people thinking we’re taking the law into our own hands, (although of course, we would be), and thinking we’re bloodthirsty murderers. People will need to agree, or at least understand, what we may have to do, or our group might fall apart because of disagreements about our conduct. As you know, I’ve been sort of preparing for an event like this for years and I’ve thought about a number of possible circumstances. The concept of acting like Judge Dredd is one that I have thought of.” Allan chuckled at that thought.

  “But if it’s what we need to do to keep us and possibly other people safe, then it’s a course of action I’d be prepared to take,”

  I continued. “Whether I’ll be able to take the life
of someone who isn’t directly threatening me at the time is something I’ll have to think about, if and when it happens. As some of them got away yesterday, that gang at the house will know by now what happened. If they’ve got the intelligence to expect us to attack, we’ll find out when we go for a recce. I’m half hoping they’ll have just left, but the other half of me wants to punish them for what they’ve done,” I added grimly. Allan nodded in agreement, as we finished loading the trailer and pushed it back.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Pete agreed with our idea of scoping out the gang's house and we discussed the best people to take with us. Jerry was first on the list. If the gang was still there and we decided to try to rescue the women immediately, they might be in need of medical attention. Bob was next, as he was competent with a firearm and had handled himself well the day before. Alex and Jon had also done well, so we added them to the list. Pete called them together, told them what we were planning, and asked them if they would be willing to take part. They all agreed, so Pete told them to check with their respective wives, whether they would be happy for them to go. A clever ploy, that, because they’d be walking into a situation in which they could potentially be hurt or killed, and Pete wanted to be sure that anyone who might be affected by his decision was happy to take part, even if things went wrong.

  The wives duly came over and asked Allan for more details.

  “I’ll be leading the operation and we’ll be going to the police station to put on body armour and helmets, which will give us as much protection as possible. I can promise you that we’ll only try to rescue the women if I think we can do it without putting any of us at an unacceptable amount of risk.”

  Somewhat mollified, they agreed that their husbands should go.

  Jerry and I went back to my house to tell Becky and Fiona what we were planning. You could see the worry on their faces, but they agreed that we should go. They were happier when I told them that we would be wearing bulletproof vests and helmets. We gave our respective wives and children hugs and kisses, promised to be careful and left to find Allan. We took our walkie-talkies with us so that we could keep everyone informed of our progress.

  Allan gathered us all together and we discussed tactics for the operation. First, we decided what weapons to take.

  Jerry and I had our MP5s and pistols. Bob had taken charge of the shotguns we’d gathered from the gang the previous day, and had cleaned and checked them over. Alex and Jon were given two of those. Allan asked if he could use Jerry’s pump-action shotgun. Bob distributed cartridges to Alex, Jon and Allan. Jerry and I made sure our magazines for the pistols and MP5s were fully loaded.

  Allan’s tactics were very simple.

  “If we have to take the house by force, Jerry will stay back and guard the outside, while Tom and I lead the rest of us in trying to clear the house room by room. We’ve all seen house clearances carried out by Special Forces on television shows. Our plan is a simple formation to follow, so that we’ll all be covering each other and not getting in each other’s line of fire.”

  “Why do I have to stay outside?” Jerry asked.

  “You’re the only doctor we have, you’ll be needed to treat any injured among us and if you get hurt, who would help you?” Nobody could argue with this. I pointed out something that had occurred to me about our firearms.

  “It might be better to use the MP5s and pistols in the house. If we start shooting with shotguns, with their spread of shot, we might accidentally harm the women we’re there to rescue.” Jerry responded to that one quickly.

  “Right, Tom, I’ll give Allan my MP5, and we’ll give Alex and Jon our pistols.” Jerry and I then gave them all a five-minute demonstration on firing and loading them. Bob kept his shotgun, saying he would act as heavy backup and only fire if absolutely necessary.

  We must have looked terrifying as the six of us walked through Moseley, heavily armed and wearing full body armour, with helmets and leg and arm protectors on as well.

  As we walked towards St Agnes Road, we tried to identify which houses still looked occupied. Allan was planning a local census to identify possible future threats, and also to find people we might be able to offer help to if possible. About fifteen or so houses still looked as if there were people in them, but we didn’t stop to check. We made a mental note of them and carried on to our destination.

  The house was one of the largest on the road, set well back behind an “in and out” drive, with plenty of bushes and trees to hide it from passing cars and pedestrians. I knew the house, because the owners had been friends with people we knew, and we’d often admired it (with a hint of jealousy) when passing. I couldn’t remember their names, but knew they’d had four young children. My anger increased, knowing they’d probably all been killed just for having one of the best houses on the road. Hiding in the bushes, we took up a position where we could get a good look at the property.

  One of them was sitting outside on an armchair, swigging from a bottle. He must have been some sort of lookout or sentry, but he seemed far more interested in drinking from his bottle and looking at the magazine he was holding. Another man came out and urinated in the bushes by the front door. He looked a bit unsteady on his feet. The rest of the house seemed quiet. Allan indicated that we should move back a bit.

  It was quite hard to move quietly through the bushes, but luckily it was a windy day, so our slightly noisy attempts at stealth were drowned out by the bushes and trees swaying and rustling in the wind.

  Allan whispered, “I know we only came for a recce, but I think we should try to rescue the women now. Does anyone disagree?” We all shook our heads, so he continued.

  “As we can see, there’s one on sentry duty, but we don’t know how many more are inside, apart from the one who came out for a piss. I don’t think they have any guns, because surely, if they did, the one on guard would have one, and the other one we saw wasn’t carrying a weapon. I think we should take out the guard and then attack the house. We don’t know where they are in the house, so if we stick to our formation and are as loud and aggressive as possible, hopefully, that will shock and intimidate them and stop them organising some sort of defence.

  “There are a lot of rooms in a house this large so be prepared for them to be coming at us from anywhere. The ones we’ve seen look either drunk or high, and that’ll slow them down, but it could also make them unpredictable, so get ready for anything. If they’re coming towards us, take them down. If they’re running away it’s up to you what you do, but remember what these guys have been doing. These men are murderers and rapists.

  Personally, I’m not feeling very sympathetic towards them at the moment, but you do what you think is best and no one here will judge you for it.” We checked our weapons and made sure we knew where our spare magazines were.

  “Right, this is it, boys. Let’s get this over with,” I whispered, as we crept back through the bushes. Jerry positioned himself behind a large tree and pointed his weapon towards the house. The guy in the chair by the front door was still drinking from his bottle as Allan crept from the cover of the bushes and dropped to one knee, raised his weapon and took aim.

  The man noticed him, stood up and raised his baseball bat.

  He looked as if he was about to shout a warning as Allan’s silenced weapon killed him with three bullets to the chest. We rushed towards the house, forming a square, with Allan and me in the lead, holding our MP5s ready, and Alex, Jon and Bob to the rear, with their pistols pointed over our shoulders and Bob’s shotgun pointed at the sky. As we entered the house we all shouted as Allan had instructed us,

  “Police! Nobody move!” over and over. As we entered a room off the hallway, a door burst open upstairs and a man started to run down the stairs. Alex raised his pistol and fired twice and the man crumpled and fell, sliding the rest of the way down the steps.

  The adrenaline was pumping and our shouting, as well as intimidating those in the house, was keeping us fired up.

  T
here was no one in the first two rooms downstairs, but as we entered the kitchen area another man ran towards us out of another room, holding a large kitchen knife.

  I dropped him with a burst from my gun. A scream from behind the island unit in the kitchen made us all turn and point our guns towards it. Allan shouted to whoever was there, not to move and to lie on the floor.

  Allan and I moved quickly around the kitchen with guns pointed towards the island, fingers on triggers. Alex, Jon and Bob, I noticed, had turned and were keeping their guns pointed towards the doors leading into the kitchen. Hiding behind the island, lying on the floor, were three women. The older one had her arms protectively over the other two. Allan shouted at them.

  “Don’t move! We’re here to rescue you. How many men are in the house and where are they?’ The woman in the middle looked up at us, terror showing in her eyes. I recognised her. “Michelle? Is that you?” I asked. “It’s Tom, Jane’s brother.” All she could do was nod. I didn’t know her that well, but she was a good friend of my sister. She had divorced her husband the previous year when she’d discovered he was having an affair with someone at work.

  Unable to have any children, she’d been left completely alone, and my sister had been her shoulder to cry on initially, and more recently had been acting as a matchmaker, trying to fix her up with other single friends. She was a very pretty woman in her mid-thirties and I’d got into trouble with Becky once by remarking on how attractive she was, and how any man would be lucky to go out with her. I know you don’t have to tell me where I went wrong with that statement, because Becky spent a good two hours putting me straight.

  I moved closer and crouched next to her, saying quietly, “Look, we’re here to help you, we’re the ones who killed the rest of them yesterday when they attacked us. I need you to tell me where the rest of them are and then we can get you to a safe place.” She still looked shocked, but you could see the relief flow through her when she realised we were a rescue party. Trembling slightly, she tried to collect herself.