UK Dark Trilogy

by Harris, Chris

  Jerry was monitoring us all closely to ensure that we were staying healthy. He was actually carefully documenting his results, and treating it as a research project to show how regular exercise and a controlled diet improved general health over an extended period.

  Common sense really, but as he explained, it wasn’t often you had the opportunity to conduct a study like this over such a long period of time on such a number of people. He was hoping to prove that common ailments such as asthma could be helped, or even eradicated, by following our enforced healthier lifestyle. His initial results were looking promising. We were all feeling fitter and healthier, so we were not surprised.

  Jon had expressed amazement when we told him what Jerry was doing.

  All he would say was that a few of the people who might be accompanying him on his expedition would want to sit down and discuss various matters with us.

  When we next spoke to Jon later that evening, he announced that all the plans had been finalised, and they would be leaving the base at midnight, and aiming to arrive at our location by mid-morning tomorrow. Christmas Day.

  Although I wasn’t on guard duty, I found it impossible to sleep that night, so I crept quietly out of bed so as not to disturb Becky, and grabbed my MP5. I walked over to the barricade, where I knew Allan was on guard duty.

  He quite often volunteered for the worst night shifts. His argument was that most of the others had family here. He also insisted that he didn’t mind pulling “the graveyard shift” as it gave him some peace and quiet to plan his next security project. In reality, I knew it was because he was just being thoughtful and felt guilty when others were doing the unenjoyable cold and dark shifts.

  I found him sheltering in one of the lookout posts he had constructed along the barricades, to protect the sentries from the worst of the weather. I handed him one of the insulated mugs of coffee I had brought with me and he moved over to make room for me to sit down. I told Jim, the other man on duty, that I’d take over his watch for him. He didn’t take much persuading, because the night was cold, with a biting wind. He shouted his thanks over his shoulder as he rushed home to his wife and his warm bed.

  We passed the time chatting about various subjects. Russ was working on some sort of lighting to improve night time security, and we chuckled as we pictured him apologising for the crudity of his design, and unveiling something that would far exceed anything we could possibly hope to invent.

  We had started calling him Scotty (the engineer from the original Star Trek Series) and our dreadful attempts at a Scottish accent saying, “Och the energisers are crossed like a Christmas tree cap’n it canna take nee moore!” amused us far more than it did him.

  Allan described various changes he wanted to make to our defences and we talked them through. Usually when we discussed something, we ended up with an improved idea.

  I could tell Allan wanted to discuss something else and was feeling awkward about it, so I took a wild guess and steered the conversation towards Michelle. He immediately opened up. We had become close friends over the weeks and I was pleased that he trusted me enough to talk about it, and in the dead of night there was also no risk of anyone overhearing. He clearly needed to get it off his chest.

  He had fallen madly in love with Michelle, but didn’t know what to do about it. I was touched by the emotion in his voice when he talked about his feelings for her. Even I had enough emotional intelligence to realise that now was not the time for silly comments; this was a serious “man to man” conversation.

  His anguish stemmed from the fact that he didn’t know how Michelle felt about him.

  He’d tried being a friend to her, to help her through the trauma she’d suffered, and now he was afraid that she thought of him only as a friend, a big brother figure, and that he’d ruined any chance of love.

  I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Mate, look, I may not be the most sensitive person when it comes to understanding women’s emotions, but every time you walk into my house, Michelle’s eyes light up. You’re included in most of the conversations she joins in with. She’s always asking one of us if you’re OK, and she paces up and down looking worried when she knows you’re out on patrol. Now if that’s not love, then I don’t know what is! Look,” I added, “if you want me to have a quiet word with Becky, who by the way loves nothing more than a bit of matchmaking, I’ll be more than happy to do it.”

  “Cheers, mate,” he said, looking relieved.“Appreciate it.” At this point I couldn’t resist winding him up a bit by adding,

  “Of course! I’ve worked it out. Jerry’s hunky ‘James Bond’ brother’s arriving in a few hours isn’t he? He’ll be wearing a better uniform than you. No wonder you’re worried!”

  His response made us both laugh, and with that, our conversation went back to normal topics.

  The rest of the night passed in pleasant conversation between two good friends. When the next shift arrived, we all shook hands and wished each other a Merry Christmas. Allan and I walked to our respective homes. I invited him back to my house to share Christmas morning with everyone in the house. He thanked me and said he’d be over in a while, once he’d spent some time with the people in Pete’s house. He told me he had some Christmas presents he wanted to give to Michelle.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Despite the children knowing that Christmas was going to be radically different this year, the magic and excitement was still enough for them to wake up early. We’d warned them that Santa wasn’t going to be able to deliver as many presents this year, but they were still as excited as only children can be on Christmas morning.

  In the last few weeks the scavenging parties had been carrying a wish list of items that parents thought their children would like (and a more secretive list for wives, husbands and partners).

  Most requests had been ticked off the list. By universal agreement, no gifts had been scavenged from houses that contained dead people. It seemed acceptable to take things from houses that people had abandoned, but to make a gift of something that had belonged to someone who had died, just seemed wrong.

  As a community, we had all agreed on the format for the day. Each household would exchange gifts and spend a little family time together before congregating in the communal cooking area. A day’s holiday had been declared and only the barricades would be manned. The shifts would be rotated every hour to give everyone a chance to join in the planned festivities.

  It was all the more exciting because of the impending arrival of Jerry’s brother and an unknown number of extras.

  We had thought about inviting some of the more friendly groups of survivors we had come across to join us for Christmas. We’d even discussed it with some of them on joint scavenging trips. We had all agreed that it would be a good idea to arrange a get together at some point in the future, perhaps more of a conference than a celebration. But as we were by far the largest, best organised and best armed group in the local area, there was a risk that we might look as if we were showing off about how much better off we were.

  Most of the groups were barely surviving, and living in squalid conditions. In the end we decided against it.

  We had always tried to offer help and advice to these people, but we couldn’t afford to offer them anything more than that. More often than not, we had given them more than their fair share of the scavenged food. Despite this, some groups were looking in worse condition every time we met.

  Perhaps selfishly, we also didn’t want anything to ruin the day for our children.

  The kitchen in our house was packed, as every resident of the house gathered together. All sixteen of us!

  The children received their presents first. After some hasty organising the day before, Jane and Michael now had presents to give to their children.

  I gave Stanley his first knife; it had a fixed blade and a leather sheath. I gave him the usual lecture about what would happen if I thought he couldn’t be trusted with it.

  Daisy got a nice painting set. Bl
ess them! They were both over the moon with their gifts and never once looked disappointed about only receiving one thing.

  Most of the presents the adults exchanged related to keeping warm. I gave Becky a nice fur hat I had found and she gave me some good quality leather gloves. Everybody else exchanged hats, scarves, socks or gloves.

  As we all stood or sat around in the kitchen, it struck me that it could have been a normal scene from any family Christmas. Even the log burner I had installed in the old fireplace didn’t seem out of place. The only thing that struck a jarring note was the gun rack I had built for the shotguns and my MP5, to keep them safely out of the way and to stop people tripping over them.

  If an outsider had looked at the people in the room, they would have noted that our clothes weren’t as clean as they had been, or as well pressed.

  We probably looked dishevelled and a little grubbier than before, as washing was now regarded as a luxury that used precious hot water.

  But the things that the outsider would have thought normal were the genuine smiles and laughter that filled the room. Kids were running around excitedly and parents were having to raise their voices to make themselves heard over the increasing noise level.

  Allan arrived with the presents for Michelle. She’d talked to him a lot about the things she had been most upset about losing and subsequently, he’d been to her house to look for them. The house had been ransacked and a lot of the items of sentimental value had been smashed, damaged or stolen, but he’d managed to recover some treasured photographs and some of her favourite pieces of pottery, which he’d painstakingly glued back together.

  She looked at him in shock when she realised what he was giving her.

  This quickly turned to a look of panic, and she burst out crying and ran upstairs.

  Allan looked crestfallen. As he turned to leave Becky said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’ve upset her and I didn’t mean to. I’ll just leave and let her be alone, I don’t want to make it any worse,” he replied with the best “lost puppy” face I’d ever seen on anyone.

  To his astonishment Becky just laughed, “When are you two ever going to realise that you love each other? It’s so obvious to the rest of us. She’s just realised that you may love her, but is afraid to find out that you don’t, so she’s run away. You think you’ve upset her and she doesn’t love you, so you’re about to run away as well! If you don’t get up those stairs RIGHT NOW and tell her how you feel, I’ll ban you from ever stepping foot in this house again!”

  The poor man absorbed what Becky was telling him and transformed from a lost puppy into the happiest man in the world. He took one look at me, smiled and ran up the stairs, calling her name.

  I interrupted the cheers and whistles from the happy crowd of onlookers and said with a big smile, “Shall we go outside and meet up with everyone else? I’m not sure I want to explain to the children the noises we might be hearing from upstairs soon.” We all agreed, laughing, gathered up the children and pointed them in the direction of the door. The women seemed to be in some sort of race to be first out, presumably so that they could be first to reveal the latest gossip to the other occupants of the road. The happy news about Michelle and Allan was received with universal pleasure and raised everyone’s spirits all the more.

  The planning that had gone into the Christmas meal was impressive, and after a breakfast of porridge and cereals, various people were tasked with childcare and supervision duties, while others were allocated food preparation duties.

  Precious fresh vegetables had been scavenged and hoarded, and geese, ducks and even swans had been shot and prepared for cooking.

  The quantity prepared had been increased over the last day or so, in spite of Jon’s insistence that we were not to use any of our supplies to feed our visitors. We had decided that it would be rude not to offer them some hospitality, especially when they were arriving on Christmas Day.

  Extra camping ovens and barbecues were brought in to prepare the feast and soon the delicious smells drifting over from the kitchen had us all drooling at the thought of what was to come.

  The next hour or so flew by with everyone in a good mood. Yes, tears were shed when missing loved ones were thought of and talked about, but we all knew we were lucky to be alive and were thankful that the community we had formed was surviving against all the odds.

  We couldn’t dwell upon the ones we didn’t know about. The joy of reaching a landmark date like Christmas Day alive, was an achievement that we all wanted to celebrate. And the impending arrival added to the excitement of the proceedings.

  The people who still wore watches glanced at them frequently, wondering when our visitors would arrive.

  At about eleven o’clock, the distant noise of diesel engines silenced us all, and as a group, we all started to move past the barricade and walk up to the line of cars blocking the top of the road.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  We all stood and waited.

  Two armoured vehicles appeared suddenly, coming up the main road from the direction of Kings Heath (the next “village” along, about a mile further out from the city centre). I didn’t know what the vehicles were called but I had seen them on television. They’d been used for transporting troops around Afghanistan. They had huge machine guns on top, manned by soldiers.

  As the vehicles slowly approached, we all stood there quietly. Jerry, Pete and I walked forward a few paces into the middle of the road and waited for them to arrive. I was glad that the guns in the turrets were pointing to the side, the vehicles were intimidating enough without having them pointed at us.

  The lead vehicle stopped and a soldier in full kit climbed out and made his way towards us. “Hello there. Which one of you is Jerry?” he asked.

  Jerry said, “I am.”

  The soldier took a photograph out of a pouch on his body armour and held it up, comparing Jerry to it. He was quiet for a minute as he studied us all individually, and then he looked at our families and friends, standing a few yards behind us.

  “Well I’d say you were all genuine!” he said finally, extending his hand and shaking ours. “Sorry about that. We’ve been monitoring you via UAV since the initial contact, but I’m the first ‘eyes on the ground’ we’ve had. I had to confirm that Jerry isn’t being held under duress.” Unclipping his radio handset from his body armour he said, “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

  As he Turned away, we heard him say, “No, confirm Jerry situation good.”

  Grinning, he turned back, “We just had to use your code words, they were so ‘special’. Now if you don’t mind, my men need to do a quick security sweep of the area before the main convoy arrives.”

  He waved at the soldier at the front of the lead vehicle. In response the rear doors opened on both vehicles and sixteen heavily armed soldiers stepped out.

  “Don’t worry, this won’t take long. It’s just standard procedure. The UAVs haven’t picked up anything in the local area apart from the locations of the other groups you’ve given us, (they’d requested this information during a previous radio conversation as part of their route surveillance).

  He apologised for not introducing himself properly, “Captain Wales, Commander of the expedition’s lead element.”

  A few minutes later a soldier approached and told him that the area was clear. “Good. Maintain a perimeter until the rest arrive. But monitor the UAV operator’s channel closely.” Reaching into another pocket, he pulled out a bag of tea bags, smiled and said, “I don’t know about my men, but I’m desperate for a cup of tea. I couldn’t borrow some hot water could I? I’ve got some milk and sugar in the back of the vehicle if you want some.”

  There was something familiar about the Captain, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Laughing, I replied, “No, we’re fine for milk and sugar. Come down to our kitchen area. I’m sure we can spare you some water.”

  “How long will the rest take to arrive?” Pete asked.

  “O
h, about thirty minutes, I would guess. We regrouped at the motorway junction and it’ll probably take them that long to get moving again?”

  “How many of you are there?” I asked, still trying to place where I knew him from.

  “We’re a complete circus. If Colonel Moore hadn’t overridden a lot of requests, it would have been worse! We are one hundred and fifty soldiers plus support staff and twenty civvies. Just under two hundred of us, I believe.”

  A look of horror must have passed over our faces. “Oh, don’t you worry about it,” said Captain Wales, “We’re very self-sufficient. We’ll try not to get in your way too much.”

  “It’s not that,” replied Pete. “The ladies have been baking cakes and are now cooking a Christmas dinner we were hoping to share with you. I just don’t think we have enough to go around. They’re going to be mortified!”

  Lowering his voice Captain Wales said, “I believe we’re planning something similar. So shall we keep the numbers to ourselves until they turn up? We wouldn’t want the lovely ladies to get all in a tizzy, would we?”

  I agreed and turning to everyone, I suggested we head back to the communal area, as the others wouldn’t be arriving for at least another half an hour.

  It took a bit of persuasion to tear the children (and some of the grown up children) away from the excitement of admiring the armoured vehicles and soldiers.

  The Captain walked back to the barricades with us, escorted by two of his men. As we were walking, he removed his helmet. Then it hit me. It was Prince Harry!

  “You’re…you’re … him!” I stammered.

  “Yes, sorry,” he said, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s a bit awkward I know, but I’m better at the soldier stuff than the royal stuff, so I volunteered to lead the mission.”

  We were all shocked. I didn’t really know what to say next. It wasn’t often you met and got to chat with a member of the Royal Family. And here we were, about to offer him a cup of tea and a slice of homemade cake! The only way I could think to deal with it, was to carry on as normal.