UK Dark Trilogy

by Harris, Chris

I took a last glance through my rear-view mirror at the three bodies, slowly swinging from the gallows, as I drove down the driveway away from the hotel and turned towards home.

  Harry, Paul and I had taken a vehicle each, leaving plenty of room for the six women, including Mel, Louise and Penny, who had chosen to return with us. The vehicles also contained the few personal possessions the women owned and all the supplies we had gathered from the hotel, which amounted to a very small amount of food, but a very large quantity of alcohol. On top of all that we had stacked various useful items we had scavenged from the hotel.

  We’d only been away a few days, but we were all eager to get home and see our families and friends.

  We knew that everyone would be busy preparing for the new arrivals and that they would receive the warmest welcome possible.

  As I drove along, chatting to Louise and Penny, who had both chosen to travel with me, my mind wandered.

  People attribute a lot of things that happen to Fate.

  Other people call it coincidence, but Fate must be real.

  How else could I be driving the very same car I had first sat in and started all those months ago, when I was helping Jerry and his family move.

  I’d met Jerry before Day One of the event at a random encounter in the local cash and carry; was that Fate or coincidence?

  The one thing that had been missing from our fledgling community had been medical expertise, and I’d managed to bump into and make friends with a doctor whose wife was a dentist. Fate?

  The commander of the base was Jerry’s brother.

  Our community had only survived because of the timely arrival of Colonel Jon Moore and his forces, who had not only helped us to defeat Gumin and his men, but had also wiped out the escaped prisoners, who would certainly have found us and annihilated us with their superior weapons and military training.

  It was almost as if Fate needed good to prevail over evil and had therefore set in motion a chain of events that had led me to be sitting in a familiar vehicle, making my way back to my family after another successful mission.

  All of this from a chance meeting at a cash and carry in Stirchley, Birmingham.

  Fate?

  Mind boggling really.

  I dragged myself back to the present, and concentrated on the road and the conversation going on in the car.

  After a few nights of interrupted rest and a full night of no sleep, I was glad I’d spent the previous night in a comfortable hotel bed. I knew that the arrival of new residents in our community would lead to a big celebration. Opportunities for a celebration didn’t come around very often, so we made the most of them when they did.

  It was our way of compensating for all the hard work we had to put in to make the community thrive.

  Festivals and public holidays in every corner of the globe must have developed for the same reason. People need to be able to let off steam occasionally and a good old party was one way of doing just that. I grinned to myself. The fact that I would be unloading a large amount of booze would help.

  Hours later, long after we’d arrived home, I snuggled thankfully up to Becky in bed.

  The new arrivals soon settled into the community. Over the first few days and weeks, they spent a lot of time with Michelle, Kim and Mandy who had all had similar experiences in the past.

  Everyone else carried on as before, our time continually split between security work and community projects. We remained on high alert. To let your guard down for just one minute, could invite disaster. The only thing that would guarantee our safety would be our own vigilance.

  The scavenging missions had all but ceased, as we had finally stripped out everything useful from the areas around us. Our scavenging missions had been replaced by long-range patrol and reconnaissance missions, lasting many days, systematically exploring an ever-widening radius around us.

  They either bivouacked somewhere suitable or stayed with one of the friendly communities we had links with.

  These patrols inevitably led to the discovery of more groups and individuals who had managed to survive.

  Unfortunately, they also revealed the extent of the devastation caused by the plague. There were whole communities reduced to a scattering of rotting corpses. The really sad part was, there was clear evidence that some of them had been doing well. Like us, they’d had defences, weapons and storerooms full of food.

  None of these things had been any use against the plague. Without the benefit of any advanced warning, they’d stood little chance.

  As before, most of the people they encountered proved friendly, despite their initial reservations, once they realised that our intentions were good. Again, many of them signed up for government assistance and in return, agreed to contribute towards the country’s recovery.

  If they were disinclined to be welcoming, then that was OK too. We left them to it, making a note of their location for future reference. If they’d been tough enough to survive for so long without help and didn’t want or need our assistance, then we had to respect that.

  If they were overtly aggressive and attacked us without provocation, then plans were put in place to deal with them, as they would always be a threat to the brave new world we were trying to create.

  More often than not, we were alerted to the presence of these groups by other communities in their locality, who had had been threatened or attacked by them.

  Call us vigilantes, militia or a police force, we had the full backing and approval of the government and we knew that there was no room for that kind of hostility in the society we were working towards.

  Back at the compound, the one thing that took up most of our time was Pete’s latest idea.

  He called it Project Grow!

  With the help of some experts at the base, he had managed to work out how much land we needed to cultivate and what variety of crops would work best, in order to feed us all and enable us to become fully self-sufficient.

  His findings had shown that we didn’t have anywhere near enough land prepared. We considered clearing more back gardens, but we knew that this would be a huge task and would necessitate the removal of trees, paths etc.

  The solution, once we’d thought of it, was obvious.

  We’d looked before at the many allotments in the area and discounted them due to concerns about irrigation if we happened to have a long dry summer. Supplemental water couldn’t be drawn from a tap anymore.

  Cannon Hill Park had proved to be the ideal location. A former recreational park, it was a huge open area covering hundreds of acres and was less than a mile away. It had large lakes that had been used for boating and the River Rea flowed alongside it. These sources would provide more than enough water for irrigation.

  We just needed Russ to work his magic again.

  Every available hand was called in to prepare the ground for planting and erect acres of polytunnels.

  He was confident, with the work we had already done, which would soon be yielding fresh produce, that within a year we would be completely self-sufficient. In fact, we might even be producing a surplus.

  The possibility of producing a surplus was something that had generated a lot of debate. Should we try to store it in case of future problems (e.g. crop failure or bad weather)? Or should we donate it to people who needed it? Or, as someone later suggested, could we trade it for something we needed?

  The third suggestion opened up a further discussion about the future. Once the country had stabilised and people had settled down to the business of living, and given up trying to kill and steal from each other, then hopefully communities like ours would proliferate.

  Possibly, depending on their locations, these other communities might all have something to offer and at this point we could foresee trade developing between them.

  The amateur historians among us pointed out that this could also lead to wars being fought for control over the most productive areas.

  Subjects like these became our favourite topics for discussion
once the darkness was setting in and we’d stopped work to gather together in the communal kitchen.

  Of course, our arguments were all purely theoretical. We were still a long way from becoming self-sufficient, but at the same time, this was a turning point for our community.

  For the first time, we weren’t just thinking about surviving day-to-day, as we had been just after the event. And we weren’t just looking to the immediate future, as we had done when we had sufficient supplies to last us for a few months. Now we were beginning to think about the years ahead.

  This new confidence of ours would stand us in good stead.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Summer had finally arrived and the community was thriving. After a long convalescence, Allan was back to full health and had resumed his role as security officer.

  Having undergone a series of operations to repair the damage to his face, Gary had returned with his wife and daughter and settled back into his life among us. Despite his scars and the loss of his eye, he was happy to be home and said he felt grateful to be alive.

  Harry had become a permanent resident on the road, and he and Kim were very much in love. They had moved in together and willingly taken on Isaac and Lottie, and were now a very close and loving family unit.

  Harry had even taken Kim back to the base to meet the Queen, Prince Philip and his brother and sister-in-law (William and Kate).

  She came back beaming and was immediately swept away by the women for a full debrief.

  Harry watched them go and picked up a can of beer. He took a swig, looked at us, winked and said,

  “Sorted!”

  Michelle and Allan’s relationship was also flourishing, and despite frequent enquiries from all of us, they refused to confirm whether they had set a date for their wedding yet.

  We suspected that something was afoot, but no matter how hard we tried to wheedle it out of them, they remained tight-lipped on the matter.

  My main worry, which was an indication of how well we were doing, was how long my precious hoard of chocolate hobnobs was going to last me. During the madness of stocking up with as much food as we could buy, prior to the event, I had bought every single packet I could lay my hands on. With careful rationing, I’d managed to eke them out for as long as possible, but now I was down to my last few packs.

  My anxiety had been a source of great amusement for everyone else and it was a standing joke now that whenever a patrol was about to leave, someone would shout, “Don’t forget the hobnobs!” I’d heard so many false reports about sightings of them, I’d stopped believing any of them.

  We hardly ever saw anyone at our barricades now. The only people who did drift by from time to time were those who had chosen a nomadic existence, roving through abandoned and empty cities, towns and villages and gathering up whatever they could find as they went.

  Modern day gypsies, I suppose you could call them.

  Good manners dictated that we should offer these people a meal, but we were more than happy to do so. These people had survived without walls around them.

  They carried weapons for protection and they lived on their wits. That meant that on their travels they picked up all sorts of useful information.

  Information we could use.

  Some of them had even made a living out of it, carrying messages between the communities, and passing on information in return for a meal or two.

  The intricate networks of society were starting to repair themselves.

  In the meantime, the news from the base was all positive. The plans to rebuild were in full swing and groups were beginning to spread out from the base to start farming and developing their own communities.

  Undoubtedly, mistakes would be made and things would go wrong from time to time, but as everyone was working towards a single goal, eventually they would succeed.

  Attacks on these newly formed communities were rare. The composition of each group was carefully thought out to include a broad mix of people, all with different skills. This included a few soldiers plus equipment and weapons. Careful planning also went into the locations of these new communities.

  They were far enough away from each other to allow room for expansion, but close enough to maintain contact and offer each other assistance if required. For instance, extra manpower might be needed at harvest time, or for security purposes.

  After losing so many of us to the plague, our compound seemed a little empty. The familiar faces of people we had shared so much with, would never be seen again.

  Some of the more artistic members of our community had turned an outside wall of the church into a memorial for the people we had lost. The names of all our absent friends had been lovingly painted on to it. Friends and family members had followed suit by adding pictures and mementos. It had become a place of quiet contemplation and healing; somewhere to remember old friends and happy memories. And somewhere to shed a tear.

  In rare quiet moments, I found myself drawn to the wall.

  Not a day went by when I didn’t feel blessed that my own family had survived, and the wall was a constant reminder of how fragile life is.

  The plague had had other consequences for our community. We’d lost more women than men to the disease and this had resulted in the men outnumbering the women by some margin. In fact, it soon became clear that the disparity between the sexes would have to be addressed before it became a problem.

  The young single males in our group were mostly soldiers who had volunteered to remain with us. They had become important and useful members of our community, not least because they were all young and fit and were able to take on most of the heavy work.

  But being young and male, it was amazing how often they would appear when the young single females were out doing their chores, offering their assistance with whatever task they were performing.

  It was all very chivalrous and good natured, as everyone knew what the women had been through, but as time wore on it became clear that this good-natured competition for love would eventually lead to friction in the group.

  Much to the embarrassment of certain younger members of the group, who believed their behaviour had been discreet, the topic was brought up for discussion at an evening meeting.

  Allan made a valid point:

  “It’s not just the youngsters we need to think about. The plague has left behind single parents too. I know it’s too soon for any of them to be thinking about it, but in the future, when their wounds are healed and they’re ready to accept someone else into their lives, in a community as small as ours, potential partners are going to be hard to come by.

  If we’re going to prosper, I think we’ll need to think about expanding our population. But, if we do, we’ll need to give careful thought to who we invite to join us.”

  Over the next few months the community did expand. We didn’t just invite the strong and physically fit.

  After careful consultations with the base, a wide variety of people helped to make our community whole again. Be they young or old, male or female, they all came with the kind of skills we needed and the type of personality that would fit in with us all.

  As relationships were formed, Pete joked about asking the base for a supply of bromide, so that he could start adding it to the morning tea to calm all the raging hormones.

  Allan and Michelle finally announced their wedding date. It was going to take place on the summer solstice, the longest day and shortest night of the year in the northern hemisphere. We had always planned to celebrate the summer and winter solstices, as in years gone by, but now the summer solstice was going to be a big party.

  It would be the first marriage to take place in the UK since the event.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  As the day approached, the preparations intensified.

  The event was to receive the full backing of the base. The following message came back from Colonel Moore:

  “Her Majesty the Queen offers the full support of the government to help celebrate this mom
entous event. Any assistance or equipment will, if at all possible, be made available.”

  A civil ceremony was planned and the registrar was expected to arrive the day before the wedding on a convoy of invited guests from the base.

  Engineers had arrived in lorries loaded with equipment, and were busy erecting a small tented village to provide temporary accommodation for all the visitors.

  Michelle was too wrapped up in her own preparations to notice all the extra activity taking place, but Allan was not taking it well, particularly as he had overheard a radio conversation between Paul and the base about the extra security that would be required for the Prime Minister and the other VIPs.

  The quiet, simple wedding he’d envisioned, celebrated with a few good friends, was now a beast running out of control and he didn’t like it one bit.

  He complained loudly to Pete, Harry, Paul and myself, but had the sense to keep his feelings from Michelle. He didn’t want anything to ruin her day, and as she was oblivious to what was happening, he was determined to keep it that way. He told her that the extra accommodation was for the people they had befriended from nearby communities, who had insisted on coming to celebrate their special day with them.

  It was partly the truth, as some of the accommodation was for them.

  His stag night, held at Michelle’s insistence, a few days before the event, took place in the tennis pavilion of Chantry Tennis Club, in the park our road backed on to.

  The tennis courts had long since been turned over to polytunnels, and the historic wooden clubhouse, a place that held happy memories for most of the road’s original residents, had been left intact. No one had had the heart to knock it down so now it stood there forlornly, looking increasingly more exposed, as the trees around it were cut down one by one for firewood.

  Michelle’s hen night was held on the same night in the church hall. Harry had managed to arrange for disco equipment to be delivered and set up in the hall as a surprise. I never found out how. So, the women got to spend the night dancing (probably to cheesy music) while the men settled for darts, pool, beer and banter.