by Peter Hall
Gibson slapped his palm on the table. “Hear, hear. Well said, Dick.”
Sabine brought a tray with a pot of coffee and poured each of them a cup.
Gibson resumed, his speech now slower and slurred. “Listen, Cal. We have a mighty task ahead of us. Mighty task. We’ve started on our mission, but there’s a long road ahead and much to do. I want good men. Lots of ‘em. To be perfectly honest, some of my lads are rough around the edges. They lack training and discipline. Dick is doing a grand job bringing them into line, but he can only do so much. We’ll need ten times the number of men, so I must have some excellent officers. You’ve impressed me, Cal. You’ve got good credentials, you know how to take care of yourself and you’re smart. We’ve both got similar thoughts about what needs to be done.”
Another puff of the cigar and sip of brandy, then he continued. “I’d like to offer you a position here, Cal. As an officer, naturally. You used to be a captain, so that’s what I’ll make you for joining me. You would be second-in-command to Dick here as regards security matters. That’s a very fair offer, I’m sure you’ll agree. I can guarantee you wouldn’t want for anything. And you can keep your crazy car if you’d like. We’d all get along just fine. So, what do you think?”
Cal scratched his chin, giving him time to respond. Gibson’s ideas were as repulsive and despicable as the man himself. He talked about conserving supplies and yet lived like a king. His so-called new society was a throwback to the dark ages. But how would he react if Cal refused his offer?
“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s a very fine offer, Royce. I’m impressed by what you’ve said tonight and honoured that you think of me so highly. This is a massive decision for me. I’ve been alone for the last year, so it would be a big lifestyle change. I’d like to consider it for a while. Do you mind if I sleep on it?”
“No, no, not at all. Wise man. Best not to rush into things. I appreciate that. We’ll talk about it over breakfast. We do a substantial breakfast here, I can assure you. Nobody goes hungry who works for Royce Gibson.”
Nobody but the women.
CHAPTER 9
John's Teenage Years
TIMELINE: 16 years before Yellow Death
“In adversity remember to keep an even mind..”
Horace (65–8 BCE)
Sarah’s eyes scanned the sideboard, which held a set of framed photographs of John at different ages. The most recent showed him on his 16th birthday when she had taken him on a visit to the Bovington Tank Museum. He was sitting in the driving seat of an armoured car and beaming—one of the few photos she had of him smiling. It was hard to believe he was almost an adult—in some ways, he still acted like a child.
She gripped her mobile phone and willed it to ring. Charles had promised to call her at eight p.m. with information about John’s latest problem. Charles had many faults, but he was punctual.
When the phone burst into life, the display reported ‘Caller Unknown’. That would be Charles.
“Hello, Charles?”
“Hi Sarah, how are you? Are you alone?”
Sarah reflexively scanned the room.
“I’m fine. And yes, I’m alone. John’s in his room. He’s hardly left there since he got back from the Army Assessment. That’s two days now. He’s devastated. He was pinning his hopes on officer selection. Did you manage to find anything—was he that bad?”
“Yes, is the answer to both questions. I spoke to one of his assessors about it. I shouldn’t have approached the assessment team, you understand? So what I’m about to say must be in the strictest confidence, or I’ll be in hot water.”
“Yes, of course. This is just between you and me.”
“Great. Well, I was told John was excellent in the fitness and aptitude tests. That’s about all the good news, I’m afraid. It was downhill from there on. The personality assessment categorised him as… I wrote this down… here we are—ISTJ.”
“Speak English please, Charles.”
“That simple four-letter code means he’s introverted, quiet and obsessively logical and organised. I think we both know that fits John to a tee. Unfortunately, it’s pretty much the opposite of what the army wants in someone who might lead troops into battle.”
“Okay, no surprise there. Anything else?”
“Plenty. There was a group discussion about contemporary affairs.”
“Oh Lord.”
“Yes, precisely. Apparently, John sat through it, barely saying a word. When he did manage to contribute, he seemed to be several seconds behind the group. The outdoor practical exercise was also a disaster. John was in a team, navigating an obstacle course. I was told that John appeared to be working in isolation. Rather than being part of the team, he was getting in everyone else’s way.”
“Oh dear. He must have been completely out of his depth.”
“I’ve not mentioned the best part yet—the individual interviews. John showed an excellent knowledge of military matters, but that didn’t earn him many points—after all, he would get that from the army training. Unfortunately, John’s nerves got the better of him. He was reserved and stuttered. The assessor noted long pauses while John considered how to answer. Worse still, they regarded some of his opinions as, shall we say, controversial?”
“What does that mean?”
There was a pause, and Sarah heard Charles turning over sheets of paper.
“Here we are. Well, for example, John argued that democracy wasn’t the best system for choosing a government. He said something to the effect that if you allow a bunch of idiots to decide who should govern, they’ll choose another idiot, and he mentioned the Prime Minister. He was also pretty disparaging about the Monarchy. Just think how bad that sounded, considering he’d have to take an oath of allegiance.”
“I can imagine. Did John propose a better system than democracy?”
“Unfortunately, yes. He said a benevolent artificial intelligence would make the best government.”
Sarah closed her eyes. “Oh, John, John, John, what were you thinking?”
“So you can see why they put him in the lowest category. And in my view, they got the assessment bang on. At least they didn’t give him any reason to apply again. I’ve always said the army wouldn’t suit him. It’s a very close-knit communal life—you can’t go and lock yourself away in your room whenever you feel like it. You should have talked him out of applying.”
Sarah sat bolt upright. “Really! Should I? Well, Charles, when have you ever successfully talked John out of anything? Anyway, he needed to find out for himself, or he’d always be wondering.”
There was an uncomfortable silence before Charles replied. “Yes, perhaps you’re right. He’ll get over it soon enough. Surely, he must be overdue for moving on to another interest? Hopefully, something harmless, like stamp collecting. Personally, I think we’ve dodged a bullet, if you’ll excuse the pun. God knows what would happen if John ever had to lead soldiers into combat for real.”
John’s Journal: Age 16
Oh my God, what an awful weekend. I just got back home from Westbury after what they call an ‘Army Officer Briefing’. It’s actually a series of tests to prove whether a person is good enough to join the army as an officer. I thought I was doing OK, maybe not the top candidate, and they caught me out a couple of times, but I was convinced I’d scrape through.
Yet they told me I’d been dumped in the lowest category and rated totally unsuitable to be an officer. Cat 4 means I’m so useless I couldn’t pass even with extra studying. WTF!!!
Was I that bad?
We started with a fitness assessment, which I passed easily—better than most of the candidates. Then there were aptitude tests where I scored highly as well. So far, so good.
The outdoor practical exercise turned into a disaster. The team aim was to traverse over an obstacle course without touching the ground. They provided planks (which were too short) and rope (which had knots in it). I guess the idea of the trial was to see if any of us
would emerge as a natural leader. God’s teeth! Everyone tried to stand out by shouting orders at everyone else. It was chaos. If they had appointed me as leader, I’d have been fine. But all that screeching made me anxious. Totally unrealistic! So I kept quiet, ignored the screaming, and decided to help when I saw a chance. We were falling over each other. I accidentally trod on somebody’s hand and she called me a ‘fucking retard’. I trust the assessors will mark her down for that. People were getting frustrated and angry. We struggled to build a bridge with the planks and rope, but it all crashed to the ground. Needless to say, the team didn’t complete the course in the time allowed. I overheard two candidates mumbling that it was my fault! I hope I wasn’t marked down because of those twats.
Next came a group discussion, where we all sat in a circle. The assessors suggested topics to talk about. Strangely, not one topic concerned military matters. Everyone tried so hard to impress. They all butted in and blurted opinions without thinking. Every time I opened my mouth to speak, somebody else jumped in. So after a while, I stopped trying and let them waffle on. If they don’t want to listen to my views, that’s their loss.
The last test was a private interview with a colonel. It was weird. I hoped to show my knowledge of warfare and military history, but he wasn’t interested in that. The colonel wanted to know what I’d do if I heard one of my soldiers making a racial slur. He also asked if it was ever right to disobey an order. From his reaction, he was surprised at my answers.
Anyway, something I did or said pissed them off royally, because they made it clear I should not bother to apply again. Shit!. I was so sure they would pass me and then everything would be sorted. Now what am I to do?
Mum has tried her best to console me. She offered to take me to the Torridge Inn for a Thai meal, but I wasn’t in the mood. She keeps saying how good I am with computers and techy stuff and how I would make a brilliant computer programmer. True, but it’s not what I want to do. Absolute bollocks. Sod the stupid army with their stupid current affairs discussions. Surely to God, they need warriors, not debaters?
Sarah sat on the living room couch, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. Outside, a turbulent wind was thrashing the windows with rain. She had made a cup of coffee, but it remained untouched. Unconsciously, she kept glancing toward John’s bedroom door, willing for it to open.
The letter had arrived that morning―John’s ‘A’ level results would determine which university he could attend. John had calmly taken the envelope unopened into his bedroom. That was twenty minutes ago. What on earth was he doing? Doesn’t he realise she was sitting out here on tenterhooks? Or maybe he doesn’t. Not John.
John’s eighteenth birthday had passed almost unnoticed a few days before. Naturally, he did not want a party—who would he invite? So now John was an adult—at least legally, if not emotionally.
The bedroom door opened at last. John stepped out, grinning. No jumping for joy, whooping, or screaming at the top of his voice. Just a grin. Yet seeing it allowed Sarah to give an enormous sigh of relief.
John held up the letter. “Four A-stars and one plain A. Autism Man wins the day.”
“Oh darling, that’s wonderful.” She moved to hug him and ignored the slight tensing of his body as she embraced him.
If this doesn’t merit a big hug, I don’t know what does.
After a few seconds, he gave in and hugged in return.
“Goodness, it’s been a long road, but you’ve made it,” she said.
“Yeah. Nottingham Uni, Computer Science, here I come!”
She released him and sat down. At last, she took a sip of coffee and realised it was cold and bitter. “I know what—we should go out and celebrate. Where would you like?”
“The Torridge Inn, please.”
Of course it was the Torridge Inn. It was always the Torridge Inn where Karl would find them a dark, cosy corner away from everyone else. After fifteen years of intensive therapy, John still needed routine. Sarah wondered how much difference those interventions had actually made.
Never mind. What counted was her boy had grown up, become independent and was about to go off to Uni. John’s rejection for army officer training had left him depressed for months. Now he could look to the future. It was a pity Charles could not share this moment, but Charles had never been here when it mattered. When he had finally waltzed off with a young bimbo, Sarah hardly noticed any difference. Provided he continued to pay the bills, they were better off without him.
Sarah looked at her son as he reread the results letter. He was on a high and getting these passes had boosted his confidence. Sarah had been meaning to talk with John about a delicate subject. There would never be a better time…
“John, sit down for a second, would you?”
“Er… Okay. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just that I was wondering… You’ve been at school for, what, seven years now? You’ve never once wanted to bring home a friend, or gone to a friend’s house—at least to my knowledge.”
John sat motionless.
“Come on, John, don’t make this difficult. You’ve just proved you’re not thick. Have you ever had a school friend?”
He started rubbing his thumb and finger together.
“Well, not really. There’ve been people at school I’ve liked, and they seem to like me. We hang out in the lunch hour and chat a bit. Sometimes we send each other funny videos and stuff. But that’s it.”
“Has nobody ever invited you to their house, or the cinema, or a meal?”
“A few times. I kept saying no, so they stopped asking.”
“But why?”
“I suppose they got fed up with asking.”
“No, I didn’t mean… Why didn’t you accept their offers?”
“I didn’t want to. That’s not true—I wanted to… but I was nervous. I didn’t think I would fit in, because I never do. And I don’t get all the social chit-chat and stuff. Besides, most things I enjoy doing are best done alone. Like running. You know I like to run. So does Thomas. He said we should go for a run together. But why? I don’t like running with somebody at my side. Either Thomas would need to run at my pace, or I’d need to run at his pace. And we’d have to arrange it all beforehand. I enjoy running when I feel like it, at my own pace. I particularly don’t want to hold a conversation when running.”
“But don’t you want some… companionship? People run with friends because it’s nicer than being alone.
John made a long sigh. Something Sarah rarely saw.
“I understand. It’s true I get a bit lonely at times. When I see others socialising and having fun, I know there’s something missing for me. I want to be part of the group. But whenever I’m with other people, I’m anxious—all the time. I just don’t fit in. I’m not stupid, but when I’m with several people and everyone’s talking, I’m always half-a-second behind. I think about what to say, but before I open my mouth, somebody else is speaking. Usually, I miss my turn to talk. Sometimes, I say the wrong thing, which is even worse. I’ve learnt it’s not worth the hassle.”
“Oh, John. That’s so sad.”
“It’s just the way I am. Most of the time, I’m okay with it. There’s nothing wrong with a square peg until you try to hammer it into a round hole.”
“That’s really quite profound. Is that what I’ve been doing? Trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole?”
He smiled. “Perhaps it’s more like you’ve been trying to smooth the corners off the square peg.”
“And I’ve not been very successful, have I?”
“I’m not very normal, if that’s what you mean. But you’ve worked so hard, Mum, and given me the very best education. You’ve helped me be the best I can be. When I need to, I can pretend to be normal. It’s just that it’s difficult, so I don’t do it unless I have to.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
I think I really do understand at last. Perhaps for the first time. We sh
ould have had this conversation years ago.
“But what about girls? You’ve grown into quite the handsome man. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding a girlfriend.”
John blushed at the mention of the opposite gender.
“Hells bells, Mom! You know what I’m like trying to talk to a stranger. Multiply that ten times with a pretty girl. I get so nervous, I can’t speak. I break out into a sweat.”
“Well, that’s definitely going to be a problem. What will you do about it?”
“Perhaps there’s a dating app for people with autism or Asperger’s?”
Sarah laughed. “Perhaps there is. I expect two Aspies would get on together brilliantly. You could bore each other silly, lecturing about your special interests. But can you imagine what your children would be like?”
CHAPTER 10
Cal & Sabine Alone
TIMELINE: 1 year after Yellow Death
“When faced with two options, favour the boldest.”
Chay Blyth CBE BEM (1940 - )
Royce Gibson staggered to bed, almost comatose with alcohol. Cal was hugely relieved the evening had ended without the lies about his past being revealed. The hours of warding off Gibson’s probing, together with the booze, had left him shattered. More than anything, he wanted to lie down and sleep. That luxury would have to wait. First, he had to devise an exit strategy. Instinct told him Gibson would take a refusal of his offer very badly.
Gibson was someone who thought people were either for or against him. He was charming to his friends, but when Cal refused Gibson’s offer to join the convoy, he would instantly become the enemy. That might prove to be fatal.
