The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Churcher

  I wake with my heart pounding. I’m terrified, and it takes me a moment to work out why. It’s dark, and the light spilling under the door from the corridor is dimmer and paler than it should be. I sit up, and then I realise what has woken me.

  Silence.

  There’s no sound. No air conditioning, no ventilation, no chatter from other rooms. I can hear Charlie and Amy breathing gently, but the quiet is oppressive. Something isn’t right.

  I carefully lift my blanket and swing my feet onto the floor. I stand, as quietly as I can, and tiptoe to the door. I open it a crack and look out into the corridor.

  The strip lights that light the bunker day and night are off. The pale, blueish light is coming from the emergency torches, plugged in, three of them along each wall. They only light up if the power goes out, so we’ve lost our electricity supply. I step out, grab the closest torch from its holder, and retreat into my room. My kitchen crate of armour is under my bed, so I pull it out, change into base layers, and start clipping it on.

  I freeze when I hear voices. I can’t tell what they’re saying, but I think the sound is carrying through the ventilation pipes. No one has tripped an alarm, but the power outage should have attracted some attention by now. One of the guards should have noticed.

  There are more voices. I’m shaking off sleep, and I realise that this could be the start of an attack. I step over and shake Charlie’s shoulder, then walk down the room and shake Amy awake, too.

  “Get up!” I hiss, sounding impossibly loud in the silence.

  I clip the last of the armour into place, and sit down to lace my boots. Amy sits up and I toss the torch on to the end of her bed.

  “Get up, and get your armour on.” She looks at me through hooded eyes, but gets up and starts dressing herself. Charlie stirs, and sees what I’m doing. She’s up and pulling on her jeans in seconds.

  “What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ve lost power. I don’t like it.”

  Charlie reaches under her bed and grabs her duffel bag. She stuffs my trousers and T-shirt in on top of her clothes, and grabs Amy’s fatigues from the end of her bed. She pushes her feet into her trainers, tightens the laces, and she’s ready to go. Amy reaches under her pillow and silently pulls out a bundle of paper – sketches from Saunders. She carefully tucks them into the top of Charlie’s bag, then pulls on her base layers. Charlie helps her put on her armour while I grab my helmet and gun, and creep back out into the corridor. I take two of the lit torches from their charging points, open the door to Dan’s room, and slide them in along the floor.

  “Get up! Get your armour on!” I wait until I see Dan start to sit up, and I back out of the room.

  Charlie and Amy are behind me as we make our way along the corridor. I can still hear the voices, and noises like someone using a hammer or firing a gun, echoing along the ventilation ducts, but there is no one else around. I check the bathrooms and open the dormitory doors as we walk past, but all the beds are empty – this is where our trainees were sleeping. In the final room we find Jo, already getting dressed, and the other women from her table at dinner, rousing themselves and getting up.

  “Grab the spare armour from the storeroom,” she whispers, as we leave the room. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  I don’t know whether to be relieved or frightened that Jo is also assuming we’re under attack.

  We walk, slowly and quietly, to the end of the corridor. Dan is behind us now, and Jake is clipping the last pieces of his armour on as they catch up with us.

  “Saunders?” I whisper.

  Dan points upstairs. “On watch.” And I remember his proud boast at dinner, that this would be his first night shift.

  I take another torch from a wall socket, and gently push open the door to the hallway beyond.

  There’s no one here, and the emergency torches are all still in place. I wave everyone through, and send Dan to knock on the remaining bedroom doors, along the corridor to our right. I don’t want to leave anyone behind.

  We gather in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. The voices have stopped now, and every movement we make seems impossibly loud. There’s a ringing in my ears where the sound of the ventilation system should be, and I’m starting to panic at the thought of being trapped, three levels underground in a concrete bunker.

  I motion everyone to stay still, and I start to climb the stairs, careful to make as little noise as I can. Halfway up, the flight of stairs doubles back on itself, and I lean round the corner to check what’s ahead.

  Emergency torchlight is lighting the next level up. I can’t hear anyone ahead of us, but I’ll have to go up and make sure. I twist my helmet onto my suit to free up my left hand, and open the visor. Stooping to keep my head below the level of the top step, I move slowly up the stairs.

  There’s no one on the second landing, so I retrace my steps to the turn in the staircase and beckon everyone up. Dan is back with two of the men who were at dinner with us, and Jo is here with the other women.

  I head back up to the landing. There’s a door ahead of me, and a door to my right. Both corridors are lit by emergency torches, and both are empty. This level houses the kitchen and common room to the right, and store rooms straight ahead. I raise my gun, and push the door ahead of me open.

  Emergency torches still line the walls, and the store room doors are closed. Jo follows me through and heads for the second door. She takes a torch from the wall and disappears inside. I wave the others through, keeping Dan and Amy in the hallway. Charlie and the others will need a few minutes to get suited up. Dan and Amy walk the length of the corridor, opening store rooms and checking for anyone inside. I send Jake in to help assemble the armour, and then take off my gloves and head in myself.

  I’m amazed by how calmly everyone is handling this situation. Everywhere I look, people who haven’t been trained are pulling on base layers and helping each other to clip the armour together. If it’s too big or too small, people are swapping crates and finding a size that works for them. I help out where I need to, and quietly remind everyone to make sure they have a helmet and a gun. I help several people with their helmets, and raise their visors so they can hear the noises around them. I point out the weak spots on the armour, and make sure people don’t think they’re invincible. A training bullet through the soft, movable sections will kill them just as quickly as an armour-piercing round anywhere else.

  Jo pulls a crate from the back of the room and waves me over. It’s the ammunition supply. Training bullets only, but it’s better than nothing. I walk round the room, checking the magazine in every gun, and handing everyone a spare to clip to their waists. I take spares for myself, Dan, and Amy, and make my way back to the door. I open it and lean out. The corridor is empty. I pull my gloves back on, walk out, and wave everyone else to follow me.

  We meet up with Dan and Amy in the hallway, and they clip their spare magazines to their armour. They’ve found no one else on this corridor. One more flight of stairs to go. I look around at the group we’ve assembled.

  “Where’s Margie? And Dr Richards?” Dan looks round at everyone, and shrugs.

  We’ve checked all the dorms. I send Dan to check the kitchen and common room while I move slowly up the stairs to check the next hallway. My movements, my breathing, and the tiny movements of the people in the hallway below, are the only sounds. The hallway above is clear, and I head back down to beckon everyone up. Dan pushes through the group from the corridor, hands open and empty. There’s no one else on this level.

  We move up the stairs, and assemble in the final hallway. I wave Dan to check the meeting room and the offices, and Amy to check the workshops. They work their way along both corridors on this level, and return quickly, shaking their heads.

  There’s no one else in the bunker. There are fifteen of us, and only four with training for the guns and armour. The next stage is the most dangerous – we need to leave the living areas of the bunker and climb up to the
gatehouse.

  I gather everyone close to me, so I can talk quietly but everyone can hear me. I make sure everyone has their helmets on and clipped into their armour, and then I send Dan, Jake, and Amy to switch on all the suit radios, and make sure they are tuned to the same channel.

  Charlie is standing next to me, and I turn to help her. I take her hand, and activate the radio with the controls on the back of the glove. I switch it to the right channel, and show her how to use the controls.

  I’m watching as she presses the button with her right hand, and I notice that the contamination panel on her armour is different from mine. The display panels are smaller, and there’s a grey panel at the end near the glove that I don’t have. I lift her arm to check, and I see the light, flashing on and off, red against the grey plastic.

  It takes me a moment to understand, and then I’m pushing through the group, grabbing people’s arms and checking all the panels.

  All the new suits of armour have smaller displays, and a tiny, flashing light.

  My mind is racing. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s an upgrade to the contamination panels.

  And maybe it’s a tracker.

  And suddenly everything makes sense. If we are under attack, it means the government has found us. They’ve been searching for so long – why have they suddenly tracked us down? I’m sure the signals can’t escape from the bunker. The walls are too thick, and we’re too far underground.

  I think about the journey back from the raid on the coach. I know they didn’t follow us, but they could have been tracking the trucks. And I think about the armour, in the barn. Spray-painted and left overnight to dry. Ten trackers every night, sending out their location for hours.

  We’ve given ourselves away, and we’ve led the army right to us.

  I smack my glove into the concrete wall of the hallway and cry out in frustration, and the sound is too loud in the quiet space.

  “Bex?”

  “They’re trackers. The new contamination panels. They’re trackers, so the government can find lost soldiers …”

  “… and stolen armour.” Dan sounds resigned. “That’s how they’ve found us.”

  “Take them out. Take them all out.”

  We work our way round the group, unclipping the new panels and disconnecting them from the stolen suits.

  I send Jake and Amy to leave the trackers in a pile under Amy’s bed – the furthest point from the entrance to the bunker.

  “You couldn’t have known,” Charlie says, her hand gentle on my shoulder.

  “I should have spotted them earlier. I should have seen them when we unpacked the crates.”

  “They’d still have tracked us back to the farmhouse.” Dan sounds as hopeless as I feel.

  “Will was right! I’ve completely screwed up. No one should be trusting me.” I slap the wall again, fighting tears.

  Will. I realise that he’s gone out with a team of people wearing trackers on their suits. There’s no way they’re getting away with their convoy attack, and there’s no way they’re getting back here without being caught. My knees give way underneath me, and I’m sitting on the floor, my head in my hands.

  “But … Will’s team’s wearing the new armour.” Charlie is making the connection as she speaks.

  I nod. I can’t speak. I have made this happen. I’ve brought the army here, and I’ve trained Will’s team to fight with targets on their backs. We should never have come. We should never have broken Margie out of the camp.

  “We need to get out. We need to get away before they come down here and find us.” Dan grabs my arm as he speaks, dragging me to my feet. “We need to save ourselves.”

  I nod, and try to clear my thoughts. I need to focus on getting this group to safety.

  “We’re going to need supplies. We can’t come back here.” I turn to the group as Jake and Amy come running up the stairs. “Spread out. Grab a rucksack, grab the stuff that you’re going to need, and then fill your bag up with ration bars and water. Quickly. Go!”

  Charlie touches my arm. “Stay here, Bex. I’ll pack you a bag.” I nod, and she runs down the stairs.

  I’m alone in the hallway. I feel winded, as if someone has punched me in the chest. I can’t believe we’ve been broadcasting our location. How easy it was for the government to track our movements. That Will is out there now.

  I need to concentrate.

  Dan is the first person to come back with his bag packed, gun in hand. He looks at me, puts his gun down and gives me a tight, crushing hug. “We can do this. We can get out of here.”

  He holds me for a long time, and eventually I hug him back.

  The others start to arrive, rucksacks on their backs. Charlie is the last to return. She hands my bag to me, and I unclip my gun and shrug the rucksack onto my shoulders.

  “We’re going to get out of the bunker. When we do, I need all of you to disappear into the forest. Run, hide, make your way to the lake. We’ll meet up there, on the far side.

  “Visors down, radios on.” There’s the sound of visors clicking into place, and radios activating. I close my visor, switch my radio on. “Can everyone hear me?” There’s a jumble of voices in my ear. “Raise your hand if you can hear.” Fourteen hands are lifted. “Let’s go.”

  Reality

  The door to the final staircase is the armoured door protecting the bunker. The locking mechanism is a wheel, like the doors on submarines, and the door is made of heavy, thick metal.

  Dan and I grab the wheel and turn it, jumping at every squeak and clang it makes as it moves. The door swings open towards us, and I signal everyone else to stay back.

  The stairwell, with its metal steps, is dark. Dan hands me one of the emergency torches, and I point it upwards, into the black. The space is empty, but the stairs will be loud under our feet. We can’t afford to be caught at this stage – this is a choke point, and there’s no other way out.

  I tell Dan to stay with the group, and I start to make my way, as quietly as possible, up the steps.

  It is impossible to stay silent on the metal stairs. The staircase doubles back on itself three times before ending in a landing, and the door to the gatehouse. I creep up, each step as gentle and quiet as I can make it, but the sound is unbearably loud, even through my helmet.

  The door at the top is closed. I take a deep breath, and turn the handle. The door opens, but I’m trying to understand why I can’t see anything, when I realise there’s a security shutter sealing me inside the stairwell.

  I call Dan up, and he makes the same agonising climb, keeping every movement as slow and gentle as possible. I can feel the staircase shaking as he makes each step.

  I shine my torch onto the shutter. “We’re sealed in.”

  Dan pushes the shutter, but it hardly moves. “We are. There must be some controls on this side.”

  We start looking. “If we’re lucky, they won’t be powered by the main bunker supply.”

  There’s a metal box behind the door, but the button on the front does nothing. Dan steps round the door, and starts pulling on the cover of the box. I stand back and let him work.

  The cover comes free, and inside there’s a handle – a lever we can turn. I kneel down on the top step, and Dan starts to turn the lever. The shutter starts to move.

  The noise seems deafening in the silence, but Dan keeps turning, and I put my head on the floor and look out into the entrance hall.

  The lights are on, blindingly bright; and the screens – although I can’t see the images clearly from here. As the shutter creeps upwards, I see someone lying on the floor, and an overturned chair next to the screens. The door to the outside is closed, and there’s no one else in the space. I signal to Dan to move faster, and the shutter rises into the doorframe.

  I step out into the room, gun raised. The screens are showing grainy, night-time images from the farmyard, and I can’t see them clearly from across the room.

  What I can see is Saunders, lying beside his chair,
face towards me, eyes lifeless. There’s a dark red stain across the front of his T-shirt and on the floor around him.

  I hurry over and kneel beside him, calling his name. I shake his shoulder. I pull off my glove and check his neck for a pulse, but there’s nothing. I’m pushing on his neck, willing his heart to beat, but I know he’s gone. His skin is too cold, and his eyes stare past me. I slide my hand under his head, cradle it in my hands.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”

  I’m expecting tears, but instead I feel a cold determination building in my chest, like an iceberg. This is something else I will not let them do without a fight. My own heartbeat is roaring in my ears.

  There are voices on the radio, and I realise that everyone can hear me. Gently, I lay Saunders down on the cold floor, and close his eyes. His sketch of all of us, from the camp, is lying on the floor next to him. Without thinking I pick it up and tuck it into my belt. I kneel next to him for a moment, and focus on breathing slowly. I’m suddenly seeing his face, at dinner only hours ago; his pride at taking his first night shift in the gatehouse.

  There should be a security guard with him, but there’s no one else here. Slowly I get to my feet and step over Saunders, looking at the screens.

  Dan’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Bex! I’m bringing them up.”

  I murmur something positive. I’m looking at the screens. It’s dark outside – the CCTV footage claims it’s three o’clock in the morning – but the farmyard is brightly lit. There are floodlights on the barn and on the outbuildings, and someone has switched them all on. There are two armoured troop carriers blocking the yard off from the driveway, and in the middle of the farmyard, two people are on their knees, soldiers standing behind them holding guns.