Fighting Back (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 4)

by Rachel Churcher

  I take another step, and Gail steps back. “Tell them I’m ready. Tell them I want to fight.”

  Mistake

  KETTY

  Lee and Bracken are waiting in Bracken’s office when I arrive in the morning. I walk in to bring Bracken his coffee, and Lee jumps to his feet.

  “Sit down, Corporal.” He points at the chair next to him.

  I put the coffee on Bracken’s desk, and sit. Lee stays standing, towering over me.

  “What I want to know, Corporal, is what you were thinking.”

  I glance at Bracken for help – for some clue as to what Lee is shouting about, but he stares at the desk in front of him. I look up at Lee.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t know …”

  “Enough, Ketty.”

  He sits down, leaning towards me, his elbows on his knees.

  “Here’s what I don’t understand.” He looks at me, and I nod, my mind racing as I try to work out what he’s angry about. “You have Elizabeth Ellman in the cells.” I nod. “And she’s cooperating.” I nod again. “And at the same time, we’ve got Jake Taylor, about to be deported from Scotland.”

  He points at Bracken. “The Colonel has put in hours of work – hours of tedious negotiation – to make sure that the Scots choose to send him here. To make sure they don’t decide to keep him locked up, or release him, or sort out his asylum problems.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  What are you getting at?

  “So what do you do? In the middle of these complicated negotiations, what do you put on PIN?”

  “I …”

  He raises his voice, and thumps his fist on the desk. I jump, and sit up straighter in my chair.

  “Bex Ellman’s mother, covered in bruises, and with her arm in plaster.”

  “Sir, I was …”

  “I don’t care! I don’t care what you were doing.” He stares at me. “How do you think our Scottish friends will feel about sending Jake back to a country that does that to its prisoners, and then puts them on TV?”

  I’ve made a mistake.

  I’ve taken the freedom Franks gave me, to send footage to PIN, and I’ve screwed up.

  I feel as if I’m falling backwards. As if the floor is swallowing me. I grip the arms of the chair.

  “Sir, I …”

  “Be quiet, Corporal.” Bracken snaps at me from behind the desk.

  Lee glances at Bracken and then back at me. My hands are shaking. I hold on tightly to the chair.

  “I don’t care whether what happened to Elizabeth was a genuine accident, or whether you tipped her out of her wheelchair yourself. I don’t care what you do with your prisoner.” Lee shakes his head. “What I do care about is how your amusement, your game that you play with Bex Ellman, affects everyone else.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I don’t want to see injured old ladies on PIN. Not while we’re making promises about Jake’s safety.” He watches me trying to stay calm under his gaze. “Do you have old footage you could use instead?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Something without black eyes and plaster casts and bruises?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then that’s what I expect to see. At least until we have Jake Taylor here, in London, in a cell. Is that clear?”

  I nod. “That’s clear, Sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  *****

  Back at my desk, I clench my fists and stifle a scream. It was a stupid mistake. I know Elizabeth’s injuries will affect Bex, but I should have known they’d make the Scottish government think twice before sending Jake to the UK.

  Stupid, Ketty. Stupid.

  I sit at my desk, working through the notes from my earlier interviews with Elizabeth. Finding sections we haven’t broadcast yet – anything we can use while we’re waiting for a decision on Jake.

  The outer door opens, and Conrad walks up to my desk, a smirk on his face.

  “So, Ice Queen. Pushed it too far this time, did you?”

  Just what I need.

  I look up at him.

  “You’re enjoying this.”

  He grins. “I really am.”

  I shake my head, and turn back to my notes.

  “Seriously, though – is he mad about it?” I roll my eyes.

  Can’t we just leave this alone?

  “Yes, David. He’s mad.”

  “Good to know. I’ll make sure I’m under the radar today.” He smiles. “I’ll let him take this out on you.”

  Enough already. You win this round. Now leave me alone.

  I shake my head, and focus on my notes.

  “Is he in there?” He points to Bracken’s office.

  “Yes. He’s talking to Bracken.”

  Conrad checks his watch. “He’s going to be late. You don’t want to go in and tell him …?”

  I look up at Conrad with my best recruit-shaming gaze.

  “No. I guess not.”

  I look down again, and ignore him as he knocks on the door.

  *****

  “Thank you, Ketty.”

  I put the coffee down on Bracken’s desk, and turn to go.

  “And I’m sorry.”

  I turn back. “Sir?”

  “About Lee. I shouldn’t have let him talk to you like that this morning.”

  I shrug. “He’s the superior officer, Sir. Not much you could have done.”

  Bracken looks at me for a moment. “Sit down, Ketty.”

  “Sir?”

  He waves at the chairs in front of his desk, and I sit down. He pulls the coffee cup towards him, and stares at it, thinking.

  “Brigadier Lee is a difficult person to work for.”

  I had noticed that, Sir.

  “He … manipulates people.”

  I think about his gift of the PowerGel – the miracle that took me out of a hospital bed and back into active service. And his refusal to replace it when Jake Taylor destroyed it, in the woods behind the bunker. The pain in my knee flares with the memory. “I know, Sir.”

  Bracken waves a hand. “I know you do. But this is worse.” He shakes his head. “Franks has given him a lot of power. He runs the Terrorism Committee, and he doesn’t have to report to Franks. He just makes sure that what we do is kept out of the chain of command.”

  I nod, and wait for him to continue. I don’t have the clearance for whatever he’s going to tell me, so I keep quiet and let him talk.

  “He had no right to go after you, Ketty. What you do is my responsibility.”

  “I have my own access card for Belmarsh, Sir. I’m pretty sure that makes conversations with Elizabeth my responsibility.”

  He looks at me, and rolls his eyes. “That’s Franks, making sure we’re all incriminated. Giving us all enough rope to hang ourselves, if she needs to get rid of us.”

  “What are you saying, Sir?”

  He takes a deep breath. “What I’m saying, Ketty, is be careful. Franks has given Lee the Terrorism Committee. If that gets inconvenient, if people find out what we’re doing, she can claim to have no involvement. She pins it all on Lee, and Lee takes the fall, with the rest of us.” He shakes his head again. “She’s got plenty she can use against me.” He gives me a pleading look.

  I keep my face neutral. “Yes, Sir.”

  “It wouldn’t take much to make her take my job. She knows. She could fire me at any time.” He looks down. “I think that’s why I’m here, Ketty. I think Franks wants disposable people on the Terrorism Committee. People she can lock up or send home whenever she wants. People who have no choice but to play along with Lee’s schemes.”

  Careful, Sir. Both our jobs depend on you keeping yours.

  He looks at me. “And I think she’s using you, too.”

  I think about what Conrad said, at Belmarsh. How my access card is just Franks, playing games with Lee.

  But it’s more than that. Franks is giving me the power to do whatever I want with the prisoners, and with the footage
. She’s testing me. She’s waiting for me to fail.

  She’s waiting for me to go too far. To do something she can hold against me, if she needs to.

  And I took the bait. I put Elizabeth on TV, broken arm and bruises on display. I arranged for the injuries to happen.

  I’ve already handed my job to Franks. Lee can only shout at me, but Franks can bury me. She can send us both home, and she could do it today.

  Conrad told me to be careful. So many times, and I didn’t listen.

  I shake my head. “I think I screwed up, Sir.”

  Bracken laughs. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  I think about Camp Bishop. Bracken taking away my Lead Recruit job. His fury at what I had done. “No, Sir.”

  “We’re still here, Ketty. We’re still useful. Franks hasn’t got rid of us yet.”

  “She’s got the evidence she needs, though.”

  He nods. “Yes. So let’s not give her a chance to use it.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He leans forwards, arms on the desk.

  “We need to stick together, Ketty. We need to look out for each other.” I nod. “No more accidents in the cells. No more injuries on TV.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “And Ketty? I appreciate your discretion. I know you’re looking out for me. I know you’re keeping this from Lee and Franks.” He glances at the filing cabinet, at the drawer where he keeps his whisky bottles. “Thank you.”

  I nod. There’s nothing else to say.

  “Thank you, Sir. I’ll keep this in mind.”

  As I leave the room, something he said is running through my mind.

  “If people find out what we’re doing …”

  *****

  I head to the firing range. I need to think about what Bracken said.

  There’s a training session using the first five booths, but the Private on duty lets me in and sends me to the far end.

  I load my gun, and the feeling of power returns. I’m not being messed around, here. I’m not being kept in the dark. Here, it’s just me and my gun. Here, I can defend myself. Here, I understand what I need to do.

  I wait for the target to swing to the end of the range.

  I clear my head, and take my first shot, controlling the recoil and hitting the target in the chest.

  Is the Terrorism Committee what Bracken feared it would be?

  I shoot again, tearing the target with my bullet.

  Are they coordinating the bombings?

  I line up the sights, and fire again.

  Are they running false flag attacks, like Leominster?

  Aim and shoot. Aim and shoot. Aim and shoot.

  I call the target back, thinking this through.

  Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe this is how we keep the UK safe. How we maintain order, and keep the bombings under control.

  We choose the targets. We manage the incidents.

  We avoid chaos.

  And maybe it isn’t true. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe there’s no conspiracy.

  I take the target down, and load another.

  But what if Bracken is right? What if we are working for the bad guys?

  Are you really buying this, Ketty? Or is this paranoia?

  I load my gun, and line up my target.

  This is about survival.

  Bad situations don’t have to end badly.

  At least we’re still working.

  Witness

  BEX

  “Bex – do you have a moment?”

  Gail is waiting when we walk out of the firing range.

  I exchange a glance with Dan, and shrug. “Sure.”

  “Come with me. There’s something the committee would like to ask you about.”

  “See you in the dining room?” Dan sounds worried.

  I give him a smile. “See you there.”

  I follow Gail to the main building, and up to the conference room. The OIE Executive Committee members are sitting round the table, discussing something, voices raised. The room falls silent as I walk in with Gail, and I wonder what they were arguing about.

  “Bex. Thank you for coming.” Fiona stands, and points to a an empty place at the end of the table. “Take a seat. We’ve got some questions for you, if you don’t mind giving us a few minutes of your time.”

  “Thank you, Madam Chairman.” I force myself to smile, and sit down on the edge of my seat, looking around the table. I’m expecting questions about Jake, and the Netherlands. I’m expecting to be in trouble for shouting at Gail last night. I’m expecting to have to fight my corner.

  I’m not expecting questions about Leominster.

  Fiona sits forward in her chair. “We understand that before you left Camp Bishop, you were a witness to the events in Leominster.”

  An ice-cold river creeps up my spine.

  I nod, surprised at the question. “I went into town, to see what was happening.”

  There’s a murmur from the committee members, but Fiona gestures for them to be quiet.

  “How did you know that something was going on?”

  I think back to the day they captured Margie. What made me sneak out of camp.

  “Our friend was locked up at Camp Bishop.”

  “Margaret Watson?”

  I nod, remembering her bruises. The price she paid to bring us her message. “They caught her breaking into the camp. I spoke to her, and she told me something bad had happened. She told me to go into town, and find out the truth.”

  “And what did you find?”

  I take a deep breath. My spine feels frozen. My hands are starting to shake.

  The memories are vivid, and frightening. I close my eyes.

  “I saw lines of empty cars. I saw people’s belongings, scattered on the floor, as if they’d been running away from something.” The image of a pink teddy bear, lying in the road, comes to mind and for a moment I can’t see anything else. I make myself take a breath, and shake my head. “The buildings were … they were demolished. The weapons made them all collapse.”

  And I’m back in my hiding place in the shop, the building a pile of rubble around me. Jackson walking towards me …

  “What weapons, Bex?”

  I open my eyes, and it’s a shock to be back in the conference room. It’s a moment before I can find the words to explain.

  “City Killers. They used City Killers to start an earthquake.” I’m shaking my head again, images of the ruined town filling my mind.

  A man at the far end of the table looks up from writing notes. “Did they use the electro-magnetic pulse?”

  I take a breath. “I think so. And chemicals. There were chemicals in the air.”

  The man nods, and writes something down.

  “Do you know who did this?” Fiona’s voice is gentle.

  I nod. “I do.” But it’s hard to explain. It’s hard to put something so big, and so terrible, into words.

  “Who did it, Bex? Who attacked Leominster?”

  I make myself breathe. I can see Ketty and the others, laughing as they moved the weapon onto their truck. Jackson, walking over to my hiding place, picking up the discarded lipstick. The three of them, giving each other lipstick war paint, and laughing, as if killing a whole town was a joke to them. I can hear the radio in my suit, informing me that the City Killer belonged to the government.

  To my government. To the people who were training me to fight.

  The realisation hits me again, and I have to make myself breathe.

  I push the images from my mind, and force myself to look up, to meet the eyes of the people watching me.

  To tell them the truth.

  “The government did it. The government set the weapons, and I saw Senior Recruits from Camp Bishop picking them up afterwards. Loading them into trucks and driving them away.”

  There’s a pause. People are making notes or looking at each other across the table. I can’t help wondering what they’re thinking – what those glances mean. I concentrate on taking
slow, steady breaths. Fiona turns back to me.

  “And your friend – how did she know about the attack?”

  I think of Margie, grazes on her face, locked up in the empty dorm. Her desperation. Her mission to warn us – to tell us what our government had done. My anger at Ketty and Jackson for hurting her the way they hurt me.

  “She was a member of a resistance cell. They had some people in town, looking for government targets, but they didn’t come home. She came into camp to tell us what had happened, and to tell us it wasn’t them. It wasn’t the resistance.” I shake my head, blinking away tears. “I didn’t believe her. That’s why I went into town. I wanted to see what she was talking about.”

  “And she was right?”

  I nod, my throat tight.

  “She was right. It was a government attack.”

  The man taking notes glances at Fiona, his voice flat. “And they dressed it up as terrorist action.”

  Fiona turns back to me.

  “So you knew that the government was behind the attack?” I nod. “What did you do when you saw the reports on PIN? The news that it had been a terrorist attack?”

  I remember the images on the morning news. The sick feeling in my stomach.

  “That’s when we left. That’s when we broke Margie out of camp, and joined her cell at Makepeace Farm.”

  “You left because of Leominster?”

  “We left because it was too dangerous. They would have handed our friend over to the government, and it was too dangerous for the rest of us to stay, knowing what we knew about the attack.”

  The committee members exchange glances.

  “Thank you, Bex, for your help. You’re the only eyewitness the resistance has for the attack on Leominster. We might have more questions for you, as we piece together what happened.” Fiona rests her hands on the table. “I appreciate your answers. I know how hard it is to talk about something like this. We’re very grateful.”

  I nod, brushing tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. I don’t know what else to say.