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

by Rachel Churcher

  Gail stands up and touches my shoulder. “Let’s get you back to your lunch break, Bex.”

  I stand up and follow her out of the room.

  I feel numb. I feel used. In the corridor, I stop.

  “Why this sudden interest in Leominster? What are they trying to find out?”

  Gail turns to me. “The committee wants to find out how many of the bombings we’re seeing now on PIN are terrorist actions, and how many are government-sponsored false flag attacks.” She shrugs. “After what they did in Leominster, who knows what else they’re capable of?”

  I remember the feeling, when I scanned the City Killer. When I confirmed that Margie was right.

  The dizzy, crushing feeling of knowing I was fighting for the wrong side.

  And she’s right. Who knows what else the government is doing?

  I’m angry with the committee and their questions. I’m angry about being stuck here. I’m angry about what the government is doing – what they’re getting away with. I’m angry that no one is stopping them.

  My heart is thumping and I’m clenching my fists, trying to stay in control.

  I stand up straight and look Gail in the eye, trying to recall the anger I felt last night. Trying to make her remember.

  I take a step towards her in the narrow corridor, and she steps back.

  “All the more reason to fight back.” My voice is quiet – more of a snarl than a shout.

  She shakes her head, and I walk away, leaving her with her head bowed, hand against the wall for support.

  *****

  “Were you serious last night, Bex?” Dan sits down on the sofa opposite me.

  I nod, yawning. “Yeah.”

  We’re waiting for Gail to bring the laptop so we can watch the evening news.

  Charlie perches herself on the arm of Dan’s sofa. “You’re really ready to go with Jake to the Netherlands, after everything he’s done to you?”

  I’m too tired for this. I’m too tired to argue.

  I shrug. “This isn’t about Jake any more.”

  Amy looks at me as she sits down next to me. “What do you mean?”

  I close my eyes and take a breath.

  “It started as a way to get Jake out. Get him to safety.” I shake my head. “But you saw Gail. You saw her reaction to Mum, and her bruises. They’re nowhere near fighting back, here.”

  “That’s why they’re training us …”

  “Four of us, Amy?” I point around the room. “How are we supposed to make a difference?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know, Bex. I know we’re safe here, for now. And I know we’re part of something.”

  She sounds so sincere. I can’t help rolling my eyes. I can feel my frustration building again.

  “We’re too safe, here. And so is Gail. Everyone in the OIE – they’ve got themselves out of the UK, and they’re planning to get themselves back into power one day. But that’s not now. That’s not soon enough for Mum, and Margie, and Dr Richards.” I make myself take a breath, shaking my head again. “They’re too comfortable here – there’s no urgency. No one wants to fight back yet.”

  “You’re right.” Dan nods. “You’re right. But will we be any closer to fighting back in Neesh’s army?”

  I nod. I’m sure about this.

  “Yes. There are more of them. It’s not just four people shooting guns and driving cars. It’s a movement.”

  Dan thinks for a moment. “We should talk to Neesh again. See what they’re really doing.”

  Charlie shakes her head. “Gail said it wouldn’t be possible for us to go, Bex. She said it would be too complicated.”

  “I know.” My voice is quiet. I don’t want to hear this.

  Dan glances at Charlie. “She thought it would be worth asking about sending Jake.”

  Charlie shrugs. “She said she’d try.”

  Before I can speak, Amy sits forward in her seat.

  “I know what the OIE has done for us. I know they wanted to have us on their side. They wanted to have the Face of the Resistance working for them.” She looks at me, and I roll my eyes. “But with what’s happened to Jake, and what you said last night – maybe they’ll be happy to get rid of us.” She waves her hands. “Send us all away. Make us someone else’s problem.”

  I nod, thinking about what I said to Gail. I know the OIE rescued us. They got us out of Newcastle, and they gave us somewhere to stay. They’re teaching us and they’re keeping us safe. But did they really want us? This group, with all our hurt and pain? All our experiences at Camp Bishop, and at the bunker? Or did they want the pictures on our wanted posters? Cardboard cut-outs they could train and use to give themselves an advantage over the government?

  I think about the questions from the committee.

  Using me to test their theories.

  Are we just front-line dolls to them? Images they can put on their posters, and their broadcasts? Token soldiers they can show off when they need to look tough?

  There’s a tight feeling in my chest when I think about the way they looked at me. Pushed me for answers.

  “I don’t think the OIE knew what they were getting, with us.” The others turn to look at me. “I think they saw our photos, and they decided they could use us. I don’t think they thought about where we’d come from. What we’ve seen. Give us safety, and take care of us, and they thought they could do whatever they wanted with us.” I laugh. “I think they thought we’d be grateful and obedient. Easy to control.”

  Dan laughs. “We’ve shown them they were wrong about that!”

  I nod, leaning back against the cushions. Dan leans forward, his voice quiet and serious.

  “Do you think this can work, Bex? Do you think we can join the army in the Netherlands?”

  There’s hope in his eyes. He’s starting to see what I’m seeing.

  “I think we can.”

  He looks down, then back at me. “If you can get us out – if you can get us to the Netherlands – I’m coming with you.”

  I catch my breath. It’s like being wrapped in a hug, knowing he’s standing with me.

  “If this is how I can fight for Margie, and your Mum, and all the other people they’ve got locked up, sign me up. If there’s a chance we can get to Margie in time …”

  I’m smiling as I reach forward to catch his hand in mine. “Thanks, Dan.”

  “Me too,” says Amy, determination in her voice. “If they’ve got an army, we should be in it.”

  I give Amy a smile, and look at Charlie.

  I realise I’m holding my breath.

  “Well, there’s no point me staying here if the Face of the Resistance and her gang are leaving.” She smiles, and I smile back. “But watch out, Bex. Don’t get yourself into trouble. And don’t pin all your hopes on Neesh and the resistance force. They might not be ready to fight, either.” She puts her hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You might not be able to help Margie. This might be another dead end.”

  My smile fades. She’s right. We don’t know what the resistance force is planning. They might be months away from an attack. But there are more of them, and they’ve got the active support of a foreign government – not just the tolerance the Scottish government has for the OIE. Joining them has to be better than staying here.

  “I’ll take my chances,” I say, and Dan nods.

  Charlie shakes her head. “Be careful, Bex. Don’t give anyone a reason to arrest you, too.”

  There’s a serious look in her eyes, but I can’t help laughing. “I’ll do my best.”

  I look around at my friends. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t do anything stupid with Gail yesterday. I’d probably be in the cell next to Jake if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

  Dan grins. “I have a rule. Assume Bex is always going to do something incredibly brave and incredibly stupid. It’s our job to work out what you’re doing and how to help. Sometimes that means pulling out a gun and standing with you, and sometimes it means wrestling you into a chair so you don�
�t attack your Liaison Officer.” He shrugs. “The trick is knowing which one to choose.”

  “Cheers, Dan!” I’m offended, but I’m laughing, and the others are laughing with me.

  I think about what he said. If I can get all of us to the Netherlands, we might be able to fight back. We might be able to make a difference.

  And it feels good.

  Jake may wish I would leave him alone, but at least I’ve got the others on my side.

  Bracken

  KETTY

  Bracken’s in a Terrorism Committee meeting, and I’m stuck outside as usual, paperwork in front of me on the desk. There’s a TV on the wall opposite, and I’m watching Margaret’s interrogation clip on PIN when the door opens. I switch off the TV and push the piles of paper into my bag, ready for Bracken.

  Brigadier Lee walks out of the meeting, followed by Bracken. We’re always the last to arrive, and the first to leave. I don’t have the clearance to know who is in the meeting, so they come and go without me.

  Bracken shakes Lee’s hand, and walks out into the corridor. I pick up my bag and follow.

  “Corporal Smith!” Lee shouts from behind me.

  “Sir?”

  “Fetch him some coffee.” He gives me a cold smile, and heads back into the meeting.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I follow Bracken back to his office, and by the time I reach the door he’s already at his desk, whisky bottle and glass in his hand. I step back, put my bag down on my desk, and walk out to fetch cups of coffee for both of us.

  Not making a good impression here, Sir.

  Was Conrad right? Is Bracken in trouble?

  Whatever is happening on the committee, he needs to handle it. He needs to do his job, or we’ll both be fired.

  When I come back with the coffee, he’s sitting, head bowed, his hands round his glass. I put the cup down in front of him and he looks up at me.

  “Tough meeting, Sir?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Get out, Ketty.”

  His voice is quiet, but forceful.

  “Sir?”

  “Get out.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I turn on my heel and take myself to the outer office, closing the door behind me. I sit down at my desk, cup of coffee in my hand.

  Conrad tried to warn me. He told me his concerns about Bracken. That he wouldn’t handle the responsibilities of the Terrorism Committee.

  I’m afraid he was right.

  *****

  Work on Margaret’s trial takes up most of the afternoon. I work on the arrangements, completing forms and making sure the practical side is dealt with. We’ve chosen Horse Guards Parade for the trial location – there’s plenty of space for a stage, and for a large crowd. I call PIN and update the director, and he gives me a run-down of everything they still need.

  It’s past five when I finish my calls. Bracken hasn’t left his office. There’s nothing in the diary for this afternoon, but he usually meets with Lee or Franks, even if they haven’t booked official meetings.

  At six, I knock on his door. There’s no response, so I open it and walk in.

  And catch my breath.

  Bracken is slumped over his desk. There’s an empty bottle next to him, and an empty glass in his hand. His head is resting on his arms.

  Dad used to do this. It used to scare me, back when I needed him to pay the rent.

  I used to leave him, slumped in his chair or at the kitchen table. Check his pulse and breathing. Bring him a blanket before I went to bed.

  I can’t do that here. I can’t leave Bracken at his desk.

  I don’t want to do this again. I don’t want to be the carer. But I don’t want to lose my job, either.

  I take a deep breath, and walk over to the desk. I move the bottle, and his fingers twitch as I take the glass from his grasp.

  Come on, Sir. Don’t do this.

  I reach over and shake his shoulder, gently. He moans, but he doesn’t lift his head.

  “Sir?”

  “Go away.” His voice is muffled. “Leave me alone.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Sir!”

  He lifts his head slightly and shouts. “I said leave me alone!”

  I take a step back. I put the glass and the bottle out of reach on a side table.

  There’s another empty bottle in the bin next to his desk. He needs to sober up, but he won’t let me tell him that. I check the filing cabinet, and pull out the last full bottle. I check the desk drawers and cupboards, but it’s the only drink I find. I take it to the outer office and hide it under my desk.

  I sit in my chair, hands on my desk, and try to decide what to do next.

  If I leave him, he’ll stay here all night. If I push him, he’ll shout, or worse. I remember Dad with the kitchen knife, and I know that’s not a situation I ever want to be in again.

  In the end, I wait. I give him a few hours to sleep it off. I fetch coffee, and water, and painkillers, and I wait for him to move.

  It’s nine o’clock when I hear noises from his office. I knock on the door, and walk in.

  He’s sitting up at his desk, running his fingers through his hair. He looks around, a dazed expression on his face. I put a bottle of water and two painkillers down on the desk and take a step back.

  He looks up at me, and mumbles a thank you. He swallows the painkillers and drinks the water, then puts his head down on his arms again.

  I step forward. “Sir?”

  “What is it, Ketty?”

  “Sir – we should get you home.”

  He lifts his head and squints at his watch. “What time is it?”

  “After nine, Sir.”

  He makes a noise of surprise, and nods. He tries to stand, and drops back into his chair.

  “All right, Sir. I’m going to help you, and we’re going to walk downstairs and hail a taxi.”

  He nods, and stands up again. I take his arm, and pull it over my shoulder, taking his weight. Together, we walk out of the room. I pick up my bag from the desk, and ignore the pain in my knee as we walk down the corridor to the lifts.

  In the entrance hall, the guard raises his eyebrows when he sees us. He checks my pass, glances at Bracken, and opens the door to let us out.

  We walk as far as Whitehall, and wait for a taxi. I realise I don’t know where he’s heading.

  “Where do you live, Sir? What’s your address?”

  “Home.” He seems satisfied with that response.

  Help me out, Sir. I can’t help you like this.

  “Give me your wallet, Sir.” I hold out my hand. He gives me a confused look, but pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands it to me. I search inside and find a driving licence, his address printed on it. It’s not far, but it’s too far to walk. I hail a passing taxi, and help Bracken into the back seat.

  The driver looks back, and looks at me. “I’m not taking him. Not on his own. You’ll have to come, too.” I give him a cold stare. “I want to get paid, and I want him to get out at the other end.” I roll my eyes. “Two of you, or neither of you.”

  “Fine.”

  “Where to?” I hand over the driving licence. The driver looks at it and hands it back. He waits while I let myself into the seat beside Bracken, then pulls away.

  I watch the bright streets through the window as we pass. I’m exhausted, and I can’t believe I’m looking after another drunk. I’ve got enough to do here without babysitting Bracken as well. This is not what I left home for. I left to get away from this, and here I am. Bailing out another alcoholic old man.

  You need to lose him, Ketty. You need to move on.

  If only it was that simple.

  *****

  At Bracken’s flat I pay the fare with cash from his wallet, and help him out of the taxi. He finds his keys in his pocket, and I take them from him and open the door. I help him inside, and make sure the keys and wallet are on the table by the door, where he’ll see them in the morning.

  “I think I should go to b
ed, Ketty.”

  “I think you should, too, Sir,” I say, pulling his arm from my shoulder and letting him stumble into the flat. I follow him into the living room – I want to make sure he doesn’t fall or break anything. Or have another drink.

  The flat is filthy. The kitchen surfaces are piled with dirty dishes, and there’s a smell of rotting food. The coffee table is covered with used glasses, and there are crumbs and stains on the carpet.

  I follow him to the bedroom door, and make sure he’s safely inside. I close the door, and turn to the wreck of his flat.

  I don’t want to sort this out. This isn’t my problem. But if this is how he’s living, no wonder he can’t handle the job. I stare at the room for a moment, then pull off my jacket and roll up my sleeves. This is no worse than gutting chickens at the butcher’s shop, and I did that for two years.

  *****

  When I finish, the dishes and glasses have been washed and dried. I’ve cleaned the surfaces in the kitchen, and vacuumed the carpets. I’ve pulled the cushions from the sofas and cleaned away the crumbs. I’ve cleaned the fridge, and filled a bin bag with rotting food. I’ve scrubbed the bathroom. I can’t stop it from happening again, but at least he’ll wake up to a clean flat. And he’ll probably wonder how it happened.

  It’s past midnight when I head out, closing the door behind me. I dump the bin bag in a wheelie bin, walk along his quiet street to a main road, and hail a taxi home.

  Come on, Sir. Pull yourself together. You’re better than this, and so am I.

  Communication

  BEX

  “We’re all going.”

  Gail blinks. “I’m sorry?”

  I’ve been waiting to say this. I’ve been waiting to tell Gail what we’ve decided, and she doesn’t get to brush me away again.

  “When you send Jake to the Netherlands. We’re all going.”

  She shakes her head. “Bex – I’ve told you …”

  “And I don’t care. We’re going.”

  Dan puts a hand on my shoulder and gives Gail a smile. “What Bex is saying is that we’d all like to request permission to go to the Netherlands. We want to join the resistance force.”