Victory Day
Battle Ground #5
Rachel Churcher
www.tallerbooks.com
CONTENTS
From the Author
Notes
MARCH
Prologue
PART 1
MARCH
Waiting
Silent
Worry
Rumours
Despair
Deception
Departure
PIN
Real
Soldiers
Whitehall
Suspicion
Sprint
Threat
Gun
Calm
Door
William
Betrayal
Sides
Object
Choice
Hit
Protected
Broadcast
Fight
Barriers
Turncoat
Checkpoint
Blocked
Margie
Pass
Plan
Exposed
Execution
Diversion
Dan
Shots
Bullets
Panic
Blood
Squad
Pulse
Trapped
King
Speech
Medics
Disguise
Stretcher
Ambulance
Together
Backstage
Deal
Bargain
Rescue
Alone
Insight
Taken
Promise
Locks
Discussion
Cell
Bully
Conrad
Cars
Pride
Motorcade
Walk
Dressed
Pockets
Party
Cellmate
Shopping
Prison
Studio
Talk
Lunch
Whispers
Park
Revenge
Publicity
Physical
Fiona
Past
Dark
Interview
Campaign
Hospital
TV
Honesty
Shouting
Meltdown
Debt
Response
Packing
Taxi
Refuge
Morphine
PART 2
MAY
Gift
Belmarsh
Funeral
Flowers
JUNE
Victory
Changes
VIP
Working
Plans
Lines
Rooftop
Jackson
Saunders
Understanding
Fireworks
Beginning
SEPTEMBER
New
Note
Reviews
The Battle Ground Series
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Victory Day (Battle Ground #5)
From the Author
Thank you for your interest in the Battle Ground series! If you’re new here, welcome.
Here’s the part where I do something crazy, for an author. Here’s the part where I tell you not to read this book.
Victory Day is Book Five in the Battle Ground series. If you’ve read the earlier books, ignore me. Keep reading. You know the story, and you’re waiting to find out what happens next. But if you haven’t read the earlier books, go back and do that now, before you start Book Five.
Jumping into the series with Victory Day is like opening a book near the end, and hoping you’ll figure out what’s going on. The Battle Ground series is one long story, from Book One through to Book Five, and you’ll need to know what happened to the characters before you meet Bex, just over the page.
It might sound bossy, me telling you how to read my books, but here’s why it’s important. I rely on reviews to promote my books. I rely on readers leaving honest and thoughtful reviews on Amazon and Goodreads and Library Thing. That’s what encourages other people to pick up my books and read my stories.
If you read Victory Day without knowing what happened to my characters before the start of the book, the chances are that you’re going to leave me a bad review. This book references events that took place in Books One, Two, Three, and Four, and without knowing what those events were, and how the characters felt about them, they won’t mean anything – and neither will the story.
Bad reviews are bad for me, and bad for my writing. Good reviews help me to reach new readers, and that allows me to write more books.
The good news is that it’s easy to find Battle Ground (Book One). You can buy a paperback copy, or download a Kindle edition, from Amazon – and it’s free on Kindle Unlimited. Just search ‘Rachel Churcher Battle Ground’ on your local Amazon site, and you’ll be reading the start of the story in no time.
And when you’ve read Battle Ground, False Flag, Darkest Hour, and Fighting Back, please pick this book up again and dive right in. Thank you for your patience. Bex and Ketty will be waiting for you.
Notes
Margie’s name is pronounced with a hard ‘g’, like the ‘g’ in Margaret: Marg-ie, not Marj-ie.
Leominster is a town in Herefordshire, UK. It is pronounced ‘Lem-ster’.
MARCH
BEX
Prologue
We're out of time.
I need to see paper targets, not people. I need to take my training and use it to save my friends. I can't let my feelings stop me.
I close my eyes, and focus.
Save Margie. Save Dan. Rescue Mum.
The rifle is heavy in my hands.
I lift it, take aim, and pull the trigger.
PART 1
MARCH
(TWO WEEKS EARLIER)
Waiting
Bex
The metal stairs creak as I climb the fire escape to the roof. The last of the light is fading from the sky, and I wrap my winter coat around me, pulling the sleeve down to protect my hand from the cold banister rail.
Dan is waiting at the top, and Amy follows behind me. We sit on the roof-level landing, our backs against the cold brick parapet, and look out at the rooftops around us. Amy pulls a slab of chocolate from her pocket, breaks off a square and hands the rest to me. I take some, and pass it to Dan. We sit for a while, eating chocolate and passing the bar between us. The sky glows orange and pink, then gold, and the buildings look like black shapes pasted onto a mural. There are church spires and square blocks of flats, and in the distance we can see skyscrapers, clustered together.
I can’t help smiling.
We’re in London.
The landing shakes and creaks as someone else climbs the stairs.
“Bex?” It’s an urgent whisper, one floor down in the dark.
“Charlie! Up here!” I keep my voice as quiet as I can.
The landing shakes again, and Charlie leans against the railings, looking up at us.
“Fiona’s looking for you. She’s got a briefing to give, and she’s waiting for you lot.” She looks around, at the dark roof of the empty hotel. “And keep your heads down. You know she doesn’t like you coming up here.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Tell her we’re on our way.”
She smiles, and gives me a mock salute. “Yes, Miss C
ommittee Member!” The landing shudders as she heads back down the stairs.
Amy pushes the remains of the chocolate bar into her pocket, and takes a last look out at the sunset.
“We’re here, Bex. We’re really here.” She takes my hand, and squeezes it.
I give her a smile. “We’re really here.”
Dan stares at the skyline, the golden sky reflected in his eyes. His voice is barely a whisper.
“I wish I knew where she is.”
“Margie?” He nods. “Close, Dan. She’s close. Margie, and Mum, and Dr Richards.”
He nods again, and pulls himself up on the handrail, bent double to keep his head below the level of the parapet.
“Coming?”
“Wouldn’t want to keep Chairman Fiona waiting.”
We walk together down the rattling stairs in the dark.
*****
The safe house is an old hotel. The windows are boarded up, but the electricity works, and there’s running water. We’re hidden, as long as we stay out of sight, stay quiet, and keep the lights off as much as we can. There’s a service yard between the reception building and most of the rooms, and the OIE smuggled us in through the service entrances, out of sight of the road.
We’re working with local resistance cells, who brought us here in private cars and delivery vans. Most of us crossed to the UK from northern France, hidden in fishing boats and dropped off at lonely points along the coast in the middle of the night. Dan and I came in from Ireland, the boat leaving us on a tiny, cliff-backed beach in Wales. We climbed the cliff path by torchlight, and the resistance met us on the road at the top.
We stopped twice on our journey to London. Once, in a farmhouse near Bridgend, and again near Farnham. We changed vehicles, and slept on sofas and spare beds while we waited for the next drivers to arrive. We travelled at night. People were kind, and thanked us for fighting back. More than once, I saw my photo on an OIE poster, encouraging people to resist, flashing past in the dark as we drove. More than once, I saw the same photo on my Wanted poster. I pulled my hood up, and slumped down in my seat.
It’s strange, being back in the UK. Having to hide my face, in case the government catches me. Exchanging the safety of Scotland for the danger of London.
If we get this wrong, if the government finds us, we’ll be executed. The country will watch, live on TV, as the Home Forces put bullets in us all. As they wipe out the Face of the Resistance and the Opposition In Exile. As they wipe out hope. We’re all targets, and we’re all here to lead the invasion.
The Home Forces are afraid of us, and they should be. We’ve got twenty armies behind us – a coalition of governments, heading for the ports and airports. If we’re lucky, no one knows they’re coming. If we’re lucky, no one knows we’re here.
I’m the Face of the Resistance, and I’m here to inspire an uprising.
I open the door to the hotel ballroom, and my friends follow me inside.
*****
Fiona holds up her hands for quiet, and the room falls silent.
“Congratulations,” she says, smiling. “Stage one of the liberation is complete. Everyone we’re expecting is here. You’ve all arrived safely, and we’ve had no surprises on our way in. A special welcome to our local resistance supporters – thank you for joining us. We couldn’t do this without you.” There are some quiet cheers, and a few people clap. Fiona holds her hands up again.
“New arrivals – you’ve all found your rooms?” She looks around at the people in front of her. “Any problems?” No one speaks up.
“You know the rules. No going outside. Make sure you’re not visible from the street. No excess noise. Keep the lights off unless you really need them. Use table lamps and torches if you can. Charlie and Maz,” she waves a hand in our direction, “have set up the kitchen, and they’ll be providing us with meals. No more ration bars – I’m sure we’re all looking forward to some real food. They’re operating under challenging conditions, so no complaining, please!” There’s some quiet laughter, and someone pats Maz on the back. “There will be an OIE committee member on duty in the dining room at all times – go to them with any problems. We will do our best to keep things safe and working.
“Please remember – one mistake is all it would take for the government to find us and arrest us. Under this roof,” she points up at the ceiling, “are all their most wanted resistance fighters. That’s you, and me. We are all responsible for the safety of everyone here. Stay quiet, and stay out of sight. And be ready. When the signal comes to make our move, we might have minutes to act. Keep your armour ready, and your guns loaded. Be organised, and be prepared to move out at any time.
“For now, get some sleep. We don’t know how long we’ll be here, so make the most of the quiet while you can. We’ll have a full briefing after breakfast in the morning.”
*****
The hotel rooms are empty – stripped back to bare floorboards and peeling walls. The bathrooms still work, and someone’s put camp beds and sleeping bags out for us to use. Amy’s sharing with me, and Dan’s next door. Charlie and Maz are on the other side. I’m glad I’m not in a room by myself – the floorboards creak, the boarded-up windows cut off any escape, and navigating the pitch-black room by torchlight throws up creepy shadows against the walls. With two of us, it’s easier to laugh at the shapes in the corners of the room.
Our crates of armour sit just inside the door, and we’ve pushed our guns under our beds. I didn’t think the Scottish government would let us take them when we left, but they’ve told Fiona that they’re backing the invasion, and they’ve sent guns and armour for all of us. We’ll need them when the invasion begins. I know we won’t stand a chance if the government raids the hotel, but it’s comforting to know that we could do some damage. I feel better, knowing the rifle is within reach.
“It’s going to be OK, isn’t it, Bex?” Amy sounds sleepy, curled up on her camp bed. “We got here, and we’re safe, and we’re going to rescue your Mum.”
I smile in the darkness. We’re still in danger. The government could find us, and take us all to the cells. Fiona’s plan could fall apart.
But this feels better than lying in my safe, comfortable bed in Scotland.
I’m here, and I’m doing something. We’re standing up to the Home Forces, and we’re bringing the coalition together.
“We’re going to make it OK, Amy. You, me, and the resistance. We’re ready.”
Silent
Ketty
“Miss Watson. Ready for your big day?”
Brigadier Lee lounges in the interrogation room chair, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. Margaret looks ahead, at the one-way mirror. She sits up straight, as usual, and there’s a defiant look in her eyes. As usual, she’s refusing to speak.
Lee has two weeks to get a soundbite we can use at the trial. Like all terrorist suspects, Margaret Watson is guaranteed a guilty verdict and a public firing squad. Hers is scheduled for two weeks from today. The Public Information Network has been running trailers for the event for weeks – we need her friends to be watching. We need the country to be watching. She was caught at Makepeace Farm, and she’s a friend of the Face of the Resistance. Executing her sends a message to Bex Ellman, and the Opposition In Exile. It shows them what we can do, and it shows them what to expect, when we bring them back to London.
Conrad is busy with final arrangements for the trial, so I’m running the cameras and the recording equipment today. The bruises I gave Margaret last time we met have mostly healed, and Lee doesn’t trust me to question her again, so I’m behind the one-way mirror, waiting for her to speak.
“It must be hard, knowing your life will be over before you’re eighteen. Any regrets, Miss Watson? Any unfulfilled ambitions you’d like to share with our audience?” Lee tilts his head, and I know he’s still smirking.
Margaret closes her eyes for a moment, then lifts her chin and fixes her gaze on the mirror.
Tough kid. That’s what Co
nrad called her. And he’s right.
“You have parents, don’t you?” Margaret blinks, but keeps her eyes on the mirror. “And a little sister, if I’m not mistaken.” Her gaze shifts, and she’s looking at the ceiling, her eyes filling with tears.
Getting to you, is he?
“Nothing you want to say to them?”
She shakes her head, slowly. Her hands are shaking, and she pushes them flat against the table, her handcuffs digging into her wrists.
“And what about Bex Ellman? Anything to say to her?”
She glances at Lee, almost too quickly to notice, and then stares straight ahead, tears spilling onto her face.
Come on, Margaret. Give us something to use on PIN.
Lee leans forward in his chair. “And Dan Pearce. I’m sure he’s watching. I think he’d want to hear from you. What would you like to say to him?”
I think of the look on Margaret’s face when she saw the photo of Dan. The brief smile she couldn’t hide when she realised he was free – that we hadn’t found him.
She closes her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks, and her shoulders shake. She sobs, twice, then takes a deep breath and shakes her head again, eyes closed.
When she opens her eyes, she’s looking at me through the mirror.
She’s looking through me.
And I think of Camp Bishop, after Jackson threw his punches. The Enhanced Interrogation room, throwing punches of my own. Margaret Watson looking through me, as if nothing, and no one, could touch her.
*****
Lee slams open the door to the observation room as the prison guards arrive to take Margaret back to her cell.
“Show me,” he says, sitting down next to me in the cramped space.
I play back the interview, and he shakes his head.
“Too sympathetic. We can’t risk public opinion shifting in her favour.” He looks through the mirror at the empty room. “Do you have anything else?”
“Nothing where she speaks. We’ve already used that.”
Victory Day (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 5) Page 1
