And I realise – it’s Sheena Richards. Lee had time to give one final order in the conference room, before the soldiers came in. William told Bex what happened, and he’s no longer protecting his daughter. The agreement has been broken. This is Lee’s last revenge – his insurance against William’s betrayal.
The Home Forces are still in control here.
I need to get out of the courtyard.
Margie
Bex
I walk through the second checkpoint, following the recruits. The guard lets me through, and I step behind him, past the barriers and into the edge of the crowd.
The Judge is shouting now, whipping the crowd into a frenzy of anger and anticipation. I’m fighting nausea as I turn back, catching sight of Margie on the stage.
She’s handcuffed to a chair, watching the judge with a calm expression on her face. As I watch, she turns her head, listening to the crowd.
I hate what they’re doing. I hate that she has to listen to this.
But the crowd isn’t all one supportive roar. There are other shouts as well. People arguing with the Judge. Calling my name.
My name. From the people in the crowd.
My knees buckle, and I reach out to support myself on the barrier next to me. I can’t take a breath.
People are chanting my name.
I pull my visor up and lean over, aching to get air into my lungs.
I lean on the barrier, face to the floor, and the world spins around me. A hand grabs my arm and shakes me until I look up, and it’s Charlie, her visor up. She’s pushed through the crowd to find me, and she’s here, holding me up. Keeping me from falling. Maz appears beside her, and offers me his arm. I use it to steady myself as I straighten up and take a breath.
“You OK, Bex?”
I nod.
“What’s happening?” I shout, as the crowd noise swallows us.
“We’re not sure. We’re not sure who’s on our side, and who’s still fighting for the Home Forces.” Charlie looks at me, and a smile crosses her face. “Great speech, by the way. You got everyone shouting out here.”
“How much did you get, before they cut me off?”
She smiles again. “Enough, Bex. They’ve been chanting your name. I think you got through.”
I look up at the stage. “And Margie?”
Her face falls. “We can’t get to her. Too many guards.” I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up her hands. “We’re working on it. There’s a group of Netherlands fighters in armour on their way. There’s a plan.”
I nod, my mouth dry. We don’t have much time for their plan to work. Any moment now, the Judge is going to announce the execution. Any moment now we could be too late.
As Maz pulls me into the crowd I notice the line of soldiers in front of the stage, safe behind another high barrier. A line of guns, cutting us off. Keeping us from getting to Margie.
Pass
Ketty
I walk up to the guard at the barrier, backstage pass in my hand. He grunts, and points at my shirt. At the missing nametag.
“How do I know who you are?”
I hold up the pass with one hand, and reach into a pocket with the other. The guard lifts his rifle.
Slowly, Ketty. Don’t screw up now.
I pull out my ID card, and he matches it with the pass. He shrugs, and lowers his gun, waving me through.
I walk quickly round the edge of the stage, showing the pass and the badge to a second guard at the far side. He stares at me for a moment, taking in my missing nametag, and missing Corporal stripes. He raises his eyebrows, but he waves me through, and I turn past him to walk into the safety of the crowd.
Plan
Bex
Amy is waiting in front of the stage. She lifts her visor and gives me a tight hug.
“You were amazing, Bex.” She looks out at the shouting crowd. “Everyone loved your speech.”
I nod. I can’t speak. It doesn’t matter how good my broadcast was, if we can’t save Margie.
The shouting gets louder. There are people calling for the firing squad, and there are people chanting my name.
I look around, trying to decide whether this crowd will help us, or haul us up on stage and shoot us themselves.
“Where’s Dan?”
Charlie points at the stage, but there are too many people in front of us. I can’t see him.
“He’s getting to the barrier.” She looks at me. “I told you, Bex – there’s a plan.”
“So what are we waiting for? He can’t climb over the barrier. Not with the soldiers guarding it.”
She taps the side of her helmet. “He’s in contact with the Netherlands force, over the radios. They’re on their way.”
“How long?”
Charlie shakes her head.
“We don’t know. But they’re coming, Bex. They’re coming.”
I look around again, but it’s just the crowd, and the soldiers under the stage. We need more time.
But the Judge is calling for quiet.
That’s it. Time’s up.
We’re on our own.
Exposed
Ketty
I’m in the crowd, watching the trial on the platform in front of me, the tiny people magnified on the screens behind them. The Judge is speaking, calling for silence, and there are guards walking towards the prisoner, releasing the handcuffs from the straps on the chair and pulling her up by her elbows. The crowd roars as she’s dragged to the edge of the stage and left to stand alone in front of the black backdrop.
I watch Margaret Watson, standing tall and proud as she waits for the firing squad.
I remember the look she gave me in the Enhanced Interrogation room. After the interrogators had beaten her, after I attacked her, she looked right through me, as if I hadn’t hurt her. As if I hadn’t touched her. And I know there’s no fear in her eyes now.
Then there’s another figure in an orange jumpsuit, being led onto the stage, next to Margaret. Sheena Richards, back straight, head held high. Sheena pushes against her guards until they let her stand shoulder to shoulder with Margaret. Both women look straight ahead as Sheena takes Margaret’s handcuffed hand in hers.
The roar of the crowd grows louder, but there’s something wrong with the sound. Something is shifting in the mood in front of the stage. I push forward, to see what’s going on.
There’s a line of soldiers in armour on the ground in front of the platform. They’re looking around, nervous as the crowd shouts and chants. They start to raise their guns.
This isn’t safe. I look at the power-assisted rifles, pointing at the people around me, power lights glowing on the barrels.
The guns are live, and they’re pointing at me.
This is how it feels to be a target.
My pulse is hammering in my ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd. I look around, searching for cover, but there’s nothing here. Only people. Only civilians.
We’re completely exposed, and there’s nowhere to hide.
Execution
Bex
I can’t watch as the Judge announces the execution, and the crowd starts to roar again. They’ll be dragging Margie to this end of the stage, to the bullet-proof backdrop. To the firing squad. I take Charlie’s hand, and press my face into her shoulder. She turns round, and puts her arms round me. Maz stands next to her, with Amy, both of them staring at the stage.
“Don’t watch, Bex,” she whispers. “You don’t need to see this.”
The crowd roars again, louder this time, and I look up at my friend.
I see Margie, standing tall in front of the backdrop, facing four soldiers in armour. Four rifles.
I watch as the guards bring Dr Richards to stand next to her.
There’s some jostling, and Dr Richards pushes her guards away with one shoulder, then steps right up to Margie and silently takes her hand.
I can’t see. I can’t see anything through the tears pouring from my eyes. Charlie tightens her arms aro
und me as my shoulders heave with sobs.
I think about Dr Richards in the farmyard, how I took her from her guard. How she was safe with me for a second or two before she pulled away to help Margie, and I had to leave them both. I had to run, and I had to leave them there.
This is my fault. This is my failure, and they’re paying for it with their lives.
I stumble forwards, and my knees hit the floor. Charlie pulls me to my feet and I lean on her, waiting for the silence. The word from the judge. Waiting for the shots.
But they don’t come.
There’s chanting from behind me. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
They’re chanting my name again.
The crowd parts, and I can see Dan at the front of the stage, his gun clipped to his back and his foot on the barrier.
People are shouting, but I can’t make out their words.
Margie stands, facing the guns.
And Dan jumps, throwing his arms over the barrier and climbing.
Diversion
Ketty
There’s someone climbing the barrier. Someone in armour.
I glance around, but all I can see are angry people, voices loud, fists pumping the air.
The soldiers turn, and step towards the intruder.
And I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
The guns are pointing at someone else.
Dan
Bex
I’m running, shouting at the people in front of me to move. Dan drops down behind the barrier, and the soldiers in front of the stage move towards him, rifles ready. I pull Charlie with me, clipping my gun to my back and pulling down my visor as I run. When we reach the barrier I throw my arms up and pull myself to the top.
I need to stop Dan. I need to keep him safe. I can’t lose two friends today.
Someone grabs my feet and pushes me higher. I pull my legs over the top and drop down next to him.
He’s watching the soldiers, lifting his hands into the air. I activate my radio, then lift mine, and wait.
“They’ll have APs, Dan,” I whisper, my eyes on the the soldiers as they step towards us. “They’ll get through your armour.”
“I know.” His visor is down, and I can’t see his face. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s being brave and stupid, and I’m standing with him, but I have no idea what happens next.
My heart starts to hammer in my chest. “What’s your plan?”
“Charlie?” He says, keeping his hands up.
The soldiers look back at the crowd, distracted by something behind us.
Charlie’s voice is loud in my ear. “We’ve got this! Get to the stage – both of you!”
Dan looks round, then runs for the steps at the edge of the platform.
I glance back, and watch as three figures in armour lift their guns on the far side of the barrier.
The soldier next to me points his gun at my head, and as I duck down his chest plate shatters, throwing him backwards. The plastic pieces clatter against my helmet and I throw my arms over my head as the soldiers swing their guns towards the crowd.
“Run, Bex! We’ve got this!”
There’s more firing now – Charlie, Maz, and Amy, keeping the soldiers busy for me.
I don’t have time to think. I pull my gun from my back, and follow Dan up the stairs.
Shots
Ketty
The Judge is shouting for quiet, but the crowd is roaring.
Another figure climbs over the barrier, and I hear a shot at the front of the stage.
The soldiers are firing. I think they’re shooting at the intruders, but then the people in front of me start to panic, running or ducking down, trying to escape the bullets.
They’re firing into the crowd.
The only cover I have is the people around me. I need to get away from the guns.
Time to leave, Ketty.
I turn and start to push my way back through the crowd, elbowing people out of the way as they shout and chant. They haven’t seen the bullets. They’re too busy watching the show.
Bullets
Bex
We sprint up the steps, into the sights of the firing squad.
And the judge gives the order.
Dan throws himself at Margie, locking his hand above her elbow and twisting her round, pushing her onto the stage. He crouches over her, head down, both arms wrapped round her, his back to the guards. She draws her knees up to her chest and ducks her head as he takes bullet after bullet, his armour denting with the force of the shots.
I’m turning to Dr Richards, reaching out to pull her away, when a tall figure sprints out from the curtains at the back of the stage and slams into her, knocking her head back and taking both of them to the floor. I close my hand on nothing, and she’s falling away from me again.
I can see the farmyard. Margie, falling to her knees. Dr Richards, pulling away from me to help. The soldiers, firing.
I watch, holding my breath. Time seems to slow down as she falls, her arms out, her hair framing her face.
As the guards fire over and over.
Everything around me seems to freeze.
I see the rifles, powered up and firing at my friends.
I see stray bullets raising puffs of dust from the black backdrop.
I see Dan and Margie, rocked by the impact of every bullet.
And I see Will, his arms round his daughter, shots erupting from the back of his shirt.
I raise my gun, and turn to the firing squad.
The figure in front of me is a silhouette. A paper target.
I line up my rifle, and I shoot.
Panic
Ketty
There’s more shooting, now. The judge gives the order, and instead of a line of clean shots there’s a rain of bullets.
This isn’t what we planned. This isn’t what Conrad was expecting.
Get out, Ketty. Get away.
I keep pushing away from the platform as the panic starts to spread. I duck down and muscle my way through people shouting, people trying to run, people too shocked to move. The crowd is reacting, and I can’t tell what they’re going to do.
Keep calm. Keep moving.
There’s no way to know how this ends.
Blood
Bex
The guard falls. His armour shatters, and my bullet slams into him. His rifle bounces on the stage.
I fire again, and again, as the guards switch their target, firing back at me.
My pulse is loud and fast in my ears, and I’m taking quick, gasping breaths.
They’re firing at me.
I wait for pain. I wait for Armour-Piercing bullets to rip into me.
The bullets punch my armour, knocking me backwards, but the panels hold. These rounds are designed for executions, not soldiers. They’ll bruise, but they won’t reach me.
I keep firing. Sending bullets into the targets in front of me. Smashing their armour and throwing them back onto the stage. I don’t stop until all the soldiers are down.
When the shooting stops, I lower my rifle. The firing squad is gone, bodies scattered across the stage. I force myself to see paper silhouettes. Neat bullet wounds. Target practice.
The judge is cowering against the podium, holding his hands in the air, eyes closed. His image is repeated on the screens behind him.
As I watch, the cameras turn to me.
And there are voices in my helmet.
“Drop your weapons! coalition forces!”
A soldier in camouflage climbs the steps at the far end of the stage, rifle trained on us. I hold my gun up in one hand, and slowly lower it to the floor. I lift my hands up in front of me.
Someone grabs my shoulder from behind, pulling me round and lifting my visor.
“It’s her!” The soldier shouts, over my shoulder. “It’s Ellman!”
Is this the coalition, or are the Home Forces taking back control? Are we safe, or are we prisoners?
I can’t stand
up.
The soldier tries to pull me back to my feet, but I fall to my knees, pulling my helmet off and crawling to where Will and Dr Richards are lying on the stage.
Will’s shirt is shredded, and what’s left of his back is red and wet with blood. There’s no way he survives this.
I take his shoulder and pull him towards me, dragging his weight off my teacher.
Dr Richards lies still, her eyes closed.
And there’s a red stain spreading from her shoulder.
Squad
Ketty
The sound of the bullets grows louder, and the people around me stop shouting. I push between them, and they let me pass, staring at the screens.
It’s as if everyone’s holding their breath.
I glance back at the stage.
The prisoners are on the ground. Someone’s crouched over Margaret, shielding her from the bullets.
There’s a flash of orange from Sheena’s jumpsuit, but I can’t see what’s happened to her.
And there’s a figure in armour, rifle raised at the firing squad, armour-piercing bullets cutting them down as they stand and shoot.
The last guard falls. The judge is crouched against the podium, arms over his head, his face filling the giant screens.
There’s a moment of silence, after the bullets. A moment when no one takes a breath.
And then there are soldiers, climbing onto the platform. Soldiers in fatigues, rifles raised.
You’re not safe yet, Ketty.
I turn, and keep pushing back through the crowd.
Victory Day (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 5) Page 8
