The Moon Stealers Box Set. Books 1-4 (Fantasy Dystopian Books for Teenagers)

by Tim Flanagan

  The sound of the lorry's arrival ignited a sudden frenzy of activity. People dramatically came to life within the Bank Community and everyone appeared to help with the unloading. Some hoped for personal items or news of family members, but they were soon disappointed. Those who worked in the food sector immediately collected boxes that contained produce and scurried away to use them later. Others, from the way they were dressed, obviously worked in the health sector and were taking boxes and wheeling oxygen cylinders straight past Steven, Georgia and Tracker along the long corridor towards their section of the bank. Before long, all boxes and supplies had been cleared and sorted to the relevant sector or stacked inside the Pay Hall. Steven noticed one of the armed men take a box into the room where they had found the gold, then lock the door behind him as he left.

  'There you are!' shouted the old man who had let them into the building. 'I've been looking all over for you.' He had emerged unnoticed at the other end of the corridor. Everyone around the courtyard stopped and turned towards the voice, but Steven knew that it was the three of them he was talking to. The old man shuffled down the corridor from beyond where the nurses were taking medical supplies back to the health sector in a pair of flat, soggy slippers. Eventually, air wheezing from his tight lips, he stood next to Georgia, eyes suspiciously flicking from one face to the next.

  'There's someone who would like to meet you,' he gasped between breaths. He immediately turned around and began walking back the way he had come, expecting the others to automatically follow him. Steven, Tracker and Georgia exchanged glances with each other before reluctantly walking in the same direction.

  The corridor seemed to disappear into shadow, but they noticed the outline of the old man move up a staircase that wound steeply away from the ground. Very little light penetrated this far down the corridor and the staircase was narrow and dark. They gripped tightly to the banister, blindly feeling their way with their feet on each shallow tread. Above them, they could hear the slippers of the old man scuffing across the surface of the steps.

  Steven was the first to emerge from the gloom. He stepped into a well furnished room that had four large windows at one end allowing daylight to stream in. He could see the silhouette of an armed man parading from one window to the next, cautiously checking the sky and ground outside. The carpet on the floor was thick and luxurious, bouncing slightly beneath Steven's feet as he took another step further into the room. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the daylight, he could also see that the walls were draped with thick threaded tapestries, panels of wood bordered with intricate edging, and oil paintings with elaborately scrolled gold frames. A small polished table, its clawed feet half submerged within the thick pile of the carpet, was in front of Steven. On its top was an intricately cut crystal decanter. Light from the window reflected off each piece of angled glass, turning the claret coloured contents into every shade available.

  Beside Steven stood Georgia closely followed by Tracker. The luxurious furnishings of the room were in such contrast to the basic minimal surroundings they had seen in the rest of the building.

  The old man stood before two deep leather armchairs facing a fireplace on the opposite wall, its contents long since smouldered and burnt out. A lady stood up from one of the chairs and turned round to address the new arrivals. She wore army camouflage patterned clothing and had her blonde hair was tied in a pony tail that stuck through the gap at the back of a baseball cap.

  'Good afternoon. Welcome to the Bank Community,' she said as she placed the crystal tumbler she had been drinking from onto the table with the decanter. Her voice was familiar to Steven, Georgia and Tracker as the one they had overheard talking to the old man outside the gold store. 'My name's Wanda,' she grinned an overly false smile. 'I'm the Bank Community Leader.' She stepped forward and held out a welcoming hand to Steven who cautiously took it.

  'They arrived this morning from Yorkshire,' interrupted the old man, pretending that Wanda didn’t already know. There was a tone in his voice that made Steven feel uncomfortable.

  'We are glad that you heard the message and decided to join us,' continued Wanda.

  'You certainly have a well organised operation here,' said Tracker, as he shook Wanda's hand. Steven detected a change in Tracker's voice that he presumed was an edge of caution, despite his friendly conversation. 'This is a very nice room you have here,' he added.

  'This is the headquarters for the bank,' Wanda replied. 'Each sub-section was allocated a leader to run their building independent of the main community that remained at the American Embassy. Each building was carefully chosen for security against the creatures. All supplies, equipment and staff are divided equally amongst all the sub-sections so if one is lost to the creatures, the others can still function independently.'

  'I can't imagine every new person who comes here is given a personal welcome message from the leader,' said Steven who was beginning to tire of the obviously false friendliness. Wanda stared intently at Steven, the smile on her face faltering slightly.

  'You are right, we don’t.' The tension in the room seemed to have changed. Wanda walked towards the windows and the armed guard that silently watched the proceedings. 'In each community we lose survivors every day from lack of food, dirty water or creature attacks, but many more from a bacterial illness that you amazingly seem to have the answer for.' She paused and studied the group before continuing. 'The boy that arrived with you appears to be making a full recovery. The bacterial infection seems to be linked to the creatures somehow and you three not only seem to know more about this illness than anyone else, but you also have the solution. Now how can that be?'

  Without them realising it, three more armed guards had followed them up the staircase and now stood behind Steven, Georgia and Tracker who jumped slightly as the cold metal ring of a gun barrel pressed against the back of their heads.

  'When you think about the facts, it just doesn’t make sense,' continued Wanda as she watched the three of them being pushed into wooden chairs that were propped up against one wall. 'The creatures arrive here from who-knows-where, and in a matter of days a cure is discovered! Seems slightly unlikely to me, unless you knew it was coming. We've worked out that the bacteria is linked somehow to the creatures, but as they appear to be alien to this planet, where could we possibly begin to find an antibiotic that would protect us, or even cure us if we got infected?'

  'Before the creatures attacked, I worked for MI6,' Steven interrupted as he desperately tried to provide some form of explanation. 'A meteor arrived here several months ago that contained an alien bacteria. It is that bacteria which is making your people sick. The bacteria has also rapidly evolved into the creatures.'

  One of the guards was binding Georgia's forearms and hands onto the chair with plastic coated adhesive tape, followed by her ankles.

  'The antibiotic we had has also been distributed to every clinic and doctor's surgery across the UK, they had begun stockpiling it ready for distribution,' added Georgia, talking rapidly.

  Wanda nodded as she walked around the room.

  'She lies,' Wanda calmly pointed at Georgia.

  'No,' panicked Georgia, worried what the consequence for lying would be. The guard behind her grabbed the front of her hair and pulled her head back until it pressed against the back of the chair. Georgia closed her eyes, expecting the worst.

  'She's not lying!' pleaded Steven standing up. The guard near the window stepped further into the room and clicked the safety catch back and aimed it directly at Steven. The guard behind Georgia began winding tape around her head and across her mouth, leaving her nose free to breath through.

  'You mentioned this when you arrived. We have checked three doctors' surgeries and one hospital. There are no stockpiles of antibiotics that match these.' Wanda held up the remains of the box of antibiotics that Steven had given to the old man when they arrived.

  'That can't be right! We were told there were more,' replied Steven confused. 'Maybe different areas of Lond
on didn’t get their supplies before the creatures attacked,' he added, desperately trying to think of an explanation.

  'That was our first thought too so we radioed to the other communities who also checked a similar number of surgeries and hospitals in their area. There are no supplies of antibiotics. These few in this box are the last.'

  Tracker's hands and feet were also now being bound in the same way to Georgia.

  'So, where did you get them?' asked Wanda as she peered intensely at Tracker. 'You don’t look much like a king,' she added examining Tracker's stubbly face.

  'I'm not,' he replied.

  'It seems that you might be. We have had reports that some of the Royal family are dead, whilst others have disappeared. I'll tell you what I think. I think that you planned to lead our survivors and take our provisions and gold for yourself.'

  Tracker laughed out of frustration. 'I'm not interested in your gold. And the creatures won't be interested in your gold either, and when they've killed you, who will look after your gold then! In this new world that the creatures are forcing upon us, gold will have no value. Your life is the most valuable thing you possess.'

  'He lies too,' Wanda nodded to the guard behind Tracker, giving him the sign to begin wrapping tape over his mouth, but Tracker wasn’t prepared to make it easy so began twisting his head around. The guard struck the back of Tracker's head with the handle of his gun, dazing and subduing him.

  'You are not what you seem,' Wanda pointed directly at Steven. 'You and MI6 are somehow responsible for this human catastrophe. The British and American governments have been meddling with human genetics and chemical weapons ever since World War II and these creatures are probably the result of an experiment that went wrong. How else could you already have the antibiotic in your possession, whilst everyone else in the country is left to fend for themselves?'

  'It's really not like that,' pleaded Steven, trying desperately to provide some form of defence against this woman's verbal attack.

  Steven was pushed back into his chair and the guard immediately began tying his hands to the chair just like the other two.

  'What are you going to do with us?' he asked, realising that any argument he could provide was hopeless. The guard put tape over Steven's mouth.

  'If we are to create a new society that is free from lies and deception, all association with the past must be severed. You have no function or use within our community so we will give you to the creatures. I'm sure that they will find a use for you.'

  Although Steven's mouth was taped over, his eyes betrayed his fear even if his voice could not. To his side he heard Georgia release a muted scream as she realised what Wanda had in store for them.

  'Take them down to the van,' instructed a voice from the other armchair that had its back to them. Steven, Georgia and Tracker stopped struggling against their bonds and looked over towards the chair. They recognised the voice that now spoke to Wanda. It was the voice from the radio. The American had been in the room all of the time listening to their unconvincing excuses.

  The tall frame of The American now stood up and turned to face them. Running down one side of his face was a silvery white scar that shone brightly in contrast to his black skin. Steven recognised The American immediately, it was Coldred, the Biochemical Engineer he had first met in a room deep beneath MI6. He had told Steven and Georgia about the stockpiles of antibiotics, but in the lavishly furnished room inside the Bank of England he preferred to remain silent about it, instead giving Steven a crooked smile causing the scar to crease awkwardly across his cheek.

  21. A Reluctant View of London

  The old man went off to find an upright loading trolley. Once he returned Coldred's men tipped the chair with Georgia strapped in backwards, so that it could be manoeuvred more easily. Steven and Tracker could hear her grunts of discomfort as the tape bit into her wrists with every jolt as the wheels dropped down the steps of the staircase.

  Steven remembered the warning his commander had given him; he had known then that Coldred was not a man to be trusted, but Sir Adam was now dead, his body washed up in the Thames. He watched Coldred as he stalked around the room, crystal tumbler in his hand swilling its red contents round in a circular motion. He also recalled the words of the old man who had let them into the bank; Wanda says the American understands how the creatures work. A huge supply of food, water and weapons arrived at the Embassy only days before the creatures attacked. Of all of them, Coldred understood the creatures better than anyone. It was his research facility that had dissected and studied the bacteria as well as the infant creature Georgia had taken to London.

  The armed men returned for Tracker then left with the old man.

  'Go and check they are secure inside the van,' Coldred instructed Wanda who followed the men down the stairs. Steven and Coldred were alone together.

  'I remember when I first saw you, Steven.' Coldred began speaking, even though he was looking out of the large window at the far end of the room. 'I got into the elevator inside MI6. I thought you were a poor choice of Sir Adam's for this investigation. Your file suggested an obsession with alien life-forms and conspiracy theories, but most of all your missing parents. You and your department were the laughing stock of the whole building, but by now most of them are probably dead, so your department was not so wrong after all. That’s the irony of it all, don’t you think? By the time anyone could find any real evidence of an alien presence, there would be no one left you could tell. But, I did believe and I already knew about the creatures long before anyone else.'

  Coldred turned around and looked at Steven who was unable to ask any questions because of the tape around his mouth.

  'I already knew what the bacteria was growing into. We simulated it in my lab. At the rate the bacteria was growing, I knew it would cause devastation across the planet. So I decided to take advantage of it. The only thing I didn’t know was when the creatures would be mature enough in the real world to emerge, so it was a race against time. I keep my own stock of antibiotics for my new community. No one notices the slip of a tablet in their food or water. I can choose who lives and who dies, and who has the skills and knowledge for the new world that I will create. Soon, I will have the wealth and the power to control the rebirth of the human race with me at the helm.'

  Coldred turned a chair round and sat facing Steven.

  'So, you see, I can't have you and your friends dishing out tablets to anyone you like. And Wanda was telling the truth, there are no stockpiles of the antibiotic; it was just a lie to keep Seward happy. He's dead too by the way. Politics is such a dangerous game, as you are about to find out. I'm not personally going to kill you. I thought you might prefer the creatures to do it instead. They are, after all, what you have been looking for all your life, so why not meet one face to face before you go?'

  Steven became aware of the sound of faint voices coming up the staircase towards them. Coldred also heard them and reduced his voice to a whisper. He leant in close to Steven's face.

  'There's one other thing I forgot to tell you. When we were in the elevator, that other guy who got in said he had seen some letters at the bottom of his cereal bowl. Do you remember?'

  Steven nodded.

  'The letters he saw, you should have listened to him and done some research, it's actually the name of my research facility. Maybe there are greater forces at work in this world other than us?' As he pulled away from Steven's face two of his guards came into the room with the wheeled loading trolley.

  They positioned the trolley beneath Steven's chair, then pulled it back until the rear legs were resting on a metal plate above the wheels. Smoothly, he was pushed out of the room to the top of the stairs. Steven could faintly see the edges of the steps that he was perched dangerously above. He decided it would be more dangerous for him to lean forward so tried to keep all of his weight resting hard against the back of the chair and trolley. However, as the trolley dropped down every step he felt the jolt and vibration shoot through
his spine. He was relieved when he reached the bottom and was being wheeled down the corridor towards the Pay Hall. Steven was helpless to stop the men from taking him wherever they wished. One of the guards walked in front of him, whilst the second was pushing the trolley; however, he could hear another set of footsteps following from behind, which he presumed were Coldreds.

  Through the glass windows, Steven could see the lorry that had arrived, was still waiting inside the

  Bullion Court. He was wheeled out of a door and into fresh air towards the open doors at the back of the lorry. As the trolley was shuffled out from beneath the legs of the chair he could see into the back. Tracker and Georgia were already lying down with the wood of the long backs of their chairs separating them from the cold metal floor of the lorry. Within seconds, Steven found himself being lifted into the air then manoeuvred by the two guards so that he was held horizontally facing the sky. He was then roughly slid into the lorry. There was some discussion before the doors were slammed shut with a hollow bang and the back of the lorry was silent and dark.

  Steven tried to twist slightly, hopelessly attempting to see either of the other two, but it was too dark. He heard another slam, this time from the front, closely followed by another. The lorry shook to life as the engine was turned on and the wheels beneath their backs rocked gently over the ancient cobbled surface inside the courtyard. The gentle pace continued over the ground until the lorry turned onto a smoother surface that Steven presumed was the road at the back of the bank.