Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2)

by John Wilkinson

  ‘It is’ he replied. ‘It’s the safest place I know.’ Bernard lowered his gun and pulled the plastic sheets off the children, who sat up nervously. ‘If you have any concerns,’ he continued, ‘Ask me questions. I’ll tell you everything I know. There are many people at the camp who have travelled great distances, and have children like yourself, how far have you travelled with them?’

  ‘From Edinburgh.’

  ‘Your lucky to be alive, but you’ve made it, the journey is almost over.’

  ‘How safe is it?’ I asked, still pushing for a level of reassurance that might not be possible.

  ‘It’s the safest place in the north, not just for children, we also have over seven hundred females at the camp.’

  ‘Really? I’m so happy to hear that,’ I said, feeling a bit emotional. ‘I was starting to think no place like this existed. How many people are there altogether?’

  ‘The camp is made up of around six thousand, seven hundred service men of varying ranks, and over five thousand civilians, but that’s increasing daily.’

  I wanted to take the opportunity to find out as much information about our possible new home as I could, and make sure it was the right place to take these children. I asked all the questions that came into my head, what plans the army had for the future and how secure the camp was. Captain Riddle also told me of their plans to open a new camp at a different location, as they could only safely take another one thousand five hundred people, and the daily intake was averaging out at over one hundred and forty. I lifted the piece of rope attached to the front of our boat out of the water, and threw it to Captain Riddle. He tied it to his boats bow eye, to stop us drifting apart, and sat down to listen to our concerns. The children were looking a bit more comfortable, and started to ask questions too, Emma came and sat next to me at the front of the boat, and asked Captain Riddle about life on the camp, ‘Are there other children?’

  ‘Yeah, there’s lots of children at the camp, and lots of fun things to do.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘We have play rooms full of toys with game organisers, and outdoor equipment like bikes and scooters.’ The brothers came closer to listen, gaining in confidence, and interested in the conversation.

  ‘What’s a game organiser?’ James asked, as he found a place to sit next to Emma, and made room for his brother.

  ‘People who look after you, and think up games for you to play.’

  ‘Do you play big alien games, or great white shark games?’ Josh interrupted.

  ‘Yeah I’m sure they do’ laughed Captain Riddle.

  I asked him how the camp was split up, he explained ‘Everyone mucks in, there are jobs for all. Whether it’s looking after the children, cooking, security, or the army itself. We are one of three teams whose job is to find survivors, and bring them back to the camp, targeting different towns each time. But we also have groups who go out collecting supplies and others who salvage useful items for the camp.’

  By this point, our boats had floated back to the raft, that was fastened around the chimney of a terrace house, and we saw first hand some of the work his team had done. There was around twenty people on the raft, mainly elderly, a few children and a couple of pets, something I hadn’t seen for a while. They were all wrapped up in blankets, being fed and watered. They looked like broken human beings, probably much like we did. We talked a while with some of the survivors, whose stories were just as traumatic as ours. Families torn apart, suffering from the extreme cold, starvation and depression. I was also introduced to the team of officers, eleven of them in total, I had forgotten their names by the time I wrote this, but they were all soldiers of varying ranks. They looked well fed, neat and clean shaven, something I hadn’t seen since Roy and Nancy. They talked a good talk, and appeared to be on the level, but I’m not prepared to let my guard down just yet. Captain Riddle also told us about the events leading up to the nuclear war, and how the camp was formed. ‘We were on standby for a few weeks before anything happened’ he said. ‘On heightened alert, but the general consensus within the local barracks was if it kicked off, the politicians would head off to their bunkers after starting the war. So before communication went down we formulated a plan, involving the many different barracks in Lancashire. The camp was originally located at my barracks at Preston, Fulwood, that’s why we have two thousand soldiers from Fulwood at Camp Blue, and we still have a small team at Fulwood, as it’s the place we agreed all soldiers should head towards on the outbreak of war. For the first few months after the bombing, soldiers would arrive from all the local barracks, Squires Gate Blackpool, Lancaster, Bamber Bridge and Fleetwood. Then from further afield, Liverpool, Blackburn and Burnley, but by that time, the world had changed, and the known threat had changed. When we realised the country had been invaded, and the reason why, a decision was made to move to a site in Blackpool, where Camp Blue now stands.’

  ‘Why Blackpool? Seems odd to set up in an area prone to storms and flooding.’

  ‘The conditions have got significantly worse since we made the move, and it’s still a decision that’s questioned today, I think the effect a nuclear war will have on the planet will take years to fully materialise. But the conditions have probably worked in our favour, the creature’s couldn’t cope with them, their weapons and vehicles are too temperamental. We have reports of their aircraft coming down in thick ash clouds, their engines on fire. We take all information available to us, to paint as complete a picture as possible, so we can try and find any weaknesses in the enemy. Even though we have more man power, we are not an offensive army, our main aim presently is to save lives.’ I flashed Bernard I knowing smile, which he acknowledged, before he asked a question of his own. ‘Have you been involved in any battles?’

  ‘In the early days we had a few running battles for control of key areas in the north, but they were only small, we lost men, but still held the areas.’

  ‘I think I might have seen the aftermath of one of those battles,’ I interrupted. ‘We walked over a field full of dead bodies, thousands of them, frozen where they fell.’

  ‘Where was that?’

  ‘I cannot remember exactly, I think it was between Edinburgh and Dumfries, it was before I reached you wasn’t it?’ I said, looking to Bernard for some help.

  ‘Yeah’ he replied, ‘You mentioned something about it.’

  ‘We lost contact with a division from Fort George in Inverness’ replied Captain Riddle. ‘They were on their way here following an operation to obtain a mains generator from a factory on the outskirts of Peebles. When they didn’t turn up, we sent out a team to investigate, but found no trace of them.’

  ‘This wasn’t a team though, it was an army of some kind. There was thousands of bodies, field after field of them.’

  ‘Well it wasn’t a battle we were involved in, but I’m sure there are other army’s and factions, all fighting the same fight as us.’ Captain Riddle asked me to show him on a map where I believed the field might be located, which I did as best I could. ‘So your not planning on attacking Torriero?’ I asked.

  ‘No, but a battle is approaching, we have several reports from lookout points, that he is moving men in preparation for an attack.’

  ‘Are you more concerned with the creatures or Torriero?’

  ‘We are more cautious about things we don’t understand, but each day we are learning more. Torriero is just a puppet, he has taken on the mantle of the creatures mouthpiece, we need to learn more about them if we want to win this war.’

  ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘We are always ready, we have over six thousand soldiers, with superior weapons and ammunition, and we are training all men over the age of seventeen for combat.’

  ‘How many men does Torriero have?’

  ‘We’re not hundred percent sure, but our reports suggest around three thousand, and a large majority of them are not really his men, just desperate people they have picked up along the way.’ We had a walk around on the raf
t to stretch our stiff legs, it was the size of a London bus, made from salvaged wood and rope. Two speedboats were needed to pull it, which were now moored up at the front of the raft, bobbing up and down on the tide. The soldiers offered us a place on the raft, but I explained, after getting this far we wanted to complete the journey on our own, besides they hadn’t finished their job which could take a further few hours. We took directions from them and continued down Garstang Road towards Blackpool, as the weather started to close in, and the winds picked up. The night was on its way, and we really wanted to reach the camp before it became to dark to navigate. We followed the A586 by boat until the water started to decrease before Blackpool, quickly reducing until the bottom of the boat was bouncing off the road beneath. When it wouldn’t move any further, Bernard and I jumped out into the cold, knee deep water, and pulled the boat up onto the tarmac. I leaned over to catch my breath, and put my hand into my jacket, down the neck of my jumper to the wound throbbing on my neck. The bandage had come away, bloody water covered my fingers, so I tried to patch it up as best I could. ‘We are near the sea’ shouted Emma. ‘Look James, sea grass, this is the grass you get near the sea.’ The brothers ran over to Emma, who was on her knees with her hands in the gritty sand by the side of the road, she lifted them into the air, letting the sand tumble to the floor. The long wavy black grass was clumped together in patches, it blew around as the coastal winds picked up. I took a deep breath in through my nostrils, and convinced my self I could smell the sea. We set off again, all on foot, with the rope attached to the boat still rubbing on my painful neck wound. ‘First one to see the sea is the winner’ I shouted, hoping it would give the kids enough motivation to keep walking. As we got closer to the coast, we came to a roundabout, with the town stretching out in front of us. Bleach white holiday houses with water stains high up their walls, debris and rubble had collected in the gardens, and in piles around the edge. Wooden torches had been set alight and placed on either side of the road, to help people find their way, made from what looked like scavenged pieces of wood. From a distance they resembled a runway for an approaching plane at night. There were people inside some of the houses, I observed them moving from room to room, inspecting the damage, and cleaning up. A man was standing in a garden three houses down from the roundabout, he stopped what he was doing and watched us pulling the boat towards him until we were close enough to speak. ‘You won’t need that boat’ he laughed. ‘The waters gone, all of it.’ He was an old, wrinkly gentleman, with white hair and missing teeth. He had a pair of dark blue overalls on, and was cleaning his garden as we arrived. ‘Is this your house?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve lived here for seventy nine years’ he replied, throwing a roll of sodden carpet onto a pile by his overflowing bin. His house was a small cottage with a wooden fascia, the garden stretched from the front of the property, around the side to the back, all of which looked well maintained, if a little damp.

  ‘Did it flood?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, everywhere flooded around here. I prepared for it but it wasn’t enough, it made the floods of two thousand and fourteen look like a drizzle.