Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2)

by John Wilkinson

  ‘Sergeant Davis has been briefed on the camps position and will take the negotiations’ said General Morris. ‘And you will both provide support, and advice. You will leave the camp at one pm, and should arrive back sometime in the early hours. Although we are hopeful this meeting could end the possibility of war, preparations will continue. If we can gain a better understanding of Torriero and the creatures, we can plan more efficiently. No attempt to communicate with the spy who has infiltrated Torriero’s camp should be made, and his identity must remain unknown.’

  General Morris then asked if there were any questions, and when presented with silence, adjourned the meeting. Before we left, I handed General Harris the list of presents needed for Christmas, so he could organise the supply run. Sergeant Davis told Rhino and I to go and get some lunch, and sort out any loose ends before we leave. I nipped into the stadium to speak to Bernard at weapons training, and told him what was happening. He was slightly concerned about the mission, and didn’t feel I should be put forward for such jobs. But I have to say, the opportunity to meet Torierro excites me, this is a man who we have heard so much about and yet know so little. His character is no more than an outline, and I’m going to get the chance to colour him in. I went to the classrooms, to speak to Emma and the boys, before I left. The school is located in a row of fourteen terraced houses, snaking around the left hand side of the hotel. Each house has been gutted, and furnished with tables and chairs from the local primary and secondary schools, plus any other useful equipment and literature. Emma and the boys are educated in the second house (named Woodhead), which covers the first three floors of the hotel. The houses are named Woodside, Woodhead, Rose Grove, Fishermoor, Holmefield, Spring Garden and Park Hill. All dealing with different floors from the hotel, with high security around them all. I could see Mrs Brownhill through the front window as I past, doting over the children. I patted the clear PVC, covering the window frame, until she noticed me and came outside. I explained I was going away for the rest of the day, and wanted to speak to the children, as they would be asleep when I got back. I didn’t tell her, or the children what the mission involved, I didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily. I would be there and back before the true extent of the mission was revealed. They were excused from class for five minutes, so I could explain that Bernard would be looking after them tonight, and not to play up for him. I went for an early lunch, where the only other person eating was a sergeant, that I recognised, but couldn’t remember where from. I collected my food and sat at his table, as his face re lit my memory.

  ‘Welsh isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What you doing on this floor, you lost?’

  ‘They wouldn’t feed me on my floor, useless set of wankers.’

  ‘Oh, maybe if you were a bit nicer to them, they’d have fed you.’

  He snarled his lip at me, like the thought was ridiculous.

  ‘You were sent out to seize control of a possible new site weren’t you?’ I asked. ‘For a new camp?’

  ‘Yeah, they called for us to return though, need all offensive companies back in preparation for the war. You’re in Blue and White Company aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You be careful, that Davis will get you killed’ he sniggered, like a school boy.

  ‘Funny, he seems to be the go to man when it comes to important missions, for the generals at least.’ Welsh snorted loudly at the thought, and carried on eating his lunch before responding in his typical bitter way.

  ‘He’s the generals fucking pet, that’s for sure.’

  ‘I honestly cannot think of a reason to dislike Chris, it must be you. Do you like anyone? Does anyone like you?’

  ‘I don’t give a shit if anyone likes me, I get the job done, if I piss people off in the process, so be it. People don’t like the truth, like you, you shouldn’t be anywhere near an army, I sure don’t want you fighting next to me.’

  ‘Oh’ I laughed, ‘It’s good to see you’ll give a new soldier the time he needs to bed in.’

  I packed up my half eaten food and left him to his lunch, still amused by his level of arrogance. I could understand why no one, including his own men, like the prick. I had thirty minutes before we were due to leave, so I wrote up the mornings diary entry.

  15/12/27 - Time 13:00

  The mission had been kept top secret, even from other military personnel, it was certainly not mentioned in any conversations that took place prior to leaving. There was no big send off, it was as low key as the army is possible to be. I met Sergeant Davis and Rhino outside the stadium, and we waited for Torriero’s man, who was brought by armed guard from the cells, in the basement of the hotel. He was in a jovial manner when he arrived, and introduced himself as Tom Bradshaw. He was a big fella, all stomach, with a dirty beard and long dirty hair that was receding.

  ‘So you guys are the best the camp has to offer?’ He said, with a wry grin. ‘I’m going to have to check you for weapons.’

  ‘Ok’ said Sergeant Davis, raising his arms in the air. ‘But I must tell you Tom, I have a handgun, which I will not be surrendering until I’m happy.’

  ‘Fair enough’ he replied, as he patted us down individually. ‘But they won’t allow you into the camp with it.’ Sergeant Davis nodded his understanding, as the white van was brought around to the front of the stadium by a guard, who climbed out and handed the keys to Bradshaw. I rubbed some of the ash and grime off the side with my hand, revealing a logo for a sign company, in central Lancashire. It had a Preston address, so had been sourced locally. Tom opened the back doors, their hinges creaked and groaned as they hit the metal side panels. The inside had an off putting smell, and was littered with rubbish. One at a time we climbed in, brushing the rubbish off the metal bench seats across each side of the van, and sat down.

  ‘Hope you’re comfortable?’ Bradshaw shouted, as he slammed the doors shut, and locked them. The inside of the van was dark, with little light coming from the windows on the back doors. The vehicle started up at the second attempt, and slowly moved away. Once past the security base, the vehicle headed towards Preston. I stood by the back window, until we were on the M55, and I was comfortable we were heading in the right direction. I assumed we would head towards Manchester, along the M6, before taking the M62 to Leeds. It would be an hour and a half journey, maybe a little more in this vehicle. The drive was bumpy, the van sounding like it could fall apart, as we navigated between abandoned vehicles and debris. ‘How long have you two known each other?’ I asked, settling in for the journey.

  ‘A long time’ replied Sergeant Davis.

  ‘Too long’ laughed Rhino, giving Chris an elbow that would wind a wrestler.

  ‘We met at training, must be-’

  ‘Seven years ago’ interrupted Rhino. ‘Annette and I had just had Zack.’

  ‘Yeah that’s right. We breezed through training at that age, wouldn’t like to do it now.’

  ‘You’re both youngsters’ I laughed.

  ‘Compared to you Driver, we’re still a glint in our fathers eye’ laughed Rhino. ‘Chris is Zack’s God Father, he’s been great with the boys, they love spending time with him. Very helpful when Annette and I wanted to spend a little time together alone, army life doesn’t really afford you a lot of that.’

  Sergeant Davis and Rhino were sat opposite me, I noticed matching tattoos on both their right hands, and asked them about it. Sergeant Davis looked a little embarrassed, while Rhino couldn’t hide his amusement. ‘It’s just the company tattoo’ said Sergeant Davis, trying to move the conversation along. ‘Look, it’s a white top, red bottomed diamond, with a sword cutting across both. Under that is the Lancashire red rose, with our regiment name.’ As Sergeant Davis became redder and redder, Rhino became more and more enthused. ‘Tell him the truth’ said Rhino.

  ‘What? I’ve told him.’

  ‘If you don’t explain about the tattoo, I will.’

  ‘Explain what?’ I asked, intrigued b
y what was unfolding. There was a small period of silence, in which the two of them stared at each other, making facial expressions, before Sergeant Davis finally gave in and spoke.

  ‘All right. As you can probably work out, there is another story to the tattoos, and I would like to thank Rhino for giving me the opportunity to share it with you. When we completed basic training, it’s fair to say there was some alcohol partaken. We were young and fucking stupid, as are most at that age. Anyway, I don’t recall anything about the said night, I just remember waking up and seeing this image on my hand, and thinking what the fuck have I done?’

  ‘Tell him what it was’ laughed Rhino, making no attempt to hide his amusement.

  ‘It was Deirdre Barlow.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Deirdre Barlow, she was in Coronation Street years ago.’

  Rhino hit the floor in fits of laughter, much to the visual annoyance of Sergeant Davis.

  ‘So many questions’ I said. ‘But first, why?’

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t even fucking watch Coronation Street.’

  Everyone burst out laughing, even Sergeant Davis, although he still didn’t find it as funny as Rhino.

  ‘I was sure it was pen’ said Sergeant Davis. ‘I had it under the tap, scrubbing it, until it was red raw. But it didn’t come off, her face remained, starring back at me.’

  ‘I suppose I should take some of the blame for this.’

  ‘Some of the blame? You are completely to blame.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose I am. Chris has a liking for the older lady’ laughed Rhino. ‘So I helped him pick a suitable tattoo while he was inebriated.’

  ‘I don’t like older women.’

  Rhino raised his eyebrows at Sergeant Davis, and flashed him a grin, before continuing.

  ‘On a night out around Preston, while we were training, Chris ended up taking a lady home at the end of the night, that was old enough to be his grandma.’

  ‘She was thirty eight.’

  ‘More like fifty eight. Let’s be fair, Chris is a good looking fella, out of all the trainees that year, he was the most successful with the ladies, which made his decision that night even funnier.’

  They seem close, Chris and Rhino, I suppose that’s what you get in a company like Blue and White, it’s more than friendship, it’s something altogether stronger. We laughed at stories from the two of them all the way along the M61, some including Chris’s younger brother Little D. Just before we turned onto the M62, the light coming through the back windows of the van diminished. I had a look outside at the devastation surrounding Manchester, and didn’t recognise what I was looking at. We were a good few miles from the epicenter, but very little was still standing. Buildings in rubble, everything was flat. The sky around us had significantly darkened, and the vehicle was hit sporadically with short violent storms. It was the closest I’d been to Manchester since the day of the attack, it’s hard to believe anything survived around here, I was lucky. The vehicle came to a stop just after joining the M62, pulling over onto the hard shoulder. We sat there for a few minutes, so I went to the back window to investigate. Sergeant Davis banged on the metal panel between him and the driver, and shouted at him for an update as to what was happening.

  ‘Nothing to worry about’ he replied. ‘We’re just waiting for someone.’

  Out of the window, I could see a long stretch of motorway, as the wind blew ash and rain across the lanes, making it hard to see. Out of the darkness came a vehicle, travelling along the same part of the motorway towards us, it slowed down around thirty yards away. As it did, our vehicle started up again, and we continued with it following us. We stayed in convoy for around fifteen minutes, before we came to a stop again. The lock on the back door screeched as it was unlocked, and the doors opened. Stood outside in the rain were three men, in long trench coats, one was smoking a cigarette, that he dropped onto the floor and put out with his foot. One by one they climbed aboard, as the middle guy introduced them. ‘My name is Keenan, Mr Torriero’s head of security. This is Mercer and Blake, we’re here to show you a little hospitality, when we get to the camp.’

  We introduced ourselves before they threw us a set of fabric bags, and told us to put them over our heads. We were about to enter the camp, and it was procedure. The vehicle continued for a few miles, with our hearing the only sense we could rely on. The rest of the journey was in silence, it occurred to me they might not have wanted us to see what the city looked like, if the community were being mistreated. The final stretch consisted of much stop starting, as we entered the camp through all the security and protocols. When we stopped, I heard Torriero’s men stand up in the back of the van, open the double doors to the vehicle and climb out.

  ‘Take your bags off’ shouted a voice from outside. I removed it, and let my eyes get used to the view. We were ordered out of the vehicle, and got our first view of the camp, and its inhabitants. As we climbed out, we were presented with our first grim sight. The vehicle had been parked on a car park, with around seventy vehicles, and as many spaces. A bridge ran across the edge of the car park, towering over us, carrying a train track. Hanging from the deck were the bodies of around twenty men. They had rope around their necks, and their limbs had been hacked off before they had been set alight. Keenan saw our reaction to the sight, and told us they’d been a group of men who had tried to overthrow Torriero, and were here as a reminder to everyone. I think the decision to remove us from the truck in front of these bodies was pre planned, a warning to us about who we’re going to deal with. The darkness surrounding Manchester had not stretched as far as Leeds, although we were still surrounded by the muggy ash and rain clouds we had grown accustomed to, but at least it was dry. Keenan ordered Mercer and Blake to check us over for weapons, which they did. He removed the handguns, and told us we would get them back when we leave. I wasn’t so sure, and was glad I had just bought a Glock, and not my Welrod. I could see the edge of the camp from the car park, and the security we’d just come through. Along the edge were burnt out vehicles, metal hoarding and barbed wire fencing. The security was similar to ours, with the trailer to an articulated lorry used as a base, on the side of the main road into the city. I’m not altogether familiar with Leeds, so I can only describe what I saw. The buildings within the camp seemed to be in good condition, the windows had been boarded up, or fastened with clear PVC sheets. The streets were very compact, barely a space to swing a cat, with large square buildings, mostly red brick structures. The men within the camp can be put into two distinct groups, one set with their long black trench coats looked like Torriero’s men, the others look more like simple town folk. We were walked along the side of the bridge, that towered over us, passing all the dead bodies hanging from the deck, to a set of stone steps. They climbed up the side of the bridge, at the top was a couple of guard posts, and through them the camp centre. Concrete bollards had been erected across the road, with two guards patrolling the area. The camp opened out in front of us, and we got a better understanding of its true size, which was significantly bigger than Camp Blue. It didn’t seem to be as densely populated, the streets were mainly housing estates and rows of terraced houses. Most looked occupied, and work was being carried out on some buildings. We followed the main road, past the bollards and onto a street of terraced houses, it was long, and stretched far into the muggy distance. ‘This is where Mr Torriero’s men live, all these houses are occupied by fighters’ Keenan remarked, pointing down the street. ‘And the next street, and the next.’

  I looked into some of the houses as we past, through their living room windows. The belongings of their true owners still in place, where they are now a mystery. The end terraced house came with its own garage, that had a slogan painted on the door. ‘Fuck off out of Leeds Torriero,’ which was being painted over as we past. Further on, we came to an area of waste ground, with an outdoor play area, surrounded by a high metal fence. The once green fields were playing host to a training exercise, consisting of hand t
o hand combat. There was certainly some form of organisation, however it didn’t stand up to training Camp Blue recruits suffer. A gun range had been set up inside the outdoor play area. Through the metal fence, I could just about make out the soldiers, firing at the targets, mainly consisting of road and traffic signs. If they were hard to see, they were easier to hear. ‘That’s an M6 rifle’ stated Sergeant Davis, as the sound echoed around our ears. Rhino nodded in agreement, as Keenan smiled to himself. ‘Mr Torriero has been stock piling weapons for as long as I’ve been in his services’ he said, ushering us along. ‘I’ll show you.’

  ‘How long have you worked for him?’ Sergeant Davis replied.

  ‘Over twenty years.’

  ‘Is that common?’

  ‘I’m the longest serving member, a good fifty percent of employees have been with us for over ten years though. Mr Torriero rewards those who do right by him, and don’t mind getting their hands dirty.’

  We left the training, and continued into the centre of the camp, soon the gun fire was a distant sound, as we came to a more industrial area. Two large stone chimneys had toppled over, taking out neighbouring buildings, there were bricks scattered across the roads, that had been cleared away to allow access. There was an operational scrapyard, with men working on something, but we weren’t taken close enough to identify what, ‘It’s top secret’ remarked Keenan. I noticed a few large trucks that were moving different loads around the camp, one that past us had burnt out vehicles aboard. We past security, and entered the industrial area. With most buildings restricted, Keenan took us to a large factory, with many people milling around outside. Inside was a large collection of weapons, from rifles, bazookas and mortars, to knives, grenades and hand guns. It wasn’t the stock pile of weapons we had seen photographs of, but it was equivalent in size. We weren’t shown any of the buildings with tight security around them, they only showed us what they wanted us to see. Keenan looked at his watch, before declaring Mr Torriero was going to be waiting for us, ‘We need to get moving.’