Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2)

by John Wilkinson

  The man threw his gun at Little D, who ducked to avoid it as the rest of us came out of cover. The man then grabbed a chair off the floor and hurled it at us, causing Murphy to block it with his rifle, knocking it to the ground. As the soldier lifted another chair off he ground, Sergeant Welsh shot him, sending him crashing to the floor, where he shot him again, killing him outright.

  ‘Fucking idiot’ he muttered, as he approached the man, checking he was dead.

  ‘He was fucking unarmed!’ Shouted Little D, his anger towards Sergeant Welsh finally spilling over. ‘The way you behave, you’re no better than them.’

  ‘Did you see what these fuckers did? To the women, and the children, did you see it Davis? Fuck them and their fucked up ideology, they need to fear us, and I’m going to make sure they do. We need to nail some of these bastards to the wall, hang them from lampposts, and let them see what we do to their men.’

  ‘I’m gonna report this back to the generals’ retorted Little D. ‘When I get back to camp. You shouldn’t be in charge of any companies, you’re a fucking liability.’

  Sergeant Welsh shrugged off Little D’s comment with a look of destain, that said he had heard that kind of threat before, and didn’t give a shit. It’s difficult not to behave like Sergeant Welsh, when you see what some of these men have done, but it’s what separates us from these animals. Little D was angry, we had to calm him down, I could understand why but most soldiers just wanted to get the job finished, and get on with their lives. With our fighting for the day complete, we were picked up and taken back to Camp Blue in a convoy of Vikings. Atkinson had been helped back to the vehicle, and was soundly snoring away by the time we arrived. Keane had removed some bullet fragments from his arm and back, stopping the bleeding and giving him drugs for the pain. He was laid across the back seats, covered with sheets to keep him warm. The journey back was in almost complete silence, the tension in the car palpable.

  12/01/2028 - Time 20:00

  On the morning of the eleventh, I woke in the early hours unable to get back to sleep. I lay in bed a while, considering the past few months, and what it means for Emma and the boys. What happens now ultimately effects them, what kind of world is going to be left for our children? Not seeing Emma was hard for me, and the boys, I was in need of a reminder there was still some innocence left in the world. Bernard knows me all too well, and turned up at the house with a present. It was good to see the old man, he filled me in on what had been happening around camp, while I’d been away. He handed me an envelope, decorated in a way that was instantly familiar to me, with flowers, trees and stars. It was addressed to ‘The best dad in the world’ a title I’ve held for the past seven years. I opened the envelope, and removed the card, opening it out in my hands. There was a multi coloured illustration of me, Emma and the boys, and a random horse with a long neck. Bernard informed me it was a giraffe, and we were all at Blackpool Zoo, on a family day out. I cannot deny, the message they wrote in the card brought a tear to my eye, it was a little overwhelming. But it was just what I needed, an extra boost when I was questioning the level of humanity left in the world. When everyone was up, all talk was about Little D’s argument with Sergeant Welsh, and the consequences for our company. He was still angry about Sergeant Welsh’s behavior, but after a short conversation with General Morris last night, it was clear the army would do fuck all about it at the moment, he was too important to the war effort. I left the men to talk it out, planning on a visit to the medical centre, to have a look at how Atkinson was fairing after his injury yesterday. There was a clear lift in the mood around camp, everyone seemed to have a spring in their step, laughter and conversation filled the air. Atkinson was on the same floor I had spent time on, after Sergeant Davis and Rhino had died. He was still asleep, on his side, but looked comfortable. I spoke to a doctor who said he would be fine in a few weeks, when he’d rested and recuperated, but for now his war was over. The mood around camp must have been noted by General Morris, as he called a meeting around mid morning, in front of the soldiers housing, on the outskirts of the camp. It was the largest gathering of military I’ve seen at Camp Blue, General Morris stood on a freshly build makeshift stage, and spoke through a public address system.

  ‘Men, I’ve seen soldiers celebrating like this war is over. The war is not over, not while there remains a threat to our camp, not while Torriero has any form of an army, and not while he is still alive. We must obliterate what remains, destroy it at its core, so there is no chance this evil can rise again. We have battalions controlling Preston, Poulton and a stretch of the M6 from Carlisle to Wigan. But now we must take our offensive to Torierro, and the creatures. We have an offensive army comprising ten battalions, with close to two thousand soldiers, and six operational tanks, possibly seven. Three battalions will attack the creatures aircraft, still positioned over Nottingham, with four tanks, code name ‘Operation Third Eye.’ The other seven battalions will surround Leeds, and attack the remainder of Torriero’s army, code name ‘Operation Engulf.’ We have reports close to three hundred fighters returned to Leeds, with probably another few hundred who will have held the camp during their offensive. They also have at their disposal at least ten tanks, and a weapons stockpile that we don’t fully know the extent of. I want you all to understand, even though the numbers are stacked in our favour, we cannot be complacent, or underestimate either the creatures or Torriero. I’m sure you have all heard some of the stories from the front line, the brutality used by certain elements of Torriero’s army, and not everything has been reported. This has to end now, but I want you to remember you are representing the army, I know you are angry but your actions must be representative, I will leave that to your discretion. Today there will be a period of meetings, as we decide on a course of action, this information will be fed down to you by your superiors, ready to launch our offensive tomorrow at dawn.’

  We were dismissed, and left to prepare for the morning, checking our equipment and vehicles. It all seemed a bit rushed but I can understand us wanting to seek the initiative, while Torriero is on the back foot, and give him no further time to prepare. Most of the day was spent hanging around the camp, waiting for news. We tried to stay off the alcohol as much as possible, but we inevitably ended up in the George and Dragon, waiting for an update. When it finally came, Sergeant Welsh joined us, only to inform us The Lancashire Fusiliers Seventh and Ninth Battalions would form part of the offensive attacking Torriero. It was the news we all wanted, for obvious reasons every member of Blue and White Company wanted to help bring Torriero down. The offensive battalions would encircle Leeds, and then squeeze, tightening around the camp, cutting off their supplies, hitting them from all directions, as we work through the battleground destroying them from within. We were told we would set off one man down, as Atkinson would be spending some time in the medical centre, and all fit soldiers were presently operational. Three battalions left camp in the afternoon, to start the clean up of the towns and villages effected by the war. The biggest operation will be to bury the dead, the smell of which was said to be noticeable from miles away.

  We were away early on the twelfth, in the largest convoy of vehicles I’ve ever witnessed, leaving Camp Blue heading towards Leeds. Our Viking had become that familiar to me, it was like another member of our company. The noise it made when it started up, the creaking of its metal frame as we picked up speed and the hole torn into the cover of the seat directly in front of me. The atmosphere in the vehicle was conducive with sleeping, so bad it had become. I dozed off for a while, only to be woken as we approached Leeds by voices in the vehicle. The roadside and surrounding fields were covered in bodies, hundreds of them, maybe a thousand. There were patches of them, huddled together, some looked like they were carrying bags, all had been dead sometime. They looked like the had been trying to get away from something, like refugees trying to escape a dictatorship, but the snow storms that gripped the north had engulfed them. Whatever they were running from must have been w
orth risking their lives to get away from, and it wasn’t long before we found what it was, as a large perimeter fence appeared through the drizzle, covering the entire horizon. The fence was around twelve foot high, comprising any panels that could be fashioned into a barrier, hoarding, railings, wood, doors and PVC. It swayed in the wind, as we pulled up alongside it, and climbed out. The rest of the convoy split into two, some continuing around the fence clockwise, to take up their designated positions, others going the opposite way. Clarets Company stopped around a hundred yards further on, and got out to check their position. We peered through the railings into the camp beyond the fencing, it looked deserted, with abandoned guard posts and gun nests.

  ‘The first thing we need to do’ said Sergeant Welsh, slapping the panels. ‘Is bring this structure down.’

  We collected our equipment from the Viking, and used heavy duty sledge hammers to bring the fencing down. Once through, we ripped it down with anything we could find. The main road out of the camp was blocked with traffic, vehicle upon vehicle, as their owners panicked trying to get out. The cars were covered in bullet holes, fired from a height, sprayed into vehicles killing people indiscriminately. There were the bodies of families, children, amongst the dead. Just mowed down, given no chance to escape the massacre. As we walked between the vehicles, I tried not to look at the dead, but it was hard not to. Towards the tail of the traffic jam, vehicles had tried to turn and escape back into the camp, but those too had been shot and killed. We missed this part of the city, when we came to meet Torriero, with bags over our heads in the back of the truck. I can only assume they didn’t want us to see the true extent of what they were doing, the oppression of the city. We could see companies to our left and right, making their way through the debris. The first buildings we came to, were a street of houses and shops with the front doors removed, probably to use in the construction of the perimeter fence. We checked all the guard bases, but there was no sign of anyone, just evidence they had once been occupied. The plan for the day was to make as much ground as possible before nightfall, tightening the circle around Torriero, hopefully without being drawn into many fire fights. Tomorrow, further plans would be made, and the tanks would be brought into the fold behind us. There was no resistance for the first few hours, just further evidence of cruelty to the residents. The first shots were fired at us early afternoon, from within a multi storey car park, along E Parade. We had cleared out most of the street, finding nothing of note, when we encountered four or five men, positioned by the middle bollard on the third level. There was a short exchange of fire, we kept them occupied returning fire as Clarets Company made their way to their position via the back street, killing them without any issues. It was slow progress, having to check everything and everywhere, clearing area by area, moving through the built up streets. Unfortunately there were clear signs the city had been put under siege, with any remaining residents suffering badly at the hands of their occupiers. There was death and despair everywhere, and an oppressive atmosphere that frightened me, even with a rifle in my hands. We found bodies, with clear signs of suffering throughout the outer reaches of the camp. Obvious cases of malnutrition, families dying due to starvation, and dehydration. Some had resorted to eating animals, with the remain of cats, dogs and even rats found. There was evidence the city centre had flooded, possibly a reason rats had been so easily obtainable, for a while at least. These people must have been desperate, I cannot imagine what they’ve been through, it was heartbreaking. I also saw the signs of cannibalism, as some resorted to eating those that had already died. An act I don’t believe they would have taken lightly, but there was simply no food left in Leeds. We did find a couple of survivors, who looked gravely ill, undernourished and weak. We fed them and they were helped back to Wellington Road, where a medical base was being set up by the army. Over the next few hours, the base became home for over fifty civilians. Added to the depravity, there were more bodies hanging from lampposts, now a trademark of Torriero’s army, and a reminder to those who would not fight or work for them. One man we rescued, told how Torriero’s men had made the residents built the perimeter fence, and dig trenches, further into the camp. They were promised food and water in return but given nothing, some had resorted to drinking the water from toilets, which just made them suffer more. There were also some bodies that had been beheaded, with the corpse tied to metal railings and the head put on the spike. As we took a food break, we could hear cheering coming from our men, further down the line, like the ripple of a wave, heading towards us.

  ‘The aircraft is down!’ Shouted Higson of Clarets Company, over the sound of his comrades celebrating. ‘They’ve brought it down.’

  We looked at each other and smiled, happy for some good news on what had been a difficult day, even if the news was not officially confirmed. By the end of the day, we had reached an inner security fence, much like the perimeter, with abandoned guard posts and gun placements. Maybe when constructing their defences, Torriero’s army had presumed they would have a larger army, or had fully believed they would have won the battle outright, but as yet we’d not hit any kind of defence. In the afternoon we discovered further evidence of Torriero’s men’s complete lack of humanity, which shouldn’t really have been a surprise to anyone. His loyal army, men who he’d worked with for the last twenty to thirty years, comprised the true dregs of society. Murders, rapists and career criminals, but men who have done well out of him, and thus show him loyalty. A decision was made to camp down for the night in the houses outside the inner circle, and continue the offensive in the morning. The army had tightened their circle around Leeds, to the degree we would be fighting side by side with other companies tomorrow, and we were joined outside our building by Clarets Company. The men were in good humour, considering some of the sights we’d seen today, maybe we were becoming hardened to it. It was said, the perimeter fencing had stretched from Wellington Road, along Vicar Lane to the A64, which it followed as it curved around Leeds turning into the A58, and back onto Wellington Road. Vehicles arrived with new recruits, and we were introduced to Ben Chapman, a replacement for Atkinson. Chapman was a fast talking, confident lad, who had been a student at Uclan University in Preston, having left his home in Ireland for his first term when the war started. He was the kind of kid who I could see winding up the other men, and sure enough as he proceeded to tell us his life story, Keane told him to shut up, unless he had something interesting to say.

  ‘I’m just back from ‘Operation Third Eye,’ he retorted. ‘To bring the creatures aircraft down.’ Everyone sat up, as the conversation got a little more interesting. ‘Thought that might grab you’ he smiled, leaning on the stone wall next to us. ‘I’ve just been transferred here, only got a couple of hours time to prepare. It was fucking awesome, seeing that thing come down, you should have seen the size of it!’

  ‘What happened?’ Replied Murphy, eager to learn more.

  ‘We could see the ship from miles away, it was as big as a skyscraper, but hovering three hundred foot in the air. I have to say, I was nervous as hell when we climbed out of the vehicle, it was so imposing. There was a waterfall cascading off the side of this thing, like Niagara Fucking Falls, it was astonishing. It was silent and never moved, showing no signs of life, until we started to bomb it. We did fuck all damage though, at one point we had four tanks pounding it with shells, with not one getting through, hitting some kind of forcefield. The tanks were ordered to stop, to save ammunition, just as the ship came to life. There was a noise that loud, it made my skull rattle, like nails on a blackboard, but more industrial, metal grinding. Then two small aircraft came out of the spaceship, from openings on the far left and right of its base. The vehicles dropped towards earth, and then took off towards our tanks, like homing missiles. We shot at them, one tank got off a shell, hitting the side of an aircraft, but it didn’t stop it, both aircraft exploded into our tanks, obliterating them, blowing men off their feet stood sixty yards away. The fire coming off the e
xplosions was extreme, it was fucked up, men on fire, others blown into pieces. The noise didn’t stop, and neither did the aircraft, as packs of them were released. They swarmed through the sky around us, before hurtling towards the tanks, like darts at a dartboard. The tank gunners took most of them out, the explosions in the sky were intense, we could feel the heat on our faces as debris crashed to the floor. We joined in firing at their wings, sending them spiraling into the ground. Some aircraft took to the sky, hiding in the darkness, flying around the taller buildings. In that period, we lost more soldiers on the ground to the explosions. But Lieutenant Ward was observing the battle, and ordered our tanks to fire at the smaller aircraft as they were exiting the mothership. The shield must have come down when they exited, for a few seconds at least, and that was enough. The tanks sent shells into the underside of the mothership, which exploded, then again into the exiting aircrafts, causing huge explosions. They must have been packing explosives, the blast from the shells shot back up into the ship, its forcefield dropped off completely, and it was game on. We blasted shells into anything that looked important. If it had a light on it, we hit it, if it had pipes, we hit it again.’