by Vance Huxley
“Come with me and it’ll be just fine, I promise.” Holly held out her hand and the girl took it after a nervous glance at the salesman. “Over there to the wall, away from that pair.” Holly took her over and they spoke quietly before Holly turned to Harold. “She’s not been hurt Harold, just bruises and from the looks of her what she needs is food.”
“We feed her.” The man scowled. “What will you trade for her? She’ll grow up in a year or two and be worth more, but we need more weapons or ammo right now.” He glanced at Holly’s set face and then Harold’s. “This was a waste of time.”
“No, we’ll buy her.” Harold glanced at Alfie. “Rifle trading style.” The man looked baffled but Alfie straightened a little. Harold took a long step back and Alfie’s shotgun came up. “Don’t be stupid or you both die. Holly, cover the man in the corner.” Holly’s hand went under the back of her jacket and came out with a pistol.
“Robbery. We were told you lot are straight.” The man sounded disgusted but resigned, and just robbing him did tempt Harold briefly.
“We are straight dealers so I’ll buy the girl for food and beer. This is to make sure you understand that we are definitely buying her because we are straight, that we really dislike people who trade women, and we don’t sell guns.” Harold took out his own nine mill. “Weapons on the floor please. Your friend in the corner might beat the shotgun, or Holly, or me, but not all of us.”
“Put it down, Skiff. We’ll pass the word how they deal here.”
“Please do. We do not trade in women, as you were told, but we don’t rob people. Don’t stop to tell the neighbours to the south or they really will shoot and rob you.” Harold relaxed a bit as both men placed their weapons on the floor. “You get them back once we’ve come to an arrangement over beer and food. You’ll need food because taking any from houses within at least five miles of here warrants a death sentence.”
Harold gave the men enough to prove he hadn’t robbed them, but certainly not enough to encourage a repeat. More to the point, he didn’t pay enough to encourage any nasty little sod to kidnap women for profit. The men stood out in the open at the end of the trade with their guns in one pocket and the clip in the other, and Holly took Jilli, the girl, into Orchard Close. Holly sent out the food and beer, Harold and Alfie went inside the gates, and the men loaded up and left.
“Where is she?” Harold wanted to know how the hell a young girl like that ended up in that car.
“Jilli has been scooped up. The girl club will find a suitable mum for her and one day she’ll appear again. Why didn’t we kill them?” A hot spark of anger still showed in Holly’s eyes, the same hot spark that had probably encouraged the man with the pistol to surrender.
“Because we don’t want to frighten people away by getting a reputation like the Barbie Girls. The Geeks and Hot Rods kill on sight and the GOFS are a long way from angelic, so we must be the calm, civilised place where decent folk can find a refuge.” Harold scowled. “If they’d touched her I’d have happily killed the lot.”
“I can live with that.” Holly hooked an arm into Harold’s. “I’ve never really dated but I’m sure that was unusual at least. Where are we going on our next date?”
“Someplace without guns?”
“I’ll settle for traditional. You can take me to meet your family, and we can cuddle on the settee and watch TV.” Holly smiled and hugged his arm a bit tighter. “That’s another rite of passage, honest.”
* * *
Harold stared at the TV. “That settles one thing. We’ll be digging and planting every square metre of land we can clear. At least there’s more land available as we clear ruins.”
Sharyn shook her head in mock despair. “Is that the next excuse you and Casper will use to get everyone carting bricks to build up the wall? That’s a bit of a stretch, even for you.”
“No stretch. Where do you think that lot will go next? They only have to get one of those big ships across the channel and bang goes another chunk of farmland.” Harold scowled. “I might be paranoid but I can’t see the Royal Navy ships keeping going for much longer. They need fuel as well. After all, where are the French warships?” Harold pointed at the TV.
Onscreen medieval walls shattered as the naval shells smashed into them. The view switched and a cruise ship staggered as if under an immense hammer-blow and then burst into flames. Behind it a shipyard disintegrated in fire and smoke.
“The ungrateful refugees, not satisfied with destroying the camps provided for them, are marching north through France. The ancient fortifications at Guerande have been overrun, the inhabitants slaughtered, and the shipyards of St-Nazaire captured. The Royal Navy has exacted retribution and destroyed any possibility of the refugees crossing the channel. Once again the British Government has acted swiftly and decisively to protect our citizens.”
“Citizens, but not voters. I really fancied voting but we’re already overdue.” Holly lifted Harold’s hand up and round her. “Sorry Sharyn but this is hugging stuff.”
“I knew it was a mistake when I let you sit next to him. Don’t worry, I’m too interested in the TV to notice. Especially after that little gem about Navy ships running out of fuel.” Sharyn picked up her mug and glanced over. “In fact, now Hazel’s gone upstairs and there’s room on the settee I might want his other arm, especially if we get another food warning.”
“British farmers have worked valiantly over the winter, but the late spring has defeated all their efforts. The amount of smoke thrown up by the rioting and burning here and in the rest of the world, aggravated by several small nuclear exchanges, has affected the amount of sunlight reaching our fields and crops. All citizens are advised to take any measures they can to conserve food. Vitamin pills are available at your local mart to alleviate any shortages caused by lack of fresh fruit and vegetables.”
Sharyn sat next to Harold. “C’mon, give me that other arm because this is cobblers. Curtis reckons all the veg is coming up on time, near enough.” Her face and voice were bleak. “Are the bastards going to starve us?”
“No, because there aren’t enough soldiers on the bypass if all the gangs were desperate at the same time and tried to break out. I saw what that needs around London, though even there the people trying to escape didn’t combine properly.” Harold hugged both women hard because he needed it. “Though we’ve definitely got to grow more of what we need. All of what we need.”
“Can we do that Harold?” Holly leaned over and then stopped, glancing at Sharyn.
“No snogging, I have standards.” Sharyn pointed towards the curtains in the direction of the girl club. “Take him over there for all that nonsense.”
“Fat chance. Can you imagine that lot if I dragged Harold inside to watch telly?” Holly stopped smiling and cuddled in closer. “That’s a mart! Is it ours? What idiot is attacking a mart?”
“Despite the desperate circumstances, an armed mob has attacked their local mart. The mart that supplies food to the women and children in the surrounding area.”
Onscreen the guards and an armoured car were shooting down swathes of shoppers, many of whom were breaking and running, desperate to escape.
Harold caught a glimpse of the background ruins and a wide motorway. “Not our mart. That one is near a major route, not a bypass.”
As the crowds broke apart figures could be seen hurling missiles that exploded, either cutting down guards or bathing the armoured car in flames.
“The cowardly attackers used the innocent shoppers as cover and are throwing improvised explosives. This unprovoked attack has surprised both the mart guards and the Army personnel, who are fighting bravely to the last.”
The camera pulled back to show an Army post on the nearby motorway being overrun by a crowd shooting pistols and wielding machetes.
“It’s the same old crap. Where are the helicopters and tanks and the fire, the napalm? Where are those exploding cannon things or even machine guns?” Holly’s other hand curled i
n a tight, white-knuckled fist.
“Waiting at the other side of that wide road if the attackers try to cross.” Harold sighed. “That’s the M25 round London because I’ve just seen the line of rubble along the other side. It’ll be a lot better organised since I served there, but the bulldozers had already done some of that when I left the Army.”
“With deep regret the Army has taken steps to prevent the attackers stealing weapons and looting the mart. These heartless savages cannot be allowed to profit from their cowardly acts. Despite the food shortages this will mean for the local population, the Royal Air Force has been sent in to prevent the looting.”
Explosions marched across the captured Army post and then over the mart itself, smashing the sandbagged enclosure and then tearing the mart itself apart. The relatively innocuous puffs of smoke in the air above cut down scores of people either crouching in terror or running about in sheer panic. A few aimed weapons upwards. A helicopter, then another, swept over the scene and flame blossomed in the wreckage of the mart.
“That’s written by the same, er, person that wrote the, the rubbish onscreen when the mayor died. Nobody is looting. They’re dead, dying, badly wounded or running for their lives.” Harold hugged hard with both arms.
“What about the locals, those who shop at that mart on the other days?” Sharyn glanced up to where the children were hopefully fast asleep. “How will they get food while the mart is rebuilt?”
“I hope none of our local lunatics are thinking of doing that, looting a mart.” Holly’s voice had become a whisper now. “They won’t, will they Harold?”
“Not after seeing that. After all, the mob didn’t get anything.” Harold really, really hoped someone like Cadillac hadn’t had the same idea. “There’ll be more marts along the motorway, it’ll just take the locals longer to get there. With luck there’ll be enough food at those marts for the extra people.”
None of them thought there would be, not after the warnings about shortages. The three sat watching as helicopters hunted anyone openly carrying firearms, using gunfire and then fire to kill them and destroy the weapons. Periodically the commentary hammered home how much food had been lost, and how terrible that was because of the winter.
“The foreign terrorists have brought their terror weapons with them and attacked the forces of law and order with no regard for the nearby innocents.”
A view from far overhead showed smoke trails rising from buildings deep in a city and curving to fall in the general area of an Army post. Very general, the explosions that followed spread across both sides of the cordon and some rockets landed in an enclave. Jets screamed across the launch site and turned it into a sea of flame. Shortly afterwards helicopters arrived and hunted through the buildings in a wide circle, periodically firing or burning smaller areas.
“The RAF is even now hunting down any similar launch sites. The marts serving this area will not be selling any sugar until we can be sure the local terrorists will not be using it for rockets. With true regret the marts will be restricting the amount of sugar being sold elsewhere to protect the innocent citizens from danger.”
Holly looked at her mug. “Oh well, I can always pretend I’m on a diet?” She grimaced. “That’s one way of cutting down on coffee because most people prefer sugar in that.”
“Luckily there’s no way of turning tea and coffee into explosives, I don’t think, or they’d stop them. After all, they must be imported somehow.” Harold looked at his own mug. “I can manage without sugar, but mornings without coffee could be a real stretch. At least there’ll be some sugar now and then.”
Sharyn frowned. “Does brewing use sugar? If so Seth will have all the sugar in Orchard Close locked up by daybreak and Berry standing guard.”
“Beer, or sugar in my coffee, that is a truly nasty choice to be forced to make.” When Harold walked Holly home the kissing levels were subdued but the hugging was intense.
* * *
In the bunker the mood was sombre. Today Grace wore a dark grey suit, and for once an uncertain expression. “I’m still not certain. What if the other population centres react badly?” This time none of the well-dressed people sat around the polished table were watching the mart burn on the wallscreen.
“None of the others will be short of food. Well, a little bit short to keep them in line but there will be enough.” Ivy, the redhead, smiled. “They’ll behave once the consequences are pointed out.”
“How long will that take?” Grace paused. “We don’t want any incidents in the interim.”
Joshua, the balding man in Army uniform, leant forward. “I’m really interested in Ivy’s answer as well since we still haven’t the fuel to move men and tanks all over the country. We’d be relying on air strikes and I doubt there’s much fuel for them either.”
“Enough, because we managed to take a lot of aviation fuel from the airports before the mobs got around to them.” Faraz the RAF representative smirked. “Enough of them were outside population centres to be defensible.”
“The Navy still have plenty because in addition to our reserves we have commandeered every cargo and passenger ship we can reach and drained most of them. Though the French reserves in Brest will still be handy if we can persuade the local authorities to hand them over. We now believe that most of the French captains and crew are willing to come over the channel, but we’d like all their supplies as well.” The naval officer shrugged. “Otherwise Brest and Cherbourg will be another Mers-el-Kebir and a terrible waste of trained men and materials. Enough ships will come over so the Royal Navy can deal with the rest, but sinking allies will still leave a bad taste in the mouth.”
“Can’t Cherbourg and Brest hold out? Those ships can supply artillery support.” The youngest member looked in a file. “There are some big guns on these ships.”
“Sorry Gerard, but most Naval shells are for punching through steel. They won’t be as effective against a screaming horde in open country who simply don’t care about losses, and we simply can’t afford to let that lot get any major warships.” The naval officer, Victor, shrugged. “Don’t rely on the base defences because Toulon didn’t slow the mob up much, nor did Taranto or Venice though at least most ships scuttled in time. Now can we please concentrate on the UK?” He looked expectantly at Ivy, as did the rest.
Though first, the chairman, Owen, had a point to make. “I’d like to point out that holding those refugees in the barren areas to starve failed not only in France, but also in Italy and even Greece where the strength of the Army and the terrain should have stopped them. That happened because the armed forces facing them were indecisive, and because refugees and locals combined to swamp the soldiers. We must ensure that lesson is learned here, in the UK. No more miscalculations.” Owen nodded at the woman dealing with marts. “Ivy?”
“I have consulted with the retailers. Tomorrow they will close all the marts around London and Joshua will send armour across the M25 to protect the facilities. They believe six days should be enough to empty all the marts though we’ve allowed nine. Anyone nearby will be told the lorries are bringing in extra supplies. Then we will tell everyone elsewhere in the country that London will not receive any more food supplies until their armed rebels are brought under control.”
“The Londoners will go crazy.” Gerard looked over at Joshua. “I hope your men and tanks are well dug in.”
“They will be, and also around the Tower and one or two other places but there’ll be no mass attack. We won’t tell the Londoners. They’ll find out the hard way and the news will spread slowly over the next fortnight. By then they’ll be shooting each other for food.” Joshua smiled. “They can use up their ammunition on each other.”
Owen looked around the table. “The food we save by not feeding London will mean there is plenty for the rest, and London will be a good test before extending the method to other population centres. The reduction in sugar elsewhere will mean that land used for sugar beet can now grow food, a
nd as a bonus our people calculate there’ll be a drop in demand for coffee.”
“Will that be enough? We’re spinning out what there is but there were supposed to be more supplies arriving.” Ivy frowned. “That attack on the mart was sparked by cutting off tea and coffee. I didn’t believe the analysts when they said that would happen, but now I worry about shortages elsewhere.”
“Not only because of the tea and coffee but they helped.” Owen smiled. “If necessary the Royal Navy will escort a couple of ships to Brazil to bring nothing but coffee. We already have stockpiles of tea and you are mixing in other leaf to spin it out.” He opened his file. “Now let’s concentrate on providing enough food for the citizens outside the barricades, the ones we actually need.” Heads bent over their files as the screen continued to show death and destruction, completely unheeded.
* * *
Because of all the work clearing rubble for gardens, Holly’s handgun practice had to be postponed until evenings. “I hope that’s not how you congratulate the others when they hit the target.” Holly glanced upwards. “If it wasn’t for the rain I might have been tempted to try a level six.” Her finger went on Harold’s lips. “Our own rules in our own time, I said I was tempted not that Liz told me.”
Harold sighed, perhaps he had been a bit paranoid about all that. “Since it’s raining, perhaps we ought to go home? I just wanted you to realise how badly the flash would mess up your night sight.”
“Cripes yes! I was blind for a moment and now I’ve got funny spots in my eyes. How on earth do the Army fight at night?”
“Flash suppression, special propellants, glasses, and night sights.” Harold chuckled. “If someone is attacking, there’s either plenty of light from gun flashes or someone puts up a flare. Though I’ve never been in a real night attack." Harold cursed mentally, but Holly didn’t seem to have noticed.
