by Vance Huxley
“A baker’s dozen. They were wet right up to the waist.” Harold explained.
“F.. Damn. That explains it. We had another group of houses raided, one we are supposed to be protecting though in this case the doubled guards fought the bastards off. We’ve got guards on all the shallow routes now, or I thought we had.” He looked past Harold. “Are your lot all right?”
Harold gestured at his arm. “Yes thanks. We’ve got wounded but no dead.”
Vulcan smiled. “Did Patty get to test a bolt?”
“Too close too fast, though she’s versatile.” Harold smiled. “Our women tend to be.”
“Oh yes.” Vulcan raised his voice. “Shall I let anyone know you need flowers, or kissing better?”
“Flowers would be nice.” Patty laughed. “Flowers would be a complete novelty these days.”
“I’ll pass the word.” Vulcan looked back at Harold and lowered his voice again. “Sorry. There’s a fan club, the sort of people who want to hug a tiger.” His smile faltered. “I don’t suppose we’ll see one of those again.”
“I hope not because it won’t be in a zoo.”
“F.. Cripes. I hadn’t thought of that.” Vulcan grinned. “That damn word has invaded our place, though it’s more as a joke. Why do you lot use it?”
“First as a joke because one of us used to say cripes, then to make a point that we don’t use obscenities. The refugees who came afterwards really took it on, possibly to prove they belong. The latest ones seem to feel they’ve got to use cripes at least once a day and outnumber us, the originals.” Harold shook his head. “It’s odd really. We just wanted to make a point but now even blasphemy is a dying art.”
“Be careful, that’s how regional accents start. We’ll need translators in a generation.” Vulcan sighed. “I really hope it doesn’t go on that long, but I don’t like the current alternatives.”
“London?”
“Especially London but the floods in York looked bad. Right then, enough maundering. We’ll seal up our little leak.” He grinned. “If only to stop you getting their weapons.”
“Fair enough and thanks.”
Harold missed out the bit about London when he told the rest, though he took the opportunity to tweak Patty about her fan club. Vulcan and the GOFS were as good as their word, and no more wet gangs came through, though Harold had another chance to tweak Patty when two GOFS turned up with bunches of flowers. Vulcan might have been winding one of them up because he asked if Patty wanted her wound kissed better.
Casper’s bullet wound went through the meat while Tim’s wound turned out to be a stab in and out rather than a slash or tear, though both would take time to heal. According to Lenny, Tim would be using his arm within weeks but might still have trouble with the wound for months afterwards. Casper would be one-armed for much longer, though hopefully he would heal completely. Harold’s arm looked messy but hadn’t gone deep enough for stitches, so as long as he kept it clean he’d heal.
Harold had wondered if Doll might be nursing Alfie, since that seemed to be a bit of a theme after a fight, but apparently there were several other applicants. Hazel had to be among them since nobody would mention names. Despite Hazel moving out into the girl club, everyone still treated Harold as a sort of father-figure and wouldn’t tell him anything that might embarrass her.
Alfie’s wound caused everyone serious concern because the bullet clipped the bone, driving splinters as well as dirt and cloth deep inside the hole. The bullet had spread or broken up, taking a chunk of calf muscle, but the tibia broke rather than shattered and Alfie’s fibula stayed whole. Lenny could only advise a lot of exercise once the bone knitted, if it knitted. The medics tried to keep the hole clean, tried to stop inflection, and admitted they were out of their depth.
Harold’s slashed arm irritated more than being a problem but being wounded worried Harold. He could use a long blade, thanks to Stones’s warped sense of humour back in Kuwait, but if the other man had a knife that was a weakness. Harold preferred his stick in the other hand, because he’d trained like that, but everyone couldn’t carry a stick like his as well as a machete. He thought hard about it because too many gangsters were knife fighters, and none of his people were.
* * *
While Harold went over his options, far to the northeast others were also worried about how gangsters fought. There were only four people in the bunker this time and two were definitely defensive, especially the Asian woman glaring at the man in Army uniform. “Don’t blame it on my people.”
“I’m not, Vanna, or at least not completely, though trained soldiers would have done better.” Joshua scowled. “It doesn’t help that we can’t stiffen your people with regulars or armour.”
“You do not want your pure-minded soldiers to find out what my people do for a living, especially those from the special facilities.” Vanna pointed an accusing finger. “Some Army genius came up with the campaign plan.”
“Enough you two, because I want a simple answer.” The chairman, Owen, gave them both a long hard look. “It’s nearly the end of June. Without blaming each other, why is there still fighting in York? Why isn’t the city cleared so that Henry can move his tractors into the fields?”
“Because nobody has ever done this before, tried to depopulate a modern city without heavy armour, air support or utterly destroying the place. The Americans used over ten thousand men against about four thousand fighters, blew Fallujah to pieces, yet didn’t clear everyone out or kill even half the insurgents. The Serbs and Syrians tried and failed with smaller populations than York, even though they wrecked the towns, and the Iraqis tried again with Fallujah but still without depopulating it.” Joshua looked over at Maurice, the spymaster. “There are a lot of improvised explosives we didn’t expect, including a type of mortar. Some of the short-ranged rockets are damned effective against anything unarmoured.”
“I’ve got a source in each gang or enclave, not an inventory. I’ve given you the smarter leaders as they crop up, with the locations of armouries where possible, but these animals have been killing each other for a while so they’ve got better at it.” Maurice shrugged. “I expected armour to be used, which would have just trampled any opposition.”
“He makes a fair point, Joshua.” Vanna pointed at the screen, now showing York from the air with tall plumes of smoke or vicious explosions marking the limit of the advance. “I expected my people to get either armour or close air support.”
“We can’t let the RAF look too closely at who we are fighting. Most air strikes in York include collateral among the women and children so we are only using standoff weapons. Faraz tells me you don’t want those landing close to your people.” Owen pursed his lips. “We need another solution because this doesn’t bode well for this winter’s operation.”
“You could turn over some of your precious armour to my people.” Vanna smiled, or maybe snarled. “They won’t care who they run over.”
“You want civilian contractors to have control of battle tanks? That takes training and discipline or they’ll kill your people as well as the scum.” Joshua shook his head. “I can’t condone that.”
“Do you have tank personnel in the Army jails, Joshua?” Owen smiled. “If you use people locked up for something unpleasant, then they needn’t ever return to their units or jails which keeps Vanna’s operations secret.” His smile widened, “Penal battalions.”
“I could put a couple of my people in with each crew in case they feel independent, or develop a conscience?” Vanna frowned, thinking it through. “We wouldn’t need much, just enough armour to break through each place the scum make a stand. If necessary the tanks can go back to the Army without any crews.”
“That might be better, though there won’t be a battalion. We probably have enough Army prisoners to crew a few tanks and armoured troop carriers. I can let you have two training vehicles to get them all settled in.” Joshua thought for a few moments then sighed. “All right, as long as the armour c
omes back to the Army. I really wouldn’t be comfortable with civilians operating that sort of weaponry.” His face cleared. “With an adjustment to the overall campaign plan we should get York cleaned up in plenty of time for Christmas.”
“I’ll tell the men. Home for Christmas.” Vanna’s sarcasm came through clearly.
“Hah, yes, the first World War, not a good precedent. At least this mess is a fair warning. We must have the next target city almost empty before trying to clear the buildings.” Owen nodded to Maurice. “We are relying on you for something effective.”
“We aim to please.” Maurice frowned. “Though when we do clear another enclosure the troops may have a different dilemma, the significance of which has just come to our notice. Between Vanna’s men and my sources we have calculated that up to one enclave in three simply cannot be classed as scum, animals or murderous maniacs. They are fairly law-abiding communities getting by and staving off any of the others who take an interest.” He shrugged. “The proportion of peaceful citizens is much higher but most are under some gangster’s thumb.”
“My soldiers won’t want to clear peaceful communities with prejudice, especially if there’s women and children and we’ll need regular Army for many of the larger population centres.” Joshua frowned. “Can’t we kill the top man so they fall apart or someone nastier takes over?”
“Honest citizens will just elect another leader. My embedded people can’t steer a democratic group towards something fatal.” Maurice clicked to change the picture. On this overhead view Orchard Close and seven other enclaves were highlighted. “This is typical. All of those are what your soldiers would consider honest upright people, the sort they should be rescuing.”
“That’s in just a third of the city. Are the rest truly the same or is there a higher percentage there?” Owen looked shocked because the original plan, based on statistics showing the rise in urban violence, assumed a feral population rather than one working calmly and peacefully to survive.
“Can’t we use them? If we wipe out the others, these people might become useful citizens?” Joshua shrugged. “After all they are sort of peaceful now, even under this sort of pressure.”
“No. The plan calls for all urban populations to be eradicated to allow the country to be self-sufficient in food.” Owen frowned. “If we start considering each enclave separately, we will get mission creep and end up with the same old problem; too many people.” He glared at Maurice. “How big a problem are they? How can we get rid of them?”
“The picture is about the same everywhere and if these enclaves weren’t cut off from each other we’d have a real problem. If they ever combined, we’d need to come out of the shadows to break them. We can encourage their neighbours to do the job, but that is why we have a dilemma. These enclaves are not weak targets and have already fought off attacks just to survive this long.” Maurice shrugged. “We must let some of the more violent leaders survive until they grow big enough to be able to take them out.” He looked at Joshua. “Rather than shooting him or her.”
“Will that work?” Vanna inspected the map. “Won’t whoever it is prefer to go after another gang he can take over by killing the top people.” She looked at Maurice, puzzled. “Why would one of them want a group of rebellious liberal types?”
Maurice grinned. “Because in some cases I can feed him or her the right bait, because I have the right person in the right place. After all, in the gangs we want to use, there’s only one or at most four people to steer.”
“But if one takes them all out, that’ll be a big gang, as big as the Newcastle one.” Joshua looked at Owen with real alarm. “We might need more than one bullet. The place will be pure chaos, especially if the rest try to break out.”
“I have a candidate to take out three of these enclaves, then your snipers can have him. We can find someone else to deal with the others.” Maurice pointed at Orchard Close. “The one right by the bypass is a real problem because they are very visible to the Army and also a tough nut. I’d have to make sure my candidate has enough men by then, so they can do the job with machetes and crossbows.”
Owen looked at the screen, considering the problem carefully. He didn’t like another wild card in the mix. These civilised enclaves had to go, then at worse an air strike would deal with the triumphant gang and their boss. “Do that Maurice, but not just here. Find lunatics to wipe out as many of these aberrations as possible, especially in the target city.”
The meeting broke up. Maurice left with Joshua, in deep discussion about sniper targets. Owen glanced after them. “A small armoured force that isn’t regular Army would be helpful.”
Vanna smiled. “I can put men in there to learn how to operate the tanks. Eventually we won’t need the original crews. I will need your backing to retain the armour although operational necessity should work for a while.” She frowned, then shook her head regretfully. “We could do with our own air cover but I can’t train a civilian thug to fly in three easy lessons.”
“There are all the foreign aircrew complete with their warplanes, the ones who fled here from the continent when their airfields were overrun?” Owen smirked. “They have been kept isolated, and understand who their benefactors are.” He nodded towards the other two. “Maurice is running out of diversions so you had better catch up.” Vanna nodded and walked off quickly.
* * *
Harold had a smaller problem than the cabal, but it probably worried him more. The only solution he could come up with involved sending a message asking to see a Barbie with a wig, one of the top ones. When Chandra arrived she wore her usual blonde wig and the dress made of two silk curtains laced up her sides but looked puzzled rather than teasing. “This is unusual. Not just the invite but where’s that lad with the big muscles and bright red face?”
“Hah, yes. His face is only red because your women insist that Alfie searches them, then wriggle about.” Harold didn’t smile. “I’ve been told your doctor is the real thing.”
“Yes, but you’ve got someone pretty good as well. Doc says anyone who is amputating without losing the patient has the right idea. She’d love to know what the hell you put into Galileo’s arm because it sure weren’t what a doctor would do, but he’s kept his arm.” Chandra frowned, looking at Seth standing in the corner with the shotgun where Alfie usually stood. “S.. Cripes, it’s that big lad, isn’t it? How bad is he, because we have the same policy as you about hostages for medical and to be honest he wouldn’t come back. We don’t allow any outsiders inside Beth’s, or rather they never come back out.”
“Why the hell would you do that to Alfie?”
“Do what? We wouldn’t hurt him, nor would we kill him. There’s some who come here just to be searched by Alfie and they wouldn’t allow that. We’d keep him, and a few women would want to make him very welcome.” Her face set, with absolutely no humour. “He wouldn’t be hurt but we will not allow anyone to give even a hint of what’s inside Beth’s.”
“Will you sell information? We need advice and possibly some medicinal supplies.” Harold held up a hand. “Yes, I know, it’ll be expensive.” A tiny smile tugged at his lips. “We can trade dental treatment?”
A ghost of a smile answered. “We heard and maybe we’d be interested, though Wellington’s looks a bit rough?”
“Wellington’s looked rough when it got here. Someone hit his lips hard enough to smash a tooth, then the Geeks thought dope would work.” Harold did smile now. “Ask Wellington.” He smiled wider. “Ask Einstein about the alternative.”
“We made a fortune out of Einstein and thinking about how much that had to be hurting kept a lot of people smiling. Wellington won’t talk to our lot, not socially.” Chandra sniggered. “He’s all loved up.” Her face straightened. “We’ll deal but it will cost you coupons, beer, maybe dental work and possibly knitting. The GOFS have been showing off their woollens, but we’re after something a bit special so just how good is your knitting demon?”
“Very, I’m assu
red, but I’m a philistine. How good are you Patty?” Harold smirked. “Yes, she really is the knitter, as the GOFS could have told you because she doesn’t hide. Do you fancy trying to kidnap her?”
Patty lifted her crossbow a little. “Feel free to try?”
“Mmm, I could be tempted but not for your knitting.” Chandra smiled as Patty ignored the comment. “Can you knit lacy stuff? You know, thin stuff with lots of holes, little flowers, leaves and all that in it?” Chandra laughed. “I’m a philistine as well when it comes to actually knitting, but some of us know what we like.”
“You mean lace stitch. I can do that. We’ve even got the right wool but it’ll cost, seriously cost because it’s a stone bitch if you want flowers and leaves as well. That sounds like bespoke. The more vanilla versions from a pattern will be cheaper?” Patty frowned but in thought, not annoyance. “If you want bright colours that’ll cost more as well because the marts only have earth shades and that puce green.”
“You’ve got bright colours?” Chandra smiled happily. “Can I look at patterns to pick out what we want? You know, a bit from each? What colours have you got?”
Harold interrupted. “Whoa, medicinal first.”
“Done deal, as long as you agree the price which might not be as steep if Patty can knit what we want. Just tell me what you want to know, with pictures and your best stab at symptoms.” Chandra stopped and a huge smile spread over her face. “Oh, your medic will give a proper description with big words, won’t he? Doc will swoon or possibly wet herself with excitement. We’ll have to chain her down.” She laughed at the looks from everyone. “Not really. Would you want an angry doctor operating on you? It’s just that she always complains about the descriptions.”
“Will pictures on a phone help? We’ll want the phone back.”
“That’s the only way unless you’ve got a printer that works. Though if you have you’ll make more money printing porn. Who would have thought that the death of civilisation would also more or less wipe out pornography?” Chandra looked Patty over again. “Perhaps if you wore those weapons for a football match?” Chandra had to mean the weekly swimsuit football matches in the summer, which the occasional better behaved GOFS or Barbie was allowed to take part in. “Unless, maybe if you wore a bit more leather and less everything else? Soldier Boy could kit you out with a couple of pistols and that shotgun?” She patted her skin-tight dress and faked alarm. “Oh no, I forgot my phone so I wouldn’t get any pictures. Disaster. What if someone Tweeted or Buzzed?”
