by Vance Huxley
“Listen.” Casper held up his hand. Outside someone, then several someones, cheered. “A lot of people are happy.” Harold turned off the TV and the cheers and laughter were louder, with some voices calling for a party.
Emmy looked at the carrycot, and an oblivious Tammy. “I’ll never feel right about shooting at women, but now I know it was worth it.”
Harold stood up. “Ask Betty to babysit, then come to the party and celebrate living. I’ll bet the Hot Rods and all the other gangs are having a party as well.”
Harold got it right, as the GOFS arriving at lunchtime the following day to collect Roy and his men confirmed. The drivers were all wearing dark glasses and wincing at loud noises. In contrast the Orchard Close party didn’t involve as much alcohol, but Roy’s group were a bit bleary-eyed from lack of sleep for two nights. Despite their own lack of sleep, a crowd of residents turned out to smile, wave and call out good wishes as the reduced group went back on duty.
* * *
Not everyone felt as happy about the whole affair. “I thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on things. Sort of spymaster? Remind me why I bother to feed you Rhys?” The General looked decidedly unhappy while the older man, Rhys, looked wary. “I could have rolled over the lot while they were busy at the mart.” The General turned to look at the other uniformed man. “I thought you were supposed to be in contact with this Cadillac?”
Patton, the other uniformed man, shrugged. “I suppose his priorities tended more towards surviving?” He frowned thoughtfully. “I doubt we could have organised everyone fast enough, certainly not the Bloods. It’s a pity the Pinkies don’t want to join up because they were near enough to the Barbies to have launched an attack.”
“Not yet, they’re too frightened of the bitches.” The General smiled, very unpleasantly. “Once they are more frightened of me we’ll use the pansies as shock troops alongside the Bloods. Well Rhys, what’s your excuse?”
“Short notice. None of them knew until the day, and they were all back by evening. The GOFS and Geeks left men to watch the frontiers anyway so a quick strike would have bounced.” Rhys smiled. “I have found out when they will be relaxed?”
“About time you earned your keep. When?” His smile belied the General’s words.
“Christmas. Orchard Close like parties, and it’s rubbed off on the rest. They all shut down over Christmas.”
The General scowled. “The Bloods and most of the other idiots do the same. They’ll not agree to missing their Christmas stockings, or what’s in them.” He curled his lip in a sneer. “Well actually they ignore the stocking and just go for the women and the booze.”
“But they’ll be sober again soon after, and done with the women. Orchard Close, that armour and the shooters will be partying from Christmas to New Year, and the other gangs shut down for the same period. Half of them will be pissed or nursing hangovers for the whole week.” Rhys held out both hands, palms up. “Your Christmas present.”
“Can you do that, Patton? Get the Bloods sober and ready to fight by Boxing Day?”
The uniformed subordinate thought about it for a few moments. “Maybe, but it will probably take another day or two. Have the civvies done building the kit for the attack?”
“Yes, we can move everything forward once I give a date. A lot depends on the weather. If we don’t have any rain, the water in that railway cutting will be barely moving.” The General smacked a fist into the other palm. “Once we’re across I’ll be having a word with that Soldier bastard about stealing my vehicle and equipment.”
“Though he did give it a nice paint job.” Patton smiled. “What about Caddi? Do you want him in?”
“I’ll think about it. After all, he seemed very pally with the other gangs on the TV, didn’t he?” The General frowned. “If the reinforcements on the GOFS front go home at Christmas we don’t need the greedy bastard. Get out there, ear to the ground, and get me some real information Rhys. Then we can have a very special New Year party.”
* * *
As the mart attack played out on the screen in the bunker the atmosphere definitely didn’t promise a party. “The mart wasn’t destroyed. It didn’t come close.” Maurice sounded decidedly defensive.
“There were deaths and the result looked very close. Those are burn marks on the outside walls and part of the wire has been torn down. That armoured car caught fire. It came very close to destruction.” The woman responsible for food supplies, Ivy, pointed at the screen now showing the aftermath as the bodies were cleared. “TesdaMart are not impressed. They pay well for these concessions on the understanding we won’t allow any to be overrun without warning. The senior manager visiting the facility didn’t appreciate the excitement.”
“Over half the Army personnel in the guard post were killed.” Joshua, the Army man, looked and sounded downright belligerent. “A few more lucky or accurate bullets and that mob would have captured a machine gun.”
“The helicopters were very close, waiting for orders, and the grenades could have been handed to the mart guards sooner if required. I heard about what this group planned and tried for several birds with one stone.” Maurice shrugged. “I remembered something Grace said in here, about putting several gangs together.”
Owen, the chairman, frowned. “You set that mob onto a mart just to get a few scum to kill each other? That seems past risky, Maurice.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t do that. The animals came up with this plan. Then there were several ways to deal with them. The RAF could have destroyed the lot on the march, but they weren’t actually doing anything wrong then and the RAF aren’t keen on burning women and children.” Maurice glanced at the man in RAF uniform. “There have been incidents of constructively misunderstood orders to avoid just that.”
“True.” The RAF man lapsed back into silence.
Maurice spread his hands. “This way we’ve emptied the far south of the city and wiped out everyone who lived there. The other possibility failed.” Maurice clicked a control and the screen played out the Ferdinand shooting at the bus, then killing himself to avoid questioning. “That man should have sparked a bloodbath. The idiot fired at armour plate instead of some gang boss and those inside didn’t feel threatened enough to retaliate. I can only assume he thought the occupants had really itchy trigger fingers.”
“That man is yours?” Owen looked at the body on the screen. “Was?”
“Unfortunately yes. Now I have to get someone else into the gang, though we did get a propaganda bonus. The editing team nearly wet themselves over those armoured vehicles and the blonde woman. We’ll be showing these highlights nationally.” He chuckled. “But not these.” The screen showed several Barbie girls blowing kisses or pulling down their jeans to waggle their knickers at the soldiers, who were cheering and waving.
“We want that blonde woman if she survives.” Vanna grinned. “If she comes to a mart, arrest her for anything at all. Either Grace or my people will motivate her and she’ll be a terrific mouthpiece for the loyal citizens.”
“I’ll let the Army know.” Joshua made a note. “She might turn up for medical attention because that looked bad.”
“Tell them we want her for hospital treatment, or to give her a medal or some such rubbish.” Vanna waved towards the soldiers onscreen. “After all, the Army will love her.”
Owen grinned and looked around the rest. “We could actually give her a medal?”
“Oh yes, better still. What about the other cities? Is there any danger of an unplanned attack on marts there?” Vanna frowned. “That would be an unpleasant surprise.”
“Doubtful after they all see this film. Though this will make closing other marts simpler when we do organise another attack. In the future it’ll even be their own fault when the locals fail to protect the guards and Army. Though it is a pity that particular city is too big or we could have sealed the place anyway.” Maurice smirked. “The footage of the local scum that wasn’t broadcast is amusing and they were de
finitely thinned out as a bonus.”
“No we couldn’t have shut that mart, because that really was a senior manager and TesdaMart were very insistent. They want to encourage the locals to protect the marts.” Ivy scowled. “We can’t afford to really upset them, not at that level.”
“Personally I think leaving it open is a better lesson for all the enclosures. As long as that armoured thing won’t threaten the Army?” Grace frowned. “What if it attacks a mart?”
Joshua waved away her concerns. “Jacketed bullets from an Army rifle or an armoured car should turn it into a colander but if they don’t a cannon shell will. I’m not worried about that, and I’m really pleased by the number of rifles we captured. I am worried about the amount of ammunition the scum seem to have. Most of the ammunition we collected from the bodies had been reloaded by amateurs, but I would have expected any propellant to be already used up.”
Vanna glanced at Owen, who looked at Maurice. The spymaster smiled and pointed. “You saw the amount of smoke, Joshua. It is obvious that someone is making propellant but not to the same standards. All the materials must be available in a city, so it only takes one bright spark.” He shrugged at Joshua’s unhappy expression. “I’ll do my best to find out who it is.”
Ivy, the woman responsible for supplying the marts, had been waiting for her chance. “Good. Now can we get onto another concern that seems to be sourced in your department, Maurice? Are you the genius behind the rabbit thing? Not a stroke of genius because many rabbits who survive Myxomatosis will be inedible.” Ivy scowled at the spymaster across the table. “That means the scum will want more protein from the marts, just when we won’t have any extra from the rabbits caught on farms.”
“I didn’t authorise the operation. As far as I understand Vanna now has the research team responsible in her care?” Maurice raised an eyebrow at Vanna, who smiled.
“Apparently the team were given the job by Nate before he had his misadventure.” Her thin smile showed quite a bit of malice. “They’ve had their own misadventure.”
Maurice chuckled. “Just so. Will you be able to control the Myxomatosis, Henry?”
“Not now. If the idiots had bothered to ask anyone in the farming community we’d have told them not to bother.” Henry sighed in resignation. “The disease would have re-appeared anyway if the population rose too high. Right now most of the rabbits will still be resistant from the last outbreak so a good few will catch it but survive. Unfortunately they’ll be scarred and nobody will want to eat them.”
“The infection is taking hold already and we’re too late to stop it?” Ivy glared at both Maurice and Henry. “We need another source of protein because there’s very little frozen pork left. I really did mean what I said about fish. Starting and then stopping fresh fish will cause more trouble than shortages.”
Maurice consulted a report. “Sorry but the team didn’t seem sure about the actual results. We’ll know the full effect better in the spring because I’m told the disease spreads in crowded burrows when all the young are born.”
“There’ll be a big plus if the protein problem can be sorted out because rabbits eat a lot of crops which is why we trap and shoot them.” Henry scowled. “Which is another reason the idea is stupid because the crops in London will grow better.”
“I’m sure there’ll be enough protein for the rest if we close off another city, only now that is essential rather than a desirable experiment.” Owen moved his gaze to Maurice. “Are you sure stopping the tea, coffee and beer will trigger an attack? After all, the animals have both London and this failed attack as examples.”
“We’ll stop chocolate as well. That and some encouragement from local assets will do it.” Maurice smiled. “Assets who’ll make damn sure they aren’t on the attack. The attack will be an attempt to stock up with food before breaking out. It’ll look exactly the same as this last one.”
“Excellent. As long as they don’t actually break out except where and when Joshua wants them to. Please keep us in the loop if you decide to get a little experimental in the future, Maurice. News like that mart attack disturbs my digestion.” Maurice nodded acceptance of the rebuke. “Now, if the broad business is complete, let’s deal with specifics.” Owen opened another file.
As the rest left Vanna, Maurice and Grace hung back. Owen smirked. “Your people worked out well with regard to Nate. That solution won’t work again because everyone will beef up their personal security so I’d like to go a little further. Maurice has pointed out that Joshua has all snipers which is a problem if we want to remove someone the Army don’t feel they should kill.” His lip curled in a sneer. “At least one general comes to mind. We can’t train up proper snipers but I’m told we don’t need them, just people taught some hand to hand for emergencies and to shoot very, very well.”
Maurice chuckled. “No learning to blend in with a hillside or trekking fifty miles over mountains and all that rubbish. They’ll be driven to the base nearest the target, go into the ruins to shoot a target at a time and place arranged, then be driven home. We do need special people in one way, broken people.” He tapped his head. “If they’ve been badly traumatised in certain ways, we now have people who can rebuild them into perfect killing machines.” He shrugged. “There’ll be a couple of our people just behind them, in case.”
“That sounds risky, giving the scum skills like that.” Vanna frowned. “That could backfire.”
The spymaster shook his head. “No, we have been experimenting on the examples collected up to date. The idea is for them to have no other useful skills and little or no motive left to develop any. The proposed conditioning almost amounts to programming. Though unfortunately many of the experiments were to destruction, so we have very few lab-rats left. We will need a good few candidates because the ones we want must have a certain something, I’m assured, simply to be able to shoot that well. Find me plenty of broken men or women, because we’ll use the others to actually learn how to cure Joshua’s soldiers.” Maurice looked at the women expectantly.
“Can you do that, Vanna, Grace?” Owen smiled at the nods. “Good. These will be our personal aces so keep this very close.” He nodded towards the spymaster. “Meanwhile Maurice can look for the source of propellant because there really did seem to be a lot of ammunition.” As the three left, Vanna and Maurice exchanged glances and smiled.
Chapter 7:
Gifts for Good and Bad Children
Ten days of hard work and fierce trading later, Harold knocked on the forge door and waited until Liz let him in. “Luckily I know I’m totally unworthy, or I might be trying to buy your favours.” Harold hopped up to sit on Liz’s bench. “It’s a bit chilly in here anyway.”
“Because I never have enough charcoal to get a good bed of coals. I’m even having a job working up a decent sweat. I check the trees daily but they’re just not trying to grow.” Liz poked with a hammer at a piece of flat iron. “I’m using brute strength rather than heating and there’s no finesse in that.”
“Oh well, I’ll take my offerings elsewhere.”
“Yes where, exactly? There are vague rumours about you showering without locking the bathroom. Worse than that the rumours are so vague I can’t figure out who started them.” Liz sniffed disdainfully. “Starting rumours is my job because I know everything, but not this time and it’s ruining my reputation.” She narrowed her eyes. “Just what pathetic treasure did you think I might be impressed with?”
Harold grinned. “Charcoal. Big clean pieces without any chemicals. Bags of the stuff from the Geeks, with more coming from the GOFS. I’ve got oodles of propellant because I traded some machetes, knives and single shot pistols as well as lots of repairs, so I allowed them to persuade me to take charcoal.” He raised his arms across in front of his face. “What sort of thank you is that?”
Liz stopped beating on his arms with her hands. “You, you soldier you! Where is it?” Harold pointed at the door. “Ooh. I should…” She went to the door and loo
ked out. “Cripes, you should have made that offer. I might have overlooked your wimpy physique.” Liz went outside and her voice floated back. “Come on then, give me a hand.”
Harold did, and soon the small bags and sacks were stacked in a corner of the garage used as a forge. “There is a price, more hardened rods for reloads.”
“Do they work?”
“The people fell over, though maybe soft lead would have done the job?” Harold shrugged, smiling hopefully. “Better safe than sorry? Surely the bribe is big enough.”
“Just about.” Liz looked at the charcoal. “I’ve lots of straightening to do, crossbow points to make, and fettling for the gnomes as well as your unreasonable demands. Though with luck there’ll be enough here to get back to my tempering experiments. Hah, when I get that right, I’ll be receiving all sorts of offers in return for my wares.” Liz smiled brightly. “I’ll be singing without even a hint of sooty passion.”
“Singing and all that stuff. Casper is still not happy. I’m worried.” Harold frowned and shrugged uncomfortably. “He seems to have got over Fury and the Holly thing, but he’s not the same idiot.”
“Neither are you. Casper got over the first euphoria about coming out as gay, but then he had a couple of hard knocks. That’s it. He’s happy with Amber and he’s still a complete burke with the kids.” Liz sniggered. “Unless you can find him a lumberjack I reckon he’s as happy as the lump will ever be.”
“I’ve tried. I thought we’d have ended up with another gay bloke or two by now.”
“Maybe we have, but not the right one. After all look how many impressionable women are fluttering lashes at you without a result?” Liz pushed Harold towards the door, then picked up her music player. “Now go. Soldier off. I’ve been recording from some of those old CDs. Heavy Metal music, music with a beat for beating, from the likes of Motorhead and Nuklea Hamma.” Harold got out while his eardrums were intact.
