Fall of the Cities_Branching Out

by Vance Huxley

  “Don’t grin like that in daylight, not without a mask. I’ve just eaten.” Hawkins shrugged. “I’ll let them know, with the ‘or else’ bit as well. After all, taking one apart might be a bit dodgy.” The Geek boss swept the Orchard Close fighters with his eyes. “Are you leaving now, or has Wellington invited you for a sleepover?”

  “It might be a bit crowded. Besides, we should get our beauty sleep before New Year.” Harold frowned. “Only a few days now.”

  Hawkins sniggered. “Oh yes, party time, though misery won’t come to ours any more. He’s a home boy now.” Wellington shrugged and smiled, before beckoning over a couple of men to escort the Orchard Close party home and bring back the two hostages. Within half an hour the thirty-eight of them, eleven wounded but none needing a stretcher, were getting into the transit vans and pickup truck. A Geek delivered four padded boxes, each containing two unused bombs.

  “How did you manage that, Roy.” Harold inspected the pad bandaged to Roy’s head.

  “I moved after shooting like you keep saying, but I’m a bit lazy and didn’t move far. The bastard put a round through the slit and it ricocheted off a brick.” He touched his head, wincing. “I hope my headache is gone by New Year but I’ll still be wearing this. Fancy dress? Wounded hero?”

  “That could work.” Patty inspected it. “You’ll need a bit of red on the bandage, and you should practice a brave smile as if you’re in agony?”

  “I am in agony. Maybe I can get my hand held? My head kissed?”

  “You’ve more chance of getting your wound kissed than Harold has.” Harold left Roy and Patty verbally sparring about who might get what kissed better and checked everyone else. Wellington had told the truth. The wounds were painful and bloody but not life-threatening, and with a bit of luck not crippling. On the way back a subdued Emmy, worried about Tammy, complained that she really needed to get back. Tammy had enough milk for another three days if necessary because Emmy had built up a reserve in case of mishaps, but she worried anyway. She cheered up a bit by teasing Harold about needing to cut down on burgers so his ass didn’t stick up.

  Emmy soon lapsed into talking about the bloody mess they’d just been in, and both agreed a war with the Geeks could be very nasty. Despite Caddi’s opinion, with Wellington’s brain directing them the erstwhile shop assistants were a force to reckon with. The drone gave Wellington an edge but he had exploited that ruthlessly, folding in every tiny extra to deal the General a crushing blow. Despite both of them liking the Geek warchief, if a war started Wellington would be top of the sniper target list.

  Harold pointed out that the marks he had seen on the truck showed that the Geek rifleman were getting better. Emmy thought the onagers could be more dangerous than rifles. She suggested knocking down any cover out to at least seven hundred yards from the walls of Orchard Close. Those walls looked both impressive and very welcoming when the vans arrived home. A crowd of anxious residents descended on the party, while Patricia and Lenny swooped down on the wounded and set into cleaning and inspecting and patching.

  Chapter 8:

  A New Year, a New Start

  The days to New Year seemed a little unreal to Harold and probably the other thirty-seven who had been to the Geeks. As with the previous fight the rest of Orchard Close had seen nothing, and this time there were no fatalities. Apart from Harold and the long graze that had just missed the top of Roy’s ear all the rest hit arms. The only conclusion had to be that shooting from cover and aiming two-handed, their arms were the biggest bit exposed. Orchard Close had been remarkably lucky. Roy thought that the General’s men had targeted Geeks because they were easier targets, especially at the end when the Geek fighters charged and lined up on the bank. The General’s rifles on the ridge certainly had because apart from Harold and Roy, the Orchard Close wounds were all from underpowered pistol reloads. Even Harold only had half the ricocheted round in his ass when Lenny dug it out.

  The contrast between the slaughter on the bridges at the end and the happy, smiling faces preparing for New Year kept catching Harold out. The knowledge that the General would be licking his wounds for a while yet might have been one reason for the bright smiles. Another reason might be Harold’s ass. Harold didn’t mind the hilarity about his wound, because he’d got off light according to Lenny. He wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for a while, but the angle meant the fragment went from top to bottom of Harold’s buttock, only hitting muscle.

  The residents who had hoped for a snowman competition decided they didn’t need snow, just a competition. The theme for New Year’s fancy dress should be snow. Harold’s bee suit had little white snowflakes or possibly snowballs all over instead of yellow strips, with one red one on his ass of course. Celine’s white dress made her a snow-lady with some frills on the shoulders and her head to represent snowfall. Those competing for the mystery prize seemed to think either the snowflakes, snowballs or bits of white rabbit fur or lace snowfall worked just as well more or less on their own. The dance itself turned out to be lively and cheerful, and Harold found that New Year had a lot more Happy than he’d expected.

  Even the car delivering a dozen pistols, two small calibre shotguns, a small bag of ammunition, some machetes and bags of sugar for bombs didn’t spoil Harold’s mood. Hawkins had definitely stiffed Orchard Close over their share of the loot but right now Harold didn’t care. The General had been knocked back, and none of Harold’s people had died.

  * * *

  In the bunker the atmosphere definitely bordered on festive. “Glasgow worked well, Maurice, Vanna. I really did worry.” Owen smiled happily.

  “I’m definitely relieved because we don’t have to feed or even guard Glasgow any more. The extra protein meant for an entire enclosure can be spread elsewhere and will make a real difference to the other forty-three.” Ivy raised a hand. “I’d toast you if these meetings weren’t dry.”

  Owen laughed. “Not as dry as Glasgow. Maurice arranged for the breakout to go in exactly the right direction and persuaded almost all the population to join in. A few guards will still be needed, but there’s no way what is left will become another London.”

  “I spent hours trying to work out why the fools did that, ran off into the snow.” Ivy, the redhead in charge of the marts, frowned. “Why did the fools do that?”

  “Rumours were spread of stockpiles at Fort William. More rumours followed that the Navy had pulled out of Fastlane nuclear submarine base but some of the stores and all the accommodation blocks and generators were intact.” Maurice spread his hands, smirking. “The blizzard had been predicted but we didn’t tell the inhabitants of Glasgow.” Maurice paused for effect. “Then we cut the electricity and water.”

  Ivy smiled. “Nicely done. They all left to get to a place there would be food and electricity.”

  “Exactly. We sacrificed some of the less reliable mart guards to man the overwhelmed posts. That motivated the civilian contractors sent in to clear the docks for you, Gerard. They will clean up the rest of Glasgow when the weather is a little better.” Joshua grinned. “The real Army were waiting with artillery once the mob were out in the open, and with armour and rifles at Fort William in case they got that far.”

  “Did you get them all?” Henry, the bearded farms manager, shrugged. “We don’t want them over on the east coast of Scotland where the farms are.”

  “Any survivors fled into the mountains where they’ll be under metres of snow for another two months.” Joshua laughed. “The weather up there is so bad even the sheep have come down to the lowlands or died. Better yet, the survivors left in the city will mark their own positions by burning wood to keep warm. We’ll plot the smoke and areas where heat has melted the snow, then the civilian contractors can stroll in and collect them before spring.”

  “That business about cutting off the electricity to drive them out takes one item off my agenda.” Grace used the control to show Orchard Close ablaze with coloured lights, then moved on to show other enclaves that had
similar decorations lit up. “I know the wave generators, wind farms, Solar Panels, Hydro and nuclear are more than enough now, but I’d been going to suggest rationing electricity to stop this sort of wastage.” She mock-bowed towards Maurice without getting out of her chair. “Now I can see that keeping the scum firmly tied into electricity as a reliable source of heat and light is useful, for the effect when we do cut them off.”

  Henry settled back and relaxed. “Good point. Now what about that other business, the brave citizens and all that rubbish. Will you use that again when you show Glasgow?”

  “Definitely, as a contrast. We’ve more footage now, of another battle and this time they killed real scum, a lot of them. Annoyingly, the wrong scum but the propaganda will be a consolation prize. The Army drones even have pictures of more women fighting, that one with a crossbow again for God’s sake. The same one who showed up on the footage of the first battle. Ah, there might be a problem.” Maurice frowned, looking over at Faraz, the RAF liaison. “Do you have the proper sequence of events leading up to the Eurofighter strike?”

  “The request came from the Army, a properly authorised strike mission against automatic weapons.” Faraz shrugged. “The mission brief didn’t specifically mention Army personnel being under fire, but did ask for speed which is why control sent a jet. The pilot received co-ordinates and clear pictures of the targets from the forward controller. He hit them both as instructed. Textbook.”

  Maurice looked at Joshua. “The Army?”

  “Drones moved to investigate the firing of automatic weapons within two miles of the bypass. Since the fight seemed to be between two gangs, the operator left the situation until the maximum scum died and then would have sent a helicopter.” Joshua looked at Maurice with a rueful smile. “Reading between the lines the operator recognised the woman with the crossbow, and decided that the bloody but unbowed should stay that way. I can’t argue because those trucks were properly armoured which might have been a nasty surprise at a mart or Army post.”

  “No they wouldn’t, because I knew about them. Never mind. Though I’ll have to put some serious thought into how I can get those maniacs to attack again.” Maurice laughed. “One setback is insignificant because elsewhere the plans for eradicating democracies are starting to succeed. These particular maniacs already wiped out two.”

  The chairman frowned at the spymaster. “You might have known about that armour, Maurice, but Joshua’s and Vanna’s people didn’t. Telling them after one of our posts had been slaughtered would have been too late. Perhaps you will share this sort of news another time? You tend to keep everything to yourself, but that isn’t always the best way.”

  Maurice looked at the two frowning faces, and the other unhappy ones, and sobered. “A valid point. My apologies Joshua, Vanna.” Both nodded acceptance of Maurice’s apology, though Joshua’s came grudgingly.

  Owen smiled. “Excellent. Actually in this case preserving the women might be more important than the army getting protective, if we can truly exploit them.” Joshua looked over at Grace, then Vanna. “Has there been any word?”

  Maurice interrupted any reply. “Yes. The blonde has survived but we could be waiting months to get to her because she’s been shot through a lung. I’m surprised they managed to save her life, and a bit annoyed she didn’t end up asking the Army for medical help. The Army, or the squaddies in particular, would have been overjoyed to rescue her.” Maurice smirked, obviously recovered from his rebuke. “We have sources near enough to keep track.”

  “Why don’t we invite that whole enclave out of the city, and give them a farm up on the Scottish Borders. Then we’ll have willing candidates for your propaganda machine.” Boris the diplomat looked at Vanna. “Why arrest her? It won’t make her more inclined to help us.”

  “No mission creep. Those innocents just slaughtered two attacking forces and are unlikely to make obedient little drones.” Owen glanced at Maurice. “We don’t want that blonde happy and smiling, we want her defeated, injured and desperate if possible. If she has been badly abused and we rescue her, that works even better. The propaganda will prime the Army and stop them sympathising with anyone inside the enclosures.” Boris subsided, frowning.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll motivate her regardless of her condition when she arrives. When will you tell the other cities about the breakout from Glasgow?” Grace glanced at Vanna. “We don’t want unrest or similar breakout attempts elsewhere unless there are extra forces in place.”

  “Later, let the animals enjoy New Year. Then we’ll mix shots of the honest citizens elsewhere enjoying New Year with the foolish residents of Glasgow dying in the snow. Our blonde and her friends can help with the contrast, since they’re one of the enclaves with Christmas lights up.” Maurice smiled happily. “The general opinion in the other cities is that the local idiots should have stopped the attack on the Glasgow mart. We’ll just reinforce that, especially with the latest fighting. Those few gangs, and especially that one enclave, are developing into a handy propaganda tool.”

  “Don’t get carried away with clever propaganda, Maurice. We don’t want more squirrels. More spam or possibly some help from Argentina would help more than pretty pictures?” Ivy raised an eyebrow at Owen and then Gerard. “Or has some other problem come up?”

  “No problems. There’ll be beef for our people and Corned Beef for the scum very soon. The ships will be here more or less as the last snow south of Scotland melts, either just before or just after Valentine’s.” The youngest cabal member smiled. “If it’s before then Corned Beef might be more popular than a card or chocolate as a gift.” The cabal members laughed and Gerard rapped on the wooden table with his knuckles. “For luck, because we seem to be finally getting the situation here under control.” Several others rapped the wood for luck as well.

  “What about elsewhere? Is the rest of the world starting to settle down, Boris?”

  Boris shrugged. “Not exactly settled, but nothing really worrying. According to my reports the Chinese Army splintered once the national leadership were removed. After a generation of obedience brainwashing, the soldiers simply transferred their loyalty to their commanders and now each general is trying to carve his own empire. The Chinese navy are more interested in defending their bases than getting ambitious.”

  Boris moved those reports to one side, clicking to alter the view and highlight the Chinese-Russian border. “The Russian and Chinese forces facing each other on the border both believed the other had launched an attack and called up reinforcements. Both were ordered to attack again and are badly mauled with their munitions depleted. Both sides desperately need resupply which won’t arrive. The allied navies based in Australia and New Zealand have control of the southern Pacific.”

  “I’m more interested in the Atlantic, or rather the countries with fleets that might interfere here?” Victor the Navy liaison shrugged. “Purely as a practical matter, the Pacific doesn’t really impact us here.”

  “My apologies, those will be next. Though first there’s the land border with Europe since that might also have some impact.” The view shifted to the eastern borders of Europe. “The entire area is chaotic. Some of the armed groups have armour so we must be ready if they combine and strike west.”

  “The Russians?” Henry held up his hand. “Sorry, I always worry about the Russians.”

  Boris laughed. “The remaining Russian forces along that border have withdrawn to the Crimea where they have cover from the fleet. They are launching air strikes at any of the armoured groups they can find.” He glanced at Victor. “Like all Russian naval units the Black Sea Fleet are still obeying orders, not least because that protects their home bases and families.”

  The map changed again and several of those present sighed. “The USA. Now those ships I really worry about. One of their fleets putting to sea would drive a coach and horses through all our plans.” Victor grimaced. “We would be forced to ask our colleagues in Russia to arrange a confrontation and the whole
affair would spiral out of control.”

  “No need, Victor. The US Navy also have orders keeping the ships tied up so the crews can help to maintain law and order round their bases. Most of the remaining US Army are trying to deal with the people from the population centres, who are spread across the country and stripping it bare. Our allies are stirring race hatred, religious hatred, and sheer bloody-mindedness to keep everyone fighting their neighbours.” Boris smiled. “That encourages the Navy to look after their bases.”

  He changed the schematic to show the USA land forces. “The country is regressing to States, each using their own National Guards to try and impose order and defend food stocks from their own and neighbouring irregulars. Every private army and nut group are in on the act, and the number of American soldiers abroad when their transport failed to arrive has helped.” He chuckled. “The chaos following the death of pretty much the entire top tier of American government still hasn’t settled down. The survivors are all our people.”

  “Any time scale on the chaos settling down, Boris?”

  “Not really Owen. There is no chance of the US refineries being repaired until all the fighting dies down. There’s plenty of oil of course, but burning refineries is now a national sport.” Boris highlighted various places on the map. “Actually an international sport which might be awkward in time.”

  “We can shoot those problems when necessary.” Owen started to smile. “But we can continue on the assumption that no major force will suddenly interfere.”