Sentinel: A post-apocalyptic thriller (The Hurst Chronicles Book 2)

by Robin Crumby

  “Let me reassure everyone that you’re all entirely safe down here and we have sufficient men and firepower to allow you all to continue the important work you’re conducting, long into the future. But the Colonel is right, it’s only a matter of time before we exhaust our resources and that could be sooner than we think without resupply. I have therefore agreed to the Colonel’s plan to begin a phased withdrawal. We’ll start with the mission-critical personnel and scientists. You all need to start packing what we intend to take with us and be ready by the end of this week. Our plan is for the first convoy to leave this weekend. That leaves us roughly fifty hours to get organised.”

  The Colonel nodded and looked around the room, his eyebrows raised expectantly for questions. Sergeant Jones lifted his hand and approached the large map stuck on the wall that covered the south of England.

  “Sir, my orders are to escort you and your team back to the island. Once I can get a message to command, we’ll have a team make its way to here,” his finger tapped on the map on the outskirts of Southampton. “Eling on the Test River is our designated RV point. We’ll have a flotilla of small craft ready to ferry you the rest of the way. We’ll also have a helicopter providing air support once we’re clear of the New Forest. Major, how many men and vehicles can you spare us to make the first trip without compromising security?”

  The Major redirected the question to a staff sergeant standing near the back.

  “We have a dozen vehicles, trucks and jeeps, but most of them are not going to be serviceable until we get new parts and have a chance to make repairs. I reckon I can have the two Humvees, the big APV and a Land Rover ready for this weekend if we pull our fingers out. In terms of manpower, all told, we have forty-five soldiers and a whole armoury at our disposal. I’d say we could release a squad of men to go with you without causing too many problems, assuming we can shift things around.”

  “Excellent,” said the Colonel. “That should be more than enough for the first convoy.”

  “What do we know about the terrain and civilian groups we’re likely to encounter between Salisbury and Southampton?” asked Sergeant Jones.

  “Nothing to write home about. Small survivor groups living in hospitals, hotels, that sort of thing. One or two forest encampments,” replied the Major. “We ceased all reconnaissance trips several months ago and concentrated on the immediate area. Towns and cities were off limits, so we stuck to pubs, private houses, farms mostly. It was safer that way.”

  “And the roads? Highways? Are they passable?” asked Jones.

  “We systematically cleared most of the local roads round here,” said the Staff Sergeant pointing to the map. “We cleared the A338 as far south as Laverstock outside Salisbury, and North right up to the junction with the A303. But the A303 itself and the A36 are a total mess. They’re virtually impassable without heavy lifting equipment. There are lines of abandoned cars and vehicles that will be rusting through, hand brakes locked on and a lot of dead and diseased bodies to deal with. Best avoided. The men would need to work in bio-hazard suits.”

  “I concur. We should stay off the highway,” added Jones. “Stick to smaller roads that go cross country, through villages and farmland where we can stop if necessary and resupply. It’s thirty miles or so from here to the RV point as the crow flies, so we should be able to do that in a day if the roads are fairly clear. Two days tops. Staff Sergeant, you want to introduce me to your quartermaster? We’re traveling pretty light. We could use a little extra firepower.”

  “Be my guest Sergeant. We have a whole armoury at your disposal. Assault rifles, handguns, heavy calibre machine guns, grenades, C4, RPGs. You name it.”

  Zed noticed that Sergeant Jones had a big grin on his face. “Riley, you want to tag along and see what we can find?”

  “Sure, wouldn’t say no.”

  The Staff Sergeant blocked Riley’s path and cautioned: “I’m sorry. I never said anything about handing out weapons to civilians.”

  “You’re kidding right? You don’t know Riley?” asked Jones rhetorically. “Don’t be fooled by the lack of uniform. She’s one of my team.”

  “My mistake,” said the Staff Sergeant stiffening perceptibly, looking her up and down. “Follow me, please.”

  Riley stood a little taller with her new-found status and patted Zed on the shoulder as she passed him. “Good luck with your reading pile.”

  “Thanks. When you’re done, you want to come and give me a hand?”

  “Sure. I’ll bring you back something from the armoury, eh?”

  “Call me old-fashioned, but give me cold steel any day.”

  “You and that axe,” she snorted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I’ve told you a hundred times, Jack. Jean had nothing to do with the fire,” insisted Joe.

  Jack slumped back against the chair’s head rest and held his hands up with a resigned sigh. He was attempting to placate Joe as much as was possible, considering the emotion of the situation.

  “Anyway, whatever happened to ‘innocent till proven guilty’? You’ve always taught us the importance of the old ways Jack. Believing the best in people, rather than fearing the worst. There’s no way that girl would get a fair trial if we allowed her to be taken back to the Sisterhood. Do I really need to remind you that it was the Sisters who locked me and the others up like animals? They called us breeders for goodness sake. Does that strike you as a group that cares about justice? They’ve already made their minds up, wouldn’t you say?” said Joe shaking his head, his arms outstretched.

  “Really Joe? You’re calling the Sister a liar? I’m sorry, I find that hard to swallow. All I’m doing here is trying to get to the bottom of this. To understand the facts. To hear the evidence against Jean and see if she has a case to answer. It’s the right thing to do, Joe. You must see that.”

  “If Jean says that she wasn’t involved, then that’s good enough for me,” asserted Joe. “She’s sixteen for goodness’ sake. She’s still a child.”

  “Look Joe. What would you have me do? I can’t very well refuse her now can I? The Sister is waiting downstairs. She deserves to be heard. If the boot was on the other foot and one of the Sisterhood’s people was suspected of a crime, then I’m sure they would do the same for us. We have a civic duty to help them, to facilitate justice. You have my word that she will get a fair hearing.”

  “You don’t know these people. You can’t guarantee that.”

  “It’s my best offer. If it helps, I’m happy for you to sit in, if that’s what Jean wants. She has a right to representation. She’s technically a minor. It might make it easier for everyone.”

  Jack looked at his watch and realised that the Sister had been waiting nearly an hour for him. He couldn’t delay the inevitable any further. He shouted for Tommy who was waiting patiently outside.

  “Can you show the Sister in? And Joe, I’ll be ready for you and Jean in a couple of minutes.”

  He sat back in the chair with weary resignation, waiting for the door to close. He puffed out his cheeks. This was all he needed; a lecture from a nun, of all things. There was a knock on the door and Tommy showed the Sister in. The Sister waited for the door to close before turning to face Jack.

  “Please, have a seat Sister.”

  “I’ll stand if you don’t mind.”

  “Very well. Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Thank you for seeing me Jack. I’ve heard you’re a fair man, a good man. One of the few,” she paused, her hands grasped together in front of her, looking down at him. “Look, I know you’re busy and I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I have been sent here by my superior, Sister Theodora, to bring Jean Mathews back to the Sisterhood, to stand trial.”

  “Yes, so I hear. And before I get Jean in here to hear the charges you’re making against her, I wanted to ask you how you see this trial working? What will happen to her if she’s found guilty?”

  “She’ll get a fair hearing, I’ll see to that. And I
can assure you that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe she had a case to answer. She’ll get a chance to tell her side of the story. To be tried by her peers. She can choose someone to represent her and argue her defence. Then, when all the facts are known, the jury will vote and the Sisters will decide her punishment.”

  “And what’s that likely to be? What sort of punishment would the Sisters consider appropriate? For example, I’d have a hard time releasing her into your care if you were to tell me that she’ll face corporal punishment?”

  “We’re not savages, sir. She’ll be strongly encouraged to atone for her sins, to devote her life to God, to join the Sisterhood, to live a holy life.”

  “Very well,” said Jack, his eyebrows raised. “Well, unless there’s anything else, I suggest we get Jean in here and give her the opportunity to hear the evidence against her. Tommy?” he shouted, waiting for him to come back in with the others.

  Jean was reluctant at first to come into the room, pulling back against Joe, who was holding her by the shoulders. “Come on, it’ll be fine. I’ll stay with you Jean. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  The pair of them came through and visibly kept their distance from the Sister. Jean looked terrified, staring at her feet, trembling uncontrollably as Joe rubbed her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

  “The purpose of this meeting,” started Jack, “is to hear the Sister’s case against Jean. Jean, you will then have the opportunity to respond. We can then determine whether you should be taken from here to stand trial. Is there anything you want to ask before we begin?”

  Joe shook his head. Jean was already close to tears, waiting for Jack to continue.

  “Sister, when you’re ready, please can you tell Jean what she’s being accused of.”

  “Thank you Jack. The facts of the matter are that, on the night of April 17th, a fire raged out of control at the hotel and caused the death of seven of our residents, not to mention fourteen others who suffered second and third degree burns. Some of those survivors have life-changing injuries. We contend that Jean deliberately started the fire on the second floor to create a distraction, so that this man here,” she said pointing to Joe, “and three others like him, would have the opportunity to escape from where they were being held.”

  “And what actual proof do you have that Jean was responsible?”

  “Well, it doesn’t look very good for her does it? Look at her,” she said pointing in Jean’s direction. “The guilt is written all over her face.”

  Jean started to cry, hiding her head in her hands, sobbing lightly.

  “What do you have to say for yourself Jean?”

  “It’s not true. Joe, tell them it’s not true. You know me I would never do something like this. I’ve never hurt a fly. I’m good, I am. Tell them.”

  “Look, I’ve known Jean for the last few months. She’s just a child. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

  “And I’ve known Jean since she was a little girl,” batted back the Sister. “I know perfectly well what she’s capable of. She’s been in trouble before. She is easily led by people like this. By men. But I also know that she would never deliberately harm another. She would never have intended this to get out of control and for people to die for her cause. But there’s no question that the fire was started deliberately. Jean, there’s no point denying it any longer. You were seen on the stairs by two witnesses, Lucy and Abbie. We know it was you.”

  “You’re wrong. You’re all wrong. I wasn’t there,” she implored, her voice breaking. Joe stepped in front of her, as if physically trying to shield her from the accusations. He turned towards her, tenderly holding her face in his hands.

  “I know you Jean. I know you helped us escape but you would never have risked something so reckless. Did Seamus put you up to this?”

  Jean pressed her face in to his shoulder, sobbing. “It was Seamus, I’m telling you it wasn’t me.”

  “But that’s impossible, Jean. Seamus was with me all the time. No, I refuse to believe you would ever have intended anyone to get hurt. This was an accident.”

  “Jack, you must see,” said the Sister turning to address him. “The girl had a motive, there are witnesses. She was trying to help her new friends.”

  Joe seemed conflicted. He was trying his best to protect Jean but it was no longer her word against another, there were witnesses. In his mind, that changed everything.

  “We need to know the truth, Jean,” implored Joe.

  “The fire would have spread quickly,” added the Sister. “A candle left unattended in an upstairs room, placed against heavy curtains. It’s said that they would have smouldered just long enough, before catching alight. Long enough to allow the culprit to flee the scene. You were trying to distract everyone’s attention, while you freed the men. Tell the truth child.”

  “No, it wasn’t me.”

  “But it got out of hand. The fire spread too quickly, from room to room, to the dormitories where those poor girls were fast asleep in their beds. They never woke up. They died from smoke inhalation, Jean. There wasn’t a mark on their bodies. Whether you intended it or not, you killed them and you need to face up to what you’ve done.”

  “No, no, I never did it. Joe, you’ve got to believe me. Please Jack. They’ll kill me if I go back with them.”

  “Perhaps you can tell us where you were that night, Jean,” asked Jack. “Without an alibi, the evidence is weighted heavily against you.”

  “You told me you were with Seamus at the time. So it couldn’t have been you. That’s right isn’t it? Jean?”

  Jean was shaking her head, looking up into Joe’s eyes, a pained expression, her head tilted.

  “You must tell us the truth now. This is important.”

  “I don’t want to go back there, please don’t make me. I never meant for any of this to happen. It was an accident. That’s all. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about those poor girls who died.”

  The Sister turned to Jack, resting her hands on the table in front of him, with an air of victory.

  “Are you satisfied? We have a confession. An admission of responsibility.”

  “Wait a minute,” cautioned Jack. “That’s not what she said. She said it was an accident. That she regretted what happened to those girls. Jean, are you now saying you did have something to do with the fire?”

  Jean looked into Joe’s eyes. “I’m so sorry Joe. I did it for you. Please don’t judge me, I love you. Don’t let them take me. I’d rather die than go back there, please.”

  Joe stood in front of her, blinking, not sure what to make of her words, his eyes filling with tears.

  “I think we’re done here, don’t you?” said Jack. “Joe, I expect you’d like some time alone with Jean. If it’s alright with the Sister, I’d like to suggest you accompany her, make sure she gets a fair trial. Can you guarantee that?”

  “I give you my word. They’ll both get a fair trial.”

  Joe looked confused.

  “You’re not suggesting I had something to do with this?”

  “Absolutely, you’re as guilty as she is,” said the Sister triumphantly. “An accomplice to murder, corrupting a minor. You’ll both stand trial together.”

  She turned to face a wide-eyed Jack. “Thank you for your cooperation. You’ve done the right thing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Down by the quayside in Newport in the dead of night, Terra watched from the warmth of a heated passenger seat as one of Briggs’ men worked by torchlight. He was removing the winter covers from an impressive-looking cabin cruiser, wrestling to unlock a large padlock securing the main cabin so he could stow the lifejackets and bags below.

  The Sheridan was what Terra sneeringly thought of as a “stink boat”. A luxury motor boat probably used, in her former life, for day cruises or fishing trips around the Solent area. Terra’s family had always been somewhat sniffy about any pleasure craft without a sail, as if motor boats lacked the gr
ace and dignity of a yacht. Her father had shouted insults at their owners as they raced across their path, leaving their small sail boat to roll violently in their wake. In her experience, power boats were driven by uncouth tattooed men dripping with gold jewellery who butchered the Queen’s English in their own inimitable estuary dialect. To make matters worse, the vessels normally had humorous names like On The Rocks or Lady Buoy. The Sheridan was probably named after a hotel the owner had stayed in on holiday in Florida or Marbella.

  Their vessel was broad in the beam but fast enough for smuggling people or contraband right under the noses of the Allies. She also had a shallow draft which made her useful for narrow tidal estuaries and smaller harbours. Her cabin was modestly appointed with white cushions and wipe-clean surfaces, a small galley and two front cabins for overnight stays. Above deck there was outside seating towards the rear and a flying bridge large enough for a skipper and companion. Terra had been out on her a couple of times before, running errands for Briggs or Victor. They normally went out after dark.

  Another vehicle parked up next to theirs and the four occupants silently unloaded weapons and canvas bags, handing them over the rail and depositing their luggage in the cockpit, to be stowed inside. Briggs and Victor were the last to arrive in a large Bentley SUV, the latest addition to his collection of luxury sports cars and 4x4s, stolen to order from the mainland. She noticed that the two of them were arguing about something or other. It was so quiet here she could hear their raised voices without quite catching their words. Briggs looked across at her and fell silent. He winked and blew a kiss. She hesitated, staring back at him, butterflies in her stomach, before reciprocating. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her hesitation in the darkness.

  Briggs opened the door, waiting for her to step down from the Range Rover. The gravel in the boatyard crunched noisily underfoot as they made their way across the yard. All around them, there were yachts and other craft craned out of the water for the winter. Many of their hulls remained half-painted, tarpaulins flapping in the breeze where they had come loose in the storm.