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

by Robin Crumby

  “Looks like we have visitors,” said Victor as he hurried on to catch up with Briggs.

  She puzzled at the sight, lost in thought. The last time she had seen the helicopter was at Hurst Castle all those months ago. It had to be American, but why on earth would they be here? It made no sense to her.

  She ran after Victor, eager to discover more about their visitors. Victor was conferring with Briggs about something in the vestibule, handing his coat to one of the men. Briggs nodded and they went inside, followed by Terra and the others. They had set a roaring fire, stacked with logs and broken furniture. On the far side of the room was a group of seven soldiers, dressed in full combat gear. As Terra entered, they looked up calmly, weapons lowered. To her surprise, she recognised Lieutenant Peterson, who had his boots off, drying his socks next to the fire.

  “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” said Briggs with a heavy hint of sarcasm, “I thought we agreed never to meet in person.”

  “We did, but in the circumstances, I thought a visit was warranted.”

  Peterson noticed Terra standing behind the others and nodded in her direction. “Good to see you’re alive and well, Terra.”

  “What do you want Peterson?” continued Briggs impatiently.

  “Your antics have been causing me no end of headaches over the last forty-eight hours. Gallivanting around the countryside attacking my guys. You seem to have completely forgotten our agreement.”

  “Not before you did,” said Briggs to a look of bemusement. “When were you going to tell me about Porton Down?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “So you planned to just keep us in the dark? Do you think we’re stupid or something?”

  “You got what you wanted. We agreed that you would stay out of the way.”

  “Not when you go behind my back and smuggle scientists on to the island, that changes everything.”

  “What have you done with the Professor?”

  “He’s safe. Somewhere out of harm’s way.”

  “Back at the hospital?”

  “I wouldn’t like to say.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter now. He’s no longer my concern. You can keep him.”

  “Please yourself,” he shrugged.

  “I have some more clean-up work coming your way.”

  “I’m done with your dirty work. Who is it this time?”

  “Just the crew of a tanker we picked up. They’ll arrive tomorrow. If you can make them disappear, like the other lot I sent you.”

  “What’s so important about the crew of a tanker?” puzzled Victor.

  “What do you think? They’re from the outside world. They know too much. I can’t risk them talking, spreading rumours about what’s really going on out there.”

  “They’ll find out soon enough. How long do you think you can keep people in the dark?”

  “Now you listen here, Briggs, and you listen good. How I do things is my business. I control the flow of information round here, not you. You’re only alive so long as I allow you to be.”

  “I’m not your lapdog, Peterson.”

  “No Briggs, you’re much more important than that. Your job is to create fear, true fear,” he said theatrically. “Fear that strikes terror in to the hearts of everyone on this pathetic God-forsaken island. Without fear, there can be no control, you hear me? People coming here need to believe there’s a credible threat to their security.”

  “You’ve got a screw loose if you think you’re in control. You need to get out more, see what’s really going on.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? Every alliance needs a unifying cause. A common enemy, and you’re it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re public enemy number one. You’re the Boogeyman, the evil mastermind behind everything, leading a faceless organisation that strikes fear into the hearts of every living soul. You’re the rebellion, the luddites, the fifth columnists, the counter-revolutionaries we all loathe and fear.”

  “Your pantomime is all very well, but the virus is the real threat. If there’s a vaccine, that changes everything.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. There’s never going to be a vaccine. It’ll take years, maybe decades. All the stocks of Tamiflu and Relenza are under my control.”

  “That’s not what the Professor told me.”

  “That guy,” he snorted. “He’s an academic, a historian. He knows nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure, he told me the virus could have been bio-engineered.”

  “And you believed him? The virus was a natural disaster, nothing more. Maybe we brought this thing on ourselves. We weren’t as well prepared as we should have been. It was an accident waiting to happen.”

  “If the Professor is so unimportant, then why did you need him in the first place?”

  “Who says I did?”

  “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care whether you believe me or not, it doesn’t matter,” he said getting out of his chair and approaching Briggs, drawing his sidearm. Briggs stood his ground, unintimidated by this show of force. Peterson pressed the cold barrel of his black revolver to Briggs’ forehead, leaning in close.

  “You, my friend, are going to learn to play by the rules. My rules. You do what we agreed and I’ll leave you in peace. You get to come and go as you please, visit the mainland as many times as you like. But if you step out of line one more time, I’ll bomb this place back to the stone age. You got that?”

  Briggs stared back at Peterson, letting him have his moment of theatre, aware of all those watching. After a few moments, Briggs raised his eyebrows, with a hint of a smile.

  “If I was you, friend, I wouldn’t go barging into people’s homes and threatening them. In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re a long way from Kansas, or wherever you come from. If you want things to run like clockwork on the island, you need me.”

  Briggs pushed his forehead against the barrel, leaning forward until Peterson lowered his weapon.

  “Now, me and my men are hungry. I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long night, and I’m ready for a cup of coffee and some breakfast. So why don’t you and your men get out before we fall out.”

  Peterson glared back at Briggs, eye-balling the warlord, blinking silently.

  Peterson let out a long sigh, shaking his head disapprovingly. He sat down heavily opposite the fire, lacing up his boots with a forced smile on his face.

  “You better tell those friends of yours at the hospital to keep their noses clean. No more chances.”

  Peterson zipped up his jacket, took one last look at the fire and turned to leave. Outside the window, dozens more of Briggs’ men had gathered to see what all the commotion was about and the marine guard was uneasy with such a large force assembling.

  Terra followed Briggs outside to watch them leave. The helicopter was already going into its start-up cycle, the whine of its engines building slowly as they wandered over. Its sliding door was open, ready to receive its passengers for the return trip to the Chester. As Peterson reached the helicopter, he turned and shouted back towards the waiting party, struggling to make himself heard over the rotors which were beginning to turn faster and faster.

  “I’ll be seeing you Briggs. Don’t forget what I told you.”

  Briggs looked enigmatically across at Victor, his expression hard to read. Terra wondered how much longer he would put up with being treated like a naughty schoolboy.

  No one spoke to Briggs like that and got away with it, at least, not for long. To a man like Briggs, respect was everything. There would be repercussions, that would be certain. Terra recognised Victor’s unmistakable influence over the last few weeks. He was more patient, biding his time for the opportunities that would present themselves all too soon as the Allies let down their guard.

  Terra could only guess at the cards Briggs held up his sleeve. Their game plan was entering its final chapter. If Victor was right, it would change everything. But if he was wrong, they would al
l be wiped out. The end of everything she had worked so hard for. She alone could be the heir to Briggs’ empire.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  A pale sun appeared over the island as the Nipper picked up the rest of the Hurst survivors from Cliff End Battery and motored the short distance to Yarmouth Harbour. Like Lymington on the mainland, Yarmouth looked quite different from the seaside town that had once drawn huge numbers of day-trippers in previous summers.

  The whole ferry port and harbour area were fully militarised with high fences topped with coils of razor wire along the jetty and wall to prevent unauthorised landings. Two lookout posts were set up on top of Yarmouth Castle where a sand-bagged position revealed the barrel of a machine gun. The lookouts covered the Nipper’s approach as it bounced over the swell towards the harbour wall, where a group of soldiers stood waiting for them.

  “Tell me again why we have to pass quarantine?” asked Tommy sheltering behind the wheelhouse.

  “Because everyone has to, that’s why. They can’t bend the rules for anyone. That’s how they’ll keep the virus out, dummy,” said Sam, who had a blanket round his shoulders and a pair of oilskin trousers stained with dried-on fish guts, the only clothing he could find on board. The others were huddling together for warmth below deck.

  “Will you two please stop bickering? It’s like being stuck with two little children. If I could walk, I’d come over there and knock some sense into the pair of you,” reprimanded Riley, who was perched in the corner of the cramped wheelhouse next to the depth sounder.

  “Sam, that bloke is pointing you over there,” said Riley, noticing a soldier directing them towards the vacant pontoon. Sam turned the wheel and put the engine into neutral as they coasted towards the jetty. Tommy grabbed the bow line and got ready to jump.

  As soon as they landed and made the Nipper fast, Zed helped Riley up the ramp on to the hard. She winced with each step, leaning heavily against Zed for support. Her trouser leg was rolled up to the knee, exposing the pristine crepe bandage applied by a nurse at Cliff End Battery.

  The parting with Sergeant Jones had been awkward to say the least. Despite her obvious shyness, she had hugged him and allowed a kiss on the cheek in front of all of them. She had later shrugged off their taunts as the American adopting “European” ways, but in her heart she realised their new friendship meant more to him than it did to her. The last few days had confirmed that she had feelings for another, though the subject of her affections seemed entirely oblivious.

  Jones’ team had said their goodbyes and headed back to the Chester. They were being recalled as a matter of urgency, although Jones wouldn’t tell her what it was all about. It had come straight from the top, Lieutenant Peterson had been very insistent. She suspected there was another attack under way in Southampton or perhaps there were more attempts to cross the Solent. She had seen for herself how busy they were monitoring all of that activity in the sector.

  The soldier on the jetty directed them towards a medical station where they would each be assessed for symptoms of the virus. Zed looked strangely nervous as they waited for their turn.

  “You’re not having another irrational attack of survivor guilt, are you?”

  “Back off Riley. We all deal with it in our own way. Unlike you, I never forgave myself for leaving my family to face the outbreak on their own. I need to live with the consequences of my actions.”

  “Let it go, Zed. We’re your family now. Anyway, what’s done is done.”

  “Don’t get me started,” he groaned, shaking his head.

  One by one they were cleared into a quarantine zone where three army trucks were waiting to take them south towards their new home in Freshwater Bay at the south-western tip of the island. Captain Armstrong had provided personal assurances that the team would be quarantined on site at their final destination, rather than face the ignominy of the mandatory forty-eight hours in the squalid conditions of the refugee camps.

  The convoy of trucks crossed the river estuary and wound their way south-west through Norton Green on the Colwell Road before turning east towards Freshwater. Everything was so green on the island. The houses and shops they passed looked untouched by the lawlessness of the outbreak. It was almost as if the chaos and descent into civil unrest had never happened here.

  She remembered Zed saying something about lower population density and the abundance of natural resources making a difference for the islanders. It seemed too good to be true, if that was the case. Perhaps everything she had heard about the island was real. Her skeptical nature had made her cautious and she still expected each corner they turned to reveal the true scale of the humanitarian crisis unfolding all around them.

  It was still early in the morning, which might explain the tranquility they discovered once they had left Yarmouth. The quiet rumble of the diesel engine was the only sound as they progressed through deserted streets. There were very few people around. She checked her watch. It was nearly eight-thirty, nearly an hour and a half after daylight, so where was everyone?

  They drove down tree-lined roads with overgrown hedges and well-proportioned houses on either side. The previous week’s storms had left a carpet of leaves and fallen branches on the pavements, littering the roadway. Many of the ditches were filled with water and part-submerged vehicles had been pushed off the road by tractors and diggers to keep the path clear for convoys like theirs.

  The horizon seemed to open up as they approached the sea, turning right at the old lifeboat station on the beach at Freshwater Bay. Sam pointed ahead of them towards a large white hotel that dominated the headland above steep chalk cliffs. There was a barrier set up in the road, blocking the entrance to the hotel beyond with the cautionary notice ‘Do not enter - Trespassers will be shot’. Bumping up the track towards the building on the cliff top, they passed sloping fields on their right scattered with cows and sheep that reminded Riley of the farmland they managed at Keyhaven.

  Riley had never been here, but it was said that Freshwater Bay was a spot every bit as beautiful as Hurst spit, with panoramic views of the English Channel, where steep chalk cliffs met the sea. She was not disappointed. Looking back behind the truck she could see a small beach and rocks standing proud of the water, where south-westerly Atlantic storm systems had smashed against a coastline prone to erosion.

  In the distance she could make out the wreck of a coastal steamer smashed against the rocks, its bottom ripped out, lying broken against an outcrop. Beyond were rolling hills dropping away to the sea as far as the eye could see towards St Catherine’s point, the southern-most tip of the island. There was nothing south of here for seventy miles until you hit France. It was as far south as you could get, without going all the way west towards Cornwall. To Riley this seemed like the end of the world.

  The convoy pulled up in front of the hotel buildings and one by one, they jumped down from the trucks, looking around them excitedly at their new home. Several of the advance party emerged to welcome the new arrivals from Hurst, asking anxiously about their journey and whether everyone had made it across. News about Jack’s absence spread quickly and there was a subdued air of melancholy.

  Sam and Tommy ran inside to explore, eager to grab the best room for themselves. From the outside, the hotel looked tired but habitable. So exposed to the elements, the outside walls needed a lick of paint. The roof seemed in good condition with most of the tiles still in place. Back in the day, this had been a luxury retreat so would be well appointed, with beds for all, a dining room, kitchen and generous living quarters.

  From the looks of the place, its remote location had ensured it had survived intact, barring a few looted items. None of the latest arrivals had any luggage, just the clothes they were standing up in. The others would have items they could borrow until they found their feet and scavenged new gear from the surrounding properties.

  Zed wandered away towards the cliff edge and, despite the pain, Riley hobbled after him past the patio area with what would have been
a swimming pool with a view. The pool was half-full and green with algae. There was a rusting iron bench set just back from the cliff. Zed collapsed in a state of exhaustion. Riley joined him, standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders. She shifted her weight to her good leg, enjoying being upright once more.

  The view was breathtaking and the breeze was steady and uninterrupted, unpolluted by the stench of decay you so often got downwind of human habitation. Despite the best efforts of the survivors to eliminate the threat of cholera and other diseases by clearing cottages of the dead, the smell was often unmistakable. It turned Riley’s stomach just to imagine it, but here on the island, there was nothing. She took a deep breath revelling in its purity.

  “Don’t know about you, but I’m tired, tired of all this running around and fighting. I think we deserve a rest, don’t you?”

  “There’s no rest for people like you and me.”

  “I don’t know, this place doesn’t look so bad. It’s kind of sleepy, but that’s probably not a bad thing. We’ve been in the wars for too long.”

  Zed’s eyes were fixed on the shipwreck in the distance, watching the waves crash against its superstructure and sweep over its foredeck, before spilling back over the side again to be drawn out to sea in a never-ending cycle.

  “I’m not staying. I need to get back to Newtown. My place is with those scientists. As soon as we’ve cleared quarantine, I’m out of here.”

  “Just rest up one week, Zed? Stay with me, please.”

  She patted his shoulder affectionately, leaving her hand resting there. They didn’t speak for a few seconds, enjoying the silence.

  “Things are going to get worse before they get better, you know that. Winter is coming and there’s a lot of hard work to get this place ready, find supplies, food. We’re starting again from scratch. It will take time to re-establish ourselves.”

  “But take a look around you. Don’t you see, it’s different here?”

  “For now, but the war will follow us here. The only thing different about this place is that there’s a strip of water between us and them. It’s only a matter of time Riley. In the end it will be the same everywhere you go. Only the strong will survive.”