by Vance Huxley
There were brief pauses in the advance here and there as knots of riot police put up a valiant resistance and then the first marchers, rioters now, were surging towards the armed police beyond. Some policemen ran like hell and maybe got away, others tried to defend the Mayor and died. All the soldiers emptied their weapons into the crowd in long bursts and stopped them. Then many had to reload and in those moments the volume of fire dropped. One surge and any hope of stopping the mob was gone.
Missiles including bricks and wooden posts flew into the soldiers. Men in the crowd were firing again from close range and now the soldiers were the only target. More began to fall, enough to create gaps and there were only fifty to start with. Even as the soldiers emptied their weapons again they, and the group around the Mayor, died. They were beaten down with protest signs and captured batons and trampled.
The crowd surged and eddied over the place where the Mayor had met the deputation. Moments later the ambulance that had arrived rocked, then went over. Army rifles were brandished in triumph as the mob moved on, blindly looking for more targets.
“Despite their valiant attempts to stem the tide of savagery, the Armed Forces have been overrun. At least partly because right until the end they tried to avoid hitting unarmed citizens. Such consideration was wasted on those who have no concepts of common decency.”
Tight knots of men were deliberately shooting down the remaining scattered armed police, then looting the bodies and moving on. “That’s organised as well. Who the hell are those people? Whoever they are, they’ve just started another Leeds. Deliberately. Who would want that?” The screen zoomed in on an armed group, all dressed as old-fashioned teddy boys. Then on another group in hoodies who riddled an escaping police car with bullets and swarmed over it.
“The authorities have been able to identify several criminal organisations, who have apparently combined. There are streets gangs, and also criminals involved in drug trafficking and robbery. There are also political insurgents and religious zealots, who may have employed the criminal element.”
“They’re claiming this is political? Milk isn’t political. What religious zealots? This is England. We don’t get excited over religion, let alone kill people.” Sharyn’s hands were knotted together, shredding a clump of tissues she’d used to try and clean her face with. As the commentary continued the camera zoomed onto different armed groups.
Men went down in one group wearing studded leather jackets, and they all looked at a block of shops and charged inside. Harold couldn’t get his head round it. “Where are the gunships? We see the tracers coming down at night so they’re somewhere near. A couple of those would chew the armed groups up in no time.”
“Marksmen are still attempting to stop the attacks. The criminals and the rioters are targeting the buildings with marksmen in. These murderers have no regard for the innocent during their attacks.”
Another burning shop was shown with windows above. A man was leaning from an upper window and shooting carefully and deliberately into the crowd. Smoke was already billowing out of the window and around him. Eventually one of those who were shooting back from the crowd hit the man and he slumped back inside. A family dashed out of the burning shop and were beaten to the ground by the crowd.
“The forces of law and order are resisting to the end, giving their lives to protect the innocent. Ordinary people are now being targeted in their homes.”
“It’s a script. The bastards are reading from a script.” Sharyn was right. The theme was there, and the commentary wasn’t spontaneous. The delivery was too measured, too controlled. “A real reporter would be weeping and screaming.” Someone had watched these pictures and produced these words, to write the history.
“You’re right, there’s a time delay. The message is that criminals and religious nuts were aided and abetted by the marchers. Together they have attacked a Mayor trying to make peace and solve the problems, then attacked the police and Army. The police and then the Army have been forced to open fire, but because they tried not to shoot unarmed citizens they died. The mob are now on a rampage, killing innocents and burning buildings. Not the fault of the authorities or the police, certainly not the fault of the government.” Harold fell silent. An announcement that the gas supplies were being cut as a precautionary measure was almost an anti-climax.
“Oh crap. There were supposed to be marches in all the other places that have been sealed off. All today. This is national TV so why aren’t we seeing them?” Harold hugged Sharyn close as he thought a bit more and carried on, answering his own question. “Because when the radios were blanked out, what we got back wasn’t national TV. It might be some of the time, but I’ll bet we’ve got our own transmitter now. Manchester, or York, or wherever, all have their own news on tonight.”
“I wonder if they’ll ever know what happened here?”
“Maybe the version we heard on the commentary, with these pictures. Suitably edited of course to show that no police opened fire early. Pictures showing that the front marchers were obviously sheltering the gunmen. Pictures proving that the soldiers tried to only shoot armed men right to the very end” Onscreen a small block of flats was burning and as the occupants came out they were attacked. A group of men dragged a woman away, kicking and screaming. “That will be shown.”
“It’s the flats all over again, only now the nasty bastards have got an Army.”
“Maybe not.” The cameras were showing two groups of the armed men shooting at each other. Bullets that missed went into the crowd, who surged forward and trampled them underfoot. Their weapons were soon being waved by the crowd alongside battered protest signs. “Not an Army and the original bastards may end up as targets. I hope.”
Sharyn and Harold sat in some sort of shock as they watched their own city turn into a copy of the Leeds footage. Familiar landmarks burst into flames, or formed an impassive background as groups of supposedly sane people slaughtered each other. Not even over loot because there wasn’t any in municipal offices. There were fights between armed gangs, and now some which were definitely racial. In places the bodies were actually heaped up. Finally flames bloomed among the rioters.
“The RAF are being forced to use napalm to destroy captured Army weapons. The criminals are shooting at the helicopters and due to all the buildings, gunfire is ineffective.”
Harold never even saw a helicopter trying to use a cannon or machine gun. They dropped napalm though, and jets screamed over Orchard Close. Half an hour afterwards the screen showed explosions that blotted out whole swathes of rioters. That was a clear indication of the delay in broadcasting.
The TV closed down and Harold and Sharyn, still with their arms around each other, went outside. They stood in the street and watched the glow of the fires in the city centre bloom and fade, bloom and fade. The fires faded less each time and soon a permanent glow sat on the horizon, above the intervening buildings. As they watched more and more people came onto the street, most of them hugging someone. Casper had Liz on one side and Holly on the other. Hazel came running up the road and claimed Harold’s other arm, sobbing into his coat. She wouldn’t look, and wouldn’t leave.
Eventually several people came up the street to Harold and extra sentries were agreed and set off. Then gradually everyone else made their way back inside and tried to sleep. Harold sat and hugged Sharyn and Hazel and they tried to make sense of the night.
Harold woke up sat on the settee, stiff and still tired. Hazel was curled under one arm and Sharyn tucked under the other, and none of them had even taken off their coats. That took some explaining when Daisy appeared to point out she had been awake for ages and was starving hungry.
Harold left Sharyn explaining that they’d been celebrating Daisy being five and fallen asleep. “Go upstairs and try to sleep before you wake up properly.” Hazel gave Harold a tired smile and headed upstairs. Then Harold went to see the sentries. The columns of smoke on the horizon were definitely closer than the city centre.
Chapter 13:
Making a Stand
“Hi Toby, what are you doing here? You look shattered.”
“I thought you might need a runner or my rifle, Harold.” Toby looked tired and drawn, not at all his cheerful fifteen year old self.
“Go home and sleep. I’ll need you sharp if there’s trouble. Collect Alfie wherever he is, and tell him the same.” Harold looked round. “There’s enough people here to raise the alarm.”
Harold worked his way around the perimeter, sending the most tired looking home to sleep. He also accepted a small two-way radio from Bernie. “I had them as a kid, and then just boxed them up. There’s four and they might still reach the gate from here despite the jamming. We need a proper CB.”
“We’ve got one, Toby’s. We actually need three or four CBs to talk to each other. Toby’s isn’t powerful enough to hear anyone through the jamming, or to talk to anyone else.”
Harold tried the button once he was outside and sure enough he could contact Bernie. “Just what we need. Will you take one to the gate, and one to the far end sentry please? Leave the other one where you are. What sort of batteries do they use?”
“Ordinary AA, we’ve been picking them up everywhere we found any so there’ll be no shortage.” Harold could hear Bernie inside, already coming down the stairs. “I’m on it.” He saw Harold waiting and spoke directly. “There was even a GPS facility originally. That won’t work now of course.” Bernie frowned. “You’re ex-Army. The TV has stayed solid on blaming that on the Chinese. Did the Chinese really launch millions of ball bearings into space, into orbits to destroy the satellites?”
“I’ve heard exactly the same thing, and never a hint of another reason, so maybe they did.” Harold took another radio from him. “I’m going to yon end anyway so I’ll take this and test from there.” Harold looked at the little plastic toy as he went. Because that’s what it was, something for children to play with though useful elsewhere no doubt.
The reception was bit crackly but as long as everyone spoke clearly, the little radios would work. That was a big relief. “Hand this on to the next sentry Emmy. How long have you been here?”
“All of ten minutes Harold. Matthew just headed homeward. He said he could stand guard but not swing a machete or use a crossbow. Well he can but says he’s useless left-handed.”
“Where’s Curtis?”
Emmy grinned. “I’ve no idea. I’m his nurse, not his keeper.” Her face fell. “That might be a problem. I think Curtis wants me to be his keeper, sort of. You know? But I’m not ready, and I don’t know when I might.” Her face crumpled a little bit. “I don’t know if I ever might.” She moved forward and Harold knew his cue these days. A little later Emmy patted his back. “Thank you Harold. That’s taking advantage and a bit mean.”
“How?”
“I want a hug because of what happened in the city and David.” Emmy raised her head and scrubbed her eyes dry. “But you could be hugging someone who would be a lot more grateful.” Emmy produced a tiny smile. “Or rather someone who was up to showing how grateful she was.”
“That’s not why I gave you a hug.”
“I know. Do you want the names of those who aren’t really sad but still want a hug?” Teasing was an improvement over weeping. Liz and Sharyn encouraged all the girl club to tease Harold now and then. It was a recognised sport in Orchard Close.
“No thanks. Let that sneak up as a really nice surprise when I hug the wrong girl.” Harold smiled as well. “Just as long as Sharyn never finds out.”
Emmy’s little smile grew a bit. “That depends on how smug the girl looks I suppose. Which could increase the number wanting hugs or put the rest off?”
“Which is a good reason to just hug. Otherwise I might lose even that.”
Emmy managed a little laugh, and took the radio. “Go and find out then because a lot of them are a bit down today.” She waved the radio and her face fell again. “Don’t worry, after seeing the TV I’ll mention the slightest hint of some oik lurking. I’ve got my crossbow and a machete, but a bloody great shotgun or rifle would be better.” As Harold left Emmy was putting on a motorbike helmet. Another item Harold had now put on the list of essential items, along with cycle rider’s hats or horse riding hats.
“Harold, Harold.”
“That’s my name” Harold murmured with a smile and turned to meet Holly. “Yes, Holly.”
“Do we all have to stay inside the boundary? What about the traps?”
“Damn, I forgot them. You can go, right now, and take at least five people. Don’t set them again because we really are pulling in and staying put. Be quick.” Harold had been intrigued when three of the residents had asked about trapping game. There were already some rabbits in the ruins, and a lot of fishing line, wire and twine had been collected here and there.
“We’ll bring all the loops and sticks back in then, in case someone does arrive and nicks the lot. Bunny stew tonight with luck. I hope there aren’t any cats or rats today. Learning to skin and gut bunnies has been gross enough.” Holly set off to collect her guards. Harold hadn’t mentioned cats and rats being edible. Not yet, not until the food supply got worse.
Harold called into Betty’s house next. “Hi Veronica. Still nothing on the web? No sign from the satellite?” Harold still hoped the big dish would pick up a signal one day.
“No Mr Miller. Um, Harold. Dad says that with both the phones and radio connections down, the web will be finally broken. How will we get information now?”
“We have to go back to old style now, Veronica. I’m afraid we’ll be looking through heaps of books, if we can find the right one. Searching the pages instead of clicketty-click.” Which was worrying but the disgusted look on Veronica’s face was enough to bring a small smile to Harold’s face. “You’ll love it. You’ll find out lots and lots of useless information while looking for the bit you need.”
“I will?”
“No need to look so worried. We’ve got archery information and how to cure rabbit skins and all sorts of other stuff you downloaded. Now all we need is for me to collect books and make an Orchard Close library.” That caused a little pang, because he’d already kitted out one library the other way, as a refuge.
“What about the computers?”
“They’ll still work, won’t they? Everything you’ve got will still be there, won’t it?” Harold hoped so.
“Yes, but do I really have to sit and read boring books?” If her expression was any indication, Veronica would have a magnificent pout when she was older.
“We all will. Though you will have time, because your runner duties won’t be as often. I’ve got this now.” Harold waved the radio.
“Dad says you need a field telephone system between vital places.”
Harold chuckled. “I’d love one, if someone has a spare setup tucked away. Then an engineer to fit it.”
“Er, Dad is one. A telephone engineer. From what Dad was saying, he could probably fix something up?” Veronica gave a little embarrassed wriggle. “Dad has been very quiet since the redundancy. He doesn’t say much even to me and Mum. Dad was actually a bit excited about the telephone idea. Do you think, you know, without mentioning me?” Veronica was blushing now.
“Of course. Don’t worry. I’ll just call round two or three others first and ask if they know anything about telephones.” Harold did the zip motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed. Now, you are supposed to be sleeping.”
“No, Mum sent me to my room when the shooting started so I slept all right, thanks. Though everyone has told me what happened.” Veronica sighed theatrically. “Where are these books?”
“I don’t know. Your first job is to check the empty houses and see which ones have books in them. Then we’ll collect them all up. Though if you hear someone beating metal together, you get home because that means an alarm. You know the code?”
“Emmy told us about the iron bars. Triple bash and stop, pause, triple bash and stop. That
tells everyone there is an alarm, and to get to their places.” Veronica blushed again. “Dad is really embarrassed about his leg, that he can’t help much.”
“If he can fit me up with a telephone it’ll be worth more than him turning green and throwing houses.” Harold really meant that because the loss of internal telephone communications had been a nasty shock. “Just remember to listen for the continuous bashing to tell you where the actual emergency is.”
“Yes Mr Miller.”
“Harold, you’re fourteen and I’m not that much older.”
“All right.” Veronica hesitated. “Harold.”
Harold looked around as he left the house. If the estate was still intact after the rioting died out, one of these houses would have to become the library. It was a pity none were stone built because those books might be incredibly precious eventually.
* * *
Harold’s radio crackled. “There’s cars on the main road, coming closer but not quickly.”
“Thanks Billy, I’m on the way. Bash on the gong. Even if this turns out to be nothing, it’ll give everyone practice in turning out.” As he headed for the gate Harold could hear the clanging of an iron bar on a bit of steel tube hung from a chain. A Liz special. The other three started up, and whoever was bashing had remembered the impromptu code.
“All right Billy. Give it a break so I can hear these cars.” Silence fell at the gate though the other gongs could be heard behind the houses. “Those cars must be going very slowly.”
“No, the cars I heard stopped just before I started beating this. Now there are more of them.”
“What is it Harold?”
“Hi Casper. Cars coming up the main road. From what Billy says they had a scout out but now they’re all coming.” Behind Casper determined men and women with crossbows and spears were coming along the road from their homes. Others were heading for positions on the wall in case this was a feint. “You take your group into number two. I’ll stay here but move into number one if there’s real trouble.”
