by Vance Huxley
“Well it puzzled me, especially when you turned up and made the locals back off. I never saw what you did but I thought it was bluff, and the shooting demo.” Sharyn was still looking at Mercedes and Harold with a slightly quizzical expression. “For God’s sake, there were twelve men, Harold, even after Caddi died. Twelve, every single one armed but you and Mercedes killed or crippled the lot.” Tessa pointed at Mercedes. “She was beaten up and naked and you were kneeling and unarmed!”
“Casper got one, and Elise...”
“You crippled Casper’s, shot Trev, and stabbed Patty’s victim on the way past. Some of us ran interference but it’s true. You didn’t see what it looked like from where I was, Harold. All hell broke loose, smoke, guns blasting out and then you striding up the room with a dripping sword, like some old-style god of war.” Sharyn glanced at Mercedes, sounding apologetic as she continued. “You had the same look on your face as Mercedes did when she started shooting.” Harold remembered the shock on Sharyn’s face at the time.
He turned to Mercedes, who smiled sadly. “Guess you’re stuck with me. Birds of a feather?”
“We can make a nest in the burrow?” Harold turned back to Sharyn. “So you told everyone that rubbish?”
“Not rubbish Harold, and maybe not god of war but definitely bloody scary, both of you. Thank all and any gods that you were.” Tessa gave a short laugh. “The rest of us would have been dead sooner or later because I would have tried something, anything rather than end up back in the Mansion.”
“I didn’t tell anyone the details at first, but when people started asking I showed them where, how many and how they were armed. Elise, Casper and Patty all talked, and so did Fantasia, Sarah.” Sharyn’s arm sort-of indicated the rest of Orchard Close. “Charger has told the Riot Squad and the refugees that you frightened Caddi, enough so he wouldn’t put the light on with the curtains open in case you shot him. All his top men knew, and a good few of the others suspected, so the new girls believe in you. The Riot Squad know what happened in here, which is why the odds aren’t scaring them shitless. They believe that Soldier Boy and his Killer Queen will be enough to even up. It’s all that’s holding some of them together.” Sharyn put her arms around him. “You’re still my little brother, but sometimes you really do turn into Liz’s alien killing machine.”
“Oi, that’s my job.” Mercedes hugged Harold, gently because of her ribs. “You don’t mind? My eyes?”
“But I know they can change. And how to make them do it.”
“Mmmm. I know.”
“For God’s sake, you’ve already got a room. Use it, and spare the rest of us.” Tessa shooed them towards the study.
Mercedes laughed, then she looked up at Harold and licked her lips, slowly. “I’m being good for now, ’Arold, but it won’t last. Once we’ve fixed the General and his oiks and I finish healing, I’m going to be very lively. Now get planning, because that’s your incentive.” The tension dissolved into comments about lively other women, and would Harold need his own enclave to protect everyone’s hearing.
Once he went to bed, Mercedes insisted on ’Arold helping her off with her clothes, to be certain she wasn’t hiding a spy radio. She had no qualms about ’Arold seeing her naked, but quite a few delectables were still off-limits. Even so, Harold went to sleep with a smile on his face.
* * *
Despite his morning lip check Harold didn’t smile much the next morning, partly because too many people were relying on him. After some thought, he decided on a real show of strength to get Ski home, so he brought out the Tank and Battle Bus. He added several more diesel vehicles to make up a tough, noisy convoy. The procession carried out a loud, obvious patrol around the borders until the vehicles turned off the planned route where Ski indicated. While the convoy reversed to turn around in a road littered with bricks and glass, and blocked by a collapsed house, a familiar face appeared at a window. Harold manoeuvred the cab close enough to the window for Ski to nip across.
As he spun the wheel to pull away, Vinnie, the Barbie fighter, appeared again and beckoned. When Harold leant across the cab she called out, low enough so the engine should muffle the noise. “Do you have anyone who knows Morse code, really well?”
“Not well. I know it, sort of, and it’s in the library, in a book.”
“Last night, early morning really, someone passed a long message using a torch. The dots and dashes were too quick for me or Cy, so we only got enough to recognise it.” She raised a hand in farewell. “The General must have got someone inside. Watch your back.”
As Harold pulled away, Patty, sat in the back of the crew cab, thumped the seat. “Who? One of the Hot Rods, a refugee? I swear those lasses are too pleased to get clear of the likes of Caddi. They’d never help the General. Cripes!” She thumped the seat again.
Harold would have told her the truth, but not with Fergie in the cab riding shotgun. She’d arrived at the gates with Ski, from the direction of the caravan, insisting on being the Barbie’s personal bodyguard. “We’ll keep an eye open and keep quiet about exactly what the whole plan is.”
“Hah, it’ll be obvious when we start fortifying some houses and not others.” Patty relapsed into a moody silence. Harold wrestled with his conscience, but Vinnie had solved one problem. Now everyone would know about a spy, so they’d be looking for hints. As the patrol carried on, Harold ran through ways he could use the tank, even if the armour wasn’t all that tough.
* * *
One job had to be started immediately, but it wouldn’t take long because every resident could deal with their own house. Harold insisted on getting all the food and clothes hidden away, so the gangsters didn’t ruin everything if they got among the houses. It took a bit of arguing, but eventually the residents agreed that the lofts were the best storage space if the house didn’t have a cellar. A stray rocket might burn the lot, but Harold persuaded them the General would keep the missiles low to hit the main walls. There’d be spare ply to lay over the stash because all the boarded-up windows were being stripped. Furniture could be moved to cover cellar doors, so the attackers didn’t know they were there.
“We’ve only just put this on!” Pat’s John gestured helplessly at a group who’d started removing the ply over the kitchen window.
“But if the scroats get over the wall, we want them to know there’s nothing in here. They’ll look through a broken window, see an empty room and move on. Put all the furniture against the walls so they can see nobody is hiding. That way we can shoot them easier when we clear them out.” Harold pointed to one of the strongpoints, where others were nailing the removed ply over the existing protection. “Just remember, they’ll be concentrating on the shooting coming from there. You and yours will be safely tucked away in the houses near the exclusion zone, where you can run under the bypass if the strongpoints fall.”
“I heard about that, that the sergeant reckoned we can hide under the bypass. Are you sure?” John’s Pat had spent hours telling the kids to keep off the exclusion zone, so she didn’t fancy running across it.
“Absolutely.” At least Harold hoped the offer was still there. He hadn’t heard from the sergeant yet but expected him any time.
* * *
Some of the Riot Squad still weren’t resigned to pure defence or planned retreats. “We could charge with the tank, ram right through the attack, shooting left and right. What about the Army rifles? If I can get among the scroats, I don’t care if the artillery flattens me as well as them.” Bethany kept throwing bricks even as she argued, making way for the tank and the Battle Bus so they could be brought inside Orchard Close. “I can find enough volunteers to fill the Battle Bus for a one-way trip if it will slaughter the Bloods.”
Harold shook his head, though he really had considered that idea. “The General, or rather the MiB, have a lot of automatics and big rifles from right after the crash. They’d shoot holes in the tank and the bus.” Bethany didn’t look convinced so he kept going. “The artillery wo
n’t limit themselves to wherever the Army rifles fire from, even if they can work it out. They’ll flatten the whole battleground, including Orchard Close, then search the debris and bodies.” Though now Bethany had mentioned those rifles and artillery, Harold had an idea.
“It just seems a waste. All that paintwork and steel plate, and then we don’t use it.” Since Bethany had conceded, Harold left her to grumble in peace. The Riot Squad would probably feel happier once he put the tank in place, but that wouldn’t happen until the General’s gangs were gathering in the ruins. Harold wasn’t letting the spy tell the General where to expect the armour.
He smiled quietly as he worked because Bethany didn’t know about the next bit of brickwork she’d be working on. Lenny and others had pointed out that three flights of steps, for a retreat over the back wall and the exclusion zone, were excessive. They’d been startled when Harold pointed out all the medical kit had to be carried over there, including the rabbits. Arguing about the rabbits diverted them from the real point; the steps really were too wide, and three sets were too many.
* * *
For once, a summons to visit Sarge on the bypass came as a relief. Harold stopped heaving bricks, took off his weapons, did the twirl and walked up. After a perfunctory search, the squaddie climbed back over the sandbags and Harold started to stroll along them, away from the guard post.
“One of those talks, is it?” At least Sarge didn’t seem annoyed at being called out, just curious.
“I just wanted to check on something. We’ve got a lot of unwanted visitors coming, and we’re hoping we can kill enough to stop them. If not, if there’s too many, the women and kids might want to run for it. It’ll be in the next four days, but I don’t know when and we’ll get sod-all warning.” Harold took another couple of steps, waiting.
“Not a problem. Tell the fighters to hide their firearms if they run, though the lads won’t look too close.” Sarge turned to look over the houses. “It’ll be a shame if we end up burning the place. You’ve made a really nice job of it, the housing and all those gardens.”
If Harold had believed in gods, he’d have thanked one for the perfect excuse. “In that case, if you call in artillery, could you use shrapnel? Just airbursts? Then the place might still be habitable. The veg might be part-peeled, but it’ll still grow.”
“You’re planning to use our artillery? Cheeky sod. I wish you could, but I can’t call on the big guns unless I hear automatics or some moron shoots at us.” Sarge shook his head sadly. “If it’s an AK or Army rifles, then all bets are off. The helicopters will make a giant bonfire out of the whole place.”
“This is important, Sarge. No napalm, please, even if your men actually see an Army rifle. Please. Any of our survivors will be burrowing deep, trying to hide until we come back or the Army arrive. We’ve disguised the entrances to our cellars just for that. Anyone hiding down there won’t dare try to escape from the enclave, because they might be caught and, well, most of my fighters are women.” Harold almost held his breath but he’d read his man right, and after all every word was true.
The soldier’s face hardened, and he spat on the road. “I saw and heard that happen once before, and that time the shells and napalm were a mercy for the women. I swore then, never again. I’ll warn the artillery in advance, and the captain, but I can’t actually help you. Army policy is to let any attacks continue uninterrupted.” He took a deep breath before nodding to Harold. “I’ll get shit for it, but the Army is falling apart anyway so the brass need us sergeants. Shrapnel, air bursts, as requested. So how long will you need artillery support?” There was some definite humour in that along with a warning not to take the piss.
“Not support, because if we need you it will probably be too late to save Orchard Close. If I could call in artillery, I’d hit the attack out in the fields.” A short pause didn’t bring an offer, but Harold hadn’t really expected one. “I told you, I’m hoping our survivors can move back in rather than try to set up a new enclave from scratch. Paste the main enclave with shrapnel, please, because the Annex is being stripped of loot so the scroats won’t waste time there. I’m hoping that the houses will be habitable afterwards. Then if you can send over the odd shell now and again, all night, it’ll stop the scroats looking for survivors.” Harold waited, but Sarge was taking too long, so he added a bit more pressure. “It’ll also make sure the scroats don’t run off with any automatics, so your lads can catch them all once it’s light.”
“I’ll buy that, and it might even be good enough to save my stripes providing I actually hear an automatic.” Sarge didn’t look or sound too worried about losing his rank.
“We’ll try to kill enough to break them, out in the fields, but there’ll be about seven hundred scroats. We’d still have a chance but some bright spark has developed a real missile, a rocket with a flat trajectory that will blow holes in our walls. The MiB are one of the gangs. They’ve got several automatics, but they’ll try to avoid using them in front of you. Even so, it’ll be dark, and we’ll be shooting as fast as we can, and the average gangster isn’t exactly disciplined. By the time any of them make it over the wall, or maybe even before, my money is on someone losing it and opening up full auto.” When the NCO nodded, one short, reluctant jerk of his head, Harold managed to suppress his sigh of relief.
He kept quiet as Sarge inspected him very closely. “Okay, but if someone shoots at us, all bets are off. I’ll be in deep shit anyway when the backup gets here. The captain might insist on the full mix, to cut down on casualties when we go to collect the automatics.” He pointed down to the houses below. “House to house is bad enough anyway, but your houses have all that plywood for gunmen to hide behind.” Harold kept the smile from his face as Sarge hesitated, then pointed to a different house. “Why are those people removing the plywood?”
“So there’ll be no cover anywhere but our strongpoints. We are taking off doors as well, and hiding all our good stuff in cellars and lofts. The furniture is going against the walls, and beds on end, so there’s no cover in there. The spare ply or doors will go over the stuff in the lofts, to stop some of the shrapnel. That means any scroat in there will have no hiding place when the shells explode.” Harold lifted his own arm to point at the enclave. “If any of us survive, we’ll need the food and bedding when we come home.”
“You’re deliberately letting them take the place?” Sarge thought again as Harold shook his head. “No, you expect to lose! Forget all the bloody planning for this and that. Why don’t you run the hell away?” Sarge threw his hand out in a wide gesture to take in everyone in Orchard Close. “Get those poor buggers out of here!”
“I’d never persuade everyone to go under the wire, and the General will chase any tradespeople and women who stay in the city. Those girls will die rather than be caught again, but they want to take the assholes with them. Out in the open, they’ll be sitting ducks.” Harold let his sigh come because he really was resigned to losing a lot of friends. “It’ll cost us but if we stop the General here, where I can get set, or just kill enough so the neighbours can finish him, our survivors will finally get some peace.” Sarge would guess, so Harold confessed. “Some of our people might go under the wire and simply not come back.”
“Get all the women and kids under the wire, hide them out in the countryside before the attack. When the reaction force arrives, make sure no nosy officer spots anything out of place. Tell them to hide any weapons until they’re well clear. The animals will probably shoot across the zone if they see someone escaping and we’ve only got eight rifles. They’ll shoot back when we open up, so some of the assholes might make it across the zone. If your escaping fighters set up under us, without any women and kids to worry about, between us we might stop that happening.” The two of them paced three steps, then back again, both of them lost in thought.
“Won’t the drones see the women, Sarge?”
After a long silence, long enough that Harold thought Sarge might cancel permissi
on for the women, the NCO answered. “If you mention this, even to your own people, and it gets back to the Army, I’ll be in the glasshouse. Things are a bit loose these days, but telling you the drones only come if they’re called would be well past permissible. There’s been a lot shot down someplace up north, and most of the rest went south, to London.”
It took Harold two tries to speak, because he was gobsmacked. The Army was losing drones, big-time, and Sarge had spilled what definitely classed as a military secret. “Don’t worry Sarge. I already know we’ve got loose lips inside the walls so I’ll forget I ever heard that.”
“Good, because I’d get less shit if I let your civvies run up here, onto the bypass. I’d still be tempted to let them, but once the shooting starts I’ll be calling it in. When the reaction force arrive they’ll take any refugees to the camps.” The two men looked at each other in perfect understanding; that wouldn’t happen.
“That’s a lot more than expected, Sarge, and thanks. I won’t move anyone until we’re sure we have to, but then your lads will need selective eyesight again, even the ones watching the cameras.” Sarge pointed out the eyesight tests for the Army these days were useless, then told Harold to start getting the kids and anyone who couldn’t walk out as soon as possible. As Harold headed back down the access road, he tried to work out what he could tell everyone in advance without getting Sarge in too much trouble. At least the wide brick steps really would be logical now, a way for a flood of refugees to escape.
He headed home first, explaining while he ate. Tessa immediately went to see Lenny to organise moving the seriously injured. Sharyn asked Casper to send the electric motorbike to the little estate up the road, the Allotment, with a message their transport would be there soon.
* * *
By the time Harold had eaten, all the cars had drivers, ready to leave. The coven had been spreading the news about either hiding under the bypass or an alternative, explaining the residents would only have those two choices. Now messengers told everyone to decide right now, no second chances, either go with the cars or stay until after the attack. Harold didn’t want some scroat following a trickle of refugees to the hideout.
