The Hurst Chronicles (Book 2): Sentinel

by Robin Crumby

  They retraced their steps to the junction, stopping at a village signpost pointing in multiple directions. The driver got out and conferred with one of the officers, checking the map and gesticulating to the right in their intended direction of travel. They hadn’t gone more than another mile when the convoy ground to a halt again. The situation seemed strangely familiar to all. Two fallen trees blocked their path at right angles to the road.

  “That’s weird,” said one of the soldiers on the radio.

  “Everyone relax. It was probably just the storm. Brought down trees all over round here.”

  Zed was muttering something under his breath. He didn’t like it. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver.

  “Can you get one of the men to check whether the trees fell or were they cut? If there’s saw dust, then we’ll know they were cut.” The driver gave Zed a filthy look as if he had just asked the dumbest question. “Go on, ask him. It’s important.”

  The soldier relented and relayed the question. After a few seconds delay, the voice from the Land Rover came back on.

  “You’re right. They were cut. Someone cleared up after themselves, but there’s definitely sawdust buried in the mud. Looks very recent. Last couple of hours. The sawdust is still dry. No storm brought these trees down.”

  “What does that mean Sarge? Are we in trouble?” asked the soldier in the passenger seat.

  “Look, it’s probably just a first line of defence for a survivor camp beyond here. They don’t want vehicles driving straight into camp without warning. It’s what we’d do too. There’s likely a single route only known to them.”

  “Or it could mean that someone knew we were coming and blocked our route,” suggested Zed.

  “Don’t go spreading wild theories, please. I’m sure there’s a perfectly innocent explanation.”

  “There’s probably someone watching us now,” warned Zed. “Everyone keep your eyes peeled.”

  Riley shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She felt like a caged tiger in here. She longed to be outside, where she could see or hear an attack coming. Not stuck in here with these scientists. The forest looked so inviting. With the engine idling, the air vent was only just taking the edge off the high stench of unwashed bodies cramped together inside this tin can.

  Once more they reversed up the road and set off again, this time down a different path that led them towards the M27 motorway and Cadnam junction that provided access to the main road through the New Forest.

  “Didn’t the Sergeant say specifically he didn’t want to come this way?”

  “He doesn’t have much choice now, unless we want to make a big detour east towards Calmore and Southampton. It’s more built up there. More cars, more people. Sarge is right, this is still the better route.”

  The road seemed to open out a bit with wide open spaces and sweeping views to left and right. There was gorse and grass as far as the eye could see. Wild ponies and cattle roaming free here. For Riley, it was like stepping into a dream. Unspoilt and beautiful, views stretching into the distance beyond the trees. Here there were no signs of the breakdown. Life had carried on regardless, oblivious to man’s desperate struggle.

  Ahead of them, the road narrowed again into a single file roadway as it funnelled through a gap in the trees where the canopy grew thicker and more enclosed. The convoy slowed to navigate some objects in the road, rocks and planks of wood, a discarded load from a truck. Either side were bushes and thick foliage that suddenly made Riley feel claustrophobic again inside this dark tunnel. She had just turned to ask Zed something when there was an enormous deafening explosion.

  For a few micro-seconds their ten-tonne APV seem to lift up in the air before banking on to two wheels and sliding over on its side in a terrifying screech of metal. They slid down the wet bank until their momentum slowed and their front wheel dropped into a narrow water-filled drainage ditch.

  Riley was knocked unconscious momentarily as she landed heavily on top of Zed, dimly aware of voices and smoke filling the passenger compartment.

  Zed wasn’t moving and she noticed a rivulet of blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. She rolled off Zed’s inert body on to the cold metalwork of the upturned cabin, but found her leg was trapped, pinned underneath some heavy containers that had been stowed against the side of the cockpit. The black webbing had broken loose, spilling its contents. There were shouts from outside. As her vision began to fog, she listened with strange detachment to what sounded like a fireworks display. The last thing she heard before passing out was the wrenching of metal as someone attempted to lever open the twisted rear door. Sunlight flooded into the cabin as she gave in to the pain, lapsing into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Riley woke, disoriented. It took her a few seconds to regain her senses, piecing together the fragments of memory that had led her here. She remembered the APV on its side, the smoke. She had been dragged from the wreckage, manhandled into the back of a truck, but that was about it. The rest was blank. Where was she?

  It was dark and her hands were tied behind her back. She was lying on a dirty mattress on a bare concrete floor. The room, as much as she could see, was littered with empty plastic cups and food wrappers. She listened carefully for any noises that could provide a clue to her whereabouts. A light scratching, scuffling sound suggested a mouse or rat was her only companion.

  She levered herself up on to her backside. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the gloom, taking in her surroundings. There was a narrow window not even big enough for a child to escape through. Through glass thick with grime and cobwebs came a hint of moonlight. She could make out branches with dense foliage reaching down towards her, brushing against the brickwork. Her mouth had a metallic taste to it. Coupled with the throbbing coming from her cheek, neck and shoulder, and the sticky feeling around her scalp where hair was matted together, she assumed there had been some bleeding. A towel by her side was stained with blood where someone must have staunched the flow and cared for her while she was unconscious. That was encouraging, she thought to herself. Someone wanted her alive.

  She looked around the room, searching out any other discernible shapes in the shadows. She was alone in what looked like a basement room. Judging by the pipes in the ceiling, the industrial air vents, the racking against one wall, it was likely a warehouse or commercial building of some sort. The door looked solid and heavy with a simple lock and a small square window of reinforced glass.

  She stretched out her legs and got circulation flowing again to her feet. Wiggling her toes, her limbs were stiff and sore. Unable to reach out, she flexed and wriggled against her bindings, checking herself for further injury. Other than a sore head and some bruising to her hip and shoulder, she seemed fine, nothing broken. She could still walk, or run, should the opportunity to escape arise.

  Her memories began to return like shafts of sunlight piercing a dense fog. She remembered the explosion, the APV teetering, rolling on its side and then nothing. She didn’t remember how she had got here or where she was. Leaning against the wall for support, she got herself on to her feet and hopped over to the window. It was too high to see out of, other than a sycamore tree towering over the building, framed against an overcast moonlit sky. There were no other buildings she could see. In the far corner, she tried leaning on the door handle but found it locked. Outside she could see several doors like hers and a corridor that stretched to left and right.

  Riley shouted “Hello. Is there anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”

  She listened for any response or movement, but there was silence. She tried again, this time banging her body and head against the door, lying down and kicking out with her feet. She put her ear to the door, hoping for an answer.

  From one of the other rooms she heard what at first sounded like a pained groan. It came again, this time more distinct. It sounded like someone trying to speak, but with a sock or rag stuffed in their mouth. Riley banged aga
in and then shouted.

  “Can you hear me? Is that you Zed?”

  She heard the same muffled vocalisations, more insistent this time. It was hard to say for sure, but it sounded like Zed.

  She cast her mind back to the explosion. They had been on a narrow country lane. The other routes they had tried had been blocked by fallen trees. Zed had been suspicious that someone was channelling them towards something. Towards what though? A trap? Perhaps the explosion had been a road-side bomb. What did the military call those things back in Afghanistan and Iraq? IEDs. Improvised explosive devices. Set to knock out passing vehicles, including heavily armoured personnel carriers like the one she had been in. It was a miracle they were alive at all. Unless the Humvee in front had set off the charge and had simply been knocked on its side by the force of the blast or a collision with the wreckage from the Humvee. She had been looking behind her when the explosion had occurred, otherwise she would know, wouldn’t she?

  Why would anyone want to set an IED on a country road in the middle of nowhere? She remembered the driver saying they were somewhere near Cadnam and Lyndhurst, heading through the New Forest towards Southampton, avoiding major roads.

  Perhaps Zed was right, this was planned. An ambush. A trap set for them. But why? How could anyone know about the convoy in the first place? Did they get a tip-off about their cargo? For a second Riley had an awful thought. What of the computers and data drives? There had been smoke in the cabin, a fire. What if the drives were damaged beyond repair? What if all those piles of paper printouts went up in smoke?

  She reassured herself that they must have copies. They would have taken precautions, kept back-ups for something that important, back at Porton Down. The military were good at stuff like that. They would have security protocols. They would guard their data, build in redundancy, encryption, secured within vaults impervious to outside forces, computer viruses or third-party attack. Besides, the data and samples were useless unless whoever had them also had the capability to interpret and analyse. Like Zed had admitted, there were only a handful of people in the country who could understand this stuff. Then, like waking from a dream, the realisation dawned that perhaps it was the scientists they were after all along. That knowledge and expertise were irreplaceable.

  Footsteps in the corridor made her stiffen and move further away from the door, towards the corner. She readied herself. Her breaths short, steeling herself for whatever came next. She heard a key turning in the lock and the door swung open as overhead strip lights flickered on. They had power here at least, which suggested a certain level of sophistication.

  She could see a well-dressed woman standing outside with a clipboard under her left arm. A surly looking man entered somewhat cautiously, a handgun held nervously in front of his body, as if it might go off at any second. His paunch spilled over the waistband of his tracksuit trousers as he looked around the room, keeping his weapon trained on Riley. Finally, he checked behind the door before standing aside, making way for the woman with the clipboard. She dipped her head in gratitude and advanced assuredly towards Riley. She was petite and dark-haired. There was something clinical about her. An undertone of disinfectant permeated the stale basement air. Riley assumed she must be a doctor or nurse.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, inspecting the cut on Riley’s forehead. “Looks like that wound has stopped bleeding at least. I expect you’re still feeling a bit bashed-up though?”

  “No thanks to you. Where am I and what am I doing here?” asked Riley tersely.

  “I’m sorry, how rude of me,” she smiled superciliously. “Forgetting my manners, I should have introduced myself. My name is Doctor Chengmei. We rescued you from the wreckage of your vehicle. You were involved in an accident. Not sure how much you remember.”

  “An accident, you say? I remember an explosion. I’d say we were hit by a road-side bomb?”

  “A bomb? That all sounds a bit dramatic. Look, I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure how much you’d remember.”

  “You can start by telling me why my hands have been tied. And where are the other people I was with? Where are you holding us?”

  The Doctor raised her hands, attempting to pacify Riley. “I assure you, all your questions will be answered. But, right now, I just want to make sure you’re alright. No broken bones, abdominal pain, no internal bleeding?”

  “Just bumps and bruises as far as I can tell. I’ve had worse, I’ll be fine.”

  “Come on, let’s take you upstairs. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

  The guard removed a flick-knife from his shirt pocket, reached down and cut through the cable ties securing her ankles. Riley felt the delicious sensation of warmth flooding back through into her extremities, though with her hands still tied, she couldn’t massage them to relieve the pain.

  Holding her roughly by the arm, she was led through the doorway into a dimly-lit corridor on their way to the stairwell, passing room after room, not dissimilar to her own. She couldn’t see inside, but imagined each room had its own occupant. They climbed some metal stairs to a white tiled floor above. It looked like an office building or part of an industrial complex. There was a reception desk and seating area ahead of them where a small expectant group was gathering. They cut right at the next junction towards a door to a box storage room which had been part cleared to leave a simple white desk, with a pair of folding chairs, one on either side.

  Without ceremony, they deposited her into a chair facing the entrance, stepping aside to make way for four new arrivals. She didn’t recognise the first three, but to her surprise, the woman at the back was very familiar to her. She almost did a double-take seeing Terra.

  Riley was confused, caught between relief and astonishment, she rose to greet Terra, yet something was wrong. Terra avoided eye contact altogether. There was no hint of recognition. Was she pretending not to know her? She decided to play along, unsure what game they were playing, but assuming it was for the best.

  Riley noticed that one of the other men was studying her reaction, watching the way she was staring at Terra. A knowing smile spread across his face, seemingly enjoying their subterfuge, not giving the game away. Riley looked away from him, feeling her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. The other two were ignoring this charade, whispering conspiratorially by the door. One of them was dressed head to toe in black. He looked military or paramilitary. The other seemed more relaxed. He was well-built with a squashed nose that looked like it had been broken in several places. He wore a plain grey t-shirt that revealed a rich tapestry of tattooed colour along his arms and neck.

  The door was kicked shut and Riley took a deep breath, trying to remember what Zed had taught her. Under interrogation, everyone broke in the end. It was pointless endangering your life and health unless someone else’s depended on your silence. Stick to your story, don’t deviate. Tell them just enough. No more, no less. Don’t fight the process, resign yourself to your fate. Know that you are powerless to stop whatever happens to you. She could only hope that Terra would protect her somehow and stop things getting out of hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Just when Terra thought she could stand no more, Copper stepped back from the bowed head of their captive, wiping sweat from his upper lip. The questions had been relentless. Any hesitation was punished with an open-handed slap. Twice Riley had looked up at Terra imploring her to make it stop.

  Terra stepped outside the interrogation room and joined Briggs, Victor, and Copper in the corridor. They had been going at it for nearly an hour and everyone needed a break. Briggs lit a cigar and offered one to Copper, who shook his head.

  “This one knows nothing. We’re wasting our time with her,” said Victor.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” suggested Briggs.

  “I told you already,” implored Terra. “Riley is a nobody. She’s not a scientist, she’s not even military. She’s just along for the ride, the same as Zed.”

  “Well, at least she’s confirmed what we alr
eady know. The convoy was en route to the island. They’re being met along the way by a larger force. They’re planning to evacuate Porton Down over the coming weeks. But, beyond that, Terra’s right, she’s not telling us anything new.”

  “What do you want to do with her?” asked Victor.

  “She’s baggage. Another mouth to feed,” suggested Copper. “I say we get rid of her.”

  “Not yet,” cautioned Victor. “Not until we get to the bottom of this. Not until we’ve got the Professor and the others to talk. Copper, over to you. This is your specialty isn’t it? I say it’s time we apply a bit of pressure, don’t you?”

  Copper clenched his gloved fists, nodded and went off to fetch the Professor.

  Briggs didn’t bother knocking and stepped back inside, leaving the door ajar for the others. Victor grabbed Terra’s arm, pulling her close. He spoke in barely above a whisper.

  “Why are you protecting her? Who is she really?”

  “I’m not protecting her. I told you the truth Victor. She’s just someone I knew from Hurst. We weren’t even close. She’s a nurse, a physiotherapist or something. She dealt with victims of post-traumatic stress. We spent two years together, that’s all.”

  “Don’t get sentimental on me. We don’t have time for loyalty. Do what has to be done. Don’t get distracted.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, pulling her wrist free.

  Terra brushed past Victor, who was still staring at her, questioning her resolve, puzzled by her squeamishness.

  Back inside, Riley looked up at her as she walked in, head cocked to the side as if resigned to the role she must play. The left side of Riley’s face was flush and bruised where Copper had slapped her repeatedly. Her lip was swollen and one eye bloodshot. Terra realised Riley had been crying, tears streaming down her cheek. As the others came back in, she wiped away the tears, holding her head up high, refusing to crack. She was too proud for that. Terra could feel Riley’s eyes boring into her, as she stood at the back behind Briggs, casually placing her hands on his shoulders.