by Robin Crumby
“What are you going to do with their leader? By all accounts he is a good man, he deserves to be treated with respect,” she said pointing at Jack in the corner, who seemed grateful for her intervention.
“As the sole surviving Hurst gang member,” said Copper in a voice that reminded Terra of a policeman’s court deposition in a trial she had attended, “he will face justice for what his people did. That’s only right and proper. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Sisters, we have business to attend to.”
The two Sisters seemed satisfied with Copper’s answer and turned to leave, but the young woman with the infant in a sling stayed rooted to the spot. She was cradling her baby, tenderly stroking its head. She looked around the group and addressed her question to all of them: “I was looking for Riley, I hoped she would still be here.”
Briggs shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave, ignoring the question. Terra looked the girl up and down trying to place her. She noticed Copper take a step forward.
“Don’t I know you?” he suggested, as if not trusting his eyes.
“I don’t think so.”
“Weren’t you one of the girls who escaped from Lymington hospital?”
Sister Imelda grabbed hold of the girl’s arm and encouraged her to leave, but she resisted, holding her ground. King strode over and grabbed hold of the girl’s chin, rotating her face slowly to catch the light, as the baby stirred against her chest, as if sensing its mother’s anxiety.
“You’re Stella aren’t you? You’re the reason we came here in the first place. We came looking for you and that other girl, Adele. If you had done what you were told, none of this would have happened.”
Stella seemed emboldened, refusing to back down. There was a defiance about her as if she had just come face to face with her abuser. Terra could only imagine the torment this poor girl had suffered at the hands of King and his men. Perhaps the infant was a living link to that past.
“I’m never going back with you,” spat Stella. “You bastards. What you did to us was inhuman, you treated us like animals, the experiments, the torture. People like you deserve to die.”
Sister Theodora intervened, standing between them. “This girl is under my protection now.”
“So this is the baby everyone’s been talking about,” said Briggs, lifting up the corner of the sling, as Stella cradled his head protectively.
“His name’s Adam.”
“Well, well, well. Baby Adam,” said Briggs tenderly. “If she’s immune, then chances are, so’s he. You realise that don’t you?”
Stella shrugged, “I guess we’re both lucky then.”
Terra noticed Briggs exchange a nod with King as if that meant something to both of them. She knew from the interrogations of the scientists that the source of people’s resistance to the virus was a subject of great debate. Perhaps Adam was the first of a new generation with enhanced immunity.
“Come along Stella,” said Sister Imelda, shepherding her away from King. “Let’s do as this man suggests. There’s nothing left for us here.”
Terra stepped forward, curious.
“I’m an old friend of Riley’s. I can pass her a message when I next see her. How do you know her?”
“She rescued me from the hospital. If you see her, can you tell her she’s a Godparent, please?”
“I’ll be sure to tell her.”
“Don’t forget, will you. I’ll be looking for her,” repeated Stella over her shoulder as Sister Imelda pulled her away. Stella kept her eyes fixed on Terra until she nodded in reply.
***
Terra heard Briggs’ raised voice behind her. He was towering over Jack like a predator straddling his prey. One of Briggs’ men raised his right boot and stamped on Jack’s rib cage to wake him up. Jack was so cold, he was lapsing in and out of consciousness.
Terra took off the coat she had borrowed and barged past Briggs, draping it around Jack’s cowering frame. He looked up at her gratefully with a distant expression. She smiled back at him, though she was not entirely sure he recognised her.
“So this is Jumping Jack, the man I’ve heard so much about. You don’t look much to me, wearing your underpants and a lady’s coat, you look like a drowned rat. Now what are we going to do with you, eh?”
“Jack’s been my tormenter in chief for the last few months, haven’t you Jack?” snarled King.
“I say he deserves a taste of his own medicine,” laughed Briggs.
“We need to make an example of him. It’s the least he should get for dragging us all out here in this cold weather.”
Terra stepped forward, trembling, her fists clenched. “You promised me Jack wouldn’t be harmed.”
“Who’s this then?” sneered King, looking Terra up and down. “Are you the woman that Jack’s been pining for all this time? I thought you’d be better looking.”
“That’s enough,” cautioned Briggs. “Terra’s with me now. Watch your mouth.”
“My mistake,” he said, holding his hands up. “She’s feisty, I’ll give her that. I’m sure you’ll be perfect for each other,” he smiled.
King leaned across and snatched Briggs’ silver pistol, feeling its weight in his hand, stroking the contours of its barrel, as Briggs’ men looked on in alarm. “You don’t mind if I borrow this do you?”
“Be my guest.”
“So Copper, come closer. Stop sulking in the shadows. Come on, come and say hello properly, don’t be shy. Still, I suppose you’ve every reason to be embarrassed after abandoning me here.”
Copper sidled towards him guiltily, unsure what he was intending to do next. King put his arm round his shoulder and pulled him closer. Copper was breathing heavily, recognising a crazed look he had seen many times before.
“It’s alright Copper, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, patting his cheek. “No, I don’t blame you,” he laughed scornfully, tapping the barrel of the pistol against Copper’s forehead.
“But I do blame Charlie here,” he said pointing to Copper’s right hand man, who looked bemused, turning to Copper and the others for support. Without hesitation or explanation, he fired point-blank into the man’s chest. The gunshot startled Terra and for the next few seconds she could hear nothing but ringing in her right ear. She watched in disbelief as the man clutched at his chest and sank to his knees.
“Packs quite a punch that thing doesn’t it,” he said calmly, handing the smoking gun back to Briggs. “Now that score’s all settled, what about you, Jack?” he said.
“Briggs,” Terra whispered forcefully, tugging at his sleeve.
“You’re right babe, I did give you my word that I wouldn’t harm him,” he said nodding sympathetically. “But then I can hardly be held responsible for the actions of others, can I?” he winked at King.
“Come on Jackie-boy, let’s get you up on your feet before you catch your death of cold. We can’t be having that now, can we?”
King helped Jack up. He fell against the wall before steadying himself. Terra noticed Jack’s lips were almost blue with cold, pinching the coat tighter under his chin with both hands. Terra’s coat was much too small to fit round his girth, leaving a six-inch strip of exposed flesh where it wouldn’t quite close. King straightened the collar of Jack’s coat and smoothed down the grey hair in a side-parting, patting him playfully on the cheeks.
“We’re going to make an example of you, Jack. That’s what you always wanted, isn’t it? To inspire others and show them the error of their ways? I’ve got just the idea. This can be your legacy to all those who visit the place.”
With that he picked up the coil of rope that Riley and the others had used to climb down the castle walls. He looped one end through the eye and pulled it taught leaving a short noose which he placed over Jack’s head and pulled tight, leading him through the Tudor gate and back to the front entrance. The others followed out of curiosity.
***
Terra followed a few paces behind Jack as he laboured painfully across the yard in his bar
e feet, the rope round his neck stretching taut before King yanked him back into step. There were hundreds of people in the main courtyard, standing room only, pressed together, waiting to have their turn at the door of the canteen where they were handing out hunks of bread and soup. Jack grabbed at Corporal Ballard who was standing close by, but the soldier lowered his eyes, shamed into silence by his complicity.
King barged a group of refugees out of the way, pushing one man’s head roughly to clear their path. The man whipped his head round ready to strike him before he noticed Briggs entourage and stepped back.
They paused on the drawbridge as King scanned above him, searching for something he might have seen earlier. Fixed to the stone walls above the front entrance was an iron bracket for a lantern. He threw the free end of the rope over the mounting and pulled it taut, until it strained against Jack’s neck.
Terra pulled at Briggs’ sleeve and whispered: “Please, babe. You don’t have to do this.
He squinted back at her, puzzled by her sentimentality, as if this was another test of her loyalty. He hesitated for a second, looking around the faces of his men. There was an expectation about them, as if this was a natural conclusion, a fitting end to the evening’s entertainment. Terra realised with horror that this was all just a game to Briggs.
“Give me a hand could you, there’s a good chap?” said King, waving him over to help with the rope.
Briggs frowned at Terra and wrestled his arm free. He stood by King’s side, a smile on his face, watching his actions with some amusement. King passed him the rope and they took up the slack, ready to heave Jack off his feet.
“Any last words?” he paused.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” rebuked Jack with a look of resignation.
“How disappointing. Not even, I don’t know, a last cry for freedom or a cautionary word about karma?”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”
“Fair enough, I was never one for long goodbyes either. Let’s get this over with. When you’re ready Briggs, take the strain.”
The two men pulled with all their might and Jack’s whole body was lifted off the ground. The noose tightened around his neck as he began to choke, fighting to get his fingers underneath the rope as it bit into his windpipe.
Terra ran to Copper and stood in front of him, desperate for someone to wake from the trance that seemed to have overtaken Briggs’ men like a spell. She shook his shoulders.
“Copper, please. Do something. You were a policeman for God’s sake. How can you stand by and let them do this?” she stuttered.
“That part of me died a long time ago,” he replied flatly.
She raced over to Jack, whose legs were dangling a couple of feet off the ground. She grabbed hold of his knees and tried to support his weight and relieve the pressure on his throat. He stared down at her, his eyes bulging out of his face, as his whole body convulsed, making the bracket above them rattle and shake.
Victor hurried forward and tore her hands away, pulling her back against the wall. She buried her head in his shoulder, tears coming quickly now, unable to watch this gruesome scene play out.
When she turned around, Jack’s feet were still twitching, his face contorted in horrible asphyxia. It was an image she would never forget, or forgive.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Just before dawn, the Sheridan met Briggs and his party at the eastern dock to take them back to the island before daybreak. Terra had not spoken since leaving the castle. She was still in a state of shock.
She lingered at every opportunity, looking over her shoulder at the outline of the castle in the distance. The image of Jack’s lifeless body swinging above the entrance was seared into her mind.
On board the well-appointed powerboat, Victor handed Terra his jacket. She curled up in the corner of the cockpit with her knees tucked up under her chin. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and her breath came in sobs. Victor sat down next to her and tried to put his arm around her, but she pushed him away.
“I never should have trusted you.”
“Believe me, I had no idea King would do that. It was unconscionable,” he said looking out towards the island. After a moment’s reflection, he continued. “We always knew that we would need to make sacrifices.”
“I don’t see you making sacrifices, Victor. You always seem to come out smelling of roses.”
“That is not true, Terra. If you only knew what I had given up,” he said leaning in closer and lowering his voice, checking round to make sure no one could hear them over the engine noise and light breeze. “We are so close. Now that Hurst is under military control and the rest of your people are safely transferred to the island, we are one step closer.”
“They’re not my people. I told you. It was only Jack I had any feelings for, the rest of them meant nothing to me.”
She turned her head away from him and pulled her arm free from where he was holding on to her. To her relief, he got to his feet. He thought about saying something else, but decided against it and went to join Briggs in the main cabin where they were heating up some coffee on the gas stove.
It was already getting brighter in the East. Dawn was still an hour away but it seemed lighter somehow, unless that was light from the island. She could see the town of Cowes ahead of them, scattered street lights along the front, marking their way. There were no signs of other maritime activity at this ungodly hour, yet she knew from past experience that this stretch of waterway was monitored day and night. The Americans were ever vigilant, sending fast launches to intercept any boats attempting unauthorised crossings of the Solent, so where were they?
After what had happened tonight, Terra half-hoped they would be caught. Despite his fine words and denial, Briggs had been fully complicit with what happened to Jack. He had allowed this to happen. It was almost as if the two men had dared each other to go further, to commit ever more barbaric acts. A bizarre game of one-upmanship that would lead to savagery.
Over the last few months, she had grown desensitised to Briggs’ violence. She knew now what he was capable of. He no longer held the power to shock her. She had suppressed her emotions for so long, she felt tremendous release in her tears, purged by her grief. Her eyes had been opened to the depths of her own complicity and its consequences.
The Sheridan entered the mouth of the river Medina, passing the burned-out wreck of what had once been the Royal Yacht Squadron. Its two-hundred-year history as one of the world’s finest yacht clubs destroyed by looters and trophy seekers in search of memorabilia and metal.
All the buildings on the right were dark and lifeless. Streetlights along the front seemed oddly out of place in this ghostly pre-dawn world. To their left, the giant hangar doors of the boatyard at Venture Quays still proudly displayed the red, white and blue colours of the Union Jack flag, first painted to celebrate the Queen’s Silver Jubilee. The yard had been a hub of innovation in years gone by, building hovercrafts, seaplanes, as well as world-record breaking powerboats. The hangar had been cleared during the outbreak to act as a huge mortuary for the disposal of the thousands of victims of the Millennial Virus. It was said bodies had filled all available floor space then left to rot when the clean-up crews abandoned the site. A secondary outbreak of typhoid had decimated those who survived the virus. No one came here any more. It was a tomb to the fallen. Instinctively, Terra shielded her face, in case the stench could still reach them as they passed by.
They cruised silently up river, passing the chain-link ferry, which sat shackled to the shore. Its hull was covered in graffiti. The same tags and stylised words you saw throughout this area suggested rival gangs marking their territory, warning others away.
At the bend in the river, their progress seemed to slow momentarily against the fast-flowing tide running against them. Keeping their engine noise to a minimum, Terra took comfort in the tranquility of the morning. It would not be long before the island would again resume this twisted version of existence.
Each day another ferry load of refugees was deposited here from Southampton to begin a new life.
Briggs’ motorcade was waiting for them at the quayside at Newtown and they were driven the short distance back to their adopted home in the austere surroundings of Carisbrooke Castle just south of the town.
The fields surrounding the castle had been turned over to farmland and refugee camps. The view from the ancient keep was now blighted by the construction of so many hastily erected buildings and warehouses to store all of the equipment and materials being shipped across on a daily basis.
As they drove up the narrow lane that led to the castle, the barricades were lifted out of the way as the guards waved the convoy through. The ancient motte and bailey stone entrance was nearly one thousand years old, much too narrow for vehicles to pass through. They parked up outside, facing the crumbling castle walls.
Terra had grown to love this place, so steeped in history. Harry, an amateur historian and one of Briggs’ more educated associates, was full of colourful stories of the castle through the ages. He regaled the others with accounts of attacks dating from Roman times and the Spanish Armada. By all accounts, the castle had been home to significant figures from English history from Thomas Cromwell, the Duke of Salisbury, to the Bishop of Winchester. The list went on. It had even served as a prison for King Charles I after his transfer from Hurst Castle.
Of course, the place was much changed these days. The museum had been cleared of artefacts and historical displays to make way for accommodation for Briggs and his men. Some two hundred men and women now occupied Carisbrooke Castle.
Terra followed Briggs and Victor through the main gate across the courtyard towards the main building ahead of them. There was an unusual amount of activity for this early hour and it took her a few seconds to realise why.
To their right was the unmistakable dark shape of a helicopter. It seemed so utterly incongruous surrounded by the high walls of the castle. The juxtaposition of old and modern made Terra stop and stare.
“Looks like we have visitors,” said Victor as he hurried on to catch up with Briggs.
