The Unjudged_The battle for Cromer

by Phil Hurst

  Cleaning completed, Ed took his equipment and opened up one of the carriages that was being stored for the night. He’d run his hand across the leather seats and admire the craftsmanship of the wood panelling. He loved the fact that, despite the millions of journeys the carriages had taken, redundancy wasn’t an option. They would keep going and be admired and loved and repaired forever. Only the stopping of the world would stop these trains.

  Ed had been working the same routine and walking the same steps for the past five years. Just before he turned 60, Ed had retired to Cromer. His friends in Norwich and London seemed to be enjoying themselves a lot more knowing there were no ruffians around to rob or harm them, but Ed and his husband, Takhir, enjoyed the small town they had made their home.

  He sat down and stretched out. He put his feet up onto the upholstery (he would clean it, of course) and considered ringing Tak. They wouldn’t have anything new to say to each other, but that didn’t matter. They could just talk about politics, food or the upcoming reckoning. They could just talk like they were lying in bed together without any deadlines or alarms. Ed smiled. He picked up his display and found the contact list.

  He had met Tak at a reckoner conference in Gdansk. At the time, Russia was not embracing the official Tumi implants, and there was a lot of suspicion that its scientific team was only there to recruit spies to steal the technologies. Ed was drinking with some of his team members when Takhir had entered the bar alone. Ed, a little drunk, had wandered over and asked him whether he was a spy. Takhir had spun a fantastic story, lifted almost verbatim from a James Bond film. Ed hadn’t realised that he’d been listening to the strange little Russian for an hour until one of his team walked over and dragged him away.

  Eventually, there was a breakthrough. Maximus Tumi had managed to convince the Russian President that Tumi implants were the only way to implement any reckoner philosophy. Ed found himself on a different team tasked with adapting the technology to the Russian criminal justice system. Takhir had been on the Russian side again. Their relationship had been a constant since.

  Working in the centre of the URC had taken its toll on both of them. They grew bored of the infighting, the secrets and the politics. A few incidents chipped away at any loyalty Ed had felt to the cause, and both he and Takhir were soon looking at options outside of the reckoners.

  Retiring to Cromer had been Ed’s idea. Both of them had worked hard and had successful careers. Norfolk, at the time, was still awaiting its reckoning. They both figured they would either be dead or too old to care by the time Cromer was reckoned. But the reckoning had moved across East Anglia with more speed than expected, and it was on their doorstep before they knew it.

  A noise made him look up. It was a long, loud scratching noise. He stood and looked out of the window. On the platform was a large billboard hired by the government to advertise the coming reckoning. It was simple and inoffensive, setting out dates and reminding people they would be expected to be at home for the entire period. The smiling family on the picture promised a secure, happy future for all.

  At least they had promised that. Now there was a large gash between the mother and father. A woman with short blonde hair was slicing the paper on the billboard in half. She was armed with what looked like a pike. Ed had no idea where she had come from, but he recognised her. He was employed to stop people sneaking into the station for sex or painting rude words over the British Railways sign. He wasn’t employed to stop Lana Curtis.

  Since arriving in Cromer, Lana had become more and more a part of their lives. They’d found her squatting in their apartment when they arrived. Someone had told her who they were, and in exchange for her keeping that information private, they had to create a few devices for the Unjudged. Takhir had been happy—it had given him something to do, and they were convinced the devices couldn’t be adapted to any offensive purpose. Surprisingly, the three of them got on, and she regularly visited them for advice and a cup of tea.

  Lana took a step back and began to admire her handiwork. Others had joined her now, all holding ancient-looking weapons. Every one of them was looking around the station for something. Ed realised they were looking for him.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a different woman in ripped shorts and a green T-shirt. She was young but had a steeliness in her eyes that scared him. She had a bow and arrow pointed at his chest.

  “Ed?” she asked.

  “It’s Ed,” he said.

  She gestured for him to stand. With no resistance, she went through his pockets and found his display. She dropped it on the floor and stamped on it. The screen splintered. After two more stamps, it went dark.

  “Was there any need for that?” he asked.

  The woman smirked: “I’m being cautious.”

  “What does Lana want?” he asked her. She looked confused at the mention of Lana’s name, and Ed felt the satisfaction of a small victory.

  Ed left the carriage and stood on the platform. He looked away from the station and saw even more grubby men and women walking along the railway line towards him. Once they entered the station they picked up speed and ran through the ticket hall and into the town. The Unjudged were moving.

  Lana turned away from the poster and smiled at him: “Hello Ed.”

  “What are you doing?” Ed hissed at her. “You know the reckoning is coming?”

  “We are here to protect Cromer.”

  “That’s what they’re going to do,” Ed pointed out, nodding at the destroyed poster. He got a gentle jab in his back from the woman with the bow. He shot her his best annoyed look.

  “You watch it, young lady,” he said.

  Lana laughed. “That’s Marie.”

  Ed shook his head. He stared at Lana, fixing his eyes to hers.

  Lana twisted the pike in the air. It spun around, making a light whooshing noise. “The reckoning is coming, Ed. We’re here to stop it.”

  “You think you can?”

  “When we convince the people…”

  “These people support the reckoning.”

  “Where did you see that? A poll? A reckoner newspaper? You shouldn’t trust the establishment.” She stopped spinning the pike, and stood it upright, as if she were expecting an attack.

  “Trusting the establishment got me this far,” Ed said.

  “No, Ed—it got you exiled.”

  Behind him, he could hear Marie rummaging around in a bag of some sort. She passed something to Lana, who rested her pike against the wall and pulled a length of gaffer tape away from the roll.

  “We need to get you home,” she looked embarrassed. “Do I need to restrain you for the journey, Ed?”

  “I’d like to see you try,” he said.

  Marie made a noise that reminded Ed of an annoyed cat. He heard her pick up the bow and reach for an arrow. Lana waved her hands back and forth to get her to calm down. She put the tape down and picked up the pike.

  “I won’t,” she responded. “All I ask is that you don’t stop the Unjudged from entering the town.”

  “The reckoners will wipe the floor with you,” Ed said.

  “They will accept the will of the people.”

  “Will you?”

  Lana looked annoyed at the question. He thought it was fair. Personally, he didn’t want to engage any further with her. He had no desire to understand her motivations or plan. If she told him too much, he’d become a huge risk to the Unjudged and be a potential target for the reckoners. All he wanted to do was get home and see Tak. A cup of tea and a book, with Tak sitting in the chair next to him. Wait it all out.

  “I’ll escort you home,” she said. She moved him to the side and muttered something to Marie. With her orders dispatched, she picked up the pike and started to walk. Ed walked behind her. They left the station building and began to walk towards the seafront. From there, a left turn would take them towards Ed’s apartment. A right would lead them towards the town centre and pier. After 200 yards, she began to talk but
stared at the ground as she did.

  “I think you should get out of town,” she said. “Take Tak and get out.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “South. Get to Norwich.”

  “That’s a reckoned city,” Ed said, shaking his head. “And getting past the border will be nearly impossible now.”

  “Then west. Get to Wells,” Lana sounded strained. She was upset.

  “Lana, this is my home. What happens to Cromer happens to me.”

  “You’re not a local Ed.”

  “Neither are you,” Ed pointed out.

  “But I,” Lana’s argument faltered. “You have no reason to stay.”

  They walked on in silence for a moment. Then Ed said, “I have you.”

  Lana stopped, but Ed carried on. He could feel her gaze on the back of his neck. After a few steps, when it became obvious she wasn’t going to catch up with him, he turned to face her. Above them was another billboard advertising the reckoning. This one was a beautiful photograph of Cromer pier and the seafront. An old street lamp bathed the arguing pair in an otherworldly glow.

  Lana pointed her pike at him. For the first time, Ed noticed red specks on the blade and wondered what she had done this time. “I’m a part of this,” she said. “I might not make it out.”

  “You’re not getting rid of me until that happens, then,” he said. “For now, can you get me back to my husband?”

  They reached the seafront, turned left and walked up the hill in silence. The incline steepened as they walked past the ceremonial gardens. The wind started to pick up, blowing off the North Sea. Ed could hear the splash of waves on the beach at the base of the cliffs. He checked his watch. One in the morning. Tak would be surprised.

  He reached the door to his flat and unlocked it. Lana followed him up the stairs but stopped at the threshold. Ed moved in and shouted for Tak, who staggered out of the bedroom, confused and probably annoyed at being woken up. He rubbed his eyes and tilted his head slightly in a confused greeting.

  “My God, Ed,” he said. “What’s the emergency?”

  “The Unjudged are in town,” Ed said, pointing behind him.

  Tak looked up: “What?”

  When Ed turned around, Lana wasn’t there.

  “Lana’s back?” Takhir asked.

  “She was,” Ed watched as the front door swung shut. “I suppose she didn’t want to see you.”

  “She never really had much interest in me,” Takhir said, stepping forward and placing his hands on Ed’s shoulders. He squeezed gently, and Ed felt the tension seep from him. “You were always her favourite.”

  He decided action was needed. “If the reckoning is coming, we need to tidy.”

  “Good idea,” Takhir nodded to the spare room, which was full of technology they had both been developing. “They might not take too kindly to that lot.”

  Sam

  S am was lying on the sofa in Fiona’s room, half-asleep and half-naked, when the shooting started. He slowly opened his eyes as he tried to interpret the strange sound. Fiona was sleeping, with her head and a hand resting on his chest. The noise didn’t disturb her.

  What was his mother doing now?

  Careful not to wake Fiona, he lifted her up, stood and placed her back on the sofa. She muttered silently, with her lips moving without forming any words. Another volley of gunshots echoed into the room. Now she started to stir. Her white hair fell across her face as she sat up and looked at her topless lover.

  “What was that?” Fiona said. She found a blanket on the back of the sofa and pulled it around her. Sam found his display in his jeans pockets and found he had missed a dozen calls from Paige. There were more recent text messages as well. He started to read one of them, but the display started to ring. It was Paige. No projection was available.

  “Sam?” his sister said. She sounded out of breath. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “I’ve been sleeping,” he said, winking at Fiona. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “What’s Mum up to Sam?”

  “Causing trouble, probably,” Sam said.

  “Is that your fucking mother?” said Fiona, leaning forward to express her annoyance. Sam shook his head.

  “Is that a girl, Sam? Paige asked. “Are you with a girl?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “No it’s not,” the line crackled. He could hear her footsteps landing on a gravel path. “And it doesn’t matter. Are you close to Mum’s house?”

  Sam looked around the room. “Not really.”

  “I need you to meet me at her place.”

  Even though she couldn’t see the gesture, Sam shook his head. “Paige, it’s the middle of the night. I…”

  “People are dying, Sam. We need to…” More gunfire cut them off. It came through the phone before it echoed through from outside.

  Sam moved to the door to the dressing room and looked outside. The corridor was empty. “Are you in Cromer?” he asked.

  “Of course I’m in Cromer, you idiot,” she replied. Sam could hear her getting more and more irritated. “Why else would I be going to hers?”

  Sam pulled the door to. He picked up his top and motioned to Fiona for her to do the same. “Why are you here?”

  “You need to get somewhere safe. The Unjudged are attacking.”

  “Already?”

  “Already?” Paige paused. “What do you mean already?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sam, are you involved in these nutters?”

  “Shit!”

  Sam put his free hand to his forehead and sat down.

  “We need to stop this, Sam. Will you please meet me at Mum’s?”

  Sam flicked the lights on. Fiona pulled her legs under the blanket, watching his every move with interest. He asked Paige where she was.

  “I’m just heading past the Hotel de Paris”

  “Wait there,” Sam said. “I’m on the pier.”

  “Are you sure? It looks closed.”

  Fiona put her fingers to her lips.

  “I’m visiting a friend.”

  “A friend—On a closed pier?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll wait for five minutes. But hurry. We need to get to her house before the Unjudged do.”

  “You don’t need to be worried about her, Paige,” Sam said.

  “I’m worried about the Unjudged.”

  “No. Look…”

  There was a moment when Sam looked at Fiona and looked around the dressing room and wondered whether there could be any outcome to the night’s events that would result in him staying in this room for the rest of his life. Just sleeping and fucking for the rest of his life, with the occasional Chinese takeaway delivered whenever he felt like it. He wondered if he could just hang up the phone and tell Fiona not to worry about it.

  He remembered camping trips with his family, during which he and Paige would run away from their parents’ drinking and climb trees, explore caves and chase sheep. They would come up with games and stories to put themselves in different times and different places. Then they would get home, and it would be up to them to cover their sleeping parents with blankets if it was dry or waterproofs it was wet.

  It was the reckoning that pulled them apart, like it had done so many families. Paige had declared her intention to leave Cromer for London. Sam had taken her to the railway station and helped her carry her bags on to the train. It didn’t occur to either of them who would be there to help her at the other end to unload them. In a town like Cromer, people inevitably knew them and would offer to help. But in a city like London, who knew you? Who would stop if you dropped a bag on the street?

  Paige had been working at the local leisure centre since graduating from university. She was bored. Sam was finishing his college studies and was trying to make a decision about where he was going to go for university. Then he broke his arm in an accident on the dodgems. Then he burned his hand in a deep fryer after a night drinking. Then he
got into a bar fight and was hit so hard he almost slipped into a coma. He decided to find something he was good at and to stick to it. He was good at hotel work.

  They were different. But they were family. The shadow of their mother would always hang over them, no matter how far apart they were. Sam knew that, yet he somehow couldn’t pull himself away. His room was similar to what it looked like 10 years ago. Paige’s room was identical, just covered in cobwebs.

  “Sam, are you OK?” Paige asked. He’d gone quiet as he contemplated his next steps. Beneath him, Fiona leaned back and covered her face with her arms. Sleeping and fucking, he thought.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be there in five.” He hung up.

  Fiona stood up and crossed her arms. “It’s always about your fucking mother.”

  “That was my sister.”

  “And what were you talking about?” She leaned towards him, but he ignored her. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and found his shoes.

  “You’re just leaving me?”

  “It’s the Unjudged. They’re invading the town.”

  “The crazy lot from down the coast?”

  “They’re not crazy,” Sam argued. He was annoyed with Fiona; she knew his mother was involved with them.

  “They’re crazy,” she reached for a pair of jeans and pulled them on. “And they don’t like people with implants.”

  “I didn’t know you had an implant,” Sam said. “But you don’t have a scar.”

  Fiona lowered her shoulder towards him. There was a tiny white mark at the base of her neck.

  “You didn’t notice?” She asked. Sam shook his head. He had never asked. It had never come up. They were usually too busy taking each other’s clothes off. He thought back. She had told him stories about drug use in Las Vegas and Brighton that had been so visceral he had felt a little scared. She had told him about the accidental killing of a cleaning lady that she took the blame for on behalf of the culprit, a very popular celebrity with a lot of money and a lot of influence. She agreed to take the fall for it, and as a thank you, he poured a large amount of money into both her and her lawyer’s bank accounts. And that was just the things she had told him when showing off how exciting the life of a rock star could be. He knew there was more. It made sense that there was no way she could have got away with everything with an implant.