The Unjudged_The battle for Cromer

by Phil Hurst

  Dave didn’t struggle. Any physical resistance was beaten out of him. He stood, pinned to the barrels, groaning with his head flopping. Jules unscrewed one of the pipes from a keg. Beer poured on to the floor. Udan tilted Dave to the side and held his head under the stream. Dave coughed and spluttered as he tried to turn his head away, but Udan held him steady.

  With a hiss and a stream of foam, the keg emptied. Dave coughed again and was sick. Udan dropped him. He retched and coughed. After a few seconds, he was gasping for air, unable to move.

  “Disgusting,” Udan said.

  Jules crouched down next to Dave. “I think I just invented a new interrogation technique,” he said. “Beerboarding.”

  “You need a better name than that,” Wix said.

  “It’s a great name. I wonder whether it’s effective, though.”

  Dave pulled himself to a sitting position and held the back of his hand to his mouth as he continued to splutter and cough.

  “Dave, do you think it’s a good technique?”

  He composed himself and then quite calmly told Jules to fuck off.

  “That’s not very nice, Dave.”

  “I don’t know anything about any fucking soul-catching weapon,” Dave said. “You’re the bastards that do that, not us.”

  “So say I believe you,” Jules said, leaning in. “What if I asked you where Lana Curtis is? Or Jennifer Grimwood?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dave. But his face had changed again. He was defiant.

  “I think you do,” Jules replied. He unscrewed another keg and let the liquid pour out. “You look like you need another round.”

  He grinned at Dave and then kicked him on the shoulder, knocking him into the stream of beer. This time, he had Udan hold Dave’s legs still while he grabbed the Unjudged’s man face, forcing his head upwards to face the beer as it poured towards him.

  After two minutes, Jules pulled Dave upright and let him cough and splutter. The keg continued to pour beer over the floor. Dave started crying, and Jules smiled. There was no defiance.

  “You’re ready to talk now, aren’t you, Dave?” he asked.

  Dave nodded: “I don’t know where Lana is. But I can help with the Grimwoods.”

  Jules tilted his head and held up a single finger.

  “There’s only one Grimwood left, Dave. I killed the other one.”

  “Jennifer and Paige.”

  “Paige?”

  “The daughter,” Wix said.

  Jules spun around: “There’s a daughter?”

  “I thought you knew,” Wix shrugged.

  “Is she one of them?”

  “No,” Artur said. He tapped some buttons on his display and projected an image of Paige Grimwood on to the floor. “But she’s supposed to be in London.”

  Jules pointed at a blinking blue dot on the projection that marked Paige’s Tumi implant location. “Looks like she isn’t,” he said.

  Artur’s lips turned up at the ends into wry smile. Through the cracks in the delivery hatch, glimmers of light signalled the beginning of a new day.

  Jennifer

  J ennifer woke with first light and was surprised to find herself in Sam’s bedroom. She barely remembered coming home after she watched the attack on the pier. It had been a bittersweet moment, watching a local monument collapse into the sea but knowing her people were safer because of it.

  On the bedside table was a framed selfie of Sam and his girlfriend. The relationship had been in full swing when Jennifer returned to Cromer, and she had been happy that her shy, quiet boy had found someone to make him happy. Fiona was quite a bit older, but if she stopped him doing nothing all day but throwing stones into the sea, Jennifer was pleased. She hoped the woman would survive her injuries. She had asked the hospital staff for constant updates, and the latest was that Fiona was unconscious, with her recovery uncertain.

  She sat up and placed the photo face down.

  Opposite Sam’s desk, he display suddenly blinked into life. It was an automated message that flashed across the display and told her Sam had 20 unread messages. Jennifer stood and looked at it. She tapped the screen, and the list appeared.

  They were all news notifications about her.

  As well as he could from a desk in Cromer, Sam had been following his mother on her travels. The background image on his display wasn’t him and his girlfriend; it was a still of Jennifer during a meeting in Malta.

  For the first time since Sam’s death, Jennifer Grimwood felt tears forming. She needed a distraction. She called Lana but got no answer. Her lieutenant was probably resting following the attack. Jennifer walked out of the house and down the stairs. Before long, she was in the Steadmans’ house, tapping the button to call Ax out of his VR.

  The visor slid to the side. “What?!”

  “Strategy meeting.”

  “You can’t fix it without me?”

  “Get out of the VR, Ax.”

  Ax shook his head in annoyance but took the headset off. Before he said another word to Jennifer, he reached into a small fridge, took out an energy drink and drank almost all of it in one go. He ran his hands in front of his eyes and, satisfied that his visual perception was accurate, placed his hands shoulder width apart on the kitchen worktop and took some deep breaths. This was a routine that Jennifer was used to, and she waited until it was finished.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “Seven thirty,” Jennifer replied.

  Ax grinned at her as he calculated his VR time: “Eight hours.”

  When Ax was ready, Jennifer led the way into the Steadmans’ shed and sat down. Before she could say anything the Steadmans did their usual thing of fussing and offering tea or coffee and putting sandwiches down. Eventually, Gerald asked about the pier.

  “The pier is no longer in reckoner control,” Jennifer said.

  “Great news,” Gerald said. “And the reckoners?”

  “We’ll get them,” she replied.

  Claudia shook her head: “Not very neat, Jennifer.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” Jennifer said, glaring at Claudia.

  “You don’t have any idea where they are?” Gerald asked.

  “No.”

  “None of your scouts can tell you?” Claudia pushed.

  “You lot are still worrying about the reckoners on the pier?” Ax sneered. “That’s old news.”

  “What should we be worrying about?” Jennifer asked.

  Ax tapped the display in the centre of the room and brought up a projection of the town. The little green dots were scattered around the edges. However, with the exception of a small corridor on the west cliff road, there was a thick, condensed and unbroken line of red dots surrounding the town on all sides.

  “They built up overnight,” Ax said. “I’ve been scouting them to try to find out more, but there are a lot of them all of a sudden.”

  Gerald sat back in his chair. “Those are all reckoners?” he asked.

  Ax shrugged: “Well, they’re not fairies.”

  “Shit,” Gerald muttered. Claudia also swore but kept it under her breath so Jennifer wouldn’t hear. Ax nibbled at the sandwich, probably wondering why he had been summoned out of VR. Although it was a problem they all shared, he wasn’t going to be the one to pitch a solution.

  “That might be a lot more troops than we anticipated,” Jennifer said. “But we’ve booby-trapped all the main roads that could support armoured vehicles with pulsers and road spikes. It won’t stop them completely, but it will give us enough time to ingest the pills.”

  Jennifer pulled a display from her pocket and opened a file. Something was nagging her.

  “I’m confused, though,” she said. “Based on the Ilfracombe reckoning, there shouldn’t even be half as many.”

  “So what do we do?” Claudia said.

  “All the roads have streaming feeds hooked up and running,” Ax added. “If anyone moves on us, one of our little watchers around the world will see it.”

&nbs
p; “And how many do we have online?” Claudia asked.

  Ax tapped the tiny display on his wrist: “Currently about 30,000.”

  “That’s a good number.”

  “Mostly in the Middle East, but South America will come online as they all wake up. Looks like everyone on the Isle of Wight is watching.”

  “Nice to know we’re so interesting to them,” Claudia said.

  “If the situation were reversed, I’d be watching to see reckoner tactics in action,” Jennifer said.

  “And do you think it will come to that?” Gerald said. “That they’ll mount an invasion?”

  Jennifer folded her arms and walked to the window: “I have no idea. The longer we’re online, the weaker Tumi looks.”

  “But all the Unjudged,” Gerald said. “If they die…”

  “The Churches won’t want people to die,” Claudia argued.

  “I thought the Churches were happy with our progress,” Jennifer asked. “Did you get new information last night?”

  “Not as such,” Gerald said. “We’re just concerned.”

  Jennifer smiled as sweetly as she could. She was sick of the Churches trying to tell her how to run her resistance. Although she needed their money and their support in the unreckoned world, they never seemed to be out of communication with the Steadmans, constantly whispering in their ears about God and Allah and Vishnu and the Buddha and all manner of other deities. Although the Churches were officially in favour of the reckoning because of its potential to end conflict, their ongoing interest in the Unjudged’s affairs showed at least some of their members would have preferred it if the metaphysical had stayed theoretical.

  “If the churches didn’t want people to die, they should have declared Cromer a protectorate,” Jennifer said as she moved to stare out of the window.

  “They won’t do that,” Gerald said.

  “Then they have no right to influence our decision,” Jennifer responded.

  The room was silent for a moment. Using the display, Gerald tapped the icon for the Norwich road. A roadblock had been set up across the railway bridge, and three Unjudged were crouching behind an overturned car.

  “Why are there only three people on the Norwich Road?” he asked.

  “That’s all we have,” Jennifer said. “There are a lot of roads in and out of town.”

  “They don’t stand a chance,” Gerald said.

  “Did we get many recruits from the town?” asked Claudia.

  “Not as many as we hoped,” Jennifer replied. “Most want to hide and wait it out.”

  “Your magic must be leaving you,” Gerald said. Jennifer stayed silent. “Not quite the inspirational leader you used to be.”

  “Hold on,” Ax interrupted. They all looked at him. He held a finger up. Then he got distracted and peeled the top piece of bread off his sandwich. He stuffed it all into his mouth at once, keeping eye contact with Gerald as he did.

  With his mouth full, he finally made his point: “I’m not surrendering.”

  Claudia put her hand on his knee: “I’m not suggesting we surrender.”

  “Yes you are,” he replied. “You don’t think we can win.”

  “Have you seen the reckoners?” Claudia said. “We need to have a rethink. Our strategy is flawed.”

  “I’m not leaving,” he said. “You go. I’ll be the last stand.”

  “We still have Sheringham Hall,” argued Claudia. “We still have Oliver.”

  Gerald slammed his fist on the table. The tea cups and sandwiches jumped into the air. “Oliver isn’t an answer either.”

  “Retreating to Sheringham just gives them a single target.” Jennifer said.

  “So what do you suggest?” Gerald said.

  “They have a massive force,” Jennifer argued, waving her hand across the display. “But they haven’t started the reckoning yet, which means the suicide threat is working.”

  She paused as she thought about her conversation with Lana yesterday. The tag in the head had said it belonged to Marcus Tumi. But the scan had been a malfunction. There was no way it could have been his actual head—could it? A huge reckoner army would only have been dispatched because of something important. If Maximus had somehow found out his son’s head had washed up at Cromer, that would be the reason for such a big URC force.

  “And they can’t help us,” said Jennifer. “They don’t have the resources.”

  Gerald put his coffee down. He reached underneath his chair and pulled out a bottle of whisky. “So the only thing protecting our immortal souls is our deaths?”

  He added the whisky to his drink and, after offering with a nod of his head, did the same to Claudia and Jennifer’s drinks. Ax held his coffee cup close to his chest, horrified at the prospect.

  Jennifer smiled: “We need to make a decision.”

  “And you what do you want us to say?” Claudia asked.

  “I want you to agree with me that we should commit to our plan,” Jennifer replied. “They won’t attack. Call their bluff.”

  “And if you’re wrong? You don’t mind that your decision would leave more mothers coming home to empty bedrooms?” Claudia said.

  It took all of Jennifer’s power to not leap over the table and smack Claudia in her face. She maintained her composure: “When this started, you said the Churches wanted to make a stand. They all agreed with me in Helsinki.”

  Gerald poured his whisky straight into the empty coffee cup. He didn’t bother with the pretence of the coffee. “The Churches don’t want bloodshed,” he said. “They also don’t want Maximus Tumi to become the keeper of the doors of heaven.”

  “Then they should do something about it,” Jennifer snarled. She was still stood by the window, away from the table.

  Gerald finished his drink: “Jennifer, sit down.”

  “But what happens next if we leave?” asked Jennifer. “The reckoners won’t let go. They won’t stop chasing us. And they won’t stop until every person in the world has a Tumi implant.”

  “We are trying to get you to stop before it’s too late,” Gerald said.

  “We know Sam’s death has affected you, dear,” Claudia added. “And we don’t want you making any rash decisions.”

  Jennifer closed her eyes and tried to keep her composure. Ax stood up next to her.

  “Shall we get on with it?” he asked. “If I get back into the VR, I can set the drones.”

  “Remember this day,” Jennifer said. “When Maximus Tumi is toppled from his throne, people will point to this place and say this is where it started. This was where the glory of God made its final stand and pushed back the tyranny of technology.”

  She didn’t believe a word of it, but it sounded good. Ax ran from the room. Jennifer stood perfectly still.

  The old couple shuffled in their seats. “For the glory of God,” Gerald said.

  As she moved to the door Ax stumbled back into the room. He was holding his throat, gasping for air. He fell back into the coffee table and display, knocking everything over the floor. The Steadmans both jumped to their feet as their son destroyed the order of their perfectly arranged little room. They both crouched down to help him but then looked up to the door.

  Jennifer was hidden behind the open door and held a finger to her lips. The elderly couple weren’t looking at her anyway. A large man walked into the shed, stooping to get into the room. He held a gun out in front of him and pointed it at the room’s occupants.

  “Gerald and Claudia,” he said, bowing a little. “My name is Udan. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

  Jennifer threw her shoulder into the door and tried to knock the man off balance. But his bulk kept him firm. Instead, Jennifer bounced back to the floor. She sat on the floor, hands out to the side, dazed from the impact. The man leaned around the door and pointed the gun at her.

  “Jennifer Grimwood,” he said. “I was looking for you.”

  Paige

  T hey pulled the chest of drawers from the barricade in front of t
he door and returned it to the dining room.

  All three of them had slept in the living room, somehow finding comfort in being together. They had blocked the door to the study, fearing but not understanding how it could be possible that the head could escape in the night. It was only when she had stretched out on the airbed Ed provided that Paige had realised just how tired she was. Before she knew it, it was morning and the airbed had deflated, leaving her sleeping on the floor.

  The three of them stood in front of the door to the spare room, unsure of their next steps. They had tried to call Lana the night before, but she hadn’t answered. In the light of the day, the events of the previous evening seemed alien. Impossible. However, Paige had a strange desire to see it again.

  “What do we do if it’s still alive?” Ed asked.

  “We should have thrown it into the sea last night,” said Tak. He had argued for that course of action last night, but the other two had outvoted him.

  “What if it’s moved?” Paige asked.

  “If it’s moved, I’m burning the apartment down,” Ed responded. He pushed the door, and it swung away from them slowly. Ed slid into the room, keeping his back to the wall. Paige peeked in. On the table, still in the clamp, was the head. Its eye was open but no longer moving.

  Ed crouched and began to stalk across the room. Once halfway across, he produced a kitchen knife from behind his back.

  “What are you doing?” Paige whispered.

  “Insurance,” Ed hissed back, not taking his attention away from the head.

  After they had shored up the door last night, Takhir had explained his experiments with the head in case it led to any reasons for the phenomenon they had witnessed. Unfortunately, there was no further light shed on what could have happened. He had clamped the head as soon as he had taken it out of the sports bag and used a series of different displays to scan it. His results had only reinforced the impossible fact there were three souls in the implant. At that point, nothing untoward had happened.